#I scrapped my previous idea which is why this is a little messy but I still like it c: | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

junicai · 3 years

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what i made.

| order no. | 7/21

| summary | With a new Japanese member in their midst, Aria knows that he must be feeling homesick. So, she takes it upon herself to try to alleviate as much of it as she can.

| word count | 1.7k

| warnings | sickening fluff

| era | circa. January 2021

“Are you coming?” Aria had her phone held between her ear and her shoulder, scooping two reusable plastic bags from the countertop as she moved past. There was a small clinking sound and she paused, peering into the bag to make sure the glass containers hadn’t chipped off each other.

Doyoung would have her head.

Satisfied that there was no shattering, Aria moved again, snagging her coat as she pushed past in her free hand. Yuta hummed on the other end of the phone.

“Yeah, I’m about to leave.” Aria could hear him rustling about on the other end of the line.

“His apartment is the second one on the third floor remember - he told me Sungchan was going somewhere with Jungwoo, shopping I think?” Aria paused to think. “Anyway, he’s gone all afternoon, so Taro is alone.”

The shuffling paused on the other end of the line. “He’s been quiet with you too, right? It’s not just me?” Yuta asked.

Aria hummed sadly. “Yeah, it’s not just you.” She pulled the door firmly closed behind her, only moving away when it signified that it had been locked with a beep.

Living in the Dreamie dorms again had been a change. A nice change, don’t get her wrong, but for the last year she’d been spending most of her time in the 127 dorms. Now, with the Dream comeback on the horizon, she’d moved back into her old room - happy to see that the fairy lights she’d installed (meaning: stuck onto the walls with sellotape) were still functioning after she’d changed the batteries.

“Remember how I got? Right after debut?” Aria questioned, now moving away from the doorway and into the hallway.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Aria replied. “I think he’s just gotten homesick - it happened to me, and I hadn’t been training for that long before debut.”

“Makes sense. It’s probably harder because he’s older as well - the pressure might be getting to him.” Yuta’s voice was growing sadder, so Aria interrupted him before he himself could get down.

“So!” She cheered, lifting up the bag of ingredients that was hanging in the crook of her arm. “We go and we cheer our last musketeer up.”

“I told you not to call us that.”

“Why not!”

Aria giggled as Yuta began to list out the numerous reasons why he hated that nickname, tucking the phone into the other crook of her neck as one side began to cramp up.

She entertained the man with small hums and little rebuttals every now and then, walking out of the left apartment wing and into the right; where Shotaro and Sungchan’s apartment was located.

SM had moved their dorms into one apartment building for Mark, Aria and Donghyuck’s peace of mind. And also theirs. There had been several incidents of Donghyuck and Aria dashing down to the Dreamie dorm at one in the morning to grab something; and it was going to give their managers grey hair if something wasn’t done about it.

Now, the larger apartment block they all lived in had two wings; the right wing, where the two 127 dorms were located, as well as Shotaro and Sungchan’s, and then the left - where the Dream dorms were. WayV was still in a separate apartment building, much to the entire group’s irritation, but it was a work in progress.

As Aria stepped out of the elevator onto the third floor to see Yuta already standing outside Shotaro’s apartment door, she pulled her phone out from beneath her ear and hung up without warning.

She snickered at Yuta’s face when the man realized he had been hung up on, and just as he was about to click redial, she popped up behind him.

“You were saying? Mr. Musketeer?”

Yuta rolled his eyes. “Akari, you’re asking for it now.”

Aria gently pushed past him, knocking twice on the door. She turned to face him afterwards, batting her eyelashes innocently. “I’m doing nothing at all- Taro! Hi!”

Shotaro opened the door with bleary eyes, blinking at the light that blinded him slightly. The apartment behind him was dark, no lights on, and by the state of his hair Aria could infer that they’d just woken the boy up.

“Hm? Akari?” Shotaro blinked sleepily at her. “What time is it?”

Aria bit her lip to stop the smile growing across her face. “It’s almost two in the afternoon, Taro.”

Shotaro blinked rapidly at that, clearing the fog of sleep from his eyes. “Oh! Is it? Sorry!” He opened the door wider, flicking on the lights after his two members walked in.

Aria held up the two bags on her arm. “Can I put these down somewhere? I think my hand is slowly losing circulation.”

Shotaro gestured towards the table that was partly covered in old newspapers. At a closer glance, the newspaper had a few spots of dried paint in various bright colours. She looked back to him. “Sungchan’s newest artistic endeavor go well?”

“Yeah!” Shotaro pointed towards where an old ripped t-shirt was hanging off the back of a door - a small graphic square had been painted on in haphazard lines. “He’s really proud of it.”

“He should be,” Yuta stepped forward to examine it further. “It’s really good.”

Aria dropped the two bags onto the clean side of the table, rubbing her hands together to get the blood flowing back into her fingertips. “Ok!” She exclaimed, turning to face the two men.

“I,” She began, poking herself in the chest, “Have a little surprise for the both of you.”

Yuta’s brows furrowed in confusion. “Me?” He mouthed, pointing to himself in a question. Aria nodded.

“But! I need the kitchen to do it, so go, shoo. Get out.” She waved at the two boys, shooing them out of the kitchen.

Shotaro whined at her slightly. “But I could help?”

“Then it defeats the purpose of a surprise, doesn’t it?”

He opened his mouth before closing it, frowning at the ground. Aria waved at him. “Go go. I’ll be done quickly.”

Once the two boys had disappeared into the main living room, Aria returned to the two bags on the table and slowly began to pull out the ingredients. The red bean paste that she’d made the night previous was packed away in one of Doyoung’s glass boxes for food, and she was careful to place it near the wall and out of the way of where she might knock into it.

Dorayaki. The red bean pancake had been something she loved as a child, and Yuta held similar sentiments. She could only hope that Shotaro did as well - because at this point, it was almost a ritual for the original two Japanese members to go out and buy dorayaki when one or both of them were feeling off.

With the filling set aside, Aria moved quickly to set up a small work station beside the hob, pulling out a mixing bowl and a whisk.

The eggs went into the bowl, followed by honey and sugar. They were stirred together quickly, combining in a matter of under a minute.

Next, came the flour, which was to be sifted in slowly.

“Sieve, sieve.” Aria mumbled to herself, pulling open and closing drawers periodically. “Where would they keep a sieve?”

She contemplated asking Shotaro for a minute, but ultimately scrapped that idea and chastised herself lightly. “They’re teenage boys, Akari. They’re not going to own a sieve.”

With that, she had to make do; using two forks laid over each other and pouring the flour mixture very slowly into the eggs. It was messy, and she got more flour on the counter than in the bowl, but it worked out for the most part.

Aria set the bowl aside as she turned on the electric rings, letting them heat up. The boys only had a small frying pan, that she could do nothing but pray was non-stick; and Aria winced at the thought that this might take a little bit longer than she’d hoped.

She strained her ears for a moment, comforting herself with the fact that the two boys seemed engrossed in a conversation, and weren’t missing her presence too much for the time being.

The mixture was poured on one by one, and gradually Aria amassed a sizeable stack of small, circular pancake shapes on the plate beside her. Then, it was only a matter of making a small mountain shape on the inside, before putting a second pancake on top - like a little hat.

She sealed the edges of each dorayaki, placing them on a plate.

“Taro? Yuta? Do you want to come on in here?” She raised her voice, hoping that they’d hear her.

“Yeah? What’s up?” Taro was the first to appear, his eyes curious before they caught sight of the plate held in Aria’s hands.

His face lit up like a lightbulb, and his mouth dropped slightly. “You did not.”

“I did.” Aria grinned.

“Hey, look at you go little baker.” Yuta came over to snag one from the top of the plate, and had his hand batted away.

“Stop it, they’re for Taro. He gets one first.” Aria scolded, and Yuta backed away with his hands up.

Shotaro, on his end, looked like he was about to cry. “F-for me? Really?” He gnawed at his bottom lip.

Aria placed the plate down on the counter, moving to wrap the slightly younger boy in a hug. “Yeah, for you. Consider this your official initiation to the j-line. Very exclusive club. You’re the first member to be added since 2016.” She pulled back with a wide grin.

Yuta joined the group hug, longer arms encircling both Shotaro and Aria where they stood. “You’re never getting rid of us now, Taro.” He teased. “We know your apartment passcode."

The trio stood quietly, smiles on all their faces until the dorayaki went cold on the plate.

Not a single one of them cared; and if Sungchan came home to Yuta lying on the floor with Shotaro lying curled up to his left side, and Aria lying across his lap with her hand tangled in Shotaro’s - all three, fast asleep - and took a picture to send to Jungwoo for blackmail?

Then that’s between the apartment walls, and him.

#*moonlight café #nct 24th member #nct imagines #nct female member au #nct female member #nct extra member #nct additional member #kpop addition #nct addition #kpop additions #nct additions #nct female oc #nct female addition #kpop!oc #kpop #nct scenarios #nct reactions #wayv #SUPERM

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writingindulgence · 3 years

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Illumi x F.Reader - Expectation

Pairing: Illumi x Female Reader

Story tags: Arranged marriage, typical Zoldyck behaviour, angst-ish, heavy manipulation, ILLUMI, unhealthy one-sided dependence : ) my guy just toxic

3,200+ words and why? I don’t even like the dude. Also, two points of view.

The sound of fancy porcelain tea cups clinking against the glass table is soothing, along with the warm rays shining on your face. Times like these are what you are thankful for. The smell of purposely picked flowers, arranged to please the eyes. Not the stench of trash dumped for the sole convenience of other countries. Colourful butterflies and bees, instead of flies and disease ridden rats. A home cooked meal ready for your consumption rather than scraps of rotting food that you more often than not nearly died for.

Kukuroo mountain is infinitely more beautiful compared to Meteor City.

“(Y/n) dear, it’s unbecoming of you to make noise with your tableware,” a powerful feminine voice chastates your mistake. The woman sitting opposite you is none other than Kikyo Zoldyck. Or as she forces you to call her, mother.

Your heart flutters in relief, an apologetic expression weaving onto your face. She must be in an agreeable mood since her fan hasn’t struck your hand. Sometimes you are let off with a warning if she spots a blunder on your part. Sometimes, she resorts to physical punishment. It always depends on whether or not a family member said anything to ruin her day. In fact, any matter concerning Killua will set her off in a positive or negative direction.

Just like Illumi whenever you bring up his younger brother.

“I apologise mother, I’m too excited because Illumi is returning,” you proceed to take a sip and this time around, gently settle the tea cup down.

A content hum comes from her direction, her visor flashing for a split second. “Oh (Y/n), you’ll make such a good wife one day.” She picks up a fork gracefully and stabs it into the cake she asked for from the family cook.

The compliment ignites a multitude of feelings in your chest. It spreads out, only one thought in your mind.

How immensely grateful and happy you are to hear it.

Many of your friends from when you were young, starved to death. Some were beaten up by other desperate residents. Others lost their will to fight, a state you threaded on a magnitude of times.

Being taken away by the mafia one day was what gave you back the spark, a life in the city no more out of your reach. Until you figured out what type of work they wanted to sell you and other kids for. Stories from the older girls back in Meteor City came rushing back.

Your bloodlust and instinct to survive are what happened to change your life for the better. Out of all the line-up of children, you were selected by the Zoldycks. Instead of being the pet of some old pervert, you found a home within the assassin family.

There were many times when you felt like giving up. When the training you went through was worse than simply dying. However, you promised yourself to never throw away the chance you received all those years back.

You were indebted to the Zoldycks.

Hearing words of encouragement from one of the people you looked up to the most brought tears to your eyes. You wiped them away with your thumb.

Mother is a role model to you. It helped when you found out that she originates from Meteor City too. In a sense, it is easier to place yourself in her shoes and strive to achieve what she did. Being an amazing assassin, wife and mother.

A sudden scraping of a chair brought you back to the presence, startling you into a defensive pose. The knife under your sundress clasped in your hand.

Out of the corner of your eye you notice Kalluto coming out from behind the bushes, his paper fan also ready for action.

“My Kil, what is he doing?! Quick, we have to stop him. Kalluto go call for Milluki right now!,” she orders shrilly before running into the mansion.

Without hesitation, you rush after her. It is expected of you. A nagging feeling in the back of your head also foreshadows that whatever is going on, it will have dire consequences if not stopped.

Killua is in the foyer, being kept idle by the servants. But not for long. You can see the irritation growing on his face, his muscles tensed.

You’ve known Killua since he was a baby, having been inducted as a future family member when mother was pregnant with him. There’s no doubt that if something wasn’t done, it would lead to a messy aftermath.

A few seconds after you make it inside, Milluki shows up and the servants are all dismissed.

“Kil, my little Kil, what’s wrong? Why did I hear that you’re leaving to take the Hunter’s Exam?,” mother’s voice is aghast, the idea of her favourite child abandoning the nest filling her with pain.

You too are taken aback at the news, a protective sensation coursing through you. Your fingers flex at your side.

“It’s boring here and I heard that the Exam is difficult so I’m going to test my skill,” he shrugs her worry off and spins his skateboard. Your heart begins to pound uncontrollably.

Hearing the disrespect, Milluki steps up and lashes out at Killua. “You brat, what’s with that arrogant attitude you-,”

“Stop that!,” mother’s voice sharply cuts him down.

She begins pleading with Killua to stay, her voice cracking multiple times. It pains you to watch someone you respect growing so desperate.

Killua is too young to understand what he’s putting the ones around him through. Of course, a rebellious phase is healthy-

A prickly discomfort surges through your head and you clutch it. Your unexpected movement grabs everyone’s attention. You try to brush it off, not wishing to be a burden.

It isn’t expected of you to be one.

“Killua, you should stay here. The world is a dangerous place,” your words try to reach him. “Illumi is coming home today, why don’t we-”,

“I don’t want him around! Just leave me alone,” he angrily interrupts. The air grows heavy. Heavier than it’s been since the beginning.

Mother gasps in shock at his behaviour since Killua never really yells at you. Yes, he gets annoyed as much as any other kid but when he shouts, he doesn’t really mean it.

It’s expected of you to coerce him into calming down.

“You’ve changed during the past few weeks (Y/n), after Illumi came back before leaving again. Anyway, I will kill you all if you try to stop me,” Killua promises in a cold voice, his blue eyes a piercing ice.

This rouses an onslaught of insults from Milluki and a mix of agony and happiness from mother.

However, you’re currently stuck in your own mind, reflecting on Killua’s comment. It is true that during the past three weeks you doted on him more than ever before. Usually you try to split your attention between him and Kalluto when you have free time. What changed?

Nothing should have changed, Killua is the priority of the family.

A high-pitched scream echoes around the foyer and your clouded head awakens. The sight in front of you freezes your blood and it takes immense strength not to bite your tongue.

Mother is kneeling down on the ground, her hands covering her bloody face. Before you can take a step, Milluki rages and charges at Killua. The young boy bounces back and proceeds to plunge the knife into his older brother. Milluki curses and grabs his wound.

On impulse, your hand is already equipped with a knife and you’re ready to protect yourself as well as mother Killua.

Killua mistakes your movements as an attack and strikes his own knife across your arm. A long gash appears on your skin, the blood seeping out moments later. You take in the pain as punishment. Punishment for letting it get this far and failing.

You’re a failure.Failure.Failure.Failure.Failure.Failure.Failure.Failure.Failure.

Taking the chance to escape, he kicks his skateboard up and runs out.

And you were helpless to stop him.

It’s been a while since Illumi has been back home on Kukuroo mountain, his previous mission requiring him to travel across multiple locations. The target was a cautious person so they moved from place to place, leaving lousy decoys. That did not impede Illumi at all, it was simply an inconvenience at worst.

After all, nervous-wrecks are the ones who put their emotions out on display. They are the first to slip up due to the fact that they care about others.

Which is concerning because Killua is at a stage where he is showing his rebellious streak more often. It is crucial that he can snuff it out before his dear brother falls further down the slope of idiotic fantasies . In which case, it is a slight relief that (Y/n) is here. She tries to keep Killua in check in a subtle way instead of hanging over his shoulder or perpetuating his moody behaviour.

Though the last time he visited there were hints of her growing soft and losing her devotion of raising Killua to be the next head of the family. He is ashamed to confess that it irked him to some degree. It’s expected of her to put her desires down for what he wants. And he wants Killua to be the next head.

Even so, he thought that he dealt with this the last time.

However, imagine the surprise he felt when his mother came wailing to him, begging him to follow her little Kil to the Hunter’s Exam. To think that instead of a joyful family reunion, the news of his stray younger brother reached his ears before anything else.

That won’t do.

Currently, it’s close to midnight which is the time (Y/n) comes to his room to say goodnight. Why she even bothers is beyond him. The effort of keeping up with formalities could be used for better activities. It’s already indisputable that they are arranged to marry in the future at the request of his parents, so there is no reason to be close together in any romantic sense.

In fact, Killua will succeed as the head which is why there is no point in thinking about his own future.

A sigh leaves his mouth.

There is only one positive outcome that came out of this whole arrangement. He has an extra set of eyes and he’s sure that she will listen to him without question. All he has to do is play into these formalities and she’s wrapped around his finger.

An affectionate hug here, a tiny smile there...Normally he’d be concerned that a future Zoldyck , even if not by blood, would be so easy to deceive. However, since every carefully planned step is coming from him he’s not surprised in the slightest.

It’s expected of (Y/n) to be loyal, just as much as it’s expected for Killua to take over the family business.

The wooden clock hanging opposite his bed strikes 12 but there is no sign of (Y/n). She never runs late.

The fact that she hadn’t even greeted him when he came back is also unusual. Normally she’d be pacing in front of the entrance door but today his mother took over that role. He heard that she got injured by Killua but (Y/n) has experienced worse so what’s the fuss?

It’s not his problem, he’ll just take a bath before bed. She’ll come running eventually.

Illumi’s right arm is beginning to grow numb. He hasn’t moved from the water in over an hour. Not because he needed a break to relax, taking time off for yourself is inefficient. No, he hasn’t moved because he’s been waiting for the familiar steps and hesitant knock to come from outside his room.

Discerning who someone is from the sound of their footsteps and how they carry themselves is second nature to any professional assassin. For instance, Milluki hovers in one spot when walking while Kalluto creates soft patters with his toes.

On the other hand, (Y/n) always shuffles her feet forward just before his door. It takes her approximately 2 seconds to knock when she’s unsure, 1 second when she’s in a normal mood and 0.5 whenever she has news deemed worthy enough for him to hear. Reading the mood of someone before they see you face to face is important.

Coming to terms with the fact that today she won’t pay him a visit, he steps out of the bathtub, water dripping down his naked body. He throws on a plain black bathrobe and leaves the bathroom. Giving his bed a quick-over, he walks out the door.

Guess it’s time for him to pay a visit instead.

If he actually bothers and gives it some thought, it’s not a mystery as to why he hasn’t even seen her shadow today. She’s ashamed. Ashamed of being a failure for letting Killua go.

Her scrambled mind is most likely trying to piece together what she should say. How she should ask for forgiveness and repent.

He wonders if she’s starving herself or if she’s contemplating about going to the self-confinement room.

Normally he’d push her into whatever she makes up but a stick approach by itself won’t be enough. There needs to be a push and pull factor involved if he wants her to listen to him unconditionally.

And what better way than to appear before her, disheveled and still wet in his robe? She’ll jump to conclusions.

Further guilt will set in, how she unnecessarily worried him by skipping the usual goodnight. His state will continue feeding her imagination, connecting unrelated dots to make her believe that he cares for her.

Truly, a puppet and its real master.

Soaking footprints follow behind him on the floor, the dim candlelight making them difficult to notice. He knocks once before letting himself in and shutting the door, back turned to the only other person inside.

A small gasp penetrates the silence and a rush of steps follow suit, stopping just behind him.

“Illumi, welcome back,” (Y/n) is the first to speak. He stays silent.

A nervous shuffle. “Is..everything okay?”.

The voice quietens downs the more she speaks. That should be enough for now.

He turns around and looks down at her concerned face, with no emotion of his own. Her eyes widen a fraction after registering his condition. Before she can open her mouth to question him further, Illumi crinkles his eyes and smiles.

“It’s nothing. I was just worried since I didn’t see you today,” he gazes away, giving her enough time to fix her expression. It’ll be harder for him to get her to open up if she thinks that he sees through her lack of control.

“I missed you too-,”

Presumptuous to think that he missed her.

“-and I’m sorry for not saying anything. I just…,” she stops right before confessing her shortcoming.

He doesn’t provide her with any more time to compose herself, a full day is already generous. Grabbing the door handle he gives it a slight tug but her hand shuts it and pulls his sleeve. That’s new. (Y/n) rarely takes the initiative.

He allows her to drag him over to the bed, slightly curious about her next move. Is she trying to entertain him as an apology or simply trying to put distance between him and the door?

Both tactics aren’t half bad when it comes to simple targets.

He sits down on the covers and analyses her.

A long white nightdress, face ready for bed, barefoot, and a long knife wound going up her arm.

A shred of pride for Killua’s work passes through his head but he doesn’t showcase this. If by any chance she spotted the look, it would demolish the picture he wants to paint.

(Y/n) kneels down in front of him and takes his hand into hers. It’s warm, though not as soft as it used to be. Her breasts rest atop his knees.

His attention migrates from the sudden action to her face, looking for answers. He made sure that she will only expect affection coming from him, not the other way around. It would be too tiring to keep up a loving demeanour- no, scratch that. It wouldn’t be tiring but the expectations would eventually rise and it would result in less time spent on bringing up Killua.

Oh, he zoned out.

(Y/n)’s eyes are full of regret and desperation, the hand holding his trembling just enough to tell him that today’s event is eating at her. Is she waiting for him to say something?

Finally after what feels like an unprecedented amount of time, the scene unfolds.

Her smaller hand pulls his to her face and rests it against her cheek. The second his skin touches hers, he detects slight heat radiating. She must have not treated the cut. The knife was probably dirty too, Killua slacks off in that regard.

“I’m sorry for being a failure, I’m very sorry Illumi. I have no excuse,” the apology flows out of her mouth, bottom lip quivering. The pain of looking at someone she disappointed forces her eyes to shut close. Her free hand latches onto his thigh and she digs in before continuing.

“You can slash my other arm as punishment. Or hang me upside down in the self-containment room,” she throws out. “But please, please don’t give up on me. I can do better Illumi”.

And as if to prove how determined she is, her eyes open up again, staring deeply into his own. Unwavering. Confident.

Though the thumb that he has under her jaw gave the hammering pulse away.

1,2,3. 1,2. 1,2,3.

He stretched out the silence, pretending to ponder over his answer. The unsettling emotions influencing her thoughts will prove beneficial when he flips her assumption around.

He removes his hand from her cheek and moves the one on his thigh to her side. (Y/n) adopts a look of relief, believing that he agreed to her conditions of punishment. What he’s about to do is infinitely more cruel though.

She catches her breath when he follows her example and kneels in front of her. He pulls up the sleeve of her nightdress that’s slipping down before grabbing her shoulders, gently.

“How can I not give up on you when you give up on yourself,” he lectures her, peeking down at her wound. Make the target question their actions.

An expression of remorse adorns her face, a downward tug of the mouth.

He pulls her in, arms encircling and resting on her lower back. The material of the nightdress is light enough for him to make out the feeling of skin.

“Though I won’t give up on you.” Affirmation and a moment of reassurance.

One of his hands travels deliberately slowly up to her neck. It rests on the back of her head, fingers entangled in her hair. Illumi locates the present that he left her the last time he visited and pushes it back into her head. It has moved slightly out.

This prompts (Y/n) to hug him in response, her previously hanging arms now resting comfortably around him. Good, as for the finishing line.

“Though your failure is a disappointment, I know that you will not repeat the same mistake, because you

love me, right?”.

Her head moves to rest between the crook of his neck, nodding in agreement. She doesn’t ask him if he loves her.

It’s expected of her not to.

#illumi zoldyck #illumi x reader #illumi zoldyck x reader #hunter x hunter fanfiction #hunter x hunter #This took 2 long but now I can focus on other things yay

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admyral-dakka · 3 years

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Instructions Followed

Pyrrha finally had enough of Jaune not getting her hints and takes some advice from Nora, Yang and one of Blake's books.

Pyrrha: Oh Jaune~

The leader of JNPR looked up from his Scroll to see his partner in some casual attire. A pair of black yoga pants that hugged her just right, with a T-shirt with some letters on it and... Is that a choker she has on?

Jaune: Hey Pyrrha, you needed something?

Pyrrha gave a nod and made a small pose to show off her outfit.

Pyrrha: Just wanted to ask if you can read what my shirt says.

Jaune shrugged and obliged, standing up now as Pyrrha puffed her chest out a little more for Jaune. Of course, Jaune completely missed the growing blush on the Spartan's face and completely missed where exactly he was staring at, much to Pyrrha's hidden disappointment.

Jaune: Huh? It says, "Snap My Choker"

As Jaune finished reading his eyes left his partner's chest and moved towards her neck where a black choker was proudly on display. The blonde blinked a few times and Pyrrha saw the dots connecting in that skull of his before he spoke with a smirk.

Jaune: I mean, you just to had to ask me to do that for you Pyrrha.

The various emotions and feelings that mixed within Pyrrha in that moment were numerous, from nervousness and anticipation to embarrassment and excitement and she allowed Jaune to sit her on his bed and stood before her. She now looked up towards her leader as he had a kind smile on his face, even as she saw his hands moving towards her and felt the way they moved her head ever slightly upwards and allowed her eyes to close and remember the next moments. She allowed the sounds of Jaune's chuckles to echo in her head as she felt a slight tugging on the accessory that would soon be a scrap of cloth and leather.

...

A few minutes later

Nora and Ren were returning to the dorm room as they saw Jaune open the door with a smile on his face and greeted the pair when he saw them.

Jaune: Sup Ren, hey Nora, y'all getting back from training?

Nora: Yup, Ren even lasted longer than usual.

She gave the silent boy a pat on the back that was too strong as he started to cough now.

Nora: Anyways, what's that in your hand?

She pointed to the small strap that Jaune currently held onto.

Jaune: Oh, Pyrrha asked me to snap her choker earlier, so I did!

He held it proudly, but missed the surprised expressions of his teammates.

Nora: Pyrrha asked you to do that?

Jaune: Yup, and she was kinda speechless after I was done, so she's resting on my bed after I was finished. Wasn't even that difficult to do honestly.

Jaune chuckled as he scratched the back of his head. Nora and Ren simply looked at their leader in slight awe, guess being blunt really was a way to get through someone dense.

Jaune: Anyways, I'm gonna go get something to eat now so laters.

With a small wave towards them, Jaune walked away as the pair continued to look at the blonde boy until he turned a corner out of view.

Nora was the first to quickly enter the dorm room to see just what kind of aftermath Jaune had left Pyrrha in, but instead of a messy scene, it was Pyrrha. Sitting on Jaune's bed with a blank look in her eyes and she seemed to be staring at the wall, as if it held the answers she so desperately seeked.

Nora: Pyrrha you okay?

Pyrrha only let out defeated sigh and mumbled.

Pyrrha: He snapped my choker. With his hands. Just snapped it with ease...

The girl then began to let out empty chuckles as she repeated those same words. Ren and Nora only shared a worried look with eachother, clearly their leader was oblivious on continental proportions.

---

Unknown to the trio, their leader wasn't in the cafeteria, but in the forest.

Jaune: Why the Hell is she such a damn seductress!

The accent of being raised in the frontier oozing back in after hiding it with the normal Valean one.

His mama warned him about city girls being alot wilder than ladies on the frontier. Plus his ma and pa did raise a Gentleman, so if he was gonna date Pyrrha, which he didn't shy away from the idea of. He was gonna do it his way, the Arc way.

Jaune: That is if my will can last long 'nuff that is.

He recalled the way Pyrrha looked, the almost hungry expression in her eyes and the implication of her previous request as he blushed a mighty storm.

Jaune: Brothers give me strength and Pa give me courage.

#jaune arc #pyrrah nikos #lie ren #nora valkyrie #rwby textpost #Jaune has the Giddyup in him #arkos

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heyhey-heyward · 4 years

Text

WHAT WE WANT | part one

THE INVITATION

summary: You’ve always had a complicated relationship with JJ Maybank. Complicated in the sense that JJ has always had a crush on you and is unable to express it in other ways than shameless flirting.

word count: 1.5k

series masterlist

If you’re a tourist on the Outer Banks looking for some place to eat, you’re probably going to end up at The Wreck. If you’re a strapped for cash teenager named JJ, Pope, or John B looking to score a free meal, you’re also probably going to end up at The Wreck.

Which is where the three found themselves as their fourth member, Kiara, the daughter of the owner of The Wreck, finished her shift. They were at a table in the back, halfway through lunch and trying their hardest to not be too rowdy and get kicked out. Kiara told her dad she was taking a break and shoved herself into the booth with the boys.

“Kegger tonight?” John B questioned out of the blue, pausing his game of throwing fries at Pope as he tried to catch them in his mouth. So far, they had been unsuccessful—evident by the way the ground around them was littered with fries.

“That’s a good idea.” JJ pointed at his best friend since the third grade with a grin that seemed to always spell trouble. And without further deliberation, it was settled. The Pogues would throw a party in celebration of absolutely nothing.

The door opened and a new customer entered, though that didn’t catch the attention of the group. JJ, who was seated in the same side of the booth as John B, both had their backs to the door. Neither bothered to turn around, assuming that it was just another tourist stopping in to escape the summer heat. That was, until, the newcomer spoke up and JJ recognized the voice immediately.

“Hey, Mr. C.” The cheery voice called, and JJ spun around so fast in his seat his friends were genuinely worried that he might have given himself whiplash.

Y/N Y/L/N. A name more renowned on The Cut than Maybank or Routledge or Heyward, you knew everyone and their mother on the island. If something broke, they called you and within five minutes you’d be able to tell them what’s wrong and how to fix it. You learned from your father, who owned the best auto shop on the island.

“Well, what’s the verdict?” Mr. Carrera asked as you approached the counter that he stood behind. He had called you to take a look at one of his old generators that hadn’t been working properly, and you had been out back working on it.

“One of the parts rusted so bad it stopped working, but I’ve already called to order a new one. I’ll let you know when it arrives.” You explained, giving him the short version of what you had accomplished.

“You’re a lifesaver, here’s lunch as payment.” Mr. C grinned, putting a container of your usual order on the counter. Usually, you charged Kooks, but his cooking was good enough that you overlooked it. You grinned, thanking him before turning to leave. Before you could get too far, someone called your name. You recognized the four faces that sat around the table that the sound originated from, and made your way over to them with a smile.

“Hey, guys, what’s up?” You asked as approached. John B had been the one to call out to you. You knew him from school and hung out together at parties every once in a while, but you were never the closest. Across from him sat Pope, who you had studied with on a few occasions and even helped his dad deliver groceries when you needed the extra money. Beside him was Kiara, who you didn’t know all too well since she went to the Kook Academy. Still, you liked the girl from what you had seen of her.

And then there was JJ, whose stare you were actively avoiding. It wasn’t that you had anything against him, it was just the fact that each time you crossed paths he would flirt with you if given the chance. And you were trying really hard to not give him the chance.

Because as much as you had a reputation on The Cut, so did JJ Maybank.

Looking past his family tree of smugglers and whatnot, he had made a name for himself among the tourist girls that visited the Outer Banks. He was famous for his one night stands with Tourons that would leave in a week and he’d never see again. Ever since you had met him, he had been trying to get you to be one more of his conquests.

And as tempting as his bright blue eyes were, you were determined not to let yourself be just another notch in his bedpost.

“Are you busy later today?” John B asked, ignoring the way JJ elbowed him. You shook your head, mentally running through your schedule for the day. The Carrera’s generator had been the last thing booked for the day, knowing you needed to run some errands for your father before heading back home, leaving your evening free. “Could you look at the HMS Pogue? Something is wrong with the engine and I can’t figure it out.”

“No problem.” You waved him off. It wasn’t unusual for you to work on John B’s boat, it probably would have been scrapped for parts if it weren’t for your repairs. You were a saving grace among the old equipment that many Pogues owned.

“We’re throwing a kegger after, so if you want, you can come with us after.” John B offered. You grinned, it had been awhile since you had let loose, too busy working to help keep your parents afloat like most teenagers on The Cut.

“Yeah, that sounds good. I’ve got to run, but text me when you want me to come by.” You called as you started backing away from the table. After receiving a nod from John B, you moved to smile at the other three sitting around the table. Before you could stop it, your gaze locked with JJ’s and in the split second it took for you to turn around, he shot you a wink that made your heart rate spike. As you left the restaurant, you couldn’t help but wonder just why the blond had such an effect on you, even when you so adamantly wanted to avoid him.

“How can you do that?” JJ turned to John B with an incredulous look on his face as soon as the door shut behind you. He was met with an amused and slightly confused look from his best friend, who was having a hard time figuring out what was so out of the ordinary.

“What, talk to her?” John B questioned, a look of realization crossing over his face. He’d seen the way JJ looked at you, and he was quickly connecting the dots.

“Talk to her like, I don’t know, she’s one of us! That’s Y/N Y/L/N, practically Pogue royalty.” JJ gushed, waving his hands around dramatically to drive home the point that he thought you were something spectacular. “I’ve been trying to get with her for months, bro, and she won’t give me the time of day.”

“That’s because she’s smart, J.” Kiara teased, reaching across the table to ruffle his already messy hair for added annoyance. JJ scoffed, running his hands through his hair dramatically to try and get it back to its previous unstyled style.

“And she’s really nice, and offering to fix the boat for free, so you better not ruin this for me by sleeping with her.” John B threateningly pointed a fry at JJ as he spoke. The blond surprised the whole table by flushing at the brunet’s words, glancing down at the table to try and hide his embarrassment.

JJ Maybank had a reputation of being a player. And yes, he did hookup with Tourons after most parties—but he thought you were different. Ever since he had seen you for the first time at The Boneyard laughing loudly at something someone had said, he was done for. You were the first girl that he wanted something more with, the first girl that made him not make fun of other couples because you were the first girl that made him realize he wanted what they had.

“Shut up, does my little JJ have a crush?” Kiara cooed, and John B went to pinch JJ’s cheeks, but the blond was faster and slapped his hands away.

“No, I don’t! She’s just cool, I wouldn’t do something like that to her.” JJ mumbled. He wondered why he couldn’t just stop himself from talking, but then he pictured your smile once more and the corner of his lips quirked up subconsciously.

“Yeah, JJ, that’s because you have a crush on her.” Pope joined in on the teasing, and JJ decided that he had enough and tossed his balled up napkin at his friend.

“Don’t we have a party to get ready for?”

—

taglist:

@pixelated-pogues @bailspogue @delilahandshawn @annedub @shawnssongs @beautyandthebleh @kylosleftbuttcheek @sunflowerbecca @maybankiara @mimithefangirl25 @deviouscharitos @drewstarkeyobx @starryblueeyesandstarryblueskies @ihatemyself21 @sunwardsss @kayak-huesgen

tags with a strikethrough didn’t work

let me know what you think !!

#jj maybank #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank series #outer banks #outer banks imagine #outer banks x reader #outer banks series #what we want series

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some-cookie-crumbz · 3 years

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Berry Blast

Berry Blast Fandom: My Hero Academia Pairing: TodoMomo Summary: TodoMomo Positivity Week Day 3 Prompt Fill: Direct partner piece for my previous day fill [here] but can be read as a stand alone. After agreeing to an anniversary picnic, Momo begins stressing about what she should bring along. She isn’t exactly the most domestic of women, after all. Thankfully, she has a little bit of help of her own to get things sorted out. Standard Disclaimer: If you read and enjoy this, please give it a like/ reblog so I know if I should write more.

When Shoto had first suggested to Momo that they spend their first anniversary having a little picnic together, she’d been delighted. The idea of the two of them settling in for a homemade lunch together was something straight out of one of the shojo mangas Mina and Tooru had gotten her hooked on! And to think that Shoto had insisted on preparing all the food himself? Well, that had her swooning all over again. After all, what could possibly be sweeter than a boyfriend preparing a humble lunch for his girlfriend?

And then the thought struck her; shouldn’t she bring something as well?

Drinks seemed simple enough, so she made a note in the back of her mind to pick some up on her way. That, however, seemed far too simple. And impersonal. She wanted to do something just as sincere and thoughtful as what Shoto was doing for her! Then, her mind jumped over to the idea of sweets. They were the most frequently offered gift when a young lady was interested in a young man. That thought then led her to the conclusion of dessert. Why, she could surely bake something to bring along! A homemade dessert would be a perfect partner to a homemade picnic lunch!

And so, she got to work!... And very quickly hit a few roadblocks.

Her initial thought was to make something like a strawberry shortcake. She remembered that Shoto enjoyed that strawberries were a mix of sweet and tart. He liked sweet things on occasion, but he had expressed that too much tended to give him an upset stomach. She had picked up the ingredients but then read another article online that expressed that the one-year mark was something that warranted going that extra little bit to make it even more spectacular, that often times this anniversary could make or break a relationship.

So she cast that idea aside and decided to try something different.

Upon looking into things more, she selected macarons, as they could be various flavors and colors, meaning she could customize them as she wanted. She encountered trouble with separating the egg whites and then with consistency issues. She scrapped that and then moved on to making chocolate souffles. She tried two separate batches but couldn’t get them to rise properly, regardless of what she tried. Momo changed gears at that point and decided to pick a treat that was a testament to her partner; baked Alaska! She had figured that he could be able to safely set the treat on fire once they were actually ready for it. However, when she tried to bake in the ice cream, it completely melted. And that wasn’t even covering the problems she encountered trying to prepare the meringue for the dish!

So, then she decided to try a lemon meringue pie instead. That, she reasoned, would also be a bit more Shoto’s style, as it was a better blend of sweetness and tartness. She had heard that pies could be incredibly tricky to an untrained hand, but she wasn’t worried. After all, it couldn’t be half as hard as fighting villains or training under Aizawa-Sensei! She had done those things with the greatest of ease so she could rise to this occasion!

Or so she’d thought when she started. Instead, she ended up hunched over the counter, on the verge of frustrated tears, unable to miss the whispers of the kitchen staff just outside the kitchen proper.

“Should we be concerned?”

��That’s, what, the fourth attempt she’s made?”

“Well, at least this time she didn’t set anything on fire?”

“No, instead she just managed to under cook it to the point it’s more liquid than anything else. Like, it is as runny and drippy as my son’s nose gets when he’s got a cold,”

“Oh, hush! The young miss is trying her best!”

She squeezed her eyes shut tighter, taking a deep breath to calm herself and try to block out the commentary. Yes, she didn’t have a lot of experience with baking, but it couldn’t be that hard! Sato-Kun at school baked all the time and never had nearly as much trouble as all this! He made treats like these for their peers all the time! That was many more people than she was aiming for! So… Why? Why couldn’t she get this right?

She jumped when there was a gentle hand patting at her head, followed by a familiar voice asking, “Now, what’s all this, Momochi?”

Momo pushed herself up and looked at the older man beside her in shock. “Father… I thought you and Mother were going to be away for four days,” she said in lieu of a proper greeting.

He chuckled, shifting to lean more heavily on the cane in his other hand. “Ah, well, you know how your mother can be. She tends to push projects along to a more streamlined process,” he said before reaching out and brushing a thumb under her eye to wipe away the tears threatening to spill. “Now, what’s got you so distressed?”

She felt heat creep up along her cheeks. “I-I was… Well, uh, you see-!”

“Honestly, Momo,” Another voice chimed in, “what is all of this fuss about? And this mess! If you wanted to have some kind of exotic snack you should have asked one of the chefs. We hired them for a reason.”

Momo averted her gaze to her hands, fingers fiddling with the edge of the messy apron she was adorning. Of course Mother had opinions about this. “I was… Trying to prepare something on my own,” she mumbled.

“What for?” she asked with a raised brow.

“My boyfriend and I are having our one year anniversary tomorrow,” she explained, her fidgeting getting worse as she spoke, “So I wanted to make something myself to share with him.”

Mother’s face screwed up in confusion, her head tilting slightly. “Boyfriend?”

“Yes, dear! Shoto-Kun, remember?” Father said, already moving to and fro in the kitchen as best as he could with the cane. He was rummaging through one of the pantries in search of something but perked back up as he closed the door. “Well, I suppose you wouldn’t. We only know of him from Momochi’s stories and the sports festival footage. We really should work to fix that. If you two are committed enough to be together for a year, it only makes sense we have a dinner at some point to meet him properly.” He nodded to himself at that before opening another drawer and plucking out the matryoshka doll-inspired measuring cups he’d bought shortly after Momo’s Quirk had manifested.

Back then, before Father fell ill, Momo remembered spending afternoons in the kitchen with him while he prepared all manner of snacks for her to choose from. Those measuring cups had been selected specifically to be used for her treats and her treats alone.

“Ah, that’s right… Endeavor-Sama’s boy,” Mother said, clearly remembering at least one conversation they’d had about it before. She then scowled as she watched Father continued rummaging through the cabinets and drawers. “Umeo… What are you doing? You are supposed to be resting.”

“And I’ll rest after helping Momo with this, Mikan,” he said with a small smile as he set the measuring cups down on the counter in front of Momo. He turned to face her with a bright smile on his face. “Our daughter will only get to celebrate her first year anniversary with her boyfriend once, you know.”

Some of the harshness in Mother’s expression dwindled at that, some of her sharper edges dulling. Father always seemed to have a way about drawing that expression from her. “... Very well. But I am going to have someone here to monitor that you do not overdo it,”

“Of course, of course! Now, let’s see… I know I left the recipe book around here somewhere,” he grumbled, moving to open another drawer.

Mother shook her head, a small smile turned up on her lips as Father released a satisfied cry and held the book up appraisingly. Her gaze shifted back to her only daughter, maintaining that same delicacy that Father had brought out. “And, Momo?” She nodded tentatively at being addressed. “Congratulations on reaching such a significant milestone in your relationship.” With that, Mother squared her shoulders and walked back out of the kitchen, pausing briefly to nudge one of the eavesdropping chefs in to monitor things.

“Thank you, Mother,” she called after her. When she turned back around, Father had replaced the cook book she’d been using with his own and was flipping pages. “Ah, Father! I’m going to be doing this on my own!”

“Oh, my apologies! I promise I’m not trying to step on your toes or take charge; just getting the section pulled up for you, Momochi,” he said before carefully moving to a chair the assisting chef hurriedly dragged over. Sometimes she was astounded at how a man so ill could still be so spry.

She instead turned her attention to which section in his recipe book he’d opened to, tilting her head slightly. “Hmm? These are… So simple,”

“Simple, yes, but always a crowd pleaser,” he chuckled.

“But… I wanted to do something… bigger, I suppose? These are just… incredibly basic,” she said, unable to mask the disappointment in her tone.

“There’s nothing wrong with something simpler, dear,” he said, motioning her to approach him. When she was close enough, he took her hands and gave a small squeeze, smiling widely up at her. “Love isn’t always about grand, sweeping gestures or flashy gifts. Sometimes, the most significant shows of love are in the simple, in the basics.” There was something in his smile as he glanced from her to the entryway where Mother had left through. The gleam in his eyes was one of pure adoration, she knew, and couldn’t help but feel a small smile turn up on her own lips as he turned back to face her. Of all the things Momo knew in this world, the love between her parents was the most comforting to her. “When you’re young and inexperienced, love always seems like something that’ll solve everything, make every day good. That’s what movies and books and everything else tells you, after all. And… That’s only true to some extent. Sometimes, Momo, love is about comfort and familiarity. After all, when you love someone, you know them as well as yourself. Sometimes the best shows of love are in remembering little things, like how they take their coffee.”

She blinked before squeezing his hands in return gently. “Shoto-Kun likes strawberries, so… I want to make something with those in them,”

“Ah, I think I know something that’ll be perfect for you then. I believe it’s on page 53,”

She did as he said, lighting up at the recipe she found, before scurrying over the the fridge to make sure she had all the necessary ingredients to get started.

……………………………………………………………..

Momo let out a small, contented sigh as she took a small sip from her lemonade. “Thank you so much for the lovely lunch, Shoto-Kun,” she hummed happily, placing her empty bento in his waiting hands.

“To be honest,” he said, a faint blush to his cheeks as he started putting their things away, “it wasn’t all me. I had help from Fuyumi-Nee and Nezumi-San. I wanted to make sure the food was actually… Well, edible.”

“I’m sure it would have been fine, regardless,” she argued politely.

He flashed her one of his signature dead-pan stares. “You have too much faith in me, Momo,”

She giggled a bit before turning to rummage through her own bag of goodies. “Well, if we’re being honest… Father helped me with the cookies. Or, rather, Father helped me decide what to make and then assured I followed the proper process to make them,” she said as she pulled out the tupperware container and peeled the lead off. She held it towards him, her heart fluttering nervously in her chest. “Here, please try one.”

“Thank you,” he said, taking one and looking it over. She saw how his eyes lit up when he noticed the strawberry chunks sticking out. The recipe wasn’t anything revolutionary - just a simple strawberry shortcake cookie with cream cheese filling - but she hoped that the care she’d taken in their preparation would make up for that. For as much as Father had reassured her about the gesture not needing to be extravagant, she still couldn’t completely quell her nervousness. She watched as he took a bite, eyes widening as he chewed, before tossing the rest of the cookie into his mouth eagerly. “These are delicious. Really delicious.”

“You like them?”

“Very much, yes. The combination of strawberries and cream cheese is just sweet enough,” he said while grabbing to take out two more cookies, taking a bite out of one the second the words left his mouth. He swallowed his bite and smiled at her. “Thank you for preparing these, Momo.”

“My pleasure, Shoto-Kun,” she hummed, plucking a cookie out for herself and resting her head against his shoulder. As she took a bite, she sent a silent thanks to Father for both the recipe and his advice.

#My Hero Academia #TodoMomo #Yaoyorozu Momo #Todoroki Shoto #TodoMomo Positivity Week #my fics #I gave Momo's parents names that are also fruits #Because I fookin can #Fun fact: This was the hardest prompt to figure out for me lmao

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immortalcoelacanth · 4 years

Text

PTA: Science Team (HLVRAI Fic 1/3)

*pulls dusty story out of garage and drops it into Tumblr*

I have been trying to finish the first chapter for AGES, and I finally got it done! I crave PTA AU content due to the wholesomeness and angst, and I just had to work on one short fic for this fandom. So, welcome to the first chapter out of three!

Word count: 1788

Summary: PTA meetings are a sham and no one hates them more than Gordon, but upon being forced to miss a “mandatory” meeting because of work, Benrey comes up with a brilliant idea to deal with this problem.

Chapter 1: Hostile Arrangements Require Equally Hostile Solutions

“Fuck! Shit! Okay-okay, I’ll just-motherfucker she did what?!”

Cursing was in Gordon’s nature. He often used it as a way to express his angry, dismay, shock, and all sorts of other negative emotions. As such it was not unusual to see pacing about and spitting insults left and right.

What was unusual, however, was the fact that he was cursing in his own home. He had a strict swearing free zone in effect as a way to stop Joshua from picking up on any foul language, including a swear jar that tended to fill up whenever Bubby visited. It was quite fortunate that Joshua was currently being distracted by Benrey as the pair had been playing video games together for the past hour or so.

Or they had been until, in a surprising display of stealth, Benrey crept out of the young boy’s room and slowly approached the frustrated Gordon.

Gordon, who was currently continuing to quietly yell into his cell phone.

“Are you kidding me?! I was scheduled for a meeting on the weekend! I have work tonight! How in the FUCK did she-”

“psssst, hey, hey feetman. you might wanna chill out there and, uh, stuff. turn down the volume.” Benrey cut in while pointing the tv remote at Gordon and clicking the volume button. “don’t wanna be a bad boy and teach joshie any naughty words.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Gordon sighed, no real anger in his voice before redirecting his attention back to the phone call. “No, not you Natasha, it was just Benrey-”

“tell tasha her cookies are baller.”

“Wha-baller? Who the fuck says baller anymore?!”

“c’moooooooon man, be a bro.”

“Natasha I am so sorry-tell her that yourself!”

“i can’t feeman, you know i don’t have a phone.”

“YOU WERE THE ONE WHO STUCK IT IN THE MICROWAVE!”

“i-i was just chagrin’ the battery with those radio waves, man. ads… they never lie.”

Laughter could be heard coming from the phone in response to the conversation going on between the two men. It was enough to snap Gordon out of his somewhat enraged state and refocus on whatever it was that Natasha was telling him. He gestured for Benrey to leave and only succeeded in shooing the ex-guard to the kitchen so he could have some peace.

Not that the peace lasted long based on the muttered cursing and general sounds of Gordon stomping around.

About ten minutes later, the frustrated physicist joined him in the kitchen, quickly making himself a cup of coffee and grumbling under his breath. Welp, looked like this was the perfect moment for some interrogation.

“soooooo, wha was that about?” Benrey asked as he took another bite of the block of cheese he had been digging into. If you asked him, he’d say it tasted pretty gouda.

Damn, he needed to torment Gordon with more puns again.

“Fucking-” Gordon exhaled sharply and ran a hand through his messy hair, too angry to noticed how Benrey reached out and gently pulled at some of the locks, watching them bounce and resume their previously curly shape. “Linda.”

Well, there went his good mood.

Benrey’s eyes immediately narrowed, becoming nothing more than glowing slits in his shadowy face, as a disgruntled frown replaced his previous smile. Even the cheese in his hand seemed to start burning, smoke wafting off it as it began to melt in response to the sheer anger that name invoked in him.

Linda Smith, the scourge of the neighborhood and one of the most uptight, pieces of shit that Benrey had ever encountered. A narcissist with a massive superiority complex, she constantly put down everyone around her who she thought of as being inferior.

Which was just a cover for how much of a racist shitwad she was, plus there were the various comments she made about fags invading the neighborhood.

An obvious insult aimed at not just Gordon and Benrey, but the other “not normal” couples that lived here and there. Poor Joshua had overheard some of the insults on multiple occasions, and she had called the kid a mutt to his face-

“Benrey? You wanna calm down before you poke holes in the ceiling again?”

Fortunately, Gordon’s exasperated voice snapped Benrey out of his enraged state before he accidentally inflicted more damage to the kitchen. A place that had seen many, many small explosions and fires. At this point, he towered over the other man as sharpened, boney spikes poked out of his back and scrapped the ceiling. Plaster fell and dusted the countertop.

“oops, s-sorry dude.” Benrey awkwardly shrugged, flesh dripping from his arms and face in a rather gruesome display, not that Gordon was bothered by this. He was used to how… horrific his partner could become.

Especially when someone mentioned Joshua being hurt or insulted in any way. It was actually quite wholesome thinking about how much Benrey cared about the young boy and how much their friendship had bloomed since they first met.

“I get it.” Gordon sighed. “She’s such a bitch she’d make anyone Hulk out.”

“ten points for the ref there, feetman.”

The physicist somewhat seriously flipped Benrey off, making him laugh, before continuing to rant about the purpose of the now finished phone call.

“I still can’t believe that stupid school listened to her, and I’m not the only one getting fucked over here!” He spat. “I can’t just drop out-”

It was at this moment that the source of Gordon’s rage dawned on Benrey, and the ex-guard spoke up. “wait, the school thingy?”

“You mean meeting?”

“ya.”

Gordon groaned and hid his face in his hands. “The MEETING! Linda fucked up my schedule! I don’t know what she said to the administrator, but they canceled the weekend meeting I was booked for and rescheduled me for tonight. When I have WORK!”

Benrey winced in sympathy and reached out to pat Gordon’s shoulder with his not cheese coated hand. “damn, th-that’s a real cringe move. can’t you get, uh, joshie’s mom to take care of it? s...shea?”

“I can’t,” Gordon muttered, face muffled by his hands. “Shea’s been on a business trip for some conference and she gets back in five days.”

“oooooh, that’s why you’ve had little josh bro for so long?”

Rather than respond, the physicist just continued to groan and hide his face in his hands as he tried to figure out how to fix the mess he had been caught up in.

Joshua’s school had a very… specific structure to how it was run. Standard funding and where it would be directed was determined by the staff, however, sometimes the school would receive donations or raise large amounts of money through fairs and other events.

And it was how this extra funding would be spent that the local community had the chance to weigh in on. Determining if it should be used to get more sports supplies, help fund after school programs, or be used to help make the school more accessible.

The ramp that had been added two years ago was one such example of the potential good that these extra funds had, however there was one problem with this process.

All parents were required to attend a meeting and voice their thoughts. This was a rather new development that had been added after a small group of disgruntled parents, ones who had objected to using the extra funds to improve the school and arguing that it should go towards planning fun trips instead, had tried to sue the school board.

Of course, the case had immediately been thrown out and dismissed, but it had set a dangerous precedent. A precedent that now made it mandatory for all parents to attend one meeting to determine their opinions on where the funding should be used and write it down so they could not claim their voices had not been heard.

Honestly, it was such a stupid arrangement in Gordon’s opinion. Why not just send out an email? Or forms that kids could take home to their parents. It was so… disruptive and annoying, especially for single parents who had to work long hours.

Like him.

His hands tensed, nails nearly dug into his skin before Benrey carefully moved them, holding them. As Gordon looked up, the ex-guard sent him an awkward yet warm smile. An attempt at reassuring him that things would turn out alright.

“hey... you-you gotta chillax feetman, things’ll be okay-”

“How the hell am I supposed to chillax in this situation?!” Gordon barked as he removed his hands from Benrey’s, shoved himself out of his seat, and began pacing around, furiously staring at the floor.

“I’ve been fucked over by some racist bitch! Joshua needs someone there and it has to be someone who has some kind of guardianship over him for that stupid funding bullshit!”

As his partner raged on about the unfairness and overall stupidity of the situation, Benrey decided that it was time to think. To think, and plot, and come up with something that would hopefully calm Gordon down while solving the problem that Linda had caused.

Simply put, Joshua needed someone who had designated guardianship over him to be present during the meeting to act in his best interests. Not surprisingly, Benrey did not have this title due as both he and Gordon had agreed that it would not be the best idea due to both his inhumane nature and the potential destruction he might cause.

But, that did not mean that only Shea and Gordon were listed as the young boy’s guardians. There was one other who had been granted the title in case of an emergency, although his presence had never been needed up until this point, which was probably why Gordon had forgotten about him in his stressed out state.

Dr. Coomer, one of Joshua’s “grandpas”.

And, of course, if one member of the Science Team went somewhere, then the rest had to follow. The Science Team stuck together through thick and thin, no matter the strife or struggle and always left chaos in their wake.

Hostile arrangements required equally hostile solutions, after all.

“this is gonna be baller.” Benrey chuckled, his eyes flashing brightly at the brilliance of his plan. Now all he had to do was get Gordon to agree to it.

“pssst, yo, xen to gaydon.”

There was something about the tone that Benrey’s voice took on that snapped Gordon out of his ranting. How calm and collected he sounded, the coherency and confidence in his words. Somewhat concerned, the physicist turned around and saw the scheming look in the ex-guard’s glowing eyes as his fingers drummed on the table.

“feetman, i got a plan.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

I would like to make it clear that no offense is intended towards anyone named Linda, aside from the one racist Linda I know that she was named after who will never, ever read this so my sins will forever remain unknown :>

#my story #fanfiction #hlvrai #hlvrai gordon #hlvrai benrey #pta au #humor #quick warning that a racist and homophobic character is mentioned #and as such her crimes of using slurs are used #chapter one of three

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tarithenurse · 5 years

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Orphan - 5

Starring: Fem!Reader and MCU characters! Contents: Spoilers for Endgame!! Good intentions, awkwardness, feels. A/N: PREVIOUS CHAPTERS can be found on the masterlist. Thanks for likes and reblogs and comments <3

5. Tea and Fate

There’s a fuzziness enveloping your mind that makes everything appear to happen at a slower pace than usual, voices distant and warped. You have to force every movement before your body begrudgingly accepts to carry it out, clumsily too, so it’s a miracle you don’t break anything before breakfast is over. At least the two big kids seem to be similarly slow this morning. Why’s he so hyper? Glancing at the little Nathaniel over your cup of coffee, it strikes you as unnatural how he can be so cheerful, constantly babbling about the things he is planning to do during the day as he bounces on the chair.

“– and then can we go down t’the creek and catch tadpol’th? You wanna come, [Y/N]?”

Huge, pleading eyes are staring at you and suddenly it makes sense when people talk about puppy eyes because not even a golden retriever would be able to reach the levels of cuteness the sticky, noisy kid just achieved. Scrambling for words (preferably a nice way to turn him down), you find yourself stuttering and mumbling before Laura saves you.

“There won’t be any tadpoles now, sweetie. It’s fall, and they’ve all grown up into toads and frogs.” She glances at you with an apologetic smile. “And I think, perhaps, [Y/N] needs a bit of time to get used to being here.”

What I need is a nap. Instead of saying it, you just nod with an attempt at a noncommitting smile that might not have amounted to anything more than a grimace of questionable characteristic. A nap and a plan.

… Morgan …

Uncle Rhodes and mommy have gone into the kitchen and shut the door, leaving Happy as the only entertainment.

“I’m booooooored!” Morgan mutters, mainly to herself because the first attempts at getting the gummy-bear of a man to play with her have failed already. “Can I go play on my own?”

It takes a moment for him to react. “Huh? What, yeah…just stay in the house, ‘kay bug?”

She answers with a cheer and a wave, already bouncing up the stairs to fetch her favourite teddy bear and the space stone from aunt Nebula – you never know what you’re going to need when going on an adventure (even if it’s indoors).

…

Someway or other, Morgan doesn’t quite know how, the exploration has brought her to daddy’s work room where the broad table hums invitingly. He never keeps any of his tools in the house, they’ve all been banished to the shed except this one and all the boring books and papers. Sure enough. Resting the chin on the edge of the humming piece of furniture, she can see a stack of folders on one side and a few scraps with scribbles and lines looking like a robot…or a dog.

Daddy’s things aren’t toys. Crawling up into the soft swivel chair, she enjoys a few rounds before allowing the two treasures to take part in the joy of the secret carousel…now and then stealing a glance between the messy strands of hair at the table. Not toys.

He has used it so many times even with Morgan around. A pat in that corner. A wave of the hand. Blue light fills the room in the middle of the day, making the girl think of the swimming pool at grandma’s and grandpa’s.

“Hello, Morgan.”

The voice is so nice and sweet even if the little girl just did something she isn’t supposed to. “Hi, Fwiday.” Morgan doesn’t blush. Almost never.

“What can I help you with, sweetheart?”

The answering question pops out all on its own. “Where’s dad? Mom keeps cwying ‘cause he’s gone.”

“Oh, sweetie…”

… Reader …

You had never quite imagined that you’d be doing a conference call with a handful of heroes while sitting on the hood of an old John Deere in a barn. There’s a shit ton of things I’ve never imagined. Looking over at Clint, sprawled in the seat and with the feet up on the steering wheel, you could almost be lulled into a sense of calm. That things aren’t completely deranged.

Time and again, you’ve felt like an amateur ice dancer trying to keep your life in balance despite the odds so you shouldn’t be feeling as lost as you do. And still…this time you have no counterweight, no place to call home and no person to guide you through the fog. The voices are familiar, in some twisted kind of way, talking gently as if that magically will calm your nerves…but they don’t know how it does exactly the opposite because they sound condescending just like the overbearing social workers and potential adoptive parents that turned you down for no other reason than being too old. For not looking enough like them that you could pass as their “real” kid on a photograph.

“She’s gotten a copy of the files,” Rhodes is explaining, “to go over with her attorney.”

To see if I’m good enough, if she really has to be stuck with me? “Why?” The question leaves the line silent. “I’m not asking for inheritance…or to be part of her life! I just...”

The sympathetic look Clint gives you is almost worse than the unanswered questions and you close your eyes to it. Deep breaths. Pictures of Tony Stark dance in your mind together with memories of your mother, each of them sporting features that you would be able to point out when looking in a mirror. Like when I was a kid.

Time and again, before the aliens attacked New York, you had conjured up an imaginary world where you had both a mom and a dad – the latter being none other than Tony Stark. In that world, you all lived together, and your mom would say that you had her looks and your dad’s smarts which would make him laugh and pull both of you into a hug. In that fairy-tale –

A hand brushes your arm gingerly, waking you with a start from the reveries – lost long ago in the smouldering rubble of a tiny apartment – to find Clint’s face a foot from yours. Keen eyes study every twitch of the brow, maybe even counting the blackheads on your nose, and you pull back in annoyance.

“Y’okay there?” he asks low enough that people listening in won’t hear.

What do you care? “Sure.” Clearing you voice, it’s all you can do to return the attention to the phone. “As I said…I just needed to know if it was true.”

“If need be, would you be willing to do a DNA-test?” You already recognize the voice as the Hulk’s.

A non-committal shrug before you realize they can’t see it. “Sure.”

…

From your spot on the bed on the second floor, you can look out over the field stretching towards the forest. Everything is drenched, covered by sheer greyness that makes the grasses bow and the fallen leaves stick to each other as if hoping the wind won’t be able to move them. The sun is setting somewhere beyond this drab world, but no colours of rose gold and purple reach this far to warm your body now the layers of borrowed clothes and a musty blanket don’t cut it.

You can hear the bubbling giggle that erupts sporadically from Nathaniel. This time you hear Cooper too, a boyish version of his mother…when he can drag himself out of the teenage moods, at least. He’s not that bad, according to your limited experience of kids in full families, just kind of sullen with a tendency to walk away when bothered. Like whenever I enter the room. He’d barely stayed in the seat to finish breakfast. At lunch he’d walked in, seen you, and declared not to be hungry before leaving.

Some people might think it was a relief that Lila sat through the meal, but the glaring was tough to ignore. What’ve I done to them? Your eyes prickle dangerously, and your nose is close to dripping too, callously ignoring the deep breaths and stubborn, unspoken promises that you don’t care. I don’t. It’s not like you haven’t gone through these things before back when you were their age, finding kids scowling at you for no apparent reasons. It’s better than pity. There’s plenty of that to go around and –

*knock knock*

Startled by the sound, body trying to crawl in on itself to feel small and inconspicuous, you hold your breath in the hopes that you heard wrong, but it happens again. Slow but resolute knocking.

“[Y/N]?” Even though she’s rarely spoken to you, the voice of Lila is easily recognizable. “Can I…is’t okay if I c’m’in?”

I’m an adult. I gotta act like one. Any wetness by the eyes is hastily rubbed away. “Sure.” Clear and steady.

The door creaks after ears of disuse, allowing the appearance of the back of Lila’s shoulder as she slides the elbow off the handle. Huh? The moment there’s room, she turns to reveal a little tray with two enormous cups of something steaming and a little tray of cookies. A shy smile, shoulders carefully rising before being lowered with a newfound confidence as you return the silent greeting by making room on the bed for the girl.

Outside, the rain fights to break the grey haze obscuring the world but in reality adding to it. The flaming colours that had managed to maintain a desperate hold on the twigs so far are disappearing in an early dusk. A moment ago that misery had your attention, resonating within, now it’s chased away by an awkward, lanky girl sitting cross-legged before you while apologizing for the lack of milk.

“Hey! It’s okay,” you manage to interrupt her at a break for air, “I’ll drink it any which way, so thanks…”

“Good, good…”

Drops pummel the window. Tea scent heats your faces causing a new flush to be added to Lila’s cheeks. Good tea, as if that’s the reason you feel guilt gnawing for the negativity against the girl…a negativity that evaporates like the steam curling above the hot liquid.

“I’m sorry,” Lila admits, and you’re not sure why even though you have an idea, “I…Cooper and me…” For a moment all her attention seems to be on the cookie she steeps in the mug. Seems. “I’ve been a jerk, haven’t I?”

Alright! Up front now! “Maybe. I guess I’ve been too...” Sharing a glance you recognize some of Clint in the way she takes in every detail. “So this is like…a truce? Ceasefire?”

“Hoped so.”

You can’t hug it out with her. There’s been too many fake hugs in your life from people who claimed they’d be there for you. Lila doesn’t promise anything except to try to be decent and that’s something you can mirror. Good thing too. You’ve got nothing else to offer.

“– they say I need to start school Monday.” Clearly, you’ve missed the start of whatever the middle Barton kid’s saying, but you can fill it out. “I’m gonna be like the only senior from my year left! Can you imagine?”

“A little, maybe. People did stare a shitlo–…sorry…a lot at uni. But hey! At least the sophomore was only surprised when I appeared on his lap. At first.”

“Nooo!” Wide eyes followed by a crinkle of amusement. “Was he hot?”

What?! That line of thought had never occurred to you. “Uhm…I don’t actually remember, I’m just glad he didn’t push me onto the floor.”

There’s a tiny snort of giggles, “Hey, welcome back! Yeet!” Her tea almost spills as she imitates the student forcibly tossing you aside.

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survivor-tierradelfuego · 4 years

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Ep. 12: “everyone is feeling pity for me...WHICH IS AMAZING” - Pedro

Najwah

I don't think I'm good at survivor lmao. I don't like what it's doing to me. Initially the blindsiding and voting put felt like nothing but it's getting so hard every day. I've known these people for almost a month now and I've grown so close to them. These feelings of paranoia and trying to go after people is just a lot. Also the idea of using people pisses me off. I told Cody and Sarah that my bond with Amy wasn't like that but they still felt as though they needed to try to get Amy "for the numbers" instead of trying to talk to Pedro or something - which annoys me. I don't want to use people for numbers. I don't want to use people at all. My perspective has changed completely. I'm still PLAYING but as I say repeatedly, my connections with humans is more important than an ego boost that comes with winning. Amy finally contacted me again after I asked her whether she was angry with me. She said yes bc I didn't choose her as my closest ally in the previous challenge. Thanks again James. So basically she saw I chose someone else, but she chose me as her closest ally. And I chose her as the person I trust the most and she chose Maddison? Am I not supposed to be mad at that too? I just miss her. We had such a fun friendship going. Now it's just scrambling and game talk with Sarah and Cody. It's a lot. I'm still not sure whether I want to tell Sarah about my super idol but I'm guessing Cody already had. That's why he's pressurising me to tell Sarah lmao. Also I'm not sure where their heads are at and how they feel about me. Whether they are just keeping me here because of my superidol. Either way, I guess I'm glad to be here.

Olivia A

Cody has been VERY enthusiastic about the fact that he wants to work closely with me moving forward. In this challenge, however, when given the choice to take away Pedro’s immunity or my immunity, he took away mine!! That was very telling that they are trying to pull Pedro in for numbers and don’t actually want to work with us lol. Kinda stupid of them.

Maddison

Pedro keeps scrapping by and is definitely now working with old Hanuha... Pedro! you’re on the bottom with them!! (and us too, oop)

Pedro A

okay everyone is feeling pity for me...WHICH IS AMAZING.....i can use that to get a little further in the game...even tho i still think my days are numbered....BUT I THINK WE MIGHT GET MADDISON´S ass out of game..its my only chance to stay lol

Aimee

I dedicate this song to Maddison! Alina Baraz - Trust https://youtu.be/Akgs6Lu0AiI I’m so happy I can trust you in this game. I feel it. You really comforted me when Grae and then Ben got their torches snuffed. You have never wronged me and I think I’m a good judge of character. We just click. I’m glad I can just pour all myself out to you and all my game thoughts. You never know when you’re the next one off the skype island and I want you to know everything. I’m not writing your name down in this game. Old Hanuha it’s gonna have to blindside me a 4th time. Lol and I’m closer with Pedro in this game than they realize. So if they try to pull his vote, hopefully I will know. 🤞 I honestly hope I wasn’t too suspicious on last immunity challenge that I never cut your rope. I wish you didn’t get out first round in this one! 😢😟 Aimee

Pedro has really helped pass the time at jury duty today. It’s fun chatting with him about the legal systems in our countries and cracking jokes at each other. Speaking of game for a moment, you can’t just ignore someone in this game like Pedro and treat them like an outcast and then expect to use them when you see fit. I have a genuine connection with him and even now I’m sitting here wondering.... do I save him this vote? There’s a lot to consider. It’s funny how old Hanuha thinks they can just grab any old Maola and work with them. Sorry guys you might be a little bit late to that game. I’ve heard from just about all of them how disingenuous old Hanuha is being. Hahahahaha sorry but I’ve been there with all of old Maola WAY before you have. They can see that I’ve been forthcoming and building relationships for days and not some last minute sketch as hell thing. It truly pays off to not lie or be messy when you have no reason to be. I guess that’s what happens when you’ve been blindsided and left out so much....I had no choice but to adapt my game. Maybe one day you’ll find out what that’s like too? I’ve been thinking so many steps far ahead and predicting potential moves before they happen. It’ll take a lot for them to get an old Maola vote without me knowing about it. https://64.media.tumblr.com/5edf24d4321044ba332b90b161d0f442/587280b4d69b93c7-b5/s400x600/8f010451e459cb39058854d9655031b4bb9b617f.gifv

Maddison

I know I’m a target again tonight, so its a good thing I have the idol in my pocket.

Olivia A

Maddison found an idol!! We think they are going to go for Maddison so she’ll play it for herself and we’re going to vote Cody out. He might have an idol too, though, so we might switch it to Najwah and hope they don’t expect that. I think we have Aimee with us so if we get Cody or Najwah out we’ll be in the majority.

Najwah

So the plan initially was to get Olivia out but Amy L messaged me to tell me that her tribe is trying to get Aimee on board to vote me out? And apparently Pedro is on board with that too. However, Amy wants to get Maddison out but just not right now. And that's problematic because I really wish Amy would work with me. At what point does she want to work with me I don't understand. Also, she's talking to Pedro about her and my alliance and its starting to freak me out. For some reason she thinks I'm at the bottom of my alliance? Sigh. So she told us Olivia has an idol which puts a spanner in the works. It's two hours to tribal and I think I'm about to get blindsided lmao. Unless I vote for Amy, this is a high possibility. If she just came to work with me to get Maddison out, I could protect her but as long as she's part of their alliance, I can't really do much. I honestly wish she'd just vote with us. I don't want to get her out. I wanted an African Queen final. She suggested that we get Maddison or Olivia out and then she, her and Pedro and Maddison start our own alliance and get Cody, Sarah and Aimee out. And then Maddison and it's her, me and Pedro in the final. 💀 I just.. I don't want to betray people to that extent. Yes it's a game but also, it's just a game. I hate that I'll have to write Amy down for this. HATE It and it makes me fucking sad but whyyyyy won't she just work with us. Now she has my fake idol too dammit. We could trick Maddison so easily. Ugh. I just hope she'd change her mind within the next couple of hours. I really don't want to lose the one person I trust in this game. Fuck. While Magnificent Maddison is still in? Our game could definitely go to shit. Who's to say Aimee won't vote with Maddison and Pedro next. Why are we not getting the biggest threat out? I don't understand. Even Amy thinks she's a threat but when it comes doen to it she just never wants to vote her? Whyyyyyy

Sarah

My video link won’t upload so... I’ll send this in for now.

For tonight’s vote, the four old Hanuha and Pedro want to vote together and we don’t have too much of a preference who we vote for. But, Naj found out through Amy that Olivia has an idol so we can either make it sound like we are voting Olivia or Maddison and hopefully flush an idol. So I talked to Naj and said I think we may be safer to vote Amy because we know an idol won’t be played on her and Amy won’t vote with or work with Naj completely. Amy is just being a messagener so she’s not really worth keeping around if she won’t work with us. Also, I don’t think Aimee wants to vote Olivia or Maddison. So the plan is to blindside Amy tonight and hopefully nothing crazy happens with advantages.

Olivia A

Amy A

There’s so much happening in my personal life and this game is my sanity which is funny because it’s ANYTHING but sane in here. The vote is going bonkers once again. I don’t know what will happen. There are names everywhere. I just hope I survive another night.

Olivia A

So the official plan is to vote Najwah. Amy told Pedro that we’re voting Cody so hopefully he relays that false info to Hanuha people. He also accidentally sent Amy some messages along the lines of “amy and maddison want me to vote w them but don’t even tell me the plan...” lmao so we have it confirmed that he’s telling Hanuha everything. I’m not sure if it’s a good or bad thing that Pedro didn’t include me in that/assume I’m working with them. Maybe I am a goat! Not sure. Everything Maddison has done (whom everyone thinks is the big target) is something that I also did. We’ve been working in collaboration literally the whole game and come up with all plans together. That doesn’t feel like a goat to me.

Pedro A

I'm FUCKING SCAREDDDDD....like I don't trust Maddison and olivia....why would I vote with them...but at the same time...... I would just get 6th and 5th...LIKE COME ON...from the bottom to the powerful position..Idk how much more I can take...IM DYINGGGGGGGGGGGGG KILL ME ALREADY...sorry im literally a psycho ...#streampsycho by red velvet THO....but at the same time...Amy wants me to vote Cody......I CAN'T BE THE LAST MALE IN THE GAME....everyone will come for me

Maddison

I know I’m a target again tonight, so its a good thing I have the idol in my pocket.

Olivia A

Ahhh now Amy is being sus. She said she started talking to Najwah pretending she was interested in flipping to get info. But she never shared that w Maddison and me while it was happening so that makes me think she was actually interested in flipping. Also she apparently told Najwah that Maddison and I are super close! I don’t like that. I feel like I’m going home tonight.

Cody A.

https://youtu.be/l8RU7yci6kY

Cody A.

https://youtu.be/u5Wj3o0jqZE

#episodes

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maikatc · 4 years

Text

Black Sun Tale | Bloody Fingers

just to say, this chapter isn't as bad as the title makes it seem but wahoo

remember this is a first draft with only minor editing, but enjoy! comments and reception are heavily appreciated.

He treaded down the streets of Obodo, legs sore and physical body dying. Despite the pain however, the flashes of the prior hours quickened his pace. He kept his hood up against the crowd to hide his contrasted red and blackened face.

He whispered to himself, “So, he didn’t die…”

The surprise left half the bricks on him afloat. The throbbing external pain also added a mark for proof of the miracle.

He wandered through the streets alone, too boggled up by the events he’d been in.

The crosswalk shined red and urged him to stop his hurried legs. He panted against his raging heartbeat. Without realizing, his own body was rushing to go somewhere, get something irredeemable.

However, Oliver only fixated himself to the solved situation at hand. “He didn’t back away from me… he still wants to help.”

The light turned green; he dashed passed his waiting herd.

Why the hell would he help me? He questioned. I’m the killer; I’m the one who hit him-

A shot of achiness went through his entire body. He stumbled on his steps, bumping into surrounding fodder. He pled his apologies in mumbles as he rushed away from them.

He grumbled. “I have to talk to Alice.” His stomach screamed at him once more while the black markings started to burn. “And that too.”

His feet turned to a certain crosswalk, in which what lied ahead woke Oliver up for real.

He tensed from the idea, growing sick of it by the seconds.

Am I really…?

The thought of blood craved upon his lips. He hesitated on the decision.

The crosswalk lit green; Oliver took a step forward to the park he had been in shortly ago.

“I’m going to regret this.”

Bombs of screaming children blasted at his ears. He stood in the midst of all the chaos, studying everyone around in a hazy state; heart aching from his actions.

Kids mocked each other of their speed; others played tag with fun-filled smiles. A group of children gathered around a single spot to dig up the mulch and find treasure; while another made a game through the slides.

They all held youthful faces. Too young for Oliver to interfere.

Though, in the corner of his eye, a small sandbox sat on the side. Glimpsing upon it, a girl built valleys by herself at the spot. Her face blurred to Oliver, though her size seemed about his age, the oldest out of the entire park.

He pitied her. She’s lived a longer life than anyone else here. It’s the fairest.

A clench was made with his fists with the thought.

He whisked around, stepping back to exit the playground. He stumbled and panted through his aches, but the girl wasn’t worth it.

The steps grew longer and heavier the closer he made it out; Oliver pushed onwards despite. Nobody would be harmed by him anyways. A winning situation for them all.

The marks stung him but stopped jolting him awake. And his eyes turned drowsier. Oliver’s mind became numb as it drifted away from control.

All Oliver could comprehend before blacking out was his body turning back.

A brush of the grass tickled his hands and cheeks as he slept. Though, the air was silent upon him, no animals chirping or tree leaves wrestling. All there lied was a grey sky and the deafening atmosphere of Fowls.

In a gasp, Oliver jolted awake. He wheezed in air from the fear that’s struck within him and checked his stomach.

It was already filling up and healing.

He sat up. The forest still had its dead presence like before and like himself. Cursing at himself, he smacked his hand against the ground.

Steps came from the distance, grass getting crushed then forming back up again in the process. The same old woman appeared before Oliver.

She frowned, “Not doing well, I assume?”

He scowled at Alice. “I’m getting more insane by the day, I swear.”

She sighed. “Believe me, almost everyone here would agree with you.” She got down to her knees, adjusting her dress to the ground. “How did the meeting with your friend occur?”

In a short time, Oliver reluctantly conversed about the previous two days involving Ayu with the woman.

“Of course, that boy wouldn’t have been in danger by your attack in the first place,” she exclaimed.

“W-what?”

She smiled. “You had nothing to worry about with him, Oliver. Honestly, I say you keep him as a friend with that reason.”

Oliver questioned, “But why would you know that?”

“Pardon?” Her eyes widened. “Oh! That’s simple. I heard of you talking with the boy from Vittorino so I went to learn a bit about him myself out of curiosity.” She flushed red.

Oliver stared. “That’s… a little weird of you.” He exhaled. “But anyways, he told me to talk to you about something so that’s why I’m here.”

“What is it?”

He tattled his fingers against his legs. “Do I have any powers?”

Her face turned to concern. “Oh dear, I thought you already knew.”

He scoffed, “How would I’ve known?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she admitted. “You could’ve just figured it out through the wolf or started going through developments already!”

“Well, I didn’t even know the wolf existed until today so that’s convenient.”

“Goodness,” she hissed and grumbled, “Why are you so terrible, Ak-.” She took a breath.

Oliver raised a brow. “You good there?”

“Yes, I’m swell.” She placed a hand on her forehead. “I’ll explain for you then.”

“Thanks.”

“Now before anything, the wolf was created for you as an emergency device just so you know.” She adjusted his messy hair as she spoke.

Though Oliver whisked her hand off. “For if I starve myself?”

“Exactly,” she replied. “I actually find it quite surprising that he- the wolf grew such an intelligence for gathering food. Such a marvel in magic I must say.” She smiled in her words.

Oliver made skeptical eyes. “You say that as if it’s a good thing.”

Alice noted, “Oh it isn’t at all; however, it’s still an astonishing tool for you to live.” She faced him with caring eyes even if he didn’t reciprocate. “Though, I assume Ayu stopped the wolf too quickly for you to come into contact with me. But that’s just him.”

“Can we just move on,” Oliver stopped her.

Alice paused from her next words. She adjusted herself. “Ah, yes… Aside from the wolf, your abilities are rather simplistic. From what I can recall you only have two.”

He asked, “And what are they exactly?”

“That’s the part I love,” she states. “You have your father’s abilities: Invisibility and shapeshifting.”

Oliver froze. “… Wait that’s actually cool.”

Alice giggled. “Yes, I suppose so.”

“That just means I can mess around with almost everybody,” he grinned.

“Just to inform you,” she added, “with your blood and the fact that your powers are natural, you’ll have to learn manually. That and you have to keep your body in maintenance at the very least to be able to use them.”

He pouted. “Now that’s lame.” He grumbled against his own disabilities, though changed tone after. “If you’re saying that I have to learn, then can you help me with that?”

Alice scoffed, “You’re asking me? Oliver, of course I would help you. Though, I’d consider you taking lessons from me if you want to learn.”

“Why lessons?”

“So, then you can be educated efficiently. Don’t consider my teachings as critical though; I’ve never honed the abilities or even my own by heart.”

Oliver bit his lip. “Well, thank you then.” He shifted his gears to, “One other thing?”

“Yes?”

“Is it possible for,” he hesitated from asking. “Can Ayu come along to learn about your history and stuff?”

Alice turned to him, brows up in a surprised expression. “Why does he desire to know?” Her tone was cold; brisk in the state of urgency.

Oliver tensed by her question. “He’s… just as confused as me; he doesn’t know what’s going on or what he’s doing so he wants help too,” he proclaimed. “This might do the trick for him if his guess is right.”

“Guess?”

Oliver side-eyed her. “I don’t wanna go into that much detail, but he’s eager to do anything by this point…”

Alice didn’t say a word. She gazed upon the grass ahead of them. “I cannot foretell if it’s possible-”

“Please Alice… Mom,” he interrupted, forcing the title to come from his words. “You say that I should stick with him, right? Then why don’t I help him to pay that back?”

“Oh, Oliver…,” Alice sighed. She pulled a strand of hair while mumbling, “I suppose I can request someone to advise him.”

The boy smiled at her. “Now that’s quite satisfying to hear,” he mimicked her accent. “Greatest gratitude.”

She narrowed her eyes with a sneer along with him. “You’re a snarky one, aren’t you?”

“When I feel like it,” he replied. “Hold on a second- who’ll be the person to teach him?”

“Simply a good friend of mine,” she answered, relaxing herself in the grass some more. “There’s nothing to stress about with her, even if she is a tad cantankerous.”

“Canta- what now?” He eyed her with the frazzled phrase.

“Ill-tempered. She’s ill-tempered,” she giggled. “… You likely have to go soon, don’t you?”

Oliver’s face dulled back to his old irritation. He laid back against the grass, pressing on his stomach. “I feel full now so yeah,” he puffed against the cold air.

“Well,” Alice glumly spoke. She stood up, picking off specks of grass on her skirt. “You ought to start sleeping yourself awake now.” She set a forced breath of a laugh.

“I guess so…” He shimmied around the grass patch. Discomfort from the fakeness of it all itched his skin.

Footsteps rang through Oliver’s head, growing fainter with each stride. It brushed his ears to where it tranced him; his eyes growing heavy with a dozy mind. As the steps disappeared, the last thing whispered to him was, “I’ll see you whenever you wish.”

A gasp of air leaped out of Oliver’s throat. His eyes lit up upon the stump he’d known all too well. Its veins of bark stared back at him while he studied its line markings again.

After a few known minutes, the boy sat up with an expressionless face. He was greeted with a quiet blood gala featuring scraps being eaten up by flies, a weekly event.

It never dawned on him. The blood’s scent was almost precious by instinct, tickling his nose with its aroma.

Without a reply to the dead silence, Oliver looked down towards his hands. Red covered over his skin; ripe without much dirt, he gazed upon them, odor looming over him.

He licked it all off.

The taste was delectable for him.

***

With his mind clear and majority of his body clean of blood, Oliver walked along the pathways back home.

“Whenever I wish huh…”

“I’ll go and tell Alice once you’ve decided,” Vittorino said. He jumped out from behind. The surprise pushed Oliver forward through flinching.

“Why is it always you and Faustus who do that?” He grumbled while adjusting his dirty cardigan.

Vittorino grinned. “Ah, who’s to know, really. He’s admirable though, so maybe I may have picked up something from him.”

“So, you did know him,” Oliver asked.

“Not entirely?” They both walked on.

Oliver turned flat faced. “That isn’t entirely helpful either.”

Vittorino walked backwards, facing him. “I’m not supposed to be the most helpful person. You should be acknowledged of this by now.”

“Still isn’t the best for me,” he grumbled. “What do you even do aside from this? - I mean- I know what you’re a part of but-”

“But that’s an easy answer for me,” he finished. He leaped onto street steps, swinging around the sign pole in front of him. “Heard of second eras, right? I’m practically their leader.”

Oliver eyed him. “But don’t you follow a leader yourself?”

“I do,” he answered, “but I’m his loyalist follower.”

The boy’s eyes narrowed. “Oh really?”

“Mhm, special too since I don’t even have to touch anyone to kill.” He faced away from Oliver, dashing off to the next crosswalk.

“Goddamn, wait up,” he stumbled to catch up. “What the hell do you mean by that?”

“Simple,” he examined ahead. “I was given the ability to warp minds and actions from him.”

“You- what?”

“And I use the gift to my advantage, you see,” he stepped onto the streets along with the crowd, babbling with pride. “I just make people kill themselves with it.”

Oliver’s heart stopped; he choked on his words. The chuckling, manic youth in front of him smiled carelessly to his dreading words.

“You…” Oliver stuttered. “Why haven’t you killed me yet? I could be an easy target.”

His smile broke. “Oh, I’m not allowed to do anything to you. That’s it.”

His nonchalant attitude on the subject reeked Oliver. His entire body tensed at him. “Alice was right. You are ‘disturbed’.” He rushed away from him.

Vittorino laughed in the distance. He yelled, “Don’t ya wanna talk some more?”

“Nope,” he yelled back. “Fuck off! You’re too fucked for me to deal with right now!” He slabbed his hood over him. An exhale broke out from him as his apartment building loomed ahead over him.

“Oh, Oliver, you back!”

The boy passed through the door and entered to the sight of his mother. His breathing calmed; his steps led back to a peace he’d known all his life.

“Hey Mom,” he greeted. “How was work today?”

She set aside the work on her lap. “Today was actually kinda relaxing. Carl had a funny story,” she began chatting all the while cleaning up her hair.

Oliver followed and laughed at the short tales of her patients. Her spirit of rambling livened up the room and the rest of his day.

He melted away in the couch as his mother heated up leftovers from the night prior; and they babbled for endless minutes with the cozy stove warming up the air.

His mother noted, “You seem more up than usual, Oliver. What’ve you been up to?”

The boy’s eyes fluttered open by her question. Well, the entire day was a mess really, Mom, he desired to reply. Though, a smidge of warmth tapped on his heart; some small glimmer of hope dawned on him with his black, messy hair and odd eyes. “Not that much has happened, I guess. Just made a new friend recently is all.”

“Oh?” She stifled a giggle. “And what might they be like?”

“Definitely weird,” he admitted. Then again, everyone is now. “But… he’s more preferable than others. At least.”

She hummed, “How have you two been doing then?” She sat back with a plate of chicken.

“We just kinda hung out since I was a little bored,” half a lie, “I’m planning on seeing him again but… he’s usually busy so I don’t think you’ll see him anytime soon.”

She took a bite of her meal. “And how are you seeing him yourself then.”

“… school.” He answered carefully. “And he texts me… and I go to his apartment building and talk to him through windows.” He smiled at the thought.

“Oliver!” His mother scolded, “While I appreciate the enthusiasm for a new friend, that still isn’t the most ethical way of seeing him.”

Oliver rolled his eyes. “Isn’t it also unethical to eat on the couch?”

“There’s eating on the couch, then there’s the invasion of private property.” She treaded along back to the table. “It’s a bit of a difference.”

Oliver added more to the fib. “Well, at least I get his permission to go there first.”

“Do you get his parents’?”

Of course, “No.”

She scoffed, “Now that isn’t the best excuse, now is it?”

He grumbled to the fake argument, crossing his arms and sinking into the cushions. “Probably but I’ll most likely still go because he’s cool-” He corrected,” Okay not cool cool but nice to be around.”

She laughed. “I still won’t recommend it. But this is probably the first time in a while that you’ve talked about somebody else; I’m glad.”

He paused then smiled at her sincerity. Snuggling up against a pillow, he mumbled, “I think I am too,” and drifted off to a peaceful slumber in their quiet bond.

For once, a blade wasn’t needed to ease a pain in his gut.

#writing #my writing #writeblr #writblr #writers on tumblr #black sun tale #bst #chapter 10 #swearing warning #gore warning #blood warning #suicide mentions #yeah murder #cannibalism warning #bst oliver #bst alice #bst vittorino #also oliver's mom lol

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blackberrywidow · 6 years

Text

Adventures in Babysitting II: Like Father, Like Son

Summary: Peter is called in to deal with an extremely delicate situation-- Tony has lost Morgan and needs his help to find her before Pepper gets home and kills him. Time is of the essence in the Stark household, and Peter just hopes he is up to the task.

Warnings: Pure fluff-- everyone is alive and happy and life is beautiful. You’re welcome.

Word Count: 3,460

A/N: Well, here’s part two! This takes place before part one, so this collection of short stories is definitely going to be a little out of order. But I think it will be more fun this way. Unfortunately, I have little to no experience with kids, so if you guys have any ideas or prompts for future chapters, PLEASE SEND THEM MY WAY. Seriously, I need your help.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Peter was trying very hard not to freak out. And he was doing okay, if he could say so himself.

When Happy had showed up at his apartment to say that Mr. Stark needed his help ASAP, he had easily agreed and ran to his room to get his suit before Aunt May noticed he was leaving. When Happy said that wouldn’t be necessary, he had hesitated, but still followed him down to the waiting car with little protest. On the ride over to the Stark residence, he had managed to annoy Happy enough to make him turn up the radio—no groaning about irritating kids or verbal request for him to stop talking, which was incredible progress.

Peter Parker was the epitome of chill right now. Whatever it was that Mr. Stark needed him for, he could handle it. He was super calm and super collected.

Except, he was totally freaking out.

Like, seriously. Mr. Stark never asked for his help, so this must be big. And he would be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous, but he was almost eighteen now. He was basically adult, and he would act like one. Mr. Stark would definitely be impressed by his ability to remain calm under pressure; or he would be, if Peter could manage to keep his panicking internalized.

Peter wasn’t surprised when Happy walked him to the door, but he was surprised when he started to leave as soon as Peter entered the spacious home of his mentor.

“Uh, Mr. Happy, uh sir—you’re not coming in too?”

Okay, so the talking thing wasn’t working so great right now, due to the aforementioned freaking out. But he had time to work on that before he found Mr. Stark. He just had to figure out what Happy was up to first.

Happy grinned at him, and if Peter wasn’t nervous before, he definitely was then.

“No way, kid. I’m gonna find somewhere else to be until the storm clears.”

“Storm?!” Peter’s voice raised an octave in his initial panic, but he cleared his throat and tried to lower it to a more natural tone of voice when he said, “I mean, what storm?”

Happy laughed. Actually laughed. And then he walked back to the car, got in, and drove away with no explanation.

Peter needed no further confirmation. He was so screwed.

The teenage superhero audibly gulped as he entered the mansion, closing the door softly behind him. He carefully took in his surroundings as he moved through the foyer into the living room. Everything seemed to be in order—the Stark home was immaculate as always. Lavish furniture surrounded by high tech appliances and expensive art, the only sign that the room was even lived in was the section in the corner dedicated to baby Morgan’s play pin and toys, though even all of her stuff was currently neatly put away in the color-coordinated bins.

More telling, though, was the fact that there was no sign of the Starks. The house was completely silent, as though it were holding its breath in anticipation of the supposed “storm.”

Okay, so Peter’s not-really-but-kind-of-a-little-freaking-out had upgraded to I’m-tottally-wigging-out-right-now. If he was imagining the house doing anything other than being a house, he was letting this not-yet-a-situation get to him too much.

But he was Spider-man, and Spider-man wasn’t afraid of suspiciously quiet houses. So he was gonna play it cool.

“Mr. Stark?!” he called out, trying to keep his voice neutral. “Mr. Stark, are you home?”

“Peter!” The response was almost immediate, and Peter whipped his head around to find his fellow Avenger racing down the stairs in a bigger hurry than he had ever seen him.

“What’s going on? What’s happening?” Peter was trying very hard to hold onto what was left of his cool, but that was proving difficult when he saw his normally perfectly composed mentor in such a state of disarray—he was wearing a wrinkled cat t-shirt with various stains, many recent-looking, and one long tear on the right sleeve; his hair was messy and missing it’s normal gelled-look; he wasn’t wearing shoes and was missing one sock; and his eyes held the wild, manic look of a crazed man.

Something was clearly wrong, but what was it? Aliens? Wizards—but the bad kind, not the fun, necklace wearing kind? Was Loki in a particularly bad mood? Had a genetically-mutated lion escaped the zoo and found solace in Mr. Stark’s bed room? Was Mrs. Pepper mad at him?

A million different scenarios flashed through his hyperactive mind as he waited for Mr. Stark’s answer, but nothing could have prepared him for the truth.

“I lost her, Pete. I looked away for one second, and she was just gone.”

Mr. Stark was gripping his shoulders as though he wasn’t sure if he wanted to pull him in for a hug or shake answers he didn’t have out of him. Either way, Peter remained incredibly confused. “What? Who did you lose, sir?”

Tony’s grip on Peter’s shoulders tightened, and he was surprised to see real panic in his mentor’s eyes. That’s when it clicked, moments before Mr. Stark confirmed it. “Morgan. Pepper left me alone with her for the first time since she started crawling, and I’ve already lost her. It’s been two hours, Peter. Two hours.”

This was... definitely not the disaster scenario Peter had imagined when Happy brought him here. But that didn’t make it any less serious. His honorary baby sister was missing, and her father was currently freaking out even more than Peter was (something that he would remind himself to be proud of later), so that left Peter in charge of remaining calm and finding a solution—or rather, finding the rouge ten-month-old baby.

“She couldn’t have gotten far, sir. Everything will be fine. Pepper will never even know.” Peter tried to reassure his mentor, meeting his eyes solemnly so that he could see how serious he was.

“She always finds out, Peter. Always.” Mr. Stark said this was uncharacteristic grave certainty, but finally released his shoulders and stepped away from him, seeming to gather himself now that he had someone else to ground him.

Peter couldn’t deny that he was ecstatic that he was that person, but now was definitely not the time, so he straightened his shoulders and did what he did not do best—took charge of the situation. “Where did you see her last?”

It seemed like the obvious place to start, and Mr. Stark didn’t appear to disagree as he immediately led him to his lab in the basement of his mansion.

Peter looked around the workshop with increasing trepidation. The lab of a retired superhero was definitely not the safest place for a child—half-finished weapons upgrades, random bits of scrap metal and loose wires, what looked like a new spider suit, which was super cool and he really needed to go check it out—

Focus, Peter. There’s a baby on the loose.

With only a mild bit of difficulty, Peter forced himself to look away from the new spidey suit, taking in the rest of the lab for clues.

“Uh, Mr. Stark. I can’t help but notice that this may not be the, um… well, the best place for a kid to be.”

He turned to face Tony just in time to see him roll his eyes. “You gotta give me more credit than that, kid. She was in that play pin thing over there,” he pointed to an area I the corner of the lab that had was gated and had padded floors and toys strewn about it, “and I was there,” he now indicated the table directly across from the Morgan Cage, “working on an upgrade to Barnes’ arm. She was just playing, happy as can be, the entire time I kept an eye on her. But the second I turn away to grab a new part, she disappears. I can’t figure out how she did it or where she could have possibly gone. I’ve looked everywhere.”

Peter scratched his head, taking in the situation. “Doesn’t FRIDAY have footage that could help? I thought this whole lab was under surveillance.”

Tony crossed his arms and seemed to be visibly restraining himself from rolling his eyes again. “Of course she should, which is why I already checked. It was the first thing I did when I couldn’t find her on this level.”

“So… there was no footage?” Peter felt pretty stupid asking the question, but full understanding was kind of important give the situation. Luckily, Mr. Stark answered the question with only the slightest amount of sarcasm, which for him, was as good as a gentle explanation.

“No footage. She seems to be… going through some kind of glitch.”

Peter’s previous panic increased ten-fold as he asked, “FRIDAY can do that?”

Tony shrugged, though Peter knew him well enough to know that the tense set of his shoulders and the slight furrow of his brow along with the lack of a smirk indicated that he was unsettled by this as well. “Any tech can have glitches every now and then, but FRIDAY…”

“But FRIDAY shouldn’t,” Peter finished, trying to pull all of the pieces together as he analyzed the scene of the crime again. “Could the glitch be an indicator for some kind of security breach? I mean…” Peter hesitated, turning back to his mentor to take in his only mildly anxious expression before he asked, “You don’t think someone took her, do you?”

Mr. Stark immediately shook his head. “Not a chance. The only part of FRIDAY’s programming that has been affected is the security footage of the house. There have been no perimeter breaches and no attempts at hacking into the system. Besides, I was in the room and I was turned away from her for thirty seconds, tops. I would have seen someone if she had been taken.”

Peter nodded, visibly relaxing. Though he was still definitely confused. “Okay, so how did she get out of the pin?”

“No idea. The latch is kind of stupidly easy to lift, but Morgan’s definitely too small to reach the it. And she can crawl now, but I’m pretty sure she can’t climb this.” Tony walked towards the gated-area that had held his daughter only an hour ago to show Peter what he meant. The teen crime-fighter dutifully focused his heightened senses on every detail he could find, most of it inconsequential, except—

“Are those track marks?”

Tony snapped his head down to look where Peter was pointing to the marks on the padded floor, only to deflate instantly. “Yeah, those are just from RoRo.”

Peter furrowed his brow, “RoRo? You mean your Roomba?”

Tony nodded, “Yeah, that’s what Morgan calls it. She loves the damn thing—that’s why it was in there with her. She cried until I put it in with her, and I figured it could only help, considering the mess that kid leaves behind.”

“Mr. Stark!” Peter exclaimed, the first puzzle piece fitting together in his mind’s eye. “That’s how she got out.”

He watched as understanding dawned on Tony’s face with more pride than he cared to admit. “She crawled onto the Roomba, which made her tall enough to unlatch the gate.” Mr. Stark turned to him, smiling at him for the first time that day as some of his worry melted away. They at least knew how she got out, which was the first step to tracking her down. “Nice work kid. I can’t believe I hadn’t thought of that, but really. Good job.”

Peter tried to keep his grinning to a minimum as he said, “Thanks Mr. Stark. Now we just need to figure out where she went.”

Mr. Stark nodded, rubbing at his chin the way he usually did when he was working at a problem. “I think I know where to start.”

“You were right to question FRIDAY’s glitch,” Mr. Stark told him as they entered the walled-off section of the lab that housed all of the security tech. The screens that usually played the real-time footage of the lab, Morgan’s room, and the exterior of the house—the only areas of the property under constant surveillance—were all currently black. Mr. Stark strode over to the keyboard situated in front of the largest screen in the room, which also happened to be the only one currently working. “I had given a little thought to it before, but was too focused on trying to find Morgan as fast as possible that I didn’t consider it enough. But it’s not so much a glitch as the security monitors have just been shut down—otherwise there would be other systems malfunctioning and FRIDAY would have immediately alerted me to the breach. Not to mention the incredibly convenient timing of it all.”

Peter nodded, though Tony couldn’t see him from where he stood behind his shoulder, watching him type at the keypad almost furiously. “So, you do think that someone has hacked into the FRIDAY?”

Tony scoffed, his mouth pulling up into a half-smirk as he said, “No. I think FRIDAY has shut down the monitors herself.”

“Why would she do that?” Peter asked, his brow furrowed in thought. The AI was extremely reliable. He couldn’t imagine her doing something like shutting down one something so important.

“FRIDAY is one of the most advanced AI in the world, Pete. Which has both its good and bad qualities,” he answered, still not looking away from the screen. “She’s formed quite an attachment to the kid, so she’s subjecting herself to the whims of an infant far more than she should be.”

“You… you mean FRIDAY helped Morgan get out of the pin and is now letting her cruise around the house undetected just because she thought that’s what Morgan wanted?” Peter felt crazier and crazier as his question fell from his mouth, but Mr. Stark was unfazed.

“Yup. But luckily, I’m still the boss. So all it takes is a little manual labor and TLC to get the monitors back up and widen the surveillance to the whole house and… bingo,” Mr. Stark finished typing with a flourish as the previously-blank screens came to life just in time to see Morgan roll past the camera that was recording the living room. “Yeah, FRIDAY is so getting an update after this.”

Mr. Stark jumped up from his chair to race back upstairs, Peter hot on his heels.

“How did she get up the stairs?” Peter asked incredulously as they climbed up said stairs, looking around in awe for some sign of Baby Stark’s great escape.

“Ramps,” Tony answered, wrenching the door to the ground floor open. “They pop out of the wall. For the Roomba my daughter is currently joyriding on.”

Said daughter was blessedly still doing doughnuts in the living room when they got there, and she screeched in joy when she saw them. “Dada!” she cried, banging her fists on the Roomba the way she did whenever she got excited.

Tony breathed a sigh of relief before swooping down to pick up his daughter. “Morgan? What did you think you were doing?” he demanded, holding her up in front of his face to do a full health evaluation.

Peter couldn’t resist laughing out loud when the ten-month-old, who was still far too young to understand most of the English language or read the tone of a room, giggled and smoosed her stressed-out father’s face between her tiny hands.

His outburst drew said-infants attention, and she grinned at him, flashing the few teeth she had. “Petta! Petta!” she yelled, his name coming out garbled and unclear, but he easily recognized it by now. He walked over to her and she stretched out her little arms for him to pick her up, which he did after Tony nodded at him in permission.

“Heeeeeey, Iron Baby,” he cooed at her. “You gave us quite the scare, you know.”

“She did?”

Peter and Tony both whirled around in shock, having been too preoccupied with making sure Morgan was okay to notice that the front door had opened and Pepper had returned from Stark Industries. She was now watching them from the hallway between the living room and foyer, her expression expectant as she took in her little family.

Peter carefully kept his mouth shut and looked back down at Morgan, pretending to be too engrossed with her to answer.

“She was just crawling a little too close to the kitchen, but we have everything under control. Obviously,” Mr. Stark said, walking over to his wife and enveloping her in a hug. “How are things going at the office?”

“Mmmhmm,” Pepper hummed, unconvinced but deciding to let it go. For now. “Everything was running fine, so it was just a quick check. Peter,” she said, moving her attention to the suddenly tense teen, “I didn’t know you would be stopping by today.”

He carefully avoided looking at Mr. Stark as he answered, “Oh, uh, yeah. I stopped by to ask Mr. Stark a few questions about my physics homework.”

Pepper seemed to buy it, if her easy smile was anything to go by, and she approached where he was currently bouncing Morgan on his hip. “Were you a good girl while Mommy was gone?” she cooed at her daughter, gently extricating her from Peter’s hands to hug her to her chest.

Morgan giggled, looking up at her mother in joy as she answered, “No!”

Peter couldn’t help it. He burst out laughing, Mr. Stark quickly joining him as they doubled over with laughter.

Pepper, however, was concerned. “No?” she questioned, her brow furrowed as she looked down at her happily-gurgling child.

“Kids,” Tony said, still chuckling under his breath as he slung one arm around his wife and winked at Peter. “They say the darndest things.”

“She was great, Mrs. Stark,” Peter assured, saying it easily and with little guilt. It was true, after all. Though Morgan had nearly given both her dad and honorary big brother a heart attack with her daring escape from baby jail, she was always great. She was definitely the coolest baby Peter knew, anyway.

Of course, she was the only baby Peter knew. But still.

Pepper eyed them both cautiously, but soon relaxed. She had long ago learned that questioning everything that Tony (and especially Tony and Peter) did was not worth the effort. Nothing was on fire and her daughter was happy and safe, so she would let them off the hook. “Are you staying for dinner, Peter? I can make you favorite. Homemade pizza, right?”

“Oh, yeah, that’d be great! Just let me check with Aunt May real quick,” Peter said, hopping up from where he was leaning against the couch to get his phone out and call his Aunt.

“Go ahead and invite her too, Pete,” Mr. Stark said, moving to take his daughter back from Pepper so she could take her shoes off and put her bag down before moving to the kitchen, presumably to start cooking. “I’ve been meaning to talk to both of you about where you want to go to college anyway.”

Peter beamed at his mentor, “Sounds great, sir.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “I’ve told you a million times, kid. Just call me Tony.”

Pepper popped her head back into the living room just long enough to yell, “I think ‘Dad’ would be an acceptable substitution as well at this point.”

Tony scoffed indignantly, but offered no verbal rebuttal.

Peter dutifully ignored both of them, though he felt his cheeks tinge pink as he dialed Aunt May’s number.

He continued to make funny faces at Morgan throughout the short call, causing her to giggle uncontrollably all the while. After the call had ended and May had agreed to head to the Stark house for their family dinner, Peter moved to the kitchen to help Pepper cook while Tony kept Morgan occupied in the living room.

Pepper smiled at him, and happily accepted his help, blessedly not bringing up the whole “dad” thing again. He couldn’t deny that Tony was the closest thing Peter had ever had to a father figure, excluding his Uncle Ben, but he wasn’t just going to start calling him that, even if it did carry some appeal. At least not yet.

For now, he was happy with this still relatively new family dynamic, especially with the addition of Morgan. He had never thought that he would have the opportunity to actually be a brother, given the circumstances that life had thrown at him; but time had a funny way of changing things, and this was one such example that Peter couldn’t be happier about.

Part Three

#marvel #mcu #fanfiction #peter parker #spider-man #morgan stark #tony stark #Iron Man #pepper potts #pepperony #iron dad #spider son #super fluff #i love it when my babies are happy but still freaking out #My writing #marvel fanfiction #original #mine

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sundaynightnovels · 5 years

Note

multiples of 10 for the ask meme!

hello, and happy chinese new year! thanks for the question!! i actually don’t exactly know which ask meme you’re referring to (i reblog a lot of ask memes don’t i???) so i’m assuming its for the latest one here because it’s the latest post i have with the title as ‘writer ask meme’? (please let me know if i got it wrong!)10. Pick an author (or writing friend) to co-write a book with

this is already difficult!! i actually still don’t know enough about the writing styles of the writers here, and i don’t have any writing friends in real life (okay... maybe i have like, one, but she does poetry and journalism and i don’t... but her writing is beautiful) so i really don’t know yet!! does anyone want to co-write a book with me ?? HAHA. for an author... hm............. rick riordan. i think our humour coincides sometimes, and we can bounce off stupid jokes on one another. i love cold humour and lame puns. also, i love greek mythology.20. Any advice for young writers/advice you wish someone would have given you early on?

i think i’ve been really lucky in that everyone has been really encouraging so far. i mean, my friends and family know that i like to write and they always encourage me to, though they have never read my stuff before so maybe that’s only because they don’t know my capability (or lack thereof)... so the issues i’ve ever had was only with myself. i guess my advice would be like, remember that one tiny idea / concept that you had since young??? well, sometimes it manifests into an actual novel in adulthood, things come around, so you know, don’t ever fully give up on your ideas!!!when i was younger, i had a vague idea about writing something in the afterlife, but it never worked out. it’s very different from my current wip in that it’s a full-fledged fantasy that was meant to be epic with things like the worlds colliding and a powerful core and multiple realms and things like that, but that i never finished / started it and maybe it was never meant to be like that, because suddenly in my adulthood i’ve found another idea in the afterlife and it isn’t even close to what i originally had in mind, but i still love it, and maybe this is what it’s all meant to become since then. who knows? is this even advice????? i think it’s just mindless introspection. but yea, i guess that’s all i’ve got.30. Do you like to read books similar to your project while you’re drafting or do you stick to non-fiction/un-similar works?

i try not to read anything while i’m writing my own work (also, i haven’t read a book in... ages), so definitely that means nothing similar to my project as well! there’s always that inherent fear or accidentally taking someone else’s ideas and internalising it as your own, and while there are obviously tropes and concepts and intangible things that can always be found in similar books, it’s a fine line between that, and accidentally plagiarising something, so yea, i don’t want to fall into that trap of getting inspired by a similar story while writing my own. it might get a little complicated.

40. Do you look up to any of your writer buddies?

like i said, i don’t really know a lot of your writing styles yet, but i definitely look up to the writeblrs out here!!! there are so many writers with such strong, complex, intricate worldbuilding that i can’t ever imagine doing , people who have such strong interesting character and character relationships, and people with such amazing, crazy plots that i’m honestly so excited about, and of course, all of the great people here who are so welcoming and friendly and ahhhh, it’s a great community. i think everyone here is brilliant tbh, and there’s way too many people to tag here but all of you are amazing! i’m gonna pull an ellen degeneres here and say, to the great writeblrs out there, ‘you know who you are’ HAHA50. Do you share your rough drafts or do you wait until everything is all polished?

well so far i’ve only ever finished writing three first-drafts(2 of them are part of a series, and they’re still on their first drafts since... a couple of years ago. the last one is like all things out of season). for the first two that are part of a series, i was just honestly so glad that i finally finished writing something that i shared it with one of my friends. it is honestly a terrible book with pretty cringey writing and a weak plot, but there are still a lot of aspects of it that i like and i might rewrite it one day.for like all things out of season, though, i don’t want to share it at its current first draft stage, because it’s still kinda messy, the characterisations are a little all over a place (that’s why i’m working on the companion novel now, to figure the characters out a little bit more), and i think it needs a lot of improvement. and also another big thing because i see its potential (unlike my previous two, which have to really be completely scrapped and replotted and rewritten if i want to do it again) and that i think it can come together soon if i work on it for a while longer, so yeah, i’d rather wait till everything’s polished. also, i don’t know who to share my drafts with (none of my friends seem particularly interested??? fine, i don’t talk about my wip with them and a lot of them might not even know im writing something, but for those who i have mentioned it to, they don’t seem that interested. or maybe they don’t want to pry because they know i need my privacy, idk)thank you for the question, and i really really hope i answered the right ones!!!

#personal tag #writing tag #this was fun #nkta-ink

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purkinje-effect · 3 years

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The Anatomy of Melancholy, 69: Coupe’d Up

Table of Contents. Second Instar, Chapter 36. Go to previous. End of Second Instar; go to next. TWs: Canon-typical animal violence, surveillance mention, manipulation and abusive verbiage, drug use, dubcon, lascivious behavior. Excellence without equal.

A/N: Last chapter of Second Instar. Next chapter starts Third Instar, which will be posted as a new book in The Anatomy of Melancholy series. Thank you for your continued readership. Lord knows I wouldn't have got to nearly 190K on this monstrosity without y'all.

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Over the next eight days, ‘Choly spent some time with the Quincy survivors, but provided very little otherwise to the new settlers of Sanctuary beyond the material aid brought from Lowell and Billerica. Angel and Bogey tended to them far better than any physical assistance he could provide. The Handies helped straighten disheveled housing, toted scrap about for the humans to use for repairs, and delivered items and information with equal delight.

With Bogey helping out around the neighborhood, it worked out that Angel had more time to see to ‘Choly, as ‘Choly certainly needed all the help he could get. Rather than divide things up evenly, for the most part people just came and scrutinized the Rosa garage anytime they thought of something they needed. Just as he’d picked out an ensemble from the garments at the golf course, so had the Sanctuary settlers gained fresh additions to their attire, for the most part favoring effective layering than any sense of form.

More than anything, all ‘Choly wanted was for Sticks to come home. It only confused ‘Choly more, that Sticks hadn’t left altogether. The ghoul had been so wrapped up in the idea of urgency that they ‘beat the weather,’ only for him to drag his heels like this for over a week...

At least weather in the Concord suburbs permitted 'Choly to go about in something lighter than his bekesha-tulup and Vault suit. He’d only let himself pick one more shirt and pants from the Billerica haul, leaving the rest to Sanctuary’s settlers, but even just having multiple garments to wear, without military associations, felt like utmost decadence. He disliked the idea of going sock-foot in the house without further repairs to the exposed foundation, let alone barefoot, so he kept to his oxfords. Socks and underwear held utmost value of any garments. Sanctuary’s settlers agreed: they’d gone months with threadbare, ripped clothing after raiders had chased them from Quincy to Concord, unable to stop long enough to repair much of anything.

The only thing the settlers appreciated more than the cookware and decent condition clothing was the golf clubs with which they could now arm themselves. Simple and effective, and a great fallback when ammunition inevitably became scarce. He hadn’t found a complete set when they scrounged, but he found enough random clubs that he thought it wise to bring them to Sanctuary to build up a bit of an armory. He kept exactly one, his preferred 4-wood, for its versatility.

He’d imparted Sticks’s jest that one could turn the golf balls into cherry bombs, along with his addition of a slingshot to the ridiculous visual, but Sturges seemed to have taken the suggestion in earnest. The mechanic didn’t mention anything either of them were doing, without being asked about it. ‘Choly heeded Missus Murphy’s advice not to nose around Sticks until he was ready, and extended that advice himself as to not nose around people with whom Sticks had spoken. All ‘Choly knew was, Sticks was staying at the Red Rocket, would be staying at the Red Rocket until further notice, and was possessed with the need to restore a 2071 Chryslus Coupe.

Regardless of what he knew would do right by Sticks, he already felt lousy unable to know how to interpret Sticks’s behavior at such a distance. He sat at Jacob’s terminal--Sticks’s terminal--tapping at the keyboard keys without pressing any.

Frequent nightmares frustrated his attempts to just sleep through it all. The prospect of being put on ice again flirted with him often. He’d started a nightmare diary: not just as an attempt to process their substance, but also as a way to catalogue them in the off chance they spawned further writing inspiration. The most immediate entry came first, then the Duchesne nightmare. Many nightmares riddled the week, but memory of most beyond the panicked dread residues faded fast. He waffled over transcribing any of the times he had dreamt of Jacob leading up to learning he was alive (and wasn’t feral). Abruptly, he decided to drop it altogether: it felt too much like something that Jared would get use from.

He thought he smelled the salty musk of Jet, but waved it off as a byproduct of association.

He stooped in the chair to put in the new combination he’d set on the combination safe. It took some effort to hoist the six-inch printout binder filled with continuous stock paper onto the desk, and he steadied himself before staring it down. He’d been trying to get in a headspace where he could start reading The MKExceed Papers, but as far back as the events leading up to the Lexington fire, his brain had been afire for weeks now with anything pertaining to higher chemistry. Even just the slightest notion of effort to sleuth what mystery chem Olivia could’ve possibly given him fizzled upon formation.

After skimming and glossing and nothing grabbing him, he began to open to random pages, in an attempt to determine section markers. She hadn’t provided him with any table of contents, but it had printed out in some logical order. Each wing of the Deenwood Compound researched a different capacity of the human condition. In shorthand, physicians typically referred to seven of these traits as what made a person S.P.E.C.I.A.L.--strength, perception, endurance, charisma, intelligence, agility, and luck. The development of Psycho had fallen to Wing IX, under the condition of one’s breaking limits, he recalled, then later used to prove printed order. He peeled at the corner of the continuous stock feed on pages where he could discern where one wing’s data ended and the next’s began.

For the most part, the printout looked and read like the expected military pharmacology dossier, with breakdowns of the history of a formulation’s refinement as well as observation entries regarding its usage. Eventually, flipping back and forth through the binder, he noticed a massive gap in the years of the timeline in Wing II’s data, resuming with a second series, over a hundred years after any other entries. Everything dated 2234 had been written with a more personal tone, more like a diary. His face slacked as he finally absorbed himself in the literature.

The General had paid a group of mercenaries, including Laverne, to do recon on RobCo Towers’s ties with the SCYTHE Project. An explosion to the face had blinded Laverne, rendering her vulnerable to questionably voluntary captivity under the Deenwood chemist’s care. The General used chems to treat the damage in lieu of surgery, but the results from a chem named Glance proved rocky enough to require further development. Early formulations sounded like they had further disfigured Laverne’s face in some fashion, as well as inducing severe psychological distress.

“The eyeballs survived, but the bone’s splintered, and the force seems to have damaged the optic nerves and nasal structure. I’m no surgeon, but I did my best. Anything a needle and thread can’t fix, chems can.“

“X²-Cell would benefit her, but it’s too risky and costly to use broad spectrum modification as a long-term palliative for a single condition’s treatment... Glance 3.0 is a messy success... She’d be falling apart on me were it not for my mandatory on-base DayTripper regimen.”

“I’m going ease back on the doses. She may be getting too much Glance 5.0. We’re not going to take her off it completely just yet, in the chance regrowth hasn’t stabilized.”

Laverne and Olivia fell hard for one another during Laverne’s treatment, but Olivia already had a lover in Helen. The latter respected the personhood of higher robotics like Assaultrons, while the former respected only the value of commanding them. Olivia wanted the three of them to work out a less conventional relationship, but Laverne couldn’t understand why she had to ‘share’ Olivia with a robot. Olivia cared so much for Laverne that she couldn’t risk harming or losing her from so much as simple touch, having finally met someone the side effects of developing X-Seed on herself came between. Their falling out ultimately culminated in Olivia attempting to show rather than tell Laverne about X-Seed and its unique immune system damage, having obtained a Tribute from Voire for herself. Lacking the understanding of witnessing a two-person Unfolding, Laverne accused Olivia of cuckolding her with just about anyone and anything she could.

“To put it lightly, we don’t see eye to eye on robotics philosophy, but she wants to show me how to modify robots. To repay me for my commitment in restoring her vision. I’ve thought I do just fine with maintenance and repairs, but I might stand to learn a thing or two from her. Even if it might just be what not to do.”

This 2234 passage detailed the approximate arrangement that Deenwood had with the Furriers, as well, leading up to Olivia taking her next X-Seed dose to Unfold with a single Tribute. She’d send word to Voire she requested Tribute. Sticks would escort two Furriers. One Furrier would stay, the other would go with Sticks to deliver √X-Cell for that decade’s Unfolding. Olivia noted his ‘typical price’ was a Flamer tank refill, and a case each of Jet, Psycho, and DayTripper... but the actual cost of keeping him as their intermediary varied due to his ‘five-finger discount.’

‘Choly had questioned his recollection that the mess hall had once employed two Mister Handy chefs, but the text indicated that Laverne had hacked Remy and absconded with it to defend herself as she escaped the base.

A single entry existed for 2286: Olivia’s earliest worry that the robot-thirsty raider outfit that had taken up housing in RobCo Towers could have been led by Laverne herself thirty-two years later.

The moment he realized The MKExceed Papers mentioned Sticks by name, he flipped over to the CHR Wing IV section. Skimming for date gaps yielded a similar addendum. It may have lacked the romantic subplot that caused him to skim over it initially, but the passage substantiated everything he already knew about the ghoul’s forced involvement in the development of Magnetizer. The dates even matched up with when Sticks would have lost his hand to Ick. He spiraled into despair, racking himself to parse how such a chem even worked.

He jumped at raised voices outside. He whipped around in the chair to look out the broken exterior wall. Sticks and Angel were fighting. At a caution, he stood and approached to eavesdrop from the back wall which had once belonged to his bedroom, hoping to go undetected by at least one of them.

“I took care of Sanctuary myself for 210 years ALONE because you never returned! I simply cannot comprehend your malfunction, in how you don’t understand how betrayed I felt to learn you’ve been alive all along! My primary emotion at such news should not have been HURT!”

“Are you really railing me for not coming back?”

At first, ‘Choly thought they might have been arguing because Angel caught Sticks going through ‘Choly’s backyard chem station. But the more he stood there watching the pair, the more he understood Sticks had been using it.

“You were Mister Carey’s best friend when you lived here. When the Vault reopened in 2079 and none of the Sanctuary Hills natives reemerged, I figured Mister Carey had decided to move into the Vault for good. Without me.” The Mister Handy grabbed him in two pincers. “At least Mister Carey had an excuse for not telling me until this year!”

Sticks shoved it off with a hiss.

“I can’t stand Sanctuary. Everything is wrong. And it’s so unlike anyplace else I have memories of from before it was all destroyed. It feels too much like trying to go back to a simpler time. And it still smells an awful lot like Hell. You’re a robot. You can’t smell! And you have no idea what it’s like to turn into this.”

“Do you really, truly, not understand just exactly what you meant to Sir and myself? I stayed put here because I thought all I had left was tending to your house. In the event you did return home, I wanted to make sure to the best of my abilities that you had a home to return to at all.”

“I thought I’d lost him, too, you idiot. And you, too. The bombs dropped all kinds of tech like lead, from clocks to robots to army tanks. You were out cold, and I’m stupid, okay? How am I supposed to know the difference between a robot that’s ‘turned off’ and a robot that’s kaput? Why are we even arguing about this. We’re all alive. Isn’t that something? ...I have to get outta here ASAP, Handy. And if you’ll just let me finish this last batch of Jet Fuel, I can complete what I’m working on, and we can ALL get outta here.”

Sticks noticed ‘Choly, and the devastation on his face.

Of course Missus Murphy was right. She’s always right, Sight or not.

“You’re right. We’re all alive, and that is something. But is it so wrong to want to fix up the house and stay here?”

“Coming back here was the actual goal of dragging me out of Lowell, wasn’t it? Do you actually need medical care? Or did you make up the chem lab and all that shit?”

‘Choly’s jaw dropped.

“Mister Hawthorne, Sir, I strongly advise you to reassess whether Mister Carey has had any reason to mislead you, in any way.”

Sticks waved it all off with a sneer of hurt.

“Neither of you gets it. You’re so desperate to drag the future into the past. But time doesn’t move that way. Baggage goes forward, Alan. It can’t be exactly like the good old days. It never will be.” He deflated a bit, laying his hands on the milk crate on the lab desk. “I’ll only be a minute. And I’m almost done down the street, for what it’s worth.”

‘Choly squinted his eyes shut. A nod of uncertainty became a certain nod.

“--No. Come in the house right now. I don’t want to talk to you poking my head through the goddamn bedroom wall.”

“It’s not home anymore. Being here isn’t coming home.” The ghoul didn’t reject the request, but argued regardless.

“Do you need me to accompany you gentlemen? Or shall I give you some space, since it’s not believed I... get it?”

“I want to talk to him alone, Angel.”

“Besides, we both know you can eavesdrop from the end of the street.”

“Well, I certainly wish I did get it. Because it’s just wretched to think any of us could ever divorce his past from the present!”

Angel zipped off with the intention to remain nearby regardless, and Sticks strolled to the front door and entered. The ghoul stood with ‘Choly in the kitchen, dripping with sorry.

“Forgive the extra delay getting going. And forget about the argument. Please? This has just been a lot to process all at once. First, you, and now, standing here again.”

‘Choly trembled in place. He didn’t recognize his footing until Sticks reacted to his throttled body language with direct eye contact and tracing ‘Choly’s chin scar with his thumb. He sublimated on the spot, and fluttered back to the dry bar behind himself to pour half an old fashioned glass of whiskey. His breathing steadied after he’d stood there nursing about a third of it.

“Maybe I wasn’t ready to come back yet, either,” he mumbled to himself. He walked off to the terminal to sit. He noticed Sticks followed him, but spaced out a bit, staring silent at the broken bed. “Mine’s rotted out, too. Sorry I took the couch. You know I’d make a double bed roll again, if you wanted to sleep here.”

Sticks shook his head.

“I haven’t slept. Not yet. This... I spent so long here after the bombs.” He pulled a hand from his pockets to point vaguely at the bed, before slouching again. “None of the cars worked, and walking was beyond any of us. I laid in that bed for what felt like weeks.”

“I’m sorry if it was a bad idea for us to come here.” ‘Choly felt so small for feeling caught by his predatory habituations. “We really don’t have to stay.”

The ghoul snatched ‘Choly’s hands clapped between his own, wild-eyed with determination. A stupor beset ‘Choly.

“I get the feeling all three of us have some version of going a long time not knowing the other two were alive. And no, things can’t be like they were. But we can make new from the old. Partners with history, working together again after years apart. Think of all the enterprises ahead of us.” Nostalgia replaced his hauntedness. “I meant it when I said I was almost done. I came in when you asked. Come down the street with me. I want to show you.”

“Almost done? With the whole entire car?”

“Sanctuary may be off limits for me, but Little Boy Blue was my first car. I paid cash, all up front. What a thrill, to be able to get it without financing attached to chase after me and bite me in the ass years down the line. Even when I got him, folks were having a harder and harder time affording a vehicle at all. Sure, I got him secondhand, but he was mine, and he was my project. I can’t leave Blue behind, knowing he’s still here.”

‘Choly squinted through his encroaching inebriation. Sticks held him by the shoulders and gave him a saccharine peck on the lips.

“But that’s all a load of bullshit. You can’t believe I word I say. Just take all the effort and paraphernalia in good faith.”

When Sticks let him go, ‘Choly reopened the safe, and scooped up The MKExceed Papers to return the binder.

“Changed the combo? That’s fair. It’s not unreasonable to think the desk rifling at Glenn Johnny’s was me going through your stuff. If you thought that, anyway. But believe it or not, I was going through mine. I couldn’t remember where I put my Jet Fuel recipe.”

Sticks watched him expectantly. ‘Choly finished off his drink without another word and popped his holotape from the terminal deck, to slip it into his Pip-Boy. He glanced to the ghoul on his way out of the bedroom, to leave the empty glass on the kitchen island, anticipating that Sticks wasn’t done just saying things. While Sticks grabbed his milk crate from ‘Choly’s backyard chem station, ‘Choly grabbed his cane from the umbrella stand by the front door frame. And they got to walking.

“So I did smell Jet,” ‘Choly finally said, when Sticks wouldn’t continue conversation.

“Half-right! It’s why I brought my Flamer fuel with me. I brought my remaining chem stash with me for liquid assets, but it’ll do us more good that I burned through it this week. I figured I’d need the momentum after the things I learned at the Merrilurk boil. I anticipated some sleepless nights--or at least some all-nighters. Bare minimum, I could turn around and sell it later, y’know? It’s the one chem I actually know how to follow a recipe for. I still want to replace my Flamer, but I figure it’s easier to replace the gas than the weapon itself. I decided,” his gravelly voice cracked, “that I’d go ahead and crack into it! Using it for the car was a good thing. Neither of us has it in him to walk ten, twelve hours on foot like that. And what’s more!”

From the last planks of the Minutemen Bridge, the ghoul raced ahead the remainder of the way with unbridled enthusiasm, walking backwards at times anxious for ‘Choly to catch up. The chemist only wilted further.

“What’s more!!” The ghoul set the crate down on top of the coupe and popped the trunk in the front, to wave at its spaciousness. “Just think how much more we can haul, without us personally hauling it!”

‘Choly was more concerned with the back end of the Chryslus whose fresh, poor paint job had transformed it from sky blue to royal. His head tilted.

“The engine’s stable and in tact? And the engine shield?”

“I’m rusty with that part of the safety checklist, but Sturges helped me out with it. All I’ve been used to focusing on is engine stability, since it doesn’t hurt me personally anymore if a little rads trickles out.” Sticks held up his Pip-Boy. “This little beaut helped a ton too. Did you know it’s got a built-in Geiger counter?”

“I had no idea,” ‘Choly deadpanned, slowly circling the vehicle.

“Oh, come on, Mindy! Be excited with me! For us! This took me all week!!” The ghoul produced keys from his pocket with an excited jingling. “Eh? Ehh??”

‘Choly's attention fell instead on the unusual shape of the luggage rack on the roof. He didn’t remember it having one.

“Unsurprising, that you’d still have the keys after all this time. Impressive, that you don’t have to hotwire it.”

“Reviving Blue wasn’t selfish! I see the look on your face. I did this for you and your robot. It’ll conserve Angel’s fuel, if we strap it up top there. Its thruster will just barely make the clearance between the gull doors. Think about it. Sure, we could go pretty quick, if we outfitted Bogey like you did Angel, but boy does that brass bucket sure like it here. We can cut North so much faster with Little Boy Blue here. He could clock up to a hundred when I had ‘im all tuned up. I estimate the trip to Nashua won’t take us more than an hour, as long as we don’t encounter anything Blue can’t just run down. Power armor, automobile. Both are two tons of steel and can stomp people flat. You know me, and I prefer the class and luxury of a good Chryslus.”

‘Choly sighed. The idea of riding off into the sunset didn’t seem so bad, when he let himself imagine it. Sticks saw the flicker in his eye and nearly started to skipping as he paced around the car.

“Just imagine my shock and delight that the engine block wasn’t fused solid. Fusion’s the past tense of fission, right? The moment I knew I had something I could work with, there was no other thought in my mind than acting on it. It’s okay that we didn’t stick around Pawtucketville, ‘cause I would much rather have Blue patched up than trying to resuscitate yet another Fusion Flea. Engines are most likely to have survived, but I can’t hardly get my knees under the steering column of those things.”

“I’m going to stop distracting you and go see Sturges,” he said through a strange smile.

Sticks shrugged and popped the gull doors to dive inside.

“Suit yourself. You’re gonna get the full tour once he’s finished anyway! Guy’s probably out back, still trying to train that mutt to hunt molerats.”

“Molerats?” he murmured to himself, with an eye out as he rounded the corner past the milk machine.

He heard a pop and a squeal, but saw no person or creature out back. He continued down the slope of the hill, to find an opening not quite big enough to consider a cave. Several yards in, Sturges stood with a sack, balancing a lit cigarette in his lips. Dogmeat rounded back to him for pets.

“Oh, hey, Melancholy. Come to check on your buddy?”

“You could say that. I also came out here to check on you. Haven’t heard or seen much of you since I got back in town.”

“Been busy with this molerat den. If they dig in much deeper, it’ll collapse the Red Rocket. Can’t be losing my slice of paradise to a sinkhole. Dogmeat’s been helping me locate which burrows the pests are in. He’s a very good boy. Then I toss in a bit of explosives. Worked well so far.”

The mechanic held up a golf ball with a fuse to show ‘Choly, then snickered.

“I was kidding.”

“Turns out these things don’t kid around. The idea works like a charm. The plastic they’re made of really amplifies the burst of an overheated fusion cell. Watch.”

Sturges clicked for the dog’s attention. Dogmeat wafted about in the main chamber of a network of burrows ‘Choly could tell went for easily a hundred yards in any given direction. Once the German shepherd pointed to a hole, the mechanic lit the fuse from his cigarette’s cherry and underhand tossed the ball in from about ten feet back before retreating to the main opening on bated breath. Soon after, the pop rang out and several molerats squealed. Another burrowed out into the main chamber, to jump Dogmeat. But he knew it was coming, and managed to grab it when it bit his leg, and he shook it by the neck until it stopped moving. He dragged it over to Sturges, who gave him more pets for dropping it at his feet.

“Great job, Dogmeat. We’ll make you a hunting dog yet, boy. We’re eating meat tonight.” He chuckled quietly, before turning to ‘Choly. “Thanks again for bringing all the tools and parts out here. Not only did you replace stuff missing from the Red Rocket, but there’s a lot of things from the golf course a recoolant station wouldn’t have had. Can’t wait for your buddy to give me a chance to play around with most of ‘em. He’s been busy, to put it lightly.”

“Yeah, I’m kind of worried about him.”

“Just promise me you’ll make him sleep before you let him drive, all right? As far as I can tell, he’s been awake at least seven days straight. Ghouls do sleep, right? I relate as much as the next guy, how hyper focused I can get when a project gets going, but damn. Wouldn’t trust the guy to operate a toaster right now, honestly.” Dogmeat snuffle-whined at him. “All right, bud. I’m watchin’. You point, I toss.”

“I think we all get like that on occasion... Anyway. I’m pretty sure I’m just gonna be in the way. You’ve got it under control, guys.” ‘Choly held his hand out to Dogmeat, who smelled of it before letting him pet him. He smiled as the dog darted off in search of more quarry. “He’s warming up to me maybe.”

“Maybe if you came around more often.”

‘Choly let out a mused sigh on his way out.

“Good luck. And thanks for keeping an eye on Sticks for me.”

He ambled back up to the recoolant station. He reentered through the garage, taking in how meticulously Sturges had laid out all the tools, between the benches, rolling cabinet, and wall racks. Even things like the assortment of robot-specific tools like the GA-proprietary socket wrench kit found a home in the space. He wandered into the building proper, with the front counter, awed that in two weeks or less, the mechanic had repaired all the downed sectional panels, tucked away exposed wiring, and replaced damaged bulbs. He peeked at the Nuka-Cola machine in the corner, to whistle that it worked again, though it lacked any sodas to chill.

Deep down, Sturges must really want this to be Sanctuary’s social hub, he thought to himself with a smile. If only he knew how much it had been once. They couldn’t hardly keep the Port-O-Diner stocked. Everybody loved those sandwiches.

He found himself behind the counter, instinctively standing in the doorway to the back office. He bristled, but entered anyway.

Divorcing one’s past from his present.

He sat in the desk chair, stricken by a vacant inertia. His hands wandered the open spaces of the desktop. Everything had felt like a dream in itself since his last time here. Scraps of thought fluttered through him.

You may have thought things would come right again / If you could only keep quite still and wait.

A grimace tugged at him. He wiped his brow. He wished he’d have thought to ask Angel for a Mentat. Looking to his Pip-Boy, he didn’t have a fever. He shivered.

His head prickled. His eyes wandered just enough for his ears to pick up metered breathing behind him. His breath stuttered as he whipped around where he sat, clutching at his chest.

“Jacob, fuck-me-in-the-mouth,” he wheezed out. “How long have you been standing there?”

The ghoul slouched against the doorway, arms crossed. He only smiled in response at first, his eyes slivers. He had put on a red and blue jumpsuit, the Red Rocket mechanic’s uniform. ‘Choly frowned agape as all the light drained from him.

“How long would you want me to have stood here?” Sticks strolled up to him, and leaned into his face with a heavy smile. The musk of Jet dripped off him. “I don’t have to just stand there.”

'Choly itched with anxious, tickled laughter, torn between compulsive clothes wiping and pushing Sticks away.

“--I take it --you’re, aH --you’re finished with --the caR--”

Sticks gripped his jaw one-handed and forcefully, fully kissed him. ‘Choly didn’t know where to put his hands, and clawed at the armrests of the chair and dug his heels into the broken teal vinyl wood. A moan squeaked from his nostrils. With ‘Choly throttled, Sticks’s other hand went to his throat. Mouth to mouth all the while, Sticks drew him up slowly to stand, and eased him back on the desk. The ghoul slipped between his legs, and his right hand wandered to the small of his back. ‘Choly squirmed, in a panicked dialectic of mortification and arousal. Attempts to break the deep oral kissing, unfettered by having to navigate only one nose, only resulted in the make-out melting sloppier and sloppier.

“--Jacob --Jhh, sTOP,” he giggled, practically hyperventilating. “--nOT --HERE,”

The ghoul hiss-snarled playfully against ‘Choly’s ear, hot and humid. He nipped at his earlobe and trailed down to kiss at ‘Choly’s neck. ‘Choly shut his eyes and unclenched. Okay, very here. Did it even matter whether Sticks knew what he’d done here two weeks ago? ‘Choly drew him back mouth to mouth, feverish and broken at the thought this could be another nightmare. In the moment, he let it be a dream. The two of them couldn’t hold back awkward, delighted chuckling.

A sharp finger-whistle cut through the compact acoustics of the office. The two scrambled apart. ‘Choly’s eyes widened in grief as he adjusted his glasses. He pawed at his shirt to check that all the buttons were still buttoned. Sticks coughed and slouched back to sit in the chair.

Dogmeat lowered his head, poised to lunge. Sturges put his cigarette back between his lips and crossed his arms with a repulsed scowl.

“S, ssorry for fooling around someplace less private.”

“Your need for privacy isn’t the issue here, and we know that. You couldn’t have picked a less appropriate location. ...Anyway. Just be glad it was me of all people that walked in on you.”

‘Choly sat up to the edge of the desk, and kept his eyes on the dog.

“I, yes, of course. Sticks, apologize.”

Hearing viscous, nasal breathing and little else, ‘Choly and Sturges looked to Sticks, passed out in the chair.

“Something tells me he burned his last scrap of stamina on you. And that he’s not the slightest bit sorry.”

“Something tells me you’re not wrong.” ‘Choly couldn’t look at Sturges. His voice faltered as he stared at the comatose ghoul. “Did you tell him?”

The question made Sturges break his cigarette. He stared at ‘Choly.

“He made it sound like you’d told him. I’ll know better than that next time. If there is one.” When Dogmeat growled, Sturges bent down to hold the dog by the collar. ‘Choly prickled. The mechanic told his dog, “Come on, buddy. Let’s get this meat back to the others.”

“We’ll be leaving soon. Once he’s up, we’ll pack it up. Don’t worry.” ‘Choly stared off into Sticks’s face. “...Would it be inappropriate for me to offer to help with that?”

“If you think you can handle a couple, I won’t turn that down, sure. It’ll take fewer trips. You okay with just leavin’ him here like that?”

“I doubt he’s waking up anytime soon. Let him sleep. God knows he needs it.”

On their way back, Sturges carried three molerats the size of small dogs, while ‘Choly carried two smaller ones closer to the size of cats.

“It might not be my place to say it,” the mechanic started, “but you’re a little too okay with what he just did.”

“I’m grateful you walked in on us when you did. He may have let me take the roleplaying too far otherwise.”

“...Don’t you mean, he would have taken it too far?”

“I meant what I said. He wouldn’t push buttons that weren’t there."

“There’s a load of difference between asking for it and asking him for it.”

“...Not with me, there isn’t. It’s fine, really. We'll figure things out.”

After he carried the two molerats back to Sanctuary, ‘Choly asked Angel to help him carry things from the house to the car. He lifted Blue’s keys from Sticks’s pocket, so he could start loading the trunk--not that he had much to load up. A majority of his belongings fit in the golf bag: his Syringer, his 4-wood, his dart cases, his spare clothes. He tossed his coat in the back seat. Anything more sensitive, such as the Merrick Index and The MKExceed Papers, remained in Angel’s internal false-bottom compartment. To his surprise, Sticks had already loaded his own things into the vehicle. He absently glanced through the suitcase, noting the cases of Med-X, Mentats, and Rad-X, as well as the case of empty inhalers he could tell had once contained Jet. He was about to thumb through the clothing, but Sticks put a hand on his shoulder.

“Giving yourself a head start on the tour?”

“A head start on packing. I wasn’t sure if we would do better, sorting like items,” he lied. “Clothes with clothes, chems with chems. You know.”

“You know I’m not about to let Angel guard my stash, right?”

“Well I wouldn’t want to,” it snubbed in passing, pacing about the canopy while it skimmed for anything to tidy.

“Are we good?” When ‘Choly didn’t answer, Sticks wrapped his arms around his waist from behind. “You and me?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Hey, while we’re in here. I keep forgetting.” Sticks leaned into the trunk to fish out a small tin. He shook something out into his hand, then guided ‘Choly to sit in the passenger seat while he took the driver’s side. “Had to wrestle ‘em from Bones. It’s wild, just how much she fancies you. Kind of unnerving, too.”

‘Choly stared at the poppy cuff-links emptied into his hands. He held one up to confirm the engraving on the underside did in fact read ‘A.C.’

“...What, you don’t think somebody could be into me?”

“Am I chopped liver? What, no. You didn’t like her attention either, whether you’ll admit it. It wasn’t that she fancied you. It’s how she showed it.”

‘Choly couldn’t admit he was right, flummoxed by the ghoul’s obliviousness.

“Thank you for retrieving them,” he finally said. “Why did you keep them all this time, anyway?”

“You’re reading too much into it. But I guess you could say, any time I laid my hands on ‘em again, you were a reminder I should be a little bit less of a shithead sometimes.”

“A little bit?” He couldn’t dull the sharpness of his laugh. He clenched the cuff-links in a fist. “You sold out the entire city of Lowell, just to get a fucking Pip-Boy. What do you even want with it? Clearly, you don’t even know how to use it in the first place.”

Sticks sat quietly in place for quite a time before looking to ‘Choly with a small smile.

“Well, my hand’s made out of the first Pip-Boy I had. It’s only fair that I ended up with one again, right?” He reached across the center console to grip ‘Choly’s hand, to shake it emphatically. “Just put it in perspective, babe. If that’s the price I’ll pay for something you think’s so frivolous... just imagine what I’ll pay for someone that means the world to me.”

‘Choly softened and fixated on the patched-together Nuka-Girl figurine glued again to the freshly polished dashboard.

“To the moon, I guess.”

End of Second Instar. Go to Next »»»

#fallout 4 #fallout #fallout 4 fanfic #fallout fanfic #fo4 fanfic #sole survivor #sturges #the anatomy of melancholy #melancholy #sticks #angel #mister handy #ghoul oc #red rocket truck stop

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project-runway-rankings · 6 years

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Season 16 Episode 14- A Fitting Finale

This finale was one of my favorites in quite a few seasons. I truly had no idea who was going to win, and I could see any of the four of the designers winning. The last time that I could see any of the designers in the finale legitimately winning was way back in season 7 with Mila, Emilio and Seth Aaron. I also believe that any of these collections is superior to every collection from the past twos seasons, with only Kelly and Erin’s coming close.

Do I agree with the winner? Well you will have to see my rankings, but in short I think I would have been happy with any outcome. Onto the rankings:

4. Brandon

I loved the flamingo print and most of his silhouettes, but as a collection is was very one note. There is a hint of teal/aqua in the flamingo print and I would have loved to see him use a really saturated form of the color like he did with the pink leather in a few looks.

This is my favorite look from his collection. The leather shirt over the dress gives an interesting silhouette and layering effect. The print works very well here because it was broken up and his styling is on point.

The play on the shirt construction on the skirt is fun, but it is starting to become an old and worn out trend. The top is very Brandon in every way possible.

I love the shirt dress underneath. For all of the menswear Brandon has done he never made a shirt dress until the finale which I found interesting. The proportion of the vest to the dress is all wrong and the vest looks a bit tortured. I also wish it was in a different fabric.

The top is a snooze fest and it needs to be a color far more different than the flamingo print. I really like the skirt with the closures at the bottom and extreme asymmetrical hem.

I am still trying to figure out what is happening here and if I like it. From the front it is a long coat dress but from the back it looks like a shirt over a dress. I do like the ruffling along the hem and the you can see the gradient of the flamingo print because it such a long piece of fabric.

This look I love. It is a simple shirt dress but the details make it special. The oversize sleeves balance out the relative shortness of it from the front, but I also like that it is longer in the back. I can take or leave the straps, but the don’t feel over superfluous here.

This piece lacks balance. I like everything individually, it just so happens that everything draws your eye to her right thigh and not her upper body. I’ve seen the shirt before in his collection so I would have likes something different on top to balance it out. The bottom just looks messy.

That paper bag waster is still not working but I am glad he got rid of that tortured top from last week. Too bad he just added a basic tank instead. I like to imagine this look with an aqua/teal shirt like in his first look. The waist down is great and I wish he did more pants in his collection.

This is my second favorite look of the collection. I love the play on a paper doll dress, and I love the crispness of the leather juxtaposed with the flow and busyness of the dress underneath. The proportions are right as well.

This is quite underwhelming as a finale piece. From the back it gives his model a much better shape than the front. Overall it’s just a bit bland and more of the same from his rest of his collection.

3. Ayana

It was tough to decide between 2nd and third place because I genuinely liked both collections. Ayana ultimately came in 3rd for two reasons, repetitiveness and the fact that were a few looks I thought were wasted spots in her collection. In the end I truly thought the judges would award her the win because she really showed her modest aesthetic and probably would have done the most with the money.

I love this geometric lace and that she decided to make an entire look out of it. The pants could be a bit more fitted and I don’t understand why she hs basically the same top on twice (I know one is a shirt and one is a jacket but still).

I’m not well versed on hijab traditions but I think a hijab out of that lace on this look would have been killer.

I don’t need this hoodie at New York Fashion Week and I don’t understand it within the context of the collection. the pants are essentially the same cut as the previous look but fabric blocking in a hexagonal pattern mimicking the lace was shows Ayana’s fabrication genius.

If she would have put this top with her pants from look 2, scrapped these velous pieces and created a new top and skirt combo I’d be happy. The top is gorgeous and unabashedly Ayana. The skirt is a throw away. There isn’t much of a market for that length and that cut of skirt.

I sang the praises of this look last week and I will sing them again. every single piece is gorgeous on its own and together they are even better. The lighting last week didn’t really show off the shine of the shirt which plays well the matte jacket and pants. I love how loose the jacket is from the front yet it is still fitted in the back. J’dore.

I like this marginally better than when she showed it last week. The greens are definitely popping more, but I still wish it was injected with even more color. I think this model may be a few sizes smaller than her model last week and I think it definitely moves better on this one. It’s just boring.

I love this look. This is her fifth pant in six looks yet it is different than of them. This is a master class in proportions. The ruffles on the sleeves hit in the right spot and the skirt hits at the right point on the thighs to lengthen the model while also making your eyes move around her body.

This is the only look in the collection where I can feel Ayana trying to make a modest look. There is no reason to have pants on under this dress unless it is to create a modest look. This is also just too much of this fabric, I think the shinier print would have worked better.

This is so luxurious. I love the asymmetrical ruffles on her waist and thighs which make this special. It is also her only jumpsuit which is impressive considering we live in a world of jumpsuits right now. (Though it may be a shirt and pants)

When Brandon said this looks like an amphibian I totally agreed. Not only is it because of the fabric, but when it moved down the runway it reminded me of a newt swimming through the water. What I’m saying is I loved it.

This may be the single best piece that ever walked down the runway. There really is just nothing else to say because that says it all.

2. Margarita

Margarita’s collection came down to one thing, taste. I love how she went full force into tropical island girl style and didn’t neuter her collection like others (Candice) have in the past. From head to toe, beginning to end, this collection was a Margarita moment.

You know what you are getting from a collection when this looks turns the corner. From print, to cut, to color, to the feathers this is a wow look without going over the top. I love the sunglasses she designed as well. I wish she used this blue throughout her collection more.

It felt a little odd to have the only gown in the collection be in the middle, but then again this also feels a bit like a cover up. The print and color are vibrant and the up close beading detail is gorgeous.

The judges disliked the feathers but i am all about them. She mixed all three of her prints in one look and it worked out fabulously. The way she used the striped print from front to back is fabulous.

I agree with the judges, this is the one piece I could do without. It does make her model look thin and tall, but it’s just a bit busy yet underwhelming at the same time.

Yes. Bitch. Work. This look was a moment with a capital M. the suit is gorgeous on its own and very flattering to Jazzmine, and the cover-up converts it into a cute part dress. I could see a lot of girls wearing that as a dress on a summer day.

This is where I think the feathers go to far. Other than that I think this is pretty great. the cut of the pants is sublime, it is not easy to line up that pattern like that across her thighs. I’m not sure how the top works and if it would fall off if the drapes came around front.

The dress I can live without but that bomber is the star. I love it.

This may be my favorite piece in Margarita’s collection. it is unabashedly latina in its silhouette and print, but the sheer skirt takes it from costume to fashion. It’s a dramatic silhouette and different from the rest of her collection.

Honestly, this look was one of my favorites last week, but it is a bit of a low note in her collection as a whole. The pants are still great, but the top is too heavy for the pants. They have a sense of humor and he shirt is just to serious.

I love every piece here, but the problem is that this is not a finale piece. I understand it in the context of the collection, but this is not a memorable final piece. the trench is everything but the clothes underneath are just that, clothes. I almost wish her bathing suit was the finale piece.

1. Kentaro

Was there any other option? I guess the answer yes because every designer sent down a strong collection, but this was the most FASHION we have seen on this show since the Christian and Leanne back to back knock out collections of seasons 4 and 5. There were a few low notes, but over all this collection hit all the right notes. I’m glad that, like Margarita, Kentaro just went for it with reckless abandon.

If anyone ever asks you how to open a show, this is it. The silhouette from behind the screen was breathtaking, if not a bit comme de garcons. he would have gotten further away from that with a different sleeve length.

A wonderfully simple note. The painted/dyed leggings were perfect with the bagginess of the top, and the sleeves work better here than in look 1.

Made in one day, but that doesn’t mean that I can give it a pass. The front is boring and the back is awful.

I love everything about this. the cut out tee is a fresh note in the collection and I love the double sided pants. They shouldn’t work but they do.

Kentaro showed a real color story through his collection and it looked almost like a Japanese ink painting, utilizing black, white and red. The nudes are like the red bleeding into the rest of the collection. This is such a simple dress but extremely well executed. The proportions are perfect.

This dress sings. It still have the proportion issue in the top from last week, but the concept is so strong and because the flaw isn’t egregious this ends up being on of the stars of his collection.

AB-SO-LUTELY! The note of red works perfectly in the context of the collection. Once again it is a bit Comme de Garcons however it is still very Kentaro and not a knock off. The v is so low cut but the rest of her is so covered it works perfectly. It is like this top was made for his model, it sits perfectly on her. I want this.

I shouldn’t like this, but at the same time it is amazing. I love the layering of the fabrics and it fits her like a glove. It is a new silhouette for the collection but still remains part of the story.

We’re pretending this didn’t happen right? He made a slip dress. I’m surprised the judges didn’t mention this look (or his finale) at all during judging.

Because this finale look is everything I have ever wanted from project Runway. It’s so odd and quirky yet hits a perfect note of sophistication. For me this look won him the competition.

Not since season 3 has the show had 4 finalists who so clearly showed their point of view in stunning finale collections. Faith restored in this show.

Winner: Kentaro

2nd, 3rd, 4th: Ayana, Brandon, Margarita

#project runway season 16 #season16finale #project runway #projectrunway

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snappedsky · 5 years

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Borderlands: Skies the Bodyguard 1

The Vault Hunters explore Opportunity. Previous! Next!

Chapter 22

I slept better that night than ever before. Granted I had blacked out after downing two bottles of Jack’s brandy. And I sure didn’t get any rest.

I was rudely awoken by a shaky hand poking my shoulder. I groaned as I lifted my head from the couch and looked up at Professor Nakayama.

“Ugh,” I scoffed, pressing my face back into the couch cushion. “Not a face I want to wake up to.”

“Where’s Jack?” he asked whiningly.

“I’unno,” I mumbled, “he left yesterday.”

“Our appointment is today,” he pouted.

“Get lost, Nakayama,” I snapped, “Jack has more important things to worry about than you dumb little AI.”

“My AI is not dumb,” he screeched, “it is pivotal in maintaining Handsome Jack’s empire. My AI will-.”

I tried ignoring him but his squealy voice was grating against my ears and growing migraine and he was not shutting up anytime soon. So I shot up angrily.

“Alright!” I barked, “if I go look for him, will you shut up and leave me alone?”

He nodded meekly.

“Good,” I grunted and stood up. The room was still spinning a bit but I kept my balance and dragged my feet to the door. Nakayama didn’t move.

I glared at him before motioning for him to leave. He flinched and scampered for the lobby. I made sure to turn on the defenses before leaving.

I went straight to the fast travel station, thinking I knew exactly where Jack was. I teleported into Nisha’s kitchen and was only mildly surprised by what I saw.

The table was flipped, the chairs were scattered about, and there were even more bullet holes in the walls and cabinets. No blood anywhere though.

I saw Nisha’s bedroom door was cracked open and let myself in. Jack was passed out on the bed in just his Hyperion sweatshirt and pants. The rest of his clothes were all over the floor along with empty bottles of Rakk ale.

I left quietly and teleported back to the office. Nakayama was waiting there for me, impatiently.

“Jack ain’t coming,” I said plainly.

“Wh-wha-?” he stammered but I ignored him as I went into the office. As soon as the door closed, I called Blake.

“Cancel all of Jack’s meetings today,” I ordered, “actually, do the same for tomorrow too.”

“What, why?” he exclaimed.

“Just trust me,” I replied, “it’ll be better for everyone.” I cut the call and lumbered back to the couch, where I quickly passed out again.

I drifted awake sometime later and checked the time on my ECHO comm. It was later that night.

I sensed another person in the room and rolled my head over to see Jack sitting at his desk. He didn’t look much better. His outer layers of clothes and his shoes were on the floor, his hair was a mess, and he looked exhausted the way he was leaning against the desk.

I rubbed my face as I lifted myself up, pushing my messy hair out of the way. Sometime during my drunk night I had thrown off my beanie, vest, and shoes somewhere around the room.

I shambled over to the desk and fell into my chair. The Vault Hunters’ views were on screen. Looked like they were driving through the Highlands.

“What’d we miss?” I asked.

“Not much,” Jack replied, “looks like they just left Sanctuary.”

He ran his hand through his hair as he leaned back, looking at the couch and the two empty brandy bottles beside it. “You really did a number on my liquor storage.”

“Yeah, well, you know how it is,” I shrugged, “oh, I cancelled all your meetings for today. And tomorrow too.”

“Yeah, I noticed. Not a bad idea.”

I stood up, smacking my gross tasting lips together. “I’m gonna run home and shower.”

“Fine,” he grunted, “don’t take all day.”

“It’s nighttime hours.”

“Whatever.”

I smiled a little as I left. He at least sounded like his usual self.

I used the fast travel station to get to the apartment sector, went to my penthouse, and showered. After I was clean, dressed, and refreshed, I stopped at the Hub of Heroism to pick up some early breakfast. It was quiet, most of the workers still sleeping before work begins.

As I entered the office, I was greeted with Jack’s shouting.

“Alright, great, success. You’re pissing me off! Good for you! Here’s your prize!”

He slammed his hand on the keyboard as I rounded the desk and took my seat, sipping my coffee. He was clean and dressed now, with his hair neatly styled as usual. And instead of looking exhausted, he looked pissed.

“Sup?” I said.

“These assholes are vandalising my property,” he snapped, thrusting his hand at the screen. I saw the Vault Hunters were in Opportunity, fighting a Super Badass Loader bot that Jack must’ve sent down. As they jumped around, I noticed one of his statues knocked on the ground.

“Wow. They uh keep busy,” I grunted. I placed the bag of bagels and a coffee cup on the desktop. “Here, eat breakfast.” Jack grumbled with irritation as he squeezed the cup.

We watched as the Vault Hunters made their way through the city with a hacked Overseer bot to another statue. They fought off more bots as the Overseer started laser-ing through it.

Jack’s face was turning red from how angry he was. I barely managed to hide my chuckle behind a cough.

“What is this even accomplishing?” he barked into the mic, “are you trying to piss me off? Is that your goal? Well, mission accomplished, jagoff. Y’know, when I’m curbstomping your dumb, little ass to death, you can take solace in the fact that one time for like eight seconds, you mildly irritated me. Good for you. Your parents must be so proud.”

The final statue fell and Jack growled with aggravation. “Yeah-no-go ahead. Knock that last one down. I’ve already got a great idea for a new statue. It’s just gonna be me kicking you in the junk. I’m gonna commission like fifteen of those sumbitches and just put ‘em everywhere.”

I couldn’t stifle the chuckle that time and Jack glared at me accusingly.

“Sorry,” I smiled, “want me to go down there and deal with them?”

“No, it’s fine,” he huffed as he crossed his arms like a pouting toddler. “They’re just statues. Whatever.”

I snickered as he turned on the mic again. “You are such a jackass.”

“Aw, don’t let it get to you,” I said, “the city’s still under construction. You can just remake those statues.”

“It wasn’t just the statues,” he whined, “while you were gone, they also flooded the construction site of my future Underdome- with Moxxi’s help!”

“Moxxi? She that hot clown chick you used to date?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he smirked, “turns out she still has a grudge against me for dumping her.”

“I thought she dumped youuuuu…” I trailed off as Jack glared at me. “Never mind.” He angrily bit into a bagel as we looked back at the screen. The Vault Hunters were hurrying through the city to the square, where a bunch of guards were stationed.

“What are they doing?” I asked as they started fighting. Then I noticed Handsome Jack in the distance.

“Ha!” Jack snorted, “they must think that’s really me. Dumbasses.”

I shook my head sceptically as they fought the body double. “They can’t possibly be that stupid.” “They’re bandits. What d’you expect?”

I watched them closely as they fought, my gears turning. First Wilhelm, then Nisha, now a body double. It would make sense if they were working through Jack’s high players, but the body doubles weren’t really that high up on the ladder. They must have been there for another reason. A bigger reason.

After they had killed the body double, Jack turned on his mic. “Ha ha, nice try, idiot. I bet you thought you’d won, didn’t ya? But that was just a body double. And noooow-you’re gonna die!”

The Vault Hunters didn’t seem too worried as more guards and bots appeared. They quickly looted the body double and fought their way through. They were moving with a purpose, like they knew exactly where to go next.

“What’d they take off him?” I asked.

“Huh? Oh, who knows,” Jack shrugged, “probably just his crappy guns to scrap for parts or somethin’.”

I leaned forward curiously as the Vault Hunters ran around the city, listening to all the info kiosks. I had listened to them when I was there. They’re all of Jack going on about Opportunity propaganda. Which is why I didn’t understand why the Vault Hunters were listening to them.

“So they vandalize your city, kill your body double, and now they’re listening to your kiosks?” I mused with confusion.

“Yeah…” Jack said as he leaned forward. “This is starting to look a little weird.”

“Starting to?” I scoffed, “Jack, come on, you’ve been underestimating these guys for too long. They’re a threat and they’re up to something.”

“Fine, but what?”

“I don’t know, man. What could they have to gain from killing one of your body doubles?”

Jack really considered the question and he watched them closely as they listened to each kiosk. When they finished, they ran off to a door leading to some kind of office and Jack’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“What?” I questioned but Jack didn’t reply as he opened another window on his computer. He typed a bunch and opened up what looked like a transcript of some sort. It made no sense to me but Jack got angrier and angrier as his eyes scanned over it.

“Angel’s been talking to them,” he hissed.

I clamped my mouth shut. He closed the transcript just as the Vault Hunters finished messing with what looked like a replica of Jack’s pocket watch. Then Jack pushed a button on his keyboard.

I jumped as Angel’s cries of pain broke through the office speakers and my built-in ECHO comm. And judging from the reactions on the Vault Hunters, I think they heard her too. Then Jack turned on his mic to the Vault Hunters and Angel.

“You seriously thought you could hide from me, Angel?” he snarled, “is that what you thought? Say goodbye to your friend, Angel. Say it!”

It seemed like Angel was having a hard time controlling her powers, as her hologram flashed in and out in my ECHO eye. I fell back in my chair, gripping my twisting stomach as I watched her pained expression.

“Oh, Angel…”

#borderlands #borderlands 2 #borderlands fanfiction #borderlands 2 fanfiction #borderlands au #my oc #my art

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mayaknights · 7 years

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Mine

Pairing: Jaehyun x Taeyong, Jaeyong Description: Possessive vampire Jaehyun. Inspired by a lovely Manhwa Royal Servant and Blood Bank Rating: M

Part two

Soft pink hair flows as the wind blows. His white kimono perfect with golden rose pattern clings around his lean figure, falling right before his ankles. His skin is fair while his lips are in the shade of beautiful dusty rose; offering a wonderful contrast against his white skin.

Without second doubt, Johnny finds the boy in the expensive-looking kimono alluring. He likes the way the boy’s nicely shaped thigh peeks through the white silk kimono as he walks, giving him an idea of how mesmerizing the pink hair man would look in nothing but his birthday suit.

He is about to run after the beauty when his secretary, Taeil, stops him whilst saying, “It’s better to stay away from him, Sire.”

Frowning, Johnny turns to look at Taeil. The beauty is still in his line of sight, now stopping by at a nearby shop just a few metres away from Johnny. “Why?”

“He’s owned, Sire,” answers Taeil.

Johnny shifts his eyes back on the becoming gentleman, scrutinizing his long exposed neck this time. Peeking through the collar, Johnny could see the permanent choker-like tattoo with the shape of a lotus as it’s pendant marking the pretty boy’s neck.

“The lotus mark- he’s with the Jung’s,” Taeil adds.

Dejected with the new information he receives, Johnny sighs out loud. “Of course, the pretty ones are never left unoccupied,” he says while still letting his eyes roaming over the boy’s body up and down, wishing the human could be his.Taeil nods, agreeing with his boss’ words.

The pink hair human suddenly turns to look at his back before he quickly bows his head. A man with short brunette hair appears in the scene, wearing a pair of matching black shirt and slack. His shoes are nicely polished, shiny and expensive- looking and his figure is quite impressive, strong and nicely built. There’s an intense aura surrounding the man, alerting both Johnny and Taeil that the newcomer is without any doubt, Jung Jaehyun, the leader of the Jung clan.

Jung Jaehyun chins the pretty boy up to look at him, staring straight into the human’s eyes with so much power that the human seems to involuntarily trembles. He says something to the latter with a serious face on before wrapping his strong arm around the human’s lean waist, pulling the boy close to his chest. The boy seems to gasp, resting his hands on Jaehyun’s chest but he keeps his gaze on his owner still, unmoving.

Jaehyun kisses his exposed neck and the beautiful boy lets him, closing his eyes while gripping onto Jaehyun’s shirt for dear life. Sharp fangs sparkle under the soft sun rays before it sink down on the human’s nape harshly, earning a loud groan from the said human. He struggles a little, desperately gripping and grasping on Jaehyun’s chest as he does a little kick to break free but the head of Jung’s clan holds him in place, long fingers gripping on the pink hair.

The small fight the human puts on slowly dies down, before he goes completely limp. His arms fall by his side, immobile as fresh tears trail down his cheeks. Jung Jaehyun easily hauls the human up in his arms, cradling the now doll-like boy like he’s lifting his bride.

Leftover blood smears on his lips and Johnny shivers, thinking that the scene unravel before him is pure savage, heartless. If he owns the beautiful human, God knows he would treasure him and shower him with lots of love.

An unsettling feeling rumbles in his stomach when Jung Jaehyun’s dark orbs suddenly meet Johnny’s. The glare he gives causing Johnny to feel sick. While still glaring at Johnny, Jaehyun gives the semi-conscious human a kiss on his forehead before he finally tears his eyes away from Johnny.

“He knows you’ve been staring at his human and Jung Jaehyun doesn’t like it,” Taeil comments, watching Jung Jaehyun walks away from the scene.

“He’s showing off. What a bastard.”

“He’s warning you, sire. Claiming his human right in front of you to prove that he owns the boy. It’s better if you forget about the human, sire.”

With a sigh, Johnny turns to look at Taeil. “Indeed, we don’t want to be on the Jung’s bad side,”

—----

Jaehyun puts his favourite pet human on top of his king-sized bed. The human just stares at him as Jaehyun combs the strands of pink hair away from hiding his temple before leaning down to plant a kiss on it. The kiss trails down until his collarbone and his pet whimpers, knowing what awaits him after this.

“I-”

“Silent.”

The human immediately bites down his lip, his resistance forgotten. Jaehyun roughly slides the white kimono down pass the boy’s shoulders, exposing his pink nipples. He kisses one of them, sucking on it lightly, earning a series of sweet moan from the boy underneath him. His one hand travels down to grip onto the boy’s milky thigh, sensually rubbing it with his fingers, teasingly tugging onto his underwear.

“Do you like it when he looks at you, Taeyong?”

Taeyong can only cry and whimper when Jaehyun pulls his shorts down to his ankle and spread his legs wide. He couldn’t move a muscle, couldn’t resist anything Jaehyun does to him at this moment. A gasp escapes from his lips when he feels Jaehyun’s one finger plunges into his hole. He pants, muttering apologies for things he doesn’t even know what he did wrong.

Jaehyun pulls his finger out only to add another digit before he forces his way in again, this time deeper. Taeyong screams, hurting when Jaehyun’s nails scrap against his insides as he thrusts his fingers in and out.

“Do you want him to see you like this? To touch you like this?”

“I’m- I’m sorry, master. Forgive me, please.”

The vampire scoffs, pulling his fingers out to unzip his pants.“I told you to stay inside didn’t I? I told you to not leave my side but you did, you dare to wander off! Have you imagined what could have happen to you?!”

Taeyong cries harder as Jaehyun settles between his legs, lower half naked. He lifts the boy’s thighs on top of his, slightly folding the small frame in half. His larger body hovering on top of Taeyong, caging the boy in with his arms.

“Master, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” the human whispers between his sobs.

Jaehyun sighs, leaning closer to kiss Taeyong’s wet cheeks. He pecks his lips before saying, “Now promise me you won’t leave my side again. Promise me you won’t go anywhere without me or my permission.”

Taeyong hurriedly nods his head. “I promise. I promise.”

“Good boy.” Another kiss on Taeyong’s pretty lips as he wraps Taeyong’s arms around his neck.

Taeyong gasps, nails digging into Jaehyun’s back when Jaehyun pushes himself in. Jaehyun is big and thick, stretching Taeyong’s inside wide. This isn’t the first time Jaehyun holds Taeyong but Taeyong is still tight, clenching onto his rod like a virgin.

He kisses the side of Taeyong’s head as he pushes his cock deeper into the boy, earning groans and sobs from the human beneath him. When Jaehyun feels Taeyong’s muscle finally relaxes around him, he begins to pull out as gently as he could then pushes back in. The human whimpers, mouth gaping open, desperately gasping for air. His body rocks back and forth, following Jaehyun’s inconsistent rhythm.

Taeyong could feel his master’s cock brushing against his spot and the pain starts to disappear, replaced by a weird sensation that he knows all too well. Jaehyun starts to pick up his pace, feeling that his climax is almost there. He lifts the boy’s thighs up on his arms and pulls him closer until he is just a breath away from Taeyong’s neck. Taeyong screams, toes curling when Jaehyun fucks him harder and deeper. Sharp fangs once again sinks into the human’s fair skin and Taeyong feels completely drain, physically and mentally, feeling himself being dragged out from his consciousness.

The last thrust hurts more as Jaehyun rams his cock into his ass and ejaculates. Heavy body slumps against Taeyong’s smaller ones. Hot sticky cum wets his insides, burying deep in his anus that Taeyong shivers at the sensation. Jaehyun pulls away from his neck and licks the excess blood from his lip as he stares down at his human pet.

His pink hair is damp and messy with sweat, sticking out all over the place and his face is wet with tears. The pink blush tainting Taeyong’s skin makes the human looks extremely tempting and Jaehyun swears he could go for a second round. But seeing Taeyong slowly slipping away from his consciousness stops Jaehyun from following his lust. Taeyong looks completely tired and sore that even when Jaehyun moves a little inside of him, the human involuntarily trembles.

The vampire sighs, kissing the boy on his temple. He decides to let Taeyong off the hook for today. Plus, Jaehyun realizes how fragile his pet human is compared to his previous servants. Taeyong easily bruised and he reddens vibrantly. The last thing he wants is to break Lee Taeyong.

“Master are you still mad?” Taeyong asks, fear is evident between his orbs. He is still on Jaehyun’s bed in his white kimono and his lower half is still sore. He notices a magical chain binding him to the king-sized bed from the black choker-like mark around his neck. It’s been quite awhile since his master, Jung Jaehyun restricts his movement like this.

The first time he was tied was when Jaehyun first caught him to be his human pet, which was about two months ago. Taeyong tried to escape numerous times before only to be dragged back inside his captor’s fancy bedroom and then left motionless the moment Jaehyun suck his blood.

It took Jaehyun one month to tame Taeyong and stop him from attempting to escape. Taeyong put on quite a fight that left Jaehyun speechless and annoyed but he decides he likes feisty, stubborn Taeyong; Jaehyun enjoys the challenge.

Jaehyun first took Taeyong’s virginity soon after Taeyong stopped his escape attempt. He had immobilized the boy before him and tried his best to soothe the panic stricken Taeyong with gentle touches and kisses. Jaehyun did not expect Taeyong to give in, shyly clinging onto Jaehyun’s back as the vampire spread his legs open. It might be the sexual tension that had pent up in the little human body that causes Taeyong to just moan and pant when Jaehyun fucked him on the very same bed. The only objection Taeyong voiced out was when Jaehyun cum inside of him.

“Master?” Taeyong calls out again, pulling onto the chain with a frown laces on his beautiful face.

Jaehyun sighs, standing up and making his way to his human pet. To be honest, Jaehyun is no longer mad at Taeyong; he could not stay mad at the human for long as the boy’s sweet voice and pretty lips always puts out the fire in his heart without much effort. He sinks at the edge of the bed, cupping Taeyong’s small face in his hand. “Just a little,” Jaehyun lies.

The pink hair human scowls deeper, looking down on his frail fingers that Jaehyun always wants to bite on but fear he would hurt them instead with his sharp fangs. “I’m terribly sorry, master. I didn’t even talk to that man nor even realize he was there. I know I’m in the wrong from sneaking out but I just wanted to see the snow. I promise I won’t do it again.”

Jaehyun leans in to capture Taeyong’s pouty lips with a kiss to which Taeyong moans in surprise.

Lee Taeyong never knew what he did wrong to deserve such punishment from the universe. He was living a normal, dull life before the notorious Jung Jaehyun set his eyes on him.They met by chance; Taeyong was on his way home from his part time work at the local library and Jaehyun was passing by the street in his black limousine. Before Taeyong could digest what was happening, the limousine that just passed him reversed and Jung Jaehyun suddenly reached out for Taeyong’s arm and pulled him inside the car.

He remembers how petrified he was when he saw Jaehyun’s eyes changed it’s shade from brown to red, remembers how painful it was when the vampire yanked his locks backward and took a huge, deep bite on his nape. Since then, Taeyong has been here, in Jaehyun’s private palace, away from the humans, away from safety and comfort.

But all is not bad. Jaehyun feeds him with fancy food he have never seen before. He can’t even pronounce some of the names correctly without biting on his tongue. Jaehyun makes sure to dress him with all luxurious clothes depending on his mood or current interest but Taeyong knows, Jaehyun likes him best in classic yet royal-like kimono attire. The leader of the Jung clan brings him books and even build a home cinema just to keep the human entertained.

Of course all good things come with an expesive price. Aside from having to be Jung Jaehyun’s blood bank, Lee Taeyong also has to satisfy the vampire’s carnal desire. He has to keep up with his captor’s rough treatment and touch, has to withstand Jaehyun’s outburst on his bad days and Taeyong has to deal with Jaehyun’s possesive side.

Thanks to the butlers, Taeyong finds out that Jung Jaehyun has a lot of human pet before him but none of them stay as long as Taeyong. Some ended up so broken, died and in certain cases, Jaehyun simply got tired of playing with his toys. Taeyong is the first ever human to pique Jaehyun’s interest for 2 months straight, now almost approaching the third month. The last pet only lasts for 2 weeks before he dies due to anemia.They even said that Jaehyun is the gentlest when he is with Taeyong, holding Taeyong like he might break Taeyong into pieces if he put more pressure than necessary. He’s careful not leave scars on Taeyong’s porcelain-like skin whenever they had sex.

Jaehyun gives in the moment Taeyong pouts and looks at him with his wide, beautiful eyes. With a simple tug, the chain bursts and vanishes into thin air. “Happy?”

The pink hair beauty grins, nodding his head. “Thank you,” Jaehyun doesn’t know how to treat humans properly but he’ll learn just to keep that smile on Taeyong’s face.

Fuck I’m so in love with him, the vampire thinks as he scoops Taeyong on his lap and kisses the human right on the lips.

#taeyong #leetaeyong #nct #jaehyun #jungjaehyun #jaeyong

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