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justmediocrewriting · 5 months

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“You’re not that dumb, are you?” {v.s}

Summary: Sanji seriously can’t figure what it is he had done to offend you or make you dislike him, but he’s sure he had to of done something; you avoid him like the plague, and if Sanji doesn’t figure out why soon, he’s going to spontaneously combust right there in the galley.

Or: the one in which Sanji is completely oblivious to the crush you have on him, until he isn’t.

Genre: fluff

Requested: ❌

Word Count: 2.5k

Pairing: Sanji x fem!reader

Warnings: reader is afab, she/her pronouns, use of (y/n)

A/n: so this cute little idea was tickling in the back of my head because i have this headcanon that even though Sanji is the worlds biggest flirt and a major lover of women, he genuinely can not tell when a woman actually has a crush on him, and thus this was born lol. I hope you all enjoy! And don’t forget to leave a like if you did, and don’t be shy to send in a req if you like the way I write! ❤️

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It had been occurring for weeks, and if he were being honest, Sanji truly felt as if he were going absolutely crazy.

Sanji was not a perfect human being; he knew this, and he was all too aware of his own flaws — but he didn’t believe he was a bad person. On the contrary, he felt he was more likable than he was dislikable, and the crew for the most part seemed to share his same opinion.

Except for you.

Sanji didn’t know what it was about him that bothered you, but there had to be something there, considering the fact that you went out of your way to ensure you would never end up in a position in which you were to be alone with him, and whenever he was around, you avoided his eyes, and his attempts at conversation were generally ignored — it was quite irksome, and the smug little smirks Zoro sent his way any time it happened definitely didn’t help.

At first, Sanji thought perhaps it wasn’t him, but you. Upon first meeting he noticed the rather shy disposition you possessed, so in the beginning, Sanji just chalked your avoidance of him up to nervousness and the need to settle in. But as time went on, Sanji observed you — Sanji was always observing, mentally clocking the conditions and stability of his crewmates — and his gut twisted when he noticed you growing warmer to every other crewmate except him; you even seemed to be comfortable with Zoro, now.

Sanji tried his best to not let this fact affect him, and he instead tried to compartmentalize and break down the reasons as to why before automatically jumping to any unpleasant conclusions; perhaps you had warmed up to the others faster simply due to exposure. When Sanji had landed on that particular conclusion, he decided the best course of action to take would be to ease into a closer bond with you.

His attempt at that had quickly gone awry; the ship had docked at a small island, one fairly well known for its bountiful fruit and vegetable harvests, and Sanji was set on making a list of the crew’s current food stores, but when he’d entered the galley and noticed you — just you, without Usopp or Nami flanking you as he’d grown accustomed to seeing — his initial task had been swept away to be replaced by another.

You hadn’t yet noticed his presence, as your nose was pointed down and buried in a rather thick looking book, one hand wrapped delicately around a mug resting on the hanging table, and Sanji couldn’t refrain from taking the chance to really look at you.

Your hair was pulled up into a messy bun atop your head, a few stray locks falling from the hold of your hair tie and framing the delicate features of your face, and Sanji’s heart stuttered in his chest at the way your soft lips mouthed the words of the book as you read. Sanji knew you were attractive, had thought so since the first time he’d laid eyes on you, but with your near constant avoidance of him, it was difficult for him to be able to take any time to map your features; and Sanji was feeling eternally grateful that he was given the opportunity, and part of him didn’t want to announce his presence, because he had the sinking feeling that once you noticed him, you’d be flying out of the galley at mach ten.

But that was also another problem that Sanji was dead set on rectifying, so he pushed away any unpleasant feelings and decided to announce his presence in a way that wasn’t overly shocking — but he had underestimated your level of skittishness, and the moment in which he decided to clear his throat was the exact same moment in which you’d decided to take a sip from your mug, with which held steaming liquid within.

The instant the sound left his throat you jumped, your head snapped up and you lost your grip on the mug — leading it to falling into your lap, the contents spilling over your front and your thighs. Sanji’s heart froze inside his chest as a loud hiss escaped your lips and you slammed your knee into the bottom of the table in a frenzied scramble. Your beautiful face contorted into an expression of pain, and before Sanji could even think twice about it his body was moving, propelling him to your side in an instant.

“I’m so sorry, love, are you okay?” Sanji pushed out, hand flashing forward to grab your arm and pull it gently out of the way so he could examine the damage. Sanji winced as he noticed your legs were bare, the skin at the top an ugly shade of irritated red, and worry lanced through his gut. Tugging on your arm gently, Sanji coaxed you out of your seat.

“Come on, let’s get to the sink. We need to cool the skin before it scalds.” Sanji would have been surprised when you quietly let him lead you from the table to the counter if it weren’t for the sheer panic he was feeling. Twisting the cold tap hurriedly Sanji ripped the towel from the cabinet handle just below the sink and shoved it beneath the stream, thoroughly wetting it then ringing it out slightly before moving to place it against the burns —

Sanji nearly winced at the resounding slap that split through the galley when you smacked his hand away. Without much to offer in explanation you ripped the wet towel away from his hand and it suddenly dawned on him — he was about to place his hand in a spot that was highly inappropriate, even if the intentions were caring in nature. Sanji flushed and despite the situation, his eyes roved over your plush thighs in a way that was starkly opposite than checking damage. Feeling utterly disappointed in himself, Sanji parted his lips to apologize, but you beat him to it.

“Ah, I’m sorry.” You said softy, avoiding his eyes. “T-thanks, Sanji, but I’ve got it from here.”

Sanji barely had the time to register your words (he was still frozen from the absolute beauty that was your voice speaking directly to him, saying his name) before you were scurrying away, water dripping a small path from the sink to the door out of the galley.

Days had passed since the incident in the galley, and you hadn’t uttered a word to Sanji since — you didn’t even really look in his direction, and when he’d come to return your book to you and ask how you were doing, you only gave him one seldom nod and then snatched your book away before slamming the door in his face.

Only this time, Sanji couldn’t really blame you.

Of course, there was no way you could have known of the brief indecency he’d given you, but the fact that he’d startled you enough to cause you to burn yourself was enough of a reason to be angry at him, in his opinion — but his understanding of the situation didn’t make it any less irritating.

Only now, he was irritated for a different reason.

Sanji felt as though hearing his name on your lips was like taking a hit of a strong drug; ever since he had experienced it, he just wanted more. Sanji wanted to hear you speak to him, not just around him; he wanted you to converse with him, to tell him all the things that you’d already told everyone else about yourself, and, selfishly, he wanted you to tell him more — to tell him things that you’d never revealed to anyone, not even Usopp or Nami.

Sanji wanted to look into your eyes and commit them to memory, so that he could see the vibrancy of them even when he closed his own. He wanted to watch the way your lips formed words, and he wanted to hear that delicate laugh bubble from your throat because of him — and that was the crutch of it all.

Sanji wanted all of this for himself.

He wanted all of it because of himself.

And Sanji knew it was selfish, knew it was immature, because he also knew why he wanted all of this; it was because he had been deprived of it for so long.

And wasn’t that such a childish way to look at it?

Sanji couldn’t help but compare himself to a toddler being jealous of another’s toy — any time he watched you swapping words and laughs with someone else, even Nami, Sanji would feel envy bubbling beneath his skin, scratching his brain to try and figure out why you’d felt him undeserving of your time and attention. It sounded truly vain, if he was being honest.

But Sanji just couldn’t help it.

Something about you was drawing him in, making him itch for more, for anything, even the smallest morsel of attention or acknowledgement.

Sanji just needed to talk to you, or something. Get to the bottom of whatever it was — maybe if you could both put it to bed, these annoying desires would fade away.

“That fish personally insult you, or something?”

Sanji’s head snapped up at the sound of Nami’s voice, lips opening but no words slipping past them.

Nami rolled her eyes and gestured to the still intact fish resting on the cutting board. “You’ve just been glaring at it.”

Sanji’s eyes widened and his cheeks felt warm. He hadn’t even realized he had been so distracted that he hadn’t begun his lunch preparations. Recovering, Sanji sent Nami a small smile and quickly grasped the cutting knife to start in on the beheading and skinning. From his periphery he noticed Nami giving him a strange stare, and he was more than prepared for it when she asked him if he was okay.

“I’m fine, love, don’t worry about me.”

Nami scoffed as if she didn’t believe him but to his relief she didn’t pester; instead she thunked her ink pen once on the table before repositioning it to draw on her chart once more — Sanji wasn’t sure how he could explain what was distracting him without it coming off as too accusatory or abrasive.

But hell if he wouldn’t try.

“Say, you’re pretty close with (Y/N).” Sanji started, not looking up from his handiwork. He heard more than saw Nami lean back against the couch, and he could only picture that she had her arms crossed over her ribs.

“I am, I suppose. Why?”

Sanji bit his lip in thought, wondering if he should just drop the whole conversation before he could take it to the point of no return, but he needed to know; he needed to understand what it was he’d done or said to make you hate him. And if you’d told anyone why, he imagined it would be Nami.

“It’s just… does she hate me, or somethin’?”

Now Sanji couldn’t refrain from looking at Nami, bashfulness be damned. He needed to see Nami’s eyes, so that he could know if whatever her response was would be genuine. What he didn’t expect, though, was for Nami’s eyes to widen comically, nor did he expect her to double over with laughter. It took a few seconds for her to catch her breath, and when she did, she gave him the most vibrant, teasing smile he’d ever seen grace her face. Sanji would be stunned by the beauty of it if he wasn’t so confused by her reaction.

“You’re not that dumb, are you?”

Sanji thought himself akin to a fish when all he could do was flap his lips at her wordlessly, brows furrowing to the point he worried they might stick. Sanji didn’t know what to say to that; was Nami being rhetorical or serious?

“Look, Sanji, she doesn’t hate you.” Nami finally recessed, but the mirthful amusement was still evident in her tone. Sanji wet his bottom lip, relief warring with confusion in the pit of his mind.

“But she avoids me. She won’t even look at me.”

“She looks at you a lot. You just don’t see it.”

Sanji was once again rendered speechless — a part of him wondered if Nami was simply pulling his leg, or if she knew something he didn’t; something she clearly thought should be obvious, if the look on her face was anything to go by.

Nami heaved a great sigh and gathered up her chart and pens, along with her other various navigation gear, and tucked it into her rucksack before rising from the couch. Resting her hands against the counter she leaned forward, the tease in her eyes making Sanji do the same, not even noticing when the tip of his tie grazed the slimy flesh of the fish.

“For a ladies man, you sure don’t know much about them. You should remember that there’s more than one reason that a person may avoid another.” Nami whispered, and with barely a glance back she breezed swiftly from the galley, leaving Sanji more confused and fuddled than ever before.

For the rest of the evening, Sanji continued to toss and turn Nami’s words around in his head; but no matter how much he picked and pulled at them, dissected them and put them back together, he just couldn’t figure it out.

Surely Nami didn’t mean for her words to be as cryptic as they were. Nami wasn’t one to be cryptic; she was blunt and upfront, and unashamed or frightened to speak her mind — it was one of the many traits that Sanji admired in her.

Throughout your time with the crew, Sanji noticed that you were similar to Nami in that respect — you weren’t afraid to put in your own input on certain situations or decisions, and most of the time, your input was quite enlightening and helpful. You also weren’t scared to fight for your own beliefs, even if it meant engaging in a verbal altercation with one of your friends. Outspoken and vibrant with pretty much everyone on the crew, you were, and it was something Sanji found very attractive and annoying at the same time — because you weren’t nearly that strong around him, had never gotten in an altercation with him, choosing instead to avoid him.

Nami said you didn’t hate him — but why else would you avoid him, avoid eye contact, refuse to be alone with him? Why else would your face flush any time you met his eyes accidentally? Why else would you stare at him in secret instead of approaching him?

Sanji promptly dropped the whisk into the bowl of pancake batter, because oh —

Oh.

There’s more than one reason that a person may avoid another.

Oh. Shit.

The blushing, the avoiding, the staring in secret… it wasn’t because you hated him — it was because you liked him.

A smile broke on Sanji’s lips and he pulled the whisk out delicately with the tips of his fingers, a warm, fluttery feeling erupting in his chest.

Sanji would have to thank Nami later.

#opla #opla sanji #opla sanji x reader #Drabble #one shot #one piece #op #x reader #reader insert

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topgearreviews · 2 years

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Thermacell Patio Shield Mosquito Repeller – Best Tharmacell

Friends, family, and neighbors will love getting together on a patio or deck without the annoyance of biting mosquitoes, and they won’t even notice that thermacell portable mosquito repeller is at work keeping the bugs away. While both festive and decorative in glacial blue, the Patio Shield Mosquito Repeller blends into your surroundings.

It creates a 15-foot mosquito-free zone without DEET spray, smoky candles, open flames, unpleasant smells, or expensive professional treatments. Ready to protect for 12 straight hours, the highly effective repeller comes with three repellent mats and one fuel cartridge, all of which fit together in a cordless, compact, and lightweight unit that blends beautifully with your tabletop, flowers, greenery, and glassware. From Thermacell, the expert in area mosquito protection, Glacial Blue Patio Shield is simple and clean to use, keeps mosquitoes away without spray, and creates a powerful invisible barrier against mosquitoes.

Mosquito repeller that effectively repels mosquitoes by creating a 15-foot zone of protection. Compact, easy to use, and stylish. Ideal for any patio, or deck. Keeps pesky mosquitoes from biting and bothering guests. No spray, no mess, scent-free, Deet-free. Features integrated mat storage.

Thermacell Patio Shield Mosquito Repeller Features:

No spray and no mess. Scent-free and DEET-free.

Same proven Thermacell fuel-powered technology.

Ideal for use while entertaining.

No open flame, no smoky candles.

Includes integrated mat storage.

Package contains: 1 Greenery Patio Shield Repeller.

Active ingredient: D-cis/trans allethrin.

Pros:

Mosquito protection you don’t spray on

No open flame, smoky or smelly candles

Odour and DEET free

Compact, stylish, designed for use on any patio or deck

Cordless, portable and lightweight

Blue

Includes: (3) repellent mats and butane cartridge

Cons:

Brick-and-mortar stores will be a little more expensive

Question & Answer:

Question: what chemicals DOES thermacell use? what are its cautions for use?

Answer: So, if I use this product, will the chemical still be harmful to my cat/bees after it has been turned off?

Question: What is the repellent mat made up of? Trying to get an idea of what ingredients are used so I can do some research.

Answer: We just went to a party where this was sitting on the table right next to my husband (he didn’t realize what it was at the time). After about 2 hours of exposure he felt tightness in his chest and has had trouble breathing. Use extreme caution when using this product if you choose to use it at all.

Question: Can you turn it on and off and only use when you need it?

Answer: Yes. Don’t forget to turn it off; you’ll waste the repellent. Don’t use inside the house.

Question: If you have purchased this and used it during a Florida summer, how well did it work for you and is it any better/worse than the candles?

Answer: I bought it in April in Florida because I was grilling outside a lot and the candles weren’t cutting it. This help a lot. Noticeably better

Question: Does it use batteries? Or is it rechargeable?

Answer: No batteries or need to recharge. Ignitor is a simple spark that lites a butane flame which heats the repellent pads.

Question: what chemical is used to deter mosquitos? vague info on site.

Answer: D-cis/trans allethrin 21.97% Other ingredients @ 78.3% not listed.

Question: If the unit is only needed for a few hours at a time, can it be turned on and off or have I wasted a whole cartridge and mat for one use?

Answer: You can turn it on and off at will. Please allow 10- 15 minutes to reach full effectiveness. You can use until mat is completely white. Hope this helps.

Question: What kind of fuel is used?

Answer: Butane capsu

Question: I wonder if I could simply use the pads in my scented wax melter?

Answer: Thermacell products heat to a very precise temperature and keep heat constant, which is much different than a flame. We would not recommend this.

#mosquito repeller #thermacell patio shield

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libbee · 2 years

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Ever noticed that Clementine says "You should be grateful I am interested in you. I don't even know why I am." during Clem and Joel's fight?

This is because pwBPD do not love the actual person but they love the idea and mental image of a parental figure. BPD is a parental disorder. Case closed. Until Clem will realize that she is projecting a mental image of parental figure on every man she dates, she will not recover from it.

pwBPD rushes into relationship because she wants security. She has no internal judgment whether or not this is a good person she just wants relationship because it feels safe secure to her. She is "easy" because she attaches quickly (within an hour sometimes) but she is "high maintenance" because the relationship is a rollercoaster of emotions. Being in relationship gives her confidence because she reflects the other person and it makes her existence feel real. She is always in a relationship and before ending one relationship she has found the next partner already. She does not love the person for who they are but she loves them for how they make her feel. She wants to feel safe secure confident and gets attached to anyone.

Joel also has low self esteem. He is not a super confident man. This is the case with Patrick too. pwBPD chooses men with low self esteem because it is easy to love bomb and control them. She fears abandonment so much that she would fo anything to not stay single. A man with low self esteem will not leave her and that is what she wants. This is why she makes card, writes letter and overshare everything to create intimacy between her and partner.

This is also the reason Joel says "and then you just took it without waiting for an ansnwer. it was so intimate like we were already lovers." because Clem has no personal boundaries. She wants security so much that she wants to get married on the first date. She acts like they are so intimate already because she has never felt fatherly love and she wants that solid fatherly figure in her life.

Essentially, Clem wants a father who will parent her. When she will go to therapy and heal her inner child, this movie will meet its end. But Clem probably does not go for that. She instead repeats the same idealization cycle again and again instead of taking therapy. This looks cute in movie, right? But in real life it leads to divorce, ruined homes, broken families, ruined lives and this cycle will continue with their children.

While normal people fall in love with someone who shares their values, goals, personality traits, pwBPD falls in love because this person gave her attention. She is sick with love. She is obsessed eith love. She is consumed by love. She wants merger of soul. She will mimic you. She will copy you. She will intuitively find out your needs and become who you want her to be. She will impress you. She will love you like nobody else.

Once you learn to understand yourself, you will realize that you have never actually loved a man but only a parental image that you projected on him. Once your delusion is gone, you will see that life after recovery is mundane, ordinary, plain.

I have been in many romantic situations and none of them were real in the sense that I knew what I was doing. I was simply guided by my emotions and impulses. I would be lalalala love and any X Y Z who would give me attention could become my "boyfriend". I don't know why I did all that. I was desperate insecure validation seeker attention seeker wanted constant reassurance that i am still pretty and cool.

BPD has anxiety as a big issue. I had extreme levels of anxiety that I could not explain. The method to deal with anxiety is simply exposure therapy. When you feel anxious, ride it out. Do not act on it. It will pass. For example, when I was super anxious I would do online chatting for the quick satisfaction that I am still funny, smart, cool. But if I just sit and let it pass, I would realize that the anxiety will calm down sooner or later.

#eternal sunshine of the spotless mind #astrology observations #astrology #astro observations #astro community #shadow self #astroblr #occult #8th house #moon #scorpio woman

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seoloquent · 3 years

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project: dance, dance, revolution

summary - you hate that ai robots are beginning to take over the entertainment industry, but you have no choice than to help them. but what if it all didn't turn out to be what you thought it was?

pairing - johnny and fem!reader

genre - strangers-to-lovers!au, robot!au, comedy, fluff

word count - 10.101

warnings - cw! food, there might be some grammatical errors... i'm depending on grammarly on this one

author's note - this is for @pastelsicheng's ai project #14320 collab! this was honestly such a challenge for me since i have been in a writing slump for over two years i believe, but i'm glad it gave me the push i need. i am still super rusty, but i think the dialogue is cute, so i'm happy with it! thank you so much emmy for sharing your great idea with everyone, and i hope you all like it!

************************************************************************

Johnny AI AU - seoloquent

Kun was terrified.

Despite experiencing your various emotions throughout the five years of being your manager, he has never seen you this angry before. But, honestly speaking, he couldn’t blame you. He’d be just as mad if he found out his boss went behind his back and signed a contract with a company he hated. As much as he could sympathize with you though, Kun just couldn’t get himself to understand why you were so upset about working with LSM Incorporated. If he were in your shoes, he’d be doing backflips off the wall! The amount of exposure, and revenue you are potentially going to be receiving… Kun just does not understand what the problem is.

Although your strides were long and strong, Kun was able to keep up with you while making sure he kept his distance, as if a dark cloud followed behind you. As cautious as he was to not have you blow up at him, he still tried to convince you to not make a scene within the conference room by his desperate protests; in which you kindly ignored. Every single word that left his mouth went through one ear and straight out the other as you paid him no mind. You were in a tunnel vision; the only person you wanted to talk to right now was your boss.

Pushing the door open with much force (that Kun had to catch before it slammed onto the wall behind it), you caught the attention of the CEO of your company, as well as Lee Soo Man of LSM Inc. They flashed pleasant smiles your way, completely oblivious of your angry state.

“Y/N, just the person we wanted to se-”

“Are you serious?!” You slammed the contract papers down on the table, your eyes wide and fierce as they stared into your boss’s eyes.

Your emotions were still fresh from when you first received the signed contract papers from Kun about an hour prior. The feelings of betrayal and violation lingered within you, and the uneasiness it caused made you sick. How could someone lack so much human decency that they justified going behind their employee’s back, an employee that has their trust in them at that, and force them into labor; which they have already voiced that they did not want to do? It baffled you, and you were hurt, as you believed that you and your CEO had a great business relationship. But he took that open communication for granted and took advantage of you.

After realizing that you stormed in with anger rather than excitement, he pursed his lips and looked down at the papers, chuckling to himself. “Oh. So you’re still opposed to the idea.”

You couldn’t believe your ears. “Of course I am!” Your voice rose as your eyes grew bigger. “You never talked to me about it again after the first time; what made you think that I changed my mind?”

“Y/N, I have to get you to notice that you are not the only one signed to this company. This will not only be good exposure for you, but for us as well.” He justified. He kept his voice calm, not only to calm you down but also to keep a professional demeanor in front of his newly established business partner.

“Oh, so you’re doing this for yourself?”

“Of course not! This is for the benefit of not only you, not only me, but for the company as a whole.” Your CEO reasoned. Before you could respond, he cleared his throat and turned to Lee Soo Man. “I’m sorry, but will you excuse us for a moment? I don’t feel comfortable having this conversation in front of you as our partner.”

Normally, you would be embarrassed that you presented this side of yourself in front of a potential partner, but embarrassed in front of Lee Soo Man? You care more about a monkey’s opinion about yourself more than his opinion. Besides, it doesn’t seem like he’s phased by your reaction at all. Strangely enough, when you turned toward the founder of LSM Inc., you realized that his arrogant smile had never left his face since the moment you stormed into the conference room. It gave you chills. He seems so artificial that you wouldn’t be surprised if he turned out to be a robot himself.

After Lee Soo Man gave his, “No problem,” your boss stood up from his seat and escorted you both outside the conference room. The moment the door closed, your boss’s true emotion started to show. His eyes grew wide and his fingers grabbed onto his freshly trimmed strands as he breathed out a heavy breath of frustration. Equally as frustrated, if not more, you crossed your arms and made sure your gaze was unwavering; something you needed to learn after being manipulated many times from past experiences with people who work within the entertainment industry. You stepped your metaphoric foot down. Even if your boss had signed a contract without your acknowledgment, you were not going to do the job. That’s not your signature on the papers.

“Are you crazy Y/N?!” He yelled in a hushed tone, careful to not have anyone overhear your conversation. “How could you act like that in front of him?”

“Do I not have a right to be angry? You sold me away to a robot company Jack, a robot company!” You slapped the back of your hand on your other palm, now physically unable to withhold your emotions.

“I didn’t sell you away, you’re getting paid to do this job.” He spat. Now self-aware of how uncivil and unprofessional he was being, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath to ease his nerves. You are going to get nowhere if you bickered like this, and if you keep it up, he knows he is going to say something he regrets.

Now keeping his tone soft, he revealed, “I chose you because you’re the best for this job.”

“Aren’t there other artists under this label who could do this? I’m sure they’re more willing to work with LSM than I am.” You matched his tone, hoping that this time you could get through to him.

“Those other artists can’t produce the same product as you can.” Jack shook his head disapprovingly. “Listen Y/N, I don’t want to waste any more of Mr. Lee’s time, so I’m going to make this short. I apologize in advance if you find any offense in this, but business is business.” You stared intently into his eyes, in hopes to understand where he was going with his next sentence, but his expression could not be read.

“If you can’t do this job, then I’m afraid that I’ll have to drop you from this label.”

You never knew what people meant by having their hearts drop down to their stomachs until now. You felt as if the wind was knocked out of you, your breath short and shaky and your knees weak. All these years… all this work you put in to make a name not only for yourself but for this company… it baffled you that all that effort could be thrown away so easily, just because of some AI company.

As much as you wanted to keep standing up for yourself and your role in the company, you knew there was no use. Your boss didn’t seem to give you a choice either, seeing that he walked back into the conference room shortly after his bombshell. The only thing you could find yourself doing is laughing bitterly to yourself while shaking your head. What in the world are you going to do now?

***

Maybe it isn’t such a good idea to go to a bar when you’re in a bad mood. The constant noise of chatter and the clinking of glasses did not soothe your nerves one bit. Rather, it made you even more annoyed, and on the brink of yelling out at everyone to just be quiet. Instead of making a fool of yourself in public though, you sat with your head under your arms, forehead resting on the cool surface of the bar. Kun, your designated moral support, sat next to you, tapping his glass of whiskey as he thought of what to say to you.

“So, what are you gonna do?”

That simple yet oh so effective sentence had you throwing your head back and releasing a loud groan. Your reaction had your manager shrugging, his face reading, ‘What did I do?’ You rested your cheeks on the palms of your hands as you thought: ‘What can I do?’

Gazing off into a space of nothing, you replied: “I dunno.” You shook your head, your hands still on either side of your face as you deadpanned. “I have no idea what I’m gonna do.” After a moment, something clicked in your head, and you set your arms down and turned to Kun. “Do you want to bail on them and start a company with me?”

He snorted at the inquiry. “You know we can’t do that! At least not right now. It’s way too last minute.”

You looked down at your arms with a sad expression and sighed. “You’re right.” Not only would it be an impulsive decision, but you had no motivation in you to own a whole entertainment company. “What am I gonna do?!” You cried out, your hands covering your face to hide your shame.

“Hey, hey, hey! Stop the whining!” Kun took your hands away from your face, revealing the pout on your face. “Everything is going to be fine! I’m sure of it.”

Kun, a big pep-talk kind of man, was always ready to reassure you when you were in doubt. And boy was he good at it. You still remember when you were growing anxious before your first big concert at an arena. The staff ran around the whole place frantically trying to find where you ran off to. Thankfully, your trustee manager was able to find your hiding spot, which was beside a vending machine in an empty hallway. His comforting words found a way to ease your speedy heart rate, and clear up your clogged mind. After that day, you knew you could always go to him when you were feeling down or unsure of yourself. He’s a friend you could always lean on.

“How are you so sure?” You asked, your voice so small that he almost missed the question.

“Think about it,” he set his glass to the side and folded his hands together, “this contract is only valid for six months. It’s not like you’re going to be working there forever.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “I know that; but still! I don’t want to do it at all!”

“You never know what will happen until you try though! You might end up liking it.” He nudged your elbow as he flashed a convincing smile.

“Me? Liking it?” You scoffed. “Kun, do you even know me?”

He pursed his lips and sighed. This situation was foreign to him since he always knew what to say. But now, it seemed like everything he was saying was making the situation worse. He wanted nothing more than for you to feel comfortable, but that mission is basically impossible knowing how much you oppose the AI industry. But still, Kun is a persistent man. He wasn’t going to back down just yet.

Finally, something clicked.

“Actually, your idea doesn’t sound half bad.” You cocked a curious eyebrow, surprised that he brought up something you spurted out carelessly. “Think about it: you’re still your own person. Even though you’re technically bound by a contract doesn’t mean that you can’t make a decision on your own. He did give you the choice to leave.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “So you’re saying that I should just leave the company?”

He shook his head. “No. What I’m doing is offering a deal. I want you to try to work with LSM for at least three months. If you try it, you might like it! If not, I will quit with you, and we can try to start a company on our own; which I know we both don’t want. But hey, that might be fun too.”

You thought about the proposal for a moment. It wasn’t too much of a bad idea. It was actually quite reasonable. Yeah, you aren’t looking forward to being surrounded by robots and their arrogant creators, but you guess that it’s worth a try. Just for the experience at least.

“I think we have a deal.” You held your hand out.

He took your hand in his and gave it a firm shake.

“Pleasure doing business with you, partner.”

***

You shivered upon entering the entertainment wing of LSM Inc. You were told that the lab would be a bit chilly, which is why you brought a jacket with you, but the cool air still found a way to nip at your skin through the material. You have to say, the lab was not what you expected it to be. Rather than it being some cold, plain science lab, it was made out to be much more casual. Your eyes settled on what looked like a lounge area for the employees, and you watched carefully as they conversed with one another with soft smiles on their faces. Scanning the place even further, you came across capsule areas, in which you assume where the AI robots stayed. As cool as the dome building seemed, you still couldn’t shake off the grudge you had against the company.

“Oh, you’re here!” A man holding a clipboard exclaimed. He ran over to you and Kun, flashing a bright smile. “Mr. Lee told me that we were to be expecting you both. I was hoping to greet you at the main lobby entrance, but I got caught up in another situation, so I apologize. My name is Kim Doyoung, I’ll be your guide for the day.” He politely held his hand out, and you shook it while replying with a small, “Hello.”

“We’re pleased to have you here with us Ms. Y/N. Please, follow me.” He motioned both of you to follow him. “I must say, I’m a huge fan of your music. I’m really happy that you decided to work with us for the next comeback.”

“Oh. Don’t mention it.” You shook your head while smiling slightly.

As Doyoung lead you to wherever he was leading you, he pointed out different areas to help you grow familiar with the lab. You learned that they have many recording and dance studios like regular companies do. You couldn’t help but wonder why, since they could just be programmed to sing the songs, but you didn’t bother to ask.

Finally, Doyoung stopped at a station, but his bright expression was replaced by a puzzled one. He looked around as if he were looking for someone. You, on the other hand, couldn’t help but stare at what stood before you. The tall human-like… thing, stared right back at you with a neutral expression. It gave you chills how real he seemed; like he could walk past you on the street and you wouldn’t bat an eye. Despite how anxious it made you feel, your curiosity outweighed that emotion, and you inched closer to get a better look.

Your tour guide caught you eyeing the bot, and that smile found its way back onto his face. He heard that you might be a bit opposed to working with the AI’s, so he was glad to find you expressing some sort of interest in their prized possession.

“He’s so human-” As if in a trance, you reached out a hand to touch the robot, but it suddenly stepped back just before you got to it.

“I’m sorry, but physical touch is not allowed unless permitted.” The robot announced before flashing a commercial smile.

Doyoung’s chuckled beside you. “For the safety of our bots, we have prohibited anyone from touching them.” He leaned in to add, “Too many fans at fansigns got touchy-feely.” He shook his head disapprovingly.

“Eager to get a feel of my bot already?” You heard a voice from behind you.

When you turned around, you felt as though you got whiplash. The man standing behind you looked identical to the robot standing before you. The only difference was that the robot had blonde short hair and was styled in fancy clothing whilst the man had long brown hair and didn’t seem to care much about what he had on. He had his hands in the pockets of his gray sweatpants, a sly smirk plastered on his face.

“You’re late.” Doyoung deadpanned.

“I’m not late, I was taking a nap in the Pod, and nobody cared enough to wake me up!” The mystery man shrugged.

Finally, you snapped back into reality, but you still had to verify that what you were seeing was real. When you finally accepted what was going on, you couldn’t help but laugh.

“How cute.” You snickered to yourself.

A puzzled expression masked the mystery man’s face. “What’s cute?”

“What is this? The Man and the Muppet?” Your comment had Kun nudging your arm and shooting you a warning look to which you responded with an apologetic gaze.

Not giving the mystery man any time to respond (merely because he does not have the patience), Doyoung spoke up. “This is Suh Youngho, he’s the head AI Developer of our department. He’s the creator of #S127.” Youngho put his hands behind his back and bowed as his greeting.

“I’m guessing his name is Youngho as well?” You pointed to the robot, still standing expressionless.

“He wishes, but no, we call him Johnny!” Youngho swung an arm over his identical twin of a robot, smiling brightly. “After a long and hard fight for it, he will be releasing his first solo album this year.” He wiped a fake tear from under his eye. “Johnny here is my firstborn, so this is going to be really special.”

“And you’re going to help us make it very special!” Doyoung cheered.

“Actually, speaking of that, what exactly am I supposed to be doing? Wouldn’t it just be easier for me to give you guys a demo and you program him to sing it or something?” You asked.

Doyoung was quick to answer. “That would defeat the purpose of AI robots actually! The thing is, they’re supposed to learn to adapt to certain environments, like we do! So they learn how to sing songs and how to dance complex choreography just like we do.”

This time, Kun was the one to ask a question. “Aren’t you guys just putting more work upon yourself?”

“Yes, and no,” Youngho started, “It’s like a domino effect. The more work we give our bots means more research that needs to be done. The more research that is done, means there’s more data we get. The more data we get means a more refined bot, and then it loops.” Kun opened his mouth in an ‘ah’ shape and nodded his head after the explanation. “Hopefully we can get this bad boy to the point where we don’t have to do any more research and he can be a successful artist on his own.”

Even though this was all very interesting, you still couldn’t help but still be opposed to the thought of helping a robot making it in the entertainment industry. You caught a glimpse of the future as you fell into a daydream: AI’s getting a full sweep in wins at big music award shows, discrediting those who actually put their heart and soul into their work. Robots don’t have a heart, nor do they have a soul. Even if they do seem to “work hard,” they will never be on the same level as a human artist. It just won’t be fair, but what even is fair these days?

“So, to answer your question, we need Johnny to learn what it’s like to be a true singer-slash-songwriter. And to achieve that, he’ll be staying with you for the duration of the six months before his solo debut.” Doyoung’s words snapped you out of your daydream and you turned to him with furrowed brows.

“Oh, so this is going to be like ‘Take your robot to work day’ or something? But just for six months instead?” You questioned.

Doyoung looked up as he thought, nodding and shrugging seconds afterward. “Well, yes, but we were hoping that Johnny could get the full package. We planned for him to stay with you 24/7 so that he could really get a feel of your creative process.”

You did a double-take, eyes wide and mouth agape showcasing your shock.

“E-Excuse me? You mean to say that he will be… living with me?” You spoke low and slow, scared of the obvious answer.

You didn’t see anything about this in the contract papers; not that you read it anyway since you weren’t the one who signed them; but still! You could feel your heart race as you thought of him living in your apartment, those brown soulless eyes studying every move you made. The vision made you shudder.

“Affirmative.” Youngho nodded firmly.

Your heart wanted to burst out of your chest. “I’m sorry, but can you guys excuse us for a moment? I need to speak with my manager in private.” You said just before taking Kun’s hand and dragging him somewhere where the two scientists wouldn’t be able to hear your conversation.

“I’m living with the robot?!” You whisper yelled, careful to not have anyone nearby hear your anguish.

“In my defense, I had no idea about this.” Kun shook his head with his hands up.

You paced back and forth as you panicked. You lifted your hands, but not knowing what to do with them, you just clenched them into a fist. It seemed like your life was spiraling out of your control. Nothing is going your way, and it is driving you insane. You need to get your life back in order fast. If not, who knows what will happen?

“I swear, if he wasn’t the one paying me, I would kill Jack right now.” You grumbled.

“Hey, it’s not like Johnny is a real guy. I doubt he would try to do anything to hurt you.” Kun tried his best to reassure you, but it was not doing much to help.

“You don’t know that! We don’t know what those guys are capable of!” You pointed toward Doyoung and Youngho. “That Doyoung guy is nice, but I don’t know if I can trust him. And Youngho seems like he’s gonna be a handful.” You stared at the said man as he and Doyoung bickered, probably about him being late again.

Kun turned his head to see the two men bickering, and the only thing he could do was chuckle. “I think they should be the least of your worries.” His comment made you sigh deeply. “You’ll be fine, I promise you!” He put his hands on your arms to steady you, but you avoided his gaze as you stared down at your feet with a pout on your face. “You know I’m always on speed dial if you need me.”

You nodded your head, still avoiding his gaze.

“Hey,” his call made your eyes meet his. “If all goes wrong, we can always dump a bucket of water over ‘em.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the comment. “Yeah, and then we’ll get sued and possibly go to jail.”

Kun smacked his lips and said, “Eh, I’m sure they’ll be able to fix the guy. A little water can’t do that much damage.” He stepped back and shoved his hands into his pockets. After a small moment of silence, he kicked your shoe gently. “So what do you say? You’re still gonna do it, or no?”

A groan erupted from your chest, and you brought your hands down your face out of frustration. You really don’t want to do this, but a deal is a deal.

“Three months. I’m giving three months.”

“That’s my girl!”

***

You found yourself pacing around your apartment in the early morning. It has been about a week since you first spoke with LSM Inc. From this day forward for the next six months (or three months you hoped), Johnny would be shadowing you at all times. You were a nervous wreck since you didn’t know what to expect from living with a robot. What if he suddenly malfunctioned and they blamed it on you? You can’t handle this type of responsibility. Or what if he malfunctioned and started acting violently toward you?

“Snap out of it!” You whisper yelled at yourself, hitting your temple with your knuckles. You always tend to scare yourself when you’re nervous. Everyone you have spoken to about this matter has told you that you had nothing to worry about, so you made it your goal to not worry. But why is it so hard?

DING!

You swore your heart jumped out of your chest when your doorbell suddenly sounded throughout your home. As much as you wanted your heart rate to calm down, it only began to race faster the closer you got to your door. When your hand touched the gold knob, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath, then you finally opened the door.

Two identical men stood before you, flashing the same bright smile.

“Good morning to you!” Youngho greeted you cheerfully, to which you replied with a dazed “Morning,” before allowing them inside.

You eyed the two men as they entered your living room, confused as to why they were the only ones here. “Where is Mr. Kim?”

Youngho cocked an eyebrow before turning around to face you. “Who?”

“Your coworker. Doyoung, I believe his name is?” You answered.

“Oh!” He let out a hearty laugh. “You don’t have to call him that, it makes him sound old. And I’m older than him, so that kind of hurts my feelings.” He joked, but the only thing you could find yourself doing was nodding your head and looking away.

Sensing your discomfort, he cleared his throat before answering your question. “He’s busy back at the lab. I’m here to make sure John is all set before I leave him in your care.” You winced at his words. It only added to the overwhelming weight on your shoulders.

“Why do you ask? Did you grow fond of him already?” He slung his backpack from around his shoulder onto the floor. You peeked inside when he zipped it open, finding wires bunched inside.

“Uh, no, I wouldn’t say that.” You let out a nervous laugh. “I just find it a bit overwhelming with only you two here.”

A smirk grew on his face. “So, you’re overwhelmed by my great looks huh?” He flipped his hair and shrugged as if it was inevitable to be starstruck by him.

“I look exactly like you,” Johnny spoke for the first time since entering your home.

You had to hold back a laugh at the sudden comment, and Youngho’s reaction didn’t make it any easier.

“So? You’re inspired by me, so therefore I take the credit of our looks!” He stuck his nose up in Johnny’s face. When the scientist turned back toward you, he realized you were holding back a laugh as your pursed your lips and looked away. “What? You find this funny?”

You put your hand up and shook your head. “No, no.”

Youngho was happy to find you in a better mood than when you first met. Sure, you’re still on the shy side, but at least you’re laughing instead of frowning like the first time. He heard that you weren’t exactly on board with working with LSM, so he made it his goal to have this be an enjoyable experience for you. He hopes that one day your negative opinions about AI’s would change. They’re as special to him as music is to you.

“I need to set up Johnny’s things. Is it okay if you tell me where he’s allowed to sleep?” Youngho asked.

You tilted your head to the side, a puzzled expression finding its way on your face. “He sleeps?”

“Yeah!” Youngho nodded simply. “It’s like setting your computer on sleep mode. Machines need rest as much as we do. Johnny here is a hardworking man, he deserves to sleep.”

You supposed he was right. He might break easier if his gears were running constantly. Plus, he was made to function as a human, but you didn’t know that it was to this extent. To say the least, you were impressed at the attention to detail.

You motioned the two to your guest bedroom, and immediately Youngho got to work. Johnny stood next to you as the both of you spectated Youngho’s work, but you were shortly distracted by the robot.

You peered up at the tall machine with a curious gaze, and he turned to you with a kind smile.

“So, I’m not sure if this is an inappropriate question or not, but I’m curious.” Johnny nodded for you to go on. “Should I, like… talk to you like Siri? Or can I talk to you like a normal person?”

You were startled to hear Youngho’s loud snort in the corner of the room, but instead of him being the one to answer, Johnny did.

“You can talk to me like a normal person, don’t worry.” Johnny shook his head. “If it makes you comfortable, you can view me as a human if you’d like. I’m not that much different than you actually. We’re just wired differently.”

“Hey,” Youngho’s stern voice caught both of your attention. “Be proud of who you are, whether you are a human or robot. We’ve been through this John.”

Johnny nodded. “Right, right. My apologies.”

Youngho hated it when Johnny tried to tell others to view him as a human. Not because he believed that Johnny was trying to fool people, but because being a robot is his identity, and he should be proud of that. Sure, it’s not likely that Johnny could feel the feeling of pride, but Youngho could tell that Johnny was insecure. It worried him, but he didn’t want to tap into his database to change anything since he wants Johnny to be as authentic as possible. So for now, Youngho is keeping track of Johnny’s growth as an AI person.

Soon, Youngho was finished with setting up Johnny’s station. In the corner of the guestroom stood a white podium with a screen built in the middle of it. He let out a deep breath of satisfaction as he stepped back and dusted his hands off.

Before you could ask what it was, Youngho was already answering your unspoken question. “This is Johnny’s Communication Center. Every night he’ll have to transfer data from his system so that we’ll know what he’s been up to and see if he’s made any improvements. That’s if he’s not with me at the lab.” Suddenly, his face grew serious. “For legal reasons, I have to let you know that this station is strictly off-limits. There’s confidential information in here that belongs to LSM Inc.”

Even though you were curious, the last thing you wanted to do was get involved with the law, so you took note of his warning. Hopefully, it isn’t something regarding the invasion of privacy.

You shook your head before you could scare yourself even further. Positive thoughts. Think positive thoughts.

“Alright, on that note, I think my work here is done!” Youngho announced. “Can I talk with you in private?” He asked suddenly, pointing a finger at you.

“Me?” You had to double-check whether he was really talking to you or not. He chuckled as he nodded his head, confirming your wonders. “Oh, okay.”

You followed the man out of the room, leaving Johnny to check out the place he’ll be living in for the next few months.

After the two of you reached your living room, Youngho began to speak. “Hey, so, I really want to thank you for working with us on this project. I heard that you’re not the biggest fan of AI’s, so I was surprised to hear you signed the contract.”

You held back from rolling your eyes as the memories of your boss came up. “It’s not like I really had a choice.” You smiled softly and shook your head.

He tilted his head in confusion. “What do you mean by that?”

You tensed up when you realized what you just said. As much as you did not want to do this job, you made it your goal to remain as professional as possible for the sake of your reputation. After working in the entertainment industry for some years, you learned to keep your personal feelings apart from your job. If- no, when you do end up quitting the job after three months, at least LSM won’t be able to say anything negative about you.

Refraining from explaining yourself, you shook your head once more. “Nevermind what I said. Johnny will be safe in my care!”

Youngho pouted, his eyes scanning your face. He wanted you to elaborate, but he had no time to talk further. He needed to get back to the lab.

“Well, I hope so. Call me if you need anything. I need to get going.”

Nodding, you waved goodbye to him before seeing him off. Your feet ended up taking you back to your guest bedroom, where you found Johnny sitting at the end of the bed, staring at the wall in front of him. You caught his attention after you cleared your throat, and instead of staring at you with that lifeless gaze, he smiled brightly.

You mustered up the courage to walk up to him, still stopping some feet away though. Crossing your arms, you tried to think of what to say. While you thought, he examined your face, trying his best to read your expression so he to could come up with something to talk about. The silence was awkward for you, but Johnny never sensed the discomfort. He was happy to be here with you. You are the gold coin on his road to success, so he decided to cherish you.

“So… it’s quite early and I usually don’t head to the studio until the evening. Is there anything you wanted to do?” You asked.

“There isn’t anything I can think of…” he shrugged his shoulders.

Suddenly, your stomach grumbled and your hand covered it as a reflex. You were so nervous this morning that you didn’t have much of an appetite, but hunger was catching up to you now.

“I didn’t have breakfast yet.” You laughed nervously. “Are you… able to eat anything?” You felt weird asking such a question since he’s a robot after all, but who knows what he can and cannot do? Technology is so advanced these days. Besides, isn’t he made to live like a human anyway?

In all truthfulness though, Johnny isn’t allowed to eat-- sometimes. In special cases, he can nibble on a snack, but eating a full course meal was a no-go. But Johnny was aware of your discomfort of being with him, and he was determined to make you feel the opposite. As long as he doesn’t clog his gears, taking the risk should be okay.

“I know of this breakfast house Youngho likes to go to every now and then. Do you want to go there?”

Your face lit up at the suggestion. You were more excited at the thought of being around others rather than eating. Being in the house alone with Johnny was really starting to suffocate you, and you needed out immediately. Maybe some fresh air and being surrounded by humans will make you feel somewhat better.

The two of you were quick to leave the apartment after you accepted the offer. Johnny led the way to the restaurant, and on your way, he let you know that it was not far from your home. Come to find out, it was within walking distance. You wondered how you never noticed the humble breakfast house, but after thinking about it for a while, you realized that you are always on the go. Ever since you moved to your apartment, you never took the time to stop and get to know your surroundings.

“What’s wrong?” Johnny’s question snapped you out of your thoughts.

“Huh? Oh… nothing, just thinking.” Finally, you noticed that you were standing in front of the restaurant. “Let’s head inside.”

Surprisingly, Johnny was easy to talk to. Even though he had somewhat awkward responses to your questions, it was never boring or dry. You got to know about his life in the lab, and even how Youngho decided to grow his hair out because people mistook him for Johnny so many times. His story was so interesting, and it kept you on your toes, itching to hear more. It was beyond what you could ever imagine.

“So what is your goal?” You suddenly asked.

He tilted his head in curiosity. “Can you elaborate for me please?”

“You know, like what’s your goal as a singer? Or even just as a living being?”

He sat back in his seat as he pondered on the simple, yet deep question. It’s something he’s never had time to think about. Actually, it’s something he never considered thinking about. Ever since he was first powered up, he has always been working. But working towards what, is the question he began to ask himself.

“I… honestly don’t know.” He shook his head after moments of thinking.

“Really?” Your eyes grew wide at his response. “If that’s the case, then why do you expect to learn how to write music? You need to have some desire or passion to do so.”

He crossed his arm over his chest and rested his chin on his other hand. “I guess you’re right… But how do I find out what my goal is?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “What are you living for? What’s your purpose? You have to ask yourself these types of questions.”

It worried Johnny that he didn’t have a passion despite calling himself a music artist. But he knew he needed to figure it out fast because he really does want to be successful in this field. But is there anything really to work for being the person he is?

***

The next day, you were back at the lab for Johnny’s first checkup. The first night at the studio was not a success, which wasn’t surprising considering that he had nothing to write about. This was exactly what you were afraid of. No matter how busy he might be, he hasn’t gotten the real human experience, so what really can he write about? Hard drives and wires?

“Hey Babysitter!” Youngho greeted you cheerfully after spotting you and Johnny some feet away.

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Babysitter?”

“Yeah, you are taking care of my kid after all.” He laughed, ruffling Johnny’s hair, to which Johnny slapped his hand away. “How was the first day?”

You sighed deeply, thinking about yesterday’s events. “It went okay, but we made no progress in the studio.”

Youngho smacked his lips. “Well, that’s alright. We still have six months ahead of us. There’s still time left.”

“That’s true.” You nodded your head. “But on the bright side, Johnny treated me to the best breakfast I had in a while! So brownie points for that.”

Your words came out too fast for Johnny to stop you. He froze, his hand slapping his mouth in shock. He is dead meat.

“He didn’t eat with you, did he?” Youngho blinked at you. Sensing the tension in the air, you nodded slowly, but kept your mouth shut. “Oh my-” Youngho stepped back as if he was about to faint.

He clenched his fist against his forehead and squeezed his eyes shut. You felt like you did something wrong, but you just couldn’t figure out what. You were sure Johnny would tell you if you did.

“Johnny, just head to the back, okay?” Youngho said, his eyes still closed.

“Yes sir.” Johnny rushed away without another word.

“Did I do something wrong...?” You asked shyly.

“No you didn’t, don’t worry.” Youngho sighed. “He knows better. If he eats too much he could clog his gears. But mostly, I just hate cleaning him out, it’s so tedious!” He groaned at the thought of all the clumps of food he has to take out.

“Oh my gosh! I wouldn’t have let him if I have known!” You exclaimed.

Youngho shook his head. “It’s okay, you didn’t know. He seems to be functioning well, so he should be fine.”

You were worried at the thought of Johnny breaking while under your supervision. Imagine getting sued by a company that handles AI’s? Your life would be over! You can’t let that happen, you won’t allow it to happen.

“Is there any way for me to know if he’s okay or not? Like does he feel pain or no?” You asked. You needed to know just in case you had to rush back to the lab if anything happens. You’re not going to be the blame for anything.

“Yes, and no.” Youngho went on to explain. “He can feel you if you tap him on the shoulder, but if you punch him, it’ll still feel like a mere tap. But the only time he does feel pain is when something in his system malfunctions.” You tilted your head, still not catching on. He found your expression cute, and he couldn’t hold back a smile. “Just think about it: when you’re using your phone, it can feel your taps as you scroll. But if you drop it on the ground, you don’t hear it screaming out in pain.”

“Ah, I think I get it now!” You nodded your head fervently.

“Right! But we did program him to feel some type of pain just so we will know if something wrong is happening to the important parts.”

“That makes a lot of sense… Man, you guys really have it all laid out huh?” You couldn’t help but be impressed at the amount of thought that went into creating Johnny.

“Yeah, well, it’s nothing much.” Johnny shoved his hands in his pockets as he shrugged nonchalantly. As laid back as he was acting, nothing could hide the blush that crept onto his face. He’s a sucker for people acknowledging his work.

“Well, as much as I want to argue with you about that, I have to get to my schedule! Kun is waiting for me outside and I can’t keep him waiting. I’ll be back soon!” You waved as you began to walk away.

Youngho waved back to you as he watched you exit the lab. He sighed to himself, not knowing what he was going to do with Johnny. But knowing that it is best to get the job done now rather than later, Youngho dragged his feet to the operation room where Johnny would be waiting.

Johnny tensed up once Youngho entered the room, and he avoided eye contact in hopes he wouldn’t blow up at him. Thankfully, Youngho didn’t have the energy to yell.

“Why did you do that?” The scientist asked simply.

“She was uncomfortable and hungry, so it was the only thing I could think of.” Johnny justified his past actions, but Youngho wasn’t having any of it.

“Let’s just get this over with, and then we’ll check your data.” Youngho sighed as he started to prep for the cleanup.

“Wait, wait! I have a question.” Johnny stopped him. “Do you have a goal?”

Youngho was taken aback by the sudden question. “Yes… I think so? I guess it depends on what the goal is for.” He wasn’t very sure if he had a set goal, but he did know that he is satisfied where he is right at this moment. The only thing he is concerned about is making sure #S127 remains on the rise.

“Do you think… I’m able to have a goal?”

“You can have the goal of winning a Grammy!” Youngho suggested.

Johnny scoffed. “Well, yeah, but I’m talking about for myself. Am I able to find a goal or a passion at least for myself?”

Youngho blinked at his robot. He was at a loss for words. It seems like a simple yes or no question, but there are levels to it. The right answer to this question was up in the air somewhere, and Youngho was finding a hard time finding it. What in the world did you do to his bot?

“I’m sure you can if you put your mind to it,” Youngho answered. He grabbed his phone and began texting you, suggesting that the two of you grab coffee when you get back to the lab. He needed to talk to you to figure out the meaning behind Johnny’s words.

Some hours later, you were at a Starbucks near the lab sitting across from Youngho. You were nervous you did something bad after all, but you couldn’t get yourself to figure out what you’ve done. But thankfully, Johnny was the first to speak.

“So, Johnny asked me a question that kind of shocked me. I’m supposing you asked him the same question yesterday.” He began.

“What question are you talking about?” You asked.

“If he has a goal. He’s been thinking about it really hard.”

You felt as if a huge weight was lifted off your shoulders. You thought of something way worse, even though you talked to Johnny a handful of times yesterday, and the conversations the two of you had were never bad or questionable. Your nervousness always found a way to get to you still.

“Well yeah! He needs to have a passion in order to be a real artist. And to have a passion, he needs to have a goal.” You nodded.

“Are you sure he can have a passion? He’s a robot.”

You were surprised at his response. “Aren’t you the one who created him? I thought you would know this! Writing songs isn’t just jotting down words on a piece of paper you know. It’s much more to it than that.”

Youngho sighed. You’re right, and it bothered him. It’s not you that he’s bothered by, but the fact that he really doesn’t have everything figured out. He’s so used to being a genius and having questions answered before people could even ask them, but the fact that he doesn’t have an answer prepared for something as simple as this messed with his head. How did he expect to make a successful idol group if his idols can’t even write music on their own?

“I could always just give you a song to use.” You suggested.

“No, I don’t want that,” Youngho answered quickly. “We do that every comeback. We need to actually make some improvements.”

You took a sip of your coffee as you watched Youngho try to figure out what to do. You knew Johnny writing his own song was too good to be true, but you have to admit, there is a part of you that believes in him. If he can read and understand human emotion, there are chances for him to be able to write a decent song.

“What was your purpose in making Johnny and the other guys in the group?” You asked suddenly.

Youngho frowned at the memories that came up in his mind. “I actually didn’t create Johnny and the others to be idol singers.” You furrowed your eyebrows at the bombshell. “I actually intended for them to be soldiers.”

Your jaw dropped. You would have never thought of #S127 fighting in a war. It’s a complete 180 from what they are doing right now.

“What made you change your mind?!” To say you were shocked would be an understatement.

“I didn’t change my mind.” He laughed. “The government rejected my offer, but they told me about LSM Inc. and now here I am. Lee Soo Man suggested that I use my bots to make an idol group, and I wanted nothing to do with it. But it was either I make a group, or be broke with robots that have no purpose.”

So he was in a similar situation that you’re in right now. It made you feel happy to see that he seems to enjoy his current circumstances, but still, you can’t get yourself to accept that you have to share competition with AIs who can’t even figure out how to write a song on their own. Despite that, you were growing fond of Johnny, and you wanted him to be able to find his passion. He’s the only AI you would allow to win.

“I would have never thought of Johnny being a soldier.” You laughed, shaking your head. “Considering that this is your current circumstance, you need to figure out if they’re able to create their own goals for themselves. I understand the base goal is to win awards at big music shows and hit the charts, but there needs to be a better foundation.”

Youngho couldn’t help but admire you as you gave your advice. Not only are you beautiful, but you’re thoughtful, and the more you spoke, the more it attracted him to you. Where were you when he needed you the most? The company has worked with so many different artists before you, but you’re the only one that is actually helping. He just wanted to take you into his arms and thank you repeatedly at this moment.

From here on out, Youngho was determined to find out what Johnny’s goal is. Whether it is impossible or not, he is going to make sure Johnny becomes the best songwriter there is.

***

The three months had gone by before you knew it, and in all honesty, you didn’t want to quit the job. Johnny and you had grown closer the more you worked together, and you enjoyed seeing his progress as he worked to become a better and more authentic writer. And Youngho and you also hit it off very well, becoming closer friends the more you talked. You also realized that you were catching feelings for the scientist, but you ignored it, believing that it was nothing but a simple crush. ‘It will pass overtime,’ you would tell yourself.

Kun on the other hand did nothing to remind you of the deal that you made with him since he knew you forgot about it. He enjoyed seeing you have fun made him happy, he never liked seeing you in a sour mood. He too has gotten close with Youngho as well after going out drinking with him and Doyoung several times. Just like tonight.

This time, you decided to join the guys tonight for drinks at the bar. Once you found out Kun was hanging out with the two scientists, you felt left out and invited yourself to the next outing. It wasn’t like they minded though since they love your company.

“So, I heard that you don’t really like AI’s Y/N. Can I ask you why that is?” Doyoung asked.

You poked your lip out as you thought. “Well, it’s mainly because nothing they do feels true to me. It’s all programmed. Not only that, but they’re slowly taking over our jobs. I’m not exactly comfortable with that.”

Youngho shook his head. “I get what you’re saying, but that’s not necessarily true. AI’s, at least the ones we make at LSM, is made to function like humans. So everything they do is learned after we establish a little bit of a foundation we put in their program. And there are still significantly more humans who have jobs than AI’s, but I do get your concern.”

What he said had you thinking. You supposed he was right, but you still felt so odd about it. But you figured it’s just something that you’re going to have to learn to accept as time goes on. The only AI you trust is Johnny, and that’s all that matters to you right now.

“You might be right, but it’s going to take me some time to get used to them. I like Johnny at least.” You shrugged.

“And that’s all I need to hear.” Youngho smiled widely.

You giggled at his antics. “Excuse me, I need to go to the bathroom really quickly. I’ll be back. Don’t buy any more drinks without me!”

“No promises!” Kun called after you, laughing afterward.

Youngho tapped his glass, trying to decide whether the question he has is worth asking or not. But he needed to muster up the courage since it’s an important question. For him at least.

“Hey, Kun, I have a question.” Youngho started.

“Hit me.” Kun nodded.

“Do you… like Y/N?”

Kun threw his head back in laughter. “What?! Where did that come from?”

Youngho could only scratch the back of his neck and let out a small laugh. He was embarrassed, but it’s something he has been wondering about forever now.

“He’s been waiting to ask that question for ages!” Doyoung exclaimed. “He wouldn’t stop bugging me about it.”

“Well, to answer your question, no I don’t. She’s like a sister to me.” Kun shook his head simply. “You should ask her out on a date. I’m sure she’d like that.”

Youngho shook his head fervently. “I don’t know if I can do that. Not right now at least.”

“You never know until you do it.” Doyoung sing-songed. Kun couldn’t help but laugh.

“Shut up, she’s coming back!” Youngho whisper yelled.

For the rest of the night, Youngho thought about you as the four of you enjoyed more drinks. He knew he had feelings for you, but he wasn’t sure if you felt the same as he did. For now, he just wanted to take more time to read your actions before he let you know of his feelings. He needs time to muster up the courage.

The four of you decided to end the night after realizing how tipsy you have gotten. Kun realized that you had a packed schedule the next day, so they needed to get you home immediately. He already knew you were going to regret it later on.

Kun had made sure you got up to your apartment safely. You stopped him at the door, saying that you could get in the house yourself, and just go home. He at least opened the door for you before leaving, hoping that you’ll get to bed right away rather than finding things to do around the house.

When you entered your home, you began to drag your feet toward your room, that was until Johnny stopped you in the hallway.

He leaned forward and sniffed. “Were you drinking?”

You giggled. “Yeah, I was.”

“You might want to get to bed. We have a long day tomorrow.” Johnny pouted at your condition. Looking at how you were, you for sure were going to experience a hand hangover in the morning.

“Yeah, yeah, I will.” You waved him off. You stepped forward to start going to your room, but you paused and stepped back. You looked up at Johnny and sucked in a sharp breath as you thought. “You look a lot like Youngho.”

Johnny blinked, confused at the sudden revelation. “I am aware of that.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Are you just saying that because you are Youngho? Are you trying to fool me?” You poked your finger into his chest.

“No…” Johnny wasn’t sure how to respond to your absurd words. He’s never been in this situation before.

“Well, Youngho, goodnight. I will see you tomorrow.” You smiled at him. Rather than leaving, you stood there, staring up at who you believed to be Youngho through your heavy eyelids. Suddenly you got on your toes and pecked his lips softly. “Rest well Youngho.”

Johnny stood in shock after you left to your room. What was he going to tell Youngho? He has never allowed this to happen before. The kiss was so unexpected that he couldn’t dodge it! He hoped he wouldn't get in trouble.

The next day, Johnny was at the lab for the daily check-in.

“How was the night at the Babysitter’s?” Youngho asked as he plugged Johnny’s chip into his computer to retrieve yesterday’s data.

“She kissed me.” Johnny found himself blurting.

“She what?!” Youngho squeaked.

“She kissed me.” He repeated.

Youngho couldn’t believe his ears. He shook his head, slapping his hand on his forehead. “Huh?!”

“She kissed me—“

“I heard you the first two times!” Youngho yelled.

Youngho suddenly turned around to his computer and rushed to retrieve any video data if there were any. And there was. The camera hidden behind Johnny’s eyes wasn’t always on, but they only started recording if Johnny felt that he needed to. Youngho played the video, nervous about what he’s about to see. But all that worry washed away after seeing your drunken smile. Seeing you kiss his robot amused him more than he thought, as he couldn’t help but snort and laugh hysterically at what he just watched. It was something he never thought he would see or even hear about.

“She thought I was you,” Johnny revealed, which shut Youngho’s laughter up.

“W-Wait, really?” He was shocked.

“Yeah. She kept calling me Youngho.” Johnny nodded. “I think she likes you.”

A blush crept up Youngho’s neck, and he couldn’t hold back the grin on his face. Knowing that you had the same feelings he currently has sent him over the moon. He just wished you kissed him rather than his lookalike.

Youngho waited until the evening to talk to you so that you were free from all your schedules. The two of you spoke at the convenience store near your apartment, enjoying a canned beverage.

“So… Johnny found out what his goal is,” Youngho revealed.

You gasped, clapping your hand over your mouth. “For real? What is it?” You were slightly disappointed that you didn’t know what it was first since you’re the one that is with him most of the time, but you could care less since the whole point is that he knows what he’s working for now.

“Well, his goal is to gain more of a human understanding. He wants to be able to truly write a song. And he found a passion in… people, to simply put it.” Youngho chuckled. “He talks more and asks more questions than he has ever had before.”

“That’s great! I’m so glad, I was really rooting for him.” You cooed.

“I just want to thank you so much. He has been making so much improvement since he started working with you. You really helped us out. You helped him out.” Youngho smiled softly.

“Oh it’s no biggie. I’m glad I was of some help.” You laughed. “He’s the one who did most of the work, so the credit should go to him.”

“I’m supposing that’s why you kissed him then? Because you’re proud of him?” Youngho asked suddenly, a playful smirk on his face.

“What?” Your eyes grew wide in shock. “I kissed him?”

Youngho’s cackles filled the air. “You don’t remember? Ah, I suppose you wouldn’t since you were so drunk last night. Johnny told me you thought he was I, and you kissed him.”

Your fingertips touched your lips after the memories started coming back to you. “Oh my gosh!” You groaned, dragging your hands down your face. “This is so embarrassing!”

“Don’t be embarrassed! Actually, I’m quite flattered.” Youngho reassured you. “Just be sure to kiss me next time.”

You brought your hands down from your face so you could get a good look at his expression. You had to figure out whether he was joking or not.

And to answer your unspoken question, he cupped your cheek with his hand and placed a soft kiss on your lips.

“Please tell me this feeling is mutual.” You whispered.

Youngho chuckled, poking your nose as he sat back in his seat.

“Don’t worry. I want you to be mine as much as you want me to be yours. You have me baby.”

#nct #nct 127 #nct scenarios #johnny suh #johnny #nct u #nct imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #johnny imagines #johnny x reader #johnny scenarios #johnny drabbles #johnny seo #johnny fluff

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theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin · 3 years

Note

Who do you think is the most incompetent character in Canon HP? I think it's Fudge or Lockhart, but then again they're only incompetent in SOME areas. So, what do you think?

Oh my god, there are so many contenders.

I feel like this is almost every single character. We’re talking Harry who only seems to accomplish his goals by divine luck. We’re talking Umbridge whose methods are so ridiculous I can’t even imagine what she imagines the outcome of her actions will be. We’re talking Lockhart (though I’m not actually sure incompetence is the right word, it’s more that he’s so drowning in narcissism he can’t even recognize his abilities, Lockhart is a wonder). Fudge, for obvious reasons...

I’m not even sure where to begin with this, really.

I guess I have to go with Fudge just because his incompetency is not only a near constant but it’s also often nearly lethal on a catastrophic level.

Just, god, Fudge, you are a wonder.

Let’s start with Sirius’ breakout from Azkaban.

Fudge panics and thus causes the population to panic. Advertisements are being run by the hour, Sirius Black’s face is on every newspaper page. This is in a society where dropping the very name Voldemort sends the population into fits of terror. Fudge could very easily have inspired riots and then gone and joined the riots himself because Sirius broke out of Azkaban. I am mildly surprised that Diagon Alley wasn’t completely in flames by the time Harry got there. And this is on the competent end for Fudge.

We have Fudge running advertisements on the Muggle television. Now, I’m sure somebody told Fudge this was a brilliant idea. It even sounds like a good idea if you don’t think about it much: this way he can’t even hide in the muggle world. The trouble is what if somebody looks into this? Sirius Black is being mentioned every hour in the muggle media? What high security prison did he come from? What crime did he commit? Did Fudge even bother to make up a fake muggle history for this fake muggle murderer he just made up? Remember, the coverup for the muggles Sirius supposedly murdered was a gas leak, so Sirius can’t be blamed for that. I expect some muggles started asking questions and either the obliviators had to work overtime, Fudge got lucky, or a more insidious but likely answer is that the wizarding world didn’t even notice that they had dropped the ball. They’re so secure in their belief that they have the statute under control, that muggles are inherently gullible and stupid, that one day the statute of secrecy will break without them even knowing.

Fudge then loses Harry Potter. How does he manage this? Harry walks out the door of his muggle home and steps onto a bus. I imagine this nearly gave Fudge a heart attack but the fact was that no one had told Harry to stay there, Harry wasn’t aware that there was even any danger, and there was nothing at all preventing him from doing it. The kid calls the goddamn Night Bus and steps right up on board. Fudge’s solution of what to do with Harry later? He tells Harry to stay in the Leaky Cauldron, doesn’t even assign him a minder, just has him stay there. Good lad, please don’t die.

Fudge then sends soul eating demons who nobody understands to Hogwarts in case Sirius Black might show up to ‘protect the children’. Within only a few hours on the train one student, Harry Potter at that, passes out from dementor exposure. Fudge is convinced he can control these things. The dementors show up to a quidditch match. Fudge is so unbelievably lucky that half the Hogwarts population wasn’t eaten. Fudge, however, is so incompetent and short sighted he doesn’t even realize he’s lucky. Of course the dementors listen to the ministry! He’s the minister of magic! To top this, the dementors aren’t even effective, they fail to catch Sirius Black.

Also, a smaller thing of Fudge but very in character, Harry learns about Sirius Black through the world’s most contrived means. He happens to be hanging out in Hogsmeade where he’s not supposed to be, hiding under Ron and Hermione’s table, and Fudge drops by. Fudge then loudly says, “Ah, Rosmerta, random barmaid! Have I told you all about the time Sirius Black was responsible for the murder of Harry Potter’s parents? No? WELL SIT RIGHT DOWN” This isn’t quite as bad as murdering all the children, but it’s pretty ridiculous.

But hey, Fudge was there to almost murder a hippogriff who attacked Malfoy’s son? I mean, it escaped, but... FUDGE DOES THINGS!

Later, fifth year, he runs the smear campaign against Harry Potter. Now, running a smear campaign against a fifteen-year-old is a shitty thing to do but that’s not why it’s incompetent. It’s incompetent because he goes all out. Actively calling Harry Potter, beloved savior of the nation, a narcissistic liar just gives him credence. It’s too strong and it only works (not even for the full population at that) because people are so terrified of Voldemort they’d accept this Rita Skeeter tabloid madness rather than face that again. As it is, Harry has his interview in the Quibbler, which is basically the National Inquirer, AND PEOPLE READ IT. THAT’S INSANE. YOU FAILED FUDGE. YOU FAILED SO HARD.

A better plan would have been to acknowledge Harry had been through a traumatic event. Cedric somehow died in the tournament, Harry has lived all his life with this crushing expectation he’s defeated the dark lord, Harry probably watched this happened and is in such traumatized shock he believes Voldemort did it. Worse, Dumbledore probably convinced Harry somehow that Voldemort had done it, and Harry not knowing what happened and trusting his headmaster agreed. This would have been far more effective.

But Fudge is panicking. So he goes even more ridiculous than a smear campaign led by Rita Skeeter (which, of all the people to pick, you choose her?)

He sets loose Delores Umbridge. Umbridge’s first brilliant plan is to send dementors to a muggle neighborhood. What was the outcome of this? Was Harry Potter supposed to be terrified into silence? Was the entire muggle neighborhood supposed to be eaten? Was Harry Potter, savior of the wizarding world who had just claimed Voldemort had returned, supposed to be assassinated without people thinking Voldemort did it? Seriously, I’ve turned this over in my head, and I have no idea what the ideal outcome here was supposed to be. Just that Umbridge is nuts.

As it is, the best thing for them happens, Harry Potter stops it and is put on trial. Except then they get accused of somehow losing track of dementors. They try to brush this away with there being no witnesses and Harry being insane but then Mrs. Figg shows up. So, either the ministry is so incompetent that soul eating demons are roaming the country or the ministry just tried to assassinate Harry James Potter, the boy who lived. Fudge saves himself by going, “Oh gee, look at the time, case dismissed.”

Despite Umbridge having gone completely mad and unhinged, Fudge sends her to Hogwarts. There she tortures students, presumably to silence them, but again it just gives Harry Potter credence. Why is Umbridge trying so hard to silence these people? She directly fuels Harry Potter building a seeming guerilla army of school children planning a coup of Fudge in Dumbledore’s name. It’s Fudge’s worst nightmare. More, she actively sabotages the education of an entire generation, students actually drop out of school. And then she fails to do the one thing she went to Hogwarts to do: silence Harry Potter.

Then, of course, Fudge finds out the ministry is lousy with spies, Voldemort really is back, and he just has to stand there and go, “Welp, guess I’m fired.” Yes, Fudge, you’re fired.

In short, I can’t think of a single action he takes that is in any way competent. More, nearly every action he takes could have very easily resulted in dozens of deaths.

#ask #anon #headcanons #minister fudge #harry potter #incompetence #there are a lot of incompetent characters in harry potter but it's hard to top fudge

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chickenmcfly1 · 3 years

Text

Marty with superpowers headcannons?

(Again, I have no idea how the science behind any of this would work so just bear with me)

So the exposure to plutonium without cell rejuvenation gives him superpowers. Marty can briefly manipulate time by freezing and speeding up time around him, and he can manipulate space by phasing in and out through solid material

basically since his powers came from the DeLorean and interaction between radiation and the flux capacitor, Marty basically becomes a weak human flux capacitor and can manipulate space and time(sketchy science is sketchy)

He discovers them about a week after part three ends because his body finally transitions out of survival mode.

Through the trilogy, Marty is running on like 12 total hours of sleep, 1 meal, no water, 4 head injuries, 3 of which are traumatic brain injuries he doesn’t really accidentally draw on said powers. He’s weak, pretty injured, and exhausted, and his body’s probably focused on healing and staying upright, not manipulating space and time (also I always forget that by definition and time spend unconscious, Marty sustained three traumatic brain injuries in the span of 18 days? That’s gonna be fun for his family doctor to deal with at his next wellness checkup)

After he returns to lone pine 1885, Marty hasn’t really been sleeping bc he’s plagued by near constant nightmares and he’s been super on edge and anxious so he hasn’t really been eating and he’s overwhelmed and exhausted and just crashes in bed one day. And his body is like “oh we’re finally resting! we feel better! Let’s check out these new body functions!” (Again, This is not how bodies work but just humor me)

Then, the next morning, Marty wakes up under the bed? And Marty knows he’s a weird sleeper and he kinda just assumes he thrashed and moved around in his sleep and fell off of the bed, but that’s not possible bc he’s in the exact position he was on top of the bed. There’s also this heavy plastic keyboard case next to him, blocking the only side of the bed he could’ve rolled under from. Otherwise he would’ve had to roll over his guitar, fallen off of the bed, and rolled back under?

But Marty is 100% not in the mood to deal with any more strangeness and weird situations. He’s already overwhelmed and confused, he misses Doc so much it physically hurts, and he’s got real gigs lined up through the holidays and he really doesn’t have the mental energy for this so he just kinda ignores it and goes to school

But strange things keep happening? In math, when he knocks his calculator off of his desk during a test, panicking about how embarrassing it’s going to be when it hits the ground and makes and noise, making everyone turn around and look at him, the calculator just slows down, almost ceasing it’s free fall until Marty grabs it? And the few people who were turning around to look at Marty also have stopped, heads turned halfway to Marty before jerking back to their tests?

The worst one is when he’s on his way home, about to get on his skateboard. Instead for getting on, though, his foot goes through his skateboard. And just when Marty thinks that ordeal is over, his hand goes through the bumper of a car he tries to grab, sending Marty spiraling into the street. As cars zip past him and Marty’s in the middle of an intersection, thinking about how Doc was right and this little car surfing habit of his is gonna end him up in the hospital, the cars around him suddenly stop and seem to freeze then move in slow motion, just long enough for Marty to get to safety before continuing to speed down the streets as if nothing ever happened

Marty continues his commute home, feeling absolutely sick to his stomach, because there’s really one reason he could be passing through solid objects. He’s fading from existence. And that doesn’t explain the other weird stuff, but Marty’s way too worked up to consider the little details. The only thought running through is head is that there’s absolutely no way this can be happening again because this was supposed to be done it was all supposed to be better now

He goes home to get his truck, barely concealing his near-hyperventilating from Biff who always seems to be waxing one of their cars, and his dad who’s sitting on the porch, and drives to Doc’s. The lab is obviously empty, but being here makes him feel a little safer, and a little more clear headed.

He doesn’t eat or sleep that night and that puts his body back into survival mode, so his powers calm down again and Marty is beyond confused but just chalks all that up to exhaustion induced hallucinations? Which is a little scary because Marty is absolutely sure that all of that happen, and he’s really hoping he’s not going insane, but he’d rather be insane than fading from existence because option b means he messed up the time stream and that means that a bunch of other people potentially in danger and Marty’s already bucking under the guilt of 1985 A, he doesn’t need this too.

Obviously Marty has not been the same since time travel, but Jennifer notices he seems extra off as of late, so after school that day, she drags him to her house and asks her to tell her everything. And he knows he shouldn’t, but Doc’s not here and desperately needs to talk to someone and Jennifer is always so grounded and level headed and he needs that right now.

After 18 days of trauma chaos and Marty’s new affliction is described, Jennifer, who is a huge comic book and science fiction nerd, tells him in the most cheerful but matter of fact voice that he obviously has superpowers!

Marty just gives her his signature look of wide eyed, panicked confusion

Jennifer reassures him and tells him to leave a note for Doc where Doc left the DeLorean for him and ‘55 Doc. Marty likes that idea, but he’s still not entirely sure about the whole superpowers thing. So Jennifer tells him to attempt doing those things on purpose, and sure enough, all the things Jennifer makes fall off of her desk chair, including herself (which is the scariest trust fall of Marty’s life) slow just long enough for Marty to right them. Similarly his hands and legs pass through objects. Jennifer suggests he try to phase through the wall to see how strong his powers are, but Marty has a horrifying image of him stuck between Jennifer’s bedroom and closet wall forever, and he decides he’s not trying that own without Doc.

After a few trial runs, a very excited Jennifer’s going on about all the good things he could do the community with these powers and all the cool things he could do, but Marty’s anxious and overwhelmed and just wants to lay low. So he has powers, doesn’t mean he has to use them. Besides, Marty doesn’t know how to explain to Jennifer that after all the ‘good’ he did in 1985A and other timelines, the best way for Marty to serve the community is to probably stay far far far away from where he can mess anything up. Jennifer is, of course very understanding and she accompanies him to leave a letter for Doc

That night, Marty’s scared awake by a sudden rap on his window and wakes up to see Doc? And after Marty’s fight of flight response calms and his heartbeats slows enough for him to function, he just kind of sits there, convinced this is a dream and any second now, Doc will open up his lab coat, revealing bullet wounds and collapse and Marty will have to watch again. But then Doc calls his name and tells him he got his letter. And Marty is overwhelmed with joy and after flinging open the window and tackling Doc with a hug and then giving Clara and the boys another one, they go to the lab and figure everything out

Marty does, indeed, have superpowers. He’s basically a mini flux capacitor and Doc is over the moon thrilled, then panics and checks Marty over to make sure he’s still fine and healthy and that there are no negative side effects, then goes back to being thrilled

Idk what direction I wanna take this in? Whether Marty is just a normal person doing normal person things who just happens to have superpowers or if he and Doc get another crazy adventure, this time, involving superpowers, but yeah. If anyone wants to add on and take this in a direction, pls do bc I have no idea what comes next, lol.

#back to the future #marty mcfly #doc and marty #doc brown #bttf #Jennifer Parker #george mcfly #lorraine mcfly #biff tannen

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libermachinae · 3 years

Text

Fault Lines Under the Living Room

Part IV: Touch - Chapter 11: Ripple

Also on AO3 Summary: They’ve only just arrived at their destination when things start to go wrong. Word Count: 2193

---

“Picking up some light readings,” Drift reported. “Limited tech, similar to Vitrious. You getting anything?”

“Just a massive, concentrated energy spike a few degrees northeast,” Rodimus said. “Recent exposure, Cybertronian markers.”

“When’s the last time you took that rig in for a tune-up?”

Ratchet hated having to repeat himself, but either Drift was incapable of recognizing the severity of his ship’s disrepair (unlikely) or he was being even more obstinate than normal. Exchanging their vessels’ specs had revealed the truly horrific condition the ship was in: fuel efficiency half of what it should have been, unreliable pressure seals, thrusters that should not have made it into the air, let alone off a planet. That he had survived transit was a—not a miracle, an insult to probability and reasonable calculation of—

Rodimus put a hand on his shoulder and tried to think calm thoughts. Drift had survived. It didn’t make sense, and maybe the luck would run out now that it had been acknowledged, but—

Ratchet halfheartedly swatted at his hand, more like a firm pat.

No wonder you liked him so much. Morale officer doesn’t suit you. He failed to dislodge Rodimus’ hand and didn’t bother trying again.

“Haven’t had the time.” The sound of flipping switches was followed by a hard smack from Drift’s end, rounded out by imprecise grumbling. Drift’s report had lacked any details on the state of his ship’s user interface, but the variety of language he had spoken to it with, impressive even by Ratchet’s standards, gave the sense that it was functioning at about the same level as everything else: barely.

“Still think it’s an outpost?” Rodimus asked.

“Lot of things it could be,” Drift said, voice accompanied by a few more mechanical noises. “We’d need more info to say for sure. Or a visual.”

Rodimus considered the readouts in front of him. There were more he hadn’t read out, but only because he didn’t know how. Ratchet translated what he could, but they were trying to keep his focus on piloting which meant Rodimus couldn’t spend too long wondering about the more mystifying aspects of his screen. Was that box in the top corner a map, or a graph? He didn’t know, and he had to look away before it overtook their other priorities.

“There are also stockpiles, energon plants, and decoys out there,” Drift went on. “Traps, if you’re really unlucky. Whole lot of empty shacks; lot of boltholes won’t have anyone living in them most of the time.”

“On the move a lot?” Rodimus asked.

“Sure. Only one in a dozen stellar systems will have a planet good for energon harvesting, and then there’s having to be vigilant about competition and enforcers. Sometimes needs will change or new opportunities will open up, and a crew will split up to deal with it.” He sounded annoyed at that, briefly breaking from his researcher-describing-mysterious-outgroup tone.

“Couple Decepticons on holiday accidentally give you the slip?” Rodimus asked, just to keep him there.

“More like an entire platoon,” Drift said, rising to it so quickly that they could only assume he’d been waiting for someone to complain about this to. “I tracked them to their covert thermal operation on a smelter of a planet, got all the way in, only to discover the one mech they’d left behind was their communications specialist—it was a mess. But, that’s the past now.” And just as quickly, the wall was back up. “If our intel’s good and Grit’s got a byte of sense, there should be someone here. Just no idea how many.”

“Sounds like there’s a good chance we’ll get this thing cleaned up quick,” Ratchet said. “So long as we stick together.”

Drift’s Hm’d agreement was more than either had expected. Maybe they were making progress.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Good to go,” Rodimus said, adjusting the items on his screen to focus on the ship’s status. “Defense and surveillance up, and we’re at about descent altitude. Just give us a head’s up when you start improvising, so we can get out of your way.”

He was not supposed to say that. He shot over a grin in response to Ratchet’s disapproval; what point was there in denying the inevitable?

Practicing being a good friend, remember? That means saying no to stupid ideas.

It also means being there to catch him instead of holding him back.

It was the kind of argument that couldn’t be solved with a few pointed thoughts or memories, the kind that they did not have time for now, as the visual feed showed Drift’s ship starting its descent. They set it aside in their own ways: Ratchet simply stopped thinking about it, while Rodimus let himself run through the myriad arguments he would have made simultaneously before reconnecting himself to the present. A moment later and they were ready, Ratchet punching in the commands to follow Drift down.

The planet’s cloudless atmosphere gave them a clear view of the terrain below, its massive, dramatic rock formations contoured by deep shadows. North of them, the average surface elevation increased and smoothed out into tall hills, but where they were going the difference between peaks and valleys created a network of shelves and tunnels that would be perfect to hide a secret base in. And stealth did seem to be one goal of whoever had set up shop down there: besides the sloppy energy output, there were no obvious signs of cyberforming on the planet’s surface. Rodimus was about to suggest that only those who came looking for Cybertronians would ever notice they were here, when a glint in one of the visual feeds caught his attention. He brought the feed to his station and zoomed in. Metal?

The word hit his vocoder as Ratchet shoved them into a dive.

“Turret!”

The energy beam was hot enough to ripple the air around it. Even though Ratchet got them turned away fast enough, the whole shuttle shuddered from the near-miss. Crates and containers rattled in their restraints, and Rodimus was too busy keeping up with Ratchet to think about the sounds of crashing down in the hold. They should have been at a safe distance to avoid detection; how had they been pinpointed so quickly?

“Pull up! Get out of here!” Drift shouted.

No time to wonder about it right now.

“Can’t,” Rodimus said while Ratchet wrestled with the controls. “I’ve got visual; they’re charging up for the next shot. Reversing momentum would have us hovering like an auto-skeet.” If the console would stop bombarding him with warnings, he might have been able to make better estimates about their next move, but a ship this size wasn’t designed to be flown by just two bots with half a processor each. Ratchet was demanding so much of their attention that even reading the words on the screen demanded resources they didn’t have, so he scrubbed the whole thing until all that was left was the visual feed, the twinkle that shone just before the storm. “Diving. Keep on our tail.”

“No, that’s—fine. Aim for cover.”

Ratchet switched off the reverse thrusters and the ship plummeted out of its gentle descent. The entire world rocked nauseatingly as the discordant visual feeds broadcast the tilting horizon and rising ground, and they startled as the second blast singed the air behind them, the crackle of Drift’s failing comms suite not enough to prevent their sparks from clenching down in panic. The rear cameras recovered from the overexposure, and there was the speeder, intact and keeping pace.

“What now?” Drift demanded.

“Evasive maneuvers,” Rodimus said, following the ticker tape of Ratchet’s intentions. “Triple Thunderclash!”

Ratchet twisted hard on the controls and sent the ship spiraling. Rodimus would have been flung across the bridge had they not been secured, but even then struggled to maintain focus as they were thrashed around, over and over. He couldn’t see Drift anymore, or the distant turret: everything was swirls of color, broken up for only a split second as the third blast went wide and passed them by.

Ratchet drew back and pulled them out of the spiral, then hastily steered them aside as the recovered visual feeds revealed an oncoming peak. Landing thrusters were engaged; slightly dazed, Rodimus picked out a promising valley for Ratchet to maneuver them into. Drift reappeared in the rear feed, keeping his distance in case they had to dart again. Not that there would be much room for it, as the canyon walls rose up and enveloped them.

Ratchet brought the shuttle to rest on a wide shelf and sat back, optics dim. The constant, pounding beat of his focus dispersed, and he sunk into pillowy relief, buoyed by Rodimus’ burst of Wow we made its and What kind of gun was thats and I’m alive Ratchet’s alive Drift’s alives. It had been hard, keeping that iron grip on himself while Ratchet put in the work of keeping them alive, but—

“Wouldn’t have seen that shot coming without you,” Ratchet said. Rodimus looked away as he flushed, warm with appreciation and embarrassment; sincerity was an intimacy he was never quite prepared for. He was grateful when Drift’s speeder landed alongside them.

“Everybody intact in there?” Ratchet asked. He thought Rodimus’ embarrassment was amusing, frag him, but was willing to set it aside out of concern for their friend. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t find a way to exploit it later, but for now, Rodimus was safe.

“We made it,” Drift said. “That was more more like a Double Thunderclash.”

“Ratchet was between Thunderclashes and I had to make a best guess.” Rodimus tried to mime the path of the two ships with his hands, twisting his arms as far as his joints would allow. “It’s a Triple Thunderclash because it’s three times cooler than a thing Clash did in some fight,” he explained, since he felt Ratchet wondering.

“Battle of Ambustus Major?” Ratchet asked. Rodimus shrugged and tried not to pout when Ratchet immediately brought up an old vid file of the maneuver.

“Is the ship stable here?” Drift asked, reminding them they were here with a purpose. In the aftermath of such a close call, it was natural to want to ease back for a moment, but Rodimus couldn’t fault Drift for wanting to stay on track. The stakes weren’t any lower just because they’d made it to the surface intact.

“Should be,” Ratchet said, leaning over so he didn’t have to keep relying on Rodimus to funnel through the ship’s readings. “Holding steady for now. We’d probably need to conduct a physical survey to be sure, but I’m not seeing anything troubling from here.” Ratchet wasn’t sure of the composition of this planet, but the lack of dust in the atmosphere suggested it was made of a lot of hard, compact stone, hopefully strong enough to support a spacefaring vessel. They just had to hope that whatever geologic event had formed this shelf hadn’t terribly weakened the wall it was anchored to.

“Good,” Drift said. “The good news from all this is that the turret gives us an idea of where they have their main base; it’d be a waste of fuel to have to drive back and forth a long way. Once I’ve scouted it out and located Grit, you can come in.”

“Okay, and one more time with a plan we’ll actually follow?” Ratchet’s edge emboldened Rodimus. If it had been just him out here, he might have let Drift make all the decisions out of guilt, but the strong presence beside his mind pulsed with gentle encouragement.

Drift sighed.

“Right. Give me a minute.”

Ratchet gave Rodimus a thumbs up. Progress.

Rodimus got up from the captain’s seat and walked to the bow of the bridge, where the narrow viewshield gave him a closer peek onto the planet. The impression he got: rocks. Though the surface was painted mainly by dull shades of brown, down here they started taking on more color, hints of red and green only noticeable against the stark homogeny of everything else.

Why had the Decepticons chosen this planet? Were there fuel reservoirs buried too far below the surface to show up on orbital scanners? How would they have known to come looking for them? If not, if this was just a backwater hideaway, why the powerful defense system? Who was hiding here? And for how long? He itched to pop the hatch open and start exploring, but Ratchet’s presence kept him in place. This world, with its unknown Cybertronian population, confronted them with a new variety of complexity and danger. Though they could be rash in their decision to help Drift, they couldn’t risk being stupid about it.

Ratchet gently nudged him away from that kind of thinking. No one here was stupid. Everyone was trying to do the right thing for the people of Vitrious, the universe at large, and each other.

Rodimus cast a small, grateful smile over his shoulder.

“Okay.” The comms came back to life with Drift’s voice. “I still think this is a bad idea. But I’ve got something.”

#maccadam #transformers #dratchrod #ratchet #rodimus #drift #my writing #longfic #fault lines #edit: pfff forgot the link :P

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howimproper · 3 years

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For Qingming x Boya. Qingming slowly changing Boyas mind about demons

So, this went in an unexpected direction but I can't say I don't love it 😂

A Road Less Travelled

When Qing Ming had contacted him via magic ear to set up a rendezvous, Boya hadn't thought in a million years that it would go this way.

Typically, it's to join forces for a hunt, (Boya is convinced this is no more than an excuse however, because those hunts are always well within Qing Ming's ability) or instances gaining in frequency simply to catch each other up on their lives. To share in a companionship that grew quickly and terrifyingly as easy as breathing.

Boya is not adverse in either case.

With the death of the Empress, Boya's life had changed exponentially. His presence in the palace or even Imperial City itself required less and less until he is eventually finding himself sent far and wide. It's not only him, he knows. His sect was created and maintained to protect the palace from the threat of demons and spirits alike, and just because the Evil Serpent housed within the deceased Empress is no more for a time, does not mean other threats do not exist. As the head of the sect and arguably its best warrior, Boya is no stranger to his skills being in constant demand- however his superiors willingness to grant so many requests is...new.

Boya can't decide if they're trying to get rid of him, or are simply uncertain of what to do with him and his unexpected fame at being one of the main hands that dealt with the rise of the Evil Serpent and, by happenstance, the death of their nations ruler. Do they lord him as a hero, or an unwitting traitor quickly swept under the rug?

Never mind that the Empress had seen to her own demise. Boya has, and never will, understand nor enjoy politics. He much prefers the simplicity of wandering village to village to city to countryside in search of his next quarry. Less politics, less complication. He has grown used to and learned to embrace the isolation, and emphatically ignores the pangs of loneliness he certainly does not feel when he is surrounded by people who do not know him or his mind.

He most certainly does not look forward to the warming of the magic ear he had gifted Qing Ming, or the smooth, almost playful cadence of his voice when he is contacted at random for reasons innocuous or intent. And he most definitely does not drop everything he happens to be doing at the time to indulge the other guardians whims. That would be irresponsible of him, not to mention undignified.

Except sometimes he does and he's not even sorry, what is wrong with him.

It has only been a handful of short months since the last time he'd dropped everything to find his feet taking him to a quiet lakeside home near a far away mountain. Not long at all since he'd indulged in the tranquillity and ease of the only presence he'd found that did not raise his hackles or feel like the weight of chains on his shoulders. Boya is self aware enough to know that he is not a people person. He has the skills, as all those born amongst the elite do- but he has long since grown too abrasive, too direct from long years spent honing his body instead of his tongue to be comfortable rubbing shoulders with self important nobles or braggart so called intellectuals masquerading as scholars.

Once, when he was younger and blinder to the truth of the world he dwelt in, he might have been more suited to opulent surroundings and the couth if hollow companionship of the equally sheltered and stupid. But then his mother had been torn from him, and he'd become more austere, rough, jaded. Not consumed, but definitely intent on ideas of revenge and self righteous anger at the being responsible for the death of his innocence. As he'd grown in body, skill and mind however, Boya had honed those qualities into a fine weapon that he aimed mercilessly at not just the one, but the whole of demonkind.

Boya has hated demons for so long, that when faced with the man who was for all intents and purposes his opposite, he had found the control he sweat and bled for crumbling to dust between his fingers, and he had lashed out.

He still doesn't know, to this day, what stayed his blade throughout the infancy of that acquaintanceship. Whether it was the presence of his fellows or the weight of the task they all shouldered- until eventually time and exposure had ever so slowly smoothed reflexive hackles, if only enough for him to notice the quiet, sombre air of understanding that permeated often short and prickly interactions.

Only for those hackles to stand straight back up with every instance of sympathy or outright regard for the beings that exist purely as cruel thorns in Boya's soul. At every sign that this man prefers the company of beasts, kin of half of his blood.

Boya hates demons as surely as the sky is blue and his heart beats within his chest, but against all conceivable reason, Boya can't hate Qing Ming.

When he tries, Boya just finds that he hates himself.

Against all logic, it was only the passing of days that tempered him to the man's presence. Barely moments in time that gently uncoiled the tight grip of his ire until he found himself beset with an inexplicable sense of kinship that brought nothing but confusion in its wake and made every attempt at rebuke reflexive and half hearted at best. Until they stopped all together and Boya instead found himself drawn in ways he'd never before experienced. Until for the first time in his life, he'd turned the weapon crafted from the bleeding edges of his stone heart to protect an existence he'd spent longer hating than living.

At first, he told himself he did it out of duty. There were a great many lives threatened in the City, in the world, and he would fulfil the purpose he'd curved into himself gladly and with a small, quiet relief. But that had only been part of the reason, and it had taken some long months of separation and reflection before he'd realised it. Then some further time spent agonising over the ambivalent nature of the realisation, and a few shameful nights spent trying to drown it. Boya is not known for seeking life's answers at the bottom of a bottle, but if there is one existence that can drive him to it, it is probably Qing Ming's.

He can't decide if his eventual acceptance of the matter was brought about by lowered inhibitions or the regretful insight one experiences only during the first moments one opens their eyes to a truly magnificent hangover. Mayhaps he simply grew tired of waking up face down on or sprawled half under a drinking table in some out of the way inn room he’d stomped into at some ungodly hour.

Honestly Boya thinks he probably shouldn’t drink at all. His constitution for it in excess seems to leave much to be desired. He can’t be good at everything, he supposes. A realization he is endlessly glad to have come upon alone. Gods forbid he be prone to acts not of his character whilst sober, (if he had had company Boya is of the mind that he might have bemoaned the sorry state of his life in a most undignified manner and he swears never to drink again. It’s only a short while later that he makes a liar of himself and wakes with the indentation of bamboo and regret pressed into his brow.)

The occasional presence of his dizi on the table leads him to think he might be either a whimsical or maudlin drunk. All the more reason to avoid it, (he hasn’t received any complaints yet, so at least he does it well quietly, aish.)

He is not pining. He isn’t.

And if he’d come to an abrupt halt in the middle of a busy street to many startled or annoyed protests the first time the magic ear he’d given to Qing Ming had warmed, no one needed to know, because Boya will take it to his grave.

It’s a process of years, but it is, regardless, a process. One Boya hadn’t much fought against after those first few nights spent agonising over it with the taste of wine sharp on his tongue. The fact that it came about even without the confusing presence of Qing Ming there to turn his life upside down resigns Boya to the belief that he is indeed quite pathetic, all told.

Still, he always answers, and still, he always eagerly goes where bid.

Boya wishes he could hate it.

Never more especially than the first time he meets a demon picking wildflowers of all things on an overgrown road obviously less travelled, (a small, unwashed slip of a thing in the guise of a child, with eyes too big when they’d met his and small, girlish hands clenching in fright around green stems) and lets it go.

He’d grasped the hilt of the blade carried at his back, fully intending to draw it when, inexplicably, he’d been taken in by the fear in its- her eyes and felt not like a righteous man, but a demon himself.

What is wrong with him.

He tells no one, and drinks himself into a stupor the next night. He ignores the wildflowers he finds outside his door the next morning.

It’s all Qing Ming’s fault. Him with his ridiculous exquisite robes and that stupid fan he hides those mischivous attractive smiles behind. Gods, he’s pathetic.

“Is this where your friend is waiting, Mr. Boya?” Small hands grasp and tug on the sleeve of his travel cloak, and Boya resigns himself, once again, to the lack of urge to shake them off.

“Mn.” He grunts in reply, and the little girl trailing at his side like some misshapen duckling beams, wildflowers in her hair.

How the mighty have fallen, he thinks as he weaves a path through the small village towards the tea house he’d been informed to meet at, freshly washed and happily bouncing demon child following at his heels. He has gone from mercilessly slaying demons to throwing the cute ones at someone always too happy to take them.

Divine Lord take him, he is so pathetic.

#bo ya #qing ming #onmyoji #the yin yang master: dream of eternity #my dumb writing #prompt fills #qing ming x boya #pre-slash

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mgkconfessions · 3 years

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Fan pages needs to stop posting those pics as couple goals and omg look they are so cute and only posting the pics from the side or the back. Colson straight up looks miserable, there is literally no denying that, I love him but he looks horrible. People are saying that’s what we are jelouse of?? I mean if he looked like that from far away image how bad he looked from up close. Someone said what if he’s looking miserable on purpose? Then that would make absolute no sense. Articles saying they want to blend families and are they the happiest people ever, public pda, constant date pap walks, then even marriage talk and then the only time they do a family pap walk Colson looks absolutely miserable. And notice Megan made a big deal on the kelly clarkson show about wanting to go back to the universal and how good of a mom she is and then boom that weekend she does a pap walk with her kids and Colson at universal? It’s not a coincidence. Every little thing in this relationship is so staged it can’t even go to the next level the right way. For example the article about Colson wanting to marry Megan as soon as possible, what if Colson and Megan never actually had that talk and their teams just said that to get attention and now it adds unnecessary pressure especially on Colson about marriage, Colson being the happiest he has ever been when in fact he has said several times he isint happy at all and now it’s unnecessary pressure to act like the happy couple for everyone like this whole thing neither of them could actually move to the next stage in the relationship bc the only next stage now is actual marriage and their teams made sure that was the only move they could do. I mean several articles saying how good Colson is with Megan’s kids but we are just now starting to see him around her kids and notice casie is never with them? Casie has been papped with her dad several times just out getting food so why hasint she been papped out getting food with Colson and Megan at least doesint even have to be with her kids just with Megan too? The only time we see her with Megan is when several people are with them and they arint ever interacting

When Megan announced on the Kelly Clarkson show how she couldn’t wait to go to Universal studios with her kids (to present herself as a caring mum) and followed that up by actually going there with them and Kells a couple of days later, I already took it as a pre-planned afternoon for publicity. But I wasn’t expecting her to seriously also hire a paparazzi to really make sure that the public knew where she was and with who lmao! But thanks for the confirmation that this was just another publicity day! This isn’t convincing anyone of being a caring and loving mum tho, because if she had cared about her children and put their well being and privacy first, above her ego and need for attention, she wouldn’t have invited a paparazzi to their family day and made her kids go through that experience in the first place. Although she has already done that multiple times in the past when she ran some errands with them and therefore they might already be used to it, it doesn’t make it any less wrong. Her priority and main focus wasn’t on spending a nice afternoon with her kids and Kells, it was on proving to the public what an amazing blended family they are and how she’s definitely involved as a mum despite people saying something differently. It was literally a business day for her in the name of damage control. At least the kids looked like they had fun tho and since they’re still little I doubt they understand what’s going on and what mommy is using them for. Maybe if she hadn’t talked about it on the Kelly Clarkson show it would have been less obvious, but now she only exposed her own intentions even more. She definitely isn’t winning any plus points by acting like that and how stupid of her to previously complain about Brian using the kids and their photos to appear like a dotting dad, to only do the exact same thing by hiring a paparazzi to a “private” family day with her kids and allowing the tabloids to release pictures of them to appear like a dotting mum so she can get her headline. She isn’t an ounce better than Brian. I guess desperate times call for desperate actions! Megan probably thought that this was the best way to prove people wrong and show them how amazing they all get along, but all she did was prove them what a clout chaser she is and how even Kells seems to be done with playing happy patchwork family with her. He looked so pissed in some pictures and annoyed, I fully believe that he didn’t want to be there at all. He looked like someone gave him a job, he showed up, followed the stage directions (holding kids hands, holding Megan’s hand, let yourself be photographed) to sell the public the narrative that Megan wanted, but that was all that he was willing to do. He literally looked like he couldn’t believe that he had to do this again with Megan and that she again called the paparazzi and he as her official boyfriend had to play happy family again with her. He would never be mean to her kids or ignore them, but he still seemed mentally and emotional checked out that day and like he couldn’t have cared less about trying to appear involved and interested in any of it (see even picture below). He looks more tired and drained than ever and I can’t imagine that with every staged paparazzi moment Megan organizes he isn’t losing a bit of respecting for her too. While Megan seems to love all of this and she’s only starting, Kells seems like he’s ready to end it all, because he can’t do it anymore. I’m telling you this relationship is dead and over and the only reason why they’re still “together” is because of publicity that both of them can use and because they’re dragging out the inevitable break up that is coming. I haven’t posted about it yet, but some of you might have seen that psychic tarot reading from antphrodite about them and he’s one of the few who I actually consider to be pretty accurate and in his reading he said that Megan is acting like she doesn’t want to settle down like Kells, who still wants to have his fun, although that isn’t true and she does want to settle down. Now look at the pictures from

yesterday and doesn’t that give you the same impression? Megan trying hard to turn Kells into a stepdad of three and almost forcing that family thing on him (like all the sources talking about how Kells couldn’t wait to marry her and for Megan to have his babies every single month which I still believe came from Megan’s team to push that narrative to the public and ease Kells into the idea of proposing to her) while Kells looks like reality hit him now and he absolutely isn’t ready to becoming one big family with Megan and her three little children and the more this is pushed onto him, the more he just wants to get away from it. He did look horrible and miserable and almost every comment under the DailyMail article had the same thought that he’s only interested in fucking dating Megan, but he isn’t ready to sign up for her children and that family life too. Speaking of DailyMail, did anyone else notice that although this was clearly Megan’s publicity move for damage control, the headline focused for once on Kells and mentioned him first and made it seem like he was the main person when usually it’s always Megan who is mentioned first? :D I take that as a failed attempt to make it less obvious that this was Megan’s publicity plan by taking away the attention from her being the driving force behind this. Like the first anon above wrote everything they do is so pre-planned, staged and orchestrated, their relationship looks more like a business following a check list with things couples do than a real relationship that focuses on real experiences and emotions. For the anon who is confused, yes even PR couples would include children, get married and introduce the rest of the family. I know it’s mind blowing because of how fake it is but that’s also why Hollywood is super fake and there aren’t a lot of real and authentic people anymore. I’m going back and forth between fully PR and real, but immediately used and sold for publicity and exposure to benefit their careers a week before the BV music video came out and that was like a month or two after they had met each other, so not a lot of time to build anything real between them without the aspect of publicity, especially since during half of that time Sommer was still in the picture. So almost since the very beginning their whole relationship was sold out and they orchestrated the shit out of them. All their love declarations, their lovey-dovey behaviour, what they do, how they present themselves, what they’re involved in, all that stuff was always done with the main intention to sell the public a fantasy love story that they would get invested in with agents, management and pr teams behind them and their relationship enabling and planing with them together. I don’t believe that everything only comes from their teams and is forced onto them, they surely also make their own decisions when they want to use their relationship for promotion and publicity, but like the anon above said when others or yourself immediately force happiness and a big love story on you although you haven’t even reached that stage in your life or relationship yet (that includes Megan calling him her twin flame right from the start too and Kells emotions being forced to reach that level of intensity then as well instead of allowing them to grow there), then it only adds pressure to make up for what doesn’t exist and suddenly you’re faking your own relationship although you actually are in a relationship and everything you do becomes more about how that appears in the public and what they think about you as a couple. You will be more busy with pretending to be an amazing couple than spending time on being one. I hope you understand what I mean, because that’s how I see them. But in reality their relationship seems to be shattered, lots of insecurities, jealousy, arguments and simply over although they’re still together and put on an act with their on stage kisses, matching nails and Megan following him everywhere he goes. In the context of it all, it doesn’t have a lot of meaning anymore.

P.S.: their trip was on Saturday, Mother’s Day was on Sunday for anyone who is still confused about that.

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joeyglowy · 4 years

Text

Bad Study Habits ft. Miya Twins

In which the Miya Twins learn not to waste your time when they are the ones that asked for help. That, and that their necks are surprisingly quite sensitive.

(Call it a commemoration for Miya Osamu finally having his character designs introduced, even if it’s the fucking laziest but most beautiful thing I’ve seen all week)

Miya Atsumu x Reader, 1500+ words Miya Osamu x Reader, 1700+ words

(I promise, I love them, almost equally)

Miya Atsumu

“Why do I need ta know Avocado’s number? Unless he’s down to help a brother getting blue balled by his own girlfriend, tell him I’m not interested.”

“It’s Avogadro’s number and for once in your life can you not think with your dick? We’re not here to have sex; I’m here to make you pass your chemistry test so you don’t get another detention for slacking off in class!”

For the past eighteen minutes, you had been using your middle and index finger to rub circles into your temple, a vain attempt to soothe the hammering headache that jabbed your eyelids each time Atsumu opened his mouth.

When your boyfriend had come to your door, ‘begging’ you to help him with chemistry, you found it pleasantly endearing. For all the faults to which Miya Atsumu had—for which there were many—he had unfortunately perfected the art of looking just sheepish enough that it became adorable while still bristling his feathers like a proud peacock that just made you want to pull his chubby cheeks. He was the naughty puppy that still had his ravenous canines punctured in your favourite lita boots with his tail tucked between his legs. He was that one bad kid in every class who fooled around but all the female teachers doted on him anyways because he was charismatic in that childishly infuriating way that made them lower their standards when he finally put in the effort.

Miya Atsumu, put bluntly, is a godforsaken brat.

“[Name]-chan! My chem teacher’s threatenin’ me! He said if I fail one more quiz I’ll have to sit through at least three detentions just, doin’ I don’t know, symbiosis! You gotta help me; you’re my girlfriend, aren’tcha?”

Yet, you somehow fell for this idiot anyway.

Enamoured with his honey-lemon eyes, you decided not to tell him that what you were doing was in fact stoichiometry and symbiosis is actually a biology term. But with the way he had grabbed your shoulders, for an inexperienced lover like yourself, it was more than enough to trigger a visceral reaction that caused some internal organ to clog your throat. His subtle guilt-trip did not go unnoticed but with your brain short-circuiting, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Instead, you had dumbly nodded, cursing your inability to deal with intimacy and members of the opposite sex as you allowed him to barge into your home.

Since he was always practicing, you thought it would be a chance to do something that couples do. Using your infinite knowledge collated from various fanfictions and shoujo manga online, you had constructed a seemingly infallible plan to make the most of your time with Atsumu. It involved having every excuse to stare at him without being teased for it and if anything, you would be in the rare position of the teaser, playfully pointing out his mistakes to which he’d probably pout and whine about before undoubtedly, once you were done, he’d demand a reward. Enter obligatory make out sesh. Which of course, was more than welcome in your book. You were a simple girl and he had cultivated excellently curved muscles from his years of volleyball, sue your transparency.

There was just one chink in your perfectly polished armoured plan.

Atsumu was a brat above all else. A horny one.

Tutoring him was like trying to make caramel for the first time.

At first, you think it’s going well. You’re simmering the white sugar, careful and attentive, determined to make it a success. Yet, as the browning starts to come in from the edges, a funny aroma that was not the scent of sweetness but one of something being grossly burned beyond recovery did you realise just how taxing the job was. Before you knew it, it was like having your kitchen on fire, the ignition source being the abomination that is Miya Atsumu.

As Osamu would say, “His mental age regresses by five years when he’s playing. . . but it plummets by ten when he’s, god forbid it, studyin’.”

If he wasn’t whining, he was trying to stroke your legs with his spider fingers under the kotatsu, creeping up your thigh only to be smacked away by your own hand to which he’d just go back to loudly whining. He had the attention span of a five year old and the attitude of a twelvie that equalled a near migraine for you. Least to say, you were far too annoyed to be turned on now so you had abruptly gotten up in a fit of annoyance, told him you were going to drink some water and left him in the living room.

You sighed, the water only granted a moment’s worth of reprieve as you headed back to the living room to see his honey coloured mop of hair from behind. Your eye twitched when you looked from behind to see him doodling an avant-garde penis on the page. Lovely.

He still hadn’t noticed you peering over his shoulder so you took the chance to admire the back of his head, watching how his hairline faded out from beneath his undercut, the roots of his old hair still left their stain. You wondered if his neck down ever got cold, with the constant exposure and all. The longer you stared, the more you felt your stomach lurch, toying with a lingering thought that just might get you what you wanted after all.

In a swift movement, with your lips gently planted on the supple flesh, beneath his hairline, you caressed the skin tenderly. Your lips quirked upward to hear a squeak from your boyfriend who had shuddered violently, his shoulders shaking as his penis drawing gained an unexpected gradient slope, his pen streaking in a straight line across the page. You chuckled into his neck; nipping at it playfully as your hot breath caused the hairs on his neck to stand up. Pleased with the pinkish hue that spread across the skin like paint, you pulled away as Atsumu snapped his head towards you, moon eyed.

Although you may have burnt the caramel, it looks like you’ve found some hidden strawberries to snack on instead.

You watched the way his pretty blush flourished to his cheeks while he looked visibly affronted by your sneak attack. “Wh-what do ya think yer doin’!?” he spluttered on the spot, his hand flying to his neck as if you had just bitten into it. You wanted to lick your lips at the thought before you narrowed your eyes sternly, trying not to let a wolfish grin slip through the cracks.

“I don’t know about you but personally, I despise wasting time, don’t you ‘Tsumu?”

You drummed your fingers on the kotatsu’s surface, slow and pronounced. His golden eyes zeroed onto them in anticipation. You licked your lips. All these food metaphors made you realise just how starved you are. Atsumu being someone who had always been observant, seemed to pick up on your hunger as well, his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, as he glanced up at you from under his lashes, anxious. You turned back to the paper, almost nonchalant, as if you weren’t aware of his clenched fists and tensed thighs.

“Yet, you seem to be taking advantage of my generosity, good boyfriends shouldn’t do that ‘Tsumu. You’re a good boyfriend, aren’tcha?” you drawled lowly, as you started glancing at your nails using your other hand, viciously using his guilt-tripping tactic from before.

Atsumu looked positively famished. His brows twisted up guiltily, that sheepish, puppy look on his face once more. Still, you could see his eyes shining too bright, still thinking that it’d go his way if he played nice. He was a mischievous imp that was a little too used to getting what he wants. You decided you weren’t going to fall for it this time.

“[Name], I didn’t--”

“Oh, but you did,” you sharply interrupted him and he winced. Your heart throbbed and as much as you loved teasing him, you did want this to end with him pinning you to the couch so you smiled softly. “Why don’t we finish studying, yeah? Then you can make it up to me.”

If Atsumu wasn’t getting blue balled before, then he certainly is now. He had no idea how the situation began to drip with sexual undertone but with the unbearable heat coursing through him, he could only nod helplessly, at your mercy. For the remainder of the studying session, while it had become increasingly harder for him to stay focused with his raging hormones going haywire, he clung onto every single word that fell from your mouth like it was a lifeline as the incomprehensible scribbles on the page finally morphed into numbers and words that he could understand.

You grinned victoriously to see the eager look Atsumu would get in his eyes, awaiting your praise and what he thinks is his reward once you had both finally gotten through the content. He really is just like an overzealous, whiny puppy that wants his treat. Well now, this will most certainly result into an exciting night for you, just as you had planned.

You smirked triumphantly.

‘All according to keikaku.’

Miya Osamu

“So, do you know how to use Avogadro’s number?”

“Mm? Avocado?”

You sighed. “No, can’t you stop thinking about food for a second, it’s Avo—Osamu!” you yelped, seeing your boyfriend barely stirring from the nest he’s made with his arms as he blinks blearily at you. The sleep in his eyes quite nearly breaks open every dam with the unparalleled force that is your love and affection and ability to just gush about how adorable this man is for hours and yet, you are forced to restrain yourself. As much as you adore Miya Osamu, he is unfortunately, just as much of an idiot as his brother—yet strangely manages to get within a range of 1 to 5 per cent higher than him on every test.

Osamu lets a little smile slip. “Avosamu? I thought it was Avogadro.”

You offered him a hard glare before deflating into the kotatsu, just like he did. He perked his head up to hear your muffled groans, his lips quirking up at how cute you sound. “Osamuuuu, you need to study for the test tomorrow! It’s worth a third of your grade!” you exclaimed, erupting from the cocoon of your arms to pout at him. Osamu grimaced just a little because every move he made was with restraint as he guiltily looked away.

“I know but m’tired,” he mumbled into his arms, burying his nose into them. “From practice,” he clarified with a grumble that faded out into something roughly incoherent. You had to stop yourself from smiling at his petulant tone of voice as you sighed, shaking your head. He was a kid, just like Atsumu too apparently.

“I know but . . .” you trailed off to see him in a sleeping position. You shook your head, unable to stop your smile this time as you gently raked your fingers through his hair. A sound rumbled from his chest and you snorted, of course only Osamu would be able to do the human equivalent of purring. His face resurfaced from the blanket of his arms as he leaned into your touch, sighing contently. You found your hand devoured by the dishevelled mess that was his hair as you fondly played with his matted grey tresses. Your love for this man warmed your heart beyond words as you could feel yourself relaxing—you blinked.

Wait a minute.

The way you ripped your hand out of his hair was like a splash of cold water to the face as he startled, bewildered by your forceful action as you glowered at him. “You fox!” you hissed. He blinked innocently in return as you shook your head adamantly. “I will not be an accomplice to your illicit sleeping endeavours! Nor the reason why you fail tomorrow’s test and have to stay back to do catch up work! Atsumu and the team would never let you live it down you know!”

You clutched your beating heart with a flush on your cheeks. ‘Ahh, that was close! He’s much more convincing than I thought but I won’t be fooled!’

You offered him another glare before sighing. You’d done that too many times this session you now realised. “Look, I’ll get you some tea, okay? But after that, you have to stay awake! You’ll be in big trouble if I come back and you’re asleep,” you softly reprimanded him although he looked completely unabashed as he nodded.

“Mm’kay.”

You were only gone for five minutes but when you had returned . . . he was definitely in trouble.

You gripped the steaming cup of hot tea by the handle; careful not to brush your knuckles on the actual cup so you don’t burn yourself and spill it like a waterfall. Carefully, you placed the cup of tea out of reach so he doesn’t knock it over before you plopped onto the cushion next to him, pouting. Really, coming over, begging you to help him study, only to fall asleep in front of you, what a tease. . .

“Jeez, I was hoping for some, fun times after we finished up too~” you whined to yourself, letting your chin fall to your fist before a movement other than your own caught you from the corner of your periphery.

You narrowed your eyes. His lashes flickered like a butterfly’s wings, elegant yet silent. Then nothing. You drummed your fingers slowly on the kotatsu’s surface before aptly concluding that your, apparently, asshole boyfriend, was faking his slumber. Your Sleeping Beauty was actually a Beast in disguise so it would appear. You pursed your lips, blowing air from your nose like a puffing, huffing steam train. He wants to play like that, does he?

You swiftly rose out of your seat before standing behind him, your shadow devouring him. You just might too if Osamu doesn’t tread carefully. You eyed his fraying hairline, beneath his undercut. You wondered how sensitive it would have now become, what, with it being constantly exposed to the frigid air all the time. A smile coyly played to your lips, as you hummed kittenishly before leaning down.

Tenderly, you placed your lips to the back of his neck, giving it a quick peck.

You looked up, gauging for a reaction but received none. You smiled daringly. Perhaps your dear boyfriend needs a bit more persuasion. You pressed another kiss into his neck. And another one. Accompanied by another. Before you began peppering his neck in searing kisses, from the roots of his hair to the brim of his collared uniform. You watched in delight as the skin gradually increased in heat while you continued to reap the benefits of your ravenous exploits.

You could feel the skin beneath your lips beginning to tremble but since he still wouldn’t reveal he was awake. . . it might be time to go exploring. You hovered over his ‘sleeping’ frame as both your hands slithered under the arms pillowing his face. They coiled around his waist and you found yourself licking your lips, suddenly feeling rather hungry. You could see him beginning to squirm yet he was adamant not to budge. A wolfish laugh escaped you as you plunged your fingers under his shirt to dance on his stomach before your teeth finally met his skin.

The last thing you heard was a sharp gasp that sounded like absolute heaven before your world turned on its axis. Your back met the ground with a thud and you suddenly realised you couldn’t move. Casually taking a quick glance, you craned your neck to see two calloused fists handcuffing your wrists and pinning them above your head. You looked up to finally see a panting Osamu, glaring at you.

“Oi.”

You blinked.

Osamu was every shade of grey. Every expression, every movement, although a little rough, it was done with minimal effort and restrained. He was always in control and always composed. He was a little slow and sluggish like that, but he could become a dynamic black, cool and confident whenever you pluck just the right strings.

Which is why it was all the more endearing to see a lovely peach pink speckling on his cheeks.

“What,” he breathed out, as if he had just sprinted in a marathon, you could see his torso trembling, “do ya think yer doin’?”

You watched him placidly and couldn’t stop admiring the pretty colour on his cheeks. You wanted to capture it, burn it in your memory until your final breath. You wanted to paint it, to smear the red all over his grey. You licked your lips.

“I told you, didn’t I? That you would be in trouble if I came back to find you sleeping. So pray tell, what were you doing, ‘Samu?” you purred beneath him, a playful smirk crawling to your lips as you felt a pooling sensation bubble in the pit of your stomach.

Osamu’s eyes widened and even though he had overcast a shadow on the both of you, you could tell that his cheeks had darkened. He suddenly looked like a deer caught in headlights and he could no longer meet your gaze. With an agonisingly slow movement, he tentatively released one of your wrists to feel the back of his neck.

“D-did you . . .?” he stammered, not able to bring himself to finish the question.

Picking on what he was insinuating, using your left hand, now free, you roughly grabbed him by the collar before pulling him down. He yelped like a puppy that had lost its footing, as he lurched forward like a tidal wave, almost tumbling over, quickly stamping his free hand to the ground, stopping him from knocking his head into your as you curled your finger under his chin.

“No, I didn’t. I warned you though, right? If you try to fall asleep again when I’m teaching you. . .” you slur, tracing your finger, teasingly let it tap on his Adam’s apple as he swallowed, his eyes now wide awake and focused only on you as you grinned hungrily.

“I’ll decorate your neck with hickies until you’ve got a goddamn necklace of bruises.”

Osamu shuddered as he fell to his elbows, barely holding himself up. Feeling his voice shake, he meekly nodded, trying to hide his arousal as he shakily—but briskly—flew back to the kotatsu, promptly hiding his face from you, just like a mouse.

You bit your lip, grinning wildly at the ceiling which although, was completely uninteresting, was the only excuse you had to not let him see your dorky smile.

‘HOLY SHIT THAT WORKED. Reading all those fanfics and manga finally paid off!’

You can’t let yourself come off as too desperate though. You realised that you had been waving the stick in front of him for too long now, it was time to finally bring out the carrot.

You propped yourself, being deliberately slow as to keep him waiting before you tenderly held onto his shoulder. You could feel him tense you brushed your nose against the lobe of his ear, your wispy breaths dyeing it pink as you whispered:

“When we’re done, I promise, you can eat whatever you want.”

While he didn’t fall asleep and actually got some proper studying in afterwards, perhaps it was him being petty or a vain attempt to gain back some control, he did not offer you his dick but went straight for the fridge to get some pudding. Still, it didn’t change the fact that you were hungry and Osamu found out that night that not only were you quite convincing yourself but you also really liked turning his neck red.

Hmm. And you called him a fox.

#miya twins #miya osamu #miya atsumu #osamu x reader #atsumu x reader #haikyuu!!#hq atsumu #hq osamu #in which i am so whipped for the miya twins #finally putting atsumu in his place #haikyuu atsumu #haikyuu osamu #miya atsumu x reader #miya osamu x reader

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yamithediaperdork · 3 years

Text

Wolverine and the diaper boys part two

Jamie was chowing down on a bowl of Cap'n crunch when Bobby came down to the kitchen, walking a little weird. While Bobby was in a pair of tan baggy cargo pants and a blue t-shirt with a white strip in the middle, Jamie had the misfortune to realize he hadn't gotten his landry done like he had been suppose to and ergo was stuck in a pair of his yellow sponge bob shorts with a light blue shirt that had a teddy bear on it. Needless to say he'd already been teased about it by Kitty and rouge, though Jean had come to his rescue. Still this had long day all over it and he'd be glad to go and get it all over with as quick as possible. Bobby took a seat next to him and gave him a smile and nod, making Jamie blush and because he was thinking of the night before, that HAD to be why he was smelling baby powder. "interesting attire choice." Bobby commented. "I uh..forgot to get landry done and this is ALL I have left. I already asked ms.Storm about staying home but she told me it was my own fault and to deal with it." Jamie whined, huffing a little. "You know, if you 'accidentally' pours your milk on yourself when you go to drink the rest out of the bowl, and that's ALL you got to wear..they can't send you to school in your undies." Bobby pointed out and winked. "Hey! That's a-" Jamie started, but got cut off by Mr. Mccoy. The Mutant known as The Beast while 'working' so to speak, but just as Hank or Mr. Mccoy to the students had walked in, wearing his lab coat and getting a cup of coffee, and having over heard the boy's conversation. "Very bad idea." he said, chuckling. "And I'm going to pretend I didn't hear it..as long as it's not acted upon." Making his coffee beast paused, and sniffed the air then smirked at the two boys, thankfully the only ones in the room and then walked off, going to work on whatever project currently was holding his attention. "..Well i tried." Bobby said after Beast left. "It WAS a good idea." Jamie agreed, then as he finished his cereal, he was careful to try and not spill any..and still got some on his shirt. "heh, maybe you need a bib." Bobby teased playfully, only to get a glare from Jamie. "Ok..ok.. not funny. I'm sorry." Bobby said, finishing up his own bowl of sugar crisp. "Darn right!" with the boys washing out their dishes, there was just something about the way that Bobby was walking that was bugging Jamie, but the little guy just couldn't figure it out and gave up. "Wanna walk to school together?" he asked. "I don't see why not." Bobby agreed.

Little did Jamie know Bobby was ALL to happy to walk with the little dork who could take the blame for the scent of baby powder that hung around him, since Logan had gone a little over board. Logan of course claimed he's hand had 'slipped' while sprinkling it on, but Bobby had a sneaking feeling that the Canadian was just having too much fun with this whole thing. Still the semi waddle to school had gone off without too much fuss, Jamie had been going on and on about some silly cartoon and got really over excited about it, and Bobby had agreed to watch a episode of it to get him to shut up about it. 'the hell is a Paw patrol anyways?' Bobby wondered, but brushed it out of his head as he split ways with Jamie. getting to his locker he started to load up his backpack when his eyes caught his schedule for the day, and a wave of dread flooded over him. he'd totally forgotten about it till now, but he had gym class for last period. which meant he'd have to get changed into his school issued gym shorts and top..in a locker room with the other guys. and he was in a fucking diaper. 'I'm so screwed!' Bobby mentally wailed, and banged his head on the door of his locker as Ray came over, raising a eyebrow. "Yooooou ok man?" His roomie asked him. "Don't tell me you forgot to study for the math test today." "..That's today!?!" Bobby whined and silently looked up, wondering just what he had done to piss off the almighty.

Jamie huffed, three times already he'd been stopped and asked if he was lost, the elementary school was across the the street. Twice from other classmates who had been of course taking shots at his clothes, and worse, the third time by a new teacher who was just honestly trying to be helpful, and had said sorry when Jamie huffed he was in the 6th grade and even took out his student ID card to prove it. things didn't get better as the morning went on, between first and second period the class bully had managed to get a pinch of itching powder down the back of Jamie's shorts, and had gotten rid of the proof so Jamie couldn't get him in trouble. The side effect meant while it wasn't unbearable, he was squirming lots and looked like a fussy toddler, or a little boy who had to go to the bathroom. (and in fact his third period teacher called him over to his desk to ask if he needed the hall pass before he had a accident) finally it was 4th period and gym class, and Jamie was able to switch out of his itchy shorts though he got a lot of flack over his PJ mask briefs, despite what he was packing in them. "Doesn't matter what your packing if your too much of a toddler to use it." A freckle faced red head named Todd said, smirking. "yeah well even if you know how to use it, it doesn't matter if all you have is a tooth pick." Jamie shot back, and instantly realized he shouldn't of. since he wasn't allowed to use his powers at school, and Todd had a good foot on him and at least 30 pounds, Jamie wasn't exactly gonna win any fights. and even as the other boys laughed, Todd's face flushed with embarrassment and anger. "Care to repeat that short stuff?" he growled. "..Not really..Uh..Sorry?" Jamie squeaked. "Todd man, let it go..it was a good come back and if you get in one more fight your expelled." Anther boy called over. "..You watch your mouth." Todd huffed and shoved past Jamie, knocking him into the wall and leaving him alone to finish changing. "..Just anther glorious day in the life of a X-Man." he muttered softly to himself.

Bobby was sure he'd flunked the test, a combination of not having studied for it and being paranoid the who times everyone knew he was padded. the only reason he wasn't in a constant flop sweat was a by product of his ice based powers as he waddled from class to class, positive every time he heard a laugh or a giggle in the halls it was directed his way. The fact that a end of the day exposure laid at his feet wasn't helping and he was getting tummy cramps off and on and felt his bladder twitching lots, though he didn't DARE go to the boys room to relive himself. That was all he needed, a random kick in of a stall door (Toad was known to do that sorta thing for shits and giggles, though it had mostly toned down after Duncan had stuffed him head first in a toilet) and him with his diapies on display for everyone to see the big baby. the mental image filled Bobby with dread and unwanted arousal and he found himself desperately directing mental commands to his little soldier to stand down, but atlas, he was at a age where it had a mind of it's own. 'can't believe I'm about to say this, but thank god I'm not hung.' He had one hope, that when Logan came to check on him (and Bobby didn't doubt he would, the Canadian loved to follow though on his threats) Bobby would explain the situation out to him and hopefully get person to get out of the diaper. Failing at that, Bobby's plan B was to freeze the entire gym class for the duration of the period. Ok, it wasn't a good plan but it beat plan C, melt into a puddle from sheer humiliation. 'Come onnnn plan A.'

Logan noticed the time and headed for the door,walking out on the card game he and the other teachers had been playing despite the fact he was winning, Making storm give him a look. "Got somewhere better to be?" she asked, raising a eyebrow and hoping he wasn't headed to a bar this early in the day. The professor had of course banned all alcoholic beverages on the ground after some of the students had gotten into Logan's beer. "Yeahhh following though on a punishment I had to dish out." Logan said and smirked. "Don't worry, I'm saving my drinking for the weekend." "..Logan this doesn't have anything to do with how Bobby was semi waddling this morning does it?" She asked, crossing her arms. "Heh, it might. and before you get all high and mighty, at least I let him wear big kid clothes on the outside. Sides, you should be thrilled I'm following up on my duties here and not going out for some brewskis. just no pleasing you some days." Logan chuckled and winked, then walked out. "..I honestly don't get what Charles likes about him." She signed in a low voice, turning her attention back to the game and back to hank. "Ours is not to ask, ours is but to do. by the way, I win." The furry teach said, laying out his hand. "of course you do." Storm said dryly, toying with making a rain cloud appear over Hank's head then recalling how wet fur smelled.

After spending the better part of the free gym period being pelted 'accidentally' by balls thanks to Todd, Jamie was tired, sore and grumpy. not helping matters was the fact someone (read Todd) had stuck Jamie's shorts in a sink and soaked them..and Jamie HAD to return the gym shorts to the gym locker so they could be washed. Which mean he had two choices, walk around in his undies, or walk around in wet shorts. either way it wasn't appealing and he covered himself in a towel to go and whine to the gym teacher about it. Of course having NO proof it was Todd who had soaked them, the teacher couldn't punish him, and he wasn't willing to let Jamie use the gym shorts. the tone of his voice made it clear that he more or less believed that Jamie had wet himself, and had dunked the shorts in a sink to avoid being busted, though he mentioned he'd call home and see if someone at the Xavier institute could bring him some dry clothing. 'Great. just great. Mr. Logan is gonna think i wet myself and show up waving a diaper around! I bet he brings that stupid satchel of his and has diapers in it too!' Jamie huffed and fumed, stomping his way back to the locker room and tugging the shorts up. someone had tried to be nice and dry them with a hair dryer, but this had just resulted the legs getting semi dry and making it look even more so like he had wet himself. as he marched down the halls to grab his bagged lunch and go wait outside, he could see the amusement looks and heard the laughter and whispers, his ears burning. Of course what Jamie didn't know was put off by the brats attuide, stomping out of his office..the gym teacher 'forgot' to call the mansion.

Bobby was rocking back and forth in chem lab, his bladder twinges were a full on tidal wave just waiting to happen and his normal lab partner was thankfully out for the day. Still, working on a chemical solution that had to drip slowly over and over again when his own 'chemical solution' was begging to come out wasn't doing the Iceman any good. He thought about trying to do that old rhyme about crossing his legs but he was already getting weird looks from the station next to his and just flashed a weak smile. 'Almost end of class. almost end of class. you can make it! you're a X-man! you don't take shit from anyone! you..your..your wetting yourself.' He mentally cheered himself on, before realizing that despite his best efforts, the front of his diaper was indeed rapidly filling with piss. with was only the noise of all the lab equipment that was covering up the hiss and the soft crackle of the diaper as it bloated out, and Bobby snuck a look down and suppressed a groan (and a moan of relief at that from the bliss of finally going) as the diaper was starting to show, at least if you knew to look for it while he was sitting, getting up off the stool he was on, he could feel the hot piss slosh down and start to soak between his legs and even up the back of the diaper and for the first time he started to worry about leaking. 'Jesus what am I? a camel!?' he thought as he tried to will the flow to stop, "Mr Drake, if you would like to come back from whatever day dream is holding your attention, maybe you'd like to answer my question." Barked the old crone who ran the class, bitter at being called back to teach after the old chem lab teacher had disappeared (the school hadn't exactly been informed Mr. Mccoy had had a second mutation, since they hadn't know he'd had a first one to begin with.) "Y-Yes ma'am!" Bobby squeaked out, the flow slowing there there was totally some wetness on the sides of his legs. "what was the question?" "The question was-" the crone started, but was cut off by the lunch bell ringing. "oh who cares. get out of here, all of you." she said and hobbled off to her desk. saved by the bell, Bobby was torn between rushing out or waiting for the rest of the class to leave, his diaper had ballooned out and he was scared to put too much pressure on it, less he make it leak worse. if he could get the classroom mostly cleared, with everyone distracted he could maybe at least freeze the sodden padding. "Is there something I can help you with Mr.drake?" The crone said, suddenly a few feet away and a wicked grin on her face that had him gulping. most of the other students had cleared out, and knowing her penance for handing out extra homework, those few remaining didn't stay for long. "I..I..No ma'am. I just..um.." Bobby squeaked, his voice sounding higher the Jamie's at the moment. "mmmhmm.. I know a soggy bottom when i see one young man. I watch after my ingrate son's brats enough and not one of them potty trained despite the oldest being six." she said wagging a finger and smirking. "I'm not in a diaper!" Bobby said a little bit too quick and she cackled. "well, this explains why you were so distracted. did baby bobby bring a diapie change to school." this..was NOT the kind of attention he had pictured and Bobby's less then stellar boyhood was getting even smaller. "I..I don't." he babbled."It's..not a..I..see.." "Well spoken. well i can't let you go out in the hall's, your going to spring a leak." the crone said and jabbed at the puffy padding with a glass mixing stick, indeed making a wet spot appear on his pants. "I'll go and head for my lunch..and shut the door behind me. there's a plastic bag in the top drawer of my desk..just take the soggy padding out with you..BABY bobby." she said and cackled again before hobbling her way out, shutting off the light and the door on her way out. "..Why couldn't of this happened during history class?" Bobby whined out loud, thinking of how cute THAT teacher was.

Logan pulled up to the school and parked his bike, Nodding to a few of the other kids from the school who were a little bit shocked to see him there. He had his satchel over one shoulder with a couple of diapers and wipes in it, planing on changing Bobby if he needed it, or double diapering him if he was going around commando. "awww, the babysitter he's to check on the babies~" came a mocking tone from Lance, and Logan turned to see the brother hood standing there smirking. They clearly weren't TOO worried about Logan since it was school hours and with him as a adult, attacking teenagers..well it could only make the Xavier institute look bad. Still he gave them a grin and smirked. "Just because Mystique stopped wiping your noses and kissing your boo boo's better, doesn't mean you have to be jealous lance. i'm sure you'll find someone to read you a bed time story." Logan shot back, Making the geomancer blush and huff and go raise a hand. "Careful bub, you SURE you wanna pick a fight? if I'm just defending myself.." Logan said and he had a glint in his eye. "..Tch whatever. not even worth the effort. come on, let's go get something to eat. Oh, and Logan? one of your boy's pissed his pants." Lance said, turning away and leading the other mutants to their house. "..wait what?"

having gotten the soggy padding off and cleaning himself up as best he could, Bobby could tell he had a few damp spots on his pants but there was nothing he could really do about THOSE. he got the paper towel he'd used and the soaked padding in the plastic bag and tied it up tight, then put it in the back of his book bag. he had of course toyed with tossing it in the trash can in the room, but the thought of someone finding it wasn't all that fun to think about. And plus he wanted to show Logan WHY he wasn't wearing his diaper when he'd be checking in on him. with THAT in mind Bobby made his way out of the chem class, with a semi bounce in his step, feeling lighter and faster now that he wasn't crinkling and waddling from his huggies. he made his way to the front of the school, Planing on meeting up with Logan outside and spotted Jamie looking grumpy on the steps..and in soaked shorts. 'Ouch, guess I'm not the only one the tinkle fairy visited.' Bobby thought, feeling bad for Jamie and was about to over and comfort him when Jamie got up and dashed off. Following Jamie's gaze/the direction he was running off too, Bobby spotted Logan and smiled a little. 'Awww, must be happy Logan's here to save the day.' he thought, then the yelling started. "I'M NOT A BABY!" Jamie screamed, getting everyone's attention. '...or not.'

Logan was shocked to see Jamie coming up to him with soaked pants, but a quick whiff let him know it was JUST water, even if Jamie had tried to soak them he'd of been able to get a whiff of the urine. "Listen squirt I-" Logan tried to start but Jamie cut him off, clearly having had had a BAD day and thinking Logan was there to pamper him. "So either give me the dry pants or don't, I didn't pee my pants, and I don't need a stupid night time diaper!" Jamie screamed and stomped a foot. "Squirt, you need to calm down, I'm not hear for you, I'm just checking in on Bobby an-" Logan said, well aware of how many students just heard Jamie admit he wore diapers at night. With speed Logan hadn't expected, Jamie reached into the satchel and tugged out one of the bulky diapers and waved it around. "oh right! like this is just for Bobby! Don't lie to me! I know you think I'm just a big dumb..baby.." As Jamie waved the diaper around in the air, he turned to see Bobby who was frozen in place, and not by his powers, who was blushing badly and had started to wet himself. "Oh..uh.." Jamie gulped..and then also seemed to realize what all he had just said and that some of the students were recording him with their phones. (Diaper boy has a public meltdown would be trending world wide before the school day was over) His cheeks burned and he gulped looking around, then turns back to Logan with a sheepish grin on his face. "I..I kinda..just..really..messed up.." He said..trying to keep a smile on his face as the weight of what he had just done hit him. As the laughter and hoots started up Jamie whined and buried his face in Logan's side, even as a loud poot escaped and whether it was from nerves, some food not setting right, or just his big boy mind going bye bye for awhile, Jamie's shorts and undies started to puff out in the back as he filled them. Not to be outdone with his break down, Bobby took off running, his pants soaked and having left a smelly puddle on the steps of the school, bawling too and wailing "MR. LOGAN!" and soon was hugging the other side of Logan. Signing and patting both boys back, and wishing he'd had a clothespin for his nose, he let both little guys cry it out.

It was clear in the aftermath that neither boy was in any shape to stay at school. even if he took them home for a change, they would of been too mortified and too out of it for lack of a better term to go home. the problem there though was that his bike could only fit at best one of them, and there was no way he was leaving one of the little guys here alone. it was only the intimidating presence of Logan that was keeping the taunts and teasing long range, and Logan knew even if Chuck got to the students and wiped their minds, the video proof was already out there. 'the marvels of the internet.' Logan thought dryly. The solution to his problem soon appeared as Scott made his way over, with Jean and Kurt trailing behind. "Jeez what happened here?" Scott asked, holding his nose, but looking concerned. "Long story. Look, Give me the keys to your car, I need to get these two home." Logan said. Scott hesitated, looking at the soaked pants of Bobby, and then the baseball sized lump of brown in the back and the wetness in the front of Jamie's shorts. "it's..not that I don't feel for them, but I just had the seats redone an-" Scott started, and Logan gave him a glare that would of made the hulk flinch. "I mean ok..but..how am I getting home from school?" Scott said Meekly, fishing out his keys. Logan took the car keys and handed over the keys to his motorcycle. "If you bang it up, your dead." Logan said then lead the sniffling and whimpering boys off, they were both sucking their thumb now and had sadly for Logan wiped their noses on his shirt. before getting them in Scott's car Logan did decided to be a little nice..to both Scott and the boys, and get them changed. "Alright guys, lay down." He said gently, pointing to the ground. "Y-Y-Your not..gonna..here?" Bobby whimpered, pulling his thumb out. "We're mostly hidden by the cars and those icky pants and shorts CAN'T feel good." Logan said. Jamie was already on the ground, any and all fight out of him and kept his thumb in his mouth, though he'd scrunched up his face when he'd sat down. "i..I'm not wearing my diapie Mr. Logan." Bobby said as he slowly got down. "B-But it's cuz I soaked it and it was gonna leak!" he added quickly. "heh..then that's ok Little Bobby. you just let me get you guys alll cleaned up. Jamie, do you mind if I get Bobby changed first? he's gonna be a quick clean up." Logan said, giving Bobby a warm smile then turning his attention to Jamie. the little guy just shrugged his shoulders as if to say 'your the boss apple sauce' and kicked his legs a little, looking up at the cloud. 'ho boy..Chuck's gonna have to take a look at them after this.' Logan thought and got to work.

The brotherhood was coming back from doing a dash and grab at a local convince store, handing the snacks they'd looted back and forth though Fred (AKA the Blob) unsurprisingly was hogging most of them. they were cutting though the parking lot when a rotten smell hit them and three of the four boys turned to glare at Fred. "Really man? no warning or anything?" Toad whined, tugging his shirt up over his nose. "If it was me, you'd be dead." Fred growled. Pietro chose to say himself and went to dash off to escape the smell, but came back in a half a second, laughing. "oh my god! you guys are NOT gonna believe this! and Fred, your in the clear." he said, then lead the way. the evil teens made their way though the cars and were greeted wit the site of Bobby drake, sitting on his ass and sucking on his thumb in a t-shirt and childish diaper..while Jamie madrox had just finished getting his poopie backside wiped down and was being taped into anther one of the diapers. Lance couldn't tear his eyes away from how loving and caring Logan was as he looked after the two big babies, and then got them both buckled into the back seat of Summer's car. "Bwhahahaha! their X-babies! X-babies!" Toad laughed. "oh man, Dad's NEVER gonna believe this!" Pietro hooted. "ugh, man, what a stink! gonna make me lose my lunch..just gross right lance?" Fred asked. "..yeah..uh..disgusting." lance said. what he was thinking as he watched Logan use a trash back to gather up the clothes and toss them in the trunk before driving off with the two little guys though, was hope much he wanted to be one of them.

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cirrius-akiyo · 4 years

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UNPACK THE BAGGAGE

-Parallel to Hold On (Let's Go Home) [Buck's POV]-

Buck has been feeling a bit under the weather for quite some time now. It has started with small throbbing headaches, which he quickly dismiss as fatigue or stress. Then come the sudden spells of dizziness that had caused dark spots to dance behind his eyes. To which he blames his lack of sleep.

He has not bother to tell his husband nor to consult Chimney or Hen because of the gap between the episodes of dizziness or getting light-headed were quite big. It's not like he has a constant throbbing pain to the point he's unable to function, so he doesn't really dwell on that matter.

Then one night came the nose bleeds after he had finished putting Chris to bed. Eddie was still on a shift after switching with Gary in order for one of them to be able to attend the parents-teachers meeting and Eddie had insisted to go this time. Remembering that one time Bobby got it too after the radioactive exposure scare, Buck shoves down his panic and worries into the imaginary bin. At least this time he is sure that he was not exposed to any killer rays.

After cleaning himself, he prepares to go to bed and slipped under the cover. His hand wanders towards the cold empty space beside him. Being by himself in the silence of the night, it is easy for his mind to shift to the last scene of the previous night.

They both had gone to bed angry. In all honesty, Buck doesn't really remember why they were fighting but he knows it was about something trivial. Something mundane on house chores, but he was tired and he snapped at Eddie.

The next morning he has said his apologies and Eddie had kissed him goodbye before leaving for work.

"I'm in my bed

And you're not here

And there's no one to blame but the drink and my wandering hands

Forget what I said

It's not what I meant

And I can't take it back

I can't unpack the baggage you left"

///

It is the night of the parents-teachers meeting and Eddie has left a while ago after finishing his 12 hours shift, leaving Buck to complete the rest of his 24 hours. Chris doesn't need to attend the meeting so he's at Abuela's, most likely in food coma now.

Once in a while, the unwelcome ache come back niggling at the base of his skull but Buck doesn't let them bothers him. He has learnt to live with them for a while. He really doesn't want any unwanted attention on him and be the man that has too many baggages, the firehouse doesn't need to divert their attention to a firefighter who simply has recurring headaches.

What is he really looking forward to right now is to go back home and cuddle with his husband, preferably while hearing the praises the teachers must have showers their son with.

Thinking about his family somehow able to chase the pain away to the point it is unnoticeable.

He simply smiles to the thought of his little family and his smile just get wider when Hen throws him a knowing look.

Their relationship is not without hiccup, but they've got through it all together. They both believe in healthy communication and no-sad-no-bad-secret-rule. Little did he know his belief is about to be tested.

"What am I now?

What am I now?

What if I'm someone I don't want around?

I'm fallin' again

I'm fallin'"

///

"I kissed Ana."

Not the three words Eddie usually says to him before bed.

At Eddie's thundering confession, Buck can feel his heart break, but he also literally can hear his mind cracked. Like his whole body is about to pop out of his skin.

Buck tries to find the logical reasoning for this confession and alcohol is usually to be blamed.

Eddie then has refuted on the possibility of getting drunk during a parent-teacher meeting and Buck doesn't know what to do about that. Did Eddie kissed Ana because Buck snapped at him the night before? Did he fucked up so bad? Did he do anything that has pushed Eddie away? His brain immediately went into overdrive and so he froze eventhough he can hear the strings of apologies that fell out if Eddie's mouth.

Then come the tears.

"What if I'm down?

What if I'm out?

What if I'm someone you won't talk about?

I'm fallin' again

I'm fallin'"

///

That night Eddie had held him while whispering strings of apologies into his ears, swaddles him with comforting words. But despite the lightness of Eddie's words towards him, Buck feels like the weight of the world is crushing him down. He feels like the exhaustion and the fatigues of the past few weeks are squeezing him dry. He's frustrated and tired and the tears doesn't seem stop any time soon. After baring his soul out, he finally succumbs to sleep, seeking momentarily solitude from bitter reality.

His sleep was not a peaceful one. Once in a while he'll wake up to either nightmare or sudden panic washed over him. He had thought of leaving to sleep in Chris' bedroom, but Eddie has keep him tight in his embrace. Dull ache keep pulsating in his head and so he nuzzles himself deeper into Eddie's hold. His husband's smell always able to keep him grounded and for a moment he believes in his wishful thinking that everything will work out later.

"You said you cared

And you missed me, too

And I'm well aware I write too many songs about you

And the coffee's out

At the Beachwood Café

And it kills me 'cause I know we've run out of things we can say"

///

Buck woke up that morning to warm kisses peppered on his neck and jaw. He still feel sluggish and not well rested but to see Eddie's warm brown eyes full of guilt and sadness just tug his heart in the wrong way. It is easier for him to remain angry at his husband but with their history, he knows anger doesn't do any good to either of them. So he reciprocate when Eddie's lips touch his, welcoming the warm feeling while trying to shove the thought that this lips had been on another woman last night.

Initially he was hopeful for a busy day that will give enough distraction to him, but now he is thankful for the minor calls that came in as his head is literally pounding him to the ground.

They had start their morning routine as per usual but Buck had noticed how Eddie has been working hard to give him more attention and care. Not that Buck is complaining but with Eddie plastered to his side, it is getting harder to hide the needling pain of the headaches from his husband.

They were doing the inventory when a sharp pain blossom in his head that caused him to falter in his step. Worry immediately etched on Eddie's face as his husband massage the stiff muscle between his neck and shoulder.

"Are you okay, Evan?" Eddie asked.

Buck really hates to cause unnecessary worry to Eddie and so he grit his teeth trying to ignore the pain. "I will be." Buck replied with the most steady voice he could muster.

But Buck did not get better. Every passing moment is an agony but he wills himself to keep going, effectively trying to avoid to be in close vicinity with Chim or Hen.

But then he found himself halfway into the toilet bowl vomiting the little food that he just ate with Eddie a constant present on his side providing silent support.

He feels awful. The pain. The nausea. The heartbreak. The frustration. The exhaustion.

Is he being exhausting right now?

Will Eddie ran away to kiss Ana again now that his mouth full of stomach acid. He's not actually kissable right now.

Buck chases the dark thoughts away while trying to stand up with Eddie's help. Buck's mind is really jumbled up at the moment so sue him if he thinks Eddie is going to leave him alone in his misery.

"Maybe it's migraine." Buck suggested to Eddie who is still actively acting as his support pillar. With all the symptoms he's experiencing, the possibility fits, but then as fast as he heard Eddie humming in agreement, he feels like the single string holding him splintered and sudden blackness consumed him.

"What am I now?

What am I now?

What if I'm someone I don't want around?

I'm fallin' again

I'm fallin'

What if I'm down?

What if I'm out?

What if I'm someone you won't talk about?

I'm fallin' again

I'm fallin'"

///

All Buck is able to feel right now is fatigue. Extreme fatigue. He can hear white noises all around him but he can't really help himself to care. He feels the fog of unconsciousness slowly dragging him under but as soon as he let the darkness embraces him, stabbing pain prevented him from giving into total sleep.

He feels like he's trapped in between worlds and he hates the idea and the feeling of it. Buck wanted to stay in the world that have Eddie and Chris in it but right now he's encapsulated in a world clustered with pain and agony. Colours keep bursting behind his closed eyelids as waves of nausea hitting him.

He can't help but to let his mind runs the image of Ana substituting Buck in their house. Ana kissing Eddie goodbye. Ana making pancakes with chocolate chips for Chris. Ana on Buck's side of the bed. Ana celebrating Christmas and Halloween with the 118. Ana attending the parent-teacher meeting with Eddie. Ana putting Chris to bed. Maybe later on Ana will give Eddie another child. Maybe a girl so they'll have a pair. Buck had thought of adopting another baby with Eddie but they haven't really discuss it seriously, and now Buck is about to lose his chance.

Pictures of Eddie and Chris with Ana and their faceless child slowly taking over the house, replacing any trace of Buck in it.

Where will Buck be? Who will Buck be?

"And I get the feelin' that you'll never need me again"

///

After feeling like eternity, the line of consciousness finally tugging him awake. Buck can feel a presence beside him, but he's in so much pain that tears are slipping free from the corner of his eyes.

He can feel the warm hands holding his left but he can't make out the owner but the feeling is like coming home.

But later the pain become unbearable to the point that he regrets of being awake.

The hands that are holding him suddenly gone and so as his consciousness. Buck knows no more as he slipped back into a nightmare addled sleep.

"What am I now?

What am I now?

What if you're someone I just want around?

I'm fallin' again

I'm fallin'"

///

Clarity comes to him in stages. At one point he can hear a voice saying his name and Buck simply hums in response. That is his name, right?

Later he can hear Eddie's voice calling him, and he smiles to the thought that his husband is still beside him. At least he's not a lost cause.

When the numbness slowly fades, he can feel familiar calloused hand stroking his jaw and he leans his face into the warm palm silently pleading: please bring him home.

"What if I'm down?

What if I'm out?

What if I'm someone you won't talk about?

I'm fallin' again

I'm fallin'"

(Falling - Harry Styles)

Eddie’s POV is here: https://cirrius-akiyo.tumblr.com/post/621917028804165632/hold-on-lets-go-home-i-kissed-ana-eddie

#cirrius akiyo's bunkdump #911 fics #911 fic #911 fanfic #buck x eddie #eddie x buck #evan buckley #edmundo diaz #buck!whump #buddie fanfiction #buddie #buddie fic #rambler not writer #songfic #sickfic

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literatehiss · 4 years

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Day 5 of PeterMartin Week - Gift Read on AO3 here Peter loves to give gifts to Martin, expensive pretty things. Martin doesn't have the money to buy the sorts of things Peter likes but he can certainly make something

Martin could not avoid the fact that Peter enjoyed spending money on him. From the beautiful black coat he had given him for the funeral, to the new shoes when the soles of the ones he normally used wore too thin. He spared no expense either, brands that were eye-wateringly expensive. Even their semi-weekly lunch dates cost enough for Martin to feel a slither of guilt induced nausea if he peeked at the bill. Martin often didn’t feel like he deserved all these nice things but Peter was often swift to come up with reasons why he deserved all that and more. Talking of dedication to his work and bravery. Martin had a secret thought sometimes that half of the reasoning behind Peter’s gifts were that the older man wouldn’t know what to do without Martin there to fix everything that “went wrong” with his computer.

Peter had recently picked up on his love of poetry if the book on his desk was any indication. Martin had come into work that morning juggling his bag and coffee for the two of them, nearly spilling them all over himself as he cracked his office door open.

He didn’t notice the package on his desk at first, it was only as he settled down and switched his laptop on that he saw the paper wrapped parcel. It was tied with string and Martin thought it endearingly retro. He had a fondness for old fashioned things and he supposed that might have been part of Peter’s charm, not that he would ever admit that to his boss.

He pulled the string and the paper fell apart to show its contents. A book of Yeats’ poetry, Martin took the opportunity since Peter was not there to roll his eyes, and a notebook and pen set. He moved the book to one side. The notebook was thick and leather bound and Martin knew he was going to end up so anxious that he would ruin it that he would never write in it. He decided to only write up his finished poems in it, and to carefully sketch the words in pencil first. The pen was the sort of type that you refilled from ink rather than use cartridges. The tip of the pen was gold and it felt heavy in his hand. Another unnecessary expense and he considered scolding Peter for the waste of money. He carefully placed them into this bag, no need for them to get dusty or damaged before he could get them home.

As he picked up the book of poetry, a note slipped out.

Martin,

You have mentioned your poetry a few times and, while it is not something I have shown interest in myself, I remembered reading this when I was younger. I slipped it out of the library at Moorland the last time we went. They won’t miss it and I know you would appreciate it.

Yours,

Peter Lukas

Martin choked at the idea that this book was stolen from the Lukas family home and he was almost so afraid that he would have dropped it. Luckily he didn’t and not only because the book looked old, its binding frail and the colours of the cover faded (though prolonged exposure to the Forsaken, such as the constant Lonely aura in Moorland House, could do that in a mere couple of years.) He carefully opened the front page, it was a first edition of course and Martin had to take a moment to consider the cost of the book in his hands and firmly decided for his own well being not to look up the price online. It was, despite the ridiculous price, a very thoughtful gift and it warmed his heart to think that Peter had gone through that much trouble just to give Martin something that he didn’t even know if he would like.

He couldn’t stop the faint smile that grew on his face and didn’t leave throughout the rest of the day. Peter didn’t show up at all, even when Martin knocked on his office door to thank him for the gift.

How could he even put into words how much it meant to him. He loved all of Peter’s gifts, but they were often practical, something that Peter could play off as just being concerned for his assistant. This was the first gift that Peter had given for the sheer purpose of making Martin happy.

Martin thought about it all the way home to his little apartment. Peter had offered to pay for a bigger place a month or so back and Martin had turned him down only because the thought made him feel oddly embarrassed. He sat down and carefully transcribed a few of his favourite of his poems into the notebook and left them to dry while he made dinner.

He shifted his knitting needles off the side table for his tea as he sat down in front of the tv, the sound of them clattering to the floor making him jump a little. He looked at them for a moment.

One of the things that Martin and Peter shared was an appreciation for jumpers. Peter always wore stiff scratchy sweaters that Martin could have sworn were designed to be as uncomfortable as possible. He knew they were some fancy brand and that Peter had five or so in his wardrobe in the same shade of grey. Martin in the other hand loved his hand knit sweaters, soft and warm. Before he had worked at the Institute he had used to make them out of all sorts of colours, mixing in the same jumper just because he could. He had needed to be a little more professional once he got a job at the Institute, though with how little respect Jon had for the dress code the neutral tones he had favoured when he worked in the library shifted into solid bright colours once in the Archives. He should however, still have some left of the pale neutral colours from before. He sifted through his wool to check, yes just enough as long as he didn’t make too many mistakes.

It took him quite some time and Peter’s flow of little gifts didn’t stop in that time. He had been forced to throw a coffee onto one of Peter’s jumpers and make excuses that he was going to get it cleaned just so he could get the sizing right. It was about two months of knitting when he got home from his long days at work before the thing was finished. He wrapped it in brown paper and tied it in twine like the book had been and set off to work early.

The Institute was always lonely for Martin these days, but it at least felt more natural when the place was actually empty. He knocked on the door to Peter’s office and peeked his head round the door, no one was inside. He crept into Peter’s office and placed the gift on the old, heavy wooden desk. Martin ran off back to his own office to start his work, waiting for a response from Peter.

Lunch passed by and there was nothing.

He waited all day, sighing as the end of the work-day arrived and Peter was no where to be seen.

Martin was just about to crack open his office door to leave when Peter pushed it open.

He was wearing the jumper, the soft white contrasting quite nicely against the dark blue of his coat.

“Hello Pe-”

“Thank you for the jumper Martin. You… I… You didn’t to do that. Where did you buy it from, might I ask, I would not mind another.” He was trying to look stoic but Martin was not fooled at all.

“You are welcome Peter. And I didn’t buy it, I made it for you. If you give me another couple of months I can make you another though, that wouldn’t be a problem.”

Martin thought he was hallucinating at first, but no, Peter was flushing red and there was a slight smile that he was clearly trying to repress. “Yes, um well. Thank you again Martin. See you tomorrow.”

Peter didn’t even have the decency to walk back out the door before disappearing into the Lonely. Martin snorted and left the office with a grin on his face. It was good to feel appreciated.

“Simon what do I do? He made me this sweater and it’s really nice! It is soft and he made it! He didn’t even buy it. No one had ever put that much effort into something for me! None of my gifts have been as nice as this. It was in the same pattern as my other jumpers so it doesn’t even stand out, its just much better. Why are the ones I bought so uncomfortable Simon? I just thought that’s the way they had to be but clearly not. And look at this letter he slipped into the package.”

Peter,

The book was a very thoughtful gift. Thank you.

Love, Martin “Love? Love! Does that mean what I think it does or is he just being nice? Simon don’t just sit there and laugh, answer me! What does it mean? And he offered to make me another even though I hadn’t given him anything nice. Is he expecting me to give him something for the next jumper? I will have to think of something really good. Maybe I will get him that flat, that will be good enough right? Simon you have hundreds of years experience why are you no help at all!? This isn’t funny!”

#PeterMartin #petermartinweek2020 #NaNo 2020

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iceeckos12 · 4 years

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dont spare the horses

Summary: Jon and Martin get domestic. The next logical step is to adopt some cattle.

did i write jonmartin fluff of post-159? I did! spoilers for 159 and everything that happens after. canon divergence after 160. warnings for attempted selfharm.

title is taken from ‘home’ by bruno major.

“How much work is it,” Martin wonders, “To take care of cattle?”

Jon lowers the book he’s reading so he can study Martin’s face. Jon is sitting on one end of the couch, and Martin is leaning against the arm, his feet propped up on Jon’s lap. Jon knows and he Knows what Martin’s face looks like, but it doesn’t hurt to study it again, just in case he’s missed any important details. Like the freckle under Martin’s right eye.

Then Jon remembers that he’s just been asked a question, and his partner is probably expecting for him to take advantage of the remnants of his Beholding powers to answer. Jon closes his eyes and reaches for the embers of it, slowly smoldering away in his soul. It gets harder and harder to find it each time. He thinks that it’s a good thing.

(Sometimes he misses the constant flow of information, the high of all the knowledge in the world at his fingertips.)

He sifts for a couple of seconds through useless information—the Highland cattle breed is the oldest registered breed in the world, happy cows make more milk—before finding what he’s looking for. He sighs and looks up into Martin’s expectant, cow-brown eyes and says, “They’re relatively low maintenance, apparently. I think they require a bit more space than we currently own, though.”

Martin hums and lowers his head to his laptop, apparently satisfied with that answer. Jon watches him for another second, before leaning back into the couch and finding where he’d left off on the page.

It’s not long before Martin speaks again. “How much do you think this safehouse would fetch?”

Jon doesn’t have to be an avatar of omniscience to know where this conversation is going, and how it will end. He would be happy to live out the rest of his days in quiet contentment in their cozy little safehouse, reading his books while Martin publishes award-winning poetry (he feels a little bit like a trophy wife, if he’s being honest. He finds that he doesn’t mind it in the slightest). But if Martin wants to move to somewhere with wide open spaces so they can raise herds of adorable little cows, then Jon will do what he can to make it happen.

Jon closes the book and squeezes Martin’s ankle. “I don’t think we’re allowed to sell Daisy’s safehouse without her permission. Do you want to call her or should I?”

Martin beams at Jon, and Jon thinks that there’s nothing he wouldn’t do to make Martin look at him like that again.

-0-

In the end, it’s Basira that saves them.

Three weeks into their stay at the safehouse, they’re woken by a phone call at two in the morning. Jon lets out a confused sound and makes to get out of bed, but Martin shushes him and tucks the blanket over his shoulders, and tells him to go back to sleep. The lack of statements has made Jon weak and tired, and sleep is more important than it ever has been.

Martin picks up the phone. The dirt in the floorboards is rubbing against his feet, and he’s still getting used to the way a chill seems to permeate the entire building in the middle of the night.

“Hello?” Martin murmurs, voice quieted by both his desire not to wake Jon and his proximity to sleep.

“Martin, is that you?” Basira asks, and there’s something in her voice that makes him stand straight up and pay attention. Something is wrong. “It’s Basira.”

“Uh, hi Basira,” Martin pushes his hair back from his face, flicking a gaze into their darkened bedroom. Should he wake Jon? “Something the matter?”

“I put together a bunch of statements for Jon, like I promised,” Basira begins, and there’s a soft rustle in the background. Paper? “I found something.”

Martin sits down slowly, finding and squeezing the edge of the small cardtable that they’ve been eating their meals at the past couple of weeks. “Okay…?”

“Elias—no,” Basira lets out a low, shuddering sigh. “Jonah was going to use Jon to start the apocalypse”

“What?” Martin gapes.

Basira’s voice is shaking slightly, cut through with horror. Martin has never heard her like this, not even when Daisy went missing. “He’s had everything planned right from the beginning—Prentiss, Sasha, whatever the fuck happened to his hand—he was planning on turning Jon into some—some sort of ritual to end the world—”

Martin thinks about the man lying in their bed, made small and terrified by repeated exposure to a world that made him very, constantly afraid. He thinks about the slow spiral, the hunger that ate at what was left of Jon’s humanity, piece by bloody piece. He squeezes the table, and imagines Jonah Magnus’ thrumming pulse beneath his fingertips. “Basira—”

“I wouldn’t have noticed,” she sounds tired, thready, “But there was a spider sitting in the middle of the page, and it drew my attention, and I read—”

“Did you burn it?” Martin demands, the world tilting on its axis like a top. If Basira didn’t burn it, then he will go to London himself.

“Of course I did,” Basira says, and Martin lets out his breath. “Of course I burned it. But Martin, you have to be careful.”

“We will,” he whispers. “You as well.”

“And tell Jon that I’m sorry,” she adds, and then hangs up the phone.

Martin lets the hand holding the phone fall to his thigh. His world is still spinning about him, thoughts jumbled and hazy and all he can think about is that stupid fucking birthday party, where Elias had sang ‘Archivist’ instead of Jon, and Martin hadn’t thought anything of it.

God. Jon.

Martin drops the phone and walks to the doorway of their bedroom, examining the small lump under the blankets. Jon’s long, black-and-grey hair is fanned out over the pillow, and his hands are curled into fists. His face is smooth, free of stress and fear, and for a moment Martin burns at the thought of Jonah Magnus, who’d looked at this nervous, bright man and thought, I will destroy the world with you.

If Jonah was here, Martin thinks, fingers twitching.

But then he sighs, because while Jonah Magnus is not here, Jon is. He comes around to his side of the bed and lifts the covers, sliding in beside Jon, who lets out a fuzzy, confused sound and rolls toward him.

“What was it?” he asks sleepily.

Martin takes Jon’s hand in his, rubbing his thumbs over the scarred knuckles, and says, “Nothing. Sleep. I’ll tell you in the morning.”

-0-

“What do you think about chickens?” Jon asks Martin.

Martin looks up from the flower he was admiring and blinks. It’s a perfect day for once, no clouds on the horizon, and the breeze has picked up just enough to be refreshing. The meadowgrass is soft and forgiving beneath their hesitant footsteps as they stroll arm-in-arm through the fields.

“Well, I mean…” Martin wrinkles his nose endearingly. “I’ve heard that chickens are kind of mean, actually.”

“Not quite as good as cows,” Jon agrees, “But it’d be nice not to have to buy eggs. And we have the space for it, now. We wouldn’t have to get too many.”

Martin studies him, as though searching for some ulterior motives. It’s different from the way people used to look at him at the archives, when that sort of suspicion is warranted. It’s almost playful, a warm smile teasing at one end of his lips. “Is there a particular reason why you want chickens?”

“Well…” Jon frowns, now trying to decide whether or not his reasoning for wanting chickens is embarrassing.

They have a real cottage now, rather than the rickety old safehouse. It’s warm and cozy, with clean white walls meant to be filled with photographs, and thick carpets that are wonderful to wiggle your toes on. More importantly, they are now the proud owners of a few acres of land, perfect for raising lazy herds of cattle.

“It’s just—when you’re raising farm animals,” Jon begins carefully, “I thought it was...standard to have chickens around as well.” It made sense, the way arithmetic made sense. One plus two equals three. People who raise farm animals have chickens, even if they’re not technically a chicken farm.

Martin lets out a light, surprised laugh, his hand finding Jon’s. “Jon do you—do you actually want chickens because you want chickens, or do you want chickens because you like the idea of having chickens?”

Jon feels a flush rise in his cheeks, but he stands his ground. “It’d be useful to have a bunch of chickens around.”

Martin shakes his head and presses a warm, fond kiss to Jon’s temple, like he simply can’t help himself. Jon tightens his hand around Martin’s. “Alright then,” Martin says, “We can get some chickens as well. On the condition that I don’t have to take care of them.”

“Come on,” Jon laughs, shaking his head. “Don’t be mean to my chickens.”

“These are still metaphorical chickens,” Martin corrects. “Who I will not defend you from if they decide to turn on you.”

“Liar,” Jon shakes his head again and smiles, and tucks his arm in Martin’s. They continue ambling onward, the scent of rain and fresh earth rising in the air around them.

-0-

Understandably, Jon does not take it well.

Martin is quiet as Jon falls apart, piece by piece, bit by painful bit. He is quiet as Jon grabs at his hair and makes muffled, heartbroken sounds into his knees, when he reasons out loud with himself, with Jonah. It’s only when Jon grabs a knife and almost gouges his own eyes out that Martin finally intervenes, wrestling the knife from Jon’s grip. Jon collapses into Martin’s lap, weeping, and Martin is crying too, just like he knew he would be if he spoke out loud.

Jon falls asleep against Martin. Martin doesn’t dare move, even when his whole body is screaming at the position.

Martin grimly screens all of their mail after that, every transcript that comes into their house. Jon is a skittish thing, hovering at the edges of the room as Martin scans page after page, starving but terrified of the idea of posing a danger to the world.

He tries to wean himself off the statements as best he’s able. At first he records once every couple of days, then once every four, going as long between each read as he can stand. Martin wishes that he knew how to soothe the worry, but Jon isn’t the only one recovering from the influence of a fear entity. The Lonely has made it hard for him to talk about things that need to be said.

They figure it out, though. Martin starts writing poetry again, figuring out how to put words to paper, figuring out how to put himself to paper. Jon stops beating himself up for choices he didn’t make and crimes that he didn’t commit. Because what else can they do? Sit still? They just didn’t end the world; it only makes sense that they try to at least enjoy it.

Slowly, they figure it out.

-0-

And so, Martin and Jon get some cows.

Martin is in charge of naming the cows. The first one they get is an older cow, a sweet, shaggy brown one Martin quickly names Henrietta. Martin is quite taken with her, always rubbing at the white star on her nose. The second one is a bull, a bit younger than Henrietta but no less sweet. He is dubbed Jackson, and he has a particular fondness for butting his head against your shoulder when you’re not paying attention.

Jon is deeply amused by the way Martin fawns over their cows. He rises well before Jon to feed them, and is usually still gone by the time the rest of the world wakes up. Jon can usually find Martin in the field, prattling away to Henrietta and Jackson, who are a surprisingly attentive audience. Sometimes, Martin even reads them some of his poetry.

Jon is quite taken with the cows as well, if he’s being honest. When he sees Martin in the fields in the morning, dew just beginning to burn off the grass, he’ll climb the fence and pat Henrietta’s star, and Jackson will chew lazily on his sleeve. Martin will beam at him, face gently lit in the rising sun.

Jon is, under no uncertain circumstances, in charge of the chickens. He is in charge of figuring out how to put up the chicken coop, putting up the chicken coop, but most importantly, naming the chickens. Jon’s never been good at naming anything, so he secretly picks the names from old statements. Martin thinks it’s hilarious that there are chickens running around with names like ‘Susan’ and ‘Laura’. The big rooster that Jon buys, that runs around and shrieks menacingly at you until you give him a swift kick, is dubbed, ‘Jonah’, because Jon has always been a bit of a bastard.

They still get letters from the Institute. Jon knows that they do, because each time Martin finds one, his face scrunches up with an awful, alien anger. The letter is quickly reduced to ash in their fireplace, though. Basira tells them all they need to know about the Institute these days, and they have better things to do.

-0-

“So what now?” Jon whispers.

Martin looks down at Jon, who is curled as close against Martin’s side as he is physically able. His long, black-grey hair is pulled into a loose ponytail that spills over and down one shoulder, and his glasses are tucked in his collar. Time has done a good job at wearing down some of his hard edges.

Martin tucks Jon’s bangs behind his ear and lets his hand rest there, gently caressing. Jon sighs and covers it with his own, still watching Martin with those dark, expectant eyes.

“I suppose now…” he trails off, thinking about the Institute, about the safehouse where they now live. Thinking about good cows, and the nightmares they can’t seem to shake, and meadowsweet, and the I love you’s, and the affection so kind that Martin had almost been in tears the first time he felt it.

“I suppose now,” he decides firmly, “we get to live.”

#tma #my writing #tma spoilers #tma post 159 #fix-it #the events of 160 never happen because FUCK that #jonmartin

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loveistherootofhappiness · 5 years

Text

Written for my Countdown to Christmas series.

Word Count: 2622

Summary: Seeing the sadness and frustration on Eddie’s face almost made Buck break his silence. Though it was physically paining him, Buck held on to the secret, more determined than ever to make this work. For them.

Also can be read here

-----

“Hey, can we talk?” Buck asked as soon as Athena’s face appeared on the screen of his phone. He felt she was the best person to talk with about this, she may know more than he does.

He could see the question in her eyes as she sat down something she was holding out of frame, “I got a minute or two, what’s up?”

“I just wanted to ask you,” Buck paused trying to find the right words, “has Bobby shown any odd symptoms at home or anything?”

He noticed the flash of worry before her expression settled into a look of determination. “What happened?” Before buck could even begin to formulate a response, Athena continued, “and before you try to lie to me and tell that me you were just curious or some bullshit, I know you called me for a reason, so what is it?”

He sighed, he didn’t want to do this to Bobby, but he was worried and wanted to see if he was on to something. He got up and fully closed the door of the room he was in, to make sure no one overheard him. “So when we were out on a call today Bobby’s nose started bleeding,” he saw Athena’s eyes widen, “now it wasn’t full on, blood everywhere it was just a couple of drops,” he clarified quickly, “I was just worried because it wasn’t hot out and he’s not the type to get them. Unless he does at home.”

“No he’s not, not that I’ve seen or he’s told me anyway.” Athena wasn’t trying to hide her worry. “Have you noticed anything else going on with him?”

“Oh, he suggested that we were getting Chinese when we work tomorrow because he didn’t feel like,” he made sure she saw the air quotes he did, “cooking. Takeout, Athena?” He knew his voice was a bit whiny, but he was more than looking forward to a Bobby style home cooked meal.

He saw a bit of amusement in Athena’s eyes, “okay, okay. Him not wanting to cook isn’t too worrisome. That nose bleed is though.”

“I’ve been keeping an eye on him, like we talked about, and haven’t seen anything until today. And I have been doing a ton of research. Did you know exposure radiation could case aplastic anemia?”

“I did know that actually,” Not expecting her answer, he wanted to ask her how, but he suspected he already knew. “I know a lot of things about... it. More than I should, less than half of it I understand completely, but, we’re not going to worry, because-”

“I know, I know. WebMD can convince you that anyone is dying.”

“That and we’re keeping the faith that he’s gonna be fine,” Athena tried her best to sound reassuring.

“It’s hard, the not knowing.”

“You know I understand. We’ll have the results soon. As soon as we know, I’m sure he’ll tell you. He’s gonna be fine,” she sounded like she was trying to convince herself more so than him, but he knew better than to say it out loud.

“Alright, I’ll let it go, for now, but if he gets another nose bleed-“

“I’ll expect nothing less from you.” Athena cut him off, already knowing where he was going.

Buck leaned back and sighed. He knew talking to her would make him feel better. “This whole thing sucks. I understand working on Christmas, it’s one of the sacrifices of the life we chose, but you just wanna spend these kind of holidays with family. Chris was so disappointed that we weren’t gonna be with him on Christmas.” As soon as he said that, an image of a disappointed Christopher entered his mind.

“Its always hardest on the kids. I have years of disappointed and angry faces under my belt.”

“How’d you handle it?”

“I just let them know how much I loved them and made it clear that I’d be with them if I could, but mom was needed elsewhere today.”

“Yeah, we know that Chris understands that we can’t always be around when he wants Eddie or me to be. It just still-“

“Sucks.”

“Yep.”

It does. I’m feeling a little of it this year, myself. It’s a miracle that I’m even off this year and we can’t even spend it as a family.”

“And that’s what I want. To spend it with my family eating good food,” he rolled his eyes, “not takeout.”

He saw the smirk forming on her face, “maybe I can do something about that.”

“What you mean? You planning something?”

Before she could respond the bell rang, signaling another emergency. He groaned, knowing he’d have to end their conversation. “We’re not done talking about this.”

“You’re right we’re not, because I’m going to need your help. Now go before you get left. Be safe.” Her face disappeared and her phone was back to it’s home screen. He pocketed the device and made a point to call her back as soon as he could.

The call they were handling was over quickly and as soon as he was back at the station, he excused himself to call Athena again. She told him that she was thinking of bringing Christmas to the firehouse, which he more than agreed with. As they planned out the logistics, Buck wondered how they would pull all of this off on such short notice. He also knew that if anyone could it would be her and he was more than willing to do whatever was needed to help.

“So what you’re saying is that there will be turkey?”

“Yes, Buck, there will be turkey.”

The more they planned, the more real it became. They were actually making this happen. They ran over the lists of who all to invite. They planned out how they were going to do the dinner. It was ultimately decided to keep this a surprise. He couldn’t wait to see everyone’s faces Christmas. They decided they were going to play the day by ear and he would keep in constant communication with her. The call ended with a game plan and heavily satisfied Evan Buckley.

As he walked out the room her was in, he ran into Bobby. “Hey, where did you disappear to?”

“Oh, ah, yeah. I just needed to make a phone call,” he said quickly, “Someone asked me to call them back.” Bobby seemed to be satisfied with his answer and didn’t question him further before walking to his office. Buck sighed in relief going in the opposite direction towards the loft.

It was an eventfully uneventful rest of his shift. He yawned as he walked to his locker to get his things, ready to go home and fall into bed. After making sure he had everything, he went to find Eddie, as he was his ride home.

“Hey, man, you ready to go?” Eddie asked as he put his bag on his shoulder.

“More than. My bed is calling me.”

Eddie chuckled, “of course it is. Do you mind if we go by and pick up Christopher first. With it being Christmas Eve, I wanna spend as much time with him as possible today,” Eddie sighed deeply, “since I can’t be with him tomorrow.” Seeing the sadness and frustration on Eddie’s face almost made Buck break his silence. Though it was physically paining him, Buck held on to the secret, more determined than ever to make this work. For them.

Buck put a comforting hand on Eddie, “You know I’m more than good with it. I’m always down to spend time with my little buddy.” Buck smiled at him. Eddie gave him small smile as they walked towards his truck. As they hopped in, Buck felt the need to say, “Everything’s gonna be okay with Chris, I’m sure of it. And hey, dude, it is the season of miracles after all, anything could happen.” Buck gave him his signature toothy grin.

Eddie rolled his eyes playfully, “wow. Sage words or wisdom there.

“Whatever, you know I’m right.” Eddie ignored him as he pulled out of the parking lot.

As soon as they walked through door of Eddie’s grandmother’s home they heard, “dad!”

Eddie ran up to his son while Buck stood back and observed, Isabella closing the door behind them. “Hey, bud, I thought we were going to have to pry you out of bed, what are you doing up so early?”

Buck hugged Eddie’s grandmother, “Buck,” she greeted kissing him on the check.

“Good morning Mrs. Diaz-Cardenas. What smells so good?”

“Buck, I’ve told you before to call me Isabella,” she corrected lightly, “and when Edmundo called me and said he was coming to get him, I thought I’d make some breakfast. And you know how niñito is, wanting to be up to see his father, he put his request in.”

“Pancakes and bacon?” Buck asked, already knowing the answer.

“You know it.” Yes, Buck did.

Eddie put Chris down and they walked towards the kitchen. “Smells good Abuela,” Eddie said as he reached the bacon on the dining table. Isabella smacked his hand immediately, earning chuckles from Buck and Christopher. “Ow!”

“You know the rule.” She said simply.

“Lavarte los manos antes de comendo,” The phrase that’s been drilled into Eddie’s head since childhood, falling from his lips with ease. “I’ll be back guys.”

Buck debated if he was going to wait to tell Isabella and Christopher now or later. He decided now was the perfect time since he had both of them in front of him without Eddie. He sat down at the table across from Christopher while Isabella was fixing his plate. “Hey, Chris, how would you feel about spending Christmas with me and dad at the firehouse?”

“Yeah!” Chris exclaimed a little loudly, eyes wide and full of excitement.

“I thought you and him had to work?” Isabella asked as she turned towards him.

“We do. Athena and I are planning a Christmas party for tomorrow, making sure everyone’s families are there. Everyone deserves to be with family on Christmas,” Buck said, smiling towards Christopher.

“That they do.” Isabella said warmly. “I think it’s a wonderful idea and we’ll most definitely be there. Right niñito?”

“Yeah, we will.”

“There’s just one thing: your dad doesn’t know about it, it’s a surprise. Do you think you can keep the secret?” Buck asked him with mock seriousness.

“You can count on me.”

“I know I can.”

“Alright, let’s eat.” Eddie said eagerly as he walked back into the kitchen.

“Alright!” Buck’s hand was reaching towards a plate when he felt that familiar stinging sensation on the back of his hand. He winced in pain as he looked up to see Isabella giving him the look.

“Don’t think that rule didn’t apply to you, too. Now go wash up before you touch any of this food.” Buck felt like a scolded child, which he found funny. He was holding back his laughter, not wanting Isabella to feel disrespected.

“Yes, ma’am.”

XXXXX

The gang’s all here. The food’s been delivered. Everything’s good on this end. Just waiting on you guys. Oh, and he did tell you right?

Great! We’re on the way back now. ETA about 10 minutes. And yeah he did. :)

Good, he knew the consequence if he didn’t. See you soon.

Buck locked his phone screen after reading Athena’s response. They’d been texting all day so she’d know when the best time to arrive was. Everything up to this had gone super smoothly. And he managed to keep suspicion down to a solid minimum, a Christmas miracle. He was ready to see the look on everyone’s faces.

It was better than he expected when they arrived back at the station and Athena made her presence known. Everyone going upstairs to be greeted by their family and friends. Karen told Athena she was going to bring the kids from the group home and they looked happy to be there as well. It was what the holidays should be.

They did this. They pulled it off.

Later, after everyone had ate until they were full, they all sat around with their respective families, enjoying the time. At this point, no one cared if the bell rang or not. Buck sat on one of the couches, watching Christopher play with the gift he had gotten him and other gifted toys with Denny, Harry, and other kids. He twiddled the mistletoe in his hands between his fingers, when he felt the couch shift as some sat next to him. He knew who it was without even looking.

“It is the season for miracles, after all, anything could happen. Eddie’s playfully mocking tone was, Buck assumed, supposed to be a bad impression of him.

“Okay, a, I don’t sound like that. At all. And b, told ya. Christmas is always full of surprises.” He said cheekily.

“Yeah, well, it’s not the one that’s full of surprises,” Eddie turned towards him and looked him in the eyes, “I can’t thank you enough for this,” the sincerity in Eddie’s voice meant everything to him, “I mean look at him,” they looked toward Chris, “I have seen him smile like this in a while. I’m probably gonna need the jaws of life to get the fire truck away from him. I can already tell how much he loves it.”

“It wasn’t just me, it was ultimately Athena’s idea. We just worked together to make all of this happen,” he looked down at the mistletoe, “I’d like to think I put the idea in her head though,” he met Eddie’s eyes again, “I wanted to do this. For you, for Christopher, for all of us. Everyone deserves to be with the people they love on the holidays.” Buck knew that even if he had to do all of this himself, he would have made it happen, just to see what he was seeing now.

Eddie reached over to the side of the couch, picked up a perfectly wrapped present, and placed it on Buck’s lap. He looked down at the bright blue wrapping paper decorated with snowflakes. He spotted the sticker in the corner that told him it was from Eddie. He looked back up at him. “Oh man, Eddie...”

“Nope, none of that. Just open it.”

Buck did as he was told, ripping the paper eagerly to see what was inside. He opened the small box and chuckled. He rolled his eyes at Eddie before holding up his present, “Mortal Kombat 11?”

“Yep, I know you haven’t gotten the game yet and you wanted to. And, when I completely mop the floor with your ass, you’ll know it’s coming from a special place in my heart,” Eddie had the audacity to shrug, “you’re welcome.”

“Okay, but you got lucky last time. And that sounds like a challenge,” Buck said as he put the game back in the box, “we’re both off in a couple of days, my house?”

“If you wanna get beaten on your own turf, that’s entirely up to you. It think we both remember our Mario Kart showdown at your place,” Eddie laughed.

“Wow,” Buck sucked his teeth, “okay. You’re on. Get ready to regret you ever said that.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Buck shook his head as he placed the game back in the box and closed it. “But thanks, Eddie. This is- this is great,” his voice caught around the lump in his throat.

“After everything, you’ve done for me, today alone, it’s the least I could do.” Buck was caught by surprise when Eddie pulled him in for a tight hug, which he didn’t hesitate to reciprocate, “Merry Christmas, Buck.”

“Merry Christmas, Eddie.”

#buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #christopher diaz #athena grant #bobby nash #911 #countdown to christmas #this was a joy to write #hope you enjoy #fanfic writing hell

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