#and being VISIBLY BAFFLED by the protesters outside | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cakeinpants · 1 year

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Musical Soiree: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6)

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"...I've never been outside the walls of the Palace, and don't think I ever will be, but I do travel in a way. The Palace always flies between the cities of Mudos, and you get to see lots of different places and meet lots of different people without actually having to step on land." The dancer explained. "I still have a lot of time to perform, but when I retire, I'll be replaced by the new generation of Master's dancers." He added, smiling calmly. "Master already placed an order for another batch of highbred mudokon eggs, and they recently hatched and will be arriving here in several months.. And I'll be helping Master teach them!" There was no sadness in his voice while talking about getting replaced, only excitement about becoming a big brother.

The Jimseomi’s eyes visibly lit up at his answer, watching as he expressed joy and excitement for when the new Mudlings would arrive with a shared sense of happiness. Granted, there was still a deep sense of dread in the back of her mind that came with knowing about the ugly truth… However, when it came to how things were in the Palace, seeing Pat and the miniature Queens being taken care of for the most part helped her set aside her doubt. After all, something gave Kyung a small inkling that the dancer was more alone than she might have thought.

“That is exciting news!~ I bet you’ll do a fantastic job teaching those mudlings, especially on a level that really gives them a point of reference,” Kyung beamed while silently clapping her top set of paws in delight. “From the sounds of it, they’ll be in for a warm welcome once you get to meet them!”

"Yeah! I'll make sure they'll grow up to be great dancers!" He agreed energetically. "And that this time we won't lose a single one of them.” He added quietly yet confidently. Who knows where else this conversation would have gone if it wasn't suddenly interrupted by an Intern who approached their table with a tray in his hand. Pat looked questioningly as the Intern turned to him.

“Mr. Glubbfrid and his companion queen treat you to a drink.” He muttered in a bored voice, placing a glass in front of the dancer... and it was definitely not water... With a baffled expression Pat looked at a glass of the previously mentioned liqueur with mudokon tears.

"a- But I-..." Pat's first reaction was to protest but he quickly stopped himself. "..T-thank you very much.." He forced the words out after a pause. It was considered extremely impolite for a Mudokon to refuse a treat from such a high rank Glukkon.

The Intern shrugged and waddled away, leaving Pat to stare helplessly at the little "gift" from Fifi and her master. Not only it was strong alcohol, but probably the grossest drink on the menu. A throat-burning murky thick liquid with a salty aftertaste, and knowing where that saltiness came from didn't make it any more pleasant. Why in the Odd did Glukkons like it?... From the corner of his eyes the dancer noticed Fifi standing with her master among the crowd of guests, and gave her a short disapproving look as the lady waved at him with a sweet smile, clearly proud of herself.

As nice as it was to be able to receive something tasty from the buffet, the rules also meant that you still have to accept even if it's something you absolutely hate, or something that makes you drunk and vulnerable... Unfortunately it wasn't uncommon for rich creeps to use for entertainment, but Pat never expected that something like this could happen to him, and especially that it would come from another mudokon..

*Ah, now this was interesting…* When the glass of grotesque liqueur was set on Pat’s side of the table, and the gifter of said beverage was told to Pat, Kyung quickly sent a glance over towards her Slig comrades before following the dancer’s view to see Fifi and Mr. Glubbfrid.

“Hm… Didn’t think someone would be gifting such a strong drink to the principal dancer this evening,” She piped up thoughtfully, tilting her head as she stared at the drink pensively. “Oh, but a liqueur like that needs more than just a salad and galantine!” Kyung declared, only loud enough for Pat and the Sligs to hear, prompting one of her comrades to step up dutifully while Kyung politely dismissed the other to “check on Shinju”. “Let’s get some cheese, fruit and crackers to go with it, shall we?”

"Right.. that's a good idea." He agreed hesitantly. "I certainly wasn't expecting to get something like this tonight.. but uh.. maybe it wouldn't hurt to have something to relax for once." He smiled, poorly trying to sound nonchalantly...

Despite being more dense than a RuptureFarms Rot Roll, Kyung somehow managed to pick up on Pat’s thinly veiled optimism towards the liqueur. Then again, from the understanding expression she proceeded to give him, she was in a somewhat similar scenario at one point too. After casting another side glance over at Mr. Glubbfrid and his companion Queen, the Jimseomi turned her attention back to Pat before tilting her head curiously.

“Have you ever drank alcohol before, Oddett?” She asked somewhat quietly, deciding to be more frank with the dancer this time around. “Liqueurs can be quite potent if you’re not used to it… It’d be difficult to enjoy the party if you got into a stupor.”

Hearing Kyung’s warning Pat hesitated. “Well I did have some porange wine once before…” he answered unconfidently. The part that he didn’t say out loud was how he turned into a clumsy giggly mess, got yelled at by Master and fell asleep on the couch in the apartment of the Glukkon that they were having dinner with… and was painfully embarrassed afterwards. It wouldn’t be ideal to repeat that story in a place where it’s so important to keep up the appearance of “Oddett the principal dancer”. “It’s not that I won’t enjoy the evening…”

Before Pat finished the sentence, his expression turned panicked for a second, as he glanced in the crowd of guests and saw that Fifi and Mr. Glubbfrid himself were approaching their table. The dancer straightened in his seat and put on a calm official expression, preparing to face the richest Glukk on the soiree.

Kyung's bodyguard instincts roiled up inside her the moment she saw what caused Pat to suddenly look panicked. It didn’t matter that such a wealthy, powerful Glukkon was approaching them– If anything, it made the tendrils of her crown want to fan out in a ferocious display– But seeing the Mudokon put on a cool and composed front convinced her to hold off on getting defensive.

“Good evening, Oddett.” The Glukkon greeted, looking down at the Mudokon with a careless smile of superiority. Fifi stood beside him with another glass of liqueur in her hand. Pat could tell it was Glubbfrid’s, as there was a straw for glukkons in it. The lady kept throwing glances at Pat, smiling.

“Good evening, Mr. Glubbfrid. To what do I owe the honor of speaking to you?” Pat bowed his head respectfully.

It took Kyung a great deal of self-discipline not to just jump out of her seat and punch the rich Glukkon square in the face, so much so that she completely forgot about what was most likely the real reason why Fifi dragged her master over to their table.

“Oh, just wanted to say hello..” Glubbfrid said simply. “Mind if I join?” He sat in a free chair at the table before Pat could say anything. “How have you been? How’s Malgaine’s new ‘ambitious’ project going?..”

“I’m only his dancer.. it would probably be best to ask Master himself about that…” Pat answered, carefully choosing every word. He felt like he’s being interrogated. The dancer knew all too well that this Glukk wouldn’t be talking to him if he had good intentions. “But as far as I’m aware, everything is going well…”

“That’s good, that’s good…” Glubbfrid nodded, casually sitting back in the chair. “Anyways… I can see you and my companion queen Fifi are getting along well.. That’s great to see.”

Pat felt his whole body going tense. “Y-yes.. of course.”

“Wonderful… you know, if you’re her friend, you’re my friend.” The glukk said with a squint. Then added in a louder voice, “Why don’t we toast! To our friendship...”

With these words Glubbfrig gave his ‘companion queen’ a nod, commanding her to raise his glass. Fifi held it out towards Pat, waiting for him to reply to the toast.

“I-it’s an honour..”

In a hasty nervous movement the dancer took his drink and did the same. The glasses touched with a quiet clink, after which Glubbfrid emptied his in one go without blinking an eye. Pat had no choice but to follow and take a big sip of his liqueur… He was not prepared for that. Immediately, the mudokon choked with stifled cough, tears filling his eyes and his stomach protesting against such a treat.

Glubbfrid didn’t react to it at all, casually looking at him as if nothing happened. Only Fifi gave Pat a light pat on the back with a 'caring' smile. “Don’t forget the appetizers..”

“Alright, it was nice talking to you..” the Glukk said with the unchanging nonchalant attitude, getting up from the table before turning to leave. “I hope you two have a pleasant evening~..” Pat didn’t answer, too busy keeping the “toast” inside while trying to regain a controlled expression and posture…

#oddtumblr #oddworld #pat #sketches #kyung #rp thread

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turtlethon · 2 years

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"Michelangelo Meets Bugman"

Season 4, Episode 27 First US Airdate: November 3, 1990

Mikey teams up with the superhero Bugman to battle his arch-nemesis, Electrozapper.

"Michelangelo Meets Bugman" is episode 92 of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. This is the final show of the series written by Dennis Marks, following on from his previous contributions, “Back to the Egg” and “Donatello Makes Time”.

We open today with Mikey engrossed in a “Bugman” comic book, to the point of forgetting to attend his ninja practice. Splinter snatches the comic and reprimands his young student. When Michaelangelo protests and says “c’mon man”, Splinter flips out. “MAN? Is that how you refer to me? What is next, rat-faced dude guy?!” This is easily the angriest he’s been since that time he threw the Turtles around the living room in last season’s opener. Tossing the comic aside, he drags Mikey to the practice room.

During practice, Mikey – mistakenly animated with Donatello’s colours and “D” belt – is blindfolded and tasked with wrapping his grappling hook around a sewer pipe. When a power cut leads to the lights going out, the team pick up torches and wander off to investigate, leaving a still-blindfolded Michaelangelo behind. Understandably offended, he returns to his bedroom to resume reading his comics, but is distracted by the sound of a person yelling for help nearby.

Floating along in a stream of water is a visibly exhausted man. Mikey quickly comes to his aid, carrying him back to the Lair. As he comes around, he’s alarmed by the sight of the chains that had been restraining him. Michaelangelo is baffled until it’s explained that they’re made of Leestanite, which robs him of his power. At this point, Mikey realises he’s rescued Brick Bradley, AKA Bugman, who just... is a real person in addition to being a well-known comic book character, as it turns out.

Brick has Michaelangelo promise not to reveal his secret identity before going on to outline his origin story via flashback. At college he studied entomology, researching the effects of light spectrums on different insects. A lab experiment led to him being caught in the rays of a machine alongside a host of insects, fusing their DNA with his own. Later, Brick is shown witnessing a bank robbery. In one of the most graphic body horror transformations I’ve ever seen on Turtles, his anger at seeing the crime causes his eyes to grow and turn red, as wings, arms and antennae burst out of his body, completing his transformation into Bugman. The superhero is shown picking up the van containing the robbers, depositing it in the State Prison.

Back in real time, Brick explains that he was battling his nemesis Electrozapper in a power plant and was defeated when the villain unleashed the chains made of Leestanite. Mikey offers to team up with the superhero to defeat the bad guy, before both break the fourth wall to inform the viewer this is happening “because YOU asked for it!” (This would work a hell of a lot better if Bugman had been in any way an established superhero and not just a guy that was made up for the purposes of this episode.)

In a scene reminiscent of the Batmobile sequences from the Adam West Batman show, Michaelangelo and Brick perform a launch sequence for the Turtle Van. Utilizing the big spring mechanism – which I don’t think we’ve seen since “Invasion of the Turtle Snatchers” last year – the vehicle is propelled out of the Lair and onto the streets of New York.

Act two opens with the other Turtles returning to the Lair, having managed to restore power to their home. They find a note from Michaelangelo announcing that he’s “gone off with Bugman to fight Electrozapper”. Raphael, Leonardo and Donatello all laugh at this, and when I say laugh, I mean they’re buckled over in complete hysterics for the remainder of the scene.

Investigating goings on at the power plant is April, who sits outside in a news van and is chewed out over a video call by Burne Thompson. The Channel 6 boss demands that she return to the office and stop tying up the van. (That checks out: so many vans have been destroyed over the course of the series that the station is seemingly now down to its last one.) April gets her boss off her back by fiddling with the van’s equipment to make it seem like the signal is breaking up, then heads out to survey the area.

We’re almost halfway through this episode and now we finally get introduced to today’s villain, Electrozapper, a goofy-ass Hamburgler lookin’ guy with a big picture of a battery on his chest. He uses the power plant’s equipment to charge himself further, saying to no-one in particular that when he reaches his full capacity, he’ll “be able to control electrical currents anywhere”.

April is checking out a mysterious antenna that crackles with electricity when she happens to encounter Michaelangelo, who introduces her to Brick. For what I think might be the first time in the series, April is shown to have a definite romantic attraction to another character, quipping to Mikey that Brick must be “The Incredible Hunk”.

Brick identifies the antenna as “Electrozapper’s secret listening device”. He tries to break it but fails, still weakened by the effects of the Leestanite. Michaelangelo steps in, using a ninja kick to blow up the antenna. Electrozapper’s equipment begins exploding as a result, and he sets out to investigate. Confronting our heroes, he fires an energy bolt at a nearby electrical pylon. Michaelangelo dives in to knock April out of the falling structure’s path. Turning his attention to Brick, he encourages the hero to transform into Bugman, stomping on his foot to induce more anger when he’s still unable to do so. Another metamorphosis sequence follows, this one thankfully shorter, cartoonier and less horrific than the previous time.

April is astonished by all of this, finding it hard to believe she was briefly attracted to this half-man, half-insect hero. Having twisted her ankle after being knocked to the ground, she watches as a battle unfolds between Bugman and Electrozapper.

Back in the Lair, the other Turtles discuss Michaelangelo’s note. They briefly consider the possibility that Bugman might be real, but ultimately dismiss it.

Electrozapper is able to expose Bugman to a secret reserve of Leestanite, knocking the hero out of the air and reverting him to his normal human form. He zaps Michaelangelo and captures both crime-fighters, restraining them in chambers – which he refers to as “electronic tombs” - inside his hideout. The supervillain explains that he intends to drain all of the energy from their bodies.

April was seemingly considered so little of a threat by Electrozapper that he left her sprawled out on the ground next to the power plant, still unable to move. The damaged equipment from the battle soon catches fire, which encircles the reporter as the second act concludes.

Returning from commercials, the other Turtles are watching a monster movie when the signal cuts out. Donatello notices unusual formations in the static appearing on the TV, and the team gradually come around to the idea that perhaps there really is an Electrozapper after all. Taking to their Sewer-Skis, they race off to investigate.

Michaelangelo is able to kick his way through the plastic chamber holding him. He goes on to battle Electrozapper, hurling the Leestanite into a nearby control panel and causing an explosion. Brick is now able to turn back to Bugman off-screen, and quickly joins the fight. Meanwhile, the other Turtles rescue April from the fire, and soon find themselves face-to-face with the escaping villain.

Reuniting with Mikey, who is accompanied by Bugman, the heroes battle Electrozapper until he again flees, this time via speedboat. The insect hero swoops in and rapidly devours the boat’s exterior, leaving only a hollow frame. An electrical explosion follows that sends Electrozapper flying. Winding up on the pier, he’s dragged away by two cops who appear out of nowhere.

Bugman greets the Turtles and April one last time before flying off. April promises to “leave the light on” for the hero, suggesting she still has a thing for him after all. Later, she films a report on the day’s events for Channel 6, weirdly getting right up into the camera as she excitedly thanks the insect crimefighter. The Turtles do their wrap-up in the Lair, with Mikey suggesting April has gone a little “buggy” before being pelted with pillows by the others. In and out in ten seconds for today’s concluding gag, that must be a new record.

Okay, this episode definitely raises... questions. The Turtles have saved New York and/or the world in 91 different adventures prior to this. At no point did Bugman ever show up to do anything, his path and theirs never crossed even once. Now he’s here, a real active superhero with his own nemesis that they somehow only know as a fictional comic book character. Even more amazingly, despite all their exploits, Bugman doesn’t seem to have prior knowledge of the Turtles either. My most charitable analysis of this is that maybe Bugman operates in another town – that he and Electrozapper have only now wound up in New York.

This isn’t the first time we’ve seen other costumed heroes operating within the city: earlier in the season Gadgetman was introduced as a retired crimefighter returning to active duty after many years, though the idea of a true superhero operating in parallel to the Turtles this entire time is something else entirely. Adding another layer to all of this is that someone, somewhere is monetising Bugman and Electrozapper’s likenesses for use in comic books. Did they sign off on this?

I’m not sure what to make of “Michelangelo Meets Bugman”. The surface level reading of it is as a loving homage to campy superheroes, which given that the Turtles themselves were originally conceived as a take on Daredevil and The New Mutants make this kind of a comics parody within a comics parody. However, knowing that Dennis Marks was vocal while working on the animation side of Marvel Productions in his disdain for the company’s comics division and its creators, I have to wonder if this entire episode isn’t just him venting.

Dennis won’t be returning to write future episodes of Turtles, but against all odds, Bugman will make a second appearance next season in “Michelangelo Meets Bugman Again”. I’m fine with this: if you’re going to float the idea that other superheroes have been running around this entire time, at least run with it. Dan Gilvezan voiced the animated version of Spider-Man back in 1981 before joining the original Transformers cartoon as Bumblebee. He makes his second TMNT appearance here, having previously guested as Rondo earlier this season, and is always a welcome addition to the show.

NEXT TIME: "Poor Little Rich Turtle"!

#Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles #TMNT #Ninja Turtles #Ninja Turtles 1987 #Michelangelo Meets Bugman #TMNT Mikey #TMNT Michelangelo #tmnt michaelangelo #Turtlethon #1990

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junowritings · 3 years

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Hello there mighty one!

May I request the bois reacting to fem!reader carrying tyem 'princess' style?

Reader looks week, skinny she looks like they don't have that much muscles. (Ironically they radiate big_D energy). She carries them like they don't weight that much. (+ Bonus points if reader acts like it's a normal thing!)

Be it a bet or one of the boys got injured or something else but reader ends up carrying them. That's literally it lol

Thank you ahead! ❤️💓

OH MAN THIS TOOK SO LONG IM SORRY! I had so much fun with this and I really hope that it was well worth the wait thank you so much for requesting!

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Riddle

♡ Honestly, you get a serious kick out of surprising people with your strength. Everyone always underestimates you, thinking that you’re too scrawny to pick up a chair much less even try picking up a person. You always protest about it, but unless someone actually wants you to show off just how strong you are you rarely get the chance to show off just how strong you are. Your fellow students would lose it if they found out just how easy it was to get swept off of their feet - you yanked Ace up into your arms once when he made the mistake of teasing you about it, giving him a little hoist into the air for good measure and cracking up at the shocked wheeze he let out at how easily you lifted him. Needless to say you’re pretty strong even if you don’t look it.

♡ You’d been lying if you said you hadn’t at least been a tiny bit tempted to carry Riddle around if only to see how he reacts - just thinking about the priceless look on his face was an amusing thought, but it remained as thoughts because as funny as it would be you value the life of yourself and your fellow classmates over the idea. It just so happens that thanks to a certain series of events, you actually get the chance to see the scenario play out in real life, surprisingly through no fault of your own.

♡ There’s certain times of the day where the crowds of students around Night Raven College swell and dissipate depending on where you are. In the middle of the day the rush is arguably the worst to anyone hoping not to get lost within a swarm of students bustling from their classrooms. It’s the period right before lunch actually starts, and whilst you should technically be in class right now, you’d all gotten enough done that you were allowed out a few minutes earlier than usual. Frankly you were more than happy for the extra minutes - it meant a few precious moments where you could tear through the hallways and get to the cafeteria to nab a snack before the main crowds started clogging up the exits as they did everytime the lunch period rolls in.

♡ You’re humming around a mouthful of the sweet treat you’d snagged from the days menu when you cross paths with Riddle, and though he doesn’t look too chuffed about you eating food outside of the appropriate dining hall he doesn’t call you out on it. You two fall into stride retreating down the hallway from where you’d first entered; it seems that you’re both heading towards the same area and you don’t mind the company so it suits you just fine to spend a little time with the dorm leader before going your respective ways for the next class. The peace doesn’t last for very long - soon enough the rest of the classes are being let out, and you’re suddenly reminded of why you were rushing to get away from the dining hall in the first place.

♡ All you see is the dinner rush crowd making a mad dash to the cafeteria and you act without thinking. You just know that Riddle would step in to enforce at least some kind of order to the pandemonium, but even if he could scare the crowd into stopping they’re still going to barge right over the two of you at this rate, and you’d rather avoid having the ghosts scraping either one of you off of the hallway floor. You’d much rather suffer through getting reamed out by Riddle for the stunt you’re about to pull than getting trampled by a stampede of students with no sense of personal space. When you mutter a quick “sorry!” Riddle gives you a confused look, which turns baffled when you toss your snack for him to catch in order to free up your hands (he catches it, thankfully - you don’t wanna make the journey back to buy a new one.)

♡ It’s a swift motion - all Riddle feels is your hands grabbing hold of him and suddenly the world is spinning and he finds himself pulled right up into your arms as you race back the way you’d come. His shout falls deaf on your ears in favor of the curses you’re chanting under your breath as you run, shifting the dorm leader around in your arms till you find a good enough position that he’s not going to fall out of your hold as you pick up your pace.

♡ You’re fast, and strong enough that carrying Riddle is no chore at all - you could probably do this under normal circumstances with no problem, not that you’d probably get the chance to after this. That little fact can be stewed over later, you decide, instead focusing on finding a place to get out of the way of the crowds. It isn’t long before you find an open classroom, and no sooner have you skidded through the doorway do you watch the student horde race past, completely oblivious to the pair of you. You let out a breathy laugh, more than a little relieved as you lean up against the doorframe and finally cast your gaze down to the boy in your arms.

♡ Yep, you were right about the priceless expression.

♡ Okay, so maybe the sudden grab and dash had left the dorm leader looking a little more...disheveled than usual, if the popped collar and skewed strands of hair from where his head had been pressed against your chest are any indication. You’re guessing that he’s still reeling from the fact that you’ve hoisted him up and carried him away like a princess as though he weighs nothing, because he doesn’t immediately start chewing you out about your little escape. His face is beginning to flush though, reaching the midpoint between pink and that signature red that’s close enough to match his hair; you certainly don’t make things any better when you move him around in your arms again, lifting him up a little more as your head ducks down.

♡ Riddle bristles, stuttering whatever planned retort he’d had only to freeze when he realizes you’re leaning towards the snack he’s managed to hold onto as you’d run. Your teeth snag its corner and you let out a triumphant “ha!” that’s muffled as you ease back up to finish off your self-proclaimed reward. It’s at that moment a soft cough turns both of your attention to the rest of the classroom, where several loitering students give the pair of you curious looks at the display. That finally kicks things back into gear, and you narrowly avoid dropping Riddle with how hard he wriggles out of your grip, working quickly to act as though the whole thing never happened which earns him an amused snort as you resolve to finish off your snack whilst he fixes his collar.

Leona

♡ Food has become a very effective bargaining chip when it comes to bets with your fellow students. You’re pretty sure placing monetary bets would get you in trouble if you were caught by one of the staff (especially Crewel, you don’t think anyone can handle his punishments more than once), and with all the maintenance going into your dorm betting money just isn’t an option you’re interested in. Food on the other hand is always in the ballpark, and with the limited edition dishes that pop onto the cafeteria menu throughout the year, alongside some of the phenomenal cooks amongst the student body, there’s no shortage of food bribes to use as a motive to get things done.

♡ Your strength has come into play on more than one occasion, because it either leads to people trying to call a bluff and wanting you to prove yourself, or they wanna see just how strong you are. You certainly don’t mind thanks to the little rewards your feats manage to net you, plus it makes for an interesting point of conversation when you’re bored. It’s boredom that leads to the following conversation with Cater during break - being outside the only real entertainment is walking around, talking to other students that cross your path, or just lounging around till the break’s over.

♡ You’d been walking around with Cater for a while before the appeal of watching the scenery faded and you elected to find some place to sit. You’re leaning against his shoulder watching him text and swipe through his pictures to pass the time; soon enough an image of you shows up and you snort at the picture of you holding up Deuce by his legs. It was taken a while ago, and the telltale shit eating grin on your face is a testament of how amusing the whole situation had been; seeing it now sparks up the same conversation you’d had at the time - can you really pick up anyone with no problem?

♡ Eager to jump at the opportunity for entertainment, the two of you turn your eyes across the field, where Cater takes to pointing people out. Epel? Easy, but wouldn’t be too happy about it. Kalim? You’ve done it before and it went pretty well minus the fact that his enthusiasm made him damn near slip out of your arms. You answer yes to most of the people he points out to you, until his gaze lands on someone lounging under the treeline and he points them out to you. Following his line of sight, you catch sight of Leona and the two of you share a look as you huff and say that yeah, of course you could pick that big lug up!

♡ Cater asking you to actually prove it wasn’t what you expected, and you give him a doubtful glance trying to gauge if he’s joking or not. Turns out he’s not, and at your hesitation he offers a bribe to convince you, and at the mention of one of Trey’s signature tarts you visibly perk up. He doesn’t even have to pull out the treat from his bag before you’re up onto your feet and jogging right over to the treeline, shooting him a confident grin over your shoulder as you approach the sleeping lion.

♡ To be honest, you probably would have tried this at some point anyway, but Trey’s tarts are a hell of an incentive to do it right now, and it’s the driving force that steels your resolve as you approach him. You know that he notices you - you’re not exactly quiet, and while he doesn’t open his eyes or turn to look at you his ears twitch in your direction at the sound of your footfalls coming towards him. It’s only when you squat down beside him that he cracks an eye open and lets out an inquisitive grumble asking you what you’re doing.

♡ You only tell him not to worry, but that just makes him more wary given that every time you’ve said that before it’s definitely cause for concern. You end up proving him right to be wary when you shuffle close enough to actually touch him and slot your hands under his back, promptly hefting him up from his once comfortable spot beneath the shade and into your arms.

♡ Leona jolts in response and you narrowly avoid an elbow to the ribs at how he squirms about at the sudden position change; his ears are pressed flat against his head and he squares you with a scathing look as he orders you to put him back down, calling you a brat for good measure. You only huff at the dorm leader and strengthen your hold on him, making sure to keep one hand safely cradling his back as you spin around to show Cater your latest catch. There’s no missing the amusement in Cater’s face as he makes a poor attempt to hide his snicker with one hand as he holds up his phone to snap a picture commemorating the moment.

♡ Seeing the camera you flash a smile and a thumbs up with some careful maneuvering of the man in your arms, quickly returning your hands back to him when he hisses and shifts again. It’s probably not the wisest idea to hold onto him for very long, and you can tell Leona’s none too pleased by suddenly being picked up from the spot he was comfortable in, so you don’t keep him up for very long before you amble back over to the trees, setting him down as gently as you can without accidentally pulling in his tail as you pull away. This time his elbow makes a solid hit against your hip on the way down and you end up dropping him the rest of the way, keeling over with a pained wheeze as the pair of you topple none too gracefully to the ground, devolving into complaints and groans at the turn of events.

Azul

♡ It’s not entirely unheard of for Azul to stay behind in some of the classrooms once classes have concluded. Whilst the Monstro lounge is the ideal location to get things done, sometimes the patrons get too rambunctious for his liking and he prefers a little bit of peace and quiet while he works on the day’s schoolwork. The classrooms are perfect for this as most students are all too eager to filter out and go about their own business, leaving the rooms empty for people to mill in and out of as they please.

♡ He works uninterrupted for the most part, only pulling his attention away from the papers spread out across his desk to look towards the door, hearing the chatter of passing students outside though they only last a brief moment before their voices filter off and disappear as they move away from the classroom. These momentary distractions come and go so the school work is almost completely finished by the time any notable interruptions actually come this way. Unfortunately when they do it almost immediately stops him in his tracks; there’s a slam on the wall leading out to the hallway, and Azul jolts in his seat as he hears something slide up the wall getting higher and higher before it’s finally revealed.

♡ Azul watches Floyd’s head poke up from one of the overhead windows, and that’s enough to get him to pause mid writing as the pair lock eyes. Now, the Leech twins are tall, taller than most of the students in Octavinelle, but there’s no way that he should be visible so it's reasonable to assume that he couldn’t manage the height without the help of a step-ladder. That step-ladder theory goes out of the window when Floyd’s head drifts over to the far side of the window, and the Leech twin flashes his dorm leader a toothy grin and a wave for good measure as he drifts backwards and forwards in a way that looks...off.

♡ It’s bizarre, but not the weirdest thing that Azul’s seen Floyd do so whilst he does marvel at the sight for a moment or two he tries to return back to his work - tries being the key word here. Floyd makes an effort to peer through the glass, calling down to someone as he leans closer towards the window. That leads to the twin nearly slamming his head into the glass and a hand flies up to stop the would-be injury as he looks down out of the window's line of sight.

♡Floyd’s stance totters and momentarily his head ducks out of view as though he’s dropped. That’s enough to get the dorm leader to his feet to finally investigate, and he rises from his desk and works his way over to the door, letting out a sigh as he slides open the door and prepares himself for whatever trouble is going to be on the other side. Sure enough Floyd’s leaning up against the wall, greeting Azul when he steps out into the doorway. Floyd’s not the only one there though - there’s a few miscellaneous students milling around the Octavinelle students, but the main point of interest is the person standing right below Floyd, arms wrapped around his knees and keeping him up in the air as they twirl around to face Azul without even a tremble in their grip.

♡ The grin you offer him is similar to Floyds, brimming with amusement as you move your grip to offer a wave, shifting your weight around so as to not drop the boy in your arms as you do so. The raised brow and inquisitive look only makes you grin wider before a tap on your shoulder brings your attention back to the person you’re holding. Azul watches Floyd motion for you to lower him which you do without issue, and once you do the younger Leech twin leans down to whisper something in your ear. He doesn’t catch what he’s saying, but when two pairs of eyes suddenly square him with a scheming look he knows all too well he takes a cautionary step backwards, folding his arms across his chest.

♡ You drop Floyd the rest of the way and turn your sights on Azul, beginning to approach him with open arms and a deceptively warm smile as you call out his name. Now he knows that you’re up to something, and moves to take another step away when you suddenly dart to close the distance and pull him towards you. There’s no hesitation in the way that you quite literally sweep the dorm leader off of his feet, tucking him close to your chest as your arms move to rest along his back and the crook of his knees - you’re carrying him like a princess, and from the wide grin on your face this was clearly the impromptu plan you’d been given by that mischievous twin.

♡ Azul splutters, completely speechless at how effortlessly you’re able to sweep him off of the floor and into your arms, and he becomes acutely aware of just how many eyes are on him as you cradle him to your body making sure that he doesn’t fall. Your strength is no joke, and you make a small show of it by twirling around, catching his hat in the process when the action causes it to topple off of his head and placing it neatly back on his head by the time you come to a stop. For a second you could almost say he looks pleasantly amused beyond the initial surprise, which only makes it all the more entertaining for you.

♡ But then Floyd steps forward and goes to take him from your arms and Azul’s desperately patting you until you finally relent your grip and allow him to stand back onto his feet. You and Floyd share a conspiratory giggle as you watch Azul straighten his outfit back out and step out of the reach of the both of you, giving the pair of you a wide berth in case you decide to try sweeping him off of his feet again.

Kalim

♡ Your strength makes you perfect for doing heavy lifting tasks when the time calls for it. Moving things from one place to another has been the jobs left for the more physically strong students, so despite your otherwise unassuming appearance you’re usually the first person people come to when there’s any kind of heavy lifting to be done. You’ve been a huge help at events as a result, and more often than not the other students leave the cleanup to you, confident in your abilities to get things back to where they need to go.

♡ This particular cleanup task had taken quite a while, but with some diligent work and a couple snack breaks you and your friends had narrowed down the leftover mess, packing what could fit into the boxes provided so that they’d be easier to transport. When the inevitable question of which people were going to take what came up you were quick to step in, offering that it’d be no problem at all for you to handle this yourself - it was late anyways, so you’re sure everyone was eager to get back to their rooms for the night. It took a little convincing, but soon enough you’re left alone with the necessary keys and wishes for good luck with the work.

♡ You’d planned to take care of this task by yourself, reasoning that two or three trips should get the job done. You’d actually finished the first trip and was making your way out with the last couple of boxes when you cross paths with Kalim, who upon recognizing your face peeking out from behind the impromptu cardboard tower all but jumps in to help. Any protests fall on deaf ears, as once Kalim’s decided on something like helping you out he’s not gonna stop until it’s done.

♡ Before long he’s taken about a third of the boxes off of your hands (he tried to bargain for more but you were set on carrying the heavier stuff) and the pair of you are off to get them off to the right destination. Kalim fills the silence with conversation as he leads the way, which given the fact you’re the one who actually knows where storage is, ends up with you having to tug him in the right direction more than once before he charges down a wrong corridor. Despite that though the two of you make good progress, and you end up getting there faster than the initial first trip, and within a few minutes you’re nearing the storage room, albeit from a different direction than last time.

♡ You’re shifting about the boxes in your arms to fish through your pocket for the storage room keys with your free hand when you realize you’re getting close. Kalim skips ahead of you as you rummage for the keys, giving you an easygoing smile over his shoulder urging you to catch up. You feign a sigh of exasperation but move to pick up your pace which only prompts Kalim to charge on ahead aiming to get to the door first, still with that easy-going smile.

♡ That smile disappears in an instant however, as when you next blink, Kalim disappears from your field of vision and your heart drops at the sound of something scattering across the floor. Ditching your effort to find the keys, you race to catch up, stopping just short at the top of the stairs and looking down to where Kalim’s sat at the bottom, shaking off the dizziness from the fall. It’s fortunately only a few steps but you still rush to close the distance, hastily placing your bags onto the floor as you kneel down beside the dorm leader to check if he’s alright.

♡ Upon seeing your concern Kalim grins and makes a point to tell you that he’s fine, hoping to ease your worries. This time the sigh you let out is one of relief and you rise back to your feet, offering out your hand to pull him up with a playful jab to watch where he’s going next time. Kalim laughs and takes your hand, but the moment he gets to his feet he yelps and leans to one side, easing up off of one foot. He must have hurt it in the fall and your expression drops watching his smile falter, brows creasing in clear discomfort.

♡ Kalim’s still reassuring you he’s fine despite the fact that he’s visibly doing his best to put as little weight on his one foot as possible. You aren’t convinced in the slightest, and after a few seconds of him talking you’ve had enough; he doesn’t notice you nodding to yourself as you roll up your sleeves, but he does catch your mutter of “Don’t worry - I’ve got this.” as you step forward and place a hand on his back.

♡ You move carefully so as to not agitate the leg more than you have to, tucking your free hand under his knees and easing him off of his feet until you’re carrying his full weight, keeping him upright like it’s nothing at all. Kalim, for what it’s worth, is captivated by the strength, but he’s more focused on asking if you’re really okay with carrying him - he’s fine, he swears! (he’s not). Paying no heed to that, you nudge the boxes over to the side of the hallway with your legs, leaving them in a messy but contained pile to avoid anyone tripping on them while you’re gone. They can be sorted later, is your excuse as you start walking - he’s going straight to the infirmary, and then back to his dorm, the boxes can wait a little longer.

♡ He squirms a bit, but that’s only so that he can wrap his arms around your neck, bringing his head close to your shoulder. Kalim knows that he’s not gonna convince you otherwise, so why not enjoy the ride while it lasts? Besides, it’s nice to feel weightless sometimes! And he’s so sincere when he gushes about how strong you are that you can’t help but preen under the compliments, boasting a little about how you’ll have to properly show off just how strong you are. Some other time though, because as nice as pleasant as it is carrying the dorm leader around, you can do that just as easily once he’s been seen by the school nurse.

Vil

♡ You may not look like you’re that strong but looks can be deceiving. You’re more built than a lot of people realize - sure, it may not look like that to others, but these uniforms do a damn better job of hiding your strength than one might think. Friends and those who have seen it for themselves know that you’re strong, and Vil is one of them; you make no show of hiding that fact, because why would you? It’s something you’re proud of, and you use it to your advantage whenever the chance calls for it, and Vil’s not one to stop you from doing so.

♡ You also don’t shy away from challenges either, if anything they’re one of your weaknesses. Confident in your strength, any time someone questions it you’re eager to jump right in and prove them otherwise. Usually they’re arguments you’ve heard a hundred times before, the same old story as far as you’re concerned, that doesn’t mean the comments don’t tick you off though. Scrawny scrapper this, all bark and no bite that, it gets on your nerves that just because you don’t look that strong they immediately assume that you’re just weak.

♡ It’s a sore topic, and as such Vil can usually pinpoint the trouble that brews as a result of such challenges because of the way you react to such jeers. He’s attempted to ease your anger about it in the past, or at least told you to go easy on said challengers lest you get sent to Crewel’s office again, and for what it’s worth you’ve made fair progress in brushing off most comments.

♡ This time it appears that brushing them off isn’t quite so easy. Your voice can be heard even before you storm into the main hall accompanied by another student, and your planned curse filters off into a hiss to just leave it when you catch sight of Vil out of the corner of your eye. The student however doesn’t let up, and the dorm head soon catches wind of what this is about when he hears “Strong? Seriously? Pff, do you even have any muscles?” Vil can see the way your lip curls back into a snarl, and he turns his full attention to the scene just waiting for the inevitable show of strength you’re about to pull off. You do this every time without fail, and it’s only proven when you snap.

♡ “Oh yeah? Well, do you think someone without muscles can do this?” Vil’s halfway through taking stock of all of the items not bolted to the floor when you spin around and stride over to him, the confident shout of “Vil!” being one of the few warnings that he gets before you’re standing before him and wrapping your arms around him. It’s quick and smoother than he thought it’d be, and were this not the first time you’ve attempted this trick on him Vil could swear you’ve practised this before. Granted, you stumble a little near the end, but that’s more so because you overestimated the swoop of pulling him up into your arms and knocked your hip into a table in the process. Besides that it’s an otherwise practised landing, and suddenly Vil finds himself swept up into a bridal carry by a pair of surprisingly firm arms.

♡ You spin back around, triumphant grin on your face as you heft Vil up even higher, like a child proudly showing off their prize to anyone watching. True, you’re strong, and there’s not a moment that Vil feels like he’s going to fall out of your arms when you’re holding him, but the lack of warning and the abruptness of being hoisted up as though he weighs nothing more than a bag of feathers makes for a jarring situation. Your shout of “Ha! Believe me now?” doesn’t make the situation much better, and Vil has to rub his temples to stop the incoming stress lines at the amount of eyes you’ve drawn to your little display in the process of your shouting.

♡ Whatever challenge had been posed seems to have been sated by your show of strength, as the student throws up their hands in a mock-surrender as they concede, shrugging off the surprise that Vil can see clear as day on their faces. Clearly, they weren’t expecting you to be so brazen about showing off, but you’ve never been one to clam up when there’s a point to be made.

♡ Satisfied, you let out a huff and drop down onto one of the nearby chairs, shaking your head as you grumble “Can you believe that guy? Teach him not to doubt me next time.” It seems you’ve neglected to remember exactly who you picked up, and Vil’s swift to remind you with a soft cough to direct your attention back towards him. You look down at the dorm leader still firmly settled in your arms, lips pursing as you exhale a breath to mask your obvious realization upon meeting eyes with him.

♡ Muttering an apology, you gradually release your grip, giving him ample time to rise back to his feet and you let out a nervous chuckle when he folds his arms across his chest and gives you a stern gaze. Thankfully you’re let off with a chide of giving someone a warning the next time you decide to pick them up, but he doesn’t miss your grin as you parrot back “Next time?”

Idia

♡ Idia had gotten hurt. Those are the only words you needed to hear before you dropped everything and raced over to his bedroom, already thinking of the worst case scenarios. I mean, for a guy who spends the majority of time in his room there’s only so many ways he can get hurt, and none of them are a pleasing thought so you do your best to quash the thoughts till you actually get there to see him for yourself.

♡ When you first step inside his room nothing’s out of the ordinary, as far as you’re aware nothing’s been destroyed and besides the usual controlled chaos everything seems to have been moved out of place. Idia’s even sat at his computer chair which isn’t an unusual sight, though as you get closer you realize he’s got one of his legs pulled up against his chest, hands cradling his foot with a sour expression that morphs into discomfort each time he makes a move to roll the appendage to one side. That sour look doesn’t dissipate when he notices you, but he does jump a bit when you announce your presence by rounding the chair and leaning onto the one arm, leaning down as you ask what happened.

♡ You’ve gathered that he’s hurt his foot, you just don’t know how and as he hunches over even more in his chair you perk up, noting his reluctance. He doesn’t tell you, not at first, but with a bit of prodding he eventually caves that maybe he kind of accidentally got his feet tangled up in the wires under his gaming desk and got yanked right out of his chair when he’d finally pushed himself away from his computer. He hadn’t thought anything of it (besides the obvious embarrassment of getting tripped up in the first place) but the moment he’d tried to stand up it was clear that something had rolled the wrong way, which is precisely what led to him huddled up in his chair glaring daggers at the injured foot as though that’s going to magically fix the injury sustained.

♡ Admittedly, the image of the whole scenario would have made you laugh, but for the sake of your friend (and the fact that he glowers at you when your lip trembles trying to fight back a chuckle) you don’t, instead giving the simmering dorm leader a comforting pat on the shoulder reassuring him that he’ll be fine. Chances are it’s just sore from landing the wrong way - you’ll know for sure once he gets seen by the nurse.

♡ However, when you tell him that he hunkers down, insisting that he’s not budging; it’ll be fine if he just sleeps it off, is his argument, adding that it’s not like he can go anywhere since he’d rather stay put - what’s he gonna do, hop the whole way to the infirmary? Obviously not.

♡ You frown at his stubbornness, but give a determined huff as you hop off of the arm of the chair with a “fine.”. Idia’s surprised that you’re not fighting his decision more, but that surprise lasts but a moment until you lean down and promptly pluck the dorm leader right out of his seat. He just about chokes on his words and twists about in your arms, but you don’t even bat an eye at it as you shift him around until you’re cradling him close to your chest, eventually just settling on a princess carry for the sake of simplicity.

♡ When Idia cries out, asking what you’re doing, you merely shrug and offer “Since you can’t walk, I’ll carry you.” as your explanation. He balks at the notion, but doesn’t really have a leg to stand on when you pull him even closer to you, holding firm to make sure he doesn’t fall.

♡ His hair tickles your nose each time he shifts about in your arms, which you promptly pat back down as gently as you can as you move towards the door, nudging it open with your hip until you can slide the pair of you through the gap. You make a point of ignoring his protest of staying put until he finally relents and settles into you, arms folded across his chest as he leans back. His hair frames his face like he’s trying to hide in the thick blue flames, but even you don’t miss the fact that his expression, once twisted in discomfort, eases up into something more comfortable now that the pressure’s off of his injured foot.

Malleus

♡ You’d like to think that you’re pretty strong, stronger than people give you credit for at least. And you also like to think that your strength is appreciated by the people who know about your carefully honed skill. Lilia is one such person, as he seems to be particularly amused by just how easily you’re able to heft and move things about, be it both objects and people. He’s especially entertained when it’s people, and it’s because of your penchant for carrying people around to show off that you end up with the third-year student bundled up in your arms as you travel through the Diasomnia dorm.

♡ The only indication the others have of the event is when you promptly come striding into the room, arms wrapped around Lilia's waist and hoisting him effortlessly up into the air as you enter. Malleus looks up from what he’s doing to watch the curious display, and upon spotting the fae you shift Lilia's weight to release one hand and wave, grinning as you swivel around and begin moving towards his direction. You’re keeping the Diasomnia student upright with ease, showing no signs of fatigue or strain as you carry him around, coming to stand behind the sofa that Malleus is sitting on and leaning over with a nonchalant question about what he’s doing.

♡ Malleus raises a brow, unsure whether to answer you or ask what exactly you’re doing with Lilia first. Before he can decide however Lilia gives you a gentle nudge to be let down and you take the hint, proceeding to lean over the sofa and drop him none-too-gently onto the seat beside Malleus. The cushions bounce when he lands on them, and though disheveled from all the carrying and the drop, Lilia looks thoroughly entertained by the whole ordeal,

♡ You catch Malleus glancing between you and Lilia, and though you couldn’t hazard a guess as to what he’s thinking you lean forward and chuckle, jokingly asking “Want me to try you next?” as you rest your arms on the back of the sofa. The smile on your face falters a little when you don’t immediately get a response, locking eyes with him for a few seconds too long. When he nods you have to fight every muscle in your face not to look surprised, and you don’t trust your voice to get the words out in response, instead returning the gesture with a blank nod of your own.

♡ The last thing you expected was for him to agree, but you’re never one to back down from a challenge and soon enough you’re standing face to face with the dragon prince once he stands up and rounds the sofa so that you’re standing in front of each other. You’re doing the mental maths in your head as you size up the dorm head. It’s not picking him up that’s gonna be a problem - you’re pretty sure the Leech twins weigh more than him and you’ve been able to carry both at the same time once before (when Floyd wasn’t intentionally wriggling around in your arms that is.) It’s figuring out the best way to carry him that’s the problem; you’re not sure a fireman carry would be the most dignified look for the dorm head, and just giving him a piggyback probably wouldn’t be too effective if you want to avoid knocking his head against something while you’re running around.

♡ It takes a moment but you don’t leave Malleus standing there for very long before you take a step forward, moving to place a hand on his back while reiterating if it’s okay for you to still do this. The noise of confirmation steels your resolve and in the next moment you quite literally sweep Malleus off of his feet and into the air, landing safely in your arms; he lets out a sharp inhale at the sudden action, but is more surprised at the fact that you’re able to carry him with such ease, even flashing him a confident grin as you begin to sidle around the room, making sure that he remains firmly tucked in your arms as you do so.

♡ The experience is interesting, to say the least - Malleus isn’t uncomfortable, if anything it’s actually rather nice to feel so weightless in someone’s arms. Not to mention it’s not something Malleus has been able to recently experience, so . You on the other hand are having a great time with it; you get used to carrying him quickly, and despite the initial worry of getting stabbed in the face with his horns you realize there’s nothing to worry about - it’s going pretty well.

♡ That is until Sebek enters the room and spots you cradling the young lord in your arms, and he shouts loud enough that you all whip around to face him. You’re undeterred by the shout, if anything you just assume that the first year wants a turn so you gently place Malleus back onto his feet, giving his uniform a cursory once over to make sure he’s okay before you back away. Malleus gives you an inquisitive look, watching you as you skip away, racing over to where Sebek’s standing with arms outstretched ready to scoop him into your arms, laughing when the student all but dives out of your reach the moment you approach him.

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waitimcomingtoo · 3 years

Text

In Case You Don’t Live Forever

~chapter seven rewritten~

Pairing: Peter Parker x Venom!Reader

Synopsis: you are Peters greatest love and Spider-Man’s greatest enemy

Series Masterlist

Peter walked to campus that day with an extra bounce in his step. He couldn’t keep himself from leaping over the school gate, not caring who could’ve seen. He was in love. He walked past Flash with confidence, easily brushing off his backhanded comments. He walked up to Ned and felt oddly compelled to click his heels. Ned noticed the ecstatic expression on his best friends face and smirked.

“What’s got you so happy? Did a certain wall crawling superhero finally beat Venom in a fight?” He asked. Peter shook his head.

“Not yet. Something even better happened.” Peter said proudly.

“And what might that be?” Ned wondered. Peter could barely keep himself from screaming.

“Y/n kissed me.” He exclaimed. He got a few strange looks from passing students on their way to class, but Peter didn’t care. Nothing could ruin his mood.

“What? When? ” Ned gasped.

“This morning. She slept over last night after she had a nightmare. And guess what else?” Peter asked. Ned bounced up and down.

“What? Tell me!” Ned demanded. Peter looked around for who could be listening and smirked.

“She slept in my bed.” He smirked.

“Oh.” Ned said looked disappointed in the anticlimactic finish.

“With me in it.” Peter added and Ned looked amazed. His jaw hung open and he began to bounce up and down again.

“Dude that’s like the greatest thing ever.” Ned cheered. “She’s so hot! We have to tell everyone.”

“We’re not telling anyone just yet.” He shook his head. “She’s only been my girlfriend for a few hours. She’s really special to me, Ned. I don’t want to treat her like shes some prize I won by telling everyone. Girls are worth more than that.”

“Amen to that. What are you losers talking about anyway?” MJ said as she approached them. She was eating trail mix and looked extremely bored already.

“Peter has a girlfriend.” Ned blurted. Peter shot him an angry look while MJ looked impressed.

“Oh really? Who is she, your right hand?” MJ smirked. Ned looked confused while Peters face went red.

“It’s not my right hand. She lives in my building and she’s an angel. That’s all you need to know.” Peter grumbled, still annoyed that Ned spilled his secret. It wasn’t that he was ashamed of you, the exact opposite actually. He would shout it from the rooftops that you were together if he could. He just didn’t want everyone to know. You had only kissed that morning and Peter still wanted to keep the magical details to himself.

“Does this angel have a name?” MJ questioned, actually interested in something for once.

“No.” Peter said at the same time Ned said “Y/n L/n.”

“Y/n L/n from The L/n Report?” MJ was suddenly invested. It was the first time Peter or Ned heard emotion in her voice.

“You know her?” Peter asked.

“Duh.” MJ scoffed. “She’s the only investigative reporter I’ve seen who actually cares about the people she reports on. I read her articles all the time. We have a lot of the same opinions. I used to think she was the coolest girl ever.”

“Used to think?” Ned asked.

“Well clearly something’s wrong with her if she’s dating Peter.” MJ said flatly. Ned laughed and Peter looked at her angrily.

“There’s nothing wrong with her. She’s amazing.” Peter defended.

“I know she is.” MJ shrugged. “I’ve idealized that girl for year. Did you guy see what she did to Carlton Drake?” Peter nodded and smiled proudly at the thought of his girl kicking names and taking ass.

“She’s like my hero. She’s done so much for the homeless back in San Francisco. I was so excited when she said she was moving to New York to work for The Daily Bugle.” MJ gushed. Peter and Ned looked at each other, visibly confused.

“Have you always done that?” Ned asked her.

“Done what?” MJ asked.

“Felt things?” Ned said and MJ rolled her eyes.

“I feel very passionate about a lot of things. Those things just don’t happen to include you two or anyone else in this school. However, I am very passionate about your girlfriend.” MJ stated. She suddenly looked a little uncomfortable and unsure of herself, two things MJ never did. She awkwardly turned to Peter.

“Do you think I could meet her? I’d really love to talk to her about her article on fracking.” MJ asked slowly. She wasn’t used to asking people for things. Peters eyes softened at this new side of MJ.

“She’s picking me up after class today on her motorcycle. You can meet her then.” Peter offered. Then MJ did something very out of character.

She smiled.

“K thanks.” She blurted and then swiftly left. Ned and Peter laughed as she walked away.

“That was new.” Ned commented.

“Yes It was.” Peter agreed.

“She’s so odd.” Ned added.

“Yes, she is.”

“Did you do the hanky panky with Y/n?” Ned asked. Peter snapped his head towards Ned.

“What?” Peter flushed red. “No. And never say ‘hanky panky’ again.”

“It was worth asking. See you in orgo.” Ned said before walking towards his class. Peter shook his head in amusement before heading to his first class of the day.

At 3:30, you pulled up to Peters college on your motorcycle. You took off your helmet, shook your hair out, and scanned the crowd for Peter. You soon saw him, Ned following shortly behind him, and a girl you had never seen before. She wasn’t wearing makeup, which you gave her props for, and had her curly hair tied back in a pony tail. She was undeniably pretty and had a very cool vibe to her.

“Hi beautiful.” Peter said when he reached you. He wrapped his arms around your waist and hugged you tightly. “It’s torture not being with you all day.”

“I know. But the school year is almost over right? Then we can spend every second together.” You promised. Peter smiled happily. He leaned in slightly, as if asking for your permission, and you did the same. You pressed a soft kiss to his lips. He smiled into the kiss and held you closer. This time, there were no interruptions.

“Y/n, I’d like you to meet MJ. MJ, this is Y/n.” Peter said, gesturing to the girl. MJ smiled shyly at you and held out her hand.

“It’s really cool to meet you, Y/n. Your article on greenhouse gases is hanging on my wall. I’m uh, I’m a big fan.” She said timidly.

“You’re a fan? That’s amazing.” You smiled brightly at her. “I’ve never met a fan before. It’s really cool to meet you too, MJ. And if you’re interested in the environment, I have a bunch of scientists numbers I can give you. I had to interview a bunch back in San Francisco to write that article. They gave me some great tips on how to reduce my carbon footprint.” MJ’s eyes widened just a little. She looked baffled and gave you a thankful smile. You noticed one of her front teeth was slightly askew and decided you liked her already.

“Really? That’d be so cool. Thanks.” She said. You squeezed her arm and nodded.

“I think you and I are going to get along just fine. Can I get your number? I’d love to hear more about what you’re interested in.” You handed MJ your phone and she took it. She typed her number it and handed it back.

“This has been really amazing. Thanks for being so cool. I have to run though. I’m running a protest outside of Oscorp.” She explained. “One of their employees got seriously electrocuted and they’re to cover it up.”

“Really?” You gasped. “Is it okay if I tag along? I’m kinda busy with my Cletus Kasady story but I would love to cover your protest too.”

“You’d do that for me?” She asked as if she wasn’t used to people doing things for her.

“Gladly. Can I join? I can give you a ride there.” You offered. She smiled at you and toyed with the strings on her backpack.

“That’d be great. See you losers later.” MJ gave Peter and Ned a peace sign and climbed onto your bike. You gave Peter a quick peck on the lips and got on the bike as well. Peter watched as MJ wrapped her arms around your waist and smirked at him. You two sped off towards Oscorp, leaving Peter and Ned in your wake.

“Dude.” Ned laughed. “MJ just stole your girlfriend.”

“Shut up. No she didn’t.” Peter said. Did she though? You seemed to hit it off with her pretty quickly. Peter didn’t know MJ too well but he knew she was guarded and didn’t let people in easily. In fact, she didn’t let anyone in. And yet, you and her had become best friends in a matter of minutes.

Heading back from Oscorp a few hours later, you saw a familiar hat bobbing up and down in the street. You were about to call out Neds name when two guys came from around the corner. They looked mean and you could hear Ned’s heartbeat rising. You quickly ran over to him.

“Hey.” You panted. Ned looked relived to see you.

“Oh hey Y/n. How’d your date with MJ go?” He teased. You shoved him slightly.

“It wasn’t a date. She’s really cool though. I think we’re going to be good friends.” You said as you passed the two guys. You soon heard a whistle.

“Damn baby. Where you going with him? Don’t you wanna stay here and have some fun?” one of the guys called. You looked at Ned and picked up your pace.

“I know you heard me beautiful. Stop running before I give you a reason to run.” The man said again, louder this time.

“Keep walking.” You whispered to Ned.

“I said stop running.” The man shouted, this time, his threat was accompanied by the sound of a gun cocking. You and Ned froze in your steps. The two men slowly approached you, all while pointing the gun level with your head.

“That’s better.” One man said when he reached you. “Now, how about this. You come with me, or I shoot your friend. Does that sound fair?”

“I better call Peter. He’ll know what to do.” Ned panicked.

“No need.” You growled as your transformed into Venom. You marched up to the guy and grabbed him by the shoulders in a death grip. You spit at a nearby newspaper in the ground. The newspaper quickly disintegrated and left nothing but smoke behind. You smiled devilishly at the man, grateful for a chance to show off your acidic saliva.

“What was that?” The man cowered in your grasp. Meanwhile, his friend ran away terrified.

“Acid spit. Still want me to come with you?” Venom purred. The man whimpered and shook his head furiously.

“Didn’t think so. Now, if you don’t tell us the names of ten historical feminists who would be very disappointed in your sorry ass by the time I count to ten, we’re going to eat you. Does that sound fair?” Venom growled as the man shut his eyes in fear.

“One.” You began to count.

“Uh…” He whimpered.

“Two.”

“Um.” He raked his minuscule brain for answered but came up empty handed.

“Ten.” You said and bit his head off. You quickly ate the rest of his body before turning back into yourself. You wiped your hands and patted your stomach before turning around and making eye contact with Ned, completely forgetting he was there.”

“You’re Venom?!” He gasped as he pointed at you in horror. You ran up to him and covered his mouth.

“What? No.” You lied. “How do you know about Venom anyway?”

“It’s you. I can’t believe it’s you.” Ned exclaimed when you took your hand off his mouth. You were getting more and more confused.

“You’re Venom. You, Y/n, are Venom.” He repeated as if it all made sense now.

“Play dumb.” Venom whispered.

“What? I’m not Venom. What makes you say that?” You stammered.

“Not that dumb!” She yelled. Ned looked at you and laughed, still in shock.

“You and Peter are perfect for each other, you know that? You’re both dumb as shit.” He laughed. You had to laugh a little as well.

“You’re Venom and Peter is…do you know about Peter?” Ned suddenly asked.

“What about Peter?” You didn’t understand what he meant. Neds eyes went wide, and then filled with sadness.

“Nothing. Don’t worry about it.” He shook his head. “Are you gonna tell him about this? Because I’m going to be very honest with you, I’m terrible at keeping secrets. I don’t know if I can keep this from him.”

“I’m gonna tell him eventually. So please, don’t say anything.” You pleaded. “He has to hear it from me. I’m sorry that I’m making you lie to your best friend but this is a very unique situation.”

“It’s a lot more unique than you think.” He muttered. “I won’t tell him.”

“Thank you.” You hugged him tightly, thankful that he was safe and keeping your secret. You walked Ned home and began to make your way back to the apartment building. You wanted nothing more than to cuddle with Peter and forget the day. After all, you missed him all day at school. It was bearable when you guys were just friends, but now that he was your boyfriend you never wanted to be apart.

When you were just a few blocks from your apartment, you felt a strong arm wrap around your neck and hold you in place. Suddenly, there was a knife to your throat.

“I saw what you did to my buddy, you little freak. Now, how about you get down on those pretty little knees before I kill you?” The man threatened. You turned your neck as much as you could and recognized your attacker as the mans friend who ran away from earlier. You sighed deeply. You were full and trying to keep your body count to a minimum, but he was just asking for it. You shut your eyes and were about to turn into Venom when you heard a voice from behind you.

“Now that’s no way to treat a lady.” The voice rang. You recognized it as Peters voice. The guy was quickly pulled away from you as if by some kind of rope. You heard some sort of webbing going on behind you and small cries of struggling from the man.

“Are you alright Miss?” Peter asked.

“I’m fine, Peter.” You said, finally turning around. Instead of seeing your boyfriend, you saw the friendly neighborhood pain in the ass. He had webbed your attacker to the wall and was now looking right at you. You had seen him so many times before, and he’d seen you, but never like this. You felt almost naked, standing before Spider-Man as Y/n instead of Venom.

“Oh.” You said, startled. “I’m sorry. I thought you were someone else.”

“Yea. This is a pretty popular outfit.” Spider-Man joked, gesturing to his skin tight suit. You bit your tongue. He was funny, but you couldn’t let him know that. You were enemies after all. He just didn’t realize it was you.

“Thanks for saving me.” You blurted. “But I had the situation handled.”

“You’re right. You especially looked like you had it handled when he was about to stab and murder you.” Spider-Man said sarcastically. You found him oddly charming, despite your history.

“What are you gonna do with him?” You asked, pointing to the man webbed to the wall.

“I heard what he said to you. I’m going to register him as a sex offender and ruin his life. Unless, you had other plans. You know, since you had the situation handled.” Spiderman remarked. You playfully rolled your eyes. You did have other plans. Plans that involved eating him and digesting him while you cuddled with Peter. But Spider-Mans plan was okay too.

“Alright. I’ll see you around Spider-Man.” You said, giving the superhero one last look. There was something familiar about him. Spider-Man nodded.

“See you around. And please, be careful. Don’t walk alone. I don’t want to see you get hurt.” He said and turned back to the man.

You went home, showered, and got into some comfy clothes. You missed your boyfriend dearly and went to his apartment to see him.

After being let in by May, you went into Peters room and flopped on his bed. He was sat at his desk doing homework.

“Did you mean what you said about me sleeping over whenever I wanted?” You asked, voice muffled by his pillow.

“Of course I did.” He swiveled around to look at you and noticed your body language. “What’s wrong, love?”

“I’ve had a long day and I want to cuddle my boyfriend.” You pouted. Peter smiled at you calling him your boyfriend. He closed his textbook and climbed into bed with you. You rested your head on his chest, right over his heart. The sound of his heartbeat calmed you down and you felt sleepy.

“Did you make any progress on your story?” He asked. You shook your head as he began to run his fingers through your hair. You hummed in content and pressed a small kiss to his neck. He blushed at the affection and held you closer.

“No.” You groaned. “I’ve had the worst writers block all day. I was actually thinking of writing an article on Spider-Man until my writers block went away.”

After your encounter with the masked hero, you wanted to know more about him. You were originally against your boss’s idea to write about him, but now you liked it. Sure, there were plenty of articles on Spider-Man out there, but you knew him intimately.

“Spider-Man?” You felt Peters heart stop momentarily. “Why?”

“I think I have a pretty good shot at figuring out who he is.” You shrugged. “Like, think about it, he only operates from the hours of 4 to midnight ish right? Except, on weekends, when he’s seen all throughout the day. What’s he doing all day on weekdays? He can’t be at work because jobs don’t end that early. I think he’s in school. Either high school or college. Probably college though, right? I can’t imagine a high schooler doing what he does. Unless he’s been doing this since high school. That’s also possible.”

“Oh wow.” Peter said, dumbfounded. He was usually blown away by your intelligence, but now it was working against him. There were a million college students in New York, though. Surely you wouldn’t figure it out.

“And think about this, he’s only ever in New York, so he must live here right?” You continued. “But what about that one time he saved those kids in the Washington Monument? What was New York’s superhero doing in Washington? I looked into it and the kids he saved were on a field trip. What if Spider-Man was on the field trip too? If I look up all the schools that were there, I could create a list of suspects and go from there. Then, I could-“ you were cut off with a kiss.

“Let’s not talk about Spider-Man.” Peter said quickly, followed by a smile. “I want to hear about you day. How was Oscorp?”

“We had a really good time.” You smiled. “I interviewed her after I helped her with the protest and then we grabbed lunch. Oh, and I saw Ned on my way home.”

“You saw Ned?” Peter asked. Ned hadn’t mentioned seeing you.

“Yea.” You blew out a breath. “These two guys attacked us. One ran away and I took care of the other. But then the one that ran away came back and you’ll never guess who saved me.”

“Who?” Peter smiled. He knew who.

“Spider-Man. I don’t know. I was wrong about him. I used to think he was just some guy in spandex with a God complex but now I think he just genuinely wants to help people. And…” you trailed off.

“And?” Peter raised an eyebrow.

“He’s got a nice ass.” You admitted. Peter laughed loudly. You smiled into his chest. You loved that damn laugh.

“I’m serious.” You insisted. “I saw it as he walked away and it knocked me out. Spider-Man is dummy thick.”

“Please never say the words “Spider-Man is dummy thick” in my house again.” Peter pleaded. He secretly loved it though.

“I was actually thinking of making that the title of my article.” You joked. Peter laughed again. He chucked a pillow at you and you giggled.

“Let’s go to bed.” You yawned. “In a romantic, but still non sexual way this time.”

“Good night, my Nancy Drew.” Peter said with a kiss to your forehead.

“Goodnight, my whoever Nancy Drew was boning.” You yawed again.

“Ned Nickerson.” Peter laughed.

“Then goodnight Ned Nickelodeon.” You said, half asleep.

“Close enough.” Peter smiled.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker imagine #peter parker x venom!reader #venom!reader #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #iron man #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfiction

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messymessyml · 3 years

Text

Breaking and Entering

I'll be moving this one over to AO3 at some point (done, available here), but I'll start this off on Tumblr. This is a lighthearted, multi-chapter Jasonette story.

Summary:

Marinette is away from home when a curious visitor drops in. The kwami don't see any problem letting the man in; the question is: what will the guardian think when she realizes an intruder was in her house while she was gone?

Chapter 1 is below the cut.

Chapter 1: What did I come back to now?

Marinette felt a wave of relief hit her as her key turned smoothly in the lock. She was more than ready to unload her bags and take a well-deserved night in after a whirlwind week of consulting with clients in Metropolis. She’d decided to take Tikki and Sass with her and rent a hotel for the week as most of her clients were only available for early morning consultations, and while it was the most effective way to make sure she didn’t miss a meeting, she was glad to be back home.

Gotham may not be as glitzy or have as many potential clients as Metropolis, but it more than made up for that with the anonymity that Gotham allowed her. The local mentality of ‘take no shit’ and ‘mind your own damn business and I’ll mind mine’ allowed the kwami and her freedom that they wouldn’t get in Metropolis, a city crawling with news stations and a baffling love of all things mundane. Half the time when she visited Metropolis it felt like she had a target on her back; the paparazzi were worse in Metropolis than they ever were in her Parisian hero days and that held for her professional pseudonym as well as plain Marinette. It was a wonder that with so many news outlets (and Superman to report on for crying out loud) that she was still the topic of a news piece twice in the past week: once as MDC and once as plain old Marinette. In all seriousness was helping with a local tree planting event for Earth Day that newsworthy?

‘Enough of that’, she thought, realizing that although her door was now unlocked, she’d thought so much about arriving home that she hadn’t even fully opened her door. A slight twinge of embarrassment hit her. Carrying her tiny friends everywhere was always a blessing, but sometimes, she mused, it might be nice not to have an audience for every action she took—no matter how embarrassing.

Letting go of that train of thought, Marinette stepped through and closed her door behind her, feeling tension bleed out of her shoulders. The underlying scent of vanilla and blossom honey hit her nose as she strode over to the kitchen island. She set her bags to the side and took a hold of one of her swinging barstools with the intention to sit for a bit before making any attempt at dinner for the kwami and herself. Absently tracking the path Sass and Tikki took as they flew in the direction of the room where she kept the Miracle Box, she hesitated to sit as she noticed a slowly building feeling of unease hit her. Something, she thought, was off.

Sharpening her gaze and gripping the barstool a little tighter, Marinette scanned her apartment. At first glance, the living space looked unchanged from how she left it; the furniture was where it belonged, and her shelves and wall art were unmoved. As she looked closer though, she saw items around the house that were shifted a bit more than they would be if the kwami had decided to explore while she was away: the living room rug was centered, the dishes she had left to dry right before leaving the house a week ago were put away, and the barstool she was currently grasping was a bit more level than it had ever been, thrifted as it were. The kwami were a joy to interact with and an honor to serve as their guardian, but cleaners and tinkers they were not.

Marinette released her grip on the stool, rounding the kitchen island to open the cabinets. Like she thought, the dishes she had washed a week ago were put away and the towers of plates and bowls looked straighter than they were normally. Her gut churned as the beginning stages of worry started to fill her.

A chorus of greetings from behind her met her ears, disrupting her thoughts. Turning, Marinette saw the kwami flying towards her from the hallway.

“Marinette, did you have a nice trip?” Mullo squeaked.

“Guardian, I hope all went well on your trip. It is wonderful to have you back home.” Wayzz said.

The other kwami threw in their own noises and words of agreement, mirroring Wayzz’s welcome.

Marinette couldn’t help her small smile, replying, “My trip went well, and I am happy to be back here with you all.” She paused, hesitating before she asked, “Did anything happen while we were away?”

“Not much, Pigtails.” Plagg swam leisurely into view, tailed closely by Tikki, both twirling as they approached. “Some fighting outside, and a bit of a showdown on rooftops at the end of the block, but no damage to our building.”

Wayzz intercepted Plagg’s path, floating into the center of her vision to say, “That may be true, Plagg; however, one of the combatants took a breather on our balcony by using the garden for cover. He didn’t seem injured, but he was breathing heavier than was wise. Most of us hid in the box while I continued to strengthen the wards on the outer walls and windows.”

Marinette interrupted, “No one entered the apartment?”

Wayzz hesitated, then said “The man stayed hidden as best he could, but he was quite large, and I could feel the shifting balance; if he stayed on the balcony, he would have drawn fire here. I strengthened the barrier outwards then loosened the barrier on the balcony doors, undid the latch for him, and asked Trixx to hide us from view. He had a protector’s spirit and none of us could feel an intent to harm any but the ones he’d been fighting outside. I am sorry, Guardian, for making this decision without your input.”

Marinette took a deep breath to fend off the impending tension headache, unclenching the hand she had used to subconsciously gripped her other wrist. She loosened the muscles around her eyes to soften her gaze. “It’s alright, Wayzz. I wasn’t there, and I trust your intuition. What did he do?”

“He seemed distrustful of the open door at first but ended up entering almost silently and quickly moved to scan the apartment.”

Trixx added, “I made sure he could not see the Miracle Box and that he was not visible from the outside at any point, but he stayed away from the windows for the most part.”

Roarr piped in, “He has a fierce spirit, and I agree with Wayzz that he has a strong protective streak.”

She heard some murmurs of agreement from the other kwami, some of them breaking out into small discussion pertaining to the man’s character. “If so many of you saw him, did you leave the Miracle Box then? What did you see?” Desperately, Marinette wished that the immortal beings she called friends could get to the points.

“Some of us came out to see, but most of us stayed in the box. Trixx’s illusions held; he didn’t see or hear any of us.” Barkk confirmed.

“Yes, he mostly stayed in the living room. He sat right here for a while!” Saying this, Pollen surged towards the end of the couch, landing with their back to the armrest in a bored sprawl. “Like this!”

Plagg, swaying upside down near the ceiling, lazily added, “He wasn’t much fun. All he did was check his guns then started cleaning the place. Boring.”

“Guns?! Cleaning? Why?” Alarmed, Marinette’s heartbeat started to pound at the picture painted by the kwami. They had let a large combatant enter her apartment and all he did was inspect his guns and clean??? ‘This can’t be real’, she thought. ‘Was I caught up in one of Scarecrow’s attacks on the way home?’

“He had good manners at the least.” Kaalki sniffed. “His gear smelled of money and he fixed that stool of yours that never would have entered the premises if you had listened to me from the start. At least now it isn’t horrendously squeaky.”

“Hey!” Mullo protested.

Kaalki just turned away.

“He needed the protection.” Wayzz apologetically said. “He didn’t seem interested in your workroom and he wouldn’t have been able to find the box, so we observed. He cleaned a bit and left after checking that the coast was clear outside.”

Marinette allowed her shoulders to sag. “Alright. If you’re sure.” Glancing around, she gave the kwami a smile, eyes hesitating on the glass doors leading to the balcony, she absently added, “Thank you for keeping an eye on things while I was gone.”

Striding over to the doors leading out to the balcony, she peered out. Nothing seemed out of place out here, but she couldn’t be certain. Checking the door handles, she noticed that one of the kwami or her mystery visitor must have relatched the lock. Unlocking it, she stepped out and went to sit at her patio table. Leaning back in her chair, she let her head tip back to view the sunset, partially obscured by the balcony two floors above her own. Her apartment building had mostly staggered the balconies to allow more light to reach its inhabitants, a must in Gotham’s dreary weather.

After a few moments, she let her head droop forward to land in her hands. As much as she loved them, the kwami’s survival instincts always seemed at odds with hers. She couldn’t tell whether that was due to her anxiety amplifying everything past the point of reason or that the kwami’s inherent existence rendering most danger obsolete, but while some intruder might not be a danger to beings that could turn intangible and invisible at will, she was definitely a bit more breakable (‘Mortal’, her brain whispered) than them. If she had been here? Who knows how that visit might have gone?

Taking a few more minutes to calm her body’s response, a few deep breaths, and a moment or two of gratitude that nothing bad had happened, she straightened a bit as the evening wind started to pick up and a splash of white started to flutter at the edge of her vision. Glancing up, her eye caught on a piece of paper at the other end of the table that was weighted down with a rock she had decorated a while back with paintings of ladybugs and cats playfully chasing each other across a meadow. That particular rock usually spent time in the catnip bed Plagg had insisted on and Tikki had seconded as a nod to both kwami. Curious, she reached out and grabbed the sheet of paper underneath. Opening it, she read:

Dear Stranger,

I was in a bit of a tight spot and hanging around your balcony when your door swung open. Haunted house, much? Hope you don’t mind, but I ended up using your house as a temporary safe house while you were gone. Don’t worry, I made sure no one saw me entering or exiting, so you shouldn’t have any problems from the type of shit that follows me.

On the topic of haunted houses, are you sure yours isn’t haunted? Your house is unnervingly the calmest- and safest-feeling place I’ve been in a while, but I kept seeing blurs out of the corner of my eye and I was NOT concussed. Might want to talk to someone about that.

I ended up tidying a bit while you were gone, hope you don’t mind. Fairs fair, you (unknowingly, I know) lent me a place to stay, I tidied up a bit. Stay out of trouble, alright?

Cheers,

- Red Hood

The Red Hood? The RED HOOD is who they let into the house? For kwami’s sake, what were they thinking?!?

#jasonette #Jason Todd x Marinette Dupain-Cheng #dc x mlb #ml x dc #maribat #meet cute #fluff #my writing #multichapter #Jasonette Breaking and Entering #kwami as immortal beings

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perrywander · 2 years

Text

Night 1 | 11:30 pm

Originally posted on Ao3, but I decided to post it on Tumblr as well. This is an AU in which Gregory teamed up with Monty instead of Freddy, with a fresh twist on the story. It sticks with the Game plot for the first few chapters then diverges into it's own fully fledged idea that I hope you guys enjoy! Reblogs and comments are much appreciated! And, as always, stay weird my lovelies!

And, if any of you are interested in throwing me a tip, why don't you buy me a coffee?

Table of Contents

Gregory was unceremoniously jostled out of his light doze when the animatronic that he was tucked inside of quite suddenly came back online and immediately lurched into motion with an enraged snarl.

The cramped space got impossibly smaller as the gator hunched low with a growl, Gregory’s poorly chosen hiding spot becoming a lot more uncomfortable as the animatronic charged into something that broke with an audible crack. The brunet flinched when the muffled sound of fabric shredding reached him, the robot destroying what sounded like a sofa with extreme prejudice.

So, not only was Gregory stuck inside a rampaging machine, but he was also in quite a bit of discomfort because of all the metal jamming into any and all visible skin, painting his body with bruises. One particularly aggressive movement had Gregory's throbbing shoulder scream in protest, his traitorous vocal cords producing a whimper before he could stop himself.

The pathetic sound echoed throughout his metal refuge like a gunshot, the racket just outside the hatch abruptly falling into an ominous silence that made goosebumps erupt on the brunet's arms and legs. Gregory held his breath, not even daring to breathe now that the animatronic knew he was there.

"What? A kid?” A mechanical voice pierced through the mounting tension, the gator sounding more baffled than homicidal by the prospect of a child being in its vicinity.

“Ya ain’t gotta be scared, kid. I’ll turn on the light, yeah?” The robot spoke in a soft voice that could trick any kid into approaching it if they hadn’t been lucky enough to hear the gator rampaging just moments before. Thankfully, Gregory was one of the few that wouldn’t be coaxed out of his hiding spot by the animatronic’s false display of friendliness, despite how badly he wanted to get away from the wayward pieces of metal jabbing into him with every minute shift of the robot he was stuck inside of.

Gregory heard the gator move, traveling across the room to where the brunet guessed the lightswitch was, the barely audible click indicating that the robot had done as promised and illuminated the room. Most likely trying to make nice with Gregory so he let his guard down. Well screw that, death by mutilation was decidedly not the way he wanted to go.

“Huh? Where’re ya kid?" The animatronic asked in blatant confusion, the gator’s thundering steps vibrating through its frame as it prowled around the room in what Gregory assumed was an attempt to locate him.

Unfortunately for the gator, the brunet had absolutely zero intention of showing himself after both hearing and feeling exactly how unfriendly and hostile this particular overgrown children’s toy was. The last thing he needed -on top of the already shitty day he’d had- was to be ripped to bloody pieces by some malfunctioning tourist attraction.

He wanted to keep all his limbs right where they were, thank you very much.

"I ain't gonna hurtcha, kid." The gator -Gregory couldn’t quite recall its name- crooned in a surprisingly gentle Louisiana drawl that he had to admit was actually quite nice to listen to.

"C'mon out." The animatronic coaxed in that same deceptively soothing tone and the brunet could hear the gator move something heavy, which indicated that the robot was indeed looking for him. Though the brunet figured that, if he could stay undetected long enough, then maybe it would lose interest.

But all of his hopes of escape were swiftly dashed when the animatronic made a movement that Gregory recognized as bending over, the stomach cavity shifting and causing the mechanical stuff around him to adjust with the motion.

Unfortunately, the brunet wasn't able to brace himself in time to avoid getting tossed forward into the sealed hatch doors that were holding him in, his knee taking the brunt of the impact as it rammed into the panel of textured metal, which scraped a few layers of skin off and made his nerves light up with pain.

Gregory yelped as he threw his hands out to catch himself before his face could meet the same fate as his throbbing knee, the seemingly deafening sound of his palms hitting the sealed hatch door echoing around him and making the boy freeze in horror.

"Tell me yer jokin'." The animatronic choked out, the gator actually sounding quite stunned upon realizing that the child it had been searching for was a lot closer than it’d initially anticipated as it immediately straightened out of its doubled over position.

Gregory let out a sigh of relief when he was given space to push himself away from the metal paneling and scramble backward, the brunet briefly allowing himself to be impressed with the Glamrock animatronics ability to express emotion despite their facial features having a limited range of movement.

The gator was equipped with some seriously impressive programming.

"That ain't safe! Get outta there!" The gator exclaimed before its stomach hatch dropped open, a clawed hand coming into view as the animatronic blindly reached inside the cramped space in an attempt to grab Gregory, who did his best to duck away from those alarmingly sharp fingertips.

Who the hell put claws on a robot anyway? Especially if said robot was meant to interact with children. Fazbear Entertainment might claim that the animatronics were totally safe, but there were more than enough interviews with aggrieved customers and pending lawsuits that he’d read in the weekly newspaper to indicate otherwise.

Harmless his ass.

The brunet cried out when his forearm was captured, the gator pulling the boy out of his hiding place with little fanfare. Gregory didn’t hang from the captured limb for more than maybe half a second before the robot’s other hand engulfed the majority of his waist as the first appendage relinquished its grip on the boy, who kicked and struggled in the gator’s unrelenting hold.

“Let me go!” The brunet snapped, fingers uselessly prying at the shiny plastic digits that held him hostage as he kicked out at the robot with his uninjured leg.

“What were ya doin’ in my stomach? That ain’t a place for kids, even if they're runts like you.” The robot shook Gregory a bit, the sharp movement making his head swim and his shoulder twinge.

“Stop it! That hurts!” The brunet hissed through clenched teeth, and Gregory was caught off-guard when the gator actually heeded his words with a muttered apology that was horribly stilted and gruff but perfectly sincere, it's grip on his person gentling a considerable amount.

“Now put me down!” Gregory barked, hoping that the gator’s previous easy acquiescence meant that it was in a charitable mood. However, instead of complying with his command, the animatronic merely tilted its head in an eerily human manner.

“Ya gonna run if I do?” The gator countered, still not budging as Gregory squirmed with all the fervor of a feral alley cat. Though, when it became abundantly clear that he wasn’t going to be able to fight his way out of the animatronic’s hold, the brunet begrudgingly stilled as he carefully considered his options, his suspicion and fear only slightly assuaged by the fact that the robot had yet to report him to that shady security lady or horribly maim him.

“No.” Gregory decided at last, giving up his useless struggling before meeting the gator’s unblinking burgundy stare. They held eye contact for a few seconds -which felt more like years- then the brunet’s feet met solid ground and the massive hand around his waist retreated.

Gregory had to crane his neck back in order to properly look at the animatronic, which swiftly stooped down to kneel in front of him in a surprising show of accommodation since the brunet was almost insultingly short compared to the robot’s massive frame, the gator standing at a staggering seven feet.

“Good. Now hold still, kid.” The gator hummed before its eyes glowed a vibrant blue and projected a beam of light that scanned over Gregory’s thin frame, the brunet resisting the urge to fidget under the animatronic’s scrutiny as shame and anger welled up inside of his chest, hyper-aware of how he looked with his ratty, oversized clothes and dirty face as he frowned distrustfully at the robot.

“Scan complete.” The animatronic’s tail swayed sporadically behind it and Gregory wondered if the extra limb was malfunctioning or something, his focus drawn away from the flicking appendage when the gator leaned in until there was barely an inch of space between them.

“Hm. Ya don’t got a guest profile. What’s your name, kid?” The robot asked, those burgundy eyes pinning him in place with an intensity that made the boy feel as if he were being dissected.

“I… I’m Gregory.” The brunet stammered, caught off guard by the animatronic’s unexpected interest in him.

“Gregory.” The gator parroted as he leaned back a bit, the syllables smothered in that southern drawl that had somehow become a sound that could calm his rattled nerves a bit. The boy’s stiff posture relaxed without his explicit permission, his body too exhausted to remain coiled now that there was no immediate threat to his person.

"I’ll notify the main office-” The gator was cut off when the brunet suddenly lurched forward, hands grabbing the robot’s snout as if the action alone would be able to stop the animatronic from doing so.

“No! You can’t! She’ll get me!” Gregory objected in an octave dangerously close to shrill, his shoulder throbbing from the abrupt and harsh movement of the injured joint. The animatronic blinked, staring at the brunet with an unnatural blankness that made it impossible for Gregory to know what was going through the gator’s head.

“Well, I can’t connect ta the main network anyway. Who’s after ya? Are ya in danger?” The animatronic’s questions held the dangerous undercurrent of a growl that belonged more to a large dog than an alligator, but it was extremely intimidating regardless.

“The security guard.” Gregory blurted before he could think better of it, because obviously the damn security guard would be looking for him since he had snuck into the pizzaplex earlier today. But there was just… something off about her, something Gregory couldn’t name but felt acutely as soon as they had made eye contact.

“Vanessa? She’s after ya?” The gator asked with another eerily human tilt of its head and Gregory took an involuntary step back from the animatronic, unsure of whether he should make a run for it. The robot was incredibly hard to read, probably due to its limited facial expressions. Fortunately for Gregory, the gator’s body language was far more revealing when it came to what the animatronic was thinking.

“If that’s her name, then yeah.” The brunet retorted tersely, crossing his arms as his gaze briefly darted away from the gator’s unblinking stare before he forced himself to maintain eye contact because he refused to be cowed by a machine.

“Ya do realize that yer here awful late, yeah?” The gator asked, amusement bleeding into his tone, and Gregory’s lips pressed into a tight line to avoid saying something snide that would definitely piss the robot off. Though the brunet’s face must’ve said it for him because the animatronic raised its hands in a placating manner that -admittedly- did manage to temper his anger and frustration. If only a little.

“Look, why don’t you just help me get out of here?” Gregory suggested, a little desperately if he was being honest, but he certainly wasn’t above playing into how young and scared he was in order to get his way. Not when the alternative was being handed over to the creepy security guard.

The gator visibly hesitated, body stiff and awkward as it slowly let its arms drop back to its sides, and the brunet subtly glanced around the room for a possible escape route should the robot insist on getting a figure of authority involved. The animatronic didn’t appear to notice Gregory do so, as caught up with contemplating its options as it was. But, after a long moment, the gator straightened up out of its crouch to tower over the brunet.

“Ya know what? Sure. I’ve been itchin' fer a jailbreak.” The robot said decisively, nodding to itself. Gregory tried not to let his overwhelming relief show, fighting the urge to burst into tears like some kind of baby now that he had a potential ally in this nightmare.

“I can’t leave the room though, the door only opens from the outside.” The gator tapped the pad of its finger against its lower jaw, head tipping up to stare at the ceiling -as if in thought- before it paused. “That’s it. The vent.” The animatronic suddenly announced, twisting to gracefully leap up and tear the grate off of said vent, carelessly tossing the damaged object behind itself. The cover landed with a thunderous crash on the other side of the room, the brunet cringing at the racket that the robot was making.

Surely someone would come investigate the noise? But then again, the room was dimmed and the curtains were drawn… so maybe it wouldn’t be a problem? Regardless, Gregory wasn't all that inclined to wager his life on a maybe.

“Would you keep it down? You’re going to get us caught!” The brunet kept his voice low, arms crossing over his chest when the gator ignored his comment in favor of poking the majority of its snout into the vent shaft. A familiar blue glow lit up the crawlspace for a few seconds before the animatronic finally pulled away, dropping back to the floor with enough force to shake the room.

“The integrity 's intact, so it should hold ya.” The robot relayed to the frowning boy, who was starting to doubt going through with this potentially dangerous idea.

“How will I get a hold of you if something goes wrong?” Gregory pointed out and the gator seemed to think about it for a moment before the robot trotted over to its vanity and aggressively yanked the middle drawer open in order to rummage inside, quietly grumbling to itself all the while. When the gator found what it was looking for, it faced the brunet and extended its hand, revealing what looked to be a colorful bear-themed watch nestled in the center of its palm.

“It’s a Faz-watch. I’ll be able ta keep in contact with ya usin' it.” The animatronic explained and Gregory accepted the device, securing it to his wrist before curiously poking at the dark screen. It came to life with a chime that made him jump before aiming an unimpressed glare at the smug gator.

“I made some adjustments, now no one but yours truly will be able ta access it.” The robot mused, sounding awfully proud of itself.

“Can you turn down the volume? I don’t need the stupid thing giving me away if I’m trying to be stealthy.” Gregory muttered, tapping the surface in order to familiarize himself with his new accessory. There was no response and the brunet looked up just in time to see the weird flicker of white static that had overtaken the robot’s burgundy eyes before it cut out and the color returned to normal like nothing had happened.

“Done.” The gator declared, its gaze focusing on the mildly creeped out boy.

“What was that?” Gregory blurted before he could think better of it, giving himself a mental kick when the animatronic stared at him uncomprehendingly.

“What was what?” The robot asked, clearly puzzled as to what the brunet might be referring to. Gregory shifted from foot to foot nervously, figuring that he might as well follow through with his question.

“That thing with your eyes?” The brunet clarified and the gator’s burgundy gaze widened in recognition as it nodded absently.

“I was adjustin' the settin's like ya wanted.” The animatronic shrugged, sauntering over to position itself directly under the vent before beckoning Gregory closer with a wave of his hand.

“Right. So all I have to do is open the door? Then you’ll help me leave?” The brunet didn’t struggle when he was picked up, the gator guiding him up to the opening.

“That’s the idea, kid. But ya contact me if ya see the lady that’s after ya, got it?” The animatronic waited until the brunet was halfway in the shaft before letting him go, the boy twisting as best he could in order to look back at the gator.

“Okay. Thanks, uh…” Gregory’s mouth pressed into a thin line as his face heated in embarrassment, but the robot didn’t seem to mind that he didn’t know its name, looking more amused than anything.

“Jus' call me Monty.”

#fnaf fanfiction #fnaf fanfic #fnaf #fnaf security breach #five nights at freddy's #eleutheromania series #gregory security breach #montgomery gator #monty & gregory #monty instead of freddy au

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writeforfandoms · 3 years

Text

Shake, Rattle and Roll 5

We’re on to chapter 5 folks! Next chapter will be the last chapter, then the epilogue.

Masterlist

Summary: More obstacles come between you and the end of this night. Then there were two more murders.

Warnings: Murder (non descriptive), swearing, the usual.

Tags: @fandom-blackhole @pedrocentric @sarahjkl82-blog @giizhkens-cedar

You wanted to bang your head against a wall. Or revive Damon to murder him again. Really, at this point, you weren’t too picky.

“The cook didn’t have the keys.” You stated it plainly, just to make sure you understood correctly.

“Unfortunately that does seem to be the situation,” Ezra agreed. He sounded mildly put off. Mildly.

You blew out a breath slowly, letting your cheeks puff out with the force of it. Okay. That’s okay, there were other doors in the house. Now that the four were in the library, you might be able to chance the front door.

“The front door is similarly locked,” Ezra started, interrupting your thoughts. “I believe the girl implied the back door would be locked, as well.”

“Well this is a pickle,” you muttered, rocking your weight back and forth on your feet. “Okay. We need the keys to get out of here.” You met Ezra’s gaze and realized you were both thinking the same thing: Damon.

“Searching for the keys will not bother me, dove, if you care to continue keeping watch,” he offered.

You hesitated and then nodded slowly. “Remind Cee not to look,” you muttered, half-imploring.

“I will.” Ezra met and held your gaze for a few long moments before he dipped his head and turned away. You refocused your attention on the hallway, listening for any sign of the prospectors. A shout gave you some indication that they had discovered the empty library. The big question now was where would they go next? Continue searching room by room, or outside? Neither was a great option for you three, honestly.

A hissed curse from Ezra drew your attention, and you shifted enough to look back at him. “What now?”

“No keys,” he growled, sounding frustrated. His hands were both clenched as he glowered down at the floor.

“What the fuck.” You kept your voice low but couldn’t keep the note of disbelief out of it. “Okay. Time for a new plan.” You hurried back to Cee. “Where else might the keys be?”

Cee shot you a bewildered look. “The study, maybe?”

“Right.” You turned her carefully away from the bodies and guided her to the doorway. The other prospectors were still in the library, although you doubted they’d stay for long. “Study’s on this side of the library, if we book it I think we can make it.”

“It is a bold choice,” Ezra offered from behind you.

“It’s our only choice.” You sighed. “Ready?”

The three of you booked it down the hall and into the study. Ezra shut the door exceedingly gently behind you all and flipped the lock, for all the good that would do. The three of you set to searching for the keys, quietly. Just in case anyone decided to check the study.

“Found them,” Cee told you quietly, holding up the keys. An actual old-fashioned key ring with physical keys. You hadn’t seen one like that possibly ever.

“Good job, kid,” you murmured to her, giving her a smile. “Now we need to figure out the best exit route.”

Ezra hummed as he joined your little conference. “The front is the clearest and closest exit,” he summed up. “The kitchen door is less visible, but requires us to cross the hallway again. The back door has much the same problem - we would have to cross their path without being seen.”

“Guess we need to know where they are, first,” you said, briefly tipping your head back to look at the ceiling. You were so sick of this, so ready to just go home. There was a reason you’d gotten out of the prospecting game.

“I can go,” Cee offered.

“No,” was your immediate response.

“Not a chance, little bird,” came Ezra’s protest, a second after yours.

“Cee, darling, the goal is to get you out of here alive,” you pointed out. “So no, you’re not going. I’ll go.” You stepped away from the two, towards the door. “Just wait here until I get back.”

Without waiting for a response, you unlocked the door and pulled it open slowly, peering out. Nobody in the hall. Good. You crept cautiously towards the library, peeking around the doorway just enough to peer inside. Nobody in there, either. Well, that was… not great. The longer you were out in the hallway, the worse your odds got. Your skin was already crawling with nerves.

A noise in the kitchen got your attention, and you crept that way, keeping low and walking as silently as you could. You paused in the hall outside the kitchen, listening.

“Found it,” Mikken grunted from inside.

“Show us,” Felicia demanded.

You carefully looked around the doorframe to see what they were talking about, just in time to see Inumon pull her thrower and shoot the two blondes. They both fell, dead before they hit the floor.

“Two down,” Mikken rumbled with satisfaction, holding up a piece of paper for Inumon to see. “Three to go.”

You didn’t wait to see more. You just made for the study again as fast as you could, heart pounding. You knew what Mikken meant now, and it was really not good for you.

“We’ve got a problem,” you told the other two immediately after slipping into the study.

“More?” Ezra asked, lips quirking wryly.

“Inumon killed the two blondes,” you told them. “And it looks like Mikken found the map. They’re coming after us next. Pretty sure they don’t want anybody alive to point fingers or go after them.”

Ezra blew out a breath. “That is indeed a slight problem,” he agreed.

“Slight?” you shot back, incredulous.

“But we have the keys,” Cee said, looking between the two of you. “We can go.”

“We can, but there is no guarantee they will not come after us,” Ezra told her gently.

You hushed them both when you heard movement in the hallway, and all three of you sneaked over to the door to listen.

“Why are we moving this one?” Inumon asked, sounding grumpy.

“Might as well keep the entryway tidy,” Mikken grunted. There was some shuffling, another grunt, and then more shuffling. You and Ezra exchanged baffled looks. Cee cracked the door open enough to see, and you craned your neck to see over her head.

Inumon and Mikken were carrying the body of the woman Fero had killed. They were headed for the kitchen.

Well. Keep the entryway tidy, indeed.

They weren’t going to take long at that, and you all needed an exit strategy, stat. Preferably before the murderous prospectors started doing a room-by-room search.

“If we can lure them upstairs I think we can outrun them,” you whispered.

“A mighty fine idea, except for two small points of contention,” Ezra whispered back. “The first being how to lure them upstairs in the first place, and the second being the small fact that they know our names and faces, dove.”

“So we’re back to your plan?” you hissed. “Kill them?”

“Before they kill us, preferably,” Ezra confirmed. He still sounded quite placid about all of this. Not that your hands were exactly clean, either, but you still had feelings about plotting murder.

“You should separate them,” Cee offered.

You and Ezra both stilled. It wasn’t a bad idea, really. One on one would be easier to take them, probably. You knew Inumon was armed, and it was highly likely Mikken was as well. And while you were still not crazy about the idea of killing them, well… They were out to kill you. And Cee. There was no way you were letting them kill Cee.

“I don’t know that they’ll separate now,” you spoke slowly, thinking out loud more than anything. “They’re close to their goal, it makes sense for them to search together.”

“Unless they are so consumed by the sight of their goal that they become sloppy,” Ezra murmured, eyes flicking rapidly between you and Cee.

“What do you have in mind?” you asked, watching him. He was definitely plotting something, and you’d rather like some heads up before he pulled anything.

Ezra hesitated a moment. “If we can get them to believe that we have split up, they will do the same,” he said. “They will believe us to be easier targets singly than together.”

“Well, you’re not wrong,” you murmured. “Okay. I can go throw something up the stairs, you can circle back around to the library?”

“And duck through the hidden corridor to make my timely escape,” Ezra agreed. “Cee, are there any other such hidden treasures in this house?”

“Yes, actually.” Cee walked over to the fireplace and pushed hard. Part of the wall folded inwards, showing another corridor.

“Where does this one go?” you asked, peering down it. Nope, too dark, can’t see.

“To the greenhouse.”

“There’s a greenhouse?” You couldn’t help but be momentarily distracted. No, greenhouse later, distracting the murderers first. Wait. No. Greenhouse first. Your lips pulled in a grin. “I’ll go to the greenhouse. Cee, stick with Ezra. I’ll go make a nice big noisy distraction.” You grinned, bouncing a little on your toes. Was this nuts? Yeah, a bit. But your adrenaline was going, and this was a great idea. Absolutely fantastic.

Except for the part where you could possibly get killed, but hey, that was the theme of the night.

You stepped into the hidden passage, walking carefully along it. When you got to the other end, it took you a moment to find the level to pull, and then you very carefully peered around. There was no movement in the greenhouse. No lights either. That made all this slightly more difficult.

It only took stubbing your toe to find a suitable object. A big empty vase was sitting on a pedestal (the one that attacked your foot), and you hefted it carefully. Yup. That would do, one way or another. Turning to the nearest wall, you eyed the glass. It looked like glass. If it was anything more sturdy, well, the vase shattering on the floor would do nicely as well.

Giving the vase one more heft, you threw it as hard as you could at the glass, which shattered with a magnificently loud noise on impact. And then you ran for the passageway, shoving the door closed behind you again, you heart hammering in your ears.

#shake rattle and roll #ezra x reader #ezra prospect x reader #clue!au

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angrylizardjacket · 3 years

Text

dirtbags // 4: Lola

Summary: High school AU. 1985. Winter. Heather’s party is huge; Lola makes new friends, get better acquainted with some underclassmen, and turns out to be far cozier with the hostess than anyone could guess. The next day, Nikki comes to work despite his hangover, while Charlotte and Eileen plan Vince’s murder. Razzle’s just there to have fun.

A/N: 6603 words. For @misscharlottelee and @julymotel , my beloveds, as always. Sorry it's late, it's been a hell of a week. But, here's the kids. I should say that this chapter does include slight, implied internalised homophobia, just as a warning.

judge if you want, we are all going to die. i intend to deserve it.

For the record, Lola isn’t a party-goer by nature, and the fact that she’s been to two in as many months is baffling her. Usually she just goes to see bands, and sometimes hangs out at peoples’ houses, but high school parties specifically alluded her for most of her time in Boston. It’s not that she wasn’t invited, but her mom had been something of a hardass, and the closest she’d ever gotten was when drunk kids made their way to the diner right before closing on a Friday or Saturday.

Her dad’s fully supportive of her going out and partying, which is weird in it’s own right. He writes down their home phone number on a piece of paper, in case Lola can’t remember it when she’s drunk - his words - and tells her to call whenever she needs a lift. Don’t go get into a car with strangers. Drink plenty of water. Be safe. Have fun.

“Dad, you’re being weird,” she’d told him flatly, applying eyeliner to her waterline in the bathroom. Leo, leaning against the door with his arms crossed, was watching her with a fond expression.

“If I was a hardass and banned you from going out, you’d probably still sneak out anyways -” Lola goes to protest, which Leo finds sweet, but he holds a hand up, and she lets him continue, “not that I don’t think you respect me, but I just know what it was like being a teenager; if you got into trouble while sneaking out, you wouldn’t feel like you could call me for help,” he explained, giving pause, “but I always will, you know that, right?” And Lola nods, but goes back to applying eyeliner, knowing her father’s tone of voice too well, anticipating the fact that he was about to dive into a story of his own to help prove his point.

“When I was your age, or maybe a bit younger, fifteen or sixteen, me and some friends snuck out to a bonfire one night that my parents had absolutely forbidden me from going to, and I ended up needing to go to the emergency room from a burn I got on my hand from being an idiot around the fire,” and he raised his left hand, to show the still visible, large scar on his palm, “I was more terrified of what my father would do than of the burn itself so I didn’t try and call him or mum; I walked home from the hospital alone the next morning, and lied about how I got the burn.”

Lola paused, lowering the eyeliner pencil, meeting her father’s gaze in the mirror. Leo’s smile had turned a little sad at the memory; Lola doesn’t hear much about her grandparents, and she wonders if stories like this are the reason why.

“You’re my kid, Keola, I never want you to think you can’t come to me for help, okay?” It’s rare for Leo to use Lola’s full first name, usually reserving it for more poignant and earnest moments, so every comment about how he’s being a sap, or that she already knows, dies on Lola’s tongue.

“Thanks, dad,” she smiles soft, and Leo smiles back, all crows feet and laugh lines, before he tells her that she looks badass, and he steps out of the doorframe, heading back downstairs to the diner.

By the time Lola shows up, it’s just edging past eight-thirty, though the party still seems to be in its early stages. There’s music that can be heard down the street, and fairy lights scattered throughout the garden, though most of the partygoers who had already arrived are still confined to the house. Apart from a gangly, dark-haired boy whose face she knows, but whose name she doesn’t, sitting on the wide, ostentatious front steps, looking up at the stars glittering overhead. There’s a cigarette in a loose grip between two fingers, though the ash has already burnt down half of it without him tapping it off; it’s almost comical, she’s pretty sure he hasn’t even put it to his lips yet.

“You’re wasting that,” Lola points out, and the guy is jolted from his thoughts, the movement sharp enough to have the ash falling from the cigarette and to the ground by his shoes. He looks to the cigarette, which has gone out, and then to Lola, a little helpless, “I could take it off your hands,” she offers, unsure of how to proceed, and he holds the cigarette out, smile blooming on his face.

“I can’t get the hang of it; I’m playing a smoker in this play I’m doing in a month, and I’ve been trying, you know, make it feel natural, never seems to,” his mouth is curved into a bemused smile as he shrugs helplessly, watching Lola tuck the half a cigarette behind her ear. For a moment, his eyes roam his face, like he’s searching for something to recognize, and she can read it all over him when he finds it, his eyes alight with familiarity, “you work at the diner!”

Lola hates how disarming she finds his earnestness. He doesn’t mention her reputation or the rumours around her, which she’s pretty sure he would have heard since she’s eighty-percent sure he goes to her school.

“Lola,” she offers her hand, and he takes it, using it as leverage to get to his feet before he gives it a proper shake.

“Keanu,” he says, matter-of-factly, still grinning, and Lola suddenly knows where she knows him from. The school musical sign-up sheet is on the Art Faculty’s notice board right outside her art classroom, and she’s been staring at his name amongst a small list of others, including Eileen’s, much to Lola’s surprise, while she and the rest of her art class wait to get into their room.

At least she’s pretty sure it’s him; Keanu’s not exactly a common name. The only other time she’d heard it was in one of her dad’s stories, it was the name of one of his childhood friends -

She leaves it be; he groans and stretches, and there’s an idle moment where his shirt rides up, and Lola reminds herself to focus on the person who actually invited her, and to stop getting fleeting feelings for people she barely knows just because they’re pretty. Lola mutters that she needs a drink, and Keanu claps her on the shoulder and agrees, the two of them heading inside.

Heather’s house is in the same part of town as Vince’s, almost an hour’s walk from the diner, but somehow Heather’s is even nicer. Sprawling front lawn, abstract paintings and movie props on little, pristine pedestals inside, Lola feels like she’s lowering the property value just by stepping foot inside. The party was easily both the nicest and most raucous Lola had ever been to, which, granted, wasn’t saying a lot, but their house was wired with speakers, all connected back to the jukebox in the living room, and Heather’s parents had even let her hire coloured lights.

“As long as the cops aren’t called, we can do whatever we want,” was the message passed around the school from Heather herself. Lola’s feels as though that probably won’t bode well for her parents’ elegantly displayed collectables, but whatever, it’s not like it’s Lola’s problem.

Already there’s a decent crowd inside, and Lola loses Keanu amongst them, making a beeline for the kitchen, manoeuvring around the house with easy familiarity. She reaches pushes past several people to get to the fridge, reaching all the way to the back, past a set of tupperware, to the bottle of wine Heather’s mom had stashed there. Lola removes the sticky note telling everyone not to touch it, and uncorks the bottle over the sink, scowling.

It feels like she’s floating through the night, no-one around that she knows just yet, disconnected from everyone else, carrying the bottle of wine by her side, occasionally taking a drink. Moving from room to room, she takes her time people watching, and guessing how long before the various, expensive props and bric-a-brac were being used for things counter to their intended purpose.

In the front room, there’s finally someone she recognises, kind of; the the young redhead, the fruit one- Peach! She’s unsteady on her feet, beautiful and angry, defiantly making her way through a can of cheap beer, and Lola wonders where the rest of her clique is, that sister of hers, Eileen, even Charlotte.

“You okay?” Lola’s never been great at comforting people, but Peach is currently leaning against a wall at a forty-five degree angle after losing her balance, and scowling. She’s drunk. Already. Fuck.

“I’m fine! Freaking- fucking great!” She’s not even looking at Lola properly, glaring out the window she’d narrowly missed falling on. Lola follows her gaze. It’s just passed nine, and Tommy and Charlotte can be seen walking up to the door; they don’t see Peach or Lola, thankfully.

“You - you’re friends with that... that mean, asshole, punk guy, right?” Peach asks, standing upright so suddenly she overbalances again, and Lola has to catch her elbow to keep her from topping. Peach slaps her hand away, but keeps her balance, obviously with a bee in her bonnet about something that Lola couldn’t even begin it fathom.

“Nikki?” Lola clarifies flatly, amused but not wanting it to show. Peach nods solemnly. Lola bites back a laugh, “yes, I’m friends with him, why?”

“Is he coming tonight?” Peach asks, tone almost forcibly coy and casual, raising her can of drink, taking large gulps as Lola says that he mentioned that he should be, and then asks why. Peach goes quiet. Lola had thought it impossible for Peach’s scowl to grow deeper, but it did, as a blush began to creep up her neck.

“You know my sister, right? Eileen?” Peach says, instead, and Lola nods slowly, and she takes a swig of wine, “she’s a year - a single goddamn year - older than me; I’m sixteen, Lola, she said I was too young to go to a party like this.” And yeah, okay, Lola makes a face at that; she was the same age as Tommy, and he’s done objectively worse stuff in front of Eileen and Charlotte with no complaints. The last house party flashes through Lola’s mind, and she grimaces - “exactly, it’s dumb! Charlie had been dating Duff for a year by the time she was my age, and let me tell you, they were proper gross!” Peach sways a little, and Lola reminds her that she has no idea who Duff is; Peach calls him a word that shocks Lola to hear her say it, especially for a girl who had to correct herself from saying freaking to fucking just moments ago.

“Noted,” Lola nods, and takes another drink; she’s almost a third through the bottle.

“I’m not a child, Lola,” Peach says, as seriously as she can muster, and, as if light a lightbulb has gone off above Lola’s head, she realises why Peach was asking after Nikki.

“You’re not,” Lola agrees slowly, and looks around, hoping to spot Charlotte or Tommy around, someone better suited to talking an angry, determined Peach out of something she’d regret.

“Don’t take that tone with me,” Peach huffed, standing to her full height, which unfortunately for Lola, made her taller by a few inches, “you know what, fuck you, Lola -”

“Peach -”

“No, fuck that, I know that tone -”

“Never thought I’d see you out at a place like this, Peach,” there’s a warm familiarity in the voice that joins them, and Peach visibly relaxes. Lola turns, and sees Vince Neil, bleach blonde, decked out in his usual, obnoxious white.

“Fuck off, Vince,” Peach mumbles, turning back to the window in an attempt to hide her sudden blush. Lola raises her eyebrows and looks to Vince, intrigued. The moment his gaze meets Lola’s, Vince turns quietly awkward, and can do little more than offer a shrug.

“Peach?” He tries again, and Peach finishes her drink, tipping her head back, and doesn’t even seem to notice that she’s started to topple back until he catches her, “fuck, Peach.” He says, still holding her.

“You really should fuck off,” Peach says, softer this time, leaning into him, and something pained flashes across Vince’s expression for the barest moment; Peach doesn’t notice in her state, but Lola sees it.

“Eileen been in your ear lately?” Vince asks through gritted teeth. Peach’s scowl back in full force, and she’s righting herself.

“No,” she snaps, an obvious lie, and she pushes past Lola, making her unsteady way to the kitchen, Vince obviously feeling some sort of obligation to her, following quickly in her wake. Thank God. Lola really didn’t want to take care of a girl she barely knows all night.

She’s two thirds of the way through the bottle of wine, feeling good and buzzed, and she’s made polite conversation with the people she knows and the people she doesn’t, the people who know her by reputation, or from the diner, polite to a fault, knowing too much and too little about her all at once.

Tommy’s roped them into a conversation with a few kids from his year that Lola doesn’t recognize any of them, and one, drunk, brunette, stupid, asks her about the rumours, in a crude, roundabout way. Tommy’s hand is firm on Lola’s shoulder, apology in his eyes as he silently pleads with her to not make a scene. Lola kicks his asshole friend in the shin anyways, and spits that he has terrible taste in friends.

Charlotte waves to her, but Lola doesn’t see it in her angry state, storming up the stairs to the second floor. It’s quieter up here, mostly. There’s a group in a side room playing spin the bottle, and people taking advantage of Heather’s parents’ bedroom, and the door to Heather’s room is closed. Lola bangs her closed fist on the nondescript door.

“Who is it?” Heather’s voice, strained, rings out from the other side.

“I’m gonna be sick,” Lola whined through a lie, banging again. There’s scuffling on the other side, Heather hissing for whoever’s with her to go, to get out the window, anything. Lola smirks, “please, all the other bathrooms are -” and she fake gags, right as the door wrenches open to show Heather’s flustered face, hair a mess, scowling.

“What?”

“I’m lying,” Lola whispered, leaning against the doorframe, pushing down all her annoyance at Tommy and his asshole friends, and playing at being coy. Heather huffs an annoyed breath through her nose.

“I know,” she snaps, but lets Lola in anyways, and Lola automatically closes the door behind herself, leaning her back against it, watching Heather try and act casual, heading to her bed, “should I be jealous?” Lola smirks, and Heather shoots her a filthy look. Lola takes a long drink of the wine, and Heather’s expression turns from angry, to simply annoyed.

“Of course, of fucking course, you, the only asshole who actually knew about it-”

“Your mom can buy another one, it’s not like you’re not -”

“Don’t say it,” Heather warns, sitting on the edge of her bed, and Lola’s smile grows sly and amused. Heather’s gaze flicks to the door handle, “lock that.”

“Yes, Princess,” Lola smirks, reaching over with her free hand, making quick work of locking the door.

“Do not,” Heather hisses at the pet name, and Lola pushes off the door, heading towards her, and offers her the bottle. Heather’s lips press into a thin line as the regards the drink she knows is completely illicit for a number of reasons, before taking it, and taking a drink - “fuck, how much of this have you had?”

In answer, Lola takes the bottle back and finishes it off.

“You’re a pig and a thief,” Heather tells her, but Lola’s smile is all teeth.

“And you kicked out someone - a boy, I’m guessing - for this thieving pig,” Lola reminds her, placing the empty bottle carefully on the nightstand of her luxurious double bed. Heather turns scarlet.

“I thought you’d at least wait until eleven to find me,” she deflects, defensive at the truth in Lola’s words, to which Lola herself actually laughs, flopping back onto the bed, arms spread, two fingers hooking into the back waistband of Heather’s flirty, short skirt.

“The fact that I’m here at all is a miracle, Princess -”

“Don’t.”

“And you know you could have told me to throw up in the garden,” Lola points out. A moment of silence follows, she tugs at Heather’s waistband, and Heather follows the unspoken prompt, leaning back onto the bed.

“Boys don’t know what they’re doing,” she says, staring up at the ceiling, arms folded but feet still planted firmly on the floor, and Lola’s eyes go wide, delighted, twisting onto her side to look at Heather’s blushing face.

“I knew you liked me,” Lola teases, grinning sharp.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Heather scoffs, angling her head back to level a glare at Lola, after a beat, she reaches back, fingers nimble and cold but her grip on Lola’s jaw secure. She frowns at Lola’s lips, rubbing her thumb none too gently over the bottom lip, taking off the black lipstick painted there, staining her own thumb in the process.

“Are you waiting for an invitation?” Heather prompts, frustrated, tone icy. Lola raises her eyebrows at the blonde's impatience.

“As you command, your highness,” Lola pushes herself up on her elbows, and off the bed, smirking in the face of Heather’s annoyance, before she scrubs at her mouth with the back of her hand, getting rid of the rest of her lipstick.

“I’ll be quick so you can get back to your boytoy,” Lola smirks up at Heather, kneeling between her knees, and in the next moment Heather’s legs clamp painfully tight around her head, bony knees pressing into her temples.

“If you tell fucking anyone I did anything other than get you water while you threw up in my bathroom, I will ruin your fucking life,” she spits, and Lola’s expression contorts into one of furious annoyance as she wrenches her head free, sitting back on her heels.

“As if I’d tell anyone; if you tell anyone, I’ll burn your fucking house down, do not test me on that,” she warns in return, before Heather relaxes and lays back, eyes back on the ceiling, waiting, “fucking pillow princess, I wish you’d get me a glass of water once in a while,” Lola muttered, leaning back in.

“Hey!” Heather objects, looking down, only to see the barely concealed fury smouldering in Lola’s eyes as she looks at Heather through her lashes. Lola orders her to shut up, presses a pointed kiss to her inner thigh, and Heather obeys without any more fuss.

All it took, in the beginning, was for Lola to confront Heather and ask why the fuck she couldn’t keep her eyes to herself during class, fully expecting a fight. It was after school, Lola had followed her into the bathroom after class as the school was emptying. Heather’s lip had curled, derisive, giving Lola a look like she was a bug beneath her shoe.

“You see something you fucking like?” Lola had snarled, ready to square up, chest puffed out, and Heather had rolled her eyes, scoffing about how Lola wasn’t even close to her type, before she’d realised what she’d said.

Neither had known how to proceed in that moment, both terrified of how the other would react, Lola could see the sudden fear in Heather’s eyes at the admission. Very deliberately, Lola had relaxed her posture, looking Heather over with a new appreciation, and Heather had flushed under her gaze.

“I didn’t know it was like that,” Lola had smirked, gaze locking onto Heather’s. The blonde was embarrassed, furious at herself, “well if I ever become your type -” those seven words had changed everything. Immediately, Heather knew exactly what Lola had meant, that she wasn’t a threat in the way she’d feared, and that Lola was like her, in some way, in a way that was safe.

“You’re -?” Heather raised a single, perfect eyebrow at her.

“I don’t advertise it,” Lola said, voice flat, hands in her pockets and shoulders carefully relaxed, “don’t know, you know, who else is... like me.”

“Like you?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it here,” Lola had muttered, gaze flicking to the empty stalls, and Heather had given her a long, evaluative look, before stepping forward, apparently finding something she likes.

Heather’s kind of pinning over a straight girl and none of the rest of the school has any idea she likes anything other than boys, and she’d like to keep it that way. No-one really cares about Lola the way they do about Heather, so they feel safe fooling around together at Heather’s under the guise of ‘studying’; they don’t really even like each other as people, it’s more mutually beneficial than anything else, but it’s kind of nice to have this understanding between them, free to be themselves without fear, even if it’s only for short amounts of time.

Now, at the party, when Lola goes to leave the room after all is said and done, hair checked in the mirror, lipstick reapplied neatly, Heather grabs her arm, quiet but no longer irritate in Lola’s presence, and Lola’s eyes go wide with question, but she too is silent. Heather steels herself, steps up to Lola, and then she’s got her fingers carding through Lola’s hair, and holding tight, and Lola lets herself be maneuverer, her head tipping and Heather’s lips on her neck.

When Heather steps back, there’s the beginning of a hickey blooming on the juncture where Lola’s shoulder meets her throat, aching faintly, pleasantly, and her hands are soft on Heather’s hips, lips twitching into a smirk.

“You could have just said thank you,” Lola snorted, and Heather’s frowning, but it doesn’t seem to be specifically at Lola; she rolls her eyes. Lola presses a kiss to the corner of her mouth, quick and chaste, and scrubs at the mark she leaves behind before Heather slaps her hand away and tells her to get out, though there’s no anger behind it.

When Lola opens the door, she puts on a show of being a little more unsteady than she really was, and is surprised to see Nikki leaning against the wall a few feet away, chatting to Tommy, looking so carefully casual. Lola’s pretty sure she hears Nikki sigh something about needing to find a guitarist, but that’s the moment Tommy spots Lola. He tries to apologise for his friends, but Lola shrugs, letting the incident go easily.

And then Nikki’s eyes flick to hers, and he asks if she’s okay, and Tommy seems confused but Lola’s hit with a realization. She pulls back her act and tries not to smile too wide.

“I’m fine now, great actually, it’s sweet of you to care,” its absolutely and completely innocent, but she raises an eyebrow at him, as if asking how he knows that she was unwell. In lieu of response, Nikki stands to his full height, walks to the door, and knocks. Lola and Tommy watch, the former far more confused than the latter.

Heather opens the door wide, not a hair out of place, makeup immaculate and untouched, and tells Nikki to fuck off, swanning past him and down to the rest of her party. Nikki turns on Lola.

“You couldn’t have thrown your guts up in a bush somewhere?” Nikki hissed, frustrated, and Lola does a great job at biting back her laughter, shaking her head and shrugging helplessly.

“We’re you waiting out here that whole time?” Lola asks, and Nikki turns amusingly pink, stalking past her to the stairs, to which both Lola and Tommy followed, with Lola calling out a half-hearted apology, and Nikki telling her to shove it up her ass.

gandhi said 'be the change you want to see in the world.' fuck that. be the trouble you want to see in the world.

“Don’t tell me you’re still mad about last night,” the morning after the party, or was it afternoon - midday after Heather’s party - Lola’s tying her red bandana around her head, hip leaning against the counter out the back by the fryer where Nikki was scowling at an order of fries that was bubbling away.

“The world doesn’t revolve around you, Lola,” Nikki snaps back, looking up at her, still frowning, and Lola’s smile widens, just a little. Nikki sighs, relenting, his voice dropping low, “I’m hungover as fuck, just piss off, can you?” But it doesn’t sound half as cruel as the words themselves imply, and Lola dips to press her cheek to his shoulder in a moment of affectionate familiarity before heading out to start serving customers.

It’s almost one when Charlotte and that English kid, Razzle, walk in, with the tall, pretty ginger, Eileen, sans their usual extras, but they take their spot at their usual booth by the window, talking quietly but animatedly.

“- the nerve on him! Hi, Lola,” Eileen’s practically vibrating with pent up, frustrated energy, greeting Lola with what Eileen probably assumed was a smile, but was still definitely a scowl.

“Everything alright here?” Lola asked, forcing her voice even brighter than she’d usually attempt, and Eileen’s gaze dropped to the menu, going quiet, brooding, while Charlotte sat up a little straighter and smiled, clearly not on such an intense wavelength as her friend.

“Everything’s just great; plotting Vince’s murder, kind of starving, the usual,” she shrugs, and Razzle, by her side, snorts a laugh.

“Good to see you survived the night, Honky Cat,” he adds in lieu of a greeting of his own, and Lola takes a moment to process all the information she’d just been exposed to.

“’course I did, I drank my weight in water between shots,” Lola smirks at Razzle, before her gaze slides to Charlotte, “and that’s very fair; I’d ask what he’s done now, but I think I’ll take care of your order first,” she grins amicably and pulls out her notepad and pen, as the three of them order their usual drinks and lunch preferences.

Lola heads back to the counter, calling out the order to the kitchen, taking another few order to their various destinations, before getting her friends’ drinks together to take them over.

“- home and didn’t even call, Razz, she didn’t even -” Eileen was still ranting by the time Lola deposits their drinks before them. Lola’s pretty sure she saw Razzle and Charlotte deliberately knocking knees beneath the table, but doesn’t think about it too hard. Nor does she dwell on the memory of seeing them at the party last night, of a gaggle of cheerleaders around talking to Razzle, though he just kept trying to talk to Charlotte. Later, she’d definitely seen them on the sofas, talking with Tommy and some of Charlotte’s other friends, leaning in to each other, Razzle’s arm around her shoulders, playing with the whispy ends of her hair. Lola hadn’t thought much of it at the time; she’d made out with Tommy at her first house party in the area, it hadn’t developed past friendship.

It was cute, if it was anything.

“Lola, you were there!” Eileen turned very suddenly, the moment her cup had been placed in front of her, and Lola’s eyebrows shot up, “did you see my sister last night?”

It feels like a trap, because yes, Lola definitely did, but also -

“Yes, why?” Lola asks, slowly, cocking a hip.

“They’re in the middle of a blue,” Razzle said, with a fond smile at Eileen’s carefully neutral expression, while she stirred her drink with intent.

“A fight,” Charlotte translated, “and Peach went to Heather’s last night, and got kind of shitfaced, and Vince took care of her, was really quite sweet, but she stayed with him because his place was closer and Peach refused to call Eileen.”

“She stayed with Vince?” Lola said carefully, trying not to imply she was jumping to conclusions, but Eileen’s stirring ceased in favour of vigorous drinking of the drink, obviously stuck on a similar train of thought.

“She slept on the couch,” Razzle filled in quickly, “was still there when I left, tucked in with a blanket, all above board.”

“And you didn’t know where she was -?” Lola frowns, confused.

“Vince called at three in the morning,” Eileen glowered out the window, voice low and even, “dad was mad until he was grateful; the man’s backbone is made of marshmallow fluff. She was meant to be home at one.”

“But she’s okay?”

“It’s the principle of the thing, Lola,” Eileen had said, giving Lola a look far older and longsuffering than her seventeen years.

“If we brought in Vince’s heart, would your dad batter it up and fry it for Eileen to eat?” Charlotte asked, tone teasing and light, to which Eileen rolled her eyes, but at least it got her to smile, even a little. Even when Lola snorted a laugh and told her ‘absolutely not’.

Later, on their break, Lola and Nikki sit on the roof of the building and share a serve of chips that he’d overcooked, and a cigarette, and Lola asks about Vince. Turns out Nikki doesn’t know much; he hadn’t grown up with the rest of them, had moved to the neighbourhood near the start of high school, and all he really knows is that girls apparently think Vince’s dick developed some sort of Midas touch over Summer.

“Don’t get me wrong, he’s always been stupid pretty,” Nikki shoves a chip in his mouth before leaning back on his elbows, “far as I know, but you’ve seen his car, right? That fuck-off, expensive red one that sits in the teacher’s carpark, with the massive scratch in the paint along the left? Yeah that’s his; got it for his birthday last year and he’s been getting tail like nobody’s business ever since.” And Lola tries to process all this information before he’s barrelling right on ahead with, “speaking of; if you’re gonna nail Tommy, can you do it soon and put the poor kid out of his misery?”

“Excuse me?!” Lola had choked on her lungful of smoke, turning red at the suggestion.

“Yeah, poor kid was pretty convinced we were a thing and didn’t want to make a move; kinda stupid, but I dunno, admirable? Noble?” Nikki groaned through his words, laying back against the gravel of the roof, hand out for the cigarette. Lola passed it to him, glad he couldn’t see her vaguely guilty expression, knowing she’d slept with the girl he’d been hitting on the night before.

“Tommy has a thing for anything halfway pretty that’s not related to him, he’d be just as happy to boink any other girl,” Lola points out, and Nikki snorts a laugh in mild agreement, “and the only reason we’re not fucking is because you’re afraid my dad’s gonna rip of your arms like he’s the fucking Wampa from Star Wars.” She punctuates it by eating the last chip, laying out beside Nikki on the gravel, checking her watch. Five minutes before their break ends.

“Leo wouldn’t rip off my arms- I don’t think Leo would rip off my arms!” Nikki counters defensively, but that just has Lola laughing as she corrects -

“Sorry, no, your exact wording was ‘I don’t want your dad to Kali Ma my fucking heart like I’m that little bastard from Indiana Jones’,” Lola does an absolutely atrocious impersonation of Nikki, who’s laughing despite himself, “which you only took back because I told you he wasn’t Indian, and even if he was, it’s kind of a fucked thing to say,” Lola tells him pointedly, shifting onto her side, propping her head up on her hand as she smirked at Nikki.

When Nikki looks at her, green eyes shining in the overcast, afternoon light, there’s something unreadable, teasing and soft all at once, like he’s entertaining an idea he’d considered unthinkable.

“I don’t think I could look Leo in the eye if I banged his daughter,” Nikki’s voice is soft and low, though he’s grinning wide, tone coy, eyes creasing in the corners, and Lola’s gaze flicks to his lips.

“For Leo’s sake, then,” Lola matches his tone, corner of her mouth twitching into a sharp smirk when she finally looks back to his eyes, “and Tommy’s too,” she teases, pushing herself into a sitting position; she can hear it when he presses his head further into the gravel in exasperation, swearing under his breath. When Lola stands and smiles, the picture of innocence, she offers Nikki her hand to help him up; Nikki rolls his eyes, but is still smiling when he accepts.

“Your hair looks dorky like that,” Lola teases as she climbs down the fire escape.

“I know,” Nikki sighs, “but its better than getting hair in everyone’s food; I’m not gonna be the reason your dad fails a health inspection,” Nikki adds, a strange hint of protectiveness in his voice that warms Lola’s heart in a way she hadn’t anticipated.

“Don’t worry, Leo’s never failed a health inspection, he doesn’t intend to start any time soon.”

love is a dream someone else had last night.

Eileen and Razzle see fit to join their ragtag bunch of misfits at lunch the following Monday by the open gate and the science carpark, which Lola had been informed was the teachers’ carpark.

Lola doesn’t care who sits with them, except for the fact that she’d taken the leftover lemon merengue tart from the diner since it was being replaced with an apple crumble, and there was only enough for four. For the past week, Eileen’s been alternating sitting with them and sitting elsewhere, but she hadn’t been here last Monday, so Lola had assumed - anyways, now she’s worried she looks like a bitch, and not for an actual reasonable reason.

“What do you mean you almost got with Heather on Friday?!” Charlotte’s voice was somewhere between a horrified and disbelieving squeak where she was picking at the crust of the piece of tart she was sharing with Eileen. The lemon merengue debacle turned out to not be much of an issue, with Charlotte and Eileen sharing, and Tommy and Lola sharing too. Lola was incredibly focused on picking at a scab through the hole in the knee of her jeans.

“I mean I had my hand in her fucking panties when someone -” Nikki cast a very pointed look to Lola, “knocked on the door threatening to throw up, and I got shoved out a window,” Nikki played up being irritated, despite the fact that he was laying out on his side directly behind Lola, while she was leaning into him.

“You’re my hero,” Eileen told Lola, serious as ever, while Charlotte cackled with delight, and Razzle snickered from where he was touching up the left hand of Tommy’s sharpie-nails.

“You guys are a bunch of assholes,” Nikki huffed, shoving the remained or his own piece of tart into his mouth.

“I brought you food, show some fuckin’ respect,” Lola smirked despite herself, gently elbowing him in the ribs; he flicks her knee in retaliation.

“Absolutely not; you’re a cockblocking traitor and the worst friend I’ve got,” Nikki announced, nose in the air, and Lola leans all her weight back suddenly, tipping Nikki onto his back and laying heavy across his stomach as she demanded he take it back, the two of them getting into a petty squabbling match, shoving at each other while the others could only look on in exasperated amusement.

“I thought Heather had a boyfriend,” Eileen pipes up, to which Charlotte makes a a gentle ‘eh’ noise in the back of her throat.

“She’s getting laid,” Charlotte corrects with half a smirk, and everyone who was paying half attention understand easily. Tommy sighs, but it’s not nearly as dejected as he’s known for whenever the topic of girls he fancies being with other people comes up.

“Whatever, I got to second base with Pam that night, and no-one can take that away from me,” Tommy announces, watching Razzle finish off his pinkie.

“Good for you, man,” Razzle says, with his trademark sincerity. Eileen and Charlotte still can’t believe it happened, but unfortunately both Razzle and Vince had seen with their own two eyes and been able to confirm; Vince may be biased, but Charlotte trusted Razzle.

“Everyone got some fuckin’ action that night except for me,” Nikki whines, finally shoving himself off, “and the fuckin’ Vomit Comet over here,” he jerked his thumb to where Lola was righting herself; Lola flips him off in response.

“I didn’t,” Eileen points out.

“You weren’t there,” Nikki rolls his eyes, “you don’t count.”

Meanwhile Razzle and Charlotte had both gone very quiet, and very pink. However Lola, who had no patience for people trying to hide their somewhere-between-pining-and-sincere feelings from each other and from other people, instead turns her attention to Eileen as she’s sweeping her hair out of her face.

“Have things gotten any better with Peach?” She tried, tone hopeful, and Eileen’s expression barely changed, just the barest crease of a frown upon her forehead, though judging by the way Charlotte’s whole expression soured, things had not, in fact, gotten better.

“Came back on Saturday afternoon all sunny and smiley and mom was thrilled,” Eileen’s deadpan irritation really sold her exasperation at the whole situation, “that she was friends with Vince again, and she hasn’t said a word to me yet.” Eileen takes a deep breath, straightening up from where she’d been slouched without realizing, taking a deep breath, nose in the air as if rising above it all, “which is fine with me, because I have a ton of dialogue to learn and they want us off-book in a month.”

This only sets them off fondly teasing the ever-unflappable Eileen, for her seemingly out of character choice to join the school’s musical, though they were all very proud of the fact that she scored the lead, even Nikki had voiced that he thought it was pretty cool.

When Lola had asked about it, Eileen had made mention that it filled in a lot of free time, that it was something she could add to college applications, and that a friend had convinced her to do it; Keanu -

“I keep hearing that name around,” Lola muses, leaning back in her seat while they were waiting for their French teacher to arrive. Eileen raises her eyebrows, “is that the pretty, dark haired Senior?” Eileen, surprisingly, had flushed scarlet when nodding. Lola hummed thoughtfully, leaning back further until the front legs of her chair lifted from the ground; she hooked her feet around the legs of her desk as she contemplated.

“It’s a musical right?” Lola asked, and Eileen hummed in confirmation, “if you can sing, you know Nikki and Tommy are -”

“I’d rather eat an entire microphone,” Eileen responds flatly, already knowing what Lola was about to suggest before she’d even finished her sentence, and Lola really tries not to laugh, but she knows Eileen well enough by now that that response makes entirely too much sense.

“You make a fair -” and that’s when Lola’s grip on the table slips, her feet sliding quickly up the legs of the desk as she topples backwards, the momentum pulling the desk up with her legs and directly on top of her, winding her. At least it made Eileen laugh, mostly from shock, sure, but Lola counts it as a win.

#motley crue #nikki sixx #tommy lee #vince neil #the dirt #the dirt fanfiction #motley crue fanfiction #nikki sixx x oc #Razzle Dingley #lola&charlotte #charlotte & lola #the pack

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one-boring-person · 3 years

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i...was way too scared to ask you this for a while n you do NOT have to answer this whatsoever, but could you please do a part 3 to the Stand By Me/Lost Boys crossover?? its been living in my head rent-free <33

Aw, please don't be scared to ask me anything! I loved writing those last pieces, and this one was just as fun to do! Thank you for requesting it, I hope you like it!😊💛

I Think We Found A Body (Part Three)

The Lost Boys x Stand By Me

Warnings: blood, swearing

Masterlist

"Where the hell are we?" Teddy is quick to ask as soon as he is awake, the boy struggling to manoeuvre himself into an upright position, panic flooding him as he realises his hands and legs have been tied by a touch piece of rope.

"Some cave. Those men took us here last night, I guess." Chris informs him from his spot across the room, watching as his friend wriggles around on the floor, glad to finally have someone to talk to after spending what feels like an age staring at their sleeping bodies. He had woken up some time ago, unsure of what happened. All he knows is that it had been daylight outside this weird cave, but it had slowly faded into dusk, the interior becoming darker and darker by the minute. He'd tried to wake the others, but with no usable hands that had been very difficult, especially as he hadn't wanted to draw attention to them.

"Huh? Why didn't they just kill us?" Teddy's brow is furrowed as he manages to get himself leaning up against the old fountain behind him.

Chris shrugs, unsure himself why the killers hadn't just slaughtered them all in the dunes.

The two sit in silence for a moment, seemingly considering their options, watching over their unconscious friends idly. Occasionally, Vern twitches in his sleep, his muscles spasming a few times, though Gordie stays still, his narrow body lying limply at the foot of an old sofa. All of them were tied up, and their muscles were starting to protest against this, aches and cramps having settled in a long while ago.

"Jeez, what do we do? We can't stay here, they'll kill us!" Teddy suddenly blurts out, resting his head back against the dented stone behind him, eyes trained on the ceiling, "And I've lost my glasses!"

"Aw, yeah, I totally forgot about that. Can you see anything?" Chris responds, frowning as Teddy gives him a pointed look.

"I'm not blind, I can still see. It's just a bit fuzzy, that's all."

"Right."

"Should we wake the others? We should try and get out before those fuckers come back."

"I'm not sure. I tried to wake you guys earlier, but I couldn't move so it didn't really work." Chris adjusts his position slightly, hands going numb in their position behind his back, "But we could try again. If I come over there, we could try and untie each other."

"Sure." Teddy nods in agreement, sitting more upright as his friend starts to push himself onto his knees.

Awkwardly, the boy shuffles across the small expanse, ignoring the slight burn from the friction on his knees, his movements hindered by the rope around his ankles. Teddy shifts to get into a position where they are back to back, waiting patiently for the other boy to get into place, thinking through a strategy in his head. After a moment, Chris has reached him, and has managed to back himself into position, their hands just touching.

"Ok, you try and untie me." Chris says to him, holding still as Teddy immediately starts moving, fingers pulling at the rope. The knots are tight, and the position is awkward, but Teddy's persistence pays off as the bonds become looser, his fingers grazed and chafed now, though he knows the end result is worth the small pain. It takes a moment, but soon enough the rope drops to the floor, Chris pulling his arms around to his front, rubbing at his wrists as the blood returns to the cramping muscles.

"Come on, do me." Teddy hisses, wriggling his fingers at his friend.

"Yeah, yeah, hang on."

This time the process is much faster, the angle being a lot better for the boy to do what needs to be done. Teddy practically groans when his wrists are released, his skin red and raw from where the bonds had cut into him, his captors having tied the rope on very tightly.

"Help me wake the others. You get Vern, I'll get Gordie." Chris orders him, going to the skinny boy lying a little way away.

Doing so, Teddy carefully shakes Vern's shoulder, giving his face a gentle slap when he doesn't immediately stir. The boy grunts and twitches, eyelids fluttering a little from the intrusive actions. Rolling his eyes, Teddy quickly leans over, placing a hand over his friend's mouth before pinching the skin of his arm, doing it hard enough that he knows the boy will not be able to ignore it. Yelping in protest beneath his hand, Vern wakes up, panic filling his eyes as he glances around, body writhing to get away from who he thinks is his captor.

"Vern, shut up, it's me, Teddy!" His waker tells him, keeping his hand in place until Vern quietens significantly.

"Where are we? What's going on?" He rushes out as soon as he can, eyes wide.

"Those fuckers from last night took us to some cave. We've gotta get out of here, so shut up and let me untie you." Teddy informs him, moving to loosen Vern's bonds, swiftly freeing him.

"We're where?! They're gonna kill us! Oh god, they're gonna kill us!" Vern's eyes quickly fill with tears, but Teddy is quick to reprimand him, forcing him to his feet instead.

"Come on, we haven't got long." Chris hisses from across the room, helping Gordie up as he goes, the dark haired boy blinking blearily in the darkness that has settled into the cave.

Together, the four of them move to what they assume is the entrance of the cave, heading towards the lighter area, excited at the thought of escape. Outside, the sky has turned a deep blue, the moon just visible past the arch that creates the exit of this odd place, the boys unsure of where they are but aware that anywhere would be better than here.

It's just as they get to the very threshold of the cave that they notice the figure standing just past the rock, the trenchcoat and spiked hairstyle very familiar to them. Hearts dropping, the boys stagger to a halt as a low, mocking laugh echoes around them, the silhouette moving towards them, crowding them back into the cave. Terrified, the four glance around to check for other exits, only to notice the three other figures standing around them, eyes glowing as they grin wildly at them, fangs glistening in the dim light as Vern lets out a shrill cry of fear, the others gasping in horror. Pulling them to the side, Chris manages to recover quickly, yanking his friends towards a nearby tunnel, the darkened interior appearing safe to him until a pair of blazing eyes appear in the depths, laughter emitting from inside, taunting voices mingled with the malicious sounds.

Helpless, the four boys stagger back in fear, Gordie making the mistake of glancing upwards, suddenly catching sight of the leering faces above them, blood dripping from exposed teeth, disfigured brows cast in sinister shadows, the hissing chuckles falling from behind the murderous lips instilling an ice-cold fear within him. The boy screams, causing the others to look up and scream with him, all four falling backwards against the fountain, hands gripping at the rock. A sudden whoop of cruel joy erupts from the space behind them and a familiar blonde springs into view, looming over them as they seek refuge against the dilapidated water feature. His smirk is wide, amber eyes fixed on their paling faces with glee as they all shriek again and stumble to the floor, covering their heads with their hands, the four boys completely and utterly terrified.

As before, smooth laughter fills the air, the four voices easily distinguishable now, their captors coming to stand before them.

"Well that was a lot of fun." The horribly familiar voice of their leader breaks up the humour. Sounds of agreement come from the other three, snickers of amusement following them.

"Fuck you, asshole!" Teddy exclaims, breathing uneven as he looks up, face etched with fear despite his bold words.

"You're a bit young for our tastes, kid." The taller blonde chuckles, smirking down at him.

When silence follows, the four killers simply laugh again, clearly finding it highly amusing that the boys are in distress.

"What? Cat got your tongues?" The shorter blonde comments, biting his thumb as he struggles to hold back his laughter.

"What do you want with us?" Chris speaks up, sitting up beside Teddy.

The four men look at each other, as if conversing in silence, the leader clearly unsure of whether or not to continue.

"Well, to put it simply, we're gonna need your help." The platinum blonde finally explains.

Shocked and confused the boys sit in silence, staring at their captors dumbfoundedly, eyes wide.

"W-what? You want our h-help?" Gordie asks timidly, stammering under the intense stare of the four murderers.

"No, we don't want it, but we're gonna need it." The tall brunette puts in, scrutinizing the boys critically.

"And you lot have no choice in this matter, before you try to worm your way out of it." The leader interjects, going over to sit in an old wheelchair.

"W-what do you need us for?" Gordie asks, more curious now than afraid.

"Oh, you just need to get a kid to like you. After that, you're gonna lure him over here." The shorter blonde shrugs, patching on the arm of the sofa.

"...huh?" Is all Gordie can manage, completely baffled by the instruction. The others are similarly confused, though Vern is yet to look up properly.

The leader rolls his eyes, taking out a cigarette and lighting it.

"You heard what he said. You're gonna go on the Boardwalk and convince this kid to like you. Then you're gonna lure him to us." He clarifies again, inhaling a deep breath of smoke.

"But...why?" Chris chimes in, looking puzzled.

"That's none of your concern." The brunette states, staring down at them.

The boys are silent for a moment.

"Will...will you let us go afterwards?" Gordie asks, Vern looking up at this point.

The leader shrugs, exhaling his smoke into the room.

"Maybe, maybe not. You know too much, but you're too young to be of any other use." Is all he says, eyeing the boys idly.

Their hearts drop in their chests, aware now that they may not get out of there for a long time.

"Ok, what's this kid called?" Chris finally asks, hating himself for doing this.

The four killers smirk, glancing at each other triumphantly.

"Sam." The leader informs them, "Sam Emerson."

#the lost boys #joel schumacher #vampire #david(thelostboys)#kiefer sutherland #paul(the lost boys)#dwayne(the lost boys)#santa carla #marko(the lost boys)#star(the lost boys)#stand by me #stand by me imagine

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nincompoopydoo · 4 years

Text

HUMID

PAIRING: Armitage Hux x reader

WORD COUNT: 1040

SUMMARY: Your quarters are humid and you can’t sleep. You then unexpectedly spark up a conversation with the Resistance’s newest member, Armitage Hux. Also, it gets cold and you forget your jacket.

A/N: I’ve been wanting to write this ever since I first watched Rise of Skywalker but never finished it until now. This kind of works, but I’m not exactly happy with it (like every other thing i write.) Enjoy some cute hux xo.

MASTERLIST

It was a humid night, the usual climate of Ajan Kloss yet the temperature rose from the past few days and you were not having any of it; clothes stuck onto your clammy skin, you refused to close your eyes. Ajan Kloss may be humid, but you’re starting to believe it was only your private quarters, the jungle was a lot cooler in the night than you’d expected.

You’re lingering around the outside of the entrance of the base when you spot a certain mop of gingered-hair in the dark, it was almost easy enough to spot a man like him amongst the green, like a beacon in the night. He’s seated on a crate as he stares ahead blankly.

Armitage was a changed man, thankfully for the better but he stuck out like a sore thumb here in the Resistance. Everyone had all the reasons to avoid him, considering his murderous history, and you admire how well he accepts this; otherwise, he is certainly excellent in hiding it. Rey had been the one to coax him into joining the Resistance after discovering he was in fact the spy. Nonetheless, with Rey away at Tatooine and Poe and Finn were presently leading the base, Armitage found himself lonesome for the majority of times.

You approach him cautiously; you tried to at least after stumbling over a Broodleaf tree root followed by a small yelp. You were honestly blind as a bat when it came to maneuvering through dimly lit areas. This was no different.

His wide eyes snap in your direction and soften as soon as he recognizes you. He definitely knows you, the mechanic who never failed to flash a small yet timid smile at the canteen.

You smile sheepishly, “Armitage, right?” you merely asked although you were pretty certain that was in fact his name. His eyes are gazing deeply into your own, and you wonder for a moment about the color of his eyes; green from a certain angle yet blue from others. Maybe a little hazel as well yet his eyes seem to shimmer even more in the moonlight, as if there were golden specks embedded in his irises. You decided they were golden after all. He blinks, offering you a thoughtful and almost bewildered look.

“Yes.”

Armitage responds curtly. Well, he tries to; there’s a hint of gentleness ever since he arrived here. You smile knowingly at this, glad by the fact Armitage might as well be settling in well enough after all. You gesture to the space next to him. “May I join you?”

There was a flash of apparent reluctance upon his face with an eyebrow raised suspiciously “Are you sure?” his voice is timid. He asks this almost mockingly as he flashes you a solemn look.

Of course, you were sure for Maker’s sake. You want to smack him for being so negative yet you never could blame him to begin with. Everyone else had caused him to feel this way for two whole weeks now. Maybe, you’ll smack everyone else instead.

You merely chuckled, sitting anyway despite the cramped space. “Of course, silly.” you’re smiling wider now, nudging his shoulder lightly. Armitage seems to be taken aback by this, yet he manages to flash you a strained smile before diverting his eyes away.

So, the man somewhat smiles. Armitage should smile more often.

“You should smile more often,” you mutter, staring thoughtfully at your now muddy boots. You’re not exactly certain why you just allowed yourself to say that.

Armitage scoffs. “What is there for me to smile about anyways?

You are instantly tuned at him once more, bewildered. “Everything! The fact you’re here, at the Resistance and not dead. You should be smiling about that.” he watches you curiously; the baffled look you are giving him due to his constant negativity is somehow endearing. "I need to stop being negative, Armitage and start looking on the brighter side of things. You chose to be here, and we accept you or it. As much as it doesn't seem like it.” bringing your hand up to his shoulder, you squeeze it. “You’re part of us now. And that’s-that’s something to smile about.”

It was true. Fear and doubt had been solely holding him in vice. Everyone here was free, reckless, loved and truly happy; he wants to be like them but his past, it haunts him every time he sees their faces.

However, you were right. He’s part of the Resistance now. He knew it ever since he started betraying the First Order. He finally truly belongs somewhere.

Your gentle hand is still grasped onto his shoulder, beaming at him with your brilliant eyes. A flame of scarlet crept in a swift diagonal across his cheeks with this sudden realization of your gentle touch. You realize this too, jerking your hand away and settling it onto your lap as you began to fiddle with your fingers. You find yourself shuddering as a soundless yet chilled breeze that was a little more than a whisper, whisked through air.

It was supposed to be humid.

He frowned perplexedly, you’re visibly shaking. “Are you cold?”

You blink, impulsively rubbing along your forearms. “No?” you lie because you’re terribly embarrassed and you weren’t exactly planning on feeling that way any moment now.

He laughs, genuinely this time as he starts shaking his jacket off his shoulders. You try protesting but he instantly raises a silencing hand before instantly wrapping it around your smaller figure. He was used to the cold, it typically snowed at the Starkiller base.

You’re stiffened, and your cheeks are very flushed. It isn’t so cold anymore.

Armitage’s breath hitches in admiring silence; he’s definitely never felt this way before. You’re undeniably beautiful, that was for sure but the moonlight, it was undoubtedly made for you.

“Thank you.” you say sheepishly, tugging the sleeves of his jacket closer, feeling the soothing warmth soar through your body. You sometimes find it hard to believe this man was supposedly the acting general of the First Order, he’s so endearing.

He shakes his head, eyeing you. “No, thank you.” the side of his lips quirk up into a smile, a warm one.

You’re certainly glad you couldn’t sleep tonight.

#armitage hux #armitage hux x reader #hux #hux x reader #general hux #star wars #rise of skywalker

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chucklegigglechortlesnort · 4 years

Note

MY B O Y S :( Yaku get your ass back here. I miss you. I love nekoma too much. could I request manager for Seijoh?

YESSSSSSS IVE THOUGHT ABOUT THESE WAY TOO MUCH CAN YOU TELL???

Seijoh Manager Headcanons:

Alright so by SOME miracale you manage to sneak your way into being Seijohs manager, which the whole team is pretty surprised by.

Save for maybe Oikawa - who got you the position - or Iwaizumi.

I say this because there’s literally NO WAY, with Oikawas reputation, that they let just some random person be manager for the sake of making goo goo eyes at him all through out practice.

They made this mistake during his first year and it didn’t take long for them to learn their lesson.

So the only way you’re manager is if you’ve known Oikawa your whole life and therefore are aware of how annoying he is, or if you’re related to him. Let’s go with the former. Because I love the childhood friends cliche that’s my SHIT.

So if you’ve known Oikawa since childhood, you’ve definitely known Iwaizumi since childhood. Therefore, the coaches let you on the team not only because Oikawa knew you, but Iwaizumi put in a good word for you as well.

Doesn’t matter if you have other hobbies or interests in clubs, Oikawa is dragging you into this whether you like it or not.

You’re already familiar with the third years upon taking up the manager position, so they’re not too intimidating. Matsukawa didn’t really talk to you much at first but you both bonded over poking fun at Oikawa and a mutual love of memes.

You have a photo of oikawa sneezing where he looks absolutely atrocious that you “accidentally” sent into the group chat once. Makki and Mattsun use it religiously as a reaction image. Oikawa hates it.

You don’t talk to your fellow first years too muc, except for Watari, who’s pretty friendly. Kunimi doesn’t seem to interested in conversation and Kindaichi visibly tenses up whenever you try to talk to him, so you figured you’d have the coming years to bond with them.

Oh, and did I mention? You get invited to all the Seijoh sleepovers.

Since you’ve been friends with Oikawa your whole life, sleep overs weren’t a new thing for you. His whole family knows and adores you and you have your own seperate room at the Oikawas so your parents aren’t worried about you sleeping in a room full of teenage boys.

These sleepovers are absolute chaos

Every sleepover cliche you can name? You’ve done it. Pillow fights? Check. Often ends in bruises and ice packs. Nerf Gun wars? Iwaizumi always wins. Mario Kart? Makki plays dirty. Monopoly? Who will land on board walk this time? Trick question the answer is Mattsun. Wii sports? That’s your shit. Oikawa never wins at anything. He hates it. But he does build the best pillow forts, courtesy of all his practice with Takeru.

You’ve definitely heard every one of these boys rip ass. Even Oikawa. Sorry, I don’t make the rules. If you think for one second that they’re gonna hold it in because you’re around you’ve got another thing coming hon. Once you’re all in a private setting together all bets are off.

Jealous fan girls definitely bombard you with questions of what it’s like to be around “Oikawa-senpai” all the time, and say how lucky you are to get to be around him every day. Oh the things you could tell them, you could ruin this whole man’s career. Some even come up to you for advice on how to ask him out?? And that’s never something you know how to answer.

Kyotani’s strange respect for Iwaizumi is one of the most baffling things you’ve ever seen. You’ve tried to figure it out but honestly you don’t think you ever will. He’s an enigma and avoids you at all costs. prolly bc you’re a girl and he’s intimidated by you lmao

He still respects you tho. More than he does oikawa at least HA

By the middle of the year Kunimi and Kindaichi are progressively warming up to you and you now have a first years group chat and sit together at lunch at least twice a week. Kunimi seems to gravitate to you more than Kindaichi but you don’t push it.

You are team mom. Oikawa jokingly got you and Iwaizumi matching mom and dad sweatshirts that say “Team Mom” and “Team Dad” on them. Iwaizumi refuses to wear his but you’re more willing to play along and will wear it when you go out with the team for ramen after games.

Iwaizumi wore it to one of the sleepovers once and you forced him to take a live picture with the both of you showing off the sweatshirts.

It’s now your lock screen background and he grumbles every time he sees it.

He seceretly loves it. Good luck getting him to admit it tho.

Oikawa has a pic of you asleep on iwa-chan’s shoulder with the sweaters on and he thinks it’s one of the most adorable things in the world. The best part is, Iwaizumi wouldn’t stop him because he was too worried about waking you up, so he just sat there and let it happen. What a sweetheart. Oikawa thinks himself a master comedian.

One upside to being seijohs manager is that fuck boys stay the hell away from you. They just automatically assume you’re dating Oikawa which is bothersome to an extent, but if it keeps the thots away you have no reason to complain. Even those that don’t think that are usually too intimidated to approach you because your friend group is essentially the seijoh volley ball team.

However a downside is that you never really know who’s befriending you for the sake of trying to get closer to oikawa which is a bit of a bummer. You’ve grown pretty skeptical of your peers and sadly your friends outside the volleyball team are far and few between.

That’s okay tho because they fill up a huge hole in your heart and you couldn’t ask for a better, or more entertaining group of people to surround yourself with.

It was a huge hit when they didn’t make it to championships though and it was even worse watching the the third years leave never having achieved their goal.

You knew you’d always have oikawa, he was basically family to you and by default you’d always have Iwaizumi. But Mattsun and Makki were going on different paths, and despite knowing them for only a year they had effectively made their way into your heart.

Oikawa is the most dramatic about it though, pulling you into a bone crushing hug and refusing to let go of you despite all your protests.

There’s one last goodbye sleepover for the whole team, Iwaizumi even wears his dad sweatshirt one last time for the occasion. There’s mario kart and wii sports, monopoly and nerf wars, and no one is able to sleep that night, not even Kyotani.

It’s a bittersweet goodbye and you didn’t expect to be this emotionally moved by the end of the year.

You keep in constant contact with oikawa and iwaizumi following their graduation (which you attended) and make sure to spend lots of time with them as well as mattsun and makki whenever they return for breaks. There are still sleepovers with the five of you, but the rest of the team as well as the new set of first years are less inclined to participate now that oikawa isn’t the captain anymore.

Oikawa still visits the team every once and a while to pester Yahaba about his role as captain, making sure he was doing a good job filling his shoes. He’ll even participate in practices and teach whoever’s the new setter how to cater to their spikers. It’s pretty wholesome to witness. Makes you miss the old days.

Ngl I don’t know how i’m feeling about these, but I can’t think too much about it or I’ll chicken out on posting :/

~tre

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magioftheseas · 3 years

Text

Poppy Tea Consumption

For @badthingshappenbingo

Prompt: Be Careful What You Wish For taken from here.

Rating: T

Warnings: Mental instability and implications of violence.

Notes: Reincarnated!Tsukasa and Hanako-kun is too good of an idea to not attempt at least once. So I sure attempted! Tsukasa, of course, is not careful when it comes to what he wishes for at all. This could’ve been so much darker lmao but I wanted my attempt to be more subtle.

***Alternate Ao3 Link***

Commission? Donate?

In the old school building, on the third floor within the third stall of the girl’s bathroom, you have to knock on the door three times to contact one Hanako-san. It’s said that whoever succeeds in summoning her will have one wish granted. However, in return, she will seize a precious belonging.

In the past, there have been rumors of successful summons that have resulted in truly unfortunate events. Freedoms taken away, lost loved ones, and even complete ruination. Some girls have even gone missing as a result of contracting Hanako-san. It’s spooky stuff—but the last alleged contact happened over a decade ago. Who knows if it was still true anymore?

He really shouldn’t be up here but he can’t help but be curious. Third floor, third stall. He had to wait for three girls to leave before going in and knocking on the stall door three times.

“Hanako-san, Hanako-saaaaaaan,” he sing-songs. “Are you theeeeere?”

He waited, waited, and waited. He checked his phone. About three minutes passed. Aaaaaaaaand—

Nothing. Snorting, he even knocked again.

“Come oooon,” he whined. “That’s so booooring! Are you there or are you fake?!”

Still nothing. Sullenly, he kicked at the door. It creaked eerily, but that was it.

“So lame,” he grumbled, turning on his heel. “Guess I should just leave.”

Just as he was about to, he felt a chill down his spine, like he was being watched or reached for. He does still—and it happens. Something passes through him, causing him to shudder.

“Here I aaaaam,” a voice drones from behind, high-pitched and surreal.

Excitedly, he spun back around and practically kicked open the door. To his radiant delight, there was someone seated atop the toilet. It clearly wasn’t human—whatever it was had a faded outline and accompanying white will-o-wisps. It may have sat like a person, but...

“Hanako-san, right?!” he exclaimed. “It’s true! You’re real! You’re really real...and you’re also...in pants!”

Actually, ‘Hanako-san’ seemed to be dressed in a boy’s uniform with the hat pulled down so that the face was obscured. It was strange, he mused, tapping his lip curiously. “I didn’t know Hanako-san was a crossdresser, but okay! Stay there! Let me...take a picture!”

He already had his phone out, so it was a matter of angling the shot...making sure he got the will-o-wisps in frame... He snapped the photo, except what showed on his phone was nothing more than a sad, lonely toilet.

“Hmm...” His cheeks puffed as he inquired. “Do you think you can make yourself visible?”

“Is that really what you summoned me for?” Hanako drawls, sounding either cold or irritated. He’s used to that, so he just nods along without a care.

“Yep. My friend’s really into supernatural stuff, and she’s been giving me the cold shoulder lately. I think she’ll play with me again if I give her proof. Also, she’s in the broadcasting club, so it’ll be a cool announcement to make! Hanako-san’s real...! And now another student is at risk of going missing! Hehehe. Being spirited away by a ghost sounds fun! What happens when you spirit people away? Do you eat them? Do you flush them? Do ya, do ya, do ya?”

Hanako’s arms crossed, and the crossed tightly. Oh. Hanako was angry.

Even ghosts get angry with me, huh...

“Anyway!” he went on. “I wish for proof of your existence! That’s it! In return...you can have my pinky! Just the tip!”

Hanako’s lip curls in distaste, and he looks solemnly at his hand, wondering if maybe Hanako wants all the way to the knuckle. Maybe Hanako wants his organs instead. He supposes he can part with some of them, mainly the useless ones...except those wouldn’t have a lot of value, huh...

“You watch not only too much horror movies, but yakuza shows,” Hanako then sighed, sounding quite, quite tired. Like his homeroom teacher or even the principal. Super ancient, too. “I reject your wish.”

Huh?

“I reject it,” Hanako coldly repeated to his wide-eyed stare. “Get out.”

“Huuuuh?! Can you do that?!” But why? Why, why, why? “Why, why, why, why?”

“Enough.”

The room almost shook with the force of that order. Almost like facing down an abusive parent, he was baffled to be in this situation with a crossdressing ghost, of all things. That was strange! So strange!

“Is it a forbidden wish?” He wondered if that was it, even as he wondered-wondered about that. “But, what else am I supposed to wish for? I don’t really care about anything else. I don’t really need anything else...”

“Get out,” Hanako just coldly repeated. “Now.”

“But...” He protested childishly. “But why—?”

“YUGI!!” a voice bellowed, getting his attention. Turning, he could see just how angry and flustered his homeroom teacher was. The man only ever looked that agitated around cars. How strange. “What the hell are you doing in the girl’s bathroom?!”

“I was...” He trailed off. “I was talking to Hanako-san...”

“Honestly,” his teacher griped. “You and your outlandish stories.”

He stopped paying attention, noticing the girl peering inside. She was the calmest one there, as always.

“Sakura!” he exclaimed, rushing to her. “Hanako-san is real! Real and a crossdressing weirdo who won’t grant my wish!”

She catches him when he throws himself at her, whining into her shoulder.

“Hanako-san won’t grant my wish! And Hanako-san won’t even tell me why!”

“Tsukasa-kun,” she sighed, gripping the back of his uniform. “I told you not to cause trouble.”

“But, Sakuraaaaa!”

“That’s enough,” she snapped, stern but never cruel. “Sensei, I’m sorry for him.”

She tugs him away even as he wails.

“I don’t understand at aaaaaall!”

No one else replies. Sakura is dead quiet. But the silence left behind in that girl’s bathroom was thick enough to crush someone like an ant between fingertips.

“Eh... Honorable Seventh...” Tsuchigomori bows his head, clearly shaken and anxious. “You’re pretty angry, huh...?”

“Why would I be?” Hanako returned, eyes wide and vacant. Darker than the deepest abysses. “The living are not my concern.”

“Ah, guess not,” Tsuchigomori murmured, unconvinced. “Still... I’ll take responsibility...and leave.”

Hanako lets him depart, playing with his hat. Once alone, his expression twisted into something truly horrid.

“Even in this life... Tsukasa still...”

“You did something unnecessary again.”

“You were ignoring me,” Tsukasa accused, pouting across the snack table that Sakura set up with tea. “I thought you were mad.”

“Sorry,” Sakura’s mumble was more akin to acquiescing than apologizing. “It was not like that... I’m sorry.”

“Whatever.” Tsukasa waved his hand before reaching out and snatching a sugar cube. “I summoned Hanako-san, and it was suuuuch a disappointment.”

“No one has succeeded in summoning her in over a decade,” Sakura said. “It is not surprising.”

“No, I summoned Hanako-san,” he corrected sharply, smacking the table. “But Hanako-san took one look at me and not only refused my wish but also told me to get out! Do you think Hanako-san was in a bad mood?!”

Sakura blinks at him. She’s never been expressive and he never minded that about her.

“...right.” Her head bows again. “You said something like that earlier.”

“You didn’t pay attention!” he yelled, not angry at all. “You were drowning me out even though I summoned Hanako-san for you!”

“I did not ask you to do that,” Sakura sighed. “I...have made you anxious, yes... I did not think you would be that bothered, Tsukasa-kun.”

“I was!” His voice rises and rises. “I was even more bothered when Hanako-san rejected my wish! Am I that unbearable? I don’t understand! I even offered my pinky tips and everything! And all I wished for was proof! Shouldn’t Hanako-san have wanted the extra traction?! Instead...!”

Sakura sinks into her chair.

“You are...shouting, Tsukasa-kun...”

“I’m so agitated! I don’t understand! I don’t, I don’t, I don’t, I don’t, I don’t!”

He ends up knocking over the tea, causing it to spill all over the table, the decorations, the cookies, and Sakura’s lap. She doesn’t even flinch even though it’s hot. She just stares at her stained blazer and skirt and without another word, gets up and leaves to go wash off. Tsukasa just watches her go sullenly. He laps at the tea, and it has a sour tinge.

Looking at his reflection, he perked up.

Something struck him as weird, really, incredibly weird.

“Hanako-san, Hanako-san, Hanako-san!” He knocks on the door once again. “Grant me! My wish!”

He didn’t get an answer. He pummels the door rapidly.

“I! Know! You’re! There! GRANT ME MY WISH!!!! I CAME UP WITH A NEW ONE! I want a washing machine! A really cool washing machine! And maybe a dryer! Come on! COME ON COME ON COME ON!”

“Um, Yugi-kun...”

He’s interrupted not by Hanako, but by a girl who looks quite annoyed.

“Not that I don’t...get whatever you’re doing...but this is the girl’s bathroom, you know. And Michiru-chan’s been waiting for you to leave.” She in fact looks ready to kill him. “Get out.”

Despite that, she doesn’t sound as angry as Hanako.

“I’ll wait, then!” he exclaimed. “I want Hanako-san to answer me!”

She sighed haggardly and irritably. Nothing like Sakura at all. Her friend, Michiru, is ducked behind her for safety. Tsukasa pays neither of them further mind, just skipping past and standing outside. He doesn’t bother noticing the looks of disdain he gets when the girls leave, instead striding right back inside to start knocking anew.

“Hanako-san, Hanako-san, Hanako-san, HANAKO-SAN!!!”

“Yugi, are you trying to get expelled?”

“Am I gonna get expelled?” he asks innocently. “All I was doing was trying to get Hanako-san to answer.”

Sensei sighed like how everyone else sighed at him. Sighing, sighing, sighing. So many trees must blossom and flourish with so much sighing. They should’ve overtaken the school by now with roots crushing the bricks and branches growing through the windows.

“Hanako-san’s at fault!” he claimed. “Hanako-san knows I’m there but won’t answer! Won’t even grant my wish! Isn’t that Hanako-san’s job?”

“Hanako-san...isn’t real.” Sensei spoke through sharp, gritted teeth. Have they always been sharp? Has Sensei always looked so beastly? Sometimes... Tsukasa wonders if Sensei is actually human. “Stop going into the girl’s bathroom, Yugi. I will not ask again.”

Adults like to give ultimatums and last chances all the time. Tsukasa has no problem calling their bluff because what’s the worst they can do? Hurt him? Kill him?

“If Hanako-san agrees to grant my wish, then fine.” He gave a firm nod. “I’ve already made tons though and Hanako-san doesn’t bite. I’ve asked for pictures, washing machines, candy, donuts, a katanuki stall, ice cream, and a vaulting pole! I’m not sure what else to ask for, maybe a book?”

“Stop this nonsense, Yugi,” Sensai snapped. “It’s gotten out of hand.”

“If a girl wants to use the bathroom, I let her! And I don’t get the big deal—there are stalls anyway and I don’t try to peek!” Tsukasa shot back. “Are you going to tell me it’s harassment? Is Hanako-san going to charge me with harassment?! Hanako-san’s the one not holding up the end of the bargain! You make a wish to Hanako-san and Hanako-san grants it! Why won’t Hanako-san grant my wish?!”

“Because—!” Sensei stopped, coughing into his hand. “Because Hanako-san isn’t real.”

“I saw Hanako-san! Hanako-san spoke to me! Hanako-san is moody and weird and wears a boy’s uniform! I know what I saw, you’re not going to tell me I didn’t see anything when I saw Hanako-san! And Hanako-san was the one who said that my wish was rejected! But, why?! Did I do something wrong? It can’t be because I’m a bad person—even bad people get their wishes granted all the time!”

“Y-Yugi...” Sensei tries, but Tsukasa just screams.

“WHY DOES HANAKO-SAN HATE ME?!”

Sensei doesn’t answer. It occurs to Tsukasa then that this is such a weird thing to be bothered about. But the more the thought about it, the more upset it made him.

After a while, Sensei gathers himself, and just when Tsukasa thinks that he might be comforted, Sensei puts on a stern face.

“Get your things and leave. Consider yourself suspended for a week, Yugi.”

“What?” He’s a lot quieter than usual. The words leave him feeling like his head got stuffed with cotton. “You can’t do that. You’re just a homeroom teacher.”

“And you think it’d be that hard to convince the higher ups?” Sensei asked wryly. It’s less cruel and more matter-of-fact. “You’ve made yourself a nuisance for long enough that they’ll take any reason to be rid of you. You’re lucky this is temporary.”

Tsukasa opened his mouth and shut it. He opened it again. He smiled, showing his teeth.

“But, what am I going to tell my parents?” he asked, his tone of voice sweet.

Sensei stared him down coldly.

“Nothing. You’re not going to tell them anything. Get out before it becomes two weeks, Yugi.”

Still smiling, Tsukasa does just that.

He’s not so badly behaved that he doesn’t stay at least one day at home. He spends most of it alone, drawing on whatever paper he can find even if it’s mail. He doesn’t get scolded. He’s not spoken to at all. Even when the class rep brings him things, they don’t speak to him. He’s pretty sure they don’t like him for that time with the birds and mice. He’s banned from the gardens for that reason, too.

Well, not banned per say, but he gets chased out whenever seen. One of the girls there looks like a fish whenever she gets angry. It’s cute. That’s the kind of girl he’d like but he still likes Sakura best. Sakura, after all, is his friend. That makes her more important than everyone else he interacts with.

He wonders if her dog’s celebrating his break. His entire class probably is. Maybe the entire school is. Maybe they’re all throwing a big huge part with cake and juice and everything, including streamers. Streams of all colors, none for him. They’re all laughing with relief while he’s at home.

In the meantime, Tsukasa draws tunnels. Tunnels upon tunnels that wind around his house like the pipes underground. He’s almost done by the end of the second day. His wrist is killing him too much on the third.

On the fourth night, he breaks into the school.

“And on Thursday, he’s going to break into the school,” Tsuchigomori drones. “I’m gonna catch him and have him expelled. And you won’t have to worry about him ever again.”

Hanako hummed, doing a good job of focusing on his game with the mokke.

“I knew he was going to get expelled, so I thought you wouldn’t ever hear about him,” Tsuchigomori goes to admit, having the decency to look somewhat ashamed as he rubs at his scalp and spins around his pipe. “I was surprised that he tried to summon you, Honorable Seventh.”

Hanako doesn’t say anything to that, but he does look more disappointed than usual when the mokke beat him in cards.

“You’re the one who actually asked, y’know. So, there it is. Pretty mundane and uninteresting. As if it’d be any other way.”

“...sensei.”

Tsuchigomori immediately stiffened. Hanako’s voice was just as sickly sweet as his—as the other Yugi’s.

“What’s going to happen to him after he gets expelled?”

“I’ve told you as much as I’m allowed,” was his answer. “Anything more and my existence will fizzle. You knowing this much was destined, so it’s fine. But you don’t need to know the rest.”

Hanako grinned at him.

“I see. That’s fine, then.”

“It’s fine?” The tone used was very not-fine. It wasn’t a fine tone at all.

“It’s fine. You’re dismissed.”

Climbing over the gate was easy. Picking the lock to the old school building was simple. All that remained was a hop, skip, and a jump up three flights of stairs until he ended up in front of the girl’s bathroom. He shuffled from one foot to the other before stepping inside. He hadn’t encountered a living soul since he broke in, having gotten pretty lucky. It’s not going to mean anything, like that time he won a crane game and his toy got torn to pieces.

He knocks on the third stall door three times.

“Good evening, Hanako-san,” he begins in his best cordial tone taught by Sakura. It probably sounds super lifeless, more lifeless than a fly on its back. “Radio silence this time, too? That’s fine! I brought a radio!”

He sets it and turns it on. It plays nothing but static no matter what channel he flicks it to.

“I found it in a trash heap,” he explains. “Isn’t it cool? I managed to get it to work, too! It’s so ancient, like, like, like from...a century ago! It’s super dirty and smells really funny! Isn’t it the coolest?!”

He presents it with flourish.

“And I’ll give it to you if you just grant my wish!”

He holds it up for a bit. Once three minutes of silence have passed, he throws it to the ground and stomps it to bits.

“Too noisy,” he said, and he sits down so that he can rip apart what remained with his hands. All these wires and jagged metal edges crumble so easily between his twisting fingers. “It’s so damn noisy.”

The bathroom stall is vacant even when he kicks the door open. Tsukasa just sighed, like everyone else.

“I’m so bored,” he laments. “Every day passes by, less interesting than the last. It’s only the superstitions that are different. Y’know? Like how fairies steal your things. How your time can get stolen. How mirrors can show your worst fear and trap you in hell! I like that one a lot! I’ve always wanted to know what it’d show me! I want to know!”

He pauses, sucking in his breath.

“There’s one about the grim reaper taking girls to be his wives. What do you think being married to the grim reaper is like? I bet it’s awful. I bet he’s weird and nasty and girls don’t like looking at him. That’s why he takes so many. Because none of them like him. Nobody likes him. Nobody likes death. Even the people who claim otherwise are big fat liars who are unliked by everyone, too. Because nobody likes liars, even though they lie to themselves all the time.”

He yanks out more wires.

“This world is nothing, which is why I don’t really mind giving up anything. Maybe...that’s why you don’t like me, Hanako-san. It’s fine. I would never wish for people to like me. That’s weird, creepy, and nasty. And super, super pathetic. Only losers would wish for someone else to like them. Why don’t they just change their looks and awful personality if they’re that desperate? I don’t get it. That’d be better than making a wish to some weird, crossdressing toilet ghost.”

His radio is now completely torn to pieces. It’s not even recognizable anymore. It’s worse than junk, and it had been junk when he first found it. He does look back into the empty stall, and he sighs again.

“I wish you’d just talk to me.”

And a flashlight shines on him from the door. He’s not even surprised that it’s Sensei. Sensei, who looks so tired and aggravated.

“Trespassing is illegal, Yugi.”

“Yep,” is his easy answer. “So is vandalism. I broke every potted plant I could find and painted all over the art club’s walls. Am I gonna get expelled now?”

“You aren’t giving anyone a choice now,” Sensei pointed out. “Come with me.”

Smiling, Tsukasa stood.

“Sure thing!”

He skips up to Sensei, beaming at him. Sensei only looks down with even more contempt, but just as Sensei’s long, spidery fingers wrap around his arm...

“Wait.”

It’s Hanako’s voice, but it’s Sensei who waits. Blinking owlishly, Tsukasa sees—that the other is afraid. Afraid and in disbelief.

“C...Come on,” Sensei stutters. “I’m gonna...”

“You’re going to leave,” Hanako says. “But he’s going to stay.”

“H...!”

Tsukasa looks behind him, but no one’s there. Sensei sucks in his breath and then releases his arm with a groan.

“One more chance,” he murmured. “I’ll give you the chance to clean up this mess and get the hell out, Yugi.”

“But what about everything else?” he asked, eyes wide.

“What else?!” Sensei seethed. “You lied about the pots and the walls! The only thing you actually broke was a damn lock that needed to be replaced years ago!” He shoved Tsukasa back. “Clean and then leave. I better not see you until two weeks from now. Have a night nice, Yugi.”

Just like that, he leaves. Just like that, Tsukasa’s left standing there in a state of utmost confusion. He only flinches because a new hand presses lightly against his back, and it’s cold enough to send him into shock. When he turns, it’s to face Hanako floating close by, almost completely obscured by shadow.

“You’re too much trouble for your own good,” Hanako mourns. “Do you care about yourself at all?”

“No, I don’t.” He can’t help but laugh. “I’ve never cared! Not once!”

He can’t see, but the air around them is as cold as it is strangely bitter. Like someone upset enough to will spring into winter. He’s heard about deities who could do that. He doubts Hanako is a deity. Hanako-san is just...weird.

“Do you care, Hanako-san? I can’t believe you even ordered Sensei around like that. Since when was Sensei your subordinate?” He’s vibrating with excitement and a sparkling gaze. “I always thought Sensei didn’t seem very human! Even his name is super suspicious! What other supernatural beings are among us? Do you know if there are aliens, too?!”

“There are no aliens,” Hanako said flatly. “Not that I’m aware of.”

“There’s things even Hanako-san doesn’t know?! Or are you hiding something?! Tell me, tell me, tell me!” He exclaimed it until he went breathless, and after a while, he realized. “Oh, right... I wished for you to talk to me and you’ve already...done that. Am I going to get spirited away now? Is that why you kept me from getting expelled?”

He’d miss Sakura, at least, but it’s fine.

“Whatever you take is fine,” he said. “I don’t mind.”

“I’m not taking anything.” Hanako flicked his forehead. “There’s nothing from you that I could possibly want. If I had to make any demands, it was that you stop calling me a crossdresser. I wear this because I’m actually a guy.”

“A guy...haunting the girl’s bathroom? You’re not a weirdo, you’re a pervert. Okay.” He didn’t really care. “What do you mean you don’t want anything?”

“What I mean is...” Hanako is suddenly close enough to make his head spin. The contours of Hanako’s face was fuzzy, but his eyes—his eyes were uncomfortably, almost achingly bright. “Yugi Tsukasa, there’s nothing you could ever have that I could ever want. I was not fulfilling your wish when I chose to speak to you. It was merely a whim. It meant nothing to me.”

“Nothing, huh...” The brightness of that gaze threatened to burn him alive, like ants under a microscope. He wondered—how many insects did he squash without a care? How many did he just stare down at with dullness and contempt? If those mindless drones had any feelings whatsoever, they might understand how he feels right now. But why would they? They’re ants. “Okay. I’m just gonna get expelled another way. Everyone else already likes it best when I’m not around, after all. Even Sakura.”

He pulls away so that he can start picking up the pieces of his radio and tossing them. He hums, plucking them one at a time. There was a lot of pieces, but he took his time. It didn’t matter how long it took, because no one was going to use the bathroom at this hour. Or on this day.

Sometimes the moonlight filtered through the window and caught onto the gleaming pieces of metal. He paused to admire them, stopping when he realized the sight was such a pale comparison to that of the true night sky.

“Hanako-san,” he says. “What do you think of the stars? Aren’t they pretty? I read up on constellations and stuff, too. Did you know if you went to space without a suit that aaaaaall the air would be sucked out like a vacuum? It’d be like—boom! Rapture!”

“Rupture,” Hanako corrected softly, sounding a lot like Sakura.

“Space is mostly empty, but it takes light soooo long to travel across that we never see the stars as they currently are. We only see them like, many, many, many, many years ago,” he explained. “In all that time, the star might not even be there anymore. Oh, but we’d see right away if the moon ever blew up! And then, we’d all die because it’d rain so much flaming debris and cause so many shockwaves! I wonder what that actually looks like. Raining fire would be...”

He was so caught up in his rambling that he ended up slicing his finger on one of the jagged pieces. He stops himself at the sting. He doesn’t cry, however, just staring at the injury, squinting at it before he lapped at it. Without thinking, he wipes it down on the front of his uniform, no doubt staining it with red.

He hears the intake of breath, but maybe it’s just the wind. Wasn’t the window a tiny bit open...? He does feel a cold breeze for a moment—and a deathly chill the next.

“Wah! C-Cold...!”

He tried to get up to close the window, but he’s pulled back before he can. The sudden bout of resistance in the very air was strange, it was almost as if he was being—

“Hanako-san...?”

Oh. Hanako was embracing him. Hanako was embracing him from behind, holding him so tightly that he couldn’t move.

“Waaah, cold!” he whines. “I bet it’s colder than spaaace!”

He does squirm a bit. Hanako’s like a block of ice, so it’s hard to generate any amount of warmth. Maybe this is what being spirited away is like?

But Hanako-san just said...

Hanako sighs into his ear.

“Oh, Tsukasa. You’re still the same.”

Tsukasa blinks as he’s then squeezed. Hanako just holds him. He holds him and holds him even to the point where Tsukasa’s breath turns into visible puffs of white. He shivers, and Hanako just continues to hold him. There’s no heartbeat against his back, and more shudders go down his spine.

“I’m sorry, Tsukasa,” Hanako says, and the apology doesn’t feel like it’s for him. Not at all. “I just...”

“Who...” Tsukasa can only manage one response. “W-Who are you talking to...?”

Everything pulses. It’s so freezing that his body is spasming, and he can only recognize distantly that he’s started crying.

“Ah.” Hanako, too, sounds so far away despite still being so close. “It’ll be alright, Tsukasa. It’s not like you’re going to remember this.”

Through blurring shapes and tears, he can somehow tell that Hanako’s fingers are nearing his face.

“No...!” Try as he might, he can’t escape. “No, no, no, no—! Don’t—!”

A name claws its way up his throat, scrambles up his tongue, but before he can even choke on the first syllable...

Hanako trails his fingertips down from his hairline to his forehead. It’s almost affectionate. He barely has time to register the sad smile on Hanako’s face—that face which looked...so familiar...as familiar as his own...

Who are you?

Everything falls into black.

Tsuchigomori doesn’t say anything, just keeping his head ducked subserviently. Tsukasa sleeps without a care, but it won’t be that way for long, so they have to hurry.

“Can you have him brought back to wherever he lives?” he asked, getting straight to the point. “You can, right? You wouldn’t let me down.”

“I’d have to ask Nagisa,” Tsuchigomori sighed, rubbing his head irritably with three different hands. “He’s sympathetic to the kid, maybe overly so.”

“That’s nice,” Hanako says cheekily. “I envy him, then, for having such nice teachers.”

Tsuchigomori won’t meet that probing stare, and he avoids the kid too, for that matter. What happens between that kid and Honorable Seventh isn’t his business, even if that kid’s his student. He’d been resigned to that since the day that they met and he nearly went into shock at the sight of curious amber eyes blinking up at him.

That kid had the same grin as back then, nothing like how Honorable Seventh used to be.

“I almost pulled a knife on him again,” Hanako laughs like it’s a funny joke. “How do you think he would’ve reacted?”

The way Hakujoudai vibrate give away how truly aggravated and agitated the seventh wonder was. So, Tsuchigomori elects to remain silent. He pretends not to notice the look Hanako gives to the kid now curling up as he slept.

“...take good care of him, sensei.”

It’s a soft request, spoken with emotion and meaning burrowed deep into the bones. Hanako tugs off his hat, mournfully regarding his once brother. It’s meant to be a gesture of finality, but Tsuchigomori knows without reading ahead that it was only that. A hollow gesture.

This was someone who changed the future once before, after all.

#Magi fics #bad things happen bingo #jibaku shounen hanako kun #toilet bound hanako kun #bad things bingo

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creative-frequency · 4 years

Text

Cal Kestis x Reader: DEAR STAR SYSTEM Ch. 05

Word count: 2331 Pairing: Cal Kestis x Female Reader Summary/Contains: Flashbacks & getting handsy after Kashyyyk. Partial canon-rewrite. Two idiots being dumb in the company of each other. Someone just kick their asses already.

Previous Chapter

My Writing Masterlist

DEAR STAR SYSTEM // 05

“What did you say we’re doing here again, Cere? On this… Bogano?”

You peer outside the Mantis’ windows at the grass and sunshine outside. The planet doesn’t seem to have much in terms of infrastructure; just a few well-established huts getting bleached in the sun. It looks like a planet with nothing in the middle of nowhere but Cere always has her reasons.

The new addition to your group and the one you have to thank for the luxuries of traveling in relative solitude turns in the pilot’s chair and flashes a cheesy grin. He is the first Latero you’ve ever met face to face and he seems okay.

“It’s best if you both sit down.” Cere motions towards the dining table and you trade equally baffled looks with Greez the pilot.

“Did something happen?” you ask carefully and pull a chair back.

“Uh. No.” Cere struggles to find the words. Her elbows lay on the table, fingertips occasionally touching, about to intertwine and then retreat. “No. Not recently, if that’s what you mean.”

She clears her throat and you and Greez strain your hearing, gently motioning her to continue.

“I have a plan.” Cere’s serious look sails from you to the new pilot. “And you probably won’t like it.”

“Oh?” you say, surprised but pleased. “What for?”

“Hang on. Is this something I really need to hear? ‘Cause I kind of thought the less I know…” Greez interrupts by waving one of his four hands.

Cere huffs. “I’ll tell you as little as you need to go with, Captain.”

“Alright. Good, good,” Greez approves and eases back into the chair.

You bite your lip, sternly watching every micro-expression going through Cere’s features. She’s not one to share anything more than you absolutely need to know. It’s frustrating, but you’ve learned to trust her. You just wish she would trust you.

Cere takes in a deep breath and says: “We are going to find a Jedi.”

You survived Kashyyyk, all according to the plan and with minimal injuries, even. The mood aboard the Mantis is relieved but also dejected since you couldn’t find the Wookiee chieftain. Cal is certain that Mari Kosan and Choyyssyk will come through and find Tarfful.

The crew agrees to have a breather before the next destination: another tomb on Zeffo. When you were returning from the refinery, Cere picked up an Imperial transmission, hinting that the bad guys are close to finding another tomb on Zeffo. While Greez isn’t happy about it, Cal stays true to his character, ever the optimist. The Imperials are offering the next step of Cordova’s path on a silver platter.

There’s also the fact that the only other clue leads to Dathomir and no one wants to go there unless it’s the only option left.

But first, you have to lick your minor wounds from Kashyyyk and relax. Cal has been resting in one of the cabins and he missed the delicious dinner Greez whipped up. Out of the goodness of your heart and concern, you decide to bring the Jedi something to eat.

Heart beating suspiciously fast, you rap your knuckles on the metal plating. “Cal? I’m coming in.”

You press the door open while balancing the tray on one hand.

Cal sits on the bed, just caught in the middle of a stretch, arms in the air and hair ruffled. He bends his neck to both sides and settles on looking at you attentively. There’s a cooler patch next to him and an opened pack of bacta gel strips.

“What’s that?” Your brows furrow and Cal turns into the paragon of innocence. BD-1 twirls approvingly at you for arriving just in time.

You place the tray on the small stand next to the bed and plant your hands on your hips. “And where are you hurt?”

“I’m not… hurt.” Cal grimaces like child caught red-handed at the cookie jar. At least he is not visibly bleeding.

“Really?” you ask slowly, eyes narrowing.

BD-1 wastes no time in jumping onto Cal and kicking his left shoulder blade. “Bop!”

“OW! Hey!” Cal chases the droid away and hunches forward, failing miserably at hiding the pain.

“Let me see,” you say in the most commanding tone you’re able to muster. BD hides behind you, chirping in agreement.

Cal hesitates. His ears feel hot. He can think of a thousand excuses but knows that he really has no choice but to obey.

“C’mon. Off with the poncho. The shirt’s gotta go too,” you add when he begrudgingly begins undressing.

The initial thought at seeing Cal’s bare, bruised chest is definitely not oh no he’s hurt. BD showers the blue scanning light on Cal’s injuries and you’re so glad you’re allowed to stare because it would be hard not to.

You’ve seen shirtless, extremely fit men before too, but this is Cal kriffing Kestis, the sweet, kind Jedi and you gave him no permission to look so… preposterously hot. Sternly reminding yourself now is not the time for wanting to lick his pecks doesn’t really help and before long you feel the heat on your cheeks mirroring his. Why did you want him to undress again?

“Your back is hurt, right? Turn around,” you hear someone say in your voice and BD twitters again in agreement. It’s easier to breathe when the risk of meeting Cal’s gaze is minimized as he faces the wall.

Considering the amount of fighting he had to do on Kashyyyk, you’re surprised that he isn’t in in worse shape. Some smaller bruises have turned towards a shade of violet, but unlike on the other side, there are no larger ones. You frown as you think someone probably kicked him in the chest.

You carefully sit down by the bedside. “Left side?” you utter as a warning that you’re about to touch him.

Cal nods but still slightly lurches forward under your fingertips. “Y-yeah, I think that happened when the Purge trooper knocked me down…”

You sigh heavily but abstain from commentary. You gently feel out the area BD kicked to check that nothing is dislocated or torn. Because Cal is turned to face the wall, you can’t see the ravaging blush that expands out to the tip of his ears. His skin feels hot and his muscles tense. The bacta gel might help with the pain but there are more traditional ways to ease his suffering too. Ways in which you pride yourself to be an expert.

“Lie down,” you urge him softly.

Cal gives you a hesitant look over his shoulder, eyes wide like a porg’s, but swallows his protests. He lies down onto his stomach and you inch closer, leaning over his back. He has trouble finding a place for his arms and head, partly wanting to look bashfully away and partly wanting to seek eye contact because the situation feels new and intimate. You have to resist the itch to tease the poor guy because settling astride on his back definitely crosses your dirty mind.

“What’re you doing?” Cal asks in a raspy tone.

Seeing his reddened cheeks is thrilling and brings out the worst, sadistic parts of you in the form of a crooked smile. He can be so innocent.

“Sorry, my hands might be a little cold…” You place both palms on Cal’s back and gently begin massaging the largest muscles. He needs a moment to adjust to even start thinking about relaxing.

“It’s okay… Do you think I need a stim?” he asks nervously. You shift closer to reach better so that your bodies are touching.

“Well, I don’t think anything’s broken but you’re stiff like a protocol droid,” you say and try to steer clear of any seduction in your tone.

You press your thumb under Cal’s left shoulder blade and feel him go rigid.

“Relax,” you murmur.

You’re a slight too gentle in the motions but deem it best for both of you to hold back. The silence starts growing heavier, especially since Cal can’t help the low grunts and huffs in sync with your hands. The sounds he makes involuntarily are making you quiver despite how much you try not to hear them. Your hands are moving on their own and you wish you would have to focus more on what you’re doing instead of what he is doing.

“What was it like on Bracca?” you ask quietly to fill the silence.

Cal hums to have more time to think. Looking back at that chapter of his life hurts but there are also good moments, happy moments. However, he isn’t ready to open those memories yet. The pain of loss and trauma weighs too heavy.

You’re about to pull the question back just when he starts talking.

“It was survival. Every day,” Cal says.

You wait for him to continue while trying to soften another knot in his back.

“I kept telling myself: Whatever you do, don’t reach within. Trust no one,” he recites like a mantra. The tone is lighthearted, conversing one, but you can feel the underlying hurt.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” you hum. BD-1 makes a sad noise.

“What about you? What did you do before this?” Cal asks and waves his wrist nonchalantly.

You pause your motions to take a deep breath. There’s no sense in trying to hide what you were since it’s only a matter of time when Cal either guesses or goes to Cere.

“This won’t improve your opinion of me,” you say quietly and continue onto massaging his shoulders.

“What do you mean?” Cal asks, confused and alarmed.

You swallow. “I was in this clan… or rather, a crime syndicate. The Kalari.”

Cal jolts.

“They took me in when I was still a child, to train me. It’s really common among the clans. The best way to mold the most loyal soldiers.” You need a moment to figure out how to form the thought. “I killed my first mark when I was sixteen.”

“First mark… So wait, you were an assassin?” Cal yelps.

So much suddenly starts making sense to him that you can practically see the gears turning in his head. You put more effort into the motions of your hands to avoid replying. Cal tries to squirm in order to turn to look at you.

“Stay still. Yes and I’m not proud of that,” you whip out the commanding tone and he settles.

“Thank you for telling me.” He sounds somber.

“Yeah, well. That’s about it on my past,” you say after a few moments of silence and stop trying to move your palms over Cal’s skin. “I… I hope you won’t think worse of me now that you know.”

“I could never think badly about you.” He doesn’t even hesitate putting the words out there and you feel ridiculously relieved.

You realize it’s the first time you’ve ever told anyone what you just told him – voluntarily and hoping it won’t affect your relationship.

Cal turns slightly around to see are you finished with the massage and when you don’t react, he sits up and pulls his legs closer to him.

“Thanks, Cal,” you say quietly and muster a smile to which he responds with his own. Your pulse has been miraculously steady so far despite the situation, but when Cal smiles so genuinely, you’re having difficulties at remembering your own name. He holds your gaze and you quickly lose the reason to be glad about your normal heart rate and non-shaking hands.

“Our pasts don’t define us. I’ve learned that… and I’m glad you’re here,” he says softly.

The smile on his lips is so calm and inviting and you just wish you could possess a fraction of that serenity and confidence. Why isn’t he affected by the tender feeling in your stomach like you are? Does nothing move this guy beyond the blush when you tease him? Is it a Jedi thing or just Cal’s character? The moment things take a turn to heartfelt and genuine, you’re thrown into the deep end of the pool only to find out someone changed the rules on how to swim. Maybe you’re overthinking whatever is going on between you.

You see how your hand rests on the covers and how Cal glances at it, starts moving and you already feel his fingers ghosting over yours. You can’t take it anymore. Snatching the hand back, you dart up as from a whiplash. Your heart is again running a mile a minute and you think you’re going to faint any moment now. This is exactly the kind of heady you can’t handle. Too sweet.

If you let the stupid, attractive Jedi take your hand one more goddamn time, you won’t be able to face the consequences.

You grab Cal’s shirt and throw it at his face. He catches it with ease but has to lean to the side to hold the line of sight to your face.

“You can dress now!” you yelp, turn on your feet and narrowly avoid tripping on a tool box on the floor.

“Huh? Where are you going?” Cal questions, dumbfound by your sudden change in demeanor.

“Bop bop?” BD chirps in tandem with his surprise.

“Uhh.” You try to think fast. “To… get you some more food.”

The door opens so slowly that you count seconds until you’re out of the cabin.

“Bo-boop.” BD-1 tilts his head after you.

“What do you mean I need it,” Cal huffs in annoyance and pulls the shirt back on.

His whole body feels hot in an uncomfortable and unfamiliar way. The soft marks your fingers left on his back are burning and the more he thinks about it, the hotter he feels. For the life of him, he can’t understand what he said or did to make you run like that but forbidden disappointment nags his insides. Getting carried away in your company is dangerously easy and Cal quietly decides he needs to do better.

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#cal kestis #swjfo fanfiction #cal kestis x reader #jedi fallen order #swjfo #star wars #cere junda #greez dritus #bd-1 #my writings #dear star system

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writer-and-artist27 · 3 years

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Passing Days Ch 12 Preview

Or, I remembered one comment @withanina left on some writing thoughts I had (to quote: “D'awww that’s so fluffy and cute I’m choking. Please let Robin be happy and pamper his master”), and since a cursed exam of mine is done, I wanted to share my progress since. :) As thanks to you, friend.

For a short TLDR? Let it be said the Prillya girls are finally getting some platonic love examples in their lives. Or, “how to learn the difference between when you’re a third wheel and when you’re not.”

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Vy was still an enigma to Sakatsuki Miyu even after going through Ascension and regaining her original name. Yes, Vy had put a lot of time in raising her, Illya, and even Kuro, but there was something about her light that had Miyu wonder.

Had Chaldea not called at the time it did, Vy would have stayed a hopeful college schoolgirl. No connections to Magecraft, barely any kind of “tragedy” in her life bordering some of the things Miyu had seen thanks to the Ainsworths’ treatment of her as the Holy Grail, and obviously lacking the mana to be anything but mediocre in the Mages’ world.

Thus the dissonance between the Chaldean Master that saved the world from the Incineration of Humanity and the girl that hugged Mash almost every single moment they were together was far too stark for Miyu to grasp. As the only Chaldean Master, Vy was to-the-point, sarcastic, and sometimes rivaling Onii-chan with dark looks when enemies were on the horizon. As just “Vy,” Vy was warm to every Servant so long as they weren’t causing trouble, smiling and calling them by nicknames as if they were old friends.

Right now, that difference was still something Miyu couldn’t fully understand.

“Wh-What’s going on here? Why are you dragging me, Kuro?”

The Archer-styled girl didn’t even turn her head, giggling under her breath as she tugged at Miyu’s hand to guide her through the hallways of Novum Chaldea. “Something to see~!” she hummed under her breath, a small skip in her step as they kept walking together. “Illya’s already there! So c’mon, Miyu!”

“I-I’m coming, I’m coming!” Miyu insists, trying not to wince at the grip Kuro had while keeping up the pace. “But where are we going?”

“The Enhancement Center!”

“Huh?” was all Miyu could muster. “Why?”

“Someone’s getting a Holy Grail!”

The mention of the artifact alone made Miyu stop protesting.

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A small crowd of Chaldean Servants had already gathered outside the Enhancement Center doors by the time Kuro and Miyu arrived. From all the bright and contrasting colors, it took a few moments longer than usual for Miyu to spot Illya, currently being held up onto the shoulders of that tall red Archer that looked a lot like Kuro. In spite of the embarrassment she seemed to be feeling, Illya still waved at both of them as they approached, pointing wordlessly at the little opening crack in the sliding doors.

“Someone’s getting enhanced!” she mouthed with a curious smile. “Let’s watch!”

Kuro rolled her eyes fondly while Miyu did her best to smile back. It was hard to do so with all the uncomfortable churning her stomach was doing at the mention of “a Holy Grail” earlier, but it was Illya. Miyu couldn’t bear to see Illya worry.

So all she did was wiggle through the crowd, trying to ignore that red Archer’s gaze on her, to approach the crack in the doors to peer in.

“PALINGENESIS STARTING IN 3, 2, 1—” a computerized voice called out.

Miyu could only catch a glimpse of that infamous golden cup before her vision was filled with light, making her lurch back as the other Servants around her started to murmur.

“How much QP does Master have again?”

“This is the third Servant to go through the process to get to Level 100…”

Such mutterings occurred above her head as Miyu did her best to refocus her vision.

Once the light had faded, Miyu could make out the back of a green cloak as her ears registered more voices. “Hey, Master?”

Robin Hood. Was he the one who just had Palingenesis done…?

“Hm?” Vy’s voice. So it was her in there, too. Of course. Only by the Master’s word could Palingenesis even be initiated. So then— “What is it, big Robin?”

There was a faint chuckle on the Archer’s part. It took Miyu a moment too long to realize that “big Robin” was yet another one of Vy’s nicknames, this one in particular reserved by the May King. For a rugged legend such as Robin Hood, it was such a… well, childish name, really. But she couldn’t really argue against it when Robin Hood made no visible signs of protesting the address. Instead, Miyu could hear the faint tapping of a rugged boot against the tile floor of the Enhancement Center as Robin Hood spoke up. “Not that I don’t appreciate it, but I gotta know. Why did you decide to use Holy Grails on a bowman like me?”

Why use a Holy Grail on me and not one of your other Servants?

It was the most important question on everyone’s mind at the time. Miyu felt something akin to curiosity and something else ping through her as well with the question, making her bite the inside of her cheek to not let out any noise of recognition. Whether or not Kuro or Illya noticed, they didn’t say anything. Indeed, the entirety of the crowd of Servants around the Enhancement Center echoed the silence of the outer hallway, waiting on Vy’s response.

What did the Chaldean Master have to say for herself when it came to giving Grails to someone like Robin Hood? A 3-star in terms of strength?

“Hm, how to put it…” Even in that sliver of door opening Miyu had over the other, taller Servants, she could somehow still make out Vy’s shy smile past Robin Hood’s infamous green cloak as she turned to the Archer Servant with her hands clasped behind her back. “…You were one of my heroes growing up.”

Archer EMIYA nearly tripped over himself just as the other Servants caught wind of what Vy said (nearly making Illya squeak in the process), and apparently Robin Hood was feeling the same way since all he said in response to Vy’s statement was a baffled, “Huh?”

Vy shrugged her shoulders, the same smile on her face as her confidence grew in time with her voice. “Sure, there’s been a lot of Robin Hoods.” Vy paced back and forth between the center of the room, making small circles while speaking. “I know that not all of them had a happy ending like the Disney version would like kids to believe, but I grew up with the Disney version and I admired him.”

Robin Hood exhaled enough that Miyu and the others could clearly hear him, one arm raised in the air questioningly. “…So then?”

How does that relate to me? It was left unsaid, but every Servant present could feel the question nonetheless.

“You may be one of many Robins, just a ‘petty’ bowman, but you’re still the Robin I got to know as a person.” Miyu could hear more footsteps mixed in with Robin Hood’s tapping, as if Vy had walked over to Robin Hood’s immediate side to smile up at him. “The last thing I ever wanted was to end up not giving something back to you. You’re my big Robin, and I wanted to show you I appreciated you!”

Miyu was already starting to get the feeling she wasn’t supposed to be hearing this. Robin Hood’s stiffening figure wasn’t exactly helping.

#miyu sakatsuki #passing days #fanfiction preview #long post #robin hood #fate grand order #vy plays fate grand order #writing progress #kuro von einzbern #illyasviel von einzbern #archer emiya

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spacebatisluvd · 4 years

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I wrote a sequel to “Autonomic Responses”, and it looks like it’s going to be an on-going series. Eventually, there’s probably going to be some actual smut, which I will not be posting here because this blog is (by and large) safe for work.

If it was just going to be a straight smut fic, I probably wouldn’t have mentioned it here at all, but as it is, it looks like nonsexual intimacy is going to be a huge element of the fic, as well as Entrapta trying to give her spacebat nice things even if he drags his feet the whole time. Okay, with that out of the way:

Summary: Entrapta provides a more compelling reason for her study.

Content warning: Light nudity. Self-esteem issues. Very mild bondage and dom/sub undertones. Chemical castration (that sounds super dark, but it’s a choice; it’s not being forced on anyone).

Hordak glanced over his shoulder at Kadroh and Entrapta. He was not jealous. At all. That was a useless emotion and he was above it.

He was just...irritated. He was trying to work, and Kadroh had come bounding in, shouting and giggling. Now, he was pulling off his shirt —Hordak was not jealous of the unblemished expanse of deep cobalt skin or his perfect physique, untouched by illness—and babbling in excitement as he modeled the various clothing items he’d picked up at the market. Entrapta oohed and awed over everything, admiring him as he preened and posed for her.

Hordak’s ears pressed flat, and he pretended to be preoccupied by his plans for rebuilding Salineas, but he’d read the same sentence at least three times without the slightest comprehension. He needed to leave them to themselves, if he wanted to make any progress, yet he remained, slowly growing more and more irritated with himself. They were entitled to their fun, and he should let them enjoy themselves without hovering.

Just as he finally convinced himself to leave and let them be happy without him around to spoil things, Kadroh finished his mock fashion show and bounded back out of the room, off to bother the chefs for tiny snacks. Hordak shook his head, his ears relaxing a little. Finally! Maybe now he could get some work done.

Except....

Entrapta now turned her attention on him. She was standing on her hair behind him, leaning close. He turned to look at her, feeling her breath on his ear. “Hordak, maybe we should go shopping for you sometime.”

“I have an adequate amount of clothing.” Shortly after arriving in Dryl, he’d commissioned a few dresses for himself. The cut was essentially the same as his old uniform, but now he bore Dryl’s sigil on his chest rather than the Horde sigil.

“Okay, but....” She pursed her mouth, trying to decide how best to explain. “Do these clothes make you feel good about yourself? Do you enjoy wearing them?”

He set down the tablet, lowering his ears as he looked at her. Mostly because he was confused. “They fulfill their purpose.”

She gave him a look he was coming to recognize—she was plotting something. He tensed a little. Entrapta seemed intent on subjecting him to new things and new experiences, insisting that they find things that he ‘enjoyed’.

For reasons unknown to him, she seemed to be collecting this information so that she could use it on him. He wasn’t complaining—it was nice when she brought him a mug of cocoa in the morning, or when she asked her chefs to prepare the little fruit tarts that he and Kadroh enjoyed so much. He trusted her implicitly, but he still found the experiences unnerving. More so because he couldn’t quite understand why she was so intent on collecting this information. He was already happier than he’d ever been, just being with her in Dryl. Wanting anything more seemed absurd. Unreasonable.

Kadroh, perhaps, deserved to be treated to such things, but Hordak?

Whatever he thought he deserved, though, he could tell by the look in her eye that they’d be going shopping soon, despite the feeble protests he might raise. She didn’t say anything about it, though, likely intent on planning more fully before submitting him to her plot. “Okay! As long as you’re comfortable,” she said casually.

He was not fooled. “I am. Comfortable. Very comfortable.”

Her smile was brilliant. “I’m glad! What are you working on?”

He released the breath he’d been holding. This was more familiar territory. He was more sure of himself, more confident. Turning back to the desk, he pressed his fingers to the surface, manipulating the screen so an enlarged view of the blueprints was visible. “Rebuilding Salineas. I was thinking about installing a desalination plant here.” He pointed and spread his fingers to focus on it. “With that and an irrigation system—“

“The inland villages wouldn’t be as susceptible to drought.”

“Exactly.”

“And with the tides....”

He nodded, a smug smile tugging at his mouth. “Yes; I believe we should be able to use that to generate energy. An electrical grid could revolutionize their way of life.” He lost his smug expression, leaning forward. His ears drew down and he folded his hands in front of him. “Of course, Mermista is skeptical of my intentions. Or my abilities. I’m not entirely sure which.”

She was very close now, nearly leaning on him so she could look over his shoulder. “She’ll come around. You just have to prove yourself to her.”

“Hmph. They tell me to make up for my wrongdoings by rebuilding what I helped destroy. Yet before I do, I must prove myself trustworthy. But in order to do that, I must help them rebuild. Their logic gives me a headache.”

“Yeah, I know.” She reached up to run her fingers through his hair. It seemed like an absent-minded gesture, but his whole being fixated on the feeling. “I had to prove myself when I rejoined the alliance too. It was hard, at first.” He shut his eyes, trying to pay attention to her words, but it was hard with her hand in his hair, scritching lightly at his scalp. “But they’re really nice once you get to know them.”

His ears started to droop, and he definitely wasn’t thinking about Salineas or the princess alliance anymore. His heart rate slowed and he allowed Entrapta to lift his chin. I t was only when he opened his eyes to see her studying him through her welding mask that he started to come back to himself. “Hmmm. Your hair isn’t cresting. Am I doing this right?”

He shook his head, trying to shrug off his strange placidity. “Are you experimenting on me again?”

“Maybe.” She lifted the mask. “Is that okay?”

“I am surprised you’d find me interesting enough to experiment with.”

“Hordak, you’re an alien! A bionic alien! Why wouldn’t I be interested?”

He glanced at the door. “Kadroh would be a better subject. He doesn’t have my defects. He would provide you with more accurate information on my species. Any data you collect from me would be flawed.”

“But you’re my lab partner! I don’t want to experiment like this with anyone else. Just you.”

He blinked, ears twitching. “I...see.”

“Do you?” He hesitated, not sure how to answer that. Her hands cupped his face, holding him steady as she looked down at him. His head was still tilted back, and she stood behind him, her features upside-down in his view. “Hordak, have you thought about continuing our exploration of your autonomic responses to tactile stimulation?”

He swallowed, and a rope of her hair curled loosely around his throat. Not a threat. Never that. But it made him more conscious of his pulse-points, his rising heartbeat. “I have. But.” Having her so close was suddenly overwhelming. He pushed the rope of hair away and stood, walking toward the window so he could at least pretend to look outside. He clasped his hands behind his back, legs flexing as he tried not to rock on his toes. “I synthesized the hormone cocktail that Prime used to keep his clones from becoming...distracted. I’ve been taking it.” One hand clenched tight around his other wrist.

“Oh! Is that why your hair isn’t reacting?”

He glanced over his shoulder, looking her over. Her gaze was intent, but her hair was wrapped around anything close at hand—the chair, the table leg, her own arms. She was holding herself back to give him the space he needed. Something inside him unclenched, and he turned from the window to face her fully. “Indeed. So I’m not sure that any further experiments would provide you with any useful data. As I said, Kadroh would be a much better subject for you.”

Her hair tightened. “Can I show you something?”

He cocked his head. “I’m not sure why you feel the need to ask. I am always interested in whatever—“ One rope of hair wrapped around his wrist and tugged him from the room. She was not quite running, but her pace was urgent and he had to walk briskly to keep up. “Where are we going?”

“Somewhere private.”

With that, she pulled open a door and pushed him inside, shutting it behind her. A thread of hair locked the door as she walked past him, hopping on one foot as she tried to take her work boots off. Before he could offer assistance, she lifted herself on her hair and curled her legs up to her hands so she could get her boots off. She tossed them aside, swiftly followed by her socks. Only when she unclasped her overalls did he start to become alarmed. “What are you doing?”

“Showing you my defects.”

The top of her overalls fell to her waist and she immediately started to shimmy out of them. He watched for a moment, baffled. “You do not have—“

“Hordak, I’m not perfect. Neither are you. Neither is Kadroh or anyone else. And it’s okay!” She dropped her overalls and tugged off her shirt as her hair deposited her safely on the ground. “Look—“ She stood before him in her underwear, arms and legs star-fished to showcase her whole body. “I am short.”

“Your stature is—“

A rope of hair pressed to his mouth, silencing him. “Hush. As I was saying; my body-type is ‘unfashionable’.” Her eyes lowered for just a moment. One hand pressed to her stomach, pinching the place that pouched out with subcutaneous fat. His shoulders tensed and he strode forward, not liking the way she did that at all, but her hair dropped to his chest, pushing him back. “And look—“ she held her arms out in front of her, showing him the shiny scar tissue that covered her arms and much of her hands. “I have scarring on my arms and hands. They aren’t even cool scars, either—I just burned myself in a lab accident.” She laughed a little self-deprecatingly. “Just smart enough to get myself into trouble, right?”

“Entrapta—“

“Do you think less of me for my defects?”

“Those are not defects! Your body is performing as intended!”

“Imperfections, then. Do you think less of me?”

“That’s absurd! Why would I?”

“Good! And you know I don’t think less of you for yours.” He flinched and looked away, ears drooping a little. He did know that. “So stop trying to push me off on Kadroh. I don’t want to see his autonomic responses. I was to see yours.”

“I was not pushing you off—“ She put her hands on her hips and gave him a look. He cleared his throat and put his hands behind his back, looking at the floor. “It is difficult to understand why you would choose me when there are other—“ He swallowed down the word ‘better’, knowing she would not appreciate the adjective. “—options available.”

“You listen to me when I talk. You understand me. And I like to think that I understand you too.”

His chest swelled. “I have had the depths of my mind plumbed, and yet you understand me better than anyone.”

She smiled broadly, her cheeks pink. “You say things like that. And you mean them.”

“Why would I speak falsely?”

She swallowed and looked away, grabbing a lock of hair and combing her fingers through it. She started to pace, but she seemed to shake herself free of whatever thought had gripped her. She smiled at him again. “I don’t know. People do, though. Lie.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Someone hurt you.”

She seemed to shrug it off, though her hands were still wrapped in her hair. “Everyone gets hurt. Right? I mean...we’ve both hurt people. A lot of people. It happens. Everyone does it. Everyone experiences it at one time or another. It’s all just a matter of degree.” Her gaze went distance. “I wonder if there’s a system of measurement for that....”

He came closer, lifting a hand to offer some comfort. He stopped before he could make contact. “May I touch you?”

“That’s another thing!” she exclaimed, spinning suddenly as her hair took hold of him. She walked him backward, toward the wall, pinning him there. “You understand that I can’t always....” One hand fumbled, as if she could pluck the word she wanted from the air. “Be touched.”

Her hair was wrapped around his upper arms, holding him securely but not tightly. He swallowed, looking down on her. It was not fear that set his hearts hammering and caused something low in his abdomen to tighten. It was something else. Something new.

She raised herself up on her hair so they were at eye level. “Do you see now? Why I want you and not someone else?”

“No. But—!” He swallowed, trying to speak before she could pull away, despite the lump in his throat. “I’m grateful. I may not understand why, but I am glad that you feel for me the same way I feel for you.”

She smiled. “Good.” She reached for his hair, running her fingers through it. “How’s that feel?”

He shut his eyes, pressing into her hand. It was different, now. Somehow, having his hands bound while she pet him was thrilling rather than relaxing. He could feel his scalp prickling, though his hair remained flat. “It’s. Good. Not as overwhelming as it was before.”

“Interesting.” Her hands traced down his scalp until she reached his ears. “Have I ever told you how cute your ears are?”

His ears flexed and his eyes opened wide. “No, you—!” He sputtered. “They are not!”

“No?” she asked, smiling as she ran a thumb over the edge of each ear.

“No.”

“If you say so,” she said in a sing-song. He huffed, feeling his cheeks grow hot. “This is cute too.” She brushed a thumb over his cheek.

“I am not cute!”

“Being a subjective term, I don’t think you get to decide what I do or do not find to be ‘cute’.”

He huffed, unable to refute that. Victorious, she smiled, her hands dropping to his jaw before trailing down his neck to rest on his chest. He wondered if she could feel his hearts beating under her hand. “Can I continue?”

“With what?”

“Exploring your reactions to tactile stimulation.”

His ears flattened. “With the hormones I’m taking, I doubt my reactions will prove titillating.”

“I’m not looking to be titillated. I’m interested in seeing what kind of touches you enjoy. What feels good to you. What you like. It doesn’t have to be sexual to be enjoyable.”

His cheeks were only getting hotter. He swallowed. “I see.”

“Besides,” she added, looking him over, “I would like a basis of comparison, should you ever choose to stop taking them.”

A soft noise escaped him. It definitely didn’t sound anything like a whimper. “Oh.”

“May I proceed?”

His hearts were beating hard, and something inside him squirmed. It was not shame he felt. Not fear. Something adjacent, without the sting of either. Anticipation, perhaps, though it was sharper than that. More intense. He flexed his arms, feeling the strength of her hold on him, and the anticipation peaked.

“Yes.” He swallowed, wondering what he was getting himself into. “Please proceed.”

#entrapdak #hordak #entrapta #wrong hordak #my writing #link #have to use the desktop to make the readmore work #such a pain #but i wasn't comfortable leaving this out in the open on everybody's dash #it needed a readmore

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