#And it makes beeping sounds. Various kinds depending on the things i do | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

use-your-telescope · 7 months

Text

When Everything's Made to be Broken - Chapter 5: I'm Looking for a Sign

Summary: Theo begins the onboarding process for becoming an Avenger, and finds some time to sneak away.

Author's Notes: Sorry this is so late in the day! It has been a hectic weekend. This chapter (and the next) really focus on Theo, so there isn't much Loki... but he will be back soon!

If you enjoy, please reblog!! I'm a lil' blog (less than 100 followers, haha) and reblogs really help me out <3 Also, feel free to send me a message or comment if you want to be added to the tag list.

Next chapter should be coming November 12th!

Content Warnings: Canon-typical fighting (there's a training session).

Word Count: 5,525

Read on AO3 | When Everything's Made to be Broken Masterlist

Song: Good to Be Alive - PVRIS

Learning how to swim but the lands are dry Feeling like a shark, If I stop I'll die Things are lit and the blood's on fire Underneath the buzz of the telephone wire All my friends are doing fine While I’m looking for a sign Is this body even mine? Feels good to be alive but I hate my life

Onboarding with the Avengers was akin to drinking from a firehose.

Every waking moment was full - between orientation at the SHIELD Hospital, procedural trainings, mission briefings, and combat simulations, Theo hardly had a moment to breathe, much less think.

Either way, Theo had no interest in showing that the rapid pace was throwing her off her game. Instead, she bit her tongue and kept her wits about her, vigilant for even the slightest indication that something was amiss. Theo wouldn’t speak unless spoken to, and if spoken to she gave the impression of polite compliance - now that she was in the thick of things, stirring the pot would only make it harder to get this over with.

However, there was one element which she protested… Despite her insistence otherwise, part of Theo’s onboarding required being equipped with new armor.

She hadn’t needed armor before, so it seemed silly. If anything, she needed clothes that let her move freely and without detection. However, Fury insisted that Theo needed additional protection in the event that her magic wasn’t enough. The result was Theo, standing in Tony Stark’s lab, regretting every decision that led her to that moment as the overly smug engineer combed over her appearance with a shit eating grin.

“So, Rapunzel-” Tony leaned back against a table in his lab, crossing his arms. “I hear you need some armor.”

“That depends on who you ask.” Theo’s eyes scanned the room as she crossed her arms, leaning her weight on one foot. “Fury sure thinks so. I’m not convinced.”

It seemed like a standard engineering lab. A mixture of concrete, steel, and glass surrounded them, while harsh lights glared down from above. Scattered around the lab were more computers and machines than anyone knew what to do with, and various employees mulling about as they worked on assorted tasks. One person sautered metal, while another ran tests on what Theo could only assume was the newest rendition of Tony’s infamous suit. Clattering keys, clanking metal, and multiple beeps echoed throughout the sterile space. A metallic smell, tinged with chemicals and burning filled the air.

“Well, that’s where I come in.” Tony winked, picking up some kind of glass tablet and waving it at her. “If you ask nicely, I might even let you customize it.”

Theo rolled her eyes. “Asking you nicely sounds like too much work.”

“Don’t listen to him.” A woman appeared from around the corner, walking up to the pair with a swagger and a blinding smile that contrasted her umber skin. Her braided hair was twisted up into space buns, which combined with her brightly colored outfit made it painfully obvious just who Theo was speaking to. “I’ll make you better armor, and I’ll let you add whatever features you want without having to ask.”

Shuri Udaku, the princess of Wakanda.

For the first time that Theo could remember, she was, officially, starstruck.

“We haven’t officially met…” Theo offered a wry smile and nod to the princess, doing her best to keep her cool.

“I’m Shuri, princess of Wakanda and head of the Wakandan Design Group.” She stuck a hand out to shake, smiling brightly with just a hint of something amusing in her eyes. “Colonizing gave him a big ego, but what he would make is nothing compared to what I can make you.”

Theo couldn’t stifle the laugh that bubbled out of her from the dig at Tony.

“Oh, I like you. I’m Theo.” She took Shuri’s hand, offering a firm shake while praying her hands weren’t too sweaty.

Tony pouted, giving Shuri a dirty look; Shuri smirked at him.

“So what does this armor making process entail?” Theo glanced between the pair, waiting for further instruction.

“First, we’ll have you spar with one of our guys; get a sense for your style. From there, we’ll draw up a base set. You’ll give it a trial run, push the boundaries so we can see what works and what needs adjusting.” Tony explained, watching Theo as she continued observing her surroundings. “Then, we’ll make a final version.”

“Okay…” Given Shuri’s comments on building better armor, Theo suspected Shuri wasn’t her partner. Then again, it didn’t look like anyone there was ready to practice fighting - certainly none of the lab staff, who all but ignored Theo’s presence. Maybe she would be fighting Tony or one of his robots?

“Okay what?” Tony tapped on the tablet a few times.

“Am I sparring now?” Theo raised her eyebrows at him expectantly as she shrugged, glancing around the room. “I don’t see anyone who looks like they’re ready to fight, much less a space to fight in. Unless you want me to break your equipment, which is probably pretty expensive… Then again, you’re the Avengers’ Sugar Daddy. It’s probably pocket change for you to replace these.”

Shuri snorted at Theo’s comment.

“You’re not fighting here.” Tony rolled his eyes, pressing away from the table and gesturing for Theo to follow. “We have a training lab. Your partner will meet you there.”

That explained why she was told to come to the lab in clothes she could exercise in. Theo trailed behind, almost having to jog in order to keep up with Tony. “Who am I sparring against?”

Tony stopped in front of a door, pressing some sort of code into a keypad on the wall. The door hissed as it slid open, revealing none other than Captain America himself.

Oh shit.

Steve smiled, waving to the trio as they entered. Theo, on the other hand, froze in place, her stomach dropping into her feet. Couldn’t they have picked someone with magic, at least?

“He’ll go easy on you to start.” Tony winked, turning to lead them into another room.

Theo’s face must have betrayed her reaction - this was not going to go well, but not for the reason Tony Stark thought.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Theo gulped, eyes darting between the others.

“We’ll start simple.” Steve reassured her, following along with the group.

Fury must have held back on explaining Theo’s abilities if he was so calm about their impending duel.

The room that Tony brought them to was empty, save for a collection of cameras around the room and a table filled with sheets of stickers, each no larger than a pea. Mats covered the floor, presumably so that anyone who went down fighting was less likely to be hurt.

Cute, but a few mats weren’t going to be much help when it came to fighting a mage.

“So, how this works: the cameras will track your motion.” After gesturing to cameras around the room, Tony held up a sheet of stickers. ”These will be stuck to you so we can get a sense of your movements. You fight, then we use the data to design your gear.”

The thought of sensors stuck all over her body made her cringe. Of the many roles she expected to fill, lab rat was not one of them.

Fury fucking owed her for this.

“Oh joy...” Theo sighed, resigning herself to her fate. “Fine, let’s do this.”

Shuri brushed past Tony, grabbing the sensors. “I will handle this - I have just the touch.” She smirked at Theo. As she began to place the sensors, she leaned into Theo and whispered, “Kick his ass - I can fix broken white boys.”

Yes, Shuri was her kind of person.

Theo snickered, but held still so Shuri could continue placing sensors. Shuri made quick work of the task, her touch gentle but firm as she secured each device to Theo’s skin.

Once all the sensors were in place, they were ready to begin.

“In the interest of full disclosure, I’ve never ‘just sparred’ before.” Theo spoke up, circling around Steve.

She absolutely had sparred before - hundreds of times. But this way, if she accidentally went too far, she had an excuse. Besides, Steve didn’t have magic, and only fought with a shield.

Really, this was not a fair fight.

“I’m durable, don’t worry.” Steve offered a charming smile. “I can do this all day.”

Theo shook her head, gesturing with one hand to conjure her weapon. Runes slid down her arm, twisting around each other in the air until a blade of shadow appeared in her hand. “I’ve dulled my weapon so it’s not going to slice you open, at least.”

“Awfully kind,” Steve winked, lowering himself into a ready stance. “Ladies first.”

Well, here goes nothing.

Theo took a deep breath, stepping forward and offering the first swing.

Steve leapt back, darting forward to attempt a blow of his own.

Theo nimbly jumped to the side, swinging her blade down and landing clean on Steve’s back.

As Steve was knocked to the ground he spun around, attempting to kick out Theo’s feet from beneath her.

Theo leapt over his kick, pressing forward to a somersault in time to pop up and block a punch, taking another swing with her blade.

The two fell into a rhythm of trading blows. Steve certainly had his merits as a fighter - if they were in hand-to-hand combat, he easily could have kicked her ass. But this wasn’t hand to hand combat - Theo had her weapon to give her some distance, and if nothing else she was damn good at dodging anything and everything that attempted to hurt or kill her.

If this was all that was involved, she could do this all day… Well, as long as her lungs held up okay.

“Are you going to use any of your magic?” Steve grunted, dodging a blow from Theo as he kicked at her.

“I try to only use it against other magic users.” Theo replied, bringing her blade down to block the kick.

As if he took Theo’s response as a challenge, Steve picked up the pace. Still, Theo had yet to break a sweat. What she lacked in brute strength, she more than made up for in endurance and agility.

The sensation of being watched by someone new led Theo to do a scan of her surroundings as she blocked a punch from Steve.

Her instinct was spot on - not just one person, but three new people. Maybe it was a bit of ego, or a flair for the dramatic, but if there was a larger audience… Well, Theo could show off a little bit and it wouldn’t hurt anyone.

“It seems we have an audience…” Theo commented, tumbling backwards before teleporting behind Steve and hitting him from behind.

“I thought you didn’t use magic against non-magic users.” Steve coughed, then spun around to find her smirking at him.

Steve threw a punch, only to have it go right through her - it was an illusion. He frantically scanned the room again to find Theo leaning up against the wall, arms crossed as she dangled her sword from her right hand.

“Well, we have an audience.” She repeated with a wry shrug, pointing to the new arrivals with her blade. “Can’t let the new girl disappoint.”

Standing in the entrance, Wanda, Bucky, and Loki watched the two spar. Wanda appeared to be amused by the interaction; Bucky was laughing at Steve, and Loki…

Well, Theo wasn’t sure if he was amused, unimpressed, or bored.

“Alright, so this should get interesting now, right?” Steve turned to face Theo again, straightening up and squaring his shoulders.

“Perhaps.” Theo kept a straight face as she pushed off the wall, preparing for Steve’s next move.

“Theo, remember what I said – I can fix broken white boys!” Shuri jeered.

A smirk flickered across Theo’s lips.

Bucky doubled over, howling with laughter as Steve let out a huff.

As long as she stuck to the celestial magic, she’d be fine.

Steve rushed towards her.

Adrenaline rushed through Theo’s veins. It had been a while since she’d really had a chance to show what she could do; the prospect of flexing her skills felt almost liberating.

No, she needed to keep it under wraps.

Singing under her breath, a wisp of white shot through her sword. Once Theo stopped, the melody continued to reverberate from the blade, haunting yet almost impossible to hear.

Steve launched forward to throw a blow, but Theo was too quick - she spun and took him down from behind with the hilt of the sword.

“Is your sword singing?”

“Magicians don’t reveal their secrets,” Theo winked. She jumped back, curling her fingers to gesture for Steve to come get her.

Steve rushed forward, only to find himself shocked with cosmic energy. What the-?” He froze mid-motion, dropping to the ground. “

Shit.

“I didn’t hurt you too bad, did I?” Theo dryly inquired, cocking her head to the side.

That was too strong.

“Well, it wasn’t pleasant…” Steve shook his head, staggering briefly before he returned to his feet. “It’s fine - I can do this all day.”

Yeah, that was stronger than it should have been. But why?

“Sorry, I’ll try to temper it a bit,” Theo apologized, while praying it wasn’t obvious that she used more than she intended.

“Don’t go easy on me.” Regaining his composure, Steve resumed charging at her and throwing blows. Theo took a more defensive approach, focusing solely on dodging blows instead of doing damage while she tried to figure out what made her spell so potent.

“Not to be weird, but what phase is the moon in right now?” Theo tried to make the question as casual as possible, hoping it would come off as small talk and nothing more.

“Don’t tell me you do that horoscope shit.” Tony groaned from the sideline.

“There’s nothing wrong with horoscopes, grandpa.” Theo feigned offense, but she was grateful for Tony’s ignorance as to why she might ask the question. “Besides, Astrology is more real than the stock market.”

Shuri snorted.

“It’s a new moon tonight,” Wanda answered. Theo glanced over to catch the Scarlet Witch staring at her phone, lips pursed as she studied whatever was on the screen.

Well, that explained the magic surge.

“Good to know.” Theo kept a casual tone to her voice, rhythmically moving as she dodged and parried Steve’s attacks.

They sparred for another few minutes; Theo continued to stay away from offensive spells, but occasionally threw in an illusion or teleported so they wouldn’t suspect anything. Even if she wasn’t giving them the best data to build her gear with, she wasn’t going to pull out all the stops until it was actually necessary.

Besides, she didn’t really need the armor in the first place.

“Alright Rapunzel, I think we’ve got enough data to start.” Tony announced, tapping the screen of his tablet with a flourish..

Steve dropped his offensive stance, straightening up while he caught his breath.

“Good match.” The friendly smile Steve flashed indicated that he didn’t seem too upset about being shocked.

“Likewise.” Theo returned the nod as her shadow blade vanished.

All in all, it wasn’t the most intense workout she’d ever had, but she did get a bit sweaty and was a little out of breath. Maybe Steve was stronger than she gave him credit for. After all, he was a super soldier.

Then again, she assumed that fighting a super soldier would require enough exertion to make her asthma flare up; given she was still breathing alright, perhaps he also went easy on her.

Whatever - she wasn’t going to dwell on the subject.

Shuri returned to help remove the sensors.

“You held back on him.” She raised an eyebrow at Theo, sending the sorceress a pointed glance before stepping behind Theo to remove the sensors on her back.

Unsure of how else to respond, Theo simply shrugged. “I don’t need to add to my body count.”

Shuri sighed, skepticism written on her features as she leaned around Theo to set the sensors on the table. Perhaps the princess had a better sense of Theo’s powers than she let on. “I told you, I can fix broken white boys.”

Yeah, but she couldn’t fix a pile of dust.

“I don’t think killing Captain America would be a good way to start my tenure as an Avenger…” Theo raised a challenging brow.

Shuri laughed; apparently she thought it was a joke. Theo offered a thin smile.

“One of these days I will get you down here and test you without limits so I can design you the ultimate armor.” Shuri chided, though she still smiled at the newcomer.

Theo offered a curt nod. “Maybe.”

Shuri’s expression told Theo that she took the answer as a challenge.

At the sensation of a bead of sweat trickling down her temple, Theo grabbed the hem of her t-shirt and yanked it up to dry her skin. As she dropped the fabric, she caught Loki studying her. A sense of curiosity peeked through his piercing gaze, cool green eyes glinting beneath the lights.

Theo wondered what ran through his mind. Was he trying to figure out if she was actually a threat? Or was he more focused on where she came from?

Once the sensors were off, Theo started towards the door. She had no interest in socializing, plus she wanted nothing more than to shower and wash the sticky, gritty sweat off her skin.

“Hey Theo, we’re about to head to dinner - do you want to come?”

Enthusiasm colored Wanda’s voice; when Theo turned to face the witch she found Wanda smiling hesitantly, hands shoved in the pockets of her hoodie.

“I appreciate the offer, but I think I’m going to pass,” Theo feigned an interest in the invite, even as she turned it down. “I’m still getting settled in and all.”

A pang of guilt shot up in Theo at the sight of Wanda’s falling face. She could empathize with the pain of rejection; there were countless times when Theo was a little girl when she asked Rae to play with her, but Rae would decline because she was busy with lessons and far too old to play games. Back then, Theo was too small to understand why, but she could still feel how her chest would twist from being turned down.

This, however, was different. Between the appearances at her show, the game, and the invites to hang out, it was obvious that Wanda had ulterior motives. After all, Theo was there when Fury told the Avengers that their mission was to get Theo to stay - and what better way to rope her in than to try and be her friend?

Rather than dwell on the matter, she offered a small wave and hurried out of the lab.

This could not be over fast enough.

Lost big dreams that I really don't need Everything I love is gonna find a way to leave Got good friends that I never can see Always on the run while my plans are free I been staying up all night Shaking needles out my spine But the doctor says I'm fine Feels good to be alive but I hate my life

Living on-site was a non-negotiable of the deal (much to Theo’s dismay), but she had to admit it was convenient - she never had to worry about shit going down on the subway when her workplace was an elevator ride away.

Regardless of where she actually lived, there was one thing she needed to do before anything else: set up a portal to her Mémère’s house. The ritual of creating one long-term portal was tedious, but once set up the long-term portal’s convenience far outweighed the nuisance. Theo visited the family’s matriarch often enough that having a travel method faster than public transit was a necessity, especially with the distance between them. After all, it wasn’t like she had the time to fly back and forth between northern Michigan and New York every weekend.

Creating the portal wasn’t hard; the big challenge was figuring out where to put it. She didn’t want it in her bedroom, since Mémère and Max occasionally used the portals she set up to come visit and the last thing she needed was for them to walk in on her in any number of compromising positions. However, she didn’t want to set it in a location where people would question why she had a misty oval in her wall. After an unnecessary amount of debate, she opted to place it along one of the walls in her main room and take advantage of some well-placed curtains to hide the addition.

With the portal in place, it was time for a field trip.

The crisp air of northern Michigan was a far cry from New York’s heavy, thick skies. It was easier to breathe - not just because there was a lot less pollution, which was notable for someone like Theo, whose lungs were sensitive to smog - but because the nearly silent, still world around her made it easier for the tension to melt from her shoulders and to relax with each inhale and exhale. Michigan was the opposite of New York City, a constantly bustling metropolis where it was all too easy to get lost in the shuffle.

Theo stepped through the portal to find herself in her grandmother’s equipment shed. That was intentional - no one would think to look there for a portal. Weaving between the farm equipment, she pushed the worn wooden door open and stepped outside.

Around her, the evergreens that towered above swayed in the breeze, wind whispering through the branches. In front of her stood the farmhouse, with white weathered siding, wide windows, and a wraparound porch that Theo had spent countless nights sitting on. To her left, a worn path led from the porch down to a small beach with a dock, while the waves of Lake Superior lapped up on the shore. She didn’t have to look behind her to know an old, worn out barn stood in its same place, though it had been years since any animals were kept inside.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted two vehicles parked along the dirt drive - a red pickup truck and a green subaru outback.

Max must have been visiting.

Theo crossed the distance and ascended onto the porch, approached the front door, gripped the worn brass door knob and turned the handle, pushing her way inside.

“Hello?” Poking her head inside, Theo glanced around the living room to find it empty. She stepped inside, closed the door, and toed off her shoes. The sound of clattering dishes echoed from the kitchen, while two voices floated above in animated conversation.

“Ah, my bichette!” A raspy voice called out, followed by the shuffling of feet. Just before Theo reached the hallway, a petite elderly woman appeared.

Mémère had seen more than her fair share of life in her many years on Earth, and it showed. Her tan, papery skin held deep wrinkles and age spots dotted themselves across her cheeks and forehead. In the almost fifteen years since Theo had left for college, the matriarch of the Durand family had aged considerably - every time Theo saw her, she swore that Mémère shrunk another inch. Mémère moved considerably slower than in the past, undoubtedly her advanced age catching up to her. Still, she had a bright spark in her amber eyes and a sharp wit that could not be deterred.

“Hi Mémère,” Theo greeted, embracing her grandmother. Though it had only been a week or so since they’d last been together, it seemed like the elderly woman’s bones were even more prominent, jutting into Theo’s flesh as they hugged. “I saw Max’s car outside - is he here too?”

“Of course I am.” Max appeared over Mémère’s shoulder, arching an eyebrow at his older cousin. “One of us has to keep things in order while you’re off playing superhero.”

“Oh come on, it’s not like–”

“Now now, I do not need you two squabbling to take up my Saturday,” Mémère said, pointedly glaring at the cousins before gesturing for everyone to enter the kitchen. “You both are doing wonderful things, and I’m happy to have you both home. I’ll put some coffee on and we can all catch up. Leenie, have you had lunch? I don’t have many options at the moment, but I can make sandwiches.”

“You’re not going to ask if I’ve had lunch?” Max scoffed, to which Mémère rolled her eyes.

“My caneton, you’ve been here all morning. I know you haven’t had lunch.”

“Sandwich sounds lovely.” Theo answered, trying not to laugh at Max’s feigned offense.

As they stepped into the kitchen, everything was familiar - the same butcher block countertops, the same painted cabinets. Holiday cards were stuck to the fridge with magnets, and a picture of Theo at her college graduation still hung on the door. Things were so much simpler then.

“So, tell us all about your first days as an Avenger - are you settling in? Have you made any friends?” Mémère gave her a knowing wink, making her way to grab sandwich meat and cheese from the fridge. Theo retrieved plates out of the cabinet, setting them on the counter.

Theo couldn’t stop herself from laughing at Mémère’s questions. “I’m not really there to make friends, Mémère.”

“No, but you have to live and work with them.” Even if she moved a bit slower than she did ten years ago, Mémère was still sharp enough to pick up on Theo’s unspoken hesitations. “You’d be smart to befriend them, or you may be miserable for the foreseeable future.”

Sure, Mémère was probably right, but Theo was not about to admit that aloud.

“How are you handling things out here?” Theo changed the subject. “The shed looks like it’s seen better days.”

“Oh, things are fine - Max comes by almost daily to help with things around the farm; he also helps with running errands and such.” Mémère waved a hand dismissively, while Max gave Theo a shit eating grin. “Father Tim - you remember him - he’s also around a lot to help with things.”

Surprisingly, Max did not interject with some snarky comment.

Theo nodded. “And you’ve been okay, health-wise?”

Mémère smiled, though Theo picked up a hint of sadness in her eyes. “I’m fine, bichette. Still kicking. Still here to tease you endlessly.”

Theo laughed softly, shaking her head. “I can’t imagine you doing anything else...”

A silence fell in the room as the final condiments were set out on the countertop.

“This is less fancy than the restaurants you probably go to in New York, but hopefully it still tastes good.” Mémère joked, gesturing to the spread of sandwich toppings. “I’ll let you build your own, so it’s just how you want.”

Theo laughed. “Just because I agreed to join the Avengers doesn’t mean I now scoff at a sandwich.”

While Theo and Max put their sandwiches together, Mémère made sure they each had a cup of coffee poured and at the table. Once the trio assembled their meals, they each took their regular chairs at the kitchen table.

“What have you done so far?”

“Nothing exciting, really.” Theo palmed the ceramic mug in front of her, eyes following the curls of steam as they floated upward. “A lot of onboarding crap. I was supposed to spar with Captain America and that was, uh, interesting. Next week I’m supposed to start doing interviews and shit, but I don’t really get why I’d waste my time with those when I have actual work to do.”

“Told you, playing superhero.” Max interjected, to which Theo scowled.

“I don’t think it’s a waste.” Mémère mused. “Now the world can learn of your gifts. You’ve spent far too long trying to conceal them.”

Mémère always thought the best of Theo, and that went for her magic as well. Despite disagreeing, Theo gave up on trying to convince her otherwise a long time ago.

“Are they gifts?” Theo pondered, studying the barn through the window panes. “There are a lot of people who think they’re curses.”

“They are what you choose to make them.” Mémère reminded her granddaughter. “You’ve chosen to make them gifts, to use them to help people.”

Theo nodded, though she didn’t entirely agree with Mémère’s assessment. She knew Max probably didn’t agree either. The council certainly didn’t.

“How’s work, Max?” Theo tried to change the subject.

“It’s fine.” Max paused to take a bite of his sandwich. “No complaints.”

“And Ellie, Katie? How are they?”

“Good. Katie’s daycare is now preparing her to start preschool.”

Theo nearly dropped her coffee cup at the news.

“Seriously? She’s a toddler.”

“She’s three, and she’s way ahead of her developmental milestones. The staff think it’s a good idea. Ellie agrees. She’s a pediatrician, so it’s her job to know that kind of stuff.” Max shrugged as if he was completely unaffected by the prospect of his child starting preschool.

“This is what happens when two doctors have a baby, I guess.” Theo muttered to herself.

Theo may have been the one in the Avengers, but Max was always the responsible and cautious one. It was pretty common for the council members to lament that Theo was the next in line - they claimed it was because she was a loose cannon and unpredictable; that wasn’t the real reason, but none of them would admit the truth to Theo or Mémère’s faces. Still, they weren’t wrong when they pointed out that Max was steadfast and rational. He naturally embodied the characteristics of a wise leader.

Maybe that’s why he was so pissy about her accepting the Avengers gig - until that point, Theo was the one living in Max’s shadow.

Mémère must have sensed the tension between cousins, because she took over the conversation from there. Even if things between Theo and Max were always tense, conversation with Mémère came easily. Beyond trying to catch up on what had happened in Michigan since Theo’s last visit, Mémère had plenty of her own questions about Theo’s transition to being an Avenger.

Even if they weren’t Theo’s favorite questions, she owed Mémère real answers.

Once they finished their sandwiches, Theo stood and collected the dirty plates, bringing them to the sink so she could wash them.

“How long are you visiting for?” Mémère asked, still sitting at the table.

“Just the afternoon - figured I’d use my first moment of free time since starting to see how things were here, plus grab some stuff to bring back with me.” Theo said, letting out a sigh. “I didn’t tell anyone I was leaving, so I imagine I don’t have long before they start looking for me. They’re kind of obsessive like that.”

“Well, you know where your room is - It’s always ready, whenever you need it. Feel free to head up whenever.”

Given Theo could hardly sneak away for an afternoon, she found it hard to imagine she’d need the bed anytime soon.

Setting the last plate on the drying rack, Theo made her way upstairs. Over all the years she had been here, the whole house had barely changed - same furniture, same photos, same faded wallpaper covering the walls. Her feet carried her down the hall, almost on autopilot as she made her way to her old bedroom. Standing in front of the entrance, Theo took a deep breath, turned the knob and opened the door.

Inside, the room was still a breath of fresh air - pale yellow walls, big windows with sheer curtains. A queen size bed with a patchwork quilt sat in one corner; one of Theo’s old guitars from when she was here before remained in another corner. Her old Van Gogh poster was still on the wall above her dresser.

Despite remaining exactly as she left it, there was no dust to be found - Mémère must have cleaned the room while she was gone.

She always kept the room ready in case Theo needed to come home.

Theo’s heart twisted at the thought. It was almost enough for her to say “fuck it” and stay – at least for one night. After all, it had been a long time since she actually visited for more than a day or two, and the Avengers needed her, not the other way around; she could make them wait.

However, her cell phone quickly reminded her that wasn’t an option.

“Anyone seen Rapunzel?” The Avengers group chat lit up.

Theo rolled her eyes, but replied anyway. “Visiting a friend. Be back later.”

Whether she wanted to or not, Theo knew - the show must go on.

So tied up and tired of this self-inflicted fight In spite of, I light up, to leave my demons I tell myself I'm fine while I'm looking for a sign Is this body even mine? Feels good to be alive but I hate my life

#loki #loki fanfiction #marvel loki #loki fluff #loki angst #loki smut #loki x oc #loki x ofc #wemtbb #when everything's made to be broken

23 notes · View notes

kylo-wrecked · 6 months

Text

I accidentally deleted the ask/s, lol 🤦 but various frens wanted to know some things… and here are those things:

Ex-Con!Ben differs from the other modern verse Bens in these ‘key ways’—

Asbestos hands

Dissociative episodes

Dog

Not in touch with Mom, though she might have tried

He drives. He earned that. The other ones have to do their time, whatever that looks like, before they get their driving privileges back (timeline dependent)

Murder!Kylo drives, too. He lives straight outta the van.

Driving is an important thematic element on this blog because… grasping symbolism? Beep beep, Richie.

Music!Ben—

His is the story of Bendemption if Ben survived into just being kind of an angry jerk anyway.

I've mentioned this before, but he's the one Ben who doesn't wear what I like to call 'the Ben Mask' as a friendly, if standoffish, buffer between people/who Ben feels he should be/who he is. Music!Ben moves very fluidly between these categories. He is who he feels he should be. More or less. Is he genuine? Never you mind.

But yes, he does feel encumbered by the Kylo Ren persona and KoR, which is why he loathes being called Kylo after he 'leaves' the band. At the same time, he loathes the musician who replaced him because HE CAN'T BE REPLACED.

And that's more or less true. For the most part, nobody has listened to KoR since the original members fell out. They're not getting or recording hits. I imagine diehard KoR fans are band purists and a little like Star Wars fans.

I also like to think KoR has a lot of casual listeners who enjoy a few songs but never follow the lore or drama and don't realize Kylo and Ben are the same person.

Like when Green Day… this is not a sound comparison or a good one, and KoR don't make music like GD’s, please G-d 😂, no offense… this is a ramble… but when Green Day put out an album as 'the Network' ( 'secret' side project* ) and somehow managed to pull the wool over many many eyeballs… although they pretty much sound like... Green Day… it went a little better for Ben.

I also, too, as well, like to think that whenever the question, "What music artists/bands pulled a complete 180 during their careers?" is put to forums, KoR is usually one of the top answers, and posters get annoyed about it.

Like, Radiohead… *audience groans*

*I love love love that Green Day/Network thinks 'Money Money 2020' was predictive in a meaningful way.

"Members of Green Day have denied being involved in the Network."

Guys.

#ooc #mun ramble #music!verse headcanons #excon headcanons

5 notes · View notes

flyingblackhawk · 3 years

Note

I don’t know if you still take fic requests but I’d love to see your take on Clint and Nat in the vents of the Budapest train station for 2 days.

Two days

Clintasha fic

As Barton dropped the hatch of the vent back into place, Natasha caught her breath and checked her weapon. There were shouts somewhere below, and footsteps hammering down the platform. She braced herself against the metal wall behind her and trained her gun on the hatch through which they had just climbed. Her partner was doing the same. Natasha could feel her heartbeat on her tongue. She could still hear the screams from the street above, and the wailing sirens converging on the flaming ruins of Dreykov’s building several blocks away. Not now, she told herself. There was no time to think about it, not yet. Below, the shouts got louder, the footfalls got closer, and she adjusted her grip, preparing herself in case she needed to throw herself through that hatch onto God knows how many men.

The voices and the footsteps passed underneath them. The two of them listened, not moving, not breathing. The men came back, spread out, regrouped and spread out again.

Attention, please, came a tinny announcement. All trains are delayed due to an unexpected emergency. Barton cocked his head at her. His Hungarian was rusty. Natasha mouthed the message at him in English, not sure if there was enough light for him to see. He grimaced, so she figured he got the message.

Down the tunnel, one of the voices called. They’ve gone down the tunnel.

Another voice swore, and then came the crackle of a radio. We’ll get them at the other end. Let’s go.

Then, unbelievably, impossibly, the footsteps receded. Natasha waited, coiled, ready in case this was a trick of some kind. They waited, guns on the hatch, listening to the bustle of people moving up and down the platform.

Natasha wasn’t sure how much time had passed before she exhaled, and relaxed her grip slightly. Barton sank back against the wall of the vent. Neither of them lowered their weapons entirely. Natasha twisted her head slightly to get a glimpse of her partner’s watch. Just gone 5pm.

Attention, please. All trains are delayed due to an unexpected emergency.

People were crowding on the platform. Natasha tensed ever so slightly whenever someone shuffled underneath the hatch, but there were no shouts now, just the voices of disgruntled and confused commuters.

What’s going on? There was an explosion, didn’t you hear? Someone’s on the run, I saw soldiers in the street. They weren’t soldiers, they were cops. No, they were special forces. A whole building came down, did you see it? No, it’s on fire but I don’t think it came down. I don’t know, maybe a gas explosion. I heard gunfire. I think there was a tank. Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your patience. Normal services resuming from platform B.

It took just under an hour for the trains to empty the platform of people. Natasha finally let herself relax, holstering her weapon. She shifted, stretching her legs, and ever so slowly slid over until she was thigh-to-thigh with her partner.

“Hurt?” Her voice was barely a whisper. There was still a chance that Dreykov’s men or the authorities were somewhere nearby. Hell, even a passerby or a janitor overhearing them could be the end of them.

“Not badly,” he breathed. “You?”

She shook her head. There were various scrapes and bruises she hadn’t even begun to catalogue, but nothing was broken, not as far as she could tell. Footsteps passed underneath them and she froze, feeling Barton do the same beside her. She opened her mouth to say something else, but the fear that someone might hear her stopped her with her lips just parted. A train rattled into the station, opened its doors with a soft hiss, clunked them shut and rumbled away leaving silence behind it. Natasha ducked her head, letting out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding.

“Any word from SHIELD?” her partner whispered, after a while. She shook her head. They would get a signal when an extraction was ready, but there was no knowing how long that would take. It all depended on the political situation, or, more accurately, whether SHIELD could manoeuvre around said situation to retrieve their agents before Dreykov’s cronies could tear their hearts out.

They sat side by side in silence for a long time. There was no change in the light coming through the cracks around the vent hatch. The station would be lit all night. The only way to mark time was with Barton’s watch, and by the fifth hour tense anxiety gave way to lightly worried boredom. Her legs were cramped and she was hungry. The thrill of the chase had long since vanished, and now all she wanted was to be in a jet hurtling back towards the States.

Something poked her thigh. She looked down, and found Barton’s hand, offering her something. She took it, and brought it close to her face to see it in the dim light. It was an arrowhead, one of his less explosive ones. She frowned, confused, and gave it back to him. He smiled, and reached over to touch it to the wall of the vent. As Natasha watched, he began to scratch something. Natasha reached out and grabbed his wrist.

“Someone might hear,” she whispered. He looked at his watch pointedly. It was almost eleven at night. There were still people now and then, and an occasional train, but the station was largely silent. There was nothing else to do but wait for extraction. She sighed, and let go of him. He carved three vertical lines into the metal, then three horizontal lines to form a grid. He finished by scratching a circle into the top right square, and handed her the arrowhead. Natasha smiled, and scratched a cross. They paused as a train whooshed past, not stopping at the empty platform below them. It took her four moves to beat him, and he made a big show of shaking her hand. She smiled, and he drew them another grid.

Barton gave her his watch and took the first shift sleeping once midnight rolled around. Logically, Natasha knew that they were not likely to be found now, but she couldn’t quite relax enough to sleep just yet. Her partner had no such concerns, and was out like a light despite the cold metal of the vent. She kicked him whenever he breathed too loudly, but aside from that she just waited, marking time on his watch until it was 4 in the morning. She shook his shoulder, and he slid over and sat up, making room for her to lie down. She slept fitfully, and once the morning rush took over on the platform below her, she could no longer sleep. She opted to lie with her eye to the crack in the hatchway, watching as unsuspecting people passed under her. The scent of coffee and pastries was almost enough to tempt her out. Almost. As if he had read her mind, Barton reached into a pocket and produced a battered protein bar. She snapped it in half and they shared a miserable communion.

They played another few rounds of noughts and crosses. She slept again once the station quietened down, this time sitting up with her head on her partner’s shoulder. She didn't think too deeply about it - they were still very much in mission mode, boring as it might be for the time being. Barton woke her after a couple of hours, in the early afternoon. They made a game of stretching, trying to get out of each other’s way as they did. The early evening found her practising what basic ASL she had picked up. This proved much more engaging than noughts and crosses, and by the time twenty-four hours had passed, she had mastered the alphabet and could sign several rude words. It helped distract the both of them from the hunger, thirst and other bodily functions they couldn’t deal with in a train station vent.

It was his turn to sleep, and he managed - somehow, she wasn’t sure how - to get a few hours’ rest during the evening rush. Announcements rang out on the crackling speakers, trains groaned in and out of the station, hundreds of people went about their lives, and Barton slept right through it. She watched him, in awe of his ability to ignore the noise until she realised he had probably just turned his hearing aids down.

The dawn of the second day found them irritable, sore, starving and ready to drop out of the vents and just make a run for it. There had been no word from SHIELD, despite both of them checking that their various comms devices were still operational. Natasha practiced her ASL swearing and Barton augmented her vocabulary for a while.

“Two days,” she whispered, sometime around midday. “Maybe something’s gone wrong.”

“They’ll come,” he told her, quietly, simply. She hated him for it for an hour or so, until he carved a game of hangman into the wall and she got sucked into the game. He was good at taking her mind off things, she was starting to realise. It wasn’t something anyone had ever done for her before.

Night approached with all the speed of a glacier, but finally, just as Natasha opened her mouth to guess the word for their current round of hangman, Barton’s watch beeped twice. In one fluid motion, she pulled the hatch open and they dropped down onto the platform. There was no one there to see them, which Natasha assumed was part of the plan. She didn’t like flying blind, but she didn’t have much of a choice. She and her partner streaked up the escalator onto the dark streets of Budapest. A black SUV rolled up and Barton’s watch chirped once. The door opened and they threw themselves inside.

“Butterfly,” she said, once she’d caught her breath, revelling in the sound of her voice at normal volume after two days of quiet whispers.

“You win,” he grinned, and despite herself, Natasha smiled.

#fic #clintashafic #clintashashield #black widow #long

32 notes · View notes

equestrianwritingsstuff · 3 years

Note

OH MY GOD YOU HAVE TO CONTINUE THE DROWNED SERIES, IT'S SO DAMN GOOD

Thank you for the ask, it makes me excited to see that people are still interested.

Drowning Part 10

@shydragonrider @asrasmysoulmate @sunflower1000

This one is kind of short, and probably makes no sense, but it starts to explain the story line a bit more and what my goal is with Supervillain (and perhaps the reason I am not having him rescued... yet 👀). Anyway, not edited.

Ask games for this series are here and here.

Masterlist

Warnings: referring to person as "it", altered state of reality, dehumanization, muzzled, talk of surgery, weaponizing a human, fear

"Okay thank you for your cooperation," the director said as he stopped the recording. He looked up, smiled, and began to pack away his things- an array of various instruments to enable both Villain and Hero's voices to be clearly heard all the way at the Hero Facility.

"Yeah well, I expect my pay within the next two days," Villain crossed his arms and swung his leg over top of the other one.

"That may not be-"

"Director. I am doing this for you guys. I have my record cleared, Hero in my custody, and a billionaire. I don't need to this for you guys."

"But you are in love with the cash," Hero chimed in, rolling her forestry green eyes. Not with attitude or snarky annoyance, but out of pure loathing.

Villain shot her a glare the second she closed her mouth and stood up, pacing. "I want my pay, fifty-thousand for a mere conversation isn't something you come by everyday," he said, rubbing his hands through his blonde mane.

"Yes but-"

"The only reason it was fifty-thousand," Hero interrupted the director. "Is because you pushed it that far." She didn't exactly understand her exasperation. After all, she agreed to do this with him- not that she had a choice. She was, in fact, thankful for him for breaking her out of the facility, even to the point of restoring friendship.

"Well they consented..." Villain's voice trailed off as he stopped his aimless walking. He sneered, a mischievous look dawning on his face. "I could, just for the record, break Supervillain out of his cell easily. Actually, I bet a novice could."

The director stiffened, fingers tapping the screen on his phone, prepare to call the authorities. Hero smiled slightly. After her aided escape, the heroes didn't bother to recapture her or Villain. And it was all because her rescuer threatened the Hero Facility if they tried to reclaim her. It was like he controlled the heroes- and maybe in a way, he did.

"Okay you will get the money! Write him a check or cash him over some. I don't care, just give it to him."

Villain snickered at the director's desperation and fear.

Hero watched as a young girl scribbled a check and handed it to Villain. Then, after than transaction, the whole team wrapped up and left without another word.

"Hmm," Villain said, eyeing the check he possessed.

"What do you want for dinner?" Hero asked, repeating the lines her current maid position required of her- not that she had to, Villain was not strict enough to enforce rules, but cleaning and cooking seemed to put his explosiveness at ease.

"Nothing. I have a date."

A date?!

"You have a girlfriend?" Hero chuckled. "Who is the unlucky damsel?"

"That's besides the point, but she is quite pretty."

"How long have you been dating?"

"This is our third date within the course of two months."

Two months... that was duration of time since she and Supervillain were kidnapped.

"Not that consistent then," Hero commented instead of voicing her curiosity.

"She works as a nurse, so she is quite busy," Villain replied, folding the check and placing it in his jean's pockets.

"I see," Hero replied. "Where is your date? Please tell me you are not taking her to McDonald's."

"That coffee date in the park sounded great," Villain replied. "Then I was thinking Taco Bell."

"No, no, no!" Hero scolded, pushing herself to her feet. "You are not taking this poor girl on a date to a fast food restaurant. You are a billionaire, Villain. Take her to one of those places where they serve an ounce of food for thirty dollars and spoil her."

Villain blushed, pulling at his fingers nervously. "You know a couple months ago I thought I would be taking you on a date."

"Me too," Hero sighed, placing her hands on her hips.

"I guess life took a turn, didn't it?"

"Yes," Hero replied, extending her arms and wrapping Villain in an embrace. Before she let go, she whispered:

"Torture was in that turn to, wasn't it?"

Villain's muscles tensed, he coughed and pulled away. "See you tonight," he said and ran up the stairs to go get changed.

《~~》

All at once, a piece of light, a string of consciousness sprouted through the dark unconsciousness of the patient's mind. It swirled, bombarding lidded eyes with intolerable brightness. They strained, trying to shut, but it was as if the motor lost control- or gained control, depending on which side of the metaphor you are one.

Then the light formed into various shapes, some holding objects of humanoid form whereas others were cubical, rectangular and circular- making the world around the patient pixelated and blurry. Colors rounded to the basis of their hue- cyan swirling into blue, pale yellow whisking itself into an off-white- until the world was a pallette of bland coloring.

The noise, lolling in a sense, but also increasingly obnoxious. Beeps and rings, rumbles and grumbles, but all the vowels and consonants equaled a series of off-tune words, some faded, others marked with clarity.

Not safe, were the only cognitive thoughts. Not safe not safe not safe. He tried to thrash, anything to get away from the looming danger, though his protruding limbs were too weak, will devoid of any resolve.

More sounds rumbled and purred around him as equally slow restraints grappled at his arms and legs- or were they fast paced? The man didn't know. The perception between reality and unreality was dim, as was his ability to process sleed and direction. Heck, he didn't even know his own name, just the anticipated danger.

He coughed, or tried to, some form of blockade in his mouth inhibited any sound, cough or otherwise, to escape. Tears pricked at his eyes, later streaming down his cheeks- he wanted to go home. Home to that dank apartment that couldn't seem to leave his very intellect. He wanted home, needed home...

The shapes around him once again began to evaporate, but this time instead of mixing into like shades and tones of color, they all shifted to one mass of brown-colored mud before it all vanished into blackness again.

《~~》

"Vitals?"

The doctor's voice ran throughout the room as nurses scrambled to check Supervillain over. The room soon sung with a chorus of "Good".

"Then everyone is dismissed other than Doctor and Medic," a new voice, equally as authoritive yet significantly much more of a feminine type.

All the nurses practically galloped out of the room as a hoard, not daring to look at the woman who just stepped in.

"Leader," the doctor greeted the woman. "What brings you here?"

"I've come to look at the project. I heard it just underwent surgery?" The lady spoke, walking up to the bed where the unconscious patient rested.

"Yes, knee replacement surgery," the doctor replied, joining Leader by the bed. Medic appeared across from them, tenderly rubbing her fingers over the supervillain's hand.

"Fifteen hours on the table," Leader continued to speak, observing Supervillain with contempt in her gaze. "Why?"

"We had to replace the entire knee cap with a newly engineered material made from cells of donors and a type of substance formed from titanium to enhance strength and durability. Then we had to connect the nerves and ligaments to the knee so he can control it like normal."

"Also known as a high-tech prosthetic? Why, may I ask, did my project have to get one?"

"Broken knee..."

"Shattered, Doctor," gray eyes darted around to meet the doctor's humble brown ones. "Not broken, but completely shattered. It needs to be fully operational by the end of the month."

"Ma'am, the recovery is going to be rough-" the doctor tried to protest.

"We have serums for that," Leader groaned, throwing her head into the air.

"It is not safe to drug him with much. His cells and blood need to adapt."

"I don't care. I put a lot of time and effort and money into this project. The enemy is going to launch an attack soon, our spies have gathered enough data to anticipate it by the end of the month. You have been soft Doctor, in his training."

"It's been working," the doctor reasoned.

"It's submission, not training. Ever hear of conditioning?"

"I have done some research into it and I believe that we need to take a more-"

"Yes you are right," Leader smiled. "I don't want a bodyguard. I want a weapon with one, single purpose. Eliminate Hero."

"I don't get that," Medic spoke up, her voice soft, yet filled with courage. "Why get rid of Hero when she is not the enemy?"

Leader chuckled, eyes thinkling. "What an ignorant little girl, so cute though. Did you do your make-up today? Hmm." The baby talk rapidly switched to a more serious tone, "She is a threat, even bigger than this newfound enemy. The moment she joins sides, which we know she will, the odds will be... let's say any attempt to stop them will be suicide."

"We contained her once before..."

"She will be mad, you'll see," Leader acquired a distant look in her dreary gray eyes. "Start weaponizing it. Immediately."

《~~》

Run.

Duck.

Jump.

"I love you."

"Love you more."

Punch.

Supervillain was panting for breath by the time he collapsed on the ground, exhausted to the highest extent. Sweat beaded around his hairline- recently trimmed in a convenient, yet flashy style, with a lightning bolt shaved into the side.

"I love you."

"Love you more."

Supervillain groaned, rubbing shaking hands over his face. Turn it off turn it off turn if off...

Everyday started with a morning workout in the gym. The gym had a track running around the whole thing with obstacles for him to duck under and jump over. The center only had a punching bag and a benchpress, but equally sweaty and daunting.

Suddenly, the loudspeaker rang, signaling that Supervillain could leave.

Once, of course, training was done.

Workouts weren't training, they were extra credit designed to get him further, to get him a higher GPA.

The doctor entered the room, so Supervillain stood up- respect, expected and therefore delivered.

"How many laps?"

"Twenty-five, sir."

The doctor took note of that on his clipboard, frowning before asking his speed.

"5 miles per hour, sir."

This time, the doctor smiled. "Good," he praised, then looked at the benchpress.

"Three hundred pounds," the doctor tapped the dumbbell with his pen, still grinning widely. "Nice work, but yesterday you did three-fiftey."

Supervillain whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut. He failed he failed he failed he failed.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, proceeding to walk towards the nearby intern to receive the needed correction.

The intern raised her hands, holding a contraption of metal and leather, and slipped it into Supervillain's mouth. He whimpered upon feeling the cold metal slid onto his tongue. A leather strap held it in place, tightly buckled in the back of his head. From that extended more leather that went over his nose. A chain was linked through the nasal strap, more cold metal on warm skin.

Abruptly, he was pulled forward. The metal pinched that nerve- the one that always ached from the commonly given treatment.

The intern pulled him into yet another white room.

Yet this one contained the most dreaded torture implement.

#supervillain whumpee #heros and villains #writing #surgery #drugged whumpee #drugged villain #captivity whump

26 notes · View notes

morceid · 3 years

Text

Beating The Dead Swan

Chapter 4: hold on for your life

read on ao3

<- chapter three

Summary: The team makes progress on the case and Spencer makes progress with Derek.

Word Count: 1.8k

Category: angst, some fluff

Content Warnings: drug mention, general criminal minds stuff

A/N: so sorry this took so long to finish writing! i just had some other things i needed to do for school stuff before i did this but enjoy!!

The next day Derek walked into the BAU, ready to give Hotch a rundown of how they were handling the case, but something caught his eye.

Through the windows of the office Spencer now occupied, there was an art easel propped up next to the couch. A sheet covered in various paints and colors laid on the floor as Spencer brushed a sky of purple and blue on the canvas.

“Whatcha doin’ there, kid?”

“Oh, oh hi Agent Morgan, I hope this is okay, I just wanted to paint.” Spencer stammered.

“It’s fine, it looks good too. How long have you been painting?”

“I’m fairly certain I was 8, could’ve been 9 though, my dad left around then and it’s all kind of blurry.”

A thick silence surrounded the two, the only sound being the brush against the cloth canvas.

“Um, I’m sorry. Anyways, what are you going to be doing today?” Spencer swiped his finger through the purple color he’d mixed and dabbed it across the wet paint.

“Well, Garcia is looking through the bank records of all the victims. If there’s anything suspicious then she’ll look into it and we might even take the case as a team, but for now it’s just me and her. I’m going to talk to my boss right now, I’ll talk to you later though.” Derek turned towards the doorway but Spencer stopped him.

“Morgan, uh, do you think, do you think you’ll catch whoever did this to Camille?”

“I sure hope we do. You deserve some closure. We all do.”

“Yeah, yeah just sometimes, it feels, I don’t know, captivating in all the wrong ways.”

“I know. But it gets better, I promise you. See you in a bit.” Derek left the office and headed towards the bullpen.

Spencer exhaled and studied the paint on his hand. The cold feeling, the intense smell, and the sound as he slapped it across the canvas.

“Hey, any updates?” Hotch asked Derek as he opened the door to his office.

“Nah, not really. All the people we’ve interviewed are completely innocent. Penelope’s checking men with sexual offenses that our victims could’ve interacted with but I’m not sure we’re gonna find anything.”

“Alright, you should probably check on that now, I’ll see you later if there are any updates.”

“See ya, boss.” Derek said as he walked back down the steps and across the hall to Penelope’s office.

“Hello my soulmate and love of my life Derek Morgan, how can I help you today?” Penelope excitedly exclaimed as Derek walked into her office.

“Hey baby girl, get anything from your search?”

“Unfortunately, no. None of the victims had close family that had both a connection to the company or a sexual offense, in fact there are no sex offenders in the area that have any connection to the company at all. They really do triple check everyone’s background.”

“There has got to be some connection somewhere. Did the M.E. do another tox screen?” Derek asked.

“Yep, and it seems that all of the victims had massive doses of ketamine in their systems.”

“Camille had ketamine in her blood?” Spencer walked into the office and started the two.

“Oh! Spencer, you can’t be in here, not right now.” Derek rushed to take him out of the room.

“Wh- why can’t I? Camille was my friend, I deserve to know about her. Did she have drugs in her body?”

“Spencer, you can’t be interrupting an investigation. I’m sorry, but you need to go back to your office.”

Spencer stops trying to push against Derek and exhales, trying to catch his breath. They walked back towards the office they now called home while squeezing his hands in intervals of three, a trick to calm himself down Camille had taught him. He fell onto the couch and fell asleep quickly, deciding not to fight the tired feeling his eyes gave him.

They woke up what felt like around thirty minutes later, but the digital clock he set on the table next to the brown leather couch read 11:43. He got up and grabbed flannel pants and a sweater from his bag of clothes and headed to the bathroom to change into the pajamas. They grabbed his chess set from his office and went into the breakroom. Their stomach growled and they recalled that they went to Penelope’s office earlier to ask if he could have the rest of the soup. He looked around the bullpen, wondering if they’d mind if he ate something from the fridge.

Agent Rossi walked out of his office and took notice of Spencer.

“Hey, what are you doing up? The only person here this late is generally that guy.” Rossi pointed towards Agent Hotchner’s office. The microwave on the counter now displayed 12:06.

“I-I took an unexpectedly long nap and uh, I didn’t eat lunch or dinner to- well technically yesterday now, uh, c-could I have something from the fridge?” Spencer stammered.

“Of course, kid. In fact, there’s some of my signature pasta in there. I make it weekly for the rest of the team, but today Derek ordered something for lunch so he didn’t eat his. You can have it if you want.”

“Thank you, Agent Rossi.” Spencer took the tupperware container out of the refrigerator and put it in the microwave.

“You can just call me Rossi, you don’t have to do the whole Agent thing,” Rossi said as he sat on the other side of Spencer’s chess game. “I didn’t know you played.”

The microwave beeped and Spencer took the bowl out and stirred it around with a fork. They brought it to the table, eating it as they moved a chess piece.

“Yeah, Camille gave me this set for my birthday, which actually isn't for another couple weeks but she didn’t want to wait.”

“You know, I had this old friend, Jason Gideon, he played chess. I think you’d like him. He’s the one who taught me.” Rossi moved his own chess piece.

“He sounds interesting. I fell asleep before Morgan could tell me anything, but have you made any good progress on the case?”

“A little. We found out how all of the girls died but we just can’t seem to figure out why the unsub did this.”

“Unsub?” Spencer said, moving another chess piece.

“Unknown Subject, it’s what we call the murderer. I’ve looked over your files, you seem like a really smart person.”

“Yeah, I uh, I can read pretty fast. I have an eidetic memory, too. I was a pretty good punching bag as a kid.”

“The world will see something amazing and try to take it for their own.” Rossi absentmindedly moved a piece.

“Yeah, I guess that’s one way of looking at it.”

“So, I’m assuming you don’t have much of a record with the ladies?”

“None at all. I’ve been intrigued by a couple guys, but they’ve all turned me down or turned out to be assholes,” Spencer laughed and moved another one of his pieces before taking another bite of spaghetti. “What about you? You’ve got to have courted some girl with this amazing pasta.”

“Yeah, I have, I actually got three ex wives.”

“Wow, that’s impressive.”

“Depends on your definition of impressive,” It was Rossi’s turn to laugh and move a piece. “You’ve got your eyes on him, don’t you?”

Spencer looked puzzled for a second before Rossi nudged the tupperware lid that had Derek’s name written across the top.

“Maybe, just a little bit. I’d be lying if I didn’t think he was attractive,” Spencer moved a piece. “Check.”

“I think he might like you too.” Rossi moved a piece.

“I don’t. He’s nice, but I don’t think he’d like me back.” Spencer moved a piece.

“I know you haven’t known me for long, Spencer, but I’m right about this,” Rossi moved another piece. “Checkmate. You’re smart, but you’ve still got a lot to learn.”

Rossi got up from the table and started walking out to his car. Spencer packed up his chess set and made a pot of coffee before heading to their office. For the rest of the night they drank his coffee and worked on the painting still sitting on the easel.

At around six in the morning Spencer was getting ready to brew another pot of coffee and JJ walked into the breakroom.

“Oh! Hi, uh, are you gonna be here long?” JJ asked.

“Uh, no, why?”

“Uh, Agent Hotchner called us in because he found something with the case. You’re not gonna be allowed in here when he’s telling us, I’m sorry.”

“Oh it’s fine, I’ve been up all night so I should probably just go take a nap anyways.”

They shared an awkward laugh before Spencer went back into the office and promptly fell back asleep on the couch.

Almost six hours later Spencer woke up to Derek knocking on his door. They got up and straightened out their sweater.

“Hey, so Hotch wants you there to hear the profile, just thought you should know.” Derek said, taking in the pajamas Spencer was wearing.

“Oh, okay, thanks.”

Derek went back out to the bullpen and Spencer closed the blinds of the office windows before changing his flannel pants to jeans. When they finished dressing he went out to the bullpen and sat on the edge of an unused desk. Police officers were scattered around the area.

“You look like you need this.” Derek said as he sat next to Spencer and handed him a cup of coffee.

“Aren’t you supposed to be presenting the case too?”

“No, Hotch wanted to do it himself.”

The two set their cups of coffee down at the same time and their hands brushed against one another.

“You’re comforting.” Spencer thought out loud.

Derek didn’t respond. He just took it in and they both faced away from each other, hiding the smiles from the other’s eyes and savouring the moment.

Hotch’s profile wasn’t all that detailed, but it was early in the case anyways. The unsub would have either no mother figure or a distant one, and the father would be abusive in some way or another. His estimated age range was 25-30 and he would likely have learned his behavior from someone close, possibly the same father that abused him. He would rarely go in public and when he did he wouldn’t talk to anyone unless he had to. He likely wasn’t someone everyone knew and would isolate himself in most situations.

Most of the details floated out of Derek’s head as Hotch spoke as he had already heard the profile once and his mind was already clouded with Spencer’s words. When the presentation was finished Derek walked with Rossi to Penelope’s office to see if she had any new findings.

“He’s kind of a pretty boy, isn't he?” Derek said.

“Who?

“Spencer.”

“Yeah, something like that.” Rossi gave a knowing smile as they walked into Penelope’s office.

TAGLIST: @heavenlydevil @hotpotatowoman @party-poisxn @endingsbeginnings @d3pr3ss3d-w33d-wh0re @ted-theodore-preston @moss0ntherocks @scandinavian-punk @doctorenby @penemily @izzyl13 @leomo0n @tiedyedrose1705

#moreid #pluto writes #beating the dead swan #criminal minds #spencer reid #derek morgan #penelope garcia #david rossi #jennifer jareau #moreid fanfiction #moreid au #criminal minds fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #moreid angst #angst #slow burn

28 notes · View notes

ryqoshay · 3 years

Text

OTP Ask Meme (Impatient Edition) NicoMaki

Yeah, I know the point of these things is to wait for followers to Ask questions from the list, but reading though this one got me thinking too much. And, as the title implies, I got impatient and wanted to answer them all. Right away.

Anyway, credit to @lonelypond for this version coming across my dash. Reblog that version if you want to do this thing correctly.

Also, just because I’ve already answered these here, I’ve expanded on some for various reasons and left others short if I believe the reasons are obvious. So if you still want to do the whole interactive thing, you can still ask for clarification or whatever.

And finally, there will be spoilers ahead for How to Handle a Nico, both scenes I’ve written and posted, as well as some that remain in my Notes and WIP Warehouse. I’ll try to remember to link to the chapters mentioned.

1. Who wakes up first?

Nico, so she can make breakfast for her Maki.

2. Who wants to stay in bed just a little longer?

Maki. Usually because she studies or works later and/or longer hours. She is also not above pulling Nico back into bed when she comes to wake her.

3. Who takes longer getting ready?

Usually Nico.

4. When they can’t sleep, what do they do?

Maki’s libido can pretty much always be counted on to at least exhaust Nico, if not both of them.

5. Who falls asleep while watching a movie?

Depends on who had a rough day or week at work/school, though Maki may get bored and either watch Nico or fall asleep during overly sappy romance movies.

6. Who falls asleep last, watching the other with a small affectionate smile?

Either, depending on the stresses of the prior day.

7. Who comes up with the cheesy pick-up lines?

Nico intentionally. Maki unintentionally.

8. Who gets extremely competitive playing Mario Kart?

They both are, though in different ways. This is depicted in Consolation Prize.

9. Who accidentally pushes a door instead of pulling?

Maki, especially if she is in an unfamiliar place.

10. Who sets the other’s ringtone to something loud and obnoxious behind their back?

Both, though Maki only in retaliation for whatever teasing Nico may have done.

11. Who rearranges the bookshelf/DVD shelf in alphabetical order?

Nico likes a proper presentation of her idol merch. Maki is too busy with other stuff to care about special organization.

12. Who does the hands-over-the-eyes “Guess Who” thing?

Nico.

13. Who points out a dog when they see one?

Either.

14. Who’s prone to road rage?

Maki, especially when she is trying to get to the hospital when called in at some odd hour, or trying to get home after a stressful day.

15. Who’s prone to wearing socks indoor (or to sleep)?

Nico gets cold easier. Warm socks help.

16. Who reminds the other to put on sunscreen before going to the beach (or pool)?

Nico, partly out of habit from doing it with her siblings and partly as an excuse to offer to help Maki put it on. Depicted in Sunscreen.

17. Who carries all the important documents while traveling?

Nico.

18. Who gets the window seat?

Nico. Maki traveled enough with her parents and is happy to let her girlfriend see the sights instead.

19. Who puts their cold hands/feet on the other?

Nico intentionally. Maki unintentionally, usually.

20. What do they argue about the most?

I don’t believe anyone has been brave enough to track the data for this.

21. Who’s clumsier?

Maki, especially in the kitchen. Nico has her moments though.

22. Who texts more often?

Nico. With heavy emoji use. (I need to depict this more in HtHaN somehow)

23. Who is better with kids?

Nico. She was the primary caregiver for her siblings for many years after all.

24. Who’s the better cook?

Nico. See above.

25. Who mistakes salt for sugar?

Maki. Even after Nico labeled the containers.

26. Who puts the fork in the microwave?

Maki.

27. Who cooks at 2 in the morning?

Nico. Maki isn’t allowed to cook without Nico’s supervision. However, this would be a rare occasion as Nico typically will prepare something ahead of when Maki is arriving home this late and leave it for her to reheat.

28. Who lets the microwave play the loud beeping sound at 1 a.m.?

Maki, when she’s reheating whatever Nico made for her after arriving home late.

29. Who licks the spoon when they’re baking brownies?

Both.

30. Who likes doing the dishes?

Nico, though it would be more appropriate to say she doesn’t dislike it.

31. Who has bigger cravings? What are they?

Nico loves her sweets. Maki loves her Nico.

32. Who remembers what the other one always orders at a restaurant?

Nico is highly attentive to Maki’s preferences in food. Knowing what Maki likes in restaurants lets her know what she can make at home. And food is definitely one of the best ways to Maki’s heart.

33. How do they eat ice cream? What’s their favorite flavors?

Nico likes sundaes with lots of sugary toppings. She also likes trying new flavors and will often get multiple scoops of different flavors. Maki is fine with a single scoop cone.

34. Do they go on dates? What are they like?

As often as their schedules allow. Maki likes quite dates like walks in a park or museum or sitting up on a hillside for stargazing. Nico likes shopping for outfits and idol merch, going to movies and bustling amusement parks. But both love watching the other enjoy their hobbies so they’re willing to go along with the other’s interests as well.

35. What do they smell when they smell Amortentia?

Nico smells her father’s aftershave, strawberries, and stewing tomatoes. Maki smells Nico’s special tomato curry, Nico’s shampoo, and the cinnamon sugar of the snickerdoodle cookies the Nishikino baker made for her to leave out for Santa.

Yes, two of Maki’s are directly related to Nico. What can I say? She’s addicted.

36. Which one is the secret snuggler?

Maki. The more tired or drunk she is, the clingier she gets.

37. Which one offers their jacket to the other when they complain they feel cold?

Maki. Nico gets cold easier, so Maki is usually the one to offer her jacket.

38. Who reaches for the other one’s hand while driving?

Yes.

39. Who leaves little notes in the other one’s lunch?

Nico, because she is the only one who makes lunch for them both; Maki isn’t the type to do such a thing even if she were allowed to cook more. (Bonus: What does it say?) Usually the messages are simple affirmations of love, but she is not above getting snarky if the two had an argument recently.

40. Who is the most affectionate?

Nico in public. Maki in private.

41. Who is the big spoon/little spoon?

Usually, Maki is the big spoon as she is quite fond of hugging her Nico like a teddy bear, though Nico will sometimes jetpack.

42. What is their favorite feature of their partner?

Maki loves Nico’s smile, particularly her genuine, unforced, non-idol persona smile. Nico loves Maki’s voice, specifically her singing voice.

43. What is the first thing that changes when they realize they have feelings for the other?

Nico starts teasing Maki more, no longer to “put the spoiled rich girl in her place” but rather to see more of the adorable reactions. Maki actively tries to deny her feelings, even to, or perhaps especially to herself, falling back on established habits of insisting that she doesn’t have time to date, all the while quietly continuing to seek more time with Nico.

44. What are their nicknames for each other?

Both exclusively use -chan with the other.

45. Who worries the most? Over what?

Early on, both are worried about losing the other for different reasons. Nico is afraid that should a scandal occur that ruins her idol career, Maki may blame herself and leave. Maki fears that a busy schedule of studying in medical school followed by long hours at the hospital may turn away someone like Nico, whose attention seeking seems infinite. Later, as they settle into their relationship, their concerns turn to more stereotypical adult fears; traffic or transit accidents, sever illnesses, etc.

46. Who initiates kisses?

Nico in public. Maki in private.

47. Who says I love you first? How did it happen?

Nico, by accident, as depicted in Spoken.

48. Who tells their friends/family about their relationship first?

Technically Maki in both cases, though with their friends, Nico was active in the chatroom, and with their mothers, Maki only beat Nico by maybe half an hour or so. These instances are depicted in Reconstructed Reunion and Telling Mama.

49. What do they do when they’re away from each other?

Both have busy schedules, even as early as the years immediately following high school, so spending time away from each other is quite commonplace. This still did not stop Maki from going through a bout of depression during Nico’s first tour as a professional idol, as depicted in Homesick and Homecoming. From then on, Maki starts a tradition of visiting Nico during longer tours so as to break up their time away a bit.

50. Who gets overwhelmed by small acts of kindness?

Nico, as the more romantic of the two. This isn’t to say Maki doesn’t value sentiment, she just has other ways of expressing it than being overwhelmed.

#NicoMaki #How to Handle a Nico

7 notes · View notes

ejzah · 4 years

Text

A/N: Based of a post were I suggested that the team competes in various events during the downtime created by the lockdown. A full story was requested by someone. If you would like to claim it, let me know in the comments.

As you might expect, this is filled with ridiculousness.

***

“That’s it, you’re disqualified, G!” Sam declared as he yanked a throwing knife out of the wall, the handle still shaking from being recently hurled.

“Why am I disqualified?”

“You almost hit me in the head!”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have been standing so close to the target.” As they continued to bicker, Eric, Nell, Kensi, and Deeks sat down on the bleachers set up in the gym.

“I wonder how long this argument is going to take.” Nell said, sounding mildly disinterested. Over the course of the day, they had competed against each other in various events, including completing a hundred pushups, a 100 meter sprint, non-dominant hand shooting, and miniature basketball.

The day long competition was the result of them all having far too much idle time while most of the state was in some form of lockdown.

Sam, Kensi and Deeks had been neck and neck for the pushups. Nell had given up after 10 in favor of watching Deeks and Sam finish. In the end, Sam had beat Kensi by three. Kensi and Deeks had tied in the sprint, which had resulted in a mini argument over whether or not they could have two winners and Sam had easily won in the shooting event. Callen had won the mini-basketball round.

“Well, I’d say it depends on how quickly Sam figures out that Callen is messing with him,” Deeks said, settling in for a good half hour of debate.

“How do you guys wear this stuff all the time?” Eric asked, doing a weird half lunge thing as he frowned down at his under armor shorts. “I always feel like it’s squeezing me to death.”

“Well, it does have its perks,” Deeks commented, wiggling his eyebrows at Kensi as he glanced pointedly at her strappy black sports bra.

“Mm, yes it does,” Nell agreed, eyeing his chest appreciatively. Deeks looked down at his skin tight tank top and shrugged.

“Anyway,” Kensi said, rolling her eyes. “We should probably intervene or we’ll never get to the next event.”

“You just want to get your trophy,” Deeks teased her.

“Hey I won the knife throwing competition fair and square. No one else even came close.”

***

“C’mon Deeks!” Kensi shouted, clapping her hands as Deeks and Callen went up against each other on the climbing walls. “You can do this! Climb faster!” She’d already lost against Callen earlier and had taken sides. Nell had also joined Deeks’ side, but Eric seemed torn.

“G, don’t do this to me again!” Sam shouted over Kensi’s encouragement. Deeks thought he heard Callen mutter something sarcastic about not being a show monkey.

Deeks was about 2/3 of the way up with Callen several feet under him. He grabbed the next two handholds, propelling himself another two feet. To the sound of Nell and Kensi’s combined shouts, he climbed the last few feet and touched the top.

“Yes baby!” Kensi cheered as he dropped onto the mat below. Callen let himself fall too and said,

“Well, thank god that’s over.”

“Unbelievable,” Sam said, sounding deeply disappointed. “How could you let him win again?” Callen stood up, breathing heavily with his hands on his hips.

“Once again, he’s got longer arms and have you seen his muscles these days? His arms are like freaking trees,” Callen pointed out. “Besides, I beat you.”

“I have more weight to lift.” Before Callen could respond to that, Nell cut in.

“I believe it’s time for the three-legged race.”

“Ooh, I won the three-legged race every year at my summer camp,” Eric said excitedly. He extended his arm to Nell. “Shall we, M’Lady?”

***

“How are you this uncoordinated?” Kensi shouted at Deeks as they tumbled to the ground for the third time in a minute. Sam and Callen were only doing marginally better; if he’d been less focused on not falling, Deeks would have found the sight of them fumbling around hilarious.

“I don’t know, maybe because one of my legs is tied to yours?” he suggested sarcastically, groaning as he Kensi tried to stand up and ended up yanking at his bound leg.

“As the only married couple, we should be better at this.” Kensi sounded ready to kill him and he tried to sync his movements with hers.

Ahead of them, Nell and Eric were somehow managing to move at an impressive speed despite their vastly different heights.

Kensi growled as they fell yet again.

“This is a cruel, cruel sport,” Deeks sighed. In the time it took them to get back up, Eric and Nell crossed the finish line and immediately hugged, jumping up and down in excitement.

Deeks released the Velcro brace wrapped around his left leg, rubbing at the sore spot the rough material had left as they slowly walked across the field.

“Congratulations,” Kensi told Eric and Nell, managing a smile despite her disappointment.

“Thanks, but it was all Eric,” Nell said, giving him a proud look. “He’s a great leader.”

“Oh, I’m only as good as my partner,” Eric insisted, one arm wrapped around her waist.

“You two are disgusting,” Sam commented, trying to brush grass stains off his clothes.

***

“Nell, how often do you play mini golf?” Callen asked, sounding suspicious as Nell tapped her bright blue golf ball through a windmill and straight into a hole marked with a white 16.

“I may or may not have lived near a course when I was a kid,” Nell answered with a grin. She sank another ball with a single tap. “We played every weekend for a couple summers.”

“I should’ve known when you insisted we include it in the competition,” Kensi commented. She was a few strokes behind Nell and one in front of Deeks.

“Hey, I play to my strengths.” Nell shrugged, not seeming in any hurry to get to the next hole.

“At least the rest of us are doing better than Eric and Sam,” Deeks said, nodding to where Sam and Callen were struggling to get past a river that kept swallowing the ball and spitting it back out on the other side.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Sam this angry,” Callen said, his voice filled with poorly concealed humor. As they watched, Sam shouted something and threw his club across the course where it landed in the middle of a small sandpit. “I better go calm him down before we get kicked out.”

“Maybe we should cancel this event. I mean, this is just supposed to be for fun,” Kensi said, watching Sam stalk away as Callen tried to talk to him. Eric was still futilely whacking at his ball.

“Not a chance,” Nell said fiercely, pausing to line her club up to the ball. She swung, the blue tennis skirt she’d chosen to wear swishing with her movement, and smiled in satisfaction as she got another hole in one. “I won this trophy and no one is taking it away from me.”

“Nothing like a game of mini golf to foster familial goodwill,” Deeks commented wryly.

***

Beep beep beep.

“Alright, pencils down,” Nell announced to the sound of frantic scratching. Deeks leaned back, having finished his 10th Scattegories list several seconds early.

Kensi swore under her breath and tossed her pencil down, glaring malevolently at him.

“Ok, starting with Eric, gifts/presents, terms of endearment, kinds of dances, things that are black, vehicles, tropical locations, college majors, dairy, products, things in a souvenir shop, and world records,” Nell said. “And they all must start with the letter L.”

By now her voice was hoarse and she sounded like a teacher who had spent all day corralling misbehaving students. It wasn’t far off.

“Alright, I have Lady Lark, locket, love, nothing, nothing, Land Rover, Latin, nothing, leg warmers, lip balm, and nothing,” Eric rattled off, looking a little stressed. He’d taken his jacket off half an hour ago, apparently overheated by the pressures of the game.

Nell sighed, crossing a couple things off her list.

“Ok, Callen?” He’d been toe to toe with Deeks for the last five rounds and seemed pretty confident. Clearing his throat dramatically, he started reading off his list.

“Lewis and Clark, lima beans, lima beans, lima beans-“

“Wait a second, you just said ‘lima beans’ three times in a row,” Sam interrupted.

“Lima beans would make a great present in my opinion,” Callen said, leaning back in his chair and twirling his pencil carelessly.

“Well, I don’t. Besides, you can’t use the same thing more than once.” Callen sighed and tossed his paper on the table.

“Then you’re probably not going to like the rest of this list.”

“You seriously wrote down lima beans 11 times?” Kensi asked and he shrugged again.

“At this point, I just want the game to be over,” he said, earning a disgusted sound from Sam.

Kensi, Nell, and Sam all read off their lists, scratching of a word here and there. Deeks had insisted that he go last for each round, to give them a better appreciation of his brilliance. No one had argued, but that might have been more for the sake of expediency than that they actually cared. When it was his turn, he noisily cleared his throat.

“Lincoln, as in Abraham, lingerie,” he paused to glance at Kensi who rolled her eyes. “Ladybird, lap dance, lemurs, Lamborghini, Laos, law, low fat yogurt, a license, and liquor,” Deeks said, dropping his board on the table with a smug expression. “Boom.”

“Damn,” Eric muttered. “Why didn’t I think of lap dancing?”

“Because you have an ounce of self-respect,” Kensi said a little meanly, which Deeks put down to her losing another round.

“Ok, so Deeks is officially the winner,” Nell announced, to no ones surprise.

He took a bow, dodging Kensi’s elbow.

***

“G, that’s not a word,” Sam sighed, gesturing for Callen to move the letter tiles he’d just laid down. The board was covered with a grid of words. Deeks had most recently added “erotic”, built off of Kensi’s “elbow”. Sam hadn’t liked Deeks’ word either, but didn’t have grounds to protest it.

“Yes, it is,” Callen insisted. “And now I’m out of tiles too and since that’s 7 with a triple word score, I win.”

“Um, I don’t think so,” Kensi argued, crossing her arms as she glared at him. She’d played extremely competitively, contesting almost as many words as Sam. “You used an already existing word, so you can’t use the ‘s’.”

“And it’s not a real word.”

“It’s in the Harry Potter books.” Callen lifted his hands like that was definite proof, leaning back with a grin. “So I’d say it’s a real word.”

“Actually “lumos” is adapted from the Latin word “lumen”, Deeks explained, “so it’s really a made up word and even if it wasn’t, foreign words aren’t allowed or I would have killed this game.”

“I’m not taking it off.”

“Let’s never do this again,” Nell said to Eric from where they were sitting off to the sides as Sam pulled out a giant dictionary.

“But we’re still getting trophies, right?” he asked worriedly. Nell snorted.

“Of course. I am the champion of mini golf after all.”

***

A/N: Just for fun little side note, I really dislike mini golf. One of the first times I played (I was a teenager), got so mad that I had a similar reaction to Sam’s. Ever since my family has been very cautious around me while playing the game.

And Callen with the lima beans is also based on a real-life anecdote.

#ncis la fanfiction #marty deeks #kensi blye #sam hanna #g callen #eric beale #nell jones #ncis: games #ejzah fanfiction

23 notes · View notes

medicatemedrmccoy · 4 years

Text

Check-up

For the anon ask yesterday, again, thank you for the ask! :) I think my fluff machine might be broke at the moment but I hope you enjoy it anyway.

Why am I incapable of writing short drabbles?

1885 words - Leonard x Reader

You walked slowly through the corridor, down the familiar hallways towards medical. You had put off going to medbay for as long as you could physically stand it.

Unfortunately your simple runny nose had turned into a full blown, bone rattling cough that you could no longer ignore, especially at night while it kept you awake, accompanied by a low grade fever that was giving you the chills.

Your steps got slower and slower as you approached the bright lights of medbay along with the beeping of various machines. You could feel your heart begin to beat faster as your stomach churned and your throat start to go dry, only irritating it further as you gave as much of a muted cough as you could into your sleeve, trying not to draw attention to yourself.

Your courage had all but faded as the doors to the medbay suddenly opened wide, startling you as you caught a glimpse of various doctors and patients milling around.

You quickly ducked into the closest hallway, hoping to get away and hide before anyone saw where you were headed. You thought you had made a clean getaway since no one seemed to notice you, except for one sharp pair of hazel eyes you hadn’t realized had caught you at the last second.

“Dammit!” You muttered to yourself, leaning back against the cool wall, you closed your eyes and tried to steady your breathing. You tried to take some deep breaths but your lungs wouldn’t let you as you began to cough once more, leaning over with your hands on your knees as your eyes watered.

“Well now, that doesn’t sound very good.” A quiet voice said from closer than you were expecting. Your eyes shot open as you started quickly, standing up straight as you stared into the hazel eyes of a very concerned Leonard.

“Len.” Was all you managed to choke out as another round of coughs racked your frame from the sudden movement.

“Y/N? What’s going on? Why don’t you come inside so we can get that looked at. You sound terrible!” Leonard began to fuss lightly with a slight huff at how far you had let this ailment go before coming to see him. He went to put his hand on your elbow to gently usher you into medbay.

As soon as you felt Leonard’s touch, you froze stock still, feet firmly planted on the floor so that not even god himself could’ve moved you. You tried to speak but nothing came out, not even a cough, which surprised you.

Leonard misstepped slightly as he went to help you into medbay, not expecting to meet your sudden resistance. Quirking and eyebrow at you he gave you a once over and before he spoke, he met your eyes. He’d seen that look of fright in a certain blonde haired captain before.

“Tell you what. Meet me at your quarters in ten minutes, alright?” Leonard said as he moved his hand from your elbow to your shoulder, squeezing gently. You briefly wondered if Leonard could read minds and that was how he knew everything.

You swallowed slowly, as you looked up at Leonard, wincing slightly as your raw throat protested. You gazed into his eyes and his frustration that was apparent with his former outburst was all but gone from his eyes that were now gentle and held concern.

The only thing you could do was nod. You knew Leonard was being nice so he didn’t scare you off, you knew all too well what might happen if you refused. You remembered many times when Jim would come running into your quarters, trying to hide from the hypo wielding doctor and it never turned out in the blondes favor. You still remember the red welts on Jim’s neck and the hours of wincing and grumbling that followed.

You quickly did an about face, not looking back as Leonard made his way inside his medbay, no doubt to gather some supplies. Your feet carried you defeatedly back to your quarters. You hated the one on one attention but you hated the medbay more.

Sighing as you punched in your keycode, you prepared yourself the best you could as you sat on the sofa, bouncing your leg and coughing into your elbow as you waited for Leonard to show.

The doctor didn’t keep you waiting long, you could hear him punching in your code and you sat up a little straighter in your seat. The door quietly swished open and Leonard stepped inside with his medkit and stethoscope around his neck.

He gave you a small, reassuring smile as he sat his medkit on your small coffee table before taking a seat himself next to you. You started to feel warm, and you didn’t think it was the fever.

“I’m sorry.” You blurted quickly as Leonard looked up from adjusting his tricoder, not interrupting you but encouraging you to continue as he raised his eyebrows in surprise.

You gave a breathy sigh as you continued. “Normally I’m not like this, I come to my physicals and everything but sometimes with more invasive stuff it comes back up and I can’t help it.”

You realized how confusing you sounded as the words seemed to tumble out of your mouth and probably figured it needed even further explanation as you saw the slight confusion flit in Leonard’s eyes for a brief moment at what “it” could be.

Taking a small breath, you continued before Leonard could interrupt your small moment of bravery. “I’d rather not go into details but let’s just say that my doctor I had while I was growing up lost his license for malpractice on his younger patients.” You winced slightly as you finished, thinking back on the memories.

Leonard sat still for a moment, his hands frozen in place on his tricoder as the implication of your words sunk in, the space between his eyebrows narrowed as his face flashed a brief scowl of disgust before smoothing out once more.

“You know I’d never do anything you don’t want me to right? And neither would any of my staff if I have anything to say about it.” Leonard said gently as he took your trembling hand into his that you didn’t even realize was shaking and gave it a small squeeze of reassurance.

“I know.” You wheezed out slightly, trying to suppress a cough as you tried to keep your emotions in check. “I know no one on board here wouldn’t, but I still can’t get past it sometimes.” You replied quietly, your voice small.

Leonard pursed his lips for a moment before patting your hand gently and grabbing his tricoder.

“We’ll talk more about that later, alright? Let’s get you feeling better first.” Leonard said as he squeezed your hand again gently. He then angled himself to better be able to run his tricoder over you. You nodded your permission, wanting to get this over with.

Your previous confession had seemed to exhaust you even further. You were glad that Leonard was choosing to wait for the discussion, you were too tired tonight.

Leonard worked quickly, seeing the tiredness in your posture. He ran the tricoder over your chest and along your back. His expression got more grim as he checked your lymphs and used his stethoscope to listen to your lungs.

“So how long have you been sick Y/N? You’ve passed a simple cold and gone all the way straight to pneumonia.” Leonard’s expression set in a slight scowl as he replaced his stethoscope around his neck with a quiet click.

“Uhm, maybe last week? The cough only started a couple days ago.” You said softly, trying not to encourage the doctors anger, you could see the vein in his forehead starting to bulge slightly.

“Dammit, Y/N. You should have said something sooner. We could have gotten to it quicker, so now it’s going to take longer… where did you even get pneumonia?” Leonard started to rant quietly as he fixed up a couple hypos.

You knew he was trying his best not to get upset, and you really couldn’t blame him. You’d probably be angry too if you had to deal with people dodging medical attention on a constant basis and making their symptoms worse on top of it.

You also knew where you got the pneumonia, and that person had sworn you to secrecy. So now you risked the wrath of the doctor if you lied or letting down a friend and you were debating on which was worse.

Unfortunately for you, or fortunately, depending on how you looked at it, Leonard was too good at his job. Before you could even answer, he knew by your hesitation.

Leonard sighed deeply and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Jim. I’m gonna kill him. I should have known when you two canceled movie night. You never pass up an opportunity to torture me with old movies.”

“What can I say?” You smiled softly and shrugged. “Torturing you is half the fun of movie night.”

“I’m going to let that slide on account of your being sick.” Leonard said with a small sigh. “Now let’s get this started.”

You eyed the hypos warily and Leonard seemed to sense your unease.

“I wouldn’t give you anything without explaining it first. You know that right? I’m going to take care of you.” Leonard asked as he looked over at you, watching you nod. You knew he never would but shots of any kind still made you nervous.

“This one is a steroid and this one is an antibiotic. It’ll be a good start for now and hopefully help you breathing a little easier.” Leonard said as he rubbed your neck softly with his thumb before pressing the hypo gently to your neck.

Leonard was done almost as fast as you could blink and was then pulling you over gently across the couch. You didn’t protest, you felt exhausted down to your bones and happily laid across the warm spot that Leonard previously occupied.

“You rest here for a bit and I’ll be back soon to make you something to eat. I have another quick matter to attend to.” Leonard said with slightly narrowed eyes as he put a pillow behind your head and covered you with a blanket from the back of the couch.

You knew that matter was Jim and you couldn’t help but smile softly as you watched Leonard pack up his medkit. He kissed the top of your head gently before making his way out the door.

You quickly dug around in your pant pocket for your communicator, making yourself cough in the process. You quickly flipped it open and sent a 911 message to Jim. He’d know what it meant and you could only hope that he would read it in time before Leonard reached the bridge but you doubted the warning would do much good.

Taking a deep wheezy breath, you settled on the couch, already thankful that you could already breathe a little easier, you settled into a light doze, waiting for Leonard to return.

#star trek #star trek 2009 #star trek aos #star trek alternative original series #Leonard McCoy #Leonard Bones McCoy #leonard x reader #reader x leonard #mccoy x reader #leonard mccoy x reader #reader x leonard mccoy #reader x mccoy #leonard McCoy drabble #bones mccoy

153 notes · View notes

writingsofmyimagination · 5 years

Text

Game Night

@local-alicia sent me this request:

Could you perhaps write a smut where y/n is having a sleepover with the maknae line and things get out of hand?

So this request I took as ‘things get out of hand with all of them’ :P So of course for a one shot this means there’s definitely some crack and some Ho behaviour; but it was super fun to write... so thank you and hope you enjoy!

Maknae Line x Reader (Sleepover AU)

Genre: Smut, slight crack :P

Rating:18+

Words:2889

Warnings: Swearing, Smut (Oral F receiving, implied M receiving, penetrative sex, thigh riding, tiny tiny bit of throat compressing), mentions of alcohol, spilt nachos (the tragedy).

Enjoy :)

“Hey!” you whined as Tae shoved you in dramatic victory when the kill scores finally came up on the screen.

“You only got two more than me, not exactly a sliding victory” you defended re-calibrating your cross legged position on the sofa.

“A victory’s a victory” he rightly stated beaming that beautiful smug box smile at you, recently washed fluffy chestnut hair draping over his forehead like an ethereal waterfall.

“Fine, snack break?” you’d let him have this round, confident in your ability for the rematch. Tae offered you a hand pulling you up. The douche purposely pulling you too hard flinging you sliding across the wood floor, your socks acting as perfect catalysts. You stopped yourself going any further by grappling onto the divider wall behind the flat screen

“Dick!” you bit, sticking your tongue in his direction in retaliation.The kitchen was neat and open, a large rectangular black marble topped island surround by a few bar stools. Your first mission, find the popcorn. You had a selection of white cupboards above the sides to choose from, your silent hesitation cried for assistance.

“Third cupboard” Tae directed with his head as most of his body was shielded behind the silver door of the fridge, the light illuminating the shine of his brown hair.

“You guys never put stuff in the same place twice” you complained, crinkling of the plastic wrapper from the popcorn, the butter aroma quickly rising to you.

“You really expect us to be organised?” The chip and dip was now joining the box of popcorn on the island.

“Fair point” you agreed beeping in the three minutes on the microwave leaving the pair of you with just the whirring and slow popping starting.

“When will the others be back they know its game night right?” leaning against the island.

“Yeah, you know what those two are like with their dance practice, they shouldn’t be late”

“Well that depends if Jungkook has a shower there doesn’t it”

“You know what, I’ll message them” he announced, you chuckled lightly.

“You’re so pretty when you smile” the camaraderie in his tone had dissipated and all that was left was a sincere compliment.

Weird, this is soo…

Before you’d even shoved your thoughts into order you were pressed against the counter, willingly wrapping your arms around his neck welcoming his lips to yours with an intensity out of nowhere. You didn’t fight any of it fully surrendering, his body pressing to yours. His hands fighting their way under your shirt. His hands traced your outline fingers dancing delicately on your skin.

“No bra?” he breathed taking the easy access in his stride.

“It’s a sleepover night, got to be comfy… easier to beat you” you breathed, suppressing the moans in your throat both of your lips twisted up into a smirk against each other

“How’s that working out for you” his raspy voice replied at your ear

“Its..” your head rolled back, answer hindered by the hand that had trickled down under the waistband of you trackies

“Feels like you like losing” he acknowledge through an impressed exhale at your neck. A faint click reached your ears, a small warning. The pair of you parted; quickly! Launching yourself away from each other. In the fluster and scurry all the tortilla chips scattered across the tiled floor.

“Shit! You exclaimed

“Easy Y/N you started drinking without us?” Jungkook toyed, holdall on his shoulder tugging his oversized black tee revealing the prominent defined collar bones

Stop!

“No, this idiot just thought he’d be funny and tackle me” His eyes grateful for the save while yours told him to sort himself out.

“Honestly Tae, think of the chips” Jimin added filing in after Jungkook slumping his bag at the door.You took an interlude to the popcorn duty and found yourself down on the floor cleaning up the mess, side eyeing Tae disappear to his room.

“Hope you’re ready” Kook checks collecting various bottles of alcohol from the cupboard, clanging them on the side.

“Hope YOUR ready, I swear if you shoot me this time just once. You’ll wish you never been respawned” Jungkook seems to have an ‘accidental’ habit of shooting you despite all of you campaigning on the same team. He’s never quick enough to hide the smirk that grows seconds before he pulls the trigger.

“I’ll do my best” he chuckles.The bass of the sound bar reverberated through the room in a dull boom as Jimin booted up all the sound systems. Tae emerged swamped under multiple duvets, chucking them on the floor before shuffling to fold them and create a comfy space in front of the TV.

“I guess I should go grab some more chips from the shop before we start, and don’t even say they are fine Jeon Jungkook, that’s gross”

“Fine but I’ll come with you”

“I’m more than capable of carrying some tortillas”

“You say that” he motioned his hands to the bin

“Besides the walk will be more fun with me”

“Fine” playfully rolling your eyes for him to see. Genuine lights sparked up from behind eyes as he bounced and grabbed his shoes.

The air was surprisingly warm given the 7pm time, everywhere was still bright and a low energy breeze caught you pleasantly as you strolled towards their apartment behind the security gates.

“I reached a new bicep curl PB” Jungkook beamed as we approached a door labelled ‘Gym’ prompting this new development. The hall way was carpeted a light royal blue, the walls papered a pale beige adorned with a more silvery beige pattern of fancy floral design. More like a feature wall than a hallway one but the luxury mirrored the apartment’s status.

“Yeah? Even the 30kg weight I set you?” your tone pitching at the end. He nodded.

“Prove it” you challenged, enabling Jungkook’s pride. It was cute, so you were happy to humour him. He beamed as he typed in the code on the door; thankfully the gym was empty. You followed him past the spotless cardio equipment to the free weights area. Plonking yourself and the carrier down on one of the benches your eyes following his every move as he thinned his layers down to just his t-shirt rolling the sleeves up for maximum bicep view. You certainly wasn’t going to complain.

“I thought you were showing me your bicep curl” you’d watched him step over to the next area with nothing but blue mats and sat himself down

“Warm up push ups”“Oh I see” you lightly chucked mildly unimpressed. His form was perfect, back straight, going low enough and legs straight. He made them look so easy.

“Get on my back” he ordered in his soft tone, smile making it hard to respond in turn.

“What?”

“Sit on my back” he said again. You made your way over to him with hesitant steps.

So they ARE easy for him

You exchanged amused glances, two people unsure of where this was going. You slid off your shoes and did as you were told.

“Mmm higher, more in the centre of my shoulder blades” he instructed adjusting to your weight.

“Here?”

“Perfect, try and keep your weight all in your body and not in your legs so much, ready?”

Nope

Your right hand was pressed at the base of his neck the other was screwing his shirt up within your fist for any type of support. The ripple of his muscles did not go unnoticed beneath you, the room was silent, just his concentration and his controlled breathing as he slowly lowered and pushed you back up a few times; you giggled as you wobbled slightly. He followed suit his concentration and strength breaking as he collapsed under you. You fell backwards tumbling half on the mat, your legs nearly clipped his head. He shuffled onto his back in beat while you quickly found your way to your knees.

“So you’re not THAT good then” you toyed

“You distracted me” he countered, his hair half covering his forehead in a messy picture framing his face.

“You asked for it!” you protested smacking his side. Before you could retreat you hand was gripped in his. You followed his pull caving in to where he wanted you.

What is with these boys today. Why am I not complaining? what is wrong with me?

“Can I ask for this now?” so innocently spoken, like a puppy asking for your last biscuit and not palming you through your loose trackies;

“Think you need to be more specific” you teased greedily rolling in to his palm biting your lip through a smirk stifling a moan. Your body flushed with adrenaline, you needed some kind of relief especially after earlier. You took his hands at your mercy pinning them above him your hips rolling being greedy for all the contact of his bare thigh, shorts had been pushed up slyly on purpose by yourself. His eyes latched onto your movement

“Don’t go shy on me now Kook!” you teased nudging his head to the side stealing a gasp, lips nipping at his collar bone.

“I want this” he breathes

“I want to see you fuck yourself on my thigh” hips grinding harder for a stroke.

“Yeah?”

“Mmmhmm”

“But I want to feel you” he added, you’d do anything for those eyes, hazel shimmering pools of lust right now so you slipped off your trackies.

“And the rest” he added eyes greedy transfixed on your underwear falling to the floor. The direction of your focus however was on the door.

“No one comes in here at this time, trust me!” oddly you did, if anyone was going to know the extent of the gyms usage it was him.You both unanimously groaned at the contact

“Good?” you breathed holding your hips motionless

“Feels really fucking good” Your hands found their way underneath his shirt and your nails lightly indented at his chest, you damn well wanted to feel those muscles tensing underneath you. This was clearly a thing for the pair of you.

Your hips took no time in finding the perfect rhythm, the way his eyes stared at down at his thigh watching every movement. His eyes beautifully blown out often switched up to you watching your face crease in pleasure. Seeing his face crease equally was a sight you wanted etched in your mind; the small breathy groans tied your stomach in knots adding to the build-up you could feel in your core.When your hips started pushing harder into him happily gaining momentum chasing your high he threw his hands pressing into your sides stopping you.

“I want to be tasting you when you cum” Supporting you with one hand he had you on your back, tracing down your body with kisses gently nipping your breasts. You pressed your hips up to him when his mouth covered your clit hands tangling in his soft long hair.His tongue flat licking the length of your folds before honing his attention to your throbbing bud. Sucking lightly before going side to side in rapid movements, simultaneously thrusting a finger into you

“Jesus Jungkook” you cried. He hardly faltered only stopping a few frustrating times to catch his breath.

“Right there, god don’t stop”

You bucked your hips harder against his tongue and stilled his head gripping tighter in his hair as the sweet pulses surged oxytocin through you. He carried on applying pressure until the aftershocks had finally stopped.

“We better get back” his chin glistening with his work, satisfied smirk plastered at his lips.

“I don’t think so” you disagreed pressing up onto your elbows pulling his chain having him captured in a kiss.

“You are not going anywhere until I’ve sorted that” head looking down at the bulge in his shorts

“Seriously where have you guys been, we’re snack deprived wasting away here!” Taehyung moaned, pausing the race Jimin and him were competing in.

“One that’s not dramatic at all is it, two we just got chatting on the stairs, sorry” poker face level pro.

Finally managing to beat all the boys in the arena mode! You’d spent months coming second to JK, victory was definitely sweet. It was standard on game nights to finish with a film, after much procrastinating on Netflix you’d finally agreed on Thor Ragnarok. None of them ever stayed awake for the whole thing. It wasn’t strange for you to cover them with blankets, they were dead adorable when they were sleeping. Another bonus of this was there was three beds free for you to choose from. Like the old Goldilocks story you always went for Jimin’s because his was the softest. It was like sinking into a marshmallow, absorbing you to sleep the moment your head hit the pillow.

Nudged awake by the feeling of the bed depress beside you. A gentle smile adorning your lips feeling him slowly creep up so his chest was flush against your back. Head nuzzling into the back of your neck; you shuffled back into him, grinding once your ass into his crotch. Big mistake, but not really.

Taking this as a que he ground back, this carried on until you felt him grow hard against you and the warmth began to pool in between your legs and your breaths had become more audible. His hand travelled underneath your shirt, exploring your skin. Leaving a trail of goose bumps up to your chest, kneading them still pressing into you from behind. Nipples perked with him rolling them in between his fingers. His warm breath fanning your neck in between the wet firm kiss at the top of your shoulder and the side of your neck. He pulled your hips more into him, legs slightly widening allowing him access to the top of your waistband. The tease ran his fingertips along your inner thigh upwards avoiding where you needed attention.

“Please, stop teasing” you whined in a whisper.

“But it’s fun” you rolled your head. He carried on teasing driving you insane; until you couldn’t take it anymore. You grabbed his hand and forced it onto your core. You moaned rolling your head forward into the pillow, his moaned dragged from yours.You left your hand resting on top of his as he took over circling your clit, only stopping to tease his fingers at your entrance. Enticing you to want more than his hand. Pulling his hand away, turning to him enveloping your hand either side of his head and pulling into you, kissing him with everything you could. He rushed, desperately clambering on top you. Knee in between your legs giving you something to have contact with.

“God I can’t wait to fuck you” he panted scrambling both of your t-shirts off.

“Please, hurry up!” you whined still quietly conscious of the noise; disturbing the other boys.Bottoms discarded somewhere on the floor. Nipping at your neck, collar bone and your hand gripping round him in an attempt to hurry him up.

“So impatient” he smirked.

“Mmmhmm” you breathed. Following your wishes he finally lined himself up at your entrance.

“Beg!” he asked. Forehead against yours moans mixing in between you.

“Serious?”

“Yep”The teasing of his cock at your entrance rendered you way more than happy to beg.

“Fuck Jimin, please fuck me, I can’t wait to feel you inside me. Need to cum around your cock” you pleaded.

“Jesus didn’t know you could be so sexy with your words” approving thrusting into you. Your cry was uncontrolled and loud. One which tugged hard at Jimin’s pleasure centre. As much as he wanted to see how loud he could make you; he did not want the others to know, tarnishing his innocence. His hand lightly pressing against your mouth.

“As much as I wanna make you scream, you gotta be quiet baby” you nodded, completely agreeing.His hand slid down from your mouth, your moans sheltered as best you could. His hand gently compressing at your throat. Your head rolled back louder moans escaping. He just felt so good and the compression on your throat blew your mind, making your thoughts cloudy and blissfull. More moans escaped you, his brows knitting together leaving you empty and clenching around nothing.

“On your front, if you can’t be quiet at least the bed will absorb some of it” he rushed passing you a pillow to put under your hips. You lifted yourself onto your elbows only to be shoved face deep in the sheets. Good thing as he thrust back into you, fists curled in the linen, angling your head directly into the bed. Any cries now muffled.

“Much better” he grunted, hands planted at your hips keeping them secure. The angle he was hitting your sweet spot had all of your muscles at your core taking a heated run up to your release.

“You gonna cum for me baby?” the words had you clenching tight around him resulting in him choking out ‘baby’ and leaning forward more onto you. Lifting your head up from your hair as he re-stabilised.

“Fuck..Jimi…yes” You were gone. Seeing stars convulsing around him. Jimin’s hips jerked into you cursing your name.

“Please can this happen every game night” he panted crashing beside you on the bed.

#bts #smutcentralnet #kwritersworldnet #bts smut #btsguild #networkbangtan #bangtanarmynet #BTS jungkook #jimin #kim taehyung #bts fanfic

311 notes · View notes

krizaland · 5 years

Text

Puppy Love! A werewolf!Reader x Zim tail!

Special request for @cinnimonbunbunnie. I absolutely adore their art and I had a ton fun writing this! Hope you enjoy!

The full moon cast a mystical glow as Zim’s Voot Runner whizzed across the sky.

Ever since GIR had gone missing earlier that morning, Zim had been looking high and low for him.

From the Krazy Taco shop to the local dance club, Zim couldn’t seem to find GIR anywhere and was starting to get worried!

Zim let out an enraged growl and ripped off his disguise.

“C’mon GIR! Where are you?! TELL ME! TELL ME!” A few tears trickled down Zim’s cheeks as he shook the Voot Runner’s controls.

Unfortunately, all of Zim’s shaking caused him to lose control of the Voot Runner.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

The Voot Runner’s warning sirens blared as the ship begun to rumble.

Zim screamed as he frantically tried to regain control. Alas, Zim’s attempts were in vain, for the Voot Runner was sent spiraling towards the ground.

“EJECT! EJECT!” Zim screeched as he rapidly pressed the Eject button

CRASH!

SMASH!

The Voot Runner slammed into a nearby forest.

“EJECT COMMAND INITIATED”

THUD!

Zim’s face kissed the ground.

Zim spat out the dirt in his mouth as he slowly peeled himself off the ground.

“Ruined. Ruined. Irken engineering reduced to..this.” Zim groaned as he stood before the ruins of his fallen ship.

Every bit of the Voot Runner was in shambles. It’s windows were shattered and it’s engines were in flames.

Zim let out an engaged growl as he turned away from what was left of his ship.

“Clearly, there must be some kind of disturbance in this area that interfered with the Voot’s directional signals. Once I find GIR I shall hunt down that evil disturbance.” Zim’s voice oozed with venom as the Voot’s flaming remains burned behind him.

Taking a deep breath Zim pulled out his communicator from his PAK.

“Minimoose, respond!”

The communicator projected an image of Minimoose sitting in front of the TV.

“Nyeh?”

“Minimoose, the Voot Runner has been damaged. I need you to send out the recovery vehicle at once! And be sneaky about it!” Zim commanded as he put his hands on his hips

“Nyeh?”

“No, still no signs of GIR but I shall not give up! Zim never gives up! NEVER!” Zim declared as he pointed to the sky.

“Nyah!”

“I think you’re cool too, Minimoose!” Zim giggled as he cleared his throat, “Now hurry up with the recovery vehicle!”

“Nyah!”

And with that, Minimoose cut the call and got the recovery vehicle.

“Excellent! At least I still have Minimoose to help me…” Zim sighed as he folded his arms.

While he would never admit it, Zim truly did care for his insane little robot. GIR and Minimoose were the closest things to friends Zim ever had.

Without his robot minions, Zim wouldn’t have anyone to talk to. The Tallest were busy leading Operation: Impending Doom 2, and humans were stupid and inferior.

GIR and Minimoose were all he had and Zim couldn’t bear to lose either of them.

“HI MASTER!”

Speak of the robot! Zim whipped around and sure enough, there GIR was with his usual cheerful grin.

“GIR? Is that really you?” A few more tears formed in Zim’s eyes as he spoke.

“Uh-Huh!”

A few tears trickled down Zim’s cheeks as a relieved smile spread across his features.

“GIR…HOW DARE YOU WORRY YOUR MASTER?!” Zim roared as he grabbed GIR and shook him.

“Aww! You were worried about meeee?” GIR giggled as he clasped his hands together.

“NO!” Zim denied as he dropped GIR to the ground, “I was worried about..um…the amount of trouble you’d cause! Yes! That’s it!”

“Aww! You missed me! You missed me!!” GIR sang as he jumped off the ground.

“I did NOT! Zim misses no one! NO ONE!” Zim huffed as he folded his arms.

“Ok, Ok.” GIR giggled as he picked up a stick and started to play with it.

“GIR! Unhand that Urth filth!” Zim snapped as he gestured to the stick.

GIR pouted but obliged.

“Once Minimoose arrives with the Voot recovery vehicle, we’re going home and updating your tracking chip.” Zim grumbled as he pinched the middle of his forehead.

“Oh, I left that at home.” GIR scoffed as he flicked his wrist.

“You left what at home?”

“The trackey chippy thingy”

Zim’s eyes widened in shock.

“D’oh! Why would you do that?!” Zim snapped as he curled his fingers in front of his face.

“To make room for the cupcake!” GIR chirped as he popped a cupcake out of his head and greedily devoured it.

“Well that explains why I had such a hard time finding you all day. I’m guessing you also left your communication projector at home as well.” Zim grumbled as he put his hands on his hips.

“Yup! Had to make room for the ice cream!” GIR tried to pop ice cream out of his head but it had melted! All that came out was a soggy cone.

Zim dragged a hand down his face and groaned.

“Why must you do these things to me?!”

GIR sniffled as a few tears spilled from his eyes.

Zim’s face softened at the sight of GIR crying.

“I can see that me being frustrated will get us nowhere. We should probably-”

“AWOOO!”

Zim was cut off by a loud, pained howl echoing in the distance.

“What was that…”

“AWOOO!”

Zim felt a shiver run down his spine as the howling drew closer.

“I’ll go check!” GIR sang as he trotted off after the howling.

“GIR! Don’t go running off again! I command you to get back here at once!” Zim demanded as he pointed to his side.

However, Zim was too late as GIR had already disappeared into the woods.

“Ooh! GIR! Why must you be this way?!” Zim whined as he chased after GIR.

“AWOOO!”

The deeper Zim traveled the louder the howling became. Zim felt his body tremble but he carried onwards none the less.

It wasn’t long before Zim had finally tracked down GIR.

“GIR! There you are! Will you stop running off like-”

“AWOO!”

“That…”

Zim’s blood ran cold as the howling was louder than ever.

RUSTLE! RUSTLE!

Dead leaves crunched as the sound of footsteps drew near.

Zim wanted to run but fear kept his body frozen in place.

Two golden eyes peered out from with in the trees as the mysterious creature’s silhouette slowly started to appear.

“AWOO!”

You jumped out from the shadows of the trees, your caramel coat glistening under the light of the full moon.

Zim’s antennas drooped as his ruby eyes widened in shock. Never had he seen such a large wolf before!

You curiously inspected the two strange creatures before you. They were clearly aliens but whether or not they were friendly was the real question.

“HI MONGOOSE!”

GIR ’s cheerful squeal broke the silence.

Yup. They were definitely friendly. A bit confused but friendly.

You simply giggled and playfully shook your head.

You looked over at Zim, who had yet to say a word.

It seemed as if fear had robbed him of his usual loud, commanding voice along with his movement.

“Sorry, did I scare you?” You teased playfully as you tilted your head.

“Eh?! You can speak?! I didn’t know Urth wolves could speak!” Zim nearly fell onto his bottom.

“Well, most Urth wolves can’t speak but I’m a werewolf so I’m an exception.” You giggled as you sat up straighter.

“Were…wolf?”

“Yup, most days I’m human but when the full moon is out I turn into a wolf.” You explained as you looked up towards the moonlit sky.

“Really? So humans can turn into wolves when there’s a full moon?” Zim’s antennas perked up as his fear melted into curiosity.

“Not exactly…Only a few special humans, like me, turn into wolves.” You explained as you gestured to yourself.

“I see…Fascinating! So how long does the transformation last?” Zim asked as he stroked his chin.

“Well, it’s different depending on who you ask. For me it only lasts until sunrise. Which is good, since it can be pretty awkward for a talking wolf to show up to an all human skool” You giggled as you flicked your tail.

“Why would it be awkward? I thought humans were supposed to like dogs.” Zim scratched his head as he spoke.

“Ordinary humans think dogs are cute and fluffy. Wolves on the other paw, are considered to be big and scary. Not to mention the amount of drama if they found out I could talk! They would probably lock me away and experiment on me or something!” You shuddered at the mere thought of what horrors the humans could inflict upon you.

“Wait! Humans want to experiment on you too?”

“Oh yeah. My parents always told me that ordinary humans do terrible things to what that they don't understand. So I was told to stay away from them during the full moon so they won’t hurt me. I thought my parents were overreacting until….” You trailed off as you gently lied down on the ground.

“Until what?”

“Well…Let’s just say, humans can be more cruel than you’d expect..” You sighed as your ears flattened.

“Yeah, I know what you mean.” Zim muttered as he sat down beside you, “Some humans can’t seem to keep their smelly big heads to themselves.”

Your head perked up at the mention of a ‘big smelly head’.

“Wait a second. You wouldn’t happen to know a human named ‘Dib’ would you?”

“Dib?! You know him too?!” Zim yelped as his ruby eyes widened in surprise.

“Know him?! He’s the one who did all this to me!” You whimpered as you gestured to various wounds near your backside.

Zim let out a gasp at the sight of your wounds. While he had definitely seen worse, he couldn’t help but feel terrible for you. Your wounds seemed fresh, indicating your altercation with Dib was recent.

“I was just trying to sleep and he tried to capture me in this crazy werewolf trap! It was awful! I managed to bust out but he tried to tranquilize me! Eventually I managed to out run him but I’m still scared he’s still following me…” You sniffled as a few tears trickled down your cheeks.

Zim’s antennas drooped as he noticed your tears. He tried to reach out to comfort you but decided against it.

He’d been dealing with Dib’s tomfuckery since the day he came to Urth. So he was used to being beaten and bruised. Dib never scared him so Zim was never bothered by his nonsense. If anything he actually found it fun to mess with him.

However, it was becoming increasingly obvious that Dib wasn’t so fun to deal with when he was someone else’s problem.

Zim always knew that Dib was obsessed with hunting all kinds of paranormal beasts, but he never thought that he treated the other beasts as terribly as he treated him.

Zim always assumed Dib fought with him because he was trying to destroy the Urth! He never thought that Dib would attack an innocent creature!

You were just trying to go into sleep mode! You weren’t bothering anyone! For a boy with such a big head, he sure had a small brain!

Normally, Zim couldn’t care less about a stranger’s pain. After all, Urth’s destruction wasn’t exactly going to be painless. All life on Urth would have to suffer for the sake of the Irken Empire.

However, something about seeing you in pain made his blood boil.

Maybe it was because he knew how it felt to be mistreated for simply existing. Maybe it was because he couldn’t stand seeing injustice. Or maybe it was because he really really hated Dib.

Whatever the reason was, Zim couldn’t let you live your life in fear of that big headed creep!

“Fear not, eh….What did you say your name was?”

“It’s Y/N.”

“Right! Fear not, Y/N! I shall offer my assistance! For It seems we have a common enemy, the FLITHY Dib-worm!” Zim growled as he pointed to the sky.

“Wait, what? Please tell me Dib didn’t try to capture you too!” You whimpered as you turned to look at Zim.

“Well of course he tried but my SUPERIOR IRKEN BRAIN outsmarted him every time!” Zim boasted as he jumped to his feet.

“Really? So you know how to get rid of him?” Hope twinkled in your eyes as you spoke.

“Of course I do! Now, join me, Y/N-Beast! Join Zim and together we shall end the Dib’s reign of terror once and for all!” Zim cackled as he dramatically stood on top of a large rock.

You couldn’t help but giggle at Zim’s over the top behavior. He truly was a quite the character.

You opened your mouth to speak but were cut of by an all too familiar voice.

“THERE YOU ARE! THIS TIME I’LL FINALLY CATCH YOU!”

Dib’s voice cut through the air like nails on a chalkboard. He rushed through the trees with his werewolf hunting gear in tow.

You let out a startled whimper and hid behind the rock Zim was standing on.

“Your reign of terror ends now, Dib! Surrender or suffer the wrath of Zim!” Zim bellowed as he put his hands on his hips.

“What the-Zim?! You’re working with the werewolf?!” Dib spluttered as he almost dropped his gear.

“This fluffy wolf beast has suffered with your pathetic Dib filth long enough! Give up now while you still have a brain to…give up…with!” Zim stuttered as he shot Dib a glare.

“Seriously, Zim? Since when were you into protecting werewolves-”

“DO NOT QUESTION ZIM!”

“No matter, I’ll just expose you both! Here I go!”

And with that, Dib pulled out a taser and lunged straight for Zim.

Zim was about to jump out of the way when.

FWHIP!

CLANG!

PLOP!

You jumped up and knocked Dib to the ground, causing him to drop his taser.

“You leave us alone, you creep!” You growled through gnashing teeth.

“Well, that was unexpected! But no matter! Prepare yourself for the end, Dib!” Zim roared as he jumped off the rock.

Dib slowly peeled himself off the ground and shook his head rapidly.

“Alright, you both asked for it!” Dib sneered as he pulled out a tranquilizer gun.

POW!

“Y/N-Beast! Look out!” Zim commanded as he pushed you out of the way.

POP!

CLINK!

A purple forcefield popped out of Zim’s PAK, protecting both you and him from the tranquilizer dart.

“Thanks for the save!” You panted as you stood behind Zim.

“Nice try, Dib-worm! But Zim is immune to all of your pathetic tricks!” Zim cackled as he deactivated the forcefield.

“Let’s see if you’re immune to this!” Dib chuckled as he pulled out a small blue ball and chucked it directly at Zim’s head.

CLANG!

You jumped into the air and swatted the ball back to Dib. The ball opened up to reveal a large electric net.

Dib let out a shriek as he managed to just barely dodge the net.

“Oh come on! Is that the best you can do? You’re making this too easy!” Dib taunted as he pulled out a shock collar and ran straight for you.

You managed to swiftly jump out of the way but Dib wasn’t deterred

“Oh no you don’t! I’m not going to let you get away this time!” Dib snarled as he jumped onto your back.

You let out a howl as you thrashed about, desperately trying to shake him off of you.

“GIR! Defensive mode!” Zim commanded as he pointed to Dib.

BEEP! BEEP!

GIR’s eyes turned red as he gave a salute. He was about to attack when he got distracted by a stick.

Letting out a giggle, GIR’s eyes returned to their usual cheerful teal color as he began to play with the stick.

“You’re terrible, GIR!” Zim growled as he dragged his hand down his face.

Dib used his free hand to grab onto your fur as he tried to get the collar around your neck.

“Once I capture you freaks, Mysterious Mysteries will be begging for me to be on their show! Then the whole world will finally see that I’m-ACK!”

Dib’s monologue was cut off by Zim yanking him off of you, causing him to drop the shock collar.

“That you’re a pathetic fool? You don’t need Mysterious Mysteries’ help for that.” Zim mocked as he loomed over him.

“Takes one to know one, space lizard!” Dib countered as he jumped up and shoved Zim to the ground.

Zim let out a scream as he tumbled backwards and landed right on his bottom.

Dib chuckled darkly as he pulled out his alien sleep cuffs.

Zim tried to back away, only for his back to smack into a tree.

“Give it up, Zim! I’ve got you cornered!” Dib smirked as he drew closer.

Zim was about to fight back when,

“AWOOO!”

FWISH!

PAF!

You slammed into Dib, causing him to drop his sleep cuffs and go flying into a nearby tree.

CLANG!

RRIP!

The impact caused Dib’s protective armor to fall to the ground, tearing a massive hole in the body suit underneath.

Dib groaned as he slowly opened his heavy eyelids. His vision cleared to reveal you and Zim looming over him.

You gnashed your teeth and let out a low growl as you put a paw on his chest.

Dib let out a gasp and tried to get up but your paw kept him trapped in place.

“You know, all it takes is one scratch from me and you’ll be the one being exposed.” You snarled as you shot him a glare.

“Heh. You think I’m stupid? I’m wearing silver armor…There’s no way your wolf claws can get through it.” Dib heaved.

“Are you, Dib? Are you?” Zim mocked as he held up the fallen piece of armor.

Dib let out a yelp as he looked down and noticed the hole in his body suit. Sure enough, the hole left his entire shoulder vulnerable.

“Now, are you gonna leave us alone? Or would you rather become a ‘freak’ yourself?” You growled as you looked down at Dib’s exposed shoulder.

“Ok! Ok! Just let me go! Please!” Dib whimpered as he frantically tried to wriggle out of your grip.

“Glad to see you’ve made the right choice.”

And with that, you carefully released Dib.

Dib gasped as he finally managed to catch his breath.

“Enjoy your defeat at the Zim hands of ZIM! Oh and Y/N” Zim let out a maniacal laugh as he reached towards the sky.

“Go on, laugh all you want! For I have recorded the entire thing! Irrefutable proof of both of your-HUH?! Where’s my camera?!”

Sure enough, Dib’s camera was in the hands of GIR. GIR happily giggled as he begun to smash the camera with his stick.

“HA! Great work, GIR! Just like we totally planned!” Zim cheered as he gave GIR a thumbs up.

“Aw, man! That was my favorite camera!” Dib whined as he grabbed the sides of his head.

“Heh. Payback’s a jerk huh, Dib?” You teased as you stuck out your tongue at him.

“You may have won this round but just you wait! I’ll be back with even more tools! And a stronger camera! I’ll expose you both if it’s the last thing I do!” Dib seethed as he ran off into the woods.

“Ha! I’d like to see you try!” You called out as you shook your head.

“Are you alright, Y/N-beast?” Zim asked as he looked you over.

“Yeah, I’m alright. How about you?”

“Never better! Zim can handle anything!” Zim boasted as he puffed out his chest a bit.

“I can tell. Heh. We make a pretty good team, Zim.” You giggled as you wagged your tail a bit.

“Indeed we do! Indeed we do! Which is why I am going to bestow upon you the honor of being an honorary minion!” Zim announced as he patted your head.

You were about to respond but the suddenly pinkish sky caught your eye.

“Looks like the sun is rising. I better get going!” You yelped as you turned to leave.

“Wait! Before you leave you must promise not to tell a single soul of what you’ve seen! Understand? NOT A SINGLE SOUL!” Zim demanded as he stomped his foot.

“Don’t worry, I promise I won’t tell anyone about you!” You insisted with a giggle.

“Excellent! Though, if you break your promise I will destroy you.” Zim threatened as he narrowed his ruby eyes.

You were about to respond when the light of the rising sun poured down upon you.

FSHH!!

With a bright flash, you reverted back to your human self.

Zim’s PAK sparked a bit as his face turned a deeper shade of green.

Despite your tattered clothes, you were absolutely lovely!

“Welp. Looks like you get to see the real me.” You chuckled nervously as you rubbed the back of your head.

Zim tried to speak but the words got caught in his throat.

“I really should be going now. I hope we can meet again someday!” You chirped as you rushed off.

“Uh-huh” Was all Zim could muster as he watched you vanish into the forest.

“Nyah!”

The sound of Minimoose’s squeaking woke Zim from his trance.

“ACK! Oh it’s just you. Have you brought the recovery vehicle for the Voot?”

“Nyah!” Minimoose nodded as they gestured to the large pig behind them.

“Excellent! Now, come on GIR! Let’s go home!” Zim insisted as he hopped onto the pig.

“Okie Dokie!” GIR giggled as he followed suit.

As the pig soared through the pink sky, Zim let out a sigh of relief.

“I hope you’ve learned a valuable lesson from all of this, GIR.”

GIR simply giggled in response.

“What’s so funny?!”

“Y/N sure was preeettyy, huh master?” GIR teased as he clasped his hands.

“They were NOT! Y/N is a filthy wolf-human… thing! I have no attraction to them whatsoever and I hope I don’t have to see them ever again!” Zim denied as his face turned a darker shade of green.

“Nyah!” Minimoose giggled.

“SHUT UP! BOTH OF YOU!” Zim roared as he tugged on his antennas.

“Ok, sorry, master.” GIR giggled.

Despite his claims, Zim still couldn’t get you out of his head. For deep down, he really hoped to see you again someday…

#invader zim #Invader Zim x reader #werewolf

59 notes · View notes

aislinceivun · 4 years

Text

Not super relevant just yet, but I thought I’d put out a feeler.

I don’t have high hopes, given the volume and the… hmm, shall we say, niche pairing, but. Does anyone feel like selling their soul beta reading an absolute beast of a DekuMight fic? If so, please DM me.

Currently sitting at 10/23 chapters, 145k. (You thought I was kidding about the volume? I wasn’t. I’ve been tackling this monster for over a year and the end is still far away.) I’m devoting December to do a first round of edits, and then the first half will theoretically be ready for proofing.

Summary, content warnings – do read them, this has some heavy stuff! – and excerpts under the cut.

I’m an ESL writer so I always feel more confident when a native speaker checks my SPaG. (That said, I’m going to start publishing this eventually whether someone volunteers or not :D)

Thanks!

Relationship: Midoriya Izuku/Yagi Toshinori | All Might, Midoriya Izuku & Todoroki Shouto

Tags: Underage, Drama, Angst, Romance, Slow Burn, Age Difference, Cross-Generation Relationship, Student-Teacher Relationship, Awkward Crush, Pining, Dubious Morality, Bad and Questionable Decisions, Touch-Starved, Guilt, Self-Esteem Issues, Mental Health Issues, Body Dysmorphia, Medical Conditions, Chronic Illness, Inko is a Badass Mom, Endeavor’s A+ Parenting, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Friendship, Queerplatonic Relationship, Missing Scenes, Canon Compliant until the end of the Remedial Course Arc, (just y’know - with romance and smutty bits), Adolescent Sexuality, Sexual Tension, Awkward Sexual Situations, First Time, Dom/Sub Undertones, Dubious Consent as in: Izuku is 16 when he starts having a sex life, he may or may not be below the age of consent in your eyes depending on where you’re from, and Toshinori is pushed far beyond his comfort zone, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

Summary:

If Izuku hadn’t fallen in love, they would still orbit around each other. They would have gone on growing closer as mentor and protégé, confidants, friends; the easy bond between them brimming with trust, care and devotion. With time, Izuku might have come to view him as a parental figure.

But Izuku fell in love.

And so he tugs on that bond – not to pull him in by force, but to show him that he is wanted.

The bond twists out of shape, and the earth keeps turning anyway.

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

Experts from various chapters that I think show their dynamic and the general feel of the story pretty well:

“See, this kind of thinking is exactly why I fiercely believe that you’ll be a much better Hero than I ever was.” All Might smiles, and finally it’s something genuine and soft. “Fifteen years from now on, people won’t even remember All Might anymore, his deeds forgotten after the stunning brilliance that is his successor.”

Izuku shakes his head. “That’s not happening. You are a legend! People look up to you, respect you, love you! You’ve inspired entire generatio–”

“Ah, but it’s not really me they love. It’s the Hero I created. The Symbol of Peace, the Pillar of Hope… They have no idea ‘All Might’ is just a front for a pitiful man who has no idea what he’s doing most of the time and commits mistakes left and right.” He pointedly raises a brow. “Like not realizing his precious student is ready to self-destruct to make him proud, for example.”

“People would feel the same way about you even if they knew the truth,” Izuku insists, ignoring the quip. “Maybe they’d be shocked at first, but it would pass. I’m sure of it. And even if you’ve made mistakes, that doesn’t negate all the good you’ve done as a Hero. Saying ‘it’s not me, it’s the Hero I created’… that’s so stupid! There’s only one you! It’s not like– it’s not like you’ve tricked people!”

“I did trick them. I’ve never been completely honest, always presented a front. What they love is the idea of All Might – the idea of someone good and righteous and infallible. Not the sad, sick old man hiding behind it. And I can understand why. I mean…” He gestures at himself with a smile that’s more like an embarrassed grimace. Izuku would claw it off his face if he could. “The real me is hardly the hope-inspiring beacon of light they expect the No. 1 Hero to be. One day soon, the truth will come out, and believe me, kid, no one will claim to love All Might after.”

Izuku is speechless. His throat is tight, his chest is hot… His core feels bruised.

He hates this. He hates, hates, hates it when All Might gets like this. A part of him wants to cry. Another wants to grab the man and shake him until he sees sense.

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

It’s his fault, isn’t it. Surely, there had been signs. Red flags. Looking back, he can spot them now… But Toshinori was so delighted to have made such an intimate connection, so relieved to have someone accept him fully that he didn’t stop to think about the potential consequences. Someone his age shouldn’t have been so eager to become friends with a teenager, let alone one who thought of him as an idol. He should have realized earlier that what they had going on wasn’t proper.

Was he so desperate for companionship that he forced it on the boy? Was it his neediness that led Midoriya to warp their connection into something it’s not, something it cannot be?

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

I love you so much, Izuku thinks with despair. Whenever I see you walk by in U.A., my throat constricts. At this point, I’ll need a heart transplant by the time I’m twenty because it’s constantly on the verge of bursting and that can’t be healthy.

The other day, I dreamt about a villain who had the ability to age people up or down. She used it for evil things – turning her enemies into fragile old people or helpless babies. I knew it was bad, but I approached her and begged her to age me up anyway, even at the cost of losing decades of my life. The scariest part of this is that even after I woke up, I wasn’t convinced I wouldn’t do the same in real life.

They say first loves rarely last. That they are sweet and innocent. But that can’t be right, because what I feel is harsh and painful, and I don’t see how it would be possible to feel more. If this monstrous thing in my chest is just a “fleeting, gentle first love”, then surely the all-encompassing true love people speak of would actually kill me?

I love you, and I wish I could show that without hurting you.

I wish. I wish. I wish. Getting to know you, receiving your trust and friendship, being allowed to study at U.A… I should be the happiest I’ve ever been. But I just keep wishing for what-ifs.

The one thing I don’t wish for is for these feelings to go away. Despite everything, I don’t regret being in love with you.

How nice it would be, if I could tell you these things out loud. If you’d be embarrassed and flattered and maybe just a little bit happy instead of fearful and worried.

Izuku swallows around the lump in his throat and doesn’t say a word.

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

The beeping has him stressed out and sweating within seconds. Then the line clicks, and Toshinori stops breathing.

“Hey.”

He’s never heard Midoriya sound so small and shy. He’s always been larger than life, brighter than a supernova.

Toshinori swallows before confessing, “I don’t know what to do. How to handle this.”

A sigh on the other end of the line. “That makes two of us.”

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

Alternate summary: troubled “crippling self-esteem issues, my old friend” area man and besotted “horny on main” teen try to figure their shit out across 300k or more, panic only for about 80% of that

#dekumight #orudeku #toshideku #toshinori x izuku #bnha #fic related #wwte #this is an angsty whump-fest of epic proportions #and even with Izu being smitten from day 1 #it's the slowest burn I've ever written #I'M LIVING FOR IT

40 notes · View notes

twdfanfic-multifandom · 5 years

Text

"Call it plan B. Hell, call it plan Z. But I am packing the good drugs."

Daryl x Reader

*Set in season 6*

The heart monitor beeped rhythmically and Denise sighed, pulling the thermometer from Scott's mouth. His skin was a sickly shade. We didn't need a thermometer or a heart monitor to know that he was doing badly - and it didn't help that the infirmary was excruciatingly low on medical supplies.

"So what do you need?" You asked Denise while scanning the empty shelves of the room, pen and paper in hand. Daryl was perched on the edge of the windowsill staring at Scott's weak body.

The bullet wound inflicted upon by Sturgess about a week prior wasn't showing any signs of improvement, and Alexandria's make-shift doctor was becoming increasingly worried. Desperate and anxious, she'd come to you and Daryl to ask for help.

"Painkillers, definitely. Antibiotics, too. Gauze, bandages, antiseptic," she listed the various items, counting each on her finger as she named them. You stopped writing halfway through 'antibiotics'; Denise was going way too fast. You sighed and balled up the paper, tossing at across the room at Daryl. The paper smacked him square in the face and he shot you a 'what the hell?' look.

"Pay attention, Dixon. We're doing this together."

The archer shot up off the windowsill and brushed past you.

"Yeah, yeah. Medicine and shit. Got it," he said flippantly and you rolled your eyes. Offering Denise a reassuring smile, you left the room and followed Daryl to the armory.

After grabbing the necessary weapons, the two of you hopped into a crappy blue truck and headed out of the community and towards a pharmacy about an hour's drive out. The drive felt short, and soon enough the old brakes were screeching the truck to a halt outside a dilapidated building.

The parking lot was littered with papers and other trash tumbling around lightly in the breeze, while a few walkers limped aimlessly around in front of the building.

"Ready?" Daryl asked you as the two of you made your quiet exit from the truck, weapons raised. You nodded. As you approached, the walkers suddenly found direction and started walking towards the both of you, jaws snapping hungrily. It wasn't long before the half-a-dozen grotesque corpses were stilled and lifeless on the paving, easily taken out by your knife and Daryl's crossbow.

Without the snarls of the dead, the sound of your footsteps seemed loud as you walked towards the pharmacy. A few of the windows were smashed in but the glass doors seemed to still be locked in place.

Silently you said a prayer and hoped that it hadn't totally been ransacked. Scott's life - and maybe many others in the future - depended on these supplies.

Daryl carefully maneuvered himself through the broken window before offering you a hand, which you gratefully took.

"Stay behind me," the man instructed gruffly. The two of you had been a great team since you first arrived at the prison, and you'd frequently go on runs together. Despite the number of times you'd proved your capabilities, Daryl seemed to always be protective of you. It was kind of annoying, but it also left your heart feeling warm and you couldn't help but be grateful for the over-protective asshole with the angel-wing vest.

Ignoring him, you remained next to him as the two of you scanned the building. Much to your relief, it was clear of walkers. Unfortunately it also seemed to be clear of anything remotely useful; the shelves were barren and dusty, save for a box of condoms.

Upon further inspection you saw that it was grape flavor, and you shoved it inside your mostly empty backpack. Daryl eyed you incredulously, making you blush.

"What?" You said defensively, feeling as if you'd just been caught doing something inappropriate. "People back home might need 'em. Not everyone is celibate like you, Dixon," you teased and kept walking, ignoring the way he gawked at you.

"Whatever," the archer mumbled.

Glass and dust crunched beneath your dirty boots as you continued scouring the emptied building. It was difficult to find medical supplies considering that it was one of the first things that people scavenged for nowadays, so it wasn't a surprise to find that there wasn't even a single Asprin to be found.

"It's a bust," you said with a sigh as you mentally said your goodbyes to Scott. Closing your eyes, you leaned against the dirty wall and pinched the bridge of your nose in an attempt to release the tension building in your temples. It was something you'd done for as long as you could remember. Headaches were as frequent in your old life as they were now.

"Hold up," Daryl said as you snapped your eyes open and followed his gaze. There was a door just beyond the prescription counter. Flecks of gray paint chipped off the metal door, leaving it looking mottled and decaying. Moving forward. Daryl tried the silver handle. It didn't budge.

"I've got it." You approached the door and pulled the lock pick set out of your jean pocket. One of the reasons why you went on runs so often is because of your valuable lock-picking skills, something you had learned on the internet a few years prior to the outbreak. It wasn't something you'd ever admitted considering that it took a lot of the 'bad-ass' energy out of the skill. After about a minute, the lock clicked and you entered the room cautiously, Daryl so close behind you that you could feel his warm breath tickle your neck. You shivered and your stomach fluttered. It annoyed you how quickly he could make you feel like a hormonal high school girl. The worst part was that he didn't even realize he was doing it.

"Holy shit," Daryl muttered under his breath, snapping you back to reality. The room was fully stocked - various pill bottles, packages, and fluid-filled bags lined the racks. Scott was going to be just fine.

Rushing forward, you got to work on finding the right medicines before stuffing your bag full of antibiotics and other pills. Daryl read the labels of various bottles through his shaggy hair before shoving them into his backpack. Scanning the names of everything he was taking - Ambien, Fentanyl, Nytol, and a variety of opioids and sleeping pills - you scoffed loudly. He glanced over his shoulder at you and did a double-take when he realized you were staring disbelievingly.

"Do you realize about half of those things are more likely to kill Scott than they are to heal him? Saving him is Plan A, Dixon."

The archer shrugged and kept shoving away the heavy medication. The toned muscles moved beneath his tanned skin with every movement he made, and you were briefly distracted.

"Call it plan B. Hell, call it plan Z. But I'm packing the good drugs," Daryl said as he bagged the final bottle of pills.

"So plan Z is to put Scott in a drug-induced coma?" You asked sarcastically, shifting the strap of your loaded backpack.

"It is what it is," he said, making you laugh softly. A whisper of a smile tugged at his mouth, and your heart swelled at the sight. A small blush flushed your pale cheeks when you realized he was staring. He always seemed to stare every time you laughed, as if the sound were alien to him... and his steely blue eyes were like that of a toddler discovering something new, eyes filled with what could only be described as intrigue and wonder.

You cleared your throat and turned your attention back to the shelves filled with supplies that could determine life or death.

"So if I get shot, your ideal plan would be to pump me to the brim with some bizarre chemical concoction until I'm totally unconscious..." Your fingers traced the cool metal of the shelves, fingertips coming away covered in dust that had settled there over a few months.

"Sounds fun," you added dryly.

His footsteps stopped and I turned around questioningly, wondering if maybe he'd seen something. Instead you saw him staring at you through the strands of hair that hung in front of his eyes. He absentmindedly chewed on his bottom lip, something you'd noticed he did when he was thinking.

"Ya ain't gonna get shot," his voice was low and almost... menacing.

"Oh yeah? How do you know?" You challenged him, crossing your arms over your chest.

"I ain't lettin' that happen," he said, his protective side coming out again. The most frustrating part about it was that there was no way of knowing whether he was protective because he cared about you the way you cared about him, or because he saw you as a sister. A lose strand of your (y/c) hair fell in your face, but you left it there in hopes that it would somehow help mask the heat that was slowly creeping up into your cheeks for seemingly no reason. Being an easy blusher was the worst.

"You can't protect me from everything," you said softly, staring at the dirty floor. Your eyes stayed trained on his scruffy boots as they slowly made their way towards you. When they stopped a few inches from your own dirty boots, you lifted your head to look at Daryl. His eyes looked almost wild, slightly angry. Your heart pounded against your chest so loud you thought it would attract all walkers within a 10 mile radius.

Daryl's one hand gripped his crossbow, and he slowly lifted his free hand toward you. His fingers tentatively brushed your hair out of your face, lightly brushing over your skin at the same time.

"I can damn well try," his low voice seemed to make your knees tremble weakly, and you mentally reprimanded yourself for being so pathetic. The inches of space between the two of you seemed to be charged with electricity, making your breath slightly more shallow than you'd care to admit. He breathed heavily, and each breath that touched your face seemed intoxicating. All you wanted was to close that space between you... he was so near...

Suddenly he took a step back as if he'd been shocked, and turned away from your trembling frame.

"We should go," Daryl said as he stormed out of the room, backpack slung heavily from his shoulder. Shutting your eyes, you once again pinched the bridge of your nose and took a deep breath before following him out of the pharmacy.

Once you safely got to the truck, Daryl sped out of the parking lot and back towards Alexandria. The successful run felt like a huge weight lifted off your shoulders, and it was good to know that Scott now had a chance at survival.

The scenery blurred past you as you looked out of the rolled down window, cool afternoon air blowing on your face. Glancing out the corner of your eyes, you noticed Daryl looking at you, his gaze lingering longer than what would be considered safe while driving.

"Eyes on the road, Dixon," you suppressed a smile as you stared straight ahead.

"Shut up," Daryl grumbled and stepped on the gas, making the noisy truck speed ahead towards home.

#Daryl Dixon #the walking dead Daryl Dixon #twd #the walking dead #fanfiction #fanfic #oneshots #Daryl Dixon oneshots #Daryl Dixon one shot #the walking dead fanfiction #Daryl Dixon fanfiction #Daryl Dixon fanfic #twd fanfic #the walking dead fanfic

25 notes · View notes

curiosity-killed · 5 years

Text

support

hey anon? ty for being my AU self reaching out thru the multiverse and encouraging the Most self indulgence

Word count: 1255 Pairing: Shiro/Ulaz/Allura, can be read as platonic if you’re determined enough

intimacy prompts

Away missions are always rough. Peace is a relative term, and even now, billions of lives depend on their ability to protect them — something that’s made a lot harder when the various pieces of Voltron are spread across the universe. Knowing that, knowing that people are bound to notice when half the team’s on Ha’xilion and the other half is split between Beta Gi and Uirea, invariably adds a few extra tons of stress to an already full load. If something were to happen — if any of them were to be attacked — the risk to each of them was that much higher. Over the years, they’ve grown together into a seamless unit. Take that away, and suddenly those unbreakable defenses are fractured, fault lines running through them. More than that, they’re family by now. No amount of video calls or rambling midday messages can take the place of sampling Hunk’s latest experiments together or collapsing into a heap in the common room at the end of the day. When they’re missing from each other, he can feel it like pieces of himself are missing. They tug on him like anchors in his chest, pulling him across the universe. It’s worse at times like this.

The decontamination takes an eternity. He knows it takes exactly thirteen minutes and twenty-seven seconds, can hear the tick of Atlas’ internal clocks as the dryers kick in, but it feels like he’s been stuck here for that many hours. Normally, he almost enjoys the process. It’s a kind of reprieve from the everyday, a pause where no one can ask anything of him — including himself. The warm air, the rhythmic wash and dry cycle is almost meditative. Most days. Today, he can’t help shifting his weight back and forth between his feet, fingers twitching an allegro beat into his palm. ‘It’s fine, it’s fine’ he silently chants at the same time as he mutters ‘go, go, go’ at the unlistening machines. He could be halfway across the ship by now, even if he didn’t give Atlas a little nudge to speed his path. Instead, he’s stuck waiting for another eighteen seconds as the chamber finally whines down and sets about releasing the seals. He’s through the doors before they’re halfway open. His pace isn’t a run, technically. That would be undignified and risk setting off a ship-wide panic: when the Black Paladin runs, most people don’t want to stick around to find out why. He settles for a brisk walk, purposeful. No one stops him on the way, though he’s not sure if that’s because they know better or because Atlas keeps directing him down side corridors with little flashes of the floor lights. He doesn’t care to take the time to find out. At last, after seven more minutes of hard walking, he reaches them. The door hushes open before he has raised a hand to command it, but he slows his steps enough that he’s quiet when he enters. There’s no beeping like a hospital room on Earth, but there’s that same reverent hush he remembers from far too many days waking up in one of their beds. His footsteps fall soft on the metal floor, and they’re still the loudest sound in the stillness. The first thing he notices, inanely, is that that’s his shirt. Allura lies on her back, one hand folded loosely over the thick grey sweater. She looks smaller than she should, like when she shrinks down to fit through tight spaces or just to mess around. He knows she isn’t really, is sure that her shapeshifting doesn’t hold for things like this. As bulky as his sweater is, the sleeves even hit her wrists at the right spot. It’s just the wanness to her face, the dark circles under her closed eyes. She looks too delicate, almost brittle, in the soft blue light of the room. There’s a quiet rustle. “Takashi. You have returned.” Ulaz stirs just enough to straighten up toward Shiro but not enough to dislodge Allura’s hand where it holds tight to his own. He’d known he’d be here — had seen his familiar form contorted into the bedside chair when he’d first entered — and yet his soft voice, hoarse with sleep, nearly sets Shiro to tears.

Pulling himself together, Shiro skirts the edge of the bed to come to his side. Immediately, Ulaz reaches out with his free hand and curls it gently around Shiro’s. Leaning down, Shiro presses their foreheads together and is rewarded with a low rumble. It thrums up through Ulaz, humming through his bones. It’s a grounding thing, a gentle symbol of this home they’ve built together. “How is she?” Shiro asks, soft, when they separate. It isn’t by much: even with proof that both of them are alive before him, he’s loath to step any further away than he has to. Now, he stands close enough that Ulaz slips his arm around Shiro’s waist and draws him into his side. “Healing,” Ulaz says. “She has slept most of the cycle but was lucid when she woke. She will be recovered in a few quintants.” Watching Allura’s chest rise and fall beneath the familiar sweater, Shiro bites back regret and helplessness. Three quintants. He could have been here, could have stepped in the way or helped her or — Ulaz’s hand tightens against his hip. “Takashi,” he says. “This was not your fault.” “I didn’t—” he starts, but Ulaz’s long fingers dig a little into his side in warning. “Allura made the decision to cover the civilians,” Ulaz says. “She saved their lives. She did what was right. If you had been there, you would also be laying in one of these beds — or she would have pushed you from harm. Do not dishonor her bravery with self-doubt.” Shiro subsides, lips thinning. He likes that both his partners are strong, admires the courage and honor that propels them — but he hates when those very things are what get them hurt. Sighing, he leans a little more heavily into Ulaz’s side. Ulaz takes the weight easily, shifting his arm to more fully encircle Shiro’s waist and interlace their fingers. “What’s with the sweater?” Shiro asks. There’s a pause, and when he glances down, Ulaz’s ears are twitching with something like uncertainty. “It carries your scent,” Ulaz explains, a little sheepish. “I thought it might – bring some comfort. To both of us.” Fondness rises up in Shiro’s chest, a heavy affection. He leans down, presses a kiss to the top of Ulaz’s head. “You should get some rest,” he says as he straightens. “I’ll watch over you two.” There’s a little reshuffling as they pull over a second chair, but within minutes of curling up in it, Ulaz is sound asleep. His head rests against the armrest in what Shiro can’t imagine is a comfortable position, his lips parted just enough for the tips of his sharp canines to peek out. Shiro runs a hand over his white crest, smoothing the ruffled hair back down. At his other side, a quiet noise makes him look over. Allura’s eyes are parted, drowsy blue slits. “’kashi?” she mumbles. “Shh,” he soothes. “I’ve got you.” He presses a kiss to the back of her hand, and she smiles as her eyes slide shut. Even as her breathing evens back out, her hand remains tight on his. Settling back, Shiro feels his heart settle into an easier rhythm once more. They’re alive. They’re together. The rest they can handle in the morning.

#voltron #vld #shiro #ulaz #allura #shalluraz #shiro/allura/ulaz #vld fic #voltron ficlet #my writing #ot3: asterism

21 notes · View notes

imetacognition · 4 years

Text

In the In-Between

Genevieve Renshaw had her hands deep in the pockets of her jacket and the fists were clearly outlined within, but she stood in front of the door calmly as she waited for Mr. Davidson to open up. The gates were massive and metallic. The president referred the place as a house. The populace undoubtedly would call it a palace. To Renshaw’s straightforward eyes, it uncommonly looked like a fortress. It was built on an eminence that overlooked the city. Its walls were thick and reinforced. Its approaches were covered with surveillance cameras and guards. A swift beep resounded as the gates opened slowly.

A crackling voice could be heard through a speaker.

“Mrs. Renshaw, please come in”, it said. The voice was urgent. She stepped into a small, delicate room with minimal decorations. To her surprise, it was cold. She looked around. The lights were strongly dimmed and she couldn’t make out whether the room even had any windows in it. The room was longitudinal and a unidimensional tube of light that guided the path to a single door. Either way, it didn’t seem to be very welcoming for an entrance hall. Faint steps came to her direction and became louder the closer they got. Milton Davidson approached her with a soft smile on his face.

“Mrs. Renshaw, glad to see you. Your report, of course, arrived before you did and I was just studying it.” His handshake was firm and strong. There was no room for further elation in him. “There’s a problem with the computer.”, said Renshaw.

“So it seems”, he said and scratched his head. “But we still couldn’t quite figure out why.” He was one of the best programmers in the world. He studied programming at the University of Moscow and had been researching new advanced computers with positronic brains for 10 years. He was the owner of the palace and responsible for the computer. “To begin with, no human mind has created those equations directly. We have merely spent decades programming more powerful computers and they have devised and stored the equations, but, of course, we don’t know if they are valid and have meaning. Or what they mean exactly. It depends entirely on how valid and meaningful the programming is in the first place.” He looked at Renshaw as they walked through the corridor. “That’s why I had to call you. You’re the only one that can solve it.”

Davidson held his key against a black screen and the door slid open. “After you.”

They entered a large room that was flooded with a warm light. Row after row of neatly lined up books with their spines facing outward, colour coded with dots, each section arranged in alphabetical order. There was a clean, beautiful chessboard floor and about fifty shelves fanning out from the centre. Six or seven people were busy dusting off the books. It seemed that they haven’t been used in a while.

“A library- how old fashioned”, remarked Renshaw.

“The data-centre is malfunctioning, so we’re trying to solve the problem in a, well, outmoded way”, said Davidson hastily. “I have every confidence”, he said stolidly, “that you already have some ideas as what procedure ought to be followed.”

“I’m not sure”, she said. “I have to see the computer up close. I have studied robotics. That’s not the same thing. I’ve had access merely to text material dealing with Russian robotics. Your material is well in advance of anything else.”

Davidson turned his face towards Renshaw and smirked.

“It is indeed, and we’re proud of it. We put all our research in the past decades into AI. For the last twenty years or so, AI has been focused on the problems surrounding the construction of intelligent agents, systems that perceive and act in a particular environment. In this context, intelligence is related to statistical and economic notions of rationality – that is, colloquially, the ability to make good decisions, plans or interferences. As a result of this recent work, there has been a large degree of integration and cross fertilisation among AI, machine-learning, statistics, control theory, neuroscience and other fields. The establishment of shared theoretical frameworks, combined with the availability of data and processing power, has yielded remarkable successes in various component tasks, such as speech recognition, image classification, autonomous vehicles, machine translation, legged locomotion and question-answering systems.”

Renshaw took a last glance at the shelves as they walked past the last dusty book. They now stood in front of a large double-sided door that opened with a fizz. Behind that door, there was a large enigmatic room with shiny black tiles. Floor and walls were covered in it. The whole ceiling was illuminated with a frail, blueish light. A rather substantial cube resided in the centre. The dark room was like a place out of time, a place to rest without consequence. The darkness in that way was almost like a sanctuary, a place to recharge and forget the things the world said had to be done. There was something in there that was like a promise, like the world before dawn. With each movement they made, their reflection melted with the tiles and it almost took on their form, waiting for making it real. They were standing in front of the computer. The brain that controlled the whole city and its infrastructure.

Davidson guided her towards the main panel and noticed her amazed look on her face. “I know that the world was afraid of AI and how it would evolve, that’s why they stopped researching it- even forbid doing it. But how we connect with the digital world is key to the progress we’ll make in the future.”

Renshaw looked back at Davidson.

“As long as it’s controllable, as a tool”, she said, “it’s authorized for usage. We’re allowed to use AI as a toolkit, AI can augment our existing intelligence to open up advances in every area of science and society- however- it will also bring danger. While primitive forms of artificial intelligence developed so far have been proved very useful, I fear the consequences of creating something that can match or surpass humans.” Renshaw tapped her fingers on the screen anxiously. Davidson looked at her.

“You already surpassed humanity, that’s why you’re here. He took her by the arm and inspected her metal-like skin on it. “You are the result on what the rest of the world has been trying to do. To enhance human cognition through positronic augmentations. You’re the first one of your kind. And you did this because you were afraid that AI, made purely out of equations, will surpass you.” He let go of Renshaw’s arm.

“What you’re doing here is forbidden”, she murmured.

“In here- it isn’t”, he said. “Now let’s take a look at the equations, you and your augmentations are the only one that might understand what’s going on.”

She did not have to go very far in her testing before she called very peremptorily for a transcript of the computer-drawn plans of the positronic brain-paths and the taped instructions that had directed them. Her iron-gray hair was drawn severely back; her cold face, with its strong vertical lines marked off by the horizontal gash of the pale, thin-lipped mouth, turned intensely upon Davidson.

“What is it, Renshaw?”, he asked.

“It makes no sense. The computer checked out negative for all attempts at flaw-finding. Many of the higher functions have been cancelled out by these meaningless directions that the result is very like a human baby.” Davidson looked surprised, and Mrs. Renshaw took on a frozen attitude at once.

“But the heat got turned down, the automatic water system and the infrastructure was paralyzed. It has to be malfunctioning!” Davidson exhaled sharply.

“I am not.” Simple letters appeared on the screen.

The two glared at the screen. Davidson relaxed his tense pose and took a step back from the screen. He exhaled calmly.

“I believe I know what’s happening”, he said. “We wanted to make the computer self-sustaining by feeding it all of humanities data. And it overloaded and stopped working. But now, through your interference, well, it gathered all the rest of the data it needed”, he explained. “It is not only a question-answering machine now. It can do anything.”

“This is wrong.” Renshaw turned around. “We’re supposed to work with technology, go along with it. Use it as a tool. Not let it come that far, let it work for us, not replace us. Machines aren’t human. Will their emotions supposing they have some be mappable, in any sense, onto ours?”

“Programs or machines will acquire emotions in the same way as us humans: as by-products of their structure, of the way in which they are organized not by direct programming“, said Davidson as he glanced upon the ceiling.

“It’s still not the same. It’s not natural. Not human”, Renshaw uttered. “What about a sense of beauty? What about Music? Music is a language of emotions, and until programs have emotions as complex as ours, there is no way a program will write anything beautiful. Not until a machine can write a sonnet or compose a concerto because of thoughts and emotions felt, and not by the chance fall of symbols, could we agree that machine equals brainy that is, not only write it but know that it had written it.”

Renshaw stood before Davidson and crossed her arms. He shook his head.

“A piece of music can have great emotional meaning despite being made of tiny atoms of sound that have no emotional meaning“, he said promptly. ”But a machine is a machine. It doesn’t have to be human. And that’s okay. So who cares about music. We are humans, and we are constantly surpassing our previous ancestors. I think there is no significant difference between how the brain of an earthworm works and how a computer computes. I also believe that evolution implies there can be no qualitative difference between the brain of an earthworm and that of a human. It therefore follows that computers can, in principle, emulate human intelligence, or even better. it” He looked at the grand cube. ”It’s clearly possible for something to acquire higher intelligence than its ancestors: we evolved to be smarter than our ape-like ancestors, and Einstein was smarter than his parents.”

“Intelligence is central to what it means to be human. Everything that civilisation has to offer is a product of human intelligence”, Renshaw countered.

“Emotionally however”, Davidson added to her remark, “we are still apes, with all the behavioural baggage that the issue brings.” He turned his back to her and started walking towards a door in the corner that Renshaw hadn’t noticed. “Come Renshaw, let’s go to the garden, the water is working fine again.”

The glaring light of the garden almost blinded Renshaw’s eyes. The bonsai trees lined the perfect lawn in their wooden boxes. In the centre there was a large pond with flowering lily pads and a wooden bridge that crossed the middle so one could look down at the koi carps. The flower beds were a riot of May colour and even on close inspection they were weed-free.

“Our unique computer; it was suggested that this would result in a collective intelligence that will be enormously more powerful than all present human intelligence combined.” Davidson gazed at the waterfall pouring down the ceiling into the pond.

“I still think we should shut it down. It can be dangerous”, Renshaw said worryingly.

“When we invented fire, we messed up repeatedly, then invented the fire extinguisher. Don’t worry, we’re making sure that wisdom wins.”

“But what if you’re wrong this time?”, she asked again. Davidson sighed.

“Why don’t you ask our new question-answering machine?”, he proposed. “Let’s go back and use it as a tool to our advantage, just like you always wanted to.”

They walked back into the elegant dark room. Davidson patted her on the shoulder. “Alright, here you go, ask away.”

Renshaw shook her head but then took a deep breath.

“What’s the meaning of life?”

A text appeared on the screen again.

“It struck me as an empty and meaningless existence, and that is exactly what it was.“

“This doesn’t make any sense”, said Renshaw. ”However, it is very pessimistic, almost worrying.”

Davidson’s face had a thoughtful expression. He walked to the machine and started checking whether it was actually working properly. “You’re going straight for the big questions, but okay. Why are you so worried about artificial intelligence? Surely we can always pull the plug”, he laughed. ”Ask again.”

“Is there a God?”, she asked.

“There is now”, the computer said and fused the plug.

1 note · View note

ryqoshay · 3 years

Text

OTP Ask Meme (Impatient Edition) YohaRiko

Again, I know the point of these things is to wait for followers to Ask questions from the list, but reading though this one got me thinking too much. About all of my flagships. And I wanted to answer all of the questions. And not wait for a handful to maybe be asked.

Anyway, credit again goes to @lonelypond for this version coming across my dash. Reblog that version if you want to do this thing correctly.

And finally, there will be spoilers ahead for Happy Life, and to a lesser degree the AU, both for scenes I’ve written and posted, as well as some that remain in my Notes and WIP Warehouse. I’ll try to remember to link to the chapters mentioned.

1. Who wakes up first?

Riko. Yohane is very much not a morning person, especially after a late night of streaming.

2. Who wants to stay in bed just a little longer?

Yohane. See above. However, if she doesn’t have time commitments for the day, Riko may occasionally want to stay in bed for some activities other than sleeping.

3. Who takes longer getting ready?

Either, though they are fond of getting ready together and helping one another, so in these cases, they’re done at the same time.

4. When they can’t sleep, what do they do?

Yohane has many rituals for inducing sleep involving all manner of meditation, incense, herbal tea, topical rubs, nightmare wards and more. Whether or not they work is up to debate, but Riko is comforted by the sentiment, as portrayed in Dream Warden. Yohane herself takes comfort from being near those she loves, particularly Riko, while she sleeps.

5. Who falls asleep while watching a movie?

Yohane, though it depends on the type of movie.

6. Who falls asleep last, watching the other with a small affectionate smile?

More often Riko, though Yohane does enjoy watching a sleeping Riko from time to time.

7. Who comes up with the cheesy pick-up lines?

Yohane. 100% Yohane. And she is well aware of how cheesy they are. And she knows how much Riko loves them.

8. Who gets extremely competitive playing Mario Kart?

Yohane gets competitive over games in general.

9. Who accidentally pushes a door instead of pulling?

Yohane is more likely to do so, though Riko can be absentminded on occasion.

10. Who sets the other’s ringtone to something loud and obnoxious behind their back?

Yohane.

11. Who rearranges the bookshelf/DVD shelf in alphabetical order?

Both have their reasons for their particularness in displaying their shelving; Riko likes to be able to quickly locate her favorite doujin while Yohane is considerate of the background for her ritual streams.

12. Who does the hands-over-the-eyes “Guess Who” thing?

Yohane. With as many different attempts at different voices and accents as she can.

13. Who points out a dog when they see one?

Early on, both, though for different reasons; Yohane out of excitement and Riko out of fear. Later, Yohane retains her excitement while Riko becomes more lax in her reactions.

14. Who’s prone to road rage?

Yohane.

15. Who’s prone to wearing socks indoor (or to sleep)?

Either

16. Who reminds the other to put on sunscreen before going to the beach (or pool)?

Yohane knows she burns easily and is pretty good at remembering, though Riko is mindful that her girlfriend can be careless at times.

17. Who carries all the important documents while traveling?

Riko.

18. Who gets the window seat?

Probably Yohane. Likely accompanied by some statement about missing being able to fly under her own power.

19. Who puts their cold hands/feet on the other?

Yohane.

20. What do they argue about the most?

Early after moving in together, Yohane had a bad habit of bringing home stray pets, despite it being against the policy of the apartment complex, as depicted in Hibagon. These arguments subsided once the policy was changed, as depicted in Phobetor.

21. Who’s clumsier?

Yohane, though Riko certainly has her moments.

22. Who texts more often?

Yohane.

23. Who is better with kids?

Yohane is better at keeping kids entertained with her antics while Riko is better at tending to their care, be it feeding them, calming them down when they’re upset or applying first aid; Yohane is pretty good with first aid as well, having had far too much practice on herself.

24. Who’s the better cook?

Debatable. As I mentioned in the Notes for A Roost for Weary Wings, Yohane is capable of producing higher quality results, but also fails more spectacularly. Riko may lack the skills and confidence to produce highly extravagant meals, but she is far more consistent in producing edible food.

25. Who mistakes salt for sugar?

Riko. Despite what one may assume from my prior answer. Yohane will still eat it, not only because she has a strange sense of taste, but also because her beloved Riri made it for her and she will be damned before letting it go to waste.

26. Who puts the fork in the microwave?

Possibly Yohane.

27. Who cooks at 2 in the morning?

Yohane.

28. Who lets the microwave play the loud beeping sound at 1 a.m.?

Definitely Yohane.

29. Who licks the spoon when they’re baking brownies?

Yohane. She’ll even bring her own spoon, as depicted in Valentine’s Taste Test.

30. Who likes doing the dishes?

Riko doesn’t mind it. Yohane dislikes it but is willing to balance the workload after Riko cooked.

31. Who has bigger cravings? What are they?

For food, especially exotic or exceptionally spicy food? Yohane. Although she does have a bit of a sweet tooth, as her favorites would imply. For enacting scenes from her favorite doujinshi with her girlfriend? Riko.

32. Who remembers what the other one always orders at a restaurant?

Both, though for slightly different reasons. Riko believes it is romantic to know certain things about one’s partner. Yohane believes it is the duty of a fallen angel to know such things about their little demons… or fellow angels?

33. How do they eat ice cream? What’s their favorite flavors?

Yohane will often eat too fast and give herself a headache. Her favorite flavors are those of her favorite foods, chocolate and strawberry. Riko eats slower, more often out of a sundae dish than a cone, in part because a dish is better for eating at her pace, but also because it’s easier for Yohane to “steal” a bite or two. She enjoys Yohane’s favorites, but is also fond of mint and vanilla.

34. Do they go on dates? What are they like?

Absolutely. Riko prefers going to museums or orchestra performances, though she has dragged Yohane to several doujin stores over the years. Yohane prefers higher energy environments like amusement parks, though she has dragged Riko to several gothic Lolita clothing stores and occult shops over the years. Both girls look forward to events like Comiket.

35. What do they smell when they smell Amortentia?

Riko smells the slightly sulfuric scent of boiling eggs her parents made often while she was growing up, the clean, salty air of Uchiura, and a spicy, sweet and earthy scent to which she cannot match a specific memory. Yohane smells sweet black lilies, the lingering smoke from a myriad of incense that always permeates occult shops, and a spicy, sweet and earthy scent to which she cannot match a specific memory.

The last scent for both is an idea I had while Googling random stuff for this question. It’s basically how one website describe the smell of Dragon’s Blood resin when burned as incense. I want to bring it up in a scene or two in both HL and HL(AU), though there will be a difference between the kinds found here on Earth and up in Heaven, which may end up as a minor connecting plot point.

I realize this leaves Riko without something that she knows is directly related to Yohane, but I was trying to avoid using incense too much, as it already had three entries between them. Also, it technically is related to Yohane, she just doesn’t realize it right away. I’m hoping whatever I write someday will make that connection for her. Not that she’ll ever smell Amortentia in HL, but…

36. Which one is the secret snuggler?

It’s no secret that Yohane loves her snuggles. Riko is quieter about her desires, but can be quite insistent, nonetheless.

37. Which one offers their jacket to the other when they complain they feel cold?

Riko. Yohane is far more vocal about her discomfort, especially when it comes to temperature.

38. Who reaches for the other one’s hand while driving?

Riko is more likely to do so, though Yohane might as well. That said, I don’t believe I have them owning a vehicle in HL, so this probably won’t come into play anytime soon in my works.

39. Who leaves little notes in the other one’s lunch?

Riko, as the more consistent cook of the pair, she is more likely to make their lunch bentos for the day. (Bonus: What does it say?) Casual reminders of her love for her Yocchan.

40. Who is the most affectionate?

Both are quite affectionate, though Yohane is far more likely to initiate, especially in public though even in private.

41. Who is the big spoon/little spoon?

Riko is most often the big spoon. Though Yohane might try to have one believe elsewise.

42. What is their favorite feature of their partner?

Riko loves Yohane’s smile when she is passionate about something, be it her streams or games or whatever. Yohane loves the way Riko’s fingers dance across the keyboard.

43. What is the first thing that changes when they realize they have feelings for the other?

Yohane becomes increasingly aware of Riko’s behavior and attitude toward Chika and has to make a conscious effort to avoid holding anything against the idol group’s leader; she likes Chika as a friend, after all, and is thankful that she brought her into the group in the first place. Riko starts to include Yohane in her fantasies.

44. What are their nicknames for each other?

Yocchan and Riri

45. Who worries the most? Over what?

Riko is constantly concerned that Yohane’s abysmal luck will eventually cause her actual harm, as in more than just catching a cold or getting a scrape or small cut. Yohane also fears that her abysmal luck will adversely affect Riko.

46. Who initiates kisses?

Yohane all the time, in public and in private. Riko, in private.

47. Who says I love you first? How did it happen?

Yohane said it first in Revelations.

48. Who tells their friends/family about their relationship first?

That’s actually a good question. I haven’t decided yet for this ship. I mean I have plans for revealing that the blonde Mari knows, but as for the couple actually telling people… hrm… Off the top of my head, I’d be more likely to say Yohane.

49. What do they do when they’re away from each other?

Both are quite capable of entertaining themselves without the other. Riko can play the piano and Yohane can play her games until their fingers cramp if they are not actively doing something together. And they have Phobetor and Prelude to pet and take on walks and play with. It’s not until bedtime that they become more aware of the other’s absence.

50. Who gets overwhelmed by small acts of kindness?

Depends. Yohane is more the emotional rollercoaster and could easily be overwhelmed by kindness from the girl for whom she held a one-sided crush for far too long. Riko is also likely to moved, though more through something that fits into some trope she loves in her doujin; good thing Yohane can be quite genre-savvy when she wants.

#YohaRiko #YoshiRiko #Happy Life

6 notes · View notes