#and the yellow spots over the green reference dart :') | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

doomfox · 2 years

Text

Containment

Wade didn’t know exactly when he’d lost consciousness. Couldn’t remember right now. His eyes gummed open and he blinked dumbly, and he growled softly as his head pounded. He closed his eyes again and just lay there, on something soft, breathing heavily as though exhausted. Maybe he should just lay here... go back to sleep... hopefully the boys wouldn’t wake him back up.

Wade’s eyes snapped open, suddenly focused. The boys. Shadow, Silver, Eclipse. Wade painfully attempted to right himself, one clawed hand flapping at the ground. Metal tapped beneath his claws, the cool surface meeting his palm. Wade blinked, the lights surrounding him dim but still hurting his sensitive eyes. He observed his surroundings - plain, grey metal, bare walls. He lay on a single blue mat in the middle of the room. The wall before him seemed like a large pane of glass, presently blank.

A cell. It had to be.

Wade swallowed as he remembered government agents swarming his house. They had weapons. Dart guns, and real firearms. He’d fought to get the boys to safety. The last he’d seen of them was when they’d escaped through one of their ring-portals... and Wade had taken a barrage of darts in the back. The portal had closed before he finally passed out.

And now he was here. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what had happened to him.

Wade’s throat went tight and he raised a hand, reaching to his neck to find a thick metal device locked around it. He fiddled at it with a claw, trying to find a release catch or something, to get the thing off. It was locked tight, no apparent method of removal. Wade noticed his wrists, and a pair of similar metal cuffs locked around them. He had no idea what these things were for but he wanted them OFF.

“Go ahead, struggle with them all you want...” A voice suddenly echoed in the cell, Wade jumping in the spot and frantically scanning around, “they aren’t coming off.”

The observation screen mounted along the wall lit up, a single human male illuminated in the darkness behind. Wade didn’t recognise his uniform, but he could tell right away - this man was from the government.

Wade ducked and bared his teeth. “Where am I??”

The human merely gazed at him, brow furrowed, mismatched grey and yellow eyes looking at him with interest. “Your new home,” the human said, jaw set, completely unconcerned and without a hint of irony.

Wade glared at him. “... no way. I am NOT staying here.”

“You think you have a choice? I don’t think you understand your position...” the human stroked his, still wearing that air of complete unconcern. “Nobody knows you are here. There’s nobody coming for you.”

“I’m still a citizen....” Wade said,, eyeing the human viciously, “no matter what I look like. You can’t do this to me!”

The human chuckled. “No, you see... we actually can. And we have. Officer Wade Whipple, Green Hills Montana... that man no longer exists. He has been erased. YOU... are merely a specimen of great interest to my people. And I wish to learn a great deal about you.”

Wade felt his chest go tight. He glanced around the room, noting how bare and quiet it was. He really didn’t want to be in here a moment longer. He wondered when this human would let him out.

“Now... let me tell you how thing are going to work...” the human said, wearing a business-like tone, “there is no way out for you. No escape. That collar? That’s an inhibitor. It prevents you from using any of those strange powers of yours. This isn’t our organisation’s first rodeo with those kind of abilities...” The human smirked. “When this conversation is over, you will no longer be a person. You are our property. You will spend the rest of your days in this facility, however long they may be.” The man’s words sent a horrible chill up Wade’s spine, and the knot in his chest grew tighter. “Compliance will be rewarded. Resistance... will not. You will behave, and do as instructed. You have no name. You will, from this moment on, be referred to only as ‘Subject-017’ This will be the last conversation you will ever have with a human being. Our organisation does not look kindly on humanising our specimens... we don’t need our personnel becoming sympathetic to the creatures under our watch.” The human glanced to his left and made a gesture. “That is all. Enjoy the rest of your life.”

The human faded out of view, the screen going fully black and fading into the wall once again... and Wade was alone.

He glared at the screen, the knot in his chest tighter than ever. Moments went by and nobody else talked to him.

He looked around the room, searching for any way out. A vent. A loose panel. Anything.

Nothing. Just the mat in the centre, a trench with metal grating running along the end too tight for him to fit through if he tried, the dim lights in the corners of the room. He couldn’t see any security cameras but he knew he would be under extremely close scrutiny.

And it was quiet. Too quiet. Like the room was soundproofed. Wade strained his ears and heard nothing.

A cold dread settled over him at the thought... that he was stuck here.

“...... hello?” Wade turned back to the screen and spoke quietly, tail ducking and wrapping around an ankle. “I need to talk to someone, please...”

Nobody responded. The horrible silence continued.

Wade swallowed a lump in his throat, reminded again of the collar locked tight around his neck. He raised a hand and fiddled at the thing, finding again it was hopelessly tight. “Please,” he repeated, panic beginning to rise, “somebody talk to me”

Wade might as well have been the only person in the universe for all the good it did.

Wade Whipple no longer exists. You are no longer a person.

Subject-017. Your new home.

Wade couldn’t be here. He couldn’t stay here. “Let me out...” he said quietly, standing and frantically beginning to pat at the walls with his hands. “Please!! I can’t be in here!!!”

Nobody answered. Nobody came.

The silence was deafening.

Wade’s eyes swivelled, desperately searching for a way out, and he released a snarl of distress as he slammed his hands against the wall repeatedly. “LET ME OUT!!!!”

Subject-017 continued to screech and thrash around its cell, deep in the bowels of a hyper-secure GUN containment facility, to the interest and amusement of the humans observing it. Soon enough, after its screams for help relapsed into unintelligible snarls and cries and it wore itself down, it occupied one corner of the secure cell, curled in on itself and eyes closed tight, desperately wishing it were anywhere else but this awful place.

#Darkling Wade #Darkling Wade - Containment #Demon dad is in a BAD place

22 notes · View notes

capriccio-con-espressione · 4 years

Text

Birthday Present | Pt.2

(GIF cred)

Genre: Smut

Warning: Sub!Ten, Dom!Reader, Femdom, Dry/Pillow humping, Blindfold, Handjob, Pet play, Hair pulling, Spanking/Belting, Degradation, Pegging, Vibrators, Thigh riding, CFNM, Profanity, Edging, Tooth-rottingly cheesy ending, Ten is lewd and loud and cries

Word Count: 2511

A/N: This is the sequel to this ask (and kudos to @yangyangthelightskin for sending the original ask in 😘😘 and thank you @sunflowerkeen to request a full version of it as well ). Indulge in some seductive Ten!

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

You feel surges of bliss consuming your body as Ten's lewd moans and gasps corresponding with your every slap fill the air, spicing and heating up the atmosphere, and the way his bottom rocking and perhaps deliberately brushing against your palm certainly isn't helping.

"Umphh…" Ten's breathing pattern becomes more and more ragged, indicating his building arousal as your gazes meet while you suddenly begin to gently rub his pulsating hard-on. You can easily detect the evident lust in the crescents of his eyes, knowing too well he can see the way you are toying with his cock as well as how the back of his flesh ripples against your every slap.

"Say, since when have you planned to do this? Seducing me like a little whore you actually are?" You break the ice as you suddenly land a slap on the back of his rock-hard balls, drawing out a nice long breathy whimper from him.

“W-When last time we w-w-w-watched T-The Handmaiden together...ahh…” Ten stutters out in a moany voice as you devilishly begin stroking his glistening cock. “I-I couldn’t wipe your facial expressions out of my head when you...mmphh…”

“When I what? Specify.” You order with a grin, though already knowing too much what he’s referring to.

“W-when that B-BDSM scene came up...your h-hungry dark gaze...t-the way you b-bit your lip...oh God...don’t stop mmmm…” Ten manages to gasp out an answer as you are palming his tip, his whole body shaking at the tantalizing stimulation yet his tied hands behind his back can do nothing to support his buckling form.

“You should’ve come clean much sooner.” You darkly add. “Say, you must have wished me to fuck you right there after that movie just like this if Lucas weren’t there to ruin the mood, am I right?”

“Hnngh I don’t think so-ahh!” Ten’s feigned smirking expression soon falters into a yelp while you harshly slap his ass as a warning.

“Liar.” Your fingers roam up and down on his perineum, drawing out whimpers after whimpers from him.

“Hahh fuck yeah...I wish you had r-ruined me like more than this...all I fantasized about you…”

“Now you want more? You want more, you greedy little slut, huh?”

“Ahh-oh yes fucking please…make me your nasty little kitten...ahh...use the things in that box...”

“Oh, you mean this? The particular one you told me to unbox later instead of opening up in the party? Now I can see why...” You immediately reach for the black box lain on the armrest of the couch, before carefully opening it, revealing a set of tortoiseshell-patterned kitten ears with a matching collar with a bell and leash on it plus a furry tail plug, and last but not least, a lacy blindfold.

“Look how prepped I am…” Before Ten can finish his sentence, you flip him over, slamming his body into your embrace as you entwine your lips with his, feeling the smooch getting gradually wetter and messier whilst low grunts and moans vibrate through the plump flesh that tasted like champagne. Your hand snakes down again to fervently jerk him off as you feel him crumble onto your body even more, whilst deeper and deeper you both fall into the frenzy state of boiling lust, with the remains of his clothing coming off as if you're both gradually stripped of the last bits of your rationality.

All of a sudden you withdraw your hand, leaving the boy on your lap mewling with a great sense of loss.

“You’ve really got all the things fully planned out, haven’t you? Come.” You beckon as you untie Ten’s hands, before adorning him with the accessories while he crumbles to his knees pliantly. “Let’s not spoil the fun by unleashing the dirtiest side of you too soon.”

“You mean us...the dirtiest sides of us...”

“You know the safeword rules? The color system?” You change the topic into a more serious one.

"Red means to stop everything, yellow is to slow down, green means…" Ten slightly chokes at the sensation when you pull on the leash attached to the collar to test it. "...fuck yeah…"

"You sure you want to go further, so I can use my best boygift to whatever extent I want?"

"Green."

"You sure you're going to let me take matters into my own hands and let me be ruthlessly sweet but also cruel on you?"

"Green. Look at this..." He gestures to his twitching cock as he sighs when you insert the tail plug into him after some profuse lubing. "...It's so fucking hard for you and only for you..so fuck me and take me down a peg every way you want…"

"Good boy." You cradle his jaw before leaning in to plant a soft brief kiss again. “Now follow my lead.” You pull on the leash, guiding his crawling form across the living room to your bedroom.

Ten’s intense eager gaze burns into you all the time as he moves with his back deliberately arched, his ass swiveling from time to time, his brazen attempt to allure you still evident.

“Now sit.” You order in a stern voice when you reach the desired designation, as the prettily-adorned boy immediately sits up on his ankles, his tongue darting out coquettishly to moisten his lips.

“Think I didn’t notice your lewd behavior just now?”

Ten goes silent though his expressive smirk already says everything.

“Speak.”

“No I-”

“Words.” You cut him off with a firm tug on his hair as he moans out with a ditzy smile in response. “Do I give you permission to use human words, kitten?”

Ten mewls out with a provocatively indignant huff, pouting, then attempts to reach up and claw at you, yet fails because you pull him away to the other side of your body with the leash, making him fall to the ground.

“What a bratty kitten.” You concluded with a smirk while scratching his chin as he nuzzles you，his eyes closed at the enjoyment of your touch. “Since you want to be a naughty horny kitten rutting in heat, I’d let you. Come here.” You coo as you sit on the bed with your legs spread wide, while motioning him to sit on your right thigh, as he immediately leaps up at your order.

“Now ride it.” You command, still pulling on the leash. “Ride it like a keen little kitten eager to please.”

Ten soon commences humping your thigh back and forth, eyes boring hungrily into you as wanton moans at the friction leave his parted lips, making you unable to take the weight of his stare as well as the wonders of his hips anymore, both of his cock and your core dripping with need.

“This shall hinder you from arousing me too much…” You grin coquettishly as you blindfold him with the lace you remembered to bring with you from the gift box, while tracing your fingers on his torso afterward, pulling his face close to you with the leash. “I want my naughty little kitten who thinks he can toy with my heart as much as he pleases with those pretty kitty eyes completely overpowered and humbled…” You growl into his ear, sending shivers down his spine, sensory deprivation evidently heightening his arousal.

You then wickedly pull out the tail plug slightly, making his motions seem as if he’s pushing back and pleasuring his sweet spot on his own. “Fuck yourself, my pretty boy pet.” You feign sweetness in your voice as continuous broken gasps begin rolling out of those luscious lips. “Looks like my cute little kitten is desperate, should I make him cum now hmm?”

The only syllables that Ten can utter are urgent yet breathy mewls, which you take as confirmation to your slightly degrading question.

“Yet bad needy kittens like you don’t deserve the privilege to cum yet. Kneel.” You cruelly conclude as you yank him on the leash, supporting his weight with your arm while standing up and lifting him off your thigh, forcing him back on his place on the ground with your foot pressing down on his thigh.

“Who do you think you are, messing around with my mind with that smug sensuality of yours hmm?” You pull and sway slightly hard on his leash, but still in a controlled manner, while uttering out every single word, making his body jolt and shake helplessly just like a rag doll for your entertainment. “Now you should get the taste of your own medicine...” You chuckle as you drag him even closer to the bed, putting his hands on it. “Crawl onto the bed right now.”

You reach for the two fluffy pillows situated at the end of the mattress as Ten begins to fumble his way to the spot of your desire, then you instruct him to lie on his stomach after placing the pillows underneath his pelvis. “Fuck the pillows just like you imagined I would do to you.” You demand whilst dishing out a belt from your closet. “Continue the little show for me that was somehow interrupted earlier…” You simper while pulling out the tail plug, before tapping the leather on his ass and drawing out shivers of anticipation from the blindfolded boy.

Ten drives into the pillows, burying his face into the mattress as if he’s basking into the warmth of euphoric paradise, as red marks and loud snaps commence blossoming on his seductively swiveling rear.

“Fuck you are really something, aren’t you?” You taunt as you land another loud smack on him again. “You are enjoying this a bit too much, aren’t you? My little slut…” You conclude before lashing out several consecutive blows.

Just then you hear Ten mutter something under his breath. “What is it, my sweet little kitten?” You inquire, now worried.

“Green…” Ten breathes out, this time a bit louder. “Greengreengreengreengreen…”

“Awwww you insatiable one…” You coo when caressing his now red flesh. “I’m gonna wreck you until you’re a helpless begging mess…”

You then fish out your magic wand vibrator from your bedside drawer, then retrieve the ribbon that Ten used to mesmerize you early on, before instructing him to lift his ass up and tying the wand to his swollen red cock, just to switch to the highest setting immediately, making the kitten boy fall back to the pillows again while desperately moaning out loud.

“This is the punishment you get for riling the birthday girl up…” You darkly comment as you resume whipping him again. “And don’t you dare cum unless I say so.”

Moans after moans of prurience emerge from the boy as you fully lash out on him while still pulling his head back on the leash. Ten’s hair is now a ruffled mess, trickles of tears oozing out from the blindfold, making his confident appearance a while ago seems laughable now.

“Do you want to cum, my depraved little kitten?” You inquire condescendingly again as you yank on his hair, as he fervently nods in response, his whimpers so desperate that sound utterly pathetic.

“But sadly you can’t until I’ve had my fair share of fun yet…” You devilishly grin at Ten’s suffering, while switching the vibrator completely off, before grabbing the lube and your favorite strap to the play. You climb onto the bed, sitting down next to him once you’re fully equipped and have him lubed and prepped. “Ride it.” You order once he’s guided to the proper place, where his entrance is right on top of your proudly girthy strap.

Ten’s facing you with his backside, hips making enthralling motions as he bounces up and down on your cock, while whimpering sweetly and throatily. You grab his hips to support him, fingers sporadically tracing and scratching along his body to fire up signals to his senses even more. Ten’s breathing gradually accelerates as he’s building up closer to his next orgasm after getting denied too many times.

“Does my little kitten really want to cum this bad?” You whisper while switching up the vibrator again, earning gasps of surprise and vehement nods from him. “If you really want to, bend over and let me use you like the little fucktoy you only deserve to be.”

Ten lets out faint cries upon the humiliating sentence and quickly obeys. You lube up your strap once more, before positioning yourself and slamming into him ruthlessly, switching on and off the vibrator from time to time to tease the already destroyed boy up, as you can tell that he struggles to heed the rule of using no human words. “You may now use your pretty human words to beg now, my sweet little pretty boy..”

“P-please just let me c-cum...s-stop teasing me…” Ten cries out.

“You promise to be my good little kitten instead of acting up like a lust-filled pervert?”

“Y-yes please!”

“Are those all the words you can think of? I can’t feel your sincerity.” You taunt as you switch off the vibrator while pulling him back with the leash. “Where’s that bad kind of player who was witty and naughty and thought he could have his way with me?”

For a few seconds, Ten’s mind is completely boggled as all he can make is incoherent sounds. “Please please please allow me to cum...it’s driving me crazy...I’ll be a good little kitten only for you so please...I’m begging you…”

Upon his choked voice, you can tell he’s nearing his breaking point. “Cum for your birthday girl then, my cute little kitten.” You softly speak as you switch on the wand again, finally granting the sobbing boy some release after a loud throaty cry.

“You’ve done so well and beautifully for me, baby….” You remove the restrains on him while begin soothing his spanked flesh and still heated body with some lotion after you both come down from your high, as Ten meekly leans into you for a tight embrace.

Some tranquil silence passed between your afterglow as you both hug each other tightly, both knowing too well that this relationship has crossed its line to another level.

“Hey, “ Your giggle breaks the silence. “I know this may sound cheesy and lame, but I have to say this.”

“What?” Ten lazily responds as he reaches up to plant a kiss on your cheek, making you internally flustered despite your cruel appearance just moments ago.

“Thank you for trusting me this much to fulfill your fantasies.”

“You did great as well, much better than my own imagination.” Ten flashes that reassuring smile that makes your heart flutter a little again. “What’s most beautiful about sex is the mutual understanding and chemistry between the partners even when no words are exchanged. After being such great friends for this long, I do believe we can make it, from the bottom of my heart.”

You just nuzzle closer to him, not willing to break this intimate harmony after those enchanting profound words, knowing you just received the best birthday present you could get, ever.

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

Tagging: @lovingonrepeat

Thank you for motivating me to write this when I hit the writer’s block due to my hard-pressed life outside Tumblr <3

290 notes · View notes

spicycreativity · 3 years

Text

Intertwined - Chapter 6

Chapter: 6/8

Additional Notes: Fic published in full on my AO3, WizardGlick. This is my favorite chapter 😁

Chapter Content Warnings: Blood, respiratory distress

The record player was still in the kitchen, surrounded by puzzle pieces. Patton switched it on and watched the vinyl spin in a daze. He missed Roman's boastful chatter, missed Logan's even keel. Maybe he should just give up. They clearly didn't want him around, and at a certain point, maybe it was selfish to keep badgering them.

God, he was a mess. Virgil had been too tactful to say anything during last night's Ghost Adventures marathon, but he had kicked his feet up in Patton's lap, and that was telling. It wasn't the reassuring full-body contact he longed for, but Virgil had never been big on touch. He couldn't be what Patton needed, and that was fair. It wasn't Virgil's job to take care of Patton. It was no one's job.

Janus' voice sounded unbidden in his head, reminding him in a distinctly annoyed tone, ' It's your job.'

So Patton picked himself up off the kitchen island and opened the fridge. He liked the work of cooking and cleaning. The domesticity was reassuring and sweet and safe. He cooked and cleaned because he loved. He loved Logan, he loved Roman, he loved Virgil. He wanted to see them safe and fed and contented, free to fulfill their functions because Patton fulfilled his.

As he cracked eggs into a bowl, he wondered if he loved Janus. He probably did. How could he help it?

Janus' smile was a rare thing, and that much sweeter for it. And he was so clever, so self-assured, so determined to help. This whole time, that was what was driving him. He wanted to help Thomas the only way he could, and now he was helping Patton. Because… Because he was just good. Even if he, like Virgil before him, kept that light hidden behind walls of sarcasm and bitterness. Janus was good. And Patton loved him.

He had forgotten to turn on the stove. Patton smiled at himself, because what else could he do, and turned on the stove. As he stood there, anxiously eyeing his half-finished omelette, his fingers found their way to the friendship bracelets around his right wrist. He had two there, Logan's and Roman's. They were both made of soft embroidery floss. Roman's had a little charm, a small silver 'R' that sometimes caught the light and made Patton smile when he noticed it.

He and Janus should have friendship bracelets. It could go on his left wrist next to Virgil's. Virgil wouldn't be happy about it, but… But Patton wanted it. He wanted Janus to feel accepted and loved. And there was no way to do that and spare Virgil's feelings. There was just no winning and Patton wanted, wanted, wanted more than he'd ever wanted anything.. Would it really be so bad to indulge this?

After breakfast, Patton relocated to the living room and asked the mindscape's halls for Janus. Janus did not appear, but the fog of the subconscious at the edges of the walls solidified into a hallway. Patton got to his feet and started to walk. He had never really ventured into the space that Roman referred to as 'the Dark Side,' but there was really nothing foreboding about it. The halls were still well-lit, the carpet still plush beneath his feet.

Eventually, the hall opened up to a cozy little alcove. Janus was huddled up against the wall, staring into the depths of a pure black coffee mug. He flinched when he noticed Patton, then smiled.

It was a slow, unfurling thing: first sheepish, then courteous, and finally, genuine. It lit a fire in Patton's chest, made him feel like he was glowing.

"Patton." Janus tipped his hat, peering out coquettishly from under its brim.

"Sorry," said Patton, "am I interrupting?"

"Oh, yes," said Janus, getting to his feet, "I need to have my coffee in utter silence of the caffeine doesn't take."

He sounded a little hoarse. Patton felt himself cross his arms and draw back to examine Janus, but couldn't stop it from happening. His scales looked the same as ever, more yellow than green under the light, but both eyes were glassy in a way that indicated lack of sleep. He looked tired, Patton decided, but not sick.

"Did I button my shirt wrong?" Janus asked, not actually looking down to check. He kept his eyes on Patton.

"Is there something on your mind?" Patton asked.

Janus countered this question with another question, which Patton supposed was fair: "Did you come down here just for that?"

"Well, actually…" Patton tugged at the tight, precise braid of Logan's friendship bracelet. Why was this so hard? "I thought we could-- If you wanted to--" His nerves were taking over and he was helpless to stop them, couldn't control the way his voice trembled. He started over. "So, no pressure, obviously, but I just thought it might be nice if we, you know, made friendship bracelets together." Patton held up his forearms so Janus could see. "If you want."

Tears were forming in Janus' human eye; his chest hitched with uneven breaths. Patton was already raising his arms to offer a hug when Janus turned away and started to cough. Oh.

The fit, though it sounded terrible, ended quickly. Janus straightened, drawing a yellow handkerchief back into his sleeve like a magician. "What," he said, pretending to look at his fingernails, "are the odds of you believing that was nothing?"

"It didn't sound like nothing," Patton said.

Janus sighed and leaned back against the wall, pressing his fingertips to his forehead. "Look, I didn't want to say anything, but I think that our dear benevolent prince might be a little angrier than he let on."

"You think Roman's doing this to you?" That didn't sound like him. He could be stubborn, sure, maybe even bull-headed, but it really wasn't like him to make someone sick. At least, not on purpose.

"It's not Remus," Janus said, crossing his arms. "There's nothing else wrong with me."

"It's just a cough?"

"Just a cough."

Patton tapped his fingers against his leg, thinking. "Roman's not really talking to me at the moment--"

"Typical," Janus muttered.

Not wanting to fight, Patton let this go. "But I'll see if I can… Well, I'll see what I can do."

Janus nodded, then seemed to remember something. His jaw worked for a second, his eyes darting everywhere except Patton's face. "Thank you."

Patton nodded, still inexplicably afraid. Now was his chance to leave, since Janus hadn't acknowledged his offer. If he sank out fast enough-- But what exactly was he running from? He wasn't Logic, but he couldn't deny that it made no sense to run from something he couldn't even identify. "So, um. Did you want to…?"

"Where?" Janus asked.

The trapdoor to the speakeasy opened beneath their feet. Patton's door appeared down the hall. He and Janus looked at each other in silence.

"The lighting might be a little better in my room," Patton said finally. He wasn't sure which of them had caused his door to appear. The subconscious was tricky like that sometimes.

"By all means," Janus said.

It was a little nerve-wracking to have Janus in his room. Patton wasn't quite sure why. Maybe the idea that Janus might not like it, and by extension, not like him. After all, Patton's room was as much an extension of himself and his function as his body was.

Janus stepped quietly over the threshold, holding himself still except for his eyes, which darted from object to object.

"Let me know if you start feeling all sentimental," Patton said, a thrill of nerves tingling his spine. "I don't have a lot of practice controlling my room." Janus probably didn't want to cry today, or ever. Not that he seemed like the type to get caught up in nostalgia. Like Logan, he was ruthless, cutting away what didn't serve him with the precision of a surgeon. Or so it seemed.

Janus nodded. Patton frowned. He'd been awfully quiet since Patron had extended the invitation. He almost seemed scared, which didn't make sense. They were safe in here. Too safe, if Patton let them be, sequestered in this hall of nostalgia's anesthetic haze.

"Are those California poppies?" Janus asked, striding forward to a dresser (the design of which had come from a memory of sleepovers at Thomas' grandmother's house).

"Where?" Patton asked, turning on his heel to look. It was difficult to move without tripping over the odd bin or crate of memorabilia. He found himself faced with a choice to either bend backwards to see around Janus or to stand right next to him. Far too close for propriety, they would be wedged right up against each other like the yearbooks on the far bookshelf.

Patton's heart started to race. Why? Why should he be nervous? He bent backwards, muscles aching in protest at the awkward pose, and peered around Janus' body. "I can't tell."

Janus turned, squinting at Patton's predicament, before looking down at the bins on the floor. He seemed to grasp the issue and extended a hand for Patton to take. "Come here."

Come here. Innocuous words, but the same ones he'd used to bring Patton into his arms that terrible night. Patton's heart fluttered.

He stepped over a stack of textbooks and entered Janus' space. Janus' capelet was soft and velvety against his bare arm; his sleeve a little rougher.

"Are they?" Janus asked.

The poppies were already wilting a little and Patton couldn't help but feel sad about that, even though they were imaginary. "Yes."

"How did you get them?"

"California," Patton said, the memory coming to him on a warm breeze that smelled of the outdoors. "Thomas sees them every time he gets to go."

Janus stifled a cough into the back of his hand, nodding all the while. "He wore them in his hair once."

Patton smiled, mind awash in golden light. Thomas and his friends were making a brief pit stop as they journeyed down I-5 and someone, it didn't even matter who, had spotted the blooms growing by the roadside. And they had all worn flowers in their hair for the rest of the day, bright faces made brighter by the addition of something so beautiful. "Do you like California poppies, Janus?"

"It's funny," Janus said, in a tone so devoid of sarcasm and teasing that Patton nearly did a double-take, "It never occurred to me to like them. But seeing them like this…"

He trailed off, coloring slightly, and Patton's breath caught in his throat. He understood perfectly, too perfectly, and it made him tremble.

It had never occurred to him to love Janus, until one day it did. But this-- Oh, no. Oh, no. Not like this. This couldn't be allowed. Janus glanced over at him and Patton felt his smile snap into place despite the newfound ache of wanting beneath his ribs.

"And here I thought you were going to keep me safe from your room," Janus teased.

"Oops!" Patton ran a hand through his hair. "Give me a second here; I can make a space." He thought for a moment before sitting them both down at a wooden picnic table. He imagined embroidery floss in every color, bins stacked with beads, scissors, and two rolls of masking tape just to be safe.

"Summer camp," Janus said, smiling that crooked smile.

Despite his best efforts, Patton blushed. He tried not to hate himself for it because Janus wouldn't want that. But he also knew he was being far too selfish now, wanting Janus all for himself. There was a line and he had crossed it. "Do you remember what to do?"

Janus was already pawing through the embroidery thread. Loose strands clung to his gloves and Patton watched, intrigued, as Janus' mouth curled into that not-smile he sometimes wore when he was making fun. He withdrew his hands, trailing rainbow strings despite his efforts to shake them off, and glanced at Patton, startling a little when their eyes met.

Patton wasn't sure what to say. 'It's okay' felt hollow, less than a lie. Utterly meaningless. Janus' gloves meant something to him, something that went deeper than just aesthetics. Patton understood, in that moment, what it was all for: the gloves, the high collar, the hat, the sarcasm, the biting remarks, the exaggeration. All guarding Janus' heart. He must have been very afraid. Suddenly his irritation at Patton's inability to prioritize himself made perfect sense.

"I can help you," Patton said, not wanting Janus to feel pressured into taking off his gloves. "You can keep them on, just tell me what colors--"

"Don't be stupid," Janus snapped. "It's just clothing."

"Oh," said Patton. Heat flooded his face, impending tears burning in his eyes. Understanding didn't make it hurt less.

Janus didn't say anything, couldn't, because he was muffling those awful, barking coughs into his sleeve. They sounded so much worse than yesterday. Patton stared at a skein of auburn embroidery floss. He would have to find some way to get through to Roman.

"That was inappropriate," Janus said when he resurfaced. He was a little out of breath; his breath caused loose strings to flutter.

"I understand," Patton said.

"You do?"

Here, Patton hesitated. It seemed a little rude to read Janus, as Roman would say. He had obviously lashed out because he was scared of something.

Janus winced, pressed his lips together, shifted where he sat. "I'm sorry." He wouldn't look at Patton. "I shouldn't have said that."

"We can do this another time," Patton said, "if you're not ready. I just wanted…" It seemed stupid to say it out loud now, stupid and manipulative. "I wanted you to feel accepted."

Janus tugged his gloves off without fanfare, folded them neatly, and set them down on the table. His left hand was scaled, which Patton supposed he should have anticipated. "Don't look," Janus said. Patton frowned, trying to parse this, and Janus elaborated, "I want it to be a surprise."

"Oh!" Patton said, relief flooding his chest like morning sunlight through an eastward-facing window. "Okay." He stared at the embroidery thread, thinking. He had never been all that good at color theory, but… Maybe he could do a dark green for Janus's scales, and gold because they shimmered. To represent himself, he would of course use blue thread. And for the two of them, gray. But what shade of green…? Patton picked up a skein of army green floss, then kelly green, then moss green. "Janus?"

"Hm?"

"I need to look at you."

"Oh, Patton, I'm flattered, but need?"

"Can you just give me your hand for a second?" Patton asked, blushing.

"Which one?" Janus asked archly.

"The left one."

"...What for?"

Patton, still not looking at Janus, held up the three skeins of embroidery floss. "I need to color match."

Janus let out a huff of air through his nose. "I'm much prettier than that."

Then an idea struck. "Ooh, I know what to do! I still need your hand, though."

"Alright, alright." Janus leaned over, extending his hand to Patton. He flinched a little when Patton held it in his own, but did not pull away.

"Hmm," said Patton, examining the scales and the way they reflected back the light. It took a bit of thinking, but he managed to imagine a skein of thread in the same glossy green-gold color.

Then Janus stiffened and started to cough again, his hand curling around Patton's fingers until his nails dug painfully into Patton's skin. The fit was low and ragged and rough, left Janus teary eyed and gasping.

"You're sure this is Roman?" Patton asked, dimly aware that he was still holding Janus' hand.

"Forget it," Janus said, his voice like tattered silk. "You said you'd talk to him."

"I'll go right now if you want me to."

Janus shook his head. "Are you done with my hand? If not, I have a few to spare."

"Oh!" said Patton. "Yes. Sorry." He let go of Janus's hand, knuckles aching where Janus' nails had dug in. Janus' cough must have hurt far more than he was letting on.

Right. Compartmentalize. Friendship bracelets.

Patton picked his colors, eyeballed the thread length, cut them down, and taped the ends to the table. He decided on a simple striped pattern, flat, so it could slide easily under Janus's sleeve or the cuffs of his gloves.

"So you and Remus?" Patton said after he had fallen into a rhythm and didn't need to focus quite so hard.

"We're friends, yes."

"But you said--" Patton cut himself off, embarrassed. He certainly didn't want to be reminded of that awful night, and Janus probably didn't either.

"I know."

Patton was pulling too hard. He set his threads down and added another piece of tape. "I don't get it."

Janus sighed. "I'd rather not talk behind his back, but I will say this: He was on his worst behavior when he introduced himself."

Patton considered this but couldn't think of anything to say other than 'thank God.' That seemed rude, so he just kept his mouth shut. The silence that ensued felt equally as rude, and words slipped out of Patton's mouth before he could stop himself, "Do you love him?"

Janus didn't answer. Patton was tempted to look at him, to try to read his expression, but didn't want to risk ruining the surprise. Finally, Janus sighed and Patton heard the gentle rustle of his clothing as he shifted in his seat. "Defensive sarcastic quip."

Patton dropped his threads again so he could muffle a laugh behind his hands. "Sorry, was that too personal?"

"No, no, I love talking about myself. Maybe next you can ask me about my deepest fears."

"I didn't mean to be pushy," Patton said. It was hard not to be; he was so full of love love love he just wanted to give it away like Tupperwares full of snickerdoodles, like wildflower bouquets. He wanted Janus, wanted his whole fam-ILY to know and feel it as deeply as he felt it.

And Janus especially, Patton wanted to tell him with his lips, with his hands, with his tongue. His whole body radiating love.

But just because he wanted didn't mean he could have. He ached with a selfish desire to be held again, safe in Janus' arms. But even Patton was smart enough to understand that that moment was over and done with. They had shared it, and now it was another snapshot for the shoebox Patton kept in his closet. His own memories, separate from Thomas. A testament to his personhood.

They worked in silence after that, until Patton's wandering thoughts came to rest, inevitably, on the trouble at hand. "Hey, Janus?"

"Yes?"

"What do you think we should do now? Thomas can't keep going like this for much longer, I don't think. He hasn't done anything. And I-- I'm not saying-- I'm not trying to say it's, you know, immoral to rest, but this doesn't seem healthy." And also, it did chafe Patton a little, to see Thomas being so lazy, but he could keep that to himself.

"The sooner Logan and Roman get over themselves, the better," Janus said.

"I haven't checked on them yet today." Patton heaved a sigh and tried to focus on his pattern. He had the matte gray hooked around his finger at the moment, his own deliberate reminder to compromise.

"They haven't checked on you at all."

"So, what, then?" Patton asked, struggling not to look up. "I should get mad and ignore them right back?"

"That's what I would do," Janus said. "And you did ask. But…" A long-ish pause. "As we both know, I'm always right."

Oh. Patton closed his eyes, trying not to fold over and bury his forehead in the rough wood of the picnic table. He'd never wanted to see the worst in Janus, but he'd been bracing for it all the same. And every time he held his breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop, it never happened.

That didn't mean they were never going to fight. Patton knew he was naive, but he wasn't that naive. But he had been bracing for something so much worse than this.

It was for Thomas. He had to remind himself. Janus had even said so, down in the parlor. It was all for Thomas. And Patton was sure, when it came time to make the next big decision, they would be at odds again.

But maybe… Maybe it didn't have to be so hostile. Couldn't they disagree without being enemies?

"You are always right, Janus," Janus said in Patton's voice. "And you're so handsome, and smart, too."

It was equal parts creepy and amusing, but Patton appreciated what Janus was trying to do, so he smiled. "I mean, you are smart. And h--" The word caught in his throat. They did all look very similar, though the subtle nature of the subconscious altered their appearances somewhat. It sharpened up Janus' features some, took away several inches of height, made his eyes dark and flashing. "And handsome," Patton finished weakly.

"You already said that," Janus said, voice dripping with faux-innocence.

"You're sweet, is what you are," Patton teased back.

"Finished," said Janus.

Patton blinked, thrown off, before he realized what Janus meant. "I'm almost done. Give me juuuust a second." He finished the bracelet with a practiced hand. "Can I look now?"

"Give me your hand. Then you can look."

Patton extended his left hand and finally looked over at Janus for the first time since they had started. The bright colors of the bracelet caught his eye immediately; it was an intricate weave of only two colors: bright yellow and true blue. Janus fingers were deft and gentle around Patton's wrist. He made no remarks about the purple and black bracelet already tied on.

"Oh, Janus, it's perfect!" Patton said. Hot tears welled up in his eyes. He let them fall, unashamed. It was nice to cry happy tears for once. "Your turn."

Janus pushed up his sleeve, tilting his head at Patton's bracelet. "What does it mean?"

"The green is for your scales," Patton explained, positioning the bracelet around Janus' right wrist. "The blue is for me. And the gray is.." He paused, suddenly embarrassed. "Well, it's a reminder."

One of the ends brushed against Janus' forearm and he twitched, nearly pulling out of Patton's grasp. "That tickled," he explained.

"You're ticklish?"

"No," Janus said, far too quickly for it to be the truth.

Patton smiled at him, though he knew they were a long way off from friendly touches. It struck him then just how badly he wanted that future. He wanted cuddle sessions with Janus on the couch, just the two of them. He wanted stolen kisses in the kitchen and tickle fights in bed. He wanted Janus, body and soul, consequences be damned. "Noted," Patton said. "Janus: totally not ticklish, even a little bit."

"Gospel truth," Janus said.

Patton finished tying on the bracelet and sat back. "Well…" He didn't want to leave his room, which was a sure sign it was time to go. "I'd better go check on my kiddos."

To his surprise, Janus didn't scowl or nag. He tugged his gloves back on, carefully sliding the bracelet inside the cuff. "What do you say to them?"

"Just that I'm here," Patton said. "And I love them.

"You know, Patton--" Janus got up and held the door open, breaking the spell of Patton's room somewhat-- "sometimes I think you're too good for the likes of us."

And then he was gone, sinking out before Patton could ask him what he meant by that.

Patton went first to Logan's room. Logan had maintained his silence after the meeting, not even answering to tell Patton to go away. The only hint Patton had that he was still in there was that Thomas hadn't gone completely off the rails.

"Hey, Logan." Patton knocked gently. "I'll go away soon, because I know you don't want me to bother you. I just wanted to say… Well, I'm not sure what you need right now, but I know this isn't it. So whenever you're ready to come out, I'll be here." It was so hard not to spill his guts to that plain white door. Almost like a confessional, only that Logan stubbornly refused to tell him what he had to do to earn forgiveness. "I'll go now. Come get me if you need anything, okay? I love you and I miss you." He waited a few seconds for any signs of movement within, but there was nothing.

Down the hall to Roman's room then.

The sight of Virgil seated on the floor with his back pressed up against Roman's cherrywood door made Patton pause, breaths stuttering in his chest.

He kept his distance, but Virgil had startled at the sound of his steps on the carpet.

Patton flashed him a thumbs up and cocked his head.

Virgil nodded.

Patton sank out. What else could he do? If Roman would rather talk to Virgil than to him, well… Patton couldn't blame him.

He sat down heavily at the kitchen island, staring down at the half-finished puzzle. Tears blurred his eyes and he took off his glasses as they started to fall. He was so, so sick of crying. He did it all the time. Every strong emotion moved him to tears.

He wanted to crawl back to Janus' room, relive that tender night. Just once, he wanted someone else to pick him up off the ground. He was thoroughly sick of being his own hero.

He had mostly gotten himself under control by the time Virgil popped up by the fridge. It was only his breathing that still troubled him, heavy and painful in his chest.

"Hey, Virge."

"Since when do you call me that?" Virgil asked, opening the fridge.

It was reflex more than anything that forced Patton to his feet. "I can make you something."

"You don't have to," Virgil mumbled, cheeks going scarlet under his foundation.

"I want to," Patton said. That much was still true, at least. "What are you in the mood for?"

"Uh, I was just gonna make a sandwich," Virgil said.

"BLT?"

"Sure."

Patton nodded, clenching his left hand into a fist by his side. Virgil was incredibly observant; he was bound to notice Janus' friendship bracelet. Patton wasn't sure whether to let him or to bring it up.

Virgil saved him from having to decide. "Where have you been all morning?" Patton wordlessly held up his arm, feeling for all the world like a guilty child. Sure enough, Virgil's eyes narrowed. But to Patton's surprise, no lecture followed. "Janus made that?"

"Mm-hm." Patton nodded. "I made him one, too."

"Is he wearing it?" Virgil asked, looking dumbfounded.

"Yeah," Patton said, a little emboldened now that he knew Virgil wasn't angry. "Tied it on myself."

"He let you do that? Janus?" Virgil ran both hands through his hair, looking at Patton like he'd just expressed a desire to go cliff diving while blindfolded.

"I mean, I didn't have to tie him down."

Virgil sighed through his nose and wandered to the kitchen island with a lost expression. "That's weird."

Patton opened up the fridge. "Are you okay?" he said to the condiments rack, not wanting to make Virgil uncomfortable with too much eye contact.

"Watch him," Virgil said. "Watch him like a hawk… A hawk with binoculars."

"Aww!" said Patton, picturing it. "Oh! How's Roman?"

"Conflicted," Virgil said. "I told him you've been hanging out with Janus."

Patton bit his tongue and pulled a head of lettuce out of the crisper drawer. It wasn't wrong to spend time with Janus. He loved Janus. Love was never wrong. "How'd he take it?"

"Nnnot that bad?" Virgil said. "I think it helps that Thomas hasn't gone full, y'know, Squip."

"You know I wouldn't let that happen," Patton said. He moved over to the counter and paused to take a few deep breaths. His chest hurt a little. Probably just from crying too much. But that reminded him of Janus and that worrisome, mysterious cough. "By the way, does Roman seem… in control?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you know, he accidentally made it super cold for a little bit."

"Oh," said Virgil, "yeah. He apologized for that. He's okay now."

Patton nodded, trying not to let his worry show on his face. But it crept into the corners of his mind and kept him silent as he made two BLTs. If Janus was sure it wasn't Remus and Virgil was sure it wasn't Roman… Who else could it be? Or what else?

No answers sprang into Patton's mind. He bit his lip and stabbed one fancy toothpick each through sandwiches. He slid one plate over to Virgil, mindful not to upset any stray puzzle pieces, then rounded the kitchen island to sit next to Virgil.

"You…" he started, and paused to catch his breath. "You're not mad, are you?"

"I mean, I don't love that you're hanging out with Janus. I wish you wouldn't. I wish he'd leave us all alone and go back to slinking around in the shadows like the snake he is." Virgil turned his head to look at the new friendship bracelet on Patton's arm. "But you're your own Side. It would be wrong for me to try to control you. I just really hope he doesn't hurt you, Patton."

"So you're not mad?"

"No, pop star, I'm not mad. Just worried about you."

"Thanks, kiddo."

It seemed that these days, the mindscape was just made up of one crisis after another. After spending a pleasant day with Virgil, albeit with his breaths dragging in and out of his body like the air was too thick to breathe, the next morning found Patton doubled over in a fit of coughing so intense it knocked his glasses off. He ducked right back into his room, kicking his glasses in before him, and spat out a mouthful of heart-shaped flowers onto the floor.

Hm. Uh-oh. He wasn't an expert on biology, but he was fairly sure that wasn't supposed to happen.

The blooms were pretty, though, bright magenta hearts with little white tails. Bleeding hearts, they were called.

Patton frowned. Hadn't Janus said… Yes. 'I want you to protect that bleeding heart of yours.' How ironic. Maybe. Patton could never seem to use 'irony,' right, something Logan was always quick to point out.

He coughed again, but no flowers came up this time. That was good, probably. Coughing was bad, coughing up blood was worse. Surely coughing up flowers had to be somewhere in the middle.

He stood up straight again and banished the flowers into nothingness. Was it coincidence that Janus had a cough? Was it contagious? He hadn't said anything about flowers, though.

Patton sank out, grabbing his glasses on the way. If he was coughing, then he was probably sick. He knew how to handle that.

Since Virgil rarely spent time in the living room, Patton could hole up there with tea and toast and Adventure Time on the TV. Just until he was better, and then it would be right back to trying to fix things. He wondered if Janus would be proud or whether he would just push for Patton to rest more. Maybe both.

Virgil made an appearance a few hours later, about the time that Patton felt his patience running thin. The cough wasn't getting better, but he had no full-body fatigue to make the cartoon marathon bearable. Sitting still for too long made him antsy.

"Roman invited me in," Virgil called from the kitchen, dashing any hopes Patton had for conversation. "I just wanted to let y-- What are you doing?"

"I think I'm getting sick," Patton explained, wincing as the words seemed to claw their way out of his torn-up throat.

"Are you okay?"

Patton nodded. Aside from the cough, he really did feel fine. Maybe this would pass quickly. "Tell Roman I said hi."

"Will do." Virgil gave one last, lingering look before he sank out.

This left Patton alone with the ache in his chest and the vast loneliness threatening to swallow him whole. He tried not to think too much about Janus, lest he inadvertently summon him again, but it was so hard now. He didn't ever want to be apart from Janus. It was such a pure and simple yearning that Patton couldn't even feel guilty for it (though he did feel an echo of guilt that he didn't feel guilty). But it was a desire born of love, and how could that be bad?

The only bad thing about it was that Janus didn't love him back. Of course he didn't. How could he? All he ever did was run around babysitting Patton through crying spells, desperately trying to get him to pull himself together. There was nothing remotely attractive about that. In fact, with Janus, it seemed that all Patton did was take, take, take. He was guilty of the exact behavior that had him so wrung-out and desperate in the first place. How embarrassing.

Patton coughed into the crook of his arm, catching flowers and leaves in his mouth and banishing them without looking. He'd been sick before, they all had, but never like this. He almost wished for fatigue or a headache, something to make resting a little more bearable. Right now, he just felt lazy.

A bottle of NyQuil appeared on the couch next to him, nestled up against an embroidered throw pillow. Patton looked at it. He could already hear Logan lecturing him about the dangers of misusing medication, but… Patton was sick. And he was imaginary. And Thomas probably knew better than to chug NyQuil at the first sign of illness.

It would be fine. Patton poured out a dose and drank it down with his nose plugged in the hopes of masking the alcohol-tinged artificial sweetness. He still shuddered at the syrupy sensation on his tongue. Then he sank out, changed into his pajamas, and buried himself under his covers to slip into a coma.

#sanders sides fanficion #sanders sides #moceit #spicywrites #spicywrites intertwined

13 notes · View notes

even-after-a-millennia · 3 years

Text

Winter Wonders

Hey all! This is my fic for the Andromaquynh Secret Santa exchange! This fic is a gift for @kayivy so I hope that you like it! Happy Holidays!

Read it below or on my ao3 account here.

When Andy and Quynh awoke, the world outside the safe house was blanketed in white. Andy stretched, then pulled Quynh closer to ward off the chill in the air. Quynh hummed, nestling her face deeper into the crook of Andy’s neck.

Andy took a moment to revel in the feel of her love tucked next to her. It had only been a few months since they had been reunited. A fraction of time, compared to their time apart. It still felt so new. Every moment of eye contact, every touch, every kiss, felt like a gift.

They’d had to work through the pain they had both gone through and come to terms with Andy’s mortality. There were still times that Andy jerked awake, reaching for Quynh and half expecting for the bed beside her to be empty. But she was always there, reaching back.

“Hey,” Andy said quietly. “It snowed.”

“Hm?” Quynh murmured, still mostly asleep.

Andy kissed her temple, hoping to entice her to wake. “It snowed last night. The whole world is white out there.”

Quynh’s eyes blinked sleepily open, her brow furrowed at the light coming in from the window. “I’m sure it’s pretty,” she muttered, putting her face back in the safety of Andy’s neck. “But it is far too bright.”

Andy laughed softly. “Take your time.”

“Food would help me wake.”

“Is that a not-so-subtle hint that you would like breakfast in bed?” Andy asked.

Quynh hummed again, seeming to fall back asleep.

Andy carefully maneuvered out of Quynh’s embrace, so as to not disturb her. She threw a sweater over her pajamas and shuffled out to the main room, where Nicky was puttering around the kitchen as Joe sipped a cup of coffee at the table, barely looking awake himself.

“Nile still in bed?” Andy asked.

Joe nodded.

“Why aren’t you still sleeping?” Andy demanded. “You are basically asleep sitting here!”

Joe shrugged and looked over to where Nicky was making him toast. Nicky smiled softly at him, then turned back to the counter.

“Sap,” Andy told him as she got two cups of coffee ready.

Nicky raised an eyebrow at her, looking between her and the two cups without comment.

“Shut up,” she said with a laugh, pushing his shoulder.

Nicky’s eyes went behind Andy, her only warning before Quynh, wrapped in the quilt from their bed, wrapped her arms around Andy’s waist from behind.

“Andromache, it’s too cold in the bed without you…” she whined, pressing her cold nose into the spot right between Andy’s shoulder blades. “Come back.”

Loosening Quynh’s hold on her with one hand, Andy spun around in her arms to face her, cup of coffee in her other hand. “Here, this will warm you.”

Quynh took the coffee and took a sip. “I still like you better.”

Andy laughed. “Good to know I make a better personal heater than coffee.”

Quynh hummed, shuffling towards the table and sitting next to Joe, still cocooned in the blanket. Joe stole a corner of it to wrap around his feet and they sat there together, sipping their coffee with their eyes mostly closed.

Nicky smiled at the scene and revealed the truly prolific amount of toast he had made. Andy began to dig in the cupboards and fridge for toppings, grabbing everyone’s favorite. Strawberry jam for Nicky, apricot jam for Joe, peanut butter with honey for Nile, butter for herself, and Nutella for Quynh. She liked the sweetness and the novelty of it.

They ate in silence, though Andy did notice that Joe and Quynh’s eyes were slowly widening more as time past.

Nile came to the table as the others were finishing and scarfed down her food.

“Any plans for today?” she asked.

Nicky shrugged as Joe shook his head. “Stay somewhere warm,” he added, pulling more of Quynh’s quilt toward himself.

Nile snorted.

“I would like to go out in the snow,” Quynh said resolutely. She looked over at Andy. “Will you come with me?”

“Of course.”

Which is how they found themselves out in the snow covered world outside not much later. Joe had nagged them until they had bundled up. Nile cackled when she saw them and said, still giggling, “I can’t put my arms down!” She waved them away as they looked at her curiously.

Ah, it must be a reference to something.

The moment they stepped outside their warm safe house, Andy was glad of Joe’s aversion to the cold. The only exposed part of her were her eyes and they watered as the cold wind hit them. She glanced at Quynh, wanting to see how she was doing, dealing with the cold. It had been cold at the bottom of the ocean. She still shuddered when the shower’s temperature was too chilly and baths were out of the question.

Quynh’s eyes were crinkled in a way that Andy knew, through thousands of years of memorizing Quynh’s facial expressions, meant that she was grinning hugely underneath her scarf.

“It’s so beautiful!” Quynh exclaimed before charging forward into the snow.

It was deep, almost up to her knees, and every step flung the snow to the side and behind her. But still, she ran on, laughter echoing behind her as she went.

Andy grinned then chased after her.

Their safehouse was in the middle of the woods, so Andy had to dodge trees and be careful of roots hidden under the snow as she ran, but she loved it. She loved the sensation of the cold wind against her cheeks, the cloud that every breath made in the cold air, the crunch of the snow under her feet.

She caught up to Quynh and grabbed her around the waist, twirling her around as she giggled and wiggled in her grasp. Andy put her down only to push her against a tree and dragged down both of their scarves so their mouths could crash together. At first, it was desperate, very fitting after the chase that had preceded it. But in time it slowed. Deepened.

Andy pulled away to breathe, then whispered against Quynh’s jaw, “Anh yêu em nhiều lắm.”

I love you so much.

Quynh brought her in for another, quicker kiss. “I love you, my Andromache.”

Andy saw the shift in Quynh’s eyes from loving to mischievous and had a bare moment to jump away before Quynh was flinging snow where she had just been standing.

“You little shit!” Andy said, laughing.

She had been laughing so much more since Quynh had come back into her life.

Quynh grinned at her and grabbed more snow, creating an arsenal of snowballs in a pile as Andy ducked behind a tree to do the same.

“Ready?” she heard Quynh called. “It will be no fun unless it is a fair match.”

“One more minute!”

“Hurry, then!”

Andy shook her head, grinning, as she made snowball after snowball.

“Ready!”

“First to surrender loses! Three, two, one! GO!” Quynh shouted, immediately firing off a volley of snowballs at Andy.

Andy ducked and blocked most of them, but one did hit her in the shoulder. She threw some back and the fight was on.

The back and forth attacks lasted a good ten minutes more until Quynh rushed towards Andy and tackled her into the snow. They wrestled for a bit, trying to get the upper hand, until Quynh finally got Andy’s hands under her knees as she knelt on top of her. Andy tried to buck her off a few times, but it was no use.

She relaxed into the snow, trying to ignore the huge amount that was now inside her winter clothes and slowly melting against her skin.

“I yield,” she said, gazing up at Quynh.

Quynh grinned, then leaned down to kiss the tip of Andy’s nose.

“I like you like this,” she said, smiling down at her.

“Usually, I would agree, especially if you were seated a bit higher. But I have snow melting down my neck and that is very uncomfortable.”

“Wimp,” Quynh teased, though she did get off Andy and helped pull her to her feet. “Come on, let’s go get warm.”

They held hands as they went back to the cabin, all the way to the bathroom, where they began to strip off their frigid clothing.

“You got me good with one of those snowballs,” Andy said, looking in the mirror to see where she had been hit. She stared at it, trying to reach it.

“...Quynh?”

“What is it, Andromache?”

“It’s healing.”

“What?!” Quynh demanded, whirling around to stare at Andy’s back.

As they watched, the bruise on Andy’s back became green, then yellow, then faded to nothing but smooth, unbruised skin. They turned to stare at each other.

“Do you think-?”

“Maybe?”

“Here,” Quynh pulled out Nicky’s shaving kit. “Just a small cut, my love. I have to be sure.”

“Of course.”

Quynh drew the blade over the tip of Andy’s finger. They watched as the blood welled. Glancing at each other, Quynh reached out to wipe off the blood.

The cut was no longer there.

They stared at each other, stunned. Then, slowly, a smile grew on Quynh’s face even as her eyes welled with tears.

“My beautiful Andromache,” she said, her voice choked with tears, “I think we get to have a bit more time together.”

Andy began smiling too, then laughed. Quynh joined and threw her arms around Andy. Andy buried her face into Quynh’s hair and realized that Quynh’s laughter had turned to sobs.

There was a knock on the door.

“Guys? Everything okay?” Nile asked.

They pulled away from each other and opened the door, both not wearing shirts and not caring a bit.

“She’s healing!” Quynh sobbed, beaming.

“She’s-” Nile’s eyes widened. “Nicky, Joe, get over here!”

They clambered over each other in the haste to get to the bathroom.

“What? What is wrong?” Nicky demanded, eyes darting around, looking for a threat.

“Andy is healing,” Nile stated, still staring at Andy with wide eyes.

Joe and Nicky rounded on her. “WHAT?”

Andy nodded, grabbing the razor again. She dragged it across her fingertip again, put down the razor, and wiped the blood. She had expected for it to not be real, but when she wiped away the blood, the wound was gone.

Her immortality was really back.

She got to have more time.

#andromaquynhsecretsanta #andromaquynh #andy x quynh #fanfic #my fic

50 notes · View notes

blankdblank · 3 years

Text

Re-read to edit pt 3

“I’ve looked at these pictures of the rings you turned down and honestly it is astonishing.” Turning around in the sitting room on the usual chair you chose as your own you spotted Glorfindel seated at the window bench having waited to chaperone your tea while terribly late Thranduil strode in leaving his outer pale yellow robe on the back of the couch he passed to the carpet in front of you. His long blonde hair still brushed back after having removed his crown on his way here from a press conference in on the first agreed trade deal having been settled on the union between the pair of you with other Elven nations.

When he turned to face you he continued while Glorfindel raised the phone he was using to film you both for a better shot, “It’s as if you don’t even want to do this.” In a slight tilt of your head your brow inched up and Glorfindel smirked seeing the clues that you were ready to stand your ground to honor your word in this. “Five choices I know you would have preferred were skipped over for a spectacular, albeit, uninteresting ring, when I know since the first day we met you have wanted a heart shaped ring and clearly if you wanted this you would have fought for it. Clearly this is merely a contract and to silence the usual traditions you would settle for tolerable. Well I am not one to be tolerated.”

“Oh trust me I can barely tolerate you at times.” You fired back resting your hands on the arms on the chair readying to stand.

“Then we agree. The contract will be rewritten to exclude the betrothal.”

“Seriously?!” You stood up, “Just how would you manage that? Honestly it took hours of hammering out the details just for the drafted alliance between the other kingdoms teetering on the union you now imagine yourself to just be so flippant on.”

“I am not flippant!” He said looking you over already feeling a grin fighting to slip across his lips at the dress he loved to see you in since he had helped his mother pick it for you.

“Who then?” You asked crossing your arms making him puff up and do the same.

“I don’t care to understand what you are insinuating!”

“Who else will be your saving grace in all this? Which Elleth are you going to tear out of the sky to come down and be your Queen. Because honestly I highly doubt there is any other Elleth who could put up with you and this stack of cards you’re building.”

In a scoff he said, “Oh it’s a stack of cards now?! You love this kingdom, told my Ada in several occasions! Well this stack of cards could take any Queen I feel fit,” at your scoff and dart of your tongue to wet your lips he sharply inhaled. Again feeling his brow twitch at his urge to kiss you to ruin the maroon coating across your irresistible lips, but he was in too deep in his panicked ramble in a try to test if you really wanted this. “I am King. What I say goes.”

“Oh really, well if you choose another you won’t be King for long.”

“Threats now?!”

Your hand jut out and his eyes lowered to the finger that tapped him in the chest instantly loosening his arms to drop back to his sides, “If you choose another they would just kill you for the crown. At least with me you have a chance to survive.”

“A chance,” he scoffed back, “Really now, and how long would you rate my lifespan if I chose you and you did decide to kill me?”

“Just long enough for me to move everything lower so I can reach it.”

Wryly he laughed, “I’m all limbs to you then?”

“As you would be for anyone else. Even more so until your soldiers succeed”

With a hint of a blush on his ears he replied, “This is not about breeding!”

You nodded lowering your hand to your hip, “Kinda is. King needs an heir, to get an heir you need a Queen.”

“I am not using you for your uterus and you have no plot for my testicles, I know to be fact!”

“Then you should shoot your sources for lying.” The boldness of the statement made his eyes flinch wider and his brows furrow in your step closer, “I’m going to make this perfectly clear, I’m not tolerating this, I am demanding this. You are marrying me if I have to drag you down the aisle. For your safety and everyone else’s, I refuse to sit on that council and watch you tear your country apart by putting some diamond hungry antelope on the throne next to yours.”

“You demand?” You nodded, “You demand?!”

“What of it?”

“I’m King!”

“Good, you’ve got the title down Dew Drop, that would make me Queen.”

“What makes you think you can just demand that I marry you?”

“I just did were you not listening?”

Again he inhaled and Glorfindel glanced between you uncertain of what the King was going to explode with next, “Fine but I’m telling everyone that it was my idea!”

“Fine by me, I expect to be awed by the proposal.”

“Oh you will be, and you’re getting the ring you wanted since you made me spend three hours trying to fish the single green heart shaped ring out of the hundreds of other plastic rings on that shore resort!”

“The one-,”

“The one you picked is not fine! It is not tolerable or acceptable, because you love me and I love you more than air I am not letting you have to be drug into a second even more public ceremony and all that scrutiny unless it is exactly what you wanted!”

“What?” You asked feeling your ears start to prickle in the beginning of a stunned blush.

With a nod he replied trying to hold his confident expression as his voice cracked, “You heard me.” Suddenly his hands had cupped your cheeks and firmly his lips met yours for a passionate display you both melted into before his pull back nipping at his lower lip hearing a knock at the door from a messenger. His eyes turned to the door only to stop at Glorfindel asking, “You’re filming this?” lowering his hands to his sides.

Glorfindel smirked, “Future reference for your children to see what idiots their parents are.” His eyes flinched to you at your weight shifting on your feet to face him, “Trust me, we all know he’s the bigger idiot.”

Thranduil rolled his eyes at your hint of a smirk, “More size jokes.” After stepping back a fraction he said, “Come in,”

Only to glance down at you with a playful smirk as you said, “Is it though?”

Accepting with a hushed thanks the long black velvet box from the messenger who promptly turned to leave he offered it to you, “To wear tonight.” He opened the box making your lips part seeing the purple necklace you wanted, “I demand it.” He teased.

Softly you replied, “Dew Drop,”

Lifting his hand his fingers curled in a stroke against your cheek, “I am yours if any ever spur a debate on ownership. I will never raise a hand to you or joke on that matter in any fashion together in private or in public. You are and always will be cherished above all.”

“Well I never imagined you to have a death wish. And if you tried I’d cut off your feet.” Making his eyes narrow playfully and you said, “More than air, Hmm?”

“I had to keep it brief, I have another conference here in a bit…what plans do you have for my testicles?”

Back at him you teased in a reach for your purse, “That’s a discussion for the wedding night. You’d be surprised what sort of literature there is out there on them.”

“Ugh, don’t get me started I keep finding more in my room every night. ‘To help’.”

“On testicles?” You teased.

“Yes.” Glorfindel shook his head at Thranduil’s cocky reply.

“Good. We can compare notes then.” He looked over to his friend, “Why are you shaking your head?”

Glorfindel replied, “Idiots in love,” smirking in his playful bow, “And long may you reign. Because the throne can’t tolerate another courting pair attempting this.”

Thranduil, “You’re next in line.”

Glorfindel, “Yes, and I am worse than the pair of you. I can only imagine how the wedding will be if this is the bargaining phase for proposal rights.”

Thranduil, “I wouldn’t dare accept an offer from a flippant Queen.”

“And don’t you think for a moment I’m crossing the council room to your side just for two rings on my fingers.”

“Every syllable in that sentence is preposterous. What good would that do, silencing my longstanding opposition. Who else would call me a fool on live broadcast without blushing?” He asked with a playful glint in his eye making you smirk again, “Not to mention the time you compared my argument to fruit flies.”

“It was inconsequential buzzing and you were stalling for time.”

To which he replied, “See, exactly what we need.”

Glorfindel chuckled, “Ah,” his head turned at the next knock at the door, “That would be the conference.”

At which you said, “I’ll be in the theater then until you’re done.”

Thranduil, “I did try to move it. Only that new dam in Gondor..” his eyes looked you over asking, “What will you watch?”

Playfully you shrugged turning to step backwards to the door flashing him a copy of the new Sweeney Todd adaptation on disc parting his lips, “Maybe this.”

“You are not watching that without me! It’s my favorite!”

“How could I not know, we go every time it’s nearby. I’ll start on the guided tour of the sets feature, then I’ll start it. You might just have to watch halfway through.”

“We’re starting it over when I get there!” He said walking after you pulling on his robe again as you reached the door Glorfindel opened for you, “I’m not joking!”

“Better hurry then.” He scoffed then looked to you as you popped back into the doorway saying, “I’ll be wearing my gift.” Making him shake his head and smirk at your step out of sight again leaving him to huff and hurry to button his robe and find his crown to get the conference over so he could focus on your first film together as a betrothed couple.

Still to be supervised but none the less special in just Glorfindel’s company, after which he’d be able to go through with his planned proposal with the dream ring of yours he’d had for near to a year now for you. You hadn’t said you loved him yet and still seemed a bit tense but never the less he was certain this was what you wanted and you would ease into trusting him as your future spouse as you’d trusted him all your lives up until this forced situation. A stolen brush of his finger against the chain holding the simple green crystal heart and meteorite band ring you had bought him in return for his three hour debacle deepened his smirk remembering the peck you stole on his cheek then darted off. A tiny hint that there was hope to grow up and get married one day now all the more special as it was coming true. Now the perfect size to fit the very finger to seal your bond.

#Giving this a reread #Hopefully Pt 3 will b done soon #:)

9 notes · View notes

some-cookie-crumbz · 4 years

Note

Finger painting with baby for TodoMomo??

YA COMING FOR ME WITH SOFT PROMPTS!!!!!! Please accept this humble ball of pure sugary fluff! Also there’s some reference to Huwumi because I have no self control so I hope you don’t mind!

Coordinating schedules was always a strenuous task but well worth it, as far as Shoto was concerned. When he first agreed to begin the takeover of the Endeavor agency nearly four years ago, he had expected his father to be a merciless slave driver about it. And for the first two years, he kind of was; it was all long hours and strict orders and tedious paperwork. Then, when Momo announced she was pregnant with their child, Enji changed a bit. He was more flexible with Shoto’s schedule, more lenient about him coming and going to accommodate for doctor’s appointments and home preparations.

And then, on June 7th, little Anzu came into the world.

And when Shoto decided to take a full three months off of work after Anzu’s birth to help take care of her, Enji hadn’t said a word against it either. It was strange, but he was grateful. Being a parent was something that Shoto had wanted desperately, but had been nervous about as well. He didn’t have the best example growing up but he was dedicated to the idea of giving his own children what he didn’t have. Once the three months were up, Momo spent another six on maternity before they had the discussion of how to proceed. Neither of them liked the idea of having to leave her with nannies or at a daycare for an excessive amount of time. Momo herself decided that she’d work half shifts while Shoto would boost his own hours a bit, taking the other half of her patrols as well as resuming his training under Enji for the official switch over. And so it became a game of shuffling schedules around to assure that, in the brief and occasional lap over where they were both at work, she was with someone else in the family. Fuyumi tended to be the one most often helping them out, as she and Keigo had four kids of their own and knew what to expect.

Plus, watching Fuyumi’s kids dote on the newborn when he dropped her off or picked her up was always a delight.

That was how things were still proceeding in the current time, with Anzu’s 2nd birthday having just recently passed. Shoto himself was basically running the Endeavor agency on his own at this point, with the official announcement planned in six weeks time. He kicked off his shoes as he walked in the door, feeling exhausted. A part of him wondered if it would be rude to take a nap before dinner but the thought was cast aside at the pattering of tiny feet tearing down the hall. He felt a small smile twist up on his lips at the excited gasp of “Dada!” he heard at the end of the hallway.

He lifted his head to be met with a bright grey eyes and a huge grin. “Hey there, Anzu. Where’s your Mama?” he asked, sliding on his slippers and moving over to her. It was then he noticed a yellow splotch on her forehead. “Hmm? What’s this?” He reached out to touch her forehead, but instead she grabbed his hand and started leading him down the hallway. He noticed other little pepperings of color along her hands as well.

“Mama here! Play!” she said happily. He chuckled before reaching down and picking her up, settling her on his hip with one arm and heading for her playroom. It was then he noticed the slightly thicker apron-esque item she was sporting over the little romper he’d dressed her in that morning. Still curious about the mark on her forehead, he carefully adjusted his grip on her to reach up with his other hand. He carefully rubbed at the yellow splotch toting the line by her hairline, blinking when it came back wet and smeared on himself.

“Is this paint?” he mumbled incredulously as he stepped through the doorway of the little playroom they’d prepared for her.

“She wanted to paint a picture for you,” Momo giggled from her spot, kneeling on the ground beside Anzu’s little easel, what he now realized was a painter’s smock draped over her as well. The little tot in question squirmed until he set her down and she tore over to the little table in the corner.

When she returned, she excitedly presented a piece of paper almost as tall as her and covered in various squiggles and shapes in a plethora of colors. “I make for Dada!” she said.

He blinked before smiling and reaching out to take it, looking over the page. It looked like it was recently dried and the paper crinkled a bit but he felt his heart swell. “Aw, thank you, baby girl,” he breathed softly. His eyes swept over the depicted scene, using color association and inference to determine what, exactly, she’d drawn. “This is a lovely picture of when we went to the park last week.”

Anzu’s eyes lit up in delight and she giggled excitedly, nodding her head eagerly. She said something else in response but it was far too garbled for him to parse out exactly, despite usually being rather skilled with toddlerese. She darted over to the little shelf of supplies, shifting through one of the shelves, while he shifted to join his wife on the ground. “You were able to tell what that was?” she asked with an impressed puff of laughter.

“Well, she’s got a pretty good form for most of the details,” He pointed towards an almost-oval shape in yellow with a pink line through part of it. “Right here is the dog that the nice elderly owner let her pet while we were there. It’s collar was pink.”

“... I honestly thought that was the little swaying horse toy,” she mumbled thoughtfully. They both perked up as Anzu returned with a fresh sheet of paper. “Here, hun. Let me get this in place for you.”

“I don’t remember her having paintbrushes to work with, though,” he realized, glancing at the little tray of the easel. Instead, there was just the assorted jars of colored paint, all the lids hanging via magnets in front of their respective color.

“That’s because she’s been finger-painting,” Momo hummed. When he answered her with a blank look she cocked her head. “You’ve… really never finger-painted before, Shoto?”

He shook his head. While his younger years had a few happier memories of toys and games with his mother, Enji had always been very strict about games or toys that made too much of a mess. Painting - or any arts and crafts, really - fell under that bracket. Suddenly there was a weight on his thighs and two chubby little hands turning his head to face their daughter, a pout clear on her face. “Oh no, Dada. Oh no,” she said, shaking her head as she spoke.

He chuckled a bit at the amount of sheer sass before swooping one arm around her waist as he moved closer to the easel. “Well, since Dada’s never done this before, you can teach me. We can make a picture together,” he suggested, maneuvering her to sit in his lap instead of stand.

She squealed excitedly at that and nodded, nearly knocking him in the chin in her enthusiasm. “Oh, let me get you a smock to work with first,” Momo hummed, carefully pushing off the floor to scamper off to the supply drawer again.

He watched her go before looking down at Anzu again, who was bouncing with giddiness in her lap. “So what do you think we should paint together?” he asked.

“Family!” she squeaked.

“Our family? You, me and Mama?”

“With everybody!” she proclaimed, stretching her arms out wide and slumping back against his chest to look up at him. "With Gamas and Gampas and Aunties and Uncles and cousins!" He smiled and gently reached up to push some of her hair out of her face. She smiled up at him and nuzzled into his hand when he brought it back down to playfully pinch her cheek.

He perked up as Momo returned, a smock tucked into one arm. He made quick work of slipping it on before turning his full attention back to his little girl. “Okay, where should we start?” he prompted.

From there, it devolved into a fun little game of her dipping his fingers into the different colors and dragging them along the page, more using him like a puppet to help create her masterpiece. He couldn’t help but go with the flow of it, though, as her tiny fingers pinched at his wrist to move it this way or that. At one point, he sneezed and ended up with a smearing of red paint along his left cheek. The two ladies got a kick out of that. After sketching in Rei and Enji, Anzu dragged Momo into the work as well, repeating her process all over.

It made Shoto’s heart skip a beat, watching Momo try to modestly hide her giggles while Anzu moved a green-coated finger along the page, little brow knit and tongue poking out in determination. It was strange to think this little whirlwind of a child was theirs, but he wouldn’t trade her for anything in the world.

He dipped his pinkie into the pink paint and, when she turned back to him, gently pressed it to the little tot’s right cheek. “Boop,” he mused as he brought his finger up in an arch and then back around to connect it. There, standing out on her cheek, was a little heart. She couldn’t see what he’d drawn and assumed he was starting a paint fight. Momo let out a small squeak of protest as Anzu dipped a hand into the purple jar and peppered little pats of her fingers along Shoto’s cheeks and jaw. And then she squealed when she lunged for her mother next, other hand covered in light blue, and etched a crude star on her forehead.

Pictures of the trio coated in various pastel paint spots were uploaded to Twitter and Instagram, suspiciously winding up on both he and Momo’s official Hero pages.

He framed both the picture of them, covered in paint, as well as the family picture they all painted together. And he hung them in his office on his first day as the official owner and operator of the Endeavor agency.

#crumbles grumbles #TodoMomo #my fics #Hank Hill voice: I sell Soft Shoto and Soft Shoto accessories

29 notes · View notes

nostalgic-pancakes · 3 years

Text

Watching the starlings as autumn draws in

Summary: Tommy and his friends try on some skirts, and he reflects a bit on how they all got here. (It's a happy story) Title from September by Sparky Deathcap

Pairings: None! Platonic everyone (esp in irl fics_)

Read on AO3 (preferred place to read)

Word count: 2570

Warnings: None, except for surface-level references to the exile/prison arcs, but not much.

Other notes: I wrote this in a fit of madness last night in like three hours at 2 am, so i’ll probably edit it honestly but for now, enjoy! (If the CC’s ever display discomfort with this type of fic I will take it down)

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"WELCOME BACK TO THE STREAM, BOYS!" Tommy exclaims, rubbing his hands together as he starts rapid-fire answering questions about the stream, and the stream title from chat. It's funny, how over time, Tommy's come to see Chat as this one entity- an old friend. The nervousness of answering questions as a fifteen year old with nothing but a big personality, a twitch account and a copy of Minecraft is all but gone now, nineteen years old and happier than he's ever been.

Dreadfulzombie19: what are u doin this stream

"THANK YOU FOR ASKING, Dreadfulzombie19, today is gonna be a bit different, innit Tubbo?" Tommy raises his voice a bit at the end of his sentence, just loud enough for one of his flatmates to hear him. When Tubbo yells back an affirmative, Tommy turns back to his setup. Chat's gone a bit wild again, even though he, Tubbo and Ranboo have been living together for over a year now.

"Okay, okay, calm down chat- so recently I was at university, as usual right? And I had an eight AM class again, and… yeah I can see you all can relate."

"BUT! BUT! On my way back to the flat, I saw something really cool." Tommy hesitates in his speech to take a sip of coke again- his blood pressure's been acting up lately and watches Chat to wild again, asking him what he saw.

"Okay, so there was a shop- new place, which doesn't happen often this is fucking Brighton- and they sold skirts and dresses and stuff with adjustments for AMAB sizes!" Chat goes a bit bonkers, but Tommy's mod team- a little smaller than it used to be, now that he isn't the centre of YouTube or Twitch attention anymore, none of them are- are handling it, and pretty well.

"So I had to go, right? As many of you probably know, last year, I made the astounding discovery that gender-based stereotypes and expectations are, in fact, fake and I should not give a SHIT. And so I go in and look through the stuff- it's a really poggers shop by the way, and I find the perfect thing- it was the most poggers skirts and shit, okay? So, today's stream is going to have me wearing this pogchamp shit and wearing it right, with the help of…" Tommy ends his monologue by picking up the joke shaker-things that Phil had gotten him as a housewarming gift last year and indicates for his first two helpers to enter the office.

In walks his mother, face obscured from view as always, waving to the camera, and Wilbur, also wearing one of his only skirts for this occasion. Eret had taught him, on a phonecall in the skirt shop that week about the different types of skirts with a handy diagram. Wilbur's was a pleated circle skirt, brown to offset the bright yellow of his sweater and beanie, the same colour as his hair. It's very swoosh-y, so he's wearing black leggings with his regular shoes too. Motherinnit's also wearing her favourite skirt, a baby blue prairie skirt, Tommy thinks, and it's one he's seen fairly often.

Wilbur ducks down in order to show his face to Chat, and ruffles Tommy's hair while he's at it. Tommy's taller, but not by much, so Wilbur still fucking makes short jokes, That fucker.

Chat is now going so fast that he simply cannot read anything but some of the all caps messages and can barely make out some of the emotes.

"Okay, OKAY, CALM DOWN CHAT! WE HAVE TO GET TO FUCKING BUSINESS!" Tommy yells into the mix, like he did when he was sixteen and used the 'many people find me annoying at first' intro. Nowadays he just lets the content speak for itself. Anyone who wants to be here already is, by now.

Wilbur laughs a bit, and that hasn't changed at all. "Tommy, how is chat supposed to calm down if you're not calm?"

"I am their god!! They will obey via sheer digital willpower!" Tommy replies back, pretty zealously (What? An English Literature class is mandatory for his film degree, and The Great Gatsby by Zelda Fitzgerald is a good book, as are most of the other assigned ones. He's had entire conversations with Techno with just lit quotes and it drives everyone insane. Tommy loves it.) Chat seemingly has listened to his godlike abilities, with a few OG's spotting his half-quotation of one of Dream's last lines in the Dream SMP. The rest are spamming 'MOTHERINNIT'.

"If having a shitty magic trick book from a washed-up politician makes you a god, then what does that make me?" Wilbur replies, with one of Foolish's lines and swatting his hand at Tommy. Tommy swats back.

"Bitch" "Arsehole" "Shithead" "Fuckface" Wilbur finishes cheerily, as if this happens all the time. It does. Chat's used their antics now, four years of consistently making content together will do that for you.

Eventually Motherinnit reminds them both to get back on Topic, and Tommy goes back to facing the camera, addressing Chat directly.

"Today, my beloved mother, and my idiot brother-" "hey!" "And maybe my flatmates will be joining me to show off some cool as SHIT skirts! And a dress or two. We all have our selections, right?" Everyone nods in affirmative, even Tubbo and Ranboo. Though the camera can't see them. Ranboo's just come home from his final class, then. He should probably take the first hour back off, and judging by how Tubbo is forcefully judging Ranboo to the shower, he probably gets it. Tommy signs an affirmative to both of them, and gets back to the camera, where Wilbur's showing off all of his (very poggers) very stupid brown or yellow skirts. Tommy's are in cool colours, for fuck's sake.

"Oh yeah, Puffy just confirmed she'll be on stream! She'll be here in about twenty minutes, accounting for fucking traffic, and Niki' going to get onto VC after her own stream, what game is it this time?"

"GRIS." Wilbur answers.

"Poggers- she is the SHIT and will join us soon! So expect some QUALITY QUALITY content this stream!! Remember to not spam her chat to finish faster." Exclaims Tommy, even if it ends up as a light warning, as he picks up his own very poggers skirts from the extra armchair in his office to show the camera.

One is the classic red and white, mostly white but with bright red on the waist (elastic) and the bottom, and it reached to about Tommy's knee, if worn at the hip. It had no pleats, but the red bits were a very nice velvet texture, and while the skirt was heavy, it still had very much swoosh value, and pockets!! Big ones!! He slips the skirt on top of his jeans before entering camera view, the skirt visible in all its classic Tommyinnit glory, as he takes his place right next to Wilbur, who just took. a quick spin at the behest of several dono's., Skirt spying out from his lower shins all the way to his knee, making visible one of his (many) petticoats. ("What? It's cold all the fucking time here, Toms.") Tommy also makes a quick little spin, skirt flying outward, not upward, so it looks like he's hula hooping for a moment there. Lastly, Motherinnit spins around too, and while her skirts do not swoosh, she looks opulent, like she was about to go to waltz with the enemy, for whom she has a dagger in the back of her dress for. (He finished Anna Karenina and the Six of Crows duology within the same week and has not yet recovered. Jack Edwards is laughing at him as he thinks in his English Lit Graduate glory.)

It's fun, trying on different skirts- he and Wilbur accidentally bought the same dress at one point, which they paired up to wear, darting off into their respective changing rooms while giggling like idiots with their checkered blouses and the grindl skirts that Niki had sent over when she heard of this stream idea, laughing the whole time. Tubbo enters as dramatically as possible with Puffy, and while Tubbo looks really fucking good in his handkerchief skirt with embroidered bees and plain white shirt, it's Puffy who steals the show with an exact, real life version of her red banquet dress.

Fans from way back in the SMP, before Tommy had started branching out start going insane and are bringing back emotes Tommy wasn't sure were still available, but she is fucking stunning- deep shades of red and crimson, with slits on either side of her waist and all the detailing. She'd gotten the contact for her dressmaker through Bernadette Banner, Tommy recalls- she was so fucking cool when she streamed with him once, and gotten him to swear less and supplant those world's with bigger ones to intimidate instead. While he still curses like a sailor as part of his persona, it's less so and he does way less in real life these days, unless the situation calls for it. It's also just rude, especially in uni libraries, where he spends too much time these days wondering why he didn't read more as a kid.

Puffy's stolen his audience for a WHILE, and Niki coming on hasn't helped any, so Tommy exits camera view for a while to hug Ranboo really quickly- he's had midterms and has basically been dying all month.

Everyone on this stream- Tommy, Wilbur, Motherinnit, Tubbo, Puffy, Niki and Ranboo enter the camera frame after entering their dressing rooms for the last time on this particular stream, Puffy with full in-character wigs and makeup, Tommy in an Edwardian-Gothic reminiscent black and red dress, Ranboo in something he bought when he gap-yeared in Japan, punk lolita or something, Niki flaunting her pink in a Marie Antoinette style show of finery, Tubbo dressing in all green this time, something like a very deranged biology teacher who hasn't slept in days (Tubbo hasn't-Tommy has to get into that), Wilbur like a forest-nymph, all earthy tones and swishy fabrics and nature highlights, and finally Motherinnit, who hasn't changed but is here to take pictures as they all lean in together to fit into frame, as drastic as their height difference is. Niki is going to be edited in later, and everyone on the 'Dream SMP but nobody does Dream SMP and we're all fucking nerds' discord server is going to get a copy.

The stream wraps up there, after about two hours, and it's only about six in the evening- a far cry from the late nights and long hours from the beginning of Tommy's career, so everyone runs to their changing areas for the last time, into pajamas now, and packs away all of the clothes they wore, properly, as to not incense Karolina Zebrowska, and Jemma, Dan's wife, who would look at them disappointedly and nobody wants a sad Jemma because that means no cooing at their son. Also it just feels shitty.

Everyone huddles in Tommy, Tubbo and Ranboo's living room, and they out on UP for like, the millionth fucking time (they still cry when Ellie dies), and Tommy is leaning into Wilbur's side and feeling his mum play with the hair in his very small, stubby ponytail he's developed by being in Uni as he and Tubbo intertwine their legs together and Ranboo rests his head in the tangle of limbs, playing with his fidget cube. Puffy stays on Wilbur's side, intently texting someone and smiling the whole while, and Tommy takes a moment to reflect (something he's been getting better at doing) on how the actual hell they all got here.

The Dream SMP was always going to end- everyone knew it, if course, they were the fucking writers. But by the time they did, not only were their respective brands too closely intertwined to just… sever that quickly, but they'd become too close to even want to. So the SMP discord never shut, even though Dream and George had planned it months ago, and they continued supporting each other with their interests. Wilbur made a lot more music solo, with his band and even just random ass streams where he practiced guitar for an hour. He kept playing Minecraft, but it wasn't his main focus. A bunch of people left. More stayed. YouTube left him alone.

Dream, George and Sapnap are still Minecraft streamers, but their YouTube channels are mostly blogs of them being poor excuses of adults with other former SMP members joining in sometimes. Tommy and the Dream Team were closer than ever, even though the seeds of their friendship had been sowed when they used to linger after heavy streams together, reassuring each other that none of that was true and that nothing like… that would happen in real life, because Dream had used real abuse tactics, and those still hurt unless immediately taken care of. So they were. It was a running joke that Dream was stuck at 99 million subscribers since nobody really wanted the face reveal anymore. The other Dream team members were doing peachy.

Phil and Techno were also still primarily Minecraft streamers, but they also released things like advice videos and mental health stuff, especially for relationships. They had a new scripted series where Tommy was a minor character. The dadza jokes were still as real, and yes, outside of streaming, both of them were lovely people and responsible adults (mostly). They collaborated with DanTDM and co a lot more now.

Puffy and Niki kept doing games, but did lots of different ones, testing point and clickers to triple A titles, and making it all fucking hilarious while they were at it.

So where had that left Tommy?

After the Dream SMP, he'd kind of had no idea what to do, and he was going to University for the first time, so he just… did whatever he thought would be fun. He learned about vintage fashion from the queens themselves- Mina Le, Bernadette Banner and Karolina Zebrowska and had fun learning how to sew for the first time, fixing and making his own clothes for the first time, clunky as they were, Wilbur had cried, genuinely, when he saw the Lovejoy shirts that Tommy had made for the band. He'd found a genuine love for literature in university, so Tommy started talking to booktubers and studytubers like Jack Edwards and Noelle Stevenson. Tubbo and Ranboo had joined him, fucking around in any YouTube niche they found even remotely interesting. Eventually, they all found a happy medium- a bit of everything.

Some people obviously weren't happy with that but Tommy was happy as he was, making what he liked with his best friend's, living together close enough to most of their friends (family) to have fun and drop in on one another at ass-o-clock in the morning to comfort, to laugh. His sub count hasn't gone up in a while- most of his audience is static, with about 80-90k online on a stream at any time.p

It was a nice feeling, to have carved out a space for himself and the people he loves, and be is so, so glad that he got this chance.

Looking at his mostly asleep family, Tommy thinks 'yeah. Life is good.' as the last thought before he sleeps.

#dream smp #mcyt #irl fic #tommyinnit #wilbur soot #tubbo #nihachu #ranboo #vee's writing #2021

5 notes · View notes

infinite-hearts-333 · 4 years

Text

Masked Love Chapter 1

Sander sides, Rociet, Human/Magical AU

WARNING: mentions of past dehumanising, reference to PTSD flashback??, um bullying reference.

Masterpost

~~18/5/2022 6:37am (Present time)~~

“Janus?”

Janus grumbled, pulling the weighted blanket over his head more as what sounded like his mama's voice filled his too-tired, half asleep brain. “Noooooooooo….”

“Janus! JANUS! I know you're awake up there!!”

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO” Janus groaned back, pulling the blanket tighter over his head.

“JANNIE IF YOU DON'T LISTEN TO YOUR MOTHER I’LL COME UP THERE WITH THE COLD BORE WATER AGAIN~!” Came the singsong voice of his mom, and Janus full on scrambled out of bed, covers sent flying and he had to double check his claws to ensure they didn’t ensnare on anything through his half sleepy, half panicked daze.

“COMING! COMING!! Yesh….” he called, before grumbling, yawning, completely use to the soft popping of his unhinged jaw, forked tongue tasting the air. Waffles…. Mmmmm….

He quickly got ready, body automatically from routine, getting changed into his clothes- a lime turtle neck, black jacket with pins and patches attached, sunflower yellow beanie, skinny black jeans and his boots. He hummed a loose tune as he moved, alike to clock work, moving to turn to his bed, tugging the poor flinged sheets back into the right position, snatching up his stuffed dragon that had fallen onto the floor and placing it on top of his pillow gently.

Janus’s room was, in fact, the attic. His mum and mama weren't… expecting him when he showed up, but they took him in and loved him all the same. The rickety old house they had didn't have enough rooms for Janus to move into when he got older, so his parents spent ages rebuilding the attic for him. You could tell in some places- the seams where the wall met the roof weren't all the same size, the floorboards ran crookedly rather than straight, there were chips in both the walls and the floor where the wood wasn’t smooth.

But janus loved his room. It was cosy- there different metals and CD disks strung up which glinted like precious gems under the sky window, he had a large rainbow flag hanging over his bed in the corner, fairy lights stuck on the wall all around the room. Boxes upon boxes peeked out of his bed, filled to the brim with the most random things, leaves, feathers, stones, shells, bones, name it, Janus probably had it.

Walking to where his room ended, a wall with a human sized hole in the floor, he paused by the mirror, only to wrinkle up his nose in disgust at what he saw staring back. Janus was actually pretty handsome, nice clear tanned skin, brilliant eyes that shined lime and forest green and firefly yellow all at the same time. Chestnut hazel hair that hung in ruffled curls framed his face. He was strong, a little buff and according to his mother and mamma, quite the personality. But there were two things.

Janus’s jaw. It faded into the most horrid shade of olive green, splotches of lime, deep forest green and the colour of dying cactuses for scales, littered across the bottom half of Janus’s face. Two gross dusty pink scars ran from the corners of his mouth, stretching out and curling, nearly to touch his ears, one on each side. Darting in and out of his abnormally large fanged mouth was a forked blue tongue, fading into pink at the back of his mouth, the slightest sign that janus was once human.

He softly sighed, turning away to wander to the wall, and so the holes well, jumping through it to land on the couch flawlessly. “Morning.” He mumbled to the two females cooking and giggling at each other. “Morning' darling~!” called Mamma, smiling brightly. “Did you sleep well, little snek-a-doodle?” Teased his mum, smiling warmly as she parted from her partner to ruffle her adopted son's hair.

Janus smiled back up at her, and couldn't ignore the pang of happiness when all he found in mum's eyes was love. “We made waffles for your big day!” Chimed Mamma, beaming as she worked at the stove.

Ah. Right. High school. Janus groaned, leaning back to painfully donk his head against the wall. “Do I have to go?” He whined. “Yup!” his mum said, popping the ‘p’. Janus rolled his head off the wall, allowing his eyes to drop to problem number two in his life. His hands. Or well…. Talons.

Janus’s hands, a lot like his jaw dyed into that horrid olive colour, splattered with scales. He had four ‘fingers’ instead of five, each ending with a large sharp claw that was almost an ivory green if held in the right light. Scars lined his hand where the scales started, signs that janus wasn’t born with these abnormal features.

His mum then slapped him over the head with a rolled up newspaper. “OW! Hey!!!!!” snapped Janus. His mum raised an eyebrow. “You were pulling the face you make when you're judging yourself. And I'm having none of that. You're beautiful, fullstop.” she narrowed her eyes at him, daring him to prove her wrong. Janus chuckled. “Guilty as charged.” he hummed, standing to walk over to their small island counter.

His mom huffed, nodding, walking alongside her son, combat boots making a soft thumping noise on the tiles. Janus hid a wince as the sound of clicking heels entered his mind.

Click, click, click.

He swallowed, sitting. “Here you go!!” chirped Mamma, smiling as she placed the plates down. “Thank you dear.” Mom said softly kissing Mamma’s cheek on her way past. “Thanks mamma.” Janus chipped in, trying not to show his teeth while he smiled. Mamma beamed, swirling around to plop down in her seat.

Janus reached out to grab the berries, randomly dropping them over the waffles. He was cautious, ensuring he didn’t open his mouth too wide, taking in small little bites. Mum started talking about what she would be doing while Janus was at school, working on the new barley crops. “Those darn aphids! They've been going off everywhere!!!” Janus slowly chewed on a piece of blue berry.

“I think you're gonna need to get some pest spray mum.” Janus pointed out. Mamma nodded. “Do you want me to pick some up honey? I’m going into town anyway for some more mango seeds.”

Janus smirked against his milk glass, washing down the waffles. “Again with the Mangos Mamma?”

Mamma shrugged, smiling. “I want to make some jams! And maybe I might try making mango sorbet again.” Janus grinned. “Yes please!” His gaze flickered to the clock on the wall, and he sighed. “Well, as much as I hate it, I should go.” he said with a huff, shovelling the last of the waffles into his mouth and drowning the milk.

“Okay darling, have a nice day!” Mamma said with a smile. “See you this afternoon ‘kay snek-a-doodle? You’ll help me with the cows again?” Janus smirked, collecting his plate and glass. “Absolutely.” he stated, placing his dishes in the sink. “See you this afternoon!” he called, snatching up his gloves and mask off their hanger and then scooping up his bag.

He swung his bag half on, fumbling to put on his yellow gloves. They were bulky and too big to allow room for his claws, a black band around the start of the four fingers and wrist to prevent slipping and looked ridiculous, but it was better than exposing his features to the world. He had to be careful, pausing to ensure none of his scales got caught on the fabric. He then put on his mask, a simple also yellow fabric that covered his mouth and nose. He then twisted to reach into his front pocket of his bag, pulling out his earphones and lime mp3 player, shoving the buds into his ears and turning it on, blasting the music at the highest volume.

[ 🎶 Looking for an exit in this world of fear

I can see the path that leads away

Mama never left, and daddy needs me here

I wish the wind would carry a change

Looking through the window to a world of dreams

I can see my future slip away

Honey you won't get there if you don't believe

I wish the wind would carry a change 🎶 ]

He wandered through the fields of crops and fields of animals, waving a hello to the farmer next door. Michel, his name was, he grows the best peaches. He guessed that there was a satisfying crunch as Janus jumped from a small ledge down onto the orange autumn leaf-covered road. Wandering along the side of the road, Janus quietly hummed along to his music all the way to the bus stop. He quickly checked the suns position, having done it many many times, relieved to find he was on time and the bus should be here any minute.

[ 🎶 I've had enough

I'm standing up

I need, I need a change

I've had enough

Of chasing luck

I need, I need a change 🎶 ]

Sure enough the death machine, painted yellow and screeching nearly as loud as its passengers came swerving around the corner, somehow audible through Janus’s music, metal rusted gears screaming as the beast came to a halt. That thing was definitely gonna kill people one day. Janus huffed, climbing the rickety steps and flashed his card at the bus driver, who looked like he had been going for six months without sleep and would snap someone's neck.

They traded nods, having known each other since Janus first ‘moved’ to the country. They never really spoke to each other, but traded nods, ‘hey’s’, and ‘mood’s’ so he was cool. Janus sat right behind the bus driver, dumping his bag next to him so no one would take the seat next to him. Not that it was necessary, everyone actively avoided him. He then maintained his death glare, slipping it on as easily as putting on his mask.

Some kids, janus found, take enjoyment in throwing things at the bus driver, so janus took it upon himself to protect the bus driver from the nuisances, and in return, once the bus driver found out, he would keep the passengers from taking the spot so Janus wasn't forced to sit next to anyone.

[ 🎶 I'm setting fire to the life that I know (I know)

Let's start a fire everywhere that we go (we go)

We starting fires,

We starting fires till our lives are burning gold 🎶 ]

Janus sat, guarding the busdriver and spacing out till he felt the bus sharply halt. Hip hip hooray for hell. He sighed, standing up and wandered off the bus, bidding farewell to the busdriver with a small nod of the head. He turned his attention to his new problem.

The school's shadow engulfed him standing tall over him, and a part of janus feared it may crumble and crush him. People were chatting, boys flirting and betting, bullies shoving random people and dropping curses. Janus’s personal hell. Well, here goes nothing!

[ 🎶 I've had enough

Of chasing luck

I need, I need a change 🎶 ]

12 notes · View notes

chromecutie · 4 years

Text

Not A Ghost - part 38

A/N - Multi-part fic. Colossus x OC where OC has come home after being wrongfully imprisoned in the Icebox. Warnings for whole fic - references and flashbacks to harsh prison environment, including various types of abuse.

NEW WARNING - fictional police brutality. Takes place shortly after events in Deadpool 2. Whole thing will end up on my AO3 eventually.

Masterlist on my profile!

Taglist: @emma-frxst @ra-ra-rasputiin @holamor @empressme-bitch @marvel-is-perfection @hazilyimagine @marvelhead17 @rovvboat @angstybadboytrash @whitewitchdown @master-sass-blast @mori-fandom @mooleche @dandyqueen @emberbent @leo-writer @silver-stormy . Wanna be added or removed? Holla at me.

-------------------------------------

Hot rage surged and Rhonda slapped a palm on the plexiglass wall. The force made her shoulder flare in agony, but she ignored it. “FUCKING GODDAMMIT!” she screamed. “He fucking brought the girls!” A cluster of guards was closing around the whirling blue sparks and the orange forcefield growing like an angry bubble. The team had splintered throughout the yard and mess hall. Battered as she was, with gashed arms, a ruined shoulder, and something wrong with her ribs, Rhonda was filled with enough rage to fight even the Juggernaut if she had to. She kicked off her shoes and yanked the grimy socks off her feet.

“Um, Rhonda?” Wade asked, “What are you doing? I know you’re a little cracked, but this isn’t the beach.” He looked around the office, as if confirming for himself that this was indeed not the beach.

She rounded on Wade and said, “Stay here and watch these two. Make sure they don’t do anything stupid.” With a glare at Mimi and Robinson, she demanded, “Let me out.”

Mimi flicked her tongue, clicking her teeth and raising her brow. She gestured with her palms up. “Okay, bitch, give them hell.”

She waved a finger and Robinson beeped the door open for Rhonda to slip out. She took two of the discarded collars with her, clicking them closed.

Rhonda threaded through inmates. The ones strong enough to fight had either joined Colossus and Beast against the DMC or had decided to settle their own grudges amongst themselves - or against the X-men, ignoring the warnings from Mimi and Guestbook. As she ran on the metal walkways, each time her foot met the surface, she sent a strong electric pulse. Anyone close to her took a nasty shock, stunned and needed a moment to recover. It kept everyone from getting close to grab her.

When she was as close as the network of walkways would allow, she was above the guards attacking the young women on the ground floor. Rhonda threw one of the collars like a frisbee, and shot a spark after it. The explosive in the block detonated over their heads and as they looked up and around for the source, she shouted to get their attention.

Yukio and Negasonic almost faltered in their guard at the sight of their friend, Negasonic’s unofficial adoptive mother. She had a wide, sinister grin as she antagonized the officers into following her. Her hair was tangled and frizzy, one sleeve completely torn away, and splattered with blood in a few spots. She looked every bit like some kind of supernatural monster.

The guards, faces obscured in their gear, shouted and tried to clamber up the stairs to a spot where they would be able to hit her with a cattle prod or a new collar. Rhonda dodged and maneuvered through the railing, landing on the concrete floor with a roll. She tossed the other collar and sent a spark to detonate it at the guards’ feet. It was so cold she could hardly feel her fingers, toes, or her bare arm, but she felt the glass in her feet as she darted across the yard toward the solitary unit, drawing the guards away from her girls.

Her lungs burned, her feet burned, her eyes burned, but as long as she was still conscious, it didn’t matter. The Department of Mutant Control would burn too.

Screams of combat and death echoed through the Icebox, a grim chorus in a cathedral of carnage. Cable and Domino had no qualms about killing anyone who attacked them. Nightcrawler and Storm did their best to use non-lethal means, but certainly they had a few fatalities among the officers and inmates. Yukio and Negasonic Teenage Warhead seemed to be the ones most careful to follow the X-Men’s first rule.

From the office, Wade cheered at the top of his lungs about X-Force. Mimi regarded the scene as if she were watching a casino floor - a multitude of individual games making a greater mosaic of risk and reward, all the while calculating her own chances of escaping alive.

“I think that’s Knowles,” Robinson pointed at a guard who had lost his helmet and took a hard hit to the head with Nightcrawler’s sword hilts. “Haha, he’s a prick!” The turncoat guard was maybe a little too giddy as his coworkers fell one by one to the attacking mutants.

Wade was only too happy to share Robinson’s glee. “Oooh, heyyy,” Wade drawled. “We got a plan for the free mini grenades?” he turned and jerked his thumb at the pile of collars. “‘Cause I have an idea.”

All the lights in the Icebox flickered, and in bursts the light bulbs throughout the whole complex started shattering. The screens in the office went dead for a moment, before emergency power kicked on, along with pale green emergency lights. Spilled blood looked black, living skin looked sickly, the Icebox looked utterly alien.

When the electricity went haywire, Colossus froze. His gaze wildly swept up to the office, and across the yard and mess hall. Rhonda was nowhere in sight. For the X-Men’s part, the fight was handled. The remaining inmates made it clear they wouldn’t fight. Storm, Cable, and Domino dragged unconscious and handcuffed people into a pile to save warmth until someone came for them. Yukio and Negasonic caught up with Colossus, tripping over their own words to tell him something had happened, Rhonda had done something.

“Slow down,” he told his rising panic as much as he told the young women. “Where is she?”

“She ran that way,” Negasonic pointed down the far end of the mess hall.

He was already running, with his mentees following closely as he asked, “How many guards followed her?”

“It was hard to tell,” Yukio’s breath came out in little grey puffs of steam. “At least five.”

As they got closer, wailing and howling echoed down the dark halls to them. Fearing the worst, Colossus followed the screams until he saw flashes of light from behind a door that stood ajar. Above the door read bold lettering, SOLITARY HOUSING UNIT. He bolted for it and threw it open.

The scene of bodies made him stop short. Someone closer to the door was shrieking in agony before they fell to the ground, convulsing as threads of blue-green electricity danced and laced over the body. In seconds, the screams stopped. A few other bodies lay on the floor, smoke rising from their corpses. Any skin that was visible was charred, blackened. The room was dark, except for the dim emergency lights, but Piotr could make out the figure further down the cell block, where the lightning was coming from. They wore a filthy jumpsuit that should have been yellow. One arm was completely bare and littered with tattoos.

“Rhonda!” he called.

Surprised, the forks and spears of lightning retreated until the figure was wreathed in jagged bright lines around their shoulders.

“Is she alive?” Negasonic asked behind him.

“Wait here,” he said breathlessly. Carefully, slowly, Colossus entered the unit. He could hear his wife’s ragged, heavy breathing, and saw her shoulders heaving. He saw numerous dead inmates on the floor stretching through the whole unit. Those looked like they had died of stabbing or blunt trauma. What froze his heart was the six bodies of officers on the floor that had clearly been electrocuted with Rhonda’s abilities. It made him sick, but after seeing other areas in the Icebox - the chaos, the raw ferocity of the inmates and the cruelty of the guards - everything inside him screamed to get his loved ones out of this place. “They can’t hurt you anymore,” he said loudly. She was breathing so heavy he thought she was sobbing. She still emanated lightning from most of her body, and her lack of response was worrying. The floor around her was streaked with blood and she was barefoot.

“Rhonda,” he tried again, softer, “You don’t have to fight anymore.” He took slow steps forward. He had to step over a dead inmate.

Between the heaving breaths, Rhonda managed to rasp out, “You see what I am now.”

Colossus was finally close enough to make out some details in her face - bruises, busted lip, blood-matted hair at her temple, scratches over her cheeks, paler and greener that she should be, or was that the emergency lights playing tricks on her skin? “I see you are injured and sick,” he answered simply. “The jet is waiting, let’s get out of here.”

She took a step back, extending one palm to lean on the wall beside her. “I killed these people.”

“Self defense,” he said numbly.

Rhonda shook her head and her eyes briefly rolled back before she answered, “Not all of it.”

It was dangerous to touch her while she was electrified like this. Colossus could do it, but it would hurt and if anyone else touched him, all the more dangerous for them. He had to get through to her and get her to come along.

“What’s happening?” Yukio was barely audible from the hallway.

Throat tight, Piotr locked eyes with his wife cited their wedding vows in Russian, “[I will love you until all the stars go dark, and after.]”

Her brows lifted and she exhaled a shallow breath. “[You love who I used to be.]” Piotr heard hopelessness and defeat in her voice.

“Can we talk about this at home?” he urged, “Will you please come home with me?” He was close enough now that he held out his hand, expecting her to pull herself together and take it.

She shifted, and there was a sticky, wet sound under her feet. “You know no one will let me stay there, and they shouldn’t.”

“Rhonda!” Piotr pleaded. “That’s not true!” He thought of one last thing that he hoped would get through to her. He focused on every memory he could recall of holding her, any time he was touching her skin, and in a few seconds his armor melted away to reveal his own skin. “I’m not leaving this place without you. Please, let’s go.”

Even in the dim emergency lights, Rhonda had no trouble making out his soft, dark hair and bold blue eyes and the short, thick beard framing his face. How many times had she envisioned his face during her captivity? Her head hurt, she felt like she was in a strange dream. His long, muscular arms extended toward her. He was her home, everything good in the world. Hope sparked in her soul - hope that her worst fears were wrong, that Piotr could still be her home and that maybe there was a way she could move forward from the horrors of the Icebox--

There was movement in the corner of her vision, a silhouette rising from the floor and holding something sharp.

Without a thought, Rhonda sent a powerful spike of lightning surging through the air, just past Piotr's elbow and striking the figure behind him. The body fell, twitching and smoking, and a long shiv made from a piece of sheet metal clattered on the floor.

In the split second it had taken Rhonda to fire off the bolt of lightning, Piotr had armored up again out of reflex. He looked down at the fallen inmate, a man with crusty blond hair, who had gotten within inches of being able to stab him. He quickly looked back at his wife, who had furrowed her brow, electricity finally under control.

She wouldn't meet his eyes, instead looking down and away. “Are we going?" she asked with a hard edge.

Taking a few hobbling steps, she struggled to breathe evenly and was leaving bloody footprints. Piotr heard a sickening crunch in each step. “Sladkaya, what happened to your feet?” It would take too long to reach the jet like this. Piotr swept her into his arms, ignoring her pained grunt, and sprinted for the way out.

Negasonic and Yukio followed on his heels, running for the main area where the rest of the team was. Beast, Cable, Domino, and some of the inmates had already headed back down the tunnel to the jet, while Storm and the others waited in the mess hall to make sure everyone was accounted for. As Colossus reached her, Storm asked, “You found her?” She gasped when she saw her friend’s condition.

“Where is Beast?” he asked urgently.

Storm shook her head, “He took some of the injured in the railcar for the jet.”

“KURT!” the Russian shouted. At the bamf sound, he turned and begged, “Please, can you take her? You can get her to Hank faster than me, please!”

Nightcrawler gave a hurried affirmative as he took the wheezing, barely conscious woman in his arms, and disappeared to catch up with Beast and the first wave of injured mutants.

Wade and two more inmates ran up to Colossus, each holding an armful of collars. “Hey, big guy!” he beamed. “You found Little Miss Rampage?” He shared the same bright grin with the younger mutants with him, “Hi, Yukio!”

“Yes, and we have to go,” he answered impatiently. He was already heading for the way out and ushering everyone else along.

Negasonic frowned, “What’s with the collars? What the fuck are you doing?”

Wade’s shoulders bounced in a playful shrug. “We’re going to put them in a nice pile by the door so we can wreck this shitbox on our way out.”

The inmate beside him, a thin woman with dark grey scales, added seriously, “We just need a way to detonate them.”

The crazed mercenary raised his brows pointedly, “I’d use a gun, but NOBODY WILL GIVE ME ONE.”

Negasonic pursed her lips, then said, “Fine, I can do it. But we have to go, now.”

When the Icebox was clear of everyone who was leaving on the X-Jet, Wade, Mimi, and Robinson piled the collars near the main entrance that DMC personnel used. Yukio led Mimi and Robinson down the tunnel, while Wade and Negasonic waited a short delay before she sent a wave of energy that set off all the collars’ explosives. Each individual charge wasn’t much, but together it was a significant blast. The structure around the entrance crumbled, and cracks radiated in the rock along the tunnel.

“Fuck,” Negasonic spat. She and Wade sprinted headlong to catch up with the others, shouting for them to hurry because the whole tunnel could collapse.

“We did pretty good,” Wade huffed. “This went great. Let’s make an annual prison break tradition, huh? Good team building! Like an escape room, but extreme.”

#not a ghost #deadpool fanfic #colossus x oc #piotr rasputin x oc #colossus #xmen #marvel

11 notes · View notes

savannahsdrabbles · 4 years

Text

Encounters - Part Two

rating: G summary: How April met the ROTTMNT turtles.

notes: 6k fluffy turtle tot fic with just a touch of angst. Part one can be found here, and Ao3 link here!

“Phew- finally!” April O’Neil heaved a sigh as she pushed the door closed and slid to the floor, her head drooping with exhaustion. A pepperoni slipped from the bun on the top of her head, rolling down the front of her uniform and skittering to a stop at her feet. “That was the last of them.”

“Thank goodness,” Mrs. O’Neil called wearily from the living room. “Remind me to not host your girl scout meetings at the house ever again – or at least until Gabriella’s mom learns to control her child.”

“Will do.”

“Hey – grab me some more cleaner while you’re in there, please.”

“Okay,” The eleven year old sighed tiredly as she heaved herself back to her feet and reached for a bottle underneath the kitchen sink. She dug for a moment, shaking one bottle experimentally and peering at its label, tucked a roll of trash bagas under her arm, and then wandered into the mess of their living room. The usually neat, tidy room was almost unrecognizable beneath the layers of garbage and first aid materials that had been scattered across the floor. To a stranger, it might have looked like a party gone horribly wrong. To anyone who had been to a scout meeting before, this looked like a normal Tuesday night with twelve hyperactive young girls. Paper cups and plates were scattered on almost every flat surface, some still holding half eaten pieces of pizza or balancing haphazardly on the arms of chairs. Rolls of bandages and tubes of Neosporin were strewn amongst them, along with the printable instruction sheets that had been their guides for the evening. April held the bottle out in front of her. “Here ya go.”

Mrs. O’Neil was currently on her hands and knees in the center of the room, scrubbing at a red patch on the carpet. The older black woman smiled gratefully as she reached out to take the bottle, then dumped a liberal amount onto the rag she held in her other hand while making a tsk sound under her breath. April knew that sound – it meant she would be hearing about the other girls’ lack of manners for the next week and a half. At least she’d gotten her first aid patch tonight – she might have to use it later when her mom’s head exploded.

“I swear, I think Anaya’s mom put ink or something into that batch of fruit punch – it’s refusing to come out of the carpet.”

“Sorry about that,” April pulled a trash bag from the roll she’d tucked under her arm and began dumping paper plates into it. “I think all of the sugar got Gabriella a bit crazy tonight – she’s not usually that clumsy.”

“Well in that case, you guys are getting carrot sticks for the next meeting.” Mrs. O’Neil huffed. “And water – at least that won’t stain my carpet.”

April hummed in agreement as she continued to fill the bag and then tied it shut. “I’m gonna go ahead and run this outside.”

“Okay, hon. Oh – and could you knock on Mrs. Meyer’s door and ask if she has any extra cleaner? I think we’re almost out of this one.”

“Sure thing!” The girl hefted the bag of trash onto her shoulder and then raised an eyebrow and giggled. “I’m taking out the trash – at night.”

“Was that a Spongebob reference?”

“… Maybe.”

A smile broke through her mom’s frustrated expression, making a warm glow run through April’s veins. The woman reached up to pat April’s hip, then shoved her lightly. “Alright, goofball. Hurry along – it’s already dark outside.”

“Yes ma’am!” the bespectacled girl hurried back into the kitchen, trash bag bouncing at her side, and grabbed her tennis shoes from the shoe bin. She was still in her girl scout uniform – tan shorts and a white t-shirt hidden beneath her green vest- but she decided it would be fine for a quick trash run. Her fanny pack bounced on her hip as she walked, keeping rhythm with the tails of the yellow bandana tied around her neck.

With a quick tug on the heels of her shoes to get them in place, April was off. The girl scampered out into the hallway and headed towards the stairwell, still mumbling Spongebob quotes under her breath. Taking the steps two at a time, she made it down to the bottom floor quickly and pushed open the back door that led to alleyway next to their building.

A single lightbulb flickered to life over her head as she leaned into the night air, then rapidly began flashing. April groaned as the bulb seemed to fight for life before finally blinking out. The maintenance workers at their building were bad enough about changing the lightbulbs inside - she guessed she shouldn’t be too surprised that they had neglected to keep up with the ones outside. Still, that made her mission feel a bit more intense.

Taking a deep breath and forcing a look of determination onto her face, April shoved the door with all of her might. The metal door swung outwards and crashed into the outside wall with a clang, but it did the job – light from the stairwell spilled out into the alley and created a direct path to the dumpster. With her sneakers squeaking on the linoleum, April darted out the door and cleared the concrete steps before her in a single bound. If she could just move fast enough, she should be able to make it back inside before the door -

Her goal was cut short, however, when the door suddenly swung back on its hinges and plunged the alley into darkness.

Fantastic.

April squinted at her surroundings and blinked until her eyes could adjust to the new lighting, then continued to walk in the direction of the dumpster she’d been heading towards. No big deal, just throw the bag in and then head right back the way she had come.

Then she heard it.

Pounding and whining were coming from within the dumpster, accompanied by the occasional yelp.

April jumped backwards in alarm and then hesitated, frowning. Her mom had complained about raccoons digging through the garbage before, knocking over the smaller trash cans and nearly giving passerby heart attacks in the process. Supposedly they were pretty mean creatures by nature, but based on the sounds coming from the dumpster, the creature within sounded like it was more fearful than angry.

She over the shoulder and towards the door, considering going back upstairs and telling her mom that it was too dark to take the trash out. Mom would understand, but she was stressed enough about their dirty apartment without having to deal with a bag of garbage sitting around until the morning…

Making up her mind, April took a deep breath and forced herself to stride closer to the bin as she called out. “You know, a dumpster probably isn’t the best place to hide, Mr. Raccoon.”

The noises suddenly cut off, replaced by a tense silence. April kicked the bottom of the bin with her shoe, causing a deep, warbling echo to reverberate through the dumpster. Whatever was within made a sharp noise, but didn’t growl or let out any other sounds of aggression. In fact, April could almost swear she heard a crunching sound as the creature dug itself deeper into the garbage. She glanced around, spotting a stack of cardboard boxes on one side of the dumpster. They didn’t look super sturdy, but if she stood on top of those she would definitely be able to reach the lid.

“I think I see how you got in there. I’m going to climb up and get the lid open for you, but you have to get yourself out, ok?”

The shuffling resumed as April dropped the trash bag she was still holding onto the ground and hoisted herself up onto the nearest box. It wobbled briefly, threatening to crumple under her weight, but ultimately held firm as the girl gained her balance and continued her upwards trek.

“Do raccoons have rabies? I think I remember Mom saying that they did. So you have to promise not to bite me, ok?” April grunted a little as she finally pulled herself onto the top box and crouched on her knees to peer back down. It was a bit disconcerting being up this high – a tumble from this height would seriously hurt. “I’m going to open the lid now, and you have to climb out and go back home to your family, ok?”

More rapid shuffling, and a small whine.

“I’ll take that as an ok.” April gripped the edge of the lid and braced herself. The light above the door to the stairwell suddenly flickered back on, settling her nerves a bit. At least now she would be able to see if the raccoon ran towards her. Shifting herself into a squatting position, April grunted and then surged upwards. “One, two, three!”

With a heave, she flung the lid wide open and then pressed herself against the brick wall as the lid slammed against it, thankfully not bouncing back and closing the dumpster a second time.

She expected an explosion of movements at this moment – a bundle of fur clawing its way out of the bin and hissing wildly as it vanished into the night. However, she only got one of those things.

April’s mouth gaped as she stared down into the dumpster.

A small, green creature wrapped in a filthy orange hoodie scrabbled at the side of the bin, its eyes flickering towards her and chest heaving as it hopped desperately on one foot. Even with its frantic attempts, April could tell that there was no way the creature would be able to pull itself out – especially not once she caught a glimpse of the foot it was attempting to keep from touching the ground. Broken beer bottles lay in the corner of the bin, catching the light as the trash bags beneath them shifted and buckled.

“Oh. My. Soup.” she gasped and dropped to her knees to get a better look. The creature yelped in surprise and stumbled backwards, dropping onto its bottom and then clambering in a backwards crab walk to put more distance between them. “Are you an alien?”

The creature fumbled away as she reached out a curious hand, and then suddenly – like spaghetti being slurped into a mouth – pulled its head and limbs into its hoodie.

“WHOA!” April nearly tumbled off the pile of boxes in surprise, her arms pinwheeling to keep her balance. “That’s so freaky- are you like a turtle alien?”

The turtle alien let out a small, pained whine from within the hoodie in response, and April suddenly remembered its foot. The ground beneath the creature was streaked with blood, clearly spread out in his desperate attempts to escape the metal prison. She felt a sympathetic twinge of pain – she’d cut herself on glass before, and knew that it hurt like all heck. To have a cut like that and have to put weight on it sounded awful.

For a second time since coming outside, April considered running back to the apartment to get her mother’s help. Then she had a sudden realization.

“Hey, I’m sorry – are you ok? It looks like you’re bleeding pretty bad. I have some bandaids and stuff in my fanny pack that might help. If you come over here, I might be able to pull you out.” No response. “Don’t make me come in there.” Still no response. “Ok then, here I come.”

Swinging her legs over the edge of the dumpster, April grimaced and then allowed herself to drop down into the dark depths. Her hands brushed the edges of the bin, helping to steer her descent and allowing her to remain upright. As soon as her shoes touched the bottom of the bin, the alien creature exploded out of its shell and held up its own arms to cover himself.

“No no no- stay back!”

April yelped and stumbled back obediently until her back pressed against the wall of the bin. “Wait - you can talk?”

The turtle alien kept his arms raised, but peeked through them to give her a slightly offended look. “F’course I can! I’m not a baby!”

“I didn’t mean to say that, I just – so you’re not an alien?”

The creature shook his head and finally dropped his arms to gesture at the shell peeking out of the bottom of his hoodie. “No, I’m a turtle.”

April could feel her shoulders slowly untensing as the creature – ok, turtle – spoke. He sounded young, perhaps slightly younger than herself. No wonder he’d freaked out when she approached him out of the darkness. “I’ve never seen a turtle like you before.”

“Well I have! I-“ the turtle started excitedly, and then snapped his mouth shut and turned away as if he suddenly remembered that he was speaking to a stranger and had said too much. His eyes flicked back towards the edge of the bin far above their heads, then towards April, and he shifted backwards slightly. “Never mind.”

So maybe he IS an alien. April bit the inside of her cheek and considered the information. He didn’t seem dangerous, especially with that wounded foot.

“It looks like you stepped on some glass – I can still help you out, if you’ll let me. I just got my first aid badge,” she proudly pointed to the circle on her vest, and watched as the turtle’s expression morphed into one of curiosity. She took this opportunity to slowly stretch her hand out and smiled when he didn’t immediately back away. “I’m April O’Neil.”

The turtle stared at her hand for a moment in confusion, and then reached out his own tiny one to shake. “I’m Mikey.”

“Nice to meet you.” April smiled warmly. It was odd – the sight and feeling of a green, three-fingered hand wrapped in her dark five-fingered one – but somehow it also felt right; like she had made a new friend. The two shook hands, and then April used her foot to clear a spot on the ground before lowering to her knees. Thankfully the trash can didn’t smell too awful at the moment – garbage day yesterday had assured that the can was relatively clean. “Now let me see that foot.”

Mikey extended his leg, wincing at the movement, and allowed April to cup his heel in her palm. The cut didn’t look as bad up close, but it would still likely need stitches. April frowned and stated the fact as she unzipped her fannypack and reached inside. “I can’t do stitches myself, but I can at least clean up the cut and wrap it to keep it from getting more hurt.”

The turtle nodded solemnly, though April heard his breath hitch slightly as if her were fighting back tears. “My dad has done stitches before – he can fix it.”

“Oh – is your dad a doctor?” April pulled a few cotton balls from her pack and dabbed the blood away from the cut, then withdrew a tube of Neosporin and applied a glob to the wound – this would have to do for now. Reaching back into her fannypack, the girl pulled out a few small pieces of gauze and a tiny roll of Ace bandages.

Mikey shook his head and screwed up his face as April continued to handle the injury. “No, he’s a rat.”

“Oh.”

The bin fell silent for a moment as April wound the bandages around his foot and then pulled her bandana over her shoulders. Mom would be upset that she had ‘lost’ part of her uniform, but this was more important. She undid the intricate knot and then tied the fabric around the turtle’s foot, just tight enough to hold the bandages in place. Rocking back onto her heels, April studied her work and nodded. “It’s not great, but this should help with the bleeding until your dad can take care of it. Oh – and here!”

She reached back into her pouch and withdrew a smaller adhesive bandage, which she quickly unwrapped and pressed onto a scrape on the turtle’s knee. “There ya go- all patched up!”

Mikey leaned forward to inspect the bandage and then gasped in delight. “A Lou Jitsu bandaid? He’s the coolest! My brothers and I like to watch his movies!”

April grinned at the bright smile on her patient’s face. “Oh yeah? I’ve only seen a few of his movies – I prefer Jupiter Jim stuff personally.”

Mikey nodded, his head bobbing excitedly. “He’s cool, too! I just wish that –“ His words were cut off by a loud gurgle, and he quickly wrapped his hands around his front. “Oh – I’d forgotten I was hungry.”

Before April could say anything, the turtle rolled to his knees – careful to keep his injured foot off the ground – and reached back behind one of the trashbags to withdraw a familiar looking pizza box.

April’s eyes widened. “Is that why you ended up in here?”

“Yeah – someone threw away almost a whole pizza!” The turtle shook his head in disbelief as he opened the box and looked in at the half-eaten food. April could hear his stomach gurgle a second time, but the turtle closed his eyes and forced himself to close the lid again. “Can you believe that? This is enough food to feed my brothers and I for at least – “

A sudden burst of movement exploded outside of the bin, and the two children immediately clamped their mouths shut and looked at each other nervously. Several moments passed, before a panicked whisper echoed through the alleyway. “Michelangelo?”

“Daddy!” Tears sprung to Mikey’s eyes as he let out a quiet shriek, causing April to jump in surprise. Before she could register what was happening, a shadow fell over the top of the bin and then something long snaked in and wrapped itself around both children. Suddenly April found herself being whisked up and out of the dumpster, arms flailing for a moment before she was unceremoniously dropped on the concrete and watched Mikey being pulled into the arms of the new creature.

“Oh, Michelangelo, my son, my child, my dear boy,” the rat cradled Mikey in his arms as he sniffed the boy all over and pulled him against his chest. “Don’t you ever wander out of my sight again.” The turtle sobbed quietly, arms wrapping around his father and clutching handfuls of fur as if his life depended on it. “I’m sorry Daddy, I didn’t mean to – I was trying to help –“

“Hush now, we can discuss that later.” The rat suddenly glared in April’s direction, as if just remembering that she was there. “And who are you? Speak, Child – did you harm my son?”

April’s mouth felt dry as cotton as she searched for an answer. From her point on the ground, the rat seemed to tower over her – though in the back of her mind she estimated that she herself was slightly larger in height. Even in the low lighting, she could see the creature’s tail thrashing threateningly on the ground – one wrong word and he clearly did not seem afraid to use it. “I – I, uh-” “No, Daddy, she helped me!” Mikey finally spoke up, his voice still trembling and muffled from where his face was pressed into his father’s fur. “I was trying to g-get pizza, and I fell a-and stepped on glass. She said my foot needs stitches, but she helped me – see?”

The rat cast another glance at April and then gently took the turtle’s foot in his hands, whiskers twitching as he sniffed the wounded area. After a moment of inspection, April could see his fur starting to flatten back against his body and the tension release from his limbs.

“Hm. I see. Then she has done a great deed, for which I am grateful.” The creature bowed his head towards April. “I am sorry if I scared you, Child. You will understand my concern should you have children of your own one day.”

April breathed a sigh of relief and slowly rose to her feet. “Uh, it’s no problem – I’m glad I could help. And I think I might be able to help another way.”

Turning on her heel, April felt her way back to the trash bag she had dropped on the ground. Reaching inside, she withdrew a second pizza box and turned to hold it out to the rat. “This one isn’t as full – I think it’s mostly crust – but Mikey said you guys were hungry and I thought…”

A small gasp sounded from the shadows, followed by a hissed “shh! She’ll hear you!”. April hesitated, eyes searching the darkness for a moment and then turning quizzically back to Mikey and his father.

The rat seemed unsurprised as he turned and called into the shadows. “Raphael, please take your brother for me.”

A larger turtle much bigger than Mikey ran out of the shadows and held out his arms to accept the smaller turtle. April watched as Mikey clasped his hands around the larger turtle’s neck and let out another sob of relief. The bigger turtle hugged him back equally as tightly, and then drew back into the darkness where April could see two more forms dog piling onto their brothers and frantically patting Mikey’s cheeks and shell.

“Thank you for taking care of my son, Ms. …?” the rat’s voice drew April back to attention, and she reached out to place the two pizza boxes into his open claws.

“O’Neil. April O’Neil.”

“Ms. O’Neil.” The rat bowed his head graciously. “I have been called many names, but you may call me Splinter. I am forever indebted to you for watching over my boy in a time of need, and for the help you are offering. You cannot understand how much it means to me to see that there are people willing to overlook our differences and show genuine kindness.”

April blushed, heat rising to her cheeks as she shrugged. “Like I said, it’s no problem. I’m just glad to help.” Glancing back down at the trash bag still clutched in her hands, the girl lowered her voice to a whisper. “I should probably go now– my mom is going to be looking for me soon. But is there any other way I can help? Or can I see you again?”

“Perhaps.” Splinter nodded back towards her building. “I don’t believe that any kind deed goes unrewarded, but perhaps we can discuss that another time. For now, I don’t wish to keep you from your mother. She might be getting worried about you.”

Before April could respond, the rat snapped his tail once on the ground and then – as if they had never existed – the creatures were gone, and the alley suddenly felt much lonelier.

“Yeah,” April scuffed her sneaker against the concrete and called out into the night, hoping that maybe her new friends were still near enough to hear. “I hope that I can see you again.”

#rottmnt #tmnt #tmnt 2018 #savannah drabbles #tmnt fanfiction #nickelodeon

44 notes · View notes

viren-reader-love · 4 years

Note

What would you think about doing one where there is a Pentarchy-wide conference of dark mage guild chapters, and the reader is a fellow mage from another country. Viren and Reader don't meet often, but when they do, they predictably end up drinking, arguing vociferously over the details of their methods, and ultimately hooking up. This occasion is no exception.

There you go! I had a lot of fun writing this :D

Hope you like it.

(Ao3 link)

.............................................................................................................................

Devil or angel? I can't make up my mind

Which one you are, I'd like to wake up and find

Devil or angel, dear, whichever you areI miss you, I miss you, I miss you

Devil or angel, please say you'll be mine

Love me or leave me, I'll go out of my mind

Devil or angel, dear, whichever you are

I need you, I need you...

===

The salty air refreshed your lungs. In the distance, hues of green added color to the crystalline blue infinitude of the ocean.

"Land ahoy!" yelled the first mate, watching the horizon from atop of one of the ship's poles.

"Aye!" Replied the captain, turning the hem. You felt the ship move to the right as it approached the island ahead with a new speed.

Clutching tight to your shoulder bag, carefully not to lose the precious relic that it contained, you tried to control the butterflies in your stomach. You knew Viren would be there and this simple fact made all those memories resurface.

Every Mage Fair was the same. Excessive drinking, followed by vociferous arguments about your conflicting opinions and different methods to understand dark magic that, somehow, always end up with you and Viren waking up in the same bed.

Well, not somehow. You knew exactly why it happened. No matter how many lies you told yourself during the invariable hangovers that followed, the attraction you felt for Viren was too strong to be labeled as unintentional, or a simple drunk mistake.

Despite everything, you were starting to get attached. Why? Was the only question in your head. Why him?

Romantics will say it is because opposites attract each other and write countless verses of the ardent passion they can ignite. But they forget about the ugly parts that come afterward. At least that was how it had been for you.

The fair would end, Viren would escort you to the pier and you would sail back to Evenere with only a simple goodbye. No last kiss, not even a hug. And the days that followed were even worse. The letters you would exchange were made by cold and impartial words concerning your duties as High Mages, nothing more.

As the ship approached the bay, you took one deep breath mentally making a promise to yourself.

This had to end.

Today was the day things would change.

===

New faces from all corners of the five kingdoms passed by. The smell of spices and delicious food perfumed the gentle summer breeze and everything was a cacophony of colors, laughs, and songs.

Elaborate stands dotted the hills as far as the eye could see, each signboard announcing something more interesting than the last. Fireball contest, Antiquery Boutiques, Mirrors of Illusions...

Your feet stopped in front of The Blushing Troll - Bar and Inn, where you and Viren would predictably end up after the Pentarchy High Mage reunion. Despite being only the beginning of the afternoon, the bar was crowded and a line was forming on the outside.

The large door opened and you spotted Agata, the barkeeper, dragging chairs outside to accommodate her costumers. "Hey, y/n!" she waved.

You smiled walking to help her with the heavy chairs. "Hi, Agata. Nice to see you again."

"Nice to see you too friend. So, rumor has it that Evenere will blow our minds this year," she winked gesturing to your bag. "I'll prepare a big celebration. Want me to save the romantic suite for you and your hot boyfriend. Or you'll stay at the usual room?"

Your cheeks turned scarlet, knowing fully well she was referring to Viren. "For the last time, he is not my boyfriend."

Agata cackled. "Alright cookie. And I ain't a barkeeper," she playfully punched your shoulder. "See you two tonight alright?"

It was no use insisting on this topic. Agata could be as stubborn as Viren sometimes, so instead, you chose to focus on your earlier promise and said goodbye, resuming your walk to the meeting point where the other High Mages were expecting you.

===

Two guards stood like statues before the imposing construction that marked the entrance of the Pentarchy Meeting Point.

"Hold. Present yourself," one of them ordered, gesturing for you to stop.

"Lady y/n. High Mage of Evenere," you said, giving the guard your invitation sealed with Evenre's royal symbol.

The guards then stepped aside, giving you free passage to the seemingly endless white steps that lead to the Meeting Point, located atop the tallest hill.

Almost out of breath, you finally arrived. Burgundy flags with the bright red symbol of Dark Magic hanged over the five chairs, binding the kingdoms, so vast and diverse, with one common interest.

All the other four mages were already in their sits, except for Viren. "Lady y/n," he bowed. "So glad that you are finally here. We are all very anxious to see what big surprise you have for us," he said with his usual charming tone that made your knees go weak.

"Well, then I won't keep you waiting any longer," you managed to reply with the formality this situation required, despite the memories of your hot nights with Viren flashing before your eyes.

Walking to the center of the room, your gaze was still glued on him as you began your speech. "Fellow mages, today is a historic day. For generations, dark mages across the five kingdoms used the knowledge passed down by our ancestors to improve humanity's ways. We no longer suffer from famine, deadly plagues or fear the threats that come from Xadia. And, as I'm sure you all know, this was only possible due to the struggles of one man: Ziard ."

The mages of Neolandia, Del Bar and Duren hummed in agreement, but Viren listened to you thoughtfully and you smirked, certain his not easily impressed frame would melt away soon.

"Everything Ziard new about dark magic was written in three journals. Two were found by Lord Viren but the third was destroyed when Ziard was brutally murdered by Sol Regen. Or so we thought," you paused.

Reaching for your shoulder bag you retrieved a leather journal, worn-out due to the merciless time. "Here, I present you the last journal of Ziard."

Gasps emerged from the other members, but Viren's reaction was priceless. Even if you hated to admit, you adored his enthusiastic face.

He darted up. "May I?" he gestured to the book and you nodded, letting him take it.

"That is remarkable," Viren mused, carefully turning the thin yellow pages. "Imagine all the secrets it contains, all the lives we could help with this! I don't know how you manage to locate it, but congratulations y/n."

His sharp frame softened when he said your name and for a moment, you thought your head was deceiving you with his sudden kindness. Did he-- did he just complimented you?"

However, this moment was short-lived as Viren continued to speak. "It was about time Evenere did something to contribute to this Dark Mages society. Katolis will be forever grateful for your donation."

"What?!" You said offended.

"Of course! Surely you didn't think the journal would stay with you. Once I return to Katolis I'll provide copies for you all."

"How dare you?! I found it, therefore it's staying at Evenere. You can have the copy," you replied, blood starting to boil.

"The journal belongs to Katolis' archives, with the other two originals," Viren took a step forward. Not intimidated, already accustomed to this type of argument, you took a step as well.

"Katolis is not the center of the world Viren. It can not concentrate all knowledge about dark magic."

"So we must hide it in the depth of the swamplands?!"

"Fellows, fellows!" the mage from Neolandia caught both of your attention. "There is no reason to start a war over this. I say we vote to decide who keeps the journal. All agree?"

You two nodded, heading back to your seats but never letting your intense glares drop.

"Now, all of those in favor of the journal staying in Evenere, please raise their hand," declared the mage and to your astonishment, only you voted in favor.

===

With large gulps you drained the beer from your large mug, slamming it against the balcony of The Blushing Troll.

After your glory was snatched from your hands, you had to sit through the rest of the afternoon and watch Viren and the other brag about their discoveries and theories and, of course, Viren had to bring a three-dimensional presentation. Again!

Mind in a frenzy, fuming, doing your best not to let rage overtake your actions, you powered another drink and turned back for the hundredth time to see Viren, also drinking and enjoying the evening with the other High Mages.

"Look at him," you said to Agata, "so full of himself. Think he's the greatest mage that ever lived. Bet two silver coins that after a few shots, he's going to start crying and saying he loves them."

You moved to fill your sixth...seventh cup? But Agata stopped you.

"Alright cookie, that's enough for tonight," she said, taking the mug from your hand.

Ignoring her, you snatched a bottle from a random person, taking another big gulp. "This was supposed to be the year of Evenere. This was supposed to be my moment," your drunk nagging continued, "he already has Zirad's staff and killed the king of the dragons. Why can't he let me be on top for once."

"Huh, interesting," Agata tilted her head, looking at Viren as well, "he always seemed like a bottom to me."

"No, totally. Bottom confirmed. But--" you shook your head, realizing where this conversation was going. "Focus Agata. Ok? Focus. I'm being wronged here."

"Cookie, are you sure the journal is the only reason you are mad?" she asked with a kind, motherly tone.

Yes, you were mad about the journal. Heavens know how hard it was for you to find it, and letting this relic be part of Evenere's public archive would be good for the local mage community.

But there was something else, a deeper feeling that intricated like a spider web, trapping you in it.

You were caught between the duality of strongly hating and desperately wanting to cave in to his charms. Every time your gaze found him your body screamed. It begged for you to kiss him, to have him underneath you right now. To bury your face against the side of his neck and just nuzzle in it. To hear his moan, paint and gasp against your ear as your hips rocked and his hands squeezed you tight...

Yet, every time your head would also say no, remembering how cold the morning after could be. How he would treat you like a stranger and how every little thing was reason enough for a fight.

It was like being on fire while still being frozen.

"I just don't know anymore. I think it's best if I called the night."

Getting up, you asked for the keys to a room, not caring if they were the usual, or the special suite, or just the keys to the storage room. You just wanted to lay down, close your eyes and wait for this terrible day to end.

Stumbling down the corridor, spiling your drink everywhere, your weak legs betrayed you. You see the ground coming fast, but only a second before the painful impact, a pair of strong, familiar arms held you.

"For heaven's sake, how many drinks did you have?" Viren's face twisted, probably smelling the intoxicating smell of booze that you weren't sure anymore if it was yours or his.

Your hands tried to break away from his embrace but, instead, they just staid there, feeling the curve of his muscles.

"Just a--" a hickup cut your words, "just a few. I'm fine."

"I have never seen you this drunk. You are not fine," Viren insisted. You squinted, trying to discern if his face was actually worried, or was your vision that was getting blurry.

And right when you were about to repeat that you were fine, nausea crawled your throat. Arching, you stained Viren's boots.

"Means nothing," you pointed a weak finger at him while wiping your mouth with the hem of your sleeves.

Viren huffed. "Alright. Let's get you out of here before you ruin somebody else's boots too." Sliding his arm under your legs, he then carried you bridal style to the Inn of the Blushing Troll.

===

Sitting on the toilet, face slouched on your palms, you watched Viren take a tiny bottle containing a thick pink fluid from his side pocket.

"Drink it," he ordered. "This potion will stop your nausea."

"I know what a sickness-killer is," you replied snatching it from his hand. The thick fluid descended your throat like honey, immediately extinguishing the bubbling feeling in your stomach.

Viren raised a brow at you. "Feeling better?"

Out of spite, you crossed your arms and looked away. "A little too sweet for my taste. I prefer my version of the potion."

He scoffed. "Unbelievable. I get out of my way to help you and this is how you thank me? You are even more annoying when you are drunk."

"If you despise me so much, why are you doing this??" your tone was deadly serious and a heavy silence fell.

There was a tremor in your hands as your heart pumped hard against your ribs. Your eyes stared at him, frightened of Viren's response yet eager to hear it.

But Viren's features were a conflicting mixture of gapes and choked words. And anger sneaked into your blood like poison as the silence increased. Yanking your hands into his shirt, you brutally pulled him closer.

"Answer me," you growled. Noses almost touching, Viren's hot breath mingled with your fuming. "Answer me!" you repeated.

Viren slumped, burying his lips in yours. His fingers dug into your hair as your mouths moved wildly, kissing each other hungrily. He started to pull you forward, guiding you out of the bathroom.

When your legs hit the bed, you climbed over him. Lust pulsed throughout your entire being as Viren laid beneath you, staring back with the same need.

"I'm going to rip that answer out of you. I'm going to make you say it." You said before kissing him again. Tongues plunging, sliding deep while hands ran along every inch of your bodies.

Going lower Viren hurriedly helped you unbuckle his purple broach and remove his vest. He started to pull his black shirt up, but you stopped him. Pushing his arms over his head, you let them stuck there, exposing only his chest and face. "Keep them there," you sensually said.

Leaning, you brushed your mouth against his but denied another kiss, moving to suck and bit the side of the neck. Your skin shivered as it brushed against his beard.

Viren started to push his hips up, moaning quietly in your ear. You moved to remove his boots, pants, and underwear and your whole body blushed at the sight of his throbbing cock, curled, touching the base of his stomach.

You just... stared at it.

"Y/n..." Viren said your name in a weak cry.

"I think I should leave you like this," you said with a devilish smile.

"WHAT?!" It sounded more like a sign of desperation than a question and you simply love it.

"It's what you deserve anyway..."

"Y/n!" Viren started to hustle, trying to take his shirt off but you quickly stopped him, mounting him again.

"You're not moving until I hear you say it." You repeated. It was hard to control your urgers to stripe your clothes and just own him, ride him until he came undone. But you simply had to hear him say it.

If he loved or hated you, you simply needed to hear it.

You began to move up and down slowly. Your pants grinding against his erection provided a blissful friction.

"You terrible...ahh!--ssstubborn...aaah--sssexy wonderfull," Viren managed to say between his heavy pantings, "I--I"

Your body increased the seep and an animal sound escaped him. "I need you I want you y/n please!"

Finally, the words came out of him in a desperate begging. Not being able to hold your desires any longer, you yanked your clothes off. Viren untangled himself from his shirt and adjusted himself on the bed. Grabbing you by the waist, he put you back on top of him, shoving his cock inside you.

A deep moan snaked out of your throat as you felt that gratifying pressure. You laned forward and between sloppy kisses and pantings, both of your hips moved, going deeper, harder.

“That’s it...come on...so good...," you said, gaze glued on Viren's wobbly, melting face.

"Y/n yes....I need you...AH!"

As your bodies attacked each other, stripped from all pride and shame, you reached sheer ecstasy. "I'm yours..." you whispered, mind in another plane, every nerve like a bolt of lighting as Viren also gasped in his orgasm.

Resting your foreheads together, still interlaced, you both relearned how to breathe, letting the hotness of your climax slowly fade.

===

The morning came. A sharp pain smashed against the walls of your skull like an angry tide, and the rays of sunshine were enough to burn your retinas as you waited in line to bord the ship that would take you back to Evenere.

Even with this cursing hangover, the events of last night played clearly in your mind. Every action, every word. What remained unclear was the truthiness of it all.

Wich was why you didn't wait for Viren to wake up. You couldn't take him saying everything was another drunk mistake again. It would hurt too much.

The plank fell with a heavy thud, bridging the pear to the boat. But before you could take another step, you heard Viren's voice calling for you.

"Y/n. Wait!"

You never thought you would see Viren in such a state. The browns and whites of his hair were tangled in a ridiculous mess of impossible angles, his beard, once neatly in place, was now all fuzzy and puffed. His shirt was wrongly buttoned and the lace of his boots still undone.

"Viren what on earth are you--"

"Stop," Viren raised his hand. "I need you to just stop and listen without interrupting because if you do I-- I don't think I'll ever regain the courage to say this again." There was a deep fragility in his gaze and his voice didn't carry the usual confidence. Worried, you let him take you to an isolated corner.

After a deep inhale, Viren continued. "Y/n, what I said last night, about wanting you...it wasn't just the reflection of alcohol. I, really, truly want you. You understand magic in a way so different from mine. But it is challenging, it is exciting! And when the realization of my feelings for you finally came, I panicked. I was scared to have someone new in my life. Because in these last years, all the people I ever loved seemed to get hurt. My wife, Queen Serai... Harrow. Even my relationship with my son is falling apart!"

Viren closed his eyes, breathing deeply again before holding your hands. "I was scared that if I brought you into my life, I would somehow end up hurting you. So I tried to push you away but it was so, so hard. Every time we met I just wanted to hold you, have you next to me. And it was in this fruitless attempt to protect you that I ended up hurting you even more. It was stupid I know. Can you ever forgive me?"

Your hands moved to gently cup his face. Viren easily leaned forward and your lips met in a kiss. It was slow and soft, comforting in ways that a thousand words could never be. Viren's hand rested below your ear, his thumb caressing your cheek as your fingers ran down his spine, pulling him closer until there was no space left. The soothing sound of the ocean mingled with the beating of your heart, strong and passionate.

Pulling away, you looked up and Viren's frame was renowned. There was joy, and you could feel the love that played in his subtle smile and soft gaze.

"Does that mean you will stop criticizing my way to do magic?" Viren asked.

"Only if you promise me you won't bring another three dimensional for the next year's fair. That trick is getting old Viren."

"It's my trade mark."

"No, it's not."

"How about we discuss this at breakfast?" Viren suggested. "Maybe we can plan a presentation together. Perhaps travel in search of another relic for Evenere..."

"Yes. I would love that," you replied.

So hand in hand you two head back the Blushing Troll. Things had finally changed and you knew, for now on, it wouldn't be easy waters, but for Viren, you would continue to sail, both ready and excited for the start of this new chapter in your lives.

#viren x reader #viren-reader-love #lord viren #viren

38 notes · View notes

exhoe-imagines · 5 years

Text

the green room → jww

summary → watching wonwoo’s twitch streams had always been something you’d enjoyed, but never in a million years did you think you’d run into him so casually at his daytime job

word count → ~2k

genre/warnings → gamer/streamer!au, florist!au, gn!reader who is oblivious to flowers and their meanings, random overwatch references that i had to guess on bc im clueless djfkdsjfsd

a/n → SO @gamerwoo did not think i could attack her,, hence this fic was born !! i pray it will wound her the way i am hoping for !! also any references to overwatch were made from the content i see about it on her blog/faq so thank u rocket for unknowingly educating a dumb bitch like me 😪

“Anyway, I’ll see you guys tomorrow at the same time.” The boy smiled into his webcam, giving a shy wave to the screen. His brown eyes were hidden behind his round glasses, but they did little to cover up the flustered blush that covered his cheeks. It was obvious, as usual, that ending a stream proved to be difficult for him -- the awkward void of noise from his game commentary or the sound effects coming from his computer speakers leaving him in uncomfortable silence as he said goodbye.

You giggled softly as the stream turned black, before his offline screen popped up, displaying his social media and schedule links in a thin blue font. There was no need to click on them, at least for you, since you’d memorized his handles and stream times months prior.

To call you a fan of gamerwoo_96’s twitch would have been a bit of an understatement, one could say. You were quite picky with who you spent your free time watching, especially when it came to hour long streams. Besides Wonwoo, which was his real name, only a few other lucky gamers had you regularly on their accounts -- notably, yutodagames and pcy92, but your casual viewing on their channel was nothing compared to your dedication to Wonwoo.

There was something about how natural he was at playing, that you and his other couple hundred regular followers greatly appreciated. He didn’t seem dedicated to becoming big on Twitch, even showing signs of embarrassment when a large number of people tuned in for his streams. However, no one, not even himself, could deny his channel grew rather quickly.

You’d stumbled across his account one Saturday while looking for Overwatch players, and you’d been hooked ever since. He wasn’t as loud or annoying as other guys his age on Twitch, but he wasn’t too quiet either, where it made it uncomfortable. He commented on things every now and then but stayed focused and would go silent every few moments. It was a nice balance, allowing you to concentrate on the gameplay, but also get to hear his thoughts, and very deep voice whenever he voiced his opinion on something.

Of course, you’d be lying if you didn’t say his looks kept you on his channel as well. He was cute, that much was obvious. His loose white shirts and tousled hair always gave him a laidback look, that contradicted the focus he’d put into his gameplay. Wonwoo’s nose would scrunch, his eyes squinting behind his gold glasses. It was downright adorable, and completely uncalled for considering he was already the prettiest gamer boy you’d ever seen.

Months later, you were still tuning in for his morning Saturday stream -- a perfect way to start your weekend if anyone asked you.

You clicked out of Twitch and closed your laptop before rolling on your back, letting out a deep sigh as you sunk into your bed. You had a list of errands to run, but you’d been putting them off, deeming Wonwoo’s stream more important. However, now that it ended, you had no excuse for putting off your tasks.

Begrudgingly, you got out of bed a few minutes later, trudging to your bathroom to get ready.

Mentally, you’d already planned your schedule for the day. Grocery shopping and getting gas were first, then gift shopping, and lastly, meeting your friend later in the afternoon to celebrate her birthday.

As expected, the first two errands were nothing special, and you got them done rather quickly. However, the next one was not as simple. Your friend had always loved flowers, and you wanted to get her a big bouquet when you greeted her. The only problem was, florists in your area were rare, which meant you had to drive out of town to find one.

“Thank god I don’t have any cold groceries,” you mumbled, before setting off on your detour.

When you finally pulled up to The Green Room, you were pleased with what you saw. It certainly seemed worth the drive, beautiful baskets and arrays of flowers decorating the outside of the small white shop.

Making sure you had your keys, wallet, and phone on you, you made your way to the entrance, noticing it seemed to be empty from your view through the large windows. Shrugging it off, you pushed the door open, a little bell sounding your arrival.

“Good morning,” a smooth voice from behind the counter greeted you. For a second, a slight feeling of recognition passed through you, and when you turned to face the cashier, you understood why.

Wonwoo stood there, a white apron tied around his waist, and a polite smile on his lips. Your eyes widened and your voice was caught in your throat, something he noticed quickly.

“Is there anything I can help you with?” he asked, probably viewing your silence as confusion.

You had to be seeing things.

You shook your head quickly, squeaking out a response. “I-I don’t think so.”

Wonwoo nodded, looking back down at the book on the counter he had open. It was almost finished, and you swooned internally.

A bookworm too? you thought, how perfect is this boy?

Not wanting to stare too long, you scurried towards the back of the shop, trying to make yourself look busy as you racked your brain for an explanation as to why Wonwoo was running the one flower shop by your house. He’d never mentioned where he lived or where he worked, obviously, but never in your life did you imagine that out of everywhere in the world, he was a mere hour from your apartment complex.

What kind of fucking coincidence is this? you screamed internally, barely paying attention to the flowers as you passed them. Speaking of, you couldn’t wait to tell your friend -- she’d gotten sick of hearing you fangirl over your “little gamer boy” as she liked to call him. She was truly in for a treat now, as you’d probably never stop talking about the fact that you met him.

There was nothing you wanted more than to go back up to the counter and talk to him, but you had to get the flowers you’d come for.

The only problem was, you had no idea what to buy.

Your friend had told you all her favorite flowers, but there were so many, and with the thought of Wonwoo at the front of your mind, there was no way you were going to be able to remember them all, let alone know what they looked like.

Letting out a sigh, you decided to pick out a few flowers that looked pretty, and would maybe look nice together. It was the best you could do, and you only hoped your friend would appreciate the effort.

Sadly, it must have been pretty easy to spot how clueless you were, since, after a few minutes of picking different flowers, footsteps sounded near you.

“Who are you shopping for?” Wonwoo asked, as he stood next to you. His proximity and the natural warmth radiating off his form had you stuck in place, unable to escape.

“M-my friend.”

He hummed. “Special occasion?”

You nodded. “Her birthday.”

At that, Wonwoo visibly held back a wince. His eyes darted to the flowers in your hands before he looked back at you. “Maybe white lilies wouldn’t be the best choice then.” His voice was reserved, like he was worried about criticizing your choice. “They’re usually meant for funerals,” he awkwardly explained, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“Oh god,” you groaned, “I really have no idea what I’m doing here.”

Wonwoo chuckled at that, visibly loosening up at your response. “It’s alright, it’s more common than you think.” He held out his hand, sending you a smile. “I can go put those back if you want me to help you make a new bunch.”

You let out a sigh of relief. “That’d be great, thank you.”

Wonwoo nodded, taking the flowers from your hand, his fingers long and warm as they brushed against your palm.

Hearing him ramble about flower types a few moments later was one of the greatest things your ears had ever been blessed with. You’d always liked his voice, but hearing him explain the different flowers and their meanings was the most you’d ever heard him talk at once, and it was amazing. Clearly, the shop was a huge passion of his, which you thought fit his personality perfectly.

“A couple of these alstroemerias, for friendship. Some yellow and orange gerberas too, maybe.” He was clearly mumbling to himself by then, plucking different flowers from around the shop and fitting them between each other. His skill was visible immediately, the bouquet effortlessly beautiful as he crafted it without a second thought.

By the time he was done, you were in awe. He sent you a sheepish smile as he led you back to the front counter, setting the flowers down as he moved behind the cash register.

“Thank you so much,” you said, pulling out your wallet as he told you the price. It seemed unusually low, compared to the price tags plastered across the store. You brushed it off, assuming a sale was happening or something.

“You’re really good at this,” you mentioned, as you picked up the bouquet, careful not to mess up all his work. “I wouldn’t have expected that.” You said the words before you could catch yourself, eyes widening as you looked up at Wonwoo.

His eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

You internally cursed yourself. There was no going back now. “I um, I’m used to seeing you on Twitch.”

You waited for the awkward response that would make you feel like a creep, but Wonwoo just smiled bashfully. “Really? I’ve never had someone recognize me, besides some friends and family, of course.”

You looked at him slightly in shock. “Are you serious? I watch your streams all the time,” you admitted, feeling some heat spread to your cheeks.

“What’s your username?” he asked curiously.

You told him, expecting he would just nod, but instead his eyes widened in recognition.

“You have the D.Va icon right?”

You tried not to openly gape, but the shock was too strong. Wonwoo, your favorite streamer, remembered you?

“Y-yeah I do.”

He smiled, glad he’d recognized you correctly.

“Well, maybe I’ll see you at the next stream then?” his tone was hopeful, and you nodded almost immediately.

“Of course.”

He nodded, and his usual awkwardness when it came to saying goodbye became apparent.

“Here um, take this, on me.” He grabbed a flower from one of the baskets behind the counter, and handed it to you with a blush.

You took it, mirroring his flustered expression. “T-thank you.” You smiled shyly before picking up your bouquet and waving him goodbye with your free hand. He tilted his head in response, and you quickly left the shop before he could notice how hard you were crushing on him.

You were able to hold back your scream of excitement until you made it to your car, when you slammed your hands against the steering wheel with a squeal.

However, nothing compared to your excitement when your friend noticed the flower Wonwoo gave you, a knowing smirk spreading across her face.

“Wonwoo gave you that?” she asked, grin growing as you nodded. “Did he tell you the meaning?”

You shook your head, and her expression brightened.

“Well,” she sing-songed, “if that ranunculus means what I think it does, it seems like a certain gamer boy finds you very attractive.”

#wonwoo fluff #jeon wonwoo imagine #gamer!wonwoo #gamer!au seventeen #seventeen imagine #seventeen fluff #wonwoo x reader #jeon wonwoo x reader #jeon wonwoo fluff #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo #wonwoo x reader fluff #seventeen gamer!au #wonwoo oneshot #seventeen oneshot #jeon wonwoo oneshot #mutuals

316 notes · View notes

tomeandflickcorner · 4 years

Text

Episode Review- The Real Ghostbusters: Doctor, Doctor

Eep. This was a suitably creepy episode. Not to mention somewhat intriguing. Though also a bit frustrating at times.

We jump right into things with the Ghostbusters in the middle of a bust. This time, they’re pursuing a purple humanoid ghost. Even though they refer to this ghost as a Class Three Vaporous Apparition, this ghost seems to be proving to be a bit of a challenge, as the Ghostbusters are clearly out of breath from pursuing it. In an attempt to get away, the ghost slips into a chemical factory plant. The Ghostbusters, perhaps foolishly, storm into the chemical plant after the ghost. For a while, they simply walk through the plant, which is surprisingly vacant of employees. But before long, they spot the ghost hiding near one of the chemical vats. In an instant, Peter fires off his Proton Pack at the ghost, with Egon shouting a warning a little too late. Because the ghost was too close to the chemical vat, Peter ends up hitting the chemical vat instead. As a result, the chemical inside the vat undergoes some sort of reaction, and it explodes. Rather explosively, too, as a large chunk of the roof gets blown off. And the Ghostbusters get completely drenched in chemical goo.

Despite the mishap, the Ghostbusters are still able to successfully capture the ghost as it tries to make a break for it. To their confusion, however, the readout on the Ghost Trap, as well as the PKE Meter, state the ghost they caught was a weak Class 2, even though it had previously registered as a Class 3. Of course, there’s no time for them to really dwell on that mystery, as the employees at the chemical plant choose that moment to appear on the scene. They are clearly not happy about the Ghostbusters being there, as the chemicals that were in the vats were experimental. Fortunately, Peter is able to smooth talk their way out of trouble by informing the angry workers that they had been given permission to be there by the owner of the chemical plant. So the workers all back off, and the Ghostbusters return to the Firehouse to unload the Ghost Trap into the Containment Unit, and to scrub off the chemical gunk.

Turns out getting the chemical sludge off was easier said than done, as the next scene shows the Ghostbusters lounging about in their bathrobes, bemoaning to Janine about how they must have lost multiple layers of skin trying to wash the stuff off. Egon goes so far to say he can physically feel every single molecule in the air around him, which is clearly his way of saying that his skin has been effectively rubbed raw. Even Peter is feeling pretty sore, as he announces that he never wants to be touched again. Out of nowhere, Egon notes something strange is going on. The skin around his wrist has started to bulge outward, and it begins to pulsate, as if something was trying to break out from beneath his skin. And Winston, Ray, Peter and Janine can only stare in shock.

Strangely, they don’t seem to actually do anything about that, as the very next scene shows Janine calmly returning to the Firehouse, carrying paper shopping bags filled with things to make lunch. And when she comes across Slimer as she’s making her way upstairs, she asks him if the guys are back yet. This seems to suggest they simply went out on another job, but maybe we’re supposed to conclude they went back to the chemical plant to ask what exactly was in the gunk they came in contact with. It wasn’t very clear. In any event, Slimer is visibly upset and fearful about something. He even states that he is not hungry, which is obviously a first. The reason for his demeanor becomes clear when Janine makes it upstairs and sees the Ghostbusters. Their bodies are now almost completely coated with a heavy layer of red sludge, with only their heads visible. Ray states that they tried to call the chemical plant to ask what exactly the stuff they got hit with was, but it turns out that, when the explosion happened, a lot of the chemicals got mixed together. So even the people who work at the chemical plant aren’t sure what the Ghostbusters got drenched with. (Okay, so they called the plant. Guess that means they didn’t go down in person. But that suggests they did indeed head out on another Ghostbusting job. Seems like an odd thing to do when you see your wrist reacting the way Egon’s was. Isn’t that a bit like going to work when you notice your skin is turning purple?)

So to try and figure out what’s going on, the Ghostbusters admit themselves into the local hospital, in the hopes that the doctors can help. Which isn’t a bad plan, but… we just established that even the people who were working with these experimental chemicals weren’t sure what was in that sludge. How’s a doctor going to do any better, since they’d probably only have a database of known illnesses and conditions to work with? Still, I can acknowledge that there’s not a lot in the way of alternate ideas. Even so, it’s made rather clear Dr. Gould isn’t quite sure where to begin, as he rigs up a stethoscope onto a lengthy pole since he doesn’t seem to want to get too close. Ray, realizing that they might be in real trouble, comments that at least their health insurance is paid off. Upon hearing this, Peter starts whistling a little too innocently. Which suggests that Peter has neglected to take care of the health insurance payments. While I’m sure I could make a joke about the crummy state of the American health care system here, I’m just wondering why Peter seems to be in charge of paying for health insurance for all four of them. Isn’t this something the four of them needs to take care of individually? Or did they get some sort of group health insurance, since they are an established business. Can you do that?

Anyway, the Ghostbusters are all given a private hospital room to share, and Janine stops by to drop off some things for them. For Egon, she has a bowl of chicken soup with mushrooms, which she states is Egon’s favorite. (Though I suspect Egon was slightly disappointed, as he seemed to have been hoping Janine was bringing some of his technological toys, such as the Spectrometer, the Ecto Diffusitron and the Plasmometer.) She then gives Ray a box of doughnuts, and Winston receives two books, one by Herman Melville and the other a Charles Dickens novel, as well as a Walkman and cassette tape of The Allen Parsons Project (a British progressive rock group). Peter then asks what Janine brought for him. In response, Janine states she’s going to let him live, simply because she knows he won’t enjoy it. Okay, granted Janine and Peter never seemed all that close, but did they skip a scene that explained why Janine is seemingly so angry at Peter here? Is it just because she’s holding Peter personally responsible for the current situation the Ghostbusters are in? Of course, there’s no time for the show to really explain it, because just as Janine is getting ready to slap Peter for a smart aleck comment he made, they are interrupted by the sound of Ray screaming. When Janine and the others hurry over to Ray’s bed to see what the matter is, they discover that a large yellow eye has formed on the sludge coating his body.

As one might expect, Dr. Gould, despite his claim that he knows exactly what to do, is clearly at a complete loss. Nevertheless, he informs Janine that he can indeed cure the Ghostbusters, though he admits it might take a five to six years. However, he adamantly instructs Janine to keep Slimer away from the Ghostbusters, as the green ghost would contaminate the findings. He then walks off, muttering about running more tests on the Ghostbusters.

And so the tests commence. After a rather confusing bit with Egon and a nurse (the nurse instructs Egon to fill a beaker, and when he fills the beaker with water from a nearby pitcher, the nurse says ‘I warn you, I know karate.’ Why exactly would she say that? While I get the implication is that Egon was supposed to fill the beaker with his own urine, and that Egon was trying to be funny by filling it with water instead, the nurse’s response still seems to come out of left field.) Dr. Gould proceeds to poke and prod the Ghostbusters, even going so far as to inject them with who knows what. When Winston points out that Dr. Gould has punctured them ten times in the past five minutes, Dr. Gould states that he IS the doctor, so there’s not much they can do about it. In response to this, Peter, Ray and Winston start chasing after him, with Winston carrying a rather large syringe. Can’t say I blame them for that response. Dr. Gould seemed to go a bit too far with that comment. In any event, despite the endless tests, the Ghostbusters bodies are still covered with the sludge. And eventually, Peter, Egon and Winston’s sludge-covered bodies start sprouting various body parts too. With Peter, it’s an ear, Egon, a nose, and Winston, a mouth with pointed teeth. And the doctors are all taken aback by this, as well.

Eventually, Dr. Gould apparently tries to cut the sludge off Ray with a blowtortch, but to no avail. Janine and Slimer, who had been watching this procedure from outside the room, both go over to check on how Ray’s doing after the blowtorch attempt fails. Upon seeing this, Dr. Gould nearly blows a gasket, shouting that he’d told Janine to keep Slimer away. At that moment, however, a large chunk of the sludge flies off of Ray, momentarily freeing his hand. The sludge launches itself at Slimer, who manages to dodge out of the way and darts away. When Slimer disappears around the corner, the sludge returns to Ray’s body, covering up his hand again. Hmm, I wonder what THIS could indicate. Could it be the Slimer’s presence is the answer? And that allowing him to get in close proximity to the Ghostbusters would solve their sludge-covered bodies problem? Of course, Dr. Gould doesn’t even seem to acknowledge this possibility. Instead he tells Janine to listen to him next time.

As time goes on, it seems the Ghostbusters’ predicament has now become public knowledge, as there are news reports on the matter, with the latest word being that their condition may be incurable. Ray, however, states that he’s not giving up. He asks Egon if the people at the chemical plant had been able to offer any insight. Egon goes on to state that the chemical that exploded had been experimental, and it had been designed to absorb a wide spectrum of energy. He then goes on to explain that’s the reason why the ghost they were chasing at the beginning of the episode seemed to go down from being a Class 3 to a Class 2. When the ghost passed through the vat containing this experimental chemical, it absorbed some of its ectoplasmic energy. And, when the chemical then came into contact with a blast from their Proton Packs, the ectoplasmic charged chemical got the spark it needed to come to life. Ray speculates that this means that it might be possible for them to zap the sludge, if they were able to remove it from their bodies first.

No sooner than this is said, the sludge starts to react, to the point when it comes close to covering their mouths. Janine starts to hurry off to fetch Dr, Gould, but Egon stops her. He notices that Slimer is watching them through a window nearby, and that the sludge seems to be responding to his presence. (Did Ray and Janine not tell Egon what had happened before?) Upon realizing this, Janine is about to take Slimer away, but Peter tells her to allow him to come into the hall with them instead. Because they’ve finally figured out the obvious solution.

So Slimer heads over to the Ghostbusters. And as he gets close to them, the sludge starts to remove itself from their bodies. Egon concludes it’s because the sludge is responding to Slimer’s ectoplasmic energy, as the sludge needs that energy to stay alive. Before long, the sludge has completely removed itself from the Ghostbusters. However, it then reforms into a large sludge monster that proceeds to lumber after Slimer, in order to consume the little green ghost. In order to save Slimer, and make sure nobody gets hurt by the sludge monster, the Ghostbusters slowly force themselves to their feet (the episode makes it clear that they’re all feeling particularly weak from being cocooned within the sludge for all this time). They then make it down to the hospital parking lot, where the Ecto-1 just happens to be, with their Ghostbusting uniforms and equipment waiting inside. Well, that was sure convenient that they had all of their gear waiting for them on hospital grounds, wasn’t it?

The Ghostbusters catch up to the sludge monster just as it’s about to eat Slimer. Of course, they acknowledge that it’s not actually a ghost, so they can’t simply trap the sludge monster. Egon concludes their one chance is to try and continue shooting their Proton Packs at the monster, in the hopes that, since this monster absorbs the Proton Streams, they might be able to overload it. This ultimately works, and the sludge monster explodes, coating the entire hallway with sludgy residue.

Fortunately, it seems the sludge has now been rendered inactive, as a week goes by and the Ghostbusters are showing no indication of a relapse. So Dr. Gould declares them officially cured. He then gives them their bill for their treatment at the hospital. However, Peter doesn’t bat and eye, and announces that, coincidentally, they were just about to give Dr. Gould the bill for their services in stopping the sludge monster from harming anyone at the hospital. And wouldn’t you know it, both bills come out to the exact same amount. So, as Peter states, that makes them even. And he proceeds to rip up both bills. With that, the Ghostbusters head off, leaving Dr. Gould standing there, completely flabbergasted.

Gotta be honest, I’m not sure if we were supposed to feel bad for Dr. Gould here. Because I have to admit I didn’t. Because he didn’t do ANYTHING! In fact, his insistence at keeping Slimer away from the Ghostbusters turned out to be a hindrance, as going against that order was what fixed things. In fact, I’m actually kinda wondering if he WAS trying to cure them at all. Maybe I was just reading too much into things, but at certain points in this episode, I got the distinct impression that he was just using the Ghostbusters as guinea pigs, and that he was only interested in using their conditions to become famous within the medical field. Case in point, this scene when he’s informing a nurse that the Ghostbusters are responding well to his treatments. Even though it’s glaringly clear that his treatments haven’t done a blessed thing. All things considered, Dr. Gould really struck me as the sort of doctor who became a doctor for all the wrong reasons. The kind of doctor who pursued the career out of a desire to make a lot of money and receive the prestige of the profession rather than a desire to actually help people that were in need of healing. For that reason, I didn’t have a problem with how the Ghostbusters got out of paying the bill Dr. Gould tried to stick them with. He should just consider himself lucky they didn’t try to sue him for malpractice.

That aside, the plot itself was very interesting. And it was suitably creepy when the sludge covering the Ghostbusters started sprouting body parts. I’d go so far to say it was very John Carpenter-ish. And there’s nothing wrong with that.

(Click here for more Ghostbusters reviews)

#the real ghostbusters #rgb episode review #ghostbusters franchise

2 notes · View notes