#Rusty Blitz

[badmovieihave]

Bad movie I have Young Frankenstein 1974

#Young Frankenstein #Gene Wilder #Peter Boyle #Marty Feldman #Madeline Kahn #Cloris Leachman #Teri Garr #Kenneth Mars #Richard Haydn #Liam Dunn #Danny Goldman #Oscar Beregi Jr. #Arthur Malet #Richard A. Roth #Monte Landis #Rusty Blitz #Anne Beesley #Gene Hackman #John Madison #John Dennis #Rick Norman #Rolfe Sedan #Terence Pushman #Randolph Dobbs #Norbert Schiller #Pat O'Hara #Michael Fox #Lidia Kristen #Mel Brooks #Michael Jeffers

[originalharmonysalad]

BLITZED! (Trailer) – Frameline46 - YouTube

#Blitzed #rusty egan

[tocomplainfriend]

Funny thing (not really) I’ve noticed is that Viv has always fetishized m/m relationships. There’s obviously Stolitz, but it goes back way further. There’s Addison from Zoophobia being shipped with a guy who works at his high school, but to mention that Viv has drawn NSFW of them despite Addison canonically being a minor. There’s also Autumn and Rusty, the former whom gets bullied by Rusty cause Rusty is secretly in the closet. Ten years later and she’s still weird about m/m relationships.

TW: fetishizing Queerness

I tried to search a little for Addison's age. In the wiki, that I know Viv did not write it says he is 18, other post say 17- there are people saying the age got changed too? I know almost nothing to zoophobia- if anyone knows about this claim, share your knowledge and importantly evidence of the age thing in specific? I do know about those snake drawings. And also was Viv 19? Have no clue-so I'm not gonna super talk about it without knowledge.

About the Rusty thing, I don't think Viv is a good enough writer (of relationships especially, cause Stolitz mainly) to pull that relationship or story. I don't think she can pull the idea of the closeted bully, purely by the fact that she doesn't understand or acknowledge the problems Stolitz has. If she needs to put down characters to make Stolas seems better and try to justify the power imbalance. I don't think she could write this if she wanted to. This closeted gay bully is such an old trope, too. I think the worst you can do (also as a non-amazing writer) is actually tried to make a romance out of it? Cause a lot of these tropes are more like "HAHA THE BULLY IS GAY HAHAHA", rather than "aww the bully was just sad and gay all along". I don't like it. (also this includes when the bully doesn't bully his romantic interest)

A lot of problems in mlm stuff Vivziepop does is similar to those Yaoi fetishization shit. Where there are also power imbalance. Also, this treatment of the characters like Moxxie? Like he is bi, and with Millie- and his treatment is so shitty. The hole thing of MILLIE PEGS MOXXIE, and that funny cause is less manly of him? Or where the succubus sexually assault them and that is funny??? (that one is not even Blitz being an asshole to him, it's made to act funny). As soon there is something viewed as feminine from him, the show makes fun of him. His feminine appearance in Unhappy campers also leads to make fun of him. Where he is the most vulnerable and insecure is that episode. He is more objectified in a feminine appearance.

Just the entirety of Stolitz is literally a lot of yaoi-sh problems. Also, I do see a lot of red flags in how they wrote Fizz and Asmo'. Because Fizz was insecure af, that he needed the approval of Mammon as an imp. Mammon was using the power that he had over Fizz to use him to get money. He got his approval from Asmo another sin in a higher position of power. (The power imbalance is not the problem vibes). Plus, The Big dominant protector and the sub small uwu cure relationship. Fizz, compared to the first time he appeared, he is so vulnerable and acts so cutesy. Like, the confidence he had during the S1, disappeared so bad. Acting so nice to Glitz and Glam, felt like cutting out all attitude to "uke-fing" him into needing a savior. They make him so powerless

Fizz, a quad amputee, was put in a vulnerable situation related to his trauma and where he lost all his limbs and horns. All to make Blitz "redeem" himself and make them friends again... THAT SUCKS.

Also, there was the fact of how over-sexual all the male mlm characters are, too. Like, Chaz was so much more sexual than Verosika as a succubus.

IT JUST SUCKS.

#vivziepop critique #vivziepop critical #helluva boss critique #helluva boss criticism #helluva boss critical #hazbin hotel critical #hazbin hotel criticism #hazbin hotel critique #zoophobia criticism #zoophobia critical

[theseawakes]

This Is Me Trying (Doctor Strange x teen!reader)

summary: you received your report cards with bad results and you don't want your dad finding out about it.

warnings: hurt/comfort, bad grades, mint choco (?), strange is a good dad (lmk if I missed anything)

a/n: this is definitely not a self indulgent fic i projected myself onto.

You slammed your door shut before sliding against it, bringing your knees close to your chest. Heaving out your breath, you pull your report cards to your lap after crossing your legs, looking at them with sorrow in your eyes. You're not sure why you're sad and upset when you should've seen it coming the moment your teacher looked down at you with a frown on her face.

"Your grades dropped." You blanked at your teacher's statement, processing the information.

"Oh," you breathed out after a beat.

"Almost falling, hun." A sigh escaped the lady's lips, she clasped her hands in front of her on the desk. "What's gotten into you, Y/N? You were a bright kid. Gifted even. I don't want your potential to go wasted just like that. You could go to one of the best universities –"

The rest of it was blurry. You couldn't focus on your teacher's lecture as your head felt like being in a giant ringing bell. You cautiously re-read the cards in your hand. It was littered with C's, a few B's, and a D. If you could wish for a miracle, you'd wish you could change them before your father sees it. You ran your hands through your hair roughly, dropping the papers as a result.

Being enrolled in a widely known school filled with future geniuses has its perks. Especially when you were a child of two famous surgeons. Expectations were a friend you made inside your mother's womb and they'll follow you until your dying days. Then your dad became the sorcerer supreme, and then the universe was at stake, and then you got blipped, and when you came back your mother was presumed dead. It all happened in a blitz. All of a sudden, you're living in a new era, and people are adjusting. You are adjusting. Yet you never quite remember when does adjusting felt this hard.

You were great. Oh boy, were you great. You were always at the top of your class– at least in the big 3. A good friend and student. The perfect child. Your parents didn't force you into being one, no, it just happened. Since the first time you got first place in your kindergarten and people praised you, you felt the need to keep it up. You were so ahead of the curve that it became a sphere, and now you ended up falling behind your classmates. Focusing was hard, the tests were hard, and you barely even made any friends after going back to school after the blip. Plus, you've been taking mystical arts lessons from your dad. You were too busy trying to clean your rusty wheels.

A gentle knock pushed you out of your thoughts. "Kid, you're in there?" Your father's voice broke in.

"Yeah," you answered. When did your voice become so hoarse? You didn't even notice tears rolling down your cheek, which you quickly wiped before opening your door that reveals Stephen Strange leaning on the doorway. "What's up, dad?"

Stephen furrowed his eyebrows. "Are you okay? Were you… crying? What happened?"

You mentally cursed yourself. He doesn't know about it yet. Your dad asked if you wanted him to come with you to take your report cards, but you denied it and said you'll be fine. Thankfully, he wasn't stubborn like he always was on accompanying you and said he'd go to the store instead and hadn't returned yet when you got to the sanctum.

You shook your head. "Nope, why would I be?"

The former sorcerer supreme peeked through your figure that blocked the door and saw papers on the floor. "Is that your report cards? How was it?"

Before he could go on more, you closed the door behind you. "It's, uh, nothing you should worry about." You offered him a tight smile.

"Are you sure?"

"Yep. I'm fine. So, could you please go somewhere else? I gotta do something."

"You sure you're alright?" Your father asked once again, only having you push him away from your room in response.

"Yeah, yeah, totally."

Anyone could've been fooled by your smile and words, but Stephen was your father, he knew something was wrong with you. So he opens his mouth to speak again. "No, there's something wrong, I know there is. You sure you don't wanna talk about it?"

"I'm sure, dad. A hundred percent sure." You emphasized every word in the last sentence.

"Really? You know you can tell me the truth. Was it your report cards?"

"No, dad, I'm fine! Just go, do you hear me? I don't wanna see you now! Just– just leave me alone… please." You didn't realize you had been screaming until you saw the surprised look on Stephen's face. Retreating to your room, more tears stained your eyes as you left your father frozen in his place.

Pacing in his chamber, the sorcerer's mind traveled to exactly an hour ago when he had a little argument with you. It's no lie that he's worried about you judging by the look on his face. His parental instinct wanted to knock on your door again and make you feel better like any parent would, but he decided to give you space, no matter how worried he was.

After the death of your mother, who won child custody back then, you immediately got swooped under Stephen's wings. It wasn't hard to warm up to him since you already spent time together often before the car accident he had which led him to protect the world. You even met Christie Palmer, your father's lover back then. You went through the grief of losing your mother with him. Though through the grief he did, he no longer loved your mom as much as you do, but you don't blame him for that.

On the other side of his door, there stands you with clammy hands gripping a sheet of paper with your grades written on it. You didn't think it would be a good idea to tell Stephen about your report cards. He, like any other, probably would just be disappointed in you. But you don't like lying to your dad, especially when he's the only person you have left (aside from Wong, whom you had been getting closer to). You couldn't stay mad at him, and you had no right to say things that could hurt him. Mustering up your courage, you brought a hand to knock on the door.

Stephen opened his door right before you knocked on it. "Y/N?" he asked softly.

You pulled your hand back to your side. "Dad," was your reply. Neither of you said anything, just eyes looking fondly into one another's. "I, uh… I'm sorry for yelling at you… and lying to you," you said thoughtfully even though you were holding back tears. Pushing the papers to his hands, you continued, "you were right, it was my report cards. It turns out that I almost failed this semester." You watched Stephen read the paper in his hand, not even changing his expression in the slightest. This made you bite your lip out of habit. "But don't worry! I passed! I just… I wasn't on top of my class, far behind, actually. I know you're disappointed –"

"Who said that I was?" Stephen cuts you.

A sigh escaped your lips. "No one. I thought you would be since anyone else is." That's the truth. You could see that your teacher was disappointed in you, and the look on your classmates' faces just screams disappointment.

"Kid, you could never disappoint me," Stephen exclaimed, a small yet visible smile on his face. "Adapting to a new life isn't an easy task. I know everything seems to go so fast, believe me, I've been there. Yet you're able to survive to this day. Not everyone could, y'know."

You lowered your head, averting your gaze to the floor so that your dad won't see your tears. "I'm trying. All I want is to get my old self back. To be a bright kid again so that I could make you proud."

Stephen frowned when he heard your confession. His large, gentle arms pulled you into a side embrace. You cried silently against his chest, a hand covering your eyes whilst another was around your abdomen. To say Stephen Strange was an affectionate person was something arguable, but there's no denying that he loves his child to bits and won't stop reminding them of it.

"You'll forever make me proud, little star. Don't forget that." A kiss was planted on the crown of your head. "I'm sorry I was being persistent as well before. I should've let you tell me when you're ready."

You rolled your eyes. "You being persistent is something new?"

The sorcerer chuckled shortly. He pats your back as you wipe your tears, smiling alongside him when you break the hug. "Since you know I am persistent. Let's go to our favorite ice cream parlor." Stephen puts an arm around your shoulders and drags you along to the front door.

You narrowed your eyebrows. "Why would you need to be persistent to ask me to go eat an ice cream?"

"Because you, child, are my offspring," said your dad, opening the front door and bowing mockingly. "After you."

Playing along, you bowed back, earning a smile from the man who soon placed his arm around your shoulders again, walking with you instead of dragging you this time. "What flavor shall we get today, my child?"

"I do not possess the knowledge, dear father. What do you think we shall taste today?"

Stephen hummed. "How about mint choco?"

You snorted. "You mean the toothpaste?"

"Hey, it's good!"

"What's good about eating toothpaste?"

"Don't act like you've never eaten toothpaste before."

"Well, it's not like I did it on purpose!"

"Oh, you will."

"What do you mean I will?" Your question was met with a smirk. "Dad, what does it mean?"

"The last one who arrives at the parlor gets to eat toothpaste on purpose!" He quickly says before running through the street.

"Hey! Wait for me!" Wasting no other second, you zoom toward where your dad is headed.

"Enjoying the toothpaste?"

Stephen turned around to see you raising your eyebrows while licking your favorite ice cream. "No thanks to you." He glared at you as you happily took the seat next to him. His nose scrunched when he took another bite of his ice cream. "This thing actually tastes like toothpaste." A sigh of defeat was exhaled by the former sorcerer supreme.

You punched the air in victory. "And the winner goes to… drumroll please," you cued your father who lazily starts to drum on the handrest. "Y/N Strange!"

Your dad ruffled your hair, causing you to protest for ruining it. Stephen couldn't help but smile at one particular memory that flashed through his head. A memory of you two sitting on the same bench, eating the same ice cream from the same parlor years ago. He realized that it has been quite some time since the last time the two of you did something like this. The last time you were just a kid, barely even a teen. When did you start growing up so fast?

"Thank you, dad." Your voice pulled him out of his thoughts. "For being proud of me, for cheering me up, especially for letting me win."

Your smug smile was being returned with a poke on your stomach. Stephen only laughed when you scooted away from him a bit. Nevertheless, you scooted back after feeling he won't tickle you entirely.

"Anything for my dearest demon child."

#doctor strange x teen!reader #doctor strange x son!reader #doctor strange x daughter!reader #doctor strange x reader #doctor strange x you #doctor stephen strange #stephen strange x teen!reader #doctor strange #x teen!reader #x son!reader #x daughter!reader #teen!reader #child!reader

[tropical-kins]

🪼 - Robotic pronoun ideas - 🪼

tech/techs/techself || cy/cyber/cyberself || co/code/codeself || bit/bits/bitself || by/byte/bytes/bytes/byteself || ram/rams/ramself || beep/boop/beepself || ro/bot/robotself || robo/robos/roboself || ai/ais/aiself || wy/wir/wire/wirself || circ/circuit/circuitself || zip/zips/zipself || zap/zaps/zapself || mech/mechs/mechself || micro/microchip/microchipself || micro/micros/microchip || co/code/cos/codes/codeself || code/codes/codeself || c/c#/c#s/c#s/c#self || c/c++/++/++s/c++self || html/htmls/htmlself || png/png/pngself || qwe/qwer/qwert/qwerty/qwertyself || spark/sparks/sparkself || bolt/bolts/boltself || 🤖/🤖s/🤖self ||🔈/🔈s/🔈self ||🔉/🔉s/🔉self ||🔊/🔊s/🔊self || 📻/📻s📻self || ⚙️/⚙️s/⚙️self || 🔩/🔩s/🔩self || 💿/💿s/💿self || 📀/📀s/📀self || 📺/📺s/📺self || 📽️/📽️s📽️self || 📡/📡s/📡self || 📹/📹s/📹self || 🚗/🚗s/🚗self || 🛰️/🛰️s/🛰️self || ⚡/⚡s/⚡self || 🔇/🔇s/🔇self

🪼 - Robotic name ideas - 🪼

Blitz || Sparky || Bolt || Tink || Scrappy || Gizmo || Rusty || Chip || Proto || Tinker || Tinket || Echo || Tyro

#name ideas #name suggestions #pronoun suggestions #pronoun ideas #robotic #robot #robot kin #robotkin #object kin #objectkin #alterhuman #otherkin #otherkin community

[theunderestimator-2]

Bette Bright with Glen Matlock on bass at the Music Machine in London, as captured by Mick Mercer in 1979.

Bette Bright released a series of new wavey-pop/reggae singles, mostly covers of 60’s girl group songs, between '78-'79 with The Illuminations, a backing band that at the time included Henry Priestman, formerly of the Yachts, Rusty Egan, a former member of the Rich Kids and the DJ at the new romantic temple Blitz, along with Glen Matlock, already an ex-Pistol and a former Rich Kid as well.

"This was around the time that Blondie broke big in the UK, so suddenly lots of singles were being released by women who sounded like Debbie Harry for a quick cash-in, but I don’t think that this was the intent with this one. Also around this time... Bette appeared on the cover of Record Mirror. She also toured around this time and was certainly starting to grab an increasing amount of people’s attention, it now only seemed to be a matter of time before she would finally have some chart success. This was followed in November 1981 by the album “Rhythm Breaks The Ice”, also featuring a few original songs, but it wasn’t a hit. By this point, Bette had started to date Graham “Suggs” McPherson, the frontman of Madness, and in 1981 they got married. They have had two children, and almost 40 years later they are still together..." adamnostalgia.wordpress.com/

(via)

#bette bright #1979 #live gig #new wave #pop #bette bright and the illusions #rusty egan #glen matlock #henry priestman #music machine #people #early punk scene

[zibiscusloon]

Don’t ask me why I’m posting these I’ve just fallen back into a Splatoon mood and these guys entered my head again-

{Splatoon OCs}

Note- not including agents

Persephone “Sephie” Ika

-God help this dumbass she’s a hazard to herself and others-

-22 years old, female, she/her, pansexual

-She’s the most chaotic brush main on the field, who is literally only good at clam blitz (fucking somehow-)

-Ranked C- (she may be good at clam blitz but pity the poor souls on her team in any other mode)

-Has a pet Sea Bunny named Toast, or as Pushpop would call him “Devilfish”

-Found Pushpop around in between the events of Splatoon 1-2 after she accidentally stumbled upon the metro, she had no idea what this fella was saying or even acknowledged that he was trying to splat her but she quickly knew she wanted to befriend him.

-How? She gave him food. (Look that man was starved-)

-They moved in together and after a few years started dating. She’s his dumbass and he loves her.

-She’s no-contact with her parents for unspecified reasons.

-Met the Half Bait duo at one of their concerts, to which through a series of shenanigans involving some pissed off seagull, her and Pushpop befriended them (they all team up for Turf Battles)

-She will bite.

-She’s a hopeless romantic and has a large collection of romance novels.

-Collects Squid Friends (those lil inkling furbies)

“Pushpop”

-Sephie’s sanitized boyfriend

-Cynical and snide, Pushpop has little to no memory of who he was before he entered the Metro, all he knows is that he’s permanently pissed off.

-23 years old, male, he/him, bisexual

-He has a resting bitch face

-Doesn’t really get how Sephie managed to drag him into her life all those years ago but she’s his problem now and he’s come to accept this.

-The most annoying brella main you will ever meet, he has mastered the undercover brella.

-He’s a big Deep Cut fan (likes em mainly to spite Raps and Adaliah-)

-He has declared war on a literal slug (Toast; it’s a mutual hatred)

-Man has literally never lost a Splatfest, picking the same team as him tends to be a guaranteed win. (He usually doesn’t even support the actual team he picks he just goes with what he thinks’ll get him the most snails)

-Sephie is the one who gave him the name Pushpop, he doesn’t remember what his original one is so he’s let it grow on him.

-Doesn’t show it often but he is highly insecure about his zombie-like appearance. Sephie often reminds him of how beautiful she finds him.

-Him and Sephie wear promise rings.

Rakeidra “Raps” Sockeye / Bloody Mackerel

-Goblin goblin gob-

-Local fish somehow passed as a squid! More at 12!

-Raps is a Salmonling who fled her homelands near the Smokeyard to avoid attacks from Grizzco Industries (gal ain’t a fighter)

-22 years old, female, she/her, lesbian

-Salmonlings result from a genetic mutation within their eggs, they’re usually assigned as their community’s mechanics (Raps herself isn’t all that good with gadgets..)

-Can shift into a more salmonid like appearance in her swim form

-Strictly uses traditional Salmonid weaponry, her main weapon being an old rusty frying pan (its an old Sockeye family heirloom!)

-Met Adaliah by chance as they both had something to hide during their stay in Inkopolis, they both had a love for music and eventually formed their Punk Rock band: Half Bait!

-Uses the stage name Bloody Mackerel and prefers to sing in a nasally voice as she finds it more authentic!

-Developed a crush on Adaliah over the course of their friendship and eventually worked up the courage to ask them out (the entire confession was a disaster but Adaliah was so moved by this absolute idiot and agreed to date em; much to Raps’s shock)

-Relentlessly bullies Scuffle-

Adaliah Dumbo / Corpse Tide

-The other half of Half Bait, this is Corpse Tide! (Or just Adaliah-)

-22 years old, nonbinary, she/they, sapphic

-She’s a half-sanitized octoling, she came to the metro after hearing the calamari inkantation and was found by C.Q. and Tartar.

-However, unlike most unlucky octarians who came down there, they shortly began to take notice of what was going on as they went through the test sights (this however did not stop Tartar from trying to sanitize her, she managed to escape though)

-Despite the sanitization not being complete, Adaliah still has to deal with the repercussions of her new transformation

-She often feels as though her skin has begun to rot, and she has a few holes in her memory (one of their biggest fears is completely losing their memories)

-They and Pushpop might trauma dump on each other often- just a bit-

-Regular customer at Hotlantis

-Is actually insanely strong in upper arm strength, as such, they prefer more heavy weaponry (hand em a splatting and they’ll go ham on the battlefield-)

-It is not fun being on the opposing team when she’s playing ranked (they’re insanely good at finding high vantage points and will fully take advantage of their lil hiding spots, it’s the former solider in em-)

Scuffle Lukewarm

-He isn’t paid enough to deal with Raps’s and her bullshit I stg-

-This is Scuffle! He’s a jellyfish and Raps and Adaliah’s manager.

-28 years old, trans male, he/him, aroace

-This jelly has not sept a wink in the past five years. Basically living off of energy drinks and expresso.

-Raps has a bad habit of making snarky half thought out remarks to which Scuffle is the one stuck trying to be in damage control to preserve Half Bait’s reputation. He’s gonna kill her one of these days he swears-

-Met the Half Bait duo half way through their career while he worked a dead end job at MakoMart, he insisted he meant to do more then just live the life of a cashier and offered up his services as their manager.

-Had to learn how to speak some Octarian and Salmonid as surprise! He realized half way through working with em that neither Raps or Adaliah were inklings! Whoops! (So much that spending 2 years learning Inkling got him..)

-Handles finances and merch

-He really doesn’t get along with Sephie and Pushpop honestly scares him (he has to put up with em both though since they’re his bosses friends..)

-Tends to flare up in lil outbursts that take hours on end for him to cool down from.

-Tends to a kelp garden as a sort of self therapy.

Savannah “Savvy” Tropics

-Th-This is a child what are you doing here??

-The tech team for Half Bait, Savvy is a sea slug that works as Raps and Adaliah’s lil mechanic as she’s naturally gifted with gadgets.

-9 years old, female, she/her, questioning

-The sassiest lil shit to ever sassy lil shit. She’s such a damn brat-

-Met the Half Bait team after stealing profits from their merch from hacking their accounts. Raps was pretty impressed by the brats audacity that she gave her a job (much to Scuffle and Adaliah’s objection-)

-She’s a street rat orphan who didn’t really have anywhere else to go and hey, it’s a chance at money, why pass up?

-After finding out about her homeless status after the years they spent with her, Raps and Adaliah have seriously considered adopting her (they practically view her as their bratty child, they’re just waiting to see if it’s something she’d be comfortable with: spoilers, yes, yes she would-)

-Basically any time Half Bait would be on air she’d act as a moderator between Raps and Adaliah (especially during splatfest) she’d usually act as the one to introduce and represent a third team just cause she’s a menace who likes to bully her moms.

#my art #oc #oc art #splatoon #splatoon 3 #splatoon oc #inkling #octoling #sanitized octoling #splatoon jellyfish #splatoon sea slug #idol oc #didn’t include my agents cause I ran out of room #and I’ve been brain rotting on my non-agent OCs so- #they are all grade A dumbasses #(cept Scuffle he’s the only one with the brain cells-) #may redesign Sephie- but idk #all these refs are old as hELL I need to remake em- #anyway we will go back to our usually scheduled shenanigans these guys just decided to sneak in for a sec-

[foxingpeculiar]

Lies of P blogging:

I almost quit this game. I was this close. Was fighting that fucking swamp monster on and off for WEEKS. And it was especially frustrating, cos I got the first phase down. I could no-hit it with relative ease. But seemed to be making no progress on the second phase.

I don’t know what made it click. I think the things that tipped the lever were: 1) figuring out the windup slam combo—dodge to the side and punish the first two, then back straight off the head on the fury hit so the tentacles land on either side of you. 2) getting lucky avoiding the other multi smack combo, backing off and strafing just quickly enough that he maybe only got me with one hit instead of 2-4. And 3) using the flame blaster arm to roast him while he was in crab mode.

But yeah, there I was, listening to Wish You Were Here on headphones and it just… worked. I cannot tell you the joy I felt. Live for that shit.

So okay. Then somehow wound up back in the train station, made it past the scorpion-cat thing without much trouble, but the Robber Weasel took a couple of tries until I got the hang of sidestepping around them.

I dunno, nothing struck me as THAT bad through that area; found it easier to navigate than the swamp, and realizing you can destroy the disruption crystals helped a lot.

But now I’m at the Walker of Illusions. And um. This bitch fast. So we’ll deal with that, I guess.

Did take a couple of side trips. Found Belle’s soldier boyfriend guy, turned into a monster. I was conflicted, but he seemed resolved to dying, so I put him out of his misery. Which came up when talking to her later about it—the game framed it like “He became a monster” was the Truth option and “He died in combat with a puppet” was the lie, but they were technically both true—it’s just that the puppet was me. Anyway, I spared her feelings about it. I dunno, maybe I shouldn’t have taken him out? But it seemed the kinder thing to do, given his condition.

Also did the bit with the Rusty Cryptic Cypher and the Hermit’s Cave. The guy at the bottom wasn’t so bad, but that big dude on the ledge with the chest near the bottom was some hella bullshit. Got disrupted and/or knocked off like 6 times before I was like “alright, you know what? Fuck this.” Used Falcon Eyes to break the crystal from a safe distance, loaded up on fable catalysts and unloaded an art as soon as I got around the corner. Hit him with a couple heavy attacks while he’s recovering and he’s ready to stagger. Charge, visceral, bam. Done. Blitzed the fucker.

I honestly only kind of remember what’s going on in the story but that’s fine. Alchemists = bad. Get in their base so you can get to their island to fuck up their shit. That’s enough for now.

Done with school, but I have two weeks before I leave for Oregon for Christmas (and then I move 2 weeks after I get back), so let’s see how much I can plow through in that time.

#personal #video games #lies of p

[flowercrownd]

the mental image of striker being recruited into IMP is so funny if he weren't set up as a baller antag in HMF bc like

imaging this cool af snake-guy with the hardcore cowboy aesthetic running around with this hot mess of a circus that's called the Team makes him look sooo out of place, especially considering how the rings outside of Wrath are very modernized, but it would work in his favor of keeping him separate from the other members.

this would be an indicator to better show us, the audience that, hey, this is the NEW GUY, and as the shenanigans and episodes would progress, striker's wardrobe could darken from the dusty grays and beiges or worn, rusty reds, and also become more saturated into brighter scarlets and the like. i would not be surprised if there was a running gag of him constantly losing his hat, and blitz gave striker his own cabinet full of the same cowboy hat bc their bromance is just that strong

#♡ ◜ooc.◞ #vivziepop tw #// since im adding pilot millie to my roster i was also thinking abt hmf striker #// and if he werent already a hired gun i KNOW he prolly wouldnt be able to handle the goofiness of this team LMAO

[bobbybones23]

In the early 80s, I briefly stayed with Judith Frankland @judithfrankland in London, a fantastic designer who made outfits for Steve Strange and appeared in David Bowie’s “Ashes To Ashes” video alongside Bowie himself with other “Blitz Kids” and fashion luminaries, Steve Strange, Darla Jane Gilroy and Elise Brazier. She told me tales of the Blitz Club and of her days of designing for Steve Strange and using him as her model. The Blitz Club was in Covent Garden, London from 1979 - 80 and was home to the “Blitz Kids” who were nightclubbers there on Tuesday nights. The club was located between two art colleges (St. Martins and Central School). As a result of its proximity to the art colleges, it attracted many students who were aspiring fashion designers there. The hosts were Steve Strange and Rusty Egan @rustyegan of Visage and the club was responsible for launching the New Romantic movement in London. Many notable fashionistas and dandies who later became big stars, were regulars there. A dress code of the “the weird and wonderful” was strictly enforced at the door, a policy that was put in place by Steve Strange. This was not an elitist system like Studio 54 in NYC, but rather for the protection of the nightclubbing guests against homophobic thugs. The hosts had previously done “Roxy Music and David Bowie nights” on Tuesdays at Billy’s club in Soho and later took over at the Blitz wine bar which gained much better success as an iconic club. David Bowie, gender-bending, cutting edge fashion and a desire to express it with rebellious fervor, were the common themes and passions of the Blitz Kids and the New Romantics. Some other noteworthy attendees aside from the aforementioned included Boy George, Marilyn, Siobhan Fahey, Sade, Spandau Ballet, Midge Ure, Philip Sallon, Stephen Linard, Stephen Jones, Princess Julia, Martin Degville, Scarlet Cannon, i-D magazine co-editor Perry Haines, and many others. Derek Ridgers @derekridgers, Andrew Holligan and Terry Smith were responsible for most of the photos… 📷 1/10: Sheila Rock @sheila_rock_photographer 👨🏻‍🎤⚡️🖤⚜️👩🏻‍🎤 🔲 🔳 🔲 #BlitzClub #BlitzKids #NewRomantic #NewRomantics #SteveStrange #RustyEgan #PostPunk (at Covent Garden) https://www.instagram.com/p/CoEZGFgukl5/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#blitzclub #blitzkids #newromantic #newromantics #stevestrange #rustyegan #postpunk

[jackalsprey]

Owen McQueen: We All Start Somewhere.

I promised a backstory post for McQueen and here we are. This'll go straight up to when Cars 1 started, so prepare for a long post.

Owen Devin McQueen was born on June 18th, 1983 in Dallas, Texas. (Yes, I refuse him being an old man, I believe he was only 23 when Cars 1 happened.) His father, Jerome McQueen, was a journalist for a local newspaper, and his mother, Donna, was a cocktail waitress. It was a short-lived tryst and once Owen was born, Donna was out of the picture.

Jerome was the definition of a deadbeat dad, blowing most of his tiny salary on beer and cigarettes, meaning Owen grew up in a rusty old trailer and survived mostly on canned food, cold pizza, and whatever he could dig up out of the trash. Surprisingly, he managed to make it into a half-decent high school, where he could spend most of his time trying to find something to do in life (and have way better food).

When he was about 16, Owen made his first really close friends, Bryan, Fiona, and Tristan. The four of them were like a pack of wolves and they spent all of their time together, staying out late, drinking, & just having some fun. However, right before senior year started, Owen realized that he had a massive crush on Bryan. This was a huge problem for him, since 90s Dallas wasn't exactly the safest place to be openly bi. Around this time, he was also watching a ton of NASCAR & Piston Cup races and was beginning to develop his passion for racing.

Once he'd graduated, Owen decided to move out, but a few nights before he left, he decided to tell Bryan how he felt and come out to his dad. Big mistakes, both of them. Bryan was seriously turned off and shut Owen out of his life. His dad was even worse. Jerome beat Owen, to the point of hospitalization. But the second he was better, the future racer was out of there, & never looked back.

After leaving Dallas, Owen drifted around the South for a few years, never staying in one place for too long. He did some minimum-wage jobs and eventually earned himself enough money to enter some amateur races where he immediately blitzed it, earning podiums if not winning every time. He won decent cash doing each race and slowly started climbing the ranks, eventually catching the eyes of Rusty & Dusty Rust-EZE who were in desperate need of a replacement racer. They saw that the kid had mad talent and in a snap decision, they made him a deal: they would give him a one-year contract and even provide him with a decent car if he agreed to do some marketing and race for them in the Piston Cup. He hesitated for about three seconds before grabbing the pen.

#lightning mcqueen #cars #angst #ocs #jeromemcqueen

[keluturtle]

Don't Bet on It - Emmet/Grimsley

It has been a hot minute since we've written any fanfiction so forgive us for our rustiness, but we've been lowkey obsessed w/ this pairing for a couple of months now.

Anyway, this fic is basically long-form acquaintances to enemies to rivals to friends to lovers arc lol.

Read it on AO3 as well (All Aboard!)

Chapter 1: Sharpedo I

“It pursues its prey at speeds of 75 mph and finishes them off with fangs that can crush iron. It is known as the bully of the sea.” 

-Pokédex Entry #265 Pkmn Sun

The Alolan air was more than a bit stifling to the twin Subway Bosses of Unova as they saluted Elesa farewell outside her agency’s office. 

She had warned them that they needed to pack lighter, but the twins had assured her that they would be fine. After all, on their Battle Subway, they had plenty of close calls with opposing fire pokemon and their flamethrowers, flame bursts, flame wheels, flare blitzes, fire blasts, blast burns, lava plumes, overheats—

But the subway cars were air-conditioned and the battles quickly decided.

Alola was not like their precious subway.

Alola was beautiful… but it was hot.

Even without their official work uniforms, it became apparent to both that they had severely underestimated the heat index… and now were sweltering with their poor choices in apparel.

Rolling up his sleeves, Ingo glanced over to Emmet, who was still trying (and failing) to keep up a pleasant smile even with the merciless sun beating down their necks.

“Emmet, I am afraid we may be at risk for sunstroke if we continue down this track. Shall we make an early detour for appropriate apparel? I know we scheduled shopping for later this week, but—”

“Yes! Let us depart right away!” Emmet could not wait for Ingo to finish, already quickly beginning to flag down a taxi.

Alola was entirely different from Unova, despite being a close neighbor to their home region. They had challengers from there, of course, and the regional Pokémon they brought with them were always intriguing. Emmet could still clearly recall seeing the most interesting-looking Muk cross his Doubles Train. How exciting! 

They knew they had to visit at least once.

So, when Elesa invited them to stay with her in Alola while she was doing her summer modeling there, they took the offer.

It’s not like they could go to work when they were temporarily banned from Gear Station anyway.

To say Ingo and Emmet loved their job would be an understatement. It was the best of both of their interests. Even the stacks of paperwork and occasional unruly passengers couldn’t deter them from their career enjoyment.

But, while they might take the odd holiday off here and there, the Nimbasa City audit system had admonished them for not taking any substantial vacation days during their years working at Gear Station.

And so they were here in Alola on forced PTO leave. For a month.

They would need sunscreen. And lots of it.

As they stepped into the frigid air of the shop, the twins let out a simultaneous sigh of relief. Besides trains, surely air conditioning was mankind’s greatest invention.

The clerk at the front of the store welcomed them with a chipper Alola, unable to hold back a small giggle at the display.

They greeted her back, before digging through the racks.

Six pairs of tropical shirts and khaki shorts, 10 bottles of SPF 100, and two pairs of sunglasses later, the twins decided they were sufficiently stocked for the moment.

Tucking his sunglasses into his collar, Emmet turned to Ingo who was busy smoothing down his new red floral-patterned shirt free of wrinkles. 

He let out a chuckle under his breath. With the sunglasses now on Ingo’s face alongside his signature frown, he would be even harder for strangers to read.

“Shall we start making our way to the Pokémon League? The clerk said our other purchases would be sent ahead to the hotel. No more detours required.”

Emmet was positively shaking in excitement from the thought. He had wanted to visit Alola primarily for the interesting combinations their Pokémon were sure to face in battle.

“Ah… I had actually planned on visiting the observatory on Mount Hokulani today. I’m sorry, Emmet.”

Emmet blinked.

Ingo… wanted to visit an observatory? He could not recall that being one of Ingo’s interests before. Because they shared the same interests and it certainly wasn’t one of Emmet’s interests.

“An observatory? Where is that?”

“It is on the same island as the League— Ula’ula— but on a different mountaintop. It should be quite fun.”

Emmet’s smile twitched, “Your idea of fun seems verrrrry boring… If we are visiting the same island together, we should also visit the same places on the island together. You are sure you do not want to visit the League instead?”

Ingo tilted his head, “I am quite sure. But, I would be more than happy to visit the League with you at a later date.”

Emmet was at a loss for words and with those stupid sunglasses blocking his brother’s eyes he could not even look for the joke he wanted to see clearly reflected in them.

He was supposed to know Ingo. They were the Subway Bosses.

“But… we are supposed to go together… ”

The sentiment was barely a whisper, but Ingo managed to catch it and the unspoken sentiment behind those few words. He pushed his sunglasses to rest on his forehead, his gaze soft and speech deliberate as he placed a reassuring hand on his brother’s shoulder.

“We are a perfect two-car train, Emmet. Our combination couldn’t be better. But we cannot always travel the same tracks. It is okay if we become uncoupled to try new things. And we can share and learn from those different experiences once we reach our final destination for the day—we share the same home station after all.”

Ingo squeezes his shoulder, the edges of his lips turning up in his best attempt at a smile.

Emmet pouts for a few long moments but acquiesces under his brother’s amusing grimace of a smile. His brother was always trying his best and he would too.

“I will go check out the League instead. You can enjoy the observatory. I will see you at the hotel once we are both finished.”

Emmet said that but still insisted on trekking up the mountain to the observatory with Ingo before parting ways. 

Even when he had built himself up to saluting his brother goodbye, it was still difficult to not sync up with his brother as he entered the building and even harder not to dash in after him. The about-face turn was grueling on his nerves along with the first hundred steps back down the mountain.

“I am Emmet. I just need a fun few battles to get my mind off things. We are still Ingo and Emmet. We are still Subway Bosses. And I am Emmet. He is going to his Singles Line and I am going to my Doubles Line. We will meet up after. I am Emmet. I can do this.”

Psyching himself up was easier when put into those familiar terms. 

He had done this before, hadn’t he? 

He was just running a station with his brother instead of being on vacation. But the formula was the same. He was going to battle separately from Ingo and then he would meet up with him later. A version of the same. And then they would battle together later.

And seeing a local trainer on the upcoming slope proved the perfect distraction from any wayward thoughts to that analogy.

He was Emmet. He was a Subway Boss. 

His eyes met the other trainer and they both reached for their first Pokéballs.

---------

Twelve matches down the mountain later, and somewhere along the way Emmet had gotten recognized by a trainer or two…

And now he somehow has a crowd of twenty asking for his autograph and a selfie with him. And many many mannnnny questions about the Battle Subway—  easy to answer— and himself— …much less easy to answer.

Emmet enjoyed his privacy as much as the next person and although he was used to the small celebrity status being a Subway Boss brought, he still did not talk to the press about himself and his personal life. He was a Subway Boss! He was famous because of his job so they should just ask about that. But—

“Are you here with your brother, Ingo? Where is he? Can I get a selfie with him too?”

“Why’d you come to Alola? Do you visit often? How long are you staying?”

“You should try the malasadas! Ooh, you should totally let me show you around!”

Emmet was starting to feel… uncomfortably overwhelmed. 

He enjoyed talking with fans, really! But usually, there were not so many surrounding him all at once and he had Ingo there with him and—

“Ingo and I are on vacation!”

The onslaught of questions came to an abrupt stop from Emmet’s work voice. And while his didn’t have the same decibel range as his brother’s, it still carried sharp authority.

In a quieter tone, he continued, “We are taking time off work. I am going to visit the Pokémon League today. Ingo is busy visiting other tourist attractions. Because we are tourists. On holiday.”

Some of the trainers looked a bit chagrin at the reminder that Emmet was off the clock, though others still looked like they wanted to continue their impromptu inquisition.

Still, Emmet pressed onwards.

“It was great to meet you all, but I must press onwards towards my current destination. Thank you for understanding.”

Sharply moving into his point and call pose, he called out his signature “All Abooooooaaard!” to further appease the small crowd of fans, before swiftly making his way down the rest of the mountain.

---------

Emmet’s brow twitched as he looked down at his Xtransiever. He really did not get good signal here in Alola.

He had been trying to pull up the map of the island to see how close the League was, but his GPS seemed confused as to where he was. Emmet was confused as to where he was too.

Sighing softly, he tucked around towards a small alcove beach to think. There had been a Pokémon Center close by, hadn’t there? Maybe he could…

His thought was interrupted by the sound of a sharp whistle and a crash of a wave.

Or Emmet thought it had been a wave. Instead, it had been a Mantine trying to beach itself… and a slim passenger stepping off onto the land before bidding the Pokémon goodbye.

Huh… his hair looked oddly familiar. The slicked back sides reminded him of a pair of Liepard whiskers and— no. Couldn’t be. Right?

But as the man finally turned away from the retreating Mantine, Emmet was sure of it.

“Grimsley? ”

Grimsley turns slowly towards him, taking him in leisurely before his poker face is broken only by a look of honest surprise in his eyes.

“Subway Boss Emmet.”

Grimsley strides towards him purposefully, lips curled into a small smirk, “I hardly recognized you without your uniform. What brings you to Alola?”

Emmet chuckled, smile both easy and relaxed from a familiar face, “I could say the same for you. Your kimono compliments you nicely though. Maybe Ingo and I should have gone for the same.”

Grimsley gives him an appraising look, eyes twinkling mischievously, “I’m not sure. I think the tourist look suits you.”

Emmet grins wider, “Well, that is why we are in Alola– mandatory vacation from the Nimbasa City Council. Ingo and I had too many working hours. They made a strong case of it being a safety hazard.”

That pulls a chuckle out of Grimsley as well, “Somehow I can imagine that being the only argument that would work on you two.”

Emmet nods, eyes crinkled in amusement.

Grimsley lets out a hum, looking to either side of Emmet briefly, “That is another point… it was harder to recognize you alone. Where is your brother, Ingo?”

Emmet’s smile froze and he twitched slightly, silent for a few moments, “He is… at the observatory. He was interested in it. I am on my way to the League.”

Grimsley nodded with another nostalgic chuckle, “You always were the more competitive of you two.”

Emmet’s smile grew tighter, “Mhm… ”

Quickly searching for any change of subject away from his departure from his brother, he latched onto the closest topic, “And you are no longer part of the Unova League, right?”

Grimsley blinked, his smile dropping subtly, eyes quickly narrowing guardingly at Emmet.

“I remember hearing about your resignation, but I did not think you would have retired here,” Emmet continued, oblivious to Grimsley’s withdrawal, “I would have thought you would prefer moving to a bigger city. Like Nimbasa… or even Castelia.”

Grimsley hummed, monotonous in tone, “I’m sure a younger me might have preferred it… But Alola is a nice place to get away from it all.”

Emmet nodded enthusiastically, “Away from the press and prying eyes, yup!”

Grimsley, crossed his arms, “Yes, exactly…” He looked away from Emmet briefly, a crueler echo of a smirk stretching across his face.

“I did resign from the League… it was only a couple of years ago, but it’s been a nice change of pace,” he gestured to the sea where he had bid the Mantine farewell, “I’ve taken up the local sport of Mantine surfing.”

“Mantine surfing?” Emmet chatot-ed back.

Grimsley raised an eyebrow, “Racing on the back of Mantines while avoiding the rough waves. It’s quite popular… and quite fun. People can get quite competitive with it–including me.”

He shot Emmet a dazzling smile to sell his pitch.

Emmet’s eyes sparkled with the idea of a challenge– and a competitive one at that.

Hook, Line, and Sinker.

“It might be fun for you to try. Ingo too. There’s nothing quite like it,” Grimsley’s eyes twinkled with mischief, and Emmet couldn’t help but be captivated by such a novel idea.

“…Feeling the salty splash of the ocean on your face—” he gestured to his own face, smiling wide with open glee.

“…The sun’s rays on your back—,” he gestured this time to Emmet who could not help but match Grimsley’s smile himself.

“…The wind blowing through your… hair.”

Grimsley’s smile stayed in place, though his eyes reflected a more cruel joke. An amusement reflected in them as they drifted conspicuously towards Emmet’s hairline before meeting his eyes again with an easy grin.

Emmet’s smile faltered at the obvious joke.

“You are making fun of me.”

“Making fun of you? Whatever do you mean?” Grimsley faked a look of innocence, “Surely you don’t think I could be so cruel.”

Ah… so it was going to be like that, was it? So be it. A battle of wits is still a battle to be won. And Emmet loved winning more than anything else.

Emmet’s eyes drifted to take in more of the ex-Elite Four member, head tilting to truly consider him. His evaluation and plan of attack had to be perfect.

“No… I think you are enjoying your well-deserved vacation. You are retired after all. You just wanted to suggest a fun activity while I am also on vacation. It was verrrrry thoughtful of you and I am sorry that I mistook your words. Perhaps I am simply still too overworked and on edge because of it.”

Emmet’s smile softened in fake apology as Grimsley considered him. 

“No need to apologize… there was no harm done.”

“I am glad to hear that. Perhaps this means I should also seek to relax myself. Your outfit looks very comfortable… and…” Emmet let his eyes pretend to scan the garment with consideration, letting his eyes then drop further down towards his target.

“…You are wearing shoes with it?”

Grimsley raised an eyebrow, head tilting slightly to the side as if to say ‘What of it? ’

“I am.”

Emmet’s eyes met Grimsley’s, piercing blue meeting steely grey as Emmet picked his next words carefully.

“You wear them often at the beach?”

Grimsley’s eyes sparked with curiosity.

“I do.”

“You haven’t considered sandals instead?”

“I have.”

“And you do not wear them? Surely it would be more comfortable. You are already wearing such loose garments.”

A feint. Hopefully, it would not be an obvious one.

Luckily for Emmet, Grimsley fell for it, the gambler’s eyes closing shut as he sighed and shook his head, “Alas, the sand here in Alola gets too hot for a foreigner, even one who has been retired here as long as I have. Sandals just don’t cut it,” he opened his eyes with a smirk, “Though I apologize if the sight ruins your personal preferences.”

Emmet’s smile twitched with barely concealed mirth.

“That is unfortunate. But it makes sense. Ah well…” Emmet could not fight the growing grin on his face as he stared Grimsley down, “At least Marlon will be ecstatic that someone else finally matches his tan line.”

The look of dawning horror was so sweet that Emmet had to take a moment to savor it. The blanch that Grimsley was fighting to keep off of his face was worth any amount of balding jokes. Emmet had won and it was a verrrrrry satisfying victory.

“Well! I should continue my tour of the island before it gets too dark. It was nice to see you again after so long. I may take you up on your offer to Mantine surf at a later date.”

With that, Emmet gave a short and smug salute as he turned to march off triumphantly to his next destination—

“Likewise, Subway Boss Emmet.”

Hm? He was still standing after that crushing blow? Well, he would not outsmart Emmet with his tricks. He stopped in acknowledgment, though he did not turn around to face Grimsley. He looked forward only towards the future battles ahead (and not towards the sore loser behind him.)

“It has been a long time since I’ve seen anyone from Unova, so it was a nice surprise to run into someone from my home region… Oh! And a word of advice—” Emmet’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, “—it’s best to learn how to Mantine surf during low tide. The high tide here in Alola can be very unforgiving and rough for even the most experienced surfers. I’ve had more than my fair share of wipeouts even when riding Sharpedo during them. There are plenty of lifeguards around to help in case of accidents, but I can’t imagine you’d want to be sat up in bed recovering for the main duration of your stay.”

Oh. Maybe he was actually just giving some proper advice this time after all.

Face softening somewhat, Emmet began to turn to face him, mouth opening to express his polite acknowledgment of gratitude—

“—No, it’s best if beginners such as yourself start learning once the water line has fully… receded.”

Fuck you.

Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you.

Emmet’s mouth clicked shut into a tight smile before he gave a terse nod and final salute to Grimsley before stomping off to explore the rest of Ula’ula Island. He would get the last laugh. He would, he would, he would. He loved winning more than anything else. He would not lose to Grimsley.

#pokemon #submas #pokemon emmet #grimsley #pokemon grimsley #my fanfic #fanfic #frighttrainshipping #alter brian

[shining-stxrs]

@dragcns-den

Spoilers under the cut if you haven't seen the new helluva boss episode.

Okay but like how blitz acted at this party is definitely how I imagine rusty to act at a college party when him and autumn have one of their first breakups. The night definitely ends with them getting pissed at each other and making out in a nearby closet.

Yeah it's their college verse but like hormone are still going crazy at this party so just lawrence hyping rusty all night. Not only does he want the doggo to get laid but it's mixed in with his anger from the breakup. The extreme emotions rusty feels towards his ex transfer to his hormone monster so lawrence is super spiteful and petty towards autumn. Uses the partying as a way to make the deer jealous and piss him off. Wants rusty to win in the breakup.

Autumn hears about this party. Claims he doesn't care but casually shows up there. Once he sees what his ex is up to he confronts him. They fight bad enough to almost get kicked out and towards the very end they end up hooking up.

#Here Comes a Thought (headcanons)

[sereia1313]

DDN June 2022 - Support

Banner by the always talented @cakeit0n for @sesskagddn. Thank you for always hosting these, I always get such a kick out of them!

Summary: After an incident abroad sends Kagome to the hospital, she ends up crossing paths with a familiar face.

Read it on Ao3, Dokuga, and FFnet.

Inspiration: "Dying in LA" by PANIC! At the Disco

Triggers/Warnings: Hospitals, bar fights

Carry

The whisperings had started early, filtering through the hallways like a mouse caught in a cage.

The elusive Dr. Yasei, the emergency room pediatrician who only treated adolescent patients, had been seen carrying an adult female through the ICU. The ambulance had barely come to a stop before he'd wrenched the doors open, yelling terse commands at the paramedics.

According to the current nursing staff, anyway.

Kagome Higurashi didn't see what the big deal was; doctors did that all the time. And considering how much blood had been on her clothes, she wasn't surprised that she'd been deemed an emergency. And she'd said as much to the woman who'd come in to check her chart.

Aid

The stocky nurse shook her head. "It's one thing for doctors to leave their station, Miss Higurashi, but Dr. Yasei doesn't leave the NICU if he can help it. And even then, he's never seen to the aid of anyone but children."

Kagome would've crossed her arms, but her broken arm and long line of stitches along her ribs made it impossible to do so.

They'd hooked her up to some morphine, and while it alleviated the pain pulsing up and down her entire left side, it also made her groggy, bringing back memories of Mukotsu's poison.

She'd rather deal with the pain than relive that particular nightmare.

Keep

"Even though everything looks stable," the nurse said, "we'll need to keep you here for a day or so. It was a clean cut, but the metal was rusty, so there's a risk of infection."

"But—"

"Besides, Dr. Yasei said he wanted to check on you himself, so we can't have you running away just yet." She winked, laughing at what seemed to be an inside joke.

"I'll be sure to leave him a thank you note, then," Kagome said, not wanting to prolong her stay.

The nurse chuckled, doing a final check on the fluids hooked up to Kagome's other arm before heading to the next room.

Bear

Kagome stifled a groan and leaned back against her pillow. There went the rest of her vacation funds.

She'd been saving for this trip for a year. A year of working two—sometimes three—jobs. All so she could travel the world without worrying about finances.

And now her bank account would bear the brunt of being hospitalized in the United States.

She'd purchased the best insurance, having read the horror stories of getting caught in a foreign country without it, but even with the coverage, she knew there would be a hefty bill when she left.

Gazing out the window, she cursed her inability to leave well enough alone.

Champion

The tour bus had stopped at a local pub known for its flair bartending show, but a few others on the bus had spent the morning drinking, already blitzed by the time the server had asked for their order.

It had only taken one lewd comment for Kagome to intervene.

Sighing, she ran her free hand through her hair. When would she learn to keep her mouth shut? She was nobody's champion.

Not anymore.

And especially not when her adversaries were human and carried rusty switchblades in their pockets.

The two men had been quickly subdued, but not before slicing through fabric and flesh and shoving her into a stack of wooden chairs.

Encourage

At least her diagnosis was encouraging. She hadn't needed surgery, thank goodness, just a simple stitch-up and a cast.

Kagome wondered if she'd have to stick around to testify. Most of the other tourists had had their phones out, so the entire thing was caught on film—maybe the police could use that instead.

Seeing how she could barely move, she'd probably have to redo her schedule anyway. She'd made sure to keep her plans flexible in case of emergencies—though she never thought it would be an actual emergency.

"I should probably call Mama," she mused allowed, resigning herself to the tirade that would be her mother's 'I told you so' on the other end of the phone.

Defend

"I don't understand."

The young med-student frowned, then looked down at her paperwork. "Are you confused about your doses? It's pretty straightforward, but I can go over it again if you like."

Kagome shook her head, then pointed at the paper in her hand. "Not that, this!"

"Were you overcharged for something? Triage should've asked for your insurance details when you first arrived," the woman defended.

"No, the complete opposite. It says the balance I owe is zero."

The student suddenly pulled a folded piece of paper out of her pocket. "Oh! Sorry, that's my fault. I was supposed to tell you that all your expenses have been covered." She handed Kagome the note, then adjusted her cart and pushed it out of her room. "Make sure you stay on top of your meds!"

Back

Kagome's mouth dropped open as the woman left.

Her expenses had been covered? Why? And by who? She opened the note, once again taken aback.

Wait for me. –Dr. Yasei.

Wasn't that the name of the pediatrician that had carried her into the hospital? She didn't remember much from the ambulance ride, both from the blood loss and the searing pain in her side. She couldn't even put a face to the name.

Why did someone in charge of the children's ward need to talk to her? Did he feel responsible? Kagome couldn't see how, considering he was nowhere near the pub when she was attacked.

Stranger still, the note was in Japanese.

Reinforce

The hours ticked by, each one reinforcing Kagome's disquiet. Every time she tried to inquire about Dr. Yasei's whereabouts, she was either told he'd be by shortly or there was someone else in need of care and was promptly ignored.

"They probably wouldn't even notice if I left," she grumbled.

"Perhaps not, but then I would have to chase you down." The low timbre of his voice stirred something at the back of her mind, but the contrast of his dark hair and eyes made her frown.

"You must be Dr. Yasei."

"Indeed. How are you feeling?"

The demand for answers was on the tip of her tongue, but she bit it back. He was a stranger and hadn't done anything to warrant her ire. "As well as can be expected, considering."

He considered her for a moment, then let out a low chuckle. "You never were one to complain."

He spoke as if he knew her. Frown deepening, Kagome switched tactics. And languages. "Have we met before?"

"We have," he said, his Japanese as flawless as his English, "though I am certain there were times when you wished we had not."

"And yet you paid my hospital bill."

Support

"Why?" she probed when he gave no response.

"A multitude of reasons."

Blue eyes narrowed. "Give me one."

A familiar smirk touched his lips. "Because I wished it."

Kagome bristled at his easygoing tone. "That makes no sense!"

"Should it not?" Dr. Yasei ran a hand through his hair, the movement continuing past the end of his dark locks, as if he was used to it being longer. "When have I done anything but?"

It was more than just the arrogance of a doctor; there was something more, something ingrained.

Something ancient.

His name escaped her lips before she could think better of it, barely more than a whisper, but it made his eyes glow all the same. His hands slid into the pockets of his lab coat, his demeanour relaxed. "Hello, Kagome."

Sesshoumaru was alive. And he knew her name. Kagome couldn't decide which one shocked her more.

"Are you expecting a favour in return for your generosity?" she asked, thankful she was still sitting on her bed, unsure if her legs would support her had she been standing.

"I would settle for a conversation."

"About what?"

"Anything." The desperation in the word caused the butterflies in her stomach to take flight.

"Just a conversation?" she whispered.

The look he gave her was deadly. "Perhaps."

Swallowing, she nodded, allowing him to lead her out of the hospital and into his car, the hand on the small of her back burning her skin through her clothes.

"Do you have any other plans during your trip?"

She did. A million of them. Places she wanted to see, things she wanted to experience. But as she looked at him, studying his profile as he put his car in gear, they all seemed unimportant.

"Nothing that can't be postponed," she said.

The smirk returned, and she flushed, wondering if he could smell her lie even through the glamour. "I shall endeavour not to waste your time then."

The flush deepened, something in his tone making her think there was more to this conversation than she initially thought. But as he pulled into traffic, she found that she didn't care, the lingering wanderlust that had propelled her to travel suddenly dissipating.

Perhaps she'd stay in the States a little longer.

#sesskag #sereia1313 #creator: sereia1313 #sereia: my stories #sesskag fanfiction #sesskag fanfic #june22skddn #discord drabble night #ddn072022 #sesskag fandom event

[ficcrimes]

By the Horns

Fandom: Helluva Boss Characters: Blitz, Striker Ship: Blitz/Striker A/N: Takes place during ep 5, off-screen. I like to think this happened before the Pain Games started. Suggestive, but not entirely spicy.  Summary: Two idiots and a mechanical bull.

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The bull jerks and rocks beneath him, doing its programmed due diligence to buck him off, but Striker doesn’t budge from his place in the saddle. He lifts one hand from the horn between his legs and waves to the locals gathered around the pen to watch the display. The already loud and rowdy crowd grows louder and more lively; some cheer for the rider, others for the bull.

Blitz’s grin is wide as he leans forward against the fencing, claws digging into splintered wood with excitement and anticipation. There’s no doubt that he’s very much enjoying the way Striker looks perched atop that rickety machine, swaying and lurching with its every sudden move. But there’s also a very real, raw part of him that wants to see him thrown off, that smug face ground into the dirty mats below.

Blitz is aware that, perhaps, his competitive nature is getting the better of him here, but he does nothing to reign in it.

“Quit showing off and give someone else a chance already!” Blitz calls over the hooting and hollering of the crowd, and Striker’s attention snaps toward him. Even the rocking and rolling of the bull beneath him doesn’t break his stare.

By someone else Blitz means himself. Striker’s smirk is crooked and sharp, gold tooth gleaming in the dingy, dirty light. He reaches for his hat, lifts it from his head, and tosses it effortlessly toward Blitz just before the bull yanks him into another direction.

Blitz grabs at the hat just as it makes contact with his face, lowering it so he can glare, somewhat playfully, in Striker’s direction. And Striker’s already twisted around to face him again, still smirking.

“A lil patience ain’t gonna kill ya,” he calls back to Blitz. “You’re just gonna have t’wait your turn, Boss.”

Blitz’s grip on Striker’s hat tightens just a little, and his grin is wide and just as pointed as Striker’s. Impatience and impulse get the better of him, and suddenly he’s jamming Striker’s hat between his horns. The brim and body of it fold and dent unnaturally, but he doesn’t have the patience to try slipping it on properly over his horns and doubts it would fit, anyway.

“Oh, fuck that,” is the only warning Striker receives before Blitz vaults over the wobbly fencing. This sends another ripple through the crowd, curses and encouragement alike at Blitz’s back. He makes his way to the bull and its rider quickly, just barely dodging a pair or two of hands desperate to pull him back over the fence.

The bull dips, and Blitz grabs it by its rusty horns, hauling himself up over its head. It rears up again, and Blitz straddles the thick base of the bull’s neck, the horn of its saddle - and Striker’s knuckles - pressed uncomfortably against the inside of one thigh. He wraps his tail around the bull’s neck and grabs at Striker’s shoulders to keep his balance as the bull bucks beneath them.

“Hey there, Cowboy,” Blitz smirks, delighting momentarily in the wide-eyed surprise on Striker’s face. He digs his claws into his shoulders slightly, leaning in to accommodate the rocking motion of the machine. “I think you’re in my seat.”

The surprise leaves Striker as quickly as it came, replaced once more by that grin. His hand leaves the saddlehorn in favor of the other imp’s hip, knuckles grazing the crotch of Blitz’s jeans, palm sliding over thigh before his grip settles. Striker’s other hand finds Blitz’s other hip, and he squeezes without shame.

“Can’tcha see this seat’s already taken?” Striker asks, and the rings in his eyes seem to glow in the sputtering neon light as he leans in toward Blitz. “I’m thinkin’ maybe we oughtta share it instead.”

Blitz had been prepared to have to wrestle his way into the saddle, and so this catches him off guard. For just a heartbeat, he’s stiff in Striker’s hands, eyes quickly raking their way over the other imp, trying to read him for any sign or cue of trickery. Finding none, he instead decides to let the gravel in Striker’s voice settle comfortably someplace inside him. His grin returns and he allows Striker into his space, giving his shoulders an approving, encouraging squeeze.

“Well, if you insist,” he says, attempting to coo, but he knows that Striker is not to be an easy conquest. Not that he minds; he likes the challenge for a change.

Striker chuckles, and it’s a low and deep sound that Blitz finds himself surprisingly appreciative of.

“I do,” he says, and one hand leaves Blitz’s hip to reach further behind him, taking hold of the base of his tail instead. There’s a deliberate, slow stroke of his thumb before he tugs on it roughly, causing Blitz to hiss and then growl, as well as lean forward and into him.

“But if you wanna share this seat, you’re gonna ride this thing proper,” Striker instructs with a grin and another tug. “No tail.”

Amid the ruckus of the crowd and the grinding gears of the machine beneath them, Striker’s rattle sounds, alarmingly and suddenly close to Blitz’s ear. A testament to his statement, a reminder of his own physical prowess.

A scowl flashes across Blitz’s features but he obeys. He releases the bull’s neck from his tail’s grip, and then uses the spade of it to swat the offending rattle away from his face.

“There ya go,” Striker croons, finally releasing the base of Blitz’s tail. “A strong and sturdy fella like you’ll get the hang of this in no time, I’m sure.”

His hand doesn't go back to Blitz’s abandoned hip and instead claims the saddlehorn again.

That hand, wrapped around worn leather, is dangerously close to his crotch again, and Blitz lets himself grin with acknowledgment. There’s no doubt in his mind that Striker is doing that on purpose, and so he presses forward just as the bull begins to bow again. He curves his spine with practiced ease and rolls his hips, riding that first wave with a confidence that surprises Striker.

Blitz squeezes Striker’s shoulders while hooking one knee over his, digging the heel of his boot into the back of Striker’s calf.

“I’m sure I will, too,” Blitz says with a grin and a wink, and then the bull starts to rear back.

Blitz surges forward with momentum, releasing Striker’s shoulders if only so he can press his palms to his chest instead. He braces himself this way and effectively causes the other imp to lean back with and against the bull. Striker’s grip on his hip tightens just a fraction, claws digging into flesh through denim. The leather of the saddlehorn creaks in protest of the grip around it.

For just a moment, Blitz has Striker pinned against the bull’s back. His grin is wide and confident and Striker’s gaze roves over every detail of that face hovering inches above his own. His hand twitches, itches to move from hip to suspender strap, but he’s never given the chance.

His hat, which had been wedged between Blitz’s horns to the best of the other’s ability, suddenly pops free. It was somewhat incredible it hadn’t been lodged loose before now. Regardless, Striker’s reflexes are fast, and he withdraws from Blitz’s hip to grab for the hat before it can hit the ground.

More hollering from the crowd, and Blitz can’t blame them. He’s more than a little impressed himself.

“Nice catch,” he says through his grin.

Striker grins back and chuckles quietly, all at once shoving the hat up against Blitz’s face, the inside of it swallowing his smugness momentarily. Blitz grunts as he’s shoved backward and he reaches for Striker’s wrist, both to try and push his hand away and for support as the bull begins to buck and spin. He hates how tight his grip is, knowing that now Striker knows he has the upper hand again.

Too easily, Striker pushes him onto his back atop the wayward machine, and by the time he pulls the hat away from Blitz’s face, his hand’s moved from the saddlehorn. Striker grins something sharp and charming down at Blitz as he takes hold of a thigh instead. He squeezes the tense muscle beneath his hand as he places his hat back atop his head. His other hand, now free, comes for the other thigh, and the sound Blitz makes is admittedly breathier than he would have liked it to be.

“Fast learner,” Striker comments, and those hands slide upward to Blitz’s hips despite the rocking and spinning of the bull. In this position and without those hands on him and Striker’s weight above him to pin him down, Blitz knows he would have been thrown off the bull by now.

And he knows that Striker knows that, too.

“But you still got a ways t’go and a lot t’learn, Sir.”

Blitz smirks up at Striker, one hand reaching for the bandana tied around his neck. He grips it, and tugs ever so slightly.

“Yeah? Well, why don’t you teach m—”

The bull almost violently rears back again, catching both imps off guard. There’s nothing to grab for or brace against to keep either of them on the bull, and so both of them unceremoniously tumble to the pen’s floor in a heap. Blitz winds up on top of Striker, and despite having practically cracked his skull on the other’s jaw on the way down, he considers this a small victory.

The bull’s attendant curses and shouts at them from his place behind the controls. Something about their bit getting old fast, and how there are other places to eye-fuck each other besides his bullpen.

Blitz flips the attendant off before he sits himself up properly, straddling Striker’s thighs for the time being. Striker doesn’t seem to mind as he props himself up on his elbows, smirking despite the ache blooming in his jaw.

“Y’know, maybe I will teach ya a thing or two sometime.”

#helluva boss #helluva boss striker #blitzo #striker #blitzker #fanfic

[shadowtoons]

Muses can ask for

Raz (Junker Fizz)

Imp Loki (Marvel character) (AU)

Mammon (Lady Mammon included)

Rusty (Deathslinger Striker)

Blizz (Legion Blitz)

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