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1358456 · 4 years

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Review Response, Dec 29 2019 - Jan 4 2020

A lot of stuff here. ... Yay!!

Legacy #009

1) Omg the confession chapter! Loved this chapter to bits! Also happy 2020!

Yes! The confession has finally happened! Hell, it’s about time. Happy 2020, the year of the rat 庚子年!

2) Lol sun being A scared shit and A sweet confession. Looking forward to the next chapter

Sun being terrified... heh. It’s what Black would be in that situation. Sun? ... Who knows. The next chapter might happen soon, depends on how this chapter went!

3) Hehe, it really did work out for the best for Blue. Makes perfect sense to give Platinum the LuckyShipping confession MVP award now. Her little chat with Red was probably the best scene in this chapter for me.

Nice to see a fluffy chapter before the action kicks in again. Poor Yellow, though - she's going to be suffering for a bit...though it would be nice to see if/how Yellow gets over it. And I wonder what the "calling" thing is about. I suspect her target is a Mimikyu, but is this more Moon's instinct saying that a potential new team member is nearby or maybe there's some psychic stuff going on here?

Anyway, it's nice to see this story finally getting so many reviews! Happy New Year! As always, can't wait for the next chapter!

Hehe. Platinum the MVP, even though she really didn’t want to interfere in the matter. ... And no one’s going to be giving thanks to White or Y. Hahaha.

Poor Yellow? Not yet. It’s too soon. And no, the target is not a Mimikyu. Sun already has one. And you know from the overhaul post that Moon does not get a Mimikyu. Moon gets a Banette. And in the Thrifty Megamart, there are wild Shuppets. Fun fact: I do research to see what Pokemon are in what area so the Dex Holders will run into a Pokemon that makes sense in that area. Psychic stuff? Nah. Ghost stuff.

And Happy New Year to you too!

4) AAAAAAH THEY DID IT OH MY GOD THE FLUFF IS REAL

The fluff is real and it’s going to get fluffier. It’s going to be so fluffy that Yellow suffocates and Red and Blue get a bad case of static shock. ... Wait, what?

5) They’ve finally done it and platinum once again proving to be of help to both red and blue in getting the together. Your slowly making platinum one of my personal new favourites from these and I fine with that. It’s a really sweet chapter. Anyways Happy new years!

Platinum’s so nice. Hehehe... She’s a wonderful character! ... Yeah, yeah. Bias. Happy New Year!

6) I love the interactions between White and Y - they honestly seem really close and it’s really nice to see! I love the chapter I hope you had a good New Year’s Eve and Christmas and thank you for the new chapter!

I like the interactions between White and Y too, which is why I put in a lot of them. And they’re not exactly a senior/junior type, but rather, good friend type. Hence Y’s line of “oh eat my ass” in the last chapter.

7) Loved iT! Looking forward to the next chapter

Thank you. More to come soon...ish?

8) So excited to see if moon hits the Pokemon. Loved this chapter and white with the rapidash was great

Hehe. Of course Moon would hit it. White failing miserably in riding Rapidash, just like in that one SC chapter (SC #007: Memory Lane).

9) I'm glad Blue managed to confess her feelings for Red after struggling so hard with them. Crushes are really stressful, and in her case in particular, with her fear of getting close to and hurting others- just ah. The secret's out, and Red reciprocates. Now at least they'll have this moment of happiness! ...Though poor Yellow has rather unfortunate timing.

Is Moon being called to by a Mimikyu, I wonder? That'd be a strong and cool addition to her party!

Only happiness awaits for Red and Blue! ... Until the plot hits them, as foretold. Yellow’s purpose in the story is now halfway over.

And no, Moon is not being called by a Mimikyu.

10) Awwwww that was really cute! Hope we get more fluff next chapter!

Oh, there will. Flufftacular chapters are inbound.

11) Looking forward to the next chapter!

Thank you.

12) Hey again, hope your New Years went well! Glad to see an update to this story. Regarding the latest chapter, I'm pretty mixed - but not in a bad way.

The first half was pretty enjoyable to read. Honestly, Red does seem like he's become the person to think things over a bit before diving in from what I saw in FRLG and him asking Platinum what was up with Blue was enjoyable. Red also deciding to take the leap and press the issue to not prolong Blue's suffering was pretty fun to read too. I half expected Blue to go on a rant about why she likes Red to him, she seems like the kind of person to justify everything (since you've shown her thoughts and rationale about why she "musn't" let Red she likes him in earlier chapters) but I guess it wasn't needed or maybe she'll do it when she's a bit calmer. I'd like to see Red react to him unknowingly saving her back in Chapter 1. Also, I've said it before - I used to like Red and Yellow, but this kinda does cement why I like Red and Blue - I kinda got a kick out of Yellow spying on the two of them, felt somewhat ironic.

I might be the only one but I kinda just gloss over the Sun and Moon parts of the story. I still read them, but I just feel more invested in the older Dex Holders' adventures since they're more emotional and I'm way more attached to those guys.

Regardless of my personal bias, great chapter. Looking forward to more as always.

Red is reckless when it comes to like... battling and combat. But outside of that, he’s not stupidly reckless. And hopefully, given how old he is in Legacy, he would’ve mellowed even more. And so he is now considerate. Huzzah! Blue will go on a ramble and talk about her fears later on once things have settled. Right now, she would be quite exhausted, actually. And then she and Red can have that discussion that was in Destiny, but in Legacy with updated interactions and no doomsday on the horizon. Getting a kick out of Yellow getting heartbroken, huh? Hahaha. ... More to come later.

Eh, it’s not that surprising. After all, statistically, the newest Dex Holders are generally ignored by the readers. Black and White in SA, X and Y in early Destiny, and now Sun and Moon in early (still) Legacy. Now, Sun and Moon aren’t that new anymore, so they’re not being as ignored, but they’re still the newest (since we don’t know sh*t about Sword and Shield yet), so... yeah.

13) Loved this blue being shy is so unexpected aswell!

Timid Blue is unexpectedly cute, eh? Hehehe...

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Surprised that no one talked about the title. I guess f*ck Heart, right? Heh.

So, good news is... the newest chapter is above 10. So... update will happen in this month. “Bad” news is... the update fails to reach the average. But given how the average was raised, the updated chapter is still above most of the others, and it’s been less than a week, so... update will still happen this month, just not this week or the next. Give me some time off, eh?

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DE #003

1) These two cinnamon rolls are so cute!

Yep. Black and White are stupidly cute together, whether they’re surrounded by fluff or blood.

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DE #013

1) Cute Ruby and White.

Surprisingly cute, huh? Same goes for Sapphire & Black!

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DE #020

1) Red and Blue (female) are so cute!

Yep! That they are! Hehehe.

2) So cute

Yes indeed.

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DE #021

1) Just give her a ring and kiss her already. Geez these two are so cute.

Hehe. Short Story - The Question. Pop the ring!

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DE #028

1) Cute,l!

Well, I guess this chapter was cute. Its prequel, however... hehe...

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DE #031

1) Good stuff. Will take a long while for Sun and Moon to even be this intimate tho. What with all the fighting.

I don’t think Sun and Moon can ever actually be that intimate. For one, Moon will have to surgically remove that coin lodged in his brain, and someone will have to shove a classy romance novel into his face over and over until he learns the concept of flirting and proper responses.

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There’s no need to see the DE chart, so...

SC #015

1) Coming back to this chapter after knowing what Red's up to makes their job occupations work very, very well together. Blue provides the advanced technology, Red carries out the "fieldwork". Both manage to work unique occupations during the day and still spend a wholesome time together when they're back home. Loving their dynamic!

Oddly, the Covert Ops series, whose idea I scrapped, has come back in a very weird fashion. Instead of Blue doing the fieldwork (or Rakutsu), she’s just providing the tech to Red. Interesting.

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SC #017

1) *Mission Impossible theme plays with the sound of jingle bells and terrified shrieks of thugs in the background*

Merry (late!) Christmas to the unfortunate baddies of the world who Dex Holders deliver justice to. Can't say I ever expected Red to become a hitman, let alone dress up as Santa Claus and deal out punishment to evildoers. Sure was a hilarious read, however!

“Santa Claus is gunning you down~” Ahem.

Red the mercenary. And coincidentally, the chapter is based on a Hitman Santa rampage that I used to do back in the days. “Santa’s coming to town!”

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I appreciate what you did, but... +1/+1 doesn’t actually do much. Like, SC #015 is now no longer the least reviewed chapter, but instead, TIED at the least reviewed chapter, along with the Wings update from many months ago. The two chapters you put the pity reviews for, are still not even at half of the story’s average. +4/+4 from now, and then maybe we’ll see.

#qna

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caralynsmoved · 5 years

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it’s human nature to miss what’s right under your nose

fandom: 911onfox

characters: bethany flynn ( original female character ), evan “ buck “ buckley, tommy kynard, fire fam, original male characters.

relationships: bethany flynn/tommy kynard, evan “ buck “ buckley/eddie diaz ( supporting ), maddie buckley/howie “ chimney “ han ( supporting and adorable ), bobby nash/athena grant ( supporting ), hen wilson/karen wilson ( supporting and amazing )

rating: general audiences, teen

setting: i guess post season two since that’s when beth appears and maybe leading into season three ?

∞

“ again ? “

“ sorry, beth. “ aidan, the man behind the counter at the coffee shop she’s fallen in love with apologizes like he’s been apologizing because the pumpkin muffins were gone .. again. “ guy took the last two an hour ago, you just missed him. “

“ sorry beth stops feeling sorry four muffins ago, “ a pout colored her features as she ordered her vanilla latte and blueberry muffin as a consolation prize, “ i’m going to find this muffin thief one day, “

“ of course you are, justice will be served ! “ aidan calls after her, raising a stirrer in the air as she raises her own cup in answer as she leaves.

“ huzzah ! “

∞

“ still no pumpkin muffin huh, pumpkin ? “ buck teases her with the smile she knows means he’s holding back laughter at his own joke and she throws a napkin at his head, “ come on, that was hilarious ! “

“ you really need to learn what that word actually means, dork. “ beth said, refraining from letting out the laugh that would give buck vindication on his awful jokes, “ and no, the muffin thief struck again and aidan did nothing but let him have it ! “

“ you mean he actually let someone buy a muffin and then gave it to him ? “ buck affected a mock horrified look, “ i can’t believe he just did his job like that ! the horror ! “

“ you know when casey phillips said you tripped him i said he was lying and backed you up, you could at least pretend to do the same for me, best friend. “ beth said, kicking her shoes off as she took a seat next to him on the couch.

“ that was in second grade and he was lying ! “ buck exclaimed, with all the offense someone could muster over a 12 year old argument, “ casey was a complete klutz ! “

“ of course he was, it’s why he was the only third grader to become equipment manager instead of playing gym with the rest of us. “ beth said, picking at the remains of her muffin before rolling up the wrapper and laying it on the table, “ what i’m saying is i was on your side so you’re supposed to be on mine and not mr. muffin thief. “

“ fine, i’m sorry, “ buck said, making sure he was not sorry at all as he spoke with a familiar smirk, “ do you want me to stake out the muffin shop, find the first customer who buys a pumpkin muffin and hold him upside down by his ankles until he apologizes for his crimes against humanity ? “

“ let’s save it in our back pocket but, i like we’re you’re going with this. “ beth said, nodding as she drummed her fingers along her leg, “ for now, i’m thinking a more verbal approach, “

“ you’re a crazy person, you know that ? “ buck said, the words undercut by the amusement and affection in his eyes, “ an absolute crazy person and athena’s not going to bail you out like moms did. “

“ but, i’m your crazy person. “ beth said with a dimpled grin as she leaned over and pressed a kiss against his cheek, “ besides i’m not going to get caught, you’re the one who always gets caught. “

“ you know sometimes it baffles me how people think you’re the innocent one in this relationship, “ the blonde said with a near pout, “ you’re like half the reason we get into as much trouble as we do, “

“ hey ! you’re the other half of that, buddy, it’s not like you’re some innocent angel yourself, mr. no one will notice if we steal one golf cart as long as we give it back. “ beth said, thumping her foot against his side.

“ hey, we didn’t even get written up for that one ! “

“ because my mom was the arresting officer ! “ beth insisted with a laugh, remembering the look on her mom and her partner’s face when they had stopped the aforementioned stolen golf cart and seen her and buck at the wheel, that had been a lecture for the record books, “ and trust me she was this close to arresting us anyway. “

“ lies, mom loves me. “ buck said, reaching over to snag her coffee off the table and take a drink, “ everybody does, it’s the buckley charm. “

“ yeah, the maddie buckley charm. “ beth said, under her breath only to hear an overdramatically offended gasp in response.

“ see, now i’m glad you never get your pumpkin muffin, “ was the petulant response she received, “ maybe the person who gets it is actually super nice to the best person in their life. “

“ again, i’m super nice to maddie, i brought her lunch yesterday and we went shopping for boots. “ beth said, playfully oblivious to the point buck was trying to make as she fumbled around for where they had left the remote last night, “ we had a great time. “

“ i’m getting a new best friend one day and you’re gonna be heartbroken, “ buck said, full on pouting now as he sank back into the couch cushions, adamantly refusing to help her find the remote even though she knew he was probably the one who lost it.

“ is that best friend going to be an eight year old boy who thinks you’ve hung the moon ? “ she said as she got off the couch to look underneath it wondering if one of them had fallen asleep with it in their hand during a bout of insomnia induced bingeing.

“ maybe … but at least he’s got better taste in movies than you do, “ with that he reached over and pulled the remote out of the couch cushions with a smirk, “ and now i don’t have to watch another re-run of the office. “

“ well excuse me, mr. suddenly i’m too good for the hard workers of the dunder mifflin scranton branch, “

∞

“ hey, there’s my favorite customer ! “ aidan’s wide smile greets her, overly wide and she quirks a curious brow at the at the door greeting, “ how are you today, bethers ? “

“ wondering if i love or hate being called bethers, “ beth quipped, trying to peek past the young man to see what he was hiding from her, “ what are you hiding, aid ? “

“ why do you assume i’m hiding something ? “ the affronted look came and went in a second before aidan sighed and moved away to let her move towards the counter, he followed after slowly and made his way behind it, “ okay, fine i was hiding something but it wasn’t my fault ! it was jake ! “

“ liar ! “ came the affronted and maybe a little scared shout from the back where she assumed jake was doing prep.

“ okay, fine. it was me, but i thought we had more .. apparently our truck isn’t coming until tomorrow, which means … “ he trails off, eyes darting to the bakery case and she already knows what she’s going to see or more likely what she isn’t going to see.

“ dude, seriously ! “ beth cries, green eyes wide as she stares at the once more empty pumpkin muffin plate, “ we had a pact, you cretin ! “

“ nice use of the word cretin, b ! “ jake once more shouts from the back and she moves her glare from the pumpkin case to aidan who threw a empty cup, blindly at the backroom.

“ thank you, my new favorite barista ! “ she calls back, crossing her arms over her chest which earns her aidan’s puppy eyes. thankfully, though a lifetime of being friends with the buckleys gives one an almost immunity to puppy eyes … almost. she softens just a little.

“ come on, i’m sorry ! “ aidan cried, arms flailing about as he spoke, “ it was so crazy and i was going to keep one just for you, but then the truck was supposed to be here so i sold it thinking i could make you a fresh batch, but then i didn’t get the memo that truck was going to be late. “

“ oh my god, breathe, aid. “ beth said, a laugh threatening to escape her and undermine her totally justified anger, “ just give me a cinnamon roll and call it even, dork. “

“ no problem, on the house. “ aidan was quick to place the cinnamon roll into a small bakery box and hand it over, “ vanilla latte, extra whip ? “

“ at least no one can steal that from me. “ a pout colors her features as aidan goes about making her latte and she takes a seat at the small section of the counter designated for customers.

“ did you show her ? did you show her yet ? “ is jake’s excited question as he comes rushing out of the backroom, dark hair a messy tangle and apron covered in flour. jake is nothing if not excitable and adorable as anything, he won her over in seconds with coffee puns and goofy designs in the foam of her coffee, he and aidan are definitely one of the main reasons she’s always come back to this coffee shop.

“ show me what, cracker jake ? “ it’s become one of their rituals, the million and one nicknames she and jake can come up with for each other and his snort of laughter is almost enough to distract her from his curious question.

“ the note ! “ aidan sighs with a fond smile as he reaches into the drawer and pulls out a brightly colored sticky note and passes it to her, “ pumpkin muffin guy left it for you ! “

“ you got into the chocolate covered expresso beans, didn’t you ? “ was bethany’s question as she reached for the note, “ you know you’re not supposed to after last time. “

“ that was an accident that totally wasn’t fueled by the beans besides, that’s not the point ! after like weeks of back and forth, muffin guy left you a note like some sort of scavenger hunt ! “ jake said, growing only more excited and if her heart wasn’t already stubbornly stuck on one dimpled firefighter named tommy jake would have had it in minutes. “ aren’t you the littlest bit excited ? “

“ fine ! maybe i’m a little bit excited if not for the chance to finally know his name and get some revenge. “ beth said with a playful grin as she unfolded the note.

too slow, babe ! maybe next time ;)

“ no name ? he can tease and write winky faces like a teenager, but no name ! “ beth dropped her forehead to the counter with a groan and one of the boys reached out to pat her shoulder before she looked up, “ how much do i have to pay to poison his next muffin ? “

“ you know we can’t do that. “

“ how much we talking ? “ jake said at the same time aidan protested and the other man reached over to smack his forehead, “ ow ! i mean i’m not allowed. “

“ buzzkill. “ bethany groaned once more, sticking her tongue out at them.

“ well … are you going to say anything back ? “ jake asked, curiously as he poked at her shoulder, “ anything at all ? “

“ what would i say back ? thanks jerk for taking away my favorite muffin ? hey thanks for the note, maybe eat that instead next time or ooh ooh how about if you take my muffin again i’ll have my cop mom find you ? “ bethany suggested, picking aimlessly at the remains of her cinnamon roll.

“ or how about something vaguely less threatening .. maybe a hello or try the blueberry ? “ jake offered with a grin and shrug of his shoulders.

“ fine, i’ll write something. “ beth said, reaching across the counter to grab the sticky notes and a pen, scribbling out a quick note.

hope you enjoy it for now, your pumpkin days are over, buddy !

“ that works ! “ jake approved and aidan shot her a thumbs up as he tucked it behind the counter, out of sight as she tossed the remains of her pastry and coffee into the trash, “ bye, bethany ! “

“ au revoir, jacob ! “ bethany replied with a playful bow as she made her way out of the store and into the early winter morning, a brightly colored post with a winking face still forefront in her mind.

#→ we'd be a wonderful us / kynn #→ it's human nature to miss what's right under your nose / multichapter #→ here to stand between you and the chaos / 911onfox #→ write until it feels as natural as breathing / abigail writes #and here's the first chapter of my muffin thief/post it notes au kiddos !#and if anyone's wondering i'm picturing aidan as mehcad brooks #and jake as chris wood !#enjoy !

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lord-explosion-baku · 6 years

Text

Like Ghosts In Snow

While your guardian is keeping a huge secret you take on the nightlife and find yourself in a mad supernatural hellzone.

Vampire AU, Villain AU,

Warnings: EVERYONES NAMES ARE SAID BACKWARDS LIKE THE AMERICAN WAY AND I HATE MYSELF FOR IT TOO. LONG. Eventual yandere villainous bois, eventual noncon, eventual major character death

A/n: My ode to the 1987 cheesy vampire thriller, The Lost Boys. I made this to be based in the same fake California town as the movie which I feel like maybe that could be disrespectful, making these Japanese characters American but it was a lot easier writing for a fake town rather than Okinawa where I had originally tried to set this in. And I’m from California and I might be lazy, sticking to scenes that I know but what can you do? It starts off slow. I’m impatient so I’m sorry if you are too. Vampire boys will COME. LIES, DECEIPT, BETRAYEL, LOVE, AND DEATH WILL COME. Also, I don’t know how to pair this because pretty much everyone wants to bone has a thing for the reader?? The guilty pleasures are real in this fic. I mean, not in this chapter (that I’m still really excited for) but like....?!!!!? Also, Aizawa has poor parenting skills for a reason. Like, he’s not dumb. I could never make him dumb. ALSO I posted this on AO3 but I do not know how to work that site and I’m AFRAID of it. I talk too much. So here it is now. Huzzah.

Chapter 1: Margarita Night

You hummed along to the song that was playing on the stereo while Shouta Aizawa, your legal guardian, drove fast and precise up the coast highway in his red Jeep. Long black locks were flying wildly in the wind, like tendrils searching to grasp on to something. His tired eyes were hard and focused on the road but you smiled at him as he zoomed and weaved through different cars. He got a thrill from the speed.

You were moving, for the third time this year, which was saying something because it was only mid July. It was for Aizawa’s job. The two of you would travel across the country when something new, or rather, old, like relics from a different time would surface and he would start examining, dating, and researching what exactly the piece that was found was so they could be auctioned out or put in a secure location depending on how valuable the relic was. Or whatever. He didn’t go into details as to what exactly he did but when he did you never failed to zone out and start to daydream about something else. He didn’t mind. And you didn’t mind moving. You and Aizawa shared the spirit of adventure. He loved his work and you loved the rush of blood you got when you found yourself trying new things.

You scanned over one of the many articles for Santa Carla California, your new destination, that Aizawa has cut out for you to read up on. You’ve already read up the town history and now you had different clippings of local hang outs, the what to do and what not to do in Santa Carla. You took note of a pretty popular comic book store and the summer sports competitions but it was the night life that seemed to call to you on a specific page. There was a fair in town all summer long, love music, games, dancing, and other festivities. Aizawa didn’t let you out much when the sun was down but you both had agreed that that would change since you were now eighteen. You were excited to say the least.

Finally arriving to your destination, Aizawa drove through a dirt path to get to Tudor style house that sat about a hundred yards away from a cliff over looking the Pacific Ocean. The garden was hardly tended to, vines grew high over the fragmented stone wall that surrounded the house, the ground was covered in bursting star flowers, sagebrush, and ferns.

Aizawa parked the Jeep behind a dusted over yellow VW Bus. Stickers from covered the back of the bus. Some represented different cities across the country some that you’ve been to and some you have not, while most of them were stickers from different radio festivals you have heard about but never attended.

Grabbing your backpack from the backseat you hopped out of the seat and stretched your legs. You were sore from hours of sitting. You slung your pack over your shoulder and walked to the trunk where Aizawa was grabbing your and his suitcases that sat in front of Aizawa’s chest. You made a motion to grab the chest and Aizawa swatted your hand away.

“That’s gonna be too heavy for you,” he said. “I’ll get Mr. Yamada to help me with this. You go ahead and bring in the other luggage.”

You rolled your eyes. Aizawa didn’t ever want you looking into his chest but the fact that you couldn’t even touch it was a bit ridiculous. Still, you walked up the steps to the front door, backpack on, dragging both suitcases behind you, a petty attempt to show Aizawa you weren’t weak, you used your head to ring the doorbell.

Thunderous barking immediately answered the call of the doorbell. Frightened you dropped the luggage and took a step away from the door. You hadn’t known you’d be living with a dog. You were heard some yelling and and rustling on the other end of the door and the barking was muted.

The door opened revealing a very tall man with thick blonde hair in a bun. He wore a blue tank top that showed off his tan muscular arms and warm colored board shorts. His green eyes peaked over his reading glasses at you and smiled revealing dazzling white teeth.

“Wow,” was what he said. “F/N L/N. Aizawa told me about you. He told me his kid was brilliant, too smart for her own good, tough, and charming, but he never told me how much of a stunner you are!”

Your mouth fell open, unable to know how to respond to that. He grin grew wider as a blush dusted your cheeks. You hadn’t expected him to be so friendly.

Aizawa was to your side instantly.

“Shouta!” The man exclaimed clasping his hand to Aizawa’s a pulling him into an embrace. “It’s been far too long!”

“Y/N, this is Hizashi Yamada, or you may know him as Present Mic. He’s a radio host for the local Santa Clara station and a very old friend of mine.”

You gave him a slight smile. “A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Yamada,” you said offering him your hand.

He took your hand and turned it over kissing the back of it and looking up into your eyes he said, “Call me, Hizashi. And the pleasure is all mine, little one,” with a wink.

Aizawa cleared his throat and Hizashi let out a chuckle. “Let me help you with your bags,” he said picking up your suitcase from the ground and offered to take your backpack, letting his hand travel to the strap on your shoulder. Bashfully you shook your head, excusing his hand, and you made a mental note of the man’s lack of personal space. You were taught to be kind but not stupid. You didn’t think Aizawa would let you live with a man that could be dangerous though.

You followed Hizashi up the stairs and to your new room. The room was larger than what you were used to. The ceiling was tall though it slopes d downwards with the roof, a stream of lights hung around the room, and posters from old bands you didn’t know were plastered against the walls. A queen sized bed with a beautiful wooden headboard sat in the middle of the room. The bedspread was a royal purple with purple and black shiny pillows. It was a tad much but you didn’t mind having a lot of space for you to sleep.

“The sheets are Egyptian cotton,” Hizashi said placing your suitcase down by your closet doors. “It gets pretty hot up here and I’d want for you to be as comfortable as possible while you stay here. If you need, I could bring a fan up later. The window opens but just slightly. It’s been weathered down from the pacific breeze.”

“It’s nice,” you said walking around the room. “I’m not used to having this much space.”

Hizashi smiled gleefully at your approval. “Well, I’ll be down in the kitchen with Aizawa talking old man business type stuff and my,” he paused for a split second, “intern should be here shortly and I’d like for you to meet him. You’re about his age so I’m hoping the two of you will get along.” The way he said that made you doubt that you would in fact get along. “The bathroom is down the hall to the right. It takes a while for the shower is get warm. Old heater. But the pressure is nice!” You nodded at him and he excused himself.

Immediately you started to unpack your clothes into the spacious drawers of the dresser that sat across from your bed, trying to figure out what to wear. You had on sweat shorts and t-shirt, so you’d be comfortable driving for hours on end by you wanted to be at least slightly presentable for meeting someone, a boy, your age, even if you might not get along. You settled on a white tank top and a black skater skirt with black tights. It was too hot to really care for looking pretty anyways.

You trotted down the stairs and slipped into the kitchen. The kitchen was fairly modern styled with an island in the middle. Hizashi has his back turned to you while he sliced limes. He hadn’t heard you come in but someone else had.

“WOOF!” You heard causing you and Hizashi to jump. You turned to the noise and saw a giant red husky running your ear. Before you could react the husky jumped at you causing you to fall back onto the kitchen tiles. He husky had you down with his paws on his chest and he examined your face giving you many sniffs. You kept your hands to your side and avoided looking into its eyes so it wouldn’t see you as a threat.

“Eijirou!” Hizashi yelled across from the kitchen.

The husky took a moment to look away from you and at Hizashi and back at you, giving your face a long lick. When you didn’t push him away he continued to lick your face to your dismay.

“Awwww he likes you!” Hizashi said.

“I-“ you started but Eijirou kicked your mouth when you opened it causing you to finally push him away, “gah! I guess!”

Hizashi pulled the husky away by his collar allowing you to stand back up. “This is Eijirou! I found him a couple months ago! He’s my most bravest boy and he’s very protective of this house! I’m sorry I didn’t warn you about him but I am surprised that he didn’t growl at you! It took him awhile to get used to my intern!”

Eijirou woofed at you again but this time his tail was wagging. You went to let him behind his pointed ears and he leaned in to your touch.

You heard the front door open and Aizawa came in carrying his trunk with a spiky haired blonde boy. “To the left,” Aizawa said and they scooted there way with the chest towards the door towards what you assumed to be Aizawa’s bedroom. “Alright we can put it down here. I can take it from here,” he said.

Your eyes narrowed slightly. You couldn’t even touch the trunk but some boy you didn’t know could help Aizawa carry it? Whatever.

“Bakugou!” Hizashi called to the kid. “Come meet Aizawa’s daughter!”

Instinctively, you moved towards Hizashi and away from the door frame. You didn’t know why you were nervous but you were.

The boy, sporting a black tank top and black sweats made his way over towards the kitchen, wiping away the sweat from his forehead with his arm that was bandaged up. He stopped at the doorway leaning against it.

“Hello,” You said quietly giving a slight wave. He just scowled at you. Yikes.

“Y/N, this is Katsuki Bakugou! He’s been helping me with some projects for about two months now! He’s been a ton of help!”

“Hello,” You said Again, this time with a little more confidence.

He looked you up and down, almost as if he were sizing you up, as if you could be a threat to him. You crossed your arms, out of discomfort but also trying to make you look a little more tough. It was pointless. Bakugou turned his attention to Hizashi. “Did you get my text?” His voice was low and rough. It annoyed you that you thought it was a little attractive. You didn’t like this guy one bit.

Hizashi was surprised. “I- yes! Of course I did!”

“You didn’t respond,” Bakugou said walking passed you and Eijirou towards the fridge.

“I didn’t. It’s not important right now. I had to deal with something a little more important.”

“And that would be?” Bakugou asked into the refrigerator.

Hizashi dropped the lime slices into four classes filled with a frothy green liquid. “I made margaritas!” He beamed.

Bakugou came up from the fridge with a beer in hand. He used his keys to open the bottle. He stared at Hizashi as he took a sip from the bottle. Yikes.

Hizashi sighed. “Y/N, I already asked Shouta if this would be okay. You’ll have a margarita, won’t you?” He said, extending a beverage towards you.

How could you say no when you were a guest in his house and he had already made one? You couldn’t. You smiled sweetly at him and took the margarita in your hand sipping on it. You tried not to scrunch your face up at the strong taste. Hizashi returned your smile.

Aizawa trudged into the kitchen.

“Hey, were having it’s margarita night, grab a glass!” Hizashi commanded Aizawa. Aizawa gave him a dry look but still accepted his beverage. Eijirou began to growl at Aizawa when he got too close to Hizashi. Hizashi patted his head to calm him down.

Aizawa took a sip of Hizashi’s creation. “Christ, did you pour the entire bottle into this?!” He said putting the glass down. Bakugou offered him a beer which he gladly took.

“Wha- no!!” Hizashi said now slightly annoyed. “The kids in Santa Clara like ‘em strong these days!” He said throwing his hands up spilling some of his drink to the floor. Eijirou moves to lap up the liquid but recoiled after giving it a curious sniff. “Well Y/N likes my drink, don’t you?”

You were already halfway done with your drink. You had to hold you breath to drink it down. You didn’t want to be rude but you also wanted it to be over. Hizashi poured Aizawa’s drink into his now empty glass and poured what would have been Bakugou’s into yours. Okay so maybe sometimes you were too kind and that was stupid. And a little dizzy. You hiccuped a response.

You could almost make out a smirk on Bakugou’s face.

“We need to talk about the email from Fulukado.” Aizawa said to Hizashi.

“But it’s... margarita night,” Hizashi nearly pouted holding his glass in both hands like a child with a toy.

“Hizashi, this is important.” Aizawa glared at him and Hizashi shrugged defeated.

“All work and no play makes Shouta a dull boy,” Hizashi drains his drink and made his way out of the kitchen. “Bakugou, why don’t you take Y/N into town. Show her a good time. I’m sure she’s dying to explore.”

You were on the floor playing with Eijirou. You let him like your red face and you giggled at the goofy dog.

“I can’t take her anywhere! She’s drunk!” Bakugou called back.

“Am not!” You crossed your arms like a child. Eijirou woofed at Bakugou as if agreeing with you.

Hizashi came back, holding a key in his hand. “This is for the house. I keep it locked up at night. You can’t be too careful.” He studied you on the floor, wide eyed, running your hands through the dog’s soft fur. “Aizawa, are you okay with her going to town right now? I know Bakugou is responsible enough. He wouldn’t let anything to happen to her.”

Aizawa sighed and looked at you. You gave him a pleading look. He knew you craved independence. “Are you okay?” He asked.

“Absolutely!” You said standing up. “I could totally say my ABC’s backwards, walk in a straight line, whatever. The articles you gave me were interesting! I’m dying to see the fair!”

“The fair isn’t open on weekdays,” Bakugou said dryly.

“Well there’s a comic book store in town, right? I’d love to check it out.” You took the key from Hizashi. “I’m fine! I swear!”

Aizawa considered you. You put your finger to your nose and started walking heel to toe. “Z Y X W V U T-“

“Alright. Go. Have fun.” You were elated.

“Go ahead and take Eijirou too!” Hizashi chimed in as the dog started wagging his tail.

“Seriously?” Bakugou was not happy.

“Go have fun.” It wasn’t an invitation from Hizashi. It was a command.

Bakugou scoffed and made his way out the door, not waiting for you to understand that was your cue to follow.

“Be safe,” Aizawa said as you walked through the door, Eijirou on your heels.

You waved him off. “I always am.”

@yandere-inamorata

Chapter 2

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catherineofearghail-blog · 6 years

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First Chapter of a mystery novel I am working on under the cut. Any thoughts?

Chapter 1

The restaurant was bustling with late afternoon traffic. People laugh and talk around me, unaware of what I came here to do. I sit in my booth, quietly staring at my food, unsure of what my next move should be. She sits across from me, about four booths down, near the back door. Her salad and sandwich are in front of her, but she eats slowly, engrossed in a fashion magazine. I begin to sweat, and my leg shakes uncontrollably under the table, reminding me that I am not a killer…why am I even here? No, I have come too far to wuss out now. I have to do this; for Lucy and for Cinnamon. I am not the killer here, this woman is. An eye for an eye, I decided long ago. An eye for an eye. Breathing deep, I settle myself. Breathing back out, I decide that I’m going to do it. I take my salad, identical to hers, and I pour on the botulinum toxin, mixing it with the salad dressing. And because I am unsure of the dose needed, I decide to just go for it and I use the whole bottle of tasteless liquid. A few minutes later, my chance comes; she gets up to go to the bathroom. I get up out of the booth, willing my legs to carry me forward. After throwing away the rest of my food, I pass by her table toward the back door, deftly switching the salads and heading outside to my car, dumping her salad in the trash can on the way. I sit in my car, letting it warm up in the brisk autumn air. I see her return from the bathroom. She sits, and a few minutes go by. Finally, she starts to eat the salad. I wait a few minutes more, making sure she doesn’t notice anything is off. Then I wait longer still, to watch her get up and head out to her car once she is done. That’s it. A smile graces my lips, the first real smile in a long time. I’m in it now, no turning back. I sit there in my car for another half hour or so, then head after her to her house, as the sun begins to lower on the horizon. I park a couple of blocks away and walk through some back gardens to her backyard. Her living room lights are on and I can see her sprawled out on the floor by her couch. Wow, that worked faster than I anticipated. I sneak up to the back door and to my surprise, it is unlocked. Then I remember, nobody ever locks their doors in a small town, right? I sneak in and walk up behind her, a duffle bag slung over my shoulder. I flip off the living room light, so people can’t see in as easily and as I turn, I see that she is looking right at me. Big, bulging eyes plead to me, tears streaming down sideways onto the carpet. She is paralyzed, completely, laying on the floor. I walk up to her and kneel down, not unlike a lion staring down it’s helpless prey. The smile returns, seeing her like this makes me realize how noble my goal is. She screeches at me through clenched teeth, foam and spittle dripping from her pale lips. I reach into my bag with my gloved hands and dig around. Fumbling a bit in the dark, I pull out a picture. A small framed picture of a brown and white cat, fluffy all over with a big bushy tail curled around her legs. Cinnamon was a fitting name, the brown reaching from her head to tail and mixing with the white like pure cake batter swirled by a spoon. I set it down and pull out a blood red candle. When the woman sees the picture, I can tell something clicks in her head. She looks back to me, nothing but hatred filling her gaze. I respond in kind, saying the words, “I am only doing what you did.” as I light the candle. I sit there quietly; over the course of a couple more hours the candle burns down, and the woman dies in agonized silence. _________________________________________________ “Well, that is just perfect, if I do say so myself.” James Radley wiped the sweat from his brow and stepped down off the ladder. His proud handiwork was a dark oak wood sign that hung above the business door. It read- ‘Private Investigator – Christopher James Radley’ ‘For all the crimes the police can’t handle’

Chuckling to himself for his fantastic slight at the police force, he began to fold up the ladder. Not two seconds later, the sign slacked and then fell, clattering on the ground. “Stupid fucking sign.” He cursed under his breath. “I am not climbing up there again, I swear to God.” “Well, that sure was a pretty sign. I don’t know how much business you’ll attract with it on the ground like that though.” James’ best friend and would be colleague, Rory Cunningham, strode up behind him. “You can put it up then, I’m sick and tired of it already.” He fought to get the ladder back open, clearly frustrated. Rory scooped up the sign and steadied the ladder, deciding to try and put up the unruly sign, for his friend’s sake, at least. “So, how are they treating you down at the precinct? Give you any good cases yet?” James tried to hide his chagrin, though it was far from believable. “You know I didn’t come all the way down here to talk about that, right?” Hammering the sign in, Rory was done in a few seconds. He pulled and pushed on it to test it, and when he was satisfied, he climbed back down. “That baby ain’t coming off except in a hurricane.” He tossed the hammer back to James and closed the ladder up, walking back to the supply shed on the side of the large office building. James tossed the hammer in afterward and shut the doors. “Thanks man, you have no idea how mad that sign was making me.” They hugged, patting each other’s backs. “Look, I just came here to take my best friend out for drinks to celebrate his up and coming business. I didn’t know I would be drafted into sign hanging duty. But, we do what we must, for our friends.” “Quit your holier than though shit. I’m still mad about the job, man.” “I know, that’s why I was avoiding the topic, but you are just so persistent.” He hoisted himself up into his truck and opened the passenger side door. “If we must discuss it, I would rather talk while taking some shots or at least drinking a beer. What do you say?” James rolled his eyes but got into the truck anyway. He’d never say no to beer. It was a couple hours later, and both men were very drunk. People came up a couple times to congratulate Rory on his new position as a police office in the local precinct. It was a job that both he and James had worked really hard for, but James was passed over. A fact that he yelled at any one who passed by too close. “To your new business,” Rory held his glass up, the beer half gone already. “Oh, screw my business,” James growled. “It’s not like it’s going to take off, it’s just a petty act of spite. Oh, they didn’t let me into the police department, I’ll show them, I’ll be a P.I. and steal all of their fucking cases!” He rested his head on the table. “This is a tiny town, there aren’t even any real cases! God, Rory, what am I gonna do? I sunk all of my savings into that building.” “I think this is a great move for you, buddy. Just wait, I’m sure you’ll have loads of business.” He caught a glare from his inebriated friend. “You love helping people, right? That’s why you always wanted to be a cop. So just help people, but in a different way.” “You’re drunk.” James retorted. “Doesn’t make me any less right.” Rory clinked his glass against James’s, though it was still on the table and may have splattered some beer around. “To your detective agency.” “Huzzah.” James slurred, and after a few more beers and a rousing rendition of “Swing Low” by Etta James, they were respectably asked to leave. After saying goodbye to his friend, James walked the three-mile trek back to his apartment. Once inside, he was ambushed by a small gray tabby cat. Beatrice, a kitten he had taken in off the streets, was parading around her empty food bowl, meowing at top volume. Once it was filled and she was able to inspect it, she decided to let him pass unharmed, and after giving her a couple head scratches, he went on to his bedroom. His whole life has been spent in the small town of Chatterway, South Carolina. It was a small town where everyone knew everyone and nothing crazy ever happened. What a terrible place to set up a P.I. agency. ‘I should’ve moved to the city. Lots of crime up that way.’ Was his last thought before he fell asleep.

#mystery #novel #writblr #murder tw #catherinefearghailwrites #this story is close to my heart #as is the main character #he's stupid and i love him

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ffxvhoe · 7 years

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A Journey to Redamancy || Ch. 2

The second part is finally up, huzzah! Anyway, as I was writing this I came to the definite conclusion that this fic will be character driven instead of plot driven. So no huge fights or anything, just two people growing into themselves and one another.

Tagging: @xnoctits @cagedbycravings @goodmorningawfulbye @sonsoflucis @ultimoogle @blustersquall

CH. 1 | CH. 2

Mysteries stayed mysteries largely due to the fact that people preferred them to stay as such. If people desired to truly know about something formerly thought as mysterious, the mystery would cease to be. There were many reasons why people chose to leave mysteries as they were. For one, it allowed people an excuse for not learning more about a person or thing. Second, it was often times more enjoyable to leave things unknown. Third, it was simply easier.

It was easier for people to not bother to learn about the type of person Lysandra was; it was easier for people to continue to weave some sort of tale about the Goddess of the Night; it was easier than trying to get to know someone that did her best to keep others at bay. Perhaps that was Lysandra’s own fault, that last bit. She often felt lonely, yes, but she had gotten herself to believe a long tie ago that it was better to be lonely than to be surrounded by those that weren’t going to truly invest themselves in learning about what made one a true individual. She had a close couple of friends, and of course her brother, and she was very much fine with these circumstances. That didn’t mean, however, that she didn’t feel a pang when her friends talked about going out with other friends of theirs, or when she watched the mortals in the Land Below laugh brilliantly at their parties.

The mystery was a shield to keep her eternal life as it were; to avoid change and the pain that often came with it.

Which was why she had been so quick to leave Gladiolus the night before.

If a god was old enough -- if they had been around long enough to become one with the way the world worked, body and soul -- they could feel the slight changes in fate. It was a tug in the pit of your stomach. It was a warm tingle that ghosted up your arms. It was the feeling of your caged heart ruffling its wings. And this was what Lysandra had felt when she spoke with the God of Love. She had seen the accepted sorrow in his eyes and was all too familiar with the feeling herself. Many gods dealt with the trials and emotions of eternal life in their own ways, but to find someone who dealt with it in such a similar way was unsettling.

Lysandra had heard many accounts of the God of Love, and from all she’d heard his personality seemed so wholly different from her own. So when she spoke to him last night and found such glaring similarities she felt thrown -- tumbling down a mountain in an endless fall. He was a mirror of another version of herself. Where he was friendly with most of those he met, she did her best to separate herself from others. Where he radiated warmth, she was cold and aloof. If they were so opposite, why did she hear a whisper in the back of her mind chanting same, same, same.

“You’re awfully quiet over there.” Lysandra looked up from the white cat lounging on her lap to look over at the goddess that had spoken.

“I’m always quiet, Cindy” Lysandra replied, voice even.

Cindy, the Goddess of the Forge, and one of Lysandra’s closest friends. Realistically the two of them shouldn’t have become as close as they had; they were much too different from one another to connect. Yet Cindy had been hellbent on becoming friends with Lysandra. What Lysandra had done to be deserving of a friend so utterly selfless and sweet was beyond her, but she made it a point to thank fate for bringing them together. Cindy was often the one person Lysandra went to when her mind became too muddled to make sense of herself. Occasionally Cindy would give advice, but most times she would simply lend an ear to the moon haired goddess as she worked on her newest project.

She answered the comment with a hum before asking, “What’s eatin’ at ya hun?”

“Have you met Gladiolus before?” Lysandra asked, silver eyes flicking up to watch Cindy as she hammered away at a new weapon.

“God of Love, yeah? Sure, he’s come in here plenty o’ times. Seems friendly enough, why?”

“He picked a fight with Aranea apparently.”

“And that’s what’s botherin’ ya?” No, that certainly was not what was bothering Lysandra, and she had a very good feeling that Cindy knew that as well. But Cindy also knew that when Lysandra ended up caught in her own mind like this it was best to let her work through it on her own -- to not demand answers to problems that Lysandra was already attempting to sort through.

“He seemed surprised to meet me,” Lysandra murmured, hands idly running through the cats fur.

“Well ya do tend to hide from everyone.”

“I do not hide,” Lysandra said indigently.

“Fine, fine, avoid. How’s that?”

Lysandra took a moment to think before nodding, white hair coming to cascade over her shoulders. “Better.”

“Would ya be a doll and hand me the mallet over there?” Upon entering the forge, Lysandra had realized that Cindy was in the middle of creating a new sword. From the detail she was putting into it Lysandra was left to believe that it was a custom order as opposed to one of her own personal creations.

Placing the white feline on the chair, Lysandra did as she was asked. She watched, enthralled, as Cindy began hammering away at the metal, shaping it into what she needed. The first time Lysandra had watched Cindy work she’d been more than a little envious. Cindy had the wonderful job of creating things every day and it was obvious how much she enjoyed doing said job. Lysandra, on the other hand, was left to deal with the prejudice her domain faced not only by mortals but the gods as well.

“For which god are you creating this?” Lysandra asked, peering over Cindy’s shoulder as she worked. “It’s quite...intricate.” The hilt alone was decorated with twining pieces of metal, molded to look like tangled rose vines. Small, unopened buds were dotted along the vines as well with a singular, fully bloomed rose at the end of the hilt. “It seems more decorative than something you would use for battle.”

“Towel.” Lysandra picked up the already dirtied cloth and handed it to her blonde haired friend who wasted no time in wiping her forehead. “Don’t ask me, hun, I just make what I’m asked. They should be comin’ t’ pick it up soon though if ya wanna ask them yourself. Maybe after we can go grab somethin’ t’ eat?” A rare, brilliant smile graced Lysandra’s features at the suggestion; it danced with unbridled happiness and gleamed with a childish freedom. It had been much too long since she was able to spend leisurely time with Cindy as she typically had piles upon piles of requests to fill.

“That sounds absolutely fantastic,” Lysandra replied. So there Lysandra stayed, keeping her friend company and aiding the master blacksmith in any way she could. Time passed swiftly, the air filled with an easy chatter between the two deities. Once again Lysandra was reminded why she appreciated Cindy so much; it wasn’t easy for Lysandra to find someone she could converse with so seamlessly.

As the sun began to set, Lysandra excused herself from the forge, promising to be back once night had truly fallen.

“We’ve been friends for over seven centuries, you don’t need t’ say anythin’.” Lysandra smiled in turn, that warm feeling of being known filling her lungs, her heart. With a small nod she pushed open the doors to the forge.

As Lysandra was the Goddess of the Night, the gradual change of the reds and oranges to the navy blues and blacks was something of a sacred experience. Nothing particularly special happened; there were no explosions of stars or changes of the wildlife, it was simply Night coming into being. It was the gradient of the sky -- her brother embracing the her domain and she embracing her brothers. It was the gentle blinking of stars coming out to speckle the sky. It was the moon’s glow slowly beginning to kiss the land both Above and Below. It was Lysandra bearing herself for all to see, silently pleading “Look at me. See me.”

Kissing the tip of a finger, Lysandra blew gently upon it, and a new shining star began its first ascent into the sky. “Another gift, mother.”

As Lysandra returned to the forge, her steps slow as she attempted to compose herself once more, she was startled by a boom of laughter. There was something faintly familiar about the voice, though Lysandra couldn’t quite figure out who it reminded her of. As she pushed open the metal door, the bottom of it scraping against the stone floor, she was startled to see Cindy laughing along with Gladiolus.

“Oh, hun, you wan’ed t’ meet the person who requested the sword, right? Well here he is!”

“Nice to meet you again, Lady Night.”

“I told you already that Lysandra was fine.”

“Fine you are indeed.” Gladiolus’s smile was roguish, his eyes glinting with restrained laughter.

Lysandra turned her silver gaze back to Cindy, missing the slight disappointment that flashed across Gladiolus’s face at her dismissal. “You could have simply told me it was him.”

“Oh, so you were talkin’ ‘bout this Gladiolus?” Lysandra’s eyes narrowed at the mischief that gleamed in Cindy’s otherwise innocent smile.

“What other Gladiolus would I have been speaking of?”

“You were talking about me? Good things I hope,” Gladiolus said with a grin.

“Neither good nor bad,” Lysandra replied. “Though I did tell her that you were dumb enough to pick a fight with Aranea.”

“Not sure why ya would’ve done that. The gal’s quicker than a cheetah on skates; you had no chance.” Cindy laughed as she shook her head in disbelief.

“Well thanks for the vote of confidence Cin,” Gladiolus replied with a roll of his eyes. The nickname didn’t go unnoticed by Lysandra, and not for the first time that night her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Are you two friends?”

“Indeed we are!” Cindy’s smile soon faded into one much more sheepish as she continued, “Sorry I didn’t mention anythin’ sweet pea, I didn’t mean anythin’ by it.”

The potentially lethal brew of self-consciousness, slight betrayal, and sadness dimmed in potency as Lysandra studied Cindy’s open expression. It wasn’t required of Cindy to tell Lysandra everything about her life -- who she spent her free time with or whom else she called friend. As Lysandra had only a few friends -- a number small enough to count on a single hand alone -- she had a tendency to become a little too attached, and often felt a pang of jealousy and inadequacy when she remembered that her friends also had a life she was not a part of. It was a work in progress to wade through those feelings and attempt to finally come out on the other side, but she had at least made some progress in the last century. It also helped that Cindy was beyond understanding of the matter, especially so after Lysandra had gotten up the nerve to bare herself to Cindy in that way and explain.

Lysandra was pulled out of her thoughts by the feeling of something curling around her legs. Looking down she was greeted by the white cat from earlier. “It’s fine, Cindy, nothing to worry about,” Lysandra replied, bending down to pick up the small creature.

Gladiolus took a step closer to Lysandra, reaching a cautious hand out to stroke behind the cat’s ears. “Who does she belong to?”

“Lysandra,” Cindy replied, her usual smile back to grace her features.

“She’s not mine,” Lysandra replied with a small shake of her head. Cindy took a moment to simply stare at the white haired goddess, mouth hanging slightly agape.

“What do ya mean she ain’t yours? Ya walked in here with her.” Cindy’s voice was incredulous as she stared at her friend.

“I found her on my way over,” Lysandra said, voice and eyes innocent.

“And you just...picked her up?” Cindy asked.

“I like cats.” Gladiolus let out an unbridled laugh. The sound of it could’ve rocked mountains, and the utter joy in it could have been bottled it was so tangible.

Lysandra studied him in that moment and came to the conclusion he was quite beautiful. He was a mixture of fine lines and gentle edges. His jaw was strong and dusted with stubble. His eyes decorated by crow’s feet in the corners, giving away a life filled with smiles and laughter. His body was honed in a way that could be noted even with the clothing he had on, and the way he held himself was reminiscent of a warrior. Which was strange, Lysandra thought, because why would the God of Love need to be a warrior?

As Lysandra studied Gladiolus, she failed to realize a faint, barely there smile had become planted on her lips. And she also failed to witness the amusement that decorated Cindy’s features as the blacksmith watched her friend.

“Gladiolus, would you like to join us for dinner?” Lysandra asked, eyes still studying the god’s features. The question sobered Gladiolus, his eyes coming down to lock with Lysandra’s in surprise before glancing over at Cindy.

“Sure,” he replied once he seemed to assure himself he wasn’t imposing. “You can call my Gladio, by the way.”

“Gladio...” Lysandra spoke the name, seeing how it tasted on her tongue. “I like it,” she said, “very well. You don’t mind, right, Cindy?” Lysandra asked, turning to her friend. Cindy herself looked fairly surprised as well by the sudden invitation that Lysandra had extended.

“‘Course not!” Cindy replied. “Lemme just go change real quick.” Just as Cindy was about to head into one of the numerous rooms in the forge, a small birdlike creature flew in through the window, it’s long tail reminiscent of a strand of ribbon. It was one of the messenger’s of the gods, and attached to its foot was a small scroll. “Oh, now don’t tell me....” Cindy walked over to the bird and unrolled the piece of parchment. The sigh that left Cindy was something of a giveaway as to what the scroll undoubtedly said. “Sorry ya’ll, a request from the King. You two go on and eat, I’ll try an’ catch up if I finish in time.”

“Are you sure?” Lysandra asked, lips forming a slight frown.

“Yeah, this was suppose to be your guys’ night out together originally,” Gladio said.

“It’s fine,” Cindy said with a wave of her hand. A small, teasing smirk quirked the edges of Cindy’s lips. “B’sides, Lysandra could use a new friend anyway.”

#ffxv fanfic #ffxv fanfiction #ffxv scenarios #ffxv au #ff15 fanfiction #gods au #ffxv #ff15 #ajtr

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citrusratz · 7 years

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We Can Make It

A Wreck It Ralph fanfiction from five years ago Chapter Two

The first minute or so of the sluggish little train ride was spent teetering left and right like a cradle. Gears whined, wheels squeaked, and tracks clicked. It was obnoxiously relaxing in the most perplexing and illogical way.

A good portion of the ride consisted of Make-It testing her theory that she would be able to pry the rockets off the bottom of her shoes if she painted a particularly sturdy pry bar. A chipped cart, dozens of whispered cusses, and two ruined shoes later, she decided to just make herself a new pair of shoes. It was remarkable, she thought, how many encounters with her cousin had cost her a perfectly fine pair of footwear.

She reached the boarding station with a sour face and freshly painted shoes, clasping her mangled scraps of rocket leather in one hand and her wicked pry bar in the other. It was a fairly small, quiet, and ugly room, but all of the muted colors flattered each other far too well for Make-It’s taste. Sickly-looking fluorescent lights hummed in the upper corners, making the air look less than healthy to breathe. A great, golden hall was gaping open straight ahead, little figures scurrying about in the world on the other end.

A springy hop brought her out of the train car and her eager, curious heart tugged her forward, but she flinched to a stop. The walls spoke to her. Cried out in pain at how ordinary and dirty they were. They wanted their own voices. They did not want to be walls anymore.

The low hum of the lights escalated into pleading cries. All of them shone the same terrible, boring, ill color. They did not mean to be so ugly. It was not their fault. It was the way they were made.

But Mavis, oh, Mavis! She could save them from their horrific fate. She, and only she, could give them what they truly wanted. Turning around slowly and gripping her brush, she cracked her joints and rolled her muscles. Time to make their dreams come true.

Several needless acrobatics and hundreds of garish colors later, Make-It rubbed her hands together and left her impromptu project behind for the next passenger to enjoy. If the glaring contrast did not blind them instantly, that is.

A literal hop, skip, and a jump cleared the golden hallway instantly, and she skid to a stop at the sight that hit her.

The great, shining hall opened to an even greater, grander, shinier, taller, wider, overwhelming hall. The meticulously waxed floor shone as if it were a vast, stretched light bulb. Creatures of every clime bustled about, sat on benches, headed for any of the dozen metallic gates that could only have led to other games. Walls of plastic that were easily six or seven Ralphs high wrapped around the mouth of each gate. Strange, artificial, yet beautiful light poured in through rows of windows high on the far end walls. Almost as impressive as the environment was the crowds.

A honking flock of ducks fluttered past overhead, followed directly underneath by an ecstatic-looking dog. A towering, bronze-armored figure strode past. A little boy with a green wind sock on his head sat expectantly on a bench, kicking his feet about. Baseball players, soldiers, astronauts, fairies, princesses, snakes, dragons, and creatures that Make-It could not even name were shuffling about, each on their own casual way. There were definitely too many bodies mulling about for Make-It to count and identify, and certainly too many for her comfort.

Any number of people in a crowd meant double the eyes, and the more eyes there were, the less naughty she could be without getting caught. She gulped hard, reading the huge scrolling red signs above the gates.

“Frogger, Pong, Space Invaders, Super Mario, Pac-Man…” she muttered to herself, stepping forward gingerly. She had told Felix that she was going to Turbo-Time, but that was just a cover. Now that she could see all of her choices, she had absolutely no idea where to go.

She supposed that a good place to start would be throwing out her ruined shoes and her pointless crowbar. Spotting a garbage can was easy enough, but getting to it was another story. Shouldering through the crowds, apologizing to anything she happened to bump, nearly stepping on a little frog, her heart began to pound uncomfortably. Any second now, she knew she would be tempted to mess something up, and she was very poorly armed against temptation.

Just a stride away from the garbage, she was knocked on her behind by a huge, lumbering brute passing by.

“Augh, watch it!” She snarled, pushing herself up and rubbing her bum. “That didn’t exactly look like an accident!”

As soon as she spoke, she felt an overwhelming need to put her foot in her mouth. The brute was, in fact, an ape that was easily ten times her size, hauling an enormous barrel over one of its bulging shoulders. It paused, turning to glance back at her, its hideous teeth bared and its eyes shadowed over by its jutting brow.

“…Well pushed, my friend! I never saw it coming!” She put in every bit of jovial tone that she possessed into her mouth as she backed towards the garbage, dropping her trash in it. “Wouldn’t want you to drop that barrel though! Not that you would, mind you! You’ve got a great grip on it! Haha!”

It glared holes into her head as she stumbled back, waving her arms in an attempt to seem double the normal amount of friendly. “Have a good day! Night! Happily ever after! Huzzah!”

It was a good fifty feet away by the time she stopped talking, and it finally rolled its shoulders and kept along on its way. Wiping the sweat from her forehead, Make-It glanced around frantically. That was entirely too close. She had to get into a game before she irritated another hulking mass. Choices did not entirely matter to her anymore, so she darted to the first one that she could remember. Perhaps in Turbo-Time, she could find somebody remotely friendly. They were plugged in just around the same time, after all. Maybe they would have something in common.

She watched the glowing letters scroll by as she bolted for the gate. “Turbo-Time.” Yes. Good. Perfect. A whole-hearted leap sent her soaring to the scratched and scuffed golden hall, but a flash of red and a mild shock surged over her skin as she flew through, zapping a shriek out of her and making her topple and roll on landing.

“What in the cussing—” She pushed herself back to her feet, and a low, droning voice caught her attention.

“Name.”

“What?” Glancing back, she saw a blue, translucent figure standing and staring at a clipboard. Apart from the odd, swirling light fixture above his head, everything about him was nauseatingly business-like. Button-up shirt, tie, dress pants, the works.

“Name,” he repeated.

“Uh…” She stepped over to him cautiously, ready to make a break for it. “Am I under arrest..?”

“No.”

No elaboration came. “Okay… uh…”

“Name,” he repeated, his tone slightly firmer.

“Make-It Mavis.”

“Where are you headed?”

She blinked. Could he not read the sign? Pressing her lips together, she gestured up.

His eyes lifted from the clipboard only to give her a bored, exasperated look.

“Turbo-Time,” she sighed, putting her hands on her hips and rocking on her heels.

“Where are you coming from?”

“Fix-It Felix Junior.”

“Have any food with you?”

“Negative.”

“Anything to declare?”

What a weird question. “Bankruptcy?”

“Carry on.” And with that, he disappeared like a light going out.

“Hm,” she grunted to herself, stepping backwards slowly. Hoping very much that an encounter like that would not happen every time she tried to visit other games, she bounced jubilantly down the hallway and reached a boring, sterile station not unlike the one leading to her own game. However, when she cleared the tiny stairs with one hop, she found that the train was not there. Only rickety wooden tracks.

Her shoulders slumped, crestfallen. “Well, cuss. I really thought it was Time for Turbo.” As she turned to leave, however, the approaching sound of a train clicking brought her back around. Gruff voices echoed out of the tunnel.

“Just how hard did he hit you?”

“Harder than usual. Better aim than usual, too. He usually gets me in the helmet.”

“Little swine. Next, they’re gonna give him two trophies. One for each hand, so he can dual-wield ‘em.”

“Don’t jinx yourself. Just be thankful your ugly face is still intact.”

A train almost identical to Fix-It’s rolled in, only the carts were painted to look like little red race cars, the cartoon visage of a creepy racer with an unnaturally huge smile drawn on the sides. In the back cart sat two grey-skinned men that were a fair bit taller than Felix, each clad in an identical blue racing jumpsuit and helmet striped with white. The only difference that Make-It could spot between them was that the one on the left had a bloodied nose.

They stepped out and shoved their hands in their pockets in eerie synchronization, striding with a slouch in the direction of the golden hall. “Gonna have to ask Tapper for extra napkins…” the bloodied one muttered.

“And you might want to go easy on the root beer. Haven’t got a whole lot of blood left in you to balance out the alcohol.”

“If you ever tell me to go easy on the root beer again, you’ll have a nice bleeding honker of your own.”

“There’s no alcohol in root beer, fellas.”

Both of them stopped and looked at each other, and then slowly turned to Make-It. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Since you rolled up.”

“Why didn’t we see you?”

“Maybe you can’t see past your swollen nose?”

The non-bloodied one snickered, but the other just snarled. He looked as if he were about to mouth her off, but his twin spoke first.

“And just what do you think you’re doing in this neck of the woods, sweetcheeks?”

“Taking the train to Turbo-Time,” she droned flatly, quirking a brow. “Which is why I’m in the Turbo-Time train station.”

He laughed warningly. “Ah, yeah, you don’t wanna be doing that. Not now, anyway.”

“Hm, no, I think I do. I came all this way and almost got eaten by an ape. I’m going to Turbo-Time.”

“Mmhmm. Why?”

She shrugged. “Why not?”

“Because Turbo is having a party.”

“Sounds bombastic.”

“Sure,” he hissed, strolling towards her, closely followed by the other, “if you’re Turbo. Or a brainless NPC. But for everyone else, it’s just a nightly worship of the almighty ruler of the track.” The last words seemed to taste terrible on his tongue. “Turbo shows off his trophy, everyone goes nuts, and he goes to bed with his ego stroked raw.”

Make-It turned on her heel and slowly strode along beside the racer, and they began circling each other as if they were about to be at each other’s throats. “So, Turbo’s your ‘good guy’, is he?”

“The game is called ‘Turbo-Time’. But the last thing I’d call that little slime is a ‘good guy’.”

“And you are?”

“The ‘bad guys’,” he growled, his yellow eyes glowering. “We’re the ones who were never meant to win a single race. Nobody’s happy when we win a trophy.”

“So, the gamers can only play as Turbo.”

“You got it.”

“Well now,” an impish grin pulled over the side of her face. “Does that not make you two ‘brainless NPCs’?”

Both men stepped forward harshly, their yellow teeth bared. “Watch it, stranger. We’re nothing like the NPCs in the bleachers. We actually have minds of our own. We don’t devote our very existence to watching Turbo leave us in the dust.”

“AI, then. Artificial intelligence. Hmm.”

“I know where you’re going with that,” he growled, “and you’d better stop now before you say too much.”

Make-It blinked, her eyes half-lidded and her arms behind her back. “Well, boys, not that it hasn’t been fun talking to you, but I have a crappy party to attend.” She did not make it one step away before a hand roughly gripped her arm.

“Don’t! Just, God, don’t go encourage him! We’ll be hearing about it for days!”

Make-It glared into his sunken eyes and tried to wrench herself free, but he was not letting her go. “Hearing about WHAT?”

“That a female from another game went through all the trouble to come and bow down in his glory. Trust me, you do not want to go to that party.”

“Hm,” she hissed, “sounds a lot more like YOU don’t want me to go more than I don’t want to go. And maybe I would co-operate if you weren’t being such a rude cuss about it.”

“You’re calling ME rude?!” His grip tightened and he dragged her closer.

“Let me GO, NPC.” She dug her heels into the floor as hard as she could. “I won’t ask you nicely again.”

His eye twitched and a smile of restraint flashed. “Not if you’re planning on going to that party.”

“Augh, why in the eight bits should I care if this Turbo cuss annoys you?”

“Look, just,” he drew in a sharp breath, “look. If you don’t go, if you come with us, we’ll buy you some root beer at Tapper’s. Deal?”

“Why would I want to sit around drinking supposedly alcoholic root beer with a snarky NPC who can’t keep his hands to himself and a loser who got the snot beat out of him by a trophy?”

The restraint in him audibly snapped as he snarled a few foul words, yanking her closer and tensing his free arm. Just as quickly, Make-It whipped out her brush and sliced a silver knife out of thin air, pointing it straight at his face. His bloodied twin leapt into the fray just as they broke apart, both men staring at the glistening blade.

“DON’T. TOUCH. ME.” She growled through gritted teeth.

The twins merely stared, dumbfounded. The bloodied one was the first to speak. “How did… you do that?”

“What?”

“That knife,” he gestured, “how did you make that knife?”

“Hmm,” she stepped back. “We didn’t properly introduce ourselves, did we. I’m Make-It Mavis, and your answer’s in my name.”

“So… you just make things… out of thin air?”

“What of it?”

Both of them grinned in unison, letting out one short, amazed chuckle. Make-It tilted her head.

“You like that, do you?”

“Well,” the non-bloodied one stepped forward a bit, “yeah, of course. That’s incredible.”

“Trying to flatter your way out. I see.”

“No! Really!” His eyes were oddly sincere. “If we had something like that… oh, yes.” He laughed outright, putting his knuckle to his chin. His twin watched him, seemingly reading his mind, and joining in the laughter. Make-It could not help but let her lips twitch. They sounded like demented clowns.

“And just what is so funny?” She relaxed from her readied stance, but still gripped the knife just as tightly.

The bloodied one’s shoulders shook as he tried to calm his laughter. “Oh, sugar, we would prank the ever-loving pixels out of Turbo. Ah, would that be sweet.”

“Well, now,” she twirled the knife, “I’m up for a good prank as much as the next character. Probably even more so.”

“Oh, really? ‘Cause if you are… If you want to cooperate…”

“Sure.”

“And if you’re not going to stab us…” he gestured to her knife.

“Brother, I just wanted you to let me go. Don’t you know to let a lady go when she says so?”

“You don’t seem entirely lady-like, sweetcheeks.”

“That’s true,” she nodded, smiling and stepping over to them, “but I’m enough of a lady to slash up strangers who call me ‘sweetcheeks’.”

They looked at each other. “Do all ladies do that…?”

“Wow,” she raised a brow, “you two… you haven’t seen a woman in a long time, have you?”

Again, they looked at each other, whispering. “What’s she trying to say?” “Is she hitting on us?” “Maybe.”

She spluttered out a very wet laugh. “No! I’m just observing.”

“Well… no, we haven’t. Other than…Turbo’s fans.” He shuddered.

“Well then, here’s the first thing you ought to know. Ladies and men are pretty well exactly the same, except one’s scared of the other. I’ll let you figure out which.” She winked.

Once again, they looked at each other, mouths hanging slightly open in confusion.

“Fellas,” she cleared her throat, “what was that you said about buying me some root beer for not going to the party?”

The bloodied one piped up. “Yes, right! Of course. Right this way.” He awkwardly put a hand on her back and turned her to face the golden hall, leading her forward. “Make-It, we are going to introduce you to an angel.”

“Oh. It won’t try to exorcise me, will it?”

“No, no, no! Listen, let me tell you a story.” They passed into Game Central Station and he redirected her to a gate diagonal to their own. “One day, the heavens created an angel, and they sent him down to the world of this lowly arcade. They granted him the power to fill keg after keg with the sweet nectar of the gods, and they commanded that it shall be called ‘root beer’. Because his E rating wouldn’t allow him to call it ‘beer’.”

“Ohhh. That would explain the alcohol, now, wouldn’t it?”

“Hush, I’m not done! This was no ordinary beer. This is a very unique blend of the very secret, sacred ingredients that only the angel was blessed with the knowledge of. And then, out of the charity of his heart, the angel opened a bar in which characters from all games could come and buy this divine drink.”

“Wouldn’t it be more charitable to give it away for free?”

“And the gods called him… Tapper.” They reached Tapper’s golden hall and climbed into the longer, sturdier looking train. She supposed that since this place was so frequented, a better mode of transportation would be necessary.

He kept his arm around her shoulders as they sat down, but she lightly poked his hand with the knife. He took the hint.

“By the way, I never did catch your names,” she reminded them as the train rolled into the tunnel.

They groaned. “What’s the use? No one can tell us apart anyway. We’re blessed with nearly identical coding.”

“Well then. For as long as I can tell the difference, I’ll just call you Nose,” she elbowed the one next to her, then peered over her shoulder at the other, “and you Grabby. Sound good?”

“God, no.”

“Too late. Nose and Grabby it is.”

“No! Listen, our names are—”

“I am CALLING you Nose and Grabby. Better learn to live with it.”

They sighed in unison. “Fine.”

The train pulled into a fairly homey looking room. The walls were lined with blue patterned wallpaper and warm, honey-colored hardwood was practically everywhere. Signed portraits hung on the walls and led into a hallway lined with even more portraits, supposedly of any of the ‘good guys’ who came to visit. Make-It thought it funny that her cousin was not up there, but then she also wondered if he drank at all.

Make-It popped out of the train like a loaded spring. “So this is the terrestrial dwelling of the angel, Tapper.”

“The one and only,” Nose confirmed, leading her down the hall, Grabby in stride. Make-It found it quite remarkable at how quickly the twins had gone from thugs to bodyguards, flanking her and escorting her like a precious gem, and all it took was the possibility of getting back at Turbo. It seemed that these particular ‘bad guys’ had a vendetta against their ‘good guy’ that went far beyond mere code.

Passing by a bathroom and a utility closet, they came into the main room, and the scent in the air was very peculiar. It was terrible and wonderful, depressing and welcoming, bitter and delicious. An eclectic sampling of characters sat hunched over long tables, pondering their drinks as if they were holy scripture. At end of each table, jutting out from the wall, were huge beer kegs and taps. And at the very far end of the room, absent-mindedly stroking a pint clean, was the supposed angel himself. Well groomed, wide-eyed, dapper, and thoughtful.

“Hm,” Make-It hummed. “This is… hm.”

Grabby nudged her shoulder. “What’s the matter, pint-size?”

Glancing back at the man that was not a whole lot taller than she was, she continued, “I was going to make a comment about this place being heavenly. But I can’t decide if I would be sarcastic or not.”

“Just wait ‘till you’ve had a few,” Nose kicked a stool out for her, but she took the one next to it. Pausing only a moment, he went on, “You’re on your way to revelation, sugar.”

“Maybe we could drop the celestial metaphors now,” Make-It took a napkin between her fingers, rubbing it together and crumpling the edges. “Just get me some of this magical drink and tell me about this little ‘Turbo’ cuss that you hate so much.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Grabby saluted with two fingers as he took the seat next to her. “’Ay, Tapper! Three root beers, over here!”

It seemed near impossible how quickly and professionally the little bartender moved. Without one unnecessary step, he strode over to the keg by their table, three glistening mugs in hand, filled all three in one fluid motion, and slid them down the table to the waiting hands of the trio. And as swiftly as he had come, he was back to his station again, slowly cleaning whatever his eyes rested on.

Make-It whistled softly. “Impressive.” Glancing down at her drink, though, she had second thoughts. The frothy, dark beverage did not smell like sunshine and happiness. “Little darker than most beers, aren’t they..?”

“What did I tell you?” Nose gestured to her with his mug. “It’s a secret recipe. Completely unique and one of a kind. And flawless, of course.” He kissed the edge of his mug tenderly, then tipped it back to slurp down a mouthful. A satisfied rumble and a shudder rippled over him as he leaned back forward. “If the law would allow it, I would marry this drink.”

Grabby snorted into his mug. “You’ve made love to it enough times by now, they oughtta let you just go ahead and say you’re married.”

“It’s not fair,” Nose grumbled against the rim.

Their disturbing obsession was not making the liquid any more appealing, but curiosity sealed the deal. She had to know just what these two were babbling about. “Alright,” she shrugged, putting the mug to her lips and knocking back a sip.

Her mouth and throat fizzled and burned. “Oh my land,” she slowly lowered the glass. “Is it supposed to feel like that?”

“You’ll get used to it. It’s hard to taste it the first couple times,” Grabby reassured.

“This is so bizarre,” she shook her head, but took his word for it and swallowed another gulp. And another. And another. And another.

By the time her glass was empty, her mouth had practically gone numb. Her body tingled with strange and soothing warmth, and the world seemed softer all around, almost as if everything was very slowly, contentedly melting.

She smacked her lips and stared at the bottom of her mug. “Am I drunk?”

Nose snickered. “You’d have to be a real lightweight to get drunk after one mug of this.”

Make-It tried licking her nose. “I’ve never drank before.”

“That much was obvious,” Grabby muttered. “How are you feeling, kid?”

“Not a kid,” she frowned. “But I am feeling.”

“…Yes?”

“Feeling bizarre. And nice, I guess. And about twice as stupid as usual.”

Grabby nodded. “You’re getting there. But let’s not get you wasted tonight. You’ve got a job in the morning, after all.”

“Wait,” she leaned back, realizing too late that the stool had no back support, and tumbling to the floor, “wait.” It took a moment or two for her to get back in her seat. “Wait. Wait. Turbo. You never told me about this Turbo guy and what I’m supposed to be doing to him. And what’s in it for me, of course. I want stuff for this.”

“I don’t recall that being part of the deal,” Grabby hissed.

She prodded her temple. “Beer’s gettin’ to your head.”

He sighed. “Clearly. Alright, out with it, then. What do you want?”

“Ay, ay, wait a sec, okay? I wanna hear about Turbo first. And all this racing junk. I can’t know what I want ‘till I know what you’ve got.”

The twins glanced at each other, seemingly deciding who should speak first. Nose won. “Well, every day it’s the same thing. We get up in the morning to have a warm-up race once around the track, and Turbo’s already begun to piss us off by existing. He leaps out, fanfare blaring, and honks out that god-forsaken catchphrase…” He pinched his brow. “And of course, the freakin’ crowds go wild. ‘Turbo! Turbo! Turbo!’” His whole body shuddered and lurched. “He misses no chance to play himself up and compensate for what a little worthless slime he is by soaking up all his undeserved attention. And if he loses the warm-up race, augh. You’d think you had denied a kid his favorite toy. A very violent, obnoxious, loud, and ugly kid.”

“Is that what happened to your nose, Nose?”

“Hah, no. I wish it were, actually. I’m getting to that part. The arcade opens soon after our race, and here come the quarters. And who wins every single race? Well damn if it isn’t Turbo. Because if it ISN’T Turbo, the gamers aren’t satisfied, and they just keep throwing quarters at us until he wins. And when he does… he gets a huge, heavy, shiny trophy. It’s not as if he even earned it, being controlled by the gamer the whole time. We’re actually doing real work out there. But, no, he’s praised as the greatest hero to walk the earth, literally placed on a pedestal above us, where he strikes a magnificently stupid victory pose. And more often than not, with that pose, he hits one of us with that trophy. On purpose.”

Make-It snorted.

“What, you think that’s funny, do you?”

She giggled a tipsy, wobbly giggle. “I never considered using a trophy as a weapon. Little swine’s clever.”

“NO, no, no, he’s not. Trust me. Hardly a word comes out of his stinkin’ mouth that isn’t gloating over something he didn’t even earn. And then he goes and gets treated like royalty by these dorky little NPCs…”

“Ssshhh. So. You need this guy put in his place,” she stroked her chin. “Because he gets undeserved glory and is a little cuss about it. And you guys actually do work. Or. Whatever you consider racing.”

“That sounds about right, yeah,” Grabby piped in. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to cut him up with that fancy knife of yours…”

“Mmm. I was bought drinks for pranking, not shanking. No cutting up involved.”

Grabby swore into his mug, turning away a bit.

“Oh,” she sat a little straighter, taking care not to fall backwards again, “I know what I want.”

Both twins watched her expectantly.

“When you win the race due to my pranking,” she put her hand down against the table, pausing for effect. “I want that trophy.”

Grabby and Nose flinched in unison. “What?!”

“Trophy be mine.”

“No way,” Nose brought his mug down harder than he seemed to intend. “We hardly get any of those. They’re a lot more precious to us than they are to Turbo. And, God, they’re worth a good fifty thousand points each!”

“Mmm,” she licked her lips, “that sweetens the deal for me, now, doesn’t it?”

“Your asking price is ridiculous,” Grabby snarled. “It’s completely unrealistic. Fifty thousand points for one prank?!”

“Just the most potential for the best prank ever,” she twirled her brush in her hand. “Believe me when I say I can do whatever I want to that little cuss. By the end of the day, he’ll be so embarrassed, he’ll be pink as a baby’s bottom.”

“Granted, that sounds fantastic, but fifty-freakin’-thousand?”

She shrugged. “Okay then. I guess our deal’s off.” She stood up, definitely overestimating her ability to stand straight while impaired. “Looks like it’s time for me to go to Turbo-Time. Better go make love to Turbo’s tire tracks. They’re getting awfully lonely without me.”

“You can’t be serious,” Grabby growled, shouldering in front of her and blocking her exit.

“A girl gets lonely sometimes, you know, and she has to explore her options.”

“Not about that! You—How can you just… Augh, my god. Hold on, just sit down, will you. Keep your purple pants on.” He sat her back down with a little push, crossing over to Nose and staring at him, arms folded. Nose held the gaze for a good, solid five minutes.

They sighed together, closing their eyes. “Fine.”

“Aha,” Make-It leaned on the table and pushed her fingers through her hair, a deeply smug grin on her face. “Turbo-tastic.”

Both of them practically screamed.

“DON’T YOU EVER SAY THAT AGAIN! AUGH, GOD, HOW DID YOU EVEN KNOW--?!”

“SHUT UP, JUST, JUST SHUT UP RIGHT NOW OR THE DEAL’S OFF.”

Make-It had no idea what she had said to set them off. “What… d’you mean ‘Turbo-tastic’?” Another agonized chorus of moans. “Crap, guys,” she laughed outright, “I didn’t even mean to say that. It’s just a drunken slur, sheesh. It just kinda fell out of my mouth.”

“Just…” Grabby hissed and shuddered. “You’ll come to hate that phrase in ten minutes of being around Turbo, I promise.”

“I dunno,” she chuckled, “I kind of like it already. It’s got a nice ring to it. Your screams are particularly musical.”

“Do you want that freakin’ trophy or not?”

“Alright, calm your bits. I’ll keep that one zipped up. For now,” she extended her hand to them. “Now, let’s make this official, shall we? One humiliated racer in return for one shiny trophy?

A synchronized sigh. “Agreed.” They put their hands in together, resting them on top of Make-It’s.

“Turbo-tastic,” she purred. Enraged snarls were the last things she heard before she blacked out.

#wreck it ralph #wir #fanfiction #fix it felix #make it mavis #turbo #writing

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kenyedoesfiction · 7 years

Text

The Boys Are Back In Town, Pt. 3

Part three! Huzzah!

A young boy with medium length brown hair was playing on his Nintendo DS and sitting out in the swing on the porch of his family’s house when a dark car pulled up in the drive way. He raised an eyebrow and stared at it without saying a word.

“Wow, this is such a normal and conventional looking place! Did my leaving really affect him that much?” Manuel seemed bewildered as he got out of the car.

“I’m sure he wanted to get away from his old life as much as possible, for better or worse.” Luis shrugged.

“Either way, this is the address, according to the university he works at.” Rodrigo got out of the drivers’ seat and locked the car.

“Hey look, a little boy!” Manuel nudged Luis.

“And that is why I’m going first!” Rodrigo got in front of his friends as they went up the walkway.

“Say, is your father home?” The balding man smiled.

The boy just stared at him.

“Pfft, you know nothing about talking to kids, do you?” Manuel rolled his eyes.

“Every kid, just like every adult, is different. And being a strange adult just walking up to a kid and asking them something rarely works. Especially if their parents have them taught a certain way.” Luis shook his head.

“Well, excuse me! Fine, one of you do it!”

“I will!” Manuel puffed his chest out and walked forward. “Dude, are you playing Pokemon??”

“Yeah! Diamond!”

“Who did you choose as a starter?”

“Piplup!”

“Awesome! How old are you? I’m forty-two!”

“I’m eight!”

“Awesome. Ugh, I wish I brought my DS with me so we could trade and battle some.”

“You have one too? Who did you pick?”

“Turtwig! Maybe I’ll bring it next time I see you so we can play.”

“My brother isn’t really into video games unless it’s sports games. Dad likes games too but not Pokemon and I don’t have a lot of friends at school. I’d love to play with you!”

“That settles it. I will bring mine next time.”

“Next time?” Rodrigo put his hands on his hips.

“There will be a next time.”

“Fine, but let’s get to Mariano so there will be a next time!”

“You mean my brother or my dad?”

“Your dad! He was in a band with us when we were all younger!” Luis grinned.

The boy’s eyes widened and he was silent for a moment as he realized who they were.

“Holy shit. Dad doesn’t really talk much about it, but I have managed to look up the music online and… wow I’m really meeting you guys! Well,” the boy counted them for a moment, “three of you. My favorite song is ‘¿Quieres un chico malo?’ I think I have a lot in common with it.”

Manuel felt touched. That was one of his songs. And, while he had just met this boy and din’t even know his name, he felt he was meeting a kindred spirit. The boy already reminded him so much of himself at the age of eight.

“Dad went to pick brother up from football practice. They should be home soon. Mom is inside if you want to go inside and wait.”

“You two can go in. I’ll stay with him and wait for Yano.”

Rodrigo and Luis glanced at each other and went inside.

As they closed the door behind them, something struck them.

“We didn’t knock!” Rodrigo put his hand over his mouth, “we just walked right in, uninvited.”

“The boy let us in. I mean, that’s okay, right?” Luis cocked his hea to the side.

“Maybe. I don’t know.”

In that moment, a woman walked out of the hall and saw them.

“Oh wow I—are you really who I think you are?”

“We’re rude for just walking into your home uninvited is what we are!” Rodrigo moaned.

“Your son let us in though!” Luis motioned at the door.

“It’s okay. Really! I never thought I’d meet either of you!” The woman embraced them both tightly. She was rather short with long, dark blonde hair and was a little chubby. She didn’t look nearly as young as Manuel’s wife Dani, but she still seemed like she was quite a bit younger than the guys in the band.

“Oh, where are my manners? I know who you two are, but you have no idea who I am! I’m Viri, Mariano’s wife! It’s such a pleasure to finally meet you both, Luis! Rodrigo!” She smiled an shook both of their hands furiously. “That was our younger son, Manuel, out on the porch.”

“Wait, Manuel?” Rodrigo stood back.

“Yes! Manuel! Erm, I understand it may seem… odd. It’s just that Mariano copes with things very oddly. Actually, he doesn’t now that I know, but he has this collection of all the pornographic films that your band mate, Manuel, has ever been in. Don’t tell him that I said that though!” Viri looked paranoid.

“We won’t tell. We’re just shocked. We figured he wanted to completely forget his old life after how it all ended so badly.” Luis scratched his chin.

“He did and didn’t. He always seems to be both trying to escape and be obsessed all at the same time. That was true even back when I first met him.”

“How did you two meet?”

“I was a freshman at the university and he was one of my professors and… I just simply feel head over heels for him. He liked me back and everything grew from there! It was great and I regret nothing. I don’t care how many people judged us. It worked and we love each other and that’s all that matters to us.”

“And that is all that should matter!” Rodrigo nodded his head, as did Luis.

Manuel was deeply engrossed in showing the younger Manuel some tips as Mariano pulled into the driveway with his other son. The strange car threw him off at first, but he kind of assumed his wife has someone over visiting. It wasn’t until he caught sight of… him… with his son on the porch that a flood of wild emotions came into him.

“Manuel. Please get away from him. Now.” Mariano barked.

“Why?” Both Manuel and Mariano’s son Manuel questioned in unison.

“Because I don’t want you around that man. He might turn you into him.

“Wait, your name is Manuel too?” Manuel turned to the boy.

“Yes! I’m named after you.” The boy shrugged and then glared at his father. “Maybe I wanna be like him!”

“There was a time in my life whne I would have enjoyed that! But not now! I don’t want a son who just walks out on everyone who ever REALLY cared about him! Who walks out on the person who would readily die for him!” It was quite obvious now that Mariano was upset.

“Uh, maybe you should go inside for now while your father and I talk this out.” Manuel nudged his namesake.

“Okay. I hope you do. I need a friend who gets me.” The young boy nodded and headed inside.

“Mariano, you go in with your brother. This is private business between adults.”

“Of course, father.” Mariano’s other son, who was ten, nodded politely and went inside, glancing at Manuel with a concerned look on his face as he entered the house.

“So, you come to my home after walking away from me almost two decades ago and you instantly start poisoning my son!”

“Poisoning? We were talking about Pokemon!”

“He’s already troubled and lonely! I don’t need someone like you leading him astray.”

“Yano, my man, you know what I was when I was eight years old? Troubled and lonely! I always felt different and out casted! Excuse me if the boy is drawn to someone who understands his life! You’re the one who named him after me!”

Mariano went silent and stared at the grass of his lawn.

“I… Yano… I’m sorry. It was wrong of me to just leave you like that. I should have made more effort beyond sending that letter to your mother. I had no idea where you went either though. But even the way I left was wrong. I was emotional and unstable. I’ve always been… a bit off. I’ve always been a bit different, but a doc once told me that getting my head smashed into the hard wall of the school shower when I was young probably wasn’t good… and all those drugs we all did didn’t help me, I’m sure. I was a fool. The band was falling apart but I didn’t to leave you like that.” Manuel sighed, tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

Mariano took a deep breath, but said nothing.

“When the band first started… I cried. I cried because I was fall for you. I was twelve and thought I was hot shit and didn’t need to care about anyone. I thought I could put on an act and make tons of money and fuck a bunch of girls. I never wanted to get emotionally attached to anyone, but instead, I fell in love with you and cared about you. It confused me so much and I cried. José is the only one who ever knew about it because he found me crying. He never told anyone…but I’m telling you now. I was always shit about it, but I did love you… I still love you now. Please… I’ll do whatever it takes to make it up to you.” Manuel got down on his knees and looked up at Mariano, his deep, dark brown eyes pleading heavily.

“W, w, w,what happened to you? You… “

“I grew up? At least a little. At the core I’m still the same me. I just… don’t want to hurt people I care about anymore. I don’t know if getting married and having a kid has helped me realize that or…”

“We can start… again. I’ve missed you so much and… I do want to meet your family.” Mariano fell to his knees and hugged his old best friend as tightly as he could.

“But first, can I meet your family?”

“Of course.” Instinctively, Mariano kissed Manuel on the lips. Just as he did, an elderly woman passed by and stared at them.

“What, lady, never tseen two men kiss before?” Manuel said snarkily at her.

“Oh, I’m fine with it! I was just hoping you’d do more! Been a while since I’ve seen a hot show!”

Manuel got a devious look on his face.

“Good god.” Mariano rolled his eyes, got up, and pulled his friend with him. “Come on, let’s go inside!”

As they walked into the living room, Mariano began introducing Manuel to everyone.

“Family, this is Manuel Soria. The man I was so close with and in a band with years ago when I was young. Chemanu, you already know my son, Manuel. Next to him is my son Mariano.”

The two boys were sitting on loveseat next to each other. Manuel had on a black t-shirt with Pikachu on it and ragged blue jeans. Mariano had on a nice polo and khakis. His hair was brown but cut short and neat as opposed to Manuel’s longer more skater boy-like cut. There was a stark difference in their styles. They both had hazel eyes, like their father.

“And then there’s my wonderful wife Viri! And next to her is Rodrigo and Luis—wait. What??”

“Hello!” Luis waved happily Rodrigo chuckled.

“Oh yeah, the other reason we came here! We’re trying to get the band back together!” Manuel ran his hang through Mariano’s hair.

“Wha??? The band? I… wow… um. I need to think for a bit.”

“It would be lovely if you did!” Viri bounced up and went to her husband, who was much, much taller than her.

“It’d be fucking epic, Dad!” Young Manuel clenched his fist with delight.

“I agree!” Young Mariano nodded enthusiastically.

“I… Chemanu, can I see you alone for a moment?” Mariano grabbed his old friend’s hand and led him down a hallway. Manuel was already excited, as Mariano was using his nickname. They went into a room that appeared to be Mariano’s personal office. They went through another door to a big walk in closet. Inside was a big trunk with a lock on it. Mariano put in a combination, which undid the first lock. Then he took out a key and undid the second lock before opene the trunk.

“Holy shit… is that…”

“Yes. A full collection of every film you’ve ever been in. VHS’s and DVD’s both. Also all the magazines you’ve been in as well. I feel so pathetic but… I never stopped missing you or loving you.”

“That is… pretty awesome, actually. But uh, I’d be careful.”

“Why’s that?”

“Just hold onto them very closely and well. Especially the ones Dani is in with me.”

“Your wife? Oh yeah, the ones with her are some of my favorites, I’ll admit. She is great! You’re a lucky man.

“Mhm, yeah, and keep this between us and the guys and at the most our families, but she was fifteen when she started.”

“Jesus! Well, okay she looked well formed for her age.”

“Yes, I agree. But yeah, I don’t know if it will ever get out, but I’d keep your collection safe. I realize only a fraction of my films have her, but still. Also, if you gt your hands on her other films, which I can hook you up with, I’d keep tem those ones safe too.”

“Ah yes! Please, yes, I would like those!”

“Yep, you’re still just as bad as the rest of us at the core. Like you’ve always been.” Manuel chuckled. Mariano rolled his eyes and sighed.

“Anyway, yes. I’d love to get the band back together.”

“Great! Now we just need to get José.”

“Ah, I have a feeling this won’t be easy.”

“But it’s what needs to happen.”

#ojos dulces fics

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lizlemonlacroix · 5 years

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I climb a lot of stairs

Friday, Funday?

I'm sticking to this- so far.

Remember how I said I'd write again this week?

BOOM, here I am.

Not entirely sure how substantial this will be, however.

So, just to get this going, how about I list what I've accomplished so far today? Eh? Yeah?

You're thrilled.

After a decent night's rest, I attempted to roll over about 4am when I realized I couldn't because of the cat wedged between my legs. After pushing him off, forcefully, and waiting for my alarm to go off about 6:45, I actually got out of bed and went about my morning routine as such:

Struggle to load the keurig for coffee, brew said cup

Carefully walk down all the stairs to let the dog out, without tripping on either Proxy or Stanley (who's still annoyed at me for kicking him off the bed before sunrise)

Carefully climb all the stairs to start sipping said coffee cup

Shake out dog kibble in her "slow feeder" pink bowl, mix her Prozac pills into some peanut butter, ponder the long-time usage and its effect on my dog's overall health

Skim all the headlines, while listening to the exact same headlines on GMA from some anchor I'm ignoring unless it's Michael Strahan

Exchange brief conversation as husband goes about his morning, prepping for class and filling his shiny, brand new 20z coffee mug with multiple kpods (it's good I buy them in bulk)

Kiss goodbye

Ignore Proxy as she whines to me literally seconds after inhaling her food, damn you slow feeder bowl.

Finish coffee

Climb more stairs

Get dressed for a cooler than usual morning run, after walking Proxy of course

Force myself to warm up by pushing my running intervals, sprint a few bits, drag dog along, repeat for about 20 minutes or so.

Come home to inhale fried eggs over spinach (forgot to make bread this week, oops), sip more coffee, and clean up for my looming physical therapy session

We're up to 11am guys!

Physical therapy was fine, nothing unexpected or worse than usual. It was my final evaluation day, huzzah! I've improved across the board EXCEPT for my inner thigh strength, for both legs.

I figure the "weakness" (my thighs are fine, it's just that I'm a 3 instead of a 4 on a 4+ scale) is from me no longer riding horses. A pretty large part of my former exercise regimen primarily existed so I could ride my absolute best in dressage and over fences. And when I was holding myself up with 1200lbs between my legs, 5x a week, I bet my thighs were topping strength charts.

I'm not sweatin' it though; I passed along the notes to my personal trainer and she'll tweak things as needed.

Oh, also- Interlude, soap box, whatever- Gym memberships are great for people who are already in a routine, have goals and have the know-how to reach them; I see home gyms the same way (and prefer them, now) BUT if you're just now beginning a fitness journey, I HIGHLY recommend working one-on-one with someone who can help you realize goals, chart a course and get you there! Also, if working-out isn't fun, then you're not going to do it. Sharing those kinds of feelings with a personal trainer will help you figure out a program that works best for you mentally and physically.

Interlude over, because if I don't stop I'll end up spiraling down this tunnel for hours on how I feel about personal health

Fast Forward to me rushing through Wegmans, checking off shopping list items in the Cozi app (GET THIS APP GUYS)

Yes, I ate my spicy tuna roll in the car before I left the parking deck, even though I swore no food would ever be eaten in my new car. Husband was right, per usual.

Drove around, finished a couple other errands and somehow ended up at home after 3PM, where the heck did my day go?

Flew through some other items on my to-do-list, prepped our pizza dinner and here I am.

Writing to whoever finds this.

That's not weird, right?

I'm sure there's plenty I've left out about this oh-so-exciting-Friday, but I should go ahead and switch to photojournalist mode as I finalize a few job applications and website updates.

My writing away here was mostly a procrastination tactic but I'm leaning on the promise that I made a few days ago to make another post this afternoon to justify our time together.

Have a wonderful weekend!

More TK

#writing #blog #post #writing is my therapy #trying this again

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anoldwound · 7 years

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Hello, Hello - Adam/Elle [Heroes]

Title: Hello, Hello Characters/Pairings: Adam/Elle Rating: NC-17 Spoilers/Warnings: Explicit sexual content; spoilers for season 2 and the graphic novels. Word Count: 2741 Summary: “I’ve been watching you,” Elle continued, her right hand resting on his chest as her other hand ran its fingers through his hair. “You’re lonely.” Disclaimer: Characters are not mine. A/N: Thanks to skypipe for the beta. “Hey there!” The young Elle Bishop came bounding into Adam’s cell, an eager grin on her face. Adam flinched away reflexively, remembering what had happened the last time she had been in here - she’d nearly fried his skin off. Not exactly a welcome memory. “Hello.” “Are you scared of me?” She seemed to become elated by the prospect of having frightened him, and her shoulders straightened importantly. “No, I was just startled. What is it that you want?” She sagged a little bit. “Oh. Well - I was bored. I wanted someone to talk to.” “I thank you for gracing me with your company,” Adam said, letting only a hint of sarcasm seep through his syllables, “but I’m rather busy at the moment, little one.” “Don’t call me little.” Her hand started glowing. “I’m ten.” “Terribly sorry.” He couldn’t fight the smirk taking over his face. “Calm down, now. Don’t want to hurt anyone with those bolts of yours, do you?” “Maybe I do. You can’t get hurt, though.” The glow faded away, but she still looked surly. “You’re not busy, either. You just sit there all day. You never do anything.” “Not much to do, is there?” He picked at his fingernails idly. “Tell me about it.” She rolled her eyes and plopped next to him on the bed, legs swinging. “They keep me in here all day. I never get to leave.” “You and I have that in common, at least.” “We have more in common than that!” She sounded offended. “Such as?” He looked back at her, still smirking. “We both… have blonde hair… and we’re both special.” He nodded, his smirk deepening. “Ah, but you’re a rather different sort of special, I’d say.” Elle seemed to take this as a compliment - she beamed and her eyes lit up. “I like you!” “Why, thank you.” “No one ever talks to me here. They all just tell me to go away or to play with my dolls. But I don’t want to play with dolls.” She pursed her lips. “So I just zap my dolls and then I go around and I zap some people in these rooms because it’s fun. Then I get in trouble, though. Do you want to get married?” Adam blinked. “Sorry?” “My daddy says when two people like each other they get married. Do you like me?” “Of course.” There was no harm in humoring her, he supposed, if it would get her out of here. She clapped her hands in delight. “Cool! Now I just gotta give you a ring and we’ll be married!” She pulled something out of her pocket - it was a golden wedding band, engraved with curlicues. “Where did you get that?” Adam murmured, looking at the ring closely. “It was my daddy’s, from before my mommy died. He doesn’t wear it anymore, so he won’t be needing it. Now it’s yours!” She extended her palm expectantly. Adam gingerly took the ring out of her hand and placed it on his finger. “Happy now?” “Yep! Oh, wait - ” She dug into her pocket again and put on a diamond wedding ring. The ring was too large for her, and the diamond looked comically huge on her small finger. “Now we’re married!” “Huzzah.” She furrowed her brows. “What does that mean?” “It means, essentially, ‘hurray’,” he explained, and she grinned again. “Cool! Okay, now there’s just the honeymoon.” Her brows furrowed again. “I don’t know what happens then, though. I think we’re supposed to go to Hawaii or something.” “We can save that for later,” Adam assured her. “Okay!” She gave him a quick hug, said “Bye!” and bounded out of the room, hair swinging behind her. Adam watched her go, then took the ring off of his finger. He inspected it for a couple moments - then took his wedding necklace out from under his shirt and put the band with the rest. ---- “It’s my birthday,” said a chirpy voice from the doorway. Adam looked up; Elle was leaning against the doorjamb, wearing an impossibly short skirt and a rather revealing shirt that dipped well below the neckline. Adam couldn’t help but glance quickly - her breasts looked soft, round, supple, and he would’ve gotten hard right then had he not have already learned to control that particularly jumpy member around this one. “Happy birthday,” he said, and a teasing smile curled up her face. “It’s my eighteenth,” she said significantly. “What a coincidence. It’ll be my three hundred and fifty-second in a few months.” She giggled like an insipid child, Adam thought in annoyance to himself as Elle laughed and stepped seductively into the room. “Always had a thing for older men,” she said. “Hmm, I’ll bet you have.” He looked her up and down - oh, for God’s sake, he was human, wasn’t he? It really wasn’t fair how attractive she was, considering that she was Bob’s daughter, of all people. Elle seemed to relish in the look that he was giving her body - her face was turning slightly pink, and her eyes sparked. “Like what you see?” He made a noncommittal noise and turned his head away slightly. “Sorry I don’t have a present for you. I wasn’t aware of the occasion.” “Oh, you didn’t need to get me anything.” She climbed onto his bed and rubbed her ankle against his leg. “I want to give you something instead.” “Really? And what might that be?” He peered at her out of the corner of his eye. Elle shifted herself closer, so that her lips were just grazing his ear. She breathed, “My virginity.” Adam let out a puff of air. “And why would you want to give me that?” “Because.” She shimmied herself even closer, fingers gently stroking his chest, his face, his arms. “I like you.” She kissed the corner of his mouth. “I’ve liked you for a while.” “Have you.” It wasn’t a question - he’d suspected as much, from the constant lusty looks she’d been giving him over the past several years. “I’ve been watching you,” Elle continued, her right hand resting on his chest as her other hand ran its fingers through his hair. “You’re lonely.” He turned his head back to her, an eyebrow raised. She was more observant than he’d given her credit for. “A bit hard not to be, considering I’ve been in this cell for almost thirty years,” he replied. “It’s more than that.” She looked up at him, eyes narrowed. “You’re just… lonely.” He gulped, despite himself. “It’s okay, though.” A huge grin took over her face, and she wrapped her arms around his waist. “I am, too. So now we won’t be lonely anymore. Besides…” She laughed and waved her hand in front of his face - she was wearing that wedding ring from years ago. “We haven’t had our honeymoon yet!” “You’re incredibly naïve,” Adam said quietly. “You should go.” Elle pouted, and enclosed her arms more tightly around him. “No.” Her breasts were pressed flush and hot against him, and he held back the moan that threatened to escape from his mouth. “Your father won’t like this.” “Daddy doesn’t like anything. Might as well have some fun, huh?” She nibbled gently on his ear, and he bit his lip so hard he could taste blood, then felt the wound heal itself. Elle’s hand slid down to his pants, and Adam couldn’t stop the groan that was slowly pulled out of him as Elle’s fingers rubbed his balls through the soft fabric. She giggled again. “You do like it!” She sounded very proud of herself. “Oh, damn it all,” he mumbled to himself, and abruptly grabbed Elle’s forearms and pushed her flat-backed on the bed. She looked stunned. “Know that I’m only doing this because I haven’t had sex in years,” he told her. “Also know that I feel absolutely no amount of affection for you whatsoever, and that, in fact, I am rather contemptuous of you. Do you still want to do this?” She bit her lip and hesitated, but nodded. “Fine.” He yanked down his pants unceremoniously, and started un-buttoning her shirt. She squirmed a little under his touch, and he ignored the jolt of annoyance that went through him. He could not, however, ignore the actual jolt that Elle suddenly sent coursing through his nerves. A strange, choked gasp fell out of his mouth - it was painful, yes, but the pain was nothing compared to the adrenaline rush. She gazed up at him with an eager look in her eyes, still biting her lip. “Well,” he finally said after a few moments, “that was different.” Elle let out a breath. “Good,” she said, and wrapped her arms around him. “Now fuck me.” “Happy to oblige.” Adam finished un-buttoning her shirt, then hitched her skirt up above her thighs. Elle moaned faintly as he pulled down her lace panties and laid himself on top of her, gently biting her neck. She twitched as his cock rubbed up against her crotch, and her nails dug into the soft flesh just above his ass. “Oh my God…” she muttered as Adam started kissing downwards until he reached her breasts, rubbing a nipple with his thumb. She gasped and wrapped her legs around his hips, and Adam almost cried out at the contact. Elle shocked him again, and watched in fascination as the black burn on his chest quickly faded away. He panted. “Right. Let’s get on with it.” She was a little wet, but not really, and he knew he should make her come in order to make it less painful for her, but he couldn’t be bothered. He slipped inside of her, and the strange noise dropped out of him again as he felt how tight she was - so tight, and warm - Elle let out a little whine of pain, and she clenched around him. “Aah…” Her face pinched as Adam thrust, and her nails dug in harder. “Ow… ugh, goddammit…” The pleasure came through in large waves that wracked his entire body, made him shudder and shake inside of her, and after a few minutes, with a final thrust, he came, and he groaned in satisfaction into the air. He rolled off of her, breathing heavily. Elle’s face was still pinched, but she was breathing heavily also. “So,” she said, “that’s what everyone’s been talking about.” She sounded a little confused. “That hurt.” Adam made a mock-sympathetic noise, but didn’t say anything. “Did I bleed?” Elle sounded shocked as she looked down and saw the bit of blood on the white sheets. “It happens. Nothing to worry about.” “Oh.” They both lay there silently for a while, until Elle pulled up her underwear, pulled down her skirt, and stood up. “I guess I’ll - ” she started, when suddenly she looked horrified. “What?” Adam sat up and turned to see what she was looking at - Bob was standing in front of the large window, looking absolutely furious. “Oh, fuck,” Elle said, and Adam had to agree with this sentiment. “What is going on in here?!” Bob yelled, and angrily stormed into the cell. “Elle, what did he do to you?!” Elle appeared at a loss for words for a couple seconds… then tears started to fill her eyes, and her lower lip trembled. “Oh, Daddy… he… he…” She began to sob, and Bob’s face turned a livid shade of red. “You - you - !” Bob sputtered at Adam, spit flying out of his mouth. Then he punched Adam in the face. Adam fell back against the wall and rubbed his cheek. “I didn’t do anything to her!” “You hurt my little girl!” Bob went over to hug the crying Elle, and glared at Adam so intensely that it was rather a surprise that beams weren’t shooting out of his eyes. “You are going to pay for this; mark my words.” Bob quickly ushered Elle out of the room, and Elle winked at Adam before the door closed shut behind them. Adam pounded his pillow furiously. That bloody bitch, he thought. ---- “Wake up, sleepyhead.” Adam’s eyes flickered open. Elle was standing over him, running her fingers through his hair. “Hey,” she said softly. “What do you want?” he asked irritably. He tugged at his pillow. “I just wanted to talk.” “I highly doubt that,” Adam said, and turned to the wall. “I’m trying to sleep.” “It’s noon.” She sat carefully on the edge of his bed, still petting his hair. “Most people are up by now.” “Well, I’m not most people, am I?” He paused. “Please go away.” Elle sighed in exasperation, like she was dealing with a small child. “Is this about that thing from a couple years ago? You can really hold a grudge, can’t you?” Adam stifled a chuckle. “They haven’t fed me since that day, you know, not to mention the various torturous devices your father ‘experimented’ with on me. Forgive me if I’m not inclined to like you very much at the moment.” Elle didn’t say anything for several seconds, then Adam felt her lie down next to him. Her fingers entwined with his and she breathed on his neck. “Please,” she whispered. “You’re the only one who gets me.” He didn’t respond. “Adam?” She squeezed his hand. “Get out,” he said quietly. She seemed to turn into stone next to him - and with one swift movement, she was gone. (But not before she sent a particularly nasty bolt his way and threw their “wedding” ring at him.) ---- “You disappointed me, Peter… and just when I thought we were getting to know each other…” said Elle’s voice from behind them. Shit. “There’s a warehouse in Montreal,” Adam said quickly to Peter. “121 Rue Saint-Jacques. Meet there.” They separated, Adam running back for the door - when Elle sent a large stream of electricity at him, flinging him against the wall. She then sent one at Peter, yelled at the Haitian to go after him, and Adam started running again. He turned the corner, Elle hot on his heels, firing bolt after bolt at him. He dodged most of them, until finally one caught him right in the back and he fell to the ground with a shout. “Hello, Adam,” Elle said, voice dripping with false sweetness, as Adam groaned and slowly rolled face-up on the ground. She bent over him, smiling. “Daddy’s gonna be so proud of me when I bring you back in…” Dammit, gotta think of a plan gotta do something - He did the only thing he could think of - he kissed her hungrily on the mouth, her gasp of surprise fluttering down his throat. “I’m so sorry, Elle,” he whispered, pulling away. “For everything.” She blinked rapidly at him, her chest heaving up and down. “You were right, you know,” he continued, trying to make his voice as smooth and silky as he possibly could. “We do have a lot in common. I’m so sorry it took me so long to realize it, but… you are everything I’ve ever needed.” “I don’t believe you.” Her voice shook slightly, betraying her. “I’ll prove it.” He reached down his shirt and pulled out his wedding necklace. Elle’s eyes widened slightly at all of the rings hanging off of it. “Do you see your ring here?” He unclasped the necklace and slid the ring off. “I kept it here, with all of the others. But it’s yours.” Elle said nothing, just stared. “We’ll get married for real, soon. After I’ve taken care of a few things. But I need to know if I can trust you. Can I, Elle? Can I trust you to help me?” She gulped, but nodded. “You have to promise.” “I promise,” she said, so low he could barely hear her. He slipped the ring on her finger, then grabbed her arm and stood up. “I love you, Elle.” His stomach dropped. She couldn’t possibly believe him - it had sounded fake even to himself… But clearly she had, because she looked up at him so adoringly that it was rather sickening. “I’ll see you soon,” he added, quickly kissed her on the cheek, and ran. Ah, well. It was always good to have a back-up plan, should Peter get into a spot of trouble and suddenly become unavailable.

#fandom: heroes #ship: adam/elle

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