#actually maybe i do give him the nightcrawler legs next time i’m not sure

[mumblesplash]

as if he needed more ways to be everywhere at once

#my art #new life smp #scott smajor #new life scott #owengejuicetv #what if nightcrawler had the color palette of portal and the fashion sense of rey star war #actually maybe i do give him the nightcrawler legs next time i’m not sure #depends on how long this origin lasts tbh #also my Lord was it hard to stay skin accurate without laddering his character design #you know like that thing where a chars outfit is blocked into segments w tunic->belt->skirt->boots all being roughly the same distance #i never like how that looks and i am Constantly fighting for my life bc it’s so easy to do on accident #also i didn’t draw this but the thing where he ‘imprints’ on people and can swap places w them #shows up as him snapping one of his bracelets onto someone else’s wrist #+ since he’s the only one who can control them they can’t take it off

[moonbaby26]

Title: The Battle

Pairing: Peter Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Continuation from last chapter. Set during X-Men: Age of Apocalypse, you and the others fly to Cairo to confront Apocalypse and his soldiers in an attempt to rescue Xavier.

Warnings: Apocalypse being a leg breaking, hero strangling jerk. Characters fighting for their lives, but bookended with fluff from Peter x Reader pairing.

Chapters: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Taglist: @drikawinchester , @n0obmaster69 , @alexloveskili , @what-a-silver-lining , @bluesprings18 , @weakmoony-stuff , @slytherinsi-mp, @wintwrsoldiwr, @tommy-braccoli, @amourtentiaa

Peter Maximoff x Reader Masterlist

———————————

You’d at least gotten to clean up somewhat. Earlier as Hank and the new woman you’d just met, Moira, had worked on readying the jet, you’d found some bit of helpful supplies. Clean rags to wipe off the blood, and bandages that’d you’d hurriedly applied to your shallow claw wounds.

All the remnants of your restraints were gone, and your old, torn clothes you’d just tossed in favor of the thin jumpsuit and lightly armored black flight suit over the top of it. You all wore these suits, commandeered with this experimental jet now rumbling beneath you as you shot off to Cairo together.

There was silence for a good while, after some initial nervous chatter and joking from the others. It would have been too easy to fill this quiet with any of the myriad of questions still rushing through your brain, but you really had just listened and little more when they’d filled you in earlier with the gist of what they’d learned.

All that really mattered was that the Professor was being held captive by a seemingly omnipotent mutant. One that had now declared war on all and recruited his own powerful soldiers. This was a rescue mission, with likely all your lives at stake.

You leaned your head back, wondering if anyone else would really even know or care what had happened to you if you never came back from this.

The escape from Stryker’s lab had been life threatening as well of course, but it was so different when it’d just been one thing after another. Events unfolding too quickly to really develop any sense of dread, it’d been all adrenaline and luck really.

But even in a jet like this, flying all the way to Egypt was more than just a skip and a jump. It was well enough time to dwell on your own inexperience and shortcomings, to wonder if this was the last time you’d ever do anything at all.

“Hey,” Peter’s voice was quiet, just to you, as you glanced over, having been mired only in your own thoughts until that moment.

He was sitting beside you, both of you strapped in these jump seats that ran along both sides of the jet. Vaguely you realized the others had started talking once more as well then. Maybe that was why he felt more comfortable speaking to you again now.

He hadn’t addressed you directly since you’d reunited with the others. Though you wouldn’t blame him if he was just as nervous as you were deep down. But from his self deprecating jokes in front of your friends earlier, about still living at home with his mother, he would at least seem better at hiding fear if he did have any.

“Hey,” You answered back reflexively, looking at him fully again.

“So uh....” He was chewing a piece of gum, as if some part of him still had to stay in motion in order to remain comfortable. “That car, that was pretty sweet. That yours or what?”

Honestly it took you a very long, awkward pause before you could piece together any idea of what he was referring to. But being that you’d only known him since literally just earlier today, there wasn’t anything else he could possibly mean. “The yellow convertible?” You questioned anyway, not really surprised by much of anything now.

“Yeah, I mean, I take the road if there is one. I saw you guys on the way to the house,” He answered, still offering a little explanation regardless. “Looked like you knew what you were doing though.” There was a more sheepish grin emerging. “I was going to stop and say hey I guess. But then I saw the, you know, fireball coming out the house and all, had to go see what that was about. Save everybody or whatever...” He trailed off after a bit, maybe realizing that you were just letting him ramble.

It reminded you of how you’d acted with him during the whole lab fiasco. He seemed the more confident one down there, while you got easily flustered. You really wondered if having your friends here now was making the difference. As if he was more unsure of himself when there was a potential audience to hear what you might say back to him.

It was interesting, getting to put more of those pieces together, or at least starting to be able to when it came to him. For putting on the display of an extrovert, and if you could finally admit it, even him being an outright flirt, you felt more and more sure that that was only skin deep really. That was just the outer layer he protected himself with.

“It was one of the Professor’s cars,” You smiled genuinely, probably the first one since they’d told you where you were going in this jet and why. “We were on our way back from the mall.”

That warmth from you seemed to ease him back into his normal tone, maybe a slight relief in him that you didn’t find it off putting that he’d already taken notice of you before you even knew he was anywhere around.

“Oh, mallrat, huh?” He quipped, “I can picture that.”

He was teasing, but you gave it right back. “There is no way you can tell me that you don’t end up in music stores wherever you live, like a lot.” You hadn’t forgotten his band t-shirt after all. You thought you’d seen him putting away headphones at some point too. “And that leather jacket and pants you had? Come on, that didn’t come from some bargain clothes rack.”

You might have had him for just a moment there. Just a flicker of surprise in his eyes to know you really had paid him that much attention, before he retorted, “Hey, what’s the point of a fast car if it has no style, right?”

“Says the guy who most people can’t even see until he slows down.” But you were purposeful to make clear in your tone that that wasn’t an insult at all, just continuing a little more bravely afterward, “Though their loss I guess.”

There was no mistake then, he really did pause. You could feel the slightest bit of heat in your face again, but you were not about to take that back. Not when you didn’t even know what was really awaiting you all at the end of this flight.

And you were still the next one to speak, that resolve remaining. “If we make it out of this, maybe you can come with me back over there to our mall. Help me pick out some new stuff.” You tried not to make it sound funny, but on some cosmic level it still was. “Seeing as how my room and everything I owned was incinerated and all.”

“Deal.” He said immediately. Only a little afterward seeming to realize that maybe he sounded a bit too eager. He cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. “I mean, I’m pretty good at Ms. Pac Man too. They have an arcade, right?”

“Yes.” You answered, trying not to look too amused, and going along with him to help him feel more comfortable. “I can’t say I’m actually any good, but they do have a Flash Gordon pinball machine I always play. And a couple of air hockey tables. That’s my go-to.” No question with his speed that he would likely annihilate you on both. But the idea of being in a much simpler, safer place like that with him some day was a pleasant one right now.

“Oh yeah. I can show you a thing or two.” He was clearly back in his element then, looking smug once more.

“I’m sure you will.” You could only wonder if the god complex mutant and his lackeys you were now off to go challenge would have any idea that in the back of your mind you’d now be dreaming of a simple date in an arcade as extra motivation to get back home in one piece.

———————————

It wasn’t long before things had started spiraling in quick succession again. You’d all arrived in Cairo to find it essentially destroyed, save for what this fake god had already erected in monument to himself. A huge pyramid in the style of the ancient Egyptians, one he’d taken Xavier hostage inside.

It hadn’t been clear though how much of the destruction was done by this mutant, and how much had actually been at Magneto’s hands as it was with more shock that you’d found him in the middle of this as well. Now serving this apocalyptic mutant.

You knew enough about Magneto to both fear and respect him. Even though his history with the Professor went back so many years, Erik Lehnsherr as he was actually named was always more on the side of peace through violence. While Xavier preached ideals of tolerance and education for regular humans to one day accept mutant kind, Magneto thought them incapable of such, and had no qualms on preemptive strikes against non mutants as well as eye for an eye type vengeance.

But even for Magneto this seemed surprising. He would really just give Xavier up this way? As you’d gotten closer, Jean had sensed that Apocalypse (what you were now calling the new enemy in your own mind) intended to take over the Professor’s body, possessing him permanently to gain access to his mind control powers and become basically omniscient. He’d be unstoppable with everyone as his puppets then. Free will would cease to exist.

“You guys help Nightcrawler get into the pyramid!” Raven called back to all of you as the jet was landing. “Get Charles and I’ll take care of Erik.”

You’d snapped back to attention at the orders, and you saw that Peter was suddenly at her side.

He looked so focused all at once, “I can get you in there,” He told her, referring to the debris field of broken buildings and all else now churning, stuck in a huge magnetic orb with Magneto at its center. When she didn’t look sure, he continued quickly. “I came here for him, let me help you.”

Raven nodded to Peter then in agreement, knowing there was no time for more back and forth. “The rest of you, get Charles on this plane and get him out of here!”

You too knew what was at stake, there was no reason to argue, even if there still must have been concern on your face. You didn’t understand Peter’s change and sudden fixation on Magneto.

But it was only Kurt that spoke up immediately, yelling back to Raven and Peter, “We’re not leaving without you!”

Peter looked back at that, “Don’t worry.” In fact, you realized he was looking directly to you for one moment. “We’ll catch up.”

———————————

While Peter had sped Raven out of sight to try and reason with Magneto, Moira had stayed with the jet and Hank had come with you, Scott, Jean, and Kurt.

But as you all ran along the rubble, trying to make your way to the pyramid, it hadn’t been but moments until you encountered Apocalypse’s other soldiers, mutants set on stopping you all from interfering by any means necessary.

A tall, blonde man with wings made out of metal, a ninja seeming woman with a pinkish purple energy she could wield from her hand like a blade even while also carrying a katana, and a girl nearer your own age with stark white hair and seemingly the most power out of the three as she’d flown right towards you throwing lightning bolts from her hands.

You’d had no choice but to split up. Which you were sure was what they’d wanted even as you’d chosen to try and take the white haired girl’s attention. You didn’t really want to find out what would happen if one of those bolts struck you directly, but you could guess you had the best chance of anyone to maybe absorb some of it in your energy form.

You’d immediately powered up, glowing white as she’d chased you around the sky, both of you darting and flying in some kind of bizarre dog fight.

Your heart had been racing though, no amount of training at the mansion could actually prepare you for dueling with someone who actually wished to harm you. Everything to this point had just been about learning to control your powers, maybe even firing an energy blast at a dummy or paper target or two. But you’d never tried to hurt anyone. Not on purpose.

“Why are you helping him!?” You yelled out to her, swerving again as she tried to get close enough to you to land a hit. You generated an orb of light energy from one hand, letting it destabilize before you threw it towards her. It collapsed into itself, exploding to make a shockwave through the air that pushed her back again.

“He’s going to make it so we never have to hide what we are again!” She growled back in frustration, steadying herself in the air before her eyes hazed over into solid white.

You doubted that could be good, and of course it wasn’t as she raised her arms, a tornado like blast of wind then trying to knock you from the sky. You were able to shield yourself somewhat with your force fields, but the barrage of debris and wreckage that came with the winds made it too difficult to keep track of her as she did nearly land a direct lightning strike then.

“You’re wrong!” You yelled back, even as you felt numb and disoriented briefly, like the electricity surge was messing with your own energy. “He’s just using all of you! He only wants slaves, nothing more! And you’re just going to hand us all to him!”

She didn’t answer back after that, but you knew it wasn’t as if you could change anyone’s mind for them. She’d have to live with her own choices, just as you’d have to live with yours.

After a good while of this tit for tat though, you were really trying to take her out of the sky at last, knowing you needed to find and help the others as this had already been going on for far too long. You started trying to get her in the chest with white energy beam after energy beam shooting from your hands. She was fast, but you were able to at least get her in one shoulder at last as she spun with the force, losing altitude quickly with the hit.

Even as she fell, you could see her already correcting course though, trying to take aim at you again as she glared upwards.

But you didn’t get to see what happened next. A three fingered hand grasped your left arm suddenly from thin air, and then you were collapsing onto the floor of the jet you’d come here in.

“Gotcha, time to go!” Kurt spoke quickly as you looked to him in surprise, that strange burning smell hanging in the air briefly that always accompanied his teleporting. It was as instant a feeling as moving with Peter, but thankfully without the subsequent vertigo as you stood quickly, powering down, even as you were already looking around for the speedster.

With relief you did see Jean cradling the Professor’s head as they sat on the floor, Xavier unconscious but still breathing. But you did not see Peter or Raven.

Moira and Hank were already firing up the jet engines and you grabbed hold to the wall as you felt the craft quickly rising. “What about Peter and Raven?” You called out over the noise of the turbines spooling up faster and faster.

“We’ll have to trust them to figure it out, we’ve got to get Charles out of here now!” Hank answered back, leaving no room for debate.

You felt an unease building in your stomach, but it was true that if Apocalypse got Xavier, that Peter, Raven, or anyone else would then no longer matter anyway. At least for now you could hope Peter would just take Raven and run somewhere far from here. Xavier and Jean could use their psychic abilities to find them later and you could reunite.

But a hard thud above you left you all looking upward as the jet rattled.

“What the hell was that!?” Moira called out.

As soon as you saw that pinkish energy blade emerging through the jet’s hull, you had already powered up again, glowing and ready to shield the others as best you could. Apocalypse’s soldiers were proving too difficult to shake.

Yet Jean had other plans, “Everyone, grab onto Kurt!” She yelled.

You didn’t know what altitude you were already at, but you knew it wasn’t a survivable one for the jet itself if it was ditched now. Yet a fight in this close of quarters with all your powers would likely end in the same result. So her choice wasn’t as irrational as it first seemed.

You reached one hand quickly back, firmly grabbing onto Kurt’s shoulder, even as you kept your other hand raised towards where the metal winged mutant and the blade wielding woman were now trying to force their way in through the breach they’d created in the hull.

“I’ve never done it with this many people!” Kurt warned as you all held to him.

“Get us out of here!” Jean commanded, her desperation bringing out a forcefulness you hadn’t yet seen from her.

But Kurt was still straining, the sound of his opening whatever portal he used clearly heard but not bringing you anywhere as he tried several times.

The man with the metal wings jumped down into the cockpit, now just feet away as you realized what you had to do.

“Go without me!” You screamed over the rush of wind now coming through the hull breach. You let go of Kurt, making direct eye contact with Jean.

You could get out on your own. At least you were going to try. It was the only way. Kurt wasn’t able to take you all.

You felt that Jean was listening, that she heard your thoughts and that as difficult as it was, she agreed just as quickly. It was the only way.

“Do it!” She urged Kurt even through the horrified look he gave you both.

“I’m taking it down.” You also heard her voice say in your head almost simultaneously. That briefest warning to ready yourself before she willed the controls to throw the plane into a nosedive and cause Apocalypse’s soldiers to lose their footing.

The last you saw of your other friends was still their shocked and frightened expressions as they disappeared from right in front of you. But this was your only chance as well, propelling yourself as fast you could, right through the fading cloud of gas they left behind and past the now tumbling winged mutant as all your focus went to that small square of sunlight that they’d cut into the hull.

It was your one window of survival. For just the briefest moment, you felt him try to grab hold of your leg as you flew past him. But you kicked him with the other leg as hard as you could manage, breaking free into the open air as the jet plummeted on without you.

Out the corner of your eye you saw the woman had remained on the outside of the jet, but jumped free from it as well. You lost sight of her as you both fell, focusing only on trying to slow your descent to a survivable speed. It was one thing to levitate yourself up from a neutral position, and wholly another to try and control your energy field around yourself enough to reverse the terminal velocity transferred to you from being within a crashing plane.

The ground still came too fast, too hard. You blacked out on impact, laying alone in the dirt as your light energy faded, receding back inside you.

————————————

An unknown time later, something jolted you awake. You could hear screaming as you opened your eyes. You were laying on your side. Everything hurt and you could taste blood in your mouth.

But you were already forcing yourself back up as you swallowed. Disoriented as you were, you still recognized that voice. It was Peter. He was hurt.

You were looking all around you, and it didn’t take long to see the source and reason for the screams.

Not far from you at all, Apocalypse stood in a clearing from all the rubble. Peter right beside him, half crumpled to the ground. One of Peter’s feet was encased in the earth, trapping him there like an animal in a snare. His other leg was clearly broken, twisted at a grossly unnatural angle.

You felt a foreign rage beginning to burn up inside you, but before you could even physically react you saw the woman with the katana again. Nowhere in your mind did you take any time to consider how she would look so clean and uninjured having just come from the same circumstances as you of barely escaping the crashing jet.

All you saw was her walking towards her master, sword at the ready to finish Peter.

“Stop, (Y/N)!”

Charles screaming inside your head was the only thing that kept you from revealing yourself at that moment.

“It’s Raven! I’m telling you, it’s Raven!” Even Charles was struggling to break through your flaring emotions, as he repeated himself desperately. “He’ll kill you, (Y/N)! Stay in place, I beg you!”

The Professor had never spoken to you in such a way before. You gripped onto the broken wall in front of you, still only just obscured from their view as you saw Apocalypse grab Peter by the hair, jerking the young man’s head back roughly to expose his throat to the woman.

“It’s Raven, please trust her!” Charles did not let go. You could feel him actually starting to control you even, something he had absolutely never done before, though your emotions were exploding like they also never had. He didn’t want you to make a life ending mistake.

“(Y/N), please.” He called again and you realized you were being held in place, unable to move out any further. You were forced to only watch as the woman raised her blade, Peter wincing in fear and pain beneath her as she swung it.

But it was only Apocalypse’s throat that ripped open. Yet even in your surprise, any sense of victory was still non existent. No blood poured from the wound, and it healed completely within moments as he only grabbed his supposed traitor by the neck, holding her up immediately.

Raven’s feet hung in the air while she choked, her blue skin and true appearance quickly returning as she could no longer control her disguise as Apocalypse strangled her.

And it was only then that you felt Xavier letting go of you, in his own shock as Apocalypse tried to bait him out.

“Charles! Come! Rescue your weaklings!” Apocalypse challenged aloud, still dangling the now helpless Raven while Peter stayed trapped at their feet. “Give your life for theirs!”

He was going to kill her right in front of you. You powered up, knowing there was no other choice. You had to-

“No. I’m still connected to him. Let me get in his head, (Y/N), then you can go to them.” The professor spoke quickly, yet with a touch of new resolve.

“Charles! Will you do nothing?” The false god continued to bellow.

This time you listened without being forced to. You did see Apocalypse pause as if Xavier was indeed making contact. It was still an agonizing wait, but when he finally let go of Raven, you allowed yourself some shred of hope. You’d never seen anyone be able to overpower the Professor mentally, once he was fully in.

But that hope was also short lived as just moments later Apocalypse raised his hand abruptly. At will he dissolved the outer wall of a nearby building. You could see Scott and Hank then exposed, themselves just as surprised and staring out. But you knew it could only mean that Apocalypse had used Xavier’s connection against him just that quickly to root out his hiding place.

This could be the end then. You resigned yourself that the only choice was to die fighting if that is what it had to be. But you weren’t as alone as you thought.

As Apocalypse had left Peter and Raven behind, now striding confidently to his prize, two massive steel beams suddenly shot into his path. They buried themselves into the ground, crossing into an X to block him.

You looked back into the sky, glad in this single moment that you had been right about at least one thing. Magneto wouldn’t give Xavier up in the end. Not without bloodshed anyway.

“You betray me?” Apocalypse asked, already turning to deal with Erik instead.

“No. I betrayed them.” Magneto unleashed hell then, every bit of metal he could pull shooting towards Apocalypse in an unending assault as the other raised a shield that incinerated each and every piece as it hit. But doing so clearly taxed him, allowing the perfect moment for the rest of you to join the battlefield.

You got to Peter almost simultaneously as Hank got to Raven. You and Beast were clearly in the same mindset of getting the injured out of the immediate firefight before you would join in.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner, the Professor froze me,” You spoke in quick apology to Peter, using a small energy blast to break up the earth that had been hardened around his trapped foot. Once cracked, you broke the rest of it free just with your fingers.

He was obviously surprised, grateful, and maybe even confused all at once as you gently lifted him with the help of your powers. You wrapped his arm around your shoulders, trying to mind his broken leg as you helped support him while gliding over to a safer spot some distance away.

“Stay here.” You spoke, sitting him down so his back was against a mostly still standing wall to shelter them.

Hank was sitting Raven down in the same manner beside him as Peter suddenly spoke up to you. “Wait.”

You were still crouched in front of him, you’d been about to stand back up when his hand went around the back of your neck and pulled you in closer.

Before you could register anything else, you felt his lips press against yours. It was a bit harsh, desperate even, and then it was over just as fast as you pulled back in surprise.

“In case we don’t ever get to make it to that arcade,” he responded to your shocked expression that was still evident even in your energy form like this.

You took a breath, now was not the time for verbalizing any of this. But you wanted to show you agreed with the sentiment. You leaned back in, kissing him yourself for one longer moment, one hand gently cupping the side of his face before you stood back up. He allowed the contact readily and you could only wonder what it felt like to him when you were enveloped in light like this.

Hank and Raven just gave you both the most confused of looks, but nothing was said as you and Beast had then rushed back off to throw yourselves into the fight.

——————————

(Continued in next chapter here)

#quicksilver x reader #quicksilver x y/n #quicksilver x you #quicksilver #x men #marvel #peter maximoff #pietro maximoff #xmen #x men fanfiction #peter maximoff x oc #peter maximoff x you #peter maximoff x y/n #pietro maximoff x you #pietro maximoff x y/n #pietro maximoff x reader #xmen apocalypse #pietro maximoff x oc

[freddiesaysalright]

Catching Up Part XII

A Joe Mazzello x Reader Fic

Summary: Reader is a writer for an entertainment news network and after Joe comes in to do an interview, they reconnect. Unexpectedly, they’re having a child together.  

Word Count: 4K (its a dramatic one)

Tag List: @crazylittlethingcalledobsession  @jennyggggrrr, @somethinginthewayiam, @grandaddy-roger-trash, @rogerloveshiscar, @hopefully-aesthetically-pleasing, @danamaleksworld, @mrsmazzello, @reedusteinrambles, @rexorangecouny, @caborhapch, @kurt-nightcrawler, @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls, @queendeakyy, @hotttspace, @anxious-diabetic, @someone-get-a-medic, @psychosupernatural, @lizvxx, @cobra-anon, @anotherhystericalqueen, @mazzello-lee-jones-malek It’s not over quite yet! Let me know if you want to be tagged!

A/N: Y’all ready to meet Joey?! Here he comes!

Part I  Part II  Part III  Part IV  Part V  Pat VI Part VII  Part VIII  Part IX  Part X  Part XI

Part XII here we go!!!

You and Joe returned to New York, where the cold was a shock after the warmth of California. You were happy to be back in your house, which you decorated for the holiday season. You spent Thanksgiving and Christmas with the Mazzello’s. They adored you, and the feeling was mutual. They were so sweet and welcoming and incredibly excited for you and Joe.

His mother was an actual angel, who just doted on you. She was thrilled you liked the ring, since it was inherited from her mother. She told you the rich family history of it, and it made you all the more honored to wear it. Although, you told her it was getting rather tight around your swelling fingers, so she gifted you a gold chain to wear it around until after the baby was born. You thanked her over and over again. She helped you put it on and told you how beautiful you looked. You thought you might die of happiness.

They did take a few moments to grieve Joe’s father. You felt a bit like an outsider then, since you never knew him. You’d met him briefly when he came to pick Joe up from school back in those days, but you never knew him well enough to mourn. You started to excuse yourself, but Joe took your hand, holding you close to him, needing you.

When you got home, it was after New Year’s. Your belly was becoming a nuisance to you now that it was too round to bend over or turn around in a narrow hallway. It made you thankful you were no longer in your apartment. That space was much too small. Joe was still travelling since Bohemian Rhapsody was nominated for so many awards. But he would be with you the entire month of February. You told him that was fine, but he had to go to the Oscars. The baby would be a newborn, but it was something you insisted he couldn’t miss.

February began and you and Joe were so excited you could hardly talk about anything other than the baby’s arrival. Dr. Jones was finally back from Kenya, which you were incredibly thankful for because Dr. Barrow was just so rude. You wouldn’t actually see her until your delivery though. Until then, you and Joe were putting together Joey’s nursery.

“Baby, do you want to do anything for Valentine’s Day?” he asked as you handed him the next part he needed for the crib.

“Huh,” you said, thinking. “I forgot about Valentine’s Day.”

“It’s just that it’s our first one together and I was wondering if you wanted it to be special,” he pointed out.

“Honestly, Joe, Valentine’s has never meant very much to me,” you explained. “The restaurants are crowded, people are annoyingly in love, other people’s feelings get hurt. It’s always seemed a little silly to me.”

He shrugged. “Alright, then, we won’t make a big deal out of it.”

“Please don’t say that now and plan a big surprise for me,” you said. “Really, I mean it. It’s not a big deal. Plus it’s less than a week from Joey’s due date and I don’t wanna go into labor or something if we’re in public.”

He chuckled, leaning over and kissing your forehead. “Alright then. No Valentine’s plans. Although, Ben’s gonna be in town by then. Rami and Lucy will be here too.”

“Honey, I’m sure Ben will be your Valentine if you ask him nicely,” you teased.

“He’d be lucky to have me,” he returned with a smirk. “But since Rami and Lucy will probably be together, maybe we could have Ben here and tell him the good news.”

“Oh, that’s a great idea!” you agreed.

You and Joe had talked a lot about Joey’s godparents. You had already named Christy the godmother, and she was honored to accept. Joe, however, had a difficult time deciding on a godfather. In the end, he chose Ben. It surprised you, but you supported him one hundred percent.

“What about Gwilym?” you asked.

“He’s flying in on the fifteenth early in the morning,” he said.

“Well, alright, we can have Valentines with just us and Ben,” you said. “That’ll be fun.”

A couple weeks went by, and it was the holiday of love or bitterness. Ben agreed to come over to you and Joe’s for dinner and stay with you two in the guest room. He loved the house and the nursery.

“Really, you guys have done an incredible job,” he praised. “It’s so...you guys.”

“Thanks, man,” Joe returned. “Y/N, is dinner about ready?”

You nodded. “Should be.”

You all went downstairs, Joe helping you with your slow pace. You served dinner and when there was a lull in the conversation, Joe cleared his throat.

“So, Ben,” he began, and he took  your hand. “There was something we wanted to ask you.”

Ben raised his eyebrows at the both of you. “Okay?”

“We’ve thought about it a lot, and we wanted to know if you would be Joey’s godfather,” Joe said.

A smile erupted across Ben’s face. “Really? D’you mean it?”

“Yeah!” you assured him. “We think you’d be wonderful!”

Ben laughed. “I thought...I thought you’d pick Rami for sure. I can’t believe it!”

“So you’ll do it?” Joe asked to clarify.

“Of bloody course I will!” Ben cried. “I’m honored!”

He stood up and hugged you both.

“Sorry your Valentine’s Day was just us,” you said when he kissed your cheek. “But I hope we made it okay.”

“Are you kidding?” he replied, still grinning. “This is the best Valentine’s Day I’ve ever had. Thank you so much, guys.”

At that moment, you felt a small contraction. Your breath hitched in your throat at the feeling. You’d been having them every few days since you were so close to your due date, but  you knew when you would need to go to the hospital and it wasn’t time yet.

“Alright?” Ben wondered.

“Another contraction?” asked Joe.

You nodded. Ben shot Joe a worried look.

“Not yet,” Joe said with a laugh. “It’s just that he’s close.”

“Yeah, he could come any day now,” you said. “I have had more contractions today than before. Maybe it will be his godfather that brings him out.”

Ben smiled. “I’m so excited.”

“Us too,” Joe said.

You took a deep breath. “I think I will go up and lie down. Do you guys mind doing the dishes?”

“We can take care of that,” said Joe. “Besides, you cooked, so I clean. Those are the rules.”

“I’m still getting used to it,” you said with a laugh, and reached out to give Ben another hug. “I’ll go ahead and tell you goodnight. Thanks for being here, Ben.”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” he replied, kissing the top of your head.

You pecked Joe on the lips. “I’ll see you upstairs.”

“Love you,” he said.

He was thankful - for years afterward - that those were the last words he said to you before you closed your eyes that night. He stayed up with Ben, catching up on the couch as they each had a beer. They laughed and talked as if they had never been apart at all.

“I really am amazed you’re about to be a father, mate,” Ben said.

“And you’re gonna be a godfather,” Joe returned. “As well as Uncle Ben.”

“Seriously,” Ben said. “You’re gonna be a great dad, Joe. You’ve supported Y/N through so much, even beyond the pregnancy. You and her are like the dream team.”

“I think so,” Joe agreed. “I’m just ready to be married to her now. Maybe have another pretty soon.”

“You’ll have the perfect little family.”

“Honestly, Ben. It’s like, cosmic that she and I found each other. It was like I’d known her forever, just seeing her when we walked into that newsroom. Like we’d stayed friends and nothing else had happened.”

“Everyone wants what you two have. To be that sure about a person...I’m jealous.”

“I’ve never been more sure about anything,” Joe said. “She’s it.”

Ben opened his mouth to reply, but they both stopped when they heard you cry out like a wounded animal from upstairs. Both men leapt to their feet and stormed up the stairs to your bedroom. When they burst through the door, they found you thrashing on the bed, crying and yelling.

“It hurts!” you cried. “It hurts!”

“Y/N!” Joe called to you, crawling up beside you on the bed. “Y/N, can you hear me?”

You paused, panting, just barely opening your eyes.

“Joe?” you breathed.

“Has it started?” Ben asked.

“I’m not sure,” Joe returned.

“Wha...what’s Ben doing here?” you wondered blearily.

“Honey, he’s been here all night,” Joe said, brow furrowing. “We just had dinner.”

You started to answer but shouted again. “Fuck! My head! Joe, it hurts!”

“What’s happening?” Ben cried.

“I have no idea!” Joe said.

You shrieked beside him, writhing again. More tears spilled down your face. Joe’s heart broke at the sight. He felt so helpless.

“Should I call an ambulance?” Ben asked.

“No, let’s just take her ourselves,” Joe instructed. “Help me lift her, I don’t think she can walk.”

He pulled back the covers, and he tried to touch your face to tell you they were going to carry you. You couldn’t open your eyes, though. And you were clutching your head too tightly for him to touch you.

“Joe,” said Ben darkly. “Look.”

He followed Ben’s gaze and saw the dark spot between your legs. Your water was broken. You were in labor and you didn’t even realize it. Worry shot through his heart. What was going on with your head that could make it so bad you couldn’t even feel contractions?

“We gotta be fast,” Joe said, and he put his arms underneath you on one side.

Ben took the other side and together they lifted you off the bed. You moaned with pain, but you weren’t screaming anymore, either. You turned your head into Joe’s chest and whimpered into him, tears dampening the cotton.

“Stay with me, baby,” he said. “We’re gonna get you some help, okay?”

You didn’t answer. You just moaned again. They carried you to the car and placed your carefully in the back seat. Joe told Ben to get in with you so he could drive.

“Are you sure?” Ben asked. “I can drive if you want to sit with her.”

“I’ll be faster, I know where I’m going,” Joe insisted.

Ben did as he was told. Joe gave you one last desperate look before climbing behind the wheel and taking off as fast as legally possible. It was pretty late, so traffic was light, but he still felt his heart rate taking off the closer you got.

You gave another pitiful moan, grabbing your head again and yelling.

Joe’s throat became thick as he heard you scream once more, “Ahhh! My head!”

When he pulled up to the hospital, he and Ben helped you inside. He told the nurse you were in labor and they got you set up in a room to prepare you for delivery. Your headache subsided as you got settled, but you couldn’t remember getting to the hospital now. Joe frowned, confused at your confusion.

“Okay, Dr. Barrow is already here so he’ll be down in just a minute to check on you,” the nurse said. “First I’m gonna take your blood pressure.”

Joe watched as you held out your arm and the nurse recorded the number.

“Okay, it’s pretty high, but nothing to worry about yet,” she said.

“What about the headaches?” Joe asked. “And where’s Dr. Jones?”

“Dr. Jones is on her way,” she told him. “And Dr. Barrow can tell you about the headaches and if it’s anything to worry about.”

She left and Joe began pacing. Ben took the chair next to your bed. You closed your eyes and winced when you felt a contraction.

“Did my water break?” you asked.

“Yes, baby, we told you in the car,” Joe said. “You’re in labor.”

“It just doesn’t really feel like it,” you said.

Joe and Ben exchanged worried glances.

“Rami and Lucy are on the way,” Ben said. “I texted them. Gwilym’s on the plane, so I haven’t heard back from him yet.”

“Is Christy coming?” you questioned.

“Yeah, I texted her,” Joe answered.

“Good,” you said with a sigh.

At that moment, Dr. Barrow came in.

“How are we doing?” he asked cheerfully. “Ready to have a baby?”

“Things are fine,” you said tiredly.

“What?” said Joe. “No, honey, they’re not. Dr. Barrow, we had to come tonight because she’s having severe headaches. She didn’t even realize she was in labor her head hurt so bad.”

“Women often exaggerate -” he began.

Joe cut him off. “Doctor, she was screaming.”

“This can happen during labor,” Dr. Barrow said. “For now, we’ll monitor her contractions and dilation.”

He left and Joe groaned.

“He’s kind of a prick, isn’t he?” Ben remarked.

“More than that,” Joe said. “He’s ignored every concern we’ve had. I think he just doesn’t want to deal with anything that could go wrong.”

“He’s in the wrong profession for that,” Ben said.

“I’ll say,” said Joe.

In another five minutes, Rami, Lucy, and Christy had arrived. They all looked happy, but the smiles faltered when they saw Joe and Ben’s faces.

“What’s wrong?” Christy asked.

“We don’t know,” Joe said. “But it’s something.”

“Hey, guys,” you said from the bed.

Christy stepped over to you and took your hand. “Everything okay, sweetie?”

You nodded. “I think so. It’s probably too early for you guys to come to the hospital. Joey won’t be here for another few hours.”

“Don’t be silly,” she returned. “We want to be here for the whole thing.”

You looked at your hand in hers. “God, my fingers look huge.”

Christy blinked. “Don’t worry about that right now. Just focus on getting your baby out safely.”

“Has the doctor seen her?” Rami wondered.

Joe nodded. “Yeah, but it’s not our primary doctor, and he’s not taking it very seriously.”

You choked on the next thing your were about to say to Christy as another headache came over you. You squeezed your eyes shut and howled with pain.

“MY HEAD!” you shrieked. “JOE! IT HURTS!”

You slammed your fist down onto the bed, writhing again. Joe grabbed your hand.

“Hey, stay with me, baby, we’re gonna figure this out,” he said, stroking your arm in an attempt to soothe you.

Christy ran and got the first nurse she saw. Luckily, she was approaching with Dr. Jones. When they heard your cries, they came running.

“What’s happening?” Dr. Jones called over your yells.

“I don’t know!” Joe returned. “She’s had headaches all night and she’s completely out of it!”

“Oh, God,” Dr. Jones said. “Has her blood pressure lowered since I saw you?”

“The nurse said it was still high when she took it a minute ago,” Joe explained.

“I need to test the latest sample of her urine,” she said. “I’m gonna take care of that and I’ll be back soon. This looks like preeclampsia, and if that’s the case we need to get her an IV of magnesium to prevent her from seizing.”

“She could have a seizure?!”

“Not if we act fast,” she said. “If we’ve caught it soon enough, then we can also avoid a c-section.”

“If it we didn’t catch it on time?”

“We won’t worry about that unless it’s true,” she said. “For now, try to keep her focused on labor.”

She left to run the tests. You were recovering again, taking deep breaths as sweat coated your skin. Your eyes were red and puffy from your bouts of crying. Tears still rolled softly down your cheek and you reached for Joe. He knelt down and took your hand, fighting back tears himself.

“Joe,” you whined. “I’m scared.”

“I know, baby, I’m scared too,” he said. “But we’re together. Just stay with me, okay?”

You only nodded. Then Dr. Jones poked her head inside and called Joe out. You looked at your friends around you. You reached one hand out to Christy and the other out to Ben, knowing you had to tell someone, and it might as well be Joey’s godparents. They each took your hand.

“What’s up, Y/N?” Christy asked.

You swallowed thickly. “If something happens, and I don’t make it through the night -” “Don’t say that,” Ben said gently.

“Please,” you said. “If I don’t, tell them - and Joe - to do whatever it takes to save my son. Even if it puts me at risk. I don’t know what’s going to happen, and I’m going to try my hardest to get through this. But if I can’t…” you trailed off, emotion taking your voice.

“We’ll save Joey,” Christy assured you after swallowing hard.

“We promise,” Ben agreed, stroking your hand lightly.

Lucy couldn’t stand it. She buried her face in Rami’s shoulder. He rubbed her back, wiping his eyes with his free hand.

“Where’s Gwilym?” you wondered.

“He’s on his way,” Ben said. “His plane doesn’t land for another two hours, though.”

“We told you, honey,” Christy added. “You don’t remember?”

“I think so,” you said, but you really couldn’t remember talking about Gwilym.

“It’s okay,” Ben told you. “We’ll remind you of anything you forget.”

Meanwhile, Joe was outside talking to Dr. Jones.

“I’ve just gotten some test results back,” she said. “The protein level in her urine is high. That paired with high blood pressure, swelling, headaches, and muddled mind tells me this is a pretty severe case of preeclampsia. How long has she been having headaches?”

“The intense ones only started tonight,” he said. “But she’s been having them since the second trimester.”

Dr. Jones’s eyes went wide. “Did she tell Dr. Barrow?”

Joe nodded. “Yes. Several times. He said everything was fine.”

“He made no notes in her file that she had complained at all,” she said. “I’m so sorry, Joe. Clearly, he didn’t see all these symptoms together, and now she’s at risk.”

“Is - is she gonna be okay?” he wondered.

“I believe so,” she said. “I’ve already ordered her IV to keep her from having a seizure, but the only cure for preeclampsia is to deliver the baby. Luckily, she’s already in labor and we don’t have to induce. I’m going to keep her on magnesium and see if we can successfully deliver the baby vaginally. I’d like to avoid a c-section if possible.”

The nurses walked by with the IV bag, saying nothing as they closed the door again.

“I can’t make any promises,” Dr. Jones continued. “But what I can say is that preeclampsia is rare, but very treatable. It makes delivery more difficult and maybe a little more painful, but not impossible. We don’t need to worry until it develops into full eclampsia. And even then, we’re already at the hospital and ready to treat her if she seizes.”

“But once the baby is born, she’ll be fine?” he asked.

“Should be,” she replied. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to have a few words with Dr. Barrow. The fact that he missed this is pretty alarming.”

Joe watched her disappear down the hall. He felt a little better but he was still worried. He squeezed his eyes shut, but he couldn’t forget the sight of you thrashing around and the sound of your screams. He shook his head to clear his mind and then returned to the room.

The IV was attached and you seemed to be doing better. You didn’t look so weak anymore. He walked over and explained to everyone what Dr. Jones told him.

“So, everything’s gonna be okay?” Christy asked.

“Dr. Jones seemed pretty confident of that,” Joe said.

She sunk into her chair and let out a shaky breath. “Oh, thank God.”

Time slipped by. Your headaches had ceased as one hour passed into two. When you were seven centimeters dilated, it was almost time to push, so Dr. Jones told everyone but Joe to relocate to the waiting room. They did, and waited anxiously. While they were out there, Gwilym arrived, looking worried and breathless. Ben and Rami updated him on everything that had happened. He looked relieved that you were going to be alright and that he hadn’t missed Joey’s arrival.

Before too much longer, Joe emerged, grinning so hard it was a miracle his face wasn’t split in two. He was laughing, but tears spilled down his cheeks. Everyone got to their feet, smiling back at him.

“He’s here,” he managed to say. “He’s ready to meet you all.”

They surged forward to hug and congratulate him. Christy was the first to break away and head to your room. Joe shook hands with Gwilym and told him he was glad he’d made it. Then they all followed Christy and came in to see you looking exhausted but happy, and holding your baby in your arms. He let out a little gurgle and you beamed at him. Your heart felt full. You’d never known a love so powerful as what you felt when you looked at your son.

Your friends surrounded you and you smiled at them.

“He’s beautiful, Y/N,” Christy said, deftly touching his head. “I’m so proud of you.”

Joe took a seat beside you on the bed and kissed your cheek. “You did wonderful.”

“Thank you,” you said. “Do you guys want to hold him?”

They nodded. You handed the baby to Joe, who passed him first to Ben. Ben looked a little terrified and you almost laughed. You held back, not wanting to make him feel bad. He held Joey close to his chest. He looked so small in Ben’s arms.

“I’m so tired,” you said with a yawn. “I hate to be rude, but I’m going to sleep a little.”

“Go ahead, baby,” Joe said, tucking you under his arm. “You’ve earned it.”

You closed your eyes and dozed against his chest.

Ben passed the baby to Rami next. He stirred and just barely blinked up at Rami.

“He’s got your eyes, Joe,” he said.

“He’s so cute,” Lucy cooed, looking down at him in Rami’s arms. “He might actually be the cutest baby in the world.”

“I agree, but I’m probably biased considering I helped make him,” Joe returned.

Rami passed him to Lucy. “Well, she didn’t,” he said lightly. “So I think it’s a fair statement.”

They continued to pass Joey around. They snapped a few photos to put on social media later, but didn’t post anything yet. Joe also requested they not take any of you while you were asleep since you weren’t able to give them permission. They respected that. Gwilym sent photos of Joe holding the baby to Brian and Roger, who had asked for updates after the child was born.

At one point, Christy left to get everyone coffee. It was the middle of the morning now so everyone was starting to crash a little from being up all night. When she finished passing them out, everyone felt at ease. Ben was holding Joey again, claiming godfather rights. Suddenly, your eyes snapped open and you looked at Joe’s face.

“Joe -” you began, but cut yourself off with a strangled cry, grabbing your head again.

“Shit!” Joe yelled getting to his knees to try and hold you still.

Christy and Lucy hurtled out the door to fetch the doctor.

You squirmed on the bed. Your screaming stopped when you found yourself gasping for air. You couldn’t fill your lungs. Your vision blurred.

Joe looked on in horror as you wheezed, head thrown in the pillow, and eyes beginning to roll back into your head.

“Y/N, breathe!” he cried desperately as he took hold of your hand and held it to his chest. “Stay with me! Come on!”

Your body jerked some more as your face started to turn blue.

“No, no, no, NO!” Joe yelled. “Don’t leave me, Y/N! Please stay with me!”

The jerks slowed to small twitches. Your head started to slump to the right. Your hand became limp in Joe’s.

“Stay with me, Y/N!” he continued, grasping your arm as if it was what tied you to this world. “Baby, PLEASE!”

#joe mazzello #joe mazzello x reader #joe mazzello imagine #joe mazzello x you #bohemian rhapsody #BoRhap #BoRhap cast #borhap boys #borhap imagine #queen #queen imagine #rami malek #Lucy Boynton #ben hardy #gwilym lee #John Deacon #John deacon imagine #john deacon x reader #john deacon x you

[thepineapplejuicer]

Title: Know It All Chapter 4 

Nightcrawler fanfic x OC

(I do not own the X-men or the photos/gifs). 

Violet Ashbourne is a gifted human hacker in possession of a radio, a secret device that gains her access to a large underground information network and electronics all over the world. Human and mutant coexistence has always been her goal, but will the betrayal of her mutant mother and father- once partners to her rise to power- distort her beliefs? Will the X-men be able to save her from her own pride and ambition? Or will she sacrifice everything, including the only boy she’s ever trusted, for vengeance?

The cushions squeak as I toss and turn on the medical bed. My clothes feel warm as I continuously straighten them out, my shaking foot wrinkling them after every time. 

“Rest your arms above your head, please,” Forge asks as he gently guides them, giving them a small squeeze once they are in place. “And try not to move.” He places a steady hand on my leg.

 I try to distract myself by glancing around the room, the blue-tile illudes into vibration as the machine rumbles, powering up. I look up as Forge walks to the thin, circular x-ray machine towering over me. I’ve always hated anything associated with hospice settings; makes me feel like someone knows something before I can.

 “I’m only going to move your wrists across, okay?” he reassures me. 

The bed jolts into a steady backward motion stopping just after my fingertips are completely passed the machine. “Make sure you don’t move.”

 The whirling noises of the mechanism fill the nearly empty, spotless room; only a simple desk and the x-ray machine offer me comfort to the unknowing results. Silence follows the rumbling of the machine as it shuts down and my body starts to ich, but I stay still. 

“Huh.” Forge mumbles. 

 “What is it? Can I move?” I ask leaning pointlessly towards him. 

“Not yet.” 

He says nothing more. 

The smell of my deodorant and the tingles in my armpits cause me to look back and forth from Forge to the x-ray machine. Forge rubs his chin and furrows his brows.

 “Are you going to tell me or what?” I ask loosening my muscles.

 “It’s not picking up anything.” 

“What do you mean?” 

I jump out of the medical bed and to the monitor with the captured pictures. Forge points at one of them, “See that? Those are your normal hand bones.” He trails passed the large gap, “and those are your normal arm bones.” He draws a circle in the middle with his fingers, “these empty gaps are your wrists.” 

“Clarify.”

 “Well, considering that this specific machine can scan through metals, stones, you name it, it means one of two things. One, your flesh isn’t completely attached to the bands, otherwise, it would show it inter-webbed into bones. Which is good and we just need to figure out a way to unclip them.” 

“And the other?” 

Forge lets out a sigh, “Or the bands are just not allowing the x-ray to show passed them. Meaning that- ” 

“That cutting my hands off isn’t completely off the table.” 

“Yeah. I might be able to tinker a bit with the x-ray, maybe get it to show us a little more. It’s pretty state of the art but I could hook up a calibrated-” 

“How long will it take?” 

“About a week or two.”

 “A week?!”

“…or two.” 

My jaw clenches involuntarily, “And that’s the best you can do?”

 “Well if I could use my powers- you know the ones you hate so much-I could be a lot quicker, Your Highness!” 

I flinch as he associates me with ‘hate’ and I quickly straighten my posture, “Get it done. I expect results by the end of the day.” 

He scoffs as I return to my station. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX “I hope Kurt’s okay.” I hear Kitty mutter. 

I enter the kitchen and see Kitty and Scott sharing a conversation.

 “Hey, Violet.” Scott greats.

 “Hey, is something wrong with Kurt?” I ask in a hardened voice, with more force than needed. 

“Tabetha and Kurt were messing around during rescue training on the cliff and Kurt ended up hitting his head and taking a dive,” Scott explains, “Logan jumped in after him and he was NOT happy.”

 Kitty chimes in, “Seriously, Tabetha needs to, like, chill.”

 “Yeah, but Kurt encouraged her. They could have gotten a lot more hurt, or worse.” Scott chokes.

 “Where is he now?” I ask sympathetically.

 “Storm took him to the infirmary, to do a checkup.” Kitty offers. 

I turn and stare at the doorway, unsure why I can’t quite move.

 “You can go see him, you know,” Kitty states with a sultry tone, “might make him feel better.” 

“I might do that.” 

As I leave the kitchen I start to feel a pinch in my stomach. I’ve been talking to the students a lot more over the past few days and it’s unsettling. However, I’ve managed to keep my distance from Logan since he hasn’t properly apologized for hurtling me at the rampaging Juggernaut during our last encounter. I keep reminding myself that I am only here temporarily; forming relationships, even enemies is a waste of time. I know all of this. I know what my goal is and what I must do to make Sanctuary grow and to face my father again. I need to stay focused. So why am I outside the Infirmary?

 I hear Kurt’s chirpy accent from beyond the door, “I’m fine, really!” 

 Storm’s voice responds, “Alright, but take these before bed to be sure.”

 I open the door slowly to avoid interrupting them, but the croaking of the door’s hinges bring their eyes on me like a spotlight. They both stare, wide-eyed and tightening their posture. Storm tries to smile at me so I try not to notice her taking several steps away. “Get well, Kurt,” she states and walks out, avoiding my gaze.

 “Hey, Violet.” Kurt finally says. I look his face over, warmed by the strands of blue fur and yellow eyes. I trail up and down his jawline and see the small bandage on his temple hiding a purple gash where he must have hit his head in the accident. “Are you alright?” I ask biting the inside of my cheek. “You heard?” he rubs the back of his neck, looking away from me, “I’m fine, it’s nice of you to worry.”

 “I wasn’t!” I choke out. Our eyes lock. “I mean, I know you were okay. You’re stronger than you look.” I finish. 

Kurt just blinks at me.

 “Is what I meant,” I say quieter. 

He smiles and gets up, grazing my hip with the back of his hand. I couldn’t tell if it was intentional or not before he starts to speak, “It does suck though, I got grounded so now I can’t go to the carnival that is in town.” 

“Carnival? Consider yourself lucky then, they are rigged and irrational for the use of entertainment.” I chuckle.

 “You… don’t like them?” he asks, his chest giving out.

 “Uh well, I never had the pleasure of going. Were you going to go with someone?”

 “I was going to ask someone on a date there.”

 “Oh.” I swallow hard, “I know Tabetha is pretty, Kurt, but maybe be careful of going out with a girl that calls herself 'Boom Boom’.” 

“Why would I think Tabetha is pretty?” “Look I’m not saying you shouldn’t like her, just take it from someone who knows everything about anyone and just be careful around her.”

 “I wasn’t going to ask Tabetha-” My phone chimes before I can register what he said. 

“Actually, I wanted to ask-” 

My phone screen taps into the entrance camera and shows a man I’ve never seen walking into the mansion. “I’ll be back…” I whisper and walk straight towards the main hall. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX I creep along the hall, hearing the conversation ahead, coming from the main stairway. “This is the last run we have to do, sweetheart.” A man coos.

 “That’s what you said last time!” Tabetha’s voice struggles. I hide behind the doorway, the light from the curtains hitting my shoulder as I lean over. A rugged man with greys peaking out of his sideburns and chin stubble is holding Tabetha by the wrist. 

The closer they got to each other the more I noticed how similar they were. “Meet me by the alleyway next to the building and be sure to bring what I told you and I promise we can go away together and be a family again.” The man bargains. 

Tabetha’s silence prompts me to come out and face them, “is something wrong here?” They both turn to me, Tabetha’s eyes lining with water.

 “No, nothing, I just came to check on my daughter.” The man smiles, “see you tonight.” With that he walks out of the mansion, leaving Tabetha shaken. “Going somewhere?” I ask. She tries to speed away, but I catch her by the arm.

 “What?!” she yells, yanking her arm out of my grasp. Some of her colorful hair clips hang by broken gold strands and smudged blue eyeshadow blend with the redness in the corners of her eyes.

 “I’ll make it quick,” I coldly state, “Don’t involve Kurt in any more of your recklessness.” She stomps away without another word. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX Kurt’s POV 

The cold wind evens out the warmth from the orange-hued sunset, bouncing off the carnival lights that flicker on like parts of a caterpillar. The past week has been nothing but daydreams of Violet and I enjoying the 'rigged’ games and 'childish’ rides. To be honest, I think the fact that Violet dislikes things like carnivals makes her more attractive to me. Something about her maturity, but she always seems like she is too serious and needs to relax. If I wasn’t grounded, I’d drag her to that carnival and make sure she knew what it was like to let her hair down occasionally. 

Maybe I’d be the one to win a kiss in the end… Ah, snap out of it! There is no way she would want someone like me. I should be grateful she comes as close as she does. 

“Contemplating the laws of physics, blue?” a familiar voice comes from behind me. I turn, not altering my perched position on the balcony. 

“Tabetha? What are you doing here?”

 “I wanted to apologize for ruining your plans to ask Violet to the carnival.” I smile weakly, “Trust me, I wouldn’t have had the nerve to ask her.”

 “Why not?” She asks leaning on the stone balcony.

 “Because I’m like this and she’s beautiful, smart, independent.” 

“Cocky, rude, bossy.” Tabetha mimics. 

“I’d say she was confident and assertive. She’s… normal.” Tabetha scoffs, 

“Right! A girl who can hack into any camera and microphone to know all our dirty secrets is normal.” 

“You know what I mean.”

 “Is she normal, Kurt? Or do her bands just make YOU feel normal?” 

There is a long pause as I think about my answer, finally, I whisper, “She makes me feel normal. But she’ll never feel remotely attracted to me.”

 “What happened to 'chicks dig the fuzzy dude?” she jokes. 

I frown, “I’m not dumb. I know where my leagues are.” 

“Hmm. You know what will help?” she nods her head over to the horizon. I look over, trying to figure out what she meant. 

“What?” She nods again. I look in the same direction and only see the carnival. “Oh. OH!” I smile wide, but then remember, “If we get caught, we’ll be in even more trouble.”

 “That’s the fun part.” Tabetha smiles, grabbing my hand. Without reasoning with my better nature, I Bamf us away from my room. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX Violet’s POV Tonight has me more restless than usual. Perhaps it is the thin air in the subbasement or the fact that ever since the x-ray this morning, my wrist has been uncontrollably itchy. Loud snoring comes from behind me. I turn and see Forge still passed out on his work table in the corner. Maybe it is the obnoxious snoring that started over an hour ago that’s been keeping me up.

 I tap along my keyboard, reading through the psychiatric tests on the volunteers in Sanctuary. Nisha has been more than capable of sending me all the information, including physical tests Bronco provides; they even state that they like being taught basic self-defense. Most of them passed our standards, no alcohol use, no drug use, no criminal history; decent people who’ve been dealt crappy cards. Most were homeless or lived in poverty from the amount of money the government robs from them. I’m eager to recruit mutants next. The idea of them coexisting sends me into relief. That was always the plan: give to the people, not rob them. I flip through old, depressing drivers license photos of the volunteers and compare them to the new Sanctuary I.D. taken upon acceptance. “They’re smiling.” I lean back enjoying the feeling of accomplishment before checking my emails. 

Empty. 

I’m not surprised since my father hacked most of my contacts and is pretending to be me as I speak. Luckily I am still able to sell and buy information I come across. I scan over the files on my desktop 'Avengers’, 'Shield’, 'Thrask’, 'Deadpool’, among dozens of others. Finally, I stare at the newly added file, 'Xmen’. I shut my monitors off and relax for a moment, letting my mind drift. Oddly enough, the first to come to mind is Kurt.

 I bite my lip as Tabetha’s involvement begins to worry me. My gut twists and I glance over to another monitor that I use to tap into phone calls, text messages, and emails. I sigh, “It’s none of my business. It’s none of my business.” I close my eyes and calm my breathing. “It’s none of my-” The image of her and Kurt… together shock my eyes open. The next thing I know I’m hacking into Tabetha’s phone records. “I’m such a horrible person,” I grumble and open her recent message from an unknown number. 

Unknown #: You going to bring our secret weapon? Tabetha: I don’t want to do this… 

Unknown #: It will be quick, they won’t even notice it’s gone until morning and by then we will be long gone.

Tabetha: and what about Kurt? 

Unknown #: Leave that to me.

 My eyes widen, “Kurt? What is she doing with Kurt?!” I yell as I flip through earlier footage of all the cameras in the mansion simultaneously. “That’s the fun part.” I stop at the end of the footage showing Tabetha and Kurt on his balcony disappear in a puff of smoke. “I knew it.” I grab my tablet and rush to find Xavier, hopefully, we aren’t too late. 

-Thank you for reading. feel free to post any comments :)

(chapter 5 will be posted on Friday, June 21, 2019)

#nightcrawlerxreader #nightcrawler #nightcrawler fanfiction #kurt-wagner #kurt wagner #kurt wagnerxreader #kurt imagine #kurt wagner imagine #xmen #xmenevolution #xmenfanfic #xmen evolution nightcrawler #xmen nightcrawler #xmen imagine #imagine #nightcrawler imagine #loki imagine #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #pineapple juice original #charles #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel nightcrawler

[valkyrieofsmut]

Engel de la Gargouille Section 2 part 5

Engel de la Gargouille (Gargoyle’s Angel)

Kurt Wagner/ Nightcrawler x Female OC

Types: Smut, Angst, Mutual pining, Pregnancy, Romance, Love, Insecurity, Long as hell…

Overall series warnings: Smut, bit of violence, swearing, German (translations provided, but I have bad grammar… Sorry native speakers…) (Will be added as they come up) Chapter warnings will be added individually as well.

A/n-  A bit shorter on this one. I’m putting the chapters out by season, this one is summer, when she’s 20. Kurt is fighting with what he thinks he needs to do, what he is doing, and what he wants to do, Angeline has a lot of emotions, but doesn’t really know how to deal with them, and has some unhealthy coping mechanisms. Sorry guys, if you can’t tell, I feel really anxious to get to the story I really want to write, without writing five years of interactions as a whole book on its own lol, so it skips around a bit, trying to hit just the important parts, just like section one did, but it’ll calm down once we finish here. Oh yeah, and this is about where the angst kicks in, too.

Masterlist       Series Masterlist

Story!

The first date Kurt had, he had sat at the table across from his date, smiling, but feeling pain inside. He knew it was just a practice date, and so did she, but he still felt like it was wrong. He was a gentleman, and practiced his flirting skills, which he had already been honing a bit, of course, but didn't push anything she didn't seem interested in, and listened to her feedback through the night. She had suggested that they do it again, and he agreed.

A few dates later, she encouraged him to go and ask Angeline out, saying that he'd better hurry, or she would fall in love with him. Kurt had chuckled and thanked her, but it still didn't feel right that it wasn't Angeline saying it.

He knew, after the last time he'd seen his practice date, that he couldn't see her again. She was being honest when she said she was starting to fall for him, and he didn't want to break her heart. But he also didn't have the confidence to ask Angeline out, yet, either.

He decided that he needed to find another woman to practice with, and he did. She lasted only two dates before he felt sick with himself, and the next lasted three. He tried to get as much practice into each date that he could, so that he didn't have to do them much longer.

Of course, there was still the matter of physical intimacy. He still had to find someone he'd trust enough, which would mean more dating.

…    …    …    

Kurt stood in the shower, lathering himself up again with soap. He hated himself so much right now.

The woman he'd been with was nice, and he liked her, but not in the way he'd just had to pretend to. He had to think about Angeline to get ready for it, and when he'd had trouble staying ready, he'd admitted to her that it was his first time. She had been so understanding and nice, telling him that it was ok, they didn't have to if he was nervous, but he, strangely, did want to.

Yes, part of it had been his hormones, part of it had been a standard reaction to being touched by a beautiful woman, but part of it had been the thought in the back of his mind that he couldn't wait to do this with Angeline.

But he couldn't. Not yet. He needed to be able to please her, not that short show that had just happened. He needed more skill at this, and that meant more practice, and that meant more dating…

He poured more body wash into his hand. He had the feeling he was going to be too dirty to deserve Angeline's attention by the time he was ready for it…

…    …    …    

Angeline’s pillow found her back, now crying because Kurt had, apparently, finally hit the dating market.

She had thought that she had time, she was moving slow, but only because he wouldn’t look at her that way.

Was it still possible that he wasn’t interested in her for some reason? Was it because she was blonde? Because she was short? Maybe because she was French?

Tears soaked into her pillow as she bemoaned fate.

No matter what it was, she didn’t have a chance.

She’d waited too long.

If only she’d had enough courage to keep trying to talk to him…

Maybe…

But it didn’t matter.

He was dating other women, and not looking at her.

She was afraid maybe he’d never look at her, and she’d die of a broken heart one day.

Angeline sobbed, her wings flexing and shifting above her anxiously. She knew she was beautiful, and it had never really been a help to her before, more of a problem, but now, when it should be helping, it wasn't.

What was wrong with her that he wasn't interested?

She had seen a few of the girls he'd been with, mostly when she was sitting outside in the garden, looking over the plants. Then, he'd be saying goodbye to them, or having conversations she didn't hear because she'd gotten an mp3 player and put her headphones in so she didn't have to hear his wonderful voice saying sweet things to women that weren't her. And he'd kiss them, which made jealousy and longing pain grow through her body.

She wanted to go push the other women away and smack Kurt, scream at him for being blind, for being an idiot, but she was the idiot.

She had no chance with him. She wanted one, but would probably never actually have one.

She couldn't stand to keep feeling this pain, day after day. She needed to find a way to not feel it.

But, the only way she could think of was to either date Kurt so he couldn't date other women, or not care about him, neither of which seemed like a plausible solution. Since he didn't like her that way, wasn't interested in her at all, the only option seemed to be to stop caring for him.

She knew it was impossible, but…

The alternative was less appealing.

Maybe it would sink into the back of her mind, like all the other times in her life; when her mother made her do things she shouldn't have to, when her stepfather, the only person she'd ever known love from, had turned on her the moment he found out she was a mutant, when her mother manipulated her by using her unconditional love, withholding her own, but dangling it in front of her like a carrot, willing to give it if she would just “deserve” it.

All of those things had hurt her, struck her so deep she thought she'd never recover, still leapt to the forefront of her mind from time to time, but she'd pushed them to the back, refusing to think about them, ignoring them, pretending they didn't exist, just like the fact that she was a murderer.

She'd pushed them away and slowly, they had sank into the back of her mind, not forgotten, just hidden.

At all of the thought she was giving them, the buried thoughts unearthed themselves, and Angeline felt swamped with them.

She cried harder, now pushing away all of the scared, insecure, awful, hateful feelings she had, trying to bury them again in the back of her mind where she never looked, and tried to add her feelings for Kurt.

Only time would tell of it worked, but she had the suspicion that it would take a lot longer than she wanted it to. If it even worked at all.

…    …    …    

Angeline paced her room, her wings fluttered and stretched while her tail flicked behind her.

She’d heard that Kurt was single again.

She had finally worked up her courage and decided she was going to take Logan's insane advice and try to talk to him again.

She wanted him to see her and not ignore her, so she’d pulled out all of her clothes, finding a skirt that went to mid thigh, and a tank top that demanded attention with a bit of a v neck and tight knit so it hugged her figure.

She thought about putting on her high heels, but as she opened the door and checked again, she decided to go barefoot. Everyone else was in their rooms because it was getting late, and she didn’t want to trip over impractical shoes.

She looked around and slipped through the door, trying not to make any noise, and went to the landing at the top of the stairs by the door, peeking over as she waited for Kurt to get back from wherever he’d been all day.

She waited, crouched, for what seemed like eons, but was actually only about half an hour, before there was a noise at the door.

She jumped up, taking a breath and pumping herself up to finally make Kurt stand still and talk to her, ask him if he would spend time with her, maybe even go on a date with her.

She nearly flew down the stairs, her feet barely touching them as the door was unlocked.

The door was open and Kurt entered as she took the last steps, stopping in front of him and the door as a woman followed him.

The expression on Angeline’s face turned from bright excitement to bland self preservation as she looked at them.

She looked over Kurt, who was finally looking at her, then over the woman, who looked like a normal human.

Was that what he liked? Was that the problem? She looked too exotic, so he wasn’t interested?

Angeline tightly furled her wings against her shoulders to hide them, and her tail wrapped around her leg to blend in.

Her eyes fell to the floor and drifted to the side. “Uh, excuse me,” she said, dodging around them through the door.

Kurt had looked up as he’d heard the light footsteps of Angeline, and saw her coming toward them excitedly.

If only she’d run to him like that; just happy to see him.

His eyes took in her body, showcased, he wished just for him, but as she left, he was sure that it wasn’t.

He sighed and closed his eyes, again seeing her flawless skin, her full lips that always seemed to be begging him to kiss them, her beautiful eyes, not to mention the way her shirt had hugged her sexy body and her skirt had flirted with him to guess what was under it.

He wouldn’t be able to get that image out of his head.

“I’m sorry,” he told the woman he’d brought home. “You should go.”

“What’s the matter?” She asked, trying to be sexy as she ran her hand up his arm. “Not in the mood anymore?”

Kurt’s face contorted in frustration. Oh, he was in the mood, alright, just not for her. “I’m sorry,” he repeated.

Angeline ran across the grounds, her body absorbing strength from the darkness, until she felt the energy buzzing in her veins and leapt into the sky.

It was very dark, the full clouds blocking out the stars and moon, and she could hardly see, but the dark felt safe instead of bothering her, and she flapped her wings hard to soar through the moist air.

Rain started falling from the clouds, but Angeline didn't stop, flying closer to them as they generated some light and made it easier to see.

She should head back, get out of the way of the storm, but the stabbing in her heart made her keep going, becoming a little reckless as she fought to forget the hurt.

Tears tried to push through Angeline's eyelids, and though she fought them, they did start to make it through.

A sudden gathering of static then flash of light to her left made her choke in surprise, but she still didn't stop, feeling the energy in her feathers and bones as it gathered before the strikes and dodging them, releasing some of her stress as she practiced her aerial acrobatic maneuvers.

Tears blinded her for a moment, and a sudden gathering of static started in front of her as she wiped her eyes.

Angeline spun, her wings getting confused in her panicked need to avoid a bolt of lightning.

She tumbled through the air, trying to regain her bearings, but the feeling of tumbling through the wet darkness was what she imagined being thrown around and pulled under by waves in the ocean to be like.

Treetops were terrifyingly close in the next flash of lightning, and Angeline's eyes shot open and her lungs sucked in a gasp of fear.

She hit a tree branch and managed to set herself right, if a little wobbly as she shot through the trees too fast.

A tree reared in front of her suddenly, and she tilted to the side too late, her shoulder crashing into it and spinning her as she crashed into the ground.

As the pain centralized, she could tell that her shoulder was shattered, as well as her other forearm, one wing, and one femur being broken along with the many scrapes and bruises she'd just acquired.

She laid on the ground in a heap for a moment, slowly moving to get her body back in place as it healed.

She kneeled on the leaf litter and dirt holding her shoulder as she looked up at the sky. Maybe she should have taken the lightning. It would have been painful, but it would have been over sooner

Angeline sighed, her thoughts tumbling back to Kurt.

It had been awful, running into him and his new girlfriend, but maybe she would just try to follow Logan's advice in a different way.

If she flirted with him and got him to ask her out, it would work the same. Right?

Besides, what was the worst that could happen? Being rejected?

She'd just nearly been hit with lightning, a tree had destroyed her shoulder, and then she'd crash landed through the forest, wrecking pretty much the rest of her limbs.

Not to mention what she'd lived through before at her mother's house, for about twelve years, since it started when she was about four.

Rejection may hurt, but if she went in expecting that she may, or probably would, be rejected, she could be ready for it.

…    …    …    

Angeline tried to remind herself that she had no claim over Kurt, and not to care what he was doing, just to try to get his attention, but it was hard.

Especially when she found that he was dating a different girl, this one a mutant with an obvious mutation.

So it couldn’t be that he didn’t like mutants.

‘At first I thought maybe he didn’t like women,’ she mentally groaned to herself as she again cried into her pillow. ‘But now I see; he likes them- loves them! As long as they aren’t me!’

Her evolution of thought on his preferences were had gone from not women, to blondes, to not short women, to not mutants, to not physically affected mutants, but now...

He had been going out with so many women, different women, blondes, brunettes, redheads, tall, short, mutants, non mutants-

EVERYONE EXCEPT HER!

Her only thought left, was that maybe he didn’t like her wings, since she would ruffle them to get his attention, and he would glance, but always look away quickly, as though he didn’t want to see them.

Tag List!

If you’d like to be on any of my tag lists, please let me know! Also starting up my Ao3!

@racheo91​ @a-book-pressed-rose​ @tephi101​ @keldachick​ @Randomfandompenguin @Avacadobutthole @mannls​ @screeching-student-unknown​ @lilypalmer1987​ @pingu89​ @gifsbysimplysonia​​ @omnomsauruswrites​​ @mybloodtypeiscoffee​ @lizfawn​​ @badassbaker

#Kurt Wagner #nightcrawler #Smut #female oc #Marvel #Valkyrieofsmut #X-Men #Nightcrawler x oc #Kurt Wagner x oc #nightcrawler smut #kurt wagner smut #love #romance #angst #fluff #mutual pining #multi part story #Pregnancy

[sinkingorswimming]

CONGRATION FOR 600 FOLLOWERS U DONE IT

more X-Men coming through, maybe not so “soft” anymore @linneakou

He could be doing a gig in DC at the 930 Club right now, but Ciao Ciao and his teammates are playin’.

An old friend of Celestino’s, Dr. Mireya Thomas, mentioned during a lunch date to check in and catch up her close neighbor’s son disappeared six months ago. She’d been searching for him—Leo had confided in her that he was a mutant, having moments where flames would appear on his body. Leo was a kind kid, she told Celestino—went to mass every Sunday, was in the church band, good grades in school, helped his local Kiwanis chapter—but he’d come to her because Mireya is a leading geneticist in the field of human mutation.

He prayed every night for a cure, he said then. 

Celestino handed her a tissue to dry her stoic tears and said he would try to find out what he could, keeping an eye out for posters or social media posts.

Thanks to some creative computing on Seung Gil’s part, they have the following—

1) There is some shadow org called The Right taking recently mutant-presenting teens.2) They have some kind of crazy financial backing that no one can properly trace. (”Yet,” grumbled Seung Gil with some acid.)3) Blackwater looking goons with masks do the aductions, and some shady dude who speaks only in a mixture of German dialects calls the shots.

Yuuri is in a costume that’s mostly different from his stage outfits. It’s black and made of some fabric Seung Gil calls “unstable molecules” so it’s fireproof, waterproof, bulletproof, shockproof, and Andre Leon Talley’s scathing critique proof. Chris handled the design, making a point to compliment its inventor on how it goes through a serger like a hot knife with butter. It’s a black-form fitting number covered in prismatic crystals, mesh inserts, and fingerless gloves so he can still use his Laser Hands (TM Phichit, not to be confused with his Laser Pants, also TM Phichit) and he puts in red contacts instead of the UV purple ones. His hair’s gelled back and the make-up that obscures his features is charcoal and crimson. 

Yuuri could dance before he could run, which is how he keeps ending up the point man. Little rainbow shimmers float in the air around him, a sublte method to distract people from paying too much attention to his voice or face. 

“I hate this.”

I know you do, Dazz, replies Phichit over their special earpieces. Just know Forge and I are right behind ya’ once you clear the security systems.

“He really can’t just hack it?” Yuuri arches his back, holding his right foot above his head in a Bielmann. The boots he wears have split soles like dance or wrestling shoes.

Sure I can, if I want the FBI on our door in two minutes, comes the inventor’s scating reply.

Yuuri stretches his other leg. Standing at the wall behind him, Longshot clears his throat. 

Yuuri gives him a look. Since he doesn’t have a secret identity at all really, he just lets his face show with nothing to conceal his features. 

His suit’s been modified by Chris to use the same fabric as Yuuri’s—instead of hot pink, he now wears a purple top attached to black fingerless gloves that begin at his elbows. His pants are a tight shimmery black like oil slicks, but his boots are more traditional combat style unlike the Dazzler outfit. The embellishments on his top are actually weapons—the cord doubles as a whip, the “braiding” is actually those short silver darts he throws, and so on. 

Longshot smiles, his eye glimmering with the gold burst for a moment. “Your lucky charm’s on stand by, beautiful,” he assures Yuuri with a wink.

Yuuri turns forward again so he won’t see that his cheeks now match his make up. He coughs, takes a look at the grid, reminds himself of his forays into acrobatics, aerial silks, and capoeira…and goes.

Phichit should really be doing this, he thinks as he manages to get a hold in a cloth banner above the laser grid, climbing it and then doing a triple somersault to the next one. He’s the one who can cling to surfaces that have friction and can freaking teleport. His eyes are better in the dark, too, but since they couldn’t get the schematics on where the grid stopped or if they continue inside the rooms in the facility (since if Phichit BAMFs into a room full of them, they’ll go off), Yuuri has to do it. 

He tumbles through, avoiding a moving grid with a randomized pattern using the steps from a Paso Doble Minako insisted he learn. There’s not much sound here, but it’s enough and when a random beam almost hits him, he manages to shield himself with a bit of white light at a differeing optical density so it refracts around him. 

Nice, Forge and Nightcrawler say in unison.

Only after doing a full split under the last few does he make it and disables the grid. He’s oddly not sweaty or throwing up or anything. Huh.

Longshot saunters to him, and when they’re face to face, he picks up Yuuri’s right hand, kissing his ring finger and then his cheek, the day’s stubble prickling against Yuuri’s skin in a way that makes his breathing stop and his heart stutter. 

The smell of sulphur and a black bit of smoke heralds Nightcrawler and Forge. Phichit doesn’t need a mask since his daytime appearance with the Image Inducer is one—his gold eyes, deep blue fur, and short fangs make him cute in a sinister manner. His costume is deep red and gold, while Forge wears a sedate gray-blue and black jumpsuit as Chris vetoed his idea for a loud costume like a rainbow.

They find an office with a terminal, and Forge cracks his neck and sets to work. It only takes him a few minutes before he can copy the relevant data. There’s a guard rotation but they timed their entrance with the shift changes. 

It only takes three minutes and they have six more before the gig is up. 

“Done,” Seung Gil says. He pockets the HD. 

“Jěng âh!” Phichit grins and his tail swishes like an excited puppy. The four of them link hands, Longshot giving Dazzler a particularly happy look, and they’re BAMFed out to an alley a couple blocks down.

Longshot pitches forward with a pain-filled cry. 

“Sorry,” Nightcrawler says with a sheepish shrug. “It’s hard on passengers the first…eighteen times.”

“I threw up twice,” Seung Gil adds in a voice that has no comfort whatsover.

Dazzler helps Longshot get back upright. “You okay?”

“It’ll be alright, beautiful,” he answers as Phichit sings some of the lines from Ellie’s “Something in the Way You Move” in the background. 

Yuuri might add it to his rotating encores after he punches Phichit for the heckling. It’s a moot point he forgets, because they end up back at the house Chris bought them—it’s a Park Slope multi-million dollar home that the Giacomettis have owned since it was built. 

Chris perfers a skyscraper’s penthouse so he can stretch his wings…literally, so since this was in disuse, they all moved in. There’s seven bedrooms—Celestino has the master, Seung Gil’s converted the parlor into his sleeping area and work shop, and Phichit keeps waggling his eyebrows that Dazzler and Longshot should double up.

Their rooms are the two on the second floor, which take up the whole thing. They share a bathroom and Yuuri let Victor have the room with the terrace access. 

The cellar has been expanded through the backyard, outfitted with steel walls, soundproofing, and Seung Gil’s hologram tech. It’s a gymnasium on steroids for all of them to refine their skills with their gifts, and boy did Seung Gil get a sour expression when Phichit called it the Danger Room.

He twitches every time someone else says it. He twitches a lot, because it’s caught on.

Chris happens to be waiting in their living and rec room when they get back—he’s discussing something with Celestio. Since he’s not acting as the face of Intoxicated by Giacometti or as a board member of Giacometti Corp, he’s wearing a shirt with a low back so he can have his wings out. 

Seung Gil boots up his computer to run the analysis of what they got. and Phichit BAMFs into the kitchen, returning with a bottle of Mekhong and glasses for everyone filled with ice. He pours and they all take one, though Victor looks at his from every possible angle like it’s poison.

“Mote gaow!” Phichit shouts, and they echo it as they drink.

Victor stares at his glass after his initial sip. He looks confused. 

“It’s more or less rum,” Yuuri explains. Victor doesn’t look like he understands better. Right. Alien. Not from Earth. “Uh, it’s a…sugarcane beverage that can get you drunk.”

Victor lights up. “Ah!” He takes longer sip, and things seem pleasant enough until Seung Gil does a literal sitcom-style spittake at his montior.

“That’s not gonna be fun to clean,” Phichit deadpans. 

“What happened?” Ciao Ciao asks with a serious tone.

“Chris—” Seung Gil begins. “When’s the last time you reviewed GC’s R&D budget?”

Chris pauses, thinks. “Five years ago, if I’m honest. Josef insisted on handling the line items and minutiae so I can be free to do the public appearances and philanthrophy without conflicts.” His expression shifts from thoughtful to grim. “I’m not going to like what you say next, am I?”

“…Let me ask a follow up in that…you’re sure Josef is okay with mutants?”

Yuuri’s spine goes rigid. Even Phichit stops smiling. 

“He’s always told me he is since I presented,” Chris answers with no emotion in his voice.

“Well—” Seung Gil says. “He’s clearly lying. GC-0963 Project: The Right. There’s dozens of mutants in here that have either been abducted for experiments or—”

The silence hangs heavy, leaden with horror and dread.

“How many?” Chris says.

“Chris, maybe—” Ciao Ciao begins.

“How. Many.” Chris snaps.

Seung Gil gives Chris a look uncharacterisically filled with sympathy. “198.”

Phichit gasps, dropping his drink before catching it with his tail.

“They’re imprisoned at a facility out in Montauk,” Seung Gil says. “It’s similar to Supermax but for mutants—they have power dampeners most likely, or they’re sedated.”

“Well, we’ll get them out,” Victor says with resolution and stilted cheer. “It’s a good old fashioned jailbreak!”

“No.” Chris stands, reading the data on Seung Gil’s screen. It all bears out, it seems given the pallor in his face. His eyes look haunted. “We’ll do this in a softer way.”

“You’re hitting him in the board room, then,” Ciao Ciao answers.

“Yeah.” Chris nods. “There’s a nuclear option I can employ with the Board to get him out—and I’m sure we can kill this Project: The Right easily enough too. I don’t want my family name aligned with bigotry or human rights violations, and I’m fairly confident they’ll agree.”

Chris narrows his eyes.

“Plan B though,” he begins. “You all are my Plan B.”

#domokunrainbowkinz #asked and answered #dazz and longshot au #dommi's fic #victuuri fic #yoi fic #dazzler!yuuri #longshot!victor #lost in your light #prompt fills

[meralee727]

Dear Rob, Glenn and Charlie,

I am writing this very professional pitch in hopes of being part of the writing staff for season 14 of It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia. No idea if you’ve thought about next season yet but seeing as I have done extensive Sunny research, I have some ideas and also feelings.

Here is my one ask for season 14. The one thing I beg of you not to do:

Please do not press the reset button

Pressing the reset button has become an expected plot device within Sunny universe. In the thirteenth season alone, Dee falls off the side of a building and Charlie gets his leg caught in a bear trap and neither one dies. Mac and Charlie severely beat up children to such a degree that there was a possibility that one died and there were no consequences. Sunny does take place in an alternate universe where we’ve come to expect that things like logic and prison time will simply have no place in the Sunny world.

And that’s fine.

But that being said…

I beg of you to please, please step away from the button.

I don’t have to explain what happened in the finale. You were there and Rob, I hope you treated yourself to a box of doughnuts when it was all over. A box of doughnuts that you did not share with your wife and sons. It was powerful, beautiful and perfect from top to bottom. The risk that it took to go against what everyone expected from a Sunny episode just to simply let the struggling  and lost know that it’s okay was extraordinary and for that reason, the reset button is not an option.

At least not for the first episode of season 14.

You ended on a peak of sorts and to leap all the way back to the bottom and kick off the fourteenth season doing an episode where the gang does something like solves the North Korea gas crisis would be doing a disservice to Mac finding his pride. That dance, that moment was so spectacular that pretending it never happened in season 14 just sounds disrespectful to Mac.

If I can, I would love to give my pitch for season 14.

Here it goes:

Instead of an episode where the gang spoofs a movie or does their take on a social/political issue, maybe the first episode of the fourteenth season can kick off with the gang finding Mac’s pride?

Go with me on this….

We can open on Frank and Mac coming back to the bar after having left the prison. Mac tells Frank  not to tell Charlie, Dee and Dennis about his dance.

Frank, being Frank, has already forgotten the dance ever happened  in the first place.

Despite this, Frank begins to take on a fatherly, almost protective role with Mac.

Almost.

Of course I mean Frank’s version of fatherly. The man’s not Danny Tanner. Maybe it should be “fatherly” not fatherly.  Frank begins to treat Mac how he treats Charlie. Maybe Frank invites Mac to play Nightcrawlers with him and Charlie or brings Mac boiled denim so he can change out of his wet jeans? This could cause Charlie to get jealous and as seen in episodes like The Gang Tends Bar, Charlie doesn’t handle jealousy well.

Maybe at this pride parade, Mac meets a guy? A nice guy. A guy who actually likes Mac which I think would especially throw Dennis for a loop. Someone who actually treats Mac with respect. Someone who will take Mac’s attention away from Dennis. Oh and what if this guy has an actual blackbelt in karate?

While Charlie is jealous of how Frank is being towards Mac, Dennis’ neediness starts to emerge as Mac starts spending time with Karate Man. Remembering what happened when Mac and Dennis broke up, Dennis starts to rely too heavily on Dee again.

Dee and Charlie ultimately team up to restore order to the gang. A gang as codependent as this one descends into chaos when the roles change. Frank and Mac coming together throws everything off balance. Charlie needs Frank relying on him just as much as Dennis needs Mac. With this gone, Dee will most likely get more of everyone’s abuse as Dennis and Charlie start losing control. So order needs to be restored so everything can be back to normal or whatever is considered normal for the gang.

Of course, Mac, being Mac, ultimately ends up destroying the relationship with Karate Man. Maybe Karate Man suggests that Mac take karate lessons? Mac’s delusions about his sexuality may be gone but his delusions about his ability to do karate are still alive and well.  I could not see Mac reacting well to someone telling him he should take a beginning karate class and actually trying to teach him some moves. Mac being taught contemporary dance is one thing….but karate?  Well, that’s another story.

These characters are all so severely broken and damaged anyway that while Dee and Charlie could work to sabotage the relationship, Mac will ultimately destroy the relationship on his own just by being Mac.

Now, maybe the ending could take place between Mac and Dennis?

Last season, there seemed to be a shift in the Dennis and Mac relationship. Dennis seemed annoyed by Mac though I’m not sure that was the intent. There was also the mystery as to what might have happened to Dennis? I liked the idea that you had briefly mentioned in The Gang Makes Paddy’s Great Again where the joke was that Dennis had given Mac the number to a mental health clinic. Given how Dennis was able to put together an entire sexual harassment seminar for the sole purpose of calling out the gang, this almost seems plausible that Dennis would have concocted this huge scheme so he could leave  town and perhaps check into a mental health facility?

I feel like there’s some sort of fight  or show down of sorts coming with regard to Mac and Dennis. Maybe when Mac comes back to the apartment after things end with Karate Man, Mac tries at first to tell Dennis what happened but instead Dennis goes off on one of his signature  rants. Maybe in this rant, where he goes off on all of the things Mac does that annoy him and how that affects him, he inadvertently reveals where he was when he left the gang. Mac watches in silence and when Dennis is done, Mac approaches him, punches him in the face and says, “you left me, asshole” before turning and walking out of the apartment.

I like the idea of Mac fighting back.  Mac found his confidence at the end of the thirteenth season. He found his strength. He found the ability to stand up for himself. So maybe the idea of simply punching someone in the face and leaving is enough?

The end of the episode could take place at the bar? Dee, Charlie, Frank and Mac are there downing shots of whiskey. Charlie and Frank are back as the gruesome twosome talking about a large sewer rat while Dee and Mac offer their own opinions when Dennis walks in. Dee asks what happened to his face, Dennis responds by insulting her instead and conversation turns back to sewer rats which leads to a scheme. Mac pours him a shot, Dennis thanks him, maybe pats Mac on the back. The episode ends with the five drinking at the bar planning their next scam.

Then episode two could be, I don’t know, The Gang Takes on Sliding Doors or The Gang Fixes the Border Crisis.

So how’s that?

See, I think setting the reset button will cause fandom whiplash. Right now, to paraphrase Dennis, season 13 ended with you guys as the proverbial kings of the mountaintop. To get down from top of the mountain, you don’t just jump and hope you land safely but instead you move yourself slowly back down to the ground. Back down to the world of schemes and where actions really have no consequences.

So that’s my pitch. I’d love to hear back from you regarding your thoughts.

Sincerely,

Meredith

Mandatory Credit: Photo by Richard Shotwell/Invision/AP/REX/Shutterstock (9859077an) Rob McElhenney, Kaitlin Olson, Danny DeVito, Mary Elizabeth Ellis, Charlie Day Glenn Howerton, Jill Latiano. Rob McElhenney, from left, Kaitlin Olson, Danny DeVito, Mary Elizabeth Ellis, Charlie Day Glenn Howerton and Jill Latiano attend the LA Premiere of “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia” Season 13 at the Regency Bruin Theatre, in Los Angeles LA Premiere of “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia” Season 13, Los Angeles, USA – 04 Sep 2018

IT’S ALWAYS SUNNY IN PHILADELPHIA — “Dee Made a Smut Film” — Episode 1104 (Airs Wednesday, January 27, 10:00 pm e/p) Pictured: (l-r) Rob McElhenney as Mac, Danny DeVito as Frank, Glenn Howerton as Dennis, Kaitlin Olson as Dee, Charlie Day as Charlie. CR: Patrick McElhenney/FX

  Season 14: It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia Pitch Dear Rob, Glenn and Charlie, I am writing this very professional pitch in hopes of being part of the writing staff for season 14 of It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia.

[2gameprince]

Killer

"His first victim, he cut out all of the man's intestines, diced them into four pieces and tied one to each one, which he used to hang the man from his apartment ceiling lamp, resembling a puppet. All of the man's teeth were removed, and placed in the formation of a smiley face beneath his dangling body. His second victim, he placed the man's severed genitals into his mouth, sewed it shut, then stuffed his severed head up into the man's torso, which was then, also, sewed shut. His thumbs had been severed and shoved into his eye sockets. His third victim, the man's brain and stomach were removed, swapped and stabbed repeatedly. Thirteen knives were sticking out of his chest when he was found, and his limbs had been severed and swapped as well. Legs where his arms should be, arms where his legs should be. His ears were swapped and sewn as well. And with this trilogy of terror, the maniacal killing spree of America's most elusive murderer has only spiraled further and further out of control." The papers were writing about me again. It isn't like I don't enjoy the exposure, but when I start to get noticed, that's usually around the time I have to pick up everything and relocate. To avoid capture, of course. So many years. So many faces, come and gone. Jane, Dan, Ronnie, Sam, Henry, Dick, Matty, Frank, Sandra, Joe, Eric, Bart, Leo... and those are just the few I have rotting at the bottom of the Hudson River. God knows how many more I've killed. I try to keep a grip on things. And out of respect for the deceased I do try to remember each and every one of them. What I do is not a service. I do not do it to help anyone or to push ulterior motives. I kill simply because it is fun and, given the right circumstances, can be pushed to unfathomable lengths. The key to existing as a killer of my magnitude lies in the ability to be unseen by all. To go unnoticed, under the radar of people you interact with every day. That's what I had told old Detective Connor a few months back. Right before that poison I slipped him took effect. Believe me, I had no ill will toward the detective. But alas, he attempted to apprehend me. Which, of course, is something I can't tolerate. Things like that you don't duck around with. Playing on the fantasy of being apprehended is exactly what gets you apprehended. Throughout this "career" of mine I have met others like me. Each with their own motives. A few that have even tried to take my head. Apart from the psychopaths, I find most of them to be pleasant-enough people. More men than women, though. Once I had walked into the middle of a wide-open cemetery. I had brought my nineteen-eleven with my silencer. I was at a low point after this break up. This was many years back. I walked up and down the isles and when I came across a single person looming over a grave, well, I shot them. Took out six people that day. And no one had noticed. Not a gunshot was heard, and anyone nearby just assumed the lifeless bodies were over-dramatic folk groveling in the grass. I would say It was almost poetic, but I'm not very good at making metaphors for stuff like that. Best not to assume a position on something I know nothing about and be proven wrong. Now if there’s one thing that gets my stomach turning, it’s when someone kills a poor homeless guy. like they don’t already have it bad enough. To me that’s just rude. I used to know this guy, Derek Starch. He loved killing hobos and vegetables. Sick fuck. I tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. Even had a few drinks with him. It didn’t take long before I paralyzed and hung the fucker from his trailer. Sure he looked up to me, but how was I supposed to associate myself with someone of that… caliber? He had already killed twelve people by the time I had met him. He worked at an old folks home. Clever bastard. I doubt the law would’ve caught up to him until he had about ten more bodies under his belt. So, I cut his career short. We’re all better off for it too. Now, on the subject of my childhood. If I had to guess, I’d say I started killing at age eleven. grown ups, surprisingly. Never fellow children or animals. At least to me, that’s sick. The elderly or crippled I will also spare. It’s this sort of mutual feeling of hardship which allows me to differentiate between those deserving of death and those that have just fallen on hard times. In a perfect world what I am doing is a grand service. That’s how it would appear. But, I do not care. maybe once or twice I’ll slip and help the greater good. Kill a mugger, shoot a rapist, gut a pedophile. But at no point do these acts take away from the fact that I kill who I want, when I want. And in which ever way I want, as well. I stay off of social media. That shit rots your mind. I can’t imagine spending my precious hours typing away on a phone or keyboard, bitching and moaning to a world that doesn’t care. What we do out here, pinned up against flesh and blood. This killing. This is real. More real than any point of view held on some bullshit social media account. Or maybe I just don’t understand what makes it all so fascinating. I do like to believe I am living out of the shroud of corruption and corporate mind-numbing tactics. but, what if my “condition” is a negative effect of me rejecting that brainwashing? Now that’s heavy. never the less, I go about my daily activities with glee. In these parts I am a sales man. these parts being Colorado. Before here I was a mechanic in Iowa and an underground medical doctor in Arizona. I’d say that in Iowa I killed roughly twenty-four people. Give or take. A gang member here or there. An ex-coworker. The usual batch. But when I hit Arizona, oh boy. It was a Neo-Nazi open season. That was the best two years of my life. I must of cut up twenty of those poor bastards. I left them all in pieces across the desert. Even left some of them in Nevada. Sometimes I’d mail their heads to their little ‘daytime meeting groups’. It was funny watching them scatter, going to war with biker gangs that they thought had committed the killings. It escalated quickly. After a while there weren’t many of em’ to kill anymore. All that massacring got me tuckered out. So I left a good while after the nazis’ and the bikers’ numbers began to dwindle. I’ll say it again. I didn’t do it for the greater good. I did it cause I felt like it. I did kill an innocent mailman. No. Two actually. Yeah. But they were on an off-day. Just to get my jollies up. Okay, so one of them was sleeping which this guys wife. So what? I did them all a favor. I guess sometimes I’m just drawn to the pitiable. I can’t help it. I run on fun. Fun and instinct. I am pleased to say that my age has brought with it a solemn lessening to my violence toward those I do kill. As the papers say, I was quite the Jackson Pollock in my youth. Every few years I change up my tactics and my style of slay. This has put me in the running of a position with not many “in-the-loop” killers get. See, there are those killers who go about their deeds completely ignorant to the fact that if you look hard enough, there is a whole anti-nation of folks just like me. An unspoken society of a murderous population that keeps the world in balance, when we can help it. Now, among this ‘under-nation’ there is a singular goal that most murderers in my shoes wish to achieve some day. This is gaining the statues of a mass murderer. To reach the point where you have literally wiped out a whole state’s populous in your lifetime. There’s online communities dedicated to it, forums, sites, the whole nine yards. Not only that, but with the birth of the new age murderers are recording their kills and uploading it to the web for all to be astonished by. It’s quite amazing. With so many sick people in the world, it’s a wonder this society of the secretly psychotic ever started up in the first place. So this one night I was walking home from the corner-shop back in Idaho. I notice this guy in a hood starts coming up behind me. Now, I’d say I had a pretty good idea of what he was planning to do. Mainly since whenever I would try and shank a nightcrawler, I’d watch my footing and use my location to help trap and kill a target. If I never killed someone in the matter that he was planning on doing me in, I could have been dissolving in a barrel after that. Luckily, as he came up behind me, I maneuvered his hand away and shoved my head into his throat, crushing it in. Well he choked out and made a fuss before finally killing over. Looking down I noticed his knife and a camera, recording his kill. And that was the first time I had ever seen something like that. Traveling for some time, I usually got thrown out of the loop on things like the advancements of computers and phones. Which I frequently pondered about using in my murders. I didn’t really bother to hid his body. Obviously, it was in self-defense. So when the cops came snooping around my trailer early that morning, I was happy to comply. Good thing my kill was caught on a store-front’s camera too. There was no denying I merely protected myself. That was one of the many things I’ve always loved about the south. The laid back nature, above all else. I never expected for my little venture with that night-stalker to go anywhere, but when I was tracked down by some of his “buddies” you could imagine I was quite taken with what I’m gonna tell you next. The kid I killed, Alex, I believe his name was, was the leader of a band of hooded serial killers. They operated as one unit. They would provide alibis for one another when one of them was suspected of their kills. And when one of them fell or was injured, the next in line would take his/her place. It had appeared that Alex remained uncaught for four years since the teens had started up their little project. And I was the one who killed their founder. At first I believed they wanted to kill me. For obvious reasons. But that’s not how things panned out. No, they adored the little bloody number I did on Alex and offered me the chance to guide them. To take up the mantle of their group, “The Duskers” and serve as their functioning sociopathic grandmaster!! Oh, we all had some great times. There were six of them in total. We were unstoppable. We must have killed ten poor souls a month. Mostly bus-people heading in and out of the city. Commuters. Believe me, we were doing them a favor. Nine months I stayed with them. Training them in my personalized art of the kill. And when it came time for me to move on, they were hesitant. Even threatening to kill me if I left. They really didn’t want me to go. So I compromised. I killed each of them in their homes while they slept. Not one o my best moments, but how else was I supposed to get out of that jam? They trusted me enough, and I needed to take to the road again. I won’t ever forget them though. No matter how hard I try. Some time after that I had found myself being tracked by individuals whom I believed to be private investigators. It soon turned out that this group of mercenaries were tailing me. Admiring me. Out of the pan and into the fire, I suppose. Turns out this group had been recording my every kill and identity change for the past six years. Collecting more than enough evidence to put me away for good. They asked me to join their little brigade for a few years or so. I would be paid to do what I was doing now. Killing, only this time, without the fear of capture. This group knew ‘officials’ which kept them out of the public-eye. They weren’t part of that sociopathic-society I had mentioned earlier. These men were old soldiers that blurred the line between vigilante and cold-blooded murderer. I went along for the ride. And in two years I killed myself an estimated one-hundred and fifty four city folk. Most of them with guns and bombs. The group liked to make it seem like we were terrorists. They said it fueled the citizen’s hatred and gave rise to their loyalty to their country. We could kill off all the people we wanted, blame it on foreigners, collect the earnings and at the same time have everyone believing that each mass killing made them stronger as a civilization. Yeah right. As if they could ever pass the racism, greed and class indifference they’d always felt since birth. Change was a miracle. And my time with the ex-dogs of the military showed me that no such thing exists in this world. Not that I cared. It’s 8:17 by the time I hop onto the elevator with Eric. He doesn’t know me at all, but I’ve been observing him for quite some time. Eric is a meek man with a large belly, not much hair and a habit of biting his nails until they bleed. He’s a heavy-set paranoid blob with good reason to be weary cause’ tonight is night I take his life. It didn’t take much effort to decide whether or not I was going to kill him. He works a couple blocks from me, doesn’t have any family and contributes nothing to society, so the way I see it he’s as good as dead anyways. Still, a part of me is going to miss watching him walk down the street in that monkey suit of his, tightening his bowler on that bald head of his. Stalking victims almost fills me with a sort of unspoken connection by the time it comes to finishing them off. Almost like we could have been friends if we’d both been dealt different hands in life. But this is the trail I skip along. With knives hidden on almost every inch of my body, it is my duty to rid the world of undesirables. The world calls my actions “senseless murder” yet if I worked for the CIA I’d be paid heavily to shove knives through men’s throats, or other fun acts. Such a twisted structure of morals we’ve set up here. And such a twisted face Eric now has. I waited until the doors closed to pull out my beautiful stiletto and cut his throat in a mere instant. He was so surprised and spent a few seconds fumbling around the elevator, realizing it was a long way to the top and by then he’d surely bleed out. Now I’m not the sadistic type so I waited until he finally bled out completely before carving his face. Even I admit it’s a rather ghastly sight. looking back at the act it seems almost childish. Makes me feel a little ashamed, realizing my excitement overtook my actions and threw me overboard. No doubt one day I will pass over to a point of complete lunacy. That is how I will fall. By my own hand I will put myself up against unbeatable odds and all my “services” to this world will have been for nothing. If I plan to make the world a better place I have to live to be around for a long long time. And that means killing a whole lot of people which is completely within my grasp. What with the tens of bunches of detectives, fire fighters, businessmen, clerks, homeless people, even a bitchy soccer mom every now and again. The world is better without all the people that don’t play their roles correctly. I’ll find them all one day. Every single last one, and on the day I die the world will look to the skies, declare my name and remember me as the one who moved society forward, the one who controlled the population and the one who allowed the children of tomorrow to live in a world free of ‘clogs’. Until that day I’m a humble janitor at the Cresto Vallu’ French Restaurant and an associate of the SONN Co. Computer Repair, both located in the heart of Manhattan. My jobs aren’t too fulfilling, unlike my off time. I hope you don’t mind if I don’t dwell on them too much. The focus of all my attention is on the people who's lives I take. A new job, a new face. I still go on, as usual.

[outwardjourneywithin]

Throwback - The Guise of Nightcrawlers

December 2014. The below is my misadventures from a night out.

Make sure to read these quotes in a Colombian accent.

"Take out your hair! How long is your hair? It's so loooong!" "You're so tan, I'm not normally this tan I'm very pale, I'm probably as pale as your belly."

Now picture yourself, by yourself, in a Holden Barina. Getting driven halfway home by this Colombian man. Whom you thought was your Colombian friend only a few minutes earlier.

"None of my roommates are home too-night." "You should see the view from my apartment, you can see the whole skyline." "You can drink whatever you want in my apartment, bacardi, whiskey, rum, we can do shots."

That was the predicament I found myself in last night. In a car, with a wildly gay man, driving me to his apartment. Me, in the seat next to him, eyes forward and ass clenched.

The irony is that I was trying to fuck his friend. A girl. Named Marcella, she was this beautiful exotic Colombian girl with brown curls, skinny waist, lustily curvey. With these dark eyes that saw through you as if you were standing in front of her naked.

Beautiful girl was really keen on her. So I became friends with her best friend, this Jorge character. The whole night I was wondering, "Doesn't this guy think I'm a cunt? Surely he wants to fuck Marcella and here I am cramping his style. I'd hate me if I were him."

Turns out he didn't hate me. He wanted to fuck me.

So there I was. Friends with Jorge who completely slipped past my gaydar I had not the slightest inkling that he might be gay. Must have been the accent.

Despite my predicament suggesting that I am completely inept at directing social situations my way (i.e instead of having sex with Marcella, I was now my way to having gay sex, pressed up against a high rise window drinking in the Melbourne Skyline), I was actually doing pretty well with Marcella. She was totally vibing on me It was great.

She was eyeing me when I was bartending at the Design Exhibition earlier. There was this tension between us every time we were near each other, it was great. Fast forward to the afterparty of the exhibition, I was talking to her.

It was going so well. At this point I thought Jorge was driving Marcella home, they're best friends right? So while talking to Marcella, Jorge offers to give me a lift. His home was halfway to my home. In my head I was thinking, ‘Fuck yeah. Alone time with Marcella in the back seat. Easy move. I’m into this idea. I’m getting in this car, and later I’ll get inside Marcella. Maybe even at Jorge’s house. Who knows. The world is my oyster and at the moment the world is treating me well. This is going to be great. I'm excited.’

Shortly after making this decision, the only person I knew at the after party - and my lift home - tells me he’s leaving, and asks if I’m coming with him. I’m all like "yeah man go home I've got it figured out."

I certainly did not have it figured out. As was blatantly revealed to me two minutes after my friend left.

Almost like it was a set play (maybe 'trap' is a more apt description), my new Colombian friends start talking about Marcella’s husband, what he’s up to and where he is right now.

I feel like I’ve been slapped in the face. I’m thinking ‘but, but, we were going to have sex??’

Completely oblivious to my internal turmoil, Marcella wanders off moments later, and I'm left with just Jorge.

This development was a definite setback. But I am a 23 year old drunk, horny man. Also deluded. I still thought she wanted me. So i was still working to make that sex with the sexy Colombian happen.

In sober hindsight she was just a beautiful girl talking to me, and I was just this stupid cunt that thought that meant she wanted to sleep with me. Must be hard being a beautiful girl sometimes, can't form any real relationships with the opposite sex because all they're thinking is "Goddamn I want to fuck her."

I continued talking to Jorge, just being my nice self, making friends, laughing, talking about shit that meant nothing. Little did I know, that all the while he was thinking "Goddam I want to fuck him."

Anyway, at this point I feel a bit stranded. It’s nice talking to Jorge but I am just being nice. I don’t really want to talk to him, I just want to talk to Marcella and occasionally flick my eyes down to her exposed cleavage (a total action of my sub-conscience. I can’t help it. I like that I can’t help it, but still I can’t help it).

So I’m a bit bored with how how things are going since I am definitely not getting sneaky looks at any breasts. Almost like Jorge could sense my indifference, he suddenly says, "Lets vamous."

I'm thinking fucking sweet, time to ruin a marriage in the back seat of your car, or at least give it a very valiant attempt.

He says bye to a few people and we make our way out. We’re outside the bar, waiting for Marcella. Great, she’ll be down in a minute. Yesyesyesyesfuckingyeeesssssss.

Suddenly, Jorge starts walking. I do a bit of a double take and then start following him. I walk a little bit further, look back at the bar, which is shrinking away from us suddenly oh so fast, and ask, “Where’s Marcella?”

Jorge says, “She’s still drinking. Her husband will pick her up later in the night. Come on my car is this way.”

She's not coming. She's not fucking coming. I'm getting in this guy's car - stranger’s car - drunk, and he is going to take me further and further from the girl I want to fuck, who is also drunk.

Fuckin Fuck.

But I think, ‘oh well gotta go with it.’ It would be rude to just be like, ‘Nah bro if she's back there I'm heading back, have a nice trip home.’

Also I would just be stranded again. So I start walking to this guy's car, still completely oblivious to what he wants to do with me and my butthole.

It was on the walk over to his car that I started to get suspicious. He started talking about his experience in the male bathroom only moments before.

"The guy next to me was a donk-eee, he was hung like - " makes motion of an elephant trunk sprouting between his legs, then waves it around a little bit and slaps me on my leg.

Oh Fuck.

Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck. Shit.

Then like your life flashing before your eyes at a near death experience, all the other shit he said came flooding back to me. Like I was sherlock holmes at the climax of the movie, coalescing all these whispers of clues into one spectacular sensory overload masterpiece. Finally revealing who the killer was and how he used a left shoe and cucumber to commit murder.

Except instead of all these clues coalescing into who did the murder, they were revealing just how gay this guy was. Also, instead of committing murder with a cucumber, this guy wanted to fuck me with it.

Also, to be honest, the ”whispers” of clues, weren’t that subtle. Nor was the masterpiece coming together that elaborate.

The puzzle I solved when this guy slapped me on the leg with arm ‘donkey dick’, was more reminiscent of a kids toy. The one with those different shaped blocks that have to put through their respective shaped holes so that they fall into the box. That was about the sophistication of the mystery I solved. He wanted to shove his block in my hole.

Looking back, his gayness was so obvious, but at the time I had no idea.

Things like, "Make sure to save my name as Jorge Long Tongue Big Dick," didn't have the innocence that it did 2 hours earlier. Neither did touching each others pecs, or him showing me how to move my hips to dance, or turkey slapping each other just for fun.

Alright turkey slapping never took place. If it did I would be slapping my turkey straight into Marcella.

The thing that lost it's innocence the most was accepting a lift from Jorge. I am getting a lift from a guy that wants to fuck my asshole. Fucking fuck.

Also, I'm a people pleaser. I can't just say, "sorry man I'm uncomfortable with this whole thing now, I'm going to call someone to take me home." I can't just say that and hurt this poor sexual predator's feelings. That's devastating! he would be really upset about that for at least a few hours. No the only rational thing to do, is just get in this guy's car, and hope that he doesn't fuck you.

So we get in his car, and the games began.

I lied about living with roommates (was so not telling this guy that I live alone) started talking about the girl at work I'm sleeping with. Did not show the cunt my belly or untie my hair when he giggled and try make it happen. Just let all his comments about having a drink at his apartment hang dead in the air. Just fucking left them there. Let the awkward but psycopathic calculation of his whole entrapment hang dead in the air, and then when we finally get to his apartment and he tries to quickly race into the underground car park before I have a chance to get out, forcing further close encounters with him in the elevator and likely his apartment, I just got the fuck out. Waved bye, put my smile back on - because hey I was pretty fucking happy, my asshole was still reserved for the single pure action of taking shits - and walked over to the main road, find myself a taxi to get home.

And then of course that's a whole other weird fucking experience too. The details are a bit boring but the overall experience was fucking funny. Essentially my cab driver was Eddie Murphy when he was in Coming To America, not in humour just in life status. He was the son of millionaires. But I didn't know that, because he was fucking cabbie.

So when I said to him, "So why did you move to Australia man was it for a better life?"

He cracked it at me, and in hindsight he had a point, who am I to assume that this life is better than what's in India? People can change countries just for a change. They might have a good life in their home country, but still, they just want to see what else is out there.

However, he stereotyped me as another dumb racist white Australian male, which was also unfair.

Also, logically my question did make sense, I am not leaving Australia for India, because my life is fucking good here. So logically for someone to leave India for Australia, it was because they think life will be fucking good here.

When I tried to explain this, he interpreted it wrong. He thought I had a God Complex of "STRAYA" and "Love it or get the fuck out."

Anyway, he tells me that he left India because he was sick of being a rich kid, wanted to experience life on another level, so he travelled. He did mention something about University and maybe having a degree but he was a cabbie right, so I thought he didn't.

Just like when people see me bartending. They assume that I don't have a degree either, just like 90% of the other staff that work there. The stereotype even permeates the staff’s perception of each other, as they were surprised to hear that I did have a degree.

Judgemental stereotyping can be hinderance sometimes hey.

Anyway, so this cabbie is a millionaire and it was actually quite interesting. He doesn't tell his parents that he has to drive at 1:30am on a Wednesday night to pay bills. Ten years he's been in Australia experiencing life on another level and loving it. But finally, his parents got sick of waiting for him to come back, because they're giving him a million dollars to invest in whatever - he told me not to ask in what, and ever the people pleaser I didn't - and he's leaving the cab business in a month and a half.

He was easily the most interesting cab driver I had. Cold with logic but still very passionate.

To top it all off he was the only cab driver ever to offer me change. Even when the change is a few dollars a lot of cabbies make no motion to give it to you unless you ask for it. This guys whipped out his proper little change dispenser - not a piece of shit little plastic box with a mess of poo change in it - and tried to give me my 20 cents change. I waved it off, which in hindsight is fucking stupid. He just told me he's getting a million dollars next month, and I'm all like "no no no bro, keep the 20 cents, that's fine don't worry about it."

I smiled, slammed the door and waved goodbye.

Only moments ago, I was out, drunk, alone, on the other side of the city. Now, I am standing in front of my home, with my amazing beautiful fucking bed inside waiting for me. This incredible sense of achievement and relief washed over me, as If I had accomplished something really worthwhile.

It obviously wasn’t that much accomplishment. Really all I did was: get drunk, wave my only friend off when he offered me a lift home, be too drunk to realise I was getting blatantly hit on by a gay man, evade gay sex from this man, get yelled at by an angry cab driver, make friends with that cab driver, and finally stand in the street at the front of my apartment building.

What a life I lead.

I keycard my way into the building and head inside for a well deserved night’s rest, with my ass still in tact.

#anecdote #guise #nightcrawler #funny #predicament #misadventure