#the limits have been pushed so far and been yeeted out of the window into oblivion

[bewareofthenewphannie]

I am so scared for april fools. I know they are plotting something and oh to be a fly on their wall during this discussion.

which ideas do they bring up but regard as too much or too little? how do they calculate our response to whatever they'll end up doing? how much they are willing to mess with us? how much are they willing to risk for a joke?

well, I guess we'll just have to wait and see

[cuubism]

part 2 of Hob Accidentally Yeets Dream from Baby Jail with the Ruby

“There are… many weapons on your person,” Dream observed with a frown. Just with a quick glance, he could count two knives, three throwing stars, what looked like a short sword, and a handgun.

“Oh, yes,” Hob agreed, tucking said gun into his belt. “This is far too high stakes to go in unprepared.”

Dream refrained from mentioning that he was already unprepared, having no idea of any of the context of this situation. On the other hand, maybe context didn’t matter. If someone got in their way, Hob would, evidently, cut them down. Perhaps it didn’t have to be more complicated than that.

The thought caused a funny feeling in his core. It had been a long time since Dream had felt anything other than anger or despair, so the new feeling was tricky to identify.

He thought it might be… tenderness.

Tenderness for Hob, who’d apparently decided he was going to ride with Dream wherever this expedition took them. And tenderness from Hob – his careful questions, the tea he pushed into Dream’s hands, the fierceness with which he said, I’m going with you.

The way he tucked the blanket around Dream’s shoulders.

It was a feeling Dream instinctively wanted to shy away from, but he’d been locked away for some time and his defenses against such things weren’t as strong as they once were.

“It is unlikely that you will have to fight someone,” he told Hob. “I will take care of them.”

“I believe you, but just in case.”

Dream looked out the car windshield at the Burgess mansion across the way. He had never seen the place from the outside, and it looked far more normal than one would expect the prison of an Endless to be. He found that, however much he was craving vengeance, he was not particularly looking forward to going back inside.

Hob made to reach across the center console, as if to straighten the lapel of Dream’s coat, but let his hand fall halfway. “Hey. You okay?”

Dream nodded. “Let us go.”

------

Every single light in the manor was on, and chaos rang out through the windows. Dream was sure everyone had awoken in an uproar the moment he’d disappeared from his glass prison.

“Guess they’ve noticed you’re gone,” said Hob, as they stood half-hidden in the shadows by the front door.

“The guards would have seen it,” said Dream absently. If only he still had his sand, he could have so easily blinked into the basement, accomplished his task, and disappeared again before anyone could react. It was possible he could manage it as he was, but testing the boundaries of his power while it was still bound by the circle might be… unwise.

“Guards?” repeated Hob, and swore colorfully. Dream couldn’t help a small smile in response. He hadn’t heard some of those curses for a few centuries.

“I guess our one saving grace is they can’t exactly call the police for help with their escaped eldritch being,” Hob continued.

Dream raised an eyebrow at him. “Eldritch being?”

“Hey, if you aren’t gonna tell me what you are I’m just gonna have to start making it up.”

This was said teasingly, but Dream thought about it. “I do believe… you may have earned that information.”

Hob looked at him, surprised. “Seriously? I wasn’t fishing for details, you know. I’ve long since come to respect that you have your reasons for your secrets.”

“Perhaps, but from what I have heard, there should not be so many secrets between—” Dream hesitated over the unfamiliar shape of the word— “friends.”

He would not have been surprised to receive some irritation in response to this long-belated admission, but instead Hob looked – delighted didn’t begin to cover it. He grinned so wide.

“As friends, then,” he said, and managed to tug a smile from Dream with the determination in the words, “shall we go set you free?”

Dream simply nodded in response, and went about his task of bringing the house’s occupants to sleep.

The summoning circle limited his power more than he'd anticipated. In his usual state, he could have put the entire house to sleep with a snap of his fingers. As it was, even with the ruby bolstering him, he wasn’t quite sure he managed it, or how long their sleep would last.

Hob watched him with a concern that rankled as the clamor inside the manor died down to a sudden silence. Dream yanked open the front door and stepped inside.

The grand foyer was like a tomb, but eerily flooded in bright lights. Everything was still on, lit, abuzz, but everything human had dropped to the floor. Or to couches, chairs, slumped against walls. Dream didn’t recognize anyone; they must have been house staff. No guards. No Alex Burgess, the boy – now man – who had once held such promise but let him down so utterly.

Hob sucked in a breath through his teeth, but otherwise didn’t make a sound. Dream, likewise, stayed silent; until his full power was restored, there was no telling how easy it might be to wake them.

Dream stared at one of the sleeping, unrecognized bodies for a long moment. More disconcerting than not knowing how long they had was the fact that these people’s identities still hadn’t come to him. Normally, Dream knew, instantly, who he was looking at, knew it from their dreams.

But he hadn’t touched the Dreaming in a long time. That knowledge was apart from him, right now. And half of these people… they were young enough to have been born after Dream was captured. He had never touched their dreams at all.

He tore his attention away. That would all be remedied shortly.

It was easy enough to pull the house’s layout from a sleeping mind. Dream quickly found the basement staircase, Hob at his heels, moving soundless as an ex-soldier could be expected to. They crept, two shadows, down into the basement, where Dream abruptly ran up against two feelings that were equally discomfiting.

The first was unease, a crawling sense that would have set his hair standing on end, if he were human. Dream didn’t even have to look at his glass prison to feel it; it crept up his arms and the back of his neck, prickled at his hair. It was like staring into a dark bedroom and finding two eyes staring back.

Rather like how a dreamer encountering one of his nightmares might feel, Dream thought.

The second was relief. Relief at having Hob at his side, at his back. Relief at having a human, a… friend, as if he wasn’t Endless, as if he wasn’t more powerful than all of this.

“Christ Almighty,” Hob hissed, gaze moving from the glass orb, to the circle and moat binding it, to the company they’d stumbled upon. “Jesus— what the fuck.”

Because here, of course, were the guards missing from upstairs, sleeping now on the cold stones. One had slipped into the moat; Dream didn’t bother pulling him out, and neither did Hob, though Dream saw his gaze glance over and catalogue it.

Here, too, were Paul and Alex Burgess, close to Dream’s prison, clearly in the middle of examining it for his means of escape when they’d been knocked unconscious.

“You were…” Hob whispered, and swore again.

Dream stepped towards the circle, weaving around fallen bodies. It felt like a sick game – make it across the room without waking anyone up, and you might be able to win your freedom.

“It was the only way to hold my physical form,” Dream murmured in response to Hob’s unasked question. He knelt beside the circle, a hair’s breadth from Alex’s prone body.

He stared down at the painted runes. Such a small thing, this, to cause so much torment. And so easily undone, had anyone considered it worth the effort.

Dream smeared his coat sleeve through the circle.

Hob sounded vicious as he repeated, “The only way to—”

Dream’s power exploded back into him before he could finish.

White light burst around them. Wind swirled in terrible gusts, blowing detritus around the basement; a howling rose in pitch until it became a scream. Power burned through Dream’s body, painful, ecstatic, euphoric.

Then it died, all at once. And Dream felt… normal again, for the first time in nearly forty years. He still needed to find his sand, his helm, but he could touch the dreams, the Dreaming. All the familiar voices swirled around him in a rising, chaotic chorus. He felt like himself.

Unfortunately, the interruption in Dream’s power meant that everybody else in the house felt like themselves, too.

Dream, momentarily lost in the swell of his returned senses, did not catch onto this immediately.

Hob, fortunately, did.

Two gunshots. Dream felt the disturbance in the air as they whizzed past before he heard them. In slow motion, he turned to watch a guard who’d been rushing for him go down, then spun back to face Hob. Hob’s gun was raised, brow set in determination, and as Dream watched, still frozen, he shot down another guard who’d leapt to his feet to rush at Dream. There wasn’t a single moment of hesitation in any of it.

Dream was not made for this world, the waking world. He rarely felt substantial here, rarely felt that he belonged, and his powers, though still considerable, were nowhere near as absolute as in the Dreaming. But this— this was reminding him that while he may not be made for this world, Hob very much was.

As he watched, Hob pulled one of his knives and threw it at a guard who’d gotten too close for his gun’s range; it landed true and dropped the man to the floor. For all that Dream was fairly certain it had been quite some time since Hob had been actively soldiering – and humans weren’t really using knives anymore, were they? At least not in the last war Dream had seen, though he hadn’t actually seen how that one had ended, now that he thought about it – he didn’t seem to have lost any of the skills. He fought with a vicious efficiency that was so transfixing Dream forgot he was standing right in the middle of a gunfight.

“Get down!” Hob yelled at him, and Dream came back to himself. Hob’s attention was already shifting to another potential threat – this time it was Alex, lurching to his feet at Dream’s side, a stolen gun clasped in his shaky hand. His eyes were lit with terror, matched only by that of Hob over his shoulder as he realized that he now had no clear line of fire, that he could so easily hit Dream instead, should he shoot.

But this boy… this boy, who Dream had once felt compassion for, who he had once hoped could deliver them both to something better. This boy – man – who had become a more fervent jailer than Dream’s original captor…

…he was no threat to Dream now.

Dream touched his forehead and the gun fell from Alex’s limp grasp. “No….” Alex whimpered, and Dream could see, now, his nightmares over the years, how he had dreamt in terror of Dream himself, in the form that Alex supposed might make up his true power; how he’d spent decades fearing horrible revenge, dreaming of it over and over. Ironic that, in the end, he had visited it upon himself by his inaction. Dream would have shown mercy, once. No longer.

“Don’t kill me,” Alex whispered, eyes growing hazy under Dream’s power.

“It is not in my prerogative to kill humans.” Dream’s voice was a breath expanding to fill all of the chamber, all of Alex’s head, a gust of icy wind. “And I need not. I can make you suffer far worse than that.”

Alex’s eyes rolled back in his head and he dropped to the floor, already deep in the claws of nightmares. Looking around, Dream found everybody else either dead, or unconscious – knocked asleep as an afterthought as he unleashed his powers on Alex.

Everybody except, of course, Hob, who was staring at him, slack-jawed. Dream met his gaze, which only seemed to aggravate whatever had him stunned.

“Your…” he murmured. “Your eyes.”

Ah. Dream blinked, and his eyes returned to their more human appearance.

Hob, too, shook himself back into focus. “We should get out of here; everybody upstairs will have heard the gunshots.”

“Asleep,” Dream told him. “I can be sure of it now.”

“Alright, then.” Hob took in a deep breath, let it out, and finally tucked his gun back into his waistband. He stepped over to one of the bodies, yanked his knife out, and stashed that away, too. Dream watched this, the bloody human mechanics of it, so far divorced from the ways he usually found himself fighting, when he had to.

Finished, Hob looked around at the scattered bodies. “Am I going to hell if this felt kind of good?”

“You are not going to hell regardless,” Dream said automatically. “I would not allow it.”

Hob squinted at him. “Thought you weren’t the devil?”

“I am not.”

“Cryptic,” Hob muttered. “Alright. Onwards, my friend. I am very ready to get out of this wretched basement, and I’m sure you are more so.”

This was undoubtedly true.

Hob shepherded him up the stairs, a hand hovering over his lower back. It was strange, this. To be shepherded as if he could possibly need protecting when he’d just put the entire house to sleep with a thought.

Still, Dream allowed it. And didn’t look back.

[bokunoheroanalysisforthefuture]

Merry Christmas! Clearly, the best way to celebrate is to finish up the reread for chapter 8, featuring our favorite gremlin being the gremlin he is. Oh, and I guess Deku is here too.

[No. 8 - Rage, You Damn Nerd!]

...you know, I just realized the nerd being referenced here is Katsuki. Because we all know he’s just as much of a nerd as Izuku (reference: he’s third in the class rankings behind the actual scholastic geniuses Momo and Tenya) and he seems to be the main one raging in this chapter and volume. 

Anyways, where we left off, it was just determined that Team Izuku Ochako (heroes) are facing off against Team Katsuki Tenya (villains). The villain team gets to go in first, and have five minutes before the hero team gets to go in. Everyone else is watching via live feed. All Might tells the two ‘villains’ to adopt a villain mindset, and to go out all, don’t hold back… and then says he’ll stop things if they go too far.

All Might,,, All Might, why did you tell the two most Extra™ kids in the class to go all out and to not hold back? Like, what the fuck did you expect here? Not to mention that means Katsuki was, technically speaking, sticking to the letter of the instructions, if not the spirit of things. 

But yeah, while Tenya is worrying about playing a villain role and the paper mache bomb they’re guarding, Katsuki is still caught up on Izuku actually having a quirk. Tenya’s confused and notes the monstrous strength he had, along with the risk it puts him at, and asks him not to charge right at Izuku. Katsuki’s response:

Gremlin mode activated. Or maybe the Cain Instinct, hard to say with them. At least they aren’t girls - according to discord, if they had both been girls, one or both would probably be dead at this point from trying to maul each other. 

Anyways, we transition outside, with Ochako and Izuku memorizing the blueprints. She mentions being relieved that there’s no punishment for failure, so she’s not worried, and also thinks All Might’s super nice. She also can tell Izuku’s worried, which isn’t hard with how he’s shaking. Izuku mentions that it’s because they’re up against Kacchan… and Tenya as well, and that they should be on guard. And- huh.

Ochako is already well aware of the relationship between the two. Not that Izuku was really trying to hide it, but like. A welcome reminder that she is very observant and good at deducing this kind of thing. She is just. Such a good bean. 

But yeah, we get a brief Izuku flashback to Katsuki’s boasting, and then Izuku mentions how Katsuki is a jerk, but he‘s also amazing, mentioning that his goals, confidence, strength, and his quirk all show how he’s stronger than Izuku at this point… but that that’s also why Izuku doesn’t want to lose to him now. 

So again, a friendly reminder that Izuku has no rose-tinted glasses when it comes to Katsuki, he knows how much of a jerk and a bully Katsuki is, but he still admires a lot of Katsuki’s qualities despite all that. 

But yeah, Ochako determines that he is / wants to be Katsuki’s fated rival; Izuku apologizes for boring her with it, but she says it’s not a bother at all, and that they’re a team. Izuku has a moment of wordless surprise at that, and then we get into the trial proper. 

In the viewing room, All Might tells the other students to watch closely and try to learn something. And we get a fantastically dramatic pose with him holding a pen and clipboard.

I can’t even with this man, what a ham. It’s good to know he’s going to avoid favoritism in grading for the classes, it does show that he’s trying to take this as seriously as he can. 

Back with the duo, they’ve just snuck in through a window, with Izuku noting the number of blind corners they’ll have to avoid. As they make their way into the building, Izuku thinks about how he can’t regulate One For All, thus he can’t use it directly against someone because it would kill them. So he notes that all he can rely on is his natural strength and Ochako’s quirk. 

So his notebooks aren’t just quirks, but all aspects (apparently) of hero fights. Which does make sense, but I think some parts of the fandom play it up a bit too much, either making it like breakdown personality analysis (which is not something we’ve seen as a strength of his) or, like, borderline stalkerish, which just has me roll my eyes every damn time I hear that word in relation to him. Like, get the fuck over yourselves, he’s allowed to have things he’s passionate about.

Anyways, we have one panel of calm before the storm comes blasting in.

...did he really make that leap around every corner just in case Izuku was there?? He’s so damned extra, I can’t even with this gremlin. Also, a nice dodge/save by Izuku, though the side of his face is smoking a bit. We see that the left side of his facemask has been blown away, as it deserves. Izuku checks if Ochako’s okay, and she says she is, and that Katsuki came out of nowhere. Katsuki mocks a bit about the nice dodge, and Izuku replies/tells Ochako that he expected Kacchan to come right at him.

In the viewing room, Kirishima calls out the sneak attack as unmanly; All Might corrects him, saying they’re a valid strategy and that this is practical experience. Ashido, meanwhile, is impressed with Izuku’s dodge. (Also, she calls him ‘Midori’, which validates my belief that she WOULD call him that in my fics, hoorah me!)

Anyways, Katsuki really making it clear how he like to push the limits of the rules:

And then Izuku just. Grabs his arm and fucking yeets him over his shoulder. Ochako calls it a pro move, while Katsuki is like ‘what the fuck, did he just read my moves?’ Honestly, that final slam into the ground is just so intense for a relatively ‘weak’ move in shounen terms. Fantastic, I love it. Katsuki has to take a moment to recover, while the class watches on and Izuku is In The Moment.

As Katsuki picks himself up, Izuku goes into how Katsuki always leads with a right hook, and that he’s seen it enough to know. Izuku mentions that he’s analyzed the heroes he thinks are awesome in his notebook - the one Katsuki blew up and chucked out a window. Katsuki is shown recalling the moment while Izuku continues on - he’s not gonna be a punching bag for Katsuki anymore, he’s gonna be the Deku who always does his best. 

(I love the subtle implications that Katsuki is one of the ‘heroes’ he’s analyzed! Which is one of those first nods to how Izuku views Katsuki as someone to emulate!)

Ochako has her own flashback to where she mentioned Deku just screams ‘do your best’ and how Izuku had been taken with that. Katsuki is even more pissed off that he still spouts that kind of thing while scared (which is true, we do see Izuku shaking while he’s making that declaration). And Tenya… is frustrated that Katsuki ran off on his own, and doesn’t know what his partner for the exercise is thinking.

And with that comes the end of the chapter! Damn, I am almost mad at myself for putting it off, but we got through it now, and we have more battle trials to go! Thanks for all the patience, and next time we’ll get to see how the fight between Izuku and Katsuki goes! :D

[thecrazygamingzombie]

monster prom super hero AU because why not?

four normal college students: Oz, Amira, Brian, and Vicky stumble upon an ancient artifact during a semester abroad that bestows mystical powers upon them which results in the formation of the superhero team ‘The Spooky Squad.’

Oz A.K.A ‘The Shadow Walker’ gained the power of shadow and fear manipulation, not only can he sink into shadows and use them to move around but he can also morph his body into different shapes as well as create projections to fool his enemies; the king of stealth and deception. He serves as the voice of reason

Amira A.K.A ‘Blaze Girl.’ A pyromancer with a wide arsenal to work with: long range fire balls, mid range fire blasts, short range fire punches, summoning fire imps, increasing the temperature around her. The only limit is her own ingenuity. She is the reckless wildcard of the group.

Brian A.K.A ‘undying man’ the muscle of the four, Brian gained super strength from his artifact with enough power to yeet cars like baseballs, an accelerated healing factor, and the inability to ever feel fatigued; he will essentially never get tired no matter how hard he pushes himself. He is the strong silent member of the group.

Vicky A.K.A ‘positive charge’. After the accident Vicky found she could manipulate electrical energy to her whims but found that said power was highly unstable and as such built equipment to control and regulate it: a pair of shocker gauntlets and a battery pack serve as such allowing her to create dozens of shocking attacks of her own mechanization such as ball lightning, electrical strikes, and even can surf on her own electricity. The undisputed leader of the four.

Now a hero is only as good as their villains, here’s who they go up against:

Damien Lavey A.K.A. ‘The Anarchrist’ (yes you read that correctly) the leader of an anarchist gang in Monsteropolis and former friend of Amira, him and his followers want nothing more than to see the city burn to the ground for laughs and will do anything to achieve such no matter how reckless or dangerous it is, even going so far as to take on the spooky squad single-handedly, said behaviors often lead to his downfall. He is a being of nothing but chaos as well as a skilled combatant and arsonist.

Vera Oberlin A.K.A ‘The chairwoman’ the head honcho of the criminal underbelly of Monsteropolis, any form of organized crime that is performed within Monsteropolis has to go through her for confirmation, every single mobster and lowlife in the city knows to fear and respect her. Her right hand woman is her own sister Valerie Oberlin who despite her more relaxed appearance can be just as brutal and cunning as her boss. Her own plots often bring her in conflict with the Spooky Squad due to their criminal nature but instead of fighting them herself she prefers to send out goons to do her dirty work for her while she stays in the shadows, goons like:

Aaravi A.K.A. ‘The Slayer.’ A professional assassin for hire and one of the best in her field. With a habit of working for less than wholesome clientele (Vera being her most frequent employer) she often finds herself duking it out with the Spooky Squad; with unmatched fighting skill and a ridiculous amount of equipment at her disposal she is more than a match for the four but still tends to fall flat more than she overcomes them, primarily due to over confidence.

Miranda Vanderbilt A.K.A ‘the Siren’ by day Miranda Vanderbilt seems to be nothing more than an innocent little rich girl, a young heiress whose adorable mannerisms have managed to worm their way into the hearts of Monsteropolis’ aristocracy. But by night she is far different, serving as the head of a secret organization known as ‘the Merfolk Court’ that seeks to subjugate the populace through acts of terrorism and assassination in order to usher in the new era where they rule over all; Miranda also holds a creepy obsession with Oz in his Shadow Walker persona, seeing him as the perfect suitor she continuously tries to convince him to join her and rule the masses alongside her with little success.

Scott Howl A.K.A. ‘Dire Wolf’ Now Scott is just another normal college football player, doing normal jock stuff and being a relatively kind person to others, even occasionally hanging out with the spooky squad’s civilian identities. However, due to a curse placed upon him by a sorcerer as a child for breaking a window on said sorcerer’s house with a football, he is susceptible to turning into a giant wolf monster when angered causing Scott to black out and his feral form to take control of his body with greatly enhanced physical abilities that can rivals even Brian’s, Scott is one tough zit to pop when he loses control. While he is unaware of his condition the Spooky Squad hopes to cure him one day.

Polly Geist A.K.A. ‘the Phantom Thief’. An infamous thief operating out of Monsteropolis, Polly uses the cover of drunken party girl at her college campus (the very same that the spooky squad attends) to carry out her heists where she steals anything that isn’t nailed down. This is less out of need and more for the pure rush she gets from running around the rooftops, taking whatever she pleases, that she just can’t get from drugs and alcohol. For reasons that are never quite explained as Polly keeps giving a different backstory every time, she possesses magical abilities similar to that of a ghost such as turning intangible, firing out beams of ecto energy, among other things which makes her far harder to catch than most. There is totally a Batman and Catwoman dynamic going on between her and Vicky.

Of course there is also the matter of the supporting cast:

Zoe, a journalism student at Spooky U. She is a longtime friend of the members of spooky squad going back all the way to middle school who frequently tags along with them whenever they do their little hangouts. However she has no idea that they are actually superheroes. Zoe has an obsession with the spooky squad as whole, following them whenever she can and documenting their exploits; while this often puts her in harm’s way it never deters her as she is just too determined. Most of all she wants to find out the Spooky Squad’s secret identities and has even made a room dedicated to investigating this, sadly though despite very obvious signs that her friends are the ones playing hero she never realizes it; even when there is blatant evidence of it she finds a way to twist it around so that it points somewhere else.

Calculester, an advanced AI program discovered by Vicky in the bowls of the engineering building at Spooky U. After activation he set about building himself a body and hooking himself up to the web, Cal now serves as the spooky squad’s eye in the sky and ear on the ground, getting Intel about all sorts of shady things going down within the city so they can get there in time and stop it; Being a robot he has to keep himself hidden from view but he does have  a disguise that he uses to go out on occasion (imagine just a set of groucho marx glasses and a sign that says ‘totally not a robot’, somehow this works...). He is essentially the unofficial fifth member of the Spooky Squad and has some serious sexual tension with Brian despite being a robot.

Liam De Lioncourt. One of the few who actually knows who the spooky squad are, Liam is a professor at Spooky U who teaches the subject of ancient Mythos and legends; being an expert on the subject he was able to discern where exactly the Spooky Squad’s powers originated from and as such teach them all the proper way to use them. A mentor like figure that each of them go to when they feel lost and confused as well as when they need help with controlling their abilities, he may still be extremely condescending about it but he fills that role extremely well. May or may not have his own secret past where he was a super hero himself.

The Coven, basically the other super hero team working in Monsteropolis that also goes to Spooky U, while the Spooky Squad tends to fight more street level threats theCcoven’s focus is more on the mystical threats from alternate worlds although both teams have been known to work together on occasion for greater threats that neither can handle by themselves. They have their own series as well as their own rogues gallery consisting of cult leader Dimitri, the Inter-Dimensional Prince, Dahlia the demon invader, and mad monk Leonard.

[katurrade]

Secrets and Sins 6

This is not your normal TRR story. This is a complete AU. A mobster AU. Hopefully you enjoy this, it’s dark and twisted, but should be a fun ride. It’s also written in a reader format, not a MC format. (Y/N = Your Name) Enjoy!

Description: You flee from an abusive situation and find yourself on the other side of the country, creating new friends and possibly finding new love. But will you be able to escape your past? To truly move on with your life? Or will everything come crashing down around you in the blink of an eye. Catch up HERE.

Word Count: 3,800 ish.

Pairing: Mobster!Liam x Reader.

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Violence. Drinking. Curse words. Possible NSFW content in later chapters. Flashbacks of abusive behaviour, and moments of abuse. Possible triggering thoughts and feelings. Probably more warnings to come. You’re been warned.

A/N: *throws canon out the damn window* YEET.

This was supposed to be labelled Chapter 5, but I turned the Liam POV chapter into 3, instead of 2.5 (it was bothering me) so then I had to switch all the chapters up by one number. So this chapter is now 6 instead. Don’t worry, you didn’t miss a chapter. I’m just messing ya’ll up hahaha. Enjoy!

The next day was your first day off all week. You allowed yourself to sleep in, waking up damn near mid day. That was a first in a long time but you had to make up for the extremely late girls night you and Hana had pulled the night before. It was just movies and hot chocolate, after your shift, but it was nice to have someone you could have those nights with. He never really allowed you to have friends, female or not. Especially the not female type. He didn’t want them giving you any ideas. He didn’t want you to have any life lines. It worked. By the time you realized why he didn’t want you having friends it was to late.

You had to deal with everything he did to you entirely on your own. You had never felt more alone. More isolated. More trapped. It was not a good place to be and the day you finally decided it was time to run, you packed just the stuff you knew he wouldn’t notice right away. Loaded up the trunk of your car and left, in the middle of the night. While he slept soundly in your shared bed.

He never let you have money of your own. Everything was on credit cards, everything was trackable, which is extremely inconvenient when you are trying to plan an escape. So you got inventive. In the beginning, whenever he would abuse you, the next day he would pretend he was sorry and that he felt guilty, you knew it was bullshit, but you played along. You would tell him shopping would make you feel better, would make you happy again. So he’d approve a limit and off you’d go.

You’d buy watches, neckless’, rings and clothes. Knowing that when you did finally flee, the jewelry would be easy to take and pawn. To him you just liked flashy things, he obviously didn’t know a damn thing about you. Once you ran, that’s exactly what you did, you drove south and pawned all the shit along the way. Attempting to leave a trail in the wrong direction. Once you had pawned everything, you doubled back and stuck mainly to the back roads, well as much as you could, it wasn’t always an option. But you made do.

It took you a while before you reached New York finally, but you figured if you could throw him off your trail for a bit, it would be worth it. And now that you have been in New York for a few weeks, it had clearly worked in your favour.

During your girls night you had also talked to Hana about your run in with Liam, she had been adamant originally about steering clear of him, but now she was starting to teeter on that a bit. After you recounted the interaction with him, some of your feelings during it and then some of what Olivia had told you about him. She still wasn’t 100% on board, but she was warming up to the idea of you possibly saying yes to a date with him. She urged you to take it slow and to only agree to a date if it’s what you really, truly wanted. Oh, and to be safe. But that whatever you chose to do, she would stand behind you and your decision. That put you more at ease, you had only just gotten Hana in your life, but she had quickly become your best friend and you needed her, more then she could ever know.

After all the serious talk was out of the way she pointed out that if you did date him it meant you’d possibly be able to get her into some fancy VIP sections and private parties. You had made a joke about her pimping you out for her own benefit to which she just shrugged and said “Girls gotta do what a girls gotta do” you both laughed till it hurt then the conversation got lighter. You both zoned out on movies and ate way to much junk food before you called it a night and took a cab home.

You picked up your phone. ‘No new messages’ so you put it back down then pulled yourself out of bed and wandered over to your bathroom. Quickly brushing your teeth then hopping in the shower. Once you were done, still in your towel you went back into your room and grabbed your pants from the day before. You reached into the back pocket and pulled out the business card. You spun it in your fingers a few times, humming and hawing before you plopped down on your bed and picked up your phone. You added Liam into your contacts then opened a text window to him.

You started typing a message but then started to hit the back space button, and deleted it all. Then you started typing another message only to again delete it all. You groaned. It hasn’t even been 24 hours yet and i’m already itching to message him. The fuck? No. Not yet. You will not cave that quickly. Guy doesn’t need anymore of an ego boost.

You heaved yourself up off the bed and got dressed in a pair of light blue skinny jeans, a white tank top with a white knit sweater over top. Then you went over to your window to look out at the busy street below. It was a beautiful sunny day, though probably still cold as balls, there were a bunch of people out and about. You took one more glance at your phone then decided you needed some fresh air. You needed to get out of your apartment before you did something hasty. Maybe wander around for a bit then head down to the Lee’s shop and pick up a few things. You pulled on your white converses and your black bomber jacket then looked out the peep hole. All clear. You opened the door and headed out.

Once you got down to the street you pushed open the front door to your building, walked down the steps then check both directions quickly before you began to walk towards your favourite coffee shop.

You opened the doors to the wonderful smell of fresh brewed coffee mixed with of hint of donuts. You had stumbled upon this place on a couple weeks back and it had quickly became your favourite place to spend down time. Well aside from your apartment, Hana’s or the Lee’s shop. But it was a close 4th for sure.

You stood in line for a few minutes and zoned out on your thoughts. Mainly of a pair of blue eyes and the deep, seductive voice that went with him. You began to think about the words he had said to you, how they had made you feel, that is until you felt someone tap your shoulder gently and you looked at the person behind you. They pointed towards the counter and you turned to realized the barista was trying to get your attention, you hadn’t noticed the line moving and now it was your turn to order. With a quick ‘sorry and thank you’ to the person that tapped you out of your trance, you moved up to the counter. You ordered your favourite hot fall beverage then stepped over to the far side of the counter to wait.

Once your drink showed up, you went to sit in a window seat to just relax, enjoy your drink and people watch for a bit through the window. New York was the city that never slept and there was always an abundance of people to watch, no matter what time of day. People heading to and from work. Families out for a stroll. Couples walking hand in hand. Dog walkers. Bike couriers. And cabs. So many cabs. You wondered what other peoples lives were like. Were they happy with their lives? Did they enjoy their jobs? Had they found true love? Or were they running from their past just like you were?

You sat there for just over an hour, your drink was cold by the time to you reached the last few sips but you didn’t mind. You finished it off then threw out the cup and pushed the front door open to head back out to the sidewalk. The sounds of New York ringing in your ears again. You wandered around just checking out stores and enjoying some much needed time off. Some much needed alone time. Not only to just relax, but also to help clear your mind. Clear those darn persistent thoughts. You knew if you sat in your apartment all day, you’d have texted Liam. You had very little self control when it came to men, clearly. You were surprised you had withstood this long. Maybe your ex had changed you in one good way. Not that you’d ever thank him for what he’d done to you. But maybe you were stronger now. Wiser even.

After a while of wandering, you found yourself outside of the Lee’s shop. Your mind had subconsciously brought you here. You opened the door to the familiar chimes of the over head bells, signalling a new customer, and saw the smile break out in Mr. Lee’s face when his eyes met yours. You had visited the Lee’s often since you’d first stumbled into their shop that first week in town. They had almost become like family to you. Like the family you’d never had. You’d come down on your days off and just chat with Mr. Lee, about every thing and anything. He was extremely easy to talk to and had been around the block a few times, to say the least, so he gave good advice.

“Y/N. How are you today, dear?”

You smiled. A real smile. “Good. Good. It’s my day off so I figured I’d stop in and grab a few things”

“Of course, good plan.”

You grabbed a basket and wandered the aisles, answering Mr. Lee’s questions as you went. Once you had everything you needed you went up to the till, you both chatted for a little while longer, as he slowly rang in all your items. You paid him then headed out, waving from the door as you left. By the time you finally got back outside the sun was just starting to set, and it was just starting to get dark out. You hadn’t realized just how long you had talked to Mr. Lee till this exact moment. God you missed the long summer days. These autumn days were just to short. And it got dark far to early.

You needed to get home, and fast. You didn’t want to be out, alone, after dark for long. You began to walk down the side walk, back towards your place but something just felt ...off. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it but your gut was not happy about something. That much you knew. And you had this eerie feeling. Like something bad was about to happen. You paused your steps and looked over your shoulder, feeling again like you were being watched again, but not in a good way, however nothing really stood out to you. No one even seemed to notice you, let alone be starring at you.

You turned back around to face forward, pulling your hood up over your head and keeping your head down. Just a little further till you reached your apartment. Just a little further. You were almost there so you peered over you shoulder once more before turning back around to walk up the steps to the front door of your building, but just as you did someone bumped into your shoulder, hard and almost knocked you down. You caught yourself at the last second then quickly spun around to look at the person who had damn near shoulder checked you and a chill instantly ran down your spin.

You didn’t know who he was, but the look on his face was not a friendly one. That much you could tell. And he was build like a damn brick shit house.

“Oh, are you Y/N?” He asked, in the most fake friendly voice you had ever heard. It honestly gave you the creeps. And made you feel instantly uncomfortable.

“Nope, sorry dude.” You responded nonchalantly, trying to keep your voice even and confident. You needed to mask the nerves in your voice, they would have been a dead give away, and you knew you wouldn’t be able to take him if push came to shove. Not alone at least.

You turned and headed for the door again. You didn’t want to turn your back on him but you had to make him think you weren’t threatened by him as you had ‘no idea who Y/N was’.

“You sure?” He asked.

“Positive.” You said firmly. You prayed he believed you and just walked away. You pulled your keys out of your pocket and started up the stairs.

“Huh, that’s funny because you look just like her.” He clearly hadn’t gone away, you tucked the keys between your fingers in a closed fist, making sure to hide that from the shit brick house. You wanted to make sure if he pulled anything you’d have a slight advantage. Though not much and probably not for long,as he was fucking huge, but an advantage none the less.

“I just have one of those faces, I guess” you shrugged.

“No, I don’t think that’s it. But we will let him be the judge of that.” You froze. The words instantly sent a nasty chill down your spin again. And you felt like the wind was knocked out of you. He had found you. He knew where you were. And had clearly sent people to retrieve you—

Before you could think anything else you felt the man grab your left arm forcefully. You instantly dropped your bags and spun on your heels towards him on your left, arm cocked, the few steps you had gone up giving you the perfect height to clock him in the face. And using the momentum of your spin your fist collided with his jaw, and fucking hard at that. He let go of your arm and released a deep guttural sound as his hand flew up to cup his face.

“You fucking bitch!” He growled. The keys had broken the flesh and left some pretty nasty gashes in his face. At least from what you could quickly see through his fingers. But you weren’t about to wait around to get a better look.

You scrambled to take advantage of the brief moment and bolted up the steps for the door. You fumbled with your keys but just as you put it in the key hole you felt a hand on the back of your head. He grabbed ahold of your hair and yanked you backwards. You slammed into the stairs, your back taking the brunt of the hit, it damn near winded you. Then you felt him start to drag you down the stairs by your hair. You flailed and clawed at his hand in an attempt to get him to release you but it didn’t work. He was to strong. Panic began to sink in. You were no match for this man. He was so much bigger then you.

Just as he got you to the bottom of the stairs you hear the sound of tires screeching to a stop. Praying a random bystander was stopping to help you. But before you could even think about who may be in the car you felt his hand reefed off you, and you knew someone had, in fact, stopped to help you. You quickly pulled yourself up to your feet, but instantly felt light headed so you sat down and raised a hand up to massage the back of your head where he had grabbed you.

You could barely comprehend what was going on around you. It had all happened so fast. You heard another car pull up, a car door slamming shut loudly right after and then the sounds of quick foot steps towards you. You tensed up as fear fill your body at the thought of who was running towards you, you quickly looked up but then your eyes locked onto a very familiar figure and a set of piecing blues. “Y/N!” And just from hearing his voice all the fear washed away, instantly. Liam. You don’t know why, but something about him being here put you at ease. He was here. In front of you. You were safe now.

Before he could even get up the stairs, you sprung up and lunged yourself at him. It had clearly caught him off guard as he tensed up momentarily before finally wrapping his arms tightly around you. You buried your face into his chest and took a deep breath. His familiar smell engulfing you and taking over your senses. You don’t know why you hugged him, but you’re glad you did and in his arms was the safest you had felt in a while. Scratch that. Ever.

He cradled your head with one large hand while the other rubbed your back, soothingly. After a few minutes he released his hold on you and pulled back. You mimicked his movements, pulling your arms out from around him and taking a half step back. Instantly missing his warmth but also realizing just how intimate that moment was. Maybe you had overstepped? But then his hands went to either side of your face. “Are you okay?” He asked urgently as his hands cupped your face and moved your head around ever so gently so he could look you over. And you knew right then that you hadn’t overstepped.

Was he worried about you? You grabbed his wrists to pause his inspection of you, and lowered his hands from your face before you nodded and quietly responded “I-i am. T-thanks to you.” You were obviously still in shock. Still shaky and out of it.

He just stared at you, still looking you over with his eyes as if he had missed something the first time. A few different emotions ran through his beautiful blues before he nodded and looked away from you. You turned to see what he was looking at and watched as two people lugged the now unconscious shit brick house towards a blacked out Mercedes. They popped the trunk and threw him in, promptly closing the trunk as a woman turned around and nodded to Liam. You looked back at him just as he gave a quick nod in return to her then he looked back down at you again.

“You aren’t safe here anymore, you’ll have to come with me.”

You furrowed your brows “What do you mean? This is my house?” You questioned. Then reality began to sink in. How did Liam know where you lived? How did he manage to show up right when you needed him most? Who was that guy? Who were those two people, that woman? What the fuck was going on?

“I’ll explain everything but not here.” He turned and headed towards his car.

“What is going on? Who was that guy?” You crossed your arms and held your ground “Tell me right now or I’m not going with you.”

He paused his steps then turned back to face you “Either you come on your own or I’ll force you to. Your choice.” He threatened.

“What, so you’re just going to kidnap me then?”

He walked towards you and you stepped back until you bumped into the bottom of the stairs with him looming directly over you “Y/N, we don’t have time for this shit. We have to go. Now.” He commanded.

He crouched down and grabbed you around the waist, throwing you over his right shoulder, effortlessly. He wrapped his right arm around your upper thighs then squatted down to grab your purse and bags off the ground with his left hand. “Liam, what the hell! put me down!” You hollered “Right now!” But he just ignored you, and stood back up to his full height. He then turned and walked over to the car, he popped the trunk and you started to freak the fuck out “Okay! Okay! I’ll go with you, just don’t put me in the trunk! Please!” You pleaded. “I don’t do well in small spaces!”

You felt your body start to jiggle randomly and realized he was fucking laughing. The fucker was in the middle of kidnapping you and he was fucking laughing at you? What the fuck?

“What are you laughing about?” You growled.

He finally stopped laughing enough to speak “Y/N, I’m not putting you in the trunk.” he shook his head then turned his body slightly so you could see into the trunk. Or rather, so you could see the bags along with your purse that were now in it. “Oh” you said slowly as it clicked. Shit. You scrunched up your nose, feeling like an idiot. But what were you supposed to think!? He shut the trunk and walked to the passenger door. “Are you going to cooperate and get in on your own?” He asked. His tone authoritative. Reprimanding, almost.

“Yes.” You sighed out. Feeling like a scolded child.

“Good.” Then you felt his large hands grip either side of your hips and slowly pull you forwards off his shoulder. Your body connected to his the whole way back to the ground. It made you a little flustered, to say the least, and you felt the heat raise in your cheeks. Your feet hit the ground and you glanced up to see that fucking smirk in place on his face. You quickly turned to open the car door, needing to gain some distance from him but his hand beat you to the handle. He pulled open the door for you and you climbed in, mumbling a ‘thank you’ as you did. You heard him chuckle as he shut the door and made his way around the front of the car. You crossed your arms somewhat in frustration but also as a comfort thing. You were currently sitting in a car owned by the King of New York, as he was about to get into it and drive you to some unknown location. Shit was scary as hell. But not in the ways you would have expected. You weren’t scared of him. You were scared of how he made you feel, of what would happen if you let him in. Gave into him, fully.

He climbed into the drivers side, settled in then looked over at you. “Belt.” He commanded.

You looked over at him, confused. “What?”

“Put your seat belt on, Y/N.” He clarified. Though it was obviously still a command.

“Right.” you said then quickly did just that, once it was clicked in he nodded once then put the car in drive and took off down the road. To where? Who fucking knows. But even though he was the most powerful man in New York, and if you were honest probably most of America, you felt oddly safe. More safe then you had felt in months. Scratch that. Years. And you liked that feeling. A lot, actually.

Chapter 7 HERE.

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[smoothshift]

Slow Car Fast vs. Fast Car Slow: An Experience via /r/cars

Slow Car Fast vs. Fast Car Slow: An Experience

TL;DR: Fast car slow more fun than slow car fast. Jimmies rustled.

Though not as often parroted as it used to be on here, perhaps due to the ever increasing performance of cars across the board, "I'd rather drive a slow car fast than a fast car slow" is one of the most common mantras of r/cars, second only to Miata Is Always The Answer (M.I.A.T.A.) Last week, I got a taste of both back to back and would like to share my perspective.

Let's start with the slow car. The 1988 Ford Mustang LX. How slow can that be? Well have you ever heard of the 2.3 Lima engine, probably most famous by the Ford Pinto? Yes, that Ford Pinto. This isn't the EcoBoost 2.3 we're talking about. This two valve iron pig wheezes out an anemic 88hp. With the free-er flowing exhaust and intake we might by up to a whopping 90hp on a good day. Slow car? Check.

bUt ThAt'S nOt A rEaL sLoW cAr, It'S hEaVy AnD cAn'T hAnDlE.

Maybe in stock trim, but not this particular one. It's far from heavy. The stock weight comes in at around 2700lbs. But this one has been carefully slimmed down. By which I mean it was missing a whole lot of stuff when we I bought it. Not much interior to speak of, no luxuries, and even the modern trend of no spare tire. Last weigh in it was just a hair under 2500lbs, no driver, so we're in NB/NC Miata weight range. Now for the handling. It's anything but stock there as well. It's got the benefit of a whole lot of upgraded suspension parts, mostly secondhand from my other Mustang. It's biggest weakness is it's still running a 4-link rear. Not quite the certain death and turning radius of a Nimitz class carrier people would make it out to be, particularly at this power level.

But enough about this heap. On to the driving. It's everything the cult of Miata worships. That engine has anything but a broad torque curve. It's gutless below 2500 RPM, and thanks to its archaic design runs out of steam by 4500 RPM. It's that skinny, asthmatic kid in your gym class that gets out of running the mile, begging for his inhaler. And with that narrow power band, you have to be very conscious, and really hammer it to keep it there. It reminds me of driving an old 2-stroke Detroit Diesel. Just like the old saying about those Detroits, the first step to driving it was to slam your nuts in the door to get you good and pissed off so you would flog the piss out of it just to get anywhere. With that total lack of power it was a momentum car. You had to carry speed with you as much as you could (and not just for corners, but for any hill larger than a speedbump for fear of rolling back down.) So you really had to wring it out and push it in every corner just to keep up your speed. With the stiff suspension and graciously wide 225s on it, it stayed planted. You sure didn't have to worry about overpowering it coming out of a turn, as even mashing the throttle to the rusty floorboard (weight reduction, right?) wouldn't emit so much as a chirp, even on a wet road. There was much more tire than there was power. And so, true nirvana of slow car fast was achieved, working an underpowered, light, well handling car through the turns.

...and I fucking hated it. It was novel at first with this car, giggling as I floored it, feeling like outright abuse. It was that same Beavis and Butthead laugh of doing something you weren't supposed to be. But that feeling soon faded. It felt like a chore. I shouldn't have to work this car so damn hard just to get somewhere. It wasn't fun. Angrily mashing the accelerator, slamming through gears, running a racing line through corners, then you look down and...I'm only doing 25 mph? What the hell? I felt like I accelerated and shifted more than a Fast and Furious chase scene. And even when you're on your A game, giving it everything it's got, Eurobeat thumping in your ear, you're still liable to get your doors blown off by an impatient Camry, or cyclist. Not one of those Tour de France give me all your steroids types either, little Suzy with her streamers on her handlebars and training wheels will blow past you. You briefly contemplate holding your jacket out the window as an impromptu sail. And it's so pitifully underpowered, yes you can push it to the limit [80's music intensifies] but it's so much damn work to get it there. Granted this might be partially due to the suspension set up and more tire than it needs in this case, but everyone talks about how euphoric it is to have a car that just sticks to the road like that. I find it incredibly disappointing. It never feels that wild or dangerous. It's like driving a go-kart at a birthday party, but there's none of the gifts and heat lamp warmed greasy pizza that comes with it.

After all that frustration, I had to jump over to the fast car; the 00 Mustang. Yeah, yeah, yeah...another gutless pig that can't handle, right? Not this one. There's no engine from an economy car known for erupting into a ball of flames. Instead it's a thoroughly built all aluminum DOHC V8, with a screaming roots blower atop it. But that was never enough. That blower is fed by twin Nagasaki noisemakers for a rather tame 15psi in street trim that will be discussed here. That's more than enough for that fast car feel. But don't think that handling hasn't been addressed. This one is even more decked out than the 88, complete with a fully independent rear suspension and a whole lot more tire. This car is the antithesis to the slow car 88. Not only does it boast such a potent powertrain, but it's got a full interior and then some, a true decked out street car, worthy of sailing carrier escort missions with the U.S.S Challenger, tipping the scales above 3800lbs. Though weight distribution has been carefully managed, with lots of components relocated rearward to offset the Shanhai Spoolie-bois up front.

You get in this thing, and it instantly wants to go. Even letting out the clutch is a different experience. With its power and tall gearing it leaps out to 15mph almost instantly. There's no stopping it. It is just pure hate. If the slow car is a Pomeranian, a little angry under just the right circumstances, but ultimately non-threatening because you can yeet it into the next zip code, then this is a Belgian Malnois, straining at the leash, barking, razor sharp teeth gleaming in the moonlight, just begging to be set loose and eviscerate the road ahead. You have to lean back and put your weight into it to hold them back, the leash cutting into your wrist, and they're restrained for now...but just barely. ...or instead of all those flowery words, I could use a language you'd prefer, memes. It's the nice, soft SpongeBob versus the ripped, Rambo SpongeBob one.

Most of the driving is rather pleasant. Driving city streets are fine. In fact you barely need any throttle. It's nice and smooth. There's no lugging it, the power is there all the time. You can putter along nice and easy. It's relaxing. There's no frustration of having to work it hard. Now part of the whole argument is that you never get to use the power of a fast car "slow", or on average streets. But that's a lie. Driving it on the exact same routes as the slow car there are little opportunities here and there. Overtaking cars, on ramps, or just plain getting up to the speed limit from a stop light. And holy hell is it a totally different experience. When you let go of that leash, all hell breaks loose. The power is there across the entire rev range. It's not as violent as a roots blower or big block car. You don't get whiplash, but you get slingshotted to speed. Your knuckles are white as you grab on tight and hold on for dear life. Even if you romp on it barely above idle, already rolling, that red tach needle screams up as the tires spin. Not pizza cutter all seasons like the slow car either; these are 315 drag radials. You don't even really notice them spinning, just the sensation of the back end skating around like an ice rink. You might make it into another gear or two before hitting the speed limit, but with that tall gearing it doesn't take much. And it's so fast. You blink your eyes and you already have to be on the brakes. It's the opposite of the slow car. You're not asking how you're only doing a certain speed, you're shocked that you're already doing a certain speed. How did that happen? You have to slow it down, the engine burbling and crackling as it revels in its evil work, a mechanical maniacal laugh.

Now at this point you're probably taking a sip of your smug-a-cola and thinking "See? That proves my point. Slow car fast is always fun because you can push it hard, and fast car slow is only fun for that split second." After this I'm thoroughly convinced of the inverse. The slow car fast is never fun. It's infuriating. You have to work it hard and you never really get a reward out of it. With the fast car, even if you limited it to 5% throttle, just cruising around nice and slow, it's more enjoyable. Even if you limited it to just one 50% throttle blast up to the speed limit, that second or two is infinitely more enjoyable than a thousand miles of winding roads in a slow car.

I'm prepared for the disagreement. I know I'm in the church of the slow car fast, where Mazda died for our sins, where we live by Jinba Ittai and the altar is adorned by a golden Miata. The trinity of slow car, handling, and manual transmission is symbolized by the holy rotary Dorito, and we make the sign of the manual shifting in an H-pattern as a blessing. But I'm going to be down the road at the church of fast car, with blackjack and hookers. You can spot it by the burning E85 pentagrams.