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ohwereusingourmadeupnames · 3 years

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It Takes Me All the Way

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark Rating: Explicit (E) Notes: This is my fic for my @starkerfestivals summer BINGO “flower shop au” square. The following idea hit me in the head a couple of days ago & I couldn’t let it go until the whole thing was written. Here’s my bingo card - if you see something on there you might want written, shoot me a message!!! Word Count: 11.5K Warnings: There’s a tiny bit of smut in here, but it’s me writing, so when is that not the case?

Summary:

'For the next half an hour, Peter learned about flower language and the subtle way to artfully layer flowers so the colors blended meaningfully together. Peter didn’t retain too much about the flowers themselves – they were beautiful and coordinated perfectly, but Tony out shone them all. He was obviously in his element; the simple way the information fell from his mouth spoke of years of study and tons of hands-on knowledge. Not only was the man smart, he had an eye for style and created little living masterpieces without much thought.

By the time Peter worked up the courage to make any sort of move, they were at the register, seconds away from a complete transaction. He was in too deep to let the spark between them go another time. Steeling himself for whatever might come, Peter took a deep breath and leapt. “Hey, before I go – would you like to go out with me sometime?"'

Or: the one where Tony's a florist and Peter kind of digs that.

Read on AO3 here.

----

After taking home the third, consecutive NCA Championship title, Peter craved a tame summer. Unlike the rest of his teammates, he had no dreams of furthering his cheerleading career by becoming a coach; while everyone else flocked to the NCA cheer champ coaching positions, Peter tried his hardest to create some distance between himself and the sport.

Of course, that was easier said than done when his very best friend was also a teammate. Since the day MJ pulled him off the gymnastics mat and thrust him not so gently into the world of cheer in seventh grade, Peter never looked back – not to gymnastics or the people he left behind. He didn’t naturally fit in with anyone, but with MJ by his side and an incredible amount of athleticism, high school passed by in a whirlwind of football games, competitions, and a rich education Peter clung to. Being smart was a way out of the conservative little town that would never accept the truth of who Peter truly was.

When Purdue became an option for the both of them, Peter immediately understood moving to Indiana was the next step in life’s adventure. It wasn’t the big city that he always imagined he’d escape to, but Peter couldn’t argue with a full ride academic scholarship and a spot earned on the cheer team. As a male with tumbling experience and a shocking amount of strength for his size, Peter didn’t have to wonder about his spot on the team – he’d been leading teams to competition wins for years. Stepping out of the narrow-minded world of Springfield, Missouri was the only thing that mattered; the ability to do what he wanted without worrying about where the money came from to do it – that was just a delightful bonus.

Despite the challenges of college athletics and a philosophy major, Peter managed to keep his close friendship with MJ. They’d been a stunting pair for ages and their similarities made it easy to not only be around each other but stay tight knit in their connection. Going through so many of the trials of growing up together, Peter didn’t know what life would be like without her. After coming out and receiving nothing but a hug and a shy “me too”, their bond was cemented – made permanent in a way that something shared tied one person to another.

Their undying friendship and ridiculous commitment to each other was how he found himself balls deep in wedding planning, instead of relaxing in the peace and quiet of his one-bedroom apartment, playing video games and reading all the books he didn’t get to crunch out during the busy school year. MJ didn’t even bother asking him to be her ‘man’ of honor – after popping the question to Darcy, she simply sent him a list of things to do and dove right in.

Between bachelorette parties, bridal showers, and the seemingly impossible hunt for the best bridesmaid’s dresses, Peter hadn’t spent more than a couple days of the break on his own. Though he loved the fuck out of MJ and her soon-to-be wife, he couldn’t wait for the wedding to come and go. A little peace and alone time was exactly what he needed.

Finally, after a week of long nights and last-minute errands, the big day was upon them. The beautiful ranch venue radiated with a rich sunshine, basking the place in a lucky sort of golden glow. Since he didn’t have to spend his entire morning trapped in a makeup chair, Peter got to enjoy the beautiful weather firsthand as he contributed to the set up and decorating. Aside from helping MJ get into the admittedly cool pant suit she planned to wear, Peter’s time was his own until an hour before the ceremony.

Grinning at the thought, Peter pulled out one of the reception hall chairs and sat down heavily. He relaxed into the comfortable wood, reaching up to run a hand through his formidable curls. They were sans gel at the moment; his fingers sailed through the silky strands with ease.

Peter wasn’t aware he closed his eyes until a loud clatter had them blinking open in surprise. Swiftly turning towards the noise, Peter stopped in his tracks at the sight in front of him.

A big gray vase was the source of the noise, there was no doubt about that the second Peter spotted it. What completely took his breath away, or maybe who, was the man holding said vase. Peter saw tanned arms that were toned to perfection right off the bat. It was obvious at first glance that the owner of those limbs worked outside with his hands frequently. The lithe muscles and glorious golden skin tone spoke more of manual work than physical exercise. With his eyes travelling up firm forearms and the swell of a built bicep, Peter noticed the man’s hair next. Tamed by a plain white dad hat, an abundance of unruly curls flipped under the edges of the brim and sides. Peter imagined a flowing head of dark brunette hair he could easily slip his fingers into the depths of.

As if the man knew Peter was staring, he turned towards Peter’s table, an intrigued look on his face. A face that, after taking in the rest of the stranger’s glorious beauty, didn’t seem fair. Well-kept facial hair outlined perfect lips pulled into a knowing smirk. Rich, honey-golden eyes were just visible under the brim of the man’s sweat-stained hat. They seemed to pierce Peter right in the chest, like their unblinking nature dug under his skin and saw everything he tried so desperately to hide. The feeling was unnerving yet so exhilarating all the same. Though he felt so very exposed, Peter wanted nothing more than to narrow the space and get to know the handsome stranger.

Luckily, his chance came a couple hours later.

To stop himself from shamelessly flirting, Peter hightailed it out of the reception hall the second he could, using a check up on MJ as a guise for his obvious escape. Most of his friends were exactly where he left them at the start of the morning – it was a marvel that anything got done when they all got together. After braving the makeup talk and putting out a few emotional fires, Peter’s reprieve came in the form of a man of honor errand.

With MJ’s credit card in hand, Peter made his way to the front of the building where the florist was waiting. He’d been so glad to get out of the bridal suite that he didn’t stop to think about the stranger and the beautiful floral arrangement that’d been in his hand or to make the connection between the two. For the second time that day, Peter tripped over himself when the man came into view. Now that an actual need to speak to him was in sight, Peter didn’t know if he could make his mouth work to take the chance.

Recognition was clear on the florist’s face – though they didn’t know one another, it was hard to forget the very long, very obvious stare Peter was caught in. Those utterly kissable lips were upturned, the pinch around the man’s eyes from the grin making him all the more attractive. Rolling his eyes at the thought (like he needed to be any more attractive), Peter tried to school his features and return the smile with one of his own.

“Hi! I’m Peter, MJ’s man of honor. She sent me to square up the bill for the flowers,” Peter said in greeting. As the space between them narrowed down, Peter nervously reached out, his free hand suddenly taking up the space between them.

A surprisingly soft hand slipped into his a moment later – the touch was firm and efficient, only lingering a second longer than usually appropriate. “Nice to meet you, Peter. Please let MJ know that I really enjoyed the challenge of the flower choices. Geraniums are hard to come by this late in the season.”

Pulling away, despite the desperate want to have the man’s hands all over him, Peter nodded in understanding – most of both MJ and Darcy’s choices were high maintenance and unique. The planning of every step along the way had been an absolute bear. “That’s MJ for you,” Peter agreed with a light chuckle. “We’ve been scrambling around the last week or so trying to get all the details right.”

There was a shared moment of silence where the two simply smiled at each other. The florist seemed just as lost as Peter, the joint look of discomfort and wonder more telling than any words ever could be. For Peter, each second that passed was a small gift he gluttonously got to unwrap until the magic was broken.

“It’s her big day, she should have what she wants,” Tony finally replied, the words and a red blush breaking the silence. “I like the unique stuff, anyway – keeps the job interesting.”

Without missing a beat, a paper invoice was thrust in his direction. “I took out the delivery fee from the total since I was in the area already.”

After that, it didn’t take more than a couple of minutes to complete the transaction – the florist worked swiftly, his fingers nimble and knowledgeable in every movement he made as he swiped MJ’s card and handed it quickly back to Peter. The brush of their fingers in the exchange seemed purposeful, though – especially with the smirk and red blush that followed.

Caught up in how brilliant the look was, Peter didn’t realize there was nothing keeping him there until the shuffling of feet brought the reality of the situation back with a vengeance. As much as he wanted to stay and chat, or ask for a number, or even a name, Peter knew the time wasn’t right. He already felt so caught up – actually having access to his preoccupation wouldn’t be good for his focus. It was MJ’s day; he owed it to her to keep his shit together and make every second of it the very best.

Looking up, Peter shot the other man a large grin before lifting a hand, pointing his thumb over his shoulder. “I better get back,” Peter started awkwardly, “but thank you – for helping make MJ’s day so beautiful.”

With a nod, the florist pocketed his phone and took off towards the parking lot. Peter watched him walk away just long enough to catch the glance over work-firm shoulders. Hazel and brown met for a moment before Peter forced himself to walk away – a large part of him wanted to sprint across the black top to stop the gorgeous man from leaving. Something in the pit of his chest was pulsing with life; the feeling was so foreign that Peter pushed it down and quickly ran in the opposite direction, instead.

Peter got back to the bridal suite in a wonky haze – so much so that he didn’t even realize he walked through the door until MJ’s voice broke through his rampaging thoughts. “Did you get everything squared away with Tony?”

Turning towards her, Peter tilted his head, a crease in his brow appearing in his confusion. “Tony?” Peter questioned as he made his way over to the big table in the center of the room to deposit both the invoice and MJ’s credit card.

“Tony – the florist. I sent you to pay the bill. Please tell me you didn’t get lost along the way.” MJ shot him a knowing look, her hazel eyes blazing with affection. “He was a great help these last couple of months – matching all the colors would’ve been impossible without him.”

His brain halted for a second, the organ doing nothing but processing the fact that his handsome stranger now had a name. Recalling the beautiful face, Peter figured the name Tony fit the man pretty perfectly. With that knowledge, it was quickly becoming obvious that his focus was already shot – Tony with toned arms and a delectably deep voice already took up space there, just waiting to distract Peter at the worst possible time.

Like that moment, where MJ was staring at him with growing concern, waiting for a simple yes or no to her easily answerable question. Peter shot her an embarrassed grin when he got himself back under control. Sheepishly, he reached up to run a hand through his hair. “All is well. He told me to tell you he enjoyed the challenge. Oh, and he nixed the delivery fee – said he was already in the area.” He tried to sound cool as he spoke, to not give his interest away. Yet he knew almost immediately he wasn’t successful – Peter heard his own excitement as the words bounced around in his ears.

“So it’s like that,” MJ said, looking at him much more critically now.

“Like what?” Peter shot back, refusing to look her directly in the eye. She already caught the scent – the second he gave her the satisfaction of seeing the truth in his eyes, Peter would never hear the end of it. Regardless of the very important fact that Peter, despite wanting to more than ever, didn’t even pursue the obvious and very mutual interest.

Instead of pushing, MJ surprisingly let a knowing smile overtake her face.

“I see you Peter Parker.”

Luckily, the hustle and bustle of pre-wedding preparations and nerves that were inescapable, swept the subject right off the table a moment later. Peter happily helped MJ make her finishing touches in preparation for finally meeting her wife at the end of the aisle. Getting so swept up in it all, Peter allowed himself to forget the hazel eyed man for the rest of the evening. MJ and Darcy looked so happy – it was hard to see passed anything other than their beaming smiles and the bright future waiting for them.

----

The next few weeks passed by in a flash. Peter finally got some time to himself and reveled in it, taking advantage of every second of solitary freedom he could purge himself on before his final season began. Movies, books, and his favorite video games were the only thing Peter allowed himself to think about (and Tony, so many of his thoughts were about the gorgeous florist). He even went as far as to bar MJ and Darcy from the apartment when they got back from their honeymoon – it was the least they could do after running him ragged with errands and things over the previous few months. The last thing he wanted to deal with was the bombardment of newly wed grossness; it’d been some time since Peter felt the luscious caress of love against his heart and soul – and jealousy just didn’t look good on him.

When his self-imposed isolation came to an end, Peter begrudgingly got back into a suitable routine. Though cheer practice was different without MJ there, Peter easily sunk back into the drills and full body workouts that came after an entire summer off on their own. Hayley, their coach extraordinaire, pushed them hard in the beginning – it was the best way to filter out those who wouldn’t make it when the season really got started and competition prep took over all of their lives.

Once his muscles got used to the severe beating he took on a daily basis, Peter was more than ready for the year to start. Football games and the atmosphere that came with being a Boiler were a lot of fun; and with his decreased workload as a fifth-year senior, Peter planned to enjoy the easy-going nature of spirit and poms and comradery before the teeth came out and everyone’s battle armor settled into place. When competition season started, the team’s overall atmosphere and driving motivations changed.

Of course, just when Peter thought things were going just the way they should, karma came around to prove him wrong. After a long practice the week before the semester started, one of their flyers fell from a stunt, completely unaware of her contact with the ground’s effect until someone on the other side of the mat screamed. The sight, when Peter allowed himself to look, turned his stomach – he’d never seen a dislocated hip in person before and hoped to never do so again.

After the trauma of having the paramedics all over their turf, the team was given a couple of days off to recuperate. Peter and the rest of the squad planned to take advantage of the freedom by visiting Macy, who ended up having to have emergency surgery to save both her leg and her life. Though he knew a bouquet of flowers wouldn’t change the fact that she would never be able to cheer ever again, Peter figured it was a nice touch and planned to have one made before heading to the hospital.

Googling the closest florist, Peter was surprised to find a shop so near to campus. Many of the businesses surrounding Purdue were food joints or bars that were guaranteed to get a lot of steady business during the semester and over the summer. He wondered, just for a moment, how such a random store managed to survive the college population.

It took one look at the place to understand why the shop fit exactly where it was. Instead of the old lady feel he assumed he’d find, Peter stepped in front of a large windowed building with intricate flower arrangements filling the visible shelves. On the far side of the door was a mural of the Purdue P surrounded by all types of flora. The word Stark’s was camouflaged within the swarm of vines and greenery throughout the painting. It was well done and in the perfect, eye-catching spot.

A small bell over the door rang as Peter walked through it – at least one of the cliches in his mind was accurate. Grinning at the thought, Peter let his legs carry him further into the store, his head on a swivel to look at all the beautiful foliage placed strategically from one wall to the other. Though he knew nothing of plants, Peter understood the art of drawing attention – he participated in a sport that perfected it. From the placement to the intrigue, whoever owned the shop knew exactly what to do to draw a person in.

Peter stopped his exploration when a recognizable voice echoed throughout the space – “I’ll be right with you.” Upon hearing the timber and depth that haunted Peter every night since MJ’s wedding, he almost turned around and walked right back out of the store. He wasn’t equipped for the gorgeous man and his distracting smile and eyes and shapely ass.

Before he could make his feet move or even think, Tony and his inarguable gorgeousness walked in through the back door. His hands were covered in dirty gloves, a newly potted plant in the crook of his elbow. A denim apron covered a plain white t-shirt and black jeans that peaked out the bottom. At the sight of him, Peter had to force himself to keep his mouth closed and the pace of his heart under control – much like the last time he enjoyed the view, Peter wanted to bound across the distance and intimately get to know the other man.

Met with a smile when their eyes locked, Peter reminded himself to remain calm and smile back, to actually act like a human person with thoughts and the ability to actually articulate them. He came in here for a reason, walking out of the store with anything but the arrangement he wanted to bring to the hospital was unacceptable.

Tony, upon recognizing him, took the first step towards intelligible conversation.

“Peter, right? It’s nice to see you in here! How’d the wedding go?”

Blushing at the familiarity, Peter dipped his head and took a deep breath, hoping to collect himself enough to actually reply back. “Hi, yes. Peter. It’s nice to see you, too. I was surprised to see a flower shop in the middle of college central, but your place seems to fit in really nicely. No wonder MJ was pulled in,” Peter said in reply, getting the words out all at once to make sure they all saw the light of day. “The wedding was beautiful. Both brides are blissfully happy, and your floral arrangements were the topic of several conversations I had that night. You do good work, Tony.”

Peter’s heart stopped when Tony tilted his head back into a laugh a moment later. How did someone look so sexy doing something so base? No matter what happened, Peter knew he’d never understand such a thing. To cover up his reaction, Peter added his own laugh to the mix – the sounds harmonious in the empty shop.

“Yeah, I’m sure my flowers were a hot topic of conversation, especially with those beautiful women in the room. Thanks for the kind words, though,” Tony mumbled through a laugh. As he spoke, Tony reached up to brush an errant curl from his forehead – without the hat, the hair on Tony’s head looked unruly and all over the place, untamed and absolutely beautiful. The move left the smallest remnant of dirt on his skin, the black flecks of soil like little calling cards with Peter’s name on them. His fingers itched to reach up and brush them away. Tony’s next words shook him of the thought – “What brings you in today?”

“One of my teammates fell and injured herself pretty severely. We, as a team, decided to rub in the fact that she’ll never join us on the mat again by visiting her now that she’s out of the ICU. I figured some pretty flowers might soften the blow,” Peter explained, coloring at the blunt honesty that trickled from his mouth.

Tony looked intrigued, the other man completely unfazed by Peter’s word choice and candid nature. “Must be a dangerous sport if you guys are nursing career ending injuries.” He signaled for Peter to follow him with a swift flick of his hand.

“I’ve seen some pretty intense injuries in my long cheerleading career, for sure. People flying through the air, and all that. I wouldn’t call the sport in general dangerous, per say – I’d say the expectations we have to meet are what’s dangerous. The look, the difficulty of the stunts we make our bodies do – it’s demanding,” Peter remarked, following a couple steps behind Tony as they walked.

“Sounds misogynistic as hell.”

Laughing at the truth of Tony’s statement, Peter nodded enthusiastically. His heart felt warm from the idea of the random stranger in front of him understanding his struggles better than May and Ben ever could. Tony didn’t know him, and yet Peter couldn’t remember ever feeling so seen. “Oh, it is. The beauty standards are unbelievable and if you’re a male in the cheer world, forget it – you’re fodder for mockery and intense judgement. I fit the stereotype and even I can’t catch a break.”

“What’s the stereotype?” Tony asked with a soft tilt of his head and curiousness in his eyes.

They stopped suddenly then – the space between them was narrowed down to a couple of feet with an abundance of plants surrounding them on both sides. If he took a step or two forward, Peter wouldn’t have too much trouble reaching out and touching Tony’s beautifully tanned skin like he so desperately wanted to. It took too much effort to stop himself from doing exactly that. How exhausting.

Without waiting another beat or giving himself another moment to eye kissable lips, Peter uttered the answer with subtle breathlessness – “Gay. Flaming homosexual is usually what people attribute to the men of the cheer world.”

Color travelled up Tony’s cheeks, his lips quirking ever so slightly. He took his time answering, the man obviously thinking through his reply before blurting whatever he had to say into the universe. “Huh. That’s interesting, considering football players don’t go a play without touching each other on the ass.” Tony stopped for a second, making sure to catch Peter’s eye. “Do you like it?”

“I love it,” Peter answered immediately, the words coming out of his mouth without thought. “Its been my life since 7th grade.”

“I guess that’s all that matters, then,” Tony replied softly, a small, familiar smile on his lips. “Now back to your friend – what’s her favorite color?”

For the next half an hour, Peter learned about flower language and the subtle way to artfully layer flowers so the colors blended meaningfully together. Peter didn’t retain too much about the flowers themselves – they were beautiful and coordinated perfectly, but Tony out shone them all. He was obviously in his element; the simple way the information fell from his mouth spoke of years of study and tons of hands-on knowledge. Not only was the man smart, he had an eye for style and created little living masterpieces without much thought.

For what it was worth, the look of surprise that crossed over Tony’s face was brief. It made Peter’s breath catch in anticipation – for the first time in their short acquaintance, Peter felt uncertain. The feeling quickly passed, however; Tony’s face split into a beaming smile, the earlier surprise so easily replaced with seemingly genuine happiness.

“Yeah, I’d love to. I close up shop around 6 – are you free tonight?” Tony’s cheeks were stained with a rapidly darkening, gorgeous blush, hazel eyes shining.

Peter couldn’t remember what the next ten minutes entailed, let alone that evening – yet, whatever it was, he’d happily reschedule. There wasn’t a single thing that would stop him from saying yes to whatever Tony suggested. “I am. How about I meet you out front at 6:30? I’ll call Tasha and grab us a table for 7.”

Tony nodded, reaching across the counter towards Peter’s phone. “That sounds good. I’ll give you my number in case something changes. I’ve got a greenhouse out back and tend to forget myself. I sometimes lose track of time.”

Completely taken by every new thing he learned about Tony, Peter opened the phone and pushed it in Tony’s direction without hesitation. He didn’t expect the older man to be so forward – then again, Peter wasn’t all that surprised, either; Tony owned, operated, and supplied a successful business – he had to know what he was doing to some extent.

Watching with a delirious sort of haze, Peter followed as Tony’s fingers enter his number, then hit the green button to call himself. A phone on the back counter buzzed a couple of times before Tony ended the call and slid Peter’s phone back to him. “See you later, Peter. Tell your friend I wish her a speedy recovery.”

Numb hands grabbed the arrangement off the counter – Peter raised it towards Tony in a mock solute. “Until tonight, then.” Peter muttered the words excitedly. “Bye, Tony.”

He forced himself to keep his head down in hopes of actually making it out of the store. Peter wanted to turn around and look goofily at Tony – now that he knew his feelings were reciprocated, there was nothing stopping his desire from slipping out. Since the wedding, Peter forced the thought of strong arms and bright eyes from his head, just to be haunted by Tony’s beauty when he closed his eyes and let sleep take hold. His subconscious wasn’t on board with suppressing his urges – the fact that karma played a role made the rightness he felt even more valid.

Tony wanted him too.

His visit with Macy and the team was an immediate drag to his mood – the mix of emotions of the people surrounding their friend attempting to express sympathy was exhausting. Every person in the room feared Macy’s position in the bed. Some handled the anxiety better than others. The one bright spot of the visit, of course, was Tony’s arrangement. MJ immediately recognized the man’s work and winked at him knowingly. Peter didn’t stop a grin from slipping across his face; in their silent means of communication, the look was answer enough.

MJ corned him in the parking lot everyone dispersed to an appropriate amount of time later. When the room started to get too cloying, Peter made his excuses, prompting everyone to follow suit. There was only so much sad he could take – especially when a potential light in his dark tunnel shone so bright, waiting for him just hours away. They stopped at the trunk of Peter’s car, MJ leaning against the bumper like always. “Peter, spill. I haven’t seen that goofy look on your face since high school. Did something happen with Tony?”

Snorting at MJ’s impeccable awareness, Peter shifted until he could wrap his arm around her. He leaned his head against the side of MJ’s, closing his eyes. “Your florist is the best-looking man I’ve ever laid eyes on. I maturely held myself back at the wedding to be there with you in the moment and those karma points I banked were good to me today. I walked into Stark’s for some flowers for Macy and couldn’t bear to walk out without a chance to see him again.” Peter turned his head until he could press a kiss to her forehead. “We’re going out tonight.”

“I’m happy for you,” MJ said, her thin arms wrapping around him. “When I first met him, I thought you two might like each other. He’s older, a little weird, smart as hell – just your type.”

“I guess there’s a reason why you’re my best friend,” Peter quipped. “Seriously, though. Thank you – you always point me in the right direction. I really like him.”

MJ pulled back just enough to tap her forefinger against Peter’s nose – the move their sign of affection for years now. “Go get your man, Pete.”

----

To stop himself from pacing up and down the hall of his apartment, Peter went to the fitness center on campus – a hard workout with the weights was exactly what his body needed. Sweating and listening to a couple of playlists took Peter away from his thoughts of dinner later and into a mindset that let him just exist. It didn’t hurt that the pump in his arms looked amazing by the time he packed up and called it a day.

Timing it perfectly, Peter left himself an hour to get back to his apartment, shower, and decide on an outfit that didn’t shout desperate, but expressed his implicit interest, too. Not living too far from campus made it easy to fret about his clothes after a lengthy shower that took every ounce of Peter’s willpower to not masturbate anxiously. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to face the star of his fantasies head on after beating off to the thought of Tony’s tanned skin and gorgeous smile.

After a few restless passes through every piece in his closet, Peter took a large step back, attempting to clear his head. From what he already learned of the older man, Peter knew Tony looked flawless in anything – his style was basic, but the casual nature in which it was worn made the look stylish, anyway. Tasha’s restaurant wasn’t the fanciest place in the world and the pressing feeling of being comfortable in Tony’s presence made an outfit pop into Peter’s head after a couple of long breaths that helped to calm him down.

Peter slipped into his favorite dark wash jeans, smiling all the while – it seemed silly, the anxiety he danced with less than five minutes ago. He’d felt nothing but ease and excitement around Tony, getting himself prepared for a date with the man wasn’t as life and death as he let himself believe. Stressing over something that felt simple in every other way was a new feeling – Peter carried an abundance of confidence with him everywhere. The change made Peter believe whatever might happen with Tony was different and so much better than any other romantic dalliance he’d ever taken part in.

The outfit was finished with a couple small sprays of his favorite cologne – Peter only broke out the fancy stuff for special occasions. With a tug to his rolled shirt sleeve and the slightest adjustment of his collar, Peter took a deep breath and wandered across the room to stop in front of his mirror. His straight legged jeans were clasped at the waist with a black leather belt that cut Peter’s figure dramatically. Both muscular and trim, Peter went out of his way to make sure each attribute was highlighted appropriately. A white and blue stripped short sleeve button up wrapped around Peter’s firm biceps and tucked neatly into his waistband to highlight the narrowness of his hips.

Aside from the rogue curls Peter couldn’t tame, he felt good about the way he looked – the outfit and the confidence it made him feel would be a hit. Tony seemed to like the upfront and honest way he presented himself, there wasn’t any reason to change that now. Allowing himself one last look, Peter turned away from the mirror and made his last-minute preparations – he pocketed his wallet and keys and grabbed a jacket off the coat hook on his way out of the door.

It took less than five minutes to get to Tony’s shop – without the daily traffic on the road, the drive was easy. Pocketing that fact for another time, Peter climbed out of the car excitedly; for the first time in a while, Peter felt ready to date. Tony presented intrigue and want and a curiosity that Peter hoped to cling to for as long as possible. The simple fact that Peter already felt that way spoke volumes.

A door shutting brought Peter’s attention to the sidewalk in front of him. He expected to find Tony turned around to lock the front door of the shop, yet the older man was closing a door on the side of the building instead. Even more interested now, Peter started to head in that direction.

“I live in a huge loft above the shop,” Tony said with a knowing tone, answering Peter’s unspoken question without any sort of hesitation. “When I first bought the building, a storefront wasn’t what I initially had in mind. After I opened up the shop, it made the most sense.” Tony continued to speak as he closed the distance between them.

A soft pair of lips were pressed lightly against Peter’s cheek before he could think, let alone reply. Peter felt his cheeks and neck light up with a heated flush, his body temperature skyrocketing. Tony’s next words only added to the feeling – “You look amazing, Peter.”

Swallowing his awkwardness, Peter smiled in Tony’s direction, finally taking the man in front of him fully. Tony’s legs were encased in charcoal grey jeans that were rolled twice at the cuff. The edges sat nicely against a pair of black and white vans. The tanned arms Peter hadn’t been able to stop thinking about were on display – Tony’s short sleeve button up was perfectly tight against a trim chest and firm shoulders. Other than the stubble Peter figured Tony always had, the man’s cheeks were smooth – highlighting how gorgeous the florist truly was. It didn’t hurt that their fashion senses were similar, either; Peter wondered for a moment where Tony got the floral shirt currently driving him crazy.

“You’re stunning,” Peter eventually managed to say, his breathy words finally breaking his minutes long silence. “You’ve looked great in every way I’ve seen you – covered in dirt, sweaty and working, dressed to impress – it’s kind of not fair, Tony.” Peter let the truth of what he just said sit transparently on his face. They were passed the point of coyness and subtlety; Peter wanted Tony to know he was wanted, even though they hadn’t known each other long.

His bluntness seemed to do the trick – Tony grinned widely in his direction, avoiding direct eye contact with Peter in obvious hope of getting himself back under control. “Charmer,” Tony muttered, stepping a little closer to Peter to emphasis his point.

After opening the passenger side door like the gentleman he was, Peter settled behind the wheel and onto the main road. Tasha was a former teammate, a senior his freshman year, that escaped to Paris – only to make her way back to Indiana and use the knowledge she gained in one of the cooking capitals of the world. Over the years, Silver became a regular place for Peter and the team to spend their classier nights. The food was amazing, and Tasha’s unique style made the minimalism the restaurant was known for interesting and thought provoking. When he called to make the reservation, Tasha cooed in Peter’s ear while saving his favorite table for 7.

They made easy small talk during the drive over – Peter described the pre-season workouts he’d been trucking through while Tony regaled him with a story of his last customer of the day who tried to steal roses by stuffing them down her shirt. As he listened and absorbed, Peter realized Tony was funny and full to the brim of wit – he laughed freely, the sound so joyful, Peter couldn’t help but join in. They were still chatting as the hostess led them to their table and set large menus before them.

Their drink orders were taken almost immediately – the serving staff was familiar with Peter and must’ve been tipped off before they got there. A bottle of red wine was set on the table before either of them could delve back into their previous conversation. Peter poured them each a glass, then pointed at the menu – “Did anything catch your eye?”

“I thought I’d go with the steak frites. Out of all the dishes on this extensive menu, that one immediately came to your mind. Seems like as good a reason as any to give them a try,” Tony reasoned, lifting the wine to his lips as he spoke. “What about you?”

Peter’s cheeks were already starting to hurt from the giddy smile he couldn’t help – talking and joking and simply being with Tony felt so natural. He didn’t have to think to reply casually to whatever they were talking about. “I get them every time I’m here. When Tasha first opened this place, she’d just lay dishes on the table when we sat down. I stopped being her menu taster when she introduced me to the steak frites. I haven’t had anything else here since,” Peter admitted, his cheeks flaming once again.

“You’re one of those people, huh?” Tony shot back, grinning all the while.

“One of those people?”

Tony grinned a little wider, his eyes shining with affectionate enjoyment. Before he replied, the older man slipped his hand across the table, taking Peter’s fingers lightly. “Yeah, one of those people. Someone that gets the same dish at every Chinese or Italian place they go to, no matter the options.” His thumb trailed over the back of Peter’s hand. “You like what you like.”

Feeling a little called out, Peter ducked his head to stop anymore redness from overtaking his skin – he probably resembled a tomato already. It was crazy – to feel so happy being teased. “Okay, yeah – I’m one of those people. I’ll try that one dish anywhere, though.”

They traded a few barbs back and forth until they ordered, and their dishes were sat down in front of them. Without the threat of interruptions in the near future, Peter felt ready to broach some of the more personal topics – for the first time on a date, Peter genuinely wanted to listen and find out more about the person across from him.

“So, tell me more about yourself – who is Tony Stark when not covered in dirt or up to his elbows in beautiful flowers?” Peter cut into his steak as he spoke, hoping the relaxed way he asked the question would take a little tension off Tony’s obligation to answer. The last thing he wanted to do was make their time together feel like an interrogation.

Tony didn’t seem to mind, though – he looked up with a tilt of his head. “What do you want to know? I’m shockingly not covered in dirt a lot of my time throughout the day.”

“How did your love for flowers start? Did you study horticulture in college?” Peter decided to ask.

Smiling lightly, Tony shifted in his seat, preparing himself for story time. “I studied Botany and Plant Pathology, actually. I have a doctorate in Plant Genetics and Soil and Water Sciences. During my plant genetics studies, I did some time abroad that took me to every continent – seeing the wide range of flora that exists in this world was the first time I ever thought about making plants and flowers a daily part of my life to the extent they are now.” Tony stopped to meaningfully catch Peter’s eyes.

“I used to be a professor at Purdue – when the restrictions of the lab became too much, I ditched the academic world and opened up the shop. I’ve been elbows deep in beautiful flowers ever since.” Tony winked in his direction, repeating his words jokingly back to him. “What about you? You cheer and charm unsuspecting old men, I know that. What else do you get up to?”

“You’re the only unsuspecting older guy I want to be charming, don’t you worry,” Peter reassured Tony with a soft chuckle. “When I’m not sweeping you off your feet, I study Philosophy and play a stupid amount of video games. Cheer and all that comes with it takes up a lot of my time, though. Most of my college life has revolved around football games and competitions.”

“Sweeping me off my feet – jeez, Pete,” Tony mumbled. His cheeks were red and the smile he wore spoke of happiness and enjoyment. “I took a couple of Philosophy classes during my undergrad days. What do you plan to do with an entire degree with it?”

A laugh slipped from Peter’s mouth at Tony’s question – though many people asked him that very same thing, no one presented it quite like Tony did. “You’d be surprised by what you can do with a Philosophy degree,” Peter retorted. “I want to be a bioethicist. My minor is Public Health – when I put my cheer shoes away for good, I hope to get a master’s in Bioethics and finally get into the realm I want to be in.”

Tony tilted his head then, his eyes roaming over Peter curiously. “What made you want to get into that? I’m sure there aren’t a lot of young bucks walking into higher education with their sights set on changing the medical world like that.”

Sucking in a long breath, Peter let the question sit on the air for a moment. He swirled the last of his wine in the glass before drinking it. “My parents were in a car accident a couple of days before my 10th birthday. My dad passed away immediately, but my mom – she hung on for an extra couple of days. There was a lot of internal bleeding that they were worried about. In all that worry, they didn’t wait for scan results or blood work to come back before they attempted a new, exploratory surgery. She didn’t make it back out of the operating room.”

Peter paused for a moment, catching his breath. “I was old enough to know someone fucked up and when I looked into it later, I decided I never wanted to let someone feel like I did in a crisis like that. There’s got to be someone who reviews the evidence and makes the ethically just decision to save someone’s life. Why shouldn’t it be me?”

For a second, Peter thought he went a little bit too far – there was a tense moment of silence that felt heavy after revealing something so personal. Peter bit into his bottom lip, not letting himself look up to see whatever reaction existed on Tony’s face. Then, a soft touch brushed across the back of Peter’s hand, Tony’s calloused fingers wrapping around his own. A brief squeeze had Peter looking up, his breath catching at the awe that met him. “I’m sorry to hear about your parents, Pete. Mine aren’t around anymore, either. It’s kind of cliché to say that you saw the deeper meaning of something so tragic, but it’s true. You’re using your pain to make the world better. That’s good shit,” Tony said, his voice hinting at a note of finality – like nothing would change his mind of the thought.

His certainty made Peter feel light, the weight of his emotional burden finally lifting from him after so many years. What a difference it made, to be so easily understood.

That light and airy feeling followed Peter throughout the rest of the evening – he smiled widely as Tony talked about his greenhouse while they shared a small chocolate tart between them. For all that his physical attraction was worth, Peter was genuinely surprised to realize that he felt a personal connection to the florist, too. They led different lives but shared enough similarities to make the time spent together more than worth it. Peter liked Tony and from the looks and subtle touches Tony bestowed upon him all evening, Peter figured Tony might like him, too.

Tony proved that thought to be true when they pulled up in front of his place – “Do you want to come up? I had a really nice time tonight and don’t want it to end.” Tony’s words were said through a saucy smile, his intention more than clear in the look in his eyes.

Peter didn’t hesitate to give his answer – leaning forward, he gripped the side of Tony’s cheeks, using his hold as leverage to pull Tony a little closer. They met in the middle, their lips pressing together softly.

----

Things progressed pretty quickly from there. Tony led Peter up a small flight of stairs into an open room. As expected, plants and flowers were scattered around the place, covering all of the flat surfaces with adequate enough sunlight. A comfortable looking couch and kitchen table took up one corner of the room while a large, king-sized bed took up the rest of the free space of the room. There wasn’t much clutter and all of the things that Tony had, he more than likely used. It was simple and perfect, much like the person who resided there.

Tony didn’t let Peter take in the room for too long – before he could walk around and snoop, Tony’s arms were around Peter’s hips, pulling him close. Peter eagerly met Tony in the middle, their lips sealing together in the delicious slide of tongue and teeth and wet, panted breath. As the kisses deepened and their bodies moved closer to each other, Peter started to impatiently thumb at Tony’s buttons, his palms and fingers running over every inch of bare skin he revealed to the cold air. Tony followed suit; his movements much more impatient than Peter’s were. By the time they made it over to the bed, Tony was pulling down Peter’s pants and boxer briefs. He gladly joined Tony in nakedness before climbing onto the inviting mattress.

“Holy shit, this is comfortable,” Peter babbled absentmindedly, his limbs stretching as far as they could go.

“It’s the one thing I refuse to compromise on. I want to be comfortable when I partake in all the activities a bed is good for,” Tony replied as he climbed onto the bed and fit himself between Peter’s legs. “You’ll be even more impressed in the morning,”

For a while after that, there weren’t any words exchanged. Peter kept his mouth busy by pressing kisses into Tony’s neck and upper chest – Tony’s cologne was prominent, pulling Peter in the more he breathed the delicious smell in. Tony let Peter riddle his skin with marks and spit while he ran his hands all over Peter’s skin. Their hips were lined up and with every thrust Peter made up, Tony rolled his hips down until their cocks brushed delightfully. They were both so caught up in each other that nothing but touching and experiencing actually mattered.

It’d been so long for Peter that he found himself coming to a breathless crescendo fast. After a few minutes of passively letting Peter kiss him, Tony took control of things – his hips set the tempo and his hands and lips laid down the distraction. So overwhelmed from it all, Peter wasn’t aware of how close he was until his orgasm slammed into him out of nowhere. “Oh fuck, Tony! I’m – I’m going to come,” Peter panted out, his body thrumming with life and want and a desire he couldn’t hold back.

“Oh, Tony!” Peter practically screamed a moment later – Tony dirtily rolled his hips to toss him deliciously over the edge.

Panted breath filled the room as Peter rode the high of his orgasm. Tony placed tiny, teasing kisses against any part of Peter’s skin he could reach. Reaching down, Peter gripped the sides of Tony’s face until they were looking at each other – Tony met his eyes with a self-satisfied smirk. “How good is your turnaround time?”

Laughing, Peter leaned forward to give Tony a kiss. His cock was already starting to fill out again – having Tony so close set his body on fire. “Ten minutes at the max,” Peter mumbled after a moment of cataloging his heavy limbs and the desire that was rampaging through them.

“Good. Then you’ll have plenty of time to prep me before you fuck me.”

Lost in the words for a moment, Peter was immobile until Tony tapped his side with a cold lube bottle to get his attention. “You want me to fuck you?” Peter dumbly asked, his mind still trying to catch up.

“Yeah, Pete. I want to feel you inside of me. Your body is trim and fit – I can only imagine how good you’re going to fuck me,” Tony admitted without shame. He moved out of the splay of Peter’s thighs, climbing to his hands and knees, instead.

Not wanting to lose his chance, Peter launched himself into action. He ran his hands over the planes of Tony’s sides and back, tracing the small scars and tiny moles scattered across pale skin. His fingers were eager to categorize and map, but his impatience was too great. Tony pressed back into him, as if he too was starting to feel anxious for what was coming next.

Uncapping the lube, Peter drizzled a good amount onto two of his fingers, pausing just long enough to warm the slick to body temperature. When he felt ready, Peter pressed the tips of both his fingers to Tony’s eagerly waiting hole, tracing and circling the muscle to spread the lube and relax the man he was touching. Little by little, his first finger slipped in without much resistance. Tony bared down against him and let the digit slip all the way in until the webbing of Peter’s finger stopped him.

Now that the warm heat was wrapped around him, Peter wanted to take his time, letting Tony get used to the feeling while he explored and reached. Tony’s entire body jolted forward when Peter finally found that delicate nub.

“Shit – do that again!” Tony shouted; his voice laced with a breathy moan.

Unable to do anything but give into what they both wanted, Peter continued his ministrations, teasing Tony with one, two, and then three fingers. He scissored and pressed against the edge of Tony’s rim, loosening the muscle as he went. When he pressed inside, Peter caressed Tony’s insides, just barely pressing against his prostate until Tony was humping back with exaggerated impatience.

“I’m good, Pete. I’m good. Please, I want you,” Tony pleaded as he reached back and felt around for whatever lenght of Peter’s skin he could reach.

Completely hard once again, Peter was more than ready to feel Tony wrapped around him – after an easy orgasm already, Peter knew he’d be able to make their coupling worth it. Opening the tube of lube again, Peter drizzled more of it directly onto the length of his cock, and then a bit more around Tony’s rim. He stroked himself a couple of times, then shifted until the head of his cock could drag through the lube coating Tony’s skin.

He teased them both for a moment, tracing Tony’s rim with the wet head of his cock to ramp up that initial moment of anticipation. Peter kept up his antics until his own body couldn’t take it any longer – every part of him craved the warm embrace of Tony’s hole. With that thought in mind, Peter used one of his hands to grip Tony’s hip, using his hold to pull the other man back against him as he thrust forward. Breaching the muscle felt like coming home – he threw his head back with a rough groan; maybe he wouldn’t last as long as he initially thought.

“Tony, Tony, Tony – you feel fucking amazing,” Peter panted through clenched teeth, his body fighting hard against the need to thrust forward and take, take, take.

Tony reached back to grab at Peter’s hand on his hip to tangle their fingers together, instead. They shared a few breaths while Tony got used to the stretch of Peter within him, the mere connection between them radiating a different sort of heat while they waited.

Finally, Peter felt Tony relax around him enough for his hips to draw back and press forward without much effort. He kept his thrusts slow to start; his cock was throbbing from the realization that it was Tony below him – picking up the pace was a sure-fire way to end things a lot quicker than either of them wanted. When Tony started to thrust back against him, however, Peter lost more and more of his control. His hips snapped forward, their skin slapping together to make a loud sound that echoed around the room. With every thrust in, Tony moved with him – the tip of Peter’s cock was poised to press perfectly against Tony’s prostate every time.

Between the sounds dripping from Tony’s mouth and the delightful squeeze around his length, Peter was a few thrusts away from slipping over the edge once more. He tried to shift so he could wrap his fingers around Tony’s cock to get him there too, but he was met with a long stare over Tony’s shoulder – dark hazel eyes were on fire, pushing him to thrust harder and forget everything else. Tony’s body was taut, obviously strung out and seconds away from breaking apart. Finally understanding, Peter straightened out his chest, gripped Tony’s hips in both hands, and let himself go.

In the end, it was hard to decide who tumbled over the edge first. Tony shouted Peter’s name and tightened impossibly tight around him. The extra stimulus was the perfect thing to bring the heat in Peter’s belly to an overflowing boiling point. He tucked his head into the sweaty length of Tony’s neck and groaned, Tony’s name and fuck and unintelligible noises added to the symphony their joining created around the room.

Managing to just barely turn Tony as his body collapsed, Peter hit the mattress hard – his cock slipped out of the blissful heat, dragging a long groan from the depth of Peter’s chest. Being inside of Tony already felt like home; both his body and his heart were convinced. Wrapping his arm around Tony’s hip to compensate, Peter snuggled into the man’s sweaty back, keeping their bodies close.

“I – Tony. That was…” Peter started to mutter, his brain still not back online like the rest of him. Tony looked over his shoulder, affection and appreciation alive in the hazel of his eyes. They shared a heated stare as Tony pulled Peter’s hand more firmly across his chest – they didn’t need words in that moment, merely touching and existing in the same orbit was more than enough.

----

After that first passionate night, Peter spent almost all of his free time with Tony. With the shop being so close to campus, it was easy to lean on Tony’s close proximity and the joyful happiness Peter felt whenever they were together. The natural way their lives just sort of combined with each other proved how right they were for each other. Where others were wrapped up in the time Peter spent away from them, Tony enjoyed the fact that they led separate lives. Peter got to keep cheerleading and Tony at the same time without the two battling against each other. He didn’t know it before Tony came into his life, but that level of acceptance was everything Peter needed from another person to both excel and feel happiness.

Before Peter knew it, four months were behind them – though it hadn’t been that long, most of Peter’s things took up space in Tony’s apartment and every thought Peter had revolved around the life he was trying to create with the older man. He even took the time to learn more about Tony’s body of work – they spent many of their afternoons together in the backyard with Tony working the greenhouse while Peter practiced tumbling or simply watched his boyfriend in his element. Peter couldn’t recall another person making him feel so dumbfounded playing in the dirt the way Tony did – it wouldn’t matter what the man did, either; Peter would find something to be amazed about.

It was Tony that drew him in; his personality, thoughts, and the eager way he gave back to Peter spoke to a part of himself that he never knew existed.

Which was how he found himself nervously awaiting Tony’s arrival at the Purdue football stadium – aside from MJ and Darcy, Tony’s appearance at the football game would be the first time any of his friends met the older man. The fall, much like Peter, was a busy time of the year for Tony. Between weddings, showers, and parties, Tony’s weekends were filled to the brim. The homecoming game was the first game that the home schedule actually lined up with Tony’s off day. He couldn’t wait for Tony to watch him do the thing he loved in the uniform he felt proud to wear. Selfishly, he wanted to see that same sort of pride radiating from the person he’d fallen in love with.

The forty minutes they were trapped in the locker room before the game started felt like torture – his phone vibrated against his thigh a couple of minutes after they headed in from warm-ups. Tony was navigating the stadium’s security to get to the sideline spot Peter secured for him. When they walked back onto the field, Tony would be there eagerly waiting for him.

Finally, the performance lights flickered, and they were ushered to their usual entrance. The large black and gold flag he carried in his hands was lighter than usual – his excitement pumped through him, the dopamine of happiness causing a rush of energy. As the announcer pumped up the crowd, Peter caught the eyes of his teammates around him, sharing the hype he felt.

Running across the thick white lines never felt better – by the time he crossed center field, Peter caught sight of Tony in the corner. His boyfriend was clapping loudly, the honey-hazel of his eyes glued to Peter’s every move. The familiar feeling that Tony’s love created in him spread through Peter’s chest, showing itself off as a giant, beaming smile.

They didn’t get much of a chance to talk throughout the first half of the game – Peter’s stunt group was responsible for the spirit stuff for the first and second quarter. Instead, Peter sent Tony messages with his eyes, showing off his skills and tumbling talents whenever he could. It was almost better that way – Tony got to experience Peter in his element without any pressure to respond. The crowd going wild around them only added to the experience. For once, Peter got to put on the show.

When Peter got to wander off after the half-time performance, he was wrapped up in a bear-hug the second Tony could get his arms around him. Peter was covered in sweat and glitter and the annoying little turf beads that always stuck to his skin, but Tony didn’t seem to care. The older man picked him up, spinning him around excitedly. “Pete, you’re so talented. I about shit my pants when you back flipped for so long down the field, but damn – the skill you possess,” Tony gushed, tucking his face into Peter’s neck to calm himself down.

Not wanting to lose the upbeat energy, Peter cupped Tony’s cheeks in both of his hands. Tony leaned into the touch, tilting his head back to look at him. “I’m so happy you’re here,” Peter started, leaning forward to steal a quick kiss. “I’ve been on point all day because of you. I can feel you watching me – I want to be good for you.” The last words were whispered in his ear, the impact of them hitting Peter hard across his lower back as Tony wrapped him up and pulled him close.

“You’re the only thing I see,” Tony mumbled back, his tone all the sudden low and gravelly.

After leaning in to give Tony a heated kiss, Peter forced himself to pull back – he stepped out of Tony’s embrace completely. If he stayed there any longer, he wouldn’t make it back to the locker room at all. Smirking in Tony’s direction, Peter thrust his thumb over his shoulder. “I’ve got to go, or I’ll never leave. See you after?”

“I’ll meet you out front,” Tony said with a nod, his anxious hands reaching out to squeeze Peter’s hand once more. “Keep kicking ass, Pete.”

His role during the third and fourth quarter was a lot more passive than the first half of the game. Since the Boilers were up more than two touchdowns, a lot of the crowd left after the first few minutes of the third quarter – that meant the younger stunters and less experienced tumblers got to have some time on the field. To stop himself from straying over towards Tony, Peter put all of his effort into helping his littles. It didn’t work nearly as well as he figured it might, but he got through the rest of the game with minimal distraction.

Hayley’s speech was inspirational and moving like usual – they were done with football home games for the season and their success was obvious and highlighted in her moving words. The next couple of months of the season were the calm before the storm and they were all looking forward to the small break basketball games posed for them. Competition season started after the holidays and no rest would be spared. Though he always appreciated her words, Peter wished for them to quickly come to an end.

Before he even finished the thought, Hayley was circling them up, calling out the cheer that they all echoed back. As he shifted to move out of the circle, a firm grip stopped him. “I believe this is for you,” Hayley said, handing over a classic red rose.

“Hayley, who’s this from?” Peter asked, trying his best to tamper down the hope that maybe Tony was the stupidly romantic culprit.

With a knowing smile, Hayley shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly, “He said you’d know.”

Pulling the rose to his chest, Peter ducked his nose to sniff at the crisp petals. It was de-thorned and freshly cut – Tony’s markers were all over the beautiful gesture. His cheeks were already sore from all the beaming he’d been doing all night, the face splitting smile only made it worse. Despite that, Peter wore it throughout his post-game routine and out the door where he ran directly into MJ.

“MJ! What are you doing here?” Peter threw his arms around her then, careful not to crush the flower still in his hand.

Thin arms returned the hug – MJ brought him tightly to her chest with a hard squeeze. It’d been a few weeks since they’d seen each other. Seeing her standing there, Peter realized it’d been too long.

“I couldn’t miss homecoming. I am an alumna after all,” MJ replied, her wide eyes never leaving him. Watching her closely, Peter felt a gasp leave his lips when she brought another classic red rose up, running the flower under her nose. “This needed delivering, too.”

Peter gripped the rose lightly, tucking it against the other one in his hand. Each of the petals were perfect and from the small lessons he got from Tony whenever they handled the clipped flowers, Peter knew what the giving of classic red roses meant. It only seemed right that Tony clued him in that way.

“Don’t fuck this up, Peter. I really like him, too,” MJ remarked as she moved in to press a soft kiss on his cheek. He kept her close for a moment, simply soaking in her presence. “He’s waiting for you out front. Go get your man, Pete.”

A soft laugh left his lips, MJ said that to him when she first learned about his date with Tony. It wasn’t lost on him how full circle everything felt. The rightness of being with Tony existed in every aspect of his life – each little sign made the delirious heat in his chest burn that much brighter.

Giving MJ one more squeeze, Peter broke away to quickly make his way towards the front of the stadium where Tony was waiting for him. He wasn’t sure what he did to deserve such a sweet display of affection – Tony knew Peter appreciated the simple day to day life they were slowly creating with each other. At the same time, Peter’s heart was hammering in his chest at the thought that Tony deemed him worthy of such a gesture.

Peter found Tony leaning up against one of the large pillars just outside the exit doors. In the darkness, the honey color of his eye shone like melted pools of gold. Narrowing the distance between them became the only thing on Peter’s mind, he picked up his pace and practically threw himself in Tony’s arms.

The sigh along the length his neck made Peter tuck in a little tighter against Tony, his heart pounding with affection. He pulled back before the roses in his hand could get squished in the intensity of their embrace. Peter brought the flowers to his nose, keeping Tony’s eye as he did. “They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” Peter sing-songed, grinning at the flush that spread over Tony’s cheeks with every word.

Tony nodded at him, tilting his head with a mischievous look of his own. “It looks like you’re missing one, though,” Tony remarked. The long stem in his hand was darker than the others, symbolizing love yet to be realized. Their fingers brushed as Peter took it, his brow quirked in intrigue.

“I love you, Pete. I’ve known since you walked through the door of my shop that you were special. Every second with you has made my life just a little bit better. I know it hasn’t been that long, but I’m mad about you. Over the fucking moon.” Tony walked into his space then, his hands cupping Peter’s cheeks.

Surging forward, Peter caught Tony’s lips in a passionate kiss, their noses bumping in the process. They sipped from each other’s mouths until the need to breath became pressing. Instead of pulling away, Peter leaned his forehead against Tony’s, closing his eyes to revel in the contentment that wrapped around them both. After a couple of shared breaths, Peter blinked to catch Tony’s eye. “I love you too, Tony,” Peter whispered back.

With a wide grin, Tony leaned in again, mumbling “I know” against Peter’s lips.

#starker #Peter Parker/Tony Stark #sfsummerbingo21 #bobbie writes #it takes me all the way #starker fic

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phoenixyfriend · 3 years

Text

The “Momma Sturmvoraus was Literally Satan” AU

As requested by @spazzbot. This AU was initially brainstormed on the GG fanworks server almost a year ago. Specifically, on the first day of 2020.

[ID: a truncated discord message by “Miss Nixy, Gay for RoboLadies” posted 01/01/2020. The message reads “I need to sleep but please for the moment consider:” and ends there.]

So. Let’s get to it.

Satan took a human form because why not see what's going on topside, live like a human, and “Oh shit is this pregnancy? This is pregnancy. Fuck, that's a tiny human. Which is now half demon. Am I supposed to take care it? Wonder if retconing this form into that Valois family was a bad idea. They do have SO much money though, I get to live like a queen. I suppose another child shouldn't hurt, it wasn't that bad. Oh, he's cute, this is actually making sense, why humans do all the sinning. Not counting dear Aaronev's murders, of course, those are just evil, but I did search out the worst of the humans to pair myself to...”

This is literally just "Tarvek and Anevka's mom was low-key Satan on a bored “let's be human for a decade or two to see what happens” jaunt, consequences happen because these kids are LITERALLY half-demon and arguably anti-Christs."

Also it's just Very Funny for Tarvek, ineffectual sexy lamp fashion twunk extraordinaire, to be an antichrist

Jeff thinks he’s pretty. Jeff keeps describing features that don’t entirely make sense. (Jeff’s canon name is Karl Thotep but they spent so long unnamed that the server collectively named them Jeff.)

This is not a crossover with anything, btw. Ambiguously Pop Culture Satan just got bored and went to have babies with a serial killer.

They’re just kids! That are vaguely demonic. So. Moreso than the rest of the Valois.

Sometimes "mom" comes back from the dead and visits Anevka and Tarvek to impart Wisdom and possibly magic lessons The rooms always smell faintly of sulfur after that...

They try to put Anevka in the machine but SHE isn't hurt and the MACHINE just melts

So that's the end of that.

It's very awkward for everyone, but the paperwork isn't too bad. It's very easy to write "incidental fire began during late-fugue experimentation, resulted in fire spreading through six rooms and several casualties, including Prince Aaronev Wilhelm Sturmvoraus."

As per @atagotiak, “I feel like if we’re going in any way dimensional weirdness with thing, Tarvek got so good at exploring bc he could just clip through walls.”

With image provided by @thisarenotarealblog:

Tarvek in Paris: My dead mother keeps showing up in my dreams to tell me I need to seduce my way out of my problems and also she looks like Satan. Tarvek's Voltaire-Appointed Therapist: I still don't know what that means. Just like the last five times. Tarvek: I keep telling her that I can’t seduce Colette, if seduction is that important she should get Anevka to do it.

Like he probably wouldn’t say most of that in front of any Voltaire-approved individual, but still.

Tarvek is still very good at self control but there's a Special Edge to his rants.

(Derailed in the moment to me thinking about Anevka in a sfw-but-concerningly-deadly succubus getup, because... yeah.)

Aaronev dies and goes to hell and his dead wife is just there like "hi! Time to be tortured for eternity!" He wasn't a good husband so. He can't exactly sentimentalize his way out.

“In the sexy way?” “... not for you, no.”

Mostly I just want the BULLSHIT that is "Storm Mom was actually just Satan getting bored and going on vacation as a retconned Valois girl, the kids are half-demons and sometimes it Shows."

To clarify: the Satan bit isn't the retcon. Grandma used to have one daughter. Now there are two. (Seffie and Martellus's mother doesn't remember being an only child, but sometimes...)

Satan retconned a new daughter in, which included a Valid Valois Venusian Vestment, so the blood tests play out.

The subtle signs of wrongness would be fun too. Anevka tends to smile a bit too wide and sharp for a human face. Inexplicable uneasiness, here you can’t point at any specific thing that’s wrong but it’s uncomfortable. Uncanny valley prettiness, almost like the porcelain she became in other timelines. Skin isn’t supposed to be that smooth.

My brain's pre-nap contribution at that point was "Satan's pronouns when not pretending to Human are sin/sinself" which is! Certainly a thing.

Tarvek, at some nebulous future point: I mean, your ancestors were monsters, but my dad was a serial killer and my mom was literally Satan, instead of just figuratively like Lucrezia, so. I mean. I kind of get what you're going through.

Per @firebirdeternal: Tarvek and Anevka growing up with "you're allergic to holy water" and not questioning it until a little later because What.

And then they test it and it's like "yeah, no, there's a rash now. That stung. What the fuck."

It INFURIATES Gil in Paris when Tarvek tells him that's a thing, because there's nothing chemically different about Holy water and regular water. But no, this is somehow happening.

It gets logged in medical journals as a Valois genetic thing because, well, Mom was like that too, right?

One time they both go into a church for an Adventure and Gil is very annoyed to find that Tarvek is like. Faintly smoking. It smells like burnt hair in here.

Gil: What smells like burnt hairgel? Tarvek: [glares]

Gil decides that it must be something particular to the church, like a fungus or something in the stone, contaminating the air and water so it only LOOKS like the holiness is what's setting off reactions.

It is not.

Tarvek once got into an argument with someone and ate a slab of raw, completely uncooked meat as a power move.

SVV seems to work perfectly. Everyone is fine. We get the ‘you fight like ducks’ moment.

And then Tarvek bursts into flames, and everyone panics because no they fixed this what the fuck is he still infected with Hogfarb’s oh my god... and then everything settles down and he's perfectly fine. Not a scratch on him, no longer turning funny colors. Completely unharmed. He's in a nicely tailored suit and looks faintly stunned

"I just met my dead mom, who's apparently Satan. She told me that after I died the first time just now, I should be harder to kill later, especially with fire, because now there's more demon and less mortal and guys I think I'm going crazy." "Is that a martini?" Tarvek looks down. "Apparently."

Tarvek starts just. Randomly setting things on fire by glaring too hard and has to tone it down. Meanwhile, Agatha and Gil are having crises about how he's somehow getting PRETTIER.

Is he faintly glowing? Maybe!

Gil handles it by angrily sniping at Tarvek about how of COURSE he's an evil little rat with a background like that.

Tarvek just wants a nap and to forget this ever happened. Many people are sworn to secrecy. It's very awkward.

Still, SVV did something, for handwave-y reasons, and so they're linked now. Gil and Agatha both getting tiny flashes of the same shenanigans.

They get none of the powers. They just keep getting Weird Shit.

Other characters with divine influence are like "Did you.... did you make a pact with a demon?" "What no that's our boyfriend."

Tho tbh I wouldn’t be surprised if a Heterodyne did sign a contract with a demon at some point in exchange for like. Materials. A hundred souls sacrificed in exchange for some succubus blood. Thanks!

Tarvek and Othar: Falling out of CW as in canon. Tarvek: WHAT THE HELL SINCE WHEN DO I HAVE WINGS HIDE THIS BEFORE I GET BOOTED FROM THE LINE FOR THE THRONE

IDK where Anevka is during all this. I think she might have decided to go sleep her way through the courts of the Ice Tsars. Vacation, y'know?

Othar after he's decided to make Tarvek his new Heroic Apprentice: AH, my poor afflicted young friend, it's noble of you to go against the dark nature of your tragic heritage like this. Tarvek: I hate you. I wish I could hate you to death. But you have a point. I shouldn't let my father's blood limit what I strive for in life. Othar: I... I thought your mother was... Tarvek: I know what I said.

Tarvek: Also you can't tell ANYONE about that, I can't have them thinking I'm not actually in line for the Storm King's throne.

He does admittedly have to like. Explain things to Grandma.

Terabithia is Tarvek’s maternal grandmother so this is supremely awkward. That said...

Grandma fondly remembers her pregnancy cravings; bone marrow and sulfur.

"Yeah so, my mother, your daughter, was... maybe actually Satan? But retconned into your life?" "Tarvek, darling, please. I figured that out half a century ago."

TARVEK ACCIDENTALLY FINDS HIM HIMSELF WEIRDLY INTENSE AT CONTRACTS

I mean that honestly just Tracks about Tarvek anyways? But like moreso.

He just. Writes something up and there's things getting signed or shook on and then the person tries to break the contract and either suddenly catch fire or are deeply unlucky for a set amount of time.

And Tarvek's just standing there like "how in the FUCK did I do that?"

Severity of infernal punishment depends on the severity of the breach of contract.

Tarvek finds out that Anevka's been convincing rich people to sign their souls over to her. It's a fun challenge. She keeps them in jars.

They can still remotely pilot their bodies but like. They can't TELL anyone what happened.

Satan: I'm going to go make babies and now everyone else has to deal with the consequences.

Anevka's living up to that whole "princess of hell" vibe. Tarvek's just like "nope nope nope I want the storm throne, not the hell throne, BYE MOM."

Satan's just feeling sinself down in hell like "awwww look at my babies go, aren't they adorable?"

Tarvek: Anevka, what... first off, how did you figure it out? Anevka: Well, I temporarily died when father put me in the machine, and... I can't say that hell kicked me out because they were afraid I'd take over, but mother DID say she'd rather I play about with human governments instead of Hell's. Tarvek: Okay, cool cool cool. What after you planning to DO with all these souls? Anevka: They make for some lovely reading lamps, don't they?

(Anevka absolutely sets herself the goal of acquiring new titles that rival her old ones, or even surpass them. She just black widows her way through Europa.)

I just want someone (probably Snackleford) to ascend, take one look at Tarvek, and run SCREAMING.

Tarvek still needed to be anchored to Higgs, because Tarvek is Baby.

Gil is eventually in a relationship with an Eternal God Queen and the Literal Son of Satan.

Family dinners can include ALL the in-laws if you duck down to hell! - You borrow Bill from... probably heaven, maybe purgatory. - You have Lu and Aaronev and Satan already there, though the first two... well. Aaronev and Lu get invited to dinner but they have to eat by themselves at the kiddy table and nobody talks to them or acknowledges their presence. After all, this is hell, and what better punishment for Lu than to be completely ignored, and for Aaronev to see Lu at her worst and be reminded that he gave everything for this horrible, horrible person who isn't even pretending to care about him anymore. - Zanta and Klaus get invited via portal. - Anevka saunters in with a blood-soaked dress and a complaint about militant demon-hunters refusing to let her go shopping for a new pair of shoes. - Zeetha tagged along with the OT3. (She can't wait to see this situation explode.)

Oh God, Satan is actually second place as far as good parenting goes.

Well, actually, fourth. Because Adam and Lilith. But second as far as bio parents go. 1. Zanta 2. Satan 3. Klaus 4/5. Lu and Aaronev N/A. Bill

Someone (Anevka) decides to stir the pot and invites Von Pinn, Terabithia, Bang.

Bang is basically Gil’s older sister, right? Right.

This is Zanta meeting Bang for the first time! Zanta is just: "It's so nice to meet my husband's adopted daughter." Klaus freezes. Bang freezes. Gil is the only one who is just. "Yeah." Meanwhile Zeetha is crying with laughter off to the side because both of them deserve this. (Zanta would legit love Bang though.)

Agatha: Tarvek, I think DuPree is-- Tarvek: Hitting on my sister? I know. Agatha: On your mom, actually. Tarvek: NO!

Also I do love the idea of like. Nobody tells Bang they're inviting her. She just wakes up in Hell like. "Ah. Yes. Fair enough."

Satan: Oh no no no my dear, you're here as a guest. Besides as well as you'd fit you're not one of mine, you've got other things waiting for you. Bang: Okay, but I love the decor. And is that Cheesecake?

Bang’s family has their own evil god in the novels, but! Bang DID pick on Tarvek a lot in Paris. Satan cares more than Anevka does. Bang might get the sexy punishment.

I feel like the fact that no permanent damage was done and it taught Tarvek a lot of things means Satan isn't gonna be all that upset about it.

And let's be real, if there's a character in GG who could look the literal Christian devil in the eye and be like "Yeah I tortured your kid, what're you going to do about it?" it's Bang.

Even Satan doesn't know what to do or think about Othar.

He sure is here! As Anevka’s arm candy! Nobody knows what to do except Anevka herself, who just wants to be Smug.

(What's that scene from Phineas and Ferb that's the mad scientist trapping the platypus within the rules of polite dining at a fine restaurant? Like he can't make a scene because that would be rude?) (That. Othar would dearly love to start a fight, but it's a Family Dinner. You're only allowed to fight verbally at those.)

(Othar isn't even fighting Satan, he just wants to argue with Klaus.) (And maybe fanboy in Bill's direction a bit).

#Girl Genius #Phoenix Posts #Anevka Sturmvoraus #Tarvek Sturmvoraus #Aaronev Sturmvoraus #Gilgamesh Wulfenbach #Agatha Heterodyne #Lucrezia Mongfish #Othar Tryggvassen #Bangladesh DuPree #Otharnevka #GG OT3

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wickedmilo · 3 years

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THE BETTER HAWKEYE | MILO & ORION

PLACE: Outside the University of Maine TIMING: 12:39 AM SUMMARY: Milo runs into Orion and, after not seeing each other in over a month, the two manage to reconnect. WRITING PARTNER: @3starsquinn CONTENT WARNINGS: Addiction, alcohol, drug abuse

Milo had always been the type to wander at night, but usually he had a goal in mind. There was always a dealer to meet, a club to go to, a stranger he could go home with. Now, he wandered the streets because he could. Because during the day he was confined to the house, itching to do something, for the sense of freedom he used to have. Sometimes, when he was feeling particularly melancholy, he walked past Tower Comics, thinking about the excuses he was going to give his boss when he was ready to return to work. And now he was outside his old college building, staring up at the structure, remembering what it felt like to walk through the doorway, and into a class. Usually late, usually smelling of pot, always with a coffee in his hands. Sparking up a cigarette, he leaned against the brick wall behind him, observing the college from across the quiet street. There was nobody around at this time, despite all of the lights being on. And it was weirdly comforting to reminisce.

It didn’t take very long for him to be drawn from his memories, though, as a familiar figure began to make his way down the entryway steps. Orion, he would recognise him anywhere. They had attended school together, though Orion had been far too shy to make his acquaintance back then. It was only after getting a job at the comic book store that they really began to get to know each other. His colleagues used to tease him endlessly about the boy’s very obvious crush. But as far as he was concerned, it was pretty harmless. Orion had never once made a move, and he didn’t exactly seem the type. He missed their conversations, he missed the routine of work. Although he had never been one to keep to a schedule, having somewhere to hang out and talk to people away from the nightlife of the town had been nice. He enjoyed it. Pushing away from the wall, it was probably a bad idea, but he couldn’t stop himself from crossing the road. He was feeling relatively mellow. With a handful of pills in his system, freshly fed thanks to Harsh and his generous supply of blood bags, he was in control. He wasn’t a danger. “Hey!” He called, exhaling a breath of smoke. “You do know they don’t give you extra credit for studying in the middle of the night?”

Some time out of the house would do Orion some good. Following his most recent meltdown, he stayed at the campus library until the sun had fallen. The place was popular for all nighters with college students. He had done his own on multiple occasions, or at the very least used it as an excuse when he was trying to avoid his family. When he finally left the building it was with books tucked beneath his arm and the smell of rain in the air. Incoming rain it smelled like. That, and cigarette smoke. But aside from that, Rio didn’t tell there was another person around at all until the voice called out and scared the crap out of him. He jumped, one of the books slipping through his arm and falling to the ground. “Jesus. Sorry. Hey.” Rio breathed, bending down to grab the book and not even bothering to check who the person was saying hi to him. His cheeks flushed when he finally turned and saw Milo. “Oh. Woah. Hey! It’s been awhile.” Milo had been a familiar and friendly face at the comic book shop. One that Rio remembered fondly from high school even though the two never spoke. He also remembered how flustered he had always been trying to have a conversation with the boy at the comic book shop post graduation. He could remember just how awkward those first few discussions had been until Rio started to get a bit too passionate about the history of comic books. The only thing that could overcome his bad habit of crushing on any guy that was nice to him was how much he loved nerding out over things.

Luckily for both of them, Rio was a bit less flustered around boys than he used to be. “Ha ha. Very funny. I focus better at night.” Rio shrugged as an explanation. It wasn’t technically a lie, although on this particular night he was just using it as an excuse so he didn’t have to go home. “I haven’t seen you at Towers recently. Do you still work there?”

Milo felt a wave of guilt when Orion dropped one of his books. He had forgotten how easily flustered he could be. Before he was able to reach down and pick it up, Orion had it securely back under his arm, so he offered him a sheepish grin instead. “I didn’t mean to scare you,” he admitted, his version of an apology. He watched, incredibly amused, as his company realised who he was talking to. Taking a drag from his cigarette, he blew the smoke away from where they were standing. “Yeah, I guess it kind of has.” It made him sad sometimes, to remember the simplicity of before. His life had always been turbulent, and unpredictable. But through his own choice. He had still been in control. Tower Comics had been a brief escape from the never ending cycle of getting high, and coming down. He showed up, he stood behind the counter, he sold comics. It was too easy. A quiet laugh escaping him at the mention of being able to focus at night, it felt too relatable given his current circumstance. “Things got a little… weird, for a while.” Like that wasn’t a ridiculous understatement, but he wasn’t sure what else he could say.

“I, uh- I don’t actually know.” Did he still work there? It had been over a month since he last showed up for a shift, but his boss had always managed to tolerate his bullshit. Missing shifts wasn’t unusual for him. Neither was arriving late for them, sometimes he even left early, slinking away when nobody was around to stop him. He had a feeling if he walked in with an apology and an explanation, he would be able to keep his job. “It’s been like... a month, which is probably not great. But they’ll let me back. I mean- I hope they’ll let me back. Why?” He asked. “Are you still stopping by? Have you been missing me?” He was teasing, but just barely. He genuinely missed Orion, and he liked to think the enjoyment of their conversations had been mutual.

“It’s fine. I’m notoriously jumpy” Orion admitted with a small laugh. He would have thought that with all the training that he had been doing recently that he might get a bit less anxious. As it turned out, getting rid of that instinct wasn’t going to be easy. As if he needed any other reason to loathe his deceased parents. Now that he had composed himself, he got the chance to study Milo. Rio couldn’t remember how long it had been since the two had talked in the comic book shop, but he knew that it had been awhile. Something about him seemed… different. Physically, he didn’t appear to look very different than he had at Towers, but something was definitely different. Just as Rio was a lot different despite the relatively small change to him physically. Rio’s bleached blonde hair was gone, but he was still stick thin. His baggy hoodie also hid any new muscle definition his training had afforded. “Weird?” Rio questioned. He had an entire list of theories of what Milo might mean by that. This town had no shortage of weird things. But maybe against all odds, Milo’s troubles were completely mundane and non supernatural. “Sorry to hear that. Are things uh- getting better?”

“Fingers crossed for you. The guy that owns the place seems pretty nice, right?” He had no idea what may contribute to disappearing from work for a month, but he didn’t exactly know Milo that well. The two had been friendly enough at the comic book store, but the friendship hadn’t exactly extended outside of there. “Well I don’t get to rant about comics with anyone else in the store, so yeah for sure. I missed having you to chat to.” Though Rio didn’t go there as much anymore, he had stopped there a few times over the last month or so. Admittedly, Rio had been going there less and less for far longer than a month. While dating Winston, the two stayed busy working at the Scribrary or hanging out with their friends. After Winston left town, Rio had thrown himself into his work. “I drop in when I can! I’ve been busy lately, so I haven’t been able to go as much. But if I knew you were going back I’d definitely try to swing by more often.” He cringed at his own statement. “What have you been up to? Outside of Towers, I mean.”

Milo continued to smile, feeling a strange sense of affection for his friend. Seeing him outside of the comic book store was a rare occurrence, but it was comforting to know while his life had become so new, and disorientating, it had carried on as usual for other people. The world was still spinning, Orion was still buying comics. Things were going to be okay. Shifting uncomfortably on the spot as Orion observed him, he couldn’t help but feel as though he was being read. In the same way his mom always knew when he was on something, or under the influence, before he had even said a word to her, maybe Orion could see somehow that he had changed. “Yeah,” he laughed, only a hint of bitterness lacing the sound. Taking another drag of his cigarette, he tapped ash absentmindedly. “Really fucking weird.” He admitted. “Don’t be sorry, though. S’not like it’s your fault.” He caught his company’s eye again, showing him his sentiment was sincere. “I mean- I think so?” It was hard to gauge, when everything was still so fresh. But now that Harsh was helping him, now that he had someone there, he didn’t feel so lost. The hopelessness that had been weighing down on him wasn’t quite as heavy as it used to be. “Yeah… yeah, they are.”

His smile growing at the mention of his boss, he nodded, reaching up to push his hair back away from his face. “He’s pretty chill, I don’t think he’ll mind too much if I just, you know… say I’m sorry.” He knew taking responsibility wasn’t something he was good at, but hopefully his boss would be able to see he was serious this time. This absence wasn’t his fault. “Oh, yeah? Well I’m here now if you need to ramble. Immortal Hulk is still going, right? I don’t suppose you’re caught up?” Raising his eyebrows, he knew it would be unfair to openly tease Orion for his comment, but he couldn’t resist the flirtatious expression. What harm could it do? “So, what you’re saying is I’m the best thing about Tower?” He laughed easily, offering a casual shrug. What have you been up to outside of work shouldn’t be such a loaded question. But how was he supposed to answer? Oh, I died, found out the world I thought I lived in was very much not the world I was living in. Developed a mad craving for blood, hurt one of my closest friends when she randomly decided she wanted to kill me, then shacked up with another vampire who realised I had no idea what was going on… “I’ve, uh- I’ve been around.” He muttered, dropping his cigarette to the floor, grinding it beneath his shoe as an excuse to avoid eye contact. “You?”

Orion’s brow furrowed as he considered his best course of action. There was still a chance that Milo’s definition of weird was vastly different from Rio’s. “Right. Yeah I know, it’s just- it still sucks. And I’m sorry that it sucks.” Rio rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. At the very least, Milo confirmed that things were getting better. That had to be a plus. If nothing else, there was something positive. He was tired of things only getting worse. He needed to know that things really did get better for some people in this town. “Well I know that we aren’t like uh- you know super close or whatever. But if you ever want to talk about the weird stuff, I’m a great listener.” He hoped that Milo could pick up on the differences between Rio then and Rio now. Back then Rio was far too flustered and infatuated to ever be able to sustain a genuine friendship. He wasn’t nearly as hopeless as he used to be when it came to making friends.

“Oh! Yeah I think it’s still going. I started it, but I’m behind right now. The series is really interesting, even though I’ve never cared much for Hulk comics. Right now I’m following Strange Academy pretty closely. It has a lot of like, Young Avengers or X-Men school energy. And I’ve always been a sucker for the teen or young adult superhero groups! I’m hooked.” It was comforting to see how easily he was able to slip back into conversation with Milo. Rio groaned at Milo’s very pointed comment. “Well maybe I’m saying you were” Rio laughed, imagining how he would have reacted a year ago if Milo had made the same comment in the store, “Until you disappeared. Now it has to be like the gaming tournaments or something. And I don’t even participate.” With his incredibly vague response, Rio was all but convinced that something very supernatural had occurred in Milo’s life. Teetering the line between nosy and understanding, Rio kept his mouth shut. The two ran into each other out of luck, not exactly the ideal scenario for either to be spilling their secrets to each other. “Me? Well my friend moved out of town and left me in this giant house by myself. So I’ve basically been a hermit for the past two months. So my life is very, very boring.”

Milo hadn’t been expecting such a genuine apology, it caught him off guard. It was very clear that, despite not being incredibly close, Orion cared about him, and it hit him that he cared about Orion in return. It was strange how easily somebody could become a fixture in your life, but it certainly wasn’t unwelcome. He felt his throat close, as he fought to suppress whatever emotion was attempting to overwhelm him. It would be embarrassing to explain why he was suddenly choked up. He refused to become the person who cried every time they were offered a shred of kindness. “Thank you…” He said, his voice quiet. He wondered whether it was obvious how touched he was by the sincerity. “That, uh- that means a lot.” Unable to stop a sudden laugh from escaping him, he shook his head, falling back into his usual demeanour. “No, honestly- you don’t want to hear it. I’d only sound fucking insane, and I kind of brought it on myself, anyway...” Brushing off the comment, he jumped at the chance to talk about comic books. This was an easy subject, this was something he knew.

“Hm, I’ve heard good things about Strange Academy. Do you know who’s doing the artwork? I know how fucking basic this is but I kind of miss seeing Skottie Young, his variants are always insane.” Grinning, his eyes shining with mischief, he couldn’t help feeling genuinely flattered by Orion’s admission. Not many people saw him as anything more than a waste of potential. It felt good to just be Milo, the kid in Tower Comics who enjoyed making conversation. “I knew it.” He teased. “I’m going to assume the past tense is because I’ve been gone for a month, and not because you’ve changed your mind.” Nodding at the mention of gaming tournaments, he tried to remember whether he had ever attended one. He wasn’t the type to be drawn into the world of comic cons, and gaming. He enjoyed comics because, as far as he was concerned, they were a form of literature. Any extension of that enjoyment never quite managed to capture his attention. “Well, I’d hate for you to settle. I’ll be back soon…” He knew it wasn’t a promise he could make, but he so wanted the statement to be true. “And then your very, very boring life will maybe be a little less boring again.”

Whether it was the scholar in Orion or the side of him that desperately wanted to be better friends with Milo, he absolutely did want to hear more about whatever had been happening in his life. But he also knew enough from his own experiences avoiding a topic that Milo didn’t want to dive into it right now. “Of course. And seriously, anytime. I may be easily panicked but I’m slightly less easily surprised.” That may not exactly be the truth, but when it came to the supernatural it was becoming more and more true. “No pressure or anything. The offer stands for whenever.”

This definitely didn’t seem like the time though. Instead, Rio enjoyed the comic conversation instead. “Good question. I don’t actually. It looks familiar though I’m sure they’ve done other stuff. I’ll have to look it up.” Rio made a mental note to do some research on it in the morning. “Oh yeah I totally get that! He’s great! I’ve always been a big fan of Jimmy Cheung, but it may just be because of how much I love the Young Avengers. Which I’m sure is annoyingly obvious so I won’t shut up about them.” Nor did he ever plan to. He loved those comics. Loved the idea of rebelling against their parents and the adults trying to hold them back from doing what they thought was right. It resonated with Rio in a way that he was always too cowardly to do for himself. Well, until he murdered his parents apparently.

“Okay, okay. I admit it. Don’t let it go to your head though.” Rio smiled and raised his hands in surrender of the information. This was all… good. It was nice to be able to hold an actual conversation with him outside of comic books for once. “Well I’ll be on the lookout for that. And maybe sometime we could also do something that wasn’t in a comic book shop too? Like hang out or something?” Rio found himself asking, surprising himself by the suggestion. “In a purely platonic way of course. I mean uh- I don’t like still have a massive crush on you or anything. So this is not me like making a move or whatever.” He sighed, only realizing after that he had basically just admitted to his Milo that pre-Winston, Rio had a crush on the guy. “Not that I ever had a crush! Unless it was super obvious. But even if it was, please for the love of god forget that this last part ever happened.” Jesus.

Endeared by Orion’s explanation, Milo made a mental note. Maybe he couldn’t tell his friend everything, but it would be nice having somebody he could confide in about certain struggles, even if he did need to be somewhat vague about them. “Maybe, one day…” He offered Rio a warm smile, making it very clear that he meant what he was saying. He wanted to, it just wasn’t quite that easy. Glad of the subject change, he focused on the conversation, thinking back on whether he had ever taken in the name of the artist. “Oh, Cheung is awesome! Whenever I want to imagine what a character would look like for real, I go to his work.” Laughing when Orion mentioned talking endlessly about the Young Avengers, he tried to convey with his expression just how much he enjoyed that fact. It was never an annoyance, hearing someone speak so passionately about the thing they loved. “Definitely not. You could never annoy me.” He insisted, not trusting Orion to accept the sentiment. “See, I’m more of a Jekyll and Hyde kind of guy, maybe that’s why I’m drawn to the Hulk. It’s one of my all time favourite tropes, you know?” Maybe if he took the time to dissect why, he could talk about how he related to the internal struggle, the constant battle between desire and a need to be in control. But that struggle had become much more real to him recently, and he wasn’t sure he was ready to talk about it. If he was being entirely honest with himself, he had never been ready to talk about such a personal observation.

“Oh no, it’s too late. It’s gone to my head.” He continued to tease. Raising his eyebrows, he wasn’t expecting the invitation, but he was incredibly grateful to receive it. Any relationships he had cherished before being turned had basically been burned to the ground. He wasn’t sure how to navigate them now. This was a welcome reminder that it was possible, that he could still have friends. Distracted by the blush creeping to Orion’s cheeks, it was the first time since approaching him that he considered the blood coursing through his veins. His skin was flushed, he could hear his heartbeat. It was difficult to ground himself, but he managed. Turning his head away from the direction the wind was blowing, he made an active effort to avoid his scent. As quickly as he had begun to feel normal, any semblance of normalcy was stolen from him. But he refused to get caught up in bitterness, not when he was so close to reclaiming a piece of his old life. Taking a hesitant step backwards, he attempted to frame the movement as casual, carefully fixing a grin back into place. He was genuinely amused by what he was hearing, everything was just so difficult. “Maybe not super obvious.” He assured his company. “But my colleagues might have pointed it out to me.” It was his turn to hold up his hands, more than willing to grant the request. “Already forgotten. And I would seriously love to. It’s been a while since I’ve done anything. I mean, even this is just… a relief. I guess that sounds dumb. I just- I really fucking missed this.”

Though the conversation was sidelined, Orion grinned at the thought that there was more to Milo’s story. A book that hadn’t completely closed. Rio wasn’t sure that there was a friendship outside of Towers. That it was just a worker passing his workday by humoring the awkward gay kid with a crush on him. Rio was thrilled to learn that was not the case. Or not entirely at least. So the conversation about his mysterious weird experience would be shelved for another time. “I’m so glad that we agree on Jim Cheung’s superiority. I would have given anything to be like Kate Bishop. She was like, the coolest comic book character ever.” He spent a lot of time wishing he was more like Kate Bishop, though her entire character’s premise didn’t fit perfectly. The imperfect family, sure. But Kate’s entire strength was that she was the only non-powered person on an otherwise super team, temporary status of Eli Bradley notwithstanding. Rio’s own super abilities, wanted or not, sort of ruined that desire. He still wished he was as confident as she was. “Ooh! Yes that’s a fascinating trope! Fun fact, Robert Louis Stevenson was actually inspired to write the Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde while he was trying to work on a play about an actual person named William Brodie. Apparently this guy, William was like a big figure in his town. City council and all that jazz, but ended up being outed as a thief. Robert was fascinated by how someone who had such a clean public image could do such terrible things.” Rio was partly staring up at the sky now as he rambled on about the history of a book that was already a couple hundred years old. He could tell that the rain was about to start. Compliments of the super senses he couldn’t forget about. “Sorry I uh- get passionate about random history things.”

Rio tried to fake a serious tone, but he couldn’t stop laughing. “Oh god, I created a monster. You’re never going to let that go are you? You know, I’m sure there’s plenty of other employees at Towers that I could go and annoy.” As much as Rio was enjoying the positive energy, he couldn’t help his face from heating up at openly talking about his old crush. “Oh god. You said that way too nicely. It was definitely super obvious.” Rio sighed. His face was on fire now, and he could only imagine the bright shade of red his cheeks must be. “Thank you for taking pity on me. Because I desperately need this too. I’m very tired of sitting in my house doing nothing all day.”

“Kate Bishop, huh?” Milo echoed. He had definitely heard Orion talk about her before but hearing about his favourite characters always intrigued him. He had such a way of explaining himself, he could say the same sentence over and over and Milo was fairly certain he would listen regardless. “Poor Barton, just brushed to the side.” He teased, his eyes shining. He didn’t know an awful lot about Kate and her backstory, but more than once he had been flicking through a comic book, only to stumble upon a mention of trying to please an emotionally distant father. Boy, did he know what that felt like. His father hadn’t been absent. In fact, he had many memories of playing catch as a child, of being read bedtime stories, and baking on the days designed for them both to spend time together. But Oliver Summers had never talked about his feelings, and had always made his expectations incredibly clear. The moment his son was able to read on his own, he was expected to. The moment he was able to study on his own, he was expected to. The moment he could fend for himself, cook his own meals, do his own research, he was expected to. It was academia, and independence above all else. And now that he was officially off the rails, he had grown all too familiar with his stern disappointment, shame and frustration often simmering below his carefully arranged expression. “Bishop is pretty cool though, I’ll allow it.” Falling silent again, he recognised the look on Orion’s face and knew he was about to learn something. At the very least, hear about something interesting.

He could vaguely remember covering the topic at university, but he had been in and out of his classes. Incredibly unreliable, and incredibly not sober. Which made the information feel fresh, and exciting. “Don’t apologise for being passionate.” He hated to think anybody ever made Orion feel bad for sharing the subjects he enjoyed, even if that person was Orion himself. “People are complicated… it’s fascinating, really. I guess you never really know a person’s motivations. Not unless they outright break them down for you.” Grinning suddenly at the choice of phrase, the irony wasn’t lost on him. They were talking about monsters within literature, but hadn’t he also kind of already become one in real life? He would usually wallow in that, but with Orion it felt easy to see the humour. “Maybe you have.” He admitted, mischief lacing his tone. “And no, I am definitely not. You’ve already confirmed I’m the most interesting employee, so if you want to go and bore yourself with the others then I guess I can’t really stop you.” It was impossible not to notice how flushed Orion was, his skin pink with embarrassment as a quiet sigh escaped him. But there was just enough distance between them both for his friend not to feel like a temptation. The last thing he would ever want to do is hurt somebody he cared about. “I’m not taking pity on you, moron. I want to hang out.” He insisted. “And not many people describe me as nice, so I’ll take it. Thank you for the compliment.” He felt guilty for being pleased to hear Orion spent so much of his time alone, but it only justified his decision. He could spend more time with Orion because Orion wanted company. And, Vampire or not, where was the harm in that?

Orion only shrugged in response to Milo's question about Barton, “Hey Kate said it best herself when she called herself the better Hawkeye. She wouldn’t lie.” The first drop of rain hit against Rio’s forehead. It ran down his face, a welcome drop of cold against the burning skin. He could just barely hair the sounds of droplets hitting against the pavement now. It didn’t seem like it would start pouring right away, but the rain would probably only get heavier from here. In preparation, Rio slid his bag off of his back and opened it, revealing even more books stuff inside. It was a tight squeeze trying to get the books previously held under his arm in. He was just barely able to zip the bag up. It wasn’t a permanent solution, but it would protect against the lighter rain until the conversation with Milo faded. Rio wasn’t in much of a rush to leave right now.

“Right. Sorry. I’ve been told I over apologize too. Example A, two seconds ago.” Rio had found a decent group of people that had embraced or encouraged his sometimes overbearing passion for history, but each time still came as a surprise. He was used to passive annoyance. A feigned interest in the topic before all too intentionally taking an opportunity to change the subject. But he finally knew people that didn’t do that. He really liked those people. He was just glad Milo was one of those people. “No. Not at all. People always surprise you.” Rio agreed a little too aggressively, eyebrows rising in unison with his emphasis. Hunters were a perfect example of this. Trained to kill, taught to blend in. Some were just better at it than others. “I’m totally going to regret telling you that” Rio rolled his eyes and wiped away at the stream of water running down his face from the rain. “Okay, okay. You don’t have to get all defensive about it. We’ll hang out then. I’m looking forward to it!”

Milo laughed, he couldn’t really argue with Kate Bishop herself. And though he hadn’t actually read very many of the Hawkeye comics, it was clear Orion knew what he was talking about. “Okay, okay, you win. Kate is the best Hawkeye.” He surrendered, feeling the first drops of rain begin to hit his skin. Glancing up at the night sky, the clouds were dark, and thick. The water was as cool as the night air, and it was a welcome sensation, but he had a suspicion it might be the start of a downpour. He knew it was unfair, expecting Orion to feel the same way about the weather, but he didn’t want to leave just yet. He watched patiently as his friend did his best to save his books, wincing a little as he considered just how heavy his bag must be. “Are you apologising for apologising?” He asked, raising his eyebrows with a quiet smile. “Come on, which way were you walking?” He readied himself to start moving again, absentmindedly brushing down his hoodie before forcing his hands into his pockets. “Let’s get you out of the rain, I refuse to be responsible for your shit getting ruined, and it’s getting cold.”

Waiting to be given a direction, he mulled over what Rio was telling him. As far as he was concerned, he had always been incredibly predictable. His parents always knew how and when he was next going to screw up. As a Human, when he disappeared, Dani always, always knew how to find him. “Maybe some people.” He said finally. “I don’t think I’ve ever surprised anyone.” Offering an easy grin, he hoped his warm expression might be enough to take back the insult, he so often forgot not everybody was used to his humour. It wasn’t as though he could call people names while he was working, and he had only ever spoken to Orion at work. “You won’t regret it, don’t worry. I’m not that mean. And an insult from me is a compliment, I swear. I didn’t mean anything by it, I’m just excited-” It felt ridiculous to admit, but it was undeniably true. “I haven’t had anyone to talk to in a while, so…” Anyone regular, anyway. “It’s good to see you. I mean it, Rio...”

“It was barely even a fair fight. Hawkguy never stood a chance.” Orion laughed. Talking about stuff like this was one of the few times he seemed to excel, or at the very least accomplish, at normal conversation. He missed being able to just talk and laugh and even joke without spending the entire conversation constantly second guessing every single word before he even said them. “That’s uh- Kate starts calling him that when they start working together. Since they’re both Hawkeye.” Rio picked the bag up and swung it back over his shoulder with relative ease, tucking his arms through the straps. “I’m pleading the fifth on that one.” Rio shrugged, but began walking with Milo. He wasn’t sure why Milo thought he needed an escort to his car parked around the corner of the library, but he assumed that it was probably the same reason that everybody assumed Rio needed an escort or a protein shake or regular exercise. But like with most hunters, even Rio was an example of how looks could be deceiving. Most people didn’t peg the sickly looking gay frail kid as the one that could rip a car door off. “For the record, it’s not your fault at all. I’ve been doing a great job ruining my… stuff all on my own.”

Walking towards his car, Rio spun and walked backwards to look at Milo. He wasn’t sure what Milo meant by that. That he had never surprised anyone. He supposed it could have just been an offhand comment that didn’t require much digging into. But something about it seemed incredibly sad. Rio started to consider his own stakes on the word. In a way, Rio had tried his whole life to be as unsurprising as possible. He had wanted to blend in, be a good person and fly mostly under the radar. He supposed that same tactic would backfire though. It was only more surprising when someone found out he was a hunter now. “You surprised me like twenty minutes ago. Like genuinely scared the crap out of me. Not that that’s super hard to do.” Rio laughed, but hoped it helped at least a minimal amount, “I’m honestly surprised you even like, came up and talked to me tonight. So there you go. First time for everything.” Rio’s foot caught on something on the ground and he almost tripped, stumbling backwards a few times before righting himself. That’s what he got for trying to walk backwards and talk. They got to the mostly empty parking lot and Rio lead Milo to his car, “Welp. Here we go. I uh- yeah. Same here. I could use a friend right now so…” Rio pulled his phone out of his pocket and handed it over to Milo, “Want to put your number in? So we can plan a hang out. Or text or whatever.”

Milo smiled, listening to Orion as he continued to talk about Kate Bishop, and Clint Barton. It was obvious to anyone how his demeanour changed when he was talking about something that he genuinely loved, and he sincerely hoped he wasn’t the only person to appreciate that. “Maybe I should make more of an effort to get into Hawkeye.” He admitted. When… if he was allowed back to the comic book store, it would be the first thing on his to-do list. “Wouldn’t it be easier to take up a new mantle at that point?” He asked, trying to imagine working with somebody else named Milo without things descending into confusion. It didn’t go unnoticed just how easily Orion swung the bag over his shoulder, but he chose not to comment. He wasn’t about to embarrass him, not after his admission. Maybe he was right, maybe people really did have a way of surprising you. His smile faltering momentarily, he had a feeling there was a lot more to the words than Rio was letting on, though he brushed them off. If he wanted to elaborate then he would. “Exactly, so you don’t need my help.”

Following his friend to where he could only assume his car was parked, he moved slowly, allowing Orion to face him walking backwards. The rain was falling with a little more persistence, but there was nowhere near enough water to soak them through. Pushing his damp hair back away from his face, he caught Rio’s eye with an easy laugh, oddly touched by the sentiment. “I guess that’s true, you know… I can’t argue with you on that one.” It wasn’t quite the same, but it felt like enough. “I do like you.” He insisted. “I’d jump at any excuse to talk to you, you don’t know how boring my shifts used to be when you didn’t show up to see me.” His step faltering as Orion stumbled backwards, the boy righted himself before he even had the chance to fully react. “If you were hoping I was going to catch you and sweep you off of your feet, you need to be a good 2 yards closer.” He teased, as they finally came to a halt in the near-empty parking lot. Accepting the phone gratefully, he hurried to plug in his number. Mainly in an attempt to keep the device out of the rain, but also because it felt good to have a contact, he wanted Orion to have a way of reaching him. Handing it back, he pulled his carton of cigarettes from his pocket, ready to light one for the begrudging walk home. Harsh was probably wondering where he was. “I guess, I’ll- uh… I’ll see you around then?”

Orion had often wondered that same thing about the Hawkeye issue. Though he supposed it did change a bit depending on how far someone dived into the character. “Great question. I actually think in some of the comics that Kate Bishop sort of drops the hawkeye name because she becomes a private detective instead. It’s a whole thing. But regardless, I’m interested in getting your thoughts on it!” He was mostly excited to have someone to talk comic books with again.

There had been a surprising amount of honesty and sentiment in what had otherwise been a fairly comical conversation. With how bold Milo was being in his statements, Rio found it hard to focus. As the conversation about comics died down, so did Rio’s ability to talk apparently. But he had to try to force himself to not reverse back into his old habits. He wanted to be actual friends with Milo now. Not just a customer with a crush. “Uh-” Rio drug the word out for far too long before snapping back to focus, “Thanks. Same to you.” At least the cold air would help fight any further blushing. “Very funny, Milo. I am not that person anymore! I’m just a clumsy comic book nerd. Not a clumsy- uh- crushing comic book nerd.” Yikes. That wasn’t as smooth as he was hoping it would sound. “Anyways. Thanks again.” Rio said, opening his car door and tossing the bag of books across the center console and into the passenger seat. He was about to pull himself into the car when he turned back around. “It’s only going to rain harder. Probably, I mean. Do you have a car? If not I can give you a lift?”

“I guess I have some reading to do.” Milo was becoming more determined by the second to pick up the Hawkeye comics. It wasn’t the first time Orion had managed to convince him to start a new series. “I can’t promise I’ll have anything interesting to say though. You’re way better at talking about this shit than I am.” Grinning as he waited for his friend to find his words, he hadn’t been expecting a joke about his crush. “Eh, two out of three aint bad.” He teased. “Though I am offended you got over me so quickly.” He added, the look on his face making it very clear he wasn’t being serious. He wanted to ask why he was being thanked, surely not for the compliments, but he didn’t want to draw attention to any potential lack of self esteem. That hardly seemed fair, and he could make it clear he genuinely enjoyed Orion’s company in other ways. It made him happy to think there would be opportunities in the future to spend time with him.

Caught off guard by the sudden offer, he shifted awkwardly on the spot. He hadn’t been in a car since becoming a vampire, and it definitely didn’t feel smart to get in one now. Especially not with a human, somebody whose heart was beating, pumping blood through their veins that he could smell, even from where he was standing. “No,” he murmured finally, his voice melancholy as he remembered just how much he could no longer do. He had spent the better part of the past seven years saying yes to absolutely everything, taking risks without considering the consequences, walking headfirst into danger because if he told himself things would be fine then it became all too easy to believe. Now… for the first time in his life, he was being forced to think, to contemplate every action before making a decision. It went against every instinct he had, it wasn’t in his nature. But it was necessary to keep other people safe.

“No, I’ll be okay. I’m not staying too far from here…” He absentmindedly sparked up his cigarette, needing something to do with his hands. “Thank you though.” Shooting Orion one last smile, he held his gaze, needing him to understand his sincerity. “It really was good to see you. Text me.” The moment the words left his mouth, he turned away. Before Orion could call out to him, or tell him to get in the car. Before he could change his mind and put anybody at risk. Before he could think too deeply on his new limitations, and what it felt like to say no. To have no choice. So much had been taken away from him, and wallowing in that fact had become a past time. Though, he realised, with a strange sense of clarity, he may have just gained a friend. It was this thought that carrying him, as he left Orion in the parking lot. This thought making the night feel a little less dark as he disappeared into the shadows.

#addiction tw #alcoholism tw #drug abuse tw #milo and orion #c:orion

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velvyy · 4 years

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I remember you talking about Angel a little bit ago and how you didn't think he was as bad as everybody else was saying. What makes him appeal to you, I can't really get behind him in all honesty.

So I keep getting asks regarding to clarify my stance on Angel, and while I don’t mind this despite getting asks about it even now from HH fans and non-fans alike, receiving charitable and uncharitable asks and takes simultaneously from both, I might as well answer because I’m getting a bit tired of it. Not on here that often and every time there’s a new ask regarding it and I don’t understand why people want my take on this, despite me having already given one, or the clarification. That being said, my mind has changed a bit on the subject, and I kind of wanna give a small analysis on Angel and how I feel about him now, so here we are.

Firstly, the debate surrounding Angel Dust is off-putting to me because while I seemingly see both sentiments, I also feel as though they’re both simultaneously wrong. The positions are usually “Angel Dust represents a harmful stereotype that contributes to our marginalization and is a literal walking sex joke and nothing else.” and “Angel Dust is a hooker. A sex worker, prostitute. He’s supposed to be in hell. He’s supposed to be bad and awful. Moron” and really, I dislike both of these takes for rather similar reasons. Reason being is that I feel that it’s addressing the wrong thing here, which is the characterization of Angel, and not really what the over-arching narrative and well, show itself has to say about Angel, and I also feel that the issue here isn’t homophobia as much as it involves vilifying sex work potentially.

My issue with the first take is that obviously, we’ve barely scratched the surface with this character. I will say that the way he was introduced in the pilot was left to be desired. Not that he was offensive or meant to be a major middle finger to the gay community, but simply because we typically see big, larger, main traits of a character in a pilot. In Angel, we primarily see him embodying those things that many of the “HH hate crowd” disliked about him. Upon first introduction, he genuinely does come off as a stereotype, something that was written solely for the purpose of being “the gay” and nothing else admittedly. While said analysis is probably inaccurate, I don’t blame anyone for initially feeling that way, and coming to their own conclusions. Recognize that everybody’s opinion on Angel is all pretty much based on first impressions, because we only have so much to say about him at the moment. There isn’t even a show. It’s the pilot. Things even now can still change greatly. However, Angel in the show, being a prostitute, and a sex worker, seem very much rooted in his character primarily because many of his own personal struggles also lie in the fact that he’s someone who’s also victim to sexual assault, exploitation, which obviously has connections to his occupation. We can say that many of his actions are rooted in not only his job, and experiences, but also the mask he wears to hide his pain. I feel like to simply look at that and say “Fuck Angel Dust, he’s harmful.” is simultaneously neglecting a silent minority in the gay community that genuinely deals with the hardships of sex work in real life. You don’t see that type of humanity brought to the forefront in regards to gay sex workers in media. They’re usually there to be mocked at, and while you could say Angel comes off that way initially, additional context in the comics and Addict suggests otherwise. He’s not Alastor. He doesn’t have all these special abilities aside from being able to manifest guns and bombs, and probably shoot webs out of his anus or something. Angel is in pain, and in a situation where he feels stuck. He feels like he’s on a leash and only copes in the way he knows how, that being hedonistic actions and such. As to what the general narrative and world of Hazbin might have to say? We don’t know, and that could vary. We don’t have a conclusion as to what the world of Hazbin has to say about Angel, and whether or not he needs to be “redeemed” which is an issue I take on its own. I will get into that shortly.

I take issue with the second take for similar reasons as previously stated, but it has less to do with the analysis coming from the people who say this sort of thing, and more about what it reveals about the people saying “He’s a prostitute. He’s supposed to be in hell. He’s baaaaad.” Because it shows a type of reactionary sentiment that justifies the villainizing of sex workers, and also goes to show that they probably appreciate Angel’s character for the same reason those who despise Angel, are critical of. They find him funny potentially because in their mind, Angel is something to be mocked. Because he’s a “freak” in the sense that he’s this awful, slutty monster, seemingly missing the intentions behind writing Angel the way he is, as a way of potentially showing a sign of sympathy towards the livelihoods of real life sex workers. Instead these people probably don’t think too highly of people who work in that industry and view them as a circus act, the same way they might view Angel as the funny token gay man, and it shows that people appreciate this character for very different reasons. Not to mention, this take is not a very good defense. Does someone being in hell necessarily necessitate them to be “offensive?” A very non-offensive, non-confrontational, seemingly polite person could be the most awful person when the optics of civility are stripped away... Like a politician.

However, I end up pondering about what the narrative itself has to say about Angel needing to be redeemed. Because of the pilot’s highlight on his hypersexual manner, I end up asking myself what he needs to be redeemed from. His sex work and sexual nature certainly doesn’t make him a bad person. His violence probably does, but there’s so much emphasis on the sexual side of him and not the “gangster” side of him, and suggesting that people who are exploited by the industry they work in need to be “redeemed” almost insinuates like they’re doing something wrong. As if it potentially shares the same reactionary sentiment about sex workers that those who view Angel as a laughing stock do. Now, if “redemption” is a euphemism for “rehabilitation” then I would view this differently. However, in the pilot, the term “rehabilitation” and “redemption” are both used, seemingly interchangeably, despite both of these terms having different meanings. In terms of Hazbin, since we’re in hell, which is based on the Christian mythos (most likely also inspired by other cultural interpretations of a bad afterlife) “redemption” here is probably referring to the absolving of sins and what have you, although we don’t really know what Hazbin’s criteria for being worthy of Hell is, and said criteria is also never questioned. We just know that everybody there in hell is supposed to be bad as the latter say, and that’s that. They’re all “sinful”, all worthy of being considered bad people despite some clearly not being so... awful. Vaggie isn’t so awful. She’s a bit angry, but for a good reason. Why is she in hell with literal murderers, homophobes, gangsters, etc? Of course we don’t know much about her yet, but she seems substantially more innocent than say Alastor, who’s a literal serial killer. But according to fans, she’s in hell. So she’s bad. Bad people go to hell, and hell is where the bad people reside in, and all are in need of rehabilitation or “redemption” in order to achieve/attain heaven. (obligatory jojo reference heehee) Issue being that what’s good and bad is subjective, and despite nobody being morally perfect, they’re just in this place together with no real chance of redemption, while being told by the dominant structure and culture in hell that nobody really even wants to be “redeemed”, despite nobody wanting to be there, and probably housing some regret, only to be chained down by a culture of doubt, and many of these inhabitants probably not even really needing to be “redeemed.” There are people who are there for probably very irrational reasons, like stealing some stuff from a grocery store or something. Hell, even if someone is a murderer, what if they murdered in self-defense? Or trying to protect their family? Are they, a sinner, in need of being absolved, and to confess their sin of wanting to survive? Many “sinners” are probably people who come from unfortunate circumstances, and are forced to adapt to certain conditions that force them to do things that are considered “sinful.”

Of course, this is all very assumptive. For all we know, Hazbin could very well go into detail about this type of thing, and I’d be all for it. I feel like a lot of the former critique I’ve mentioned would be cleared away and people would be able to actually make a formed opinion on characters like Angel instead of the typical surface level takes I usually see. I’d be highly disappointed if the writers of Hazbin didn’t go down this route and question the very nature of this Heaven and Hell dichotomy and the moral code and structure presented. I have to clarify though. I’m not “behind” Angel. I acknowledge his character and how he’s written, and honestly thought the way he was shown initially was sub-par, and still believe that. My irritation revolves around fans and non-fans alike thinking they have a finalized idea of what Angel is, when they don’t, and then you have Youtubers making videos pretending it’s flawless while making statements about how stereotypes are apparently not harmful at all while making the assumption that every harsh criticism is a result of people wanting to ALL destroy Vivienne’s career when that’s just as reductive as saying that Viv is evil for shit she did years ago.

Aside from this, there’s still other things about Hazbin too. Vaggie even now I still can’t really see how she’s in anyway offensive or purposely off-putting. She’s angry because she has to react to a world who wants to take advantage of her, and her girlfriend. I’d be pissed too. She isn’t angry because she’s written to be the angry latina (despite Viv’s dumb tweet about “I’M A FIERY LATINA TOO WEE”). Alastor is a subject of discussion too because of the whole voodoo thing despite him passing as very, very caucasian and white, while also claims of cultural appropriation due to the certain iconography used when Alastor exhibits his power while playing into that “spooky voodoo” stereotype. I don’t have much to say on this because I’m simply not that familiar the religious practice aside from it having origins in Western Africa, and the Caribbean. Some say Alastor is biracial but that isn’t confirmed I don’t think. Some people say Hazbin is bad because of a Jeffery Dahmer joke, and saying that Katie Killjoy is proof of homophobia despite her being pointed out as an actual piece of shit with zero standards.

It’s all crazy. I look forward to what the Hazbin crew do with Hazbin, Helluva Boss, and especially Zoophobia. My mind is still open.

#hazbin hotel #vivziepop #angel dust #alastor #vaggie #demons

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havetheavengersdoneanythingwrong · 3 years

Text

An Interlude — The Unknown Expanse

A fearful baker lost his calendar yesterday, and a month passed—

And ever since that year went by, the coward has lost sight of everything but the false safety of ‘home.’

That decade passed without word, without sound, as the baker faded away from the world —

—until, that second later, a message from ‘someone.’

—

I lost my calendar yesterday.

Last April.

It’s been a long time since I’ve seen it. Seconds, maybe, or hours. It could be days.

A light shines underneath the door, for a moment, and flickers off. It illuminates hardwood floor — its texture worn down over months of use, light barely showcasing whatever cracks remained after all that pacing, just before vanishing as quick as it came.

It could’ve been anyone — my parents, perhaps, or someone else entirely — but it felt the same.

It all felt the same. A grip surrounding my neck, that forced the breath out of me, its spare hand rearranging my stomach to tie itself into hundreds of knots.

Dread, wasn’t it? That was its name. That horribly, sputtering feeling, that bit into your heart and ground its teeth relentlessly until all you could think of was passing out to halt the pain.

Darkness surrounded my vision — the tunnel vision that built up, certainly, and the darkness of the place I called ‘home.’

In the shimmer of my light, someone could easily see a target of burglary — someone to steal from — through a window that wasn’t boarded up from the inside just yet.

Compared to that, the endless darkness surrounding me was preferential, if not optimal. The fear of possible insects, of beings that scuttled in the night, was nothing compared to it.

‘Aah, wouldn’t it be nice, if...’

Even in my mind, I cut myself off thinking of a better idea.

Slipping in and out of consciousness endlessly — in this darkness, time was impossible to understand. ‘Sleep’ and ‘awake’ melded into one whole, two lovers apart by circumstances now waltzing together in the haze. Only ever seeing daylight in the times I ate, it was all too easy to mistake reality for fiction, and fiction for reality.

‘...It’s better like this, isn’t it?’

Aah, for all I knew, it was reality that this was all there was — that thieves and criminals existed only in my head, and that the world outside was only an illusion made to hurt me.

Was that reality?

Was that truly reality?

...Or had my eyes closed again?

—

I was 14.

14, 13, 10, 15–

The first incident is impossible to recall in the soup of ‘happenings.’

Twenty dollars — a little dollar bill I held close to my chest, moving slowly through the Toronto streets that lay just outside my home.

The bakery, ‘Roland’s Pastries,’ lay just a stone’s toss away — a half hour walk from our home. My father’s business, one he pridefully named off his last name, and the focus of the pastime we enjoyed more than anything else.

More than even the base jumping my father enjoyed, or the parkour stunts my mother taught to a generation of gymnasts —

Was a simple pastry, made delicately and kindly, warm to the touch, to sweeten even the sourest of days.

To call it my dream to run that bakery one day would be putting it lightly. I could still remember the shimmering gaze I always directed at its structure, the way my parents joined their staff to produce the best quality they could manage. I could still remember the first loaf of bread I helped make — even though it rose poorly, and didn’t taste the best, the gleaming smiles of my family stayed with me.

Yes — today was the day I was going to buy my own baking materials. Twenty dollars wasn’t much, but I wanted to contribute something to the next loaf of cinnamon bread we made.

A man brushed past me, however.

They wore a dark green rain jacket, and a grey shirt. Black jeans, too — they were impossible to miss.

Their face was a blur — a mismatched cloud of skin-shaped vapour in my mind, only a single bloodshot eye remaining in my mind.

It stared daggers into my skull, but I hadn’t noticed.

I was going to get some cinnamon. Maybe flour.

I was going to help. I was going to make cinnamon loaf.

I was going to

I was

I couldn’t make the

The hand reached out , and the gaze of the ‘person’ said it all -

Their hand remained in their pocket, but the outline of a <hand/dagger/gun>

Their hand reached to mine, and their <hand/dagger/breath>

The weight was gone in a moment, but the front door opened, and it

—

Aah,

So that was fictional.

Certainly, it were my dreams — separated from reality only by the fact that ‘nothing’ lay instead of ‘something’ before my eyes.

Darkness — the roots of unknown, of fear — felt comforting, compared to that.

The light outside my door was turned off. Shuffling could still be heard, though — and a gentle knock at my door.

“...It’ll be your birthday soon, son. If you want to celebrate... Just let me know, alright?”

...A calm, older male voice. My father.

Aah, how it was so pleasant to hear — how someone existed who could be that kind.

It must’ve been May, then —

...

“...I’ll think about it... Thank you, pops. Really.”

“Of course. Just... Let me know what you want, okay?”

...

Aah, how it almost felt like those older times —

—

...16.

I can still remember the first muzzle I stared down.

I was working the cashier booth at our bakery. Handling money, the works.

“Just smile and do whatever the customer says,” said my father. “If they cause any trouble, just call me and I’ll be here.”

He’d pat me on the back and send me on my way, with a list of basic instructions. Just the way I liked it — after all, words in general were in one ear and out the other when it came to me. Didn’t stop my mother from trying to speak a novel to me, but I could always rely on my pops to write down some of what to do.

Of course, those days usually went well — kind customers, kids with the cutest goshdarn smiles, and admittedly a fair few free cinnamon buns given to people who needed a pick-me-up.

I remember, one day —

“He’s been too slow lately. You need to punish him a bit, or he’s just going to stagnate like this.”

“He’s doing just fine for his age. He’s taking a load off our shoulders, handling customers, so I think he’s doing well.”

“You need to teach him a better work ethic.”

“He’s doing fine enough as is.”

I did have my slow days — where, suddenly, counting dollars didn’t mesh with my mind. Where in a matter of moments, I lost my desire to keep working, and I was fighting my mind to keep moving.

And this, of course, was one such day — the line was small, albeit, but I couldn’t deny I was a bit slow on the draw.

I remember counting out around forty dollars — around four of which were due in change.

Just enough time for—

...

...I was handed a note with the change. I open it, not thinking much of it-

“Empty the register, and say nothing, and nobody will get hurt.”

A teenager at the register of a bakery. The perfect target for a silent robbery.

Nobody was behind me — nobody could see his actions. Least of all the empty line behind this man, holding no witnesses in sight.

My family, arguing in the back, had no idea of what lay beyond that thin wall.

Just me — and the muzzle of a pistol.

It wasn’t possible to forget what the inside of a gun looked like.

A dark, empty void — reflecting what it could do to me, in an instant, if my hands now stopped.

The blur of repressed memory brought the scene into a haze —

—But hours after its completion, as that ‘me’ lay in horror, sobbing, I couldn’t help but listen —

“He’s misplaced most of our earnings for today! I told you that you had to discipline him better!”

—Aah,

They hadn’t known, had they?

—

Something — to nothing.

Faint, hazy memories dissolved like a tablet into water, as I felt something on my face.

I couldn’t see it, nor understand it in full — it were there, however, placed as if to irritate me specifically.

...I’d awoken in a cold sweat. Perhaps from the chilled air surrounding me, and the weak blanket I forgot to sleep under, I found my legs quivering when I tried to stand in the darkness — groping and feeling the air around me, stumbling into my bathroom to take a sip of water from the tap.

Even this darkness, this state of mind as if I hit the supercritical point of reality and dreams, felt comforting —

—Even the horrible memories of what once was could be dismissed as dreams, even the fear that came from living like this, and the fear of abandoning everything.

Here, reality was what you made of it — what you chose.

Lapping at the lukewarm tap water, barely reaching it, unable to see it save for the small reflections in the surface of the water itself, I heard a buzz on a nearby device.

My phone — charging there, waiting for something that would never come, began to vibrate.

“...What..?”

Unlocking my smartphone, I was met with a familiar image as my home screen —

—a young ‘me,’ eyes shining with delight, holding a loaf of cinnamon bread with utter care while grinning in pride.

“The only one who could take that was...”

...My phone began to ring.

A phone number I didn’t know — only one number off from mine, I realized. Out of curiosity, or perhaps loneliness, I placed my finger on the ‘accept’ button.

“Hey! I don’t know who you are, but we’re textdoor neighbours! Thought I’d say hello.”

...

“...Who are you..?”

“Uh, Ritsuka. Ritsuka Fujimaru. If it helps, I was the person who bingeplayed tekken and ate curdled yoghurt for superchats.”

“...”

...Had that much changed? How long had it been..?

“...Tell me more.”

—Somehow, it felt wrong to continue.

As if, by saying those three words, I was changing something that should have never been changed.

And yet — as my finger hovered over the button to hang up, the words fell out of my mouth instead.

Within the fear that lay in revealing who I was to a stranger —

—somehow, I felt as if this person was worth meeting.

Somehow, I felt as if something would change if I said something.

Something better would happen —

—surely, better than this.

#fgo #mastersona #gudasona #cadenceloreposting #l o r e #cadangst #like a reverse where are they now #where the fuck was he before??#now ye know #i like to think in other ‘verses he hung up on Ritsuka instead

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botan-shirabuki · 4 years

Text

Summer of Smut Writing Challenge: Sweet and Sticky

Pairing: SLBP Totoyomi Hideyoshi x MC (OC)

Theme: Day 1 - Popsicle licking

Summary: A Modern AU where a lon

Rating: NC-17/Explicit (for semi-public graphic oral sex)

Word Count: Approx. 4.4k

Notes: Well since I’m back writing again, I decided it was time to participate in my first writing challenge brought to you by @voltage-vixen ! This was so much fun to come up with, and I’m excited to share what else I came up with!

Since this was my first fic, it was a bit longer than I initially intended, but I am proud of what I wrote. I recently started to love Hideyoshi, so I had to contribute to his tag on Ao3 LOL.

Also, I wrote this with my MC Nomi as the female protag. I was told to have fun with this and I’ve always wanted to share a fanfic starring my ocs so I’m starting with this!

Ao3: here

"I don't think I've been this exhausted since high school."

"Ah, then maybe I should take you out here more often."

Nomi toweled off the sweat on the back of her neck as she smiled at her boyfriend. She and Hideyoshi had just finished a bike ride following the shoreline for the past hour. Admittedly, she wasn't much of an athlete, but Hideyoshi was eager to show her the view of the beach and surrounding area from the top of the hill at the end of their trail, so she agreed. Now, her thighs burned like crazy as she walked her bike back to the rental station.

Despite his casual tone, Hideyoshi was clearly worried about her. He had asked her multiple times along the way if she wanted to turn back before they got to the end of the trail, but each time she insisted she'd be fine. He mentally scolded himself for not turning back anyway as she spent half an hour sprawled out on a bench when they got to the top. As retribution, he helped her reapply all of the sunscreen she sweated off before they headed back.

Now, as they chatted away, Nomi felt no hard feelings at all. She knew she would regret it the next morning, but any time spent away from school and with her sunshine boyfriend was time well spent in her book. The two were by the beach near the bike station when an unfamiliar voice called out to them.

"Excuse me? Miss?"

Nomi turned around to see an unassuming young man approaching her with a camera. He had a polite smile on his face as he waved at her. "Hi, I work for a local travel agency and we're trying to get some updated photos for our website. Would it be alright if I took some of you?"

Suddenly, very self-conscious, Nomi felt her cheeks heat up. "Oh, me? I don't know, I feel like I probably look pretty gross right now..."

"Oh don't worry about it! I wouldn't have asked you if I didn't think you looked the part," he looked towards Hideyoshi, "Would it make you feel better if he was in it with you?"

Nomi turned to Hideyoshi, her eyes full of uncertainty as she waited for his word. She couldn't read his expression behind his smile. "I think that would be great!" His tone was totally cheery, easing away any apprehension she initially had.

"Okay then I'll do it!" Nomi gave the photographer a smile and a nod. "Is there anything in particular you want?"

The photographer nodded and circled them around to their other side. "I was thinking you two smiling and pushing your bikes with the beach in the background."

They proceeded to cooperate with him and arranged themselves so they could get the ideal shot. After a few pictures of them smiling at the camera and holding their bikes up, the photographer suggested changing things up.

"Why don't you two uhh, look at each other. Really sell that you're in love!"

"Sell that we're in....ahahaha...." Nomi hadn't meant to laugh, but the concept of making it known that she loved Hideyoshi through a photo baffled her. What did that even mean? All she could do was laugh, something she often found herself doing when she was uncomfortable. When she looked up at Hideyoshi, he was smiling at her. This time, his affection for her shined through his amber eyes. Anytime he looked at her like that made her bashful, but remembering that they were in front of a camera made her almost double over in coy giggles. "I'm sorry, I'm not very good at this."

"Oh, no, I got some great shots, thank you two so much!" The photographer didn't seem upset at all. In fact, he too had a smile on his face, as if their energy had affected him through the lens of this camera. "If you don't mind, could I have your information so I can send you release forms and the final photos?"

As they exchanged emails and business cards, Hideyoshi remained quite personable and friendly. But Nomi could sense that he wasn't all the way there. His eyes didn't have that gleam to them, but she couldn't think of a reason why he would be that way. She nodded and followed along with their conversation until the photographer gestured to her again.

"I'm honestly so glad you two agreed to do this. My client told me that cute girls tend to catch the most attention, so I'm sorry if I came on too strong."

"Cute? You're too kind," Nomi could feel her awkward side jumping back out again. She never knew how to take such compliments.

Hideyoshi merely shrugged, "I can't blame you at all, she's as cute as they come." He nodded to the photographer one last time, "We'll stay in touch then, yeah?"

The photographer smiled, "Of course! Enjoy the rest of your day," before he left, he turned back to them, "Oh, and by the way, on the other side of the bike station is a brand new artisanal popsicle stand. It's been a big hit since it opened and I highly recommend it!"

"Ooh, artisanal! Let's try them!" Nomi couldn't help but perk up at the mention of food. "That would be perfect, thank you so much!"

After parting ways with the photographer and paying for their bikes, the two got in an unexpectedly long line for popsicles. They had waited 15 minutes before Nomi's aesthetic decision to not wear a hat began to bite her in the ass....or.....on the forehead.

"Ahhh, I'm burning up. Will you watch my stuff while I go cool off really quickly?"

Hideyoshi maintained a neutral, yet positive face. "Sure thing. You wanted the blueberry peach jasmine, right?"

As she shimmied out of her shorts and shoes and took her hair out of its scrunchie, she kissed him on the cheek. "Yup, you know me so well! I'll be back soon, I need to go before I turn into a hash brown!" With that, she scurried off across the hot sand. Hideyoshi watched her go, and as an unfortunate result, watched the eyes of several other men -in the line and nearby- follow her too.

Without much else on her mind, Nomi made her way out to where the water was waist-deep and dipped her head beneath the surface. The water was cool enough to instantly soothe her sizzling scalp, yet not cool to the point that it would make her shiver if she stayed in for too long. Realizing this, she slicked her wet hair out of her face and waded in the water for a bit, riding along the gentle waves as the sun kissed her face. The warm breeze that had her sweating buckets earlier now provided a gently relaxing breeze.

Nomi found herself staying out there for a little longer than originally intended. The salty residue in her hair felt gritty to the touch as it dried; she submerged herself one last time for good measure and made her way back out of the surf.

Her thighs felt like they were tied to weights as she trudged out of the water. Her neck felt heavy as water trickled down the back of her thighs. When she set foot on the wet sand, she considered plopping down right where she stood, she was so tired. Maybe she really had underestimated how out of shape she was. Her head was facing the water when she heard it:

"Oh no, look out!"

Wha--? Bonk.

Something bounced off the back of her head. Her exhaustion caused her to stumble forward, so much so that she felt herself toppling forward when somebody caught her by her shoulders. When she caught her balance, she turned around to see a generically handsome stranger.

"I'm so sorry, are you okay?"

"Oh, I'm fine, I'm fine. I'm sorry for..." Nomi trailed off when she realized she had nothing to be sorry for. "I was...in the way, I guess?"

He smiled, "Nah, you're good, you're good." His eyes raked over her, quickly, but not fast enough so that she didn't notice. "Hey, actually have I seen you around here before?"

Great, now Nomi wasn't just uncomfortable, she also had no idea how to answer that. "...I...was just by the popsicle stand a few minutes ago....?"

"No, it must have been from somewhere else," he pondered, though his eyes wouldn't leave her.

Nomi's eyes darted around, nervous and confused, "I...don't know what to--"

"Nomi!"

She turned her head to see Hideyoshi standing with their popsicles in one hand and her shoes, shorts, and bag in the other. His lips were pressed into a firm line. "You ready to go?"

"Oh! Of course," The fact that he would let his irritation show so plainly on his face would normally make her want to solve whatever issue there was, but at that moment, she honestly just wanted to leave. She nodded at the guy as she started to walk towards Hideyoshi, "Uh, see you, then," she barely mumbled out.

His once charming enough smile had faded into a neutral expression and he waved once. "Likewise."

---

The two of them made their way off the beach and to the parking lot where their car was. There was a small storage shed at the top of a short set of stairs facing away from the shore and, more importantly, the sun. They sat, leisurely enjoying their chilled treats and talking about whatever. Nomi was glad things were normal between them, but she couldn't forget the look on his face back on the beach. Of course, he wasn't thrilled to see some stranger attempt to talk to her, but she sensed there was a little bit more to it than just that.

"So...how was the line?" she started, trying to figure out how to pry.

"It wasn't too bad. It sped up when I got to the front." He didn't give her much to work with.

"Oh, good..." she began, staring at the sand still clinging to her feet. "The water was really nice, we should have gone out there earlier."

Hideyoshi shrugged. "We could always come back tomorrow."

Nomi nodded, but carefully continued on, "And that guy--"

"Pear and ginger." Hideyoshi cut her off, but the way he did so made it seem like it wasn't totally on purpose. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye to see him staring at what was left of his popsicle. "I would have never thought to mix those two flavors, let alone sell them as a popsicle."

Nomi let out a little laugh. "Yeah, they really know what they're doing with these flavors." Her eyes returned back to her feet. Well if he wasn't going to bring it up, then maybe it wasn't that big of a deal after all. She sighed and relaxed her shoulders before she set her focus back on the brilliant berry color of her own. "The bar was probably pretty low to begin with, but this is the best popsicle I've ever had." With that, she closed her lips around it, drinking down the juice that had melted while she was talking. It was thoroughly sweet, yet still so very fresh tasting. Nomi found herself making a small noise of satisfaction bubbling up from the back of her throat as she swallowed.

"You don't even notice it, don't you?"

"Hm?"

She turned back to him, surprised by his statement. He was looking right at her, his previous facade of content replaced with a rather wistful look in his eyes. What was going on in his mind?

"What do you mean?"

Hideyoshi smiled a little, "People really love you. There's something about you that draws them in, whether they know you or not," his smile deepened as he recounted a feature he loved about her. "And of course I understand why: it's because they can tell what a great person you are from the start."

Nomi felt her cheeks tingle from hearing such a compliment. "Hideyoshi, I..."

"But of course," he seemed to take a mildly self-deprecating tone, "when I see other people drawn to you, a totally irrational part of me wants you all to myself, even though I was drawn to you in the same way. But it's unfair to you to try and keep you like that." He ended it with a sigh, like he was letting out a breath he'd been holding, and put his popsicle back in his mouth.

There was a moment where they didn't speak, the sound of crashing waves and distant chatter filling the silence, before Nomi finally got her words together. "I don't think you should worry about that because you have me." After she got that out, she felt more confident in what she was saying. "You do have me all to yourself! Of course, I can't just never talk to anybody else ever again, but hey," she placed a reassuring hand on his knee, "I'm here with you. I'm having a great time with you. There's nobody else I'd rather spend a day like this with."

For a moment, he seemed surprised by her confession. When he smiled again, his eyes had that gleam to them that she loved. "Nomi..." He moved in closer to her on the step, their eyes locked. "Thank you for saying that." He reached out and placed his hand on her forearm, right above her elbow.

Nomi didn't think much of it as she continued on, "I mean it, I don't think there's a thing I wouldn't enjoy doing with you!"

Hideyoshi froze, but then he had a sly glint in his eyes. "Oh, anything?" he asked, lifting her forearm and leaning in towards her. "Well in that case..." Without waiting for any reaction from her, he stuck his tongue out and licked a trail up her arm all the way up past her wrist and into the center of her palm.

"H-Hey!" Nomi said, suddenly flustered to high heaven.

Hideyoshi didn't back away. His face was so close to hers that she could faintly feel his cool breath fan across her chin and neck when he spoke. "You let your popsicle melt in your hand that whole time." There was a chuckle in his voice as he winked at her.

"I--oh!" Nomi stammered when she looked at her hand. Sure enough, what was left of her popsicle was a smaller shape than she last recalled; the violet ice had a completely shiny exterior and a matching trail of liquid trailing down her fingers to pool at the point of her palm where Hideyoshi had just finished licking. "Darn it, I really liked this too," she stuck the remaining lump of ice between her lips to slurp off the excess melting, unable to stop the little satisfied moan she made at its impeccable marriage of flavors.

"Don't worry too much about it. We can always go get another of we have to," He seemed somewhat casual about her getting another one, but he was still right up near her face and his eyes were now focused towards her stained lips. "You know, I saw that guy on the beach throw that ball at you."

Her eyes widened, but his closeness kept her from having any more of a reaction. "He did? What for?"

His thumb was rubbing a small, soothing circle on her wrist, though it only made her heartbeat pick up. "Probably so he'd have an excuse to talk to you."

Nomi's eyes darted side to side, "What would he have possibly wanted with me?"

Hideyoshi's smile was unmistakably amorous by then. "I think I have an idea."

Slowly and gently, he lifted his hand holding his popsicle to her mouth. Her lips were already parted enough for the tip of the wooden stick poking out to slip between them. She let out a surprised "Hmm?" when she felt the cold wetness of the ice part them further so it could slide across her tongue. Her eyes locked with his again. She let out another instinctive moan as the sweetness of pear and tang of ginger enveloped her tongue. Encouraged by her reaction, he Slowly dragged it out of her mouth before pushing it back in. He watched her wide, deep blue eyes stare back at him, flustered, but nevertheless wanting and curious. He ran the popsicle across her tongue like that, completely enchanted by the visual, until a small trail of its juice dribbled out of the corner of her mouth and down her chin. Without hesitation, he took the popsicle out of her mouth and licked up the trail just as he did on her arm until he reached her lips, which he claimed in a passionate and skillful kiss.

Nomi made yet another surprised noise, but she accepted the kiss with her open mouth. Their cold lips came together fervently, as if in an attempt to warm each other back up. Hideyoshi had her back up against the railing, so she turned her whole body towards him for a more comfortable position. From there, she returned his kiss in full force, grasping at the back of his tank.

"Is this what he wanted?" she breathed when they parted for air. She took the rest of her popsicle and sucked down the slushy remainder before tossing the stick aside.

"Hells yes," he said, his voice already husky. His lips traveled down to his neck while his hands on her hips travelled upward until his thumbs and index fingers hooked under the strings of her bikini. Her head fell back against the wooden poles behind her, giving him better access to the column of her neck. She had been so abruptly aroused that she didn't even consider that they were out by a public beach during the middle of the day; they had been alone by the parking lot for so long it didn't seem like an issue. She didn't even feel particularly exposed when he pulled the triangles of her top aside to gently graze one of her breasts with his teeth.

"Hideyoshi!" she gasped, tugging on his shirt in a bid to get his attention.

He looked up at her from where he was nibbling at her tan lines. "Nomi?"

She found herself choking on her words. She was never really any good at voicing her desires. "There's...something I want to do, actually."

His eyes were burning with desire, and now intrigue, "Oh? And what is that?"

"Um..." she glanced aside to the top of the stairs where the last bit of his popsicle was now melting into a puddle on a wooden plank. "I...the popsicle..."

He was rolling one of her nipples beneath his thumb, "What about the popsicle?"

"Mmn--! I..." Her head was spinning with need, but she took a breath and finally got it out. "I...want to do that again. With you."

His hands toying with her paused. His eyes were equally lustful and serious. "Is that what you really want?"

Nomi nodded, "Yes, I really want to do it," she placed a hand over his, "I want you to know that I'm all yours."

He couldn't help but smile at her sentiment. "You're so cute, you don't even know," he said, getting up off of her and sitting upright on the stairs with his legs spread. "Come here."

On clumsy legs, Nomi got up, not even adjusting her top as she positioned herself on her knees on a lower step. She was a little unsure of what exactly he wanted her to do, so she sat awkwardly, waiting for further instruction.

Hideyoshi took her scrunchie off of her wrist so he could carefully tie her hair back out of her face. The way he lovingly combed through her hair -though it was still damp from earlier- eased her anxious excitement and only made her want it more. He took her hands and slid them up his thighs until they reached the waistband of his pants. "Do you want to do it?

Nomi nodded. She appreciated him asking her. They had done this a few times before but she always felt clueless when it came to starting anything. The fact that she even initiated this, in public or not, must have been baffling to both of them.

She hooked her fingers beneath his shorts and the two of them cooperated to shimmy them down just enough to release himself. He was already half hard, she felt like a novice for not having noticed any earlier. Encouraged by his gentle hand in her hair, she started giving him little licks along the shaft until she finally got the gumption to put him in her mouth. Very carefully, she wrapped her lips around the tip, gently sucking and lapping at it with her tongue until she heard him sigh.

After releasing him from her mouth with a wet smacking sound, she started to work her tongue along the sides of his shaft, getting it wet as her mouth continued to water. His hands were back to pushing her hair behind her back, keeping her long ponytail from tumbling down over her shoulders so he had a perfect view of her. She realized her hands were tightly grasping his shorts when he took one of them and placed it around the base.

"Keep going," his voice was low and heady, just quiet enough so she could hear him while the waves crashing in the background protected them from any potential listeners.

Nomi was more than eager to do so. She took him into her mouth again, this time, relaxing her tongue and bobbing her head back and forth on him until she could fit most of him in her mouth. It was exhilarating feeling him get harder and harder with each stroke of her tongue. She was salivating more than she would have liked to admit, so she pulled back and sneakily leaned to the side of his knee to let the excess pour out. She wouldn't have felt good ruining his shorts like this.

"Haha...you're so cute, Nomi," he was laughing, but his voice was so breathy it made her ache. "You don't have to do that."

Nomi glanced up, then hid her face in her palm. "Ah, I'm sorry!" she said meekly, "I'm so bad at this..."

"Oh no, you're doing great," Hideyoshi assured her. "Here," he lowered his shorts so they were at his ankles, "so you don't have to worry about that."

"Alright then...here I go..." she wanted to kick herself for that last part. To avoid any further embarrassment, she licked a bold stripe up the top of his shaft before sucking it back into her mouth and keeping her jaw loose.

"Mmm...Nomi," he groaned under his breath as she worked. He moved her hand to cup his balls so he could hold himself in her mouth. She let out a cute little moan, similar to the one she made when she was enjoying her popsicle, once she finally got him all the way to the back of her throat. She kept him there for as long as she could until she pulled back to take a breath. He held her head at the back so she wouldn't pull too far away and as a result, her excess drool slipped out over his head, making him even slicker.

He was now fully erect in her mouth. She could taste his precum against her tongue, which made her sigh around him. As she was getting more and more into it, she found herself hooking her finger in flyaway hair that kept getting in her mouth. "I've got you," Hideyoshi whispered, pushing her hair back yet again. This time, his hands stayed at the back of her head underneath her ponytail. "Is it alright if I start moving?"

"Ah-huh," was all she could say with his dick in her mouth, but it was all the confirmation he needed. He started to gently thrust himself in and out, revelling in the feeling of her warm, wet tongue on him. She looked up at him and he thought that sight might have stopped his heart. She accepted him so openly, yet there was a certain innocence to the look in her eyes. If she felt this good now, he could only imagine the hell she could raise once she got more experience.

He kept moving until her eyebrows pinched together and she sputtered and around him. He let go of her head and pulled himself from her, stroking at the base. "Sorry, was that too much?"

Nomi wiped her wet chin with the back of her hand as she shook her head. "No, I'm okay."

He swept his fingers underneath her chin, "Then is it alright if I touch you too?"

Nomi smiled provocatively, "I would love that, please do." When she went back down on him, she felt the solid warmth of his torso on the back of her head. She undid the button of her shorts so he could slide inside her bikini bottoms from the back. His skillful digits made quick work of her. She was already so turned on, that he had her thighs shaking as he fucked her with two fingers. She moaned and moaned around him, to the point where she forgot she was supposed to be pleasing him.

"Actually, can you stop? It's too distracting!" she giggled when she came up for air. By then, she was fully stroking him with her hand, getting the full range of motion out of her wrist.

"Ah...of course," he sounded positively wrecked then, but he did as asked. But before Nomi could get fully into it, she was being pulled into a wet, fierce kiss.

"Hideyoshi?!" she asked, her voice throaty and shocked.

"How about we finish this in the car, yeah?" he whispered. He had his normal flirty smile on, but he looked positively wrecked. "I'd prefer there to be no sand where I lie you on your back."

She must have looked the same, though, "That would be perfect."

And so, they haphazardly made themselves decent so they could run back to their car. After they finished fucking, they went back to the same popsicle stand for seconds, as there were other flavors Nomi wished to try. They sat in the same spot, got turned on by the memory of what happened earlier, and went back to their car for another round. They continued this loop until they were the only two people on the beach and he really did have her all himself.

#slbp fanfic #summer of smut #summer of smut writing challenge #slbp hideyoshi #my writing #my art #MC: Nomi

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opalai-pixel-witch · 3 years

Text

“Thank you!! I’m happy to hear you liked that one ^__^ Kittens seem to make everything cuter…even if I’m not so good at drawing them ;;=o=;;”

–The kittens you drew are cute :3

“Yeah, I remember the first time I finished the main story and I was super excited to see that there was more I could do after the credits! I was surprised to see Death in Bjørn’s house and watching him and Pesto interact was a lot of fun ^o^ PP’s games are full of surprises it would seem, you have no idea how excited I got when I heard my son’s singing voice ;u;”

–You mean the scene where he sings to a scared viking friend?

I like that scena too, I even started to sing cuz I alredy knew the lyrics ;) I like see Pesto play the bass :D

“Oooh, do you think that Red-Eye is one of those two dead guys in the background of War’s introduction? :o Makes me wonder just how far back the creators have been planning…and that’s a really interesting take on what they could be doing! When I think about Milky and his team I think about the show Truth Seekers—I dunno if you’ve seen or heard of that, but basically there’s a guy who investigates the paranormal in his spare time and he’s somehow recruited a few people into his investigations, and eventually they uncover a cult putting some shady nanotech in peoples’ brains. It’s really good in my opinion, but anyhow I like looking at that kind of thing and Milky makes me think of that o.o”

–“Truth Seekers”, it´s the first time I… read(? XD )that name ^^;

Red eye thing in the background was said by one of the developers, search “Manual Samuel week” on Youtube and you will find Ozan’s videos, he talks a bit about how MS and HH are connected ;) 👍

“Well in that case, I’m glad that I could pique your interest! >u> I admittedly have trouble with feeling like I “belawng” anywhere and keep getting paranoid that I’m just intruding in whatever fandom I join, which makes my hesitation towards making new stuff and trying new things even more of a pain =A=”

–Feel I’m just intruding in whatever fandom I join also happens to me :,v

There is a web serie called “Tres Acordes” and I liked it a lots; one week and I started to draw it and I feel bad because didn´t one month from I started to see the serie, I fel I musted wait more, but I didn´t share them cuz ; when one month and the serie liked, I that feeling and started to post my drawings

Currently I follow the serie, I don´t know if the fans or the creator like my drawings, but I have fun, at least I know I don´t uncomfortable them, I draw the characters representing some episode or some trait of their personality ^^

“Honestly I tend to have more fun participating in smaller fandoms because it feels like…there’s more heart put into them, if that makes any sense??? I’m not entirely sure how to word it :P I have yet to run into any crazy fandom discourse so far (knock on wood), but I understand that that’s also a danger when it comes to bigger fandoms ;;o_o;; Regardless, however, I love the PP fandom and I’m really happy to have found a friend to talk to about it!!”

–Yes, that´s true, in small fandoms there´s more heart, cuz it´s about supporting the original work and its creators, I also prefer small fandoms, in the Tres Acordes there are few that are dedicated to create something for the serie, that´s great, I feel more free to create and it hasn´t become toxic; there is a small fandom that I like to create content for, but there´s a group of fugoshis who make it toxic, they only post NSFW work and only support that content, which makes you don´t want to be in the fandom (I left it for a while thanks to they), in my case, I try to support all decent works to motivate people, and thanks to that I met a group of people who have healthy fun in that little fandom and we support each other ^^

…

(New drawings) ;v :

https://sta.sh/22aj2xyaqwj3?edit=1

…

“I watched a review of Helheim Hassle in which some guy was calling Bjørn a complete loser and now I am enraged”

–That´s it! I´m killing this guy! I don´t care if it´s written or not! Throw me in Human Jail! I don´t CARE! >:v

--------

Aw thanks!! I’m glad you think so ;u;

Yeah, when I got to that scene and Pesto said “you start singing, Bjoharn” I paused the game and freaked out for a moment, all “AGDHFMXKDISKSB I GET TO HEAR MY SON SING?????” I love that scene sooooo much ;;o;;

ALSO Pesto just has the most amazing bass skills...like she learns everything by ear and has a great memory for how it goes and seems to know exactly where to put her fingers, and all she needs to be able to do that is to listen to the actual song once and then just a brief recap of it??? Pesto’s bass-playing just kicks a whole lot of ass >o>

It’s a great show in my opinion, it’s very interesting! I think it’s by the same people behind the Cornetto trilogy, if you’ve heard of that :o I’d recommend it to anyone who’s interested in that sorta premise ^_^ (...unless they happen to be sensitive to the “eye scream” trope)

I watched that entire series before writing this reply, it was a lot of fun to watch! I think I missed any mention he might’ve made about Red Eye, but it’s pretty cool to know that those three guys in the background are creator cameos o:

Fandoms are a tricky thing indeed...it feels like NSFW artwork is kinda unavoidable no matter what fandom you’re in, and while I don’t make NSFW stuff myself I know that people are gonna draw what they’re gonna draw, and as long as it isn’t hurting anybody or portraying anything unethical it’s not really my business to call them out on it. However if people are gonna post stuff like that, they should be very responsible about making sure the wrong demographic doesn’t see it, giving plenty of warnings and tagging stuff appropriately, all that stuff. I don’t know what protocol there usually is for that sorta thing, but everyone should make sure that nobody gets scarred for life by anything and that everybody gets along and doesn’t make anybody else feel unsafe!

You shouldn’t have to feel like you’re intruding in fandoms! If your contributions to the PP community are any indication, you probably bring a lot of cool stuff to any fandom you join! Personally I look forward to you submitting things here and I always love seeing your new drawings ^__^ It’s always fun to be able to talk to you about what we both love in the PP verse and swap headcannons and stuff!

Your new drawings are, as always, absolutely brilliant!! I love the reverse AU one (Skeleton Bjørn = very yes) and also the one with you (if that person is you?) hugging Death |D His expression is great, all “yep, this is my life now”

...I see you brought Pesto with you...might I join you on your quest? I must avenge my viking son >_>

#submission #dani

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whyyallsweatin · 4 years

Text

My experience in a recovery house.

I’d like to share a story about my recent experience while in recovery housing.

At first I moved in with really high hopes. The place I moved into seemed very positive and safe. It was run by a nurse who was also a recovering alcoholic.

When I moved in, there were two other women in the house, L** and T****. They were both older. L** was the senior roommate with the responsibility of reporting any suspicious behaviour by the other tenants.

A few weeks in and I noticed some tension between L** and T****. Eventually, T**** relapsed on alcohol inside the house and was removed. This was scary for me, because T**** tried to get me to leave the house a little earlier with her, likely to use, but I refused. She exposed herself as drunk later on in the evening and was quickly removed.

About a month later we got a new roommate. Her name was C******. When she moved in she started to behave in a way that would make me embarrassed for her. When she first came to the house, she had just left a rehab facility and seemed to be full of stories about how ‘hard core’ her drug use was. She admittedly was taking suboxone, but she also admitted to being a regular cocaine/crack user and alcoholic. What was strange was she had a lot of glory stories about how she was a successful drug dealer, pulling in a few million a year. Her friend had a bunker where they hid from the cops, bla bla bla.

She took quickly to L** and I’d often hear them outside chatting in the early hours of the morning while smoking. So I figured she’d be easy to get along with since my roommate liked her. I trusted L**’s judgement at the time.

Quickly after moving in though C****** started to say weirder things. This included stories about how she frequented a well-known biker group’s clubhouse in Victoria. The only thing is, there is no clubhouse currently in Victoria. I asked her when she went, since there was one briefly here a few years ago and she told me right before she went to rehab a few months prior. Okay…

Following that she’d frequently go for walks on her own to the pharmacy or the store. She came back twice with two weird stories. Once, she told us while in the pharmacy she told my roommate and I that a man approached her and told her she was incredibly good looking and that he’d like her to model for him. I don’t want to be judgemental – C****** is in her fifties, is about 4’9 and is not really someone I’d see modeling.

Another time she came home and told us some knight in shining armour approached her on steel horse (motorcycle) and knew her name. He spoke comforting words to her – as if to encourage her on her mystical journey in sobriety. Since we lived in a private location, I was concerned that this man may have followed her home. I asked her and she told me that he already knew where she lived because he told her that he was expecting her. This was her destiny.

She also went into great detail about how her friends knew how to cheat urine tests. This alarmed me because she was super wobbly at times and looked sedated. I don’t know if you can supplement suboxone with illicit heroin and pass a test, but if she used clean urine – that would be a fail too since she had to test positive for suboxone. I asked her a few times about what suboxone would show up as and she didn’t really answer.

C****** was also very animated about her therapy sessions. She would be in her room for hours undergoing intense therapy and she would tell us how hard it was on her, garnering sympathy from L**. To me I wasn’t really buying it. You don’t get exhausted talking on the phone laying in you bed. She said she had a lot of trauma. I tried to relate to her and asked what some of the things she experienced were that traumatized her. She went into detail about an abusive boyfriend – then the next week she was elated having spoken to the same boyfriend she had claimed to have been abusive.

Whenever the conversation wasn’t about her she’d turn it into a conversation about herself. She had so many different incongruent stories about her family life, boyfriends, husbands, friends. It was hard to keep up. She admitted that her daughter and her had a strained relationship – which I could understand since she was a junky fuck up who neglected her.

She’d often complain that friends had alienated her who were still using, and then make statements that these friends she owed money to, then she said they forgave her. Etc. who cares. She gave me about five different names of boyfriends she had and she told me that she knew a male friend of mine that I was close to and insinuated she had a relationship with him. When I asked him, he told me he didn’t know who she was.

Another girl, named J**** came to the house a few weeks after C******. She was suffering a great deal. It was clear that she had either relapsed or was being heavily medicated still. She also came from the same rehab facility as C****** but there was no indication that the two had interacted, which I found strange. They were there the same time.

I knew J**** from my first attempt to get sober a year before. She was doing quite well and actually was in charge of the recovery house I was at the year prior. It made me sad that she had relapsed because she was very young, and when I knew her a year ago, I was really confident in her recovery and thought of her as an example.

J**** was struggling quite a bit and C****** and my other roommate quickly began to gossip about her outside. I could hear them through the open window. This upset me since they seemed to judge her quiet behaviour immediately. They reported her and we took drug tests which J**** and the rest of us initially passed.

Regardless, J****’s behaviour was withdrawn and they continued to insinuate that she was relapsing until she was finally kicked out. I don’t know if she did relapse but being under that kind of scrutiny could very easily push anyone into a position where they would.

Once J**** was gone, things between my roommates quickly turned to me. We were stuck inside due to Covid and I became quite depressed, wanting to get out and get a job and other things. I didn’t like online meetings and the group meetings we had on Zoom were heartless and seemed forced. Additionally, my roommates were given permission to go out and do things, but for some reason I was not.

Things got weird one evening when I went for a walk with C******. She told me her any my other roommate were “worried about me.” I had recently expressed my frustration with the situation, but nothing alarming. I echoed things my roommates said about the circumstances and tried to keep myself occupied.

During that time, the owner of our house, J*, employed a ‘helper.’ Her name was T*****. We were directed to call her twice a week and check in. After the first few conversations with her, I started to feel like the conversations were forced and T***** seemed combative. I began to forget my phone calls and the J* and T***** implemented a card system, where you were issued a yellow card as a warning. After 5 yellow cards, you’d get a red card, which meant eviction. I was issued a yellow card after missing a phone call with T*****. I didn’t think much of it but I felt like I was interesting in moving out since the restrictive rules of the house, which fluctuated in severity between tenants, seemed to make it impossible for me to have a healthy social life. But, I never indicated that I was officially moving out since my finances were a mess.

At this time, I was quite interested in getting back to work. And at this very time the local newspaper ran a story about a company I worked for. The company was ensnared in a money laundering scandal. This concerned me because I was worried about my reputation being involved in this company when I was set on finding new work. I told my roommates and showed them the article. I was also contacted by a news reporter, who wanted me to speak on the matter but I declined due to the fact that I had signed a confidentiality agreement.

I expressed my concerns during one of the forced group chats on Zoom while T***** was present. I didn’t know at the time, but talking about these matters – things that were concerning to you – was not of essence during group. Group was a place where recovering addicts and alcoholics were expected to parrot each other, feel guilty and talk about what they’re doing in recovery to better themselves by talking about the same things over and over, like making a gratitude list. My idea of getting better was to get a job and get out in the real world instead of isolating – so my contributions were not appreciated.

Everyone was sort of crumbling from the isolation due to Covid, and the household chores were being ignored. I took it upon myself to do many of the chores without complaining, even if they weren’t my assigned tasks. We would write down the chores we did and I did this after doing the lion’s share of chores. One morning, after doing every chore, I heard L** and C***** angrily chatting about the chore log book and saying it was “bullshit” that I did them all, even though they heard me vacuuming, cleaning the washroom etc.

One night, the mop was broken, so I used detergent and a rag to clean the floor on my knees. It wasn’t a big area to clean, so it wasn’t really a big deal. However, I bumped into a mirror that was hanging on the wall and it fell and broke. I made sure to clean up the pieces and then told my roommates to watch out for shards because I wasn’t sure if any had gone under the fridge or might emerge, even though I had scoured the entire area of any sharps. I also had to dispose of the mirror, so I told them I had put it outside. Neither of them saw or heard me, but they quietly nodded as I told them and then retreated back to their rooms.

The day after that I could hear them talking about me upstairs while I watched tv downstairs. “Does she think that, like, she worked at that company, or something?” I heard. “Yeah she broke that mirror and she probably did it on purpose.” What? I went upstairs and asked them if they were going to talk about me to keep their voices down. They were stunned. They then went on to say “we’re not talking about you.” I bluffed and said I had recorded them. “Oh, well we’re very concerned.” Ok, I thought – you weren’t talking about me but you were. Which one is it? They made all sorts of claims and when I responded, asking them again, to simply lower their voice they started making dismissive remarks like, “JUST WOW!” “YIKES!” I didn’t speak to them for the rest of the night. Honestly, saying things like “JUST WOW” and “YIKES” are a dead give away that the person saying it has already made up their mind about you – and that what you said was horrible and they expected it.

The next morning I was asked to take a drug test and passed. A few days passed and things seemed normal again. Then I missed a call with T***** and was issued another yellow card. Whoops.

A few days later things got very strange. Around noon, I saw my roommates dramatically run for the door, get into a car and leave. The tires squealed as they left, as if they were the Dukes of Hazard or something. Then the owner of the house, J* and he husband came over. They began to confront me about breaking the mirror and told me that the psychiatric unit from the hospital was on their way. They insisted that they were worried about me, and I admitted that I was frustrated and depressed so maybe I should go to the hospital.

When the psychiatric unit came, they seemed quite friendly. But they asked me questions that started to make me alarmed. There was a male and female psychiatrist there, and the male asked me if I was paranoid about someone following me, or that the company I worked for that was in the news was stalking me. I didn’t understand where they had heard that I thought that so I was stunned. They then asked me if I thought my roommates were part of a conspiracy to stalk me with the company I claimed to work for. I was agitated, so I expressed my disbelief in why they would come to the conclusion that I would think that. During this time, I did admit that I was experiencing anxiety and agreed to go to the hospital under certain conditions. In my previous dealings with Victoria’s Psych Emerge, I had been repeatedly treated like a criminal. I asked that I not be exposed to this and they agreed.

I rode to the hospital with J*. When I got there she gave me a hug and I was escorted in. I took a drug test and waited to speak with a psychiatrist. I spoke to a nurse, a social worker and several psychiatrists in a private room while security guards looked on. They asked me over, and over, and over again why I had violently broken a mirror. I told them each time that it was an accident. The last psychiatrist I spoke to noted that I was getting agitated and that she was going to give me something.

I was let out of the room and I heard the doctors and nurses debating on whether or not to administer powerful anti-psychotics while restrained in isolation while I sat patiently in the wait room. I sat patiently without showing any signs of violence while they loudly debated restraining me and administering anti-psychotics.

There isn’t a lot of documentation on anti-psychotics and their misuse because no one understands why psychiatrists would prescribe medication that makes people miserable. Unfortunatly, anti-psychotics are lauded for curing everything from anxiety to delusions, depression to psychosis. I don’t doubt they have some benefit in short term use by minimizing psychosis, but their long term use has never been accurately documented and psychiatrist cherry pic anecdotal testimonies about patients who benefitted from them to cure an broad, unbelievable range of psychiatric problems.

I’ll briefly explain how they work: they block dopamine. Dopamine is responsible for regulating the brains reward system. Hard drugs like cocaine, crack, meth, heroin etc. high-jack the brain by flooding the dopamine receptors. People feel good, too good, on these drugs. That’s why they’re addicting. Anti-psychotics do the opposite. How in the hell does high-jacking and retarding the brain’s reward system help with depression if it stops your brain releasing dopamine? They’re tranquilizers in that they make people subdued because they feel nothing. They don’t feel rewarded for their actions. This is good because they may be rendered unable to act violently because they have no desire to do anything. So, that’s good, I guess. It’s good for someone who’s violent and impulsive. Temporarily.

Naturally patients who aren’t violent or don’t fit into categories of psychological distress that require sedation have no idea that a doctor would give them something that would impair them from feeling good, so if they experience the overwhelming negative effects of anti-psychotics, they likely won’t make the connection that they’re actually being caused by the medication the doctor has prescribed to make them feel better. Regardless, they’re non-addicting and some patients reported they feel better, maybe. And, they put people to sleep making agitated patients easier to deal with. So, with that overwhelmingly limited amount of evidence to support the administration of anti-psychotics, they’re given out like candy by psychiatrists all across Canada.

I’m sure psychiatrists don’t do this because their intentions are bad. Big pharmaceutical companies like Johnson and Johnson have made incredibly convincing arguments to support the use of Risperidone, despite overwhelming cases in which males were reported to have grown female breasts, thousands of patients displaying suicidal ideation, mental impairment and brain shrinkage. Marketers from Johnson and Johnson make powerful, emotional pleas to defend this drug – lauding it as a cure all for austistic patients, depressed patients, psychotic patients, bi-polar patients. You name it. And since the goal is to sell, they claim the sale of this drug is both beneficial to them monetarily, while saving the world from mental illness. It’s fucking beautiful, everyone wins!

Anyways – I was force injected with the anti-psychotic Risperidone for 6 excrutiating months in 2018. It was like being stuck in a torture chamber – mental anguish 24 hours a day. I reported the side effects but they were dismissed, repeatedly. I often resorted to using hard drugs just to escape the absolute anguish just for a few hours to watch a tv program. While on Risperidone, I went to the hospital several times because I couldn’t breath, the anxiety was overwhelming. Regardless, no one listened. I was under threat of imprisonment while under the mental health act if I did not take the medication, so to prevent me from not taking it they gave me injections. It was so unbelievably terrifying. What my psychiatrist at the time did was a crime – but, no one cared. I guess if he believes it works, and I’m telling him it doesn’t and I’m the one taking it, then he must be right. Okay…

After months of fighting for my life on this drug, I admitted myself to rehab, mainly to get off Risperidone so I no longer needed to supplement my drugs with illicit ones just to feel normal. However, I was not informed that Risperidone causes a deadly withdrawal symptoms. The withdrawal included symptoms of anxiety, restlessness, ruminating thoughts, sleeplessness and depression that were so severe I could barely walk. Naturally, my councillor at rehab assumed I was ‘faking it.’ It took roughly 30 days for the injection to wear off. I still experienced some anxiety and was, you guessed it, administered another anti-psychotic. This time it was the lesser of all the evils, Abilify. I trusted the psychiatrist there so I stayed on it. It was a low dose and I was on a few other medications that probably cancelled its effects out including Concerta – a life-saver for people who abuse stimulants to concentrate.

Anyways, fast forward to my recent stay at the hospital this year after J* convinced me to go, where I listened in fear as they debated on putting anti-psychotics in me. I had a wrist band on when I signed in that said not to administer anti-psychotics, but when they asked me about it, they asked me why they couldn’t. I told them I wasn’t under the mental health act and that anti-psychotics caused adverse effects. Frustrated, the doctors just administered my normal sleeping medication.

The next day I was released the doctor I saw told me he didn’t understand why I was admitted in the first place. He believed I hadn’t acted violently and I showed up the confidentiality agreement that was sent to me by my former employer so I could convince him I worked there and wasn’t delusional.

After that, I was free to leave and got on the bus and went home. When I got home I went to the door and tried to get in by punching the buttons to the code on the door lock. Only, the door lock was dead. I rang the doorbell several times and one of my roommates came to the door. I could hear her on the phone, “should I call the cops? SHOULD I CALL THE COPS?” Eventually she opened the door, muttered something at me and I went to my room.

I called J* and told her what happened. She seemed disappointed and upset and told me to call my case-worker since she was busy at work – dealing with Covid (there was no one in the hospital with Covid by the time, but Okay…). I called my case-worker, S*** and he told me that I was being kicked out. He didn’t have time to talk to me much either. Wanting answers I then called T*****. I told her I was very nervous about what was happening and she became very combative. I asked her why I was accused of deliberately breaking a mirror and she asked me why I did it. I then asked her why I was asked if I thought people were after me because of the job thing and she told me that she knows the owner of the company I had worked for and none of that stuff has anything to do with me. I asked her if she, my housemates and J* didn’t believe I worked there and she told me she didn’t believe anything I said and repeated that she’s friends with the owner of the company, they’re handling it and that the newspaper is publishing false claims. She was also insinuating she had told him about me. Girl – my stay at the house was confidential ya’ll can’t go around telling your friends.

I went downstairs since I was worried about what to do and phoned a friend. When I was on the phone, my roommates dramatically ran down the stairs and I heard them say “I’m scared, let’s call the cops! CALL THE COPS!” They then squealed out of the parking lot - like some kinda post-menopausal Thelma and Louise - just as J* came in. J* worked about 45 minutes away but she arrived within 10 minutes of me talking to her when she told me she was at work. So she wasn’t really working like she told me.

J* came in and started talking. She told me that what she was doing was for the safety of the other roommates. I then cut her off and asked her if she had my safety in mind. I reiterated that I was taken to the hospital, interrogated about a mirror breaking and interrogated about being delusional about a job I worked at. She then told me that what she did was what she was told to do in these situations and that she was legally bound to protect the other tenants. Okay…

I wasn’t comfortable with how combative T**** was or that she had told anyone she knew about me and I questioned her qualifications. J* told me she had a bachelor’s degree - later I’d go on to find that was a bachelor’s in marketing (relevant, right?)

I made the case that I was actually put in danger by her and my roommates insinuating that I was delusional and violent – that she took something my roommates said at face value without asking me. She had no intention to uphold my safety since no one told me at the hospital that I was being kicked out, that the door was locked with my valuables inside and no one in my family was informed. What if I came home the night before instead of staying at the hospital – with no access to my belongings, money or phone. What she did put my life in danger. There’s no limit to what my roommates could make up about me – and since their first claims were taken at face value, who knew what else they could fabricate. Those claims were enforced and legitimized. There’s no limit to what someone can fabricate and when those fabrications are endorsed by a superior, the urge to fabricate more – especially in low self-esteem harbouring recovering drug addicts becomes intoxicating. Why feel bad about your mistakes when you can make someone look worse. I get it. I’ve done it.

Fortunately, I learned that my roommate had bunged up a call to the police when I arrived because she couldn’t report that I was doing anything wrong. She just told them I was at the door. They asked why the door was locked to me and if I had been told that I wasn’t allowed in and she said, “no.” I didn’t hear the rest of the call, but I assume they hung up or told her that they were busy with real problems.

Instead of stay and argue, I called my sponsor who told me to get my stuff and leave. I had real fears – their perception of me ruled how they perceived what was going on, so I’d better just vanish. Which I did. My sponsor told me that they wanted a reaction, so I didn’t give it to them. I had to get my dad to pick me up. This for me was the most difficult part since anyone in any position of authority is right compared to me – so even when J* admitted she made a mistake after I made my case, she did so only to my dad (not me of course), I knew he didn’t really believe that. I knew there was always some reason for him to believe I was kinda responsible.

Just some foreground on my dad – when I was growing up he’d abuse my brother and I verbally and for a brief time physically. The later stopped when my brother punched him straight in the face and knocked him out. His verbal abuse continued, belittling me for things I did because I was dreadfully shy. He called me a loser with no personality in my graduating year. Made me ashamed of my interests. Would talk me out of seeking out better opportunities because he had so many doubts about my abilities. Scary stuff.

So naturally, even if my roommates and J* had done something wrong to me – who the fuck cares, its me, I am the source of all the problems because of the way people think of me. I have no money, no job, lying junky, so – whatever.

A few days later after I left, a resident from one of the other houses owned by J* asked me what happened and I told her. I didn’t want to seem like I was “delusional” or that I feared them in anyway since they might use this as a means to have my committed again.

A few days after that, the same resident told me that C****** had moved out. This struck fear in me. I don’t know where she is, and since the house I lived with her in was a good 45 minutes away, I trusted I wouldn’t run into her at meetings etc. because of this. But, now, I have no idea where she is. I don’t wish her any harm, I just wish to never see her again. I don’t fear her for reasons that are unrealistic. They’re based on things that happened: bold displays of fear about me when I’m doing nothing to her culminating in cartoon worthy behaviour fleeing from the house while shouting things she obviously wants me to hear about calling the cops..Bitch, if you were really scared you would have already done called the cops. Also, the weird stories about knights in shinning armour on motorcycles and modelling scouts, impaired mentality from suboxone and/or illicit drugs to supplement. Bunkers, relationships with men who’ve never met her. etc.

L** blocked me on Facebook, which is alarming for me since she could have some fake profiles looking at my posts in order to try and twist something I write into a threat to her. I just stick to posts about animals and wholesome stuff.

See I have real fears, based on facts because things actually happened to me based on things that people fabricated. But I’m not going to call the cops. I won’t waste their time. I doubt either of these too people can effectively cause me any harm physically - but who knows what they might say behind my back. Fuck it, I’ll just fabricate stuff about them. I’m a better story teller anyways. If people don’t believe me at least they’ll enjoy my story.

I can only guess that the whole delusions about where I worked concept was spawn from some deep seeded disbelief that anyone who had a drug problem could have a professional life, since neither L** or C******* did. Everything seems unbelievable when you’re so self-centered that you only think your level of success is the benchmark for anyone else in your state of recovery.

See, L** and C****** are career abusers. They always failed. They never were anything. Their stories are lengthy ones, filled with selfish actions to feed their addiction. Of course someone else in their situation couldn’t have been anything else but what they were or worse. They can’t see beyond their own experience. And they can’t see beyond the wonderful world they’ve created in recovery – vindication from their failures by parroting their peers in recovery. That’s the easy way out and it takes no effort. It’s a formula.

Go fuck yourselves. All of you.

Bye.

#victoria #langford #recovery #na #aa #alcoholicsanonymous #narconticsanonymous #drugaddiction #delusional #recoveryhouses #predatorsinrecovery #antipsychotics #depression #drugabuse #speed #cocaine #heroin #benzodiazepines

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mcww-writing · 4 years

Text

Nova

█████████ COMMISSION

FINAL REPORT

2037-06-15

*Please note that some sensitive information has been redacted, in accordance with the Post-Council Security Act of 2037.*

SUMMARY

In its findings, the Commission has concluded that through at first sheer ignorance, then, increasingly, a calculated campaign of repression and control, ███████████ leveraged the developing situation with ███████████████████ to his economic and political advantage. The Commission recommends the death sentence for ██████, and a rapid removal of his cult of personality, and re-education of the populace.

The Commission, however, recognizes the contributions both ██████ and ████████ made to the war effort; the successful defense of █████ and repellant of the ██████’s army are not to be forgotten. The Commission recommends that Premier ████████’s contributions be highlighted instead.

The Commission, furthermore, recommends a more decentralized government to replace the Nova Transition Government currently in place after the specified date in 2040, to prevent the abuses of the ██████ regime from ever happening again.

Lastly, the Commission recommends an immediate cessation of the further development of ██████████ weapons, and the development of a universal ban on their research and use. The Commission recognizes the sovereign right of the ████████ to control itself, and understands its frustration with the use of these new weapons.

By the authority of Acting Premier ████████, on this day, the fifteenth of June, two-thousand thirty-seven, this Commission has completed its report.

The following report and narrative was composed by ██████████████ under order by the Commission for the purposes of the ongoing investigation. Please do not distribute this report.

CHAPTER 1: SOMETHING, SOMEWHERE, IS WRONG.

Dr. Mark Haller (h.c.), First Marshal of the Condominium of Nova and its Protectorates, Councillor 6 (hon.) of the Eternal Council, had enough titles to fill a small dump truck. He wouldn’t let you forget it, either. But like everyone else, he required sleep. At exactly 4:32 AM on the morning of July 6, 2027, however, the long and drawn-out process of his frankly inevitable downfall began with the shrill shriek of a buzzer.

BZZZZZZZZZT!

Mark flopped over in his bed and grabbed his phone. It was an emergency call.

“Hello?” he asked, in a questionably-woken state.

“Mark, it’s Sol.” said a familiar voice in an unfamiliarly-nervous tone.

“Oh?” Mark asked. In this liminal state on the edge of sleep, he had the feeling deep in his stomach that “something, somewhere, is wrong”.

“I’m in Earth Ops right now. There’s been some kind of data breach and it l-”

“What?” Mark had a bad habit of cutting people off.

“…yes, please let me finish. It looks like there’s been some kind of data breach, and it doesn’t look like anything was stolen, but just deleted. It happened during the night some time, but we’re not exactly sure what was deleted,” Sol explained.

“How can’t you all tell what was deleted?” Mark asked, now suddenly very awake.

“The data in question was stored on an LTO tape in cold storage in the datacenter. It was remotely inserted into the drive, erased, then put back. We’re trying to see what was supposed to be stored on that tape, but no one seems to have a good answer for that.”

Mark frowned. Data breaches and hacks weren’t unheard of at all, but they were always small-scale and more apparently obvious. Publishing fake quotes, stealing sensitive information – nothing had ever just been deleted like that before, and never so quietly.

“Alright, you have my attention. I’ll be there in three hours.” Mark said. He hung up the phone and turned on his light, and stuffed himself into the classic three-piece suit that he always insisted on wearing.

His attention turned quickly from the brewing of trouble to the brewing of coffee. He hadn’t taken a single vacation in the past three years. Regrettably.

He quickly stepped out the door, and into his car. As he drove down the road to the spaceport, he stared out the window and admired the planet that he called home.

Most people thought building a base on the planet Mercury was a “terrible and stupid idea”, as Sol called it at the time. But Mark had a strange fascination with the planet, and built it was. Situated in a crater to protect it from extreme temperatures, a giant dome encircled the base, providing a breathable atmosphere. Most people who lived and worked there were humans, so atmospheric content wasn’t much of a concern.

He arrived at the spaceport and strolled out on the tarmac, in view of his ship that could affectionately be called only “rustic”. He had built it himself years prior, and it showed. As compared to most contemporary starships, it was quite, for lack of a better term, “blocky”. The name was haphazardly stenciled across the side: Impulse. Odd. In my experience with him, he was anything but.

Author’s note: my editors have asked me to please refrain from referring to myself in the first person. I asked if they could find anyone else better to write this narrative, and they replied with a begrudging “no”. I tried my best for the first one-and-a-half pages, rest assured. This is my report, after all.

My relationship with Haller? All in due time, dear reader.

Climbing on board, he flipped switches and tapped keys in a furioso of checklists and standardized procedures. If Haller was nothing else, he was at least incredibly litigious. I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if that man had a checklist for brushing his teeth at night.

He passed his ship through the airlock, and took off into the cold Mercurian sky. “Sky” is, of course, a bit of a misnomer for a planet that has little more than a thin exosphere to speak of. Nevertheless, then began the short, three-hour journey to Earth. Not that the Impulse couldn’t make it there in milliseconds – what it lacked in looks, it made up for in speed. Interplanetary speed limits were a big deal back when there was any semblance of a government.

Author’s note: Reader, it is perhaps mean of me to keep tantalizing you with bits of the future of this story. I mean, this report is only meant for a committee, as it is. I wasn’t supposed to write a novel, but what are they going to do about it? There’s barely a government to speak of anymore. But I’m revealing too much. So I’ll reveal some more, and put you at ease: Mark Haller will die. Eventually. How, when, where, and why are details you’ll surely find out later. But die he did. I visited his grave just yesterday. A small plot with an unmarked stone at its head. It’s an ironically humble grave for such a pompous man. I’m getting ahead of myself. So let’s jump back a bit. Allow you to fill me in on Haller’s past, in case you somehow missed all of that during your life.

CHAPTER 2: STARS ARE BORN FROM NOVAS.

On June 18, 2023, ESA satellites detected a small asteroid that had been captured in orbit around the Earth. This was the second time a detection such as that had ever been made. The scientific community was briefly abuzz, but lost interest when the small asteroid deorbited somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean.

Somewhere slightly to the left of the Atlantic Ocean, a young physics student was pacing around his grandparents’ farm in rural Iowa. Something was bothering him – he couldn’t quite remember what.

A bright streak flashed across the sky, red in color. It made an abrupt turn to the left, and then to the ground. Before poor Mark Haller could even figure out what was going on, a large, well, thing – smashed into the ground at an alarmingly high speed.

A tsunami of dirt and pulverized rocks knocked Mark off his feet, and buried him up to his knees. He jerked himself out, and cautiously approached what appeared to be a large, well, thing – sitting in a crater in front of him.

He doubted his sanity when a hatch opened on the side, and out crawled a figure only describable as – well, an angel.

No, really. Large, white wings, white robes, even a golden ring around the head. Her head? Mark wasn’t entirely sure. He had more pressing matters on his mind than gender.

“Hello?” he called in vain, as the creature fell to the ground, suddenly crying.

Mark approached her with the same outstretched hand as he would approach a crying dog. He gave the fallen angel a small pat on the head, and sheepishly said, “There, there!”

The figure made an oddly-human laugh. “You’re interesting,” she said unexpectedly, in a soft voice.

“Oh, I suppose so?” Mark asked, a bit unsure if this was a compliment or not. “So, uh, are you an-”

“What you’d call an alien, yes child.” she interjected.

“Child? Oh, no, I’m actually twenty-one, which for our species is-”

“You are a child compared to me.” She smiled.

“Okayyyyy. Do you – have a name?” Mark asked, feeling knocked far off of his guard.

“Neona.”

“Uh huh. After… neon?” Mark asked, curious.

“Absolutely. Neon is the fifth most common element in the universe, and thusly, I’m fifth in command of the universe,” she said with a sly smile.

“Wait, wh-” Neona cut Mark off.

“SH, quiet. I hear something,” Neona cautioned. “It’s not safe here.”

She drew a small device from her cloak, pressed a button, and Mark instantly passed out.

⁂ ⁂ ⁂ ⁂

Mark began to wake up, and slowly became aware of his surroundings. It was… odd. The walls were a pristine, glowing white. So were the floors. And the ceilings, too. But on the walls were… posters? Band posters. Contemporary band posters. Mark turned around, and noticed a window, offering a dramatic view of what appeared to be outer space.

“Welcome to outer space,” Neona announced, pointing at the window. “You must have a lot of questions. About life, the universe, e-”

“Actually, my main question is what’s up with all these posters?”

Mark thought Neona blushed. Of course, he couldn’t really see. She was covered head to toe (does she even have toes?) in a pristine black cloak, hence the angelic appearance.

“Admittedly, I’ve taken a taboo liking to human culture. These are some mementos I’ve kept from my visits to your planet,” she admitted sheepishly.

“Visits? Come to Earth often, eh? What for?”

Neona’s sheepish smile instantly gave way to a frown that could only be described as “queasy”. “I really do wish I could tell you, child. But I could get in lots of trouble if I did. In fact, I will be already if the others find out you’re her-”

A panel in the wall swung open, and in walked four other “angels”.

“Uh oh,” Neona squeaked.

Mark had no idea what they were saying; to him, the language they spoke was incomprehensable gibberish. There was lots of what sounded like yelling, and one of them started gesticulating wildly at him. He gulped. This went on for a couple of minutes, until they finally stopped, and Neona turned around to open her mouth.

“Mark, I’d like you to meet my, uh, associates. From right to left: Hydrona, Hela, Oxa, and Carba. Together, the five of us form the Eternal Council. I suppose you could call us the “rulers” of the universe, but really, we take a very “hands-off” approach, mostly guiding regional and planetary governments.”

Mark frowned. “So you’re the famed rulers of the universe and yet no one on my planet has ever seen or heard of any of you? Fascinating,” he quipped.

“Oh, don’t be like that. It’s really the, uh, advanced planets we’re concerned about,” Neona admitted.

Mark scoweled.

Hydrona broke the awkward silence that followed in what was supposedly her native language, whispering to the others as if Mark could actually understand them. Neona nodded, stepped forward, and placed her hand on Mark’s forehead.

What followed could only be described as having a vivid fever dream while completely awake. Mark’s eyes rolled back in his head, and the landscape turned dark. A voice spoke:

In the times before, there was no light, and there was no dark. There was nothing. Then from order came chaos.

A single speck of light appeared in the distance.

All of existence was a singularity. The singularity, noting the need for order, split itself in four.

Mark watched as the speck split in four.

“I am gravity”, said the first figure, and the Universe began to take shape.

“I am the strong force,” said the second, and matter was born.

“I am the weak force,” said the third, and the matter began to change.

“I am light”, said the last, and the Universe began to shine.

The four, noting the need for order, combined their powers for the force of creation.

A group of five hooded figures appeared, floating in space.

“You are five, a council Eternal. You shall watch over all of creation. You are guardians and peacekeepers. You will do whatever is necessary to sustain order in existence, and you will not fail,” the four fundamental forces said in unison.

One of the Council spoke. “And of you?”

The forces replied in a booming unison. “We do not exist as you do. You exist in the Universe. We ARE the Universe.”

The four forces, their immediate job done, disappeared in a colossal wave of energy, and the Universe began to expand outward.

Mark was thrown backwards as an explosion of light screamed across the cosmos.

For eons more the Council ruled over time and space. But the Universe grew too large. Noting the need for order, the five harvested the materials for life, and created their own.

A group of small creatures stood on a riverbank, watching the sky intently.

“You will act in our image and our interest, and assist us in ruling over all of creation,” the Council spoke in unison. The Universe grew and life developed. The Council, as promised, did their job. All was well.

Mark opened his eyes, and woke up.

CHAPTER 3: FALLING STAR

An hour later, the Impulse skidded to a stop on the runway of the Nova Earth Operations Center. NEO, as the “complex” was affectionately called, was Nova’s home on Earth. This “home” also happened to be an unfathomably-large floating fortress docked just off the coast of Bermuda. It was no ship – more like the biggest analogue to an oil rig ever created. It was the size of a very small, crowded city – and that it was.

Many countries, even those who joined Nova, did not want the base built in their borders. Mark also didn’t want to choose favorites, so he went for a compromise: a giant floating city. Bermuda was happy to have it dock there, so there it remained. The whole thing was basically an entire military base condensed into one staggeringly-large vessel. It had everything: a bank, a hair salon, thermonuclear weapons, a bowling alley – you know, the usual.

In all seriousness, Nova enjoyed a very respected position by every single country on Earth, for a good reason: no one wanted to pick a fight with a force that had enough firepower to obliterate every planet in the star system in an instant. Even terrorist groups played nice.

Mark strode into the concourse, and went through security. He could opt out, but he thought it wouldn’t be fair. He was quite humble at that point in time. Quite genuine. He ascended the building up to the top floor, where his office was. Expecting to get a few minutes alone, he was surprised to walk into his office to find Sol and Neona standing inside. Sol was scowling.

“Neona has just informed me that the Council will be handling the data breach investigation, for… whatever reason,” she said, with an air of mild annoyance.

“...Oh?” Mark asked, a bit caught off guard. “We don’t usually get this kind of request,” he added.

“It’s unfortunately not a request. It’s not my decision, either; Hydrona told me to let you both know that we’ll be handling it from here.”

Mark smiled cheerfully. “That’s okay! Have a good rest of your day then.”

“You do the same!” said Neona, and she left the room.

Sol chuckled. “You’re going to do some investigating, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely. I know it’s none of our business, but I can’t pass up a mystery like this! If they’re taking it over from here, it must be really important. I don’t want to miss out on the fun.”

Sol laughed again, then her smile flipped to a frown. “Does it rub you the wrong way at all that they’re keeping us in the dark on this?”

Mark stroked his bare chin. “Not really. I’d think they have a good reason.”

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” Sol said, and left Mark’s office, leaving him alone in the room.

He frowned, got out of his chair, and paced around. He could tell that something, somewhere, was wrong. But that could wait. He had a few hours of prep time before the Earth Planetary Assembly met.

Reader, it may be pertinent at this point to outline the structure of Nova’s operations. It goes (well, went) a little something like this:

At the top of the chain of command was Mark Haller, Marshal of Nova. He acted at the time like a President of sorts.

In charge of operations and policy decisions was the Supreme Assembly. Each member planet of Nova got one representative, as did a couple of groups internal to Nova. Of course, the Supreme Assembly, and even Mark himself, all answered to the Eternal Council.

Each member planet of Nova had its own Planetary Assembly, too. Earth’s consisted of one representative from each member state.

The Justice Department handled the judicial branch of government, and acted as a court subservient to the Eternal Courts that provided judicial services to the universe as a whole.

That just about sums it up, wildly oversimplifying in the process. Earth’s Assembly was scheduled to meet that day.

At that point in time, Nova had 192 member states, leaving just 11 UN-recognized countries that were not a part of it, all of them war-torn Middle Eastern countries.

Oh, right, the UN. The original one collapsed in 2032. It was ugly. The new UN, created after that, was as close to what conspiracy theorists would call a “new world order.” As opposed to the UN of before, this one actually had teeth: legal standing and an army. Those war-torn Middle Eastern countries I mentioned? They were, to put it tactlessly, turned to glass after they refused to cooperate after the great global unrest following the first UN’s collapse.

Anyway, it was time to get ready for the meeting.

⁂ ⁂ ⁂ ⁂

“Good morning, all, and welcome to today’s meeting of the Earth Planetary Assembly. Glad to see you all here. Let’s get started,” Mark said, shuffling some papers around.

“Before we get started, I’ll open up the floor for a few minutes for questions, comments, and concerns. Who wants a microphone?” Mark asked. The delegate from the Union of Sovereign States picked up a mic.

“My friend, I would like to relay the concerns our scientists have of your organization’s – how do I say – space junk problem. Just yesterday, yet another one of your satellites crashed in Siberia, just kilometers away from a village!” Delegate Tarasovich said fiercely.

Mark had heard a few complaints from the USS about satellites falling. He opened his mouth to respond, but Tarasovich continued:

“Yesterday’s craft was almost ten times bigger than any others we’ve seen, and this one even had the Council’s blasted name written on it!”

This immediately grabbed Mark’s attention. What was a Council satellite doing swinging around Earth? The plot thickened.

“My apologies, Delegate Tarasovich; we’ll discuss that later,” Mark said, before continuing on.

⁂ ⁂ ⁂ ⁂

Soon after the meeting adjourned without incident later that day, Mark stopped by Tarasovich’s office, and knocked on his door. He came in, and Tarasovich was surprised to see the troubled look on Haller’s face.

“Something troubling you, Marshal?”

“Sort of. I think some funny business is going on with the Council, actually. I had no idea one of their satellites crashed in Russia, either. Would your administration mind if we flew out there to take a peek? And clean up the damage, of course.”

“Not at all, and thank you for the cleanup effort.”

⁂ ⁂ ⁂ ⁂

Not two hours later, Mark and Sol were on-board the Impulse, touching down in the remote forest in Siberia where the satellite had supposedly crashed. Powdery snow filled the air as the ship drifted gently onto the ground. Bundled up in coats, Mark and Sol clambered down the ladder and onto the ground.

Peering around, they immediately noticed a large gash in the treeline up ahead. Both tree and snow were shoved violently out of the way. The two cautiously made their way over to the damage; the deep snow made it slow-going. Eventually, they reached the treeline and kept going into the interior of the forest.

Up ahead was a large mound of dirt, with a large metal thing resting in front of it. The satellite.

It was a gray cylinder, dulled and charred by its fiery reentry. It looked to have previously had antennas, which had been shorn off by the crash. There was an identifier on the side: Eternal Council Explorer 42069. Interesting.

Mark pulled out his phone, and opened the Intergalactic Vehicle Registry, the central database of all registered vehicles in the inhabited universe. He entered the registration number from the satellite.

AUTHORIZATION REQUIRED.

He entered his authorization password.

AUTHORIZATION NOT ACCEPTED. TIER 1 ACCESS REQUIRED.

He frowned. Tier 1 access was reserved for the Council; his was only Tier 2. But he had never encountered something that locked even him out before.

“Trouble?” Sol asked.

“It says I’m unauthorized,” Mark replied. His frown deepened, and he called Neona.

“Hey, it’s Mark. Can you give me a temporary tier 1 access code? A satellite crashed on Earth, and I’m trying to identify it in the registration database, but I’m locked out.”

Silence.

“Hello?”

“We’ll come take care of it. Leave it alone,” Neona finally replied.

Mark’s frown turned to an annoyed scowl. “What’s gotten into you all this week? This is my jurisdiction, just give me the code so I-”

A different voice cut into the line. “This is Hydrona. You will do as we say. Leave it alone and we’ll take care of it. Is that understood?”

Silence.

“Is that understood?”

“Fine,” Mark said, and he hung up, and was immediately startled by a loud bang. He whipped around to see that Sol had kicked off a loose panel on the side of the satellite, exposing the computer within. She began prodding at the terminals with her scan tool, and eventually was able to connect to the console.

“Nice work! Now let me take it from here,” Mark said gleefully, as he started typing. Sol frowned.

“It’s just spitting gibberish onto the screen. I think it may be fried,” Mark said, defeated. Sol peered over.

“Well, that’s a hexadecimal code it’s spitting out. I think it’s a memory address. I can check and see what’s stored there.”

She tapped some keys, and a very different string came up on the screen:

63°58′39″ S 61°48′20″ W.

Coordinates.

The two looked at each other. “I suppose we’re going on a trip then,” Mark said. His frown finally turned to a smile.

Author’s note: The commission has kindly asked me to stop writing such ornate prose, and to write what I assume would be a dry technical report instead. I thanked them for this kind compliment of my writing skills, and reminded them whose report this is. Never mind that I’m on their payroll. Reader, you are no doubt wondering where and/or what the turning point is of this story. Rest assured, for the plot device you’re waiting for is coming shortly. But it’s just that: a plot device. The real turning point happened long ago.

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bereft-of-frogs · 5 years

Text

So we ended up on a ‘rewatching Ragnarok level tonight’. I might double up and also watch Guardians of the Galaxy in bed to fall asleep tonight, but we’ll see.

I had a Day. And also I’ve been kind of nostalgic lately, for the period of time in between seeing Ragnarok and seeing Infinity War. It’s not really about the movies or fandom - I mean part of it is, but it’s way more about the emotional and professional place I was in in that time period. I was still in the coursework phase of graduate work (which is really the part I excel at and the part that made me happy), I was in really good shape, I had a lively and varied social life. I’ve just been in kind of a rut for the last year. I even find myself missing my old apartment which is sort of ridiculous. (The apartment itself was nice, but I had a roommate who I didn’t like and my current apartment feels much more mine.) It’s just all about how do I get that back? The feeling I had then. Where did it go? Why do I feel like this now?

I do have some actual real-life ideas of the why and how, but since those are like...long term things, my solution to that tonight was...rewatching Ragnarok XD

Thus, here are some thoughts:

- I do wish they’d slowed down the pacing of the first like...15 minutes a bit but that’s mostly because I would take a whole 2 hour movie of Thor and Loki sniping at each other. But I guess that’s what fanfiction’s for. ;-)

[also, if you’re asking me ‘but what would you cut to make that part longer’ the answer is just that comic strip of the dog being like ‘No cuts! Only more!’]

- there are a couple things where I’m like ‘@self, that would have been a rad detail to include, well, too late now.’ mostly the whole ‘knocking on the door of the Sanctum and then you’re just inside�� bit. That would have been rad to include, somewhere. Namely in the chapter of ‘bound at the end of the world’ where Thor and Steve go to visit Strange. Eh. Too late, oops.

- “Father, it’s us” THAT FEELS SIGNIFICANT EMOTIONALLY (more significant even than the ‘my sons’ line, which admittedly does get the good face reaction)

- I really need to make another running playlist with more of the Ragnarok score on it, this shit is great running music

- I’m really into the focus on euphemism on Sakaar. “People come from far and wide to unwillingly participate” Like that’s part of what makes it such fun dub con fodder, it’s all about the veneer of being okay and then you peel back the layers and it’s horrifying (similar to the thing I said earlier about how the Black Order doesn’t really scare me, but the Raft does). There’s that great moment that the writing engineers where you’re going along with it, and then trip into the horror. “People come from far and wide” *nodding along* “to unwillingly participate” *trip.* Dang. It’s really great that the writing can cause that drop in your stomach when you realize the dark truth behind the glamour. Dang.

- Loki also full body flinches away right when the Grandmaster interrupts his whispering with Thor. Every time, every fucking time I think I’ve gone too far, or read too much into things about Sakaar, canon just fucking does that...

(like I guess you can interpret it as surprised flinch, but with everything else...)

- also Hela says that Odin ‘banished me, caged me’ which is a nice callback to what Odin did to both Thor and Loki, in order

- also the chest touching ‘you’re not allowed to leave’ move, please canon, chill out a bit

- I 100% think earlier in the Hulk’s career on Sakaar, Thor doing the lullaby totally would have worked. Like, the Hulk had been there too long, he’d gotten too much control over Banner. (I’ve seen posts that are like ‘lol why did Thor think that would work’ and my two cents is the only reason it didn’t was because of the brutality of the arena and how long he’d been there)

- I do really like how clever and resourceful Thor is in this movie - contacting Heimdall, palming the controller off Valkyrie. I like smart Thor. :-)

- Loki and the Valkyrie’s fight. Still hot. Still makes me ship it. Enough said.

- and the visual effect of that flashback scene...iconic

- “I don’t want to fight your sister, that’s a family issue” I love how Bruce draws the line, like ‘I’ll fight your brother, but your sister...eh...’

- I would also take a lot more Thor and Bruce sniping, they are very entertaining. And like four full movies of Loki and the Valkyrie physically fighting. Just like. A lot of that. Yes.

- “...do you want revenge?” “Um, undecided.” Gold.

- god, the elevator scene. I can’t. “I should stay here.” “You’re right, you should stay here.” “TT_TT how could you think I should stay here?” Loki, you are a disaster. This scene is also probably the most honest scene they’ve ever had, through four films, and it’s like 80% lies and obfuscation, fuck

- ‘orgies and stuff’ CANON GO HOME YOU’RE DRUNK

- also, Thor and the Valkyrie fighting in sync. Also hot. Also makes me ship it. Hence the massively underrepresented OT3. (I think there are...12 Thor/Valkyrie/Loki fics on Ao3?)

- despite having not grown up with/interacted with her younger brothers until like two days ago, Hela really has the ‘get up, you’re in my seat’ delivery down pat. And it even works. (I only have like...a 70% success rate.)

- I hadn’t ever really caught that Hela calls herself ‘the savior of Asgard’ in her fight with Thor, I feel like that also has so much EMOTIONAL SIGNIFICANCE that then Loki is given that title a few minutes later

- Valkyrie’s wtf face when she realizes the Bruce Banner/Hulk thing is great

- Thor and Loki being Delighted With Each Other will always be the best part of the final battle

- another thing that contributes to what I think this movie does very well re: Thor and Loki’s relationship is all of their real conversations are like half conversations (the elevator scene being the major exception, which is more a conversation hidden beneath another one) - Thor doesn’t need to actually explain anything about Surtur’s crown and Ragnarok on the bridge - it’s this nice little half-said conversation that serves to prove that...they actually know each other, that they’ve grown up together, had all this experience together before it all fell apart. It’s part of what I really appreciate about their relationship here. Their relationship is so dramatic and fraught in the first three films they’ve appeared together in, which is beautiful in it’s own way (you all know I love me a good dramatic angst speech), but I think here we really see what foundation there is to lay the ground of a reconciled, renewed relationship.

- Thor’s little ‘what have I done?’ makes me SAD

- I’m still waiting on that fucking hug, Marvel. I will never stop waiting on that hug. I will keep fucking writing fanfiction where they hug, and cuddle, and kiss each other’s foreheads, and cheeks, and touch each other, even just little touches to the arm or back to get the other’s attention. I will keep writing fucking PLATONIC BEDSHARING until I get my GODDAMN HUG, Marvel, I swear I will!

- I wish I could like the comparison posts between the end of The Dark World Thor and Endgame Thor, but the problem is...I love his coronation at the end of Ragnarok so much (how quiet and unadorned and clearly supported by the people it is) that I just...can’t get behind having to rewind that arc. It was such a good one. From ‘I can’t be both king and a good man’ to ‘to be a good man in this moment means becoming king’ and the title and power don’t necessarily fit him perfectly but you get the sense that he can grow into it and make it his own, and honestly that’s probably a good thing, and that’s what makes it possible for him to be a good king...and I just...it was perfect. Having to do it a second time (because otherwise he’s just like.....giving up literally everything?) is just...ah. I don’t know.

So that’s it! We’ve reached the end! Clearly, the end in which Thanos arrives and things are bad but Thor and Loki both survive (and Heimdall, he survives too) and eventually they defeat Thanos and recover and build a life together ruling Asgard reborn OBVIOUSLY.

I’m really glad I did this. I think I rewatched Ragnarok in...April? Just before Endgame? But I definitely wasn’t paying attention, was doing something else (something somewhat unpleasant if memory serves) and stopped halfway through. This was fun, and helpful! (I think some of my voices and aesthetics had started slipping a little bit in writing. I should probably watch the other two Thor movies, and Infinity War again too, refresh the inspiration box in my brain.)

Okay! End movie night!

#thor: ragnarok #mcu rewatching thoughts #i caught so many things this time that hadn't jumped out at me before #this was great #what a good #endgame negativity #a bit there at the end #ragnarok positivity!#<<y'all i'm aware that there's a reason this tag exists but this is a Read The Room type situation #you're entitled to your opinion about this movie but i've had a real bitch of a day and this is the one thing that made me feel better so #please just this once keep them to yourself #you can blacklist the tag or unfollow me or whatever #but just let me have this one thing today #anyways ragnarok rewatching was a good decision and i am Pleased #honestly this movie is what got be back to being active in fandom so #returning to it was a good decision tonight

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1358456 · 5 years

Text

Review Response, June 9-15, 2019

Once again, I wasn’t at home yesterday so this got delayed, and once again that 1 day delay doesn’t change anything whatsoever.

... And whatever the hell happened to the horizontal line breaks?! Now I’m just manually making those lines with - like a sucker...

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Destiny #006

1) Oh shit I finished the chapter so quickly it felt like it only lasted a couple minutes (though I know it’s a lot longer, I just got too eager). In any case, I was super excited to see White in this chap! I can’t wait to have her and Black interact, I absolutely love the way you write them (just like with Ruby and Sapphire kek). Speaking of Ruby and Sapphire: the jealousy from Sapphire’s side was on point! And I cannot wait for Sapphire’s reaction to Ruby’s answer. Btw nice sort of cliff hanger on that one. And tbh I have no idea what Ruby would say. I feel like he might say no because of Sapphire and the whole mega stone or keystone thing whatchamacallit, but again I’m not sure. Also, no? Blue answer your calls from Red? He’s worrying about you, love. All you need to do is answer and boom! On your way to happiness! Well. Sort of. I guess. Baby steps. But anyways, Dia’s (and Pearl’s no kidding) was adorable. And it made my little shipper heart happy, so kudos to you for that. And also I think it was great how you wrote Platinum as still polite yet attached; regal even when literally lying unconscious a couple minutes prior. It was so like her, and it still amazes me how on point you write these characters. Though admittedly Blue is not how she is in the manga (but that’s sort of the whole point, so like that’s what’s ideal). And so although you stay true to their personalities, it’s also great that you kept in mind how things would affect certain people and changes they way they behave in accordance to that. So kudos to you for that too. Also, definitely NOT going to be happy meeting Peter again in this story. I know it’s going to happen, but I can only hope that the guy spying on Blue (whom I assume is Peter) will not do anything to her, and if so isn’t revealed as Peter. Simply because I just don’t want to put up with his douchebaggery. Oof my reviews are long, but I get so caught up in it that I can’t help myself. Thank you again.

I do like writing with Black and White. But unfortunately, they are just 2 of MANY Dex Holders, so they won’t be getting as much focus as you’d like, especially since they’re particularly high on my Preference List. Damn. That said, when there’s one, there’s always the other with these two. Inseparable!

Indeed. All Blue has to do is answer Red’s call and everything becomes just fine. Another parallel to Legacy, if you will. In Destiny, Blue ignored the calls out of her fears and thus sh*t happens. In Legacy, Blue answered the call, and thus she was able to attain true happiness! But Destiny is the “mid-point” between SA and Legacy. The “mid-point” of the pairing shift. Blue’s progression towards Red has to be a gradual one.

Oh, Platinum. She must always retain her elegance, even if she had just gotten absolutely stomped a minute prior. That’s what makes her... her, you know?

Blue’s character traits of melancholy and depression (when alone) is mostly canon, but her steps towards rampancy is a... personality extrapolation given the canon. If she was to be pushed a certain way, how would she react? That kind of thing.

I’m loving your long reviews! But I do notice that it’s been a month since you started Destiny, and this is chapter 6. Out of 43. ... Hmm...

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Wings #001

1) Hello, hello! Right from the start, this story was surprising to see since I remembered that you said that you didn't like these sorts of high school AU things. I've only seen bits and pieces of this story being mentioned, but I didn't expect this sort of thing! The start was amusing; I found it funny how Y was paying attention to the way she looked, but by the end, I understand y now, and I feel sorry for the poor chap that ruined her reputation already.

Hey, you started on Wings! Yay!

Yep, I absolutely detest high school AU stories. But only because they’re all mostly the same thematically. Wings aims to avoid every single one of those common themes.

1) Self insert: I am not putting in “myself” with a disguise of the main character in a high school AU to “relive” high school but with my desired outcomes. No. Y in Wings is nothing like me. In fact, I’m basing Y’s aggression based on a web comic series I’ve seen years ago. And my high school “outcomes” were mostly identical to my desires anyways, so... meh.

2) Unpopular girl main character: My understanding of the main characters in “those high school AUs” is that the girls are always like timid and unpopular and gets bullied by the “pretty and popular” mean girls until the main character eventually triumphs once the “popular guy” falls in love and... blech. ... What do you think will happen in Wings if the “pretty and popular” mean girls were to bully Y? Yeah. Wings is nothing like those types of stories.

3) Romance: Y doesn’t give a f*ck about love in Wings. Some “cute popular” boy makes a move on her, she gives him the finger and then walks away. The end.

4) “(Name) is a normal girl attending high school and-”: ... Y is not normal. Yes, she wants a normal high school life, but literally right off the bat, I smashed that wish because Wings cannot be remotely similar to any of “those high school AUs”.

And on and on.

I’m glad you thought it was amusing! Wings is intended to be purely for fun. Especially later on as more shenanigans happens.

... But I’m curious that you’re leaving a GUEST review, instead of the signed one, currently with the ID of... er... ... keyboard mashing. Hmm...

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Wings #002

1) It's nice to see the Kalos group coming together! I still haven't finished reading the XY arc of the manga, but it's nice to see Y and Shauna's interactions. I like how you gave a brief insight to Shauna's life in her middle school years; getting bullied sucks, and it must have been hard for her if she prefers to be friends with someone who is viewed negatively and lowers her own reputation down, rather than increasing the chances of getting bullied again. Maybe I'm just overthinking this, but it's still nice! And for X...dang, I feel sorry for him...salt and pepper in his eyes and mouth? That was extreme. Overall, a pretty great chapter! It was amusing from the way X and Shauna unintentionally contributed to lowering Y's reputation in her classroom, and to watch Y beat up intimidating students was funny to imagine.

Yep. Y and Shauna will be one of those “BFFs”, but... not really like those. I have to retain Shauna’s canon personality, which is a bit... sarcastic? So she’ll have a more “cool” friendship with Y instead of those “omg hug” types or whatever. F*ck those.

Hmm... Shauna having a bad middle school experience is not really intentional, but it does make sense, if you think about it like that. But it could also be that Shauna just finds hanging out with Y to be amusing.

X getting salt and pepper poured into his face is LOOSELY based on what I went through in high school, where some prick randomly poured a packet’s worth of salt on my head (getting all that damn salt out of my hair took absolutely forever), and so I took revenge by emptying at least 30 packets of salt and pepper into a sheet of paper and then pouring all that into his hair the next day. So... poor me, poor that kid, and poor X. Hehe.

Oh, there will be more instances of Shauna inadvertently worsening Y’s reputation, with real and fake stories. But Y won’t really mind since it’ll already be too late. There’s no turning back with her reputation now.

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Wings #003

1) Like a bolt from the blue, it's time for a (ratherlatethanintended) review! I really missed the way you write and how you describe everything in detail. Really helps me visualize everything! I know that's the point of writing, but your writing style is effective since I tend to zone out whenever I read something too long. Plus, the way you have each chapter structured keeps things interesting. My interest in piqued with each passing chapter! I'm thoroughly enjoying this story so far.

Okay onto the chapter itself! I like how Grace is supportive of Y's choices even when her daughter's being really violent in school, though perhaps it's because Grace was a delinquent herself when she was younger? Maybe?

And the way X behaves and reacts whenever Y is around is both amusing and sad. Very traumatic for him I'm sure. I do hope that his and Y's relationship as friends improve as chapters go by.

Faitsu and Crystal finally appears so I'm happy about that! I hope more familiar faces appear soon! Speaking of which, I felt like the teacher at the end of chapter 1 could turn out to be someone we know, but I don't know if that's just me. (It's not at all possible due to your preferences, but I keep thinking it's Green, even though he's in the void of nonexistence.)

Getting decked in the face by a soccer ball...hah. What a way to meet your future teammate! ...assuming she ends up joining the soccer club that is.

Overall, a great chapter! I like how lively everyone is, even the nameless students!

Ehehe... thank you! I’m glad you’re enjoying this deviation of a story of mine. After all, I’d never make another high school AU, ever, and this is the only one, so... it’s quite the deviant.

My thoughts on Grace is that she’s kind of a cool mother. ... Though I think that’s more... er... non XY arc. Hmm... Well, like mother like daughter... right?? Hehehe...

Oh, X and Y will be GOOD friends as time passes! Can’t have Y stressing out the poor boy, now can I? He will certainly prove to be a good supportive friend, though... not physically supporting (later on).

Faitsu and Crystal (and Black, technically) have appeared! More and more familiar faces will appear and be mentioned as time passes, of course. In fact, most everyone will be in Wings. Red, Blue, Gold, Crystal, Diamond, Pearl, Platinum, Black, White, Faitsu, X, Y, Sun, and Moon! ... Even Sword and Shield, if Wings lasts long enough. ... So... no, Green is not in Wings, since he has been banished into the void for eternity.

Yep. Decked in the face. And bloodshed. Real hard to get by ONE day without bloodshed, eh? Hehehe.

I look forward to seeing your review for the 4th chapter!

#qna

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majorxbennyxboy · 6 years

Text

S1 - Ben’s so fixated on the idea of traitors in the Continental Army that he makes a futile effort to gain information from someone who could not possibly provide it. He never verbally considers potential consequences, and it comes back to bite him both short-term (Scott) and long-term (Simcoe’s continued, you know, life, in general. Caleb. Everything, really.)

S1 - After Andre’s codebook clues everyone in to enemy schemes, Ben’s so fixated on the information right in front of him that he doesn’t realize Washington’s made the appropriate plans until Washington explains that he’s planning a counter-feint.

S1 - Ben’s so concerned with rescuing family and friends in Setauket that he goes against orders and potentially risks major consequences (loss of life, disrupting Abe and Anna’s work as spies) to do what he believes is right. Technically it does save lives, his father’s included, but there are casualties.

S2 - Ben’s so fixated on the disrespect toward Washington that he picks a fight with an Officer who outranks him, an action which could have brought serious repercussions for everyone involved in the fight if anyone had chosen to acknowledge it.

S2 - Ben’s so fixated on the disrespect toward Washington and on Lee’s treachery that he never considers the potential consequences of exposing Lee, even after Washington touches on the subject (telling him it would lower the army’s morale, nevermind the issues with the French), and proceeds to commit a string of crimes to obtain evidence despite Washington’s directions to the contrary.

S2 - The Sutherland-Shanks debacle has Ben doing his utmost to consider all angles, but it’s an impossible position; he isn’t completely wrong, and Washington is far from completely right, but Ben’s earlier errors contribute to Washington taking the matter out of Ben’s hands.

S2 - With the arrests of Hickey and Bradford, Ben lays out a case for how they should be dealt with, his commentary on the matter showing direct contrast to his thoughts and actions regarding Lee. This time, he’s accounted for everything.

S3 - There is a deleted scene which doesn’t appear to be entirely canon, having been broken up and the pieces moved throughout the season, in which Ben takes a step backward in his pragmatism and refuses to carry out the very plan he’d proposed of writing Bradford and Hickey off as mere Counterfeiters, leaving Washington to write up the final reports instead as Ben can’t reconcile the necessary measures with his conscience.

S3 - Ben’s so fixated on Reverend Worthington’s betrayal...he accounts for the fact that they can’t formally execute him without arousing suspicion, but again he’s so wrapped up in his emotions on the matter that he ignores (and admittedly, so does Washington) Caleb’s suggestion of at least holding back and finding out the logistics of Worthington’s operation, such as who’s his contact. Ben’s first and main thought is that he has to kill this man. This is Ben’s first experience with this type of killing; he isn’t in a battlefield setting, he’s not killing in direct self-defense. Reverend Worthington is unarmed. Further, it’s in another moment of heated emotion that Ben actually pulls the trigger- a knee-jerk reaction to a slight against Washington. He’s noticeably unsettled as he disposes of the body, and too distracted to consider any threat until Gamble has him at gunpoint.

S3 - It’s suggested off and on, and is touched on during the Sarah Livingston Debacle, that Ben’s so wrapped up in his belief of The Cause that he kind of...hasn’t considered that his side can be every bit as capable of horrible things as the enemy. He’s genuinely shocked as Sarah tells him it was Continental soldiers who killed her husband, all but on Washington’s orders.

S3 - Ben’s so focused on the Counterfeiting Fiasco it doesn’t occur to him, or anyone really, to think of what the counterfeiters will be doing with the money until Anna points it out. I have Other Issues with this particular plot point but it does fit with Ben’s tendency to miss the bigger picture at times.

S3 - Obviously also, Ben walks in on the aftermath of Sarah’s murder, he sees the scratches on Randall’s face and never once considers proper protocol...he’s all emotion and attacks Randall without any regard for potential consequences. For some reason the series touches on it enough in S4 to say things went in Randall’s favor, but not enough to point out that, in reality, Ben could have lost his position over this.

S3 - He just, exhibits, throughout, this black-and-white thinking that Patriots are Good, Loyalists are Bad. He holds Nathan to one standard and the enemy’s operatives to another, and doesn’t really seem to reconsider that belief at all until around the time of Andre’s execution while Arnold’s defection is still weighing on him. But he does start to wrestle with it.

Now, disclaimer that I still haven’t actually seen S4 and so don’t pretend to know what the hell I’m actually talking about, but from what bits and pieces...it seems to me that there comes a point, including with dealing with Caleb, however horrible it was to watch, that Ben reaches a point where he goes from overlooking the bigger picture, to looking pretty much only at the bigger picture. He might still fall into his same patterns from S1-S3 at times (and probably does. Such as when he doesn’t want to risk asking Caleb to do something and so intends to do it himself, despite that being a horrible idea and despite Anna’s warning) but there’s a shift. That shift includes choosing between being a good friend or trying to be a good soldier. He chooses the latter. That shift includes tolerating rumors of his involvement with a married woman. (a very minor issue, yes, considering we’ve never seen him concerned with his own reputation as much as Washington’s) That shift includes presenting, at times, as overly, and aggressively pragmatic, and it includes a shouting match with Washington in a near-reversal from S2.

Ben got character-development, between these examples and, of course, other things over the course of the series. It didn’t show up prettily and it wasn’t always necessarily obvious, but it was there and I think a lot of what didn’t make sense actually did, however hard it was to watch play out at times.

#Turn: Washington's Spies #thoughts of a free mun #...do i use || headcanons or || observations or || AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH like #here have a ramble that nobody asked for #(( tbh i always feel like ben's development was a little too Quiet?#as evidenced by the fact that it seems in S4 (and parts of S3 really) a LOT of the fandom myself included #was like ''what the HELL is up with Ben who IS HE?''#and it's partly because just he as a person doesn't talk about things #he marches on until things just kind of explode and then ten seconds later he repeats the cycle #so idk what could've been done differently but i find his development interesting in that #in Almost every case where i've tried to be mad at him or think what he did was unreasonable #it either turns out that he had a point or that it actually does make sense for him as a character

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alexiela73 · 6 years

Note

I love reading your overwatch fics! They are some of my favorites. Mind if I request 76 with a chubby s/o who has confidence issues with her place within overwatch as just a desk jockey basically. Just something fluffy~

Thank you very much! Here you go

Jack was on his way back from the training area to go toward his office. Even though his office was not nearly as needed as it had been before Overwatchs downfall, Jack still liked to go in there to sit and think, or write down ideas and look up information for the next mission.

As he was going though, he realized that before he bothered to go take a seat and do some research, it would be nice to stop and have lunch with you. Checking one of the clocks on the wall as he passed, Jack figured your break would be soon anyway.

The two of you had met over a year ago, and when Soldier 76 had been found shortly after, you had asked to go with him. By that time, Jack had fallen for you and was relieved that you were willing to go with him. Though admittedly, if it had come down to it, he would have stayed with you if you couldn’t.

This wasn’t something 76 had ever expected to return back to, but it was a life he seemed unable to escape. And in the grand scheme of life, you would probably be safer here considering you were his lover.

Walking over to a control room on the other side of base, there were about five people in there in total, one of them being you. All of you were busy on the computers, typing or looking things up, and Jack noticed that you had two neat stacks of paper on your desk. Your desk was always tidy, he thought with a small smile, though he wondered why you had so much paper work and the others so little.

One of the five noticed him come in and stood suddenly, hand to his forehead in a salute. “G-Good afternoon, Commander, sir!” he said, almost nervously. At his salute, three of the others joined him.

You just kept typing away on your screen, chewing on your lower lip and the other four glanced down at you in a look of disapproval. Jack liked it though, that you didn’t salute him. More importantly, it seemed unnecessary now that he was no longer a commander. But apparently some people still remembered who he was once, and still idolized that man.

“Good afternoon. I’m hoping to borrow Y/n for an hour, perhaps,“ Jack said, a bit amused as he slowly walked over.

You glanced up briefly before turning your eyes back to the screen, the barest glow to your cheeks. “I can’t today, Jack-I mean, Soldier 76. I have more paperwork to do,” you said, your fingers still moving fluidly across the keyboard.

Resting his hands on your shoulders, Jack gently kneaded them, not seeming to mind the staring of the other four or the fact that he was displaying public affection. “You can take a little break. Come on,” he said, and paused. “Your ‘commander‘ is asking.”

There was a pause, and finally you sighed and looked up at him with a slight scowl, before getting up and following him. “I‘ll be back soon,“ you called to the other four, who you knew would be gossiping the moment you left the room.

The two of you made it outside near the cliffs before Jack turned and rested his hands on your hips. Most people would say you were fat, or chubby, what with your thick hips and cushy thighs that touched. Your tummy had some stretch marks and was larger, and your arms were thicker then you’d like.

Jack though thought you were the perfect size. This man, whom you often wondered was insane for half of his choices that included you, seemed to think you were flawless and beautiful. The first time he made love to you, he’d kisses every inch of you with such love. There has never been a speck of doubt or disgust or anything other then adoration and appreciation in his gaze when looking at you, and it was one thing you loved about him.

It was the fact that he never asked you to be anything more then what you were, and that he loved you so whole-heartedly just the way you were that had given you a little confidence with yourself and how you looked. That didn’t mean you were never self-conscious though, but being around Jack made it hard to dislike yourself when there was this incredibly gorgeous man who thought you were more beautiful then the stars at night.

“I missed you this morning,“ Jack murmured, nuzzling your ear and pressing soft kisses along the side of your neck, sending goosebumps down your arm.

Unable to help growing flustered, you slid your arms around his neck, cheeks pink. “I-I missed you too, Jack, but I r-really should be working-” you murmured, glancing back toward the base .

Tsking softly, Jack turned so that he was between the base and you. “You need to take a break, my love. It’s just after lunch and from the way you were glued to the screen, I can bet you didn’t eat anything, did you?” Jack asked, leaning back even as his hand cupped your cheek.

Wincing at being caught, you tried to ignore the growl in your tummy as you fully realized you hadn’t eaten since early this morning. “Jack, I don‘t have time for lunch today. I have all that paperwork to do and it has to be done by this evening-” you started again but Jack cut you off.

“Ask the other four to take some. You’re all there to help each other, and I didn‘t see any paperwork on their desks,“ Jack said pointedly, though he realized now that it was kind of suspicious. He’d been in there on multiple occasions and every time, all of them had paperwork-except you were done yours and the others were struggling to finish theirs.

“I can‘t,“ you murmur, looking down and shifting on your feet. “Some of it…is, uh….theirs, already. But I told them I could get it done.” It felt like a bad idea telling Jack.

Which it was, as he started to scowl now. “Baby, why are you doing their work too? They need to finish their own work, and unless they need a little-and notice how I say little and not ALL of it-a little help, then their work is not for you to be doing,” Jack said, eyeing you and wondering why you would accept their work as well.

Cheeks pink with embarrassment, you shook your head. “But see, if I get it all done and so quickly, then I could be considered an invaluable part of the team. Overwatch will see that if anything happens, I can handle massive portions of work and I’ll be contributing, even a little, to your work,” you said, the words just kind of spilling out without thought. You weren’t sure what had made them spill out, but now they were out in the open.

Looking down at the ground, you wondered what Jack must think. Maybe you were overdoing it a little, but this was important. You couldn’t fight, you had no special abilities. All you had was the fact that you were a hard worker. And like your peer had pointed out, the lot of them were expendable.

Jack cupped your face again but in both hands, lifting it and he bent his head to brush his lips across yours in the sweetest of kisses. “I don’t know what those geeks are telling you,” Jack growled, and you felt your heart flutter at the sound of his voice deepening a bit more, “But you are already an invaluable member of this team. You are a hard worker and we know that. Stop trying to prove yourself when you’re work has already spoken volumes for you.”

Confusion and awe filled you. You...were already invaluable to Overwatch? But how much longer would they really need you? How much longer would Jack really need you?

It was like you had projected the question on your face, because Jack answered. “I will always need you, and so will this team. Heroes aren’t just people on the battle field, y/n. A hero is someone who works hard to make life better for others, and that's what your work does. It helps us to understand how to better help those who need it. You’re already a hero, to the world and to me,” Jack said, pressing his forehead against yours.

After a moment, you realized how important it was for you to hear this. This has been something plaguing you even before your other workers had mentioned it to you, that someday they might not need you. But Jack...Jack didn’t lie, and in a way you realized he was right. Everything you did was battle strategy, information and statistics on how to better help those in need of it.

Perhaps calling you a hero was going a little too far, but Jack was right when he said you helped others, and that in a way you were already important. “Thank you,” you whispers, closing your eyes and sighing softly. “I...I guess you’re right. At least, a little. I haven’t been doing terribly, and taking on extra work for no reason isn’t going to improve anything.”

Jack’s thumbs caressed over your cheeks as he watched you, eyes half lidded and he was relieved you could see his point, even a little. “You’re only going to exhaust yourself, baby. Give some of the work back, and then the two of us are going to go eat,” Jack said gently. “Okay?”

After a brief hesitation, you nodded and took his hand. “Yes, sir,” you said, a bit playfully and the two of you headed back toward base.

“Call me sir again, and we might have to miss lunch and head straight to dessert,” Jack growled, pinching your ample bottom and you noticed him falling behind a bit just to enjoy the view.

“Oh, hurry up. And stop looking at my butt, you pervert,” you scolded, pulling him up beside you but leaning into him a bit. Instinctively, Jack wrapped his arm around your shoulders, feeling much more relaxed.

Nodding, Jack agreed. “I’ll stop looking now, but only because I know I get to touch later,” Jack said, and you chastised him the whole way back to your desk.

God, Jack loved you.

#Soldier 76 #Soldier 76 x Reader #Soldier 76 Overwatch #Jack Morrison #Overwatch #Overwatch x Reader #Overwatch Imagines #Overwatch Writings #Overwatch Stories

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fruitpunchninja101 · 6 years

Text

Perks of Coincidences Characters: Hanji Zoe x Levi Genre: Humor / Romance (AU)

Disclaimer: All characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

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A gust of frosty air blast trough every window in the city.The night was particularly calm and serene only to be interrupted by a loud explosion which pulled Nanaba out of her dreamless sleep.Swiftly,she put on her robes and rushed towards the laboratory downstairs.Upon opening the door,she found her best friend Hange crouched on the floor rocking back and forth,hands tugging on her scalp while wailing in frustration as droplets of blood and pieces of flesh slid down her face.Apparently,the pig's heart shes been experimenting on exploded while testing its limits.She approached her friend ignoring all the bits and pieces of gore splatterd on the floor and the tiled walls.Carefully,she crouched beside the brunette and placed a firm hand on her back making gentle circles to calm her down.

"You need to take a break" she whispered softly as she observed her friends face.Prominent dark circles formed underneath her eyes and dry cracked lips only meant that shes sleep deprived and dehydrated.No wonder her experiments are failing.

As if not hearing her,Hange fished a recording device from her labcoat pocket "Experiment number 65 failed"She murmured as she pushed herself off the floor.The brunette halted when she felt a quick pull on her sleeve.

"Hange!"The blonde raised her tone to snap her friend back to reality. "Nanaba?How long have you been there?" Nanaba let out and exasperated sigh while running a hand trough her scalp"fiteen minutes"she mentioned with mild reproach as she pushed herself upright.

Its the same cycle all the time.Hange losing track of time,missing meals and then the inevitable happens...something explodes.

Its been two weeks since Nanaba got enggaged,since then shes is in a perpetual worrying limbo for her friend.Hange tends to spend most of her days cooped up on her laboratory tinkering with god knows what,laughing creepily as she writes down notes.The blonde doesnt want her friend to hole up in her laboratory for the rest of her life.Her friend needed a good distraction. A new boyfriend perhaps?She asked herself as she guided the brunette to the sink stationed at the corner of the laboratory turning on the faucet and started helping her wipe the blood off her face.

"Whats up with that look?"The brunette asked her as she cleaned off her glasses.

"I need you to bring a plus 1 on my wedding day."Nanaba mentioned as she turned off the faucet.

"Sure,Ill ask Moblit if hes free."Hange inattentively replied as she pulled out paper towels from the dispenser mounted on the wall.

"No!Not your lab assitant Hange!A real plus 1...like a boyfriend or something."

The brunette simply crossed her arms in front of her chest and gave the blonde a questioning look."What this all of a sudden?"

Nanaba looked Hange dead in the eye and held both her shoulders."Hange,you need to meet new people.Once I get married you will be left alone and I worry about you." Hange can see how anxious the blonde was and she admittedly had the right reason to be.Hange knows shes not the most responsible adult especially when it comes to taking care of herself.Who has time to worry about trivial things such as showers and food when she could be saving lives by pressing on with her researches.The brunette took a deep breath.As much as she doesnt like where this conversation is going,she decided to help ease her friends concern by considering her request.

"Okay,how am I supposed to find a plus 1?"Hange replied with a soft smile.

"Oh I have a few Ideas..."

And thus began Hange's Blind date fiasco.

Its been three months since the pigs heart disaster.During that time Hange had been through six failed blind dates.Most of the guys she met run for the hills once the brunette starts talking about the morbid parts of her research.In her defense,she was never bothered by the fact that she scares people off by the aberrant details of her work.'Whats the point of spending time with someone who doesnt understand the importance of my contribution to humanity?'she recalled her usual reponse whenever Nanaba asks her to tone down her eccentricity.Shes unapologetically herself which is both her strength and weakness.

It has been three nights since Hange slept.At this point, shes literally sitting in a pile of garbage; dicarded pages from her past researches,bottles of booze,coffee and energy drink cans were disorderly spread across her floor. Suddenly,a loud thud echoed the room when the back of the door hit the wall.

"Hange what happned to you!?"Nanaba stood by the door and gave her friend distraught look.

"Hey Nanaba!"Hange sang out as she peeled her eyes off her laptop screen and gave her bestfriend a gleaming grin reasurring her that shes fine.

"Your assistant called me he said you havent left your office for three days." she mentioned with slight anguish as she desperately tried to shuffle off the mess splayed on the floor.

"Three days already?" Her eyeglasses sat slightly askew resting at the tip of her nose.Gently,Nanaba pushed them into its right place while tsking."Seriously Hange how did you become an adult?"

"Beats me."Hange chuckled as she stood up and streched her limbs for the first time in a couple of hours.She gave a sigh of relief as she heared her joints click into place and felt blood coursing trough her limbs once again.

"I brought lunch."The blonde mentioned as she settled a paper bag on Hange's desk.

"Whats the occasion?"

"Do I need an occasion to bring lunch for my bestfriend?"Nanaba responded as she walked towards the window opening it letting the sunlight slip trough the room. Despite the unquestionable concern the blonde has for her,Hange cant shake off the doubious vibe Nanabas throwing at her.She only uses the term "bestfriend" whenever she needs something. Seeing that Hange has her all figured out, Nanaba decided drop the act."Okay! okay! you caught me.You see,I set you up with Mike's friend at work."

"Not this again"the brunette said as she face palmed herself with the thought.

"You seem really hungry.Did you skip breakfast again?You look paler than before.Seriously Hange,You need to take better care of yourself from now on.Especially now that Im not gonna be around you all the time."

"Youre starting to sound like Moblit you know."Hange gulped swallowing the last of her food "Im gonna be fine.You dont need to-"

"I know youre gonna be fine,but youre still not getting out of this date.He's gonna meet you at Sina Cafe 2pm.He says hes gonna wear a black pullover sweater."

"Thats a pretty vauge description.Can't you just show me a photo of the guy?"

"No!That will ruin the surprise!I met with him last week,Hes a real sweetheart and handsome too!You're gonna love him."

"You said the same exact thing about the 6 other guys you've set me up with.None of them worked out.''

"Give this guy a chance...I have a good feeling about him"

" Whatever you say Nanabannana."The brunette tiredly responded.She knows this one is gonna be a disaster just like the other blind dates that shes been before.But shes doing this to ease her friends anxiety so shes going to try her best not to fuck this one up."Oh and by the way,I have a presentation for my research tomorrow so I might go over a few pages while Im there.You have to warn him."Hange added as she typed away from her computer.

"Can't it wait until after your date?"

"Science never waits for anyone!Besides,I'm pretty good at multi tasking."

Nanaba released a sigh of defeat.In the end,nobody can tear Hange Zoe away from her precious work.

Its 3:00pm and Hange's late for her date.So much for not fucking it up this time she thought.Clutching her satchel bag to her chest she used her right shoulder to push the cafe door open only to end up slamming against it.It took her a few seconds to realize her mistake,the door clearly says pull.Its as if the heavens are giving her a sign not to push throughthis date.A coffee shop employee opened the door and offered his hand to help her stand up."Thank you uhmm.." she pushed her glasses back to place in order to read the metal name plate pinned on the mans chest."Eren" she continued."No problem maam!"The kid smiled as he held the door open for her.Hange gave an apologetic shy smile as she entered and took in the welcoming aroma of rich coffee the cafe provided.Her eyes roamed around the place.The walls are lined with aged brick and provided fancy leather chesterfield sofas partnered with sturdy mahogany tables.Good thing the whole place practically screamed "This place is for serious adults.No whiny brats allowed".Which meant she doesnt have to deal with too much noise while working on her paper. She scanned the place looking for a guy that matched Nanaba's description.There he is,the only guy sitting alone in the whole shop.Wearing a black pullover sweater and jeans.His legs crossed while his brows were knit together,obiviously enthralled by whatever he's reading.Hange tilted her head to the side to peek on his book."Dark tower...nice"She whispered.She took a deep breath and flashed the biggest smile she can muster as she walked towards the man.

"Dad-a-chum? Dum-a-chum? Ded-a-chek? Did-a-chick?"

The raven haired man didnt repond but instead he peeled his eyes off his book and scoweld at the woman who inturrupted him.

"Lobstosities...Dark tower?"She sang out as she pointed on his book.

"I know what lobstosities are.I'm reading the fucking book."he responded matterfactly.

"Geez!You kiss your mother with that mouth captain grumpy pants?"She teased still beaming the most charming smile.

"Didnt your mother tell you thats its rude to interrupt people minding their own business?"

"Its also rude not to ask a lady to sit down...Mind if I join you?" Nonchalantly ignoring his cold response.

"Yes."He replied in a monotonous tone.Apparently,his answer had no use.Shes already pulling up a chair from the table accross them.She dragged it out across the room earning a screeching sound that obviously garnered looks from the other tables.He opened his mouth and closed it.Its not worth it he thought as he returned his gaze on his book. Hange sat infront of of him. She placed an elbow on the table and propped her chin on her palm.She stared at him waiting for him to say something about her tardiness.

"Well?"He mentioned plainly.

"Well what?"The brunette asked.

"Don't stare four eyes.Just do whatever you need to do."

Hange felt relief.It seems Nanaba warned him about her reports.Maybe,he was also forced unto this date.Either way shes glad hes cool with it.

"I wouldnt call it staring per se.Id like to call it observing.Dont be such a grump shorty I'm just analyzing if Im sitting with a nice person."

"Shorty?"He lifted his gaze from his book and stared at her one eye twitching with irritation.

"Just an observation,Averaging your eye level and shoulder height youre probably like...what?5'3?"

The man responded with a glare.Not even his closest friends dare exploit his insecurity in his face like that.

"And a half?"Hange added gingerly.But all she got was an angry stare "I'll take that as a yes!"She gave him a triumphant smile.

The raven haired man did not respond and continued glaring at the eccentric woman as she started setting up her laptop,struggling to detangle knotted cords.How was this woman able to mess up cables like that?Her efforts to straighten them out are only making her problems worse.His hands are aching to yank the cords away from her hands and detangle it himself.'Tch..pathetic'He thought.

"Now look whos staring"she mentioned without looking at him still trying to figure out how to solve her cord problem.He simply scoffed at her and got back to his book.When shes finally done wrestilng with the cords,the brunette bent to plug her laptop on the outlet on the floor and when she sat back up she hit her head under the table almost spilling the cup of tea sitting on top of it earning an exasperated sigh from the man infront of her.

Thank God shes done talking.Levi thought to himself.He started feeling relief when silence engulfed them for a while.He can finally get some peace and...nope.Shes done talking and moved on to murmuring accopanied by creepy laughter as she typed on her laptop.Levi rolled his eyes.He wasnt even reading at this point.Hes just staring on his book reading a sentence over and over desperately trying to block out everything shes mumbling.After a while,he gave up and shifted his attention from his book and glanced at her.

"Do you really need to mumble while doing that?"

"Doing what?" "Whatever it is that youre doing?"he said as he gestured to her laptop.

"Oh,this?Sorry!Its just I had this really interesting project.You see,Theres this animal that doesn't secrete feces and we are trying to figure out if it can help us improve bowel programs for paralized people or better yet,build better artificial organs." His head perked up a little.something about what she said piqued his interest and before he can even stop himself words came tumbling out of his mouth. "Theres an animal that doesnt shit?" He immeditely wanted to punch himself in the face when he saw her eyes lit up like christmas lights.'Goddamit Im supposed to shut her up not encourage her!'He internally berated himself. The raven haired man didnt hide his unwillingness to listen as the woman started explaining scientific things which he doesnt have any idea about.Still,he quipped and threw retorts to her statements every now and then. The brunette turned her laptop to him and showed him a photo.

"These babies are called Demodex Mites.They're microscopic animals that dont have anuses.They basically store their wastes inside their body till they die".

"Well thats a shitty way to live."He answered as he placed his hand on the rim of his cup took a sip of his tea.

"Wow,Is that a pun? I'd better write that one down. "she sarcastically replied as she beamed a smile. He ignored her and went back to reading. The brunette let out a small chuckle as she tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear dug trough her remaining paper work.

They fell in a comfortable silence after that,with occasional mumbles from Hange from time to time which at this point Levi got used to and was able to tune her out.Hange tilted her head a little to take in his facial features.Dark raven locks in a neat undercut and pale blue eyes which hid behind his dark circles.Hes definately not the sweetheart Nanaba hinted at,but his snappy comebacks and dry responses amused her.

"You are staring again."

"I just realized that never got your name.Mine's Hange...Hange Zoe." She extended her right arm.

"Levi" He mentioned plainly.Staring at her offered hand."I'm not touching that.You just said youre working with shit animals"

"Well,technically they dont deficate so..."The brunette stopped herself midsentence when Levi gave him a look which she cannot place if its confusion or annoyance.

Hange pulled her arm away chuckling."Fair enough...No last name?"

"Why do you wanna know?"

"Why nice to meet you Levi Why do you wanna know.Thats a pretty uncommon last name"

"Youre the worst."

"So I have been told...You know what,I was very skeptical walking over here a while ago since I was late and all but good thing Nanaba set this up."

"Late with what? and who's Nanaba?"Levi asked her while his eyes were still on his book.

"What do mean late with what? and how come you dont know Nanaba?"

"Four eyes,theres 7 billion people on earth.You cant expect me to know everyone of them.And I couldnt careless with whatever it is you're late for."He shifted his gaze from his book to Hange.

"What?Wait!Aren't you here for the date?"

"We're on a date?"He raised an eyebrow.

A thousand questions ran trough Hange's head. but before she can even open her mouth Levi's phone rang.He held a finger as he answered the call. "I'm on my way."Levi responded to the person on the other line.The man looked a bit disoriented as he looked at her with outmost bewilderment with what she just said. Hange heared a faint click as the call ended.

Levi took a last sip of his tea and stood up."See you around four eyes"

"Yeah,See you around shorty"Hange responded faintly almost sounding like a whisper.Watching the man fish his car keys out of his pockets and leave the cafe.

Hange was left dumbfounded as the realization dawned upon her.She sat with a random stranger on a cafe and assumed he's her date.

_____________________________________________________________________

Hello Everyone!

This is my very first fanfic so it will be a bit rough around the edges.I'm very hesitant to post this since I'm not much for writing but I really want to practice and learn.Hey!Nothing ventured nothing gained right?I had this story idea in my brain for almost a week now and I just have to share this with my fellow LeviHan shippers out there!I wrote this on my phone so theres probably a lot of spelling errors etc.Please bear with me.Ill definitely try to transfer the rest of the chapters on a word document next time. I'll also do my best to update this every week.(I dont promise that but I'll try my best I swear.)

Contructive critisism is very much appreciated!(Please go easy on me.)Also,I'm not a native english speaker so theres that.

Check out chapter 2 on AO3 !

#levihan #levi ackerman #hange zoe #levi x hanji #levihanfanfiction #fanfiction #au

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