#(( on the bright side. cleaning really is easy Happy Chemical

[royalreef]

#Most secret royal advisor || OOC #(( OUGHGHGHH #(( cleaning is miserable my good bitches #(( in case nyall were wondering why im not here #(( (that on top of intermittently being sick + chronic fatigue + busy + just Everything really) #(( on the bright side. cleaning really is easy Happy Chemical #(( or at least rearranging your living space is #(( very nice to get rid of oldass furniture. very nice to get NEW furniture.

[contemplativepancakes]

sunsets for somebody else

Daphne runs into her long lost husband arguing with another man in the grocery store. Things start to take a turn when she realizes they're married.

The bottle of bleach drops from Daphne’s hand into her cart, landing with a sloshing thud as she takes in the scene in front of her, frozen in her tracks. Emmanuel is standing right in front of her, arguing with another man about cleaning supplies.

Wearing a beige trench coat for some inexplicable reason—it’s almost 90 degrees outside—Emmanuel listens to a man who’s explaining in minute detail how to clean an oven. They’re both wearing wedding rings, and Daphne’s heart swells for a moment before she realizes it’s a different ring from the one she gave Emmanuel all those years ago.

“Dean, I don’t think this is safe for Jack. This is going to create noxious fumes,” Emmanuel says, squinting at the ingredients of the cleaner apparently-Dean had thrust at him.

Dean pinches the bridge of his nose, and Daphne squeezes the handle of her shopping cart harder, feeling faint. It’s not every day you come across your long lost husband at the Stop N’ Shop.

“I think the kid can take some fumes,” Dean says, plucking the bottle out of Emmanuel’s hands and putting it in the cart. “We wouldn’t even have to worry about this if someone didn’t let the pizza fall onto the bottom of the oven.”

“The directions said to put it directly on the middle rack!” Emmanuel protests, and Dean rubs a hand down Emmanuel’s back in a familiar way that makes Daphne’s stomach roil.

She’s not jealous, she’s not. She was just helping Emmanuel when she found him, after all. Their marriage was simply one of…convenience for Emmanuel. It’s not like he had a birth certificate with him, or a social security number. What did Daphne get out of all this? Well. Daphne looks at his cheek bones wistfully, her gaze dipping down to his strong forearms his trench coat is rolled up to reveal.

Dean rolls his eyes fondly, and then he tugs Emmanuel into his side, kissing him on the temple. Daphne jerks her stare away for a moment before returning it, noticing now that their wedding rings match.

“Emmanuel?” she chokes out, against her better judgment.

For a long second, she doesn’t think Emmanuel heard her, but he turns around. “Daphne?”

Daphne nods, her words forsaking her. She doesn’t miss the way Dean clutches possessively at Emmanuel’s hip.

“I…thought you were dead,” she finally says. “I filed a missing person report.”

Dean squints at her, before something like recognition passes over her face, and now that she thinks about it, Daphne recognizes him, too. He’s the one who showed up right before everything went to shit. Horror stories of Stockholm syndrome flash through her mind.

“Emmanuel, are you…happy?” she settles on.

Emmanuel gives her a smile, leaning harder into Dean. “I am.”

“Good. That’s. Good,” she says, a strangled look on her face, she’s sure. “Would you want to catch up some time?” she asks before she fully registers what’s coming out of her mouth.

Emmanuel gives her a warm smile. “I’d love that.”

As they set up a time to get coffee, Daphne tries to ignore the glare Dean levels at her throughout the whole conversation. He insists that their meeting be tomorrow, since apparently they won’t be in the area for long. Daphne tries to ignore the warning bells in her mind that tell her she’s about to get murdered and takes solace in the fact that at least they’re meeting in a public place.

Besides, even if Emmanuel’s husband is a serial killer, surely Emmanuel won’t let him murder her, right?

-

The next day, Daphne hems and haws as she debates what to wear. Whatever this is, it’s the exact opposite of a date, anyway. She knocks on the door of her foster child, Alex, to wake them up before she goes into the bathroom to do her hair and makeup. Really, she’s just doing it for herself. She’s allowed to want to look nice!

When she finally deems herself as ready as she’s going to get, she goes back to Alex’s room to make sure they’re actually up. To her pleasant surprise, they’re sitting on the edge of their bed putting on their socks and almost ready. “Excited for school today?” she asks.

Alex makes a face at her. “Never,” they say, but their voice at least has the edge of a smile to it.

They’ve come a long way since they were first placed with her, and even though Daphne knows she shouldn’t be getting overly attached, she can’t help it. She walks down the steps and into the kitchen, deliberating for a moment on breakfast before putting frozen waffles into the toaster. If she’s about to get murdered while Alex is at school, she can at least make sure the last thing she made for them wasn’t cereal.

Alex tromps down the steps, dragging their bookbag behind them, and Daphne hides her smile behind her glass of orange juice. Alex lights up at the sight of the waffles, disturbingly easy to please, as always. They inhale them, as teenagers do, before putting their dishes in the sink. Daphne cracks open her laptop as they wait for the bus, attempting to get some of her work done for the day since she’ll be taking a break later for the coffee. She really hopes her boss doesn’t try and call her while she’s out.

Or, maybe she does. She’s not sure she’s prepared for the level of awkwardness that she’s about to go through, but maybe it won’t be as bad as she thinks. She really wants to know what Emmanuel has been up to for all of this time. She’s still…embarrassingly hung up on him, and it would be nice to get some closure.

The bus pulling up in front of the house jerks her out of her thoughts, and she gives Alex a wave before they race off to get on. She watches them settle into a seat with one of their friends, and smiles at the fact that they even have friends now.

In the end, Daphne doesn’t manage to get much work done before she clambers into her car and drives to the coffee shop they agreed on. She doesn’t really think she needs caffeine with the way her leg is bouncing already.

Emmanuel and Dean are already there when she walks in, Emmanuel with a cup of black coffee he’s dumping sugar packets into and Dean with something with whipped cream and chocolate syrup drizzled on top. She gives them a tentative wave before ordering hot chocolate for herself, settling herself delicately in the seat across from them.

“So,” Dean says. “You were Cas’s wife?”

She squints. “Cas?”

Emmanuel speaks up. “After I regained my memories, I remembered that was my name.”

“Oh.” Smiling weakly, she tries to reconcile that. “You have them all back now?”

Emman—Cas nods.

“Just forgot about me, though?” she tries to ask lightly, but it comes out a little garbled.

“You took advantage of him!” Dean explodes from the other side of the table, making Daphne flinch. “Who the fuck finds someone naked with no memories and marries them?”

“Dean,” Cas chastises, his arm shifting like he’s putting his hand on Dean’s thigh under the table.

“I was helping him,” Daphne says hotly. “Would you have just wanted me to leave him there?”

Cutting Dean off before he can say anything else, Cas looks at Daphne and smiles in a way that makes her heart flutter. “I’m very grateful. I don’t know what I would have done without you. I’m sorry I didn’t reach out to let you know I was alright.”

Dean crosses his arms over his chest and leans back in his chair, taking a sip of his sugar monstrosity. He comes away with a whipped cream mustache, and it’s hard not to laugh as he wipes it away in total seriousness.

“So,” Daphne says. “You two have a kid? Jack?”

Scowling, which seems to be Dean’s automatic reflex, he exchanges a glance with Cas before softening. “Yeah, we have a kid. He’s four.”

Daphne thinks maybe Dean should have been a little bit more concerned about the fumes of cleaning chemicals if they have a four year old, but she keeps her judgments to herself. Cas beams. “He’s very bright.”

Returning the smile tentatively, Daphne asks, “How long have you two been married?”

“It’s almost our one year anniversary,” Dean says gruffly.

Daphne tries not to let it affect her, even if that’s more time than she ever got with Cas. “Practically newly weds, then!”

“It’s been an adventure; that’s certain,” Cas says, smiling serenely even as Dean elbows his ribs. “Tell us about you, Daphne. What have you been doing?”

Daphne shrugs a shoulder. “Oh, not too much.” Mourning the man I pulled out of the woods and saved and married, she doesn’t say. She knows Emmanuel never felt the same way about her that she did him. “I got approved to be a foster parent, so I’ve had a few kids come through.”

“Helping people has always been your calling,” Cas says softly.

Daphne takes a few minutes to gush about Alex, and her previous kids before them, before she notices Dean’s not actively glaring at her anymore.

“That’s…nice,” he begrudges when she finishes.

“What do you do, Dean?”

Looking like he just dropped something on his foot, he stammers before he hastily says, “I work construction.”

Daphne squints at him. She has the feeling he’s lying to her, but she has no idea why he would be.

“And what about you, Cas?”

“Oh, I mostly just take care of Jack.”

“You’re a stay at home dad?” she asks, the thought making her stomach twist into knots and heat rise to her face.

“Of a sorts,” Cas agrees.

God, they’re making it impossible to carry on a conversation with them. Daphne keeps a smile pasted to her face. “What do you two do for fun?”

“I’m convinced Dean thinks fun is superfluous,” Cas confides, even as Dean splutters at him. “But I like to drag him to thrift stores with me. Dean likes to bake, also.”

“I work on cars, too,” Dean says, and Daphne can feel his desperation to maintain his facade.

She tries not to quirk a smile at his discomfort. They chat for a while longer, Dean getting increasingly dodgy about the questions she asks before she finally excuses herself to go to the bathroom. She shuts the door behind her and looks down at the dank floor. Is she getting what she wanted out of this? She has no idea what she even imagined happening when she asked to catch up. Emmanuel running away with her? Maybe in her wildest fantasies. Taking a deep breath to ground herself, she looks in the mirror and checks her makeup, rubbing at her under eye circles before walking back out of the bathroom.

Cas is at the counter ordering another drink, for Dean, by the sound of the sugar content, and she walks over to him. Hesitating before she bites the bullet, she asks, “You’re not…like, being held against your will, right? That Dean seems,” she pauses, “interesting.”

Cas laughs warmly, putting a hand over Daphne’s. “No, nothing like that. This is a choice of my own free will, believe it or not. Dean is much more caring than he lets on.”

Well, Daphne’s not sure she believes it, but. At least he’s happy, and in the end, that’s all she’s ever wanted for him.

#supernatural #destiel #castiel #outsider pov #daphne allen #the born again identity #contemplative writing

[anyoneseenadam]

Home: Chapter three

azriel x reader (acotar)

summary: (y/n) is a daughter of Persephone, still recovering from the trauma of her fall into Tartarus and doesn’t have time for a stupid, handsome, annoying, stunning, injured man. But now they’re stuck together in the middle of nowhere and there only chance of getting home is if she can heal him, and fast.

warnings: big spoilers for mark of Athena and house of Hades, also some for the acotar series, eventual smut, blood, PTSD, graphic descriptions of violence, injuries and torture, enemies to lovers so az is a bit of a dick to start, swearing

word count: 4.2k

a/n: I’m not entirely happy with this chapter but I wanted to get it done so I apologise if its shit and pls comment and let me know :))))

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When Azriel woke up, the sun was just beginning to rise although it appeared you had been awake for hours, you had stitched together cups, bowls, plates and had even sewn his Illyrian leathers back together, his top folded carefully next to him. He looked for you, not seeing you straight away and instead seeing a blanket you had stitched crumpled on the ground and a trail of footprints leading to the water’s edge, blushing bright red when he saw your clothes on the side of the bank. He looked and saw you standing facing away from him, watching the sun rise, with the water pooling around your waist. You were shivering slightly, running your hands over your skin in an attempt to clean away the dirt and sweat that had built up. He watched as you kneeled and tilted your head back tentatively, wetting your hair and massaging your scalp gently for a few minutes, he watched entranced as you stood back up, lifting your hair, and gently squeezing the excess water from it, basking in the sun as it slowly dried and heated your skin, unknowingly revealing the whole expanse of your back to Azriel who was staring with a sick feeling building up in his stomach. Who did that to her? Unimaginable levels of anger built up at the sight and Azriel was overcome with a burning desire to destroy anything and everything that brought you pain, but soon you began to turn around to come back to shore, and he forced himself to lie back down and close his eyes, falling asleep once again as he thought of revenge and your scars.

--

When he woke up again, the sun was much higher in the sky, and from what he could tell it appeared to be around nine in the morning. (y/n) was dressed again and her hair had dried due to the heat from the sun. She had pulled it out of her face and was frowning at her cup.

“Are your cups leaking?” he asked, voice deeper from sleep, trying to not feel smug at her sharp intake of breath.

“No, I’m a genius don’t worry. This water just tastes like shit,”

“Well did you get it from upstream?” She raised her eyebrows at his question,

“I’m not stupid.”

“I was just asking,”

“Still.”

“It’s probably just still got dirt in it, you’ll survive.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I’m pretty sure,”

“Hmpf,” he laughed at her as she forced the water down with a shudder, before passing him a full cup. He took a tentative sip and frowned at her.

“This tastes normal.”

“Do you often drink river water?”

“Well…”

“Ew.” She laughed moving away from him as he stuck his middle finger up at her, making her laugh again, before chucking an apple at him, which he caught just before it hit him in the head.

“I thought you said I would feel horribly ill this morning.” He pointed out, he didn’t feel that bad, perhaps a little sick but he had been stabbed the day before.

“Oh you will, don’t worry,” She smiled at him, “I’d say you probably have about an hour, so I’m going to make us a treehouse.”

“A treehouse?” He furrowed his brows at the unknown phrase, she just laughed, pushing on her knees to stand up.

“You’ll see.”

He sat up fully and grabbed his top, pulling it over his head as she walked away, presumably looking for a good place to put her ‘treehouse’. The sight of her clothed back made the sick feeling in his stomach come back, he desperately wanted to ask her about it, but she was young, and they looked relatively new. It had been centuries since his hands had been scarred and he doubted it had been much more than a year for hers, and those weren’t wounds you moved past quickly, he still felt uncomfortable when people stared for too long. She stopped roughly a hundred feet away from where he sat and cracked her neck and knuckles.

“I’m going to need lots of water after this, cause I’m going to be drained, do you mind?” she asked, gesturing to the river. He started taking his shoes off as she held her hands up in front of her, he moved, wading ankle-deep into the river and filled the cups with relatively clean water, walking back and moving to stand near her, watching in awe as one of the thicker trees started to warp, lower branches forming a floor, and higher forming the roof, then more branches from other trees joined, creating walls and a small ladder leading up to an outside deck. Soon enough there was a small hut in the trees, and he smiled, turning to look at her. She was standing swaying slightly, all the colour drained from her face and he moved to hold her up, passing her one of the cups. She drank from it greedily, leaning heavily on his side, making him grimace at the pain and pass her the second cup, which she drank with as much vigour.

“That was incredible,” he whispered, tearing his eyes of the structure to look down at her, she was gazing up at him with an unreadable expression. He was struck by her beauty as he stared at her gentle eyes that held too much pain for such a young girl, his eyes flashing down to her soft lips which were beckoning him in. Without thinking he started to lean in slightly, before quickly tearing away from her, vomiting all over the ground behind him. He flushed bright red as she started laughing behind him, but soon let out a chuckle at her contagious laugh.

“Okay maybe an hour was pushing it, c’mon let’s get you sorted,” she said, moving to reach down into the river, filling one of the cups with water, slowly walking back over to him, kneeling next to him, and helping him drink as he was overcome with weakness. “told you so,” she smiled cheekily at him as he spat the water back out.

“Okay really, let’s get you inside, I’ll clean this up later.” She hooked a shoulder under his arm and helped him stand, walking him over to the ladder, moving to climb up but he just held tightly onto her and flew to the small porch she had made them, laughing silently when she squealed at the sudden flight.

“Asshole.” She muttered, practically forcing him through the hole in the wall and to sit down before she was turning around and leaving. As he waited for her to return he thought of his family who must be getting worried as he had sent word that he would be returning and now two days later he was in the middle of nowhere, in a completely different world with no way of contacting home. He wished Rhysand was here, then at least he could maybe winnow home. But the thought of leaving you felt wrong. You had already done so much for him and at least deserved to have him get you home.

He heard you struggling outside, but when he tried to stand to help you bring the small stash of appliances up, he was overcome by another bout of nausea and had to sit back down. Eventually their appliances, wrapped carefully in the blanket you had stitched the night before, were thrown over the balcony, Azriel’s’ heart warming at the cheer he heard from below, laughing as she appeared over the ledge with a pout.

“Stop laughing at me, I was going through something,” She scolded, picking up her bundle and bringing it over to him, arranging the cups and bowls on a ledge jutting out of the tree trunk then turning and throwing the blanket over the ground, motioning for him to move to it. He sat on it, groaning at the slightest of movements as she set about stitching something else.

“I thought you were going to nullify me, so I didn’t have to spew.”

“I said I would try. And even if it works it will take a while and you’ll definitely be spewing between now and then.”

“What happens if you can’t?”

“Worse case scenario I need you to get enough strength to take us back home, I have something that I’m 99% sure will work there.” He sat silently after she spoke, the word ‘home’ clanging through him. His shadows were crowding around him, growing thicker as he thought. He still wasn’t sure whether to trust her. She was nice, sure. And easy to talk to but there was something hidden in her eyes, he didn’t know what she had seen, or what she had done, to get a scarred back like that. He thought back over their previous conversations and realised he had practically told her his life story.

As he thought, he felt the walls that the pain in his side had begun to bring down slam back up. She was speaking to him, but he couldn’t hear her over the roaring in his head, only lifting his eyes again, when she stood suddenly and left. He would observe her first, that’s what he should’ve done. This girl wasn’t his family, she wasn’t Mor, and she wasn’t Elain, no matter how many flowers she grew. He didn’t know her, and he certainly couldn’t trust her.

--

You didn’t know what you did wrong, but something had changed in Azriel. As you explained how the chemical you kept at home worked, his eyes had glazed over, his facing hardening into an unreadable expression. You stopped talking when you realised he wasn’t listening, shame coursing through your chest and settling in your gut, your hands aching as anxiety ran through you. You had stood quickly and left, practically running from the room to avoid him seeing your shaking hands.

You knew what he was doing of course. The expression that slid over his face wasn’t new, it was practiced the same way you had practiced lifting your chin and straightening your back when men didn’t take you seriously. Practiced the same way your scowl was when people made a few too many jokes about your fall. Practiced the same way your steps had been, moving silently around your house, around camp, around town, since you got out. Always afraid that someone would find you, wake you, force you back.

You had left and instead sat on the riverbank, slowing your breathing in an attempt to settle the embarrassment coursing through you. Of course he didn’t want to be friendly with you, he probably had all the friend he needed back home. You were just the stupid girl he got stuck with. You had let your desperate wish for a friend get the best of you. All you wanted was someone to scare the nightmares away, so you didn’t have to. You started stitching again, your thoughts moving to quickly for you to keep up, tears welling in your eyes as you over thought every interaction, every word. You needed something that would silence your thoughts, and you let out a choked laugh as you started quietly singing one of your favourite songs, horribly off-key, and choked due to your tears, but noise all the same. You wished for your home, your headphones, your stuffed toys, your bed, anything familiar. The weight of the situation that you were in finally catching up to you. You looked back down to the basin you were making, rushing to finish it, needing to move or do something, anything.

Once you had finished it you schooled your features, hiding all traces of your emotions, letting the mask slip back on and cover your pain. Climbing back up to Azriel, he was still sat of the blanket you had laid out when you laid the basin beside him.

“I’m going to go explore, yell if you need anything.” You said, hating how curt your voice sounded, adding a smile at the end, knowing he wouldn’t be manipulated that easily. He didn’t reply, just kept staring, the same way he had when you had first arrived. You opened your mouth to say something else, but your anxieties bubbled into your throat before you could, forcing you to instead simply turn and leave.

You made your way east, sticking to the riverbank, smiling when you met a white cockatoo, having a quiet conversation with it. You continued that way for at least an hour, before finally turning back and following the same route, singing stupid songs you had learned on quests to yourself when it got to quiet outside, and too loud inside. When you got back you checked on Azriel, cleaning out his basin without a word and helping him lay down. He thanked you quietly, but you just smiled, hating how quickly things had severed between you. You tried to convince yourself that he was probably just tired as you set to making a fire and growing vegetables that you could easily cook for lunch and dinner, then refilling the jug of water for Azriel.

You remained outside for the rest of the day.

--

Azriel felt like pure shit. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been so sick he threw up, but he didn’t want to make it a tradition. He also felt horrible for severing the bond you two had sort of made. He had to give you credit, you were observant, and good at adapting. Just as quickly as his walls slid up, a mask came over your face, he couldn’t even read your eyes, your extremely expressive eyes.

You stayed outside practically all day. He heard you singing at one point and smiled through his wince. It was horribly off-key but made his chest tighten inexplicitly again.

He contemplated making conversation again when you came up, and handed him a plate of food, but you were unresponsive. He silently cursed himself for his untrusting nature. Cassian probably would have already wooed his way into your bed. Mor too for that matter. Feyre and Rhysand would’ve become fast friends with you, probably talking you through whatever trauma you had. But he didn’t have his family’s gifts when it came to new people and he was pretty sure whatever relationship you had was gone now, in such a short time. So instead he just let his tired limbs take charge and laid back again, wings and shadows wrapping around him, falling into a light sleep. You didn’t come up into the shelter that night, and he tried not to feel guilty about it.

--

The next morning you awoke early again, a long night of nightmares and freezing cold getting to you. You stood slowly, stretching out your limbs, and looking around your makeshift campsite. You didn’t have enough energy to grow the soft plants you needed to make another blanket last night, so you just pulled your jacket tighter around your frame and shivered your way through the night. You had hoped that the blistering heat during the day would help in some way, but all you had gained was tender, red tinted skin and dry, cracking hands.

You plucked four apples from the tree you had grown and moved to climb up to Azriel. He was also already awake, bent over the basin. You moved over to him instinctively, rubbing the space between his wings on his back. He was gasping for breath for a moment before hastily leaning back over and you cooed softly at him, pulling his hair away from his face the same way you had when your friends drank too much, or when they were brought to throw up due to nightmares. When he finally finished, you kept rubbing his back smiling slightly when he moved back into your gentle touch, still gasping for breath. After he calmed down, slumping back you passed him some water, holding his glass as he spat it back into the basin, before grabbing it and going to rinse it off in the river.

When you got back he was slowly eating one of the apples you brought up and taking tiny sips of water. You gave him a sympathetic look and went to sit in front of him. Downing a glass of water in preparation for the task you had at hand. Your hand tentatively moved to his side, where his wound remained unhealed, the tissue turning black from the poison, keenly aware of his eyes watching your movements. As you began to feel out the poison in his body you slowed your breathing and straightened your back.

“I’m not a healer, so this might not work at all.” You whispered, “So I’m sorry in advance.”

“Don’t apologise for trying.” He whispered back, voice hoarse. You closed your eyes, focusing on a small patch of the poison in his stomach. The poison was carbon-based, you could tell, and so you put your energy into turning it into food particles that could be broken down naturally. The two of you sat in silence like that for an hour as you focused all your energy into that small patch of poison, you could feel a sweat building up on your forehead, both from the heat and from the exertion. Eventually you withdrew, grabbing a cup and filling it with water, oblivious to Azriel’s keen gaze on your face, eyes filled with wonder and affection. He had felt your power coursing through him and became greedy for more, his shadows curling around both of you as you worked, oblivious to the world around you. He had to put serious effort into pulling them back to him when you had moved away, his shadows seeking to bring you back to him, to hold him like you did when he threw up, the caring affectionate touches so foreign yet welcome to him that he almost didn’t mind the horrible feeling of spewing.

After downing three cups of water and eating both your apples you looked back at Azriel. “Feel any better?” He did, but not the way you meant so he just shrugged.

“A bit, it was nice.” You smiled at him. A rare, soft, tired smile that made him want to hold you to his chest and protect you from this cruel world.

“I’ll let you rest then, shout if you need anything.”

“Actually, could you maybe help me down, I need to stretch my legs.” He requested.

“Of course, c’mon.” you slung an arm around his waist, careful to avoid his wings, and helped him stand, and walk to the ladder, moving through the doorway first in order to give him the space to tuck his wings in. You climbed down the ladder as he all but floated down, before standing back, turning away when you realised he was going to piss. You went back to where you had slept and started pottering, tending to the mini vegetable patch you had made. He came back soon after and sat across from you on a log. Unlike yesterday, the silence that followed wasn’t too uncomfortable.

--

That’s how the next three days went. You would sleep outside, while he stayed inside. Helping him through his sickness and taking a few hours each day to nullify the poison coursing through his system. You were making polite conversation, but the long talks like the ones you had when you first arrived were gone, and you almost mourned the hateful relationship you started with. You just wanted something to fill the silence, even if it was yelling and hateful words. But Azriel remained quiet and reserved and you remained oblivious to the shadows that moved towards you when you looked away.

One day however, when you were sat next to him and talking about his home, the world you had begged him to tell you about, a red bird had landed on the porch outside. Azriel had noticed instantly due to the way you had stilled, the colour draining from your face and he followed your gaze to the red bird.

“(y/n).” he uttered quietly, desperate to get that distant look off your face, he had never realised how much energy your soft smiles gave him, the way your sarcastic comments added to his stories, making him genuinely laugh. He repeated your name again, but when he got no response his shadows acted, surrounding you and pulling you to him. You turned and looked at him, eyes terrified and before he could think about it he was pulling you into his arms, holding you head to his chest as soft sobs filled the room.

You pulled away after a few minutes, breathing deeply and counting under your breath, he continued running his hand up and down your back and cooing in the way you did when he threw up.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, “Gods this is so embarrassing.”

“No! Don’t be embarrassed, it happens to everyone,”

“I just- I thought I was past this stage, I thought I was improving,”

“Do you mind me asking why you can’t look at anything red?” He was speaking slowly, afraid he would say the wrong thing, tensing when you drew in a shaky breath, eyes still trained on the floor. You stayed silent for a couple minutes, focusing on your breathing before finally speaking.

“Have you heard of Tartarus?” you asked, and he shook his head slightly, “Well as you saw when you kill monsters they don’t leave bodies, and that’s because they reform. They go to Tartarus, which is basically the underworld for monsters.” You paused wiping the stray tears from your face and he tentatively reached out to grab your hand.

“One day, I had been injured in a fight- broke a rib or something- and I was leaning on my friend Annabeth, she had just completed a quest and we were about to get back on our ship. She had fought a big spider or something, the details are fuzzy sometimes.” You shook your head, “the spider had fallen into Tartarus but before it fell it had wrapped its silk around Annabeth, and when it fell, so did we. Percy- Annabeth’s boyfriend- fell too when he tried to grab us. Nearing the end of the fall, a fury had grabbed me, taking me away from them. And then, until they got back to me, Tartarus took on a human body and he… y’know. The one thing that always stuck out down there was the colour red. The ground was red, the rivers were red, the sky was dark, but red all the same. And Tartarus, his eyes were red. I haven’t been able to look at it since.”

You finished explaining, eyes focused on the random shapes you were tracing on the wood, not wanting to look up as Azriel remained silent.

“How long were you there?” he eventually asked, voice filled with rage.

“I’m not sure, I didn’t have much of a hold on time down there,” you whispered and Azriel had to work hard to reel in his magic, the siphons on his hands starting to glow as he got angrier. But he looked at her again and found his heart shattering at the pained look in her eyes, and he went against everything he was.

“When I was a boy I spent all my days locked in a room without windows. For eleven years I was kept in that room. My father was a Lord, but I was bastard born, so I was kept in a cell, only allowed to go outside for an hour each day and to meet my mother for about an hour each week. They didn’t let me fly either, even as all my instincts begged to. Eventually they dumped me at an Illyrian camp, where I discovered I was a shadow-singer and learned how to fly.” You were staring at him in horror, hand clutching his tighter.

“How did you recover from that kind of pain?” you asked voice wobbling,

“I met people I loved, people that wouldn’t give up on me. I met my true brothers, brothers that would treat me like real family should,” You smiled softly at the way he spoke of his brothers,

“I’m shit with people.” You admitted,

“Well I’m also very old, sometimes it just takes time.”

“How old?”

“537…”

“You fucking WHAT?” he laughed at your expression, smiling widely when you laughed too. You leant back against the wall again, resting your head on his shoulder, your panic attack and sharing of emotions catching up on you, but happy that Azriel was opening up again.

“You know if I ever meet your biological family, they may find that they’ll lose some precious parts.” You whispered, cutting through the silence. His shoulders shook as they laughed, and he rested his head on top of yours.

“Now that, I would like to see.”

#Azriel #azriel x reader #acotar #acomaf #acofs #acofas #rhysand #feyre #pjo #hoo

[cockasinthebird]

Something old, as in July 1st old, that I’ve technically never finished, so rather than letting 7 pages rot, I’m posting 4 of them here, and if I ever finish it, I’ll post the rest as a part 2!

Also since this is so old, there’s probably gonna be more errors than usual because as creators we constantly improve!

But I am still very very happy with this, like... yes... good... 

Anyways, enjoy a bit of Poolboy Billy and Rich Brat Steve

-

The sun sits atop of the sky in another unbearably boiling hot summer day in Hawkins, Indiana, and, unfortunately for one rich kid Steve Harrington, not even the AC unit can cool down his house enough for it to be livable.

Ice cream and cold beers by the poolside seem to be his only refuge, hiding underneath a large parasol from the unforgiving gaze of the sun above, Ray-bans pushed far up to shield him from the bright light of day, whilst also disguising how longingly he truly stares at the new pool boy.

Sun-kissed skin, curls of gold, muscles carved by a lustful sculptor, sweat shining like diamonds that glide down over his bare chest, his taut abs, all the way to where his shorts definitely sit too low on strong hips.

It's hard to know if it's really the sun or the view that makes it feel like Steve's body is about to burst into flames; if it's the dry summer air or the way Billy grins that makes him so thirsty.

They don't really talk past the usual niceties whenever Billy comes by to clear the pool of leafs, ensuring that the chemical levels are as they should be, and that the surrounding area is clean and nice to look at. Even in school it's barely more than bumping shoulders and talking trash on the court, although Billy always do seem to make it a daily task to get in the way somehow.

Yet when they're alone like this, a week or so into summer vacation, all that delicious fire and animosity just sorta runs dry. Could be that Billy keeps cool as to not lose his job at one of the only pools around, or maybe all the bravado was just a show of macho to assert himself as some kind of alpha male at school.

He had knocked Steve off of his throne as Keg King, which hadn't been that hard to do, because thanks to Nancy Wheeler's influence and Tommy's betrayal, Steve had gotten far too soft to even fight for that title, but maybe he didn't mind giving it all to Billy. There was some peace in letting go, and excitement in having it taken.

And as he lounges here, daydreaming about having everything taken by Billy, he doesn't notice that that same guy approaches him with a sly grin going up one side.

“You know, you're not gonna catch a tan lying in the shade like that,” he says, skipping by any form of hi or hello.

Even though Billy's wearing sunglasses, Steve knows he's looking up and down his half naked body stretched out here, long legs that goes under all too short swimming trunks, the trail of hair leading up from the waistband, undoubtedly counting every single mole in view. He can practically feel the eyes burn through him like he's a centerfold girl of a dear magazine.

“I'd turn lobster red in minutes,” Steve responds with and rests his head against the pool chair, maybe he flexes a bit, but mentioning that would be to admit Billy was watching.

Then he goes to grab Steve's beer, who doesn't object to it as he follows the motion.

“Maybe you should try wearing sunscreen like normal people.” Billy flashes teeth in an oddly teasing grin, and brings the can up to take a big gulp of it.

Once he's satiated, let's out a refreshed “ahh”, licks his lips slowly – along the curve of his upper lip, then slams down the can again.

Steve looks at his empty beverage, up at Billy who's got this wide shit-eating grin, then back at the can. To where he extends his arm in a lackadaisical fashion, and pushes it off the table with the flick of his index finger. It sings out hollow as it clatters to the tiles.

“Pick that up.” He smiles.

Billy cocks a brow, grinning still as if he's not about to do as demanded by the son of his employer.

“As you wish, princess,” his tone barely dipping into something venomous and challenging, as he bends forward to pick up the empty beer.

When he stands again he runs his hand through sweaty curls to push them away, and wipes his brow with the back of his hand.

“Anything else?” he asks with clear feigned obedience. The can crumbles inside his fist as he closes his hand like it's no big deal at all, as if it isn't telling of his thoughts.

“Yeah why don't you go get me a new one?” Steve asks all nonchalant, yet shifts a bit in his seat at that unnecessary show of aggression. He half expects Billy to throw the can right at him.

It crinkles further between his strong fingers.

“Go get it yourself,” stern and now with more of a snarl.

Steve sighs and looks away to contemplate on just how far he'd dare to push Billy, but the guy is all too easy to agitate it seems, and Steve doesn't feel like throwing a party with a bruised up face. So he stands up, notices the little jerk of Billy's lips as if he's won something, and walks up to stand next to him.

“Think you can clean up all of this shit before tonight?” he asks and gestures with his hand dangerously close to the other's face; close enough to feel the hitch of his breath. “I'm throwing a pool party tonight and want it to look nice. Maybe I'll see you there?”

Billy turns his head to stare at Steve's far more expensive sunglasses. He doesn't answer.

When it's clear that he's never going to, Steve keeps walking. “I'm gonna go take a shower... your money is on the kitchen table.”

And although Billy fights it- struggles against the urge that's begging for him to turn around, he gives in to watch Steve walk away. His plump ass looks so fucking good in anything, especially those too small trunks, and it is infuriating to him the way it carves itself into his memory; joining countless of other times he has looked where he shouldn't, gaze fallen too far down.

A sight that he remembers far more vividly than any bouncing set of tits, and the beer can he's still strangling whines again from within his frustration.

A sight that still sits there as he pours all the sloppy leafs into a black bag and carries it to the trashcan.

A sight that he can't stop thinking about as he rolls up the hose, gathers his net and goes to the storage closet of the pool house.

A sight that he has seen several times in the boys locker room. Naked. Wet. Soaped up.

“I'm gonna go take a shower,” Steve had said all casually, as if he isn't aware of how it goes hand in hand with all those fucking images that Billy sees every time he blinks or dreams. It keeps him up at night. Keeps him hard.

Gently he closes the door to the cramped storage room, filled with cleaning supplies and inflatable pool toys. He breathes with forced calmness, hand still on the handle as he struggles some more against those images. When eyes open to look down, his angered gaze is met with tented shorts. And he takes a deep breath. Fingers unfurl from the door handle. Unties the string of his red shorts, which then falls to the floor.

“Fuck,” he groans out as his half chub hangs free. “Fucking Harrington.”

Billy places his hand against the door and leans on it with all his weight, just in case Steve found a reason to come here, which he doubts that shitty rich kid ever would, but the door doesn't have a lock, so better safe than sorry. He presses his head against it as well, eyes peering down, his right hand moving to where it is so painfully needed.

A harsh exhale escapes as he grabs his cock; runs his thumb along the line of a bulging vein, and he closes his eyes. He barely has to even try before Steve's there with those long legs, round ass, pink lips, doe eyes.

And he finds himself thinking of just minutes ago, his mind recollecting where each and every mole is that he has spent almost a year mapping out. On his cheeks, down his throat, over his arms, across his chest, high up his thighs.

Steve then turns to look at him, pushes up those expensive Ray-bans into his dark hair so that Billy can see how intently those almond eyes stare directly at him.

Billy licks his lips before they fall open to allow out a grunt as he feels himself grow in his hand.

Squeezes his eyes tighter, and in his mind he walks closer to where Steve now sits on the edge of that yellow sun lounger. Billy brings a hand up to the side of Steve's face; runs his thumb across that pretty little mouth, pulls down at his lower lip till he opens up.

Jerks faster around his throbbing erection and feels pre cum trickle down over his fingers.

He can almost imagine the slight sigh that would escape Steve as Billy then presses his thumb into his warm mouth, hard onto his slippery tongue, only to have those lips close around his digit and suck.

“Shit- ah-” Billy moans as heat forms a whirlpool between his thighs.

Watches as Steve pops off of his thumb, lips now shiny with spit, and he keeps them open and inviting, eyes staring up and blinking slowly with heavy lids. Billy doesn't have to move or say a thing before Steve leans forward to sink all the way down Billy's impressive, girthy cock.

Billy spits into his hand before continuing fisting at himself with furor, hoping to reach some semblance of how he imagines Steve's wet mouth taking all of him would feel like.

How he'd gag and groan at the base, lips pulled tightly around teeth, drool running down his chin, and Billy grabs him by the hair; keeps Steve's head still. Pulls out slowly just to slam right back inside and hears how he complains, sees tears run down his cheeks, and does it all again. Starts fucking himself into Steve's face with a pace matching his hand, quick and sloppy, hears all the moans that echoes from within the throat he shoves his prick into, the grotesque and obscene squelching of spit and choking around his head.

“Oh fuck, Steve...” he gasps; his ragged breathing and the slick sounds of his hand moving over hardened flesh the only thing to be truly heard here.

As the first jolt of pleasure daring him closer to climax shoots through his spine, he bends further till the top of his head is pressed against the door, his hand there curling together to a fist against the wood.

Steve, Steve, Steve.

The way his swimming trunks clings to him when he climbs out of the pool. The way he groans and pants on the court during training. The way he looks at Billy, sometimes glaring, sometimes not. The way Hargrove sounds in his voice. The way his punches feel on Billy's cheek.

It's all so heavily ingrained in his memory, suffocating, everything else so dull and muted in comparison. And it brings him over the edge, the thought of cumming down hot into Steve's throat as he chokes on Billy's climax, heat rolling through him as he moans far too loud, hips stuttering into his closed hand that pulls up his length with a harsh stroke to milk out every single drop he can.

Feels it run down his hand. Watches Steve swallow and lick his lips.

Then Billy opens his eyes.

He's still standing alone in the closet, his cum sliding down the wooden door, dripping slightly from his fingers to the floor, pooling between his feet. And he's the one to clean it all up now.

#Harringrove #My Writing #Lemon #I'm... too scared of my own failings to re-read it #errors?? sure go ahead and live!

[sorry-apsalar]

Does This Mean I'm a Girl Now?

Content Warning: this fic contains genderbending (sort of anyway) and gender dysphoria as a result of it, also multiple mentions of genitals as well as nudity in general.

My friends and I were discussing a thing that we were mildly salty about which brought on the topic about how we were salty in general over how a lot of genderbending stuff is portrayed. It often relies on stereotypes and gender roles which is really annoying and pretty shitty. Then my dear friend @itsladykit (I hope it’s okay that I tagged you, I just wanna give you proper credit for the idea) brought up the idea of a cis character getting magically genderbent and experiencing gender dysphoria because of it. Which I thought was a really neat idea but I wasn't sure if I was qualified to tell that tale but then they told me to follow my heart and write it and that's why this fic came into being.

Now I feel like I need to put the disclaimer that while I have personal experience with gender dysphoria, the worst of it was was back when I was a teenager, I've mostly grown out of it and I'm pretty sure most people have it stronger than I ever have. So if this isn't an 100% accurate depiction of dysphoria, that is why. I did my best though.

Also, Frender features in it mostly just because I was already fueled primarily by salt, might as well let my usual Futurama salt fuel me too.

-

“Wow,” Fry said as they looked over the naturally formed pool of bright pink goo. They’d been to a lot of different planets and seen quite a few different kinds and colours of goo but never one so pink. “It’s kind of pretty, don’t you think?”

“I guess,” Bender replied, disinterested. “I’m bored though so I dare you to jump in and see what happens.”

“Do not!” Leela snapped from somewhere behind them before Fry could even decide if he wanted to take that dare or not. “I don’t know what you guys found over there but don’t listen to him Fry because whatever it is, is probably dangerous.”

“Fucking killjoy,” Bender muttered so that only Fry could hear. He was right though; they were hiding out on a dumb planet with nothing on it to escape some asshole pirates which meant they had to just sit around and do nothing until Leela was sure they were free. It had only been probably an hour so far and Fry was already bored out of his mind. Leela had forbade them from doing anything ‘dirty’ in case they needed to get out in a hurry so the least she could do was let them investigate some cool pink goo.

So, feeling rather rebellious especially as the sound of Leela’s footsteps approached, presumably to investigate, Fry lowered himself to the ground so he could lean forward and stick in his hand in. The goo didn’t come up all the way to the lip of the natural pool, forcing him to lean a bit farther than he was really comfortable with considering the utterly unknown alien substance he would fall into if he lost his balance but if he fell Bender would catch him… probably anyway, so it should be fine.

The goo was pleasantly cool as it engulfed his hand, almost seemingly clinging to him and pulling it down. It was like sticking his hand in thick syrup fresh out of the fridge, a pleasant texture if a bit odd. Right away though his hand began to have that pins and needles feeling that came from laying on one’s arm wrong for way too long so he should probably…

The ground gave way beneath him, sending him into the goo. He didn’t even have time to yelp in surprise before he was fully submerged in it. He gasped instinctively, inadvertently breathing it in, making him choke and sputter.

He needed to get to the surface now! Except he didn’t even know where it was. He thrashed, trying to go in any direction but to no avail, the goo was too thick to swim well in and blackness was already eating at the edges of his vision. He couldn’t die like this! No fucking way! It wasn’t…

~

“…think it’s permanent?” Bender was saying from somewhere above Fry as he slowly came to.

“Who knows?” Leela replied from also somewhere above him. “For his sake, I hope not.”

“You make it sound like it’s a big problem.” Bender’s tone indicated that he disagreed.

“You don’t understand.” Leela was giving Bender her annoyed look, Fry didn’t even need to open his eyes to know that. “Though I guess I can’t really blame you for not understanding this, you’re a robot so it’s probably different for you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Leela sighed. “Maybe you’re right, maybe it won’t be a big deal. Heck, maybe it’ll only last a few hours.”

As much as Fry enjoyed napping, the way they were talking was rather disconcerting so with a groan he opened his eyes and forced himself to sit up. Bender and Leela were standing to either side of where he lay on the ground. Bender was coated head to toe in bright pink goo, calling to mind what had happened last. That meant he’d jumped in after Fry and was probably the sole reason he hadn’t drowned. Now he was trying to wipe the goo off with a pink rag that might’ve once been white but it wasn’t very effective.

“Hey meatbag,” he said, turning his attention onto Fry. “How do you feel?”

“Uh… weird.” Fry was covered in goo still too. It clung to him and made him feel all tingly and odd, like his whole body had fallen asleep even though that wasn’t possible. And it smelled strange too and tasted bad. He turned his head to the side to spit as much of it out as he could, though it did little to rid his mouth of the taste. “I got to wash this stuff off,” he said as he stood up, careful of the probably slippery goo coating him and pooling around where it had dripped off him and Bender. “Thanks for saving me.” Was it just him or did his voice sound strange?

“Uh… Fry,” Leela cut in before he could turn to start for the ship. “The pink stuff kind of did something to your body.”

Oh no. “What?”

“Well, uh… um…”

“The most noticeable thing it did was give you boobs,” Bender finished. “I didn’t check your pants so it might’ve changed you down there too. You might want to look into it.”

Fry looked down at himself and… true to Bender’s words, his chest was quite different; his clothes soaked in the pink goo clung to him, highlighting the weird lumps on his chest. Boobs was what they were called, he had them now, big ones too. Or at least they looked big to him from this angle which wasn’t an angle he was ever supposed to see boobs from so how was he supposed to know?

“Does this mean I’m a girl now?” he asked as he looked back up at Leela and Bender. The strange thing about his voice was that it sounded more feminine and if it sounded that way to him how much more so was it to everyone else?

“Not unless you want to be,” Leela said with a reassuring smile.

“Uh… I don’t think I do.” He’d never considered it before even in passing but now that was forcibly faced with it, he was pretty sure he didn’t want to be a girl.

“Come on, let’s go wash this gunk off,” Bender said as he gave up on the rag, tossing it disdainfully to the ground before starting for the ship. Fry was more than happy to follow because who knows, maybe it would only last as long as the goo was coating him.

“All right,” Leela said, “I’m going to collect a sample of the pink stuff to bring back to the Professor.”

 -

Undressing brought to Fry’s unfortunate attention that the goo had changed more than just his chest and voice. His hips were wider, his shoulders a little narrower – not by much, he’d never exactly had broad shoulders but enough that even if no one else was likely to notice he still did – and the other biggest change was that his dick was missing. He could explore what was there instead with his hands but… he didn’t feel particularly inclined to do so.

Which was odd, wasn’t it? In every movie or TV show he’d ever seen where a man ended up with a female body through whatever means, the joke almost always was that they were excited to touch themselves down there and play with their new boobs. It wasn’t even that he wasn’t into such things, while he did prefer men – especially if they were robots or aliens – boobs and vagina weren’t turn offs by any means. On himself though it was just… too weird.

With a sigh, he did his best to shake it off and stepped into the shower after Bender. There was only one on board the ship because it wasn’t exactly meant for everyday use, mostly decontamination and washing off dangerous chemicals which this probably counted as. There was enough room for both of them though so it was whatever.

“You owe me for going in after you,” Bender said, turning to face him. “It leaked into my everything and now I have to clean everything.” To demonstrate, he opened his chest compartment, revealing that it had been partially filled with pink goo, Fry had to pull his foot back to stop it from splashing on him. Bender then began taking things out to wash off too, including his cigar case, its contents most likely ruined. He gave Fry a pointed look as he put it back as if this were his fault, which it kind of was.

“Sorry, thanks for saving me though, I owe you big. But uh… you did dare me to jump in.” Not that Fry had meant to or would’ve if given the choice, not even he was quite that stupid.

“I didn’t think you’d actually do it. But whatever, I guess this is more exciting than sitting around doing nothing. By the way, in case you haven’t noticed yet, your dick’s gone.”

Fry had to hold back a groan; that wasn’t something he really wanted to think about. “Yeah, I know. How long was I in the goo before you pulled me out though?” Because surely a change this drastic couldn’t have happened in brief awful seconds he remembered.

“I don’t know, five, ten minutes. That stuff isn’t exactly easy to see through and it was a lot deeper than it looked. Which was why I had to jump in to find you in it.”

“How come it didn’t do anything to you?”

“I don’t know, maybe because I’m a robot.” That was kind of an ‘oh duh’, huh?

They were silent for a bit while Fry focused on making sure to wash all the goo off. He could probably safely step out now if he wanted to, the pins and needle feeling the goo had given him was rapidly fading, but the water was warm and… “What do you think of this?” He did his best to keep his tone casual. “Does it uh… change how you see me or anything?”

Bender scoffed as if Fry was stupid to even consider such a thing. “No, why would it? I’m a robot and I’m pan so I have double the reason not to care what your body is shaped like. It should be fun to play around with later though.” He winked as if his meaning wasn’t already obvious.

Fry wasn’t really sure about that but… that was probably just because he still wasn’t over the shock of the sudden change. When he was more used to it, it would probably be fun to experiment with so… “Yeah, maybe once we’re home and stuff.” Or maybe it would wear off before they even got there and thus it would basically be a non-thing, just another weird adventure that wrapped up quickly and left everything exactly the same as before. He could always hope, right?

~

“… and it’s permanent,” Professor Farnsworth finished, jerking Fry out of the bored stupor listening to the scientific explanation behind the exact mechanics behind the sex change had put him in.

“It’s what?” Hopefully Fry had just misheard something. He hadn’t exactly been paying attention after all.

“It’s permanent,” Farnsworth repeated. “It’s not going to wear off.”

“You mean I’m stuck like this forever?”

“Not necessarily. There’s of course the traditional transition methods you could take or I could use this,” Farnsworth held up the vial of pink goo that Leela had collected for him, “to engineer a substance that will have the opposite effect. And then it’ll be like this whole misadventure never happened except we’ll have the means to get rich off of selling this stuff. Of course we don’t yet know what all the risks it might pose are but that’s all the more reason to sell it to as many people as possible so we can find out.”

Ugh, Fry hadn’t even considered what other possible risks his inadvertent bath in the pink goo might’ve had. What if it was also super toxic and was going to eventually kill him? Or what if it drastically increased his risk of cancer other possibly fatal condition? … Eh, it was probably fine so… “How long is that going to take?”

“Hmmm…” Farnsworth held the vial up to the light as he studied it. “I don’t know. I should probably get to work on it.” And without any further word he was shuffling off out of the room. Everyone in the room, which was everyone employed at Planet Express because privacy didn’t exist in the modern age, watched him go.

“On the bright side,” Leela said from the other side of the conference table, “if he can make something that can do the reverse, we’ll have discovered something that can help a lot of people.”

“Assuming it’s safe anyway,” Amy added. “It could still be super toxic and deadly or something. So, congrats Fry, you get to be a guinea pig for a new way of transitioning. Here’s to hoping it doesn’t kill you in the end.”

“Uh… thanks, I think.” He’d rather not be a guinea pig for anything but seems he didn’t have a choice here so yeah, hopefully it was safe to use. But at least if anyone could make something that could turn him back to normal it was the Professor. So really everything would be fine. He just had to deal with this weirdness for a little while.

~

Looking at himself naked in his bedroom mirror was a mistake. His boobs were weird shaped lumps on his chest that hung there kind of like those ballast bags that hung on the sides of hot air balloon baskets but rounder and with nipples. How could something that looked like that be natural? Crossing his arms over them to try to hid them from view sort of worked but it also pushed them closer together which wasn’t a pleasant sensation. And combined with his hips, they gave him that ‘hourglass figure’ that was supposed to be desirable but didn’t look right in the mirror.

He couldn’t bear to look at his crotch for more a couple seconds because his dick was gone! That was weird and just plain wrong. Everything about his body looked wrong now and he hated it. He’d never particularly liked his body before – muscles would’ve been cool to have but weren’t worth the effort – but it had been utter indifference. Now looking at himself was an unpleasant experience.

He… wasn’t just going to just get used to or over this, was he? His body wasn’t supposed to be like this and thus he couldn’t feel comfortable in it while it was.

Eager to be done looking at himself, he stepped forward and turned the mirror around to face the wall. It would stay until his body was back to normal. All he could really do was hope that that would be soon.

In the meantime though he went to his closest in search out the baggiest clothes he had. Luckily everything he wore on a typical day was already baggy and a lot of it a size or so bigger than needed. Zipping up the jacket should help obscure his boobs too, maybe even completely, though probably not because his initial call had been right, they were on the larger side. But regardless it would be better than nothing.

Right as he was pulling on the jacket, the door opened behind him. “I don’t like this whole sex change thing,” he said as he zipped up and turned to face Bender as he entered. “Like I really, really don’t like it.”

“Why?” Of course Bender wouldn’t understand and well, honestly Fry didn’t either.

“I don’t know.” There wasn’t any solid logical reason for why he disliked it so much. “It just makes me uncomfortable. My body’s not supposed to look like this with boobs and… stuff.” And lacking of other things. “I don’t like it. So if we could pretend that it’s not a thing that would be great.”

Bender gave him a weird look before shrugging and moving on. “I swear you meatbags never cease to be weird. But if it really bothers you that much, I won’t mention your boobs or junk if that’s what you want.”

“Yes, I would like that, thanks.”

“That means we’re not going to fuck tonight though, huh?”

“Uh… yeah, I’d rather not.” That would involve exploring his new body and he couldn’t imagine that being fun.

“The things I put with for you. But whatever, let’s go watch TV then.”

Fry was more than happy to follow him back out into the living room. He could really use the distraction of both watching TV and of cuddling up with Bender.

 -

True to Fry’s prediction he never got over his discomfort about his new body. Wearing obscuring clothing helped as did making sure to never look at himself in the mirror, especially without clothes, but it was still there. He could go for hours at a time without thinking about it but ultimately it always came back in one form or another and it was the worst.

Thankfully no one at Planet Express treated him any different. None of them even mentioned it after the initial buzz about it had faded. Sadly, such was not true for strangers; men flirted with him more which wouldn’t have been much of an issue if they weren’t flirting with him because of something he was uncomfortable with and wished wasn’t a thing. Bender put a jealous stop to a lot of that though which was much appreciated. And then there was everyone calling him she or her which sucked – he got called they or them some too which was better even if it still wasn’t right – most people didn’t care when he corrected them but it was still awkward that he had to.

But finally, just when it was starting to seem like he’d reached his limit and couldn’t take it anymore, upon arriving at work, Professor Farnsworth was there to greet him with some actual good news for once. The opposite of the pink goo was ready to be tested. The fact that Fry would be the first one testing it didn’t even matter to him to anymore.

It was in the pool out back where everyone else was already waiting because again, privacy wasn’t a thing anymore apparently, though honestly Fry didn’t even really care that much. But… “I’d thought it’d be blue,” was the first thing he said upon seeing it because it was bright yellow.

“Why would it be blue?” Farnsworth asked, genuinely confused.

“Because the other stuff was pink and it did this to me so it just makes sense for something that’s supposed to do the opposite to be blue, right?”

“That makes no sense,” Bender said. “Stop being stupid and go jump in already. And don’t almost drown this time because I’m not jumping in to save you again if you do, once was more than enough.”

“You say that but I doubt you mean it,” Hermes chimed in. “We all know you’d jump if to save him if you had to.”

Bender glared at him but Amy spoke up before he could say anything. “Yeah, you two have been dating for like a year now and were like totally in love for like ever even before you were official so don’t pretend to be a tough guy.”

“Just jump in already,” Zoidberg butted in. “I want to see what happens.”

“Yes, let’s just get this over with,” Fry said before anyone else could chime in with anything. He stepped forward to stand on the edge of the pool. “Can you guys like… look away please? I don’t want to ruin my clothes and uh… yeah.” He didn’t want them seeing him naked when his body was still like this even though logically they all already knew what he looked like but… he just didn’t want them seeing.

“Of course,” Leela said as she turned away. Thankfully everyone else soon followed suit with only a little grumbling.

Eager to have this over and done with, Fry quickly undressed. After tossing his balled-up clothes to the side, he sat down on the edge of the pool and slowly lowered himself into the yellow goo. It felt exactly the same as the pink goo had; cool and thick, quickly giving him that unpleasant pins and needles feeling. He had to force himself to submerge his head.

 -

Fry was awoken by cold water being splashed onto his face. His eyes shot open to see who else but Bender hovering over him. “Hey Fry, I thought I told you not to almost drown this time.”

He didn’t remember falling asleep or unconscious and he certainly hadn’t intended to. “Sorry,” he said as he sat up.

Everyone had crowded around to loom over where he lay on the ground next to the pool. “How do you feel?” Farnsworth asked, adjusting his glasses. “Did it work? I can’t tell with all the yellow.”

“Uh…” Fry looked down at himself. … “It worked!” he said as he shot up to his feet. He was back to normal, how his body was supposed to be. His chest of flat, his proportions back to normal, and he had his dick back. Gosh, he never would’ve thought he’d feel so good while naked and surrounded by a bunch of people staring at him.

“Congrats on surviving another sex change,” Leela said.

“And on getting your dick back,” Amy added with an unhelpful thumbs up.

“Maybe next time think twice before deciding to play with a mysterious alien substance,” Hermes said.

Of course the Professor had something to say too. “Now we just got to wait a couple weeks and see if you randomly drop dead before declaring it tested and ready to sell.”

This was very quickly growing awkward with everyone standing around Fry and talking at him while he was butt naked and covered in experimental goo. “I’m going to go wash this stuff off now,” he said as he was already backing away. Also, now that his body was back to normal, there was something he wanted to do because he finally could again and the shower would be the prefect place to do it.

He’d learned an important and valuable lesson though: next time Bender dared him to play in an unknown substance, no matter how bored he was, he’d think about it a little harder before deciding to risk sticking his hand in. And to be more careful around alien goo in general.

#My writing #futurama #Frender #genderbending #dysphoria #gender dysphoria

[shreddedparchment]

Shattered Glass Pt.01

Team Building

07/09/2019

Pairing: Tony x Reader, Steve x Reader          Word Count: 5,750

Prompt: “Agh I’ve been hit!” “Calm down Meryl Streep, it’s just a paintball.”

Masterpost          Warnings: Language, suggestive themes, angst, violent imagery, blood, graphic violence

A/N: I fail. This was SUPPOSED to be a one shot. FML. I can’t do it. It’ll be only two parts. Maybe three if there’s enough content? But probably just two. Don’t hold me to that though. This is my very first Tony-centric fic so hopefully it comes out well. Steve wasn’t supposed to have the part that he has in this one but it kinda just worked itself out this way. This is for @moonbeambucky ‘s #5KWritingChallenge ! When I saw this prompt it screamed Tony. Anyway, I hope you like it! If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work. xoxo

You’re wounded!

It hurts!

“Ah! I’ve been hit!” You cry, an earth-shattering shout of agony.

You fall to your knees and clutch at the piercing in the center of your chest. Head thrown back in a silent shriek as you die.

“Calm down, Meryl Streep, it’s just a paintball.” Tony moves up beside you, carefully hidden behind a tall tower of tires. His snark is layered.

The topmost bit is all annoyance and exasperation with your over the top antics. Probably doesn’t like the competition.

The rest has to be amusement. Affection. Fondness. It’s there, though it’s hidden and carefully smothered.

You fall back, laying on the mulch and dirt of the paintball field, relaxed as you breathe in and out. There’s a large splatter of red paint on the front of your vest. You’re shot and the bright light of the setting sun dips between the swaying branches of the tall and aged poplar and spruce.

You give Tony a pout, eyes skillfully pooling. You can fake a good cry if it'll get you what you want.

“It hurts. I’m dead, Tony.” You inhale a deliberate shuddering breath as he moves to kneel beside you, yearning for his sympathy. “Nat killed me.”

He traces the still wet splatter, coating his index finger in the crimson paint as he essentially runs it down between your breasts. What you wouldn’t give for your vest to be gone.

With hazy eyes, the paint might really be blood.

“Maybe you should be paying attention then, instead of flirting with Rogers?” He counters and though usually his voice would be laced with sarcasm, the stern and serious note in it gives you pause.

Everything, every instance of flirtation with Tony has been one-sided. You throw out the bait but he never bites. He never gives away any interest.

Your shallow playfulness subsides as you consider his shift in voice.

You swallow your spit and taste the chemical flavor of paint and gritty earth. It’s acerbic and normally you’d be spitting and gagging but your heart is suddenly racing.

With a lick to your lips you narrow your eyes, taking in the strong set of his sharp bearded jaw, deep brown eyes, full peach lips, “Jealous?”

Your accusation draws his hand away from your chest but you catch it, tracing the length of his finger so slow there can be no question of your intent.

The flex of his arms, tight, lithe biceps straining against the black and gray thermal. The bright shine of his Nano housing keeps it from clinging to his hard chest. He’s ripped though Steve and Sam and everyone else keeps focus away from Tony’s almost obsessive fixation on fitness.

He holds his gun with the barrel pointed up into the air so that he won’t chance accidentally shooting you.

His eyes watch the clean pink painted nail of your middle finger as you continue to stroke his.

Time seems to stop. Not around you.

Around you, everyone is still very much diving and running, swerving and shooting. You hear the peppered cries of those being shot and those doing the shooting.

You can hear Sam swear and Clint laugh. Steve's playful battle cry and Nat's returning shout of surprise. But here in your little bubble with Tony’s hand in your grasp, things flow like molasses.

Fluid and thick, ripe with unsaid desires and forbidden pleasures that until this moment you’d assumed were only yours. You’re too young. You’re the troublemaker. You give him headaches not hardons.

“Why would I be jealous?” He asks, brow twitching as he queries. “You’re not my type.”

That doesn’t hurt. It’s not the first time he’s told you this. His gentle push to keep you at a distance. It hasn’t worked in a long time and it’s not working now. Not with the slip you just saw.

You smile wide, amused by his words. “Too damaged?”

His eyes darken, your past probably flaring into technicolor flashes in his brain, like the violent images of a snuff film and he forcefully takes his finger back.

He clenches his hand, trying to maybe erase the way it felt to have you touch him?

“Too needy.” He corrects then gets to his feet.

Well, damn.

Ouch. That one does hurt.

You push yourself up onto your elbows and watch him sneak away.

“Guess I’ll just have to find someone willing to fill my needs then.” You throw at him, hoping for some type of reaction, not giving two shits about who might hear you.

Your callous behavior pays off. He turns, fixes those chocolate browns on you and you see the shift. It makes your heart race again. There are flutters in your stomach as the fire blazes in his eyes.

It’s a wild chaotic flame that lasts for only a second before it’s calmed and left to smolder behind his shield.

He turns away and keeps going, gun raised.

He only gets to the next cover before he’s shot.

“Eyes up, Tony.” Steve teases and he looks at you then winks.

Tony drops his arms, staring at the splash of patriotic blue on his vest, then sighs. His suit is deemed illegal and he isn’t exactly great without some piece of his tech around, but damn if that brain of his isn’t sexy.

You smile at Steve, chuckling at his sweet flirting. It’s only playful and you know Steve doesn’t want you but it’s nice to be noticed as a woman instead of the kid.

"That’s the game.” Nat calls, and those left standing move towards the picnic tables where food has been laid out.

Wanda and Vision, first out as they really weren’t as competitive as the other idiots on the team, move about laying out plates and drinks.

Tony marches past where you’re still laying on the ground and doesn’t spare you a glance.

Steve’s boots draw your eyes up and you smile, squinting against the bright orange of the setting sun behind him. If flits through the trees again, gilding his already golden hair.

He offers you his hand and you take it.

“Guess we won.” He says, and you hop as you find your feet.

“Guess we did.” You agree and begin to lead the way back to the rest of the group.

“I was the last man standing.” He tells you, voice not proud, but rather curious.

“Yeah.” You nod, looking back at him with a small knowing smirk. “I know."

You stop a few feet from the group as you turn back towards them and spot Tony’s brightening expression.

It’s that look. The look he only give that one person. The most important person. The one person that he can’t live without. That person that you can never measure up to.

Her perfection. Her politeness. Her sweetness. A sweetness that you will never posses because like you told him, you’re too damaged. Too needy, like he said.

You follow his gaze, already knowing what you’ll find.

A happy Pepper wearing a cute set of work out sweats in teal and blue. She stops and holds out her hands, a look of amused disappointment on her pretty face as she lets them drop to slap against her thighs.

“Did I miss it?” She asks, her easy voice full of love for him. For Tony.

“You missed it. You’re late.” He tells her, adoration pouring from his chocolate browns.

All you ever get is his disenchantment. Disappointment that you aren’t better. That you aren’t more. Not her.

Always to be scolded and corrected.

With a drop of your heart, you stare as Tony marches right up to her and pulls her in for a kiss.

It hurts more than you’ll ever admit. Jealousy is not a good color on you. It makes you reckless and lash out.

“Don’t I get a reward?” Steve asks, again, curious, pulling your attention back to him.

He’s testing the boundaries between the two of you and if he’d done it any other time than right now when Tony’s moving towards you with his arm wrapped around Pepper’s waist, you might not have taken Steve’s bait.

You force your eyes away from the couple and look up into Steve’s storm blue twinkle.

“A hero deserves a prize.” You tell him, then wrap your arms up underneath his to stroke the muscular planes of his vested back.

You push yourself up, getting as close as your paintball gear will let you and kiss him.

It isn’t a chaste kiss either. You tilt your head to the right and suck on his lower lip until he opens up for you and you give his mouth a taste.

Spearmint and the slightest chocolate sugar of his mocha. It’s delicious but all wrong.

When you pull back, his lips remained puckered in shock.

“Thanks for winning the game for us, Cap.” You boop his nose then move to settle into a seat at the edge of the nearest picnic table and lean forward onto your elbows as you spare Tony a glance.

Beside him, Pepper is happily in shock at your display. As is almost everyone else on the team.

“When did that happen?” Pepper asks quietly in Tony’s ear and he gives his head a minute shake.

Your eyes meet his and for one long moment, you silently dare him to say something. As much as he may try to hide it, you can see the flame in his eyes, the jealous edge that cuts at your poor hopeful heart.

More than the snark, the cold fire in his eyes, and the forced calm of his form tells you all you need to know about how Tony really feels about you.

Steve comes to sit by you, leaning in to whisper happy praise for your chosen reward in your ear, and you tear your eyes away from Tony to give Steve your undivided attention.

It doesn’t stop. It never stops. The wanting and the yearning. The need to fill that hole that can never really be filled.

That incessant need to be cared for. To be given affection. That desire to feel desired and wanted.

It’s always there and it’s always been easily met with an invitation to get a cup of coffee with Wanda or Nat. Thor inviting you out for a walk. Sam reaching out for a sparring partner, or Clint needing a live target for practice.

A small gesture of inclusion and your deepest of stirrings is quelled.

You don’t like to think about why you feel this way. You dream about it enough.

Sometimes it’s a small flicker of an image here or the fading memory of something there but lately, it’s coming back vivid and violent.

It always starts out the same.

You’re small. Tiny compared to the two large bodies beside you. One to your left. One to your right.

You lean towards the one on your right at first, clinging to that person’s arm, stroking the soft satin of a fancy dress. It feels nice. It reminds you of that cat from the summer house before it went missing.

You miss that cat and its smooth fluffy fur.

Vermillion. The dress is like a blood-orange, bright and eye-catching but she smells like Chanel. The musk is thick but good, it invades your senses.

You shift on your bed, tossing onto your right.

Images of a beautiful face fill your mind like sudden bursts of color. Twinkling eyes. Full curving lips. Soft skin. An elegant neck. Austere pearls.

She caresses the side of your head then you giggle and lean onto the body on your left.

This one is large. Thick. Heavy. Fat? No. Sturdy. Stocky. Tall and built like a rhino with a rounded belly but he’s not fat.

He chuckles and wraps you up in his large, black tuxedo clad arm. You fist the side of his jacket, stroking this material too but the red satin is far softer. This musky scent is better though.

He smells like wood, with the bitter tang of pepper creosote from his cigar. You don’t mind. It smells like home. He smells safe. He smells like you’re shielded, and nothing can ever harm you.

You toss onto your back, groaning as you frown. Daddy. Your mind thinks.

The ambient whoosh draws you closer and closer to sleep.

You pass out, clinging to him, a tiny smile on your lips.

Life is perfect. The soft babble of their words helps lull you. Her tinkling laugh sounds far away but it’s beautiful and you wish you could laugh like she does.

It makes him chuckle and you can feel the love between them.

They fade away and you’re in darkness. You’re standing alone with nothing and no one around you.

Only, it’s not you. The girl is older. Much older. Like Mommy. Who is she? She looks like mommy too but not exactly. She looks like a cheap imitation. Not as beautiful. Not as sweet.

“Daddy?” You open your mouth to speak and the girl in the darkness opens her mouth to speak too.

You freeze as your young mind catches up with your dream. You’re the cheap imitation.

She takes a step forward, that mock-mommy. She splits into two. The other one turns to look at you and you’re staring at yourself, confused.

“Who-?” You begin to ask but the other one opens her mouth to ask too. “Who are-?”

She cuts you off again. You sigh.

The other you smiles, too wide. It’s scary. Your little child heart thrums wildly as fear and panic bubble up in your tiny guts.

You shift uncomfortably, fighting the terror that begins to spread through you.

She presses her hand to her chest, laying it flat against her breasts before she begins to cup it until only her fingertips are touching your shirt.

You stare at her movements, unsure of what you’re looking at.

It takes every bit of courage not to run.

She pulls her hand away from her chest and then lays it flat out in front of you.

You look down and at the very center of her palm is a small silver gleam, the brightest bit of teal at the very edges. It shimmers and shakes chaotically while the silver sits still, stretching and constricting back into place.

For a moment all you can do is stare at the silver and teal. This light is scary.

You groan, kicking your legs as your hands fist your sheets.

When you look back up at her, her eyes are gone. They are black pools of threat and your little heart panics.

The silver and teal light releases a pulse and you’re blind.

You hear panicked cries. Mommy…she’s scared.

“No.” You whimper.

Daddy’s arm is gone from you and you open your eyes to see that same silver pulsing around you.

“What’s happening?” Mommy asks, “What is that? What’s she doing?”

It takes you a moment to realize she’s talking about you.

Daddy is forcing the steering wheel to the left and the right. The sounds of the tires squealing against the asphalt of the road is loud and nearly drowns out their screams. Almost.

“Hold on!” Daddy shouts, but the light flashes once more and the car is suddenly up in the air.

You can see Mommy and Daddy floating around you. They’re not moving and you’re safe beside them.

It’s all over in one violent tumble.

The car lands with a loud metallic clatter. It rolls and rolls, tossing them around with abandon. You hear their bones crack and break. Femur, humerus, ribs, neck; one sickening crunch after the other.

Crimson paints the air, it paints the car and the pavement beneath.

As the shatter of glass dies and your body falls painfully onto the street between them, you look around, searching for that safety from before. Searching for Daddy. For Mommy.

“Mom…” You cry.

Your eyes meet hers. Dead eyes. Unmoving eyes. She’s gone.

Your own small body feels twisted and battered but not broken. Not like them.

There is no crimson on you that is yours and something in you tells you that it’s you. You did this.

Even as a baby, a little one, you know that you did this. You killed your parents.

“Mom!” You gasp, sitting up with spasms of fear shaking your hands.

They tremble, clutching the thin sheet you’re covering yourself with in tight fists. It all feels so…present.

“Y/N? Your heartrate is elevated. You seem to be having an episode. Shall I alert the infirmary?” F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s accented voice fills your room with a soft worried whisper.

It always astonishes you, how concerned she seems. Like she’s really genuinely worried about you. Like she can really feel it. Like she’s not just a bunch of ones and zeroes programmed to have just the exact right responses.

“No.” You tell her, and she turns up your lights for you, dimming them up slightly as you throw your blanket off and place your feet on the soft black carpet of your bedroom.

You’re still reeling, trying to come to grips with the here and now and not the lifeless bodies of your parents floating around your head. Instead of your parents, in your room there are several small objects floating above their designated spots.

Your glass jewelry box on your nightstand. Your laptop. Several books on your desk. The picture of you and the team on your nightstand. Your shoes by the end of your bed.

“Are you sure?” F.R.I.D.A.Y. persists. “You seem to be having a fit.”

You scoff. Only one person would call what’s happening that.

“Yes. I’m sure.”

Shutting your eyes, you sigh, heartbeat finally leveling out.

“Would you like me to tell Tony-?”

“No!” You nearly scream, rising to your feet and looking for a face though you know there’s none to look at. “No. I’m fine. I just…give me a minute.”

Your stuff falls, crashing back into place. You hear the glass of your jewelry box shatter. You’ll have to buy a new one.

You stumble to the bathroom and switch the light on. Your bare feet slap gently as you cross the cold beige and gold marble tile to the sink with a quiet plap, plap, plap.

The counter becomes your center. You cling to the white concrete desperately as you stare at your reflection in the large backlit mirror.

You’re pale and sweaty. Clammy. Cold trickles of perspiration along your temples and above your lip. With trembling hands, you wipe it away.

This hasn’t happened for so long that it’s caught you off guard. Normally, there’s a build-up. The memories start slowly during waking hours. Small images of lovely people, loving and caring. Over time it all leads up to that night.

The night you killed them.

You shut your eyes tight, wishing the images away. All you can see are your mom’s eyes. Once brilliant with life not dead and staring. Daddy’s body twisted in strange and impossible angles.

You dip down into your sink and down as much water as your belly will let you drink.

It doesn’t help. Maybe a real drink? You have one so rarely. Drunk you is not good with your abilities.

Mistakes have been made. Bail has been paid. It’s how you ended up here. On the team.

Tony should have left me where I was.

The bitter thought falls away as you wander down the hallway towards the kitchen.

Thankfully, it’s empty.

You go straight for the whiskey. You pour yourself too much. You drink it. Then pour another glass before moving to sit at the island.

The brown slosh hurts your throat as it goes down. It burns, but it burns so good. Because you don’t drink very often, just one glass makes you lightheaded. The second pushes you towards unconsciousness.

Not fast enough. You start with it held between your carefully folded left arm, right hand clutching the small old-fashioned crystal glass tight as if you’re afraid it might get snatched away. As you drink, you drift forward until your heated cheek is pressed against the cool counter.

You kick your legs, swinging them casually as you stare across the kitchen at the fine, black modern cabinet. Not really seeing it but playing the moment you killed your parents over and over and over.

You see other moments too. The moment your godparents saw you use your abilities. They watched you with terror in their eyes. The next thing you knew you were in a home for girls.

You see the nice couple who took you next. Then the girl’s home again when they too became terrified of you. Then the next. A faceless couple that you were with for only two days. Then the next two were also faceless.

You lived your adolescent life out in the home.

You see yourself on your eighteenth birthday. You’re excited, dancing with the prospect of becoming a “real” woman. Or so you’d thought at the time.

You come home, smiling at the promise of the cheap birthday cake that you know you’ll get. You see your smile waver as you approach the fence of the home and two boxes full of your things are piled on the sidewalk.

Two homeless women are rifling through the clothes. Fighting over your favorite pair of jeans.

You scamper towards them, hold out your hand and you don’t mean to slip up. You don’t.

Stunning silver-teal burns them. They fly back several feet and crash against the sidewalk painfully as you hold your hand out towards them, palm open.

You shut it quickly and turn away from them as they stare at you with hate and fear. You hurry and shove your clothes back into the box they’d been looking through and shut it.

With both boxes carefully piled into your arms, you look up at the doorway to the home. Your home…Mrs. Meyerson watches you through a split in the blinds of the front window and when she sees you spot her; she shuts them and ignores you.

“Y/N?” His voice is like the hymn of angels.

It’s hot. It burns like your whiskey and tastes just as rich.

“Tony.” You whisper, a sad whimper.

You don’t lift your head because you’re crying. You don’t want him to see.

“Hey.” His voice is so soft. So gentle. F.R.I.D.A.Y. must have told him something was wrong.

He moves around you and comes into view, leaning forward a bit so that he can be more on your level as he looks at your face, still pressed against the cool counter.

“Hi.” You cry.

“Busted out the big guns, huh?” He reaches out and takes your drink from you.

You don’t fight him. The only one who you wouldn’t.

“They didn’t want me.” You sigh, sniffling as you struggle to keep from sobbing. That hole, the one that never fills right at the center of your chest aches. “None of them wanted me. They…they were afraid of me.”

Tony puts the whiskey aside and leans his elbows against the counter, getting close so that he can speak quietly. Just to you.

“Having a little pity party?” He asks, a small smile offered. “You’re drunk.”

“Yes.” You agree, reaching up to wipe at your dripping nose.

“That’s sexy.” He rattles, moving closer to stand beside you.

He’s close. You can feel the heat from his body. Dark gray t-shirt. Black sleep pants. He smells so good. Like aftershave and coconut shampoo. Despite his close proximity, he folds his arms onto the counter, shoving his hands underneath his arms as if he’s determined to keep his hands to himself.

You lean towards him but don’t touch him. He doesn’t want your touch. You know that. It makes you sob once.

“Tony?” You sigh, staring down at your hands in your lap, lower lip quivering helplessly as you’re that little girl again. Wrapped in her daddy’s safe arms. Loved by her mom. Peacefully sleeping when that nightmare awakens something within you and then the car is sent flying.

“Yeah?” He knows what he’s doing. He’s being so careful with you.

His tone is softer than it’s been in a long time. You know that it’s your fault. You’re always so forward. Throwing yourself at him. Making suggestive comments and just being a downright dumbass. You should stop it.

You look at him, blubbering still and the way that his soft brown hair sticks up at odd angles because he’s just freshly showered and was actually probably still bathing when F.R.I.D.A.Y. told him you were having a fit.

You want him. Damn it all.

With a lick to your lips, you shake your head. “I killed them, Tony.”

You sob, hating yourself. Hating your gifts. Hating your life.

“I killed them. I did. I did that. I killed them.” You repeat, as if saying it any other way will possibly make it stick any harder than it’s already sticking.

It startles you into silence when Tony pulls his left arm out and then slides his hand back behind your neck, up into your hair to hold the back of your head. He caresses you, comforting you. Loving you?

That isn’t platonic in his eyes. There’s that fire from the day on the paintball field in his eyes again. When you told him you’d go find someone else to fill your needs. When you kissed Steve.

It’s there. You can see it. Up close. He wants you. Like you want him. Why won’t he—oh, right, Pepper.

With his hand on you though, you can’t focus on her enough to care.

You lean in more towards him, burrowing into the crook of his arm. For one whole second he holds you tight. He wraps you up and pulls your head against his chest and you’re right where you want to be.

Then there’s the sound of feet from the hallway and he’s leaning against the far counter while you catch yourself on the edge of the island.

You stare up at him, still crying and now confused.

“Tony?” You ask, searching his face but he’s got his back to you now as he dumps out your whiskey.

“No more alcohol. We don’t need you lifting cars onto the roof again.” He throws at you, back tense through his t-shirt.

“Tony?” You check again, wanting to see his eyes, to have him look at you with that fire again.

Had you imagined it? Is it all in your head?

“Look, kid, just take a shower and get to bed, alright? Stop thinking about this stuff.” He orders.

Does he think you started to think about your parents on a whim? You’d dreamt about them! Bastard.

“Tony?” Another voice, deep, smooth, almost monotone in its calm nature.

You can hear the inflection of emotion because you’re so used to his voice. Steve.

“What’s going on?” He asks, looking from Tony to you.

“I…I had-” You begin but Tony cuts you off.

“A few too many. I was just sending her to bed before she puts my cars on the roof again.” He finally turns around and his face is back in its detached control.

When he looks at you, there is no fire anymore. Just stern disapproval.

Jerk.

Your shoulders slump and you make a point of sitting quiet as Steve continues to stare at you.

Clearly, you’re still upset about something. You’re still crying. Your cheeks are stained in tear tracks. You worry your lip as you wait for Tony to leave. You don’t want to be around him when he’s like this with you.

Not right now. Not when you already have all of those other people in your memory pushing you away.

“What’s the matter with Y/N? Why is she crying?” Steve wonders, genuine concern in his voice.

Tony’s had been just as worried if not more so a second ago.

“I don’t know.” Tony lies. “I’m going to bed. Pepper’s waiting.”

He says this for you, and you know that he’s drawing that line again. The line that he crossed. Continues to cross. You hate him.

You look at him.

You love him.

“Night.” Steve tells him but when Tony speaks, it’s for you.

“Go to bed. Stop drinking.” He says but you don’t respond.

He leaves and Steve settles into the seat beside you.

“You smell like the bottom of a bottle.” He observes. “How much did you have?”

You shrug.

“Not talking to me now?”

You shrug again.

“Y/N?” It’s his tone that pulls your gaze up to meet his own storm blue eyes.

His blonde hair looks soft and brushed out. His beard is full but neatly trimmed. He looks good for Steve.

Okay…he looks good for anyone. He’s a hunk. But he’s not your hunk.

“What’s going on?” He asks, reaching out to place his hand on the back of your shoulder.

“I had a nightmare.” You admit, licking your lips once more. “About my parents.”

Steve already knows what happened with your parents. He doesn’t need an explanation.

Tony had consulted him before you were allowed on the team after all.

He nods, understanding you in an instant. For a long moment he thinks.

You can see the idea forming in his head and only after you’re stuck staring at him with unbridled curiosity does he turn to sit facing you. One hand on the back of your chair, the other placed on the counter in front of you.

“I like you.” He says, just like that.

You’re drunk. Hearing him say that, throws you.

“What?” You ask, narrowing your eyes at him confused. You must be hearing things.

“You heard me.” He says, stern, hard. No games.

“Steve…” You start, blinking hard to clear the buzz from your head.

“I know…” He sighs, scooting in closer as he grabs hold of your seat and turns you to face him. “I know where your head is. And your heart.”

Your cheeks flare. They flame and burn, and your neck burns too. You haven’t exactly tried to hide how you feel about Tony but to be called out on it?

“I can’t speak as to where his head is at, but I know that he’s not going to look your way with Pepper there.”

You hate Steve too. You look down at his chest, hating the knowing glint in his eyes.

His thumb and forefinger close around the tip of your chin and tilt your head back until you can look into his eyes again.

“What I can tell you is that I’m interested. I wasn’t playing when I said and did all those things. I don’t know if maybe you thought I was just flirting, but I wasn’t. I like you.” He confesses.

You’re so startled that your heart pounds. You shake your head, but he doesn’t release you. If anything, he leans in closer.

“I can’t give you what you want.” You tell him, knowing that all deep affection is diverted to the jerk that just left the room.

“I know.” He acknowledges. “What can you give me?”

Is he seriously asking?

“I-”

“It doesn’t have to be detailed, Y/N. I just…I’m not exactly in a place to make commitments either. This job we have, it’s tough. I’ve left love behind for it before and odds are, I’ll have to do it again. I’m not going into this with any illusions. I just want to pass the time with you.

“You’re funny and you never do what I expect you to do. You’re easy to talk to and you’re sexy as hell.” He smiles and you’re suddenly very aware of your stupid blubbering face and how much of a mess it actually is.

“Yeah, right.” You gasp, yanking your chin out of his grip.

“You are.” He insists. “You’re not like other people and I like that. So, what can you give me?”

You think. You think hard and as fast as you can.

He’s right. Tony is never going to give in. He’s never going to look at you the way you see him. You’re tired of feeling alone and unwanted. Steve is offering you a little bit of companionship. It’s not love but it’s not being alone.

Maybe you should know better but it’s too tempting. And it’s been a while. Your libido is going to go dormant if you don’t get under someone soon.

That’s what you decide you can give him.

“I can’t love you.” You tell him.

“That’s…that’s okay.” He says.

“I think I can like you.” You sigh. “Kissing you wasn’t bad.”

“Oh,” He chuckles. “That’s good to know. Thanks.”

You smile, eased by his amusement. He’s right. He’s easy to talk to as well.

With trembling hands, you reach up to trace the outline of his chest through his t-shirt. He’s so hard. Super Soldier perfection. It doesn’t mean as much like Tony’s physique does because Steve gets this on default, but you’d be lying if you said it isn’t nice.

He puts his hand over yours and holds it against his chest.

“Is this a yes? You’ll be with me?” He asks, hopeful.

After a second, you nod. He leans in towards you, excitement in his eyes.

“We’re not a couple.” Your clarification stops him in his tracks. “But we’re also not, not a couple. I want you. I do. It’s been such a long time and I…are you a virgin?”

You suddenly ask him this, wondering because of his past with Peggy. You’re not sure he would have had the time to be with her back then.

Steve laughs genuinely amused by your question before he hops off of his stool. He grabs you, one arm underneath your legs, the other your back as he lifts you up into his arms and begins to walk with you towards his bedroom.

“Guess that rumor’s still floating around. Nat?” He asks.

You nod, reaching up to hold him around his neck.

“Don’t worry, doll-face. We’ll get that rumor cleared up.”

“Right now?” You ask, slightly startled at the prospect of sleeping with Steve so quickly.

“Unless you wanna wait?” He asks, stopping just outside your doorway.

You bite your lips, considering for a moment the prospect of sleeping in that bed again, your dreams fresh and vivid.

“No.” You protest. “Kiss me, Steve.”

He dips his head and continues on, kissing the whiskey away.

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[deathbyvalentine]

Harrowing Commissions

Sebastian

The light from the fire flickered, making the shadows in the room shudder and jump. Starting, the maid in the armchair jumped up, adding another log to the flames. It was a room with a lot of shadows - part bedroom, part parlour and part study, odd objects littered side tables and shelves alike. The walls that were not dominated with bookcases were dominated instead by windows or portraits. The room was dark, the windows blocked out by heavy curtains. In all of the clutter, it would be easy to miss the young man lying in bed, surrounded by pillows and cushions, holding a faded blue book in his pale hands. 

Only his cheeks had colour in them - a feverish flash of rouge. His hair and eyes were dark. His lips moved in silent prayer as his eyes flickered over the paper thin pages. A cough came over him, wracking his thin body. His attempts to muffle it did no good - the maid immediately bustled over with a tray of bottles and ointments. Propping him up, in a business like manner she rubbed a foul smelling liquid onto his chest. It appeared to the job and the odd whistling his breathing had taken on faded. She lay him back down and began to fluff up the pillows around him, fussing in such a way it betrayed her fondness for her patient. 

 He caught hold of her wrist, stopping her in her tracks. “It’s soon, isn’t it? It’s going to be soon.” She stared at him, unsure of how to respond. It didn’t matter. A few more moments and he picked up his beloved gospels, resuming his study.

*   

Alice

The clock was just chiming... a number when the latch to the servant’s entrance to the kitchen lifted. The hearth fire was still burning, so when the young lady slipped in, she managed to avoid kicking over the mop and bucket just to the side. One hand held her boots, the other her skirts to keep the rich fabric off the dirty stone floor. Now safely inside, she placed the shoes down beside the door and collapsed onto the bench alongside the long wooden table. Idly, while looking into the small flames of the fire, she picked a grape from the fruit bowl and popped it into her mouth, enjoying the sweet burst of flavour. 

She pulled the pins from her hair, letting the curls cascade down her back. She winced a little and inspected her fingertip a moment after. One of the jewels had caught her funny and sliced her. A small bead of blood welled up. She blinked at it for a moment before placing her finger in her mouth too, soothing the wound. Outside, the sun was beginning to creep up over the horizon, painting the sky in pinks, indigos and purples. She should slip to bed before the breakfast preparations begun - she knew her mother had slipped an extra coin to one of the servants to report on her, but she wasn’t sure which one yet. If she slept now, she had enough time to be woken for breakfast and pretend to be as fresh as a daisy. 

She stood, stretching once. Then she disappeared up the servant’s corridors, knowing the route to her room by heart. Her boots lay forgotten by the door.

*

Thomas

“Behold, a story for the ages! Be dazzled, wondered and amazed at the power of - “

No, that’s not right. You’re not writing a circus side show. 

“Come and be welcome in an epic spreading centuries. Heroes, lovers and villains convene in this - “

You’re not writing a fairytale either. Think Thomas. What are you trying to do here?

“This year, a new play arrives that will reveal not only the essence of characters within it, but those who watch it. Watch the story unfold and let it awaken something within you too. We all wear masks. The hero, the lover, the villain.... This is an invitation to find out exactly what is behind yours. If you dare. If you’re brave enough.” 

That’s the advertisement done. Now I just have to finish the damn thing. 

*

Eloise

“He loves me... He loves me not. He loves me... He loves me not - ” Petals drifted to the floor like morning snow, to be crushed as the woman paced barefoot, releasing their too-sweet perfume into the air. The floor was almost slick with them, the top layer bright and pink, the bottom little more than browning sludge. Her skirts trailed, disturbing the petals enough to reveal how many lay beneath. It seemed that everything in the room was coated with petals or dust. But still, she walked.

“He loves me.” She stopped short at the mirror, allowing a slight smile to spread across her beautiful face. She reached out with gloved hands, her fingertips just touching the spotless surface. Her fingers left a slight smear and she recoiled, finding the bell on the sideboard to frantically call a maid. The mirror being obscured simply would not do. She stepped back and let the bustling girl come in with a cloth, the door creating a semicircle of clear floor. The girl didn’t touch anything else, didn’t even ask about the petals. She cleaned the mirror and was gone in a flurry of business like activity. There was a breath, a moment where everything was still.

“He loves me not.” The slow chant resumed, almost lyrical in its cadence. Another petal tumbled to the ground. Another step was taken.

*

Charles

Day 15 “... My sleep was greatly disturbed last night by a number of dreams. Such visions! Such phantasms! I believe this is a sign that my work is taking me closer than ever before. A number of studies has found that sleep is when the mind is most susceptible after all. I plan on capitalising on this by distilling a mineral (imported from Italy) into a chemical that is supposed to induce a most coherant train of thought. Lucidity and revelation are of course, key and I have high hopes for this latest experiment granting me fresh sight and new contact.”

Day 20 “Well, that did not go exactly to plan. The chemical did indeed induce a number of wonderful sights, but as always, the body was not willing. My hands trembled so violently it shattered the simmering glassware and I was forced to retire, bedridden for several days. Every failed avenue is a clue however, and I refuse to consider it an utter waste. In brighter news, a letter has arrived from my Vatican friend’s expedition. He promises to send his logbook as he believes there are some encounters I will be interested in. I await this with baited breath - he has always given me fascinating data before.”

Day 23 “A small break while I was forced to deal with one of the children’s latest indiscretion. Did the good lord grant us families purely to curb the progress of the human race? I can only assume so. No matter, tomorrow I try some new components from America, promising to engage with the energy that sits around us all, invisible but present all the same.”

*

Elizabeth

She tutted and held the glass up to the light, turning it this way and that. Placing it back on the table, she snapped her fingers at a passing maid, steering her towards the sparkling glassware. “Do you really think this is good enough?” Not waiting for an answer, she shook her head. “There are still fingermarks on the stem. Polish them again. I shall check on your progress in an hour.” 

Sweeping from the room, she entered the busy hallway. Preparations were underway. Everywhere you looked there were maids carrying fresh linen, silverware or carpet beaters. Butlers converged in corners, talking about how best to organise the cloakroom, the game room, the parlour. A smile tugged at her lips. She was rarely as pleased as when the house was alive like this. There was something pleasing in the shifting bodies, the business of it all. It reminded her of a great beehive of which she was the queen. 

Pausing on the upper landing, she rested her hands on the (gleaming, shining) banister. The house would be perfect for the ball, of this much she was certain. If only her family were as easily polished up.  Or perhaps as easily put away as the silverware was, only to be brought out at special occasions. With an amused smile, she shook the thought out of her head. They would be perfect. She would make sure of it. When she set her mind to something, she never failed.

*

Georgiana/Mystery Member #1

She held a fork up to the light, turning it this way and that. Frowning at what she saw, she clicked her fingers at a passing maid. With an eyeroll, the girl sloped over, hands placed in her pinafore pouch in a most slovenly manner. Letting the fork fall to the table with a clatter, she clucked her tongue. “There are still marks on the cutlery. Fix it. At once.”  “Yes ma’am.” The maid replied, though she could swear she saw a hint of a smirk on her face. Her cheeks flushed red though she kept her head up high. What impertinence. She may not be the lady of the house but she still deserved respect. Elizabeth would never deal with such nonsense from her servants and yet these girls thought they could get away with it with her. She stalked from the room, being sure to make her heels click on the floor in a way she thought of as most stately. 

She got the same response when she found a smudge on the guest linen, two scullery maids very almost giggling. Hating herself as she did it, she invoked the most compelling line she could think of. “Of course, if you would like me to explain to Elizabeth why your work is not up to scratch, I would be happy to explain.” Instantly, their smiles disappeared and a solemnity appeared in their eyes. The rush of power only lasted an instant. It was borrowed, after all.

One day she would be married and she would have her own house, bigger and grander than this. She would have maids that straightened their backs whenever she swept past and butlers that refused to lift their eyes to look at her directly. She would hold all the keys to the house on a chain on her waist and she would never have to ask for something twice. One day. 

*

Mystery Member #2

Dearest friend, I write to you with a matter of great urgency. Too long I have been silenced and now the time has come for me to finally beg for help. I am not sure what may befall -

I am not sure if harm will - I am sure great harm will befall me if this letter was discovered, so I beg you and your servants to be discrete. If you investigate, keep my name off your lips and papers. You must be wondering why I chose you. Well, your kind and - 

your gentle and good - 

Well, you would believe me. The constabulary would surely find me mad if I approached them with my tale of woe and I would be in Bedlam before the month was out, which would suit my captors fine.  To be clear, I do not want them harmed - I do not want violence -  I just want to escape. A safe haven. An oasis. Away from this den of iniquity and sin.  Eagerly I wait for your reply. I know you shall not fail me. With love.

*

The House

It sat, quietly for now, among gardens and fields. If arriving by carriage, it snuck up on you. A turn in the road and there it was, looming and large, casting shadows easily around it. If arriving by foot, it simply waited for you to arrive, watching you with its many windows, glistening in the sun. 

It had been used to house soldiers once and it hadn’t forgotten it. If you looked closely enough, the marks were still there. A scuff on a door frame where a sword had caught passing through, the basement with a forgotten box of munitions sat, covered in cobwebs and caked in dust. Soldiers had slept here, loved here, mourned here. Entire lives had been acted out with the house as a constant backdrop.

It used to house monks and it remembered this too. In its carvings, its windows, in paintings of men that nobody could recall the names of. There was a reverence that could not be simply scrubbed away like old paint. It lingered like perfume. It stayed in the bones of the place, the memory becoming as essential as the bricks.

A ball was to be hosted soon enough. The servants and the family prepared, gardeners tidied the grounds and merchants came to and from carrying exotic goods. It was not the first party it had seen and it most certainly would not be the last. The house looked its best when filled with people. It was not a place made to be empty, to be unusued. It always had a purpose and its purpose now was simply to host. 

#commissions #prose #larp #teasers

[im-a-writer-sometimes]

Damaged (Part 2)

PART ONE

Description: When Bucky Barnes finally rediscovers his identity, he’s hit with the haunting memories of his days at Hydra. And of the scientist who helped him escape.

Word Count: 1.5k

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

---

Bucky never really talked about his feelings. About his nightmares. About any of it. He knew he could handle it on his own, and he didn’t feel the need to involve anyone else in his problems. Spending decades as a brainwashed assassin is bound to have side-effects and everyone knew it. So, he didn’t bother opening up.

But, for the first time in forever, he needed to talk to someone. He didn’t want to; he needed to. He had dreamt about her, about Y/N, again and again and he couldn’t get her out of his head. Every waking moment was spent wondering who she was, where she was, and what the hell she needed from him.

So, he reluctantly knocked on Steve’s door at 2 am, the nightmare of her still fresh in his mind. Steve answered within seconds, brows furrowing when he saw Bucky lingering in his doorway.

“Buck? What’s wrong?” He asked, moving aside so Bucky could come in.

“I need to talk to you,” Bucky managed gruffly, sinking into Steve’s couch.

“About what?” Steve shut the door, sitting down across from Bucky on the edge of his bed.

“I’ve been having these dreams. These nightmares.”

“Isn’t that normal for you?” Steve asked, confused.

“Not these. It’s not about the… the torture. I keep seeing this woman. I’m pretty sure I knew her at Hydra, and she’s always crying out for me, for me to find her or help her. It’s driving me crazy, Steve. I don’t even know who the hell she is. All I can remember about her is her name.”

“Which is?”

“Y/N.”

“No last name?”

“I don’t know if I ever learned it,” Bucky sighed, leaning back on the cushions.

“Well, what do you need from me?”

Bucky sighed, running his hands down his face.

“Shuri blocked some of my memories to help with the PTSD,” he stated before continuing. “I need them back.”

Steve’s eyebrows shot up, and he immediately shook his head.

“Bucky, you were miserable before Shuri did that. It helped you.”

“Steve, it’s driving me crazy not knowing who she is. And I think she needs my help.”

“You said she was with Hydra! Why the hell would you help her?”

“Steve, I just need you to trust me.”

Steve groaned, knowing full well that Bucky would do this with or without him.

---

I shifted in my seat, turning the knob on the microscope. The lab was freezing and the thin lab coat I was wearing did nothing to provide heat. I sighed, looking away from the blood sample before jotting some notes down.

Another failure. Page was going to kill me.

All the medically-induced amnesia serums I had made had a negative effect of some kind. Some lowered blood pressure, until red blood cells practically dissolved. Others caused extreme psychosis, making the patient unresponsive. The list of failures goes on.

Since the Winter Soldier escaped, Hydra needed a way to ensure their assets were secure. That nothing from their former lives would interfere with Hydra's agenda. The solution was medically-induced amnesia, a puzzle I had yet to solve.

Just to be clear, making someone forget their past is easy. Making sure the side effects don't kill them is harder. Just as I throw away the sample, Page strolls into the lab.

"How is my favorite doctor?" He said, his voice sickly sweet.

"Fine," I said flatly.

"And how is the serum coming along?"

"I've made progress," I half-lied.

"We have a subject ready for testing," he mused, leafing through the notes in my desk.

"It's not ready for that yet," I said quietly.

"I thought you said you'd made progress?" He asked, voice rising.

"I have, but I need more time."

"We don't have time," he snarled. "We're doing the test in ten. Whether it's ready or not."

He walked out of the lab before I could protest and I sighed, leaning against the counter. My eyes shifted to the vial propped up by the microscope. The serum was better, but it wasn’t ready. It would kill whatever poor test subject they were injecting it into.

The serum was simple. It was injected into the subject’s spinal column in doses of 150 ml. Doses could be given every three days, and they added onto each other exponentially. One injection could make someone lose the memories from the last month. Five could make them forget a decade. I had mastered that part, however the subjects were much too dead after the injections for the amnesia part to matter.

Soon enough, someone came to collect me and I grabbed the vile and a clean syringe, following them to the cell of some poor Hydra prisoner. It was quick. I took his vitals and then I had him take off his shirt, turn around, and I stuck the syringe into the base of his neck, emptying the contents into his nervous system. He fell unconscious in seconds and two guards hauled him onto a shit excuse for cot in the corner of the cell.

“Let me know when he wakes up,” I said, just loud enough for the guard to hear.

“You mean if he wakes up,” he huffed out.

---

Bucky had them back. His memories. As much as Shuri could salvage. She had been at the compound, helping Tony update his tech and she reluctantly agreed to do as he asked, much to Steve’s distress. He spent a week in Cryo and when he woke up, his memories gradually returned.

He remembered her hands, gentle against his skin as she cleaned his wounds. He remembered her eyes, melancholy pools of (e/c), staring back into his own. He remembered her voice, soft and sweet and a breath of fresh air amid the white noise of Hydra. He dug through his mind for anything to help him find her.

He heard a voice, was it Alexander Pierce’s?

“Do it now, Dr. Y/L/N.”

It was a whisper of a memory, but it was enough. He went to Steve when the memory hit him, not knowing where else to go.

He followed Steve like a lost puppy as he made his way to the laptop sitting on his desk. Steve opened up the browser, typing her name into the search bar. Bucky’s breath hitched at the first link.

Accomplished research psychiatrist, Y/N Y/L/N, presumed dead at age 26.

Steve glances back at Bucky before clicking the link, bringing them to a news article describing how she had gone missing. A body was never found, but after over a year, she was presumed dead. That wasn’t the important part. At the top of the page there was a photograph. He almost didn’t recognize her, mainly because she looked happy. Bright eyes accompanied by a brilliant smile.

“That’s her,” Bucky whispered.

Steve went back and clicked another link, an article about her research.

...Y/L/N has found the key to one of the most complex parts of psychology: memory.  Her research has aided law enforcement by giving witnesses the key to access memories previously forgotten. Y/L/N is currently employed at Purdue University Psychological Research Center…

“That sounds a whole lot like what Shuri did for you.”

“Shuri undid the damage they made her do,” he mumbled.

“Are you sure you want to find her?” Steve asked.

He nodded. “I remember her, just before DC. She told me to trust you, to let you help me. She instilled enough doubt in my mind that I somehow found it in me to run. Without her, I might still be the Winter Soldier.”

----

Bucky enlisted Natasha to dig into old Hydra files. When she had released Hydra information to the world, there was too much to sort through. But if anyone could find information fast, it was Nat.

It was an agonizingly long two days before Natasha dropped a folder in front of Bucky.

“That’s everything on her and her work at Hydra. It took a while, seeing as it was all encrypted. Hydra really didn’t want anyone to find her.”

“Thanks, Nat.”

She walked away, leaving him staring at the folder. He let out a breath and opened it, eyes landing on the same photo he had seen online a few days ago. Shaking fingers reached to pick up the picture, and he studied it before setting it on the counter. Lab reports. Piles of lab reports. All signed off by Dr. Y/N Y/L/N. He skimmed through them, until something caught his attention. Notes, seemingly tacked onto the end of a report.

The Asset’s memories take longer to return each time he is wiped, meaning they are still there, living inside his mind. The process in place now only sets a barrier between his conscious mind and his memories, it doesn’t erase them. The key to total amnesia may lie in chemically altering the hippocampus.

He looked at the date. It was just days before he escaped. Maybe that’s why she took the initiative to help him escape. Because she didn’t know how long he would be able to access his memories.

He let out a breath, closing his eyes. There were more memories coming back to him. She had always been gentle, he remembered that. Her soft hands against his skin, her melancholy eyes meeting his. A complete contrast to Hydra. He didn’t know when, or how, but he was going to find her. And get her out.

---

Taglist: @unhealthyobsessionwithmarvel @nearly-whitches @clarysthing @krystallynx @airixaram @usernamemingmei @ofacidinwonderland @averagenightterrors @stephyshadows @yourwonderbelle @agirlruinedbybands @amadine0611 @panda-duuu @coohlwhip @socially-unacceptable-dameron @deangy12

#Bucky Barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #marvel #marvel fanfic #marvel fic #sebastian stan

[self-proclaimed-chaotic-good]

Prospecting Gold | Carlton Drake x Reader

(AKA The Chemical Husbands turning into relationship counselors)

Words: 3846

Crossover: Venom x The Sisters Brothers

A/N: Idk why I keep writing Carlton Drake stories that involves weddings or being engaged, but never married. One day! One day I will write reader getting married to Carlton. Just not yet. I hope the format isn’t too confusing. It’s a bit dialogue heavy and I kind of envisioned it in movie scene sequence, so feel free to leave feedback on how it is.

Chemical Husbands = Hermann Warm x John Morris

-

You packed the last luggage and flopped onto the bed while you waited for Carlton to finish in the bathroom. With his space venture launched, he proposed a vacation and an opportunity for you to meet his twin brother. He had mentioned his twin many times when he spoke about his childhood and while their interests were quite similar, they ended up going their separate ways, living different lives. While Carlton researched in biomedical engineering, Hermann researched in chemistry and sustainable science.

“Where exactly is his place?” you asked.

Carlton’s head popped out of the bathroom, shaving cream on his cheeks. “Dallas. Country side. He lives with a friend who inherited acres of land and an estate there,” he said before shuffling back in to finish shaving. You could hear the faint sound of the razor gliding across his skin, followed by tapping as he flicks off the excess foam into the sink. “He never liked the city life. I was surprised when he got in contact with me last year. I hadn’t spoken to him since… I don’t know. I don’t even remember why we stopped talking.”

“I mean, it sounded like you two were close growing up,” you said, kicking your feet in the air and started doing bicycles.

“Yeah, yeah we were,” Carlton said, walking out of the bathroom, wiping his face clean. He sat next to you. “You two will get along fast. I just know it. My brother… he’s the type to see the good in people- “

“While you’re the pessimistic one,” you added.

Carlton narrowed his eyes at you, pushing down your legs and hovered over you. “Anyways,” he punctuated as you giggled up at him, “Not sure about his friend, but I think you’ll like it there. He sent me pictures and everything. The house has an extension that connects to the main house by a covered walkway, so we have an area to ourselves.”

“That sounds nice,” you hummed, running your fingers along his smooth, freshly shaven jawline. “But why did he contact you all of a sudden?”

“He asked if I could invest in his new company,” he said with a shrug, “I thought why not. He never liked working with those large corporations. They often tried to steal his ideas anyways, so I understand why he’d do it. I wanted him to work with me, but it wasn’t his thing.”

“You’re probably too bossy that’s why.”

“I’m not. Why, did someone say that? Was it one of the research scientists?”

“Carlton, honey, I’m your assistant. You are bossy,” you said, poking between his eyebrows to stop his frowning, “And temperamental. And a workaholic. And from what I’ve gathered from your stories, he’s the patient, level-headed type that appreciates the simple things in life.”

“Yeah, you two are definitely going to get along just fine.”

-

Carlton insisted on carrying the luggage for you while you looped an arm around his. He was finally out of that black tracksuit, suit jacket and plain t-shirt ensemble, and in a more casual flannel and jeans attire. Breaking out from the crowd of the airport, you spotted a man that looked practically identical to your boyfriend, but instead of the groomed cut hair, his dark hair was windblown and curled at the ends, a small moustache trimmed over a friendly smile. He waved happily at the two of you, walking up to take the bags from Carlton despite his stubborn protests.

“You must be (Y/n),” he said, “I’m Hermann, Carlton’s brother… obviously. It’s a pleasure to meet the woman that melted my brother’s frozen heart.”

“Very funny, Herm,” Carlton muttered, fighting a smile with irritation.

A tall man with brown hair and blue eyes climbed out from the truck’s driver’s seat to help Hermann carry the bags into the trunk with ease. “Oh, uh, this is my fiancé, John Morris,” Hermann said, gesturing to the man with a wide smile and bright eyes. “John?”

The man, John, closed the trunk gate and turned to face the group. “Pleasure to meet you, (Y/n),” he said, taking your outstretched hand and kissed it with a wink. You laughed behind your other hand, risking a glance at Carlton whose eyes were slightly wide as his brother’s admission.

“Fiancé? Congratulations, you two!” you said.

“And you must be Carlton, Hermann’s brother.” John took his hand in a tight grip and shook it firmly with a forced smile as Carlton hid a wince.

“Uh, you never mentioned that you got engaged,” Carlton said to his brother once John released his hand.

Hermann scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “Yeah, it happened recently. I wanted to surprise you, being that you’re the closest family I have, so…”

“I’m very surprised. Uh, congratulations! Perhaps we should get something to eat as a celebration? I’m paying, of course,” Carlton suggested as he wrapped an arm around you.

Hermann grinned, “That’s very generous of you. What do you say, John?”

“Well, if the man is paying…,” John said with a shrug.

Carlton helped you into the large truck and climbed in after you, glancing back as his brother and John were discussing something. “I don’t think he likes me,” he muttered next to your ear.

“He’s probably being cautious,” you assured him, patting his thigh. “He’ll like you, or at least tolerate you, eventually.”

“Engaged, huh?” he mumbled under his breath as Hermann and John made their way back into the truck.

“You guys are going to love it there!” Hermann said excitedly as he clambered up the passenger’s seat.

Throughout the rest of the drive, Hermann and Carlton shared stories from their childhood, inputting from how they remembered it and sometimes arguing on past events, much to your amusement, the carefree laugh that bubbled out of him made your heart swell. Carlton pointed out how Hermann used to be bullied in school because he was easy to walk over, so he had to stand up for him even if came to throwing punches before notifying the nearest teacher. It was so frequent that Carlton ran for class president so no one could touch either of them. Not to mention that they were two of the teachers’ favorite students. Then, they moved on to what they had been up to since they went their separate ways. Hermann dropped out of college, travelling a lot and learned about the world and how he could help people and the environment while Carlton went to an ivy league university and made a few breakthrough discoveries in the medicine field.

“So, what do you do, John?” Carlton asked, wanting to know the man that his brother fell in love with.

John’s blue eyes flickered to Carlton through the rearview mirror. “I’m a writer,” he said, “freelancing here and there. Wrote a novel or two.”

Your brain scanned through all the books you’ve seen at bookstores and gasped. “You wrote The Prospectors, didn’t you? You’re that John Morris?” you asked, leaning against his seat.

John chuckled. “Indeed, I did. Now, give me your honest opinion… how boring was it?”

“No! It was amazing!” you said, leaning back in your chair, “I read that book in one sitting. Although, it did have a bittersweet ending. While Elizabeth and Charlotte Brothers finally made it home, I really wanted Joan and Hera to have a happy ending, but their demise were left open ended. What really happened?”

“While that I’m glad that you’re invested in my characters, what happens to Joan and Hera is open to speculations. You can think of all the theories you want, and I will be glad to hear about them.”

“I bet there’s a lot of fanfiction for this book,” you muttered, knowing that if there was a dissatisfying ending to any story, there will be fans out there to rectify it.

Hermann nodded. “There is, I’ve read some. They’re quite good, too,” he said. “Have you read it, Car?”

Carlton shook his head. “No, I’m afraid I haven’t.”

“Well, I imagine you’re quite busy running an entire company of that scale,” Hermann said. “You deserve a break from all of that. I’m sure (Y/n) would appreciate the opportunity to spend time together. There’s so much sights to see. Look out the window.”

You leaned to the side and watched as the truck continued a long stretch of road lined by trees as they neared the country side. John took a turn, showing a glimpse of a lake below the cliffside, the sunlight glimmering off the smooth surface. You felt Carlton’s warm hands slide into yours and squeezed affectionately. It had been months since the two of you had time to relax, what with running a huge groundbreaking research facility. Although you were his assistant, he barely left the lab or his office, buried in paperwork.

After dinner at the fanciest restaurant Hermann could think of that was within miles of their estate, John drove the group to the estate, off the main road and in a clearing overlooking a lake. A gate blocked the driveway, which swung open after Hermann pressed a large white button that was clipped to the sun visor. Even Carlton couldn’t hide how impressed he was at the sight of the luxurious two story, four bed room, with a housing extension, estate. While Carlton built his facility and his home near a cliffside overlooking the ocean, there was something about the seclusion and the calm of nature that took his breath away.

Hermann showed you and Carlton your living area for the time being and went to leave the two of you to unpack. Carlton had offered to walk Hermann to the front door and left. You squealed in excitement and ran to the wide balcony, taking a deep breath of fresh air and allowing the cool wind envelope you. As much as you loved San Francisco and the ocean, you needed to get away from all that pollution and noise.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” John asked from behind you.

You opened your eyes and nodded. “And all of this belongs to you,” you said.

“On paper, yes. But it’s strange to say that a section of land belongs to anyone,” he said, leaning against the railing next to you. “We’re glad that you’re here. Both of you. Hermann hadn’t spoke about his brother until later in our relationship, but he admitted that he missed him. It’s strange to see someone identical to him and yet feel so different.”

“They’re like the sun and moon.”

-

As the two brothers reached the kitchen of the main house, Hermann turned and crossed his arms, leaning against the granite counter.

“Come now, brother, I’m sure you hadn’t walked me back here out of courtesy,” Hermann teased, raising an eyebrow.

Carlton chuckled. “Well… I just wanted to talk with my own brother alone, that’s all.” Hermann looked unconvinced, making the forced smile drop from his face. He sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face as he started to pace.

Hermann sighed at his brother’s distress. “Coffee?”

-

“You didn’t seem to like Carlton when you first met him,” you commented, facing John.

John grimaced. “Sorry about that. It’s just, from what Hermann had told me, the last time they spoke, before Hermann reached out to him last year, they were in a huge argument. His brother wanted him to work under his company, but Hermann disagreed with the way he was running things.” John crossed his arms, leaning his back against the cool rail. “Hermann was too soft, apparently, too naïve, and was told that he will always get run over if he continues to act that way. Hermann said he rather be soft and naïve instead of cold and arrogant and controlling like him. More insults were thrown that landed in the other’s weak spot and they never spoke again. I was just being protective of Hermann when I heard that he invited his brother and his other half over to the estate.”

“But, I’m okay, right?” you said, trying to lighten the mood.

The corner of John’s lips turned up. “You are more than okay in my books. How did you end up with a guy like him? No offence.”

You shrugged. “Cold, arrogant, controlling, that sounds like Carlton. Of course, being his assistant for a while, having to remind him about things from business meetings to making sure he ate, running errands for him, and seeing him in his working environment, I’ve come to see what kind of person he was and when he went too far, I wasn’t afraid to voice my opinion. He had worked the scientists to the ground. We were so close, he said, and they couldn’t stop to rest. I told him it was cruel, and nothing would get done if they are working in exhaustion. He had also run himself down, told me not to tell anyone when he almost collapsed in his office from dehydration and exhaustion. I told him he was being ridiculous, and he told me to just do as I was told.”

You shook your head at the memory of his stubbornness and the scare that it gave you when you saw him stumble against his desk. When he snapped at you, you slapped him before you even realized what you were doing. You honestly thought he was going to fire you right there and then. It was unprofessional of you. Bosses were bound to snap at some point, and as an assistant, you just had to take it in stride. What possessed you to do such a thing, you weren’t sure at the time.

“And how did he win your affection? Was it his dedication and recklessness? If so, it may be a shared trait of theirs.” You both laughed fondly at your respective boyfriend’s charm.

“That sounds about right,” you agreed, “and he also… he actually listened to me. He became kinder, more thoughtful, slightly humbler. Slightly. He can only change so much, right? But, working for him so closely, and for him to actually value my help and opinion, I grew to care for him deeply. It was honestly a shock when he asked me out on a date.”

“How so?”

“He never seemed to be the relationship type. Married to his work and all that.”

-

Carlton sighed for the hundredth time as he stared down at the swirling dark liquid in his mug, his twin sitting across from him at the kitchen table. Hermann rolled his eyes, taking a sip of own coffee, then wiped the remnants from his moustache. He studied his brother’s face, trying to discern what was giving him grief.

“You know, twin telepathy doesn’t work if you don’t look at me,” Hermann spoke up, snapping Carlton out of his daze. “You seem troubled.”

Carlton went to open his mouth and sighed again. “I just… I’m scared, Herm.”

Hermann’s brows furrowed, his body leaning forward and ready to listen. “You can tell me anything. You know that.”

“I was going to wait to talk to you about this, but hearing that you and John got engaged, it got me thinking…,” Carlton trailed off, but the implication was there. He raised his head, his brown eyes showing a swirl of excitement and anxiety.

Hermann’s own brown eyes widened. “Whoa, Car, are you serious? This is a big commitment- “

“I know.”

He raised a hand as if to pause him. “Are you sure you’re ready for this, though? There’s no doubt that you two love each other, but marriage is a whole other thing. Even if you work together, there’s many things to consider- “

“Well,” Carlton shrugged, lifting his hands slightly, “how did you and John know when you were ready?”

“When we know that we can work things out, worked on our communication, showing each other respect and consideration,” Hermann listed. “I mean, for me, I just knew, you know? When I first met him, spoke to him for only a day, I felt like I knew him my whole life. It’s different for others.” Hermann then smiled, tilting his head to the side. “How did you know (Y/n) was the one?”

Carlton snorted. “She slapped me and calls me out on my bullshit.” Hermann nodded matter-of-factly, impressed by her potential sister-in-law. Of course, Carlton would fall for someone like that. “She checks in on me, not just reminding me to eat and drink, but my mental state, and she knows when I’m upset or when I’m tired. Sometimes she surprises me with her wit and makes me smile. She just… she’s so intelligent. So beautiful.”

“Ah, the Belle to your Beast,” Hermann mused. “Have you talked about it to her yet?”

Carlton shook his head. “No, I… well, she brought it up a couple of times. Just mentioned things here and there, especially when her friends got married. And I’d just…” He dropped his head.

“You brushed it off,” Hermann finished. He took another sip of coffee and readied himself if his brother wanted to argue. “You know, the longer you drag this, the more she’s going to question the state of your relationship. I’m sure she might wait, but if you keep dismissing the subject- “

“I know.”

-

“Carlton is probably just not ready,” you reasoned, “I mean, he’s so busy right now. Sure, we work and live together, but marriage is another thing, right?”

“I’m afraid it’s not my place to say,” John said, “but I do know that you need to talk to him if it’s bothering you that much. You have the rest of your vacation to discuss it.”

“Right. Of course.”

John lead you back inside as the temperature dropped along with the sun. You plopped yourself on the soft plushie couch in the living room downstairs and hugged the nearest pillow. John sat at the other end with one foot on the floor and the other leg bent on the sofa to accommodate the space. He watched as you sorted through your thoughts, your frown deepening the longer you took.

Eddie and Anne were one of the first of your closest friends to get married. You were so happy for them, happy that they found their way back to each other. You had joked to Carlton that day that you wanted your wedding with him to be bigger and you were sure he can afford it, but he nodded stiffly and looked away. When Tony and Pepper got married, their wedding was extravagant, of course. Tony was a diva and Pepper deserved it for having to put up with Tony as his assistant turned girlfriend and CEO of Start Industries. Tony pointed at Carlton and questioned why he wasn’t marrying his own assistant yet, for which he sneered that it wasn’t any of his business before walking briskly away and leaving you in an awkward position. Tony being Tony tried to make light of the situation while Pepper looked at you sympathetically.

“I guess marriage isn’t for everyone,” you found yourself saying, “maybe he’s fine with the way things are. I mean, we don’t necessarily have to get married. It’s something that’s on a piece of paper. We’re technically under a common law marriage by living together and what not… Right?”

John shrugged. “Again, I can’t say for you, (Y/n).”

-

Carlton ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “What if she says no?”

His brother gave an indignant laugh. “And what if she says yes? Carlton, it’s been almost a whole day since I’ve met (Y/n) and the way she looks at you, the way she talks about you… she’s crazy about you. And,” he emphasized, pointing at him, “she’s crazy to even be with you.”

Carlton smiled at this, then frowned. “She deserved better,” he muttered.

Hermann sputtered at the sudden change. “Are you serious? What happened to my confident and arrogant brother?”

“This is different! I’ve… I’ve never been in this deep before! I’m scared,” he repeated his earlier confession. “You know how it was, right? We were looked down for so long and I wanted my visions to be put into action and show the world what I can do. I didn’t have anything to lose when I rose from nothing.”

Hermann leaned his elbows on the table and rested his chin on his palm. “This is more than just fear that she’ll say no,” he realized.

Carlton stared at his hands. “What if I can’t give her everything?”

“Well, what does the word ‘everything’ mean to her?”

-

You tightened your hold on the pillow and looked up at John who was watching you carefully. “What if I’m not enough for him?” you asked softly.

John’s eyebrows turned up at the hint of sadness in your tone. “If you’re not enough for him, then nothing else will ever be,” he said firmly, resting a comforting hand on your knee. “Then, if that’s the case, he is not good enough for you.”

“It’s just that…,” you took a moment to gather your thoughts again, tracing patterns on the pillow, “he never really talks much about being fully content with anything.”

-

Carlton shrugged. “She always seemed to be okay with a lot of things. It’s not to say she doesn’t voice her opinions, it’s just… no matter what gift I give her, no matter where I take her, she always seemed so… happy. What if one day she’s not? What am I to do then?”

-

John suddenly stands up. “It’s getting late and you had a long day. We should get some rest,” he suggested, helping you up. “And I think you know what you should talk about with Carlton.”

You nodded. “Yeah. Thank you for listening, by the way. I don’t think you invited us here to talk about our relationship problems,” you said sheepishly.

“It’s no problem, (Y/n).”

John headed back to the main house while you trudged up the stairs to the bedroom, changing into your pajamas before climbing into bed.

-

Hermann stood up, grabbing the now empty mugs and headed towards the kitchen sink. He spotted his fiancé making his back through the walkway and said, “It’s getting late. You should head back and rest.”

Carlton silently agreed, hoisting himself up slowly. “Thanks for listening, Herm.”

“And you know what you need to talk about to (Y/n)?”

Carlton nodded.

“Good.”

Carlton passed John on his way back, muttering a goodnight to each other before heading towards their respective partners. When he turned to close the door to the extension, he spotted John enveloping Hermann into a warm hug, kissing the top of his head while they spoke softly. Carlton looked away and made his way to the bedroom where he spotted you curled up under the sheets. He climbed in slowly as to not disturb you and wrapped an arm around your form. You hummed, grabbing his hand and fell back asleep.

You had a whole vacation to talk things through and he wasn’t going to miss up the opportunity.

#Carlton drake x reader #venom imagine #venom x the sisters brothers #crossover fic #John Morris x Hermann Kermit Warm #Morris x Warm #idk even know #Carlton and Hermann are twins #venom

[royallyanxious]

Horizons - Chapter 12 (Final Chapter)

I dedicate the last chapter of this story to my wonderful beta @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2 who has been supporting me and my ideas for half of a year. I also dedicate this chapter to my artist @magical-octopus who has created wonderful art to this fic. Without you guys I wouldn’t finish this story. Thank you.

Masterpost

word count: 4979

AO3 LINK

Previous Chapter

At first Lo was really cautious around the loud and sharp-tongued Joan. They somehow reminded Lo of Patton, but rude and much less charming. However, after learning each others coming out stories and sharing the struggles they had with their identities, Lo had proudly declared Joan part of their little group by inviting them into the workshop.

“This is absolutely incredible what you’re doing here!” exclaimed Joan, leaning over a bubbling plasma in the jar. “Is this thing alive?” they asked, poking the thick glass.

“It’s hard to call it ‘alive’, it just has an ability to move because of various chemical reactions that constantly occur within the plasma.” explained Lo patiently. “You could easily make it in your own house. But be careful, despite of how it looks, it is extremely frigid.”

It was clear that Lo was happy that they finally could show their workshop to someone else. It’s been over a year since they had a regular customer. Not that Lo really craved for clients, it’s just they, as every scientist and inventor, had a big thirst of showing their pieces of work  to the world. Lo watched Joan roam around the room with proud smile on their face. For the rest of the crew it was part of the daily life, but for Joan, everything was new. And they were really smart with their questions, what made Lo even happier.

Behind the door Roman and Virgil were having a quiet but pretty vivid conversation regardless an unknown subject. Lo was slowly starting to get used to them constantly arguing. All of their disagreements, no matter how important, were conducted with fiery passion but always ended with mutual agreement, compromise and words of respect for the other side. The couple wasn’t really shy about their feelings for each other. Especially Roman, though it was quite easy to predict. At the same time Virgil was willing to give Roman literally anything the other could have dreamt of. Together they made the sappiest couple Lo had ever seen.

Lo glanced at Patton standing few steps away from them. Their gazes crossed and Lo felt the blush creep on their face. They tried to hide it by adjusting the glasses, but basing on Patton’s reaction - with poor effect. Few days ago, after long conversation, they decided to keep their feelings hidden from their friends for now. Though they weren’t afraid of being outed, they just came to conclusion that they need time to decide how this relationship could actually work and if they were ready for this.

Slowly rocking back and forth, Lo hummed to themselves. To think that their life had took such a weird and twisted direction and that so much had changed over past year...

“Hey. What’s that?” Joan pulled Lo out of the maze of their thoughts.

“Hm?” asked Lo absently, directing their steps to Joan who was pointing at something on the shelf.

“This dark glue, what is it for? It has Patton’s name on it.” asked Joan innocently.

Lo’s eyes widened. It was one of the treatment oils for Patton. They’ve never needed to hide it, since they had no guests and they also never told Joan that Patton in fact had an artificial body. Lo felt Patton’s presence behind their back and glanced over their shoulder, trying to seek help. They had no idea what to do and they didn’t want to tell anything that would harm Patton.

Patton didn’t hesitate even for a second, gracefully passing Lo by, and taking the bottle out of Joan’s hands. He sent them a bright smile.

“It has my name on it because it’s for me. It’s like a medicine, you know…” he explained, taking the cork out of the bottle. The room filled with the heavy scent of thick, oily liquid.

“Bet it doesn’t taste any good.” said Joan, moving a step back. “What kind of herb is that?”

“Oh, well…” Patton laughed quietly. “You see, that’s no herb. It’s exactly what it looks like. An oil.” Putting the bottle right under Joan’s nose.

“Ugh. Definitely doesn’t taste good.” they said when Patton took the bottle away and put the cork back into its place. “What is it for?” asked Joan again exactly when Patton turned around to put the oil back on the shelf.

Lo saw every little move of his body. They saw something akin to a shrug, they saw a shiver going down Patton’s spine, they saw how his body stiffened for a moment. But when Patton faced them again, he was smiling. His eyes shaped like a little crescents.

“Thanks to that little baby, I’m not rusty inside.” declared Patton with the brightest smile as though he was informing them that the weather was going to be sunny and warm for the next week.

There was a moment of silence between them before Joan burst into laughter.

“You should have seen yourself, Patton!” they kept giggling cheerfully, while Lo and Patton exchanged confused looks. “You should have heard! Patton! You almost sounded as though you could really get rusty inside!” They finished when they finally calmed down.

“But I was completely serious, Joan.” said Patton seriously, and Lo looked at him with surprise in their eyes. They were almost sure that Patton would try to hide that aspect of his being. “Don’t seem so shocked, Lo. There’s no point in hiding this.” pointed Patton as if he was reading in Lo’s mind. “The truth, Joan, is that I’m one of Lo’s marvelous creations. See?” He asked, and without a warning, unbuttoned his shirt revealing a silver, almost smooth surface. He had never asked anyone to cover it with more human-like colour. That part of him, the one close to the heart had to remain the way it was.

Patton watched Joan’s movements. He knew what they were doing. Though Joan didn’t spend much time with the group, Patton felt that he could trust them. He just felt it. And he also felt the mixture of amazement and disbelief in their heart. It wasn’t negative emotion though.

“Do you want to check yourself what’s inside?” asked Patton smiling lightly.

Joan shook their head firmly.

“I don’t need any proof.” They declared. Patton started buttoning his shirt again. “Besides, it doesn’t really matter. You’re cool dude, Patton. And I’m not a person who judges by the cover.”

Something about these words made Patton feel so ordinary and he was surprised at how good this felt. That’s right. He wasn’t a machine. He was just Patton. Cool dude, Patton. It sounded wonderful.

Curiously, driven by an inner force, Patton looked at Lo. They were beaming, causing Patton’s smile (if it was possible) to become even wider.

Finally, they left the workshop and, stumbling into Virgil and Roman making out in the hallway (apparently it was the perfect finale of their fight), they arrived to the kitchen where Patton almost instantly started making tea.

“Someone open the door, Remy is waiting outside.” said Patton casually and indeed few minutes later the barber walked inside the room, followed by Roman and Virgil.

Patton took a fresh tray of cookies out of the cupboard. Lo had no idea when Patton made them. The sweet taste made them share their concerns out loud.

“Patton’s like a fairy godmother! He has his ways!” chuckled Roman.

“You know what they say, through the stomach to the heart.” added Joan, winking at Lo.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” mumbled Lo burying their head between the shoulders, in order to make themselves look smaller.

“Oh you don’t? I’m pretty sure you do.” snickered Joan. “Isn’t that right, Patton?”

The glass which Patton was cleaning for Remy jittered, but the man himself didn’t say anything, shaking his head only. It was hard to tell if it was denial or just a poor attempt to avoid the subject.

“Wait, wait, wait! What are you saying?” gasped Remy. He looked between Patton and Lo. “Guuurl! I mean… guuurl!” he whistled.

“What are you imply- Oooohh…” Virgil’s eyes widened. “Well, that for sure explains a lot.”

Patton laughed lightly as Roman without a word said, started clapping loudly.

“Follow your dreams, Pat!” he said finally.

“Well, this is it of trying to keep this quiet, I suppose.” Lo coughed awkwardly. “All I wanted to ask for is that you shouldn’t treat us differently just because we are in…” they stopped to take a deep breath. “Just because we are in a romantic relationship.”

Clearly holding back his tears, Patton leaned over and hugged Lo from behind tightly. The couple earned a soft ‘aw’ from Virgil.

“I never thought I would see this pal in a relationship, to be honest.” said Remy, nodding. He was visibly delighted with such a turn of events.

“What was that supposed to mean?” Lo frowned, resting their elbows on the table.

“You have a terrible personality, that’s what!” snorted Remy, crossing his arms on the chest. His silver wrist was reflecting the daylight, making it look like it was made of white gold.

Virgil turned his head away trying to hide the smile. Remy and Lo arguing always put him in a good mood, for some reason.

His eyes travelled around the room. He felt happy here, in this old kitchen, surrounded by people who didn’t judge him by his social status and about whose status he didn’t care at all. He was thinking of his father, whom he hadn’t seen in weeks. What would he say if he saw Virgil sitting here? Maybe it was a little bit of a cruel thing that he wanted to do to himself, but he wanted his father to see him. Just to have the last proof that this man wasn’t a good person nor a decent father. A confirmation of something Virgil had been suspecting for years… If he had that last, final proof he could just start over. Somewhere, maybe far away from here.

“Virgil? Oi, Virge, honey?” Roman nagged his ribs. Virgil shook his head, sending Roman a confused look. “You appear to be troubled with something…” he added, voice a little bit more quiet, discreet. The rest of the table was still playfully arguing with each other.

“It’s alright. Just some… stuff on my mind.” he smiled wanting to calm Roman down.

Even if the latter was unconvinced he decided to give up the subject for now, since it clearly was uncomfortable for Virgil.

“Oh! By the by! You have no idea what a little bitch told me!” recalled Remy.

“I think you meant ‘little bird’.” Patton shook his head.

“I said what i said.” Remy clicked his tongue.

“Nice one.” pointed Joan, leaning back on their chair.

“Anyway, little bitch has told me that today is a certain gala…” Remy started slyly. “The exact same event Lo and I took part in some time ago…”

Patton gasped loudly and suddenly the whole room fell silent. Even Joan who wasn’t introduced into the subject could clearly feel that it was some big deal.

“Let’s go there.” said Patton finally. His voice was calmer than the ocean after the storm.

“But Patton, do you-” Lo stopped in the middle of the sentence not sure what they wanted to say. They wanted to say something. It felt appropriate to say something but they had no words.

“I really want to go. Last gala was a turning point in the life of most people in this room. It affected us all.” cleared Patton, getting up. “It’s only fair for me and Roman to go and see this event ourselves. Of course, if the rest of you don’t wanna go, I will understand.”

“True. I am where I am thanks to that gala. I want to see it with my own eyes.” agreed Roman and took Patton’s hand in his. “I will gladly accompany you, friend.”

“If Roman’s going so am I.” said Virgil, sighing.

“And I’m gonna tag along whether you like it or not.” Joan raised their hand.

Lo looked around and sighed.

“I suppose, I’m going too… Now?”

“It’s impolite to be late to the party.” smiled Remy, already standing in the doors.

~~~

Going outside was a whole new experience for Patton. His eyes were shining whenever something new appeared on the line of horizon. The way down the street was filling Patton with incredible amount of joy. He kept pointing how different the world was from the things he had read in the books. Occasionally, he was also frowning and shyly stated that he remembered some aspects from the time he was still small, round and nameless.

All the time he was tightly gripping Lo’s arm (sometimes digging his fingers a little bit too hard), as if he didn’t want the wind to take him up in the air, as if he was looking for an anchor. And Lo was happy to serve this purpose. Patton’s eyes were filled with an awe and that was the most wonderful reward anyway.

“Everything smells so nice.” whispered Patton dreamingly. Remy and Lo exchange confused looks. For them the air smelled like dirt, mud and pollution.

“One day we will take you outside the city. The air is much purer there…” said Roman, recalling the memories from his past. “It smells like freedom and joy. It is truly no match with the vapors we breathe in here. The fresh air makes you feel like you could do everything!”

Joan’s lips quirked up. They saw the look in Roman’s eyes that they remembered from the time they lived together. His hazelnut orbs were radiating with foggy dreams with a pinch of adventure. Only one thing was new, was it sadness or maturity… Joan couldn’t state which one was that, for sure.

It was Sunday and the streets were quite busy and crowded. They probably wouldn’t drag so much attention if Virgil, looking like his elegant, expensive, high-quality self wasn’t there with them. And he knew that. He knew that way too well. He saw that in the eyes of the merchants and passerbys. And he was ashamed because he knew that the others were too absorbed to see that.

That’s why he made sure to be left behind by accident. He felt in his bones that they wouldn’t notice and that his silent person was almost unnecessary. The last thing he wanted was to ruin Patton’s first trip and drag too much attention. They would simply rejoin at the gala. Virgil was good at disappearing. Even his own father didn’t remember him for most of the time. Who knows- maybe he had already wiped the memory of his son out of his memory?

He slowed down his steps, letting the crowd slip between him and the rest of the group. He had no problem making his way through. Lower social classes were just as prejudiced as higher classes. Another proof that in fact everyone was the same. Virgil sighed, watching Roman’s back and his curly, soft hair disappearing in the sea of people, and turned into narrow alley. He knew the way. And if he didn’t, he would find it.

And so Virgil was strolling, through the blissfully empty area filled with nothing more than old, rusty shacks and homeless cats. Everything smelt like fish, which shouldn’t be surprising considering the fact that it was the harbour district, but this fact came to his realization for the first time in months.

Suddenly, through coated with clouds sky, peaked the sun. Its warm rays poured on the streets of the city. Virgil smiled, instantly deciding to turn into yet another, more light street when a person stood in his way. The sun was lighting this man from behind. Honey-like rays were warming up the color of his hair, making it look like liquid golden copper.

Roman looked utterly beautiful and enchanting.

The expression on his face did not.

“You thought you’d run away from me?” He asked, arms crossed on the chest.

“It’s not that… It’s just…” Virgil blushed. “God, I just didn’t fit into the scenery…”

“You mean you’re too good for us after all?” Roman’s eyes hardened.

“Shit, no.” Virgil shook his head. Anxiety raising up in his stomach. Of course that he would say it in a wrong way. Of course that he made a mistake even though he wanted to do something good. “I just bought too much attention on you. I didn’t want to ruin anything…”

For a moment, Roman’s eyes remained sharp as knives before the serious look softened. It might have been the longest moment in Virgil’s life.

“No one cares if you drag attention, Virgil.” said Roman finally taking a step closer. In the sun, he appeared like an angel. “You are part of the group. In fact, you helped to bring us together. Besides, weren’t you the one who said that we are all equal?” he asked with a wink.

Virgil exhaled loudly. It felt as though a great bourden was taken from his heart. His lips melted into a delicate, shy smile.

“That I said for sure.”

“Wonderful.” grinned Roman taking Virgil’s hand and pressing a butterfly kiss on his knuckles. “Now, we should probably go. The rest promised to wait for us in front of the entrance. They were worried too, you know?”

The smile on Virgil’s face widened, though his eyes shined with disbelief. He shook his head.

Somehow covering the same way with Roman was much more pleasant. The nasty scent in the air suddenly didn’t bother Virgil anymore and the cats seemed almost majestic. Soon they entered a big square. A hangar was situated on the opposite side. It wasn’t hard to notice a small group of people standing in front of the main door. Joan waved to Roman.

“Took you long enough to find him, Roman.” snorted Remy with fake annoyance.

“Oh, please Remy. We had more time to explore this incredible place!” giggled Patton.

“Yes, that was pure delight.” agreed Lo, even though all of them knew that they said that only because of Patton.

“Sorry about that.” mumbled Virgil, looking at the ground.

“Oh, don’t sweat it, honey.” smiled Roman, and Virgil growled.

“I thought that we agreed on the pet names.”

“I couldn’t miss an opportunity to embarrass you in the fellowship.”

“Hey, ladies. Keep the flirting in the bedroom.” Remy snapped his fingers and pointed at the door. Lo and Patton were already coming inside.

The hall was just as Lo remembered it. Cold, metallic and a little bit rusty. It felt like nothing had changed since the last time they were there. They looked at Patton beside them.

Everything had changed.

It felt weird that this time- they weren’t there in the role of a scientist slash inventor. Just a simple visitor. Visitor with their friends. They thought that probably somewhere in the crowd, there were the people who kicked them out of the event last time. Maybe even that bastard Josh. This thought made them a little bit tense.

Meanwhile Patton and Joan looked like they entered a playground. They kept running around the whole building, nagging the people (that was mostly Patton) and asking many questions (mostly Joan). Lo once again scanned the space. It seemed to be safe for now.

Remy visibly kept his distance close to Lo. They weren’t sure why, but also didn’t mind. They never minded Remy’s company and if they could bring some sort of comfort just by their presence, they would gladly allow that. With surprise, Lo thought that maybe a year ago, they wouldn’t have thought about Remy this way. They would still do that sure but they just wouldn’t dwell into these warm feelings. Lo changed and they knew that.

The next few events rolled like an avalanche.

Firstly, Virgil gasped and Roman cried because Virgil dug his long fingers into Roman’s arm.

Secondly, some man yelled “YOU”.

Thirdly, Patton, on his way to Virgil, accidentally stumbled into a table and some invention fell down causing a loud clash.

Lo turned around, worry filling his eyes. Everyone in the hall of the hangar fell silent.

“You!” repeated the man, pointing at Virgil. His face was distorter with anger, while Virgil’s one showed pure horror.

It wasn’t hard to notice the resemblance between these two. Even though they weren’t exactly the same, their eyes were shaped in a similar way, not to mention general face features. Even their aura was similar.

“What are you doing here?” growled Virgil, trying to keep himself calm. Roman squeezed his shoulder from behind.

“I’m trying to achieve something in which you failed. Boy.” Replied the man, the last word being spilled with venom and hate.

“Suddenly just a ‘boy’?” Virgil laughed. “Well, I should have expected that, father.” He said the last sentence a little bit louder, dragging attention of most people nearby. Their curious eyes were piercing Virgil and his father. And for once Virgil didn’t feel fear.

“I knew I’ve heard that voice already.” whispered Roman quietly.

In front of them was standing no one other than Coenraad van Dijk, tha same man who led to Roman’s parents death. Rage filled Roman’s veins. His knuckles turned white. He wanted to stand in front of Virgil and protect him from all the bad that could come from Virgil’s father. And then kick this creature into the sea. He wanted revenge. But there are battles one should fight alone. Some battles just weren’t his own. No one could win this fight better than Virgil. All Roman could do was loyally standing beside. He knew that Virgil would fight in his own name too. He looked around himself, Lo, Patton, Remy and even Joan were already standing by his side. Roman smiled. “You’re not alone, Virgil.” he said out loud.. “And, say just one thing and I will fight this man till the last drop of my blood.” he added.

“Look at you, Virgil.” Coenraad said through clenched teeth, apparently Roman’s words didn’t reach his ears. “You surround yourself with the most pathetic bunch in the world. Didn’t I raise you well? You could live in the luxuries till the end of your life!”

“Enough.” stated Virgil quietly but without a result.

“Instead you chose living with human garbage. Do you think I haven’t heard about your financial problems? Oh, I have. I just choose not to do anything about it. You shouldn’t have failed me. You should have-”

“I said enough!” repeated Virgil, taking few steps forward. He glanced over his shoulder. “Each of them is ten times better than you!” He turned to face his friends. “Do you see this person in an apron? That’s the genius of our times! The man beside them-” Virgil pointed at Patton. “Yes, the one with glasses. This is the miracle, true scientific miracle. So much more of a human than you. Remy over there? One of the most honest and helpful people I know. Joan… Well, I haven’t known them for long, but I know from a trusted source that they’ve been through a lot and look! They are still standing! And finally,” Virgil’s voice softened. “Do you see the man with a soft halo instead of hair? Whose eyes are the most treasured thing on the world? This man over there is a survivor that escaped you. The one who had been so strong, even though world and you tried to break him. The one who absolutely won me the moment I saw him. Roman del Rey himself.”

Virgil turned back to Coenraad, whose eyes were wide with shock for a moment. Virgil couldn’t tell what was behind that surprise: was it the fact that Virgil had finally stood for himself or the fact that Roman was alive and well. Probably a mixture of both. He watched Coenraad’s eyes travel to Roman’s face, looking for a resemblance to his parents. An anger and embarrassment flashed through his face, when Coenraad’s eyes narrowed and his lips parted to say something. He was however cut off by Virgil, who wasn’t gonna let his father interrupt him ever again. Who wasn’t gonna let his father disgrace Roman any more.

“With these people having my back, I can say that I don’t need you in my life.” he said and without a warning punched his father right in his face. And then again.

Blood was covering Virgil’s knuckles and he was panting heavily. The moment passed, seeing his father resting his hand on his knee, the other trying to stop the nosebleed, broke something in him. He let his handkerchief fall down. Coenraad grabbed it quickly and it hit Virgil how pathetic his father looked. The humiliation was visible in his posture, eyes and could be felt in the air. And suddenly Virgil’s didn’t pity him anymore. Because he realized that the eyes of the audience were the worst punishment his father could get.

“My mercy is the last thing you deserve. Not to mention Roman’s forgiveness.” Virgil said calmly. “This is the last time you’re gonna see me. Don’t look for me. You wouldn’t be able to find me anyway since, I assume, you’ve been blinded by your fortune and ego, since a long time ago.”

He didn’t feel any shade of guilt when he passed his father by. The rest of the group followed his footsteps.

Roman kept his head high. He was hurting. He was hurting that his parents’ murderer was still alive. But he knew that he couldn’t kill him. Neither now, nor ever. He was better than that. However, he did smile when Joan spat at Coenraad’s feet.

In the entrance, a man stopped the group. More precisely- he stopped Lo and Patton. Lo blinked. Round face… notebook made out of leather… something was similar about that guy. It took him a moment to recognise him-  the head of the jury.

“I’m sorry, Mister…” The man started, ignoring Lo’s quiet denial. “I would be interested in buying your magnificent invention.” He pointed at Patton. “You can be rich! Because it is truly  wonderful! It looks just like a normal person!”

Lo blinked few times, trying to proceed man’s words. Patton beside him shifted on his spot.

“But sir,” said Lo finally. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Patton is a normal person. Therefore he is not for sale.” They said calmly. “Now if you excuse us, we have a business to attend. Something more worthy of our presence.” Their hand found its way to Patton’s.  They were about to walk away when Lo stopped for one last time and looking straight at the male in front of them said: “And it’s not a ‘mister’. Please respect that.”

Patton shot Lo a bright smile and squeezed their hand. He could feel pride vibrating through Lo’s body. For the first time in their life, they stood for their right to be addressed the way they wanted in public.

The door closed behind them. Even though it was raining, the sun was peeking behind clouds. Lo looked at the sky and their lips spread in a wide grin. The rainbow was running bright and colorful across the sky.

From the building, the group could hear the angry screams of Coenraad van Dijk.

~~~

Epilogue

They were standing on the front part of the deck.  Gentle wind caressed their faces and hair. The view was wonderful. Sky was clear as they were drifting through the middle of the sea, towards the unknown. It was a warm evening and so where the feelings in their hearts.

It was Roman’s idea, actually. Being clear that they wouldn’t find peace in the place they used to call home, Roman suggested moving to the country from his memories.

Joan offered help.

Remy decided to tag along, he said that his life would be boring without that mess.

Logan said that he needed inspiration anyway.

Patton didn’t even question the idea.

Virgil had nothing to miss for anymore.

Golden rays were reflecting in the water, making it look as though they were sailing through the ocean of gold and diamonds. And Logan thought that this was inspiration. Not the dark box he used to live at. He looked to the back at Patton. His fluffy, brown hair was ruffled by the wind. That was his other inspiration. He knew that only now, at peace with himself, he could start over. His machines stayed at home. Maybe someone would find them useful someday.

With the corner of his eye, Patton caught the sight of Logan staring. He smiled and his smile was somehow brighter than the sun. Logan mirrored the smile. It was genuine. Patton looked back at the sea. For a moment, he thought he saw something under the unclear water. Maybe it was past or maybe a jellyfish. He would never know. He looked back at Logan. His smile widened.

Virgil couldn’t say that he wasn’t nervous. He went against everything he was taught from the youngest age. He thought of his mother, watching over him from the sky. Hopefully she was still rooting for him. He unbuttoned the top of his shirt. Chilly wind touched his skin but he didn’t shiver.

Roman was leaning over the balustrade. Even though he spent those last couple of years living in the harbor, he had forgotten how the sea really smelt like. He took a deep breath in, a soft smile decorating his lips. Thinking about all the changes that were about to come, he closed his eyes. Everything would be different from now on, but he was sure that it was just the natural course of events. The first cogwheel was already on the route, there was no way to stop it. Roman opened his eyes.

They were sailing towards their new horizons.

The end.

If you liked this fic and appreciate 6 months of my hard work you can consider supporting me on KO-FI.

#vic writes horizons #horizons

[wannawrite]

sweet crazy love [ pt.2 ]

who?: Wanna One’s Ong Seongwoo genre: 🌸🌺 type: bullet point - bc fic would be too long TW: blood, biting, fights, mention of PTSD, depression and psychiatry, supernatural experimentation - poison

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part two / two

part one

• vamp! AU • experiments don’t always work out…. and when they don’t, they go to the psychiatrist

HAPPY CHINESE NEW YEAR TO THOSE WHO CELEBRATE!! Wishing you and your families a healthy, prosperous and fruitful year ahead. Also, HAPPY BELATED VALENTINE’S DAY!!! hope all of you spent it well with your loved ones :”)

- Admin L 

disclaimer: pictures used do not belong to me and credit goes to their original owners everything written here is purely fictional.

• ‘You look awful.’ The words spilt out of Minhyun’s mouth before he could stop them. The Tiffin he brought over began to unpack itself, settling into a nice arrangement in front or Seongwoo • ‘New power gained?’ He gestured to Minhyun aiming his fingers at each plate. • ‘yup. Discovered it while messing with Jaehwan’s shampoo yesterday.’ • for more vampire adventures with Minhyun and Jaehwan click here • Seongwoo felt slightly left out. He couldn’t drink real blood, depended mostly on human food and couldn’t build his powers up • ‘Did you go last night?’ Minhyun asked, handing Seongwoo a pair of chopsticks • shrugging and shoving rice into his mouth, Seongwoo directed Minhyun’s gaze to his veins that were coursing with blue coloured blood • ‘Asshole,’ Minhyun cursed. ‘I knew you shouldn’t have. He’s only testing more dangerous substances on you now.’ • Seongwoo’s recycling bin was overflowing with cartons of plasma juice • Minhyun nearly bumped into it and knocked it all over • ‘You need a new shipment.’ • ‘That I do,’ Seongwoo agreed whole-heartedly. He munched on his lunch while Minhyun dialled the supplier, The Middleman. • ‘I need a favour.’ • Seongwoo broke the silence, looking hopefully at his friend. • ‘Depends....’ • Minhyun looked slightly flustered and panicked, his mind working hard to figure out what Seongwoo could possibly need help with. • It seemed that his friend had a split second of deep thinking and consideration. Minhyun already knew he would agree with Seongwoo’s idea • ‘we need to expose Doc.’ • #Docisoverparty • ‘Dad?’ you called out into the darkness, pushing open your front door. ‘Dad I’m home. Mum?’ • ah, what the hell, Mum won’t be back so early from work. • Dad said he would be in though...but the house is drenched in darkness, not even the night lights are on • you had been meaning to come home for the weekend to tell your parents about your exciting internship, even though your father mentioned that he had the night off, no one seemed to be around • leaving the living room lights turned on, you ventured up the stairs to where your Dad’s study lay • usually, it would be padlocked - for no apparent reason - yet today, the door was ajar, light streaming out from the gap • you supposed your father was inside, probably hidden away in his material to notice your arrival • just as you were about to knock the door, your dad appeared. His eyes widened, startled by you. • ‘oh! hi dear.’ The sound of the heavy wooden door slammed echoed off the walls. ‘Didn’t see you coming in. I was just finishing up for the night.’ • your eyes rolled far back. ‘That’s what you constantly say and Mum will find you still working when she gets back at 11pm.’ • ‘see, this is why you’re such a huge inspiration to me Dad, you always work hard.’ • a look of guilt crossed your dad’s face before it diffused and was replaced by a contented smile • ‘enough about me, I’m anticipating hearing all about your internship over dinner! Follow me.’ • you walked down the staircase after your dad. Somehow, your heart seemed heavy and your feet seemed to want to lead you to whatever lay behind those birchwood doors • never once had any family member stepped foot into your father’s study • of course, when you and your cousins were children, he kept it locked, going on and on about how there were many dangerous types of equipment inside • it was for your safety • yet here you were, on the brink of graduating and becoming a doctor yourself, still kept in the dark of what Dad really did in there • strange • there was a stab in your chest, willing you to find out what kind of medicine he kept in his study • wow don’t we just love thickening plots I can’t believe I’m writing a BULLET POINT on this....it would be a two-part scenario if I was on holiday :”) • ‘When I said get help, I didn’t mean call every single one of our brothers....’ Seongwoo muttered to Minhyun in a hushed tone, looking out at his crowded living room, his blood brothers filling the place • ‘Oh come on.’ Minhyun smiled charmingly. ‘It was due time for a family gathering anyway. I still have yet to call the rest of them..... Besides, we’re going to need all the help we can get.’ • Seongwoo shot his best friend an unamused look, biting down hard on his lower lip. • ‘You really think exposing Doctor’s work to his family is going to be an easy feat? We may have natural-born abilities but they have technology on their side.’ • he let out a won-over sigh, nodding in agreement. ‘Well, everyone’s here already, what are we waiting for?’ • Minhyun’s lips stretched into a cheery smile. ‘Nightfall, my dear brother.’ • *NIGHT FALLS* • Dad: I’ll be at the office late tonight. Eat dinner without me. I’ll make sure your mother gets home sooner to accompany you • at that moment, you wanted nothing more than to throw your phone against the wall. • you were back for the weekend and although your parents claimed to miss you, they weren’t the best at showing it • yes, work was hard but couldn’t they spend more time with their child? • haven’t been to Dad’s work in a while,,,I should surprise him with dinner • perfect! • so you got pizza, called and Uber and rolled down to your dad’s office • an institute called Jowa Medical and Science Research Facility • I’m so uncreative rip • ‘Hi, I’m Dr ____’s family member. May I know which office he’s in right now?’ You asked the front desk cheerily • the man sitting behind wore a mask, but he was clearly grinning behind it. ‘Just a moment please.’ • hmm probably a newbie or intern • his name tag read Lee Daehwi • ‘ahh, he would be working right now in the Biomedical Research block. I’ll get someone to lead you to his office.’ • then, he proceeded to make a phone call, all too happily if you were serious • next, a man came to escort you. He too looked young and bright. • Name tag: Lai Guanlin • ‘hmm that’s as far as I can take you, follow my Professor, he’s better at negotiating with your dad.’ • again, something seemed...off with the teeth of these people • ‘you’ll need this.’ A man whose security pass read Park Jihoon handed you a white coat. ‘There are a lot of hazardous chemicals in the research facilities.’ • bye bye pizza you left in the hands of Lai Guanlin • who would devour the entire box by himself in a few seconds • everything seemed a little out of place today • uh...isn’t security a bit lax? • who are all these new young doctors? • whatever • can’t get killed anyway can I? • walking down a dim and silent corridor with an unfamiliar professor was something you didn’t plan on doing • ‘oh,’ he said, approaching what seemed to be a laboratory. ‘Looks like Dr _____ is in the middle of an important procedure.’ • he pointed to the flashing red light outside the door • ‘you’re welcome to wait in the observation room though.’ • huh? • wordlessly and with your heart HAMMERING against your chest, you followed him into a room next to the lab. It seemed to be separated by only a black screen. You figured it was meant for students to watch without distracting the professionals • WHY AREN’T YOU RUNNING FOR YOUR LIFE • at the same time, it was thrilling to see your Dad working • however, his laboratory seemed a tad bit peculiar as well • there were jars and jars stamped with ‘TOXIC’ labels, everything seemed to be kept in pristine condition and carefully placed • many items seemed unfitting for a science lab. Explain the weird dentist reclining chair and were those torture devices ??? • what the hell? • Jihoon could hear all your thoughts and he was sending messages to all of his friends • vampires in clean white coats boasting stethoscopes were not a sight to be seen everyday • THERE WAS SOMEONE SITTING IN THE RECLINING CHAIR • ‘hey, isn’t that a person?’ you whispered to Jihoon. ‘Professor, is he okay? What is my dad going to do?’ • Professor Park kept silent and gestured for you to keep watching the procedure • every single cell in your body was telling you to leave • get out • but your eyes were trained on your father, hunched over a counter, drawing a strange orange liquid from a bottle reading ‘POSION’ • the syringe was the perfect size for a flu injection • but POISON? • ‘Professor Park! He’s going to poison that man! He’s going to kill him!’ You screeched, unable to believe whatever you were seeing. Your heart reeled, head spun. It felt as if someone had cracked your heart opened, maybe your brain • jihoon didn’t dare to say a word. • ‘STOP! DAD, STOP!’ • hmm, soundproofing was good down here • suddenly, out of the corner of your eye, you caught a digitalised screen with information written on it • it looked like a data document of some sort • Name of experiment: OSW • Supernatural type: Higher Vampire • what? • what the hell? • was this some kind of sick joke your Dad arranged? • what hidden camera show were you on? Candid Camera? • Drug Dose: 37ml of Ricin • ‘DAD, STOP! YOU’LL KILL HIM! HE’LL DIE!’ • by now, tears were flowing and gushing down your face. Your brain throbbed like blood flow had been paused, your chest ached. Ragged breaths began to replace your normal intake of oxygen • ‘HE’S GOING TO DIE!’ • the last thing you remember was the needle being stabbed into the man’s arm and the screen flashing red to read • Victim: ONG SEONGWOO, 122, HV • night night • Results: OSW has survived, heartbeat detected • when you woke up, you were still in your dad’s office, just in the medical side now • in an A class ward to be specific • but you were convinced it wasn’t any of your family members who put you here • Seongwoo was comfortably seated in one of the armchairs, flipping through the newspapers • he had a small bandage over his upper arm; proving that he had in fact gotten Ricin injected into his blood stream • and he survived from it...which next confirms the fact that he was a higher vampire • ‘Wakey wakey,’ Seongwoo chimes like an angel. • he’s far from it • ‘how are you alive? I saw my dad inject Ricin into your blood stream. Am I hallucinating?’ • A chuckle leaves his lips as the door opens and someone else slips into the room • ‘Hyung, Doc’s gone now. We’ve made sure of that,’ the voice announced. • ‘Thanks, Jinyoung.’ • you glared at Seongwoo as Jinyoung slipped out of the room. ‘What do you mean by gone?’ • ‘I mean, back home, safe and sound. He assumes you’re back in your dorm by now.’ • this didn’t seem like a man who just recovered from fatal poisoning • ‘You want to know what you father cooks up in his lab? Follow me.’ • it looked like you didn’t have a choice not to • never did you imagine the first time coming into contact with your dad’s work would be with a vampire and behind foreign doors • and breaking into a medical institutions well-guarded and somewhat hidden experiment laboratory • the lab smelled of burnt Sulfur, maybe hints of silver and wolfsbane. Jars stacked on tall shelves were filled with murky liquids and gooey objects sticking out of them • you shivered at the mere thought of it all • ‘your dad,’ Seongwoo began cautiously. ‘Likes to hunt and experiment on the supernatural.’ • I must be absolutely bonkers by now. • ‘I’m just one of the few living specimens he got his hands on.’ Seongwoo caresses a manila envelope tucked under a black binder • ‘There’s a whole list. Most of the higher vampires are my family.’ • my dad? supernatural? destroying someone else’s life? • doesn’t sound like it • ‘That’s impossible,’ you scoff in disbelief. ‘Supernatural don’t exist. You’re mocking me, Seongwoo.’ • you regret turning around to face him because he changed from a college kid Seongwoo to a bloodsucker within a matter of seconds • his fangs elongated, his eyes a crimson vermillion • ‘ugh, I need another plasma juice box.’ • you fought giggles. It was hard to keep a serious composure after seeing your batch mate glow in his true form and then sipping from a tiny carton of juice that resembled the ones your baby cousins drank from • ‘anyway, my point is that your dad has been testing on me and the side effects are so severe that I have to see Dr Im and down plasma juice by the shipments.’ • ‘uh, real blood would mess up his test results and he would beat me up with one of his torture devices,’ Seongwoo answered your unspoken question • ‘I just can’t believe any of it...’ • who could • my ass would have zayned right away good bye zai jian • ‘give me a week....’ • black water melded to fill your pools of vision • *a week and many messy thoughts later* • shrieking was the first thing Seongwoo’s ultra-sensitive hearing picked up when he entered Dr Im’s clinic for the third session • the voice was distinctly yours so he decided it would be good to tune in • ‘WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU KNEW AND NEVER TOLD ME! DR IM!’ • ‘I HAVE TO HELP HIM! I’VE KNOWN HIM SINCE HIGH SCHOOL EVEN THOUGH HE HATED ME BECAUSE HE KNEW I WAS PART OF MY DAD’S FAMILY! IT STILL HURTS.’ • ‘I can’t let him just waste away like this.....’ • ‘I just can’t....I’ll never forgive myself if I do.’ • by the way, the screaming and throwing of tissue boxes was enough for Seongwoo’s ears to hurt but he was happy he caught your exclamations • you care about him :D • how cute • WAIT NO I CAN’T BE CATCHING FEELINGS • eveN IF THEY FAINTED IN MY ARMS I CAN’T • Minhyun shoots him a smug smirk • ‘oh shut up.’ • ‘never said anything.’ • ‘IT’S CALLED AN INVASION OF PRIVACY!’ • ‘Dr Im is ready to see yo- SEONGWOO NO YOU CAN’T STRANGLE MINHYUN HERE.’ • *break bc i won’t really touch on the sessions* • from then on, Seongwoo tried as much to avoid your father and you tried to occupy your dad’s time • making excuses for family outings • hiding and throwing away his syringes • calling his work to turf him out of there early so that Seongwoo wouldn’t have to face anymore poison • it was a hard feat to convince him to stay away • because for every session he attended, he was sparing a life of his family member • your dad threatened to harm an Ong if Seongwoo didn’t comply by the rules • there was always a different excuse you had to cook up to get your dad home and out of his study • once, you even went to the extreme of changing the padlock on the door by stealing the key from your dad’s briefcase • you made about a 100 carbon copies before changing the lock back before he noticed • you just NEEDED Seongwoo to be safe and sound • the odd case he did go for an appointment, you would have to attend to a half-dead looking Seongwoo at 2am on the middle of your dining table • ‘sorry for the lack of operation table, I’m a psychology student.’ • sometimes, you had to rip away parts of his shirt to access whatever wound or vein affected • you lost count of the number of times colour suffused into your face • or the number of times you threatened to stab Seongwoo with a scalpel whenever he teased or complimented your blush in his drugged state • you wished you could dose him with anaesthetic so that he would shut up • Seongwoo was too playful for his own good • he just liked to tease and joke a lot, especially under the influence of whatever your dad was dosing him with • ‘you’re so cuteeeee when you blush. I love it.’ • and he would pout sulkily when you don’t respond • ‘are you ignoring meeee? Don’t you have feelings for meeeeeee?’ • annoying vamp • you would tell him to keep quiet unless he wanted a dead vein • catering to his supernatural needs was another thing • hiding a stack of plasma fruit juice under your bed was a different affair altogether • you also had to receive shady shipments in the middle of the morning so that none of your flatmates would get suspicious • they were like family to you but you would get suspicious if something with the label of ‘100% REAL PLASMA JUICE’ appeared at your doorstep • there was also an unholy amount of poison reversals stashed in your locked drawer • hmm your friends in the medical sector were beginning to get suspicious • all you needed to do was call a vampire over, hypnotise them, get your goods and hack into the security system to remove any footage • damn aren’t you glad you have royal and senior vampires like Yoon Jisung on your side to help with that? • ‘shut up Guanlin all you did was carry the bags of medicine and eat my pizza.’ • you often complained about Seongwoo’s younger brothers but they were an added joy in your life • ‘JINYOUNG I SAID PUT THAT SYRINGE DOWN NOW.’ • what a pain • sometimes Seongwoo would murmur incoherently in his dozy state and all you could catch were things along the lines of ‘pretty’, ‘I want to go to The Middleman’, ‘I want to kiss someone’ • uh yeah which made you a tad bit pissed off and receptive • ‘seongwoo, you better shut up before I stab you with this anaesthetic.’ • what are your feelings? • it’s like you hate him but you can’t seem to stop loving him? • it gets really intimate since you see him every single day and most of the time it is when he’s at his most vulnerable ??? • sessions with Dr Im • late night therapy while you’re fixing him up • texting him that you got your dad fixated on something else for that time • texting him to ask if he’s been taking the prescribed pills • you just...suddenly found yourself gaining a close friend and maybe some new feelings • why not? • seongwoo was dangerous, sometimes annoyingly loud and cocky with a devilish glare yet he was funny, playful, open with you and genuine • every night you got your dad’s tools away from him, there was a cup of your regular order from the cafe you first met waiting for you at Dr Im’s office • she wouldn’t say who brought it >:( oh ho ho but you knew all too well • he was TOO KIND for his own good • even if he was a jerk sometimes haha • you just started to like him...more than a friend • so when he started saying stuff like that, you just felt like crying and stabbing him with a needless syringe • like why? aren’t I the one who is always holding you close and protecting you? Isn’t it my apartment you run to? Why? • it’s just super pressing and irritating, heart-wrenching even • who was the one printing out his lecture notes and delivering them to his dorm? who was it tracking his mental health progress? • one night, Seongwoo texted you to open the door,,,even when you knew there wasn’t anything scheduled • he just stumbled into your arms the moment you peeled open the door. • hmm no traces of alcohol • ‘babeee,’ Seongwoo drawled out, completely oblivious to the words that came out of his mouth. ‘Guess what?’ • ‘I don’t want to. I’m calling Minhyun, just hang in there.’ • I DON’T KNOW HOW TO DEAL WITH THIS • ‘I got my first taste of real blood. It was from a blood bag of course and it was from an animal, I think I’m allergic to human blood.’ He suddenly frowns. ‘Besides, I won’t want to upset youuu.’ • oh god is he tipsy because all he’s been living on are these fruit juices • ‘why not?’ you challenge, your fingers stop punching in Minhyun’s contact • Seongwoo wraps his arms around your shoulders with a giddy smile on his face. ‘I looove you! I do! Ever since graduation when you found out my secret but never told anyone.’ • your cheeks redden and you send Seongwoo straight to your bed, tucking him in tightly so he can’t escape • he’s worse on blood than on poison...what is this logic? • ‘nooo!’ he whines, grabbing your wrist. ‘Don’t leave me. You’ve never have and you won’t now....will you?’ • oh man look at this baby even his fangs are beginning to show someone help him • you’re helpless against his iron-grip so you settle with him, cuddling until he shuts his eyes • phew, I can leave to call Minhyun now • ‘I also like you...’ • huh ??? • there’s a yearning in your heart, you want to know why • so you grab his hand and stick by his side • like you always have • ‘You’ve always been there for me. No matter what. Even though I’m technically not supposed to exist at all.....’ • your heart melts into a puddle, you can’t handle all your pent-up emotions • ‘I told Minhyun I would marry you when we’re ready....’ • SLEEP TALK IS THE BEST TALK • are you crying or are you crying? • ‘w-when w-we were young....we swore that we would marry the person who was there for us even in the most difficult of situations.....’ • SOB SOB SOB • IDK WHY MY EYES ARE SWEATING RN • SEONGWOO STOP • ‘you helped me so much.....’ • he gets sleepier and sleepier, dozing off into oblivion • a small smile stretches across his face when you kiss his forehead and run a hand through his hair • WHO WOULDN’T • ‘you are here for me even when the night falls.’ • and he’s out • you can’t comprehend it now, perhaps not ever • it’s just his secret love that’s bloody sweet and would drive anyone else but you absolutely crazy • okay this isn’t meant to be dark or anything like that and I spent a whole WEEK on this no joke I’m crying • but basically, we should accept and love each other’s flaws and differences • I don’t believe supernatural exist in real life so please don’t be scammed friends ahaa • see y’all next week! • 💖💕💓

#wanna one #produce 101 #wanna one scenarios #produce 101 scenarios #ong seongwoo

[the-erickson-labrynthian]

Nathan and the Allex Cube; Chapter Two, Part 2 of 2:

(Part One is here: https://the-erickson-labrynthian.tumblr.com/post/177639955117/nathan-and-the-allex-cube-chapter-two-part-1-of Also availble on my Wattpad if that’s easier to read for you: https://www.wattpad.com/user/BrandonErickson2 Happy reading!)

Part Two:

The water well was hidden across the south side of the property in a makeshift tarp nailed into the dirt, covering the top and making a circle along all sides, save for a small part that could be pulled open to enter. It was used by a few people in the small neighborhood of houses, but many of the nearest homes around were empty, so those who came were farther down the road, free from the smoke inhalation and the loud booming burst of an exploding machine. They were free from the ash.

In fact, the only dust they knew was the dust everyone knew. This kind wasn't ash, just dust. The blowing dust of a lifeless field. The smaller and rounder bits that were even harder to get out of the windows and out of the nose. And, while it wasn't ash, it burned just as bad. The sun baked everything around here, hours on end. Days on end, even.

There was no life here, just buildings, technology, and the well. A well that connected to an underground reserve that filled from an overflow in a dam far away. So far away, Nathan couldn't get there in a day. Not even a week. It wouldn't matter anyways, should he want to go there, that was for normal people. The cities were for the rich boys and the loved boys and the non-boys, not for the boys.

The dust—the only thing in the desert with life of its own— had already gotten into Nathan's eyes the second the door opened. That was Nathan's fault for opening the second a strong wind came. Renold was kind and offered to sweep it up. Nathan hit himself on the head and carried on. He looked at the tent a good block away, surprised after all these gusts and pounds and pounds of dust, that the tent still held on. That was the hidden genius and ingenuity that his father could put into what he built, should he build the right things.

Nathan learned pretty immediately when he moved here that it didn't matter where someone would put their face during the gusts. He started out thinking if he pulled his head down that the dust would miss him, but it followed the line of his skin surreptitiously, moving along with the curves until it could fling itself against his eyes again. Even if the dust did by some miracle miss his eyes, his hair would be ruined and tangled, and his back would be coated in the stuff.

At one point Nathan thought if he pulled his shirt up like he always did with the ash, that the dust wouldn't get in. The thing about dust was that it always got in. If there was a sliver of space, there was no safety.

No, these options wouldn't work. What Nathan figured out was that the best chance someone had was to close their eyes and just walk forward, and hope they knew where they were going. Nathan did just this, closing his eyes and heading in a straight line to the tent, like he had done a thousand times before. It worked, until he tripped over a rock, slamming his face against the ground, giving a whole new meaning to the term 'biting the dust', and making his bucket roll away.

"Dammit!" He cursed, pulling himself up. He wiped away debris from his face, but the sting remained, the burning scrapes along his arm and face that only showed up as a white line remained, and they hurt. Nathan had made himself bleed on accident and thought nothing of it, but if he scrapped a part of his body on the ground he would feel it for days.

After cleaning off his pants and shirt as best he could, Nathan went for his bucket and continued on with open eyes, sighing and muttering, "'Guess no system is perfect."

He rushed into the tent before another big gust came in and dropped the bucket under the red faucet connected to the pump. The perfect circle well that was next to the pump was only for show these days, something to look at as a mark of history. The real secret came out of the pump. Nathan grabbed the handle. It was cold to the touch, completely protected from the winds and the heat of the sun, though not from the dust. There was no such thing as protection from the dust.

Nathan tightened his grip around the handle and began pushing down, and then back up. A smooth system Nathan knew well. He made sure not to rush, just to move to a beat. Moving at a timed rate made the flow steady. It made the trip quick. It was already hard enough to fill one bucket. Nathan timed that it would usually be a good twenty-five pumps before the water would start coming out. It took that much energy and pressure to push it up from a place so far down—a place that really was free from the dust— and it took another twenty more just to get the bucket full.

This was a lot of work, but Nathan didn't mind, as long as he knew what he was doing. The best kind of work, in his mind, was clear and defined maintenance. There was nothing to mess up. Nothing to add nuance to. There was only one main directive. Pumping. Or even just lifting rocks and moving them over somewhere else. Anything that was a pattern. An easy cycle.

Nathan moved his whole body along with the pump, positioning himself to where he leaned down when the handle went down, and back up when it was up. He closed his eyes and let his hands do the work for him. A conversation went into his head. One from a long time ago, after one of the first few times he ever used the pump.

"Pump water? That's his special skill? Give me a break. 'Pain in my ass' is a better skill than that."

"His mind is simple, William, it gives him comfort."

"Simple is right on the money. Simple and stupid. I raised an idiot. He asked me once if stars were portals! And he was twelve!"

"You should have taught him more."

"He should've not been a dumbass. I can't teach a broken tool, and I can't fix him. Not here. If I could control how people act then I wouldn't even be here."

"If you chemically controlled how people behaved, you'd be just like them."

"Well, I-"

"You'd be the thing you ran from."

"I just want the best for my son!"

"He likes pumping water, he doesn't like dishes. Or laundry, or cleaning, he likes pumping water. Let him do that. I'll do everything else."

"Fine. Just don't complain about any extra work. I'm going to get a drink. I can't deal with this right now."

"I was never the one who complained..."

When the water of the bucket overflowed and sloshed onto the side of Nathan's leg, he stopped. Before grabbing the bucket, he took a moment to look at the pump again. He caressed it, just from one side to the other, and tapped on it a few times before sighing.

"Same time tomorrow?" He laughed.

No matter what the inanimate object thought, it was a 'yes' for Nathan. He picked up the bucket and steadied it in his hands. He watched the ripples in the water until they died down and his smooth reflection was revealed.

Nathan was almost horrified by what he saw. His eyes were sunken and heavily outlined in a darkness, with bags developing under them. He still had ash smudged onto his cheeks, possibly from today, possibly from days before. He hadn't washed himself properly in a while. He did what he could to look presentable, but there wasn't enough time to do more. His skin was usually a noticeable red, with a subtle tan that pushed out past that. Though, Nathan could never tell what was tan or what was dirt anymore. Everything that he used to be was coated in a thin layer of filth. Filth enveloped most of his life. Even his eyes, the most notable and bright part of his face with their grass color, had noticeable strain and dryness to them. There was barely any feature left that resembled a boy, other than the deep black of his hair, showing the only life left on his body.

Nathan brought himself back on task and took the bucket back to his house. Taking off his shirt, he used it to hold a cover on top of the bucket and pushed through the wind to the front door. After getting in, he went to the kitchen and set down the bucket, only to look up and see his father twirling around on the stool.

"What are you doing?" Nathan asked.

"Not running around naked like you, put your shirt on."

"I was just covering the water. You're the one who never got a lid."

William stopped twirling and faced Nathan, "Well, we don't have to worry about that anymore."

"What?"

William tilted his head to the other side of the counter. Nathan peered over to see five jugs that were even bigger than the bucket, filled to the brim with water. Nathan repeated, "What?"

"I know, right?" William laughed, "Took me like five minutes a couple nights ago. Why bother going out there and using the government-made well, when I can just drill a small one in my garage! Just a little drill that deconstructs into a tube, and then hook it up to a bike. Renold pedaled for maybe a minute tops before we had all that! I wonder why he forgot to tell you... well, either way, give me a day and I'll build something else so good no one will even need to pedal! Who needs the government?"

"I thought I got water?"

"Don't need 'ya anymore," William winked.

Suddenly, something else his father had said flashed into his mind, and repeated several times.

"Pump water? That's his special skill?"

Nathan tried to protest, "But, I was going to get a bucket for Renold to make-"

"Make food?" William interrupted, "Yeah, well a few nights back I also needed the flour... and butter... and sugar. Forgot to tell Renold it was gone, I suppose... needed it to make some more food for my bug traps. Last time I got a rat in there!" He exclaimed, "Their bones are useful as toothpicks, you know. You can just go pick some fruit if you want food."

"The trees are all picked Dad. They haven't given fruit in weeks."

"What? I thought we were in Malara?"

"That was last month, Dad..."

"Hmm. No wonder I am running out of liquor. 'Kay, you can just wait on the food then, right?"

Nathan grabbed his stomach, "I... I guess."

"Good. Maybe on the way I'll run over something," He laughed, "In all seriousness, I will be gone for a little while. Got my finishing touches on my big project, and I have to steal another barrel of whiskey. Shipping day!" He threw his hands in the air, "My favorite day! I want you to stay out of my garage, so I'm locking it. Until I get back, don't mess anything up. I don't want more smoke when I get home."

"Fine... Dad."

"Oh, when is the next night?"

Nathan thought about it. Night was something rare around his house, and the last one was a few weeks back. A small moment, a few hours where there was no light. The last night, Nathan played around the neighborhood, feeling how cold the road became, how the season seemed to flip to winter (something Nathan hadn't really experienced since they lived further north). Then he watched the sunrise. It was one of the few acts of nature that maintained its beauty so far into the wastelands where he lived.

The best part, however, was far beyond the sunrise. It was the stars. Nathan longed to see them again.

"Nathan?"

Nathan snapped out of his head, "I think it's tonight."

William scratched his chin, "Glad I was right, then. Had to double check with someone. Alright, I'll be going then."

"Have fun, I guess..."

"And Nathan?"

"Yeah?"

William paused, "Clean yourself up. There's plenty of water. Have Renold replace what'cha use."

Nathan held in a sigh, "Alright."

William smiled and got up, ruffling Nathan's hair before going out the front door. A few seconds later, as Nathan sat down, he could hear the car screeching past, barely hanging on. Nathan rested his head on the table.

"Pump water? That's his special skill?"

"His mind is simple, William."

Simple. When Nathan heard 'simple', he heard 'stupid'. When Nathan heard 'simple', he heard 'dumbass'. When Nathan heard 'simple', he heard 'not good enough'. Now Nathan didn't even have his water job. What could be even lower than 'simple'?

Non-existent.

Nathan bumped his head over and over on the table, and repeated those lines. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Nathan tried, a few years back, to build a potato clock. William said it was the first functioning thing he had made, and that he had done it when he was nine.

"And then I taught my father how to do it. And then Grandpa. Heck, I showed all of my friends. But I always made sure not to tell them the last step. Can't let those jerks do it all, can I?"

"Would be nice."

' William rolled his eyes, "Wouldn't prepare them for shit. Alright, step one, get two potatoes."

"Potatoes. Check."

"Step two, don't think like how you would, think like me. Better, basically."

"You're an ass."

"That's how it's done!" He laughed, "Step three, get the LED clock, the battery, those two wires, those two nails and those three clips and lay them out in between the potatoes."

"This seems a little complicated, shouldn't I just learn how to make something easi-"

"Shut up and do as I say!"

Nathan sprawled them out, only for William to take them and organize them.

"Alright, four, you're gonna want to stick your nails into the potatoes. Left potato is negative, right one is positive. Remember that."

"Alright," Nathan did as told before William slapped his hand.

"No! Put 'em straight in, you idiot! Listen to me!"

"You didn't specify-"

' "Five! Put the wires in on the opposite side you put the nails in."

"Alright."

"See these clips?"

"Yeah..."

"They have to connect to the wires and the clock. Do it."

"But which ones?"

He put on a smile, "Figure it out."

Nathan started stuttering, "B-but you just s-said-"

"Figure it out! You're thirteen! You can do it!"

That day, Nathan spent an hour staring at the wires and how they connected. He made one move to connect a clip to a wire and he got slapped on the hand again, but was still given no directions. He tried another clip and was just about to connect them before William pushed him aside, screeching, "What, do you want to blow up the clock in your face?"

Before Nathan could respond, William went into another ramble about his 'no-good son' and that he 'wasted a good clock'. Nathan watched as William put each piece in without thinking, and the clock immediately turned on. Nathan saw how they were supposed to connect, but didn't know what specific wires had to be in what place. He tried to ask, but every sound he made was met with, "Shut the hell up, you ingrate! Do you understand anything?"

Ever since then, Nathan has failed every task. Not one mechanic piece right. Not one right decision made. It would take him four tries to hand his father a wrench, even after already knowing what a wrench was. Nathan didn't know why he couldn't do anything right. He slammed his head against the table again.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Suddenly a familiar hand was around the back of his neck. The hand gripped tightly on the upper back and lower neck and started making circles. Nathan sighed and slumped backwards into his seat.

"Are you okay, Nathan?" Renold asked.

"Dad went out."

"Yes, he told me. That wasn't what I asked, you know."

"Well, that's my answer..."

Renold got closer and tightened his circles on a lower spot on the shoulders, asking quietly, "What did he tell you?"

"All about the thing he made so quick that immediately made me worthless."

"Oh..." Renold breathed in and finished the sentence with the breath out, "That stupid bike. I told your father he didn't need to build it. Told him you were happy to do it just fine every day. He told me to pedal away, and said that he was... 'proving a point'? I don't understand your father, but I have to listen to him. You know that."

"You're so much better than him, why do you have to..." Nathan took a second and changed his mind, "Nevermind."

"He is nice to me. Not nice enough to you, it's true, but he tries. He has a lot on his mind these days. It seems like you do too."

"I'm confused. All the time. And angry sometimes. And always stirring around. I just..."

"You know, I've heard this talk so many times, about how children grow. On a television you see it for every show. You feel. All the time. That's how it is, to be the age you are. You feel everything, and at the same time you feel nothing. Your father goes through the same thing."

"On a television? When was this?"

"It's been a while. You were younger. We'll get another one when we get the chance. Either way, it is a part of the way you are. The way you both are."

"So you're saying he hasn't grown up? He's just acting my age?"

"In some ways, yes. He can't help it. It isn't about maturity. It's about upbringing. It's about..."

"Circumstance?"

"See? You're thinking about it. Think about it. Try to feel for him. He likes to be on top, and there's a reason for the way that is."

"I know, you've told me a million times. I... I just can't see it, Renold. I can't grasp it. I don't know what to do."

"Maybe it isn't you to understand? How about this? Close your eyes and relax. Breathe. Let things be a little less heated than they can be. That is a good start to understanding. That is better than nothing."

"Will you help me?" Nathan asked.

"Of course," Renold reassured.

"Then, could you go a little lower?"

"Ha, of course, sir."

"You know you don't need to call me 'sir'."

Renold paused, "Well... there's some things we all can't help doing."

For once, Nathan understood.

#Nathan and the Allex Cube #book #novella #my book #published #self-published #writing #my writing #writer #write #writing on tumblr #writing online #online writing #writer on tumblr #tumblr writer #tumblr writing #tumblr writing community #writeblr #writing blog #characters #dialogue #story #storytelling #quote stuff #I think I am done now #fiction #space #science #science fiction #sci-fi & fantasy

[the-voice-of-hell]

Rent is Theft, part 19

Read from the beginning here, read the previous chapter here.  Note:  My MC is a Filipina trans woman and I am not.  If you have notes on that or anything else, hit me up.

                                                        ***

      In retrospect, it was a pretty big leap from my success with the allergy medicine to assuming I could make sorcery happen, but I did not hesitate or doubt what I was attempting to do.  My worry of it not working was less about a lack of faith in magic than a lack of confidence in my choices of method.  

But whatever those doubts, once I had my plan, I committed to it.

      I moved all the remaining furniture out of the living room except one tiny end table that would serve as my “wooden altar.”  I used bulk white chalk to create the magic circle, ladled with a little dustpan.  The prescribed seven foot diameter was just about the entire width of my little living room.  Inside that I used the bulk chalk to make an equilateral triangle about five feet per side.  I had put on a face mask and sprayed the surface of that geometry with a fixative I’d brewed up with a combination of research and guesswork.  It didn’t have to be permanent, just last long enough for some use, and I figured the high school technique of using hairspray to fix pastels on construction paper wasn’t going to work here.

      I leaned against my kitchenette to rest, observing the work.  Sloppy, but could be worse.  I went back at it, writing three symbols of Mercury inside the triangle in yellow chalk.  That had to be sidewalk chalk, so it was much more slow going.  The triangle called for “various symbols of Mercury” and the most I could find that seemed legit was the three - the caduceus, of course, with snakes entwining a winged rod; an astrological symbol that looked like Venus with horns; and the periodic table abbreviation Hg.  At the end I used my fixative again.

      That was the hard stuff, and took more than an hour to complete.  After that my room had a chemical smell, but I needed to eat, so I grabbed some string cheese, peanuts, and a bottle of wine to the bedroom.  Rest.  It had been a long morning and would be very easy to fall asleep, but I resisted.  I rolled the glass on my face, cool with condensation.

      I finished the whole bottle, just in case the drunkenness was an important ingredient.  Although when should I be doing that drinking?  Should I have done it before the chalk?  Later, right before midnight?  The bottle had me feeling chill, but not really drunk.  My tolerance was getting high.  Bad shit.

      There were two brushed steel racks holding spot lights for the walls, one on each side of the room.  I ran a string between them as taut as I could get it, and from that hung my St. Hubert bottle of mercury.  Along the rest of the line I used clothespins to hang rumpled blue-violet wolfsbane flowers.  At regular intervals around the outer circle, I placed glass olive oil bottles with their contents drained and replaced with candles - for the time remaining unlit.  On the island counter of the kitchenette, I reserved two places for my blood mixture and for the sulfur-beaverbutt-camphor mixture.  On the opposite side of the circle, out by the window, one of the olive oil candle bottles sat on the little side table with my three wands.

      Were they wands or switches?  They were meant for violence, at least per the book.  The previous night I’d tried to soften the business ends by sanding them and covering them with frayed twine.  I didn’t know how important it was for Knobby to get hit with the very specific woods involved, so it wasn’t perfect coverage.  It was surely going to sting.

      Not drunk enough.  I opened a box of wine in the fridge and poured a glass, then walked out to the living room.  “Evil spirits, your time is nigh!  I am a highly magical bitch!”  I drank the glass to the bottom, then threw it into the far corner of the room, where it broke against the window and lay in sparkling chunks.  I let my head dip, my eyes close.  “I am a highly magical b--”

      There was a knock at the door.  I answered, opening a comfortable crack for my floories.  “Hello guys.”

      Marcie asked, “Eh, are you drunk, honey?”

      “Whu-?  Oh.  Listen, I’m only a lil’ tipsy, and it’s for magical reasons.  I’m serious now.”

      Marcie and Mike had teamed up, and were at the door together.  Mike said, “So, we haven’t found Knobby.  Getting pretty bushed, gotta take a break.”

      “Want to come into my humble witch’s den?  There is no furniture in the living room now.”

      “That’s OK, Courtney.  We’ll go to my place, charge up my cellphone for a bit.”

      “Right on.  You know where Momi is lookin’?”

      “Last time we passed her she was on some floors downstairs.”

      “He won’t be down there,” I thought aloud.  “Thanks, guys.  I’m about ready in here.  I’ll see you later.”

      They left, I drank a bit of water and took a bathroom break, then went out to find Momi.  I still didn’t expect to find Knobby while I was at it, just wanted to be close to her again.  Out in the hall I heard the elevator.  I glanced that way to see Perry coming back from who knows where.  He didn’t acknowledge me, but gave the untended eyeballs in the hall corners a sad look.  I went into the stairwell.  I’ll clean up that crap for you when I get back, buddy.

      I found Momi walking around the eighth floor and smiled as I stumbled toward her.  She gave me a concerned look.  “Are you OK?  You’re drunk.”

      “I’m only a little drunk, and it’s not because I’m losing my nerve.  It’s for magical reasons.  Magical, I swear!”

      “Mmm, OK, I guess.”  She had clamped a strong hand on my shoulder to arrest my sloppy affection, so no hugging was to be had.  That said, her touch made me happy.  Her strength made me feel weak, in a good way.

      “So I was thinking, there’s nobody living on these floors right now, so we should just look upstairs.  Where the biddies are.”

      “Biddies?”

      “The old ladies that are complaining about our dogboy.”

      “Heheh.  I guess a werewolf is just a dogboy, expecially if he’s a teenager.”

      “Shit, you’re so cute.  That’s why I act funny, so I can see you smile.”  I tried to get my paws on her, but she still held me back.  “Weh.  What can I do, baby?”  I gave up and clasped my hands together in a prayer to my goddess, probably giving off Peter Lorre Mad Love vibes.

      “We should go.  You aren’t wearing your allergy medicine.”  She pointed at the carpet.

      I looked down.  She had the pill amulet on and the floor around her sneakers was fine.  The carpet under my feet was puffing and pinkish, starting to glisten.  “Oh Christ.”

                                                        ***

      We got my amulet and took the elevator to the top floor, which again had a different layout from our floor.  There were still a few small apartments available, but the spacing of the doors suggested large penthouse suites.  I remembered how much those cost from the listings when I moved in.  It made me wanna knock the top off the fucking building.       The hall there was designed to admit a maximum of sunlight and had much more powerful indoor lighting as well, keeping it bathed in an overwhelming glow.  Having never seen that hall before, I felt like an escapee from Plato’s cave, about to get shot by the guards and chucked back into the underground.

      But from the brief visit I knew the day was rapidly diminishing.  If we couldn’t turn up Knobby, this full moon might be a bust.  Still, if we couldn’t turn up Knobby, it also meant I could just spend my night loving my girlfriend, which was much more pressing in my mind just then.

      We entered the stairwell, ready to go floor to floor again.  A few steps in and I tripped, about to fall hard and break apart like dry kindling.  Momi grabbed me and held me still on the stairs.  One of my ankles was slightly twisted, my feet were on different steps, my hips twisted in place.  I untangled them and set my feet carefully in place on the closer step.

      When she spoke her lips were right by my ear.  I could feel her breath on me.  “Courtney!  Be careful!  Holy Jesus.”

      “You better hold me just a little longer, I’m not... quite...”  No, I was totally set.  I just loved the feeling, squished against her soft body in her big arms, though my head wrap was probably whacking her in the eyes.  “OK, I’m good.”  I held the rail this time.  I moved slow to trick her into going down side by side with me, then I matched her pace.

      “You ready to wrestle a dogboy?,” I asked.

      “You think he will fight me?”

      “I guess he might come if we ask nice.  If we say we have doggy biscuits.”

      “Good.  I don’t want to hurt him.”

      “Yeah...  So if this works, maybe we can do exorcisms on our heads, y’know?  Unsquirrel your hair.  What would you do with your hair, if you could control it again?”

      We opened the door and looked into the hall of the next floor down.  No Knobby.

      “Ooh, I don’t know.  What would look pretty?”

      “Anything on you, baby.  Maybe just to show your hair who’s boss you could do some crazy punk rock ’do.  Like a big bright red and pink mohawk with leopard spotted buzz on one side and green and purple liberty spikes on the other.”

      “Oh my god, that would be so weird.”

      “Braided pigtails.”

      “I tried that before.  It takes too long, and it hurts.”

      “Trim the sides and back, do a big pompadour.”

      “Like Janelle Monáe?  She can only do that because she’s skinny and pretty.”

      I opened the door to the next floor down and peeked in.  Nothing.  “Uggh, come on, babe.  You can do whatever you want.  And we’re just daydreaming here, right?  Wildest dreams, silly time.  What would you do?”

      “I don’t know.”

      “I’m gonna bleach your ends white and dye them bright fuchsia.  How you like that?”

      “I guess I don’t mind.”

      “Oh you don’t mind, huh?  What else could I do to you, that you’d just sit there and tolerate?”

      “Courtney, do you really wanna know how far you can push, before I put you in a dumpster?”

      “Augh!  Oh no, baby, I sure don’t!”

      “It’s OK.  I wouldn’t put you in a dumpster.”

      “So can I paint your face like a clown?”

      “What?  Why would you wanna do that?”

      “Not a scary clown, Momi.”  I looked in on another empty floor.  “Like a cute clown.”

      “Do you wanna have sex with a clown?”

      “Never thought about it.  Might be fun.”

      “I would sit and tolerate that.”

      “Whoa.  Kinky.  But it wouldn’t be fun if you were a total pillow princess about it.  You’d have to do something clowny.  Like, uh, slap me with a toy fish or something.”

      “I could tolerate that.”

      “That’s just... fucking amazing.  What should I do with this newfound sex power I have?  To get you to do weird stuff.”

      “Hehehe.”

      “That sounds like carte blanche to me.  I’m gonna go mad with power.”

      We looked in on another floor.  Some young dude was walking into his apartment and stopped a moment when he noticed us.  We acknowledged each other with little nods and he went on.  We continued our descent.

                                                        ***

      Marcie reached Richie on her cell, Richie was getting sporadic texts from Olivia, and supposedly the kids were going to come back home before midnight.  Word was that they had found Knobby’s deformity pretty useful for garnering sympathy while panhandling, were trying to make the most of it.

      I had my doubts but through the phone game we found out there were too many possible spots they were using, and they changed spots several times per day, so hunting them down would be a huge pain.  We settled in to wait for them.

      When Graeme came home at eight, he said he’d met Patrick in the hall, and Patrick told him the biddies were at it again - claiming that very afternoon someone had seen a large dog in the hall, urinating this time.  I went floor to floor, looking for the spot, and found it on the fourteenth floor.  When had he slipped by us?

      Marcie got worn out, while Mike seemed more energetic as the night went on, so we let him do some searching by himself - on the condition that he keep his green ass out of sight.  Around ten, Patrick reported back that he’d seen the werewolf, but it got away.  He had barely seen it, only had another deuce it had left in the hall to confirm his suspicions of what the hustling figure had been.

      In response to that, we had Richie text Olivia again.  She got back to say she and Knobby were almost home.  I found that too vexing to really consider.  I shushed Richie when he started following that train of thought to its obvious conclusion.

      Olivia and Knobby took the elevator up and were immediately grabbed up by Patrick and swept into my apartment.  That can’t have been very comforting, but they seemed genially clueless when brought before their queen.

      “Hello kids,” I said.  “This is a bit of a surprise party for you, Knobby.”

      He beamed nervously.  His smile was huge and white for a homeless kid.  I think at some point he had said his dad was a dentist.  “Wha-a-a-at?  Really?  Look like...”  He lost his train of thought as his eyes took in the whole scene - the chalk circle, the single chair in the center of the room over the hermetic symbols.

      Olivia asked, “What the fuck is this shit?”

      By now we had Momi, Richie, Deandre, Graeme, and Patrick in the room.  Graeme looked ready to step in and be politic, but it was my show.  I answered, “It’s nothing bad.  Olivia, how hard are you holding your neck down right now?  You notice we’re all having problems like that?”

      “What’s it got to do with-”

      “What’s it got to do with me?,” Knobby said.

      “This seems like it’s the building’s way of trying to get us caught.  Somebody in particular has been turning into a dog and causing a scene around our neighbors.  We have to stop it.”

      “Oh no,” Olivia said, “They’re gonna kill you!”

      I rolled my eyes and showed them both palms.  “No sacrificial dagger here, kids.  Come on.”

      Knobby went back on his haunches in a truly dog-like fashion, cringing in fear.  “Oh no!”

      “We’re not even going to hurt you, seriously!  I came up with this magic spell.  We have to spank you with those wands and pour some gross magic sauce on you, but you’ll be fine!  Not even a bruise.”

      He clung to her thigh pathetically.  Suddenly her head turned completely upside down, her neck escaping the collar of her unseasonably heavy jacket.  She scrambled to sort herself out, push the neck back in.  “Ugh!”

      “We have to do it guys.  I’ll let you use my shower to clean up after, OK?  Just, please, cooperate?”

      “I don’t wanna,” he whimpered.

      Richie said, “When has she ever hurt us guys?  If Courtney says you’re going to be OK, you’re going to be OK.  Chill, bro.”

      “If this works,” Graeme said, “We’re all going to do it, to cure our problems.  My red hands, Olivia’s neck, Mike’s green skin...”

      Olivia settled her head down, buttoned the jacket collar to hold her neck in again.  “Mmm, I dunno...”

      Knobby finally let go of her leg, tried to prop himself up to a standing position - still a deep crouch.  “I guess if everyone is gonna do it, I don’t like having to creep around like this.  You swear it won’t hurt?”

      “It might hurt a tiny bit.”  I pointed to the table with the wands.  “We’re going to smack you with those sticks a few times, but just a few times, right?  Then I’m going to pour this gross stuff on you - some reheated pig blood and a magic potion.  Both have to be pretty hot, but they won’t be boiling, OK?”

      “Oh God, that’s gross,” he muttered, but he wasn’t trying to get away anymore.

      “I’m glad you’re helping out, because the ritual says we’re supposed to tie you up, and I don’t wanna hafta do that.  We care about you guys.”

      “Speak for your damn selfs,” Perry said, as Marcie brought him into the room.

      “Be nice, Perry,” Marcie said.

      “I don’t know you,” he groaned.

      Patrick took him by the arm off to the far side of the circle.

      I looked to Marcie.  “Only missing Mike now.”

      “He was so rambunctious, wanted to keep looking.  I haven’t had a chance to let him know we found Knobby already, and he doesn’t have a cellphone.”

      “We’ll do this without him if we have to, but I really want everybody to be here.  One, just so everybody knows what we’re all doing - so nobody gets any wrong ideas or loses trust.  And two, I feel like the spell is more likely to work if we’re all in attendance.”

      Grime said, “I sit on my ass all day at work.  I could use the workout.  Anybody else feel rested enough to go bring Mike back?”

      Deandre said, “My feet are tore up.”

      Almost everybody had done a ton of walking around town, or at work, or upstairs and down.

      Richie said, “I’m kinda beat, but it’s important.  I’ll help out.”

     “Alright,” said Grime.  “If we do this logically, there’s no way he can get past us.  I say we have one of us in each stairwell, right..?”  He kept splaining as they went out the door.

      I addressed the rest of the floories.  “OK, you’re all guests here!  It’s a while before midnight, so head on into my bedroom.  I have a selection of comfy seats, I’ll bring in beverages - just watch out for the chalk.  Thanks Patrick, just step over... OK, there you go.”

      They all went in to relax.  I had some bowls of chex mix for the occasion, the kind with bugles and cheez-its.  Hopefully nobody had food allergies or was vegan.  I came back with a box of wine, a sleeve of red disposable cups, and a big jug of cheap fruit punch.

      “Alright, here’s the stuff.  Anybody want anything else?  I can slice some cheese, got some donuts but they might be a bit stale.”

      A few people availed themselves of that hospitality, others started chatting, and a few minutes later I was able to settle in beside Leimomi.  She smiled weakly at me, then we both did the same to Olivia and Knobby, who were sitting across from us.  I realized too late that was probably in creepy unison, and had a dark chuckle.  Knobby laughed nervously, Olivia did not.

      “I’m really hoping this works, guys, and if it doesn’t, the worst that happened is we wasted our time and Knobby had to take a shower.  OK?”

      “I got ya, I got ya,” he said.

      “It’ll be great to get out of these stupid head wraps.  Momi and I are looking like fake Erykah Badus.”

      “Who’s that?,” Olivia asked.

                                                        ***

   Read next chapter here.

#Rent is Theft #part 19 #nanowrimo july 2021

[ninemoons42-lestallumhaven]

for a fanworks trade with the lovely lovely @kazlicya-art! Our mutually-agreed upon topic was “domestic Promnis” and I -- came up with the idea of blanket forts? (Prom made a good-faith attempt at it at least!) So happy to have done this and oh my gosh, the piece I received in return is just darling!

his waking elegance

Wind whistling down the half-empty street as he picked up his steps, as he shifted his satchel from one shoulder to the other. With his free hand he hitched his scarf a little bit higher, a little bit tighter, to cover the lower halves of his ears.

Sharp clean scent on the wind and the promise of even more snow: he had to hurry, now, or be caught in it.

And he was on a path that was still new to him, a path that took him away from the cold black heights of the Citadel and into one of the other boroughs of Insomnia: here, where he’d be stared at in his suit and his coat and his silken scarf, if there had been people on the street with him.

Ignis consulted the map in his mind, and knew he had to turn at the next corner: and the wind, shifting in its capricious directions once again, blew a flurry of snowflakes towards him before yanking a burden of snow and icicles from the tree that overshadowed the traffic light and the empty intersection. Soft thuds of clumping cold that fell the distance to the road and to the sidewalk, obscuring the outline of the car parked a few feet away from the tree and its tall arched shape, and he almost wanted to pause, almost wanted to take a picture, except that his nose was starting to run -- so he quickened his pace and here, here was the building he needed to find.

Five steps to the stoop, green-glazed tiles swept mostly clear of snow, and he hunted for the security access and keyed in a code that wasn’t his, that had been handed to him in spiky handwriting on a ruled sheet of school notepaper: sixteen digits, easy enough to remember, and his reward was the series of clicks of locks opening to admit him, and closing the snow and the cold of the world away once he was through.

He couldn’t help but sigh in relief: a sigh that condensed in a faint cloud, faint warmth, that shivered away as he headed for the nearest staircase.

Eight flights up and the brisk pace did him a world of good, almost allowed him to feel his feet in their sturdy boots once again.

Key on a ring that had only recently been added to his collection, so new it still glinted like it was out of place.

Here, here, and he stopped before a door painted in scratched blue, and the new key fit into the lock and Ignis let himself in.

Boots off in the foyer: he walked across the tiles on his socked feet and wondered at the silence in the rooms all around him, when every other time he’d let himself in, there had been some kind of bass-beat vibrating in the floor, or the shouts of voices arguing about video game characters.

In the kitchen, he unpacked the supplies he’d brought: half a loaf of crusty bread, and the makings of sandwiches, and a sturdy thermos full of soup.

Still, the quiet caught at him, and made him wonder, and after he’d taken off his coat and scarf he straightened his tie, and the collars of his shirt.

Divided the apartment into quarters in his mind, and began to search.

Corridor to the back rooms, leading straight off from the kitchen: bathroom and a pair of bedrooms, only one of the latter in actual use because the other had been converted into a makeshift darkroom.

It only took him a moment to remember the odd sharp distinct smells of the chemicals that were used to process photographic film, and the prints that could be developed from those reels.

He smiled, a little, and turned away. Checked the bedroom.

Empty bed, in a rather more real sense this time, as it was missing a duvet and one or two of the pillows.

Ignis turned around and made his way past the kitchen door, towards the front rooms of the apartment: here was the tiny almost-closet that held laundry baskets and sheaves of plastic hangers, and then he was stepping into the living room.

Two battered couches and a long narrow desk hugging the wall beneath the single window that looked out onto the world. Shelves running along the other walls, almost-neat piles of books and a tangle of cables that could only belong to a gaming console. Four controllers in a translucent plastic crate.

Rugs beneath his feet, in various stages of wear and threadbare warmth, and -- here, here, he’d found the pillows and the duvet.

Ignis smiled, small and sweet, and he dropped to his knees next to the person sleeping on the rugs.

Ran his eyes over that wiry slender form, tucked and rolled tight in his makeshift bedding.

And here was the reason for the silence in the apartment, the silence that wasn’t oppressive at all, for all that it meant the absence of a bright smile, the absence of cheerful words.

Shock of pale-blond hair fanning out on the clashing colors of the rugs; strands sticking to a cheekbone, to the precise curving arc of a jawline.

Even in the muted light of the snow still falling and the curtains halfway drawn over the windows, freckles like soft-lit stars in reverse, on warm skin: and Ignis traced those scattershot lines with his eyes, until they were lost to his sight in either a loose-draped collar or the bulk of the duvet.

Tell-tale twitches in the corners of those closed eyes, and the flutter of those eyelids, and Ignis spared a moment to hope, to pray, that Prompto might be having a good dream or two.

(Too many nights of waking to strangled breaths, to rapidfire gasps, and smiles that stuttered and laughter that too often trailed away into bitten-lip silence.)

He passed his fingertips lightly, lightly, over the crown of Prompto’s head, then rose to his feet once again.

Pulled his coat and his scarf back on, and then -- foregoing all his usual dignity, since Prompto was kind enough to be asleep -- stretched out beside the warmth of him in his rolled-up duvet: and Ignis fitted himself into the spaces between Prompto and the couches that surrounded them, shoulder to shoulder and he breathed, and listened to Prompto breathe, and he felt the world drain softly away from him, the cares of the week and the draining weight of his responsibilities: those never really went away and they both knew it, like thickets of thorns hiding in the backs of their minds, during their waking hours.

Not now, not here, he told himself, and closed his eyes.

Only to wake, suddenly, as if no time had passed at all, and he opened his eyes and Prompto was looking down at him, kind and sweet and mischievous all at once, his hands on the sides of Ignis’s own eyeglasses.

“Hey,” Prompto whispered.

“And yourself,” Ignis replied, and he caught both of Prompto’s hands in his own, and lifted himself up a little to kiss him.

Laughter weaving in on the edges of that touch.

He sat up, and took off his eyeglasses himself, and then Prompto was scrambling closer: and at the end of the process Ignis was sitting up against one of the couches, and Prompto was pressed up all along his left side. Now they could share the duvet and the pillows, and now he only needed to turn his head a little, to scatter kisses over Prompto’s cheek and temple, the side of his head, the corner of his mouth.

And in return: Prompto’s cool fingertips brushing along his throat, guiding him in for a proper kiss.

“I hope you don’t have any plans for tonight,” Ignis murmured, when they reluctantly drifted apart.

“Just, sleep? Staying in?” Brief moue of concern, and a worried cast to Prompto’s eyes. “You’re okay with that?”

“More than.” He smiled. “I brought supplies anyway.”

“And I can go out for more if you need it,” Prompto said with a grin.

“Not now,” Ignis said.

Caught at his hand and held it in both of his.

“Stay,” Prompto said. “Stay for a bit.”

“I would love to.”

#artist: kazlicya #fic: mine #pairing: promnis #character: Prompto Argentum #character: Ignis Scientia #chocobros need love too

[beevean]

I’ve always liked to describe music and rate it, so I thought to put here my top 30 Sonic Forces tracks, and maybe in the future I’ll do the same for other games.

Under the cut because it’s a top 30, so it’s pretty long :V I couldn’t do less, I’m sorry!

@bookvideogamemaniac @ramenbomber  @dizzydennis

30) Eggman Empire Fortress: Iron Fortress

This is what happens when you mix the intensity of Scrap Brain and the dissonance of Death Egg. It’s suitably dramatic, and the harsh Genesis-esque sounds help the sense of being surrounded by cold, deadly metal. It feels very heavy for some reason. *insert joke about Classic’s physics*

29) Green Hill: Arsenal Pyramid - Interior

More Eggman bases should have a dance theme. This track manages to fit the sterile, technological environment, the context of a base infiltration and, while it does remind a bit of White Acropolis, manages also to be unique in the OST.

28) Green Hill: Arsenal Pyramid

While I’m happy there are some guitars, here they were really needed as the main instrument, as the saw wave not only doesn’t fit with the general Green Hill environment, but makes the whole track sound really similar to Sunset Heights. What stands out, at least, is how serious it is, especially the climax. It wouldn’t be out of place in a final level.

I also really like the piano at the beginning. It’s a nice touch.

27) Mystic Jungle: Casino Forest

I had no idea this one was composed by Tomoya Ohtani! I was so sure it was Naofumi Hataya, it just screams “Genesis-era”! The whole track fits perfectly the setting of a deranged casino area - somewhat spooky, but still with that bouncy feeling of many casino themes. (wish the level itself complemented the pinball gimmick with the forest background...)

Also when it was first revealed the official Sonic account pointed out the amazing bass, so... listen to that amazing bass. Very reminiscent of Casino Night’s, but more energetic.

26) Mystic Jungle: Luminous Forest

Unfitting with the stage? Yes. Didn’t need the saw wave at all? Absolutely. Catchy? Also absolutely. It helps that here the wave is accompanied by some very nice guitars reminiscent of the Adventure series - this whole soundtrack needs more of them, so any track with rocking guitars gains instant points from me. The funky bass solo near the end of the loop is just the cherry on top. An energetic old-school tune all around, it could’ve been much higher on the list if it didn’t suffer from Sonic Adventure 2 syndrome and wasn’t so unfitting for the level.

I once compared it to a Bad Future version of Savannah Citadel Day, and it was nice to see I wasn’t the only one thinking that!

25) Metropolis: Metropolitan Highway

This song is so happy! I still call it “Skyscraper Scamper Day Good Future”, and with good reason. It wouldn’t be out of places in a Riders game!

I don’t know what else to say. It just puts a smile on my face every time I listen to it. It’s very Sonic-y, that’s the best way to put it.

24) Boss: Infinite (Showdown)

As I pointed out a while ago, this one was composed not by Ohtani, but by Yutaka Minobe, a far less famous composer and pianist who’s largely responsible for a good chunk of the first two Advance games’ OSTs and miscellaneous tracks like Black Doom. From the tracks I’ve linked it’s easy to recognize his style in this orchestral piece that barely resembles the original theme anymore, unless you pay attention to it.

I’m disappointed in how little dubstep there’s here, but while the track doesn’t have a clear melody (aside for those short sections that call back Infinite’s theme, and to be fair they are really good reprises), it compensates by being highly atmospheric and making the final showdown with Infinite feel far more epic than it actually was.

Maybe there’s not much dubstep to symbolize how Infinite is going to lose control of the Ruby? Just speculating.

23) Boss: Infinite (First Bout & Second Bout)

Infinite’s boss remix is a wonderful mess of metal, dubstep and... a genre that I’ve seen multiple times being compared to k-pop, for some reason. It may take a while to grow on you, but it’s catchy from the get-go. Who could’ve thought this style would fit our new favorite edgelord so well?

I put these together because there are mininal differences within each other. However I slightly prefer the second version, it’s more danceable and not as repetitive as the first one.

22) Mystic Jungle: Aqua Road (Moonlight Battlefield)

While I admit this one dropped down a lot since it was first revealed (my only problem is that it’s pretty repetitive), it’s still pretty good, and it continues the sweet tradition of having a piano for the aquatic stage (if you want to call the slides gimmick “aquatic”).

I like how the echoing piano feels very light and how at the same time it’s contrasted by the strong synth bass and the electronic drums. The singer’s voice just makes everything prettier. A lovely theme with melancholic lyrics.

21) Mystic Jungle: Eggman's Facility

I’m not a fan of Sonic Adventure 2′s soundtrack, but I can at least appreciate White Jungle for standing out among the endless buttrock and for fitting both the stage and Shadow’s emotional state at that point. DnB really suits him.

This remix emphasises pretty much everything that made the original good, making both the lyrics and the guitars clearer. It’s pretty much a modernized remastered version, and it seems it was composed precisely for Shadow infiltrating Eggman’s base in Mystic Jungle. They choose the right track.

20) City: Enemy Territory

I have a mixed relationship with ShTH, and the same goes for its soundtrack: I hate half of the OST and love the other one, no in-between. In the half I love there’s the Westopolis theme - I don’t care if you’re forced to hear it 10 times in one of the dullest level in the game, the track itself is pretty badass, and yes, nostalgic for me.

So you can imagine how much I squeed when I realized they remixed it for the Shadow DLC.

I especially like how they made the main melody clearer and not as drowned under the edgy noises, while still keeping the overly-badass mood of the original. It even fits the aesthetic of Sunset Heights! And it even includes a Radical Highway cameo for free, because why not.

The PC version (beta version?) is not so bad either! It’s just more subdued.

19) Chemical Plant: Space Port (Fighting Onward)

A perfect introduction to the Avatar music style. The cold synths couples with the steady rhythm makes me imagine the Avatar walking in the middle of a blizzard, and the bass gives that touch of determination.

18) City: Red Gate Bridge

Very tranquil and somber, with a “calm before the storm” vibe to it. The piano and the strings go very well with the saw wave and the synth bass. Not easily hummable but memorable nonetheless.

A shame the main stage wastes it, but at least this one plays during those mini acts... other tracks aren’t so lucky.

17) Metropolis: Capital City (Virtual Enemies)

We will defeat insanity~

There’s something about the chords and the overly distorted voice that really fit both the futuristic, shiny, and sterile look of the city and the unsettling context of being mindraped by Infinite. It’s also pretty fun to sing out loud! Another track that could’ve come out from a Riders game, albeit more downbeat than others.

16) City: Park Avenue (Justice)

How can a track from June 2017 feel already nostalgic? This was the first music theme officially revealed, and what an impression it made. Like many, many other tracks in this soundtrack, it took me a while to fully appreciate it, but now it’s pretty much a classic in my book. Here the synths used truly shine - the chords at the beginning immediately set the mood and both solos convey the Avatar’s strenght and determination. Energetic and catchy, with cheesy (in a good way!) lyrics, it might as well be the symbol of the Avatar music style.

15) City: Sunset Heights

Another track that by now feels familiar. I just never get tired of this one, I could listen to it in a loop for twenty minutes straight. It reminds at the same time of Sonic Runners and Sonic Heroes, if not ShTH, almost a much more lighthearted version of Westopolis - fitting, all things considered - or Final Haunt. While the saw wave here goes very well, it’s the clean guitar that makes it for me, it gives the composition a nostalgic feeling. This is pretty much the very first theme that comes to my mind when I think of Forces.

14) Metropolis: Null Space

Poor track. You deserved so much better than what you got.

Even without knowing the context, you can perfectly picture in your head a vast, empty, dark, otherwordly place, and the eerie reverberating piano, the ethereal choir, and the subtle glitching noises are sure to send shivers down your spine. It being a dark reprise of the piano bridge of Fist Bump doesn’t help.

(side note: this was co-composed by the aforementioned Yutaka Minobe. I’m sure he’s also the one who plays it)

13) Green Hill: Virtual Reality

Who doesn’t love Supporting Me? It’s a fan favorite for obvious reasons. It’s been remixed in Generations 3DS, and once again in Forces, and each version is better than the last. This version is much less somber, with the added guitars, the synths replacing the strings, and the more frantic drums, and the whole remix feels like it mixes both genres that represented Shadow in Adventure 2 - heavy rock and DnB.

This is also the only track in the Shadow DLC that features dubstep to represent Infinite’s influence, which I think is a nice touch. The only downside is that the chorus isn’t a dark reprise of Live and Learn anymore.

At first I found it very odd that this plays in the bright Green Hill, but the soundtrack dissonance helps the feeling of creepiness and uncanniness Infinite was aiming at in the story. The lyrics also talk about illusions, so...

The PC version lacks most of the guitars, but that means you can enjoy the synths more, especially in the chorus. I almost prefer this version for this reason.

12) Fist Bump - Piano Ver.

Hey, remember when Aaron trolled us all by implying Tails was gonna die? :D

But even if this melancholy rendition of the main theme plays just in the theater option, it’s still lovely, the kind of piece you’d listen to in a rainy day with a mug of hot chocolate in hand. You can almost hear the gentleness of the player’s fingers.

11) Fist Bump

Speaking of the main theme!

This song just screams “early-2000s”, and it’s food for all the Adventure children inside of us. It’s corny and proud of it. It will never ever leave you head. It’s pure adrenaline in musical form. It has a piano bridge and a sweet guitar solo. You can’t ask for more from a Sonic song.

Shout out also to the Invincibility theme, a catchy 16-bit rendition of the chorus! And of course, the very first piece of music revealed, the instrumental version that goes well with everything.

10) This Is Who You Are

They didn’t need to go so hard for something as simple as the character customization theme. But they did. And I’m so glad.

There’s a certain cleverness into mixing a boppy square wave to the simple orchestral background, as not only the Avatar is mainly associated with synths but it also somewhat alleviates the serious mood, which is perfect for our rookie. The fluttering piano is gorgeous, and I have to mention that swelling climax. You really feel like you’re building up a hero from scratch.

9) This Is Our World (Eggman, War, Resistance)

What a cool title for a world map.

I put them all together because they’re very similar to each other, but the three different versions are great at setting up different moods with little tweaks. The first version has steady, powerful drums that remind of Eggman’s machinery and factories, but the overall tone is of a great war incoming. The second one cranks up the intensity and the mechanical noises, fitting for the definitive showdown between the Eggman Empire and the Resistance. And the final one is pure triumph and peace.

8) Eggman Empire Fortress: Final Judgement

... or is it Last Judgement? The OST isn’t quite clear. But in any case, this track is both intense and energetic, fitting for the very last stage, and somewhat melancholic. Amy does feel sorry for Infinite for being allegedly created here, but without context it actually makes me think of an imminent heroic sacrifice necessary to save the world. It definitely spells out “last stand”.

7) Boss: Zavok (Battle with Death Queen)

I’ll never understand why they named the track after the robotic wasp. Anyway, Zavok’s theme in Sonic Lost World wasn’t anything special, a menacing orchestral remix of the Deadly Six leitmotif (although it barely sounds like it). But the Zavok replica gets a sick dubstep strings remix! Twice as fast, with the intense violins getting drowned by the arhythmic, glitchy dubstep noises, it does a perfect job to pump you blood. To fight... the Death Queen, apparently. (rip zavok nobody loves him)

(I also have to point out that this is one of the only two major tracks Kenichi Tokoi had an hand in, the other being the Metal Sonic boss theme. I wish he did much more because boy he was on fire!)

6) Death Egg: Egg Gate

I learned to play this on my keyboard purely because I love it so much! It’s so badass! It could fit with Flash In The Dark or other Wily themes! Too bad it’s so short, but I feel it’s more complex than others, so it compensates. Not gonna lie, this theme coupled with the gorgeous background of the base in space made my jaw drop like few things in the series yet.

While here the saw wave actually fits, I would’ve died of happiness if it was played on an electric guitar. Bring me all the rock covers <3

5) Eggman Empire Fortress: Mortar Canyon

I can already tell this will be the most underrated track in the OST. It’s a shame it plays in the shortest level in the game, because it ends just as the music gets to the truly awesome part - and I don’t mean “awesome” in its more common sense, I truly mean “awe-inspiring”.

It starts out with the saw wave (which here would’ve also fit nicely), but slowly it fades in the background, the lead being replaced by a piano, then a choir, then strings, to create something that feels bigger than Sonic and the player. There’s a sense of despair, with only the slightest twinge of quiet, detemined hope. You’re so close to save the world from total destruction.

Chilling. One of the best “final level” themes in the series. Take the time to listen to it with headphones to enjoy all the tiny details, you won’t regret it.

4) Infinite

And after the remixes we get to the original version. This is, by far, my favorite character theme of the series, if only because it fits Infinite so well.

It manages to be ironically edgy, both with the overuse of HEAVY METAL RUMBLING GUITARS and lyrics such as I AM THE SHARPEST OF BLADES I’LL CUT YOU DOWN IN A SECOND... and yet it’s also unironically cool, especially if you grew up with this kind of music. The lyrics were also incredibly fun to analyze, even though at the end of it the meaning was just “I’m the best and y’all suck”, which perfectly reflects Infinite trying to appear more powerful and menacing than he actually was. 

Also, like I already mentioned, metal and dubstep go so well together.

When everything you know has come and gone... only scars remain through it all...

3) Boss: Mega Death Egg Robot Phase 2

Pure despair. You really feel like you’re facing something much bigger and more powerful than you are. It only needs a choir, some strings and a flute to achieve all of this - its semplicity it’s what makes it so effective.

It also seems it takes some inspiration from Egg Nega Wisp Phase 1, which I can be only happy about.

2) Boss: Mega Death Egg Robot Phase 3

Let’s get that one flaw out of the way: the loop is too short. But everything in the loop is spectacular.

It’s in the same style as Dr. Eggman Showdown, and while it’s not quite at the same level, it is pretty close, and I do prefer this guitar solo.

What truly makes this track great, however, is the buildup. It starts with a light, high choir that feels hopeless... then the drums kick in... then the guitars... and finally it explodes in a wonderful, triumpant mix of orchestra and rock. Eggman is on his last rope, you’ve already won. And when you defeat the final boss, it ends abruptly with the same choir of the beginning, in a satisfying book end.

And don’t miss that Fist Bump riff! I know some people would’ve preferred a full remix of the main theme, but I actually like this approach.

1) The Light of Hope

All that I see now, it’s not the same...

All you remember, has gone away...

But you’re still standing here...

The first stanza alone made me tear up, and I didn’t stop until the end. What a gorgeous song.

This song alone made me feel proud and accomplished... after watching a stream and being severely disappointed in what I had seen in the last hour. This one song almost fixed everything. And the new title screen, with the instrumental version in the background and the flower in the shining Resistance quarters... touching. It reminds me so much of Wiosna from Katawa Shoujo, a track I hold dear.

Kudos to Amy Hannam and her lovely voice - this song is much harder than it sounds, and she nailes every single note.

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic music #sonic the hedgehog music #sonic forces