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onlinehorrorinserts · 3 years

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A/N: Normally what I’ll write is just snippets of images and scenarios, and that’s what this was GOING to be but I got insanely inspired and just kept going. What better way to get this kicked off than a oneshot, anyway? Eyeless Jack with the prompt “Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?” Trigger warning for descriptions of blood and a wound, as well as it being stitched back up near the end (just in case)

You hadn’t expected this little outing to be any different than the usual. A quick get in, get rid of the target, and get out. Someone had gotten just a little too close to the isolated mansion even despite the failsafes put in place, and it just wouldn’t be safe to let them be with the knowledge of what they may have seen.

Unfortunately, you had neglected to take into account that someone who was probably already scared and insanely paranoid and knew their life could be in danger after the things they had seen would fight tooth and nail to keep themselves alive. You had kept to the cover of darkness for a reason - not only should it have given you the clear upperhand, but it should have kept all of the damage to a minimum on both sides.

You didn’t particularly enjoy killing, after all. At least not when it came to innocents who were just in the wrong place at the very wrong time. It was simply a means to an end, something that had to be done to protect the family you had grown to love, twisted as they all were. Twisted as you were too, you realized, but the thought was often easy enough to shove aside.

Needless to say this was something of a routine for you. Something that should never have had the opportunity to go so wrong - yet that’s the very reason you must have grown complacent. What was usually just a quick get in and get out plan turned into a literal stab in the back and the rather aggressive fight that ensued after. The only thing on your side was the utter shock the victim had upon noticing how human you seemed to be compared to whatever he must have seen out in those woods. That realization had killed his resolve for just long enough for you. Humans could be fickle - if they weren’t like you, if they weren’t used to having the resolve to do what needed to be done, they could falter. You didn’t.

You knew the wound probably wasn’t deep enough to kill you. You’d have to seek treatment though. The idea made your skin crawl more than the feeling of blood oozing into the torn fabric of your clothing. It wasn’t who you had to seek out that frightened you. If anything you would have been a bit more comforted by his presence by this point. No, it was the idea in general. Hospitals, doctors, anything related to the medical field gave you tunnel vision in the form of a very rapid fight or flight response. It wasn’t something you’ve been able to control for a long time.

When you returned to the mansion, you were thankful that not many seemed to be out and about, especially not him. A couple of the guys were lounging on the couch or the chairs in the living room, playing games and cracking jokes a bit too loudly to fully notice you enter, except for Jeff who threw a casual nod your way. You offered a small smile in return, waiting for him to return his attention back to the others before you dared turn your back and crept up the stairs. You didn’t want them to see the wound and were thankful when you heard no words calling up after you to indicate that they had.

Only once you were in the safety of your room did you let out a sigh of relief, reaching to your back with a strained wince to try and gauge the damage. The amount of blood that covered your hand when you pulled it back was enough of an answer.

You knew you had to go see him. You weren’t stupid. No matter how close the two of you grew though, the idea of descending into his basement, penetrating into his bubble of personal space… it felt wrong. Even knowing that no one else seemed to care, and he was technically something of a designated doctor for them all and it was sort of one of his jobs… you couldn’t feel comfortable with it. Or more likely it was for less selfless reasons like that and more your own fear piercing your heart worse than that knife had pierced flesh.

Not much time was given for you to debate with yourself though as you heard a knock at the door, jolting you back into reality as you stared at the knob. It didn’t seem as if anyone was going to take the initiative and just come in. Maybe you could just leave it and they’d get the hint? Another knock was soon to dispel that hope as you sighed, forcing yourself to go answer it. As much as you hated the idea of having to clean it later, you used your bloodied hand to hide it from your visitor.

It soon became clear that it was all for naught though as your eyes met with the familiar deep blue mask, an inky blackness where eyes should have been and a gunky tar like substance slowly trailing down the mask, long ago having stained the fine blue like oil in water.

“So you are back.” The muffled, vaguely distorted voice spoke matter of factly, not afraid to show a vague irritation in the way he crossed his arms. You sheepishly smiled despite yourself.

“What, were you watching for me or something?”

“You know how good my hearing is.”

“I thought your basement was soundproof?”

“And who said I was in the basement?” He had a point, you realized. You had merely assumed he was down there after not seeing him in the front room. As reclusive as he could be, it was likely he had just been in another room. He knew he had you there and so he turned and began to head back down the hall towards the stairs. With a defeated sigh all you could do was follow him.

You kept quiet as you followed him back down and through the front room, the boys pointedly watching as you passed. Had they not noticed the blood before, they certainly did now, and it was Jeff to make that all the more clear.

“The fuck happen to you?” He asked with a cock of his head, perhaps genuinely curious despite his more blunt tone. You were about to stop to respond, wanting to take any opportunity to prolong the inevitable, but predictably it wasn’t going to be that easy. When you slowed, Jack immediately shifted to grab your wrist and with a light pull, ushered you forward and ahead of him. The message he was giving you was clear, and with a soft huff you continued on while he stayed behind, no doubt to talk to the scarred boy.

The descent down the stairs was never very easy to get used to. As soon as you hit the first step you felt the warmth from the house seemingly leave your body as the chill penetrated nearly to the bone. You knew the cold didn’t bother him like it did you - in a technical sense he was scarcely what you could even call alive. Not like humans were alive, at least. The cold was better for his specimens anyway. No use complaining.

You were at least thankful that he had gotten into the habit of leaving at least a dim light on when he knew that you would be coming down. Just because he didn’t need them to see and not wipe out on the stairs didn’t mean that you didn’t, after all. Once you had found your way down, you went to take a seat on his bed, pulling the sheets up and around you. You didn’t care that you’d get blood on them. He had plenty of spare sheets anyway, considering he had to constantly change them out if he didn’t want to be sleeping in… whatever that substance from his eyes were. He was a bit more hygienic than that, thankfully.

You weren’t sure how long passed before you heard his descent, feeling a shaky breath escape you as you did. A mix of anxiety and relief crossed you in that very moment - an odd mixture for sure. A small shiver passed through you. You decided to convince yourself it was due to the chill in the air.

When he reached the bottom step he faced you, not wasting time to remove the mask. A couple points of his sharklike teeth poked out from the cover of his grey lips, and though he had no eyes you knew his gaze was focused entirely on your own. It hadn’t been long since he had started removing his mask around you. He seemed to prefer the security it brought him. You weren’t sure what vulnerabilities lie underneath that callous exterior, and though you knew him well enough by now to know there was no harm in asking, you decided not to breach the subject today.

“Come here. Sit by the table, take off the shirt.” Despite the cold you felt a bit of heat rise to your cheeks, and if he noticed he thankfully didn’t comment on it for the time being. All you could do was obey, letting the blankets pool behind you on the bed as you stood and made your way over. Once the material was off the cold only felt more persistent. You wondered for a brief moment if you could catch a cold in here if you spent too much time down here.

The feeling of his hand made you jolt, a soft hiss escaping your lips when it caused the muscle to pull. You heard him sigh but noticed the faintest, gentle skim of his thumb against the unmarred section of skin just below the wound. A form of apology gone unspoken.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were injured?” He finally spoke as he reached over to the table beside you, preparing a few of his tools. Before you could answer he continued, his slight growl of a voice softening the best he could manage, “slight sting.”

You winced when the needle punctured you, but you were thankful when a bit of relief slowly started to take over. You weren’t entirely sure where he got any of this, but right now you didn’t care. You could only faintly feel the pressure of him working on stitching up the wound, wincing only occasionally if he went a bit too deep.

“You know why, Jack.”

“You’d think by now you’d realize I’m not going to harm you.”

“I never said my fear was logical. Anyway, I also just hate bothering you when I have no idea if you’re in the middle of your… work.”

It was then that he paused, perhaps taking in your words. It wasn’t for long though before he got back to focusing on the task at hand.

“I would prefer it be you who interrupts me than one of the others. At least I know that if you get hurt, it wasn’t a stupid mistake.”

“Careful. Keep that up and I’ll make excuses just to bother you.”

“If you want to see live dissections, be my guest.”

You cringed at his words, and while you couldn’t see it you could picture a slight shark-toothed smirk. You could occasionally hear the faint drip of something, probably from his eyes. It seemed he was at least careful not to let any of it drip on you. I guess he must have eaten recently. Your mind wandered, zoning out to the occasional rhythmic sound. That is until he finished his work and pulled back, cleaning the area one last time as he looked it over.

“Okay,” His gaze shifted elsewhere, probably a clock in a darker part of the room but you couldn’t be sure, “Get some rest. By midday you can probably wash up as usual. Until then, keep it dry. No straining the muscle until I give you the okay. If I have to restitch this, I’m not going to be happy.” Though his words were tough, you couldn’t help the slight twitch of your lips. You knew he didn’t mean it. You gave him a small nod and stood, ready to put your torn shirt back on before his cold hand once again gripped your wrist - it was a bit softer than it had been earlier.

“Wait.” He commanded, and though you were confused you obeyed as he went off into a side room. To his credit he didn’t leave you waiting too long, bringing back an extra of his hoodies. It was a bit more worn than his current one, obviously older but the sentiment was still there.

“No use wearing that anymore, but you’re not going up there again without wearing something.” He mumbled, a slight rumble in his chest akin to a feline’s growl or purr. You weren’t sure what that sound really was even now, but you had grown rather accustomed to his quirks. You grinned at him and gratefully took the hoodie, slipping it over your head with ease thanks to the side of it. You noticed as his eyeless gaze shifted subtly elsewhere.

“Thank you, Jack.”

#creepypasta x reader #eyeless jack x reader #ej x reader #reader insert #oneshot

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mythicamagic · 3 years

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Unorthodox: a Sesskag oneshot

Summary: Kagome is pleasantly surprised to receive a present from Sesshoumaru for White Day... until she glimpses the contents inside her gift box.

AN: Written for the Sesskag 2021 Big Bang event on tumblr! @chierafied

I was paired with @milomai-art and here’s their lovely artwork: https://milomai-art.tumblr.com/post/648766972634513408/unorthodox-mythicamagic-inuyasha-a-feudal

Rated K+

Words: 3,000

You can read it on Ao3, Dokuga or fanfiction.net.

Unorthodox

Valentine's day had come and gone, with a notable difference this year for Kagome compared with the last lonely three;

Her return to the Sengoku Jidai.

To celebrate reuniting with her beloved friends, she'd gone all out. Everyone received gifts, right down to Myoga and Jaken; no one had been excluded.

For all her efforts, however, she expected nothing in return. Though she'd explained the concept to the Inutachi, Sango and Miroku were much too busy looking after their children to keep track of dates, Shippo was often away at Kitsune school and Inuyasha had been absent as of late. Besides that, since their relationship had ended, the subject of Valentine's had become an awkward one. She'd had to stress the platonic intent behind her gift to him.

Therefore, Kagome had pretty much forgotten all about White Day by the time it rolled around.

Exiting Kaede's hut with a tub of water in her arms, intending to give the old miko's horse a good scrub down, she dug in her heels the second exquisite silks, armour and a fur pelt registered- having blinked into existence before her. Kagome gaped, swaying. Water sloshed, some spilling to their feet.

"Uh hi," looking up at grave, handsome features, she arched a brow. Sesshoumaru stared at her fervently. "Nice to see you, Sesshoumaru," adjusting her grip, Kagome sidestepped him and flashed a warm smile, used to his minimalistic approach to conversation by now. "Do you need something? Inuyasha isn't here. I think he's helping the next village over repair a-"

"I am not here for him."

Kagome noted his succinct tone, sounding more defensive than usual. Setting down the wooden tub carefully, she straightened, tilting her head. "Then what are you here for?"

"White Day."

"White... ah!" Kagome gasped, "that's right! How did you know about that?" she blinked, noticing he looked extra grumpy today. His jaw ticked, golden eyes narrow. Slowly, the miko brightened. "No way. Did you... get me something?" she breathed, strangely touched.

Of all people, Sesshoumaru had remembered? Was she dreaming?

A hand thrust out stiffly towards her, balancing a small box upon his palm.

Accepting it with thanks, heat touched her cheeks. Weird. She really shouldn't be indulging this- or feeling kind of happy. It didn't mean anything to be pleased, right? Was she even allowed to feel warm and fuzzy towards her ex's brother?

Opening the lid, Kagome tried to squash her excitement- peering down. Slowly, she reached in, retrieving a silky soft thing.

It appeared to be made of something long, silver and fine, the material woven into a pretty design. A bracelet of silk, if she could hazard a guess.

"Um, thank you," Kagome raised her gaze. "What's it made of, out of curiosity? It's very soft."

Sesshoumaru appeared pleased, preening a little. "Only the finest material."

"Really?" she stroked it. "I hope you didn't go to any trouble on my account."

He scoffed, midsummer gaze smiling slightly as his tone became haughty and prideful, "it was no trouble to use this one's own hair."

Kagome dropped the bracelet back into the box. "Whut?"

Lithe fingers combed indulgently into his fall of lustrous silver hair, "you need not be alarmed. The strands grew back quickly."

That isn't what's alarming me, Kagome silently screamed. Now that she was paying attention though, the pale bracelet really did resemble the demon lord's long flowing locks.

Her hand recoiled a little from the box. "W-well, um... thank you very much," Kagome said thinly. "It's a very thoughtful gift. Truly."

Sesshoumaru's keen, piercing eyes roved over her strained features, voice deepening. "If you do not wish to accept it-"

"N-no, I do! I'll wear it right now!" Kagome grabbed it madly, fiddling with the thing while repressing a shudder. She tried and failed to secure the clasp, stiffening when large hands closed over her hand.

The demon lord leaned forward- that same hair currently being secured around her wrist falling free from behind a pointed ear. Silver strands draped down like a gossamer curtain, tickling her flushed, sensitive skin.

Sesshoumaru tilted his head up, expression unreadable.

Shifting her wrist, Kagome observed the threads of hair wrapped around it. His bracelet felt odd, the concept totally foreign. However, she could feel how much the gesture meant to him. She didn't fear offending him because of his dark temper- more because she cared about his feelings and wanted to nurture any hint of a bond between them.

"Thank you," Kagome said. "No one else brought me anything today, so I'm...I'm grateful."

Even if it was the weirdest thing she'd ever received. A bracelet made of hair wasn't exactly traditional.

Straightening, Sesshoumaru's lips thinned as his eyes flickered with confusion.

Kagome blinked, wondering what else he'd envisioned her saying.

"Hn," inclining his head regally, he pivoted sharply and began stalking away quickly, giving a swift kill to the conversation.

---

Without a frame of reference for how long he desired her to wear it, Kagome tugged her sleeve down to hide the bracelet from curious eyes during the next few days. She tried to ignore the sensation of hair continually brushing her skin.

"I wonder if it means something important," Kagome examined it while sprawled out upon a grassy hill, taking a break from her miko duties Kaede had started dishing out ever since her return.

Sesshoumaru had seemed extremely serious while giving it to her. Then again, the gift could've meant nothing. Maybe his hair was just THAT valuable in the Daiyoukai's opinion. She snorted, twisting her wrist and watching silver threads catch on sunlight, making it shine white. "His ego is big enough. I'd believe it. Heh, maybe he'd also give me one of his eyelashes, or a fingernail or..."

Why was Sesshoumaru heading towards her?

Sitting up and fussing absentmindedly with her hair- removing a few stray leaves- Kagome felt heat flood her face.

Okay, no- she shook herself, putting a firm lid over the butterflies taking flight in her stomach. Too strange. Enough of that.

The Daiyoukai stopped a few feet away, expression detached. Kagome knew by now to ignore it in favour of looking into his eyes. They were intent and unblinking today, hinting at his seriousness.

"Hi," she said, patting a spot next to her. "It's rare for you to visit the village again during the same week. What's up?"

Sesshoumaru cocked his head to the side at her odd term. Kagome bit her lip, finding it endearing. Her attention strayed, noticing yet another box sitting innocently upon his hand.

She paled. Oh no.

Gracefully sweeping himself down onto one knee- he thrust the new box out towards her, giving Kagome a dizzying sense of Déjà vu.

I was joking about the fingernails. Please be something normal. Please.

Accepting it gingerly, blue eyes flicked up towards him. "White day is over, you know."

"This one is aware."

"So...why the new gift?"

Sesshoumaru pretended to be interested in the gentle bubbling stream not too far away. "Because it pleases me to give it to you."

He was so difficult to figure out. Not wanting to squash his newfound sense of generosity, Kagome carefully removed the lid.

The contents did not look promising.

Trying not to jump to conclusions, she reached in and removed the long necklace. A single solitary tooth hung from the chord.

"Ah," Kagome squinted. "Open your mouth a sec."

Sesshoumaru's lips parted wordlessly, mouth opening wider to reveal a gap where one of his sharp canines used to be.

"This...is yours?" she asked weakly.

Sesshoumaru closed his mouth and nodded primly. "It will serve you well, should you have need of it."

In what way would I ever have need of a tooth? a wrinkle marred her brow as she considered it, coming to a small realisation. "To make a sword from?"

"Hn."

Well, that explained a small piece of the puzzle. In a very 'Sesshoumaru' way- it almost seemed a little sweet, practical even.

However, this did not help assuage her naturally squeamish reaction while looking at the freshly plucked tooth.

"Thanks," she said lamely. "I-I'm sure it'll be very useful if I visit Totosai in the future."

Her answer didn't seem to be what he was looking for. Sesshoumaru's gaze flitted from her to the dangling fang. "Females... prefer jewels, make-up or clothing, I suppose."

Kagome scratched her cheek, "depends on the lady- but you really don't have to worry, Sesshoumaru," laying a hand over pale knuckles resting upon his knee, she gave a squeeze. "I'm touched you're being so thoughtful. There's no need to give me anything else though, I have more than enough."

His nostrils flared, jaw setting stubbornly. He drew himself up to stand, "you are too modest."

Feeling thoroughly discombobulated, Kagome could only watch as he pivoted with all the grace of a dainty dancer, stalking away with billowing sleeves.

---

For two weeks, Sesshoumaru continued visiting the village at random intervals. His flair for turning up at the most unexpected times made it difficult for Kagome to anticipate his visits. Sometimes he'd arrive bright and early, others- nearing nightfall. Occasionally he'd visit Rin, but their interactions seemed distracted. Rin would whisper fiercely to him while gesturing in Kagome's direction, but he'd ultimately leave without speaking a word to the miko.

It was odd, confusing. She'd used to think of Sesshoumaru as a fairly straightforward demon. As of late, he'd been downright unpredictable and... flakey. She kind of missed their previous easy interactions when she'd pick herbs and prattle on while he occasionally offered a word or two. His silence had felt comfortable rather than awkward.

I don't know how to get that back, Kagome thought sadly.

A chilly wind passed by, breeze rushing around her exposed neck. Adjusting her miko garb, she sneezed, shivering a little. Autumn would soon be on its way.

The heat of an intense stare sent a new chill down her spine. Kagome turned, sensing it- only to find Sesshoumaru gazing at her intently.

Was it her imagination, or did he seem absurdly pleased? As though struck by a revelation.

As was typical behaviour for him, the demon lord began walking away without a word.

---

Trudging back from training in the woods, Kagome shouldered her bow while walking around a thick tree- only to quickly stop, almost bumping straight into polished armour.

Sesshoumaru stood before her, holding another box. This time it was larger, more of a rectangular shape.

"M-more?" Kagome squeaked. Her heart thundered. It felt like so long since they'd last spoken.

Sesshoumaru inclined his head gravely, "hn."

Biting her lip and somewhat dreading what cast-off part of him could be inside this time, Kagome grasped the lid and removed it- only to slam it abruptly back down.

"What… what is that?" she asked thinly.

Sesshoumaru's lashes fell shut and slid open in an unruffled blink.

"My fur."

I thought as much.

Kagome removed the lid with trepidation once more, lifting out the lush, soft coat. Even while her hands sank into the cloud-like material, blue eyes remained wide with distress.

Sesshoumaru seemed to guess her line of thinking. "It is discarded fur that I have shed, not cleaved off. Do not worry."

"O-okay," she said thinly. It's still weird though. Too weird. Imagine if I'd made a coat of shed skin.

It was so odd that Kagome felt a line needed to be drawn, placing it back into the box and numbly accepting it from him. "Sesshoumaru… I have to put my foot down now. I appreciate your gifts but I can't accept any more."

He stiffened, the burning embers in his eyes freezing into glassy orbs.

Kagome rushed to explain, "it's very sweet of you, and I appreciate the thought. I'm just not, uh…sure they're suited for a human. Besides, you seem to be worrying about what to get me instead of talking to me. I'd rather we just spoke like old times instead of this awkwardness."

"I see," he said stiffly.

She took a step forward, eyes widening when he took one back and turned. "This one did not intend to give you things deemed inappropriate and unwelcome. Farewell."

"Wait-!"

Too late, Sesshoumaru blurred away from her outstretched hand.

Kagome grit her teeth, sighing and balancing the box on one hand. Damn it.

Slowly, Kagome lowered the box onto a tree stump and gingerly lifted the coat. It felt lush and divine, her hands disappearing within the sheer volume of fur. Sliding her arms into the sleeves and putting it on, Kagome wrapped it around herself, feeling like she were enclosed in a giant fluffy cloud. His static youki brushed her skin intimately, fanning out from the strands.

It was big. It was a little ridiculous. It was wonderful.

Kagome groaned, burying her face in her hands. Sure, the idea of him collecting his shed fur to sew into a coat was strange by human standards, but actually wearing the coat, she now understood his simplistic intent.

He'd just wanted her to be warm.

"You're such a weirdo," she grumbled, blushing and dipping her nose into the fur. It smelled like him; wild forests, with the hint of refined smoke from a pipe.

Maybe she was weird too.

---

He was absent for an entire month.

Sesshoumaru figured it would help ease the sting of rejection. The second he caught Kagome's fragrance, however, it was like an old wound had been ripped open again.

His lips thinned, firmly keeping all emotion locked tight behind a placid mask as he visited Rin.

Chatting with the girl allowed him to soothe his stung ego for a while, distracted by Rin's news about the village and her training. Occasionally she would mention the miko and his chest would tighten again. How pathetic of him.

Once his cup lay empty and Rin mentioned the need to leave in order to assist the older miko, Sesshoumaru took his leave.

Stepping foot outside Kaede's hut, however, he froze.

Kagome stiffened before him, swathed in furs- his furs- he dimly noted.

More than that, lithe fingers curled around the fang resting at her collarbone. The silver bracelet of his hair caught the light before disappearing beneath the length of her sleeve.

Kagome's cheeks heated, and she thrust out a box, letting it rest on her palm.

"I asked around," she muttered. "Inuyasha was clueless, and Shippo kept laughing whenever I tried to ask him what was going on. Luckily Myoga happened to stop by," blue eyes pinned him in place. "You could've told me what all the gifts meant instead of leaving me in the dark."

Sesshoumaru did not accept the box just yet. "I thought my intentions were achingly clear."

Embarrassingly so, for a proud demon.

"Not for humans!" she huffed, lowering her hands a little. "I was confused the whole time! How was I supposed to know that you were giving me a betrothal bracelet, or that the fang was for any half-demon children I might have when they need a sword? I kind of figured out the coat, but I didn't know it represented your intentions to provide for me."

Sesshoumaru stared. Oh. Perhaps he should've listened to Rin about courting the miko after all.

Cheeks scarlet, Kagome sighed, lifting the lid of her box off and removing something from inside.

"May I?"

Sesshoumaru nodded dazedly, golden eyes widening. His entire being thrummed, heart picking up speed.

Shifting closer, Kagome pushed some dark locks behind her ear, the length slightly shorter than usual. Sliding a black bracket around his striped wrist, Kagome swallowed. Her hair had been woven into a band much like his, though nowhere near as intricate.

The demon stared at it, fixated. Baser instincts purred.

Molten gold eyes slowly raised to pin her with a disarmingly reverent look. He spoke no words of poetry, no love or longing, but it was there, he hoped. Abundantly clear. Kagome seemed to recognise it for what it was now.

She smiled a little, hugging her arms and scuffing her foot. "Don't get the wrong idea; I'm not saying I'll jump into marriage with you, but it turns out I'm kind of interested in dating you. Really... interested," Kagome forced out, obviously embarrassed but soldiering on. "If it's okay, we could...do that," she finished lamely.

Sesshoumaru took a step forward, invading her personal space. She blushed exactly the way he'd hoped she would, babbling. "So the uh- think of the bracelet as a dating bracelet! Maybe down the line it could...it could become an engagement thing," she murmured, voice dimming in the wake of his proximity.

"Hn," honeyed eyes smiled, careful claws unfurling to find her chin. "That would be pleasing," he uttered in a faint rumble, tipping his head down. "I accept."

Satisfaction rolled through him fiercely as she tilted her head just so- lips meeting and brushing feather-light against his. Emboldened, Kagome's hands found the collar of his hankimono just as he took her by the waist as though entering a dance, tightening.

Sesshoumaru let his eyes flutter shut, inhaling sharply through his nose. He could smell her so bright and clear—the sweetness of tangerines, faint, exotic soaps—and her mouth so warm. Kagome kissed him, firmer, hand finding his hair- fingers curling. His breath began to roughen the longer their kisses went on. His heart chanted the truth of it all- 'yours.'

If the foolish woman wanted him, he'd already given himself to her. The ticklish brush of her hair claiming his wrist made him smirk against her mouth, glimpsing his own band of white around hers and revelling in a plume of possessive pride.

Perhaps it was unorthodox by her standards, but they were not exactly normal themselves. And so, Sesshoumaru drowned himself in the curious, raw newness of the strange miko, surrendering to all the oddities that would likely follow during their strange courtship.

End

#sesskag #sesshomaru x kagome #sesskag big bang 2021 #inuyasha #sesskag fanfiction

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loxare · 3 years

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More fics I should not be writing because I should be asleep! This one is post canon, sort of setting up a Yunmeng reconciliation? Descriptions of injuries. Lan Wangji gets yelled at. Other stuff happens.

Jiang Cheng stood outside the door of the sect healer, waiting, simmering with fury.

He had lost his sister to her own choices, and to the sword of a cultivator who had been trying to kill his brother.

He had lost his brother scant minutes later to his own choices, to a fall that any cultivator would have survived, to a fall that had killed his non-cultivator brother.

And now, now Jiang Cheng might lose his brother again. Just when he'd gotten him back. And he would have, if the group of disciples he'd sent to deal with a pack of fierce corpses hadn't finished early. If they hadn't found Wei Wuxian lying on the side of the road, bleeding.

The assistant who had come out a shichen ago for bandages and had subsequently been bullied until he answered his sect leader's questions had said that they were still working. That they were hopeful. But that if Wei Wuxian had gotten here any later, there would have been nothing they could have done.

And so Jiang Cheng seethed. He had seen the wounds, before he'd been locked out of the room. No bite marks, so not a fierce corpse, yao, or animal. Heavy bruising, which could be indicative of bandits, if Jiang Cheng didn't keep his roads clear and ensure his people all had enough to eat. And if it hadn't been for all the sword wounds.

Even with the small core Wei Wuxian had now, no non-cultivator would have been able to touch him with a blade. Jiang Cheng had seen him fight a war, surrounded on all sides by cultivators and holding them off - winning - with just his flute. Not even playing it, just using it to block strikes and hit pressure points.

Which meant that whoever had gone after him had been a cultivator. And a good one.

It made sense. Even now, when the blame for Jin Zixuan lay solely on Jin Guangyao's shoulders, people still hated the Yiling Patriarch. Even now, he had enemies. It was to be expected. Jiang Cheng knew that Wei Wuxian would have people who hated him or his methods until the day he died. Again.

So what had he been doing on a Yunmeng road all alone?

It hadn't been that long ago that Jiang Cheng had watched his brother walk away with Hanguang-Jun. With the way Hanguang-Jun looked at Wei Wuxian, there was no way he cared so little that he would abandon him to bleed on the side of the road. Which meant he hadn't been there when Wei Wuxian had been attacked.

Hanguang-Jun had left Wei Wuxian alone.

Alone, when anyone with a grain of sense knew that Wei Wuxian had enemies.

The door opened. Liu-daifu stepped out, wiping water off of her hands with a cloth. "He'll be fine," were the first words out if her mouth, because she knew her sect leader well. "I'm keeping him sedated until he heals up a bit, otherwise he'll undo all my hard work by trying to move, but we can wake him up in a day or two."

Jiang Cheng let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. "Good." He worked his jaw. He didn't want to know this. As a sect leader, he should know it, so he could plan Wei Wuxian's recovery training. Maybe find out who did this. And... hm. "What was the extent of the damage?"

Liu-daifu took a breath. "Most you know. Broken leg, punctured lung," from where someone had run him through, "several broken fingers," because someone had stomped on his hand, "various smaller cuts. Two floating ribs, which is why I don't want him moving, not until they set a bit more. I'd recommend at least two weeks on bed rest, followed by very light exercise for two months. If he's lucky and follows the stretches we give him, he'll retain full motion in his hand."

Jiang Cheng closed his eyes. Took a deep breath. It wouldn't do to yell, not now, no matter how furious he was. Liu-daifu would understand, but she wouldn't be happy. "Thank you. Excuse me."

Yan Xing was waiting for him in his office. "Zongzhu. I sent disciples in plain robes to various tea houses and inns around Yunmeng to listen for gossip. If whoever did this is nearby, we'll find out."

"Good." He sat at his desk and scribbled a quick note, waving the paper once he was done to dry the ink faster. "Get someone fast to give this to Nie Huaisang. If we can't find the bastard, he can." He rolled his shoulders. "I'm going to Gusu. I should be back before Wei Wuxian wakes. If not, you know what to do."

Dipping into a quick bow, Yan Xing left.

Jiang Cheng stopped only long enough to change into less bloodstained robes before he left. He didn't bother with formal robes because this wasn't a formal visit and also they would have gotten messed up in the flight over anyways.

He flew through the night, too agitated to land and rest. By the time he landed in Caiyi, it was close to dawn. He sent a message to Cloud Recesses, then stopped at an inn to rest for a few hours. It wouldn't do to be incoherent from exhaustion.

Exactly at midday, Hanguang-Jun stepped into the inn and the innkeeper led him to the private dining room Jiang Cheng was waiting in. The look the Chief Cultivator gave him could have curdled milk. Jiang Cheng was mildly surprised that his returning glare didn't set Hanguang-Jun on fire.

They exchanged pleasantries, which barely qualified for the name, and then Jiang Cheng threw a silencing talisman at the door. It was the strongest one he had. Wei Wuxian's design, of course. Then he took a deep breath. "What. The fuck. Is your problem?"

Hanguang-Jun raised an eyebrow.

Jiang Cheng grit his teeth, but fair enough. Hanguang-Jun had many problems. He would have to clarify. "I was under the impression, when you left Guanyin Temple staring at Wei Wuxian like he'd shot the suns from the sky, that you cared about his wellbeing."

Hanguang-Jun raised his eyebrow further. "I do."

"Then why," Jiang Cheng said tightly, every word forcing itself through the tight ball of rage in his chest, "did my disciples find him alone on a roadside in Yunmeng?"

"He can defend himself," was Hanguang-Jun's lukewarm excuse.

"Oh, so that makes it alright to abandon him then?" Jiang Cheng leaned in closer. "Whether he can or not is irrelevant. He was half dead, Hanguang-Jun."

Before he could even finish his sentence, Hanguang-Jun was standing, heading for the door. Zidian snapped in front of his face, forcing him to take a step back or lose his nose.

"Sit the fuck down, Hanguang-Jun," Jiang Cheng roared. "You are not allowed to leave until you account for your actions! You do not get to pretend concern when you left him to fend for himself!" Jiang Cheng stepped in close, crowding Hanguang-Jun closer to the wall, further from the door, Zidian sparking in his hand. "He was found with multiple sword cuts. This was no accident or monster attack. One of Wei Wuxian's enemies tried to kill him. And clearly, he wasn't able to defend himself."

"Enemies?" The word came out slightly higher pitched and breathless.

How had a man this stupid become Chief Cultivator? "Yes, Hanguang-Jun," Jiang Cheng said with exaggerated patience. "Enemies. Enemies who didn't disappear when his innocence was proven. Enemies who still hate him, and what he does, and what he did. So why the fuck was Wei Wuxian lying on the road dying without someone with him?"

Jiang Cheng had never been able to decipher Hanguang-Jun's facial expressions. But the guilt and discomfort would have been easy for anyone to see. "He said he wanted to travel."

"Great. Why didn't you go with him? Or send some of those beribboned goslings that are so besotted with him along?" If Wei Wuxian still wanted to travel when he was better, Jiang Cheng might do that with his own disciples. It would be good field experience for them.

Hanguang-Jun looked pained. "He said he wanted to travel alone."

Jiang Cheng froze. "Alone." He took a deep breath. Counted to ten. Twenty. "Alone? Wei Wuxian called you his zhiji, didn't he? And you think he wanted to travel alone?" It was so absurd as to almost be funny. "Wei Wuxian can't stand being alone. Oh, he enjoys sitting on rooftops with only the stars and a jar of wine for company, but he is incapable of going for more than a few days without someone paying attention to him, and you think he wanted to travel alone?"

More likely, that dumbass had thought he'd be in the way. Or he'd ruin Hanguang-Jun's pristine reputation with his proximity. Or, and this is the one Jiang Cheng was betting on, Hanguang-Jun didn't actually say, out loud, with words, that he wanted Wei Wuxian to stay, and so Wei Wuxian hadn't thought he was welcome.

He couldn't deal with this idiocy. He snorted at Hanguang-Jun's pained expression. "Whatever. I just wanted you to know how badly you'd screwed up. And now, you're going to pay the price. You can't have him back. Wei Wuxian is a disciple of Yunmeng Jiang. If you had taken better care of him, I would have been willing to let the two of you get married with minimal fuss." A modest bride price for one, and many lotus flowers at the actual ceremony. If his idiot of a brother had eloped, which was much more likely, he would have just let it go entirely. His brother's happiness was still important to him, even after everything, and not worth destroying just so Jiang Cheng could try and wedge himself into where he wasn't wanted.

Hanguang-Jun's ears took on a distinct shade of red at the word "marry". A spark of hope lit in his eyes.

He would take great pleasure in extinguishing that hope. Jiang Cheng took a step forward, Zidian crackling on his arm. "But now, if you want to take him away, you have to prove to all of Yunmeng Jiang that you can take care of him. If you try and marry him without my blessing, it will be war."

Then, leaving Hanguang-Jun still as a statue behind him, he tore his talisman off the door and left.

The flight home was quiet. Liu-daifu fused over him when he landed early the next morning, berating him for not sleeping, not eating, generally not taking care of himself. With Yan Xing taking care of all his duties for the day, Jiang Cheng allowed himself to be bullied into eating a decent meal and then bullied into bed. He awoke with a pounding headache that the food and tea waiting for him alleviated, and was feeling mostly alive when the healers woke Wei Wuxian.

His face was thinner than he remembered, something Jiang Cheng knew Liu-daifu intended to fix, but it still scrunched up the way it always did before he woke up. Wei Wuxian blinked his eyes a few times before they focused on Jiang Cheng's scowl. "Jiang Cheng? Oh, I mean, Jiang-zong-"

"Are you an idiot?" Jiang Cheng interrupted. "Dont answer that, I know you are. But have you become an even bigger idiot since you died? Did you leave half of what little intelligence you had in the grave? What the fuck were you doing dying in a ditch alone?"

Another slow blink. With every word out of Jiang Cheng's mouth, Wei Wuxian relaxed further and further into his mattress. "I was going to... Xiangyang. They've got water ghouls."

Jiang Cheng made a note of that. Both that there was a problem in his territory that he needed to send some people to fix and that the information had gotten to his brother who had been travelling before it had gotten to him. And then he made a note of Wei Wuxian's slurred voice and difficulty focusing on his face and said, "Get some rest dumbass. You're staying until you're healed, so I'll have plenty of time to yell at you after you've slept off your anaesthetics."

Wei Wuxian nodded exaggeratedly. "Mmkay Jiang Cheng. G'night. Love you."

That last bit was mumbled into his blanket, but Jiang Cheng still heard it. He froze. A blossom of warmth spread through his chest, one that had been so familiar to him years and years ago, one he thought he'd strangled into cold silence. He smiled and patted Wei Wuxian gently on his head. After everything, his brother still loved him. "Yeah. Love you too. Rest up. You've got lots of scolding scheduled for tomorrow."

Wei Wuxian said nothing. He was already asleep. Jiang Cheng went to get some more rest himself. Liu-daifu had been glaring at him even as she'd pulled the needles out of Wei Wuxian's neck.

Tomorrow, he'd shout his brother into oblivion. Maybe the day after too, depending on how he was feeling. After that, who knew. Maybe they'd be awkward and angry at each other for the entire two months that Wei Wuxian was recovering. Maybe this would all end in tears and fucking Hanguang-Jun would get Wei Wuxian back without a fight after all. Or maybe. Maybe they'd take their sister's advice and talk to each other.

And then wwx wakes up and gets yelled at a lot and does a bit of yelling himself and feelings are exchanged at volume but they are in fact exchanged. And then lwj, taking the easy road, does not take wwx away and marries into the Jiang sect, which pisses jc off even more.

#Untamed #Jiang Cheng #Wei Wuxian #Lan Wangji #I may be a bit too mean to lwj in this #eh #Loxie's fics

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faraway-in-headspace · 3 years

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I?? I searched Chicken Choice Judy on google out of curiosity because it sounds oddly familiar like there’s a similar-sounding name and I found 4 websites selling the shirt design. But the descriptions on these pages are BUCK WILD??

Written version of the descriptions under the cut (very long).

[Begin ID

First image states: Long ago, when I had hair, I was an undergrad living in a house with nine other men. Near as I can tell, three of them (not sure which three) never bought food, just lived off what they stole from the Chicken Choice Judy shirt But I will love this other seven. We had several house meetings about it, but nothing changed. One day, I came in from grocery shopping. By coincidence, all 10 of us were in the kitchen. I started putting my stuff away. 1st thing I pulled out of the bag was my half-gallon of milk. I opened the carton, took a couple of drinks from the carton, then gargled some of it, and spit it back in. I opened my tub of margarine and licked the whole surface. By now, the room chatter had stopped because the other nine jaws had dropped open.) To your original question, those specific topics would take several years to build, as they depend on several layers of pre-requisites, which would require either that more advanced topics such as algebraic topology to be taught in elementary school, or that the buildup process happened blazingly fast during high school – both of which probably stretch the biological limits of what pre-teens and teenagers can reasonably be expected to accomplish. I spit on all my veggies, took the bread out of the package, and licked and spit on it, then carefully put it all back in the plastic bag. Remind teenage daughters to look through them before going on date with the boyfriend, in case they want to use one. I labeled it all and put it away. None of it was stolen. I never said a word, but I made it a point to repeat the performance anytime anyone was around to see it. Others began to emulate my approach and food theft stopped. Even I found it revolting, but it solved the problem. Works even better if you are sick or can at least make your thieving roommates think you are. While some cities are starting to reopen in the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic, people around the country are continuing to wear masks in public and practice social distancing. Vogue is committed to staying safe, and offering hopeful, optimistic content that highlights moments of camaraderie and exceptional acts of heroism from around the world. We are all looking for a little comfort too—be it a soothing Instagram account or a stylish creator on TikTok. It reminds us of the power of little things.

Second image states: A couple of guests informed me my office was too minimalist and that they expected more things to be hanging on my wall the Chicken Choice Judy shirt besides I will buy this next time they visited my wife’s and my home. I kinda hope they held their breath while they were waiting for our next invitation. They both went on to backstab me and my wife pretty bad a few years later. Another set of guests tried to squat. I had driven them all the way from Florida to Massachusetts under the impression that they had jobs and a place to live lined up. They offered no money for gas, hotels on the three-day trip, or compensation for the inconvenience and effort. He even tried to weasel out of the dinner he offered as a thank you by forgetting his wallet. The dude got me off the streets years ago and I wanted to pay him back in some way, but my wife and I were in no position to have extra residents in our home. We just don’t have the room or money. I made all of this VERY clear and told my old buddy that we could only house them for a couple of days max. There are MANY other details, but the disrespectful thing my former friend said was wordless. As I was kicking them out and they were angrily loading stuff into my car to bring them anywhere but here, my buddy left his gigantic knife right in the center of my wife’s desk. Like that was supposed to make us change our minds and let them stay? In the days of dial-up, I had a family call and not be able to get through because we were online. They decided to show up unannounced. They literally caught me in my underwear as they were let into the apartment before I could even react to being rudely surprised. Some of my family members have a history of abuse, violence, and stalking, something at least one of the visitors, my mother, was quite aware of since she lived through it with me. Her tagalong friend decided to put in her two cents and tell me I should get a call waiting or a second line because they were trying to call me. That did it! I suddenly forgot I was just wearing underwear and angrily asked my mother’s friend if she was paying my phone bill. My mother-in-law, stepfather and mom’s friend beat a hasty retreat and NEVER did the pop-in ever again.

Third image states: That was why when we did get to reality shows, Etro and then Dolce & Gabbana plus Jacquemus later in France, it was wonderful. Clothes are all about contact: As a wearer, you feel them on your skin, and as a watcher, you process them with your eye. The watching part can be done secondhand, but the Chicken Choice Judy shirt in contrast I will get this impact will always be second to the real thing. I read some commentators in the U.S. saying, “Too soon” or “Wear a damn mask!” which I always did, but these opinions while valid enough lack perspective. Milan and its surrounding region Lombardy went through what New York did but earlier. Through sagacious governmental management much more effective than that of the U.S., Italy has managed dramatically to flatten the curve across the rest of its territory. These shows just like the reopening of flights, stores, factories, and restaurants were symptomatic of recovery that, far from being taken for granted, is being tended to with vigilance and cherished with gratitude. The digital Fashion Weeks were better than no Fashion Weeks at all, but as an upgrade on the real thing? Nah. Like everyone, I missed the shows in the experiential sense this season. But for the first time since I began covering the collections several years ago, I didn’t miss a single brand or designer’s contribution to Paris Fashion Week. Which is to say, thanks to the Fédération’s online platform, I was able to watch every name on the haute couture and men’s calendars. This brand on-demand convenience not to mention being spared the logistical headaches of zigzagging across the city was pretty great. Also, everything was on time, from the films to the manner in which we filed our reviews. While efficiency can be satisfying, it’s not necessarily exciting. Ultimately, we had to accept that the focus this season wasn’t going to be the clothes but rather the brands conveying some combination of identity, process, and values. And in the absence of standardized criteria as in, showing a minimum number of looks, specifying a time range, it was interesting to observe how heterogeneous these experiments proved to be quasi–ad campaigns versus short films, conceptual or fantastical visions versus raw and documentary style. A proper kimono takes nearly an hour to put on – I’m sure most Japanese girls would much rather spend a few seconds and slip on a dress. Get survey responses from targeted consumers today.

Fourth image states: Around a decade ago, not long after he started his own label, Massimo Alba made a great mistake. A batch of shirts and T-shirts he was working on that had already been garment-dyed one color were mistakenly exposed to another. Speaking at his showroom presentation this weekend, Alba said: “It’s very interesting to me that so many good things start out as mistakes like this.” That accident was to Alba what the Chicken Choice Judy shirt moreover I will buy this mold-infected petri dish was to Alexander Fleming: a stumbled-upon eureka that led to a career-defining course of the investigation. This collection featured a series of softly tailored jackets, corduroy pants, and shorts, plus light cashmere sweaters that were hand-overdyed two, and sometimes three colors. It’s a process that led to variations in tone that included acid-trip floods of purple on purple to subtle bleeding of magenta across mustard yellow. Like most of Alba’s garments, these dyed pieces appeared at first glance conventionally prosaic. The more attention you gave them, however, the more their exceptional qualities became evident. Take a pale blue jacket, for instance, which at that first glance seemed passingly related to a surgeon’s scrubs. To the hand it was light and almost textureless in its softness: The fabric was a cotton mousseline developed for Alba by Albini. Long-sleeved, in a delicately mottled finish of washed-out sky blue, it made for an ideal mid-summer shake in pink, sleeveless, it was an impactful shirting second skin. Other interesting developments this season included a cotton pant named the Myles with acutely kinking stitched gather at knee-level on both legs and another handsome pant, baggy in white poplin, with patch pockets. A blue tropical weight jacket named the Lenny, after Bernstein, was Alba’s interpretation of a bohemian creative’s ideal piece of workwear. Collarless shirts in ripstop linen and button-up short-sleeves in terry were further finely effective coups de théâtre. Alba is a self-deprecating yet dangerous designer: Try just one carefully chosen piece and that’s it, you’re spoiled for good because nobody else quite compares. The museum in Prague where this portrait is held describes the ring on her first finger as the ring given to her at her wedding. It’s not comfortable. Maybe a lot of girls think that a see-through blouse can attract the attention of boys or they think that it will make her look much smarter. Meghan has no dress sense: no knowledge of fabrics, fit, styles that flatter, proper tailoring, Her father raised her in L.A. Enough said. Her idea of dressing for an event is “dress up” like a little girl dressing up as a princess. Shiny! Tight! Celebrity “fashion” not elegant, just flashy.

/end ID]

#infinity train #chicken choice judy #mine

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sdhjxgctisd · 3 years

Text

A year before the crash, in 1936

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youngwings-writes · 4 years

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Infinitely Ordinary

Lee Felix x OC

Summary: "𝕀 𝕣𝕖𝕞𝕖𝕞𝕓𝕖𝕣 𝕨𝕙𝕖𝕟 𝕀 𝕝𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕖𝕕 𝕙𝕠𝕨 𝕥𝕠 𝕤𝕝𝕠𝕨 𝕕𝕠𝕨𝕟"

Busy. Busy worrying, working, just trying to survive. That was the daily life of Jordan Johnson. The world never seemed to slow down; not for her...not for anyone. Finally deciding to take matters into her own hands and get some much needed R&R, she jets off on a trip to South Korea. While there, she unexpectedly meets her soulmate. Will they be able to find happiness together, or will his status get in the way?

Genre: Fluff

Length: 1.5k

Chapter 3: Dream Boy

Buckle up kiddos, the story is gonna pick up in this chapter! We also may or may not be meeting a certain someone this chapter ;) Now, let's get into it!!

So maybe lying down on my bed after an insanely long flight wasn't my brightest idea. I was so sure the day I landed would also be spent exploring, but my body had other plans for me. After flopping uncerimoniously on the bed in my hotel room, the exhaustion caught up to me and lulled me to sleep. For 14 hours.

When I finally woke up from my unintentional hibernation, it was 6 AM.

Lovely.

With my body refusing to go back to sleep, I dragged myself out of bed and began getting ready for the day.

Knowing how early it was definitely put my mind at ease and let me take my time in the shower. I let the hot water cascade down my back as I hummed a little tune to myself. Most of my shower was spent taking in the warmth if I'm being entirely honest. Oh the perks of not having to pay a water bill.

When the water started to run lukewarm, I turned off the faucet and got out. I made my way to my bags that I had left near the door the day before. Grabbing one and heaving it up onto the bed, I ruffled through my clothes and chose an outfit: frayed black shorts, a cropped maroon and white striped shirt, and some Dr. Martens.

Returning to the bathroom, I got dressed, did my hair, and brushed my teeth. Giving myself a once-over, I gave myself a small smile and nod in satisfaction.

Sitting down on the bed, I grabbed my phone off the nightstand. The screen read 7:45 AM along with a few notifications. I responded to the few texts I had received from close friends and family assuring them that I arrived safely. I then quickly checked the other random notification that were primarily from social media. Satisfied with the lack of notifications, I turned my phone off, unplugged it, grabbed my backpack, and made my way out the door.

While there were many places I wanted to visit in Seoul, my stomach decided that breakfast was a necessity before I visited any of them. Unlike my hometown, there were many cafes around, so finding one using navigation and calling a cab was unnecessary. Instead, I opted to just walk around for a bit until I found a cafe that seemed interesting to me.

It didn't take long for me to find a cafe that I wanted to go to. The moment I stepped into the cafe, I was greeted a hoard of dogs. There were so many different breeds scattered about the building.

Coffee, pasteries, and dogs. I was in heaven.

I quickly paid the server my entrance fee and was lead to a table in the far right corner.

Placing a menu on the table in front of me, my server smiled and bowed politely before making their way back up to the counter. I picked up the menu, scanning through the various snacks and beverages. While there were some decent cafes back home, I don't think I had ever seen one with such an extensive menu.

And the dogs; you can't forget the dogs.

Picking something to drink and something to snack on took me much longer than I had originally anticipated. It also may or may not have ended up being more than just one drink and one snack...only sorry to my bank account on that one.

Waiting for my order to come out, I took a good look around the cafe. Everything about it was so different from the cafes I went to back home. Most of the ones I had been to before had a very rustic or very modern design. This cafe was definitely modern and minimalistic, but it was also very homey. The entire vibe of it made me very relaxed.

Mindlessly petting one of the lovely pups next to me, I began fiddling with my phone. Social media was always a good distraction from my unbearable impatience regarding food. Plus, it gave me the time to message some friends and family to tell them I'm safe and out having a good time.

I was soon brought out of my trance by a gentle buzz emitting from the coaster coaster I was given; my order was finally ready. I made my way to the counter and swapped my buzzer for a tray with way more sugar than I needed on it. I could almost cry just looking at everything I bought.

Sitting back down in my corner, I gently placed the tray on the table. I first made sure to photograph everything I had ordered. Typically I wouldn't do this when I went out for food or drinks, but I wanted to make sure I had memories to look back on from this trip. After all of my items had been properly documented, I went straight for the Oreo roll cake and Cookies N Cream milkshake.

What can I say? I'm a sucker for sweets.

I was so engrossed in all the sugary snacks and beverages in front of me that I didn't hear the bell above the door ring. The presence of another customer vaguely registered when he began ordering. I was still very much focused on what was in front of me, the patron's deep Korean becoming background noise. It wasn't until the man took a seat at the adjacent table that I was actually aware there was another person in the cafe.

From what I could tell, the man wasn't terribly tall or short, was roughly the same age as me, and oddly familiar. I couldn't clearly see his face because he was bent over in his seat petting a Golden Retriever, but something about him screamed that I knew him.

Ignoring the itching in the back of my mind, I focused on my food again. I was once again completely enchanted by the copious amounts of sugar... or at least I was until the man's buzzer went off and he made his way past me to get his order. It was in that moment that I got a decent glance at his face.

Freckles. Lots of freckles.

Holy shit. It's Lee Felix.

My heart was racing, pounding so loud I'm sure others could hear it. My cheeks were definitely the color of strawberries, my pale skin never failing to show internal emotions. My right forearm burned.

Wait, why is my forearm burning?

Feeling beyond flustered at the fact that my ultimate bias is sitting less than 10 feet away from me, I tried to distract myself. First I acted like there was something really interesting on my phone; that didn't work for long. I turned my attention to my forearm instead, which had now turned from a burning to just being oddly warm.

My eyes widened.

There, on my previously empty skin, was a tattoo of a sun.

No. Fucking. Way.

It seemed I wasn't the only one experiencing this sensation, as when I looked up I locked eyes with the freckly boy.

I froze.

Sitting there doing nothing obviously wasn't going to do either of us any good. I think Felix realized I wasn'tt going to make the first move, so he slowly got up and made his way towards me. Gently, he grabbed my arm, examining the new ink. I glanced at the arm grasping mine.

There was a crescent moon.

Taking a deep breath, I looked up to meet his eyes once again. His gaze was warm yet firm, doing nothing to calm the butterflies running rampant in my stomach.

"Well shit," I breathed out before I could stop myself. I quickly slapped my hand over my mouth, cursing myself for being so stupid.

Apparently my thoughtlessness was enough to lighten the situation a bit, Felix letting out a little chuckle.

"I'm so sorry! My mind is running a mile a minute right now. I'm not sure what I was expecting to happen today, but this definitely wasn't it," I say, letting out a nervous laugh.

"Don't worry, you're totally fine! I can definitely say this isn't something I expected either," he smiled at me.

I finally found the courage to move, standing on wobbly legs. I hope I didn't look as unsteady as I felt. I swear if someone breathed on me I would collapse. Nonetheless, I powered through and leaned back on the table slightly for support.

"I'm Jordan," I mustered, sticking out my hand and offering a shy smile.

"Felix," he replied while reciprocating my actions.

Dropping hands, things grew slightly awkward once again.

"So... I guess we're soulmates?"

A/N: AAANNNDDD that's where I'm gonna leave this chapter :) Our two main characters have finally met, so things should start picking up here soon! Thanks again for reading!! See you guys in the next chapter :) ~youngwings-writes

#lee felix #lee yongbok #felix lee #stray kids #stray kids imagines #stray kids drabbles #stray kids felix #felix stray kids #kpop #kpop imagines #kpop drabbles #skz #youngwings-writes

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ivenedeff · 4 years

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My Family’s Fascination with FinTech

Ladies, I know that some of you have already heard about Financial technology or Fintech but you don’t know what it exactly means. It’s the new tech that improves our usage and experience in financial services. It helps, not only the business but also the consumers, better manage their financial operations and lives by utilizing specialized software on computers and smartphones. In this article I will share some real-life examples how FinTech really changed my life and made it easier and exciting.

AIRPORT BENEFITS AND SATISFACTION

My husband works on a cargo ship and most of the time he should spend a lot of hours at the airport, waiting for the next flight. I am sure that most people, traveling far away for work or for a long-awaited exotic vacation, think that this time is lost and boring. Sometimes it is.

Few years ago, my husband was really frustrated that he was denied access to an airport lounge because he had not a credit card. He had enough cash to pay for it but it was not accepted. Because of the loan, monthly fees and all other bank charges we had decided to save money and we used to have only one debit card and he gave it to me. Most of the time he is on the ship and he doesn’t have to spend money but I have to pay for all the bills and daily expenses and I needed it. Moreover, he said that he doesn’t trust international card payments and anyway he wouldn’t use it.

Nowadays there are solutions for everything and you should just to find out the perfect one for you. I asked some friends for advice and I made a search in the web and I found that we could benefit from fintech services and even more – to do it in a lower price. May be, you have heard about the innovative and trustful digital wallet services that Revolut, N26, Monese, Phyre or other companies offer. Check-out their websites and find out all the possibilities they offer. In the article I will give examples with iCard Digital Wallet app because I personally use it and I know its functions the most.

Thanks to the app my husband and I have the possibility to have our own accounts with zero monthly fees and up to three free debit cards with different currencies. We also have free virtual cards for secure online payments and we freeze them anytime we think that a scam could be made. And we are more than happy of it.

We also found out a cheaper way to have entrance to the exclusive services at the airports. Three months ago, my husband spent 6 hours at one of the fancy airport lounges in Istanbul. He paid with his exclusive but affordable iCard Visa Infinite card only 27 euros and benefited from all the privileges available when you fly abroad. He relaxed for hours in the comfortable recliner-sofas, tasted delicious treats and even had some fun playing console games with his colleague. We also had video calls because the Wi-Fi is free of charge only in the lounge. Moreover, everything was included in 27 euro price. Yes, in Istanbul they know how to take care of you. They even have three different lounges – business one, only for Turkish Airlines passengers and another one for the frequent flyers.

I was really interested in the opportunity that most of the big airports offer you such kind of lounges and I made a quick search in Google. Yes, you are privileged to enjoy the specially designed areas but only if you have a card to pay for or if it is already included in the ticket price. In these lounges you could rest, eat but not only – in some of them you could spend great time with your children at the playground; if you wish to spend your time for working instead of entertainment, there are meeting rooms at your service; the free internet access inside gives you the chance to listen music, chat with your family or friends, read online magazines or do whatever you want. If you want to find out more about the top 10 best business class airport lounges in the world, read the article.

UNEXPECTED GIFTS AND SURPRISES ALL YEAR ROUND

I really love being surprised by my beloved one and most of time I ask him to buy me a gift from the airport. I know that most of you love that feeling that makes you feel special. But sometimes men find excuses that they don’t have enough time to go to the mall and buy something especially for you, or they don’t know what exactly to purchase. My husband used to say: “Sorry, I am far away and I can’t send you a gift for your birthday or for our wedding anniversary. I will give you money ones I come home and you will buy a gift for yourself”. I had to acquiesce with this but ones a friend of mine told me that there is solution not being disappointed any more. She is also a wife of a sailor and thanks to the Fintech her husband knows that he cannot use this apology any more.

The guys from iCard take care of women in my situation. Now my husband could make a personal gift card and send it to me no matter where he is. He just has to go to the website or to use the user friendly iCard Digital wallet app available on Google Play and App store. The touching moment is that my husband uses some of our memorable photos at the front side and writes a short message that make the feeling even more special and festive. With this gift card I could go in every shop at the mall where contactless payments are accepted and to purchase the desired gift. Most of time I buy jewelry or some new fancy cloths. We live in Bulgaria and if I pay with iCard digital wallet app I buy even more gifts. iCard Welcome program gives you the chance to use discounts in the outlets where they have partnership with. Now the program is available only in Bulgaria but the partnership discounts will be available all over Europe soon.

FINTECH PAYMENTS MAKE YOU SAVE TIME AND MONEY

Do you remember the time when we had to wait on the queue paying for the utility bills or municipality taxes? Or when you had to spend a lot of time trying to transfer money for the kinder garden, helping your friends with some amount of money or supporting a cause. Nowadays, paying with your app is easier and time-saving. With several clicks you pay for everything you want and now you have time to go to the hairdresser, to do your manicure, massage or all this lady staff that every woman needs but is difficult to find time for.

You save time but with the above-mentioned app you also save money. I am not charged for donation transfers for the causes that iCard also support; the transfer taxes are lower than the traditional bank institutions; I send my besties or family money for free if they use the same app; I don’t have monthly account service fee, no online and POS payments taxes.

I think that we all agree that FinTech helps us in our dynamic life and make it easier. Even if we try to avoid it, it reminds us all the time that we have to use FinTech apps to pay for some special products or services. To me, FinTech definitely was eye-opening. Yes, sometimes it is quite difficult to get used to this kind of innovations and apps, but most of them are user friendly, there are videos showing you all the features and how to use them. I am sure that in the future there will have more and more products and services that families could benefit from only if they are a FinTech users.

#fintech #digital wallet #apps #tips and tricks #savemoney

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spiderman-homecomeme · 5 years

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Day Six - Quiet Hours

AN: I have been looking forward to this day all week, and I’m so excited to see what everyone’s done for this! I absolutely love College AUs, and would love to do more of them! Thank you @spideychelleweek for getting this all together for us!

Prompt: College AU

Here is about 4k (oops i went overboard) of fluff, college, humor, and a teensy bit of angst

“Karen, I think I’m in love.”

Peter almost couldn’t believe it.

No, he really couldn’t believe it.

She’d actually said yes.

She— girl-of-his-freakin’-dreams Michelle Jones— said yes.

Yes to a date with him.

He honestly doesn’t know how it happened, how she was able to decipher the fact that he was asking her to coffee from whatever that jumbled, painfully awkward mess was that came out of his mouth when he’d asked. And he’s not sure exactly how many times he’d said the words “cup of coffee,” in the span of a minute, but if he had to make a guess, it’d probably have been in the low-thousands.

They’d agreed to Friday at 3:30 at one of those cute coffee shops just outside of the campus.

Two days from now.

Alone.

On an actual date.

He briefly contemplates pinching himself; this has to be some kind of a dream. The polar opposite of whatever a nightmare was. He feels lighter than air as he swings from building to building, the smile under his mask threatening to burn through the fabric.

God, what a day.

He’d only just met Michelle this semester. He remembers briefly seeing her on moving day, both of her parents helping her move into the room next to his. Her father had been grumbling about the idea of a co-ed dorm, her mother playfully smacking him on the arm as she chided him about the progressing times.

And though they were neighbors, Peter only got to know her through their shared Psych 100 course. He’d nearly burst into the classroom on day one, having less than a minute to spare as he scrambled to the closest seat he could find.

He would not be late on the first day again. No, sir.

He was starting this year off right.

The girl next to him— Michelle— had thrown him a fleeting side-eye glance, though not actually looking up from sketching all over the syllabus the professor had just handed out.

Peter wished, hoped, prayed to God that she couldn’t hear him breathing like he’d just run up four flights of stairs.

(Which he had.)

He’d fumbled, the awkward energy radiating through his bones as Dr. Cabot called his name during attendance for the second time— the first he’d missed because he was too busy staring at the doodles on Michelle’s paper. The girl had snorted at his near-incoherent bumbling, disguising the huff of amused air under her hand, biting back the smirk.

The shade of red on his face almost matched the pen on her desk, his stomach erupting in butterflies at the toothy grin that flashes across her features at the speed of light, almost missing it entirely.

Okay, maybe the embarrassment wasn’t so bad.

And it seemed to go like that the rest of the fifty-minutes; him finding himself unable to take his attention away from the girl next to him, even when his eyes are trained right on Dr. Cabot as she reads the most-likely plagiarized section that’s totally ripped from other professors’ syllabi, Academic Dishonesty.

Ever since that day, it was safe to say that Peter was smitten. Embarrassingly so. He had to contain every ounce of enthusiasm that threatened to explode from his body when he’d been paired with her for the first project of the semester.

“Okay, so I figured one of us can talk about Vygotsky and the other can have Piaget. Sound good?”

Though he was making direct eye contact, listening as intently as he could, none of Michelle’s words registered, Peter way too caught up in how freaking enchanting she looked, back-lit by the hues of orange and gold provided by the early-evening sun.

Maybe working on the quad had been a mistake.

“Yo. Parker.”

Oh, great. And now he’s been caught staring. Now she knows he’s a certified, grade-A creep.

And just like that, he’s snapped right out of his daydream. “Oh! Uhm— Uh…” He stammers, mouth hanging open as he tries to figure what the hell to say, feeling himself shrink back at her expectant stare. “Wha—What?” He asks, scratching the back of his neck.

She turns her head, eyeing him from the side, brow quirked. “I asked you if that sounded good.”

“If what sounded good?”

“If one of us talked about Vygotsky and the other talked about Piaget.” There was only a hint of exasperation to her tone, something which Peter’s pretty damn thankful for. “Theory of cognitive development? You know? The project we’re supposed to be working on?”

Though, he knew she was probably way more annoyed than she let on.

And he couldn’t really blame her.

There wasn’t really anything in either psychologists’ theories about the staring at pretty girls in the sunlight stage of life.

“Oh, yeah,” he nods thoroughly. “Yeah. Of course. That sounds great.”

“Are you good?”

He wonders if his skin looks as hot as it feels. “Uh, yeahyeahyeah. Yeah. I’m good.”

Judging by the look on her face, she can see right through that bullshit. But thankfully, she doesn’t press, either completely uninterested or just unable to find it in her to even bother.

It takes a month... or two... or three, but he finally gets the guts to actually do something about his feelings when he sees her studying in the library one day, her nose buried in the pages of the textbook she’s poring over.

The library’s normally about a thousand degrees, give or take, but today it seems especially balmy as he rocks back and forth on his heels, hands wringing together as he tries to come up with any kind of coherent sentence that isn’t this inane mumbling he’s currently doing. It only takes about another three seconds of panic before he mucks up just enough courage to ask her if she’d want to get coffee sometime.

And, for whatever reason, one that is beyond him entirely, she says yes, a shy smile tugging at her lips as she stares back down at the convoluted words littering the pages.

Honest to God, he feels like he could sing every octave of Beyonce’s Love on Top at this point. With choreography.

Patrol goes on without a hitch that evening, Peter having successfully stopped a poorly thought out break-in before it even happened, the criminals actually trying to use a crowbar in this day and age to open the backdoor of some guy’s place. A few thwip-thwips here and there, some well-timed kicks and punches, and boom. Taken care of.

Easy-peasy.

Oh, he’d also helped a little boy get his balloon back after it had floated away.

And he’d prevented a shoplifter from implementing their five-finger-discount on a set of particularly expensive purses outside of one of those designer shops.

An actual car thief— he had made sure to check this time, not wanting a repeat of his early Spider-Man days— thought he was being especially sneaky before he found himself webbed to the side of the parking garage.

Overall, it’s been a pretty successful night.

And Peter can 100% account that to this new, magical, walking-on-air, invincible feeling that’s flowing through his veins, radiating from the top of his head to the very tips of his toes. The evening sun bleeds into night as he flips through the air, whooping and hollering with each leap and bound, the lights of the city twinkling around him. Maybe he throws in a few more aerial tricks and spins as he swings by a crowd, his smile growing exponentially when a chorus of cheers eggs him on.

This happy-go-lucky feeling carries him all the way back to campus, and his stomach does almost the same acrobatics that he’d done seconds before when he sees MJ exiting the library, eyes glued to her phone as she walks through the quad. He knows if he makes it back in time, he might get the chance to see her— talk to her again, for just a little bit, to catch her as she’s going into her room.

McClain Hall isn’t that far from where he’s perched on the Student Union Building, just on the northern edge of campus, the slightest bit separated from the surrounding dormitories. His own room is on along the outside perimeter, perfect for when he needs to sneak back in from a night of vigilante justice. It’s definitely a step up from Freshman year, that’s for sure.

Plus, McClain has suite style rooms, so he gets his own bathroom now, which is pretty sweet.

He lands perfectly above his window, internally fist-pumping as it slides open easily. There had been a few too many times where past-Peter had forgotten to unlock the dang thing before leaving, resulting in a very awkward, “Hey, RA, can you unlock my dorm for me? I forgot my keys in there. And yes, I also forgot… my… clothes… too…”

Since then, he’s been a lot more careful, both carrying a spare key in his utility belt, and leaving the window unlocked at all times.

He climbs in, the dark surrounding him as he lands silently, pulling his mask off and throwing it haphazardly somewhere in the room without a second thought.

Though something seems… off.

Almost instantly, he’s hit with the faint smell of perfume lingering on the air, and he briefly wonders if Ned and Betty had been here. He glances around, eyes adjusting to the light, seeing his grey sheets replaced with a deep navy.

Oh, God.

Oh, good God.

He’s such an idiot.

This isn’t his room.

Shitshitshitshitshitshit SHIT.

He doesn’t have any time to process the utter terror that starts to pulse through him, the hairs on his arms standing ramrod straight as the jingling of keys and as a soft voice is heard on the other side of the door.

In a moment of panic, he debates on whether or not he should just web the doorknob, thinking it could buy him some time. But he takes a millisecond too long trying to decide. The lock turns, and he ends up hurling himself behind the de-lofted bed as the door opens, effectively trapping himself between the wall and the wooden frame.

How he hadn’t noticed the difference in how the room was arranged when he’d first come in, he had no idea.

Never, ever, under any circumstances, was he to Spider-Man while distracted, he decides right then and there.

“—studying in the library all day. Felicia’s gone on some sisterhood trip, or whatever.” Michelle’s phone is tucked into her neck as she kicks the door shut with her foot, bypassing the main light switch and electing for the much more muted tones of her desk lamp and fairy lights.

Peter’s lungs seem to be collapsing second by second, and he briefly wonders if it’s possible that he could be having some kind of heart attack. He can see her slightly through the thin gap between the mattress and the bed frame, his stomach lurching into his chest at the sight of her.

Ohgodohgodohgod.

“Yeah… Yeah… Mhmm… Yeah, classes are fine… just three or four big midterms next week, and one of them’s a project.” She drops her backpack on the chair, her back to the intruder in her room as she puts her books back on her desk. “Yeah… Uh-huh…. Yeah…” Her tone is monotonous in response to the cheery voice on the other line, her own droning the same automated reply every few beats. “Uh, yeah. Peter’s fine… I guess?”

Instantly, the sound of his own name in a conversation that he’s not a part of in any way and kind of has no business hearing piques his interest.

There’s a hint of hesitation to her tone as she continues, as if she’s not completely sure she’s willing to divulge any more sensitive information. “I mean… I’m kind of… getting coffee with him… like a date, I think.” She pauses, holding the phone away from her ear at the excited rambling on the other end.

She thinks??

“Mom, oh my God, please stop...:” She lets out an melodramatic groan, running a hand over her face in exasperation. “I’ve told you before, I didn’t think he was interested, geez. That’s why I didn’t say anything.”

She talks to her mom about me??

His insides are a mish-mosh of this weird concoction consisting of utter horror-panic and pure unadulterated elation. It’s ultimately a very confusing feeling, and he’s not sure if he’s going to end up barfing all over her carpet out of fear or happiness. If his mask was still on he’s about 105% sure Karen would have already called an ambulance for him.

“Yeah… Yeah, okay… Listen, I’m gonna get ready for bed, take a shower. I’ll talk to you more about this later, I promise… Bye, Mom…. Yeah…. Love you, too.”

If at all possible, his anxiety seems to spike as she hangs up the phone.

MJ rolls her shoulders once, shaking her hands out as she releases a relieved sigh.

He had to get the hell out of there.

Unseen.

And alive.

His chance finally comes when she steps into her bathroom, and he waits for the sweet, wonderful, holy sound of that door clicking shut. He holds his breath, listening for any movement on the other side of the door. He’s able to pick up on her faint shuffling as she (presumably) changes out of her clothes and into nothi—

He immediately decides that he absolutely cannot think about that right now. Very dangerous territory.

When he’s sure that the coast is clear, he makes a break for it, snatching up his discarded mask as he leaps for the window.

But perhaps it would have been a better idea to listen if the shower had been turned on yet.

Before he can even get a foot on the windowsill, the bathroom door opens again, revealing his potential inamorata in nothing but a dark burgundy bathrobe. His eyes are immediately drawn to every patch of skin visible; her neck, her collarbones, her unfairly long legs.

He’s not sure who screams louder.

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING IN MY ROOM?!”

A fair question.

What the fuck is he doing in her room?

“I’M SORRY—”

“—JESUS CHRIST—”

“IT WAS AN ACCIDENT, I SWEAR— I THOUGHT YOU WERE IN THE SHOWER—”

“—SO YOU SNUCK INTO MY ROOM?”

“NO! GOD NO—”

“—HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN IN HERE?!”

Peter tries to lower his volume, hoping that she’ll follow suit. “Like maybe five minutes!”

“OH MY GOD—”

“I didn’t mean to— God— AH! I’m so sorry, MJ!”

She stops yelling, her chest heaving as she tries to catch her breath.

“How did you even get in here?! Did you seriously climb all the way—” She immediately cuts herself off, her eyes flicking to the window before giving him a quick once over that makes him feel at least fifty-times more hot under the collar than he already was. It was a wonder the suit wasn’t burnt to a crisp at this point.

He can practically see the dots as they connect in her head.

Michelle considers herself to be more perceptive than most people, which is why she’s known all along that something was up with this Parker dude. By their third or fourth week of knowing each other, she’d come to the deduction that this boy was either a crime fighting vigilante or a serial killer. Really, could have been either one. She was just glad to have at least something confirmed.

Though she would have preferred it to not be from Spider-Man himself sneaking into her room at midnight when she’s wearing nothing but a bathrobe.

“It’s not what it looks like!!” Peter immediately tries to derail her train of thought, hands held out in defense. “It’s uh— not mine.” He stares blankly at her, his expression wide in sheer terror as he scrambles for an answer. “Yeah.” He trails off, his eyes momentarily drawn the the trail of skin from her neck down to the valley between her—

No. No no no. Stop that.

She fixes him with a calculating stare, eyes narrowing as she quirks a doubtful brow. “Then who’s is it?”

His scoff is nothing if not a little over-the-top, his expression scrunching slightly as if the answer’s obvious. “Spider-Man’s.”

Her only response is a slow, deliberate blink.

“Who I am definitely not. I just make the suits,” Peter quickly spits out, and he starts to shrink back the longer her eyes are on him. “Just… Just test driving... the new model… Because I’m his suit… crafter… guy....”

He’s met with another blink. “Are you done?” She asks.

There really was no way out of this.

Peter sighs dejectedly. “Yeah…”

“Tell me something, Parker.” Her tone is a bit too casual for comfort. “Do I look stupid?”

“No! God, no!” He groans, running a tense hand through his hair. “You’re like the smartest person I’ve ever met! Just…” He brings his volume down even more, though he doesn’t seem to know what to say, mouth opening and closing as he struggles to form a coherent sentence.

He decides that there’s really nothing he can say, nothing that can convince her that he’s not a superhero.

A sharp exhale escapes him as he finally looks up at her, eyes pleading. “Promise you won’t tell anyone?”

“What? That Spider-Man’s a creep who sneaks into girl’s dorms?”

“No!!” Peter shouts, voice cracking. “I mean, I don’t sneak into—Ugh! That’s not what I— God, I meant don’t tell anyone that I’m—” His mouth snaps shut, lips pressed together as he lets out a sharp exhale. He glances right and left, voice now barely above a whisper. “Spider-Man.”

She’d almost be amused if it weren’t for the way her ears and skin burned in embarrassment at being caught in just a bathrobe by the cute boy she likes. “Yeah. Sure. Whatever.”

He seems to notice her discomfort. “Michelle, I’m so sorry, I—” And it’s then that he starts rambling. “And I just got so excited about our date and I just wasn’t thinking clearly… like at all, and I usually sneak back into my room after patrol and since we’re neighbors and everything I guess I just got confused, which doesn’t usually happen, I promise this has never happened, and then I didn’t know what to do and all of a sudden you’re in here and I’m hiding behind your bed and— “ He takes a deep breath, hanging his head in shame. “God, I’m such an idiot!”

There’s a sharp knocking on the door; Peter nearly jumps out of his skin, and MJ seems just as jarred.

“RA on duty,” A firm voice calls from the other side of the door. “It’s quiet hours.”

“I should— I should, uh…” Peter stumbles over his words, unable to take his eyes off of the girl in front of him. “I should go back… to my room.”

“Oh, uhm— Yeah.” MJ nods awkwardly. She gestures to the door, eyebrows raising in question.

Peter shakes his head, breathing out a shaky chuckle. “Oh, no… I’ll just go back the way I came.” He throws a thumb over his shoulder before planting his hands on his hips, giving a firm nod.

It really stings how she doesn’t even look at him as she mumbles out another near-silent, “Yeah.”

And he leaves without another word.

Man, he knew that Parker luck was something that had plagued his family for years and years, but he hadn’t expected it to hit so hard all at once. It had been quite a while since he’d fucked up that badly, so he thought he was in the clear. Maybe that had been his first mistake of many. Maybe he shouldn’t have let his guard down.

A pit forms in his stomach, twisting and pulling in a vice-like grip as he returns to his own room.

And now, the girl-of-his-dreams Michelle Jones, because he had been so lost in his own thoughts, because of his complete lapse in basic attention, probably wanted nothing to do with him. He knew he didn’t need to ask if their date was still on, and truthfully, he couldn’t really blame her, given that he’d invaded her personal space and embarrassed her. No, he didn’t expect her to want anything to do with him now. Especially not after the way she’d yelled at him.

There’s been plenty of times that Peter’s fucked up, almost too many to count. But this… This was up there.

He doesn’t hear from her the next day, nor the day after, only seeing her when she comes to Psychology class that Friday. He can’t even bring himself to actually look at her when she sits in her usual spot next to him.

He mopes about the rest of the day, knowing full well that it’s his own stupid fault. Ned points this out, though he tries to remain sympathetic as he agrees that yes, Peter’s an absolute dumbass sometimes.

But Ned also suggests actually talking to MJ about all this.

Peter immediately shoots that down.

Instead, he decides to do the rest of his moping at the campus Starbucks, cheek resting against his hand as he reads the same sentence about the zone of proximal development over and over, his vanilla latte completely forgotten in all of his sulking.

“Why the long face?”

Her voice startles him out of his brooding state, and he immediately looks up, heart thumping in his ears as his eyes land on one Michelle Jones, two coffees in either hand.

“Uh—” Peter’s response isn’t his smoothest. He blinks in surprise, briefly wondering if he might be dreaming. “I—” His voice cuts off, finding that he can only stare up at her with this dopey, blank expression.

“What? You thought I forgot?” She lifts her index finger from the side of one of the cups, pointing to her watch. “It’s 3:30. I’m right on time.”

A small smirk tugs at the corner of her lips, though she still seems to wait for his invitation to sit, the faintest hint of insecurity behind her eyes.

Finally, Peter smiles back up at her, a breathless, shy chuckle escaping him. Her smirk turns into a full grin, and she pulls the chair out with her foot, setting both cups of coffee down as she sits.

“I gotta say,” Peter starts, eyebrows pulled together in happy confusion. “I’m kinda surprised you still wanted to… get coffee with me. After… After, well, you know… I’m so, so sorry about that. Again.”

Michelle pushes one of the cups to him, taking a thoughtful sip from her own. “Eh, it’s fine.”

“Really?” Peter asks, pitched raised in minor disbelief. “I mean,” He pauses, huffing in amusement and slight embarrassment at his previous actions. “I’m kind of a dumbass.”

She shrugs, a playful glint in her eyes as she glances up from behind the cup. “Yeah,” She agrees readily after a moment’s contemplation. “You are.”

They both laugh quietly.

No argument there.

“But… I’ve been thinking about it.” She puts her cup down, bracing both elbows on the table as she leans forward slightly, her voice incredibly nonchalant. “I think I kinda have a thing for dumbasses.”

“Oh? Really?” He breathes, butterflies in his stomach erupting.

“Uh-huh.” MJ nods, eyes squinting as she fixes him with another sly smirk. “Especially ones that look that good in a skin-tight onesie.”

Peter’s sure his face could blend in with said onesie if he was actually wearing it, and he nearly chokes on his new latte.

She tries to hide the snort that comes out of her, but fails miserably.

“Well, don’t worry,” Peter lets out another, slightly less nervous, laugh, firing finger guns at the girl across from him, attempting a not-so-smooth wink. “There’s way more dumbassery where that came from.”

Her lips press together in a thin, yet incredibly cute smile that makes Peter’s heart soar, a welcome warmth washing over his body. “Good,” She says through a quiet laugh, shaking her head at him as she takes another sip from her coffee.

Yup, he’s definitely in love.

#spideychelleweek2k19 #spideychelle #petermj #peter parker #michelle jones #fic #peter parker x michelle jones #college au #i hope you liked it!!#i had so much fun writing it #i want to write more!!

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duskowithapen · 4 years

Text

Day Nine: Illness

Fandom: The Mandalorian

Pairing: Platonic Din Djarin and OC (AySo)

Sequel to You Remind Me Of The Babe (The Babe With The Power)

Read on AO3

Read on Fanfiction

Bedside Manner

“No, no, no, no, no! What in the Sith hells do you think you are doing? Were you raised by dire wolves? When you are this ill, you do not get out of bed, and you do not try to go bounty hunting!” AySo stood outside the closed refresher door. Even though the Mandalorian could not see them, they still placed both hands on their hips, channelling the demeanour of all the Rebel nurses they had so often not listened too.

The Mandalorian’s response? The sound of dry heaving.

AySo had only been travelling on the Razor Crest for a standard month and five days. They had largely avoided the bounty hunter, spending most of their time upgrading the ship and entertaining the infant – they had been banned from calling him ‘Magic Baby.’ The Mandalorian communicated with them sparingly. He would greet them in the morning with a handful of rations and a stern word to not shut the ship down while still in flight (which they only did once), and then would not speak to them until the night cycle. 16 standard day cycles ago, he thanked them for removing the infant’s data from the Imperial systems they’d found – thus preventing any more tracking fobs from being created. It did not impact those already in circulation, but AySo was also working on that. Five standard day cycles ago, the Mandalorian placed an extra blanket on them during their sleep cycle. They were still unused to the temperature drops on the ship, and as a cold-blooded individual, found it difficult to regulate their internal temperature. Neither of them have since spoken about the incident.

But today their dynamic changed. Today AySo was disturbed during their daily systems check by the infant, who had pulled them towards the closed refresher door with his Force. There, the Mandalorian and AySo argued through the durasteel as to the necessity of bounty hunting.

“We need the credits,” The Mandalorian groaned. It was strange for them to hear his voice without the modulator.

“You require rest, Mandalorian. You are in no shape to leave the ship!”

The infant agreed with them, patting the door with one clawed hand. He was looking distressed – perhaps he had never seen the Mandalorian in such a state. And speaking of seeing…

“Mandalorian, please let me in so I may determine what ails you.” They may not be specifically designed for medical procedure, but AySo could access the entire Holonet, as well as many enterprise systems – it was quite easy for them to download some of the necessary programming to administer first aid.

“No,” was the response, alongside the sporadic dry heaving.

“I understand that you are wary of me seeing you without your helmet, but there are ways –”

“No.”

“I can shift the perception of my eyes to infrared vision. With the sensitivity at its lowest setting, your facial features would be impossible to discern. I do not require my eyes to properly determine the cause for your illness.”

“I do not remove my helmet in front of others. This is the way.”

AySo’s capacitators were beginning to overheat in frustration. The excess chemicals were beginning to build up in their systems – they would need to shift it to their first stomach and purge it. “I am not completely organic, Mandalorian. I do not count as a humanoid to many societies and governments, and thus you would not be breaking your vow if you did remove your helmet before me. However, that becomes a moot point if I am unable to see your face.” More of their organic voice slipped through there, creating a vaguely uncomfortable pulling sensation where their natural vocal cords had been fused with a voice modulator.

There was silence. Then, “Put the kid back in his bunk first. And is there a way for me to tell if you’ve turned your eyes off?”

“I have been reliably informed that my eyes turn dark green when I activate the infrared programming. As I do not believe in abstract concepts as many humanoids do, I cannot swear by them, but I respect you too much to deceive you in such a way, Mandalorian. Please allow me a moment to secure the infant.” AySo looked down at the infant and the corners of their lips shifted upwards by five degrees. “It is time for you to relax in your bunk, tiny child.”

The infant didn’t protest as AySo shut the bunk hatch, ensuring that he had his toys – the silver ball from the thrust lever, a ball made of sticks and the pale blue padded creature (*Krill: A delicacy common on the planet Sorgan, it is cultivated in ponds with a water solution of --*). Returning to the refresher, AySo also picked up a small water container. The Mandalorian would probably appreciate it after involuntarily purging himself.

They took a deep breath, despite being largely unnecessary. This would not be comfortable. They sent the correct line of code to the subroutine directing all ocular operations, and a whimper was torn from their throat as a stinging sensation built up in their eye sockets. Changing the visuals to infrared required a shift of the equipment within the eye. It was not painless. Their nictitating membrane slid across the surface of their eyes three times. It did not register in their vision. The heat signatures of the ship were coming in correctly. Carefully AySo dialled the sensitivity down until their vision consisted of various red, orange and yellow blurs.

A small shape was faintly visible through the durasteel hatch of the bunk. A larger blur was visible through the refresher door. Interestingly, the figure appeared to be missing a head. The Mandalorian must have replaced his helmet – inadvisable, given the sporadic nature of his continual purging. It would create quite a mess should he be unable to remove his helmet in time.

“The infant is contained and my infrared vision program working successfully. If you would not mind opening the door?”

The figure did not move for a moment. Then two thin shapes reached up to remove the helmet, revealing the rest of the body. Then there was the sound of a door opening, and the figure became brighter. The Mandalorian was predominately shades of yellow and bright greens from torso to feet, but their head and hands lit up bright red. Immediate alerts were set off in their new first aid systems.

“Mandalorian, you are currently suffering from a fever of approximately 40 degrees,” They announced, before slowly walking forwards. “I will require skin contact to accurately determine your temperature and illness, but based off your symptoms, it seems to be a severe case of gastroenteritis.”

The figure shifted, taking a step backwards into the refresher. “AySo, your eyes…”

“I assure you, they are functioning completely at an infrared level. I cannot determine any of your facial features, or indeed, many details about your person at all.”

“The skin around your eyes is swollen.” The Mandalorian’s voice seemed worse now that the barrier of the refresher door was gone. He took another step back and twisted, leaning over the refresher bowl once more.

AySo stumbled forward, lower leg colliding with a box they had not detected, before catching themselves on the door frame. They reached in and pressed the flat of their hand against the figure’s back, rubbing in slow circles. “According to research and accounts on the Holonet, this assists in the purging process.” They ignored the tension in the muscles.

After a moment of hanging over the bowl, the Mandalorian pulled back with a groan. AySo passed him the water container and sat down themselves. Taking the figures unoccupied arm, they groped around before finding the fingers. They were so small in comparison to the rest of the body – with the sensitivity settings as low as they were, the fingers were barely visible. “You have clammy hands. You have been regularly vomiting across a two hour and 42 minute time period. You are experiencing a high fever. Are you also experiencing any cramps or other pains?”

“My head hurts,” The Mandalorian muttered after a moment. “And my legs…”

“Based on the evidence, and the lack of other symptoms, I believe you are indeed suffering from gastroenteritis. If you give me a moment to hack into the Felucian government systems…” A line of code snaked through the last firewall. They had been working on this program from the moment they entered the atmosphere at 1.14pm Felucian time, but it had not been a priority until now. Their unique multi-orientated probe – the one which gave them the hacker tag Hydra – began to send them data packets after securing a backdoor into the system for later analysis. “There has been a gastroenteritis outbreak among the general population as of one standard week ago. You must have come in contact with something you should not have while gathering information on the bounty.”

The Mandalorian groaned and the glowing figure shifted to press more of their exposed skin against the durasteel.

Ah. A headache. AySo manipulated their vocal modulator to speak at a lower decibel. “My apologies Mandalorian. I shall gather supplies – please drink as much water as you can stomach. You require the liquids. While I am adept at inserting intravenous lines, I do not wish to do so.”

Leaving the refresher made AySo appreciate the stabilisers in their legs. Walking with such a handicap was uncomfortable. In the small eating area, they found a larger container to hold water, a packet that hopefully held a bland ration bar, the first aid kit, and a cloth. Passing back through the hull, they collected their blankets from the corner.

While the Mandalorian had offered them a bunk, they had refused and instead bedded down on the floor. From what AySo had read of the Uraei, they preferred to sleep in ‘nests’ rather than beds like other species, due to their habit of curling and stretching their limbs during REM sleep. AySo preferred it because the tight area of the bunk reminded them too much of the augmentation pods.

AySo handed the Mandalorian the water container before trying to sit down themselves. The heat they registered from the idling engines and passive electronics threw off their sense of where the floor began. This made their slide to the ground much less graceful than preferred.

“Here.” They carefully submerged the cloth into the water before pressing it into the Mandalorian’s hand. “One suggested method of relief is placing a wet cloth across your forehead and eyes. It should help relieve your headache.” As the Mandalorian busied themselves with that, creating a blue area on their head, AySo placed down the ration bar and first aid kit.

“Once you are feeling better, I will require your assistance with the first aid kit. According to my records, there should be a blister pack of penicillin in there, but I currently lack the ability to find it.”

The Mandalorian’s head rolled a little on his shoulders. “Do you need some?”

AySo felt their nictitating membrane cross their eyes. “No, it would assist in reducing your symptoms. Why do you think I need it?”

His hand lifted in the direction of his face, shifting a little before dropping back down. “Your eyes. They were swollen.”

Another blink. AySo carefully probed the area around their eyes, relying on the sensors within their fingertips for information. Ah. There was some inflammation from the shifting mechanics within their eye sockets – the muscles and nerves were unused to the changes and had triggered a response within their immune system. The alert had been lost in the coding for the probe and deciphering the infrared information. It was the work of a moment to recover it. “It is simply minor inflammation from changing my ocular function. It will decrease with time.”

“Changing your eyes caused you pain?” There was something akin to concern within the Mandalorian’s voice – AySo couldn’t get a proper vocal baseline to accurately analyse any changes in his tone. He patted through the first aid kit and removed what AySo assumed was the penicillin. He then proceeded to swallow two tablets with a sip of water.

“Not a pain I am unused to,” they explained, “An organic body does not easily accept mechanical enhancements.” This conversation was becoming uncomfortable – they were not used to people inquiring about their state of being. “Are you feeling improved?”

“A little.”

“Then I ask that you relax. If you will please sit up and away from the wall for a moment?” Ignoring the Mandalorian’s confusion, AySo tucked their nest blankets between the figure and the durasteel. With prompting and assistance, he was even able to support his own weight enough to tuck the blankets beneath his body.

AySo flattened the fabric across the Mandalorian’s legs in a fashion they could recall seeing in the Rebel infirmary before standing. “Now, to assist in your recovery, I shall go and collect the bounty.”

That seemed to shock the Mandalorian out of whatever stupor he had fallen into, as he immediately began to struggle with the blankets, upsetting AySo’s work. “What? You can’t collect a bounty!”

“I may not find any kind of enjoyment in it, but I am capable,” they said as they crossed the room to the weapons cabinet. There was some kind of twisted pride running through their processor at their ability to correctly determine the position of the Amban rifle through touch. Twisted because it was something they did not wish to take pride in – if they never had to touch a weapon for the rest of their life, it would be preferable. “Please add more water to the cloth at regular intervals – it will be of no assistance to you when hot.”

“Have you ever taken in a bounty before?” The Mandalorian groaned, seemingly ignoring their words. He was now half in and half out of the refresher.

“I may not have collected a bounty before,” AySo began as they readied and holstered the rifle via muscle memory, “But I have experience in disabling individuals from a distance.” They turned in the direction of the red/yellow figure and smiled, revealing their sharp teeth. “You never asked me what my name was.”

The Mandalorian went stiff. “I was under the impression that your name was AySo.”

“That is the name I prefer to use. However, my full designation is CAI-AS097. CAI was the program I was a part of – the Confederate Augmentation Initiative. The 097 was my identification number – regiment and ranking. AS however? That stood for my position – Augmented Sniper.”

#The Mandalorian #ao3 #WritersMonth2020 #day 9 illness #sickfic #AySo #chapter one

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maxs-muses · 5 years

Text

Tailor

A small ficlet I made for @ask-elementalhermitcraft ‘s AU!

This is just how I picture Rendog’s reskin would go in this universe.

Mostly just a slice of life, and hermits being hermits. (And Wind being Wind.)

___________

It’s been a while since the war ended.

In fact, it was more than ‘a while’. It was a good deal of time that had passed, and the majority of the hermits had taken the time to relax in whatever way seemed fit-be it working hard, “retiring” (and subsequently, un-retiring), or legitimately relaxing.

Time didn’t mean much to The Wind. Sure it was aware of its existence, and its passage, but its main concern was usually itself. However, for its partner, Grian, things were a little bit different. He was alive, and fully ready to continue with his most recent projects, alongside Mumbo: The Sahara Project. Of course, he can’t do it alone-and so they had made the decision to invite Iskall to Architech, their group.. it had gone swimmingly, and the new addition to their group, he knew, would ensure that things go even better. Yes, things were going great-and that wasn’t even taking into account his new ‘Sherlock Grian’ thing. The Wind seemed to think the name was fitting... Well, at least he was able to custom tailor a suit fit for his wings. He’s had to get good at that... as these thoughts ran through his head, Grian received a notification on his communicator:

[Renthedog: Hey, Grian? May we speak for a bit?]

Grian blinked in confusion. He hasn’t spoken to Ren much-apart from helping him deconstruct the fatal rollercoaster on the railway station.

[Grian: Sure thing! Let’s meet in over at my base?]

[Renthedog: Sounds great, be there soon!]

Grian paused, thinking. What could he want?

_______________

Grian awaited Ren in his base, wings twitching ever-so-slightly. He doesn’t know why he feels so nervous... The Wind swirled around him comfortingly, and he felt himself relax slightly. It would all be okay-the days of animosity are behind them. Ren’s arrival was heralded by a firework going off, and he slowly swooped down into Grian’s base. Grian smiled at the sight of him-but then paused. Ren’s clothes were... not in the best state, to put it kindly. Rips, tears, and hastily stitched-up seams marred his ensemble.

Grian furrowed his brows. “Hey Ren! What’s up?”

He continued his examination of his clothing. Ren shifted, adjusting the sunglasses gifted to him by Mumbo. “Well... you see, I’ve been wearing these clothes for a while now, and they-well-you know-aren’t in that great of shape...” Not in that great of shape was putting it kindly, in Grian’s opinion. “And-I noticed that you have a lot of outfits, and I was... I was wondering if you could help me make one.”

Grian paused slightly, thinking. Then, a smile broke on his face. “Sure thing! I’m down to help.” It would be nice, having a non-building project going on... a nice change of pace.

The Wind, particularly, was excited. It had been the one to help Grian design his many outfits using various materials they found. The only thing it seemed to lack was utterly awful fashion sense-thankfully, this was usually tempered by Grian. The Wind snapped its attention back to reality as its Favored began to speak. “Why don’t you come on up to my greenery room, and we can think things over better there? It’s got much better atmosphere.” That it does...

_____________

Ren breathed in the fresh air of the top floor of Grian’s base. It was a stark difference from the rest of it, with grass and trees all around opposing the aesthetically pleasing, but harsh, concrete, the happy chirps of the parrots and somewhat out of place clucks of a chicken contrasting with the rushing water and vaguely technological background noise of the other levels. Privately, he thought this was a great addition to his base of operations... Ren turned at the sound of a swooping set of wings, and smiled at the sight of Grian-fittingly, dressed in something somewhat resembling a tailor.

“Lookin’ good, dude!”

Grian beamed. “Thanks! Now.. let’s get started!”

__________________

The wind churned, spreading its awareness out in boredom. Happy though it was its Chosen was interacting with the ‘Hermits’, it was always so much fun to go on flights with him... but at the moment, he was simply helping one of them reconfigure his outfit. The Wind turned its ‘gaze’ for a moment, and couldn’t stop a feeling of amusement at the sight of the hermit in a... cow outfit, of all things. Grian was, it seemed, equal parts disgusted and amused, and seemed to be struggling with the choice of laughing or being sick. He settled for a cough, and for telling the other to get that abomination off.

The Wind felt proud of its Chosen-goodness knows it was hard at first to get interactions going... it spared a chance to brush up against Grian’s side in an almost playful manner. He in turn chuckled, slapping at the air slightly. “Pff. Hey. Where ya been?” The Wind ‘laughed’, and didnt reply. Grian, in turn, huffed. “Fine, be that way... ah. Also, I’ve had some ideas for materials we might need, and I’m gonna go over them with Ren... can you go gather them while we work here?” The Wind hummed in acknowledgement and whooshed off to locate said materials...

__________________

“Aaaaand.... finished!”

Grian beamed at their handiwork. Ren, in particular, felt like a new man-who wouldn’t, when one’s ensemble underwent such a dramatic change.

“Grian, this is awesome! Lovin’ the wristwatch.”

Grian and the Wind chuckled. “At the moment, it’s essentially just a block of fakeness-but if you want you can try to combine a Clock with it, well, who knows!” Ren laughed as well. Grian grinned and continued. “Also, the threads were coated in some special slime I got from Iskall-it shouldn’t tear very easily. By that I mean, very few things can rip through it.”

Ren’s eyes glittered under the shades. “Sweet, I’m immortal.”

Grian did a comical double take. “A-Wh-No wait!”

Rendog, who had his trident out jokingly, laughed. “Kidding, dude, sorry.”

Grian exhaled, shaking his head. “Ahh.. right. Seriously, though, be careful.”

Ren smiled. “Of course, dude. This diggity dog ain’t gonna just stab himself to see if the threads would hold up.” Grian nodded. “Yeah...”

A small silence fell momentarily. It was surprisingly comfortable. Ren yawned. “Well... I should be headin’ back home. This whole clothing marathon worked me out!”

Grian smiled. “Heh, same here... see ya, dude!”

Ren smirked, and tipped his shades. “Seeya!” And then, he was gone. And Grian let out a tired breath.

The Wind carefully took hold of him... then sent multiple well angled gusts to throw Grian down the hole, around the bottom base area, up just because, and plummeting down only for Grian to land an inch from the ground on a comfortable patch of air. Grian, understandably windswept and shocked, took a moment to recover before shaking his head in mirth. “Someone’s feisty tonight, eh?” The Wind ‘chuckled’. “Ah.. thanks for helping me out with Ren, by the way.” Grian’s eyes glinted teasingly. “Of course, when anyone else is involved, you immediately go and collect ingredients... and when it’s me, I suddenly crash into hillsides and builds for no reason.”

Grian was shoved off of the air pillow, and he promptly laughed. “Heh. Love ya too.” Yawning, he headed to his bed.

____________________

As Ren flew back to his area under the peaceful moonlight, he noticed that this was the most streamlined and least danger inducing elytra flight he’s ever had.

#elemental hermits au #hermitcraft #grian #rendog #my writing

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howtohero · 4 years

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#242 Teen Teams (Teens Read This!)

Are you a teen? Are you tired of going to school like some kind of dorkus mcflorkus? Would you rather be outside, riding dragons and punching skull monsters (this is monsters made of skulls)? I bet you would! Because you’re a cool kid and fighting skull monsters is cooler than sitting in class learning anatomy or math like a nerd! (Learning anatomy in a world populated by dragons and skull monsters is basically futile anyway. Like a mad scientist can wake up tomorrow and decide that anatomy isn’t important and design an entirely new lifeform and all that class time will have been wasted!) Well do we have the solution for you! You should become a superhero! Get together with all your other cool hip friends and form your very own crime fighting force! The bad guys won’t know what hit them when you roll up in your carpool to foil their crimes. So what are you waiting for? Get out there and form a teen team!

Tean teems are the best because there are no adults on the team. It says so right in the name. If an adult even tries to get on this team full of teenagers just call them a creep and push them down a flight of stairs. That’s basically crime fighting right there. We all know what no adults means of course, it means no rules! Nobody to give you a bedtime or tell you to do your homework or warn you against using a flaming club as your weapon of choice. So what if the fire will eventually consume the wood and probably burn your hand? That sounds like a science thing. And science is for nerds.

Teen teams are the perfect place of teens of all stripes who just want to fight some crimes. Teenagers who were pressed into fighting criminals at a young age by a surly old man in a onesie? Welcome to the club. Children who just want a somewhat positive outlet for their violent tendencies? Come on down. Cool teens who want to solve mysteries with their pals but would also like to be wearing some sort of costume while doing it? We think you’ll find yourself right at home! If you’re a teen who also would like there to be less crimes, go out and join a teen team! Or form one yourself, there’s literally nothing stopping you. If an adult superhero tries to stop you “in order to protect you” all you need to do is flip them the double bird and do a backflip out the nearest window. Or hit them in the shins with your skateboard and then skateboard out the window. Either way, once you do that they physically won’t be able to stand in your way anymore.

Being part of a teen team is way better than being a teenage member of an adult superhero team. Teenagers on regular teams tend to be relegated to more of a sidekick or support role. And that’s the last place a teenager wants to be. Teenagers aren’t supportive and don’t have any desire to be, and that’s beautiful. Adult superheroes will force you to stay back at the base, or do crowd control, or maintain the team’s social media account (yet, for some reason, take issue with all of the quality memes you’re posting on the account at their expense). That’s not what you want to do. That’s not what you were meant to do. I mean, for crying out loud! You’re nearly fourteen and a half! That’s plenty old enough to leave the base and try to best immortal serial killers at hand to hand combat. What’s the worst that can happen to you! You’re a child! You’re not going to die. Dying is for old people. If I’ve learned anything from the Jurassic Park (don’t date yourself) World franchise it’s that children can’t die!

Another super nifty thing about being part of a teen team is all the free lessons you’re going to learn through your adventures. Sure, fighting HAL is all well and good, but any superhero can fight HAL. Only a super cool team of teenagers with attitude can learn an important moral lesson from fighting HAL. (Sorry, is it clear to everybody that HAL stands for Hyenas Against Laughter? It is? Ok great, just figured I’d check.) Through adventuring with your fellow teenagers you guys will learn important lessons about teamwork, mutual respect, and that sometimes you’ve just gotta accept that the weird quiet girl on the team is the daughter of an actual demon who tries to take over the world every 25 years and that sometimes he’s gonna swing by the ol’ base to drop off her laptop or some clothes that she left at his apartment last time she was there for the weekend. Adults don’t get to learn important life lessons from fighting crime. They just get sweaty and tired. They simply don’t have the energy to learn anything after surviving and repelling an attack from the Haunted Houseboat. (Hyenas Against Laughter is a coalition of hyenas that believes that humanity stole laughter from hyenas and so they have declared war on human comedy in all its forms. For some reason they have yet to turn their attention towards us. Rude.) Just another reason why teenagers are better than stupid adults.

Living with a bunch of teenagers and no adults also means that your hideout is going to be totally wicked sick. Put your team headquarters on your own private island, or in the side of a mountain with a really cool name like “Mt. Awesome” or “McCoolsVille Mountain” (or “Mt. Mountain” to be edgy and subversive). Get yourself a huge sofa and a huge tv and like four pool tables and a refrigerator just filled with chocolate pudding. Make your hideout so dang cool that when older superheroes come to chew you out for having a glow in the dark exterior that very blatantly publicizes your location to any villain in a 300 mile radius, they’ll be so floored by how cool your place is that they’ll completely forget about reprimanding you. Put a giant dragon statue on your roof. Yeah.

If normal life is getting you down, and you’ve got superpowers, and you don’t wanna commit crimes, then joining a team of teenage superheroes is the best move you could possibly make! You’ll meet loads of interesting people. You’ll make the world better while learning valuable lessons about taking responsibility for your actions and why adopting every weird ooze monster that the bad guys leave behind is a bad idea. Plus, you’ll live in like a floating castle or something. A floating castle with a floating chocolate pudding moat. It’s gonna be aaaaawwwweeeesooooommmmeeeee!!!!

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userseokkie · 5 years

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The tank top means “back in hardware mode”

So, after speaking with @starkravinghazelnuts about Tony's fate in the Benatar I gave a lot of thought about how this might turn out, because like everyone is coming up with a lot of different theories and we’re probably gonna dissect them all to death before April comes lmao

My take is not brand new by any means, but after going over it like a thousand times I see no other possibility. For this to work, I have some pre-established notions. One, no Tony is not going to die from oxygen deprivation. Two, the message he sent to Pepper (and to others possibly) doesn’t work like a beacon. I’ll explain this later. Three, Nebula can endure way more than him, because of her modifications and her being an alien race and all. And four, he is not giving up. Yes, the message sounds like a last goodbye, like Tony is really ready to face death and is at peace with it. But I think that’s only because at that point in the movie, he really believes there’s not any other option. After all, isn’t he the Futurist?

Basically, I believe Tony is going to build an armor before he even gets back to Earth or somebody finds him and Nebula. As @starkwest so expertly pointed out in their post, right now the Benatar is Tony’s cave in Afghanistan all over again. He has nothing but a box of scraps and his will to save the world. If suddenly, before they run out of oxygen, it came into the conversation that oh, I don’t know, there’s a certain place where the best weapons in the universe are forged, wouldn’t Tony be all over that? Nebula knows Nidavellir exists. She may not know Tony is a mechanic, but she does know where Nidavellir is and what gets made there. Of course Nidavellir wasn’t randomly introduced just because in Infinity War, with so many things happening in that movie each location that was picked had a very important purpose. So I’m pretty confident it is going to appear again in Endgame.

Thinking about this, I rewatched the trailer 20 times and I also wondered where tf that tank top came from. Taking into account the last outfit we see Tony wearing in IW, which is the windbreaker and he doesn't have a shirt underneath, that makes me think this tank top is a very deliberate choice. We don’t know how Tony and Nebula got in that ship, but I’m guessing if Tony had any nanotubes left he would use them to repair the ship, or even his helmet so he can record messages. He wouldn’t waste them on new clothes. To me, the tank top represents Tony going back into “hardware mode” and I think the audience has come to associate Tony in a tank top with Tony the mechanic.

(gifs by marveledits)

The marvel styling department is big on continuity, so if Tony is straight out of Titan in that ship, wouldn’t it make more sense to have him wear the same windbreaker? He might have changed with clothes from the Benatar, but it’s a pretty big coincidence that the first thing he finds is a tank top. Hmm... wonder what the Russos are trying to allude to in here.

So, moving on, I know there’s some talk about how Tony sent nano satellite probes into deep space to scan for imminent threats. This is NEVER addressed in the movies, which bugs me because you’re expected to read novelizations and comic tie-ins and whatnot, but fine, let’s work with it. Tony is a futurist, we know that, so it would make sense that he did this to prepare. This helps the distress signal get to Earth, I believe, which is how it reaches Pepper and the Avengers. But like Clint says, ‘a door opens from both sides’. So the same way the satellites let Tony send messages, they should also let him receive them, right? What if they also allowed him to make a scanning network, by receiving signals designed to calibrate a wavelength or an energy sign? Where I’m going with this, is Tony designing an algorithm to track big ass energy signs. Say, as big as the ones a dying star in a forge would be sending.

Nebula can resist harsh conditions better than Tony, and she’s also an amazing pilot. So if she decided to land on Nidavellir, (which granted, I have yet to come up with an explanation as to how they’d get there, given that the Benatar supposedly ran out of fuel), she could get out there and get the forge going. Who knows if Eitri survived the snap? If he did, he’s already convinced of the importance his job has thanks to Thor, so it makes sense that he’d help out. If he didn’t, well that’s pretty sad but then the star is abandoned and there’s no one else around (because Thanos killed all the other dwarfs). Since Nidavellir has its own gravity, I am choosing to believe it has some sort of atmosphere as well... so that’s the oxygen problem solved lmao.

That leads us to the armor Tony might build, which could be done with the helped of Nidavellir’s number one natural resource: Uru. In the comics, Tony is the first human to work with Uru and actually make it work. He’s also said to discover the affinity Uru has for magical enchantments, and helps out in the construction of the Thorbuster armor. My guess is the Russos are going to make a mashup of the Thorbuster and the Godkiller armor. Per the Marvel wiki: “The [Godkiller] suit provides its user with enough power to physically confront a Dark Celestial for a limited period of time, and it’s capable of lifting one of these off the ground. The armor additionally possesses repulsor blasts and flight capabilities. It's capable of interplanetary flight, traveling from Mars to Earth in a matter of minutes.” Coincidentally, the Godkiller armor MK II is currently appearing in Avengers Vol 8 (issues #5 and #6) where it first made an entrance. Seems timely enough.

I don’t know what will happen from there. My guess is Carol and Steve (along with Nat and Thor possibly?) do make it to space, and they do find Tony. I don’t think Carol is going to just stumble into Tony whilst strolling around space, but I do know Carol is also a key to find Tony. From past experience, one thing I know for sure: the Russos are not going to just give us the Tony/Avengers reunion we so desperately want. I know they are going to drag it out, for sure. Those guys are so scared of what a Tony and Steve reunion might look like, they scrapped like three different scripts for IW before deciding to just not have it altogether. Also, it builds the tension even more: Will Tony make it? So to me, it’s not as simple as just having Steve and co. find Tony in space in the first 20 minutes of the film.

So yeah, this is my hot take on the events transpiring in the trailer. I mean who knows, maybe they’ll pull an IW on us and put the first shot of Tony at the very end of the film, just like they did with the Titan scene.

#endgame #avengers 4 speculation #marvel talk #endgame spoilers #tony stark #mcu

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