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savorysatori · 3 years

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— SCANNING: ➶ BLUE LOUNGE. 」 ✗

“I made love to a stripper, first I had to tip her.”

I. ↺ SYNOPSIS: At first glance it was like destiny. He had be eyeing you ever since, falling in love with each hour of the day, drinking you into his system. Love at first is what he’d say.

II. — WARNINGS: Bartender!maki, under the influence. Praise, teasing manner. dumbification, slight exhibitionism at the end. stripper!reader. Oral, (f!receiving), alcohol.

III. % WORD COUNT: 2.4k.

✧ @daisy-bakugo VICE CITY COLLAB.

The way you moved brung everybody into a trance, made their eyes zone into the sway of your hips and grind of your body against the shiny pole. You were mesmerizing, got everyone’s eyes on ya’.

Legs were thrown up around the metal poll, bringing the audience onto their very tippy toes, swinging till the moonlight shun down on your body glistening with sweat. Clanks of nails against it — curving your back up to slide down the pool effortlessly with ease. Sounds of appreciation going deaf to your ears, focusing on the movement of your body, wrapping each finger around the pole to throw your head back to land straight on his, glory bills being thrown to you with ‘whoo’s!’ Of excitement. Captured him in a trance of love was you, grey eyes zoned in with pupils dilating.

The love-struck daze deluded away as you turned, tilting your head back up and slipping off the pole with a beam of a smile, leaving the cheers of men with a small strut. Leaving Hanamaki to deal with the race of thoughts, the wet cup in his hands, and the awaiting customers ringing in his ear with a huff. He couldn’t get you off his mind, seeing you all like this knowing you were somewhat of a newbie at Vice City, arriving with only a suitcase and a pretty face which scored you a job at Blue Lounge, the infamous strip club every married man went to. Getting to know everyone effortlessly with a sweet smile and an even sweeter personality, a wave and a glance is what made anybody introduce their self with a stutter in their words.

You were everyone’s favorite girl here. Hell, even the other strippers couldn’t blame you when the manager grew a liking towards you — you were kind and skillful, winning the crowd with a sway of your hips and the provocative clothing that was gifted to you. Shimmery dress showing off in the dim purple lights of the lively club, wavering around your thighs with strapped heels to make you look taller, more confident in yourself to which you effortlessly did. Music booming from the DJ's speakers, sultry voices filling his ears from the song, and service girl’s trying to get his attention.

You were mesmerizing, he couldn’t find the strength to shift his gaze away from you. Watching as you stay in the back of the club, turning your interest onto the girl on the pole, seeming so enthusiastic when each shake of her hips sent a gleam of light through you, you were mesmerized as well. The spotlight on her and only her, yet, he couldn’t pay attention to that, but only to you. Eyes studying your every move, with a clap of your hands and a squeal of excitement.

The bottle of tequila was placed on the granite counter, pushing it towards the customer as the music came to an end. The lights dimmed entirely and everyone made a loud applause like always, making a mess of dollar bills on the club floor. Hanamaki couldn’t keep his eyes off of you even after the continuous strippers had stepped onto the stage and left, stirring his attention occasionally but, only focusing on you. He couldn’t look away. Oh no, he was in a trance of love.

Sipping the rest of tequila laying on his lips with a swipe of his tongue, he downed two cups of it. His brain was hazy, eyes dropped lower with glossy texture coating the iris. He’d lean back against the shelf of alcohol, taking tiny sips as the cold liquid burned his throat. He wondered if you knew he was staring at you, looking far too long — wondering if you were smitten just like him.

Well, you were amused.

Sliding the strap of your white dress up your shoulder, you’d pop open the top of the lipgloss, applying it slowly to your lips for it to shimmer in the night, contrasting against your skin. The dress flared out with every precise step you took towards the bar, eyes pierced on him with a goal you both knew you wanted.

“Could I get a margarita?” Leant over the cold counter, breasts almost spilling from the flimsy dress you wore. Hooded eyes with that same look you were giving him earlier, lust swirling with it.

“Comin’ right up.” All eyes trained on each other’s, no one taking the time to look away. Full attention till his flickered down towards the margarita he was pushing towards you, watching when you picked it up and took a small sip all while the eye contact didn’t diminish. A small smile spread onto your face as you moved the glass away, tilting your head to ensure you had your full attention on him.

“Y’know there’s a nice sitting place upstairs, wanna go? It’s pretty comfy. You could relax, I’m sure you’re a bit tired.”

You were wrong, there was adrenaline pumping through his veins with each word you spoke to him. He wasn’t tired at all, only fueled to talk the night away with you, get to know you, get closer so he could swiftly be with you outside of your workplace. Hanamaki wanted to take you away, and that’s exactly why he agreed, following you upstairs with heavy breathing everyone could pick up when the door to the guest room of the club opened, you patting the seat next to you, beckoning him closer till the squeaky door closed. Tight with a lock.

You were all he could think of at the heated moment, the aftershock of the alcohol kicking into his system, inching closer to you till his calloused hands were placed on your thighs. Less chatter dying down in the dimly lit room of the purple light, eyes fluttering close as soft lips were locked were yours, bringing you into a cart full of bliss swiveling between the both of you. The alcohol in your blood and within his giving you bravery you've never had before, the love of what's to come replaced with lust and a burning passion you didn't know existed. Sticky wet, long tongues intertwining and battling against each other as hands roamed and clutched at hair and backs. You could feel every ridge and edge of his body against your skin, the tongue in your mouth swirling with your own, as your fingers roamed his back, pulling his shirt till it hit the floor. The world rapidly slowing down around you, this moment in time feeling as long as day and everlasting as a night — his palms bringing you against the sheets, fingers snapping away on the lacy fabric of your panties clinging to the heat between your thighs.

The room blurred as you felt your head being thrown back and your eyes opened wide at the man above you, but your body moving to meet the sinful kiss, his tongue thrusting deep into your mouth. As his hand tucked under your dress and laying on top of your stomach, began to rub around your sides, finding every sensitive spot and spot along your spine, coming close to your ass, before slowly drifting up to spread your legs wider. Feeling him slowly lift your dress, and over your head as your arms went limp, feeling the cool air on your bare skin, your hands going to his shoulders, digging your manicured nails into his back. A pleading moan leaving your lips as he pressed his mouth to your neck, kissing and nibbling on the sensitive spot behind your ear that made you shudder.

“Maki. Just like that, love.” you moaned, your hand running through his hair as he slowly raised his head, his wet lips meeting yours. His lips were like velvet, sweet and smooth as they brushed against yours. Your tongue darted out, sweeping past his lips and into his mouth. He tasted of vodka and tobacco, your lips writhed, yours pressing against his and the other hand going to his hair, fingers gripping and tugging at the strands as you pulled his head closer. His lips left yours, his tongue darting out to lick your bottom lip before he pulled back slowly. You panted, heart pounding in your chest, pupils fully dilated as you looked at him.

“I want you,” You panted, your body arching forward as he grabbed your ass cheek. “You've got me, baby,” He whispered breathlessly in your ear.

You let out a groan as he pulled you up, your legs wrapped around his waist. His strong, fast fingers began pulling at the belt, button, and zip of his pants as you scratched at his back and neck. God, this felt good. The pounding in your head quieting as only the sound of your heavy pants could be heard. He pulled his pants down, discarding the material of his boxers as his full-blown attention was kept on you. He'd lean down, mouth against your cunt tongue darting from between his swollen lips, flattening against you, the vibrations making your knees weak as you clawed at his hair, a hoarse mewl leaving your lips. His hand so smooth and warm as his fingers rubbed against your folds, working your clit as he lightly flicked his finger over the bud. It was unbelievable. Utter bliss.

You wanted to move, to buck against his hand and into his mouth, but he was in complete control. You couldn't do anything but feel as he had his way with you, crumbling you down into a moaning mess of saliva. The desires he stirred within you were unlike anything you'd felt before. The world slowed down, the pounding in your head turning to a slow drumbeat as you felt him smiling against your cunt. The wetness, the warmth, the taste of your own drool was enough to make your toes curl, to make you feel the climax rise within you. The sweetness of his lips left you quickly, lapping up any excess cum you left behind, replacing the warmth with the head of his cock, pushing against your pillowy folds.

His strong hand guiding you as you laid down, your knees raising as he pushed inside, his thick, long fingers grabbing at your ass cheek as his fat, cock slammed into your tight hole with a grunt filling the feverish air. The sudden pain and pleasure were enough to make you yelp, your teeth clamping down on your bottom lip as he pushed further into you. Your fingers entwining as his head knelt to press against your lips, holding you down as he pulled out from the kiss, looking down at your woozy state of bliss. The veins in his neck bulged as he panted, his fingers digging into your palm as he began to fuck you with fierce energy.

The big window meters away from you both stood wide open, curtains swaying in the cool breeze of the Vice City wind, both your shadows casting in the dark night. Buildings not too far from your own, with people peering out to see the both of you and hear the sounds of moans spewing from each’s lips. Each moan and groan echoing in the room as you try to sought them out, feeling him push your back into the hammering headboard with each thrust, your breasts crushed against his chest. Clinging onto him, feeling the warmth of him a joy to hold, as your legs squeezed each other’s in the satin sheets upstairs of the club, the wet, squelching sounds of flesh on flesh.

The hand on your ass squeezed and twisted your cheek as he thrust into you, his thumb lazily circling your clit as you felt your whole body begin to shudder, the waves growing closer. Your heartbeat escalated, your muscles tightening as he continued to smack and pinch your clit. Your mind went blank, all you could feel was the pleasure. The pain, the pleasure, all of it was nothing compared to this. You wanted this, you needed this. Your body shaken as every nerve ending was stimulated. He whispered some sort of incantation before one of his hands left your arm to grab a hold of your chin. You bit down on his shoulder as he tilted your head to the side, his cock pounding into you as you felt the warm, sweet cum spill inside you as you gave a long, melodic moan.

Bringing you into a trance of need.

Your stomach clenched as you felt the hot liquid flood inside you, his heavy breaths slowing as he pulled out of you. He wiped the corner of his eye with his thumb, wiping away a tear. And, why was he crying? Hanamki himself couldn’t answer that, he was too deep in love, too deep inside trance he couldn’t leave, not when you were under him. Blissed state because of him. Because of his doing. You were mesmerizing, on a pole — grinding your hips along with the sultry lyrics of a song. Mesmerizing when you were underneath him, digging the tips of your nails into his back to draw blood, moaning his name till your throat turned hoarse.

He tilted your head up to look into your eyes, kissing you on the lips once more. This time, though, the kiss was gentle and sweet. In a haze you felt him shift around, taking your hand up for him to nuzzle his cheek into. Feeling your touch. Whispering sweet-nothings as his eyes fluttered close.

“Maki, you’re so sweet.”

It was a one-night stand. A night that left his heart hammering against his chest when he saw you step onto that stage once again, dazzling smile to awoke the crowd, signaling the DJ to turn up the song, for you to swing around the pole once more. It was a cycle. Hanamaki was in love, he knew he wouldn’t be able to have you under him again, not until you walked up those stairs to see him. Still sitting there, maybe waiting for you to come.

It was sad, really.

Poor Maki was infatuated with a girl he knew he’d only see from afar, never to feel the same tingles sliding down his spine when you walked by only to greet the man inside the private room. It was visible it would only be one night, he would only be able to lean against the bar, watching the neon lights shine against you as you twirled around on the pole, bringing everybody into a trance, having their eyes zone onto you. You got everybody’s eyes on ya’ now, everybody knew you were the favorite girl at Blue Lounge.

#hanamaki x reader #hanamaki smut #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu!! smut #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #vicecity!collab🍷#cw exhibitionism #cw alcohol #🤍.makii

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lloydskywalkers · 4 years

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heLLO i’m so sorry this took so long!! tumblr did not, in fact, eat your ask this time, i just took five years with the response T-T i did very much want to write something about Jay and Cliff (because that’s a criminally underused relationship), but unfortunately season 12 has come out since i wrote All I’m Asking For and kind of...made things...a lot angstier :’( so this leans much more on the angst side than the fluff, but!! there is some in there, i promise

It happens mid-battle, which is never a good time for anything to happen, really, other than a spontaneous victory. If it had happened at any other time, Jay would’ve gone with him. Any other time, he tells himself, he would’ve found the time to talk.

But it’s mid-battle right after Sensei Wu’s gone missing in time, and ironically enough, time is the last thing Jay has on his hands.

It’s not even the worst of battles — just some jerks who actually happen to have too much time and advanced high-grade weaponry on their hands — but it’s enough to send the city’s civilians screaming for cover as another chunk of building comes raining down toward them. Normally Cole would take this kind of thing, since Jay’s more about the agile, dynamic stuff (not because his arms are a whole lot like half-cooked spaghetti noodles next to Cole’s, not at all). But Cole’s on the other side of the city running collateral damage watch with Zane, so Jay’s the only one around to snatch the poor man out of harm’s way before a chunk of concrete squashes him.

“Whoo, that was close,” he breathes out, as dust mushrooms out from the impact nearby. Jay carefully sets the man down, coughing briefly and tugging his mask into place. “You alright?”

The man doesn’t reply, staring at Jay with wide, eerily familiar eyes. “You,” he breathes, as if Jay is some miraculous apparition — which, sure, Jay just saved his life, but like, he’s Jay. He’s a whole two or three inches shorter than this guy, he’s not super impressive.

“You’re the lightning ninja,” the man continues. “You’re — Jay?”

Caught between being pleased he’s recognized and being slightly creeped out, Jay opens his mouth to reply. Then he looks at the guy, actually looks at the guy, and immediately shuts it. And a good thing, too, because Jay’s mouth suddenly goes so dry it kinda feels like a dust vacuum.

“Y-you’re Cliff Gordon,” he manages, on a wheezing kind of whisper. “H-hi. Hi, hello, it’s—”

An honor? Jay’s half-hysterical mind throws at him. What is he supposed to say? Hello, long-lost father who gave me up as a baby, I figured that out, by the way? Does Cliff even know Jay’s his son? Does he even know his name’s Jay? Oh, why oh why has Jay put off acknowledging anything that happened with Nadakhan for this long, just because the entire thing’s a minefield worth of trauma and it makes him wildly nauseous to think about it at all, it doesn’t mean—

“Jay,” Cliff Gordon repeats, his eyes wide and shiny, and Jay’s stomach drops like he’s on a roller coaster. Because the way he says his name — it’s like he knows, it’s like he cares—

“You, uh,” Jay swallows, utterly oblivious to the exploding building two blocks back. “I think…you knew my mom?”

Alright, points for Jay for the lamest segue into this possible, but the beaming, almost-painful smile that splits Cliff’s face at least drowns part of the shame out.

“You could say that,” he murmurs, looking part-overjoyed, part-terrified. “If you know that, then — you must know I’m your — I never meant to lose—”

Cliff cuts off painfully, dragging a hand through his graying hair. Jay vaguely notes the puffs of dust that go drifting off from it, before the awkward silence gets too heavy and his mouth kicks back into action.

“Yeah, kinda…figured that out,” Jay laughs, nervously. “I don’t, um, I’m not mad…? If that’s what you’re worried about, but it’d be uh, nice to…”

“Of course,” Cliff nods fervently, as if he’s somehow psychic and can mind-read the ten thousand words’ worth of questions barraging across Jay’s brain. “Of course, we should talk, there’s so much I need to explain, I—”

Jay’s radio interrupts him in a bursting screech of static, leaving them both wincing.

“Jay, any day you wanna get back in the game, we could use a little help here!”

Kai’s voice is strained, and Jay glances from the battle to his — Cliff — with wild eyes. Cliff shakes his head, waving toward his teammates.

“Go on, go on,” he says, something like pride in his voice. “You’ve got a much more important job to do.” He pauses, his eyes bright and painfully hopeful. “But you’ll — you’ll come and visit me sometime, will you?”

“Yeah,” Jay nods, feeling oddly shaky. “Of course, I’d — I’d really like that.”

Cliff Gordon’s face splits into full smile, and Jay takes that as his cue to leave before he does something hideously embarrassing, like run his mouth or try to — to hug the guy. His eyes catch the bright flash of the Destiny’s Shadow, and he jumps up as Lloyd tilts the plane, Zane reaching a hand out to snag Jay and haul him in.

“Nice timing,” Jay gasps in thanks as he finds his seat, fumbling once with the tight squeeze. “Sorry about the wait.”

Zane simply squeezes his shoulder briefly. “I am merely glad to see you in one piece,” he says, wincing briefly as another explosion goes off. Jay cringes as his eyes rake over the smoking flames. Man, they’re gonna be stuck doing repairs here forever—

“Who was that?”

Jay startles back to himself at Lloyd’s voice, blinking rapidly. He opens his mouth, prepared to unleash a floodgate’s worth of “you’ll never believe this”—

Then stops dead as Zane and Lloyd stare curiously at him, awaiting answer. Jay shuts his mouth, and swallows.

How is he supposed to announce he’s met his father — his second, whole father, in addition to the super great one he already has — to them? To Zane, who barely got any time with his only parent before he died? To Lloyd, who's still actively grieving having lost his only dad for like, the third time? How’s that gonna go over, huh, motormouth?

So Jay shakes his head, forcing an easy laugh instead. “Just some random fan.”

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

He means to follow up right after. He does, really, but everything goes to hell in a handbasket so quickly Jay barely even has time to breath. First it’s the months of searching for Sensei, then it’s guarding the royal family, then they’re on the run, then they’re watching Garmadon brutalize their baby brother on live television and he’s dying on a table and the city’s being destroyed by a giant and the Bounty’s being crushed with them on it and they’re running for their lives in the First Realm and Sensei Wu’s a teenager and—

They’re kind of busy, that’s the point he’s trying to make.

Eventually, there’s a brief spot of time he could go, maybe. It’s right after they’ve returned from the First Realm, though, and that’s...not a great time.

The city’s still stumbling back to its feet, for one, and the loss of the emperor and empress doesn’t exactly help. Their little family’s left stumbling back to its feet even slower, as beaten down and utterly exhausted as they are. The four of them had their own run of it in the First Realm, but Lloyd and Nya didn’t have it any better back in Ninjago, and the whole thing’s just — just a big mess. And sure, maybe reuniting with his long-lost biological father now could like, actually benefit Jay’s half-shredded mental state, since the guy seemed pretty happy to see him, but…

But fathers.

Lloyd still wanders their apartment like a ghost at night, his eyes dull and haunted from whatever night terror he’s been graced with now. He wanders a little bit like that in the day, too, eyes glazing over and hands trembling at times. Jay knows why, of course — they all know, it’s not a secret. Not with the high-definition TV footage that keeps circulating. And they — they try to help, of course, they do their very best, but there are some things only time can fix.

Jay watches Lloyd’s eyes shutter at the mention of his father, and wonders if his entire life is enough to fix whatever’s been broken with his own.

In other words, Jay decides to be a coward.

Ironically enough, however, it ends up being Lloyd that encourages him to go. Not that he realizes that.

“Don’t bother making extra for dinner tonight, Zane,” Lloyd announces wearily, as he trudges through the kitchen. “My mom’s on the road again.”

Zane blinks at that, then frowns. “Where is she off to now?”

“Don’t know,” Lloyd says shortly, before promptly stalking off toward the rooftop exit. Jay and Zane stand there in silence for a moment, Zane still methodically stirring the rice. Then he turns to Jay, and fixes him with a look.

“Grumpy-about-parents Lloyd is normally Nya’s job, you know,” Jay huffs, but he relents, following Lloyd’s quiet footsteps to the roof. Lloyd’s curled up in his usual spot, close enough to the edge that it frightened the life out of Kai the first time they found him. Jay doesn’t exactly get why, because Lloyd’s sad, yeah, but he’s not—

Well, maybe Kai’s just scared Lloyd’ll trip and fall off the roof. That’s what Jay’s choosing to believe, for his own sake.

Either way, Lloyd looks pretty sad now, so Jay plops himself right down next to him with a huff, neatly startling Lloyd so badly he almost does trip right off the roof.

“Woah, hey, it’s just me,” Jay says quickly, throwing his hands up. Lloyd glares at him, and Jay makes a face. “Don’t give me that, you’re the one that’s supposed to have ninja reflexes.”

“Hmph,” Lloyd grumbles, wrapping his arms back around his knees, but he looks slightly less likely to zap Jay’s nervous system full of energy, so he takes that as a go-ahead.

“So, your mom, huh,” Jay starts, with all the intent of comforting Lloyd and comforting Lloyd alone. “Hey, random question, but how did, um, why’d you decide to let her back into your life, in the first place?”

“What?” Lloyd stares at him. Jay cringes. Oops, that wasn’t supposed to come out. Classic Walker, he’s brought his own issues right into the middle of it, like an absolute selfish—

Great, now he wants to throw himself off the roof.

“Sorry, sorry, forget I said that,” Jay babbles, desperately trying to re-route the conversation. “Just — forget I opened my mouth, okay? Please?”

Lloyd shakes his head, looking more concerned than sad now. He’s even unfolded from his tight little Lloyd-angst-ball, which Jay would count as a victory if it weren’t for all the wrong reasons. “Jay, is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course!” Jay blusters. Lloyd stares at him. Jay gives him a bright smile back. Lloyd continues to stare.

“Okay, fine, not really, but — that’s not why I came up here,” Jay admits, cheeks flushing.

Lloyd’s eyebrows furrow in concern. “Is everything…okay with your parents?” His voice is tentative, as if he’s almost scared of Jay’s response, and Jay can’t have that.

“My parents are fine,” he replies, firmly. “But, uh, thanks for asking. I’m just…” Jay trails off, abruptly realizing that explaining this is going to require mentioning Cliff Gordon, which is going to require mentioning that he’s adopted, which is going to require explaining why he hasn’t told the rest of his team this. None of which are options Jay wants to explore at the moment, so he desperately tries to backtrack.

Lloyd, faithfully caring brother that he is to the bitter end, beats him to it. “Well, even if they are fine, um. To answer your question, I guess I…I needed to know.” He blows his breath out, glancing out over the skyline, half-broken buildings forming dark silhouettes against the setting sun. “I needed to know why she - she left me. If it was me, or if it was her, or…whatever, you know?” Lloyd bites his lip, and Jay suddenly feels like a horrible person for putting him through the mother thing right after the father thing’s been blown to smithereens.

And yet.

“Yeah, I get that,” Jay says quietly, letting it sink in. And he does, really. More than he thought he would, and this is probably a big glaring sign from the heavens, huh.

“But I don’t know,” Lloyd continues, sounding small as his hands tug on a frayed thread from a torn spot in his gi. “Maybe sometimes it’s better to cut people out entirely, too.”

He looks terribly worn when he says that, too young and too old for his age all at once, and Jay decides he hates the expression on his youngest brother.

“I’ll remember that, next time you steal the last of my coffee stash,” he says.

Lloyd gives a startled huff of laughter, before jabbing him in the side with his elbow. “That’s not what I meant,” he rolls his eyes, but there’s a smile edging his mouth now — not quite the Lloyd smile he’s used to, but it’s not as frail as it’s been, either. Lloyd doesn’t look so much like porcelain that’s been stepped on anymore, and the proud spark of joy Jay feels from that is enough to convince him that it’s a good idea.

He did promise Cliff Gordon he would, after all, and besides — knowing can’t be that bad, and Jay’s a firm believer in the wisdom of knowledge, and all that.

He’s also a firm believer of closure, but he’s stopped claiming to be one, since it probably comes off pretty hypocritical lately.

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

Jay doesn’t tell anyone where he’s going. He doesn’t even tell them he’s going at all, he just…waits for a convenient opportunity to slip out when no one will notice.

He wishes he had. He wishes he’d told Cole, told Nya or - or anyone he was going, and at the same time he’s glad he told no one at all. He’s not quite sure he could bear anyone else seeing whatever look’s on his face right now, on top of everything else.

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry,” the woman at the estate tells him, her eyes teary. “Cliff Gordon passed away a month ago.”

That…doesn't make sense, at first. It takes a minute, to sink through the odd roaring noise in Jay’s ears, and finally reach his brain.

“Passed…away,” he repeats, blankly.

The lady nods, looking at him with so much pity Jay kind of wants to kick her shins. “It was his heart, poor man. He hasn’t been so well the last few years, you know.”

“Right.” Jay feels a little like he does when he’d used to jump off his dragon, except this time he’s been tossed from it and he’s free-falling to a short and sudden stop.

“Did you know him?” she asks, curiously.

Jay tries to make some form of response, like “I was his son”, except all that comes out is a whole bunch of nothing. Nothing, just like what’s left in Jay’s head. He blinks rapidly, trying to banish the image seared into his brain.

Cliff Gordon’s eyes, bright and painfully hopeful.

You’ll come visit me sometime, will you?

Jay swallows thickly. “Sorry, if you’ll, uh — excuse me, I think lunch was bad.” Then he ducks for the nearby bushes, and proceeds to be horribly sick.

He tells himself, through heaving gasps, that the hot tears are only reflexive.

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

And that’s that. Jay, stupid, selfish Jay, waited too long and now he’s lost his chance forever. Because he was — what, scared? Nervous?

He’s not scared now. He kind of just hates himself, which isn’t the newest thing in the world, but this time it burns like the worst of scrapes and crawls up on him in the middle of the night, screaming what-if’s into his brain until Jay’s biting down on his pillow before he starts screaming himself.

It hurts, but he’s got no one to blame but himself. Jay messed this up all his own and he sure as heck doesn’t deserve any sympathy from his team for it. So he’s not going to even give them the chance, because they’ll never know. Jay will take this secret to the grave, because imagining the looks on everyone else’s face when he tells them he ruined this makes him want to put himself in the grave.

How long did he wait for Jay, how long did he—

Jay’s just going to drive himself insane with his own stupid brain and that’s that.

Well, that’s supposed to be that. It would’ve been that, except Cole is perceptive and Cole knows him too well, and Cole spots the look on his face when he’s telling him everything he’s found out about his mother, since Jay can’t even hide that from him.

And maybe Jay’s just weak, or so desperate for some form of reassurance or - or attention that he cracks, and spills the whole sorry thing to Cole. To his undying credit, Cole doesn’t even look like he despises Jay once. Instead, he looks at him with all this sympathy and kindness and oh, if Jay was a crier—

Well, actually, Jay is a crier, and ends up bawling into Cole’s gi at two in the morning, but what else is new.

The important thing is that Cole is Jay’s very best friend and possibly favorite person in the whole entire world, and Jay is going to murder him in cold blood for dragging him to Cliff Gordon’s estate and forcing their way in.

“If he cared enough to want to meet you, he’ll have cared enough to leave you in his will,” Cole reminds him, staunchly. “He knows how busy your life was, so I’ll bet you anything he understood.”

“Stop trying to make me feel better,” Jay hisses, as Cole manhandles him down the mansion’s — the mansion’s! — hallways. “I don’t deserve it.”

“For the love of—” Cole cuts off with an exasperated huff. “It is not your fault this happened. This is not on you. How many times are we going to have to do this, Jay.”

“Until the time you let me wallow in miserable peace,” Jay mutters. What does Cole know, it’s not like he totally bailed on his parent and then let them die. Not that Jay could do anything about that last part, sure, but the rest of it.

Cole stops them in one of the massive living rooms, finally fixing Jay with one of those stares. Uh oh.

“At least read the letter,” Cole says, suddenly pleading. “You don’t have to look at anything else if you don’t want to, but please read the letter. For me?”

Oh, Jay hates him. He tells him so, even as his glare falters in the face of Cole’s stupid puppy eyes.

“Is that a yes?” Cole replies hopefully, offering the letter they were handed with the estate key. Jay gives him a last, withering glare before snatching the letter from him.

“You’re the worst,” he mutters, as he tears open the envelope with shaky fingers. He hesitates for a beat, before mustering whatever pathetic courage he has and tugging the paper out, unfolding it as his eyes find the carefully scrawled words.

My dear Jay—

He promptly bursts into tears.

“Jay wha — Jay what’s wrong, is it that bad?” Cole is frantic as he hovers over him, his hands half-caught between reaching for Jay and reaching for the letter in his hands. Jay shakes his head, trying to stifle the sudden waterfall’s worth of tears that decided to make an appearance, and clutches the paper tighter.

Cole makes an anxious sound. “Jay, you know he’s — if he’s said something bad, it’s — he doesn’t know anything, right?”

Oh no, now Jay wants to cry harder. Cole sounds desperately concerned, kind and caring and genuine like Cole always is, and Jay feels like the worst person in the world.

Stupid, Jay, he scolds himself hotly, swiping angrily at his eyes. Stupid, selfish Jay. He’s got nothing to be crying about. Zane only had one dad, and he doesn’t go around whining about it. Lloyd’s got one dad who’s died three times, and may as well be dead now ‘cause he’s such a jerk. Kai and Nya didn’t even have any parents until last year. And Cole lost his mom who he loved, he loved so much, and he’s still here supporting Jay — stupid, selfish Jay, who’s got two entire stable parents who he’s never once doubted love him, and yet here he is, crying over the one he never really knew.

“Jay,” Cole tries again, quieter this time. “Jay, you’re allowed to be sad about your dad. It’s not a contest.”

Stupid, perceptive Cole.

“He said he loves me,” Jay finally croaks, swiping at the tears all over his face. “He didn’t even know me, Cole, how was he supposed to know that?”

Cole’s eyes soften, all melty and gross. “You’re his son, Jay, he knew you.” His lips quirk up in a smile. “Besides, he talked to you once, right? You make some pretty impactful first impressions, motormouth.”

Jay can’t decide whether to be insulted or more flattered than he’s been in the last six months. He decides to punch Cole weakly in the shoulder, before crying harder. Cole doesn’t even flinch at the hit, built like a rock as he is, and simply snatches Jay’s arm and tugs him close, wrapping his arms around him tightly. And oh, Jay wants to pull away, he doesn’t want to break down in his dead father’s mansion like this, Jay doesn’t have a lot of dignity but he’s at least got his shreds, but—

Cole gives the best stupid hugs in the world, and what’s Jay gonna do, deny such instant love and comfort? The risk of hurting Cole’s feelings far outweighs Jay’s tattered dignity, he tells himself. That’s why he clings to Cole like an overgrown barnacle and wails into his shoulder like a broken faucet. That’s the only reason, obviously.

“It’s okay to cry, you big moron,” Cole says after he’s calmed down, briefly squeezing tighter. “I get it. But you really should read more than the first lines of that thing. I think…I think it’ll help.”

“This is all I’ve got, though,” Jay sniffles. “I don’t — I lost any other connection I’ve got to him.”

“Sometimes you just gotta work with what you have,” Cole says gently, a little bitter, a little sweet. “And somehow, you have to make it enough.”

Jay pauses at that, thinking back to the statue miles and miles beneath a mountain, the delicate locket Cole had turned over in his fingers. He looks back to the letter in his hands, the lines and lines of all the words his father left for him, and remembers Lloyd’s words about knowing.

His fingers tighten on the edges of his letter. Jay, he decides, is done being scared. He’s got Cole at his side — what’s he got to be afraid of, anyways?

“Okay,” he says, swiping once more at his eyes, and giving Cole a watery smile. “Okay. Help me read through the whole thing?”

“I wore my old sweatshirt for a reason,” Cole replies, making a show of wringing his sleeve out. Jay whacks him with the envelope, but the laugh he shudders out feels real, this time. He gently spreads the letter out atop his lap, focusing on the words again.

It’ll be enough. It’ll sting, but…it’ll be enough.

Like Lloyd’s tattered photograph, like Cole’s mother’s last words — it has to be.

#lego ninjago #ninjago #jay walker #cole brookstone #lloyd garmadon #since they're both...fairly present at points gdnkfgj #i just have many feelings about jay apparently T-T #my fic #answered

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irondadgroupie · 6 years

Text

Lessons in drinking

Inspired by the marvellous irondadtexts.tumblr.com ! I had not written anything in two years and then this little plot bunny comes bouncing my way. Features an exasperated but concerned Tony, uncoordinated Peter and mentor protege dynamics on the night of having your first drink.

.......

The clock struck half past midnight, not that Tony Stark noticed it, he was too engrossed in the latest modification of the Iron Man suit. He tried to develop the air filtration system to better combat against potential biohazards. Call him paranoid but he’d rather be safe than sorry.

His phone chimed and he glanced at it: Whatsapp message from Peter. Yes, it was not unusual, they had not the time to meet every day, with their hectic schedules but they still stayed in touch, talking about this and that.

What was not usual was getting a message from Peter and that made him take another look and open the message. The boy could be injured outside of the suit, having nightmares or anxiety attacks or-

Peter: heeeeey mr t

Tony’s brows rose up.

Tony: Mr T?

He had a pretty good idea what was going on but for the sake of the kid, he was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt

Peter: Mr s

Peter: S tark

Tony was giving this kid one more chance (he was going soft): Everything okay bud?

Peter: I havn t

Peter: veeen drinking

He was going to kill this kid! Kill and set the corpse on fire. But not before kicking his sorry ass to the next year!

He hit the dial button and luckily Peter answered.

“Okay so you’re drunk?”

Peter made a sound. Music blasted in the background and he could hear teens making noise, over what he did not want to know

“You’re drunk right?” He tried again.

“No.”

Smart kid, the man shook his head. One word sentences. But Tony had been the posterchild of troubled teenager and he knew every trick in the book.

“No! No! Would never get shrunk, I’m too young-“

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose as he walked out of the office and headed to his garage.

“Yeah, you’re damn right you’re too young to drink!”

Tony made a mental checklist and took in a deep breath: no use in yelling, Peter wouldn’t be remembering it, if his slurring was any indication of his cognitive state.

“Where are you? Why the hell have you been drinking?”

Being calm did not negate the use of curse words.

“Haven’t been drinking,” The kid valiantly tried to defend himself and Tony grit his teeth.

“Peter, I’m trying to stay calm until tomorrow when you’re sober and I can rip you a new one. But you’re making it difficult by lying to me.”

Peter whimpered pitifully: “Sorry Mr T?”

That name, Tony feels like screaming.

“I’m at a paartey.”

The boy let’s out a ‘whoo’, obviously because the song changes to a more uptempo one.

“A party?” Tony nearly stops in shock. “Why didn’t you tell me you were going to a party tonight?”

No, he was not the kid’s parent but he liked to be on the loops. Especially considering the last time Peter went out, acting like a normal teenager, someone had spiked his drink and Ned had called Tony to the rescue. He had spent the night making sure the boy didn’t choke on his own vomit. Tony had been certain that experience would deter Peter from ever touching anything stronger than root beer.

“I goyta drink for science!”

For science, some kids chanted in the background like a group of mindless followers. Peter seemed to have started a cult.

“For science?!” Tony screamed and cringes as he heard drinks sloshing, he could only hope none was offered to Peter.

“I didn’t know if I could get drunk!” The boy screamed with a laugh. “Because I’m- you know- him!”

Thank god for the sense of censorship.

“Yeah, I’m well aware of your spandex clad alter ego.”

He made it to the garage and chose the car which is both fastest and easiest to clean up. He had been meaning to change the cushioning of his Audi anyway.

“Where are you, I’m coming to get you,” he directed the call to the sound system and started the car.

“Pataaay!” Peter shouts with other kids and quiets down. Please, don’t be doing shots, Tony prayed.

“Yea, I know a party but where!” He is too agitated to even roll his eyes. “What’s the address?”

He hears a thud, no doubt the phone has dropped to the floor.

“Mr Sss- I don’t,” Peter gulps heavily as he picks the phone up. “I don’t feel great.”

Tony wants to be mad with the kid but hearing his tiny voice, he can’t help but feel sympathy.

“Yeah, alcohol does that to you. Where’s the party, Peter? Do I have to call Ned and ask him?”

Was Ned even at this party? He doubted it, last time Ned had been very responsible and sober. He couldn’t imagine him watching from the sidelines as his best friend got so hammered.

“No, it’s same place as last time,” the kid forces out pitifully and groans. Tony sets the navigator to the last location and turns right. He remembered the place; it was luckily only about ten minutes from the Tower, on the part of the city with big houses and home to various stockbrokers.

“Mr T- I- oh no no I think I’m drying.”

Hell yes you are, the man felt like retorting back. The kid should know alcohol dries up the system and he was willing to bet everything he owned that Peter had not had a glass of water the entire night.

“You feel sick? Have a headache?”

The boy does not answer, all he can hear is that blasted music. Tony feels like making an initiative to ban all stereos in the State.

“Peter? Peter you still there?”

He waits, tries to hear any kind of sound from the kid. Had he dropped his phone?

“C’mon buddy, speak to me!”

No answer. He hits the accelerator, nearly running through a red light.

“You better be where you say you are because I’m on my way.”

Then Peter answers.

“Heeey mr T.”

Oh god kid, just let it go. He knows anything having the letter S is difficult to say when drunk but this was just humiliating.

“Yeah, yeah, kid, we’ve done that. “

He stops to let a young woman pass the road although he feels like running over her.

“Where are you exactly, Peter? Where in the house?”

The boy takes a while to answer, he hears shuffling. “Front uard.”

Peter is now noticeably struggling with words. He is grounding that kid until the next decade.

“Okay, stay there, I’ll be ten minutes.”

“Do you promise?”

Tony can’t help but pity the boy. It was his first time drunk and although it has been thirty decades, he can still remember how awful he felt when he crashed down. He could only hope Peter’s morning after wouldn’t include nearly choking when vomiting up half-digested hot dogs.

“Yeah, I promise,” His voice is much softer than before. “Peter, of course I do.”

“I don’t feel good,” The boy whispers and spits on the ground.

“Just talk to me, okay? Have you thrown up?”

He doesn’t know what he wants the answer to be. If Peter has vomited, it means less alcohol in his system but it is also a sign of possible alcohol poisoning. Honestly, he doubts the kid is coherent enough not to choke if his body decides to rebel.

“I don’ remebr,” Peter sniffles. “Are you angy with me?”

“I’m more concerned than angry, Petey,” the man says, using the nickname that is reserved for when the kid is under the weather or otherwise needs comfort. Peter argues he hates it but Tony always catches a glimmer in his eyes when he is addressed with it.

Peter lets out a choked laugh.

Tony takes a hard turn and drives by rows of familiar houses. The navigator informs he is getting close.

“I’m almost there and I’m going to bring you home and look after you until you feel better, okay?”

He can almost hear the kid nod his head: “Okay.”

“And then I’ll yell at you tomorrow,” The man can’t help to retort, he is so going to get back at the kid for making him worry so much. But after he has made sure Peter has had a long sleep, gallons of water and some bacon and eggs.

“I’m sorry.”

How can the words coming out of a fifteen year olds mouth affect him so much?

“I didn think I could srnk so I drank a- a- olt. A lo-t.”

“We’re gonna talk about it tomorrow, Pete. For now just focus on taking deep breaths and staying awake, can you do that?”

The party house is in his view. It’s looks the same as last time, even the same kids are hanging around in the balcony. Nothing seems to be different, there are same lights in the trees and same songs are blasting through the neighborhood.

“Yeh. I love yo- you- Mr T.”

Tony allows the moment to happen: “I love you too, bud,” He smiles. He parks the car on the curb and steps out.

“Just stop calling me Mr T,” He slams the door shut and locks the doors. He doesn’t trust the apparent seniors who oogle his car with hungry eyes.

“Okay, sorry Mr T.”

Tony takes in a calming breath and scans the scenery, the picnic table, groups of people and the miserable figure sitting against the wall, hunched underneath a window. How come none had noticed the half-lid eyes and pale skin was out of his comprehension. Had kids been that cruel and ignorant in his youth? He can’t remember.

“Okay, I see you, you big mess,” He walks closer. “I’m here now, you’ll be okay. After not being okay for a few hours.”

He ends the call and Peter doesn’t realize for a second. Then his brown eyes look upwards and a smile lit his face.

“Hey Mr T,” Peter cries with drunken eagerness and stands up only to fall flat on his face.

“Jesus christ, Kid,” Tony can’t believe what he is seeing. His Peter, his straight A’s, genius, superhero protégé was wasted off his mind. He had witnessed the boy do incredible gymnastic moves, had observed his performance in battles and now, the kid could not even walk, let alone stand on his feet.

Peter gets up on his elbows and flashes him a smile. His hair is a mess and clothes wrinkled and he reeks of vodka but at least there is no vomit on his face, it’s at least a small consolation.

“I love you,” Peter says and laughs. Tony rolls his eyes and helps the kid stand up. He has to take most of his weight and he ponders for a second if carrying him over his shoulder would be more effective.

“You’re the- best,” The boy points at his mentor. “I like you so so much. You’re just so-“

“Yes, yes,” Tony nods his head and looks around. “Is Ned here?”

Peter follows his gaze: “No, he was supposed to come here but got cold.”

That explains a lot, the man thinks and begins to haul the kid to his car.

“Hey mr,” Peter slurs his name so horribly it is not a sound a human should make. “Do you like me? Even a teeny tiny bit?”

“Peter, I came here in the middle of the night to drag your sorry ass to bed, we’re past the point of just liking.”

The boy didn’t seems to understand.

“Too many words,” he groans and sinks to a crouch. Tony struggles but manages to get the suddenly very dizzy boy to the passenger seat. Thank God he had parked with the right side towards the house. Peter leans against the backrest and breathes heavily, seemingly out of it until Tony starts to tie him in with a seat belt.

“What- What is-“

“Easy,” Tony guides the kid’s hands away. “Leave it be,” he buckles the belt in and makes sure is secure. As precaution he takes a plastic bag from the passenger side door and opens it.

“I hope you won’t throw up but honestly, you’re starting to look a little green.”

“I’m dizzy,” Peter mutters and sinks lower on the seat. Tony guides his head between his knees and encourages him to take deep breaths. The boy is coherent enough to obey but his skin loses more color.

“Peter, if you feel sick, just let it go, you’ll feel better.”

The boy shakes his head and straightens up valiantly, Tony has to admire him.

“Let’s just go.”

The man nods and rounds the car to his seat. The engine roams and Peter grimaces at the loud noise.

“You’ll be okay,” Tony rubs the boy’s arm in support, the way he wishes his father would have done.

The journey is silent, no music, no talking, nothing to make the ride normal. Tony misses the kid’s babbling, with rock music blasting from the stereos. Now all he can do is glance at the boy every couple of seconds to make sure he is still in the land of the living.

Peter’s eyes start to fall shut as his head nods against his chest.

“Hey!” Tony snaps his fingers in front of the boy’s nose and jolts him awake. “No sleeping until we are at the Tower.”

“I feel sick.”

As he says it, vomit starts dribbling down his chin. Peter tries to hold it in but his stomach spasms are too intense.

“Just let it out, Pete.”

The boy needs no more urging. He grabs the bag and retches. Tony winces in sympathy but luckily they are just at the garage. He parks the car and turns his head to the boy who spits into the bag and groans.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, you were remarkable,” The man gets up and walks over to the boy. “Remind me to tell you of the time Rhodey and I went to this charity ball. They had the Lakers girls serving tequila shots. My car back then had orange seats, not after that night.”

Peter tries to chuckle but fails as tears fall from his eyes. Tony takes the bag and drops it into the garbage can. They make their way silently to the living quarters and there Tony faces a shock. He had hoped the kid would tire himself out but instead, throwing up seemed to have spiked up his energy.

“I love this place!” Peter runs to the windows and Tony has rush after him to ensure he does not open the balcony door.

“Now, let’s get you something to eat,” he takes a hold of the kid’s arm and drags him towards the kitchen.

“Nooo, it’s so pretty!”

“Yes, yes, sky is pretty.”

Peter steps into his way and locks eyes with him.

“You know what?”

“What?” He humors the kid. Peter is silent for a moment but then snorts.

“I forgot!” He bends over in laughter. The voice echoes in the hall and Tony shushes him.

“Oh!” Peter is in an ADHD episode, like a kid who had too much sugar. He runs to the bar and grabs a bottle. “I want this!”

“No!” Tony tried to be nice but this is where he draws the line. He snatches the bottle from him and places it on a higher shelf.

“Tooonyy!” The boy whines. “It’s good!”

“You are already in the verge of getting your stomach pumped.”

“Why? I feel great!”

“Peter, what comes up must come down.”

“I already threw up, I must have more,” Peter takes a whiskey bottle but before he take a swing, Tony forces it out of his grips, slams it to the table and turns his furious eyes to the boy.

“I’m not having you die under my watch!”

The boy’s eyes glaze over: “Would I fit there?”

The kid was lucky he loved him, there were very few for whom he would stay this patient.

“C’mon,” Tony guided the boy to the kitchen and sat him on the floor, he didn’t trust him with a stool, he would only crack his skull open.

“First lesson in drinking, Peter,” He took a pizza box from the fridge, his lunch, and sat down beside the boy. “Never drink on an empty stomach.”

He holds a slice of mozzarella-pepperoni pizza to the kid’s mouth. Peter is wary for a moment but then takes a small bite, so small he doesn’t need to chew on it to swallow.

“Nope,” Tony shakes his head. “Chew properly or it will be hell to bring it back up. “

Peter shivers and a tear slides down his face.

Tony doesn’t know what to do. Even after a year of knowing Peter, he is still very new to gestures of affection. He cares for the boy, there is no doubt about it, but the man is used to showing it through money and grand gestures and a witty comment here and there. Peter is different, from a completely different world, where people were open with their emotions because others could be counted on noticing them. Peter was a hugger, with a constant smile, and Tony wants to be able to return the gestures but he can’t.

There is a lock in his mind that he can’t bypass. Not for now at least.

The boy sniffles and takes the pizza slice.

Tony feels awful. He gets up and grabs a washcloth, he rinses it under the tab until it is warm. Peter’s eyes follow him as he gets on his knees and wipes at the tear tracts.

“You poor thing,” the man whispers and rubs the boy’s temples, trying to ease a building headache.

“Tony,” Peter says. “Do you hate me?”

What?

“No,” The man shakes his head and wipes away the tears that follow. “Why do you think that?”

“I don’t know,” Peter shrugged with half-lidded eyes. “Sometimes I get that feeling.”

“It’s just your anxiety speaking,” Tony stands up and fills a glass with water.

“I wouldn’t blame you if you did.”

Just what he needed, Tony rolled his eyes. He was well aware Peter’s self-esteem left a lot to be desired and honestly, he couldn’t understand why. He was a great kid, better than anyone.

“Sometimes it feels like the entire world is against me,” Peter cries softly.

Note to self, Peter is a weepy drunk. Never take him to a bar.

“Drink this,” He ignores the tears and holds the glass to the boy’s lips. “You’ll feel better in the morning.”

Peter gulps down the drink, obviously wishing it was something else. Tony takes the glass as the boy rests his head on his mentor’s shoulder. Tony smiles softly and ruffles the boy’s hair, easing out some tangles.

“You’re such a mess,” he chuckles in pity. Peter cries and eats the pizza.

“I am a mess. I made you come and get me. I’m such an idiot.”

“Peter, I know you are drunk but I won’t have you hating yourself.”

“I’m so sorry, Tony,” tears ran down his face.

“Kid, it’s alright,” The man rests his cheek on the boy’s head. “I’m not angry at you.”

“But you should be! You should have left me there! You’re so best at everything!”

He let the kid rant, only humming along in pauses.

“Tony, I think you’re the best there is. You’re the best person, and you’re Iron Man, Iron Man is best and you’re like a-“

“Okay, it’s your bedtime!” The man stood up and tried to drag the boy up.

“Tony, no!”

“Tony, yes.” He mocked and swung the boy over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry.

“Holy shit!” Peter shrieked as they made their way out of the kitchen towards the guest room. “You’re strong! Like Iron Man!”

“Yes, Peter, it’s kind of the point,” Tony adjusted his hold as the boy tried to jump off. Yes, he worked out but carrying Peter is no effort, the boy was like a small bird.

He kicked the door open and dropped the boy on the bed. His body bounced on the mattress and Tony moved over to unlace his shoes.

“Do you want to change clothes?” Tony asked as he took off Peter’s socks and stuffed them inside the sneakers for safekeeping.

“Tony,” Peter smiled as the man took off his belt, ”have I ever told you you’re the best?”

“Only like a minute ago,” the man muttered as he rummaged the closet for a pair of comfortable sweatpants and an overlarge Black Sabbath t-shirt that originally belonged to him. “C’mon,” he tapped the covers, “Sit up.”

Changing pants was no problem but shirt was a task, Peter seemed to have lost all sense of coordination. He got tangled in the sleeves.

“Okay, first head,” Tony rolled up the t-shirt and helped it on. “Right arm, no, your right.”

Peter slumped against the man’s chest and closed his eyes. His breathing was beginning to even out.

“It was fun,” the boy slurred. Tony gently laid him down and turned onto his side.

“Let’s get you comfortable,” he moved the boy’s right hand under his face. “I want to ensure there is no hindrance to your breathing. “

He pulled Peter’s left arm back to balance him. Covers slid over the boy’s body. The man took extra care that the pillow was supporting Peter’s head.

“There’s a trashcan right next to you if you get sick again. I’ll stay with you tonight so say if you need anything. Is your head okay?”

“Yeah,” the boy sighs. “The world is spinning.”

Tony brought his hand to the boy’s head and started caressing his hair. “Yeah, that’s no wonder. Is it bad?”

“Not really. Not like a concussion.”

“Alright, you’ll live.”

The man laid down behind the boy, his hand continuing the motion. Peter started breathing deeply in and out. Tony could still smell alcohol in the kid’s hair and it brought flashbacks to his own darker episodes.

It was just a one-time thing, he tries to reassure himself. Many teenagers drank and peer pressure can lead to unsafe behavior. This was not a sign of any deeper problem. Peter had issues, sure, but he was not suicidal. He made a mistake, had a few too many. It was just dumb luck that spider genes did not single out the effects of alcohol. In another reality, drinking this much might not have had ill consequences.

“Kid.”

Peter keeps sleeping.

“You would tell me if there was something wrong, right?”

Peter makes a sound in his sleep.

“You would say if you were depressed? If your thoughts suddenly got dark and life lost meaning? You would call me to help out? You wouldn’t make any drastic decisions?”

Maybe Peter needed therapy. He had obvious abandonment issues, Tony had read last month’s Psychology journal. Also the guilt complex was something they needed to work on. Before he met Peter, he had no idea word “sorry” could be used in so many contexts.

His thoughts were interrupted as Peter turned on his back and groaned.

“No, no,” Tony sat up. “On your side-“

His words were cut short as Peter gagged. In a second, Tony had him on his stomach, with head resting over the trash can.

“It’s okay,” he whispered as the boy coughed and emptied his stomach. Tony rubbed his back in circles while he held his forehead with his other hand. Peter whimpered as another gag hit him and Tony made sure he did not fall of the bed. Stench was overwhelming, Jesus what had the kid drank? Vodka was obvious, tequila, beer and yep, there was a piece of the pizza.

“Help,” Peter tried to keep his stomach in check but it was no use, he was puking again. Tony patted his back, making sure the kid did not choke.

“I’m helping, I won’t leave. You’re safe here.”

Almost as suddenly as they had started, gags stopped and Peter fell limp. The man rolled him back to the bed and set to emptying the bucket and rinsing it before the stench made them both sick. He returned the container to the same spot and sat on the bed. With gentle hands, Tony gathered the boy into his arms and set his neck to rest on the crook of his arm. Peter was spent and hovered on the border of unconsciousness. A glass of fruit juice sat on the night stand and he brought it to the boy’s lips.

“Peter, you have to drink,” the man ordered as the boy fought back. “You are getting dehydrated. Next step is the IV.”

Threat of needles always worked. The boy took a cautious sip and when his stomach stayed calm, Tony poured more into his mouth. Maybe he imagined it but Peter’s skin seemed to gain more color as sugar and vitamins were reintroduced to his system.

“Yes, the second lesson in drinking: water only worsens the hangover, I prefer sparkling water or juice and sodas.”

There were a couple of more lessons but they could wait until Peter was 21.

#irondad #drunk peter #peter tony #tony stark #peter parker #spiderman #tony worries a lot #peter does not see it #self-esteem issues #they need to work on their communication

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mechanicalinertia · 4 years

Text

Content-Free Erpdert 2020-Oh-One: The Roles We Must Play in the Great Game

Okay. Let’s talk about my Bubblegum Crisis 2069 RPG. This isn’t a postmortem, though it feels like one. Think of it as laying out the prospects for the project’s necromantic revival. Think of me as Frankenstein, looking for a good ol’ bolt of lightning to give his hacked-together corpse-man life.

So:

1. The original reason I stalled out on the RPG was Megatokyo. Basically I liked The Sprawl’s citybookish supplement November Metric, specifically Benjamin Kouppi’s mini-citybooks for Brussels, Lagos, and Miami, so much that I figured the least I could do was highlight different parts of Megatokyo - how GENOM’s vision of the model megacity clashes with the reality of daily life, the street finding its own uses for things, the usual cyberpunk stuff - in a similar manner. Only then I realized I really, really wanted to avoid Orientalist stereotypes, and then I realized that really, really restricted what I could actually do in the various districts - or would a district-based approach really work? Why not just layer down the fundamental concepts, the aesthetics of Megatokyo? Probably because I didn’t know what the specifics of a cyberpunk megacity would be, realistically, and I didn’t want to just imitate CP2020′s Night City book - I wanted to create anchors for the players to tie their campaigns to. Something freeform, yet concrete, and yet I just couldn’t gin up the creative juices to write it in a satisfactory way. Well, alright, I thought, I’ll just move on. I’d written plenty of lore already, right, so there was nothing wrong with moving on.

But I’m not very good at moving on. See, it was at that point that, in light of all of BGC2069′s inspirations, I started to rethink the first half of the game - namely, its mechanics.

2. I made it very clear from the start that what I was doing was a hack of the RTAL rules for CP2020 and the BGC RPG. Kick out all the unnecessary stats from Fuzion - just scrub Fuzion from the record entirely. Use the pared-down gameplay from Hunter-Seeker, but ignore the godawful setting from that same hack - it reeked too much of Neuropolitan, which in turn reeked too much of Snow Crash, and that wasn’t the sense of the lore I was going for. And for the most part, I think the basics succeed in imitating CP2020 gameplay and combat without too many extra moving parts.

Oh, but when I started bolting moving parts on, that was when things got complicated. There’s no doubt I cast my net too goddamn wide, trying to alter the flawed systems of the original 2020 in the style of various fan-supplements from the internet of days long past. One of the few people who looked my abomination over said that he didn’t like the way lore and mechanics were blended together in those sections - too confusing, he said. And yeah, I was trying to twist CP2020′s looser ends and make them my own. But I overdid it. Gun-printing? Cybernetics and humanity loss? Hacking? All these things are Cyberpunk staples, yes, but I a) made them too damn complex (and in the case of the hacking’s vision of the ‘Noosphere’, potentially inaccurate), and b) they’re not Bubblegum Crisis staples.

By this I mean that original BGC eschews cybernetic augmentations (except for the bizarre and hyper-pulpy AD Police Files OVA, whose canonicity is dubious at best), elaborate hacking, and unhardsuited combat in its action scenes, or really a lot of excessive gun-porn, and it does just fine. So if I had to do it all over again - and something tells me I ought to - I would minimize these elements. Streamline the whole project. Focus on BGC’s strengths.

3. Well, what are those strengths? Anime-Superheroic-Cyberpunk is a great genre cocktail, but where do those mental Venn diagrams align? Well, in the Knight Sabers. Normal(ish) people in a cyberpunk future (not professional black-trenchcoat operatives in the least) with melodramatic problems solved by the application of high-flying, high-tech mecha-violence. That’s the bottled lightning that is Bubblegum Crisis, and as much as I hate to admit it, that’s what people want to play in this particular universe. If people want to play a different kind of cyberpunk campaign - one where hardsuited combat against Boomers with a pinch of anime-esque melodrama isn’t the norm - they’re gonna play Shadowrun or CPRed or The Sprawl or The Veil or Interface Zero (ech) or even Eclipse Phase if they’re desperate. So if we take ‘play as the Knight Sabers or a similar team’ as our modus operandi - well, what does that tell us?

4. Well, again, that ‘bareskin’ combat should be minimalized, cybernetics largely ignored, and hacking simplified for heat-of-the-moment electronic warfare (hacking a Boomer on the fly, not cracking a massively complex corporate mainframe). It doesn’t preclude using Interlock-ish rules (Stat-Skill-D10 vs. Target Number) per se - it doesn’t mandate a simpler system like BESM or OVA or something similarly rules-light. I’d argue that, because mecha-porn is so fundamental to BGC as its own thing, that if anything the game needs a slightly crunchier rules system just to build those mecha.

5. Or does it? Don’t get me wrong, I’m very proud of the mutation I cobbled together of Mekton Zeta Plus. However, I’m not as proud of the hardsuit-construction system I made based off of that system. It more feels like something the GM would use to make hardsuits for the players, not letting the players build their own suits.

Furthermore, I was sort of kicking the can down the road by giving GM’s such an extensive toolkit. It would be more desirable on the players’ end, I think, to just give them a monster-manual full of pre-built Boomers and maybe a few larger mecha, so the only mecha-building the GM or players are doing is their hardsuits / Motoslaves at the beginning of the campaign, then maybe a monster-of-the-week supermech like the DD once or twice. Likewise, I hadn’t bothered to actually make the rebooted versions of the Sabers and other characters to interact with PC’s, or for the players to inhabit, or hell, just to serve as inspiration for their own superheroes. So. Gotta do that.

6. I keep itching for some sort of roleplaying ‘training wheels’, some sort of system to encourage, if not directly reward, players to play around with inhabiting their characters. Like, if you had people who were interested in ‘hard’ roleplaying in their TTRPG, but didn’t really know how to do it. I keep thinking about the ‘clocks’ in The Sprawl, how they determine a sense of danger and urgency and generally are designed to keep the players moving forward through the beats of the story. I think that’s really cool, but at the same time it’s a very PBTA-tastic system - would it work for the ‘bareskin’ side of the game where the characters don’t have much more than a pistol and their wits to uncover what they must do once they get into hardsuits? One could make two very different games, here. The ‘Bareskin’ game, which is all about feelings and plots and story beats, and the ‘Hardsuit’ game, which is much more classic bang-bang-punch-punch stuff.

It’s not as intuitive, though, to design those sorts of things. And then I wonder if I’m taking the game too far away from it’s CP2020 roots, trying to make the game be something it isn’t. I’ve got this great grab bag of inspirations, but to make a BGC game truly itself - that’s hard. Because I’m not sure what trends I should be chasing, here.

7. But I’m getting myself muddled, here. I need a plan of action.

So:

A. Modularize the game. Core Rulebook largely ignores gun-printing, complex (deep) hacking, cybernetics, etc, and eschews them in favor of getting the players in their character’s shoes and hardsuits at a reasonable clip. I can put the complex stuff in its own pseudo-expansion and play around with it as necessary. Likewise, Mekton Infinity is great for complexity and granularity, but players are more gonna be coming from something more like Lancer than Mekton Zeta. So they’re gonna want some pre-built inspiration even if the endgame is to have players build their own suits.

B. Build the ‘sourcebook’. Focus a little less on the lore, focus more on where lore and mechanics intersect, namely in things. NPC’s to hang out with, mecha to battle.

C. While I’m at it it probably couldn’t hurt to make the general rules of heavier mecha combat more granular. Car chases and dogfights and things like that, alongside the more infantry-scale of hardsuit combat. Help people play the game with just some crude printed miniatures and nothing else.

D. Write the GM’s advice thing, see if that helps nail down what kind of game BGC is supposed to be. You know, what makes a BGC game unique, what should draw the players in, contrast it with other mecha-cyberpunk-anime-superhero games.

E. Then, I think, whether or not the game needs to segregate ‘bareskin’ and ‘hardsuit’ gameplay - and subsequently whether or not I need to add more rules like that - will become much clearer.

Whoo. That was a lot of text. We’ll see if anything comes of it, I guess.

#bubblegum crisis #rpg #ttrpg #rpg design #wall of text #rant

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Our Favorite Dumb (But Awesome) Games

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Our Favorite Dumb (But Awesome) Games

At some point in the past few weeks, some of us at the office were spitballing about when we thought the ludicrous new crustacean-themed battle game Fight Crab might come out.While we don’t know for sure (though their website alleges it will be some time by the end of the month), it got us thinking: this game, while undeniably awesome, is also undeniably silly and sort of dumb. But that’s not a bad thing – in fact, it reminded us that some of our favorite games aren’t much smarter.

IGN’s Favorite Dumb-But-Awesome Games

Check out the slideshow above for some of our favorite dumb-but-awesome games, or scroll through the entire list below.

I Am Bread

In I Am Bread, you are bread, and your mission is to become toast. Literally – it’s all about traversing a hazardous kitchen, apartment, or other mundane room as a slice of bread to get to a toaster and cook yourself.

The premise is silly as hell and it’s frustratingly, stupidly hard, but it also had me laughing so hard I teared up. Funny, because I had the same exact reaction to Bossa Studios’ other wacky game, Surgeon Simulator.

– Casey DeFreitas, Editor

This game was an absolute turd, so bad in fact that it was one of the first games to be approved for the PS Classic, the first mini-console desgined to showcase all of the worst titles in the history of an otherwise beloved system.

It was also the first and only 3D fighting game available for the system at launch (a couple months before Tekken and a couple years before Soul Blade would be released), so you better believe there were quite a few of us early adopters out there wasting hours mastering a game that would never really achieve widespread popularity. Even though I definitely know better in retrospect, I still can’t help but to remember my time with BAT fondly.

– Jeremy Azevedo, Head of Gaming Video

Blitzball

Final Fantasy X was a game about love, parenthood, responsibility, adulthood, and playing underwater basket-rugby with lots of dudes in big shorts. At least, it was for me. I am acutely aware that Blitzball, X’s take on the traditional all-consuming Final Fantasy side-game, is objectively bad. It’s slow, predictable and has, generously, about 4 animations in total. And I played it for dozens of hours, sculpting the perfect team of dudes in big shorts and winning everything I could. It was a chance for a distraction from the sad fact that Tidus’ dad had become an apocalyptic whale, and by god, I took that chance. I love it.

– Joe Skrebels, UK Deputy Editor

Blake Stone: Aliens of Gold

In my house, my dad didn’t let me play Doom. He let me play Blake Stone: Aliens of Gold while he played Doom. Blake Stone: Aliens of Gold is kind of like Doom, but it’s also not Doom. Doom came out the week after this game and ruined my life. Thanks, Doom.

– Ronny Barrier, Video Producer

Sneak King

Who’d have thought that one of the most memorable games of the last generation would have been a marketing stunt? Sneak King took my love of stealth games, and slapped it on the grill with my love of burgers to make a delicious, greasy, surprisingly unbroken adventure starring America’s only acceptable monarch, the Burger King. May his charbroiled reign last a thousand sneaky, greasy years.

– Jon Ryan, Senior Editor

Uno (Xbox Live Arcade)

When this game came out, I got way too into becoming the greatest Uno player of all time. I will never forget the lack of moderation on the pictures for my competitors leading each game of Uno to basically become a proxy for chat roulette. A unique time in gaming.

– Tate Fiebing, Product Manager

Roundabout

Expecting an FMV comedy romp, I was not expecting to be dumped into what is arguably the most absurd puzzle/platformer/racing game I’ve ever played. Yes, it also has FMV. Beginning with frustration and utter confusion as I tried to learn how to control my continually-rotating cab quickly gave way to howls of laughter as I crashed and exploded again and again, and I became obsessed with trying to top my previous high scores for each level. If I’d been playing by myself, I might not have found it quite as funny – but with friends, this game is comedic gold.

– Ginger Smith, Product Manager

Almost every single licensed NES game (not made by Capcom)

If it existed in the 80s, there was an NES game based on it. It didn’t matter if the underlying IP was rated R, or what the story might be, or if the developers had ever seen the movie or show it was based on.

This was before the internet and by the time you were suckered into buying the game, that was it, you were stuck with it. Rambo, Total Recall, TMNT, Bart vs The Space Mutants, A Nightmare on Elm Street, X-Men, Goonies, Karate Kid, Terminator 2, Friday the 13th, Night Rider, Airwolf, Bill & Ted, if you can remember it, there was probably an NES game based on it and it was almost definitely shit. But you’d play the hell out of it because you wanted to believe it was like the thing you loved, and because you had to justify the expense of a new game tape to yourself and your family. Unless it was made by Capcom (like Ducktails or Little Nemo), in which case it was, of course, bitchin’.

– Jeremy Azevedo

You Have To Burn The Rope

YHTBTR is a 30sec game with a great 2min end credits song. It’s not very difficult. The game literally tells you what to do right in the title. You could argue this isn’t even a game and instead is more of a music player with an interactive play button. No matter how you look at it, YHTBTR is definitely a “dumb” game but to this day is still one of my favorite time-wasters.

– Isaiah Smith, Software Engineer

50 Cent: Blood on the Sand

After G-Unit performs a sold-out show in an ambiguous Middle Eastern country, they’re outraged to learn the concert promoter can’t pay them in cash. Instead, he offers them a jewel-encrusted skull, which is immediately stolen by a beautiful ninja woman. 50 Cent, Tony Yayo, Lloyd Banks, and DJ Whoo Kid chase after her, which proves easier said than done because there are terrorists everywhere and they have to fight the terrorists.

Because this is a video game, new weapons and skills can be unlocked, but because this a 50 Cent video game, so can new swearwords. 50 Cent: Blood on the Sand is dumb as all hell, and way better that is has any right to be. It is a tragedy and an atrocity that it never got a follow-up where G-Unit goes to outer space or back in time.

– Max Scoville, Executive Mailroom Clerk

Chrome Dino

When you go offline…and you’re really bored…watchu gonna play? Chrome Dino! No, but seriously, Chrome Dino has saved me from complete boredom so many times over the years. From dodging pterodactyl and cacti to watching the world change from day to night and back again, Chrome Dino is a surprisingly addictive game that lives in the most unlikely of places. I still play it sometimes to this day when the internet goes out…

– Isaiah Smith

Cool Spot

A video game tie-in to promote Sprite’s bastard stepchild 7-Up, Cool Spot is profoundly dumb in theory, but actually quite fun to play. You play as the eponymous spot – 7-Up’s mascot in the United States – as he traverses through various generic ‘90s platforming levels, rescuing other Spots and collecting points. Strangely competent despite the relentless product placement.

– Lucy O’Brien, Executive Editor

Get On Top (Sportsfriends)

The awkard wrestling game where rounds last 2 or 3 seconds. Many laughs were had and bets decided from wierd round boys slamming eachothers heads into the ground by wiggling around in QWOP-like motions. Existed as a hidden mini game in Sportsfriends and on the best selling console of all time: Ouya.

– Drake Wempe Software Engineer

Dong Dong Never Die

One of the weirdest fighting games ever made, DDND is a Doujin (Fan-Made Indie Game) game from China made in Fighter Maker. It plays a little bit like the old King of Fighters series, but the game looks like you took the weirdest characters out of Kung Fu Hustle and put them in a digitized 2d fighter. You’ll laugh at how absurd each character and their attacks are, but actually get a kick out of the fighting engine too. The game is free on PC, so you can take a shot of using your Mian Hua Tang against Super Mario without spending a penny.

– Aaron Smith Sr. Mgr.of AdOps

Metal Arms: Glitch In The System

A long-forgotten game for GameCube that was in many ways ahead of it’s time. Quirky storytelling that reminds me of borderlands. A bunch of bizzare weapons that could be upgraded and customized.

A final boss fight that was utter insanity as you’re almost literally fighting a building. A ton of fun to play and even gave itself an arena to do PvP with. Sadly in spite of having all of the elements of other great games it never really caught on.

– Eric Becking Lead Engineer

What are some of your favorite games that make you go “this sucks, I love it?” Let us know in the comments!

Source : IGN

#Game News #Game Reviews

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