#arrest all tumblr blues

[thekitsunesiren]

Dc x Dp Prompt #29

Okay! I have seen plenty of prompts on both tumblr and Ao3 to think of one of biggest misunderstandings that I could think of for Dc x Dp.

Amity Park being mistaken for a base camp for training child soldiers.

Because think of it!

Mr. Lancer's class all going to Gotham and being unphased by everything that was happening. In fact, some of them seemed even excited at the possibility of interacting with a rogue or possibly fighting them. And teacher did nothing but give them light warnings about causing too much trouble.

Of course it was thought to be big talk from outsiders who didn't know how dangerous Gotham truly was. Once they dealt with their first villain, they'd see how much trouble they really were in for.

But the thing was, they didn't.

Oh, they dealt with a criminal alright. It was the Penguin. He held up one of the museums the class was touring for some priceless item that he wanted.

Of course, Penguin thought that the group of newcomers were going to cow under the sight of the criminal and his goons. But standing there, he immediately found out of wrong he was.

The group didn't look scared. No. They looked excited at the sight of him and his goons.

A few of the teens were brimming with excitement at the sight of the criminal, though a few did look a bit disappointed. Not afraid-disappointed! He heard a few whispers of how upset that "the Joker wasn't the one to show" or "how they expected someone else to show up". Those words were enough to make his blood boil.

You know what? Screw these kids! He was going to show them that The Penguin wasn't someone you just go around and make fun of. So, he orders a few goons to put the kids in their place. Confident that once they were thrown around a bit, they'd know what kind of trouble they're in for when they come to Gotham.

But they. Don't. Get. Scared!

Not even a little bit. Not even a small flinch. He swore that he saw a few of them yawn! If the threat of roughening up wasn't going to do anything, then some action would definitely was. A goon thought this as they reached out to try and grab one of the students. Unfortunately, that student he grabbed was Valerie Gray, and she didn't take well to some stranger trying to grab her like that. Well, one shoulder throw lead to a brawl between gangsters and a bunch a teens that were touring around. And, to the horror of both the Penguin and all Gothamites watching, the teens won. All goons were seen on the floor either groaning or unconscious, the teens above them looking satisfied with their work, and their teacher on the sidelines looking irritated of the whole thing. Thankfully, the police arrived not too soon after that to arrest the goons and the penguins themselves; leaving all Gothamites confused about what just happened.

And it didn't stop there.

All over Gotham, both civilians and rogues alike would experience the oddity that would be the Amity bunch.

A barista witnessed Paulina stop a robbery with a well practiced kick in her high heels, all while the girl muttered about her morning coffee before going back to her order like nothing happened.

An old woman was saved from a mugging by a group of jocks. Though seeing as one stopped it by grabbing the mugger by the scruff of his neck, she supposed that the blond was the only one that she needed. And multiple civilians all over Gotham took note of a black haired and blue eyed kid that walked around with a goth girl and a boy with a red beanie. If he wasn't mistaken as a Wayne kid, he was causing havoc that had him on the news either way. Already the kid was caught fighting the Joker twice on purpose! As if he didn't seem crazy enough.

Strength, not scared by any of the rogues, even openly fighting the rouges? This class was continuing to grow on the "do not mess with" the longer they're in Gotham with everything they do.

And if you were to ask their teacher, he would simply sigh and say "There's so much he could do to control those hellions." It wasn't long before the Wayne family caught onto their arrival, and became immediately suspicious. A group of teens with abilities like that and fighting both rogues and goons as if they were nothing wasn't a mere coincidence. And from a place called Amity Park that's supposed to be the most "Haunted Place on Earth", there's no way something fishy going on.

Bruce, Tim, and Damian are the first to believe that they are all child soldiers of some sort. The youngest pointing out that Danny was one possibly meant to infiltrate their family for an unknown reason. The rest of the family are still cautious, but still don't know what they are here for.

Now they just had to get close enough to find out the reason the class was really here without setting off any alarms the possible assassins could have.

But they didn't take account the total weirdness they might face in infiltrating the class.

[mokulule]

Take Out for Dummies - Part 2

Ship: Dead on Main Previous | Masterpost Note: So I was planning on sitting on this until I was about done with part 3, but then @yeetyeetedyote, who tumblr doesn't allow me to tag, did a meme for part 1 and I couldn't help but post it. So hope you enjoy. Jason did not know what to wear. It was Red Hood who had a date, but going in his full uniform seemed very excessive somehow. But there was also no way he was going unarmed. He pondered his closet with a frown. What clothing did he even own that were suitable for a date? He’d never had to ponder this before. What level of formality was expected? Probably not formal, considering there would be no dinner. Also he was Red Hood, there was no way he’d do formal, he had an aesthetic.

He finally settled on jeans, a red henley and the brown leather jacket he used as Red Hood. He held up the jacket and inspected it critically for blood spatters, that at least he felt certain wasn’t appropriate.

One hour later saw Red Hood rolling up to the curb in front of the building. Only one person was leaning against the brick wall there, absorbed in their phone; it had to be Danny. The rest of the people there were just walking past. It was Crime Alley, Red Hood barely got a glance of interest. Gotta love Gothamites.

Jason had not been able to really get good visual on Danny in the dark, aside from the fact that he was rather short and had dark hair, the night vision in his helmet could only do so much. He had not been prepared for how he looked up and the wide blue eyes crinkled as he smiled. Nor the way the button down shirt and the jeans hugged close to broad shoulders and slim waist in a way the hoodie he’d worn previously had clearly not.

Somehow in all his musings about how this would go Jason had never considered the possibility that Danny would be hot.

“Hi,” Danny said still smiling as he came up to him. He raised his arms out from his sides a bit helplessly before letting them fall back. “So how do you want me?”

Jason’s brain screeched to a halt as those words brought a decidedly not appropriate image to his head. He was so glad he was wearing his helmet right now. Jason must have stiffened or given away his embarrassment some other way, because Danny’s cheeks flushed as he too realized how his question could have been understood.

“I meant on your bike.”Jason hunched over, shoulders shaking with barely suppressed laughter. Because that was not helping at all.

Wordlessly Jason held out the extra helmet. Danny took it gratefully and stuffed it over his red face.

“Front.” Jason said over the radio connection between the helmets.

Jason had to give Danny a hand to get him situated in front. He had to hold on near the center of handlebars and he didn’t really have good place to place his feet and had to hold them curled up.

It was neither safe nor legal, but Jason was not about to have a potential assassin at his back and besides who was gonna arrest Red Hood for traffic violations? The small hitched gasp when Jason curled around Danny’s back to reach the handlebars had his lips quirking up, and he might have pressed him just a bit further forward just for that.

“Where to?”

“Sommerset.”Jason raised an eyebrow at that as he kicked off the curb. Carefully, as he got a feeling for the different weight distribution, he drove them in the direction of the Trigate Bridge.

“If a tour of Old Arkham is your idea of a date, I think I’m gonna have to shoot you.”

Danny scoffed.

“I promised you fun, didn’t I?”

At Jason’s lack of response, he slumped further.

“There’s a traveling carnival on the fair grounds at the edge of town.”

“Huh.” Jason was trying to think of a time he’d actually visited a carnival as a visitor and not a vigilante to stop some villain plot. He was coming up short. There was a feeling in his chest he had a hard time identifying, an uncertain thing, but it wasn’t bad. If nothing else he was gonna have an experience? Oo o oO

They parked the bike in the attached gravel parking lot near the fair grounds. Jason had to step off the bike first and then promptly had to catch Danny as his legs refused to carry him when he stepped off the bike.

“Oh wow, my legs fell asleep there.” He laughed and stepped away on wobbly legs as he pulled the helmet off. He handed it to Jason who put it into its compartment.

He took another wobbly step forward and Jason couldn’t help the way he reached for him to steady him. Instead Danny grabbed his hand firmly. Jason was baffled at the action looking from Danny to their hands, uncertain how to react, but Danny just smiled and changed his hold so their fingers were twined together.

He looked mightily satisfied about it too as he tugged Jason forward toward the fair grounds. A fair bit of the rides were visible because of their heights and Jason could easily imagine how the place would light up with multicolored lights once evening came.

Once they entered the fair grounds they drew quite a lot of attention. Lots of people stopped and pointed at Red Hood and his companion. Phones were pointed in their direction and Jason found himself tensing.

Danny leaned closer and spoke lowly, “Don’t worry, nobody will believe them. Regular digital cameras are odd around me, so they won’t get usable footage.”

Jason’s mind raced, what did that mean? Did he have some sort of jammer? Was it a meta ability? Was it related to his ability to sneak up on vigilantes on Gotham rooftops?

“And,” Danny continued, “if anyone asks, we can always say you’re a cosplayer.”

Jason grimaced. Danny slapped his chest as if he could see right through the mask.

“Hey! Cosplay is a great creative hobby.”

“That’s not- I’m a former crime lord. I don’t understand why anyone would dress up as me.”

“Pffft, don’t sell yourself short. Also you have a cool recognizable thing going on with the helmet. It will be especially funny if someone critiques it for not being accurate.”

Jason couldn’t help his chuckle at how gleeful Danny looked at the prospect.

“This is the real reason you want me to claim I’m cosplaying?”

“It would be so funny, admit it!”

Jason huffed. It would be pretty funny.

“Ha! I’ll take that as a yes. Okay, time to show off some of those shooting skills and win me a plushie.” With that statement Danny pointed towards a game booth with truly ridiculously large unicorn plushies hanging from it and tugged Jason forward. It was only at that moment he remembered they were still holding hands. It was…

It was nice.

Danny glanced back at him and he was smiling, warm and excited. Jason didn’t remember the last time someone had smiled that much at him. Jason found himself smiling back, and he was suddenly grateful he couldn’t be seen behind the helmet.

The shooting booth operator eyed Red Hood warily until Danny broke the tension in a voice that carried, “my friend’s cosplay is pretty awesome right?”

The operator’s shoulders fell and he chuckled, “pretty brave of him to wear that this close to Gotham proper.”

“Sure is! But not to worry if there’s any trouble I will protect him,” Danny said seriously, with a glance and a wink at Jason.

The man took in Danny’s skinny and less than imposing appearance and burst out laughing, and just like that any remaining tension was gone.

The operator explained the game. There were different tiers with bottles lined up on shelves and flat rings of different widths balancing on top. You got points if you knocked the ring down over the bottle neck. The slimmer rings offered more points.

It was a pretty simple game.

Danny put down cash for the game and looked at Jason expectantly. “Show us some of that Red Hood skill.”

The operator chuckled. Jason rolled his eyes and stepped up.

Immediately, as he picked up the air gun it felt clunky in his hand. It was sharp-edged where it should be smooth and was weighted all wrong especially with the pressure cable attached to it, but that was not going to stop him. He loaded it with one of the five cork stoppers the operator handed him. He seemed to be enjoying Danny’s teasing as much as Danny himself.

Out the corner of his vision he saw Danny lean forward expectantly as he took aim.

He pulled the trigger.

The cork stopper was ejected with a loud pop and promptly hit the edge of a shelf bouncing backwards to land on the floor where it rolled around three times before stopping.

Danny looked at him wide eyed before bursting out in helpless snickers. Jason shoved him in revenge, but he couldn’t help smiling. There was just something refreshing about how despite knowing he was the real Red Hood he was so completely unafraid of him. Not even his family was that relaxed around him.

He didn’t want to bring his mood down contemplating that, so he reloaded the clunky gun and took aim again. He considered the points on the rings and the available prize tiers. Four shots left, with a bit of luck he could still do decently.

Aiming higher and slightly more to the right of how he would aim a real gun he shot the first maximum point ring down around the bottle neck. Three more fell in rapid succession.

Danny cheered, pumping his fist in the air.

“That’s four hundred points, that gives you the choice of a large prize,” the operator said impressed.

He pointed at a large unicorn plush, it wasn’t quite the extra large ones that hung on the outside of the stall, those required cumulative points from at least two games, but it was still a very decent size.

Danny was the very opposite of disappointed when Jason handed it over. He squished it in his arms and absolutely beamed up at Jason. Jason looked away, embarrassed for feeling so satisfied and warm just for winning a silly game.

The operator snorted giving them a knowing look. “Have a nice evening boys.”

“You too,” Danny replied, sidling up close and entwining their fingers again as he pulled them away and off towards the various rides.

Jason eyed their once more joined hands in bemusement, not really sure what to think, but he’d already allowed it once. It sold the appearance of a date, made it all the more likely to the bystanders that Jason was just some cosplayer with a death wish, so it was smart to keep holding hands. And Jason found himself reluctant to give it up.

It was an easy illusion to give into.

He squeezed Danny’s hands and he turned his head to look at him, smiling like this was a real date and not one of his odd jobs. Jason nodded towards the bumper cars and Danny’s grin turned into feral delight as he dragged him in the new direction. It was so easy to pretend Jason was just here to have fun with a friend who was maybe just a bit more.

That was something he could have had maybe. If he hadn’t been Robin. If he hadn’t died and come back wrong. If he wasn’t a former crime lord just trying to find his footing with a family he wasn’t sure wanted him and not just the dead boy he’d been.

But for just a little while he could pretend.

Until Danny turned out to actually know he was supposed to kill him, until everything crashed and burned like usual, he could allow himself a little fun.

Like ignoring every sign saying the bumper cars were not meant for driving into each other. The bored teen operator certainly didn’t care to uphold that rule. The bumper car ride was a war zone, a giant free for all and yet Jason managed to have only eyes for Danny. He was a tricky driver to catch. Jason had no idea how he managed to maneuver the car like that, it was verging on supernatural.

They were both laughing when they exited their cars after Jason had finally managed to bump into him proper instead of the earlier glancing blows.

“Remind me to call you if I ever need a getaway driver.”

Danny snorted knocking their shoulders together. “Only if I get part of the cut.”

I’ll give you more than a cut, Jason was about to say, but thankfully didn’t. Because what did that even mean? Instead he knocked his shoulder back.

They continued on towards another ride, a small rollercoaster, and as they queued Danny started telling him about how his dad’s driving was so infamous in his hometown that the local news included a segment to warn for it when he was on the roads. Because of that nobody had wanted to give Danny driving lessons and that’s why technically he didn’t have a license, but he’d once landed a space shuttle, so that should count for something. The story verged on so impossible it had to be true, but Jason was sure if a civilian had actually landed a space shuttle it would have been all over the news or at least known among superheroes - it was entertaining nonetheless.

Jason wasn’t sure when they’d started holding hands again only noted the absence when Danny left him by a bench several rides later with stern instructions to protect the princess with his life, aka the unicorn plushie.

The lights had flickered on a while ago and bathed the darkening grounds in multicolored lights. Jason leaned back relaxing against the bench. Taking in the lights and the happy atmosphere as people passed him by. There were a few people who pointed and snickered as they walked by, but clearly the unicorn plushie was just as good as Danny to convince people he was just a guy in a costume.

“It’s a pretty good costume.”

Jason turned his head to find a man with a superman shirt had stopped. He stayed silent waiting for him to elaborate. He obviously wanted to, there was something in his drawl.

“The casual look is pretty well put together while remaining recognizably Red Hood.”

“But-“ somehow there was a but- “if you were actually from Gotham you’d know that the real helmet is matte and the brow section is more slanted giving it an angrier expression.”

Jason stared incredulously at the man in the Superman shirt accusing him of not being a Gothamite. Never mind the helmet thing, that was just ridiculous but accusing him of not being a Gothamite, now that was an insult he wouldn’t be taking. Jason stood up to his full six feet and saw the way the man shrunk as he realized he might have made a mistake.

“There you are, babe,” Danny inserted himself smoothly into the situation snaking an arm around his waist and pressing close. It was distracting. “Come on let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

Jason snorted as he let Danny move them forward. He didn’t need the intervention, he wouldn’t have attacked the man or anything.

He couldn’t help but pull them to a stop however as they passed him.

“Your information is outdated, this is the current helmet.” He spoke lowly and ominously only made more ominous by the voice modulation.

The man eep’ed and scrambled to get away.

They watched him go with no small bit of amusement.

“I thought we agreed to keep it on the down low.”

Jason shrugged, “he asked for it, besides you said it yourself, nobody will believe him.”

“Alright then.” Danny left the place beneath Jason’s arm, he had only a moment to feel bereft however until his hand was grabbed again and pulled in the direction of the parking lot. “Speaking of proof, do you mind me taking a selfie of us so I can prove I took you out?”

Jason frowned. “I thought you said cameras didn’t work around you.” “They don’t, I’ve had to modify it to be able to take any pictures.”

“You gonna tell me what kind of meta ability you have?”

Danny chuckled. He pulled their joined hands up and pressed a kiss to Jason’s scarred knuckles. Jason was so distracted by the action he almost didn’t hear the, “I like you Hood, but that isn’t a first date conversation.”

There was a pause in their conversation as Jason contemplated the absurd idea of there ever being a second date, the fact that this one was nearly over and how he’d actually had a lot of fun.

“So, selfie?”

“Uh sure.”

Danny juggled the white plastic bag that Jason only noticed now onehanded as he pulled out his phone. It was a broad phone with actual buttons and Jason would believe it was modified alright. Danny smiled and leaned close as he raised his hand, a small flash went off and Danny looked the picture over in satisfaction.

“What’s with the bag?”

“Huh, oh this is food. Our next stop, if you’re still willing, is the ice rink, but I figured we could take a break on the roof and eat back to back or something, what with the whole-” he indicated the helmet by waving a hand in front of his face.

So it wasn’t over yet. Not if Jason wanted to continue. It was an easy out, Jason could just chose to drive Danny to wherever he wanted to be dropped off and he could go home and still make it easily in time for patrol - or he could prolong the evening.

Jason popped open the compartment under the seat of his bike and took the warm bag of food from Danny to put in as he considered. Danny had already put on the extra helmet.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

Jason could practically hear the smile in his voice even if he couldn’t see it through the opaque helmet.

“Okay,” he confirmed.

The small fist pump was kinda adorable. So first part of the date, it was getting a bit long so I cut it in two, but hey that's the only reason I could even upload it. Jason is in trouble, he's just not quite realizing it yet XD I enjoy hearing your thoughts on the story, so please continue to share <3

Subscribe to the masterpost here Next

[kudotsurugi]

Random Thought: Why does all "90's Anime style" fanart just look like Sailor Moon?

Okay, obviously not all fanart looks like it. But if you were to type in "90s anime style" here on Tumblr or DeviantArt at the time of this post, it at least seems to be the majority stand-in for 90s anime aesthetic, right? Especially in the characters' eyes.

Don't me wrong, this is not a knock against Sailor Moon. It is a great anime, and the collective character designs by Kazuko Tadano, Ikuko Ito, and Mari Tominaga among other staff are iconic. So iconic that Tadano was brought back as the character designer for the latest Sailor Moon movies. That is quite the staying power.

But let's be fair, there are plenty of 90s anime out there that can also be used as inspiration. So, here are the names of 11 character designers alongside some gifs of shows/projects they worked on in that role. Some you may not know but you've seen their work, and others you probably know for their distinct art style or association with a franchise.

Things worth noting: First, the years listed here with some anime may reflect when the artists' work started airing, rather than when the anime itself actually started. Some folks listed here enter their projects mid-production in other roles, while others are in the role from the start. Second, each entry will list 1 or 2 projects aired/released during the 90s, but it will be noted if the artist's role continues beyond that with certain franchises. Lastly, these artists are listed in no particular order, so no "top 11" hierarchy. With that said, here's our examples:

Hisashi Eguchi (Roujin Z[1991], Sonic the Hedgehog CD [1993])

2. Katsuyoshi Nakatsuru(Dragon Ball franchise (Z [1993-96], GT [1996], Daima [2024]), Digimon franchise [1999-2002, 2019-2023])

3. Kumiko Takahashi (Cardcaptor Sakura [1998-2000], Birdy The Mighty[1996])

4. Takahiro Yoshimatsu (Trigun[1998], Slayers franchise[1995-97])

5. Atsuko Nakajima (Ranma 1/2[1989-1992], You're Under Arrest[1996])

6. Sayuri Ichiishi (Pokémon[Pokémon design: 1996-present, human character design: 1996-2017])

7. Atsuko Ishida (Magic Knight Rayearth[1994-1995])

8. Masaya Onishi (Yu Yu Hakusho[1993-1994])

9. Toshihiro Kawamoto(Cowboy Bebop[1998-1999], Mobile Suit Gundam: The 08th MS Team[1996])

10. Hiroshi Osaka(Gundam franchise[Mobile Suit Victory Gundam: 1993-1994, Mobile Fighter G-Gundam:1994-1995])

11. Yoshiyuki Sadamoto(Nadia: The Secret of Blue Water[1990-1991], Neon Genesis Evangelion franchise[1995-1997, 2007-2021])

Might've leaned a bit more on the Shonen side of things than Shojo, but I hope you can see my point😅. There are tons of 90s anime out there with their own unique feel and aesthetic. These are only 11 names that I found.

For anyone drawing 90s anime style fanart, I hope this has given you some inspiration, and I encourage anyone reading this to look up your favourite anime on Anime News Network's encyclopedia and see who's responsible for helping bring your favorite characters to life on screen and what other shows they've worked on.

[decolonize-the-left]

Saying "I'd vote for an anti-fascist if they ran in my party and enough ppl in my party supported them, but my party supports genocide instead so we should vote for Genocide again." in 2023 is fucking wild

I genuinely can not believe that Blue Fascists are legitimately getting y'all's consent to not only commit genocide, but to give them the opportunity to do it again and y'all REFUSE to stop and think about what your ACTUAL morals and principles are anymore.

"yeah but if we don't vote blue-"

Any Democrats still using this soft threat/warning is one of two things: safe and always has been OR is safe on us soil and does not want to be treated the way other minorities are.

It's about making sure THEY are safe. Their lives are unbothered.

I've had 3 Dems tell me in the last two days "you're worried about yours. Im worried about mine." There are notes on the poll I made on Tumblr with the same exact sentiments.

Liberal gays will tell you: do you want what's happening there to happen here? Project2025 is a real threat!

And that's cuz they refuse to see it is here. They don't see natives being arrested and tear gassed on our own land the same way theyd perceive someone walking into their yard and tear gassing them out. They see it as just how natives are treated. They don't see it as inequality or unfair or something to even be addressed.

They see it as normal. A part of life that they just are so helpless about.

But listen to them cuz what they're saying is important.

Just the threat of being treated how the rest of us are and they beg and gaslight the whole planet into supporting a racist and genocidal warmonger.

Democrats are NOT a party of the people no matter how much they try to gaslight the rest of us into believing it

They are literally guilting and manipulating us to tolerate more genocide and hate crimes and war crimes cuz doing otherwise would force them to sacrifice some of their 1st world comforts.

Democrats are fucking fascists and I'm tired of everyone pretending they're not.

I'm tired of everyone pretending "lesser evil" is necessary.

Fuck you.

I'm done suffering for someone else's comfort when all they have shown me MY ENTIRE LIFE is that they would let me die if it meant they had to be uncomfortable to save me.

Fuck you, Democrats are never ever getting a vote from me or anyone I know ever again.

Give me Claudia De La Cruz or give me death

[secretpostsposts]

So sorry I made you think I was a hacker (even though I only left a comment on a post.) I have no information on you except the fact that you writing this fic. As I asked in the comments before, how would brozone react if branch went toe to toe with a dangerous wild animal and killed it in front of them? I REALLY NEED TO KNOW HOW THIS WOULD GO.

I DIDN'T SAY IT COLD!, SORRY!!!, I WAS JUST JOKING, IT WASN'T MY INTENTION THAT HE WOULD TAKE IT LIKE THAT, SORRY!!! B:[ 😭

I'm sorry if I can't reply to your comment on another post, for some reason Tumblr won't let me, I try and it tells me I can't, so yes, if you have something to say, I can read you in the comments, but maybe you can write it in the questions or in some private message, because I can't answer.

It's just that your comment took me by surprise, because it was planned in a future chapter to make Branch violent, because you can't tell me that for two those years Branch didn't kill at least 1 creature 5 times his size or more, he's a survivor, at least I think he carries a hunter's knife just for protection.

But I'll gladly answer your question!

Ok this isn't part of the story, but it's (haha) canon in it.

So the brothers go camping, John Dory's idea, as a signature to get Branch away from his friends and spend more time among brothers, of course it ends with Branch sitting bored all the time while his brothers do the rest at camp.

Branch wants to check the area and see that everything is safe, nope, that's Clay's job; Branch wants to make the food for everything, double not, that's Bruce's job; Branch wants to see if there's no predator around, don't even think about it, that's John Dory's job.

Floyd's job is to keep Branch entertained and happily minded sitting on a log, waiting for the others to finish so they can all have fun together (and if JD took photograph instead of guarding the place, it's a secret that the others will take to the grave).

So he was having lunch or dinner, it was already dark and JD thought it would be funny vs. horror story to scare Branch (but Floyd and Clay ended up scared because Branch has nerves of steel and refused to scream when Bruce jokingly scared them, although Branch did have a mini cardiac arrest because of it), They were having fun.

Of course I wasn't.

John Dory didn't check the place properly, neither did Clay, so with all the screaming and the fire and the smell of the food, he found something very big, very big.

John Dory tried to push the creature away, but failed, he kept his brothers behind him, but out of the corner of their eye the brothers only saw a blue, black and green blur pass at full speed by their side directly at the animal.

Blood, a cry of anger and pain, none of the brothers really knew what happened, but the next moment Branch is standing on the carcass of the animal, with an axe in his hand and panting from the effort.

"Are you okay!?" Branch wiped the blood off the animal, and as the brothers looked at him, astonished, frightened? Terrified? (I chewed nothing for Branch's safety, but Branch is fine just small scratch and bruises, but nothing serious)

Although Branch was more concerned about knowing if his brother was okay, each brother was having a mental breakdown, Floyd was holding Branch, a suffocating hug from which Branch could not let go, Bruce checked that his little brother was not seriously injured despite not seeing anything he was still looking with Clay who cleaned up the blood he could from Branch.

John Dory, on the other hand, stayed behind his brothers watching them take care of Branch (who was quiet trying to calm them down), just staring blankly, he felt sick, HIS LITTLE BROTHER SHOULDN'T KNOW HOW TO KILL THINGS, HE'S A BABY, HE'S INNOCENT, HE'S FRAGILE, HE'S WEAK.

John Dory can only think of how to deal with it.

[steddieasitgoes]

for a fortnight there, we were forever

Happy Birthday, @nostalgicbones !!!!

I hope you have the best day ever and enjoy this little fic about Steddie getting into Supernatural. Apologies in advance if I got the details wrong, everything I know about this show I learned from tumblr lmao.

wc: 2.1K+ | rated: T

Read on ao3

Steve’s tired. The kind of tired that sits deep in his bones. A once-in-a-lifetime trip to visit Robin in her year abroad interpreter fellowship has kept him busy the last two weeks. Adventuring all over Europe as Robin rambled in languages, Steve couldn’t even imagine learning himself. They saw art, explored kitschy tourist traps, ate so much delicious food, Steve���s pants sitting a little lighter around his middle, and managed to avoid an international incident except that one night in Italy when Robin had to translate their way out of an arrest.

It’s been some of the best two weeks of his life, but he’s ready to be home. All he wants now is to kiss Eddie hello, scrub the last six hours of travel from his body, and then curl up on the couch with lukewarm takeout and his boyfriend’s arm around him. In that exact order no matter how much protesting Eddie does. If Steve doesn’t get in the shower he’s going to start peeling his skin from his body.

He doesn’t expect Eddie to be waiting by the door for him like some devoted pet, but when he unlocks the front door and doesn’t hear footsteps, he’s slightly concerned.

This is the longest they have been apart in years and some part of him figured Eddie would be on him the minute the Uber dropped him off in the parking lot, especially after he denied Eddie’s offer to pick him up at the airport. It was a nice offer, but the last thing Steve needed after a day and a half of travel was to get into the car with a frustrated Eddie because airport traffic is the root of all evil — he learned his lesson after last fall’s teacher’s conference.

Instead, Steve toes off his shoes and pads down the hallway toward the glowing light coming from their living room. He passes the kitchen on the way in and has to stop himself from making a pitstop. Messy isn’t strong enough to describe the scene. It looks like Eddie threw a rager in the small confines of their kitchen — solo cups everywhere, dishes overflowing from the sink, a half-eaten pizza box open on the counter that surprisingly hasn’t been touched by their cat Shiloh.

Steve can feel his anxiety spiking as he takes it all in. Eddie may not be obsessively organized like he is, but he’s never been one to be this messy. What if something bad happened to him in the last day and a half he’s been traveling? It’s been hard to keep up with texts with the all-time differences and layovers. Surely someone would have called him if something bad happened — at the very least, their house would be surrounded in yellow tape by now since Dorien is a busybody who regularly sounds the alarm if they’re more than five minutes late putting out their trash cans on pick up day.

It’s comforting enough to propel Steve forward, further down the hallway, until it spills out into the living room. His eyes catch on the mess for a moment — more empty take-out boxes and half-drunken water bottles along with over two dozen balled-up pieces of paper — but then he relaxes when he spots Eddie amongst the mess.

His curls are pulled back in a messy bun, and his body is kinked in a weird position as he drapes himself over his acoustic to scribble something down in his notebook. The television is on, casting him in a cool blue-gray tone, but the volume is too low for Steve to hear what’s on.

“Eds,” Steve calls, keeping his voice soft and even so as not to startle Eddie. This isn’t the first time he’s found Eddie in a focused state like this. It’s better not to startle him out of him, a lesson Steve learned the hard way in the early days of their relationship after failing to heed Wayne’s advice. “I’m home.”

“Stevie!” Eddie leaps up from the couch, acoustic be damned as it clatters to the patterned rug. His arms are around Steve in an instant, pulling him flush with his chest and burying his face in his unusually greasy hair.

“Missed you,” Steve says, wrapping his own arms around Eddie’s warm middle. He pulls back just enough to connect their lips. It’s not exactly the welcome kiss Steve was expecting with Eddie’s unexpected stumble scratching his chin but it’s perfect all the same.

“Missed you too.” Eddie ducks his head, nuzzling into the crook of Steve’s neck for a second before pulling away. His nose scrunched up when he looks at him. “I love you, Stevie, but you smell.”

Steve chuckles, shaking his head as he slowly untangles his limps from Eddie. “Are you sure it’s me and not this place?” He gestures at the state of their living room and then looks up at Eddie. It’s the first time he’s gotten a chance to really take him in; too preoccupied with getting his much-deserved welcome kiss in. He looks tired, almost as bone tired as Steve does, which doesn’t make any sense since he’s been at home the last two weeks. Sure, managing the record store is a lot of work, but not enough for his eyes to look this red-rimmed and bloodshot as if he’s been smoking for days, which Steve knows isn’t the case because the house doesn’t smell. “What have you been up to?”

A grin tugs at the corner of Eddie’s lips, a smile taking over his entire face until his red-rimmed eyes are squinting and crinkling at the edges. “You know that show Erica is always talking about? Supernatural. I started watching it the day you left, and well… I finished it three hours ago.”

That explains the mess and Eddie’s exhausted state. If there’s one thing his boyfriend is known for, it’s losing all sense of time and human responsibilities for the sake of art — his own or someone else’s.

“How many seasons?”

Eddie yanks a strand of hair from his bun free to tug across his lips before dropping his head. He mumbles something, too low for Steve to register.

“Eds.”

This time Eddie sighs and picks his head up but continues to hide his sheepish smile behind the lock of hair. “15.”

“Jesus, Eddie!” It’s nearly double the last show Eddie became obsessed with, not wanting to do anything but watch episodes of Buffy the Vampire Slayer until the final credits rolled for the last time. He went 36 hours without sleep before Steve practically held his eyelids shut. “Have you even slept?”

“It’s really hard to sleep without you.” Steve knows Eddie didn’t mean it like that, but he can’t help the pit of guilt that sinks to the base of his stomach. “And once I started, I couldn’t stop. Supernatural demanded to be watched.”

Okay, so maybe it’s not all Steve’s fault. It’s just Eddie’s compulsive need to finish things he starts — at least the things he cares about, their half-built patio furniture, on the other hand…

“I’m never leaving you unsupervised again.”

Eddie smiles at that and reaches for Steve’s hand again. “Good, because I have to catch you up on the show!”

“It’s that good you already want to watch it again?”

“It’s that good, Stevie. And I need to revisit some scenes so I can get this love song, right.”

“Wait,” Steve says, dropping Eddie’s hand. His arms cross on instinct, head tilting to the side as he studies his boyfriend. “Love song? I thought you only wrote love songs about me.”

“The Destiel men deserve an original love ballad for all they’ve been through.”

“Destiel? Men? The show is gay?"

Eddie chuckles, shaking his head with enough force that more unruly strands break free from the worn elastic. There’s mischief in his eyes and a crooked smile pulling on his face and no matter how much trouble that look has gotten them into before, Steve can’t help but love it.

“You have so much to learn, my pet. Go shower, wash that gross plane smell off of you, and I’ll order us food. If we start right when you’re done we can probably get through half of season one tonight.”

Steve crinkles his nose at the request. It’s not that he doesn’t want to watch TV with Eddie, that was part of his plan when he got home. But he did just spend two weeks away from him, and well, he did have a few other plans in store for them after he settled in for a bit.

“Seriously? I’ve been gone for two weeks, and you want to spend our first hours reunited rewatching a show you just finished?”

“Trust me, baby, you’ll understand once we start watching,” he says, kissing Steve’s temple before patting his ass to get him moving. “I’ll even let you take one of those long, steamy showers while I get everything ready. That should be enough time for the Amazon shipment of tissues to arrive.”

“Tissues? I’m going to cry watching a show about supernatural things?”

“Excuse me,” Eddie scoffs. “You sobbed through that one episode of Buffy so do not judge me right now.”

“Will you at least warn me when something bad is going to happen so I’m prepared?”

Eddie shakes his head and mimes, locking his lips before throwing the imaginary key behind his shoulder. “At least you’ll have a shoulder to cry on. Now go, shower or else we won’t get through enough episodes tonight.”

Steve rolls his eyes but compiles, not without stealing another kiss first.

____

Steve hates to admit it, but he’s hooked from episode one. If it was up to him, he’d probably pull the same move Eddie did and binge the entire show in two weeks since he has no other summer vacation plans, but Eddie made him promise not to watch any new episodes while he’s at work. Turns out being an owner doesn’t mean he can call out for an entire month just to watch a television show, a rant Steve listens to for fifteen minutes before Eddie finally shuts up when he presses play on the remote.

It becomes a daily part of their routine right up until episode 18 of the final season. Steve knows something terrible is about to happen the minute the episode begins because Eddie won’t let go of his hand, but he’s still not prepared for the catastrophic events.

“He can’t die like that!” Steve shouts, jumping up from the couch. Eddie’s quick with the remote, passing the credits before the autoplay feature kicks in and starts the next episode. “What the fuck!”

“I know,” Eddie says, patting Steve’s shoulder in the hopes of placating the anger he knows is boiling in his blood. “I scared Shiloh with my shouting when I first watched it.”

“I don’t even want to finish it now.” He’s pouting; he knows he’s pouting, but he can’t help it.

“Aw, come on, Stevie. You have to see it through.” Steve huffs beside him, clinging to one of their stupid throw pillows as Eddie reaches for his laptop on the table. How can he go on the internet at a time like this? Steve feels like he just watched a friend die in front of him! “Besides it’s just the end for them in the show. There are tons of alternate endings online.”

“They shot more than one ending and released it? That doesn’t seem right.”

“Not the creators, they’re idiots,” Eddie says, shaking his head. His fingers fly across the laptop keys, typing something into the search bar before turning the screen so Steve can see. “But the fans take care of each other. This is an entire page of fix-it fics.”

“Fix it what nows?”

Eddie blinks at Steve as if he’s just sprouted two heads. “How have we been dating for five years, and I’ve never shown you the wonders of fix-it fics? Get ready to have your mind blown, sweetheart. Some of them even have art attached!”

“Where do you even find stuff like this?” Steve studies the page Eddie has open. An art piece of Dean driving his beloved Impala, with an arm thrown over the back seat. It’s beautiful.

“Okay, that’s it. After we finish, I’m giving you an education in the world of ao3 and Tumblr. You will be a changed man when I’m done with you, Steve Harrington.”

“I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?’

“Never,” Eddie lies, not even trying to hide the mischievous smile on his face. “If you want to see Cas live, this is the way, baby.”

“Fine. But let’s finish the last two episodes first. It can’t get any worse.” Eddie bites his lip, ducking his head but he’s too slow for Steve’s quick eye. “It gets worse doesn’t it.”

“Fix it fics, Stevie. It’s all okay in the fix it fics.”

[silverstarfics]

I was so determined to write something for this week’s @thunder-pride bingo square that I literally wrote this fic while having a minor allergic reaction on a plane - in other words there are definitely mistakes in this but please pretend not to notice them oops. Anyway, this is a longer fic than I'd usually post on here, so I recommend reading it on AO3 but I know some people prefer Tumblr, so here we are :))

AO3 link

Stray glitter itched under his left eye, his flag kept getting snagged on his baldric, and he could feel sweat prickling at the base of his spine despite the temperature regulator in his suit, yet Alan had never felt more comfortable in his own skin. His cheeks physically ached from so much smiling. He didn’t think he’d stopped grinning since he’d landed Tracy One on American soil two hours earlier – and no, that wasn’t just because he’d been reunited with his boyfriend. They hadn’t intended to spend practically three months apart – which had been a difficult adjustment after sharing an apartment for the past year – but the end of Alan’s semester meant he was officially back on the IR roster for the summer… just as a busy spell of rescues struck.

Technically, he was here on Official International Rescue Business: representing them at one of the world’s largest Pride parades. Usually, Gordon would have played the role, dressed up in yellow, pink and blue with an unholy amount of glittery body spray decorating not only his skin but his uniform. This year, Alan had taken up the reins. He secretly suspected his family had conspired to give him some downtime – because summer break was supposed to be restful, especially when you were an overachiever who’d decided to double major – and a chance to hang out with Brandon. He’d been instructed to have fun. Literally, Scott had texted him so.

Scotty: Have fun and enjoy your chance to be a dumb 20-year-old.

Scotty: Not too much fun though. You’re representing IR.

Alan had replied: so, on a scale from John to Gordon how much fun can I have?

Scotty: My level of fun only minus the daredevil risks.

Scotty: Just don’t get arrested, that’s all I ask.

“Coming to you from the Pride event of the year,” a loud voice declared dangerously close to Alan’s ear, jolting him out of his thoughts, “I’m here with a bi icon AKA my boyfriend-”

“Really?” he interrupted. “That’s how you’re introducing me?”

“Oh my god, fine.” Brandon hooked an arm around Alan’s neck and dragged him within view of the camera. “I’m here with International Rescue’s one and only Alan Tracy.”

“Better,” Alan accepted, trying to repress the urge to sneeze as Brandon’s flag drifted across his face. “Are you filming or livestreaming right now?”

“Filming,” Brandon assured him. “I’ll edit stuff out later, so you can relax.”

Alan flung his arms out to let his own flag billow in the light breeze. “Oh, I am so relaxed.”

Brandon, on the other hand, looked set to launch into orbit. He’d downed nearly a litre of soda since he’d met Alan at the airport and had chased it down with cotton candy and churros; he still had cinnamon dust on his face and it looked like extra freckles. The sugar rush had hit him around the same time as his adrenaline spike when music had begun to blare from speakers up-and-down the parade. He’d already had several fans come up to him for selfies and signatures which had only added to his energy levels. Even now, he was bouncing on the spot.

“Brand,” Alan tried to hiss, then raised his voice to be heard above the clamour of music and chatter and the swell of live instruments around them. “Brandon, dude, chill.”

“I am so frickin’ chill,” Brandon announced gleefully. He grabbed Alan’s hand and laced their fingers together, rising onto his toes – he hadn’t stopped complaining since Alan had hit the growth spurt that had placed him above Gordon and Virgil – to pull him into a kiss. “See? Chill.”

“Uh huh,” Alan deadpanned. “Super chill.” He frowned at the taste of sugar. “Did you find more candy? Where? And how? I swear you haven’t left my side.”

Brandon levelled the camera with a conspiratorial look. “All geniuses have their ways.”

“I’m cutting you off.” Alan reconsidered his words. “Ew, gross. You’re making me sound responsible.”

Brandon flicked his red baldric. “I feel like responsibility and IR are a joint package.”

“You’ve seen my astroboard stunts.”

“Good point.”

The parade began with an explosion of colour that reminded Alan of the infamous occasion when Gordon had accidentally upended Virgil’s palette mid-painting session. International Rescue had been assigned to the group of NGO floats, so he wasn’t expecting many people to point him out from the crowd. Maybe he’d gotten too used to his life on campus; after the initial buzz, no one cared that The Alan Tracy of International Rescue was a part of their ranks. But to his surprise, there were easily hundreds of people cheering and waving banners directed at him – or at IR or at his family: at least two signs asked for Kayo’s phone number – as the procession marched through the streets. Brandon captured everything on camera, including Alan’s shellshocked expression which prompted several internet comparisons with various memes.

“Hey, hey, Alan, look up.” Brandon cupped Alan’s face, tilting his head to glimpse the livestream of the parade on the giant screens above them. “Better smile, dude!”

“Oh my god.” Alan’s voice pitched into a humiliating squeak. He cleared his throat and fixed a grin on his face as the cameras stayed on him. “Okay, so this- this is a thing that’s happening. Cool. Cool, cool, cool.”

“Breathe,” Brandon teased. He raised their linked hands into the air, prompting another chorus of cheers from the crowd. “People love us! And they really love you, so quit freaking out.”

“I am not freaking out,” Alan protested, then proceeded to do exactly that as a weight crashed into his legs from his right. He staggered and caught his balance against Brandon’s shoulder.

“Woah,” Brandon mumbled, switching off the vlog. “Hey, lil dude. Where’d you come from?”

If the fact that Brandon had turned off the camera weren’t warning enough, his sudden change in pitch from overexcited delight to soft concern would have informed Alan that the new limpet clinging to him was definitely child shaped. He glanced down to glimpse a mop of tawny hair and an adoring, toothy smile. The kid had to be around eleven, certainly no older than twelve, with rainbow face-paint and a shirt emblazoned with Thunderbird Three.

“Hey,” Alan greeted, struck by the baffled urge to laugh. He knelt down to place himself at the kid’s level – honestly, his new height just kept causing problems. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Leo.” The kid – Leo, Alan mentally corrected himself – rocked on his heels as his grin grew impossibly wider. “Sorry for… you know. Running at you and jumping onto the float and stuff. But I really wanted to say hi, ‘cos you’re, like, super cool and you’re kind of my hero, so, um, yeah.”

Brandon leaned down over Alan’s shoulder to whisper teasingly, “Aw.”

Alan elbowed him. “Shut up.” He turned back to Leo. “That’s awesome, buddy! It’s great to meet you. Are you here with someone? I don’t want them to think you’ve gone missing.”

Leo gave an emphatic nod. “My mom.” He pointed in the vague direction of the crowd. “She’s out there somewhere.”

“Oh, boy,” Brandon whistled. “I know where this is going.”

Alan tousled Leo’s hair, then stood back up. “So, I’m thinking…”

“…We should search for the kid’s mom?” Brandon concluded with a fond eyeroll. “Yeah, okay.”

After a brief discussion with the other representatives on the float, Alan made his excuses, then clambered down with Leo perched on his shoulders and Brandon close behind them. The kid kept chattering, hands anchored in Alan’s hair and his heels drumming against Alan’s chest; it brought back treasured childhood memories of the times Alan had sat on Scott’s shoulders as his brother picked paths through crowds. He was aware of Brandon sneaking photos of their silhouettes to send to the family, all dressed up in sparkles and flags and IR blues.

Leo’s mom looked suitably ruffled. Her face was flushed with a mixture of humiliation and horror beneath the shimmery sheen of glitter spray. She fretted her hands in the hem of her t-shirt – pale blue with a supportive motherly caption that made both Alan and Brandon look away – as she began to utter so many apologies that they tripped over one another.

“I am so, so sorry.” She caught Leo’s eye with a warning stare. “He didn’t mean to disturb you. I only took my eyes off him for a second- Leo, have you apologised? Say sorry right this instant. I can’t apologise enough. Thank you so much for bringing him back. It’s just that you’re his hero, you see. He’s been obsessed with the Thunderbirds since he was only so high-” She gestured at her hip. “-and when you came out… Well, you’ve been a healthy role model for him. His hero, really, and- And I should stop rambling and let you get back to the parade. Leo, get down here.”

Alan crouched down to let Leo clamber from his shoulders. He wasn’t sure how to act in the face of such praise – the word hero was tossed around frequently by civilians but it was usually addressed towards elder brothers and on rescues, not a public setting – so settled for some terrible pun outta Gordon’s handbook and laughed nervously while Brandon rolled his eyes.

“Don’t worry about it.” Alan offered Leo a fist bump which the kid readily returned. “He’s been no trouble.” He feigned a serious tone. “I have an important question though: which is the best Thunderbird?”

“One,” Brandon declared and instinctively jumped outta reach before Alan could kick his shins.

Leo wrinkled his nose. “Three, duh.”

“Correct answer.” Alan patted him on the head. “I just had to check.” He grinned at Leo’s wide-eyed, starstruck expression. The kid kept looking at him as if he were a dragon, although perhaps a unicorn would be a better comparison given the rainbows painted onto his baldric. “Maybe don’t run off without telling your mom next time though, okay?” He lowered his voice to a secretive whisper. “I think you scared her. You might want to say sorry.”

Leo’s face fell. “Sorry, Mom. I wasn’t thinking…”

“Clearly,” she replied dryly. “But I think we can let it slide just this once.” She straightened up, craning her neck slightly to meet Alan’s gaze – and nope, he still wasn’t used to that one, it was so weird, how did Scott and John live like this? “It’s his first Pride.”

“Oh, heck yeah,” Brandon cut in. He held up a hand. “High five, lil dude! That’s awesome!”

Leo met his high five with a resounding smack. Alan observed their interaction, fully aware that he probably had the heart-eyes that he’d been accused of on so many occasions by nosy siblings, but hey, whatever, sue him, it was a cute sight. He tugged absently at the edges of his flag as warm affection spread outwards from his chest. Cameras clicked around him as people filmed – hey, it’s the guy from International Rescue – but somehow it didn’t bother him anymore.

“Really,” he continued, forcing himself to turn back to Leo’s mom. “Leo’s a good kid. You should be proud of him. I got super overexcited at my first Pride too. It can be kind of overwhelming.”

She gave a light laugh. “It’s all he’s talked about for the last three months.” She lowered her gaze, voice softening as she hesitated, then confessed, “He was scared to come out to me. I don’t know how I ever gave him that impression – Lord knows I kick myself every day for making my baby think I wouldn’t accept him – but when you came out… He said that if you could be brave enough to tell the world, he could be brave enough to tell his mama. So, thank you, Alan. Truly.”

And-

Wow.

Okay. That was… a lot.

“You’re so emotional,” Brandon teased, prodding Alan’s bicep. “This is why Goose says you have golden retriever energy, dude.” He skimmed his thumb over Alan’s palm, a swift, inconspicuous show of support. “We should probably get back to the parade, but it was awesome to meet you.”

“Of course.” Leo’s mom snagged her son’s shirt. “Say goodbye, Leo.”

“Bye,” Leo chirped, then threw his arms around Alan’s middle. “Thanks for… everything.”

Alan let Brandon lead him through the crowd to a café. They found a quiet corner at the very back, tucked away in a shadowy alcove beside a potted plant and an old Pacman machine. Brandon briefly vanished, then returned with a glass of water and a chocolate chip cookie. He slid both across the table to Alan, then waited expectantly, all wide eyes and furrowed brow.

“Thanks,” Alan replied after a minute. He took a sip of the water, then drained it in one as he realised how dry his mouth had become. “I don’t know why that threw me so much. Like, it was a really nice thing, so why am I…?” He held up a shaky hand. “…you know?”

“’Cos it’s a big deal,” Brandon said quietly. He bumped his sneaker against Alan’s beneath the table. “You’re allowed to be rattled by it, Al. It’s a good thing, but it’s still a lot. Like, I can still remember the first time one of my viewers told me I’d inspired them. I’m pretty sure I threw up afterwards, so you’re doing better than me. Then again, I was like fifteen, so…”

Alan split the cookie. “Want some?”

“It’s like you don’t even know me,” Brandon sighed, grinning as he snatched up half. “Let’s chill here for a few minutes, then we’ll head back out, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Leo was right, you know?”

“What d’you mean?”

Brandon’s smile was the soft, secretive kind, usually reserved for places without the threat of cameras. Alan had gotten to see it almost daily since they’d moved in together when he’d started at MIT, but it still left him mildly breathless.

“You’re a good role model to a bunch of kids like him.”

Alan ducked his head. “You think so?”

“I know so,” Brandon corrected. “Now eat your cookie so we can get back out there.”

Much, much later, after they’d flown back to the island and washed off most of the glitter, Alan had chance to process everything. It made him happy but also nervous at the same time. Like, woah, he was someone’s role model? Kids considered him to be their hero? That was wild. He said as much, airing his thoughts aloud while Virgil clattered around the kitchen and Scott picked at the bowl of chopped pineapple that was intended for the evening’s pizzas.

“It’s just so weird,” Alan continued, drawing his legs up to sit cross-legged on the bar stool. He’d changed into sweatpants and a hoodie that he was pretty sure he’d stolen from John at some point after his sixteenth and had subsequently grown into. There was still glitter caked onto his cheek despite the fact that he’d attacked it with a makeup wipe. “Like, me? I still feel like a kid.”

“You’re Scott’s twenty-year-old child,” Gordon joked as he sidled through the patio doors and made a beeline for the pineapple. “He’s never gonna see you as an adult. Trust me, I’d know.”

“I’m not that bad,” Scott protested half-heartedly.

Gordon patted him on the back. “Smotherhen.”

“Irresponsible guppy.”

“And I wear that title with pride.” Gordon dropped onto the stool beside Alan. “Speaking of pride, how was it? Brandon didn’t give me any of the good gossip. I need details, Allie-gator.”

Alan frowned. “Did you torture my boyfriend? Is that why I haven’t seen him all evening?”

“Nah, that’s ‘cos Penny abducted him. They’re conspiring. We should both be scared.” Gordon tossed a cube of pineapple into his mouth and shot Virgil an innocent smile when his brother heaved a grand sigh and stared pointedly at the pizza bases. “Anyway. Pride. Details. Go.”

“A little kid said Alan was his role model, so Al’s spiralling,” Kayo summarised from her perch on the opposite counter, nursing something strongly alcoholic. “Now you’re all caught up.”

“Aw.” Gordon propped his chin in his hands. “That’s kind of adorable.”

“That’s what I said,” Virgil interjected. He prodded at the bowl of cake batter in his hands, then reached for a baking tray. “Do I leave this as vanilla or add cocoa powder?”

“Add chocolate.” Alan dropped his head onto the counter with a groan. “It’s weird though. I feel… like a fraud, I guess. I don’t have my life together. I survive on pizza pockets and Red Bull.”

Scott glanced up. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Only during finals. I’m mostly a functional adult the rest of the time.”

John’s hologram blinked into life above the projector. “Before you spiral any further, you should know that the internet loves you. Footage of the parade has ended up online. You’ve not just inspired one kid, but a lot of people.”

Alan tossed his hands up. “How is that supposed to make me feel any better? That’s so much more pressure.” He slumped onto the counter. “I just… You guys were my role models, right? And you did a pretty good job-”

“Thanks,” Gordon said, just as Kayo added, “Everyone apart from Gordon did a good job.”

“-so, I’m really happy to be inspiring people but also I don’t want to mess up.”

A contemplative silence settled over the kitchen.

“You’re not going to mess up,” Scott said after a moment. He slid the pineapple out of Gordon’s reach, then moved to stand beside Alan’s seat. “Hey, look at me for a second?” He placed his hands on Alan’s shoulders and offered him a reassuring smile. “All you need to do is keep being yourself. Try your best, stand up for your beliefs, and you’ll do just fine, Allie. Besides…” He tousled Alan’s hair. “You’ve been our hero for just as long as we’ve been yours.”

“Gordon’s not included in that,” Kayo called. Gordon made a crude gesture in her direction. She flung an arm at him. “See? He’s just not role model material.”

Scott ignored them. “You’re doing great, Al. I’m proud of you.”

Alan swallowed the lump of emotion in his throat, then asked, “Can I make a Pride joke?”

Scott sank onto a bar stool beside him and dropped his head onto the counter. “Wake me up when the pizza or the cake is ready, I can’t cope with the terrible puns that are about to happen.”

“Oh, but Scotty,” Alan began.

Gordon let out a wild laugh. “This is gonna be so much fun.”

[claymorexpunisher]

Updated, Upcoming & Finished Work…

Key: S: Smut, F: Fluff, A:Angst)

Completed/Updated stories are in blue font. This list will be updated as I finish writing.

•Request: Britt Baker x Reader (S)

-Summary: This is an anon request from long ago came with absolutely no details soooo I'm taking some liberties lol. Britt and Reader get off on the wrong foot. Some good ole hate fucking ensues. (Tags/TWs: 18+, I'll be writing a male reader version and female reader version, hate fucking, enemies to hatefuck buddies, heel!Britt/babyface!Reader, hotel room sex.)

•Cody Rhodes x Reader (F/A)

-Summary: Cody and Reader have a forbidden romance. Reader is Brock’s advocate. Her girlfriends cover for her as she goes to make sure Cody’s okay after a brutal assault by Brock. (Tags/TWs: budding romance, forbidden romance, injury, a bit of angst, first kiss; Brock is more obsessed with Cody than the reader herself, let’s be real.)

(Read “Behind Closed Doors” on Tumblr & Ao3)

•Cody Rhodes x Reader (S)

-Prompt: If you want to come, you’re going to have to beg. (Tags/TWs: orgasm denial, toys. Filth. Just pure filth. Sorry in advance… no I’m not.)

(Read “If You Want to Come, You Better Beg” on Tumblr & Ao3)

•Damian Priest x Fem Reader :

-Summary: Damian and Reader hilariously argue with one another in Spanish during a segment. Rhea has to step in. (Tags/TWs: banter, kayfabe arguing, heel/babyface segment.)

(Read “The Last Word” on Tumblr & Ao3)

•Damian Priest x Fem. Reader (F):

-Summary: Reader gets a bit jealous watching Damian celebrate his NXT North American Championship win with beautiful women. (Tags/TWs: established relationship, jealousy, tooth-rotting fluff, hurt/comfort.)

(Read “Worthy” on Tumblr & Ao3)

•Drew McIntyre x Fem. Reader (S):

-Summary: Reader comes back from a friend’s birthday party only to realize she’s being followed. (Tags/TWs: 18+, consensual kink, consensual non-consent, dirty talk- lots of it, simulated stalking. )

(Read “(Un)Willing Participant” on Tumblr & Ao3)

•Drew McIntyre x Fem Reader (F):

-Summary: Vamp and Farmer!Drew catches Vamp!Reader in the act of feeding off his animals in order to survive. (Tags/TWs: budding romance, farmer!Drew, vampires, blood drinking, animal death but nothing graphic, I promise.)

(Read “Bound by Fate” on Tumblr & Ao3)

•Drew McIntyre x Fem. Reader x Roman Reigns (S)

-Summary: Reader has a bit of a filthy fantasy. Her boyfriends, Drew and Roman, take it upon themselves to fulfill that fantasy for her- without the need for getting arrested. (Tags/TWs: 18+, simulated public sex, consensual kink, sex in a home theater, a lil dirty talk, Dom/Sun dynamic.)

(Read “Just Like at the Movies” on Tumblr & Ao3)

•Judgement Day x Fem. Reader (F)

Summary: Scottish!Reader has Dom, Damian, and Rhea try Scottish foods like haggis and black pudding while they're on tour. Things don't go so well for DomDom.😂 (Tags: wholesomeness, Dom trying his best not to puke, on the road shenanigans. Requested by @motorcitygem)

(Read “Ith do Shath!” on Tumblr & Ao3)

•Judgement Day x Fem. Reader (S)

Summary: This takes place a little bit before Edge's departure. They and Reader have a little fun at Edge's home, but the cracks in the faction start to slowly show as they all fight over control during their scene with Reader. (Tags/TWs: 18+, gangbang, overstimulation, jealousy, possessive!JD, vaginal penetration, fingering, oral sex- male and female receiving, consensual kink.)

(Read “At Their Service” on Tumblr & Ao3)

•Live Forever (Ch.1) (Judgement Day x Fem Reader (F/S/A)

-Summary: Human!Reader comes into the WWE as Hunter's personal assistant. During one of Hunter's meetings with Vamp!Rhea, Vamp!Damian, Vamp!Dom, and Demon!Finn, JD and Reader take an instant liking to one another. (Tags/TWs: 18+, consensual sex, budding poly relationship, sex in the workplace, biting, slight bloodplay.)

(Read Ch. 1 of “Live Forever” on Tumblr & Ao3)

•Idea: Liv Morgan x Ruby Soho (F)

-Summary: Liv asks Ruby why Ruby fell in love with her. (Tags/TWs: tooth rotting fluff, established relationship, hurt/comfort.) I believe I wrote this prompt a long time ago and now I can't find it. So I figured it'd be fun to rewrite something similar!)

•Idea: Mercedes Mone x Fem. Reader (F/S)

-Summary: Mercedes loves to spoil her girl as often as she can, so they decide to take Mercedes' new limo for a spin. (Tags/TWs: 18+, sugar mommy!Mercedes😼, oral sex, begging, sex in a limo.)

•MJF x Fem. Reader x Baron Corbin (S)

-Summary: Max and Corbs like to share everything. Including their girlfriend. (Tags/TWs: 18+, threesome, sex in a private jet, name-calling, biting, fingering, daddy kink, consensual kink.)

(Read “Mile High Club” on Tumblr & Ao3)

•MJF x Fem. Reader x Wardlow (S)

-Summary: Max, Reader, and Wardlow are all living together for the week while reader’s apartment is being repaired... (Tags/TWs: 18+, thigh riding, dirty talk, Dom/Sub undertones, threesome.)

(Read “Three’s Company” on Tumblr & Ao3)

•Rhea Ripley x Fem. Reader (F and a little bit S)

-Summary: Rhea and Reader are an on-screen couple. So of course, Reader "jokingly" offers to “practice" their kissing for if the necessity arises. (Tags/TWs: first kiss, flirting, onscreen relationship turns very real.)

(Read “First Kiss” on Tumblr & Ao3)

•Roman Reigns x Fem Reader x Damian Priest (S)

-Summary: Reader enters Liberación looking for stress relief and light smut ensues. (Tags/TWs: 18+, voice kink, , first time kinkster, simultaneous praise and humiliation kink, consensual kink) within the Liberación world)

(Read “Voices like Honey” on Tumblr & Ao3)

•Roman Reigns x Male Reader (S)

-Summary: (Requested) Roman and Male Reader have some fun of their own in the ring after everyone’s gone for the night. (Tags/TWs: 18+, established relationship, anal sex, consensual sex in public, soft!Ro.)

(Read “Outta the Spotlight” on Tumblr & Ao3)

•Idea: Seth x Fem. Reader (S)

-Summary: Reader comes over while Seth’s sister-reader’s bff- isn’t home.

(Tags/TWs: best friend’s brother, Reader is in her mid 20’s, consensual sex, doggy style, hint of exhibitionism, biting (if you blink).

(Read “BFB” on Tumblr & Ao3)

* WIP/Series Updates:

-Liberación (Chapter 6 &7/?)

(Main Pairing(s): Damian Priest/OFC, Roman Reigns/OFC, Drew McIntyre/OFC, Liv Morgan/Rhea Ripley) (S/F/A)

(Read “Liberación” on Tumblr & Ao3)

-Primed for Sin (Chapter 2/2) (Pairing(s): Werewolf!Roman Reigns/Sex Demon!Reader/Werewolf!Baron Corbin/Vamp!Drew McIntyre) (S)

(Read “Primed for Sin” on Tumblr & Ao3)

-Brats Have More Fun (Chapter 2/?) (Misc. Pairings) (S/F/A)

(Read “Brats Have More Fun” on Tumblr & Ao3)

-As Fate Would Have It (Chapter 6/?) (Pairing(s): Drew McIntyre x OFC) (S/F/A)

(Read “As Fate Would Have It” on Tumblr & Ao3)

-Lock & Key (Chapter 5/?) (Main Pairing(s): Drew McIntyre x OFC) (S/F/A)

-Sweet Dreams (Chapter 2/2)

(Main Pairings: PT. 1: Roman Reigns/Reader, PT.2: Jey Uso/Reader) (S/F)

(Read “Sweet Dreams” on Tumblr & Ao3)

[soupandflowers]

School Dance - Day 1

Made a Tumblr solely for @hongiceweek!!! This is probably all what this will Tumblr contain. I have not written for in years and this is the first that I have so? Please be kind about it. It was really difficult for what I wanted the first half, not to mention I had to cut things out from what I originally planned from my outline. But, I definitely did had an easier time around the second half. Maybe it's noticeable. Or not. Anyways this is set in nation verse. Sorry for the late submission! I'll probably get this uploaded to AO3 when I have a proper account, but please enjoy it here. Tags: Iceland, Hong Kong, Seychelles, Liechtenstein, hurt/comfort, nationverse, school dance, idk how this works Also 3,432 thousand words woops The Gang Joins In a School Dance!

As the group strolls their way down the dusk streets of London, damp lawns are dotted with blooming flowerheads and the clouds reflect the skies’ gradient sunset colors above as if the neighborhood matched the group’s enthusiasm. The friends excitedly babble amongst themselves chatting about the evening that awaits them.

Well, save for Iceland. 

As the sounds of muffled music, dancing, and obnoxious teenagers grow near, Iceland doubts swell and he shoots one more look at Hong Kong, who coolly keeps a steady stroll. Now, Iceland trusts Hong Kong, that’s for sure, but what he isn’t sure about is this boy’s ability to abide by the law and not risk himself getting arrested for it, nevertheless to add his friends to the equation.

And added to the equation that Iceland himself has been unfortunately added to. When Hong Kong called and invited Iceland to a questionable plan, he shot down the idea. Determined to change his mind, Hong Kong had spent the next 10 minutes trying to persuade his best friend to go- in which proved to be ultimately ineffective. However, to his dismay, the rest of his Nordic brothers overheard the conversation and, sold by Hong Kong's idea, they too collectively pestered Iceland to go. Outnumbered, he reluctantly agreed.

Fast forward to now, his reluctance still hasn't changed. Iceland, who once again is wondering if this is the best way to spend his little free time, glances warily ahead at the chirpy other three, who are now all flaunting in their best attire. 

“Lili! Let me help you out with your bow!”, exclaims Seychelles as she trots behind a flustered Liechtenstein . Hong Kong chuckles in their direction as he strolls alongside them. Hong Kong is sporting one of his best suits from England, while Seychelles nearly trips over her glittery blue long-dress, Liechtenstein fiddles with her rose colored and frilly outfit and as for Iceland… he opted for his world meeting attire.

As they near the high school building, Iceland slows to a halt. At his pause- the rest of the group turns back to look at him in confusion.

"Okay, Leon, are you actually sure about this?", stresses Iceland. "Because getting me to come here is one thing, but do you have any idea how we're actually going to enter?"

Hong Kong only returns a puzzled look.

"I mean, surely these people would realize we’re not actually students, right? That they realize who we actually are and we’re not supposed to be here."

"Yeah and? That's fine.” Hong Kong turns and continues walking.  “The worst that happens is that we get turned away. We'll just find some other way to crash."

“What the hell do you mean “crash!?” Iceland catches up next to him with the girls following right behind them.  “If we get caught, our bosses are going to give us hell for intruding amongst humans, especially in a private event!”

“Um, he’s got a point..”, Liechtenstein timidly adds. Hong Kong shrugs and passes Iceland,  striding forward to the gym entrance.

"No- You can’t just waltz right in...” And then Hong Kong proceeds to waltz right in.

Iceland’s face scrunches in disbelief. He watches his best friend disappear into the crowd.

Seychelles, not wanting to miss out, takes Liechtenstein's wrist and brushes past Iceland, eagerly following Hong Kong’s lead.

Iceland was left dumbstruck and he stood there for a solid minute. 

Through the entrance, colored spotlights flash accompanied by blaring party music, as voices of mingling students contribute to the racket.

Iceland cringes warily at the immense atmosphere. He heaves a frustrated sigh and subsides into the crowd to find the others.

—

As Iceland navigates his way through the gym, the music is blaring in his ears and already he feels suffocated by the swarm of people around him. Not even too long into the event and he already feels like all the noise and lights is trying to burst his head open. Hoping to find a familiar face soon, he scans the room as he struggles his way through the crowd. Fortunately, he didn’t need to take very long.

To his left, he spots Liechtenstein in the corner- who is hovering by the food stand and warily looking amongst the party around her.

He pushes his way through the crowd and upon approach, Liechtenstein’s shoulders lowers in his presence. Iceland returns with a polite gesture and glances around Liechtenstein.

He raises an eyebrow, “Where’s Jaqueline? Weren’t you with her?” 

Liechtenstein blinks. “Oh, Jaqueline? We were together, but she got caught up in the crowd.. And then I couldn’t find her.”

“Really? I know she wanders off easily, but I didn’t think she would leave you behind like that.”

“I don’t think she meant to do so.”, she sighs. “But regardless I tried looking for her and I cannot find her…” Iceland places a reassuring hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Ah geez. Well, at the very least we can look for her together. In which.. have you seen Leon as well?” “Uhh..”, before she could begin her sentence their conversation is immediately interrupted by Seychelles bursting from the crowd, waving her hand up high and smiling and running up to the pair.

“Lili! Lili, Lili, Lili!”, smiles Seychelles. She runs up to her and takes both of her hands, holding it and starts apologizing profusely. “I am sososososooooo sorry for leaving you behind like that! I tried to find you but I got swept away and I was like freaking out because we got separated and I tried to asking others for help but there was this really mean group of boys who were so rude for no reason and then these girls came along and-” “Yo, Jaque!!”, shouts an unfamiliar voice. A teenage girl in a seafoam dress also emerges as well with 4 other girls trailing behind her. “Where did you go, and-”, Seafoam glances behind Seychelles. ”Oh my gosh, is this your friend who you were talking about? Oh my god she is so adorable!!”

Liechtenstein smiles nervously and blushes, as the other girls surround her and start showering her with compliments and questions about herself and her attire, as Seychelles looks proudly at her best friend. 

Meanwhile, Iceland is to the side watching the girls’ shenanigans unfold, unsure what to say, especially not when he didn’t understand the social manners of the opposite gender. 

He wouldn’t admit it, but seeing the girls interact and socialize with ease makes Iceland a little bit envious. People is something that Iceland has yet to figure out completely. 

“Oh!” Seychelles looks past the girls and finally notices Iceland. “I didn’t even notice you were there!” “Oh, uh- don’t worry about it, it’s fine”, shrugs Iceland, trying to play it off. Seychelles steers off from the group and trots towards Iceland. 

“I didn’t actually think you would come join.” “Well, I don’t know”, Iceland’s brow furrows. “I’m only here because I got dragged to it in the first place, alright? Otherwise, I wouldn’t know what else to do with my time.”

Seychelles grins and places a hand on Iceland’s shoulder. “Well, I’m sure happy that you decided to come along, Emil! It’s not very often that we get to hang out, do we?” “I guess so, but I’m still not very sure of this.” “About getting caught? I don’t think it’s been an issue so far.” “No, not that- well, yes, actually you’re not wrong about that but like”- he puts his hand on his chin. “I’m not used to events like these, especially with a lot of people at once.”

“Hm? But there’s always the world meetings and you’ve never had any issues with that?”

“That’s because I’m with my brothers. Outside of you, Lili, and Leon, the only people that I’ve interacted with were out of diplomacy- not for getting to know them.”

“Well…”, Seychelles smiles widen and her eyes meets Iceland’s. “Then why don’t we try helping you with that?”

“What?” Suddenly, Seychelles turns out and cups her mouth with her hands.

“HEY GUYS!!”, Seychelles calls out to her new profound friends who were exchanging accessories amongst each other. “COME MEET MY OTHER BEST FRIEND!!”

Iceland falters back and his face flushes in surprise. It also does not help that Seychelles sudden shouting has also drawn the attention of the other students. The group of girls run over and greet him enthusiastically.

Seychelles steps aside and proudly introduces him. “Like I said, this is my other best friend, Emil! He knows a lot about poetry, can read maps pretty well, and knows super awesome Norse stuff!” As the girls nod in response, Seychelles’ comments pique the interest of a girl in a yellow dress. “Ohhh, really? I study European history too! What do you know?”

Iceland rubs the back of his neck. “Oh, uh- for starters…”

The girls introduce themselves to Iceland and he exchanges the gesture in return. For a while, conversation and different topics ended up being thrown around in exchange, with Liechtenstein and Seychelles tuning in to the group. For someone not used to being surrounded by those unfamiliar to him, especially not all at once, Iceland finds himself starting to think that maybe it was not such a bad idea to come along after all. Although he can’t quite put his finger on it, there seems to be something missing.

Suddenly, the familiar tunes of obnoxious electronic beats and hip-hop come onto the speakers that Iceland and God knows that only one person can enjoy. He looks up to the far end of the gym.

Hong Kong has taken over the DJ System at the front of the stage. He has upped the blaring stage lights to flicker faster and has turned the volume to full max and is furiously headbanging to the terrible rap music that he has put on. He grabs a mic and fist-pumps it into the air. “LET'S HEAR IT FOR GROVELAND HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGHHHH!!”

The audience uproars in response and their partying immenses. Seychelles and Liechtenstein beams and cheers at Hong Kong’s sudden takeover while Iceland stands there agape at what he is witnessing. 

What the genuine fuck??? wonders Iceland.

Hong Kong spots him in the crowd. They make eye contact. As Iceland's puzzled gaze meets him- Hong Kong only returns with a smirk.

Hong Kong points to Iceland in the crowd. “This next one goes out to my one and only man, Emil!!” 

And then Hong Kong proceeds to play a popular track from an Icelandic band. 

Hong Kong beams brightly at him from the stand, but Iceland can’t help but feel like a deer in headlights. As the other students turn to look at him, some staring and some giggling, Iceland can only stand there dumbfoundedly in embarrassment at the sudden turn of events against him. Nevermind that he was willing to give socializing a chance; he’s just been singled out with all eyes on him. 

Suddenly, Iceland nearly trips over himself as Seychelles drags him and Liechtenstein to the dancefloor, with the newly befriended teenagers joining in. As Iceland regains his balance, Seychelles takes Liechtenstein by the hands and they start dancing together. Liechtenstein is taken by surprise and her footing is off, but Seychelles guides her pacing and soon enough; they’re frolicking and laughing on the dancefloor. 

Iceland just blinks, who is once again unsure what to do next. As if the prom wasn’t overwhelming enough, being in the center of it only amplified it. His head is starting to throb. The music is blaring and it's a racket to his ears. The flickering of the lights have only grown more colorful and intensified. As everyone is jumping up and down around him, it’s already making him weary. He tries to exit the crowd, but someone shoves into him. They snarl at him. He apologizes, but he can barely hear himself over the noise.  

With this many things to process all at once, he is already weary. He hasn’t been here for that long, but Iceland feels so pathetic for getting so overwhelmed in a short amount of time. To give reaching out a chance, it’s something that he is no longer sure he’ll ever be able to figure out. Sure, that thought sounds irrational, but it’s a feeling he is unfortunately familiar with by now.

Then, he feels a familiar presence appear right beside him. 

“You okay?”, asks Hong Kong.

“Huh?”, Iceland slightly falters back and faces Hong Kong. The boy is giving him a concerned look. Realizing that Hong Kong was just on the stage only a couple of moments ago, he turns and squints up at the stage to see the former DJ handling the booth again. His look is frustrated as he figures out how to restore the original playlist. The DJ presses something and all of a sudden, the music amplifies even louder, causing Iceland to wince. From the look of the DJ, it is safe to assume it was an accident.

“I said, are you okay?!”, shouts Hong Kong. Iceland turns back to meet Hong Kong’s gaze and not wanting to look meek in front of his best friend, only responds with a weary nod and squeezes his eyes shut. Hong Kong shoots him a concerned look and grabs his hand, leading him through the crowd.

As Hong Kong navigates him, Iceland’s eyes are still squeezed shut and he presses his palm to his forehead. He squeezes Hong Kong’s hand and feels himself shuffling in between the party goers as they exit the crowd. As Iceland keeps his head down, he thinks about how stuffy the gym is and the mere embarrassment of his social progress only coming up short handed.

The noise gradually grows distant and he hears the opening of a door and shutting behind them. He opens his eyes and much to his relief, they’re back outside with the party now merely muffled behind him. The sun is long gone and it’s already dark. “Thanks”, mutters Iceland. At the warmth of the evening, he removes his coat. Hong Kong clasps his shoulder and steers them to a nearby bench under a tree. They both sit down. 

For a moment, it’s still between the two of them. Trying to pull himself back together, Iceland looks amongst the warm lights emitting from the windows of the neighborhood. The warm May breeze parts his hair. The only thing he hears is a distant family arriving home and the bare noise of the school gym.

Other than that, all is quiet, but it’s a pleasant contrast compared to where he was before. Iceland sags forward and rests his head on his fist. He glances over to Hong Kong who is studying him. He watches the street lamps turn on behind him. “Hey.” “Hm?” “Sorry about earlier.” “Ah. It’s alright.”

“Not really? Given the look on your face earlier.” “Well I mean, yeah, of course I wouldn’t enjoy being singled out like that.”, uncomfortable, Iceland looks the opposite way. “But it’s fine.” “Mmm..”, unsure what to say either, Hong Kong leans back against the bench. A moment of awkward silence sits between them.

Hong Kong breathes in. “I’m also really sorry for forcing you into this.” Iceland sighs. “No really, don’t worry about it. But, I’d think I’d rather just stay out here. Don’t you have a party to go back to?” “Sure, I guess, but what’s the point if you’re not even there?” “Huh?” Iceland looks back at Hong Kong, whose arms are now sprawled on the top part of the bench and his eyes are apathetically staring ahead. “Like, I wanted to hang out with you again. Lili and Jaque are easy to pull in, but it’s been a couple of months since I’ve last seen you. Excluding the calls,” Hong Kong nudges Iceland’s arm with the back of his hand. “I’ve missed you, man.” Iceland’s brow furrows. Great. Now he feels like a jerk for even complaining in the first place. 

Socializing has never been his forte, but for the past few months, he’s brought himself further away from the rest of the world, secluding himself to the Nordics and the occasional foreign nation for diplomacy, but besides that, he never realized it and it was for reasons he was unsure why.  Now, he is dealing with the pang of guilt of realizing that upon his negligence, his friends have been missing him.

Iceland was unsure how to respond, but Hong Kong seems to have already read his mind. “I thought sneaking into some high school prom would help get you back out there. After all it’s just a bunch of teenagers, who are like, waaaay less serious than adults. In which you have been spending all your time around with.”, Hong Kong jokes, but returns back to his concerned demeanor. “But I guess I thought wrong and it upset you. It didn’t work out.”, Hong Kong sighs. “I apologize.” “No..”, Iceland glances back. “You did your best. I can tell you at the very least, you’ve gotten some success.” Iceland gives his friend a lighthearted grin, who returns with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. “Watcha mean?” “I mean, more like Seychelles had more success. Have you seen her? I don’t know how she did it, but she managed to befriend like 5 or so people within like 15 minutes.” Iceland chuckles. “Suddenly, her friends were swarming Lili and then she redirected them towards me, all of them asking about Iceland and history and stuff like a swarm of Puffins and a Herring!” Hong Kong’s grin widens. “Really? I thought I was irrational, but I’m starting to think she is like, way more impulsive than me.” Iceland gives him a light punch on the shoulder. “You still called me out and played fucking Icelandic rock. What the hell is wrong with you, man?” “Hey, I’m still sorry about that.” “Even then, how the hell did you even get up there? I swear to God, there was some guy before and he was not you.” “Gift from Alfred to Matthew to me, the guy’s got like serious fireworks.” “You brought fireworks!?” “Ehhh, just a small one. Got the guy distracted long enough for me to take over.” “You’re so fucking stupid.” “I know.” They both grin at each other and they burst out laughing. As the crickets begin to overtake the grasses and early birds residents dim their lights off for the night, the laughter of two, flawful boys fill their air. Maybe Iceland can’t get around to understanding people just yet, but even then, as Iceland watches Hong Kong’s smile grow, he at least realizes how much people would be willing to try to understand him. Ironically, for that alone, is all that needs his knows to willingly take the first step in reconnecting again. And Hong Kong seems to be his first step. Iceland couldn’t imagine any better option. Abruptly in the distance, a door slams open and the boys whirl their direction back towards the school. They see Seychelles and Liechtenstein bolting out of the gym with a group of teachers sprinting after them. Back at the gym entrance, the students are gathered and the peaceful night air is interrupted by collective howling and cheering for the girls.

“RUN!!! RUN!! THEY’VE FOUND US OUT!!!”, Seychelles screams at the two and the girls run past them. The boys immediately got up and started sprinting after the girls. “Nevermind, I think Jaque is more stupid!!”, shouts Iceland. They both crack a smile and they both burst into another round of laughter as Seychelles yell at the both of them. Despite currently being chased, Iceland feels everyone’s spirits high and he laughs louder with Hong Kong beside him. Then, they run off into the night.

[duckdoeswords]

Change of Pace Ch.7

Summary: When a scandal breaks out after her father is arrested for Electoral fraud and Tax evasion she takes this opportunity to disappear leaving Atlas for a small town in the south where her Grandfather had a small farm that had fallen into disrepair. She arrives hoping to find a better life for herself and her daughter.

Words: 36,659

Main Relationship: Weiss Schnee/Ruby Rose

Rating: M

Notes: I'm currently working on posting links to fics I forgot about to tumblr. I'm also trying a new format for posting said links. If you want to set the mood for the fic please check out the playlist for it and you can check out my ko-fi if you want.

FIC:

‘Your destination is ahead on the right.’ Weiss glanced out of the right window, noticing the narrow gravel road. 

“That must be it.” Turning onto the road her car jerked slightly as she drove up toward a rustic two-story house with a familiar beat-up red pickup truck parked in the driveway. Pulling up next to it, she put her car in park unbuckling her seatbelt, looking over the seat at Ivory where she sat, playing with a stuffed rabbit, kicking her legs back and forth. “You ready?” 

“Yuh-uh!” Ivory chirped as she began to unbuckle herself. Turning off the engine, it made a clunking sound that didn’t fill Weiss with much confidence. 

“Oh, that didn’t sound good...” Gently she stroked the steering wheel before she grabbed her purse and stepped out into spring evening air. Slamming the door closed she moved around the front just as Ivory skipped into view. The blue sundress had definitely been the right choice. That and the white buckle sandals made her look like an entirely different child. If not for the frog purse she had insisted on bringing everywhere. Shaking her head Weiss blew some air out her nose. ‘If she’s happy that’s all that matters.’ 

Approaching the front porch, she watched Ivory jump up the stairs stumbling slightly. She waved her arms attempting to catch her balance. Weiss placed a hand on her back helping her keep herself upright. “You good?” 

“Yup!” Ivory nodded, jumping onto the final step. “Can I ring the doorbell?” 

“Sure,” Weiss said with a short laugh as she watched as Ivory reached up on her tiptoes just as barely managing to press the button. It rang out in the standard ‘Ding. Dong. Ding.’ 

Ivory beamed up at Weiss obviously very proud of her accomplishment. “I reached it.” 

“Yeah,” Weiss said, placing a hand on Ivory’s back. “You’ve gotten so big,” Weiss said, causing Ivory to throw her shoulders back, puffing her chest out. The doorknob rattle and turned, the door swinging open inwards revealing the one and only Ruby Rose. She wore a faded grey shirt that seemed to say Feldspar Track and Field around the same mid-howl wolf from the water tower. The sleeves had been cut off revealing toned along with a farmer’s tan. She leaned against the door, reaching down to adjust her pants, a pair of black gym shorts. Weiss looked down at her own outfit. A sheer white blouse with a faux ribbon attached to the collar was tucked into a blue A-line shirt. Weiss suddenly felt incredibly overdressed.

Ivory was practically bouncing in place and eventually, the excitement bubbled over as she jumped over to Ruby. “Ruby! Ruby! Ruby!”

“Ivory! Ivory! Ivory!” Ruby said easily matching Ivory’s energy as she placed her hands on her knees leaning down so she was level with Ivory who placed her hands behind her back, rocking back on her heels. 

“Did you know that we’re here for dinner?” 

“What!?” Ruby exclaimed, glancing up at Weiss. “Really!?” 

“Yup! Really really!”

Continued on Ao3

[ocprompts]

pardon my language but FUCK i wish i found this blog earlier. these are the minor details that i NEED for my ocs. i see your inbox is open to ranting so I'm going to take the chance to talk if that's okay.

now this alone may out myself to my friends on the off chance that they find this blog and that this is posted but i have over 500 ocs and counting because my brain wont stop generating new characters. id love to make a piece that includes ALL of them somehow but i really don't think my tablet or my sanity can handle doing that but its a nice thought

anyway out of those 500 only a good handful have some kind of storyline to them and somehow the one with the most normal life managed to become a fan (friends) favorite. he's a "short" white British guy who didn't realize he was bi until he hit college and it only happened bc he started to like his dormmate. he used to be ginger and my friends called him a leprechaun. the worst that happened to him is that he's had a shitty love life. even so i love him and my friend's oc aka his former dormmate aka his current bf. i draw them together all the time bc i think their dynamic is great and ngl my friend's oc is very pretty. like. very. but that's a box to unpack later

another oc i cherish is my first dnd oc which I'm not too worried about sharing bc I'm 95% sure the people I'm worried about finding this oc in particular don't use tumblr or at least arent on this side of tumblr. anyway she's a high elf wizard and shes so COOL even if her appearance is so different compared to the standard high elf. i gave her bright blue hair and bright green eyes when i was like 8 and I've kept them like that (but made the colors much duller). she has a large scar that branches out from the middle of her back to look like lightning bc she did a witch bolt on like 3 health and killed the boss and I'm still not over that and i dont care that that scar doesn't make much sense. her best friends are a halfling who thinks nearly getting killed every adventure is fun and a goblin the halfling and her met on their first adventure together. the halfling makes fun of the goblin 70% of the time but its okay bc they're all friends who work under a magic school and its great

like i said i have 500+ more but i think these are some highlights. honorable mentions include a girl who was arrested by her own gf and then broke out with her friends' help, a superhero oc i made when i was like 6 or 7 that has fire wings and her dad was originally manray from Spongebob somehow, a werewolf lady who is a walking red flag, a guy (gender neutral) who got high once and began being followed around by a demon right after it kicked in, and all of the ocs i made on roblox.

thank you sm if you read this I'm sorry this went on for so long i just cant be quiet about my own characters

no need to apologize EVER, if i didn't want people to ramble in my inbox, i'd close it!

[nokingsonlyfooles]

“It’s my hope, Mr. President, that you listen to us, that you choose democracy over tyranny.” - Abdullah Hammoud, Dearborn Mayor and Voter

YES! I can't fuckin' believe the media accurately reported this as a protest and printed/publicized the words of the voters explaining why they did it. AND NOBODY HAD TO ATTEMPT SUICIDE! This is big and it could get even bigger! But it's a qualified bigness, because...

Walz, a major supporter of Biden’s reelection campaign, said Michigan’s “uncommitted” results were a healthy demonstration of democracy. “I think they feel passionate, as they should, about an issue we all care about,” Walz said, adding that he expected most protest voters would eventually return to Biden’s side in a likely November rematch with former President Donald Trump, who himself has struggled with college-educated voters and suburbanites in his ongoing Republican primary against former U.N. Ambassador Nikki Haley. “I’m much more convinced there’s a chance bringing those folks home is much greater than bringing the ‘Never Trump’ folks back home,” Walz said.

Yeah. I know this song and dance. I've seen it happen in person, at protests, in reatime. They come out to "do voter outreach" and they're all smiles to start. "Yes! Please do continue to act upon your freedom of speech in a way I, an advocate for the status quo, find nonthreatening. Your feelings are valid, ha-ha! I expect nothing to change, and indeed I will act to change nothing, but good for you!" A few folks always believe the message has been received and quiet down, that's why they do it. But wait and see what happens to that smile when a few people start interrupting and yelling, "THAT'S NOT GOOD ENOUGH!"

At least this guy's willing to suggest Biden would pick up more votes by moving left than moving right, although I doubt he actually expects anything radical. A few more forgiven student loans or somewhat cheaper drugs aren't much of a problem, and that's leftist too! So we don't really have to worry about the ongoing genocide.

The thing is, if/when this picks up momentum and the DNC starts to think they might have to change something or lose, it will become something other than a positive demonstration of free speech. It'll be childish tantrum-throwing, pointless, uncivil, attention-whoring, astroturfed, counterproductive foreign interference, and whatever else sounds bad. If any of you out there in internet-land already feel threatened by it, you're probably saying that right now. (Go ahead and comment, you'll boost this with other people who think like you, and I might change some minds.)

And, if you are comfortable with it and want voters to do it instead of threatening to withhold votes from Biden in the general, check your privilege. Not every state offers this. Unless something changes real fast (at least, I THINK it hasn't changed, it's hard to do a search when "uncommitted" brings up SO MANY news articles about Michigan 😁), mine won't. I can't do this. I can't vote in a third party primary either. It'd be all blue or nothing. And neither of those things will get me any press, so I gotta keep talking. Maybe I'll motivate someone who can vote uncommitted! Or scare a politician! I still think I'm doing more good by staying alive, and I'm a bit distant from any property I might meaningfully damage (although I am open to suggestions that won't get me arrested and silenced), so this is the only thing I got that won't injure a human being.

Tumblr, no matter how you actually intend to vote, if you're not up for living in a two-party system where both parties think they can do a little genocide and stay in power, you have ways of making yourself heard. There are options beyond falling in line behind the lesser evil. Don't let anyone tell you there aren't. And when you start hearing "stop!" or "you can't!" that means you have something they want. A cessation of hostilities! Well, now you might be in a position to negotiate terms! Don't give up!

Please, please, please don't give up. There is so much to be done.

[jackoshadows]

can you tag your sansa stark posts as anti sansa stark? I’m not telling you to remove the main tag but just add the anti one

Just block me and move on.

It’s weird how fans of the character feel that canon Sansa quotes from the books is anti Sansa.  Meanwhile Arya and Jon stans have to deal with murder baby Arya and incompetent Jon or unrelated quotes randomly put together to rewrite relationships. Maybe that's why the Arya and Jon tags are so full of headcanon Sansa that most of the time feels like an unrecognizable OC.

And then in the comments there is someone who has ‘not read the books in years’ telling me that I lack reading comprehension  😂

And this is while there is so much racist Arya fanart from Sansa stans on the Arya Stark tag despite repeated requests from poc to stop doing this.

It's honestly so depressing to go on the Arya Stark tag and see fanart on the tag or sidebars - because racist art is so popular in fandom!! - where canonically white Arya is differentiated from her more classically beautiful sister by simply drawing her in darker skin tones. At this point it's clear that artists are aware of the racist implications of doing this and still continue to do this because they don't care.

And yet using a Sansa book quote is supposedly 'anti Sansa' and needs to be tagged as such. I guess the tags should only be used for headcanons of racist caricatures of ‘ugly’ Arya and beautiful blue eyed, whitey white Sansa being the best sisters ever and nothing else.

I think the problem for many Sansa stans is that they stay in their echo chambers with their made up headcanons so that when they do venture outside that chamber to posts by other readers on the tag using the books, they are shocked and think there is some sort of unfair crusade going on against their fave.

I am not saying staying within fandom spaces is totally wrong btw. We all curate our fandom experiences on Tumblr. This app in particular allows us to block out ships or opinions we don’t particularly like. I am sure my group of mutuals and fans, including me, who reblog and follow posts have a similar kind of groupthink.

However, what’s fascinating with Sansa stans in particular is that Sansa is so much of a self-insert at this point that 90% of the character is headcanons. Her most popular ships are crackships, her relationships with her siblings has been re-written, she is now the underdog and outcast etc.

This has happened to me so many times -  I make a post, a Sansa stan responds saying I am wrong, I don’t know how to read, I am a hater etc., I respond with book quotes and ask them to read the books, I am called uncivil and then immediately blocked (they just have to get that last word in!) Rinse and repeat.

Take the post that got me the above message for example.

“I’m not like Arya,” Sansa blurted. “She has the traitor’s blood, not me.”   - Sansa, AGoT

This is really not what happens in that chapter at all. Sansa does not really think of Arya, admits to forgetting about her at the end and it’s only in the next chapter she thinks that Arya may have gotten away on the galley Ned had arranged for them (Which does not happen thanks to Sansa’s tattling of Ned’s plans and Cersei placing Lannister guards on the galley).

At this point Arya is still trapped in KL trying to get out and it’s only been 3 days since Ned has been arrested. However, as per this person, Sansa is begging them not to torture and kill her and therefore names Arya, who she thinks is already safe in Winterfell, 3 days after the Starks and their men are taken down....

In the OP, I have used the most basic quotes, but in the actual chapter it’s far worse. Sansa is actually still dreaming of marrying beautiful prince Joffrey when she is taken to meet Cersei:

That night Sansa dreamt of Joffrey on the throne, with herself seated beside him in a gown of woven gold. She had a crown on her head, and everyone she had ever known came before her, to bend the knee and say their courtesies.

“Sweet Sansa,” Queen Cersei said, laying a soft hand on her wrist. “Such a beautiful child. I do hope you know how much Joffrey and I love you.”

“You do?” Sansa said, breathless. Littlefinger was forgotten. Her prince loved her. Nothing else mattered. (---)

“She is a sweet thing now, but in ten years, who can say what treasons she may hatch?”

“No,” Sansa said, horrified. “I’m not, I’d never … I wouldn’t betray Joffrey, I love him, I swear it, I do.” (---)

“And yet, I fear that Lord Varys and the Grand Maester have the right of it. The blood will tell. I have only to remember how your sister set her wolf on my son.”

“I’m not like Arya,” Sansa blurted. “She has the traitor’s blood, not me. I’m good, ask Septa Mordane, she’ll tell you, I only want to be Joffrey’s loyal and loving wife.” - Sansa, AGoT

And then at the very end of the chapter:

It was not until later that night, as she was drifting off to sleep, that Sansa realized she had forgotten to ask about her sister. - Sansa, AGoT

So yes, Sansa is scared of not being able to marry Joffrey anymore, frightened of being accused as a traitor like her father and therefore throws out Arya’s name as the traitor - when as far as she knows Arya is in KL and Lannisters could have Arya, the same as her.

Next,

This is the funniest part! - ‘I haven’t read these books in a few years, however, it’s you who is very much lacking reading comprehension’ 😂😂😂

Make it make sense please. And then we are back to the usual Sansa is just a child, she’s 11 goddammit! She’s a teeny tiny baby! It’s totally justified for her to throw her even younger 9 year little sister under the bus as a traitor to be tortured or killed by the likes of Joffrey and Cersei instead of her.

And then finally, the predictable conclusion:

And block! 

Because of course made up headcanons are ‘alternative interpretations’ and if we point out it’s fanfiction then we are being uncivil.

I can only say that I am glad that my side of the fandom don’t engage in this much fanfiction, projections and headcanons. It’s frustrating as a book fan to be told that I lack reading comprehension because I don’t accept their ‘alternative interpretations’ of how Sansa thinks Arya is safe in Winterfell three days after the Lannisters massacred all the Stark men and imprisoned Ned stark. And while Arya herself is still stuck inside KL unable to leave.

At this point I really do think there is no point in engaging with these stans because they are not doing this in good faith. Just block rather than waste time discussing. They seem to think that we need to accept their headcanons as book canon and if we don’t then we are simply anti Sansa posting anti Sansa stuff on the tags. It’s certainly a fascinating fandom aspect of a self insert fan favorite. It’s the reason she wins polls above more complex and well written characters in the books, the popular version of her is entirely about what fans project onto the character rather then actual written version in the books.

[slutforstabbings-archive]

Clean Again

survivor!Corey Cunningham x fem!Reader

After miraculously surviving the injuries he sustained on Halloween 2022 and narrowly avoiding arrest, Corey Cunningham lives in constant fear of being found out. He tries to keep his head down and be as invisible as possible but the first time he sees you, you see him too. Can he have a relationship with you without you really seeing ALL of him? What happens when you eventually catch a glimpse of his secret? Is love worth the risk?

new chapters posted every Thursday between 9 and 10 EST

Chapter 1: ESCAPE FROM HADDONFIELD read on AO3 | tumblr chapter index

general warnings for this fic - angst, fluff, eventual smut (MDNI), canon-typical violence, canon-typical gore contents/warnings for this chapter- gun violence, long hospitalization, prescription pain killers, wishing for death, description of a corpse, referenced past abuse (fuck you joan)

5,668 words

@rebel-blue @heartrot666 @wolvesandvampires @cordelium @toxicanonymity @multifandom--mess @hersweetrevenge @futurewife @yllcm dm me or reply to this post to be added to my tag list 💕

Beep. Beep. Beep. Whoosh.

It’s pitch black. Corey can’t tell if his eyes are open or closed. He can’t hear anything except a distant beeping, punctuated by occasional whooshing. The sounds feel familiar, but he can’t figure out why. Then they fade away.

God it hurts! Everything hurts, pain like he’s never felt before. Can a person die from pain? Or is this pain what dying feels like? What being dead feels like? What Hell feels like? If he’s dead, and Hell is real, that’s certainly where he’s wound up. 

But now what’s this? A new sensation, like being swarmed by ants. And the ants eat him, all the way down to shiny, clean bones. Skeletonized. The places where he’s been reduced to bone no longer hurt. 

There are voices. Speaking in a language it seems wrong for him to hear. Something alien, or maybe something lost not long after we started walking upright. They’re warped, and warbling, like they’re being played at the wrong speed. There’s that beeping sound again. Laughter. It’s laughter, and they’re all laughing at him. 

Corey sits on the witness stand at his manslaughter trial. The gallery of the courtroom is full of people. But as he looks the crowd over he realizes it’s really all just one person. 

It’s Momma, 20 Mommas, only able to comfort him for a few minutes at time before she makes all his problems about herself. No one will ever love you like I do, and this is how you repay me? You’re killing me Corey! Is that what you want? To kill your mother?

It’s Laurie, 20 Lauries. Aiming revolvers at him. Do you wanna do it, or you want me to? She asks before unleashing a hail of bullets. They ricochet wildly around the courtroom, splintering the wood of the witness stand, releasing tiny explosions of drywall, shattering every lightbulb overhead. Riddling Corey’s body with holes, turning him into Swiss cheese. Then the dust settles and everything is normal again.

It’s Doug. 20 Dougs, guts spilling out of his stomach, throat gurgling and full of blood. You’ll be lucky if you make it back to the station. I oughta put you in the ground, you psycho son of a bitch! 

It’s Michael. No. 20 people wearing Michael’s mask, but none of them are Michael. One by one they reveal their true face. Corey’s face. Each one puts a finger up to his lips. Shhhh. Then he disappears. 

The Corey on the witness stand turns to the judge. It’s Jeremy, neck lolling, blood gushing from his split scalp. Answer the question, loser! Did you kill me on purpose or not!! He screams without moving his slack, dead mouth. Now the judge is Mrs. Allen, and she leans down to him, still screaming in Jeremy’s dead voice. You think you can just have fun with your friends!? You don’t have any friends, you ugly, white trash nerd!

A hole opens in the floor of the witness stand and Corey falls. He falls down, and down, and down further than that. 

He lands with a hard thump on the floor of the sewer. Pain radiates through his limbs and he gasps for air. Something crunches and squelches beneath him. He scrambles to his feet and looks at what he was laying on. His own corpse. Rotting and partially eaten, rats and insects swarming it. It’s wearing the silly scarecrow mask. 

He removes the mask from his own dead face. The inside is full of bugs. He shakes them onto the ground, then puts it on. As soon as it touches his face, he panics. His fingers skitter over the hard plastic surface, desperate to claw it off, but it’s stuck like it’s fused with his skin.  

Allyson pulls the mask off of him. He’s lying in a puddle of his own blood, and she’s hovering over him, holding his head in her hands. She thinks he’s dead. Her tears fall onto his face and slowly dissolve him until he’s nothing but a stain on the hardwood floor. 

Corey opens his eyes. He can’t see anything, but he knows his eyes are open.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Whoosh. 

Oh. I’m in the hospital, he thinks. He closes his eyes again.

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

The morning of November 2nd has barely begun, but there is chaos brewing in the Warren County Sheriff’s Department. With Michael Myers turned into hamburger, things seemed like they would be calm for quite some time, and yesterday had been a great beginning. But this morning Joe Grillo and Joe Ross came to work with vengeance in their hearts. They corner Richard Wright as he fills the coffee pot with water from the cooler. 

“You collected a handprint from a glass door at the Mathis scene, right?” Grillo demands.

“Yes?” Richard replies in confusion.

“Did you run the prints?” Asks Ross. 

“No. It was a Michael Myers murder. We only collected the print because we didn’t realize it was him right away. Why would we run it?”

“Did you ever see Michael Myers before he was shredded, Dick?” Ross asks. 

“Big guy,” says Grillo. “Gigantic hands.”

“Okay…?” Richard says, still confused. 

“Handprint you collected at the Mathis scene looks kinda small to be Michael,” Grillo explains. 

“It could belong to Mathis, or the girl we found at the scene.” 

“Nope,” Grillo says. “Too small to be Michael, too big to be one of the victims. Could belong to a fourth person.”

“Could belong to Corey Cunningham,” Ross adds.

Richard takes a second to process this information. “Cunningham was a Myers victim too. He was barely clinging to life when we found him.”

“He got in Doug’s face at the diner on my birthday,” Grillo says. “Doug disappeared right after that. Seems suspicious, doesn’t it?”

“Seems like a coincidence,” Richard says. He moves to walk away but Joe Grillo and Joe Ross press in on him. Water sloshes out of the coffee carafe in Richard's hand.

“Oh yeah? Remind me who the victims were at the scene when you investigated,” prompts Ross.

 “Tanner Mathis and Deborah Jennings. So what?”

“Jennings worked at the Mathis clinic. Know who else worked there?” Grillo asks. “Allyson Nelson,” the Joes say in unison.

“Great police work,” Richard says sarcastically, trying again to walk away from the conversation. Joe Ross and Joe Grillo just tighten their press on him, until he can smell the unique reek of their combined breath. 

“Allyson was with Cunningham at the diner on my birthday,” Grillo growls.

“Joe, this town is fucking tiny. I’m sure everyone in the diner on your birthday was connected to each other and Michael Myers in some way. You’re grieving. We’re all grieving. But you can’t let that cloud your judgement. Now, if you’ll excuse me…” Richard finally manages to shoulder his way out from between the Joes and the water cooler. 

“Not everyone in the diner that night killed a kid!” Ross says after him. 

Richard turns on his heel. “Jeremy Allen’s death was an accident. Cunningham was acquitted.”

The Joes laugh mirthlessly. “Run the fucking prints, Dick.” Grillo says. 

“What’s going on here?” Asks Frank Hawkins as he comes into the break room. He hadn’t heard much, but his ears had pricked up at the name Cunningham. Frank numbered among the few in the Warren County Sheriff’s Department who had believed in Corey’s innocence from the beginning. He’d felt a pang of sadness when he’d seen the poor boy’s body crumpled in the foyer at Laurie’s house two nights ago, and he held a tiny kernel of hope that he would survive his injuries. 

“Just trying to make sure our police work is thorough and complete, Frank,” says Joe Ross.

“They wanna run the handprint from the Mathis scene,” Richard clarifies. 

“That was a Michael Myers murder, and Michael Myers is dead.”

“Michael Myers is. But Corey Cunningham isn’t,” Grillo says.

“Yet,” Ross adds darkly. 

“Why would it be Corey Cunningham’s handprint?” Frank doesn’t follow.

“They think he had something to do with Doug’s disappearance. Mathis and Jennings both worked with Allyson Nelson.” Richard rolls his eyes, something he’s found cause to do quite a lot of this morning. 

Frank doesn’t like this at all. He feels a kind of paternal care for Allyson, as Laurie’s granddaughter. He’s not sure what her relationship with Corey is, but he wants to protect her, protect both of them after they’ve been through so much.

“Michael Myers is responsible for Doug’s disappearance.” Frank says. “Let it rest. We all need to try to move on.”

“You can move on. I’m gonna run those fucking prints,” Joe Ross says.

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

Corey comes to his senses slowly, head unfogging a little bit every day. He struggles to make meaning out of the things happening around him, to remember why he’s in the hospital. It seems like something he should know. 

Today Corey feels the best he’s felt since he realized he was in the hospital. He’s still in pain, excruciating pain. He tries to move around but it feels like his body has forgotten how to. His muscles groan and his nerves tingle. His arms and legs are heavy and wooden. But his brain is churning. His thoughts are more than just smears.

The TV on the wall in the room is turned on. Through the blur without his glasses, he recognizes Judge Judy. Ron likes Judge Judy, he remembers. Then he feels sick. Something bad happened to Ronald. 

A nurse comes into the room. Corey can’t move his head, but he moves his eyes towards her. Her wavy brown hair is pulled into a ponytail.

“You’re awake! Welcome back to Earth!” She says to him as she putters around the room. “Are you hungry? I can have them deliver some solid food for your lunch now that you’re awake.” She checks his vitals and marks them in his chart.

“Yes, please,” Corey whispers raggedly. His voice is small and unfamiliar to him. 

“How’s your pain?” The nurse asks, vial and syringe in hand. He can’t find an answer. It’s awful, but it doesn’t feel like it’s happening to him. This stiff, immobile body isn’t attached to anything. Someone else is in pain in this hospital bed. He rolls his eyes around, trying to see the nurse better without rotating his head. “Well I’m gonna give you some morphine, okay? Right in your IV, and you’ll feel better in a flash.” She plunges the medicine into the line, and Corey feels it move slimily around in not-his veins. 

“Thank you, Allyson,” he croaks.

“My name’s not Allyson, hon.” She leans over him so he can see her better and taps her name tag. “I’m Nancy. I’m making sure the TV remote and the nurse call button are within your reach if you need them, okay?” He feels her press two rectangles of plastic into his right hand. Then she leaves and Corey drifts away on the morphine. 

He wakes up to someone else coming into the room. A blond boy in his late teens, pushing a tower full of trays. He removes one and brings it over to the bedside table. Corey rolls his eyes towards the boy and watches him uncover the food and adjust the height of the table. 

“Enjoy your lunch, Mr. Cunningham,” the boy says as he leaves the room.

Corey looks down at the food. A plate of spaghetti sits in the center of the tray. His stomach turns. Fucking spaghetti. Momma’s worst meal, he thinks. Still, he finds himself suddenly ravenous. He shovels the spaghetti into his mouth as quickly as he can with his heavy arms and frozen neck. It surprises him that it’s not disgusting. Of course Momma didn’t make this spaghetti, he thinks. Momma’s dead. He stops chewing mid-bite. 

He’s certain his mother’s dead, but he can’t remember why. How did she die? Motorcycle accident? No, that was Daddy. But then why can he picture her body, slouched and covered in blood? He feels like the answer is in his head, right there, in front of him, but he can’t quite reach it. After a moment trying, he gives up and goes back to eating. 

It’s later. Corey doesn’t know what time it is, or what day. Only that it must be evening and it must be a weekday, because it’s dark outside and Jeopardy! is on the TV. He hears voices outside his room, he thinks they’re saying his name. He gropes for the remote and hits the mute button when he finds it.

“Is that the Corey Cunningham in there?” A voice says.

“What do you mean?” Another replies. This one is sort of familiar.

“You don’t know about Corey Cunningham!?” The first voice hisses.

“Can’t say I do,” Nancy answers.

“Oh my god! I heard about his case on this podcast I listen to, Manslaughter Monday . He killed a kid he was babysitting in 2019. Threw him over the railing of the stairs from the third floor! The kid cracked his head wide open when he landed. And the fucking jury let him off! He claimed it was an accident and that the kid was pulling a prank on him when everything went wrong. I don’t buy it for a second.” The first voice giggles.

“Maybe you should listen to fewer podcasts,” Nancy sneers.

Corey hears two sets of feet retreating from his door and down the hall. 

Suddenly everything crashes in on him. Memories battering him in unrelenting waves. He remembers how he got hurt. He remembers the bad thing that happened to Ronald. He remembers how his mother died. And he remembers Allyson, cradling his head in her hands, certain he was dead. Ice runs through his veins as he realizes that Allyson is probably dead now too, because he woke Michael Myers up. He promised Allyson he wouldn’t let anything happen to her. But he had happened to her. 

Corey sobs, a massive, heaving sob. Sitting in the dark, the glow of the TV on him like a spotlight. The grief builds and builds until it feels like it’s smothering him. Squeezing his throat the way Michael had in the sewer. He screams, but no sound comes out except a faint and rattling rasp. The beeps on his heart monitor accelerate to break neck speed, but nobody comes to check on him. He is completely and utterly alone. 

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

While Joe Ross sends the bloody handprint from the glass at the Mathis crime scene through the computer, Joe Grillo calls Haddonfield Memorial Hospital. Grillo is transferred from department to department. No one seems to know what happened to Corey Cunningham on Halloween night. Of course not. HMH administration has always been a shit show. When his daughter was born, Grillo half expected them to give him the wrong baby. 

The handprint doesn’t go any better. Four of the fingers are smudged and one is only partial. The computer can’t read them. Ross has to make a special request for a human expert to analyze the prints. That only escalates things with Richard Wright and Frank Hawkins. 

“Frank needs to learn it’s time to retire,” one Joe complains to the other. 

“He’s only obstructing us because he wants to protect Laurie Strode. Well, fuck Laurie Strode!” The other Joe says.

Doug’s body still hasn’t been recovered. Why should they protect that old broad’s peace when their best friend is missing and it’s the Cunningham cunt’s fault? 

The two sides split the Sheriff's Department. Most of the men on the force agree with the Joes. Cunningham got off too easy after he killed Jeremy Allen and they hope he’s still alive so they can have their second chance to fry him. Metaphorically, thanks to Illinois doing away with the death penalty. But there are those who believe investigating the murders and Doug’s disappearance is a waste of resources now that Michael is finally gone for good. Even most of them don’t think Corey is particularly innocent. They just don’t want to deal with the whole mess any longer than they already have.

The tension around the station is palpable. Some deputies have refused to speak to those on the other side of the issue. Joe Ross’s own father Elvis has been short with him since all this started. He’s never said he thinks Joe should end the investigation, but he doesn’t have to. Just as Ross starts to worry that the Sheriff will call everything off, the prints come back from the human expert.

Joe Ross sits at his desk with the envelope in his hands. He taps his foot impatiently as he waits for Joe Grillo to show up. Finally, Ross sees him approaching. Before Grillo even gets all the way to his desk, Ross is unsealing the envelope. His gut is telling him the news is bad, and he wants to rip the bandaid off. Grillo arrives at his elbow just as he slides the report out.

Thumb and pointer finger inconclusive. Too smudged even for the county’s top expert to get anything from. Middle finger, ring finger, and partial pinky — positive identification. There it is, the thing that Ross has been hoping to read for weeks, but was convinced he’d never see. Suspect Name: Corey Cunningham. He turns to Grillo to celebrate just as the other Joe’s phone rings. 

“Grillo,” he answers gruffly, annoyed at the interruption. Ross strains to overhear the conversation, but only gets one side. “You did?… Okay, so where… Let me get something to write this down.” He gestures roughly to Ross who shoves a pen and a sticky pad into his hands. Ross watches as Grillo writes down an address a couple hours away from Haddonfield. 

“Is this it?” He mouths to Grillo, who waves him away as he finishes his phone call. “Is this it?” He repeats as Grillo hangs up.

“That’s it. He was airlifted. He was only at Haddonfield Memorial to get onto the helicopter and someone fucked up his records. I’m leaving right now to go see if that motherfucker is still alive.” The Joes high five in triumph as Grillo shrugs into his coat.

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

Nancy is sitting by herself at the nurse’s station organizing paperwork when a cop walks up. He’s not dressed like local police, his uniform is green. The patch on his bicep says Warren County. He smacks his badge on the counter and clears his throat.

“Yes?” She replies in a sour voice. 

“You got a Corey Cunningham as a patient in here?” The cop asks. 

“I don’t know, deputy, do you have a warrant?” Nancy attempts to match his posture and tone.

After Dottie, that vulture from maternity, had come to ask about Corey the other night, Nancy had gone home and done some research. She found the podcast and listened to it, despite her usual distaste for true crime bullshit. The storytelling was garbage and the hosts seemed to derive an obscene pleasure from the suffering of everyone involved, but it gave her a basic understanding of what happened. Afterwards, she found a YouTube channel that posted a video claiming to analyze the psychology of Corey’s police interview. It had been a long time since Nancy took psychology, but she knew most of the claims in the video were bogus, just like the podcast. She tuned most of the narration out, focusing on the footage of Corey. She couldn’t help but care for the boy in the interrogation video. He seemed so small and naive. Completely unprepared for the harsh reality of what happened to him. 

The arresting officer was a real piece of work too. Lying to Corey and making thinly veiled threats to his safety. If this is how he behaved when he knew the conversation was being recorded, she could only imagine how he treated suspects outside of the camera’s watchful eye. When Corey turned his frightened face towards the lens, Nancy felt like he was looking right into her eyes, begging for her help.

When the video ended she moved onto news stories, trying to find a less biased perspective. It proved difficult. His trial had to be moved to a different county because he had no hope for an impartial jury in his home jurisdiction. The town had a serial killer problem or something, and Corey’s accident had turned him into the villain they needed. It was sick. And that blabbermouth Dottie was probably telling everyone in the hospital that they had a real life murderer in their midst. 

That was when Nancy had first started caring for Corey, when he had just been transferred out of the ICU. She’d felt deeply disturbed while reading his chart, and absolutely astounded that he’d survived. Two gunshots, a stab wound, and a broken neck. Multiple large bruises and massive soft tissue damage, some of which was already old and healing. Mild concussion, also days old. Cuts, scrapes, friction burns. A nasty gash in his palm that looked like it had already been stitched closed once, with a bright red spider web of infection streaking from it. 

Was it lucky or unlucky that the knife had passed right between major veins and arteries? That it had just barely clipped his vocal folds? That two of his vertebrae had been fractured, but his spinal cord remained undamaged? Was it lucky or unlucky that, despite the infection already festering when he arrived at the hospital, all his wounds closed with ease, that he was spared sepsis and gangrene? After everything he’d been through, did God love Corey Cunningham or hate him?

“A warrant?” Grillo responds, sounding annoyed.

“Yes, sir. I can’t confirm or deny if someone is a patient without a warrant, it’s a breach of privacy.” 

“Can you get me someone who’s in charge around here?” He slaps his badge against the counter impatiently. 

“Sure I can, sir. But we’re really short staffed right now, so it would probably be hours before they would have time to speak to you. We’re busy saving lives.” Instead of ruining them, she wants to add. 

“Fine. A warrant.” Grillo says tersely. He smacks his badge on the counter one more time before turning away and heading towards the elevator. 

As soon as she hears the doors slide closed, Nancy pulls up Corey’s chart. She scans it quickly, trying to figure out how close to discharge ready she can get him, tonight. She can’t let the boy from the interrogation video go through that again. It would really be best for him to stay in the hospital for at least another week, but that is not a luxury he has. Corey Cunningham deserves a break, even if just a small one, and Nancy can give it to him if she acts right now.

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

Corey looks at the ceiling, noticing a cluster of dead bugs inside the light over his bed. I wish I was like them, he thinks. Dead. Turned to paper by time. Forgotten and inconsequential. A fitting end for a short, stupid life. 

There’s a small knock on his door, followed by the creak of hinges. Corey attempts to move his head to look, but mostly fails. In the very edge of his vision he sees Nurse Nancy entering. Her arms are full with some kind of bundle.

“How are we doing?” She asks. Corey can’t be bothered to respond. “I’m gonna sit you up, okay? I have something important to talk to you about.” 

The bed rumbles to life and folds Corey at the waist until he’s the most vertical he’s been in weeks. “What is it?” His hoarse whisper less jarring to him every time he speaks, getting used to the way he sounds now. 

“A cop came by just now, looking for you.” Nancy says gravely. Corey tenses up at this information and it sends pain radiating through him. He winces and Nancy looks at him with pity. “I know who you are. I know about the manslaughter case. They didn’t have a warrant so I couldn't tell them if you were a patient or not. They’re going to be back soon.” She puts her bundle down and stands with her hands on her hips.

“I have a plan,” she continues, “to get you out of here before they come back. You’re not ready to be discharged yet, but I think you have better odds out there on your own than inside a jail cell. It’s up to you if you want to stay or go.”

“What’s the plan?” He wheezes. He’d do anything in the world to avoid going to prison. He remembers the time he spent in jail after the accident with Jeremy, viscerally. No way he would ever do that again. He’s confident that now he could handle the guards and the other inmates much more effectively. But he had spent his whole life in a cage, under surveillance, suffocating. First Momma, then all of Haddonfield. Fuck that. He would rather die than spend another moment on lockdown, in a very literal way. The only thing worse than being alive would be prison.

“You’re going to ask me to discharge you against medical advice. I’m going to beg you to stay for just a couple more days, a couple more hours even, until the doctor can come look you over at least. You’re going to refuse.” She starts to unravel the bundle she brought with her.

“You were so insistent that I had to let you go. So I printed your chart and some care instructions…” She waves some papers around, “and brought you some warm clothes from the lost and found, since what you were wearing at admittance was destroyed.” One by one she holds up a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, a sweater, and a parka. “I just guessed your size.”

Corey listens carefully, amazed and confused at the lengths the nurse is willing to go to to help him. She knows about Jeremy but she must not know about everyone else. She would stick her neck out for a kid who caught a tough break, but certainly not for an honest to god, cold blooded killer.

“When I asked how you were getting home, if you had anyone to look after you, you refused to tell me. I did everything I could to keep you here, and everything I could to discharge you safely when you wouldn’t stay. What do you think of that?”

“I think you better discharge me, right now. I’m ready to go the fuck home, and I’m not waiting for the doctor.” He tries to muster an insistent tone. 

“That’s what I hoped to hear,” Nancy says with a smile. “I’ll be right back to remove your IV and all that.” She practically runs to the door.

Corey sits uncomfortably in the truck stop diner booth, chewing a piece of leathery bacon. It takes great effort to sit up straight, his muscles weakened so much by his hospital stay. If he can catch a ride with one of the truckers in the parking lot, hopefully they’ll let him lay in their bunk. And maybe they’ll have drugs, he thinks, the last of the painkillers from the hospital leaving his system. He doesn’t know where he’s going, or what he’ll do when he gets there. He just knows he needs to get the fuck out of Illinois as quickly as possible. 

Nurse Nancy had unhooked all the wires and pulled out all the tubes that helped Corey stay alive, then got him dressed. She brought him his work boots and his father’s ring, the only two things that hadn’t been cut off by medical personnel on Halloween. The only two things in the world left from his old life. Someone had already scrubbed the blood out of the crevices in the ring, destroying the evidence that Corey was not merely the victim of another tragic Halloween in Haddonfield. Then Nancy ordered him an Uber and gave him all the cash in her wallet. A total of $78.

He swallows the last sip of his chocolate milk, sludgy with undissolved syrup, then slides awkwardly out of the booth. He doesn’t leave a tip. He only has $65 left after the food itself. He stumbles on unfamiliar legs through the diner, past the coin operated showers, and outside. He scans every face he sees, looking for someone who feels right. Friendly, or else easy to intimidate. He spots a gangly young man who looks about his age, maybe younger, hopping down from the cab of his truck. Corey doesn’t know much about fashion, but he thinks this guy looks punk or something. Like the dudes in high school whose girlfriends all dyed their hair purple, who he had always wanted to be friends with. 

“Hey man,” Corey says to him, trying to sound casual. “Can I catch a ride with you?”

“Where are you trying to go?” The punk driver asks.

“Wherever you’re willing to take me.” Corey tries to shrug but it hurts too much.

The driver agrees to give him a ride. He says his name is Evan. Corey doesn’t offer a name. Evan tells him they’re hauling a load of cheese from Wisconsin southward to Georgia. Corey has to get out before Evan makes the cheese drop though, because he’s not supposed to have anyone else in the truck with him. 

Evan turns the volume on his cacophonous music down to talk. From his friendly chatter Corey deduces it’s sometime during the week between Christmas and New year. Holy shit, he was in the hospital a long time. In October he’d hoped he could kiss Allyson at midnight on New Year’s. He’d never done anything to celebrate, and they would be in a new town, starting their new lives together. Now Corey would be alone for the holiday. Starting a new life by himself, while he can only assume Allyson’s life is over. He looks out the window so Evan won’t see his grief.

As they barrel south, they pass through miles and miles of empty fields, waiting, dormant. The flatness of the plains gives way to hills and then mountains. The elevation changes make Corey’s ears pop, and the tight curves in the road jostle him from side to side. He doesn’t ask Evan if he can sleep in the bunk, or if he has any drugs, and Evan doesn’t offer. Not long after they exit the mountains, they enter the tangled web of Atlanta, the highways and interstates knotting around each other, ensnaring cars like thousands of insects. Then they emerge into central Georgia, and Corey sees the south as it’s represented in cartoons, tiny little nothing towns separated for miles by woods and family farms. 

Evan pilots the truck through endless decrepit historical downtowns with mostly empty storefronts. These places aren’t dissimilar to Haddonfield, slowly becoming more abandoned and rotten in the wake of Michael’s rampages. The familiarity is bittersweet. Corey wonders if these towns have their own boogeyman legends. He wonders if their boogeymen are real. A hard, dark part of him hopes they are. That these towns have all felt the wrath of the monsters they personally created. 

They come to a truck stop on the edge of a city. Even from here, just barely within the limits, Corey can tell it’s the biggest town they’ve seen in hours. Evan informs him that his destination is nearby, so this is where they must part. Corey thanks him for his kindness then slips out of the truck.

Late December in south Georgia is much warmer than in Illinois, and Corey starts sweating in his parka immediately. But he keeps it zipped, with the hood up, to obscure himself as much as possible. He shambles across a parking lot to a motel that looks like it was frozen in time 60 years ago. He spends all of his remaining money on a room for the night. The towels are scratchy, the bed frame is creaky, and there’s a mysterious stain on the carpet in the corner of his room. None of it matters. He peels off his parka and falls straight to sleep. 

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

A few days after Corey’s escape, Nancy is once again seated alone at the nurse’s station when the cop comes in. This time he slams a warrant down on the counter. 

“Corey Cunningham,” is all the asshole says. Nancy takes the warrant from him and makes a big show of reading it. Grillo’s face starts to turn red. 

“Checked himself out against medical advice,” Nancy says, biting back a smile.

“Where the fuck did he go!” Grillo demands, half shouting.

“I need you to keep your voice down, deputy. This is a hospital. Patients don’t usually make a habit of telling me their plans after they leave, especially those who are adamant about leaving before their treatment is complete. I can give you his chart, but your guess about where he is is certainly better than mine.”

Nancy prepares the information requested in the warrant, feeling victorious. She smiles the rest of the day. Good luck, Corey Cunningham. She tries to think loud enough for him to hear her, wherever he is.

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

When Grillo gets back from his second trip to the hospital, Ross can see all over his face that the news is bad. Fuck, is all he thinks. 

“He was there. I got his chart,” Grillo tells him

“That’s what we wanted?” Joe Ross says, confused.

“He was there. Past tense. He fucking checked himself out against medical advice! He’s in the fucking wind!” Grillo roars.

“Well, put out a fucking APB then!” Ross yells back. But he knows before he finishes his sentence that an APB won’t be happening. Nothing else will be happening, because here comes the Sheriff, striding towards his desk with a stern look on his face. And just like that, Doug Mulaney’s disappearance and the murders of Tanner Mathis and Deborah Jennings go cold.

[dumbass-duo-showdown]

DUMBASS DUO SHOWDOWN ROUND 1 BATTLE 15

Grif & Simmons (red vs blue) vs Beavis & Butthead (Beavis & butthead)

Reminder to check out the propaganda under the cut before voting!

Grif & Simmons

They’re always together and Simmons is very intelligent but can’t apply it in any way so

They are inseparable even when they don’t want to be. Both of them think that they’re the smart one and they other is the dumbass.

Beavis & Butthead

These guys are the OG dumbasses. IDK if tumblr even has a following for this show (its not bingeable and its kinda lame these days) but I think anyone who grew up in the 90s and 2000s remembers watching or at least seeing a video of these guys. They're annoying, judgy, and fun, all because they're two stupid guys who do stupid shit all day.

Their entire gimic is being absolute fucking idiots

"Beavis and Butt-Head are not role models. They're not even human. They're cartoons. Some of the things they do would cause a person to get hurt, expelled, arrested, possibly deported. To put it another way: don't try this at home."

[forensicated]

Information about The Bill for use in fan fictions or anything similar. (aka: how I found out there's a character limit on Tumblr) This will be edited, please feel free to comment anything you want adding or editing.

Part 2

Nicknames for the police/officers:

The Old Bill, Bizzies (busybodies or 'too busy to help'), Feds, Bluebottles, Coppers, Bobbies, Rozzers, Peelers, The Filth, The Fuzz, Dibble (Officer Dibble from Top Cat), Pigs, Plod, Plonk (Person Of Limited Or No Knowledge), The Thin Blue Line, Bacon ("Can you smell bacon?") "The Babylon" (Jamican slang), Boys In Blue, Hawaii 5-O, Woody/Woodentops, The Scum, PoPo, The Law, Gammon.

In the earlier series, CID would refer to Uniform as Woodentops and Woodentops would refer to CID as Superstars.

Community Support Officers: CHIMPS (Completely Hopeless In Most Policing Situations), Hobby Bobby, Plastic Policeman,

Police Lingo, acronyms and abbreviations

ABE: Achieving Best Evidence - recording a victim of serious sexual assault on video for their first statement so it can be played in court to show how they were/the state they were in and try and limit the victim having to be there in person/cross examined etc.

ABH: Actual Bodily Harm

AMIP: Area Major Incident Pool (now Specialist Crime And Operations)

ANPR: Automatic Numberplate Recognition

AP: Agrieved Person - Victim

ARV: Armed Response Vehicle

ASBO: Antisocial Behaviour Order.

ASNT: Area Searched No Trace.

ASP: Baton

Big Red Key: The enforcer

BIU: Borough Intelligence Unit - this is where they could check facial recognition, check through CCTV and use the computers to check for suspects and find out peoples backgrounds.

BLO: Borough Liaison Officer

Blues and twos: Lights/Sirens on police cars

CAD: Computer Aided Dispatch

CIB: Complaints Investigation Bureau, later DPS (Directorate Of Professional Standards)

CID: Criminal Investigation Department

CIM: Critical Incident Manager - Inspector usually who oversees all the big jobs and makes decisions to keep things rolling smoothly rather than lots of chiefs making conflicting decisions.

Civvies (normal civilian clothes - ie a PC changing for an obbo)

CO19 (Used to be SO19 - armed officers. Smithy and Max used to be CO19 officers.) Apparently now MO19!

Code 11: Off Duty

CPS: Crown Prosecution Service

CPT: Child Protection Team

Crimint: Criminal Intelligence

CRIS: Crime Report Information System

CS Spray: Sprayed at criminal resisting arrest. Temporarily makes them unable to see properly and irritates their respiratory system. to enable them to be arrested. Sometimes now called PAVA spray.

CSE: Crime Scene Examiner (was SOCO- Scenes Of Crime Officer)

CSU: Community Support/Safety Unit Now joined with DVU and called SODAIT - Sexual Offences And Domestic Abuse Investigation Team

CLO: Community Liaison Officer

D&D: Drunk And Disorderly.

DVU: Domestic Violence unit. See CSU.

ETA: Expected Time Of Arrival "ETA, 5 minutes."

FATAC: Fatal Accident

Fence: Someone who buys and sells stolen goods

FED REP: Federation Representatives. Officers trained to support officers who are accused of crimes or otherwise want to take the service/bosses on.

FIU: Financial Investigation Unit

FLO: Family Liaison Officer (supports the family members/person who is going through a horrendous time. IE: Jim when Eva's daughter when missing and Smithy to Leanne Samuels when her daughter Carly was murdered)

FME: Force/Forensic Medical Examiner (Police doctor who reviews and treats criminals (and occasionally injured staff) who have gotten hurt, have complex medical issues or who need medication)

FPN: Fixed Penalty Notice - an on the spot fine.

GBH: Grievous Bodily Harm

Grass: informing on someone who has done a crime. Handling: someone who has accepted/bought stolen items either knowingly or unknowingly dependant on circumstances.

IBO: Used in later years instead of the CAD room, the Integrated Borough Operations handled non emergency telephone calls, CCTV viewing, contacting officers and similar. The CAD room was not needed as emergency calls were answered at Scotland Yard or Hendon and then sent to the relevant IBO Operator for the borough (which would be at Bow Central Communications Command) who would then send it to Sun Hill's IBO so all information can be relayed to the officers attending. Much like CAD, the IBO has a Sgt and PC's who would monitor the CCTV and IBO computers and assign officers to calls.

IC1-6 This is how the officers described skintones when searching for suspects/victims/witnesses.IC1 is White skinned european. IC2 is Dark Skinned European. IC3 is Afro Caribbean appearance, IC4 is Asian appearance (Indian Pakistani or Bangladeshi), IC5 is Chinese or Japanese appearance and IC6 is Arabian/Egyptian appearance.

Index: Vehicle registration - spelt out phonetically

India 99: Police helicopter.

IRB: Incident Report Book (Notebook) apparently now it's a force/work phone!

IRV: Incident Response Vehicle

LIO: Local Intelligence Officer

LEO: Local Enforcement Officer

LOS: Lost or Stolen

Misper: Missing Person

MIT: Major Incident Team (Used to be Murder Investigation Team)

MP: Met Police Information Room (Scotland Yard)

NCPA: No Cause For Police Action

NCS: National Crime Squad

NFA: No Further Action

NOIP: Notice Of Intended Prosecution. You're not arrested but the police are coming to take you to court soon.

Nonce: Sexual Offender - most used for Paedophiles.

OBBO: Observation - Keeping watch on suspects

OP: Observation Point

PACE: Police And Criminal Evidence Act - The police are bound to act by all rules, objectives and codes of conduct of this act of parliament in every part of their work.

PANDA: Normal police car that's not used for pursuing other cars. That's generally left to the Area Car or an IRV.

Pimp - someone who takes money from a woman on the sex trade. Also known as living off immoral earnings.

PIT: Precision Immobilisation Technique Manoeuvre (usually they try using a stinger to burst the tiers of a car thats speeding away from the police but it's not always possible. Where the road is wide enough and no one will become endangered by it,advanced drivers who are TPAC trained can do a manoeuvre to the car they're chasing and put it into spin to stop it. It CANNOT be done to busses/trucks/motorcycles etc and it's advised to not do it to a car you fear may be carrying armed occupants but to be honest it's not a massively used thing in the UK.)

PNC: Police National Computer = Real time checks on criminal records, outstanding warrants, missing and wanted people, registration checks etc.

PolAc: Police Accident (Ie car crash or hitting a pedestrian etc when it's a police officer involved)

PR: Officers police radio.

Refs: Refreshments/break time

Ringer - A vehicle that has been made up of parts of other cars or identity changed. Sometimes called a Cut n Shut.

RJ: Restorative Justice - a criminal doing something instead of being cautioned/imprisoned - like painting over their graffiti with a new coat of paint.

RTA/C: Road Traffic Accident/Collision

Rule 43 (Now 45): Vulnerable Prisoners in a prison. Smithy endured bullying to avoid being put in this as it means segregation and would bring him more attention and also a lot of isolation. This is for prisoners who are sex offenders, mentally ill, have a target on their back for grassing or being a convicted police/prison officer etc.

RUI: Released Under Investigation - bailed but the case is still being investigated and can be rearrested at any moment. The police hate this but the government have got touchy over bailing people.

Section 59 - Anti Social Behaviour Vehicle Seizure - you've kept driving like a prat so they're taking your car.

Section 165 - Seizing a car for no insurance. Most likely to be crushed.

Shout: A call out/incident communicated over the radio.

Sierra Oscar: Sun Hill Station Call Sign

Snout: Registered informant who gets paid for giving info. NNo sometimes CHIS - Covert Human Intelligence Source or Informant.

SO10: Now Covert Operations - Undercover Policing - can be long term and go really deep undercover. Stevie used to be in this dept. Now includes Counter Terrorism.

SOCA: Serious And Organised Crime Agency

SOPO: Sex Offenders Prevention Order (useless essentially!)

SOR - Sex Offenders Register

Stretch: Prison sentence.

TIU: Telecoms Investigation/Intelligence Unit

TOA: Time Of Arrival "Show me TOA 13.23"

Tom: Prostitute

TPAC Tactical Pursuit And Containment - trained officers who bring vehicles to a stop - like boxing cars in etc.

Trojan Unit: Armed Police

TSG: Territorial Support Group

TWOC: Taking a car without owners consent

VIN: Vehicle Identification Number

VRN: Vehicle Registration Number

Phonetic Alphabet Alpha, Bravo, Charlie, Delta, Echo, Foxtrot, Golf, Hotel, India, Juliet, Kilo, Lima, Mike, November, Oscar, Papa, Quebeck, Romeo, Sierra, Tango, Uniform, Victor, Whiskey, Xray, Yankee, Zulu.

Areas Of Sun Hill/Canley Wharfs/Docks Jubilee Wharf, India Wharf, Limeharbour Dock, Sussex Wharf, Limeharbour Dock, Sussex Wharf, Old Jubilee Dock & Boatyard, Masters Wharf, Dockland Pier, Skippers Wharf

Council Estates Aldbourne, Bronte, Abelarde, Antrim Green, Canley, Farley, Parkmead, Jasmine Allen, Coal Lane, Cockcroft, Whitegate, Hardie, Larkmead, Tankeray, Copthorne, Netherlake,

[The earlier series had Riverdale Estate and one of the blocks was called Elizabeth Garret Anderson]

Other Stations Barton Street (Sierra Bravo) , Spicer Street, Putney Green, Stafford Row (Sierra Charlie),

[Tower Wharf mentioned in series 2]

Industrial Estates

Cheetham Road Industrial Estate

Streets Trafford Way, Loftus Road, Leermont Road, Gatley Street, Purchase Road (Red light district), Brands Square, Jamaica Lane, Larkway Street, Godwick Street, Sun Hill Road, Shadwell Street, Harlow Street, Dunsford Street, Brown Square, Victoria Road, Dorral Road, Alforn Street, Mallan Street, Ashon Street, Brim Road, Rudcus Street, Cheetam Road, Cheetham Side, Jessop Street, Halpern Street, Tallow Street, Hoxton Road, Backhouse Street/Lane, Mournemouth Street/Avenue, Rudkin Road, Bagford Street, Brunell Avenue, Askill Road, Limefield Walk, Railton Street, Canley High Street, Ida Lane, Tubbs Lane, Claydon Street, Woodley Heath Road, Ballina Road, Starkwater Road, Calico Street, Tedder Street, Greenroad Way, Greaton Road, Mooreland Road, Ibbot Street, Rudleigh Road, Westway, Abbey Road, Broom Lane, Foundry Way, Humber Street, Muston Street, Valance Street

Prisons Longmarsh

Hospitals St Hughs

Schools

Cheetam Primary/Junior School, Shad Thames Infants School, Elcott Primary,

Canley Comprehensive, Harvey Wallace Comp, Deansgate Comprehensive, Cheetam Bank,

Pubs

Canley Arms, Askill Arms, Rose And Crown, The Green Archer, The Bears Head, The Elcott Arms, The Seven Bells, The White Swan, The Scales, The Grape And Bottle, The Dog And Gun, The Pikes Head, The Thames Tavern, The Pikes Head, The Tully Arms, The Boat Inn, The Tug, The Emma Hamilton, The Cock And Crown, The Sultan. Lord Banbury

Misc

North Canley Sports Center, Canley Fields, City Farm, St Ann's Church, Cheetham Community Support Center,