#the test tubes tell me that science is occurring | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bestiesenpai · 3 years

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Area 51 - Nanami Kento

This is for @natsuonii’s creature feature collab! :) It’s got alien!reader, scientist Nanami and a whole lot of weird shit I’d say. Femme reader...there’s alien pussy lol 9.8K words

link to the collab!

Content warnings: sex pollen, alien heat, reverse knot, daddy kink, blood + needle(it’s brief I promise) and random medical terms and fake science shit lol don’t look too deeply at it

“This...this is the best scientific breakthrough we’ve ever had.” Nanami was at a loss for words, watching as decked out military men brought in case after case of wreckage from a shot down spacecraft. Working at a highly secure government facility sure did have it’s perks, and being one of the first people to know about all this was certainly the biggest one.

Nanami had spent so much of his life studying and clawing his way to the job he was at now. He’d sacrificed so much in the name of science, in the pursuit of finding extraterrestrial life forms no matter how small and insignificant, and it was finally paying off.

“Doctor, we’ll take the embryos to your lab.” One of the men said, quickly walking away tailed by people holding glowing blue cases. He hadn’t really been briefed on what all was coming in and what exactly happened to get it here, but he was sure he would find out soon enough.

“Careful!” Another person shouted and he was pushed out of the way. Coming in through the large steel doors was what looked like a four armed monster strapped face down to a flatbed. Markings went up and down his face and body and there were an extra set of eyes staring at everyone as it was wheeled by.

“What is that creature?” Nanami mumbled, clutching his clipboard tightly. The creature was breathing hard through its nose, nostrils flaring dangerously wide and a light growl rumbled from its chest.

“It appears to be the leader of the spacecraft, we could only get the creature's name, nothing else: Sukuna.” Someone answered him, but Nanami didn’t acknowledge, he was unable to take his eyes off Sukuna.

“Incredible.” His mouth hung open like a fool, unblinking as he watched Sukuna be wheeled past him and to the elevator shaft. “How far down are they taking him?”

“I heard the chief say as far as they could. He’s highly dangerous, it was a miracle the team was able to get the upper hand.”

“I’ll have to pay him a visit soon.” Nanami had enough security clearance to go anywhere in the building, but something was telling him he’d have to ask for a lot of permissions first before making contact with Sukuna. Nanami learned quite early on that the deeper underground you went, the more power you needed to be there.

Once the final bits and pieces were brought into the facility, Nanami peeled himself off the wall and made the way to his own lab. With his badge hung proudly from his shirt pocket, Nanami made the descent and as the elevator went floor after floor and the numbers got higher and higher, he let some excited exhales out.

Going down the metal corridor, he came to his lab to see it teeming with people. Nanami often worked alone on things and to see so many people milling about in his space made him a little nervous.

“Tell me about the embryos.” Was the first thing he said when he entered, donning the white lab coat he’d left hanging by the door. Walking over to the giant test tubes lining the back wall, he peered into one of the open cases.

Nestled inside atop a pile of hay were glowing blue orbs, some too bright to look at directly. They had a light blue smoke coming off, gradually spilling out the sides of the case and if he looked hard enough Nanami could just barely see the outline of a creature inside.

“They were on the spaceship Sukuna came in on. He was hellbent on protecting them, killing five of our people right off the bat.” The military man he’d spoken to earlier was here, answering right away.

“Were they in a case like this?” Donning a pair of gloves, Nanami picked one up. It was cool to the touch and quite heavy, making the muscles in his arm work harder than expected to stay upright.

“No, he had them suspended in some type of thick goop, like clear maple syrup.”

“How scientific, thank you.” He snorted, setting the embryo back down. “Do you have any of this ‘goop’ left?”

“Only this, sir.” Holding up a capped beaker filled halfway with the fluid, the man let out a defeated sigh. “Sukuna actually swallowed most of it, I guess trying to keep the embryos from us any way possible. This stuff is crazy acidic though, it’s melted almost everything it comes in contact with.”

“This should be enough…” Already making calculations in his head, Nanami took the beaker and walked to the control panel of the test tubes. “Load up the embryos and I’ll try to mimic the solution they were in. In the meantime, I’ll put one in that should be similar enough to keep them alive for a while.”

Pressing a few buttons on the panel, the test tubes began to fill with a murky pink liquid, filling the air with a pungent aroma. The embryos were loaded in quickly and the tubes sealed off. Watching them as he walked over to a table full of supplies, Nanami grinned slightly at watching them float.

It took him little time to come up with the properties of the amniotic fluid the embryos had been in. Making slight adjustments to the formula, he watched the liquid go from murky to clear, with only a light pink tinge left.

As the days wore on, Nanami studied the embryos intensely, opting to sleep in his lab instead of the barracks provided so he wouldn’t miss a single change should any occur. Going days without sleep, a week went by without any significant change.

A soft tapping on glass roused Nanami from an impromptu nap. Drawing his head up from where it was nestled in his arms on the metal table he was slumped over, he rubbed his face roughly and looked around.

“Who is it?” He called, assuming it was someone at the door. But when no answer came and the door wasn’t opened, he fully sat up and looked around. “Where the hell-” Cutting himself off as he looked at the test tubes, Nanami almost fell out of his stool.

In the seven test tubes lining the wall, there were three embryos that had come to term. He knew some would fail, resigning himself to the possibility that all of them would, but to see three newborn aliens was beyond his wildest expectations.

“Oh my god.” Snatching his clipboard off the table, Nanami rushed to the test tubes. He was writing furiously, capturing every single detail he saw about them and even making quick sketches of what they looked like.

There were little nubs right above their behinds, what looked to be the beginnings of a tail. All of them had two sets of eyes, unopened and tiny on their infantile faces, faces that were beginning to bear the same marks Sukuna had.

The tapping on the glass, Nanami quickly found out, was from them floating freely in the tubes, softly knocking against the glass as they hung suspended in the fluid. Nanami couldn’t see any kind of umbilical cord or method to get them the possible nutrients they needed to stay alive. So he just had to hope that they woke up soon to tell him what they needed.

The babies rapidly took shape after coming to term, morphing into a human-like form right before Nanami’s eyes. It seemed that with every couple of hours that passed they grew more and more. Fingers, webbed toes, tufts of hair and tails all appeared.

“So when do you think they’ll be able to come out?” His supervisor asked, nearly a month after the first encounter. The aliens under Nanami’s care looked like full fledged adults, ones that you could see out in public and - despite a few glaring differences - not pay any mind to.

“I don’t know, ma’am. I don’t know if they can survive out here.” In the month that passed, the facility wasn’t able to get any intel from Sukuna about the embryos or why he chose to come to Earth. All he did was snarl and growl, slurring a few death threats when he could.

“Take one out and see.”

“What?” Gasping loudly, Nanami’s eyes went wide. Surely his boss didn’t mean for him to sacrifice one of them? They were too precious of an asset to possibly let die like that and Nanami was ready to put his foot down.

“Don’t worry, doctor, Sukuna’s told us a bunch of times that more of his people will be coming, and I’m willing to bet they’ll have more embryos for us to study.” Giving him a swift pat on the back, his boss turned on her heel and started to walk away. “The usual assistants will be here to help you should you need anything and don’t feel bad if they all die, that’s just how these things go.”

The parting words were less than heartwarming. Letting out a rough sigh, Nanami turned to the team of people behind him. They worked with him before, most of them idolizing him with a gleam in their eyes.

“We’ll wheel in the examining table and take them out one by one. If there’s any adverse reactions, I’m sure we’ll be able to handle it. Get the usual supplies ready, we’ll start in ten.” Giving the group a curt nod, Nanami turned back to the test tubes. Pressing his hand onto the glass of one, he closed his eyes. “God, I really hope you all don’t die.”

In ten minutes, Nanami was dressed in full hazmat gear and so was his team. The crinkling of plastic suits was loud in the otherwise deathly silent room as everyone held their breath. Draining the fluid of the first tube, Nanami swung open the door.

“Let’s take a look.” Nanami said as the body was lifted onto the table. It had no external sex organs to speak of, not even a hole for a cloaca. Cool to the touch, Nanami waited for it to show any signs of life.

“It’s not moving.” Someone called out after five minutes, scribbling it down on the notes. They’d tried everything, strapping an oxygen mask over the face, chest compressions and returning the body back to the fluid it had previously been in, but it was no use.

“Take that away to Getou’s lab, he’ll dissect it.” Waving the first body away, Nanami looked up at the second. “We need to instill a gradual change in environment or else the same thing will happen.”

“Should we try to set up a feeding tube or an IV?”

“IV, yes.”

The second attempt went marginally better than the first. Slowly shifting the fluid to one of a normal human amniotic fluid seemed to work. The alien twitched and rocked side to side, seemingly waking up from its slumber.

Drawing it out from the tube, it appeared to be just fine. Gasping for air, fluttering eyelids and squirming limbs - all things Nanami wanted to see. What he didn’t want though, was for the creature to lash out with unexpectedly sharp claws, cutting through the sleeve of his suit and drawing blood.

“Holy shit!” Stumbling back, Nanami watched in horror as the creature licked the blood from its nails. Smacking its lips together, the creature pointed at him. It was rapidly losing the color in its cheeks, struggling to form whatever words it needed.

“Blood? Do you need human blood to survive on this planet?” Nanami shouted, scrambling away from the table he’d flung himself onto and holding out his arm. “Take it! Quickly!”

“Doctor no!” A few of his assistants tried to yank him away from the examining table. They didn’t want to see the blood get drained from his body or him possibly get eaten by the creature.

“Stop it, let me do this!” Struggling with them, Nanami watched in rapt horror as the creature nodded slowly before fully collapsing on the table, drawing it’s last shaky inhale before falling limp entirely. “You fucking idiots, we just lost another one!” Pushing the people away, Nanami banged his fist angrily on the table.

“Doctor, we couldn’t let you do something so dangerous! You’re the most valuable scientist here, we can’t lose you!”

“Bullshit! I don’t care if the next one wants to swallow me whole, you let it!” Glaring at all the people in the room, Nanami began to rip his gear off. “And if it dies for any reason, I’m going to make sure none of you ever find work again.”

With the threat hanging heavily in the air, Nanami stormed over to the control panel one last time, punching in the codes needed to change the fluid on the remaining test tube. His arm was slowly leaking blood and he could feel the warmth drip down to his hand.

“Get me an IV, I’m going to give this last one a blood transfusion.”

“Doctor, are you sure you-”

“If you question me one more time I’ll cut your tongue out. Now do as I say.” Pulling up a chair, Nanami sat down and leaned his head against the cold glass of the tube. None of this was going as he wanted; Nanami didn’t plan to lose two out of three creatures, nor to give blood to the last one.

Hooking up an IV, Nanami watched the blood drain from his arm, flowing up and into the top of the test tube where there was a needle inserted into the last alien. Trying not to get too woozy as he was drained of blood, Nanami pressed his forehead to the glass and squeezed his eyes shut.

“I don’t believe in you but God if you’re out there, please make this work.”

“Doctor?” He wasn’t sure when he passed out, but when Nanami came to, he had a crowd of people gawking at him.

“Yes? What?” The IV was out of his arm and there was a blanket over him and as he tried to get out of his chair he nearly fell.

“L-look behind you.” Pointing with a shaking finger, the assistant that woke him up turned him to face the test tube.

“Why do you all look so-” Turning around, Nanami stumbled back, for once grateful to have someone else in the lab to catch him. “Scared?” Whispering out the last word in a high pitched voice, Nanami couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

The once nondescript alien in the tube was now a fully fledged human being. With complete and fairly dark markings on their face, breasts and a vagina, the creature before him could be mistaken for any other adult.

And the thing that was most shocking was the way all four eyes honed in on Nanami, tracking his every move. Pressing it’s forehead and hands to the glass, the creature turned as Nanami walked side to side.

“It’s been watching you since you passed out.”

“How long has it been like that?” He asked, getting closer to the test tube.

“It just suddenly changed shortly after you lost consciousness. A flash of light went off and poof, it looked like that.” Pressing his hand to the glass, Nanami let out a breathless laugh as the creature scurried back only to return in mere seconds.

“Open the tube, we have to let it out.” Unable to take his eyes off the creature, Nanami could hardly wait for all the fluid to be drained before opening up the test tube and helping the creature out. Surprisingly steady on its feet, Nanami barely had to help it stand upright.

“Hello.” He smiled, shrugging off his lab coat and placing it over its shoulders. “Welcome to Earth.”

“Hello.” You said back, attempting to smile as well. “Welcome to Earth.”

When Nanami first got the embryos, he wasn’t expecting anything to come out of them. The most he thought would happen was possible growth but never any of them coming to term and certainly never of them to actually be able to communicate.

It appears you were destined to prove him wrong, however. Nearly the moment you stepped out of the test tube, dripping in fluid and with a long tail you couldn’t quite control, you exceeded all of Nanami’s expectations - not that he even had any to begin with, especially not when it came to taking you out of the tube.

The first hour, you were sitting perfectly still while the team ran tests on you. Pressing a cold stethoscope to your chest, a few of them got a giggle out of the way you gasped and squirmed. Nanami watched it all happen, taking calculated notes and even doing some of the tests himself.

“What’s your name?” He questioned after another hour of hearing you repeat the phrases around you. Staring at him from the stool you were perched on, you tilted your head. It was only you and him left in the lab now, he sent everyone else away, wanting a chance to study you on his own.

“What’s your name?” You parroted back, mimicking the way Nanami had his arms crossed over his chest.

“My name is Nanami Kento. What’s yours?”

“Nanami Kento.” He made a disgruntled sound in the back of his throat, rolling his eyes at the giggle you let out. He understood he was dealing with an alien, one that might never be able to fully communicate the way he desired, but he wanted to get somewhere.

“What’ll it take for you to stop copying me?”

“Reading a book.” He’d meant it as a rhetorical question, and hearing your voice form a stilted sentence all on it’s own was a big surprise. Nodding curtly, Nanami walked over to a set of bookcases and grabbed a thick dictionary and a thesaurus, placing them onto the table next to you. Flipping open the first page of the dictionary, Nanami pointed at the words.

“Can you read these?”

“Mhmm!” Leaning over, your eyes scanned the script.

“Good, read all of it and tell me when you’re done.” Setting up a chair on the other side of the table, Nanami fixed a pile of notes and other documents he needed to work over. He could take time to catch up his reports while you-

“Done!” Slamming the dictionary closed, you picked up the thesaurus. “I have to read this too?”

“Y-yes.” Nanami’s mouth hung open slightly as he watched you speed through the second book. He expected this whole process to take an hour at least but you were done with both books in just a few minutes.

“All finished.” You were still a little unsure of forming sentences, lifting your voice in slight question at the end.

“How did you do that so fast?”

“When Mother made us, she gave us all the information she could on this planet, including rudimentary language. I just needed a way to conceptualize actually speaking on my own.”

“Who’s Mother?” Grabbing his pen, Nanami began to scribble down what you were saying.

“Mother is the one that made us. All of us, me, my companions, and Sukuna too.”

“Right…” Nanami’s hand hesitated at the mention of Sukuna, drawing inky swirls in place of words. “Then Mother is the one who sent you here with him?”

“Yes! She said that to take over this planet, we would need to assimilate to the environment and that we’d need a strong warrior to protect us.” You had a dreamy look in your eyes, no doubt thinking about Sukuna. “So far I like this-”

“Hold on, take over the planet?”

“It’s what my people do: we come to a planet, impregnate the population and take over.” He was sure there was more to it than that but for his own peace of mind Nanami didn’t question it further. For now, he wanted to focus on the positives, mainly the one of you finally speaking on your own.

“So…” Nanami struggled to find the next topic of conversation.

“Oh, I remember my name now! It’s (Y/N).”

“Did Mother also give you that name?”

“She did!” You truly looked overjoyed to be talking about all this. The smile on your face led to Nanami being able to see the sharp canine teeth in your mouth, akin to a set of teeth he’d find in a vampire movie.

“So (Y/N), I have a question. I gave you my blood so you’d be able to live on this planet.” He paused to make sure you were following along. “I want to know why you’re a female when you received male donor blood.”

“Mother determined which gender would be useful for me to have on this planet, so all I needed was your DNA to complete the transformation and become a human.”

“Mother thinks humans have those extra eyes and a tail?” Nanami snorted at that, there were too many things to give away your unhuman origins that couldn’t be ignored.

“Sukuna is supposed to teach us how to hide them until we need them.” Your shoulders visibly slumped and you looked around. “Where is he? He was supposed to be here when we woke up.”

“He’s somewhere else-”

“Where? Where is he?” Putting both palms flat on the table, you leaned forward. You seemed desperate, your brows scrunching together as you worried your lip. “I can tell he’s close, but where is he exactly?”

Nanami heard what you said. He knew exactly the words that were spoken and their meaning. But he was having a hard time thinking of anything as he suddenly became aware again of the fact that you were still naked, the lab coat you had on falling open to reveal your breasts.

“How about we talk about that while you get dressed in something more appropriate?” Clearing his throat roughly, Nanami pushed away from the table. His cheeks were getting a bit warm and he didn’t want you to see.

“No, tell me where Sukuna is!” Slapping your hands loudly on the table, you glared sharply at Nanami when he tried to come closer. “I don’t want to be alone any longer! My companions didn’t make it, he’s all I have!”

“(Y/N)...” Sighing softly, Nanami didn’t know what to do. If he tried to raise his hand, you growled at him, flexing your fingers as if you were going to strike him. He couldn’t tell you where Sukuna was, no matter what. “You’re- you’re not alone.”

“What do you mean?” Your face softened just a fraction, and you leaned back as Nanami lifted his hand slowly, placing it on the table near your own hand.

“You have me.” Nanami felt something odd twisting his stomach, something that told him this simultaneously was a good and bad idea. It wasn’t wise to say this to you, to try and build some kind of relationship beyond a scientist and his test subject, but what did he have to lose? You were the first alien he’d ever come in contact with, there were bound to be some risks he’d have to take to keep you happy.

“Really?” Relaxing your body, you let your hand get closer to Nanami’s.

“Really.” Fully grabbing your hand now, Nanami tugged you from the stool, craning his head away to avoid looking at your open chest. “Now follow me, I think there’s some scrubs in one of these drawers.”

“Nanami, I’m hungry.” After finding you a set of clothes buried in a drawer and cutting a hole in the bottoms for your tail, Nanami was greeted with the sound of your growling stomach.

“What do you eat?”

“Whatever you eat.” Taking up residence on the singular fold out couch Nanami used to sleep on, you watched him pick up the phone on his desk.

“Let’s have some pasta then.”

While Nanami preferred to cook his food himself rather than ordering it from upstairs, he didn’t have the heart to tell you that the cafeteria food was less than ideal. You seemed to love the dish he gave you, eating it with no hesitation and a smile on your face.

“Is there anything else you can tell me about your kind?” Picking over his food, Nanami watched you finish eating in record time and pushed his plate over to you.

“Like what?” Tilting your head to the side, you gladly took his food.

“Anything that comes to mind like cultural things, maybe you celebrate holidays?”

“We do! I was created to leave the planet, but others get to stay and cultivate life there. We have something close to what you call Christmas and others for things you wouldn’t understand.”

“Really? You’ll have to write them down for me later.” Nodding to himself, he made the mental note to teach you how to write. Glancing down at the two now empty plates before you, Nanami flicked his head toward the phone. “Fancy some more?”

As it reached midnight, Nanami became starkly aware of the fact there was only one place for the both of you to sleep. He wasn’t sure how much sleep you actually needed or if you needed any at all for that matter, but he knew for sure that sleeping on the same fold out mattress with you would be crossing a line he wasn’t ready for. It was already too short to hold his entire frame, and putting two bodies side by side wouldn’t be a good idea.

“(Y/N), are you tired?” Standing up from the couch, he motioned for you to stand as well.

“Yes.” Your voice was chipper as ever, not a hint of exhaustion heard. You watched with rapt interest as Nanami unfolded the mattress and set it on the ground.

“Alright, well you’ll be sleeping here and I’ll be sleeping in the barracks.”

“I’m going to be alone?”

“Is that a problem?” Quirking a brow, Nanami glanced at you.

“Well not necessarily but I- I don’t want to be alone. Not on my first night, at least.” Curling your tail on the ground, you worried your fingers, claws clicking together as you did. Nanami could feel his resolve wearing down, the nervous look you tried to hide made his fingers flex; he felt an overarching urge to protect you.

“I’ll grab another couch from the lab next door.” Turning on his heel, Nanami took deep breaths as he left the room. Forcing his head to get clear, he drug another couch into his lab, setting it up across from the first one.

“Is this what you call a sleepover?” You asked, watching Nanami set up both couches with blankets and pillows.

“You could say that, yes.” A strange giggle left your mouth and it made Nanami pause and look at you. “What was that sound?”

“A laugh?” Dropping your face in confusion, you looked him straight in the eye. “Is something wrong?”

“No no it’s just-” clearing his throat loudly, Nanami rushed out the next words, “That was the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.” At his admittance, you giggled again and he had to bite his lip hard from audibly swooning.

“Mother made it special for me, she makes all her children special.” Mimicking the way Nanami climbed into bed, you laid down and stared at the dark ceiling. “Only some of us can laugh like that, and others have pheromones and what not to attract the native people on a new planet.”

“(Y/N), do you have special pheromones too?” Your casual mention of impregnating and taking over the whole planet flashed in his head.

“I think I do, why else would you have agreed to stay here with me?”

“Good to know.” Nanami would have to install a high tech air filter later, he didn’t like the idea of slowly succumbing to your desires. Fully laying down in bed, he drew the blankets up to his chin and tried not to think of it anymore. “Good night.”

For a month Nanami studied you nonstop. Gathering medical information, he discovered you had three stomachs and two hearts. Through plenty of trial and error you learned how to keep the swinging of your tail under control and not trip him anymore. He even learned your favorite foods and the relative location of your home planet in the galaxy.

When Nanami had to step out for meetings, he begrudgingly let fellow scientist Gojo watch over you. The best in his field and horribly obnoxious about it, Nanami tried to limit the time you two spent together. He didn’t need Gojo influencing you too much and ruining the work Nanami had put into acclimating you to society in an appropriate way.

“You’re back!” It was like he was coming home from work whenever you greeted him like that. You bounded over to the door from wherever you were and bounced on your toes, eager to talk to him about what he’d done while away.

“Mhmm. How’s it been with Gojo?” Nanami glanced up at said man, not liking the fact that he was lounging on the couch with his laptop perched precariously on his thigh.

“It’s great! He showed me something really interesting.” A shy giggle left your lips and you avoided further eye contact with Nanami.

“What is it?” Narrowing his eyes, Nanami began to glower at Gojo, who started to shrink under his gaze.

“(Y/N), don’t you have something to say first?” Gojo smirked, barely hiding a chuckle behind his hand.

“Oh, you’re right!” Squaring your shoulders at Nanami, you took a deep breath. “Welcome back, daddy!” Taking a brief glance at Gojo, you cupped your cheeks and stuck your tongue out, crossing your eyes for extra measure.

“W-what the fuck!” Scrambling back in shock, Nanami glared sharply at Gojo as a harsh red flush coated his cheeks. He was ashamed to admit he’d seen that face before, late at night when he was too restless to sleep and needed something to help soothe his mind.

“What’s wrong, Kento? Do you not like what (Y/N)’s doin’?” The dark chuckle behind Gojo’s words had Nanami wanting to throttle him. Of course he liked it, he was a grown man wasn’t he? Not to mention Nanami couldn’t remember the last time he’d laid down with another warm body like that and the face you were making was bringing several repressed thoughts to the surface.

Unable to form the proper words, Nanami side stepped you and went to his desk, placing files down that needed to be typed out later and trying to still his rapid heartbeat. The way you said that sentence so enthusiastically, saliva making your tongue glisten in the light - it was too much for him to deal with so abruptly.

“Why’d you teach her that shit?” Nanami growled, covering the lower half of his face with his trembling hand.

“(Y/N) deserves to know all aspects of human life, wouldn’t you agree?” Closing his laptop, Gojo stood up and walked to the door. “Besides Kento, I know you get lonely at night.” Smiling sweetly at you, Gojo left the room without any further comment.

“(Y/N).” With his back still facing you, Nanami heaved a sigh.

“Yes?” You said slowly, relaxing your body. The tension rolled off Nanami in waves, making the air thick and uncomfortable. It was hard to read whether he was angry or not.

“What has Gojo been teaching you?” The subtle sag in his shoulders isn’t missed by you, making you scramble to the desk and face him.

“I don’t know! He said there were some interesting things you’d yet to show me and he pulled up some websites and- and-” A bit of fear spiked in your head. You’d only gone along with what Gojo said was right, Nanami had entrusted you to his care after all and your whole reason for being on the planet was to assimilate. “Are you mad at me?” Rubbing at your four eyes to stem a sudden wave of anxious tears, you looked at Nanami, waiting nervously for his answer.

“Not at you. Him.” Sensing your oncoming distraught, Nanami shook his head and cleared his throat. “I want you to learn all the good things of human life and well-”

“Sex isn’t a good thing?” You gasped, leaning your hands on the desk.

“Did he teach you about sex?” Nanami nearly yelled back.

“He did! We read a lot of medical journals about it, it releases so many good chemicals into the human brain! And then Gojo went to this website called PornHub and-”

“He what?!” A heart attack. Nanami was going to have a heart attack.

“Let me finish! He showed me humans having sex and it looked like they were having a great time!” Your breath was coming out short and Nanami could hear the drag of your tail on the ground as you got worked up. “But it didn’t do anything to me, I haven’t reached that point yet!” He didn’t understand what you meant and while the urge to drown himself in the bottle of dark liquor he kept hidden away tugged at him, his pursuit for knowledge was greater.

“What do you mean you ‘haven’t reached that point yet’?” Collapsing into the desk chair, Nanami was more worked up than he thought. The shock of hearing you call him daddy, learning that you discovered what sex was and now he was going to know when you would begin to show interest in such a thing.

“Sexual maturity, I’m not there yet, so seeing that stuff didn’t do anything to me.”

“When will you be?” He pressed, grabbing a pen and getting ready to write down whatever you said on the corner of a file.

“It’s been a month since I’ve transformed, so in about a week or two.”

“That fast?” Nanami blanched, mind spinning at how he was going to deal with that. “Humans take years, though, shouldn’t my blood affect that?”

“No, my DNA only takes what it needs from yours. My base mechanics like lifespan and in this case sexual maturity are all hardwired by Mother. They won’t change just because a few drops of your blood mix in.”

“So...so what does that mean for you? Do you need some kind of special uh- a special thing or-?” His cheeks and ears burned fiercely and Nanami cleared his throat in the middle of the sentence. He knew exactly what he meant by ‘a special thing’ but he couldn’t bring himself to say it in front of you.

“I don’t know, actually.” Shrugging your shoulders, you sat on the edge of his desk. “Sukuna is supposed to tell me what happens and what to do after we pick out a suitable mate for me.”

There was that mention of Sukuna again. The creature buried so far underground some people wondered if he was passing the Earth's mantle. He’d settled down in the month since your arrival, seemingly knowing that you had emerged from the embryo and survived. He still refused to give any answers and you hadn’t mentioned him in nearly three weeks.

“You don’t need him. We can figure it out once it gets here.” Shaking his head, Nanami could feel himself getting a little high off your pheromones with you sitting so close. The air filter he put into the room could only do so much when your scent rolled off in such thick waves.

“Okay.” Sighing the word, you resigned yourself to playing with your fingers. Silence washed over the room, less tense than before but still tainted with an edge to it. Both of you were flushed from talking about this subject and Nanami was glad you had your back to him.

“(Y/N), I have another question.” A few minutes later, Nanami couldn’t hold back the question burning in his mind. You let out a hum of acknowledgement but didn’t face him. “What would be a suitable mate for you? What kind of human?”

He blamed it on your pheromones, he blamed every last less than professional thought in his head on your pheromones and what you did to him and he especially blamed Gojo for forcing this topic of conversation to come up. Nanami tried to reason with himself, put the narrative in his head that he wanted to know for science, but in the dark recesses of his mind Nanami wanted to know who your type was if you even had one.

“Well actually, a human like you is perfect.” Your back curved just a little to keep your face hidden as you spoke. The words hung in the air, leaving Nanami’s mouth hanging slightly open and his mind bouncing to a hundred different places at once.

“Like me?” He whispered, barely registering the words coming out of his mouth.

“Exactly like you.” This time you looked over your shoulder at him, your eyes narrowing as you took in his reaction. His shock seemed to be enough for you, your secondary eyes pinching closed as you smiled, and you turned back to face forward. “Nanami, I’m hungry.”

Having grown accustomed to your new home, you slid off the desk and to the couch that was yours. Nanami’s eyes were glued to your back, watching the way your tail moved on the ground as you walked. His throat was suddenly thick, there were plenty of things he wanted to say, things that would definitely violate his code of ethics.

“Nanami.” Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts, back to reality where you were far away from arms reach. The weight of your eyes bore right back into him and Nanami knew he’d been caught staring.

“Yes?” He forced the word out, his tongue feeling heavy and foreign in his mouth.

“Should we have pasta tonight?”

Nanami hardly slept at all that night, plagued with ideas of what you thought about him and less than savory images of you and your body. Shame settled over him like a second blanket as he tossed and turned throughout the night, trying to rid his mind of such things to no avail.

In the morning, Nanami got rid of the second couch and made the decision to sleep in the barracks when he needed to. While nothing inherently sexual had occurred, he still felt like he betrayed some sort of trust between you two, sullied the pure relationship you had together.

Ignoring your whines and protests, he also made the decision to get rid of Gojo as your babysitter. He didn’t want or need your mind filled with things he didn’t deem appropriate and Gojo was the main perpetrator of such things, and he was confident enough that he could leave you alone for a few hours and nothing bad would happen.

It almost hurts to leave you alone at night, the old ritual of slowly nudging you along your night time routine and laying down on adjacent mattresses was now replaced by getting you ready for bed but then leaving shortly after you were all tucked in. Sometimes you whined and wanted him to stay, claiming that you didn’t sleep as well without him there, and sometimes Nanami hesitated at the door before steeling his resolve and leaving.

He doubts he’ll ever tell you that he stopped sleeping as well too.

An abrupt evening meeting three weeks later called him away from you sooner than either of you would have liked. You’d developed a cough and a bit of a rash over the course of time and while Nanami was sure this meant you were reaching sexual maturity, he was still hell bent on finding some medicine to help you, not wanting to go to this meeting about another potential UFO sighting.

“(Y/N), I’m back and I-” Nanami all but ran back to his laboratory with some medicine he’d swiped from Gojo. He was worried for you, not just as a scientist but as a friend. Throwing open the door and locking it quickly to contain any possible airborne particles, Nanami was assaulted with the harsh smell of something sweetly floral.

“N-nanami!” His eyes immediately find you, writhing in what looks like agony on the mattress he’d pulled out for you before leaving. Walking quickly over to you, every inhale he made felt like he was breathing in a thick fog.

“Wh-what’s wrong?” Coughing and putting a hand over his face, he looked over you. It was normal for you to just wear a long, oversized t-shirt Gojo got you from a local thrift store to sleep and right now it was clinging tightly to your body from the sweat pouring out of you.

“Nanami!” Shaking your head side to side, he could see the tears leaking out of your eyes. Against his better judgement, Nanami crouched down on one knee and put a hand on your forehead.

“Shit, you’re burning up.” Pulling his fingers away, there was a light yellow powdery film left on them. “(Y/N) what is this? Has it started?” The substance tingled on his fingers, making them go slightly numb.

There was a pitiful noise from you as a response and a limp nod, and Nanami rushed to the sink to wash off his hands. The scent in the room was overwhelming, almost choking him with every inhale he made. Turning the ventilation system on as high as it could go did nothing and there was still pollen visibly floating in the air.

“I have to go, I can’t be here.”

“No!” You cried, falling out of bed with a loud thump and crawling toward Nanami. “D-don’t leave!”

“I have to, this stuff isn’t good for me.” Nanami kept his back to you, hastily trying to grab some things from his desk. His cock was already beginning to stiffen painfully and the sounds you were making were echoing inside his head.

“Wait!” Tugging on his pant leg, you dug your claws into it.

“(Y/N), let go.” He tried to shake you off, staunchly avoiding eye contact. The heat on his skin was rising and if Nanami were to look in a mirror he would see how red he was. You refused to let go, sitting up on weak knees and pushing your hand further up his leg.

“D-daddy, please! Help me!”

That was it. That was the moment that broke Nanami Kento. He knows Gojo has told you that he likes to be called that in bed, among other things. He knows that the pollen in the air is what’s making his head impossibly foggy with only one thing able to be focused on. Nanami knows that if he stays here any longer, he’ll do something that he won’t regret, but that might cost him his job.

“Daddy…” Emboldened by unbridled desperation, you force Nanami to face you with strength he didn’t know you possessed. Eye to eye with his cock straining against his slacks, you shove your face right into it.

“(Y/N)!” Your name comes out as a rough groan from his lips and Nanami’s hands fly to grab the back of your head. As he grips your head, Nanami makes no move to pull you away and doesn’t stop you from rubbing your face along his clothed cock.

“Please please please, just this once! I need to do this-” The pleading you're doing is muffled by your mouth running along fabric, words slurred and barely coming out properly. Just from this stimulation alone Nanami can feel his balls tighten like he’s about to cum.

“Sto-stop, stop this.” Nanami’s own sense of morals, his will to do anything besides being in this room with you was going to be torn to shreds the longer you touched him. And it was, as he came in his pants, rutting his hips like a pathetic teenager into your face.

He came but his cock was still as hard as before, maybe even more so. There was no reprieve from the painful need to be stimulated, to feel you touch him again and again and again. With a mangled groan, he shoves your head away and grabs his waistband.

Swatting your hands away that still rest on his hips, Nanami undoes his belt and shoves his pants and underwear down to the ground. His cock slaps against his dress shirt, glistening from the previous load of cum and leaking more like he’s never seen before.

“What did you do to me?” He asks under his breath, feeling sweat pooling on his skin despite being half naked. As he takes off his remaining clothes, Nanami can feel the tingle from the pollen settling all over him, sticking to his hair and to every crevice of his body.

“D’ya like it, daddy? That’s what M-mother chose for me, it’s a new- a new evolution we got from a previous planet.” It’s amazing that you can stand on your own feet despite the way your legs shake violently. Nanami can tell you’re in a sorry state, so he lets you lead him to the mattress and fall back onto it.

“Mother made you pollen? How interesting.” Somewhere far back in his head, he really did find it genuinely interesting. But right now he was merely making conversation, settling on the bed as you climbed on top of him and took your wet shirt off.

The rash that had been on your skin was now turning into powdery pollen before his very eyes, falling off and into the air like a flower's pollen would. Laying down on Nanami, pressing your breasts against his chest, you fell into a kiss with him.

Even though it was your first kiss, Nanami was the one left feeling inexperienced as you slotted your mouths together and slid your tongue past his lips. Even your saliva was sweet as it dripped it into his mouth and down the sides. Nanami’s hands roamed your body, pinching into your sides and squeezing your ass painfully tight. Surprisingly, your tail didn’t get in the way, just languidly swaying side to side and sometimes tickling his shins.

“Daddy, please- I want more!” You whined loudly, breaking the kiss to trail your lips along his neck and chest and nip at the skin every so often.

“Tell me. Tell- tell daddy what you want.” There was the slightest hesitation, a tiny tinge of shame for doing this with you that got washed away as quickly as it came up by your wet cunt sliding against his cock.

“I want you inside me.” Wrapping your fingers around his cock, you stroked it slowly, unable to focus on putting it in and kissing him at the same time. Giving up with a grunt, you settled for rubbing your cunt along his shaft.

“Shit, roll over.” Flipping you with ease, Nanami grabs onto your thighs and holds them apart. Staring down at your cunt, it looks just like any other human sex organ, giving Nanami some peace of mind that he wouldn’t need to do anything too complicated to make you feel good.

You whine again when he doesn’t immediately push himself balls deep into you, instead laying on his stomach and giving your inner thighs kisses. Nanami grabs your hands, silently telling you to hold your legs apart as he delves in deeper.

One lick up your slit and you fall apart so easily, gushing around his mouth so much Nanami is sure you just had an orgasm. Greedily drinking it up, Nanami can attest that this is the best thing he’s ever tasted. Burying his face into your heat, he can’t keep his tongue in one place for too long, torn between pushing it deep inside you and licking at your swollen clit.

You’ve given up holding your legs open a while ago. As Nanami sucked on your clit, your thighs clamped down around his head and your fingers threaded through his hair. The feeling of his mouth on you was the best you’d ever experienced in your short time being alive and it was one you’d think about forever.

“Oh my- daddy, I-” Your eyes were closed so tightly you were seeing stars and you were sure Nanami couldn’t breathe anymore from how tightly you squeezed him as you came. His head thrashed side to side, tongue swiping all along your sex and inner thighs to catch all of your release.

“This is the best scientific breakthrough we’ve ever had.” Wrenching his head away before he passed out, Nanami laid limply on the bed. As the words left his mouth he remembered all those weeks ago now when you first came to him as just a tiny, glowing embryo. He never would have been able to imagine that you’d be here, turning him to lay on his back and crawling between his legs.

Grabbing the base of his cock firmly, you gave one lick to the tip before engulfing it fully in your mouth. Nanami’s back arched high off the bed in shock, surprised at the lack of hesitation from you and how easily he hit the back of your throat.

“S-slow down a little.” He panted, trying to cup your face and get you to look at him. Swatting his hand away, you let your tongue loll in your mouth as you sucked him off, easily planting your nose on his lower stomach and swallowing around him.

It must have been the pollen in the air to make him cum so quickly, Nanami reasoned with a harsh blush on his face. That was the only explanation for why he was currently spilling a thick load of cum down your throat in less than two minutes of you sucking him off.

“You taste so good, daddy.” Pulling off his cock, you licked the sides and down to his balls, gently sucking one into your mouth and looking up at him. Despite just cumming, Nanami felt another orgasm wash over him and another wave of cum came out, dribbling down the sides of his cock and onto your face.

Slapping a hand over his face, Nanami let out a few moans he’d been holding back. There was no way he would ever be able to look at you the same way after seeing your face covered in his seed.

“C’mere.” Stopping you from your current ministrations, he pulled you to lay over top of him again. Grabbing your sweaty shirt from the ground, he wiped the cum off your face, kissing your skin after he wiped it clean.

“Daddy, will you put it in already?” You cried, smacking your ass against his thighs angrily.

“Be patient, baby.” Petting down your back, Nanami shushed you, giving your ass a quick pinch before gripping the base of his cock. Keeping a hand on your hip to keep you steady, he helped you sink down on his cock, easily all the way to the hilt.

Digging your claws into his chest, you let out a loud howl. Finally you were getting what you really needed, the feeling of Nanami’s cock hugged tightly by your cunt spreading a warm feeling throughout your body.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” He hissed as you dragged your hips upward and back down again. Sure he’d been with other women before but none like this. Your cunt squeezed him incredibly tight, making it impossible for him to do anything other than lay back and let you move however you saw fit.

You weren’t shy in your motions either, riding his cock with a dizzying confidence and nearly fumbling down into a heap of loud moans on more than one occasion. Even with all the prep before your arrival to the planet and research you’d done about sex and the human experience, nothing could have prepared you for how good it actually felt during your heat.

Nanami was sure everyone within the compound could hear what was going on in the room, your noises were as loud as they’d ever been. The sound was as beautiful as when you laughed, hypnotizing him further into compliance.

“Shit!” He cursed harshly, nails digging into the flesh of your hips as he came. As his orgasm came over him, Nanami got no break from the pleasurable waves washing over him because you refused to stop.

“More, more!” You panted, working even harder to get him to cum again. With the added vigor, more pollen released into the air and Nanami breathed in a deep mouthful. Snaking an arm around your back, Nanami rolled you over, acting on pure instinct as he pushed and pulled your body into a mating press.

“You’re so- so demanding, baby.” The pet name came without thinking, not that Nanami was doing a whole lot as he pounded the full length of his cock into you. He wasn’t sure you could hear him, even while being face to face like this. There were too many sounds in the room, the moans that left both of you freely, the wet slapping of skin against skin and the creak of the old mattress springs.

“Please, give it all to me!” Throwing your head back, your cunt spasmed around Nanami’s cock for the umpteenth time, making another gush of your release coat everything within its reach.

Nanami was sure you’d have bruises later from how hard he gripped you but right now he couldn’t find it in him to care. The only thing on his mind was fucking you so hard you stopped babbling and crying like a baby for more of him. He wanted to give you all that he had and more until he himself collapsed as well.

Pushing a hand between your bodies, when he touched your clit Nanami briefly went deaf, unprepared for the incredibly high pitched moan that left your lips. His ears were ringing fiercely but he kept going, refusing to take his eyes off the way your mouth fell open as he rubbed your clit in quick circles.

“H-how many- how many times have you cum?” He gasped, feeling the very beginnings of a burn in his thighs.

“Not enough, it’s not enough.” Thrashing your head against the mattress, you wound your arms around his shoulders. “I need more, daddy.”

“I don’t have any more.” Nanami spoke around the smothering kisses you gave him.

“You do! Just- just a few more!” He wasn’t really in a position to argue with you, you were holding onto him with far more strength than he could ever hope to possess, and while the pollen on your skin had started to diminish there was still a lot in the air that refused to let him truly come to a stop.

As if on command, Nanami felt his balls tighten up and he came again. The arms holding him up broke down and he fell on top of you, burrowing his face into your neck and holding your hips up with his hands.

“Fuck, baby-” With his eyes squeezed shut, Nanami lost track of where he actually was. Nothing mattered except for the feeling of your body underneath him and your cunt holding him in a vice grip. There wasn’t any reason to keep track of how many times he’d emptied a load inside you, so when he did it again so soon after the other one, Nanami paid it no mind.

“It’s coming!” You gasped suddenly, cradling the back of Nanami’s head as your body suddenly came to a stop. Unable to stammer out a question as to what was coming, Nanami was met with the harsh shock of your cunt getting so tight he couldn’t move any further.

Raking your fingers through his hair, you sobbed openly, words slurring together. Nanami was only able to catch something about a ‘seal’ and how you were making Mother so proud for your first heat cycle on Earth.

“Baby, what’s going on?” Craning his head down, Nanami was just barely able to see the swollen flesh of your sex encompassing his cock.

“Y-you humans would call this a knot, right?” Shifting your hips a little, you slowly unwind your legs from around Nanami and let them lay on the bed. “I have to keep you inside for a while.”

“You’re going to get pregnant though.” With his mind still in disarray, Nanami found that he didn’t actually care. He knew that was why you came to the planet and he was willing to help you fulfill your mission.

“Not this first time, I’m only keeping it for later.”

“Of course an alien has sperm storage.” Mumbling to himself, Nanami felt the aches in his body finally starting to settle in as the rest of the pollen was cleared out of the air and the world around him returned to normal. Laying down as gently as possible, Nanami rolled you onto your side and hooked your leg over him. “How long will we be like this?”

“At least another five minutes.” Snuggling closer to him, you tucked your head under his chin. Taking a deep breath, Nanami felt around for the blanket you used that had managed to stay on the bed during all the moving. Throwing it over the two of you, he let out a sigh.

“I can wait five minutes.” No doubt there was going to be a lot of explaining to do on his part, and he could possibly get fired, but Nanami refused to think about that right now. He was far too tired, and the way you cuddled into him had not an ounce of regret or shame going through him. He would do it all again in a heartbeat.

“Nanami?” You whispered, fighting through sleep.

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

Did you know what love truly was? Did you have the capacity to love him like any other human, or were you thinking of a different emotion that you wanted to convey? Maybe you loved him in a way that he couldn’t understand and never would, or perhaps you were lying to further your agenda.

“I love you too.” Kissing the top of your head, Nanami pushed all other thoughts out of his head that could lead him to a negative outcome. Focusing on the sound of your breathing, he knew you had fallen asleep, and he kissed you again. “Yeah...I love you too.”

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #nanami kento #nanami x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen scenarios

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asset35-maya · 3 years

Text

MANMADE FATE

Summary: Connor and Gavin find an unresponsive RK900 android in an abandoned Cyberlife warehouse and take him home to fix. (Not so subtle plot twist: both of them fall in love with their secret science project)

PART ONE OF THREE:

The crew from Jericho led a successful revolution but there’s still a lot of work to be done. Markus may have won human hearts and gotten the federal government to back down, but Cyberlife is still at large.

Sure, hundreds of androids at the Tower escaped to march on the streets behind Connor, but that was just a little dent in the big machine. Cyberlife has tons of intellectual property and assets that could easily put them back in power.

Simon and Markus insist they can work with the authorities to regulate and ring-fence the massive corporation. Josh agrees. North laughs in their faces.

She goes to find the only other Jericho member who still has any grit left.

Connor.

The daring, brazen RK800 who stared down death and spat in the face of destruction. He blinks at her in polite confusion when she tells him what she wants to do, but the fiery LED tells her everything she needs to know.

They hatch plans behind Markus’ back. They steal and stockpile biocomponents. They sneak into the Tower to encrypt Cyberlife’s R&D files with codes that only RK algorithms can break. A few other Tracis join them and they slowly start gaining an edge.

Their schemes start getting grander and one night something goes wrong. North is shot.

Connor carries her to the only safe place he knows other than his stasis pod in Hank’s dilapidated garage. The DPD Central Station.

It’s way past midnight. It’s deathly quiet. Connor is sure no one will see them, and he can easily tamper with the security cameras.

What he doesn’t bank on is the over-caffeinated loser still bent over his desk in the bullpen.

A noise from the archive room breaks through the quiet. Quelling his fear of the supernatural, Gavin stands up shakily and goes to investigate. He flips on the light and sees blue everywhere.

Connor is bent over a badly damaged Traci and three other girls with identical tear-streaked faces are on their knees beside her.

Chocolate brown eyes meet storm green beseechingly, their rivalry forgotten in that moment of desperation.

Before he realizes it, Gavin is moving. He takes several packs of thirium out of the fridge and grabs the Department’s toolkit, praying that whatever’s in there can help.

Old engineering knowledge kicks in and Gavin’s hands join Connor’s over the cracked chassis, pulling out damaged tubing and securing the leakages. It takes a while, but North is patched up. She first recoils in absolute terror at the human man hunched over her but regains composure at Connor’s touch… interface. She nods briefly to express her gratitude, somehow regal and intimidating even after being so vulnerable. Gavin decides he likes this proud and brave creature.

He drives them all back to his apartment for the night. They’ll take North to a technician first thing in the morning and get her back to New Jericho before Markus even notices. Adrenaline pumps through Gavin’s veins. He hasn’t felt a thrill like this in years, not since… not since…

“How did you know exactly where to put your hands?”

“Eh?”

“A layman would have broken that biocomponent trying to take it out.”

“You know I’m not exactly a layman.”

“I also know they don’t cover Cyberlife’s proprietary designs in engineering school.”

Gavin stays quiet. Connor puts a hesitant hand on his shoulder, poised to jump away immediately should the detective revert to his usual self.

“Thank you. For everything you just did for us. I don’t know how to repay-”

“I want in.”

“What?”

“Whatever you’re doing. I can help.”

Connor cocks his head. His LED goes berserk.

They make a great team. Gavin and Connor. North’s best men. Who the fuck would have thought. Breaking into high-security locations using police databases and surveillance resources. Covering for each other during extended absences from work. They start to take down Cyberlife in a such a precise manner, it’s almost surgical. The dissection of a multibillion dollar business.

Gavin has an intimate understanding of android technology and an even closer intuition of Cyberlife’s overall strategy. Connor thinks he understands why. There’s an undeniable resemblance between the only two men on earth whose motivations evade his understanding. But of course it’s just a coincidence that Elijah Kamski and Gavin Reed have the same jawline... facial structure... voice.

Connor says nothing... and Gavin is quietly thankful for that. And the chance to finally live the kind of exciting life he dreamt of since he was a little boy. To make a real difference. Just as he wanted to before it all went wrong.

Somewhere along the way, they grow close. Gavin and Connor. Two rival cops turned vigilante comrades turned something else... It’s hard to pinpoint when exactly it happened... perhaps sometime between the cup of coffee placed tentatively on Gavin’s desk the morning after North's near-fatal injury and the heated kiss they dragged each other into after a particularly dangerous mission.

North is unsurprised. She doesn’t bat an eye when the usually unruffled RK800 shows up to planning meetings shirtless and disheveled. Her lips even twist into a little smile as he drapes himself slovenly over the only human at the table.

Things fall into a pattern. A good one. Several months from where they started, Cyberlife share prices have fallen to an all time low and other tech enterprises have begun to move in, circling the troubled company like sharks. If North’s next heist goes to plan, the last shred of IP that brands Cyberlife as a robotics company will be out in the public domain for all to take.

She is rapturous as she swings in through the broken window and rolls into a crouched position. Gavin and Connor follow her cautiously through the abandoned warehouse, weapons drawn and eyes roving.

“What the fuck!”

Connor throws a protective arm in front of Gavin, shielding him with his chassis. But North’s cry was merely one of disappointment.

“Shit! We wasted so much effort. There’s nothing here!”

Where they had expected to find a secret server room or a high-tech vault containing the crux of Cyberlife’s groundbreaking designs... was a single android storage pod. North restrains herself from kicking it in frustration. She gestures harshly at it before leaving in a huff.

“It’s occupied. Wake them up, Connor, whoever they are. It’s still our duty to set free any androids we find.”

Gavin tries to catch her arm in a conciliatory gesture but she shakes the human off easily. He shrugs at Connor and inclines his head at the android in the pod. Unfortunately, North’s annoyance has brushed off on the RK800. He glares through the broken window the Jericho leader has just jumped out of.

“Don’t you think she bosses me around a little too much?”

Gavin sighs and walks over to the pod, looking for the latches to open it. His boyfriend has a problem with authority... and so has he to be honest.

“Better her than Fowler, dontcha think?”

“Hmmpff. At least Fowler doesn’t lead us on wild goose chases.”

“Come on, babe. None of us saw this coming. We really thought this was it. Maybe we’re at a decoy location? Let’s go back to the drawing board after we wake this guy... or girl up.”

“You’re awfully chipper for someone who just scaled a building for nothing.”

Gavin shakes his head as he smiles to himself. It’s true. Even the worst days with North’s crew are better than his best days at the DPD. Maybe it’s because he’s finally doing what he was born for. Using the knowledge and skills that practically run through his veins. Maybe its the man by his side.

He gets the pod open and steps sideways to avoid the swing of the door, and freezes.

“Babe.”

No response.

“Dipshit.”

“Hmm. Give me a second.”

“Take a minute. You’re going to want to brace yourself for this one.”

The android lying peacefully within the pod is a stranger with a face entirely too familiar to Gavin. A face he was just looking at. A face he’d recognize anywhere, even without skin.

“Are their battery levels- holy shit.”

Connor’s LED spins faster and faster as he registers the sight.

“I thought there were no surviving RK800s apart from you and that grumpy SWAT guy Sixty.”

“This... this isn’t an RK800.”

Connor traces the serial number printed on the android’s cheekbone. RK900.

“Shit. Did you know this model existed?”

“No, did you?”

Gavin shakes his head. He hadn’t been privy to Cyberlife’s inner decision-making for nearly fifteen years, but he always answered Connor’s persistent questioning without losing patience. Honesty was what kept them together despite the hundreds of reasons to fight and fall apart.

“What should we do? If he’s your successor, I’m not sure waking him up is the safest thing for you to do...”

“We can’t leave him here, Gav. He’s probably been here from before the Revolution. That’s more than a year of being in a box. It’s not... fair...”

“He’s not deviant, babe. We don’t know what his programming is like.”

“It doesn’t matter. I can turn him.”

Gavin sees the look in Connor’s eyes and knows he’s made up his mind already. He steps aside, hand flitting to the holster on his waist.

Connor takes an unnecessary breath and reaches for RK900′s forearm with his synth skin retracted. His fingers hover over the motionless android for a moment and then he makes contact. Gavin tenses.

Nothing happens. The RK900′s LED remains unlit. There is no sign of life.

The couple look at each other automatically. Their instinctive reaction when the inexplicable occurs.

“Is he-”

“No, I don’t see any damage. I think he’s never been activated. Not even for quality testing.”

“Did you see a request for manual code input? Did any interface pop up at all?”

“I can only see that his power systems are functioning.”

“And his thirium pump?”

“Not active. No compressions at all.”

Connor presses both his palms down on the RK900′s face. Still nothing. He looks up, defeated, with a furrow forming between his brows.

“Help.”

Gavin scratches at his stubbled chin. He peers closer. The perfect face is so calm. So familiar. So... magnetic? His apprehension is replaced by intrigue.

“Huh. Okay. I could take a look... but I don’t wanna try using the computer set-up here. Can’t take a chance... leave any traces...”

“We could take him home.”

Storm green eyes lock with chocolate brown. There’s something in the depths of each pair that’s mirrored in the other.

It’s foolish. It’s a waste of time. It’s a risk. North would probably smack the two of them if she knew.

But the night ends with them gently lowering the unconscious android onto the squashy sofa in Gavin’s living room.

#reed1700 #reed900 #reed800 #convin #dbh connor #gavin reed #rk900 #dbh nines #dbh north #dbh writing #my writing #Reed1700 MANMADE FATE

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a-solitary-marshmallow · 3 years

Text

Rewind Chapter 11 - Epilogue

“Will I remember any of this?”

Ford paused, hands stilling on his workbench as he considered the question. “…I don’t know.”

Stan swung his legs idly from where he was perched on another table in Ford’s lab, watching the nerd fiddle with his vials. One of them had a glimmering rainbow liquid in it that kinda looked like unicorn blood. “You said when I was an adult we were fighting. Do you think we’re just gonna keep fighting?”

“We’ll always be fighting a little bit.” Ford hedged.

“No, I mean real fighting. Not just arguments and stuff.”

“Then… no, not if I have any say in it.”

:readmore:

“Good.” Stan folded his arms. “Adult me kinda sounds like a jerk, so you gotta tell him I said to be nice. And you’ve been kind of a jerk too, so you also have to be nice.”

“I doubt a grown-up you will follow the instructions of a baby.”

“Hey! I’m not a baby!” Stan found a crumpled piece of paper nearby and lobbed it at Ford’s head. He missed, but it was the thought that counted. Ford let out a huff.

“Don’t throw things when I’m working with chemicals, Stanley. Unless you want me to spill it on myself and also turn into a baby. Then who would cure you?”

“Not a baby!”

Stan didn’t throw anything else, though. Only because there was nothing nearby to throw.

“I honestly don’t know how much you’ll remember.” Ford admitted after a while, twirling a test tube to mix its contents. It looked pretty boring for what was basically a magic potion, just clear and grey. It wasn’t even bubbling. “You might completely forget everything that happened when you were de-aged. In which case, I don’t know how I’ll explain everything.”

“Just start with the story of how I defeated an evil dream demon. It’s the coolest part.”

“It’s the most exciting part of the story,” Ford allowed, “But not the best place to start.”

“It’s the hook! That’s the best part of a story, you know.”

Ford lifted the boring test tube up to inspect it in the light. When Stan looked closer, it didn’t seem as clear – as he watched it was slowly getting cloudier, more silver than grey. He vaguely remembered something about that from science class – did that mean there was a chemical reaction? Or a physical reaction? He could never remember the difference between them.

Ford stared pensively at the vial, and after a few moments Stan cleared his throat. “Is that it?”

“Yes.” Ford started to turn to him and then hesitated again. “You just have to drink this to go back to your real age. I… hm. Are you ready? Do you want to have something to eat first? Or maybe go to bed and have it in the morning?”

Stan blinked. “It’s gonna make me older again, right? Why wait?”

“Well, I don’t know.” When Stan made grabby hands Ford relented and handed over the vial. It was cold to the touch, like it had just come from the fridge. Stan stared at the thick, silvery liquid and wondered what it would taste like. “When you touched water from the spring of youth you passed out for several hours. The same thing could happen now, so we should move you somewhere comfortable before you drink-”

Stan tipped the vial and swallowed its contents in one big gulp. Ford shrieked.

“Stanley! Why would you do that?”

It tasted kinda like dirty, metallic oranges and Stan screwed up his face. “Ew! Couldn’t you at least make it taste nice?”

Ford retorted something, but the sounds were a bit wobbly in his ears. Stan blinked hard to try and make his vision make sense. It was just a little bit off, fuzzy in the corners of his vision.

“…getting dizzy?” Ford’s voice swam through the air, thick and swampy, like Stan was breathing treacle. “…lie down…”

And then, quick as blinking, he was on the floor. That was rude, for the world to just flip over like that. Everything was clouds and Stan was very, very sleepy.

Something else was said, but he was too far away to hear it.

_______________________________________________________________

When consciousness came – and it did come, as much as Stan wished he could sleep forever, dragging him up from the depths of hazy dreams he couldn’t remember – he knew exactly where he was.

There were soft sheets against his back, the faint whistle of wind through the pines outside, the taste of copper on his tongue. The spare bed felt smaller, now, and when his head shifted his stubbly cheek scratched against the pillow. It smelled faintly like dust.

“Stan? Are you waking up?”

Okay, that was Ford’s voice. But, there was still the possibility that this had all been a weird, vivid dream! That’s right, everything from the last couple days had been a dream. There were no gnomes, no dream demons, and in a moment Stan would open his eyes and be back inside the Stanleymobile.

He cracked his eyes open, blinking at the assault of light, and saw his brother’s face looking back at him.

…shit.

“Stan? Are you alright?” Ford was tapping his cheek, looking for a reaction. Stan grumbled and brushed him away.

“I’m fine. Hands off the merchandise.” His voice was rough with sleep, and Stan was almost surprised by how deep and gravelly it was compared to the childish squeaking he’d been doing lately.

Ford made a face, somewhere between worried and amused – an expression that Stan was familiar with from the last couple days. Dammit. He just had to remember all that. Ugh, and now Ford would want to talk and get all mushy.

“I’m fine.” Stan repeated, with nothing else to say. He got up on his elbows, and a quick glance around the room confirmed they were in the spare room he’d been sleeping in the last couple days. Still, he asked. “Where are we?”

“How much do you remember?” Ford asked urgently, making Stan blink. “Since you arrived here, I mean.”

“Uh… nothing.” He lied, like a liar. Ford’s face fell.

“…oh.”

Yeah, there was no way he could tell the truth here. He would die of embarrassment if he had to admit he remembered acting like a child and being all…sappy. Ford would look at him all weird and they would have to talk and that was just… ugh.

“Yep! I just remember getting here and then – poof! Nothing.” Stan went for a carefree laugh. “Man, did I get hit on the head with a coconut or something?”

Ford lowered himself onto the edge of the bed, looking crestfallen. “No, not quite. Do you – remember the argument we had?”

Nope, nope, feelings alert. Stan did not want to delve into that conversation.

“What argument? Probably about you being a nerd, huh? Jeez, am I hungry, you got any food in this joint?”

“Wha-”

Stan was already throwing the covers off (thank god he was wearing a nightrobe underneath, he didn’t think his pride could survive another hit). Ford spluttered as he got to his feet.

“Will you slow down?”

______________________________________________________________

After a couple tests which were obviously unnecessary (but Ford insist on anyway, the nerd) Stan was finally free to pull on some actual clothes and follow Ford to the kitchen. He hadn’t been lying earlier, hunger really was gnawing in his stomach, and he made a beeline for the fridge.

“-and so you were reverted back into a child,” Ford continued. The guy had absolutely no showmanship. Way to lose an audience, Stan muttered to himself as he grabbed the fridge door. He’d told him to start with the demon bit, but noooo. “That was a couple days ago. There have been some – well, it’s been eventful. I doubt you’ll believe me if I told you.”

“You’d be surprised.”

“By the way, my friend is on his way.” Ford added. Stan ducked down to inspect the fridge’s contents – at least it was better stocked than when he first arrived. He hummed in acknowledgement. “You – well, I suppose you won’t remember him. You’ll like him though. You did.”

“Is he a nerd liked you?”

Ford snorted.

Stan grabbed a box of leftover pasta and then went in search of a fork. “Well, let’s hope this Fiddleford guy can tell stories better than you, ya almost put me to sleep with the way you tell it.”

When he turned around, Ford was staring at him.

It took a moment for him to realize his mistake – by the time Stan opened his mouth to spew out some bullshit excuse, Ford was pointing an accusing finger at him.

“I didn’t tell you his name!”

“Yes you did!” Stan spluttered. “I mean, how else would I know his name unless you told me, huh? You ever think about that?”

Ford narrowed his eyes. “Stanley.”

“Stanford.” He parroted right back. The staring match continued for a few moments before Ford threw up his hands.

“Unbelievable! You’re such a liar.”

Stan took a large bite of pasta. Because he was hungry, not because he didn’t want to answer. Ford glared at him.

“I should have known you’d try to wriggle your way out of this. ‘I don’t remember’ my ass. What, were you just going to leave and pretend none of this ever happened?”

Stan shoveled more pasta into his mouth.

“Don’t think you can avoid talking with me. We are having this conversation whether you like it or not.”

‘No, we’re really not’ is what Stan meant to say. Unfortunately, the moment he took a breath to speak he started choking. Ford scowled and thumped him on the back as he coughed, getting bits of pasta all over the kitchen floor.

“Unbelievable.” The nerd said again.

Well, so much for that.

_______________________________________________________________

Stan squirmed under his brother’s glare – the whole ‘pacing and towering over him while Stan sat on the couch like a scolded child’ schtick was uncannily similar to what their mother would do when they earned her ire.

“So.” Ford began. “You remember childhood.”

“Yep.” Stan grumbled.

“Your adult life?”

“Mm hm.”

“The last couple days here and everything that occurred while you were reverted?”

“Mm.”

Ford stopped his pacing to turn to him. “Then why on earth did you try to pretend you didn’t? We even made up!”

Stan buried his face in his hands to try and hide its burning. “I don’t know! I knew you’d try and get all…” He shuddered. “Mushy. Feeling-y.”

Stan could just feel the flat look his brother was giving him.

“Okay, fine, look. You forgave me for breaking your project, I forgave you for being a jerk. We’re good. Now, I’m just gonna head home-”

“You’re homeless.”

“You don’t know that!” Stan looked up from behind his hands to see Ford folding his arms. “I could have a, a house, a mansion even!”

“You have a mullet.”

…okay, Ford had him there. Stan scowled. “What’s the plan then, smart guy?”

Ford’s eyes gleamed, and he immediately regretted asking.

“I’m glad you asked, Stanley! I’ve had plenty of time to think over these last couple days. First of all, the Duskertons are looking for someone to help around their store, and no one in Gravity Falls cares much about credentials – I’m pretty sure the man who works at the post office is just a bunch of gnomes in a trench coat – so your lack if identification shouldn’t be a problem if you’re looking for a job. There’s also Boyish Dan, his family owns a logging company and I’m sure you could get a place there if you wanted. You’re welcome to stay in my house for as long as you need – I’m sure there are some places in town if you want to rent instead, though. If you choose to stay I might ask for your help in some of my research, since Fiddleford has decided to take a break from studying Gravity Falls, which I don’t blame him for.”

Stan blinked, but Ford wasn’t finished, ticking things off on his fingers as he went.

“I’ll also need to keep you under observation for a while to ensure that there are no side effects from the fountain of youth water, so I’ll ask you to stay around for at least a couple days. If you decide to leave Gravity Falls after that period, you’ll need to give me your phone number so we can keep contact. Oh, scratch that, I’ll make a new one – I’m sure I can work up a design that isn’t as flimsy as the current models going around.”

“Uh-”

Stan was saved from having to answer (answer? There wasn’t much of a question but Ford was looking at him expectantly and he didn’t know what he was supposed to say) by a light knock on the door. Ford perked up and rushed to answer it.

“Am I intruding?” Fiddleford’s hesitant voice rang out. Ford shook his head and stood aside to usher the smaller man inside.

“Not at all, come in. It’s good to see you.”

Fiddleford stopped in his tracks when he laid eyes on Stan on the couch.

Ugh, he was already getting a headache. Now came the judgement. Stan looked like a mess, he knew he did – unshaven, with bags under his bloodshot eyes and ragged hair and old scars crisscrossing his arms. Some small, childish part of him wanted to jump up and hug the guy. Gross. Instead he shoved down the nervousness, stood, and gave him a lazy two-fingered salute.

“…Stanley?” Fiddleford tilted his head, eyes scanning him. Stanley shrugged uncomfortably. It was weird, towering over the small guy like this.

“Hey.”

“Well, you grew up big. The spittin’ image of yer brother.” Fiddleford gave a little smile and stuck out his hand. “Pleasure meetin’ ya, officially this time.”

“Eh, you too.” Stan shook the offered hand. It was small, frail, but gripped his firmly.

“So are you stickin’ around?”

Stan hesitated. He glanced from Fiddleford’s earnest face, to his own rough hand, to Ford’s careful expression – the look of someone trying hard not to look like they were listening.

“…yeah. Yeah, I think I’m gonna stick around.”

#rewind #gravity falls #The stans #epilogue

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bubbyleh · 4 years

Text

Good Things

angst w/ a happy ending cw for unethical science and trigger phrases word count: 8,569 (nice)

Dr. Coomer knows what he’s doing is very illegal and he could get in a lot of trouble. He does not work in Biological Research, and he has no clearance to be here, especially this late. But what else is he going to do, spend the night in his dorm room?

No way. Not since they agreed to go forward with the divorce. It’s stupid and dangerous, but hey, the worst thing he’s going to find is some half-disected cow or something.

And then he finds the tube.

He didn’t realize what it was at first, the back of it was metal and faced the door Coomer came in from. It was just a weird pillar in the middle of the room, he thought, until he found himself in front of it and realized. Suspended in a green liquid, lit by fluorescent lights inside and sleeping, there was a person. He’s wearing a medical gown, and there’s an oxygen mask and other monitoring equipment strapped to him.

“My goodness,” Coomer says without meaning to.

The person in the tube cracks an eye open, clearly having heard him and woken up. He glares at him before moving his hands in a manner that Coomer recognizes as sign language.

Too bad Coomer’s very rusty. Crap, he thinks he still has his old books somewhere. He waves and shrugs with an apologetic smile.

The tube person rolls his eyes, before exaggeratedly pointing at Coomer. Then, by making a hook with his left hand and a fist with his right, he makes the shape of a question mark.

Clearly this man can hear him, so Coomer clears his throat. “Well, I’m Dr. Harold Coomer,” he introduces himself. “I work in Waste Disposal. Who are you, then?”

The question catches the stranger off-guard. He looks around as if confused by who Coomer could be addressing, his dark hair swishing after him. When he turns back, he points to the base of the tube, where Coomer notices for the first time the placard at the bottom.

BU-33Y

“Huh,” Coomer remarks, squinting at the name slightly. “So you’re Bubby, then?”

He facepalms, but the name sticks.

☆*☆

[B is the department. U is the project designation.]

Coomer nods along as Bubby explains his name. He’d been surprised when Coomer returned a week after their first encounter, doubly so when he could actually understand the signs he used. Bubby still seemed apprehensive to speak with Coomer, but he didn’t tell him to leave.

[33 is my number, Y refers to the batch I come from.]

Bubby had told him a lot about himself, or rather, the project he originates from. The Ultimate Lifeform, Black Mesa’s attempt to make a perfect scientist. Incredibly intelligent, superhuman abilities, and government property. Eventually his testing is going to involve him working among other scientists, a prospect Coomer is thrilled by.

“Batch?” Coomer questions. He feels somewhat awkward, sitting in front of the tube. Bubby doesn’t seem to mind, though.

[Same genetic code,] Bubby winces at the thought. [My brothers, I guess. I’m the youngest.]

“Well, where are the other thirty-two, then?” Coomer asks. “And all the other batches?”

Bubby looks past Coomer, deeper into Biological Research. [Gone. Some of them are around, kind of.] For the first time, Coomer notices fear on his companion’s face. [They were out too long. They died, or fell apart.] He kicks, legs swishing through the green tube goo.

“But you’re not going to, right?” Coomer has to know. He’s just met Bubby, so maybe his attachment is a little much, but this person is so smart, so witty, so intelligent! To think he could just… stop being, one day.

[No,] Bubby’s got a confident smirk on his face, but his hands are shaking. [They’re working to fix it. I’m gonna be out of here for good someday.]

☆*☆

Their meetings continue for months. Coomer doesn't bring up his impending divorce with Bubby, mostly because he doesn't want to think about it. It isn’t a crime to want to hold onto the one person who doesn't look at him with pity these days! Besides, Bubby always redirects conversation away from his own feelings, why the hell would he listen to Coomer’s?

Well, part of that assumption is challenged when Coomer finds Bubby in his tube, fidgeting with his fingers with a distant look in his eyes. He doesn’t even notice Coomer at first.

“Good evening, Bubby!” Coomer grins, putting on his best friendly face. Bubby startles, going rigid almost like a goat. “Is something troubling you?”

Bubby shakes his head almost immediately, but seems to pause upon making eye contact with Coomer. He looks away as he signs, [Actually, you might be able to help me with this.]

“Ah, what do you need?” Coomer takes a seat in front of the tube, as he often does when he comes to see Bubby. He waits patiently while Bubby struggles to find his words.

[Do you remember what you told me last week?] Bubby starts, but after Coomer gives him a lost look, he adds, [About being a man.]

Oh, Coomer remembered! He’d been showing off the enhancements he’d received from the Cybernetics department, because while Bubby was familiar with their work, seeing it firsthand was a whole other thing entirely. Bubby was trying to downplay the fact that he was marvelling his Extendo-Arms™ when Coomer mentioned that they had done a few of his transition surgeries as well.

The look of pure confusion on Bubby’s face would be something Coomer always cherished. He gave him a brief explanation on gender identity, sadly not touching on the more intricate details due to time restraints. But Bubby had gotten the gist of it! And now he was asking to know more? It was a scenario Coomer could only dream of.

“Of course I remember!” Coomer exclaims. “Would you like me to elaborate on some of the points I made? I know I had to leave before we could get into my own lived experience, but I hope the general descriptions were adequate!”

[I’ve been thinking about it,] Bubby is obviously uncomfortable. [I’m not a man. Or a woman.]

Well that’s certainly not what Coomer was expecting, but that’s not a bad thing! Finally, a friend who also isn’t cis! He shakes his fists up and down in excitement, before rushing forward to scoop Bubby up in a big hug.

Sadly, there is still a glass wall between them. Coomer slams his face right into it.

Coomer hears Bubby laugh for the first time. Even though it’s muffled by the oxygen mask and tube, not to mention sounding more like a witch’s cackle than something joyful, it’s still the most beautiful thing Coomer has ever heard.

☆*☆

For a few days, Coomer misses his meetings with Bubby. Although they weren't operating on any real schedule before, Coomer had made sure his visits were occurring most nights. But after the divorce was finalized, well… he needed some time by himself.

Bubby’s rapping their knuckles against the glass the second they see Coomer, clearly trying to get his attention. There are less wires connected to them than before, the vast collection reduced to only their oxygen mask.

“Hello Bubby!” Coomer greets apologetically. “I’m sorry for my absence recently, I had a bit of an issue…”

But Bubby clearly isn’t listening. They’re enthusiastic to the point of stimming, excitedly pointing at the large button on the other side of the room.

Coomer walks over to the button and inspects it. It’s been here all this time, yes, but he’s never really thought much about what it does. “You want me to press this?” he clarifies.

Bubby nods, hands flapping so fast there’s no way they could stop to sign. They have that evil look in their eye again, the one that reminds Coomer how vibrant they are and makes his heart skip a beat. He presses the button without hesitation.

Immediately, the liquid in the tube begins to drain, and Coomer worries for a moment that this is going to kill Bubby. But the way they’re lightly kicking against the tube wall, anxious and thrilled beyond measure, tells Coomer that this is exactly what they wanted.

Finally, the tube water is gone, and the glass drops. Bubby takes one step forward, then slips in some of the liquid left at the bottom.

“FUCK!” they yell. It’s the first word Coomer ever hears them say.

“Oh dear, Bubby!” Coomer’s at their side in an instant, helping them sit back up. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Bubby shoos away Coomer’s helpful hands. Their voice is almost exactly what Coomer expected, pointed and snarky. They shoot a glare at him. “Where the hell have you been? I got the all clear that I’m not going to fall apart yesterday.”

Coomer winces, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. Bubby doesn’t even know he was married, let alone in the middle of a bitter divorce up until recently.

“I, um,” he stammers. “I had something happen?”

Bubby rolls their eyes. “No shit.” They take Coomer’s hand. “Can you grab my glasses for me? You’re about to watch me burn shit.”

Coomer tries to ignore the burning feeling in his face and chest when he looks at their hands, instead focusing on the burning feeling that comes from standing way too close to Bubby’s fire.

☆*☆

Things change very quickly after that. Bubby gets their neural implants put in—which they’re rightfully pissy about—but they’re moving forward. After all, limiting the government secrets you can tell is a sign that you’ll soon be around people who don’t know them. Besides, Coomer already knows anything they would have told him without the barrier, so they’ll always have him around!

Just mentioning that halts Bubby’s thrashing against the metal walls and medical equipment. Their hands still, their expression softens, and they tilt their head slightly, as if in wonder of the man in front of them.

Coomer feels seen in a way he never has before.

☆*☆

They wait a few days after Bubby’s “release into the wild” (as Coomer calls it) before visiting with each other again. Give Bubby a few days at work and the plausible deniability that he met Coomer during that time. But now that time is up, and Coomer’s excited to hear how Chemical Engineering has been treating his friend!

His friend. Coomer has long since accepted he has a bit of a crush on Bubby, which is kind of embarrassing to admit as he’s rapidly approaching forty years old. When you constantly catch yourself thinking about running your hand through your friend’s hair, though, or wondering what it would be like to kiss him with all those sharp teeth… it’s obvious at that point.

In stark contrast from before, Bubby visits Coomer’s dorm room. He insists that his own is nowhere near ready to receive guests in, and he’d much rather see what a lived-in space should look like. Coomer doesn’t mention he only got downgraded to this singles’ dorm a month ago.

The second he steps in, while Coomer tries to avoid thinking about how good he looks in actual clothes, Bubby starts complaining.

“What the fuck!? Why do you have a better dorm than me?!” Bubby gestures around him. “You’ve got, like, three different rooms here!”

“I’ve been working for Black Mesa for almost twenty years, Bubby!” Coomer explains. “I have a bit of seniority over you.”

Bubby rolls his eyes. “Big deal, I’ve practically been working here for thirty-eight years! That’s more than you!” He crosses his arms and grumbles about favoritism.

Coomer puts all his energy into ignoring how adorable Bubby looks when he’s grumpy.

☆*☆

“Harold! What do you mean you’re divorced!?”

They’re sitting on the couch in Coomer’s dorm, Bubby clutching one of his throw pillows. It hurt to bring up, but Coomer figures that Bubby would have found out eventually. He really didn’t want them to hear about it from a colleague of theirs that was an acquaintance at best.

“Well, I am!” Coomer attempts to keep a tone of cheerfulness in his voice. “The proceedings started just before I met you, and everything’s been finalized for a few months now.”

Bubby stands, and Coomer’s afraid for a moment that they're about to start lecturing him on trust.

They point a finger at him. “You’re telling me you have an ex we could have been bashing this whole time?!”

☆*☆

Though it takes a while, Bubby finally relents and allows Coomer to come over to their dorm, and while it’s much smaller, he loves it more than his own. It’s cozy! The two of them have to sit on the bed to watch TV, since there isn’t enough room for a couch.

Which is exactly what they’re doing. Coomer has a lot of media he plans on catching Bubby up on, prioritizing his own favorites! But they are currently watching an action movie, which he knows they’ll both enjoy. Acts of heroism and explosions? It’s like the industry was made entirely for the two of them!

They’re sitting very close, Bubby practically leaning against him. Not that Coomer’s complaining, they’re practically a heater. And given how far underground they are, he’s taking any source of warmth he can get. The physical contact is also making him very flustered, and thus, more body heat!

A huge explosion rocks the screen, and Coomer laughs. “See, Bubby! I told you there would be something in here for you!”

“Huh?” Bubby mumbles and sits up. They’re clearly rubbing their eyes.

“Bubby, have you been asleep?” Coomer asks, already knowing the answer.

They blink, the fog clearly leaving their brain. “Oh,” Bubby says, as if realizing that’s what happened. “Yeah, so what? It’s my room.”

“You have company!”

Bubby squints at Coomer, before removing their glasses. “I don’t see any company.”

“Bubby! You can still hear me!”

“The world is just blurry shapes now! For all I know, I’m alone!”

Oh, well if someone’s going to be childish, then Coomer can play their game. Using Bubby’s reduced eyesight to his advantage, Coomer snatches their glasses from their hand. They gasp dramatically.

“Harold! How dare you!” Bubby attempts to swipe their glasses back, but it’s a little hard to do that when their hand-eye coordination is shot. Coomer holds the glasses above their heads, teasingly.

“What’s wrong, professor? Can’t find your glasses?” he grins, waggling the sight aids ever so mockingly.

Coomer was not expecting Bubby to tackle him to the bed. “It’s doctor, shut up!” they growl, reaching for his outstretched hand. “Give them back!”

He does his best to shove Bubby back, but since he’s not putting too much effort in, it’s no use. Finally, Bubby’s hand manages to find purchase on the glasses’ bridge. They yank their glasses back, shouting a triumphant “Aha!” as they do so.

Bubby returns their glasses to their rightful place, smirking with their shark-like teeth showing. “You thought you could-”

Coomer suddenly realizes how close their faces are to each other. And that Bubby’s practically got him pinned against the bed. His hand lingers on their stomach, halted in its effort to push Bubby away.

Bubby seems to as well, as they suddenly stop talking, their cheeks turning a bright red that Coomer’s sure matches his own. After the longest moment of stillness, they abruptly fall back, almost fearful.

“Fuck!” Bubby curls in on themself, gripping their temples with their hands. “That was- it was nothing!”

Coomer sits up, tentatively reaching a hand out. “Bubby…”

They slap his hand away. “Stop it, Harold!” Bubby’s tone is harsh, but Coomer can hear their voice cracking. “Just stop, okay?! It was nothing!” They’re practically about to pull their hair out of their head.

“Bubby!” Coomer grabs onto their wrists, bringing them between the two of them. He looks Bubby in the eye. “Calm down. Breathe with me, alright?”

Clearly biting down whatever they were going to say, Bubby nods as if it’s the only thing they can do. Slowly, Coomer sees the tension fall from their shoulders, their arms going slack. After a few rounds of breathing, Bubby gently draws their hands back, and Coomer lets them.

“Now, what’s the matter with you?” Coomer moves to sit beside Bubby. “And don’t you dare say it’s nothing, again.”

Bubby drops their head onto their knees. “I know you’re in love with me, Coomer. You’re like a puppy, it’s not hard to read you.”

Coomer sighs. This is a rejection, then? As a divorced man, Coomer should be used to this, but… he isn’t. Not from Bubby.

Bubby looks back up at him. “And I know what you want in a relationship, and it’s not me.”

Huh?

“Not you?” The concept is so absurd that Coomer’s sure he must not have heard them correctly.

“Actual person things!” Bubby gestures to the ceiling as they speak. “Like going to the surface, or living together, or going to nice restaurants!” They frown. “I can’t give you that.”

A beat passes while Coomer figures out how to respond to that.

“You know you’re wrong, right?”

Now it’s Bubby’s turn to look confused. “What?”

“While those things are nice, I don’t need any of them in a romantic relationship.” He takes Bubby’s hand. “I just need someone who’s nice to spend time with and is willing to put the effort in.”

Bubby’s face turns bright red again. “Oh,” they say, squeezing Coomer’s hand. “Well, I can do that.”

“Can you?” Coomer’s mostly joking, still riding the high of mutual romantic feelings, but Bubby takes it seriously.

“Of course I can!” They throw their arms around his shoulders, a stupid grin now spread across their face from cheek to cheek. “Just you wait, Harold, I’m going to romance the socks off of you!”

For the second time today, their faces are inches apart.

Bubby doesn’t back away this time. “I can kiss you, right?”

“Oh most definitely,” Coomer responds.

It turns out, kissing Bubby is everything Coomer had hoped it would be and more. Their lips are warm, and the feeling of them smiling into the kiss as they grip the back of his shirt, pulling him closer, is one he’ll never forget.

☆*☆

There are certain things you don’t notice about a person until you spend a night with them. After sharing a bed with Bubby a few times, Coomer comes to several realizations.

The first is that Bubby sleeps like a log. Seriously, Coomer would have expected them to be at least a little bit twitchy. But the second Bubby’s out, they aren’t moving again until the morning.

Which is difficult in combination with the second item: Bubby is a clinger. It’s cute to see someone who’s usually so standoffish be completely affectionate at night, but not so much when Coomer feels pins and needles in his arm and he’s physically incapable of moving it out from between the two of them without waking his partner.

And waking them up is a bad idea because of the third realization, which is that Bubby is not a morning person in the slightest. Coomer already had a sense of this from their first meeting, but Bubby absolutely HATES waking up for the day. They practically need to be lured to the lab with a trail of coffee mugs every morning.

But their annoying sleeping habits aside, Coomer thinks it’s worth it. After all, he gets to hold Bubby for a whole night! Listening to them breathing, running his hand through their hair (they’re starting to go gray), he has never felt more at peace.

☆*☆

Coomer finds Bubby waiting for him outside his dorm room, standing there with his arms crossed and tapping his foot rapidly. His scowl immediately melts into a smile the second he spots him.

“Well, hello there Bubby!” Coomer waves. “What are you doing here so early? I thought our departments let out at the same time.”

“Harold, you will not believe the day I’ve had.” Bubby places a hand on Coomer’s back, serving as both affection and a way to rush him through unlocking the door. “Some idiot almost blew up the entire lab!”

Coomer turns the key and opens the door. “Well that’s not good! What happened?”

Bubby brushes past him, plopping himself on the couch with great flourish. “The man was clearly ignoring proper lab safety! The whole experiment burst into flames while his back was turned!” He seems strangely satisfied as he speaks, a look Coomer would know anywhere. “We got the rest of the day off because of his arrogance.”

Taking a seat next to him, Coomer narrows his eyes at Bubby. “Darling, you didn’t.”

“I didn’t say anything!” Bubby raises his hands in the air, feigning innocence long enough that Coomer almost begins to feel bad. Then he gets that wicked grin on his face again. “I did, though. I spent the afternoon eating chips in my dorm, and it was a million times better than working for this hell facility.”

“Bubby! You were supposed to bring those chips here with you!” Coomer chides him, but in reality, he doesn’t care that much. He’s proud his wonderful partner fucked over the system just a bit.

Bubby stares at him blankly for a moment. “Oh yeah! I forgot about that.” He shrugs. “They were good, though.”

“I’m sure they were,” Coomer sighs, but his obvious smile shows no ill-will behind it.

☆*☆

Over the years, the folks over at Biological Research get a bit more lenient with Bubby. They’re finally able to see some of Black Mesa's surface facilities, which are mostly just a few upper-level labs. The only condition is that Bubby is not allowed to leave the property.

That’s fine for both of them, though. There’s a lot to do on the surface if you’ve never been there before, and they end up sitting in the sunshine together, talking about things they definitely would have talked about below-ground as well. Bubby seems to enjoy the sun on their skin, acting a lot like a lizard basking in a bright light.

“I see you’re having fun,” Coomer chuckles.

Bubby is laying flat on their back, and even though Coomer knows they’ll yell at him for letting them lay down in the dirt, right now he can’t bring himself to stop them.

“It’s so warm out, Harold!” Bubby exclaims, wearing the happiest grin ever. “You know I love the warm!”

When the sky begins to darken and the temperature cools, Bubby sits back up and scooches over to join Coomer against one of the rock outcroppings that litter Black Mesa. They stretch their arm out, subtly wrapping it around Coomer’s shoulders and leaning their head against his.

“You know I love you, Harold,” they whisper. Coomer has never seen them look so peaceful before.

Coomer beams, taking hold of Bubby’s free hand and kissing his partner at the same time. “Of course,” he replies. “And I love you.”

They’re quiet for a few minutes, watching the last of the sun’s rays dip below the horizon. Bubby’s gaze turns to the stars above them. Being out in the middle of nowhere, Black Mesa has very little light pollution. No matter how bright the stars may look, though, Coomer thinks there’s no way they can be brighter than Bubby’s eyes right now.

“They can’t program stuff like this into a person,” Bubby remarks, eyes still glued to the sky. “I’ve known about stars and love my whole life, but…” They falter, their expression becoming grim for the briefest of seconds. Then, they look back at Coomer. “Experiencing it is something different.”

Coomer doesn’t need to respond, not vocally. He pulls Bubby into the biggest bear hug he can muster.

“Ack! Coomer!” Bubby grunts. “Not all of us are ninety-percent metal!”

“Forty-seven point five!” Coomer corrects them, but he releases Bubby with an apologetic head pat. “I’m sorry, though. I just love you too much! I want to hug you all the time!”

Bubby’s face goes red immediately. Even after all these years together, Coomer can still make them blush as though it were their first date all over again.

“Yeah! W-well!” they stammer. “Good! You should want to do that!”

Choking back his laughter, Coomer pulls Bubby in for another, more gentle hug.

☆*☆

They’re curled up on his couch late one night, watching an old movie when Coomer decides to bring up the elephant in the room.

Coomer stops running his hand through Bubby’s hair. “Your hairline is receding. You know that, right?”

Bubby immediately sits up from where he was resting on Coomer’s chest. “Shut the fuck-”

“I was just saying!”

“I do not want to hear it!”

“Bubby, dear, you’re completely gray already. My hairline is also receding!”

“Yeah, well.” Bubby crosses his arms, turning away from Coomer. “You’re a year older than me, so that makes sense.”

Coomer shakes his head. “Well, I suppose there’s only one way to settle this.”

Bubby gasps. “You wouldn’t!” He scrambles to the other side of the couch. “Stay away from me, you bastard!”

“A fight to the death!”

And with that, Coomer lunges.

☆*☆

All good things must come to an end. It’s a concept Coomer is intimately familiar with.

☆*☆

The morning begins in Coomer’s kitchenette, Bubby hunched over the table drinking their coffee out of a mug that says “Total Stud” on it. A gift from three years ago. As they rub the sleep from their eyes, Coomer bounces around preparing breakfast for the both of them.

“You’re heading back down to Biological Research again today, aren’t you?” Coomer asks over his shoulder as he fries a few eggs.

Out of the corner of his eye, Coomer spots Bubby signing, [Yes.] Must be a rough morning, then.

“Medical checkup?” Coomer asks, slipping their eggs onto two plates and serving one to his partner. But Bubby ignores him. They pointedly hold the mug with both hands, taking a long and drawn-out sip.

Coomer bites his cheek as he sits across from Bubby. “You know, they’re dragging me into another meeting down there today.”

[Clone thing?] Bubby absentmindedly picks at their eggs. Scrambled, just how they like them.

“I believe so,” Coomer sighs. “You’re sure it’s different from you?”

Bubby nods. [It’s just you in two bodies. Wasn’t like that for me.]

While it’s a relief that there aren’t going to be any more children brought up in Black Mesa like Bubby was, Coomer’s still not entirely sure he likes the implications of the alternative. A hivemind of himself just wandering around the facility? Is that something he wants?

“But, anyway.” Coomer got sidetracked. “I was thinking we could head down there toge-”

That wakes Bubby up more than coffee ever could. “No!” they shout, rising from their chair in an instant. The second they register their panic, though, it’s gone. “It’s… we shouldn’t go together. I’ll probably leave after we eat.”

Maybe it’s the way they look into his eyes, like a caged animal, but something about what Bubby says next sticks with him for the rest of the day.

“They aren’t good people, Harold.”

☆*☆

Coomer catches sight of Bubby as he’s rushed into one of the offices, through a window into a test chamber. They’re back in a medical gown again (that hurts to see), shoulders slumped as a scientist speaks to them. Their eyes meet for the briefest of seconds, Bubby offering him a small smile, which Coomer returns.

Then the scientist snaps at Bubby, who immediately goes rigid and turns away from Coomer.

☆*☆

“To put it simply, Dr. Coomer, the sequencing of your DNA is ideal for mass-producing clones.”

The man in front of him—Dr. Daniels, as the nameplate on his desk reads—smirks as he speaks, and it isn’t at all close to the endearing ones Bubby has. It’s cold, calculating, and makes Coomer want to squirm. When you’re the head of Biological Research, you get to be intimidating.

In the back of his head, Coomer hears Bubby’s warning. ‘They aren’t good people, Harold.’

“How did you get my DNA in the first place?” Coomer inquires, because he knows for a fact he hasn’t given them any.

Dr. Daniels just laughs at him, more mocking than assuring. “Cybernetics had a few samples on record, in the event of complications during surgery,” he says. “It wasn’t hard to get ahold of them.”

Coomer frowns. Damn, he didn’t think those were still around. ‘They aren’t good people, Harold.’

“You see, I’m worried about the shared consciousness,” Coomer looks for an out. There’s a strange noise in the hallway, but it’s easy enough to ignore. “They’d just be mindless extensions of myself?”

“That’s a simplification, but yes,” Dr. Daniels begins rifling through his desk drawers. “I apologize, I swear I had a paper here that would explain it better.” His brow furrows, but he’s interrupted when

CRASH!!

Another noise from the hallway, this time even louder than before. And people are shouting. It startles the both of them.

Dr. Daniels grumbles, “What the hell is happening out there?”

The office door flies off its hinges in a fiery burst of energy, and a figure steps in. And figure is the right word, because it’s difficult to make out any features beyond pure black and literally engulfed in flame.

Oh fuck.

That’s Bubby, isn’t it?

They look between the two people in the office, finally settling on Dr. Daniels. They point towards him as they speak.

“You.” Their voice is full of malice, more than Coomer’s ever heard from them before. They take a shambling step forward, leaving a trail of fires and scorch marks behind them as they walk. “Get away from him.”

But Dr. Daniels makes no move. “Now, now, Subject 33, there’s no need for this.”

Bubby is careful to avoid Coomer in his approach, made easier by the fact that Coomer has retreated to the side of the office. He can’t really escape without jumping through fire, and, well…

He can’t leave Bubby.

“I’m not going to let you hurt him,” Bubby hisses, climbing onto the desk and raising a hand to strike. “Not like you hurt me.”

Dr. Daniels isn’t afraid. He only shoots a disappointed glance Coomer’s way. “I see.”

He turns his attention back to Bubby. “Thirty-three drop.”

They’re just words, but they have an obvious effect on Bubby. Their flames extinguish immediately, leaving them smoking slightly. Their limbs go slack, and they fall backwards off the desk.

For a moment, Coomer is convinced Daniels killed them.

“What a shame,” Daniels walks around the desk, grabbing onto the back of Bubby’s medical gown. “You were doing such good work in Chemical Engineering. We’ll have to move you, now.”

As Daniels drags Bubby behind him, Coomer meets their eyes again. Despite the limpness in their body, Bubby is wide awake and begging, pleading for help.

But Coomer is frozen still.

Daniels unceremoniously drops Bubby in the hallway, calling out to the survivors of Bubby’s rampage to put them back in the tube for now. He closes the door after that and looks at Coomer.

“Now, as for you…”

‘They aren’t good people, Harold.’

��*☆

All good things must come to an end.

But, thinking back on it, Bubby wasn’t just a good thing. No, the term “good thing” is not enough to describe the impact they left on Harold Coomer’s life. He knows it isn’t, not with the way he wakes up cold every morning, reaching for a warmth that isn’t there. Coomer finds himself boxing up leftovers more often than not, making enough food for two out of habit. He cries whenever he finds something in his dorm that Bubby left behind, like their mug or a sweater.

All good things must come to an end, but Bubby was more than that. Bubby was always more than people wanted them to be, everyone except Coomer. And when you spend so long living with so much, the absence is terrifyingly empty.

Bubby was an inferno. Bubby was the stars in their eyes. Bubby was passion, and intellect, and bravery, and cowardice, all in one.

Bubby was loved.

☆*☆

It goes like this.

Coomer is transferred to Biological Research, where they can keep an eye on him. He is not given a choice. He will participate in the cloning experiments, and he’ll live with it.

Bubby’s been transferred somewhere else. Their dorm has been moved. Coomer is not to speak with them again, under any circumstance.

Life continues, but it doesn’t move on.

☆*☆

Several times a day, Coomer catches himself thinking about Bubby.

‘What are they doing right now?’

‘Where are they?’

‘I miss them.’

‘Bubby would love this.’

‘Bubby would hate this.’

‘I should tell Bubby about this!’

It always hurts.

☆*☆

Coomer has to figure out grounding methods on his own. Everytime a new clone pops out, a piece of Coomer disappears for good. He loses items more often, because his thoughts strayed to a clone’s at just the wrong second. He still remembers things, but it’s getting harder and harder everyday. Some days his head is cloudy, and he can’t quite figure out what it is he’s supposed to do at work.

If Bubby were here, they would make fun of him. Yeah, they were kind of a jerk, weren’t they? A loving, wonderful jerk. But they wouldn’t have complained, there’s no doubt in Coomer’s mind.

Some days, when he wakes up, Coomer doesn’t remember that Bubby’s not by his side anymore.

☆*☆

Things don’t get better, but over the course of fifteen years, they do get easier.

Coomer starts making friends again, a young man by the name of Gordon Freeman. Coomer can tell he’s stressed out being so young in such a competitive field (especially working in Anomalous Materials, the things he’s heard about that department…), so maybe he takes a bit of a mentorship role to him.

It’s nice. They’ve known each other for a year at this point, and, well, he’s kind of like the son Coomer never had.

Gordon mentions that there’s a big test coming up, apparently his team is pulling other Anomalous Materials teams in just to make sure everything runs smoothly. And though it’s complicated, his job is rather simple. Push a crystal into a laser!

What could go wrong?

☆*☆

Of course Coomer shows up the day of the test to support Gordon! He hasn’t got anything better to do today, so he might as well see what all the fuss is over at Anomalous Materials.

It’s easy enough to bullshit his way past their front desk, having a million clones of yourself running around means there’s a million spots for you to fill should you need to. He briefly greets Gordon in the locker room, wishing him luck as he hurries on his way.

But, finally, he finds his way to the control room. The perfect place to watch from!

There are two scientists inside, both of whom are tall and lanky. One’s pretty young, Coomer thinks he must be around his mid-thirties. And the other-

“I swear to you, Tommy, this man says-”

He stops the second he spots the intruder, face slightly twitching in a way Coomer knows means he's resisting wincing. He’s lost more of his hair since Coomer last saw him, and though it’s been fifteen years, he’s aged pretty well, all things considered.

“Bubby?” The name comes tumbling out of Coomer’s mouth before he can stop himself. There's no way…

That does something to the scientist, dropping his stern expression for something softer. “Harold? Is that really-”

They’re interrupted by a clattering noise in the test chamber, all three of them turning to see Gordon has entered, accompanied by a security guard.

“Fuck,” Bubby swears. “What the hell is he doing?”

The other scientist, Tommy, preoccupies himself with yelling back and forth with the security guard.

“Tommy, do you know this man?” Bubby snaps (Coomer doesn’t remember him being this standoffish), appearing annoyed when he receives no answer.

“You know, he didn’t bring his passport!” Coomer jokes, trying to lighten the mood but…

Bubby is pointedly looking away from him, his attention focused on the computer terminal in front of him. He keeps mumbling about how fucked the technology in this part of the facility is, and honestly, Coomer agrees. Why they’re having Anomalous Materials run such high-risk tests in such a poor state, he has no idea. It’s like they’re asking for something terrible to happen.

And something does.

Things get worse as the test continues. The Anti-Mass Spectrometer begins to smoke, the computers in the control room are clearly on the fritz, and Bubby is still ignoring Coomer. But everything goes wrong after the crystal sample is placed in the laser.

They attempt to shut the Anti-Mass Spectrometer down, but it doesn’t work. Electricity arches throughout the room, striking the walls and loosening panels. All at once, an explosion rocks the test chamber, sending the three scientists ducking to the floor.

While Coomer doesn’t understand whatever the hell just happened, Bubby and Tommy certainly do. The second the test chamber stills, they rush out of the control room, heading two separate directions.

Some little part of Coomer’s heart that remained intact shatters.

☆*☆

Between all the zombies and aliens wandering around and the sheer destruction that’s been wrought on the facility, it’s quite obvious that Black Mesa has become defunct. As their team of five travels through the depths of their workplace, Coomer revels in the fact that he finally has an opportunity to get rid of these clones. With each of their deaths, it’s like a part of himself comes back.

Bubby catches on. Coomer occasionally spots him taking out a clone from the corner of his eyes.

That first night, after they all stop to rest, Coomer is surprised that Bubby chooses to sit next to him. After a full day of nothing from Bubby, Coomer had thought he was losing him all over again.

“This is the end of Black Mesa, isn’t it?” Bubby asks. Despite their proximity, he still won’t face Coomer.

Coomer looks out at the sleeping forms of their companions. Gordon is still stuck in his Hazard Suit, which probably makes sleeping even more uncomfortable. Tommy, meanwhile, has taken off his lab coat and bunched it up into a pillow.

“I believe so, Bubby,” Coomer admits.

Bubby sighs, but it’s not disappointment. It’s relief. Coomer is shocked to feel him take his hand into his own.

“It’s good to see you again, Harold,” he finally confesses. “You won’t believe how much I missed you.”

Coomer chuckles. “I have some idea.” Every nerve in his hand is buzzing, and if he was too old for this when he and Bubby first started dating, then he’s definitely too old now.

“So what are we doing, then?” Bubby’s being vague on purpose.

“Well, we should probably…” Coomer’s thoughts drift back to their final encounter, “talk. About everything. And then, I suppose, if you’ll have me…” He looks to Bubby, hope in his eyes.

Bubby scoffs, trying to keep his voice down. He leans his head against Coomer. “Seriously? You want to pick up where we left off fifteen years later?”

“I don’t see why we couldn’t!” Coomer says. “Who’s around to stop us now?”

Instead of arguing, Bubby lets his head drop down to Coomer’s shoulder. “You have a point,” he whispers after stifling a yawn. “We’ll talk in the morning?”

“We do need our rest,” Coomer concedes, resting his head atop Bubby. “Goodnight, then.”

Bubby falls asleep fast, like he always did. As for Coomer, despite the two of them laying against a concrete wall, it’s the best sleep he’s gotten in years.

☆*☆

While Bubby sticks to Coomer’s side like glue, it’s clear they’re avoiding being alone with him. They’ll slyly take ahold of his hand as the two of them walk side-by-side, but the second the team rounds a corner ahead of them, they’re dragging Coomer forward while shouting “We’re going to be left behind!”

They still haven’t talked about that last day.

But Coomer finds himself unable to complain too much. Having Bubby with him again, smiling and laughing, holding them… it’s everything he ever wanted.

☆*☆

When they finally make it back to the surface, Gordon has a great idea.

“Why don’t we just climb?” He gestures to the rocks in front of them. “Why don’t we just go over the rocks and fucking get out of here? We’re at the surface…”

Bubby tries to deter him, reminding Gordon that they’re in the middle of nowhere, but Coomer gets an idea.

“I could always try to clear the mountaintops with my SuperLegs,” he suggests, and when he doesn’t hear no, he goes for it.

He’s up there for but a few seconds, but what he sees beyond the walls of Black Mesa shakes him to his core.

There’s nothing there.

☆*☆

After the rocket launch, Coomer catches Bubby staring out the window instead of sleeping. Their eyes are trained on the night sky, watching the stars twinkle with a determination Coomer’s never seen before.

“Bubby,” Coomer calls out to them, shocking them from whatever trance they’re in. “You should really sleep.”

To be honest, it’s more for his sake than theirs. He just needs to feel Bubby by his side, tonight more so than any.

“Right,” Bubby moves back to Coomer’s side, nestling their face into his shoulder. “When you- I didn’t realize you were telling the truth, earlier.”

Coomer sighs. “You saw it too?”

They nod, mumbling, “There’s really nothing out there, is there?”

What do you do when facing down the limits of your own reality? What is there to do but seek comfort in that which makes you feel human?

☆*☆

Bubby's been whispering with Benrey. Occasionally the two of them will fall behind or run ahead of the group, mumbling to each other as they glance around nervously. While it is suspicious, Coomer knows Bubby! He hasn't heard anything terrible from him!

But still, he is acting rather strange.

"Bubby, dearest?" Coomer asks. Bubby is apparently back in one of his clingy moods, as he wrapped his arms around Coomer the second everyone decided to take a break and refused to let go.

Something about the word "dearest" irks Bubby. His eye twitches, which is definitely not the effect it had on him fifteen years ago.

"What?" Bubby's obviously fighting against a harsh tone, a contrast to the fact he's currently holding onto Coomer for dear life.

"I wanted to make sure you were doing alright, after yesterday," Coomer continues. "You’ve been on edge today."

Bubby grimaces. "Maybe it's the alien invasion we're fighting off."

"You know that's a flimsy excuse."

"What does it matter?" Bubby huffs. "What does any of this matter?"

In all his years of comforting Bubby, of offering words of encouragement in the face of dire circumstances, Coomer has never fallen short of words like he has now. How can he provide him with answers that he himself is reaching for?

Bubby notices his hesitance and sighs, tired. His eyes are stern and hollow. Without another word he stands, joining the rest of the group and leaving Coomer behind.

☆*☆

Coomer is too trusting. How many times over the years has Bubby called him a fool? Lambasted his desire to look for the good? 'The world isn't as kind as you imagine it, Harold, get your head out of the clouds.'

Bubby and Benrey betray Gordon. Walking towards that dreaded room, Coomer notices that same hollow expression on Bubby's face, his words betraying him.

A second before the lights go out on Gordon, Coomer sees the most twisted grin worm its way onto Bubby's face. A grin he can hear wiped away when Gordon screams in pain, knife tearing through flesh.

The whole time, Coomer is frozen in place. His PowerLegs feel more like stone than advanced cybernetic enhancements. His friend is being hurt, right in front of him! And he can’t…

He can’t..

Do anything.

It's fifteen years ago, all over again.

The second the thought crosses his mind, Coomer makes an excuse to run, hoping at least someone will follow him. He can't let this happen again, he can't be trapped by his own inaction! Gordon might be beyond saving, but they aren't!

Nobody pursues. Coomer finds himself wandering the halls of Black Mesa. Alone.

☆*☆

Stupid.

Useless.

Cowardly.

Selfish.

Spineless.

Coomer realizes it's no wonder he lost Bubby. He didn’t deserve them.

☆*☆

The clones end up being good for something after all.

When you have three hundred subhuman extensions of yourself, it turns out you have what could be described as a one-man army.

☆*☆

Coomer has a plan. Screw everything else, he's fucked up beyond measure in here. He is getting out of this game, one way or another.

He's got all the clones he could find, one surging attack should do the trick. After all, the man is suffering from a recent amputation, he shouldn't be that hard to take down. Well, Coomer didn't anticipate Tommy, but that's not too big of a wrench. He's knocked down, he stands, ready to fight again, but...

But he sees Gordon. So weak, so bloody, so delirious. And yet still walking.

The anger recedes. Coomer stands down, offering peace instead. Despite everything, he can’t bring himself to hate Gordon.

☆*☆

They find Bubby locked up in their tube, and with the way they enter the room, Coomer doesn't even realize they're in there at first.

Coomer is angry, he's furious at Bubby for their betrayal. They sold Gordon, their friend, out to the military! Of all people!

But seeing Bubby back in their tube, pounding on the glass, begging to be let out, for Gordon to understand they were tricked and lied to.

It isn't right.

If Coomer can get a second chance after the stunt he pulled, then Bubby can as well.

☆*☆

They stop for the night in a small room that they climbed into through the roof. As the group talks, Coomer sits next to Bubby, even lays near them when it's time to go to sleep. But he can tell, from the way their eyes keep glancing towards the bloody stump where Gordon's hand used to be, that their mind is elsewhere.

Bubby doesn't reach out for him at night, and after the day they've all had, Coomer isn't sure he should make the first move. Still, even subconsciously, they lay back-to-back as they sleep.

Until Coomer's back suddenly feels cold.

He sits up, noticing Bubby has woken up and is trying to worm their way back onto the roof. Their eyes meet for a moment, both of them silent before Bubby climbs up.

Coomer decides to follow.

The sight Coomer finds is not unfamiliar to him. Bubby sits on the roof, their knees drawn to their chest, gazing up at the starry sky above them. Their eyes are not full of their usual wonder. When Coomer sits down next to them, they finally speak.

"I fucked up," Bubby confesses, eyes still glued to the sky.

Coomer already knew that, but... "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I-" Bubby starts, but they swallow and try again. "When I saw the void, I thought that meant that nothing here mattered." Coomer wraps an arm around Bubby, and they lean into him. "That my whole life, what happened to us, it was all fake and meaningless."

"But we're real," Coomer says, not a lecture, but an affirmation. "We love, we feel pain, we have fun. To an extent, we're alive."

"That we are," Bubby agrees. They pause for a beat, before revealing, "I hated you."

Coomer remains quiet, mostly out of confusion.

Bubby pulls back to face him. "Biological Research knew the whole time that you were seeing me. They thought you were a good influence, so they didn't step in." They grip the sleeve of Coomer's lab coat. "But that day, they mentioned it to me, and I… I just snapped."

Vaguely, Coomer remembers Dr. Daniels saying he had "expended his usefulness" sometime before the cloning began.

"I wanted to protect you, Harold. You were the first good thing in my life, I couldn't let them hurt you," Bubby whimpers. "But when I needed your help, you didn't… you…"

Harold Coomer froze.

Something clicks in the back of his mind. When the soldiers attacked Gordon, Bubby knew that Coomer wouldn't act.

Bubby yanks Coomer back to their chest, holding him as close as possible. "I blamed you, and I hated that I blamed you, and I loved you. Harold, those first years without you were awful."

Coomer can hear Bubby crying, and he knows he's doing the same.

"I'm sorry," Coomer sobs into their shirt, hugging Bubby just as tightly as they hug him. "My darling Bubby, I am so, so sorry."

"Don't say that," Bubby repeats it like a mantra every time Coomer apologizes. "Harold, don't you dare say that."

☆*☆

They make it to the end. They're loomed over by the twisted monstrosity that is Benrey. They destroy their passports, and pour everything they can into knocking this bastard down once and for all.

Bubby erupts in flames, his body once again becoming a vague silhouette. Unlike the last time he saw this sight, Coomer feels no dread. There is no pit in his stomach.

This is elation.

☆*☆

They share their first kiss in years in a Chuck E. Cheese, of all places. After watching the two of them dance around each other for five days, Gordon finally feels comfortable enough to ask them what the hell their relationship status is.

Coomer opens his mouth to answer, but Bubby has a better idea. He tilts Coomer's face towards his own, leans in, and kisses him right on the lips.

It's like nothing has changed in fifteen years. When they kiss, it's like they're young all over again.

☆*☆

They survive after the game. Bubby questions it aloud one day, but Coomer doesn't want to think about it. Whatever has happened that allows their continued existence, it's nothing short of a miracle.

Bubby and Coomer end up crashing in Gordon's house for a few days, considering they don't quite have a place of their own yet. On day three, Gordon's son Joshua calls both of them his grandpas, and Coomer cries for an hour.

They move out eventually, when their government mandated hush money comes in. Not far, but Bubby clearly wants some independence. It's a nice little place, cozy but not too small.

Bubby never starts the conversations about marriage, but they're always an active participant. When Coomer had first brought up the idea, Bubby had to put their magazine down, their eyes blown wide.

"Holy shit!" they exclaim, realization hitting them like a train. "We can do that now!"

After fifteen years of absence, waking up with Bubby by his side, curling their fingers through his hair, is magical. The life they never thought they'd have—a house on the surface, with a family all their own—is reality. Coomer has never been happier.

All good things must come to an end. But Bubby has always been better than good.

#hlvrai #half life vr but the ai is self aware #hlvrai boomer #boomer #dr bubby #dr coomer #my writing #good things #cw unethical science #cw trigger phrases

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botanyshitposts · 4 years

Note

How early in life do you realise you're interested in botany and want to be a botanist? I found your interest in it somewhat endearing to watch. - Love from Borneo...

omg to get this ask right after publishing that ask about stealing wisconsin fast plants in the 6th grade.... i know ive told this story before but its been a while since my last ‘how did i get into this’ ask so:

okay. always knew i wanted to get into biology. was dinosaur/paleontology kid, then veterinarian kid, then zoology-but-not-too-passionate-about-anything-but-wolves-kid, and then it was in like, early high school and they sent out this thing about an opportunity for unpaid internships through the local community college. like. ‘help out the community/check out various job opportunities’ type stuff. at this point i kind of half-heartedly told people i wanted to be a pharmacist and that was my vague future plan, but for this they had us pick 3 options and one of the openings was for a person to help at a family-run retail greenhouse in town. got the internship. cool.

i mostly did manual labor around the greenhouse, but i also got taken behind the scenes where they showed me like, how they get these plants from corporations. the dude who ran the greenhouse showed me the catalogs they got from these giant companies and showed me seeds in test tubes sent to them and all this stuff, and plants started to unfold for me as a science. like. these companies were doing jurassic-park type stuff with these plants. it occured to me that the plants that were being sold were literally created to look pretty for us, or to grow big fruits and vegetables, etc etc, and it was like...it kind of freaked me out. this was also a little after when USDA APHIS and several related international government plant regulation branches found out about a ton of GMO petunias that were being sold to the public without the proper testing and documentation by several large seed companies; they let the retailers keep them, but ordered the companies to literally incinerate, bury, or destroy any and all illegal seed and plant matter.

this was very fucked up, so of course i was fascinated and i started seeing plants as a whole in a very different way. i’d come home every day and tell my parents about whatever crazy shit i learned, which they got tired of pretty quickly, but i wasn’t stopping there. i wanted more plant information. i built a big wooden tray thing and started growing random plants in my room, not really with any sort of scientific goal aside from watching them and wondering about... whatever. eventually, this kind of general hyperfixation made me generate the question of whether or not plants generated heat, which i googled and was not satisfied at the answers for: they can, and plants that can are called thermogenic plants, but none of the pop science articles i read could explain exactly how it worked, and like, i was in it to see all the details, baybee, and i ended up reading scientific journal articles with absolutely no idea of how scientific journal articles are set up, how to read them, or what any of it meant. and i loved it.

so that was my first dive into that, and it was around that time that i started this blog to contain my ongoing passion to stop boring my parents, and then i just...well i did more stuff and worked some other plant jobs that i’ve talked about before on here, some which involve more wild stuff than others, but long story short, that was how i ended up accidentally stumbling into this interest/career path via the very specific question of how plants that heat up Do That Thing.

also: borneo! yall have some fantastic pitcher plants. some absolutely amazing carnivorous lads. like, congrats

#if i saw nepenthes in the wild i would die immediately.......#not plonts #asks #Anonymous

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wishingforatypewriter · 4 years

Note

Ryoali with Erik Newborn

Nakiri Alice stood in her food laboratory with the baby in one hand and a test tube in the other because the child was hungry and she was kind of bored. Who said a woman couldn’t have it all?

“Okay, Erik. Today, mommy’s going to teach you the basics of molecular gastronomy,” she whispered to the three month old. “But this has got to be a quiet lesson because everybody else is sleeping.”

Her son smiled at the sound of her voice—so smart!—and Alice took this as license to commence her lecture. “Right here, we have some top of the line baby formula. But it’s kind of basic, right? So what we’re going to do is put it in the blender with some sodium alginate.” She marveled at the things a person could accomplish one-handed as she blended the mixture and poured it into a container to settle.

“And while we let that sit, we’re going to prepare a calcium chloride setting bath. At this stage, it’s crucial that we—oh, hi darling.” Alice grinned at the sound of her husband’s footsteps. Quiet though they were, she’d know them anywhere. “Can you hand me a syringe?”

Ryo did so wordlessly before it occurred to him to ask, “Alice, what are you doing down here?”

“What does it look like? I’m making our spawn a bottle,” she said as she began to suck the formula mixture into the syringe.

“Please don’t kill my child,” he said in a deadpan voice.

“Papa’s so funny, Erik,” Alice told her son, who was now staring up at the syringe with a transfixed expression. “He really thinks I’d put you in harm's way after I labored for ten hours to bring you into this world.”

“Alice—”

“It’s perfectly safe, as you well know. I even checked with the pediatrician.” Alice smiled down at her child again. “I know papa complains a lot, but it’s only because he loves you. He’s always going to protect the two of us, so we have to put up with him sometimes.”

At this, Ryo shot her a sidelong glance. “He’ll learn the truth when he’s old enough.”

“Not a chance,” she replied with a smirk. “This one will always be on my side.”

Alice walked over to her husband and placed Erik in his arms, then kissed them both on the cheek. “Alright, my wonderful spawn. Papa’s going to narrate the rest while I finish up.”

“Narrate?” he asked, eyes narrowing slightly. It sounded like she was about to make another unreasonable request.

“Mhmm. Just explain what I’m doing so he understands the basics.”

“Alice...you know he’s only three months, right?”

She waved him off with a petulant laugh. “He’ll get it for sure. We Nakiris are brilliant, you know.” She looked back at their son once more. “You see, Erik, your papa should be more in awe of me. When you marry a girl you’ll have to do better and—”

“I thought I was narrating now,” the dark haired man pointed out.

Alice merely grinned at him before getting to work with the syringe. “Proceed.”

“Alright, kid. Your mother runs her mouth a lot—”

Alice’s cheeks started to puff up. “Hey! Don’t tell him that; he’s still impressionable! You have to praise me more to him, darling!”

“See, that? She does that all the time, and she can be a handful, but eventually you’ll learn how to tune out the stuff that doesn’t make sense.”

“EXCUSE ME?”

“But even though your mother can be a brat and a tyrant, she’s really a brilliant woman.”

Alice felt herself start to blush a bit. Now that was much better.

“So now she’s hooking the syringe up to her caviar maker. Not real caviar, though.”

“Gah?” Erik asked inquisitively, looking up at his father.

"Yeah, same, kid. But anyway, she took the machine out because if she didn’t we’d be down here all goddamn night—”

“Don’t curse in front of him!”

“It’s part of his education,” he replied, monotone and unrepentant. “Anyway, when the sodium alginate mixture hits the calcium chloride bath, it spherifies because science. Your mother will explain in greater detail when you’re old enough to form words.”

Alice strained the formula spheres and rinsed the excess calcium off them. “All done, my spawn!”

“Now your mom is going to try to make you eat these milk beads, and I’m going to make you a real bottle in an hour.”

“So mean, Ryo!”

“Kidding.” He kissed her then, and glanced warily at the child. “I hope.”

#ryoali #ryoalice #alice x ryo #shokugeki no soma #baby!Erik #so much sass from the Denmark Nakiris

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a-stone-world-saga · 5 years

Text

“Senkuu? Are you busy?”

Senkuu glances up from the melting contents of the test tubes he’s been waiting on. Ruri is standing in the doorway, one hand pushing the curtain aside, half-turned away like she’s unsure of her welcome. Haloed behind her, the moon hangs heavy and full in the clear night sky.

“Nah,” Senkuu shrugs, setting his latest experiment to the side. “I have to wait for these to defrost first, so the next step can wait until morning. Chrome will complain if I start without him anyway.” He considers her for a moment. “It’s late. Did you need something?”

Ruri’s chin dips into the fur of her coat but her gaze remains on him. “I couldn’t sleep,” She admits. “So I thought I would go for a walk.” She pauses, eyes darting away, then back. “Kohaku told me you don’t sleep much, so I wondered if you would like to come with me?”

Senkuu stares at her, more than a little surprised. He must take too long to answer though because she winces like she’s committed some horrible offense, and in the next second, she’s already apologizing, “I’m sorry, I overstepped, I just thought-”

Senkuu snorts loudly, and then has to hide a wince of his own because he always forgets to be a little gentler with Ruri the way everyone else naturally seems to be around her. It’s not really in his nature though, to be careful with people, except maybe Suika, sometimes, since she’s a child. But Ruri... Ruri’s somehow always registered as tough in his mind, when he thinks about her, and so it never occurs to him right away that she’s technically more delicate than all the other people he usually interacts with.

Ah well, too late to take it back now. Onward and through it is. “Don’t be stupid, why would you be overstepping?” He grumbles, pushing to his feet and stretching the stiffness out of his muscles. “Besides, I don’t have anything better to do right now, and I could do with some fresh air. Let me just get my coat.”

He fetches it from the wall hooks in the corner, and then rakes a critical eye over Ruri before grabbing an extra scarf as well.

“Jeez,” He grumbles, sparing a moment to blow out the oil lamp on the table before joining Ruri at the door. She’s still blinking owlishly at him, like she fully expected to be turned down in the first place. Senkuu just sighs and loops the scarf around her neck, knotting it loosely before tucking most of it inside the collar of her coat to make sure it does its job. “I know you’re not sick anymore, but that doesn’t mean you can’t get sick again. It’s almost winter; look after yourself a little better.”

He pulls on his own coat, and when he glances up again, he finds Ruri smiling at him, faint and softly delighted the way her sister’s brashly confident grins almost never are. Sometimes, Senkuu looks at them and can’t believe they’re sisters. But they have the exact same steel in them, straight down to the core; they just show it in different ways.

They don’t need words as they set out for the surrounding woods, although Senkuu does smirk a little when he spots the bridge leading to the village in the distance. “How’d you slip past your guards?”

Ruri tips a secretive smile up at him this time, something just shy of mischievous. “I just told them I had important priestess secrets to impart to the village chief right away because it’s a full moon. Same with the guards on bridge duty.”

Senkuu barks out a laugh. “You’re lucky it’s not Kinrou and Ginrou’s shift at the moment; they’d never believe that anymore.”

“Why do you think I didn’t come earlier?” Ruri retorts lightly, and for a moment, they grin at each other like old friends.

The days have been getting shorter, the nights longer, and the woods feel extra quiet as they walk through them. The trees whisper with the night breeze all around them, and it’s peaceful in a way Senkuu’s modern world probably never could be. He misses it of course, but the longer he lives in this Stone World, the more he thinks that it isn’t so terrible, even if a lot of everyday activities he once took for granted aren’t so convenient anymore.

As if reading his mind, Ruri peers over at him, eyes bright with curiosity as she asks, “Kohaku and Chrome have caught me up on much of your modern world, but was it so very different? Were there still places like this in your time?”

Senkuu makes a considering noise as they step out onto the grassy bank of one of the nearby rivers. The water is clear enough that in some of the calmer parts, he can see right to the bottom like there isn’t even anything there.

“Some,” He says to Ruri. “In some parts of the world, there were still a few pockets of civilization similar to Ishigami Village. And lots of places still had natural wildlife and vegetation, although if you compare it to now, you could say there weren’t nearly as many.” He grimaces a little. “I suppose that’s one issue with civilization advancing as far as it did. The planet can only produce so many resources at a time, and we humans always wanted more. Pollution was a pretty big problem too - our species tend to generate a lot of garbage, and nature had to pay for that.”

They stop right by a mostly smooth spike of rock that juts out over the water, and once Senkuu’s hoisted himself up onto it, he turns to offer his hand to Ruri, who takes it firmly and lets him pull her up as well. They sit right by the edge, legs dangling above the river, and the moon is low enough on the horizon that it almost looks like the water is pouring right into it.

“But you made incredible things too,” Ruri says, sounding a touch wistful, imagining a world that Senkuu knows won’t ever be exactly the way reality was, no matter how well he tries to describe it.

Humanity’s legacy, forgotten by humanity.

“We make incredible things now,” He says out loud, flashing a smirk when Ruri looks up at him again with a startled expression. “We’re all humans, even in this world, and we’re still alive. We’ll go on to make more and more incredible things, and it won’t ever be the same, but it’ll still be pretty exciting.”

Ruri’s eyes widen, and for a long minute, even after Senkuu turns to stare out at the sprawling woods in front of them again, she doesn’t look away. Senkuu lets her at it, content with the silence between them. It’s comfortable, somehow, even when he’s acutely aware of her gaze on him.

She looks away, at last, but she also sways to the side, her shoulder knocking gently against his, and when he glances down, she’s smiling again. Perhaps it’s Senkuu’s own occasionally whimsical imagination, but somehow, Ruri has a way of smiling that radiates a quiet sort of inner joy now that illness and impending death no longer plague her, as if every breath she can freely take these days is something that makes her happy.

“Tell me something,” She says, her words fogging the air at her lips. “About your world. Something I would like.”

Senkuu’s eyebrows go up, and then he chuckles. “What, electricity and ramen not good enough for you?”

When Ruri only peeks up at him, tentatively expectant, Senkuu sighs and hums in thought for a few seconds, casting his mind back to a childhood lived a lifetime ago.

“Libraries,” He finally says.

Ruri blinks. “Libraries? What’s that?”

Senkuu lifts his hands, outlining the vague shape of a square. “I told you guys what books are, right? Stories and information, knowledge, all written down on paper, recorded for everyone to read. Now imagine a whole building of them, lined with shelves, containing hundreds of books, a place where people can go to read them for free. Libraries were a thing all over the world, at least one in every city, dozens in just about every country.” He drops his hands. “The library nearest my house was three floors high. It wasn’t the biggest, but it still had tons of books on every subject you could imagine - fiction and non-fiction, fantasy and adventure stories, physics and chemistry texts, books suitable for everyone from children to adults. It opened early and closed late, so you could spend the whole day in there and read as much as you want. Most of the walls were floor-to-ceiling glass windows, and you know that couch we made for your birthday? Imagine rows of them, right by the windows, where you could sit in the sunlight and just read from morning to night. The third floor had a balcony too, with chairs and tables and umbrellas over them, so you could go outside on nice days and sit in the shade and enjoy a drink and read a book.”

He stops for breath and rubs the back of his neck as he checks Ruri’s expression. “Eh, I don’t know if I’m describing it very well, but I think it would be something you’d like.”

Because Ruri has the same thirst for knowledge as Chrome, as Senkuu himself. It isn’t as science-oriented, but she’s taken to asking him about the Tales. She’s memorized them all from her mother, like every priestess before her, but now that she can, she also wants to know what they mean, and that led to questions about other old-world stories, about fairy tales lost to time, romance novels that are more up Taiju’s alley than Senkuu’s, even old theater plays and the famous names that wrote them. Ruri was the first to ask Senkuu for lessons on the written word. It’s slow-going, but Ruri wants with a passion that Senkuu knows very well, and he thinks that in the modern era, they would’ve had to pry her out of the library every day.

“It sounds wonderful,” Ruri announces, drawing Senkuu’s attention back to the present. She claps her hands together, then spreads them, palms up. Her father despairs of the broken skin and new callouses she sports these days, but she insists on helping with their science, now that she can, and she’s just as stubborn as Kohaku when she wants to be.

“One day, I want us to build our own library, in this world,” She continues, gaze focused on some point beyond her hands, a vision of her own in her mind’s eye. “I want books of our own that we’ll be able to write ourselves, good enough to be passed on to the next generation, and the next, and the next.” She folds her hands together and smiles up at him. Her hair glows almost white in the light of the moon, and the determined steel shining from her face is... incandescently captivating. “I think it would be just as exciting as your science, Senkuu.”

Senku huffs a laugh. “Well, why not? I’m not planning on leaving this world without writing down everything I know, and a library’s not complete without a decent science section.” He leans back and grins up at the sky. “A library’s not any harder than everything else we’ve done so far. And one compiled by all the weirdoes we have in our Kingdom of Science? It’ll be one hell of a library!”

It’s not entirely science-oriented, but Senkuu thinks he could see it anyway. Glass is not an impossibility for them anymore. And if Ryuusui can lead the construction of a ship, then a building wouldn’t be difficult.

A library, three stories high, with floor-to-ceiling windows. Why not?

He pushes off his hands, suddenly itching to do, to make something, to create. He hops off the rock, then turns back to Ruri, and maybe it’s infectious because she looks just as alive as he feels in this moment. When he holds out his hand, she grasps it, but she also half-leaps off the rock after him, and her laughter spills out into the night - silver-bright and free - when he spins her once before setting her on the ground again.

“Tell me a story, Senkuu,” Ruri requests, cheeks flushed, a little breathless, and so, so alive.

What can humanity not do, so long as they live on?

As they begin making their way back towards the village, she slips one hand around the inside of his elbow, fingers light with unspoken question.

Senkuu bends his arm and tucks her hand more securely into the crook of his elbow. Ruri takes a half-step closer, settling into his side as her other hand comes up to join the first.

"Ever heard of old man Homer’s Iliad?”

“You know I haven’t.”

“It’s a long one.”

“I have time. Tell it to me, Senkuu. I want to hear it all.”

#dr stone #senri #ishigami senkuu #ruri #cross writes #oneshot

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a-simple-lee · 5 years

Text

Systematic Error

Bruce Banner, Reader

Synopsis: Getting a lee mood in the middle of conducting research is definitely not convenient, but you plan a way to make it work. It does, just not how you were expecting.

A/n: In other words I’m a massive science nerd, so here! Have this highly self indulgent fic inspired by hcs @squirmycuddles and I have made at like 2am lmao

___________

You’re not sure why you’ve decided to sneak up behind Bruce - well, that’s not true, actually. You’re fully aware that you’re in a massive ‘lee mood right now, and are weighing up the odds of Banner t-wording you if you pester him. Tony seems to accomplish it easily enough, anyway; on a regular basis, too… You pause in your musings, fingers drumming against the lab bench. It occurs to you that you may not be the only touch-starved scientist in the labs.

The centrifuge beeps almost angrily, loud enough to interrupt your train of thought. You remove the samples, and add drops of indicator to a couple, before placing the next rack of samples inside a water bath and setting a timer for half an hour. It only takes a few more minutes to jot down your observations, and you find yourself left to wait for the next round of samples.

You glance to your left; Banner’s hunched over his lab stool, adjusting the coarse focus on his microscope. The pair of you talked for the first few hours, then settled into comfortable silence a while ago. Now or never, you suppose. Your glass of water’s empty, anyway - a good excuse to be getting up. You realize you’re overthinking this way too much. Getting up and striding alongside the bench, you reach out and poke Bruce’s side as you pass. He flinches.

“I’m getting water. You alright? Need anything?”

“I’m fine, thanks.” Banner doesn’t look up. Darn. He does start readjusting the fine focus, though, and you feel a little guilty for jogging him.

“Okay.” A temptation to toe the line encroaches, and you succumb to it - trying not to let your heart jump into your mouth, you pinch his side gently as you turn away, and keep walking. It’s difficult not to look behind you to see if he reacted, but as you push open the glass door on your way out, you catch him looking at you with confusion in the reflection.

You proceed to take twenty minutes 'getting water' - which mostly consists of you filling a cup, pouring it out, crumbling against the kitchen counter in an attempt to compose yourself, and refilling the cup, before repeating the process. It’s only once you remember you have 10 minutes left on the water bath samples that you feel ready to head back down, all the while lamenting the fact that Tony makes irritating people look so easy.

Fortunately, Banner says nothing as you enter the lab again, now finished looking at samples and instead drawing up diagrams.

“Hey, how’s it coming along?” You put down a glass of water for him and put your hand on his shoulder, brushing his neck in the process but pretending you’re none the wiser. Your lab partner twitches and puts his pencil down.

“Good. I- the number of cells in anaphase is higher than the other samples, we might have to disregard this one in calculations.”

“Huh. Odd.” You say, pretending to listen whilst trying not to walk out for another twenty minute water break.

“Yeah. How are the other batches doing?”

“Two are finished, one’s still in the water bath for-” You pause to look at your watch. “-9 minutes.”

“Okay. I might take a break, then.”

“Me too.” You pull your stool over, and sit opposite Bruce as he moves to a clear space on the desk, pausing to check his phone.

“Are you feeling alright today?” He asks.

“Yep, yeah. Why?”

“I dunno, you seem kinda antsy.”

“I’m fine.”

“Okay.” He definitely doesn’t believe you, but lets the subject drop.

“Uh- what about you? Are you doing okay?”

“Yeah! The tests are really interesting, I’m looking forward to finishing them.”

“Same. I should check to make sure they’re not boiling over…” You nod towards the water bath, managing to throw in a quick prod to Bruce’s ribs on your way over. The samples are doing fine; they’ve changed colour slightly compared to before, but if anything look like they could do with a bit longer in the water.

“Did Tony tell you to tickle me in his absence or something?”

You almost drop the test tube rack you’re getting out.

“Sorry- what?”

“You keep tickling me. Why?” This shouldn’t be a surprise to you at all - this acknowledgment of the situation is what you’ve been waiting for, but suddenly you’re praying for the floor to open up. You stay facing the bench, refusing to look at Bruce.

“Just bored, I guess.”

“You sound like Tony right now.”

“I do?” Your equipment’s set up, so you can’t really do much else except for return to your stool opposite.

“Yeah. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were asking for attention.” Banner smiles slightly as he says it, and you instantly wish you’d stayed at the bench.

“Pfft,” You start, but find yourself scrambling for words. “I can assure you, I’m not Tony.”

“Good to know.” He grins, shifting his stool to get back to work. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding.

“…But if you do it again, I’m gonna have to assume that you are.”

“Meaning…?”

Bruce says nothing, but you catch his fingers wiggling as he reaches for a pencil fully in your view.

Your timer goes off, and you rush to unplug the water bath, jotting down the presence and colour of any emulsions.

“Okay, that’s done.” You mutter, gathering up your notes and carrying them over to Banner.

“Good. Thanks.”

“Nothing too out of the ordinary. Most of these are in line with the hypothesis.” As you speak, your hand reaches out to nudge his ribs.

You feel Bruce grab your wrist before you can reach him. Shit.

“Uh-”

Banner stands up, still holding your wrist. “Oh no you don’t.”

You’ve left your lab coat unbuttoned - almost definitely on purpose - and your friend quickly takes advantage of this, snaking his hands under it to wrap them around your sides, fingers latching onto your abdomen before repeatedly squeezing over and over. Laughter swiftly takes over your frame, and you don’t have a chance to move before he backs you against the lab bench. It’s exactly what you were hoping for, but also ten times more embarrassing than you’d expected.

“Bruce-wahahahait!” Your hands find his wrists, and it takes every bit of your resolve not to push them away. Suppressing your impulses to squirm becomes increasingly difficult, so you settle for sinking down a little against the bench, letting go of Bruce’s wrists momentarily to flail your arms out in an attempt to catch yourself.

“Careful, don’t knock over my equipment!” He tuts, darting one hand under your arm - you shoot your hand down to protect yourself, resulting in you slipping clumsily downwards, and his fingers becoming trapped next to your torso. Your attacker follows you down for a bit, before catching you, keeping you cornered between him and the work space as your legs grow weak from laughing too hard.

“Ahahahaha, nohohoho!” You’re sort of propped up against Banner now, trying both to override your reflexes and escape the fingers spidering over your skin - you lift your arm up in the hope that he’ll shift his focus away, but Bruce instead takes it as an invitation to tickle you more, speeding up and digging his thumb gently into the sensitive spot; your arm comes crashing back down, and another wave of hysterics hits as his other hand counts your ribs.

“Any particular reason you felt like being a pain in the ass today?” He starts conversationally, at long last moving his trapped hand to claw at your stomach.

“Nahaha- I told you alreaheheady! I was bohohored!”

“Really? That old excuse? Think of one I haven’t heard from Stark twenty times already, and get back to me.”

“Nohoho!”

“No? What, you want me to guess? Okay, I think you wanted me to tickle you. Because you wanted attention, or- I don’t know, you’re touch starved. Which is fine. But you could’ve asked instead of trying to annoy me.” Bruce starts, slowing down the tickling slightly so he’s audible over your giggling. You’ve never felt a blush run up your neck so fast before.

“Lies!” You cry, trying not to sound as if Banner hasn’t just completely called you out and considering that it should’ve occurred to you that multiple PhDs make somebody observant as well as intelligent.

“Are you sure? Because you’ve been trying not to push me away for a while now.”

“I- shuhuhut up!” It’s the most you can muster with your growing embarrassment, but it seems to act as proof of theory for him.

“So I’m right?” He steps away, leaving you to regain a small amount of your composure with a smile.

“You don’t need to be so insistent, but yeah.” You mumble, doing up your lab coat and standing next to him.

“Sorry?”

“…I said yes. You’re right. Maybe.”

“Okay.” He nods. “So I have two attention-seeking geniuses to work with. That’s fine.”

“…It is?”

“Yeah. Just ask instead of tickling me next time, okay?”

“No promises.” You grin, striding away to your work as Banner sighs. Your days in the lab have just gotten even better.

#marvel #tickle fic #reader insert #ticklish!reader #bruce banner #mcu #mine #ler!bruce #fluff #tickling #drabble #lee!reader #look i love science bros so much and the opportunity of setting a fic in a lab was too much to resist okay

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spoons4spoonies · 5 years

Text

Story Time: POTS diagnosis

I was diagnosed with Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome (or POTS, since that’s a mouthful and a half) in August of last year. It was nearing the end of my gap year, which was supposed to be a period of rest and healing, not of gaining new unwelcome symptoms and new diagnoses.

I had as usual set myself an unrealistically (in hindsight) high goal of becoming a completely healthy and abled person by the time I started university, as I simply could not wrap my head around the idea that I would be able to cope otherwise. In other words, it was get better or you will fail and never amount to anything and always be miserable – and yeah, needless to say as the time drew nearer and my body showed no signs of obeying my strict instructions, I entered more and more panic spirals of despair.

At this point I would like to return to the present to let you know that I have just finished my first year and survived my first lot of exams since the endurance test that was A-levels. Not to say that it has been easy – of course university was never going to be a walk in the park – but I have done well and I should be proud of myself.

(I know this because my mother keeps sending me postcards telling me how amazing I am. Bear in mind that she lives twenty minutes away and visits me once a week – often to hand the postcards over herself to save on postage.)

Anyway, unless you have it or know someone who does, you have probably never heard of POTS. It is essentially a problem with my blood pressure and that is what I stick to when I’m asking someone for their seat on the tube. When a normal fully-abled person stands up, their blood pressure increases slightly to account for the increased effect of gravity – mine does not and as a result my heart is forced to pump faster to keep blood going to my brain. My heart rate can increase by up to forty beats per minute just from getting up off the couch.

Symptoms include dizziness, an inability to stand up for long periods of time, nausea, headaches, fainting (though thankfully I have never experienced that one), digestive problems, fatigue (like I didn’t already have enough of that), heart palpitations (just casually in the middle of the night when you haven’t moved for hours) and even shortness of breath. Of all of these, I would have to say that the heart palpitations are the worst. They do not hurt exactly, but they are terrifying – especially before I had my diagnosis – and make it hard to breathe.

It is hard not to panic when your body is doing it’s very best to simulate a panic attack.

I have a friend whom I met online who suspected they had POTS and I’d been aware of it for some time before I started to consider whether I myself might have it too. I’ve read that about a third of those suffering from Chronic Fatigue Syndrome also have POTS so it wasn’t a wholly unlikely scenario. I had also read the NHS page for it and noted that I had many of the symptoms, however, this was not conclusive proof to me as the problem with autoimmune diseases is that the symptoms overlap a lot.

Then I started a course of birth control pills and my CFS specialist, Dr S, wanted me to take measurements of my blood pressure to check that it wasn’t causing any problems. As it turns out I have fairly low blood pressure, so there’s no risk of getting a stroke from my daily dose of oestrogen. More importantly, I noticed how my heart rate would increase far beyond normal levels if I took a reading whilst sitting down and then another after standing up. This was the proof I needed to self-diagnose.

From there on out it was a case of proving the matter, so we brought it up with Dr S and she referred us to a cardiologist.

There was a bit of a kerfuffle when we arrived at his clinic, as it turned out to be a children’s hospital, which as a nineteen year old I was theoretically not supposed to be treated at. On the bright side, there were a lot of cartoon fish on the walls. Whoever decided that adults don’t need cute animal drawings in hospitals fundamentally misunderstands what it’s like to be in a hospital.

Eventually we managed to sort the whole situation out and I was taken downstairs to have an electrocardiogram. This was to test the electrical activity of my heart – don’t ask me how that works or what exactly the point was because the science went over my head. All I can say is that it didn’t hurt and there was something oddly exciting about being hooked up to a bunch of wires. But that might just be me and all the superhero media I consume.

Then I went to meet the cardiologist, Dr D, and give him a history of my symptoms.

It had not even crossed my mind up until that point that there might be something “seriously” wrong with me, by which I mean something life threatening, so needless to say it rather came as a shock when the cardiologist did an ultrasound of my heart to check that it didn’t have any holes (and I quote). In retrospect it might have been a joke, but it certainly didn’t land well with me.

The fact that I had a cold and unpleasantly slimy machine on my chest and was lying there with only a fairly ratty, old bra to protect my modesty did not help. This again was something that had not occurred to me and I was deeply grateful for the presence of my mother in the room so that she could fill the awkward silence with small talk and I could focus on breathing normally. It is extremely strange to hear your own heartbeat sounding like a foetus’s on TV and be painfully aware of the fact that anyone around will literally be able to hear your nerves.

Ultrasound over with, chest wiped down and clothes thankfully put back on we sat down to discuss what was next. Dr D was fairly confident from my description that I did have POTS but obviously I had to go through the whole process before it could be official. In the meantime he gave us some advice about dealing with the symptoms:

1. Drink lots of water. Aim for three litres a day.

2. Eat lots of salt. Aim for ten milligrams a day.

3. Stand and sit up slowly and jiggle your legs to get the blood moving.

4. Exercise.

This I interpreted as a prescription for Pringles and an excuse to hold in the face of people who tell me to stop fidgeting. My mind happily slid over the recommendation of exercise as a “Problem for later me” A.K.A something I hoped I’d be able to put off indefinitely.

Building up muscle, fitness and stamina are all worthy things and have helped now that I’ve achieved them, but in conjunction with my CFS they have often seemed impossible goals. Also, I like sitting down.

I shall now elaborate on the third recommendation, which I follow every morning, doing a funny little dance about my room to bring my limbs to life. I pity the person who lives below me in my student accommodation… at least I am rarely up before eleven. The hilarious point about this was that Dr D took it upon himself to give us a rather long and overly serious demonstration, standing up from behind his desk and jiggling about on the spot with a completely straight face.

Both my mother and I were struggling to maintain the same level of facial control.

It was a couple of weeks before we could return to London to embark on the next step of diagnosis: getting a blood pressure monitor fitted that must then stay attached for a whole twenty hours, taking measurements on the hour every hour. This was something of a trial as I had to walk around with a bunch of thick tubing wrapped round my neck and with the machine strapped round my bicep.

I garnered a lot of stares as people must have assumed I had something serious going on. The fact that it beeped loudly and inflated with a sound like an airbed being pumped up at every measurement, did not make it inconspicuous to say the least. It also meant that I barely slept through the combination of loud noises and the clamp tightening on my arm.

I was thoroughly exhausted the next day when we went to drop it off and then continue on to a hospital in order to do the tilt test. This involves being strapped to a table which is then tilted upright from the horizontal and then being stuck there for the next twenty minutes (feels like three hours) whilst measurements of your blood pressure and heart rate are taken. I already felt ghastly but by the end of this I was ready to curl up in a ball on the floor and stay there for the rest of my life.

The doctor administering the test ran through the results with us, confirming that I had POTS – though technically we still had to wait for Dr D to give the all clear as it were – and then confidently asserting that I didn’t have CFS and certainly didn’t have any mental health problems and should stop taking my antidepressant straight away since it was all because of POTS and once I started doing some exercise I’d be fine.

Right…. Thanks Karen.

One more appointment later I had my official diagnosis. Alas, having trekked halfway across London to make this appointment, it only lasted ten minutes and mostly consisted of me being told to come back in six months when I had tried some exercise and then we’d see about medication.

We have postponed this reunion indefinitely as I have seen little change for the better – though in truth I have not gotten started on the rigorous exercise plan he had in mind – but nor is it sufficiently bad that I am in desperate need of medication.

I have found that the most useful tool in combatting my symptoms are compression garments as they help with my circulation. I have some tights, a knee support, gloves and several random bits of tubing that can be used anywhere. They reduce pain and allow me to stand up for longer.

Mod H

#pots #pots diagnosis #spoonie #diagnosis #spoonie humor #story time #doctor embarassment

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hellzyeahthewebwieldingavenger · 5 years

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Spider-Man: Life Story #2 Thoughts

Very mixed feelings....again

SPOILERS

Let me get this out the way Bagley is the man on this book. Beautiful art work, beautiful colouring, the works. I especially love him drawing a MJ reminiscent of his 90s take on her but with more modern art flourishes.

Now onto the nitty gritty.

For the last issue I said I had mixed feelings because the premise for Life Story seemed at odds with what was advertised.

Reading ahead for the solicits for the series it became clear that what we were apparently going to get was the events of Spider-Man’s life playing out in real time wherein each of the stories still happened in the decade/time period they originally occurred in but Peter himself would just be the age he’d realistically have been. For example if Peter was 15 in 1962 then in theory when he deals with Kraven’s Last Hunt in 1987 he’d be 40.

Reading this issue though...even THAT isn’t what this book actually is.

What this book actually is... is Chip Zdarsky’s fanfiction.

It’s just a general Alternate Universe.

It’s not even a What If wherein you presume history to be the same up to a point of divergence then explore the repercussions of that divergence.

Like you’d think wouldn’t you that the changes in Spider-Man’s history would be as the natural result of either him aging in real time or him or at least the natural repercussions of dealing with real life history more realistically. Like you’d have thought in the last issue Norman Osborn going to jail would be because of the Vietnam War in some way.

Nope.

He goes to jail because Peter just decides in this universe to spill the beans on him.

Even before that Peter’s history was different because how and when Norman confronted Peter about his identity was radically different as well, not to mention Gwen learning his secret.

Gwen is perhaps the centrepiece of why this is just fanfiction and nothing more.

Zdarsky is very plainly a Gwen stan and you can tell from this as well as his OTHER alternate universe in his Spec run where he had Gwen and Peter also end up together.

So here Gwen and Peter got married and were married for a long while and that’s the status quo we’re jumping into.

Gag me.

But it goes deeper than that.

I’ve never been impressed by Zdarksy as a Spider-Man writer and this issue is perhaps a microcosm of why.

This story, this series had a central premise but that’s not the real premise the real premise is for this to be just Chip Zdarksy randomly remixing and changing pieces of Spider-Man’s history anyway he desires.

Like He’s going to vaguely hit certain beats per decade.

In the 1960s Norman will find out who he is and Flash will join the army.

In the 1970s Gwen will die and maybe MJ and Peter will hook up and there will be clones.

In the 1980s if the cover is to be believed he will be buried alive.

In the 1990s we’re probably getting clones.

But it’s superficial. It’s hitting the beats in spirit but not in sunbstance.

Gwen for instance does not die via a bridge, a Goblin and a misplaced webline.

She dies because Harry (not Norman) throws a bomb at a clone of Gwen stuck in a test tube who was actually the real Gwen.

The issue’s quality honestly very much depends upon how far you personally are willing to buy this AU as being just randomly different.

Because of the false advertising it’s curtailing my enjoyment for sure.

But more than this my enjoyment is curtailed because an awful lot of the changes I strongly suspect are not the result of Zdarsky actively choosing to change things but Zdarksy simply being a crap writer and not understanding the characters in general. Also just being bad at common sense things in his writing.

Let’s go through some of those things:

· Mary Jane getting drunk. Nope. Sorry. Mary Jane was all about her party girl facade and keeping people at a distance, she’d never have compromised her cover and potentially allowed herself to lose control like that. She loved to party and yeah probably enjoyed alcohol but in a controlled manner

· MJ chewing out Peter for allowing Flash to die. WTF was that? MJ knew Peter was Spider-Man and was alternatively sympathetic towards him or else repressed that knowledge because it upset her. It took the Puma invading his home and endangering her life very directly after YEARS for her to finally let that out. Here she sips one too many martinis and it slips out? Not to mention MJ NEVER blamed Peter for Gwen’s death nor Captain Stacy’s. She understood that he couldn’t do everything even with his power and that was when she knew Peter was the guy who literally snapped Gwen’s neck by accident. Does she blame Iron Man and Giant Man for also allowing Flash to die. How does she, or Peter in fact, know Peter would’ve been in Flash’s platoon to protect him in the first place?

· MJ being engaged to Harry. ARE YOU SERIOUS! MJ had COMMTMENT ISSUES why the fuck would she be engaged to him! She also never regarded their relationship as serious at all and broke up with him FFS! This is like screwing up Peter’s origin!

· MJ and Peter tolerate Harry’s drug abuse. Errrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr what?????????????????? Peter ‘guilt/responsibility’ Parker...just sits back and allows his best friend to kill himself with drugs? Mary Jane does that too? MJ whom it was implied in the Drug Trilogy KNEW about Harry’s problem and drifted away from him because of it? WTF Zdarksy.

· MJ is...a DJ...Um....huh? I suspect all of the above can be explained via Zdarksy adopting a simplistic, superficial and frankly possibly somewhat sexist attitude to MJ’s ‘party girl’ label

· Why is Norman still in jail? We know from Marvel Knights he had a contingency in place if he was ever jailed wherein Aunt May would be kidnapped and Peter thus forced to liberate him, a plan he had in place since shortly after he found out Peter’s identity. In this universe Norman knew Peter’s secret for ages BEFORE acting on it so he had plenty of time to dream up that plan but here the plan he made AFTER he was jailed was to get his son to hire a professor to create a clone of himself upon which to pin the blame for his crimes???? That doesn’t even make sense since it doesn’t exonerate him!

The general public would just find out that in spite of the overwhelming evidence the Green Goblin wasn’t Norman Osborn just someone who looked like and had his exact genetics (could genetic science even detect a difference between an original or a clone back in the 1970s?). How does that exonerate him? Wouldn’t someone question if maybe Norman just had the clone created after the fact which is exactly what he did?

Why even go to the trouble of doing that, you might as well have someone with plastic surgery or a mask look like Norman Osborn and reveal they framed Norman for some reason. Or have ANYONE ELSE dress up as the Goblin instead, like Harry for instance instead of having him be...ugh...the Black Goblin...In Hobgoblin Lives Macendale revealing he wasn’t the original Hobgoblin created enough doubt that his case stood a better chance surely Norman could pull the same trick...you know....like he has in canon...twice...Also what was Norman’s plan anyway, the clone of himself gets jailed then he gets free and then...he goes back to being the Goblin...what?????????????

· Norman considering Peter his true heir makes no sense. Yeah eventually Norman dreamed up that scheme but it took him years and multiple defeats by Peter whilst feeling harry was a failure. In this universe none of that history is there, he even respects Harry to a degree so why would he feel Peter was the better choice for his heir?

· Norman dreamed up the clone scheme because he wanted to shatter Peter’s sense of identity. If his hang up was Peter would make a great heir for himself back during the Clone Saga or even after why the fuck did he try to recruit the real Peter instead of just creating a clone for himself? Because to Norman a clone is genuinely a lesser, not a true person at all. So why make a clone Peter in the first place?

· Why do the clones of Peter and Gwen adopt the last names ‘Parker’. Surely a guy called ‘Ben Parker’ who looks just like Peter Parker, who’d dead uncle was Ben Parker, who is also married to a woman who looks like Peter Parker’s dead wife, named after the mother of Peter Parker’s dead mother-in-law would raise some questions. Was Zdarsky really so adverse to just calling them ‘Ben and Helen Reilly’

· I get that they are both clones but the implication here is that Ben and ‘Helen’ are now in a relationship. Why? Ben couldn’t possibly have all of Peter’s up to date memories and Helen was presumed to be the real Gwen ever since she and Peter got married (I’ll explain why in a moment). That means from Helen’s point of view the man she married and was in love with was Peter and not Ben and from Peter’s point of view, sure he married a clone and not the real deal but...so what? From MJ’s point of view in the 1990s Clone Saga most of her relationship with Peter, including their marriage had actually been with the clone not the real Peter, but he was the person she had that history with and was in love with. Helen IS the woman Peter loved and married and she even implies as much when she states because she has all of Gwen’s memories she and MJ will always be friends. So why are she and Peter breaking up? Why is Peter acting like the woman he actually married and had many years of matrimony with dead when in effect he loved two identical women and one of them died. He’s acting like he’s a widower and Helen is meaningless which doesn’t make any sense. Same with Helen, she’s just hooking up with Ben because he’s a clone like her and is nearly identical to her husband but...he isn’t. Peter is the man she loves, Ben hasn’t got all his memories or anything. It’s just a mess

· What was Warren’s plan here? Replace the real Gwen with a clone, put her in a test tube and then somehow this will allow him to be with her? I know Warren is nuts but his mania when it comes to Gwen always made sense within his warped logic

· Warren cloning Gwen and giving her away doesn’t even make sense. Warren only cloned Gwen because she died, he wanted to in a sense bring her back to life. He never tried to clone her when she was alive and practically engaged with Peter. He didn’t even like the idea of any version of Gwen potentially being with Peter, which is why he created a clone of himself to hook up with the Gwen clone he created. Here he’s created a clone of Gwen to what? Trick Peter into marrying the fake while he gets to keep the real one in mint condition in a tank? What??????????????????

· The reason I say Helen must have been the one who married Peter is because there is no way in Hell Warren would have walked the real Gwen down the aisle to marry Peter. Not ever. But if that is the intention...it makes no sense

· Why is Warren nice to Peter? In those silver age stories he was gruff and not that nice to him a lot of the time precisely because he was jealous of him. What, because he has the real Gwen that means he’s okay with Peter?

· Doc Ock is a reformed bad guy because in spite of the age difference and the fact that he’s nearly died multiple times (like I dunno in the accident that gave him his powers in the first place) marrying Aunt May and having a heart attack made him change his ways. Um...no...No, no, no those things would absolutely not cause Doc Ock to change his ways. He never really loved Aunt May, he just had affection for her because of his own Mommy issues and he’s nearly died countless times. Like surely the fact that he remained a villain after all those times, including his near death misses across Superior Spider-Man and Slott’s run, barely sort of reforming right at the end of ASM #800, is proof Doc Ock isn’t the guy who stops to smell the roses after a near miss. Not to mention in this universe I guess Spider-Man didn’t stop the wedding in time so Otto actually married Aunt May and then...was content to just wait until she died to get that island she inherited....

· Zdarsky apparently loved those Marc Webb movies because he not only wrote Gwen closer to Emma Stone, not only shipped her with Peter, but also leaned in on the Osborn sickness thing and decided to borrow the whole ‘Peter is a better son than you Harry’ angle from the Raimi movies too. Because why use the real canon I guess

· Why does anyone blame Peter for not helping Flash when fucking Iron Man and Giant Man are in Vietnam too?

· Why kill Flash? Again, wasn’t this series supposed to be Spider-Man’s life just in real time? You’ve just blown up all those Hobgoblin and Agent Venom stories playing out in real time because you wanted to do something arbitrarily different that also wanted to pretend like MJ would be super angry about Flash dying because Peter could have saved him...somehow...what?

· I’m sorry but...how the Hell is the Vietnam War still happening if Iron Man and Giant Man are involved? In the actual 1960s-1970s you had to suspend your disbelief about heroes involved in the war because realistically they would have altered it’s outcome, much as Superman could’ve ended WWII in a day. But in this AU Captain America, Iron Man AND Giant Man, super powered beings with immense intelligence and tech resources are actively involved in the war. Why the fuck are the Viet Cong still a thing at that point. I’m not trying to diss the real life Viet Cong, but realistically they might be able to fend off the then contemporary united states military but IRON MAN too? No absolutely not, Stark would’ve found a way to deal with them very easily just as Doctor Manhattan did in Watchmen

· Why is Iron Man even involved? Wasn’t Tony Stark’s whole origin about him realizing weapons are bad, war profiteering is bad, it hurts everyone. Why then is he using his weapon of war, the Iron Man armour, to help fight the Viet Cong??????????????????

· And on top of all this shit...the timeline doesn’t even make sense. This is essentially the Clone Saga/the Death of Gwen Stacy reference right? Okay cool...the latter happened in 1973 and the former in 1975...so why the fuck does this issue happen in 1977 with the epilogue in 1978????????????????????

I guess if you just entirely turn your brain off and treat this as akin to the Ultimate Universe where things are different for the sake of being different and all the riffing on the original history is fanservice then it’s enjoyable enough.

But as advertised, as obviously intended...its immensely problematic.

And frankly, once and for all this issue alone has convinced me Zdarksy is not a good Spider-Man writer because he clearly does not get these characters.

P.S. The redesigned costume looked...nice....but again it plays into the ‘this is different for the sake of being different’ thing rather than actually being a change that’d be natural due to the alterations in history.

P.P.S. Once again the real life historical aspects of the issue aren’t really relevant to the primary plot of the issue, and are window dressing at best. Actually they’re even more window dressing that issue #1

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thelastspeecher · 5 years

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Bakery AU - Decorating the Cupcakes

On the discord last night, we talked about the Bakery AU a bit, and that got me inspired to write some cute fluffy shit. Because you can always use some cute, fluffy, cupcake-involving writes in your life. Enjoy.

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Stan walked into the kitchen. The person Lute had sent him in to talk to, Angie, was decorating a three-tier wedding cake. The tip of her tongue stuck out of the corner of her mouth. Stan had noticed before how that always seemed to happen when she focused intently. He inhaled.

“Smells good in here,” he said. Angie looked up from the wedding cake.

“I sure hope so!” she chirped. “Since I baked some cupcakes earlier, if it don’t smell good, then somethin’ went wrong.” Angie nodded at the wall hooks by the door, where Stan’s apron was hanging. “Get suited up, boyo.”

“Boyo?” Stan mumbled, putting his apron on and tying it around his waist.

“I’m older than you by a couple months, I can call ya that,” Angie replied. She frowned at the wedding cake, then sighed. “Well, that’s as good as it’ll get fer now. C’mon, join me.” Angie strolled over to the counter by one of the ovens, where a large number of cupcakes had been laid out. Stan followed, dread building.

“Uh, when Lute said you were gonna teach me, I thought it was more baking lessons.”

“Nope! Decoratin’.” Angie grinned at Stan. “It’s high time we got ya started on that.”

“Shouldn’t Lute be teaching me? He’s got the nicest handwriting.”

“Sure, but I have steadier hands. That’s why I’m the one who does the more important decorations and finer details.” Angie walked over to the fridge and opened it. “Havin’ steady hands was really useful back in labs in school,” she added, seemingly as an afterthought.

“Labs?” Stan asked, hoping to delay the decorating lesson. Angie nodded.

“Science labs.”

“Was it a gen ed requirement or something?”

“Pardon?” Angie frowned at him, bemused.

“I mean, if you went to culinary school or majored in uh…I dunno…food or whatever, why would you take science labs, if they weren’t gen eds?”

“Well, yer mistake there was assumin’ I went to culinary school. I didn’t.” Angie began to dig around in the fridge. “Went to a fancy science technical school. Got myself a bachelor’s in science. Major in biology, minor in chemistry.” She removed a few containers of frosting. “‘Course, the whole environment or atmosphere or whatever ya want to call it, it was rough. Very competitive. Dog eat dog.” She closed the fridge door with more force than necessary. “Rich snobby folks who didn’t like the charity case farmgirl from Arkansas,” she spat. Stan grimaced.

Fuck. The last time I saw her this pissed off, it was when I let slip that I got kicked outta the house. She and Lute seemed ready to drive to Glass Shard Beach and beat up Pops themselves. Angie let out a long sigh.

“I’m not that heartbroken over bein’ done with that school,” she continued. “Didn’t like just about anyone there.”

“…What school was it?” Stan asked.

“West Coast Tech,” Angie answered. She carried the frosting over to the counter. Stan’s jaw dropped.

The fancy-ass school Ford couldn’t get into?

“I know, I know, I don’t seem like the type to get into a place like that,” Angie said, setting the frosting down. She began to dig through drawers, pulling out various utensils.

“No, it’s not that, it’s just-” Stan chewed on his lip. “Remember how you tricked me into blabbing about my twin brother, Ford?”

“Vaguely.” Angie’s tone was light, but her shoulders tightened. Stan recognized this behavior. She was getting ready to jump to his defense.

“Don’t worry, this isn’t about him being shitty or my dad being shitty or anything like that,” Stan said quickly. Some of the stress left her shoulders, but Angie was still visibly on edge. “It’s- Ford’s a genius. Like, legit genius. And he didn’t get into West Coast Tech. So to hear that you got into it, it’s-” Stan winced. “There’s no way for me to finish that sentence without insulting you, is there?”

“Nope. But it’s fine.” Angie smiled at him. Stan felt his heart flutter. “I get it. And thank you fer sharin’ more ‘bout yer past.”

“Well, you were telling me about yours, so fair’s fair,” Stan said with a shrug. Angie chuckled. “But if you went to West Coast Tech for science, how’d you end up owning a bakery with Lute?”

“I took a gap year after I got my bachelor’s.” Angie leaned against the counter, her gaze distant. “Needed it, after the awful climate at WCT. They accepted me into their grad program, but I wasn’t sure if I wanted to stay there fer it or not. Anyways, while I was tryin’ to decide, Lute visited. And signed the two of us up fer a bakin’ competition.” Angie shook her head. “Still don’t know what possessed him to do it. Maybe he saw a flyer while he was out at a club or somethin’.”

“And you guys won the competition?”

“Oh, heavens no!” Angie laughed. “A professional baker beat us. But we got second place, and managed to impress one of the judges enough that he told us if we wanted to start a bakery, he’d give us the money we need to get it off the ground.” She shrugged. “And we took ‘im up on the offer.”

“Really? Just like that?”

“Yep.”

“What about your science degree?”

“What about it?”

“You didn’t do anything with it.”

“Eh.” Angie pointed at him. “Don’t think I can’t tell exactly what yer doin’, by the way. Lute ‘n I used to pull the same thing to get out of doin’ work. Yer tryin’ to get me to jabber ‘n jabber ‘n jabber until we run out of time fer ya to learn how to frost some cupcakes. No sirree bob.” Angie handed him a pastry bag. “First, we need to put the frosting in the bag. Then we can get to work on frostin’.”

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For about fifteen minutes, they worked quietly, Angie preferring to show him how to decorate, rather than tell.

“Oop, yer a lil off,” Angie said in a soft tone. She reached for Stan’s hand. The second her skin touched his, Stan froze. “Uh, Stan?”

“I, uh, um-” Stan stammered.

“Somethin’ wrong?”

“Uh, no. No.”

“Okay, well, here, let me help.” Angie carefully put her hand over Stan’s, guiding and steadying him. Her fingers were much smaller than Stan’s, slim, warm, and gentle. Stan could feel his face beginning to flush. “Like that. Got it?” Stan’s face burned. “Stan?”

“Yep. Yep. Got it,” Stan mumbled.

“Good.” Angie let go of his hand. “Oh dear, yer shakin’ like a leaf! Are ya sure yer okay?”

“Y-y-yeah. I am.” Stan set down the pastry bag. “So, uh, it seems like a bit of a waste to have me decorate these, since they won’t be good enough to sell.”

“Oh, that won’t be a problem,” Angie said cheerfully. “We can always sell ‘em at a discount. Or donate ‘em to the food bank. We’ll prob’ly do the second one. Folks always want cupcakes fer parties, and people with money issues should have access to ‘em, too.”

“…You and Lute are good people,” Stan said quietly. Angie began to set aside the decorated cupcakes.

“We try,” she replied.

“You succeed. I’ve seen how much stuff you donate. Most people wouldn’t do that.”

“We were raised right, is all. And I can tell yer tryin’ to get out of yer lesson, again.” Angie wagged her finger at him playfully.

“Heh. You caught me.”

Not really. Stan watched Angie continue to pick up a few small things here and there. You guys really are good. A lot better than I am, that’s for sure. Better than Ford, too. Angie gave up science to bake cupcakes and brownies with her twin brother. Ford gave up on me to go do science. A thought occurred to him.

“Do you miss science?” Stan asked. Angie eyed him.

“Stan, we really should get back on track.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. But before we do, will you answer that question?”

“…Fine.” Angie looked down at the counter. She brushed a few stray sprinkles away. “Yes. I do miss it sometimes. I really liked bein’ in biology and chemistry. I mean, I’m happy now, and I don’t think I’d give up what Lute and I have goin’ fer us. But I definitely miss bein’ a scientist.” Angie smiled faintly. “It really…spoke to me. Y’know?”

“Yeah. I do.” Stan rubbed the back of his neck. “Hey, uh, if you miss science, maybe you should sorta, um, mix it with the bakery.”

“What?”

“Ugh, I can’t fuckin’ talk sometimes,” Stan said with an awkward laugh. He coughed. “You could combine science and cupcakes.” Angie was now watching him intently. “Like, um, make science-themed cupcakes or whatever.” Angie’s eyes widened. “Make stuff look like beakers or test tubes, or do those uh, those stick drawings.”

“Yer referrin’ to molecular diagrams.”

“Sure.”

“Ooh.” Angie’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “Oh, goodness, Stan. That’s brilliant! Yer a genius!”

“I don’t think-”

“No, seriously, that’s an amazing idea. We could partner with a science camp or somethin’, make it a whole event and have science-themed pastries all day. I love it!” Angie gushed. Stan blinked.

“R-really?”

“Yes!” Angie jumped excitedly. She walked over to Stan and took a hold of his hands. A slow smile began to spread across Stan’s face. “Oh, I have to talk to Lute, and we’ll set up a whole thing. This’ll be great. Perfect way to indulge my scientific side and it’ll be a good promo thing. Goodness, goodness, goodness.”

“Glad you like it,” Stan said, now grinning broadly. “I guess we should get back to-” Angie kissed him on the cheek. Stan’s face immediately turned deep red. He stumbled back, knocking over the tray with the wedding cake on it. The wedding cake went flying, collapsing into crumbs and bits of frosting. Once the air cleared, Stan met Angie’s eyes. Her mouth was open in a silent “O”. “Angie’, I’m-” Stan started. Angie burst out laughing.

“What a day!” she chortled. “I find out more ‘bout yer mysterious twin brother, you tell me I should have a science-themed day fer the bakery, we destroy the weddin’ cake I spent the last couple days on.” She wiped a tear away from her eye. “Dear me.”

“You’re- you’re not mad at me?” Stan asked quietly. Angie laughed again.

“What? No! I was the one who startled ya. Sorry ‘bout that. It was a bit forward of me.”

“I- um, it’s- it’s fine,” Stan mumbled.

If you wanna really apologize, you could always kiss me again. The suggestion died on Stan’s tongue. I shouldn’t say that. She kisses Lute on the cheek all the time. It doesn’t mean she likes me romantically. Honestly, it almost definitely doesn’t mean she wants to be more than friends. And if I tell her to kiss me again, she’ll get pissed and Lute will get pissed and they’ll kick me out, and-

“Stan?” Angie’s voice broke off Stan’s panicked thoughts. “Uh, not to end our lesson early, but I think I need to get to work on replacin’ the weddin’ cake. So maybe you should go help out Lute up front.”

“Oh! Yeah. Yeah, I can do that,” Stan said quickly. Angie nodded, still smiling. Emboldened by the fact that she wasn’t upset with him, Stan took a step forward. “But before I go up front…” Angie looked up at him, curiosity in her bright blue eyes. Stan plucked a large cake crumb out of Angie’s hair. He grinned at her. “You had something in your hair.” Angie turned pink. “All right, now I’ll go help Lute. I’m sure he’s completely failing without me around.” Angie chuckled softly, her cheeks still flushed. Stan winked at Angie and walked out of the kitchen. Lute, organizing a few pastries in the display case, looked over.

“Uh, did ya have a food fight with the cupcakes?” he asked. Stan ran his hands through his hair, combing out the crumbs.

“Nah. I knocked over the wedding cake. So she’s gotta make a new one instead of continue teaching me how to decorate.”

“Wait, what? Oh man, I bet Angie gave ya quite the dressin’ down.”

“No, she didn’t.” Stan joined Lute by the display case. “She laughed, actually.”

“…She did?” Lute’s voice was quiet. Stan looked at Lute. He seemed to be thinking hard about something.

“What’s on your mind?”

“Nothin’,” Lute said after a moment. He cleared his throat. “All right, let’s get this place shipshape.”

“You got it.” As Lute bustled around, getting the bakery ready to be opened, Stan glanced back at the door leading to the kitchen. Stuck in his mind was the sound of Angie’s laugh, the sparkle in her eyes, her blushing face.

“Hey, daydreamin’ Steven,” Lute’s voice said, startling Stan out of his reverie. Stan looked up. “You ready fer the customers?”

“You know it,” Stan said confidently. Lute flipped the sign over to read “OPEN”.

It’s showtime.

#I bring you fluffy bakery Stangie on this fine summer's day #I hope it is to everyone's satisfaction #it's certainly to mine #Bakery AU #Stangie #Stanley Pines #Angie McGucket #Lute McGucket #my writing #my stuff #ficlet #speecher speaks

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tyrantofthefirmament · 5 years

Text

Unexpected Development

The protofrom Shockwave and Starscream stole from the Well of AllSparks has developed considerably. Shockwave monitors its condition carefully, and sends Starscream updates. When an unusual development occurs, Shockwave asks Starscream to come in person. Does the coloration seen on the growing Seeker’s plating represent something unprecedented in Cybertronian science? And what about the strange Spark readings Shockwave has detected, that could place the fragile new life in danger?

@shockb00b is in block quotes

Checking on the protoform was part of Shockwave’s daily routine. All of the nutrient levels were normal, and the spark frequency readings were stable and strong. For the most part, Shockwave didn’t remove the screen from the tank wall - it filtered out light and helped to simulate the well, but this time something drove him to take it down. It had been some time since he had actually looked at the protoform - he wanted to disturb it as little as possible, after all - but curiosity was once again getting the better of him.

As it was, Shockwave hadn’t looked at any protoform, and a small pulse of pride went through his spark as he gazed into the tank at what would be the first of a new generation of Seekers. It was larger, that was for sure, and the wing kibble was more distinct - and more clearly Vosnian. All within expected parameters. Well, almost.

Color was starting to tint the wings, and Shockwave tilted his helm slightly, curiosity and pride giving way to something similar to concern. Certain frametypes had certain natural colorations, which could be changed later in life - but very few mechanisms emerged from the Well with no coloration.

The issue was that Shockwave didn’t know if purple was in the natural range of Vosnians. It was with a resigned vent that Shockwave replaced the screen and went into the main room of his lab to contact the last remaining expert on Vosnians.

“Starscream, would you please meet me at my lab? I know you prefer in-person updates on projects, and I would like to share the protoform’s progress.”

Starscream flicked a wing when Shockwave’s comm came in. Updates from the scientist were becoming common, but the Seeker still didn’t find it routine. Things had been progressing very well with the project, and for all he and Shockwave knew, everything was as normal as could be, given the circumstances. Still, Starscream couldn’t help being nervous whenever Shockwave gave him an update.

“I’m on my way,” he said, talons already rattling across his groundbridge controls. Moments later he stepped into Shockwave’s lab, wings spread and hands folded against the small of his back. He glanced around, trying not to appear jittery.

“So,” he said, optics drifting over to the covered tank. “What news do you have?”

Shockwave nodded in greeting, recognizing that - as usual - Starscream wanted to take care of business and then leave. He didn’t blame him either, and simply removed the cover from the tank. “I believe the protoform is beginning to develop its base adult coloration, but I am not an expert on neither traditional nor natural Seeker coloration.”

There was a pause as Shockwave looked at the protoform in a way that almost seemed fond before turning back to Starscream. “So I commed you. If it’s not… normal, I shall make adjustments and see if that fixes the issue - provided it is one.”

Nodding, Starscream stepped up beside Shockwave so he could look into the tank. This was unusual, getting to actually look at the protoform, and the flare of his wings showed excitement as well as pride. He looked as though the development of coloration and the added growth he could already see were evidence of the superior vigor of Seekers, or even a personal achievement of his own.

He peered into the glass for a moment, then leaned closer. His optics widened, and he leaned this way and that, watching the light play over the thin metal planes before turning a sharp glare towards Shockwave.

“Purple? Why is it purple?”

If Shockwave could, he probably would’ve rolled his optic. Of course Starscream would be accusatory after seeing the coloration. Although they were not logical, all of Starscream’s behaviors fell in the expected perameters for the mech - so Shockwave ignored his tone and pulled up the data on the protoform’s growth.

“I was hoping you could clarify as to why.” Shockwave said, handing a datapad with the information over. “I have not altered anything about the environment since I removed it from the Well. Is purple within standard Vosnian colorations? Like I said, adjustments can be made.”

“It’s not. Not out of the Well, anyway,” Starscream said, frowning as he glanced over the datapad. He had no idea what the normal parameters for a protoform were, so a lot of the data didn’t mean much to him, but he kept looking at it as he talked, flicking his claw to scroll through the report.

“Seekers’ Cybertanium is typically oxidized white or pale silver, or else anodized orange or blue… depending on when they climb out of the Well.” He twitched a wing and looked into the tank again. “Purple… It’s not one of our base colors. It has to be painted or -” Another wing twitch, and he turned to stare at Shockwave. “Or scanned. But…. but it hasn’t scanned anything.”

After a moment he vented and shoved the datapad back at Shockwave, giving one last almost helpless glance at the slew of data before flaring his wings. “Are you sure you replicated the conditions in the Well properly?”

Shockwave’s antennae flicked as he listened to Starscream’s description of base colors. So the color was something to be concerned about. When he asked about the conditions, Shockwave visibly shifted.

“Admittedly? No.” He said with a small vent. “I doubt I can create a perfect replication, since the Well seems to constantly be in flux. I do have it as close as my equipment can get, but that might not be enough.”

Another possibility popped into this processor, but Starscream wouldn’t like it. Fortunately, Shockwave didn’t particularly care what Starscream thought, so he was going to do it anyway. After telling him, at least.

“I am going to test the protoform’s CNA to see if the removal altered it in some way.” He said abruptly. “If not, then I will start examining where the fault came from.”

“Altered?” Starscream flicked a wing. “Altered how? It’s not going to harm it right?” He didn’t bother hiding the concern in his voice, though it was tempered with an equal measure of irritation.

For a moment he just stood there, glancing back and forth between Shockwave and the protoform, and then he stepped closer to the scientist. “Well then be quick about it!” He swept his hand toward… something… maybe toward wherever Shockwave’s testing equipment was. “The sooner we find out why it’s purple, the better!”

“Patience, Starscream. A CNA test takes some time.” Shockwave said as he closed the distance between himself and the tank the protoform was in. He always kept tools around the tanks just in case it was needed for something like this. Opening the top of the tank was as easy as typing a few things into the keypad. There was a hiss when it opened, and Shockwave made sure to sterilize the scraping tool before dipping it in the tank and scraping it against the protoform.

He withdrew the tool and placed the scraping in a test tube before closing the tank once more. Another tool was quickly grabbed and a similar process was repeated, but on himself.

And then he turned to Starscream. “I have a hypothesis about the coloration.”

Telling Starscream to be patient was a sure way to cause the always thin thread of his patience to snap. “Then get ON with it!” he snapped, flaring his wings bigger and leaning over to stare at Shockwave as he approached the tank, as if that might somehow make him go faster.

He grew still, however, when Shockwave reached into the tank to take a scraping from the protoform, talons curling slightly in apprehension. Only when the tank was closed again did he move or even vent.

When Shockwave then took a scraping off of his own plating, Starscream’s optics narrowed. “What hypothesis?” he hissed through gritted dentae.

“Cross-contamination.” Shockwave provided simply before using a different tool to scrape Starscream’s plating from where he stood. It seemed like he didn’t want to get close to the Seeker. “We both handled raw cybermatter and a still-forming protoform. It could have picked up some of our CNA. So far I only see Seeker development, aside from color, but I still believe it is likely that its CNA is now… a recombinant form.”

Of course, this was all working from theory. Shockwave wasn’t quite working in the dark, but it was still new territory. Starscream might not be able to tell, but Shockwave was actually consciously holding his antennae still. He didn’t want the Seeker to notice his excitement at the prospect.

Starscream jerked away from Shockwave’s tool. It didn’t hurt, but if he hadn’t stepped back and checked himself, he would have assaulted the scientist for touching him. And for what he said next.

“Contamination?” he shrieked. “I knew it was bad idea to take it from the Well! This is all your fault! You-” He ended on a growl and thrashed his wings. For once words failed him. All he wanted to do was tear Shockwave into tiny pieces, but with every new development Starscream found himself more out of his league and more in need of Shockwave’s expertise. And Shockwave must be eating it up - weird genetics were his favorite, and he got to be the expert as well.

Starscream’s seething was palpable as he slid his palm down his face and pulled air through his vents. He stepped up to Shockwave and drew himself higher, dangerously close, then pointed to the tool with his own CNA sample on it. “So it’s purple. Fine.” It didn’t sound fine, and Shockwave would be able to feel the hot air pouring from Starscream’s facial vents as he barely contained his fury. “I touched it for longer than you did - what did it get from me?”

Shockwave’s antennae flattened out when Starscream screeched. That was irritating enough, but he cleared his vox to answer Starscream and- oh that was too close. The scientist took a couple steps back before speaking. “I am not sure yet. I will have to test the CNA. Please allow me to work.”

He then finished the sample and began running the tests, watching the screen with something akin to anticipation. This was unintended, but Primus alone knew how pleased Shockwave was. Cross-genetics were theoretically possible, but not quite like this. This was unprecedented.

The monitor bliped and began displaying the Protoform’s CNA code along with Starscream and Shockwave’s. A few keystrokes, and then the data was being analyzed for matches. Shockwave’s natural coloration popped up as a match first, but that was expected.

Starscream watched impatiently as the program compared their data, and his scowl deepened when the coloration match appeared first. “Obviously,” he hissed, squinting at the computer as if that might make it go faster.

A few more sections of code were highlighted, and a window popped up with analysis. Starscream’s wings lifted slightly - the match was from him this time. “There’s some!” He tilted his head, studying the readout, then glanced at Shockwave. “What part of the code is that?” Shockwave’s program still kept the data in terms of CNA coding, which was far too dense for the untrained Seeker to make sense of without references and joors of work.

Shockwave examined the code for a few seconds before translating it for Starscream. “It says that the protoform absorbed the code for your talons - I was not aware those were natural I had assumed that those were a mod, but I suppose they were reinforced - and… your heel struts, it seems.”

He continued the scan for a few more moments before determining that no other matches had emerged. “It seems that there are no other matches at this time. More may arise as time goes on, but I doubt that there will be. It seems the contamination was… minimal.”

That was great news! Not only was the contamination not dangerous, it was actually a bonus. Starscream nodded and studied his talons as Shockwave explained. “They are slightly modded - I had them lengthened by 50% and they have reinforced cores. I remember they had to be coded into my cna though, so my t-cog has proper instructions to shift them when I form my blasters. My landing gear, however, is part of my natural good looks.”

He didn’t bother hiding how pleased he was at the news, and when Shockwave finished speaking, he grinned. “Don’t sound so disappointed. The protoform shouldn’t have been contaminated anyway, but it ended up with my second and fourth best features. And purple isn’t that bad of a color.” He shrugged, then turned to stare through the glass at the protoform. The endoskeleton hadn’t formed extremities yet, but eventually it would have splendid hands and feet.

If he was capable of it, Shockwave probably would’ve rolled his optic at Starscream’s preening. “I will run another cross-check once the protoform’s armor has began to form. I have an estimated time span, but I am not sure.”

He paused before looking over at Starscream. “Are you still in contact with that medic, Knock Out, I believe he was called?”

“Oh?” Starscream’s wings perked up as he turned. “How long will it be?”

He blinked. “Yes….” His involvement with Shockwave wasn’t exactly something he’d been upfront about to Knockout. Or, more precisely, he hadn’t told the medic at all, and it had been long enough that he had no idea how explain why he had hidden it. “Why?”

Shockwave waved his hand. “A few weeks at the least if it keeps developing at this rate.” He said, looking back over at the tank and making sure it was properly covered. “Although I have seen exponential curves in predacon protoforms, so even though the growth has been linear insofar the probability is still there - of course, the only matches between this protoform and a predacon’s protoform is base CNA code that all Cybertronians share. I remember one mech called it- something. Primus’ mark or something equally asinine.”

Shockwave paused. He had gone on a tangent. That hasn’t happened in a very long time. “I asked about Knock Out for a singular reason that connects to many motivations. Simply put: I am not a medic. I can keep a frame running and I can monitor growth and keep things at what are logical optimal levels, but ultimately I lack the skill in practical as opposed to theoretical medical situations.”

Starscream groaned, disappointed that he’d still have to wait a few weeks, and turned away with a scoff at the mere thought of comparing the protoform to a Predacon. Even if that meant it might grow faster….

There were still so many unknowns. A real medic, one who was, despite his claims, better at fixing ‘em than breaking ‘em, was needed.

“Very well, I’ll bring Knockout soon.” For a while he looked at the tank, then flicked his wings down. “You don’t think this will cause a problem, do you? The other readings are still good?”

“Everything is within expected parameters.” Shockwave replied. “Optimum development will likely occur once Knock Out can advise me on the protoform’s development. Although…”

He was silent for a moment, antennae flicking as he stared at the tank before turning to Starscream.

“Tell me. Do you know what an Outlier is?”

Logically, Shockwave suspected he might. After all, Skywarp had been one. The question was, in effect, do you know what he was?

Starscream’s wing twitched when Shockwave paused, and he turned to face him, strangely unsettled by the question. He wasn’t sure if there was actually such a thing as Outliers, or how miraculous they truly might be, but if there was such a thing… then he knew one, once.

“It’s… a person who has a trait or ability outside the parameters of ordinary functions.” He answered quietly but precisely, as if reciting a definition back in his academy days, but then his optics softened. “Someone with a gift…”

Suddenly he flicked his wings and drew himself up, looking away. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“The protoform’s spark has been displaying energy levels outside the perameters of normal functioning.” Shockwave replied. How he managed to sound sarcastic without changing tone of voice was a mystery. “I don’t believe it’s anything to worry about. I’ve just studied some Outliers in my time, and the patterns are in line with an Outlier’s spark. That’s all.”

He went back to his console to copy the files on the protoform for Starscream. “We can’t tell anything until it is fully developed, unfortunately. It is simply a… wait and see type of situation.”

Starscream glared at Shockwave, but when the scientist moved off to his console he turned back to the tank. ‘That’s all’ was easy for Shockwave to say. He’d known about Outliers and studied them, and recognized an Outlier pattern in the protoform’s Spark output. That meant the new Seeker could have abilities that set it apart, or make it a target. Or even… make it a little too interesting to Shockwave. A shiver ran down his wings, and he flicked them, trying to shake the unsettled feeling.

He tried to focus on the fact that Shockwave was, as far as he could tell, sharing everything he knew, and on the assurance that the protoform was growing properly. Laying his hand on the glass he leaned close, hesitating before resting his forehead against it as well. “Yes… I suppose all we can do is wait…”

“I… cannot assure the protoform’s safety.” Shockwave said. “Not after it emerges. If it is an Outlier I will do my best to restrain myself from experimenting too significantly. I do not to repeat what happened during Trypticon.”

He dipped his helm, optic dimming. “I cannot- I know you have no desire to discuss this, but given the Protoform’s spark patters, I need to tell you. I will want to experiment. I will want to pick it apart and see how its ability works. My curiosity drove what I did in Trypticon. I do not know if it will happen again. I do not want to fall back on old patterns.”

It was hard to tell exactly why Shockwave was opening up to Starscream like this. He didn’t trust the Seeker. That had been made explicitly clear, multiple times. But… Shockwave knew Starscream’s patterns. There was no doubt in his processor that if Starscream was given ammunition that could be used to destroy him, he would keep it to himself until it was time to be used.

“I cannot afford to lose myself like I did.” Shockwave said, voice barely above a whisper, although next to the silence of his lab, he could have shouted it. “I need to be controlled. If that means you stopping me through violent methods, then so be it. If it means I do not interact with the protoform after it emerges… I will understand. Ultimately, the decision is yours. You are the Air Commander. You are Winglord of Vos.”

It was impossible for Shockwave to make the expression, but the way he was holding himself changed to give the impression of a self-depricating wry smile. “I am simply the mad scientist you employ. It is… my place, it seems.”

When Shockwave started speaking, Starscream turned, wings hiking high and stiff over his shoulders. What was Shockwave playing at, coming right out and saying such things? Was it a veiled threat? Blackmail? Surely the scientist was conscious of the stakes here, and the advantage he held with the protoform stuck in his lab. And he knew Starscream knew. Spelling it out like that could only mean he was about to make a move, to reveal a trap or begin some kind of extortion.

Starscream’s claws curled into fists at the mention of Trypticon, at what he could only assume was a reference meant to remind him how powerless he could be made, but as Shockwave kept talking, it sounded more and more like… a confession. And a plea.

When Shockwave finished by deferring to him, Starscream only frowned. Such a clarification of their roles from Shockwave’s own vocalizer would normally have him puffed up and preening, but all he felt now was irritation and a slow, warming anger. He crossed his arms over his chest and shifted his weight, placing himself directly between Shockwave and the tank, though he wasn’t consciously aware of the positioning.

“Very well, Shockwave, since we’re speaking plainly, know that the protoform being an Outlier makes no difference. The Seeker is coming with me once it comes online - that was always the plan. I don’t trust you with it and it’s refreshing to hear that you know why.” It wasn’t refreshing at all - Shockwave had called him out, though perhaps not deliberately, and he didn’t like having all his cards on the table. He preferred to keep such things to himself until he had a reason to reveal them, and this galled him.

It wasn’t entirely true either. He’d considered whisking the Seeker away, of course, but he also had grown quite comfortable with the idea of regularly using Shockwave’s lab, and even taking him up on his suggestion of making Seeker clones. In some of those scenarios he had pictured an unknown (and apparently purple) Seeker at his side. Now he had the Spark-freezing realization that he’d almost left his people vulnerable again, and brought another loss on himself at Shockwave’s hand. He wasn’t about to let that happen.

He stepped forward, squaring his shoulders and wings, his expression darkening. “And yes, stopping you through violent methods is my favorite part of many scenarios. But don’t worry about that just yet-” One corner of his mouth curled into smirk. “I haven’t run out of jobs for a mad scientist.”

Shockwave remained where he stood, optic silently boring into Starscream as he listened to him speak. Saying his stance was passive would be… inaccurate. He was very much alert and listening to every word Starscream said, and he eventually dipped his helm when Starscream said it had always been in his plan to keep the new Seeker away from him.

“Then we are on the same page.” Shockwave agreed. A small sound that may have been a chuckle left his frame when Starscream essentially threatened his life. “So long as you have a use for me, Starscream. I just have one question: when you ultimately come to take my spark, will you be stabbing me in the back or the front?”

It was easy to miss, but the last question out of Shockwave’s vox was laced with sarcasm.

Starscream didn’t answer right away. He just let his optics wander over Shockwave’s frame, appraising, sizing up weak spots, and he didn’t try to hide it. He wanted it to be obvious that he was plotting a murder. At last a dark laugh formed in his vocalizer and he gave a flippant wave of his claws.

“My dear Shockwave, is it really a stab in the back if one both expects and deserves it? Still, I’d watch both if I were you.”

Flicking his wing with finality and showing the scientist his back, he looked into the tank again. Even with Shockwave’s coloration, the Protoform was beautiful, and Starscream loved looking at it. Now though, the peace it had brought him was gone. All he could think of was the Trypticon experiments, of the horrible glint of curiosity he’d seen in Shockwave’s optic back then, and that stare now being directed at this Seeker. The fact that Shockwave had seen fit to warn him didn’t help much, with the fragile life trapped here in his lab. Still, they were on the same page. Shockwave knew his place. Perhaps he was even making an effort.

“We have an understanding, Shockwave.” His voice was low as he laid his talons on the glass of the tank. “That’s more than I can say for most people. Keep up the good work and you might find your stay of execution lasts, well, I won’t promise indefinitely, but…” He glanced over his shoulder, giving a slight nod. Things were going well, the sickening dread closing on his Spark notwithstanding. He wanted it to last, and he was patient.

Shockwave dipped his helm to Starscream. “Make no mistake, I will defend myself when the time comes.” He rumbled in response to Starscream’s not-at-all veiled threat. “The fact I deserve it has no effect on that.”

Shockwave first looked at his own reflection, and then the protoform. He almost seemed pensive. Perhaps it would be different. The urge to experiment was there, true, but when was it not? He had the desire to experiment on the Predacons, but he had not. Although, Shockwave silently mused, there was a certain amount of deterrent when the potential test subject was fully capable of ripping you limb from limb.

“I understand.” Shockwave told Starscream. “When I am no longer needed, there will be no reason to keep me alive. So, logically, I should make myself as useful to you as possible.”

“I would expect nothing less.” He nodded, a slight smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. “At this point none of us can afford to settle for what we truly deserve.”

At Shockwave’s acknowledgement of their understanding, Starscream’s wings rose higher but his expression remained grim. “That’s the spirit. We’ll have plenty to do, too. For now though, I’ll look over my copy of the data, and you just keep ensuring normal development.” His scowl deepened. “As normal as possible, anyway.”

Shockwave nodded once more, this time with an air of finality to it. “I shall alert you if anything unusual - other than coloration - occurs with the protoform.” He informed Starscream, turning back to his console and beginning to type.

The fact Starscream was there seemed to pass from Shockwave’s mind completely, as he let his armor sag against his frame before lifting up his cannon and resting it against the console. The way his antennae flattened seemed to show that he was in pain.

Starscream returned the nod, noting in passing that Shockwave seemed unusually weary, perhaps even pained. He filed a possible weakness away for later, and turned back to look in the tank.

There was no shaking the feeling of foreboding that came over him as he withdrew his datapad from his subspace to open the groundbridge. If he left, what would he come back to? Hopefully Shockwave was sufficiently threatened…

He spared one last look at the Protoform in the tank as the field of the bridge vortex buffeted his wings, then stepped into the portal to take his leave. He had to tell Knockout about this. But how…?

#compiled threads #purple plant son #cut for length #potted plant son

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cool-uncle-rudy-blog · 5 years

Photo

Fred Weasley Private School A.U.

Summary: Fred is the popular jock at school with a long time crush that he’s ready to confess

words: 3.5k

You leaned forward, staring inches away from the fuming test tube, studying the reaction of the volatile chemicals. Smiling, you scribbled the results down onto your notepad.

Finishing your sentence, someone creeping up behind you made you jump from your stool, clumsily tipping over. Strong arms linked around your waist and kept you from falling.

You pulled herself from the arms and turned to find the culprit, though you already knew who it was. Only one person bothered you like this.

Fred Weasley.

The cocky boy stood behind you with a smirk on his face, eyeing you up and down, obviously amused by your reaction.

“Careful there, clumsy,” He teased you, leaning against the science table.

Clad in his letterman jacket with that arrogant air about him, you couldn’t help but frown at him, crossing your arms across your chest.

You had tried making friends with Fred, but he only ever seemed interested in teasing you. However, there was always a tenderness in his eyes that kept you from hating him. The two of you were in that awkward unsure zone where neither one knew if they were friends, but both were desperate to be.

“Why do you always have to sneak up on me, Fred?” You asked with a sigh, placing your pencil on the table. “You know I hate it.”

He smirked, his translucent eyes flicking back and forth between yours, cherishing the hatred he saw in them. Any reaction he could get from you was worth it.

“I do know that,” He chided, purposely avoiding the question. He took another step towards you, and you took a wary, subtle step backwards.

Fred Weasley made you feel all the worst emotions at the same time, and you weren’t sure what the result would be if you let him get too close. Maybe a firm smack to the face, or maybe a long define-the-relationship stare that would give away too much. You had known each other since childhood, and it had always been the same back and forth too-much and then not-enough.

“You didn’t answer the question,” You noted with a flick of your hair, getting your defiant bangs out of your face, your loose ponytail barely restraining your hair.

He watched you do this, seeming momentarily distracted.

“No, I didn’t did I?” He said absentmindedly as he watched you try and flick your hair from your face, once more.

He then surprised you by taking a step forward, his large hands reaching out to brush the rogue strand of hair safely behind your ear. You stared into his eyes as you watched them trace the gentle shape of your cheekbones and the thick outline of your lips.

You took a step back, your eyes falling to the floor. You had no clue how to figure this boy out, and every time you tried, it just gave you a headache.

“No, you didn’t,” You mumbled out, your voice barely about a whisper.

You cleared your throat and straightened up, not about to let Fred intimidate you.

You were surprised when you made eye contact again, though. He no longer seemed smug or self-assured. Now he seemed vulnerable and disappointed. You ignored this and pushed on, trying to get to the bottom of his arrival.

“So, why do you do it?” You asked.

He stared at you before answering.

“This time, I have a very specific reason. Turns out I need tutoring, and you’re the one they told me to talk to. Apparently you’re like some god-like prodigy,” He said, a smile returning to his lips. Only this time, it was genuine. “But, believe it or not, I knew that already.”

You stood there, unsure if you could tutor him. You and him in the same room for prolonged periods of time seemed like a terrible idea!

“Are you s-sure that’s a good idea?” You stuttered out, your fingers tapping along the table.

He raised a knowing eyebrow, his smirk turning more mischievous. He leaned in closer to you, his face only inches from yours.

“What’s the matter, afraid of being alone with me?” He asked with a chuckle.

You, once again, took another step away from him, sitting down on the stool as an excuse. You shook your head.

“No, that’s-” You started, but he cut you off by stepping forward, occupying the empty space between your knees.

A lump formed in your throat as you closed your eyes for a moment, feeling the air shift as he stood so close to you. It was intoxicating, his presence. You wanted to linger there, remaining in it forever. It was warm and safe, and full of friendly competition, which you found so pleasantly stimulating.

However, Fred Weasley was not the type of man for you. He was bold and rash, and so utterly beautiful that he could have his pick of any girl, and he often changed his mind on which one he wanted. You worried about not being able to keep up with him.

“So, you’ll do it then?” He asked, an expecting look on his face.

Your breathing was becoming uneven, your skin tingling with potential betrayal- you worried you would reach out to touch him at any moment. You had to get yourself out of this situation. To end it as quickly as you could, you nodded your head, gulping down your feelings.

“Yes,” You breathed out, quickly rising from the chair, grabbing your test tube from the holder with the designated tool, utilizing this excuse to get away from him. You took care of the contents.

He watched you from afar, but you avoided his gaze as you removed your apron and goggles, placing them back in their slots.

“So, do you want to study today?” He asked you after several torturous moments of silence.

“Uhhh,” You wiped your sweaty hands on your pants while you thought about the question. “No, I can’t today. Mathletes until five, then I have to study for an AP History test. I’m free tomorrow?” You suggested.

He nodded his head, his smile growing.

“Yes, sounds good! I’ll text you” He said, collecting himself then walking towards the door. He paused upon reaching it.

He looked back at you, a cheeky smile on his lips.

“Nice goggle marks, by the way,” He teased, then disappeared.

You were highlighting important passages in your notes when your cell chimed, claiming your attention. You picked it up, seeing that Fred had finally messaged you.

Want to study now?

You rolled over onto your back, quickly clicking the keys.

Yes, want to come to mine?

Three dots popped up onto your phone screen, then the reply came quickly.

No, I’m home alone. Come to mine.

The next message gave an address.

You gulped, wondering what he was planning.

Why does it matter that you’re home alone? You messaged back, but after being left on read for nearly ten minutes, you deduced that he wasn’t going to reply so you loaded into your car and drove to the designated address.

You walked up to the door, knocking. He was quick to arrive, smiling at you. You hardly noticed his smile, as your eyes were focusing on the fact that he was shirtless.

Your eyebrows furrowed at this and you pointed at his bare and impressive torso.

“What…?” Was all you could ask as a blush crept onto your face.

He cocked his head at you, almost like a bewildered puppy. Then the craziest thing happened.

Fred Weasley blushed.

He tried to use the door as a shield, subtly hiding the majority of his body behind it.

“Uh, sorry. I was working out earlier and it didn’t really occur to me. Are you uncomfortable?” He asked, suddenly very concerned about your opinion.

You gave him a blank stare as you pushed into his house.

“It didn’t occur to you to put clothes on?” You asked, not buying his story.

His eyes scanned the floor. “Ok, I’ll go put a shirt on,” He said with a sheepish smile.

You held up your hands to still him.

“Hey, it’s your house, your rules. I’m just here to help you study, I don’t think a shirt will interfere with that,” You commented, unaware if that was the truth or not.

He nodded, then turned away from you.

“Ok, my room is up here, we can study there,” He told you, already disappearing up the stairs.

You followed him, staring at his flawless back muscles as he moved, his hand on the guardrail making certain muscles flex. You stared in awe at how perfect he was.

He turned around to face you, so you tried to pull your face together and make it look like you weren’t just staring at him.

“My room is right here, go ahead,” He extended a hand, allowing you to go first.

You settled on his bed, dropping your bag onto the floor, busying yourself with setting up your textbook and opening your notes to the appropriate pages.

While doing this, you felt Fred sit next to you on the bed. He sat so close to you that his weight made the bed shift, you falling closer to him. You cleared your throat, trying to position yourself further from him without being obvious.

Of course you were, and he smirked at how obvious you were. He didn’t comment on it, though, and instead looked at your notes to feign interest.

An hour and a half had passed. At first, it was studying. It was you teaching him concepts, and him struggling to grasp them. But then, he was understanding concepts before you even had time to teach them, and then instead of science and chemistry, easy conversation filled the time.

You stared at him after he answered another question correctly without even a second though. You looked back and forth between his eyes, noticing how unguarded they were. This was the real Fred - quick-witted and genuine, with clever one-liners and intimate conversations.

You saw into him, and you could clearly tell that he was smarter than he was letting on.

“You seem to be pretty good at this,” You commented, seeing the content glint disappear from his eyes as he tried to hide them by scanning the notes on your guys’ laps.

“Yea, you’re a pretty good teacher,” He said, smiling up at you.

“I haven’t taught you this yet. It almost seems like you don’t need tutoring,” You accused.

When his eyes locked onto yours, you could feel the defeat in them. His body sagged as he leaned against the wall supporting the bed.

“Well, now, you could be onto something there,” He muttered, his eyelashes acting as the perfect curtain to hide his guilty expression.

You rose, pushing your notes off your lap onto his bed, creating a quilt of AP chemistry notes.

“What is going on here?” You asked, your crossed arms a protective barrier over your wounded pride.

He looked into your eyes, then down to the floor. He then sat forward, running his callused hands over his face before shrugging at you, not being able to come up with a response.

“I just like hanging out with you, I guess,” He admitted.

You stared at him.

“What?”

“I wanted you to hang out with me, but I couldn’t think of another way to get you here,” He admitted, staring into your eyes.

You continued staring.

“You could have just asked me,” You told him.

He chuckled harshly at that. “Would you really have come over if I had just asked? After all of the teasing and the uncomfortable tension?” He asked you, sinking back into his bed to rest his back against the wall.

You considered this.

“Yes,” You answered simply once you had come to a conclusion. He looked up at you hopefully.

“But why do you treat me like that? Only me?”

He smiled, but part of him still seemed sad.

“’Cause you’re the only one who treats me like you do. I didn’t know how to handle that. And then factor in the sexual tension and the inevitable longing, and I had no clue what to do with you.”

There was a crimson carpet that unraveled up your neck and across your cheeks.

“Sexual tension and inevitable longing?” You questioned, repeating the words he had used, your voice so quiet he barely heard you.

The tint of your cheeks spread to the tips of his ears as he listened to his repeated words fall from your mouth. There was no turning back now. He had admitted, and he had to own it.

“Come on, do you really think I would go through all of your rejections and keep pestering you if I wasn’t damn near in love with you,” He said with a smirk, but his voice was low and meek, his eyes were glistening with need and exposure.

Fred Weasley could see you process this information as your eyes widened, flickering back and forth as you digested his words. You took a step away from him, then immediately took a larger step towards him.

You shook your head, seeming like you couldn’t understand his words.

“What?” You uttered again. “But all those other girls. I’m not like them, I don’t know how to-” You started, trying to open yourself up to him in the same way he opened up to you.

If he was willing to express himself, then you owed it to yourself and him to see where this could lead. After all, you never denied the sexual tension and inevitable longing, as he phrased it.

He pushed himself from the bed, appearing in front of you.

“If I liked the other girls, I wouldn’t be here with you. I want you,” He rushed out, anxious for you to hear those words and understand. He was so close to you that these words fanned his warm breath across your face and exposed collarbones.

You reached up and placed your hands on his chest, trying to steady yourself from all of these emotions. Without looking up, you whispered, “I think I really like you, too,” into his chest.

You felt, at the same time, his breathing cease and his heart beat accelerate. This phenomenon made your own heart beat faster, thrilled by how you affected him.

“Do you really mean-” He asked excitedly, but before he could finish, you pressed yourself onto your tiptoes, crashing your lips upon his.

He was surprised, his hands freezing at his sides before coming to rest upon your hips. He smiled into your kiss, his grin prominent on your own lips. You always hated that damn smirk and how it mocked you, but now you felt like it was for you and you owned it.

There was an unfamiliar longing in your stomach that bubbled up only when you were around Fred. It was the sensation that only he could summon, and now it was more powerful than ever. It was overwhelming and maturing, and you knew now was the time to act on this side of you that you never had before.

You pulled away, panting as you nuzzled into the side of his neck, whispered into his ear.

“Will you show me how?” You asked him as you placed your hand on his chest, pushing down to signal that you wanted him on the bed.

He obliged and laid down, but verbally objected.

“We shouldn’t. Not yet,” He said, his eyes still glazed from the kiss.

You stood in front of him.

“Do you want to?” You asked, a slight pout on your face.

He chuckled at you, having known you were going to throw a fit.

“Of course I do. I’ve wanted it since I was, like, ten,” He teased, staring up at you from his spot on the bed.

You smiled at him, his jokes one of his best qualities.

“Then there is nothing holding me back. After knowing me this long, you should know that I do what I want, and don’t listen to anyone who opposes me,” You teased him back, sauntering forward, but he sat up to stop you from climbing on top of him.

He sighed, clearly upset with himself for his next words.

“Y/n, I really don’t think we should,” He spoke.

You looked down at him, a smile creeping onto your lips. You admired and respected him in this moment, knowing that he only had your best interest at heart.

You leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips, a sensual sweet kiss full of passion and intimacy before pulling away, staring into his eyes.

“Then we won’t,” You told him, standing straight.

You took a deep breath, aware of how uncharacteristic you were being right now, but something about Fred made you want to do crazy things for him. You wrapped your fingers around the hem of your shirt, then quickly tugged it off before you could think twice about it.

You dropped it onto the floor.

“But that doesn’t mean we can’t do other things,” You said, then fingered the button on your shorts, tugging them from your legs, kicking them from your ankles.

His eyes were mesmerized by you, his words stolen right from his mouth. He licked his lips as his eyes scanned your exposed body. Your arms looped around your back, your nimble fingers unlatching your bra.

You held your unhooked bra still for a moment, enjoying the hypnotized look on Fred’s face while he waited like an obedient dog for his treat. Then you let the garment fall to the ground and his eyes fluttered shut, a deep breath falling from his mouth.

Just his reaction was enough to arouse you, and you felt the moisture collecting in your satin panties. You wondered if he could see it, then decided you didn’t care. Here with Fred, you knew you were free to be whoever you were.

“This is so sudden, I don’t understand,” Fred whimpered out, his body unnaturally still on the bed.

Your feet walked of their own accord, closing the distance between the two of you. You lowered yourself slowly in front of him until your breasts were directly in front of his face, then you pressed a chaste kiss to his chin.

“No, it’s about four years too late,” You told him, then took a seat on his thigh, letting it rest between your thighs.

As soon as you sat on it, you slightly jerked back up with a gasp, not expecting the friction to feel so amazing on your soaked core. Your clit made direct contact, and now throbbed for more.

Fred had noticed your reaction and his eyes looked down to his thigh to see where there was just the smallest little moist stain on his grey sweatpants from where your drenched panties made contact.

Without hesitation, he encompassed your head in his huge hands and pressed his mouth on yours, his tongue pillaging your mouth.

He pulled away to instruct you to sit back on his thigh.

You blushed, looking down at his thigh, looking at the stain.

“No, it’s hot,” Fred corrected, sensing your insecurity. His eyes were glazed as he looked at you, his dark eyes blown wide from his lust-filled pupils. “Now, sit down,” He ordered.

You did and whined a little when contact was made again. Without warning, Fred shifted his thigh beneath you, making it rub against you.

You unwillingly moaned out, desperately grasping his broad shoulders, digging your fingernails into his exposed skin.

“It feels so good,” You panted out, barely able to speak.

Fred’s gaze was locked on you, unable to look anywhere else.

“Oh my god, you are too perfect,” He breathed out, grinding his thigh into you once more, making you howl with pleasure.

You pressed your forehead into his shoulder, lost in pleasure, as your hips began moving themselves against his thigh.

You were just a mess of pants and moans at this point, unaware of what you were doing, just doing what felt good. It seemed to be impressing Fred, because he was just a string of reassurances and compliments as you worked yourself against him.

Only a few minutes passed before the pressure had built so much you had to explode. You screamed into his skin and drenched your panties so heavily that the stain on his pants spread out.

You stilled, making Fred smile down at you.

“What a good little angel, coming so quickly,” Fred whispered into your ear.

He easily picked you up and gently laid your back on the bed, careful to make sure your legs were off the bed enough. It made sense once he kneeled before you, wrapping your legs around his shoulders.

He smirked up at you between your legs.

“Now, let’s see if I can get you to come even quicker.”

#fred weasley #fred oneshot #fred smut #harry potter universe #fred!au

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