#aside from the usual just because you can doesn’t mean you should that all scientists should be forced to dwell on daily | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

phoenix-is-the-hottest-thing · 1 year

Note

What are your opinions on mobius?

*stares at current icon, which is Mobius in a santa outfit, drawn by my friend @cloud-ya*

She’s my favorite character

To be a bit less meme-y and more detailed, her chapter in ER is my favorite part of Honkai— she’s hyped up JUUUST right, painted as this deranged mad scientist and villain, and then you peel back the story through upgrading the vessels and talking to other characters more and you realize there’s more to her.

I love that.

Mobius is undoubtedly fucked up. She’s lacking a bunch of morals, and the ones she does have, like specifically ensuring consent to her experiments (the Sim didn’t but the real one reportedly did) can be very… contractual. Like how she gets Hua to agree to experiments by pushing her— sure, she said yes, but she said yes because they’re desperate and Mobius is insisting, and agreeing to retrieve the box didn’t mean agreeing to get possessed for science. Obviously this isn’t true consent, but on a technicality it respects Mobius’s moral code. It’s like a kid getting asked whether they ate yet who pops a single candy in their mouth then says yes. Honestly I relate to that dhdhdhf

I like this contrast, though!

Another fun thing is that she’s probably the eldest of the Flame-Chasers, and the one who’s worked with MOTH the longest, and she absolutely does not have the patience to be. She’s also super autistic? I relate to her a lot. Did you know that when she gets mad she just plops herself on her couch and pops bubble wrap for hours. Iconic work ethic. I love her.

Her stubborn fascination with life and death leads her to subvert some mad scientist tropes, for example her insistence to humanize the MANTIS. There’s also the way she treats her assistants and creations, very unusual for the archetype which tends to be all SCIENCE and no time to raise anybody.

If you paid attention, for all that she can troll them or punish them a little, she’s never cruel and nurtures them properly.

When she hears Fuxi and Nuwa messed up and tried to hide it she makes them copy the lab safety rules, this was very much a pedagogical decision with their safety in mind, not her taking her anger out on them. In fact I don’t think she really does that at any moment?

Even the Sim (more morally dubious already) attacking Mei is doing it with a set purpose, nothing personal. For such an overtly malicious character she… doesn’t actually act on malice very much lol. At most she’s very selfish, and her curiosity drives her to perform cruel actions, rather than an intent to harm. The rest of the time she’s quite serious, wants what’s best for everyone, on paper that’d be quite pleasant uh?

When there’s interpersonal friction it usually comes down to what you can easily read as neurodivergence; Elysia and Hua observe that Mobius makes no difference between herself and others. In other words, she assumes that what SHE can tolerate, anyone can or should be able to, which isn’t true. Struggling with that stuff is very autistic coded. I relate. It makes her struggles and everyone demonizing her more tragic, too. I’d wager that everyone calling her names and alienating her greatly contributed to her cynical ways, making the issue worse.

Despite all that though, she treats her creations well, and instead of trying to control them she makes a point of giving them the freedom to be themselves and supports their choices, even if she doesn’t agree with them (like trying to push ELF Klein away by showing her what working together would be like, because she thought Klein wouldn’t be able to handle it, but since Klein could she gave up and accepted both that she had projected her anxieties and Klein’s own choice).

Big subversion to mad scientist tropes there! This leads to pretty much all of her creations adoring her (aside from the Sim but like, self-hatred go brrrr).

It makes lots of sense when you keep in mind that she’s also a child abuse survivor. She claims she throws her creations to the wolves because even humans are only left to themselves, but she’s lying.

The sim sacrifices herself for Klein’s sake (both of them lovingly protect and raise Klein), the real one leaves a loving message for her sim, to the Gray Serpents of the early days she was so important that they dedicated themselves to understand what it would mean to follow her wish to be free by CREATING MULTIPLE CULTS, and they still lowkey worship her as their creator after 50 000 years…

Yeah she cares a lot. She cares a lot about Griseo too, as well as other Flame-Chasers, like Eden, Vill-V or Elysia (despite being annoyed).

Her relationship with Vill-V is also interesting, because when Mobius realizes she’s similar to herself, her first impulse is to kill her immediately. Ultimately she doesn’t, but it was really a “recognition of the self through the other (derogatory)” moment. She also warns Vill-V multiple times about the weight of failure, and I think she pretty much sees herself fifteen years younger in her— a brilliant neurodivergent scientist with a few moral screws loose about to get smacked with the reality of the Apocalypse. Really can’t see this as romantic but ymmv.

TLDR

My opinion is that she’s just full of interesting character depth and I just eat that up, especially since I have a particular fondness for morally dubious mom types that care very much deep down.

#honkai impact #hi3 #asks #mobius #I support women’s wrongs

60 notes · View notes

localsimpmigraine · 2 years

Text

Bustin’ Makes Me Feel Good (Egon Spengler x Reader) [18+]

A/N: Hello all! This is my first time posting a fanfic on here so forgive me if it looks janky. I usually only write and keep it private, but everyone seemed hungry for more Egon Spengler fics! So, here is the start of my hard work. If you guys could, please leave suggestions for future "experiments" for Y/N and Egon! And perhaps provide notes or helpful tips if you feel so inclined. warnings: smut, minors dni, unprotected sex (pls use protection I do not condone unprotected sex!!), sex experiments, Possessive!Egon, Gentle!Egon, tiny bit of cunnilingus, dic suck, p in v sex, leaving marks word count: 3,816

Chapter 1: The Start of the Experiment

It was late, and after Janine was done doing her half of the paperwork for the business, she bid you goodnight. You were lagging behind, not sure if it was because you’d only had one cup of coffee or that it was Thursday. You were so close, yet so far from the weekend. But then again, the work at Ghostbusters HQ was never over. Constant calls in the dead of night, explaining why everyone in the office seemed to be in a prolonged state of fatigue. You sighed, filling out forms and organizing them in the filing cabinets at your side. You got up, having a dozen pages left, to go make some coffee and wake yourself up. Once you arrived in the kitchen area, you noticed Egon sipping on his own mug of the dark caffeinated beverage. He had already made a pot. You should’ve expected that of the sleepless scientist, constantly snacking and drinking coffee to continue his research. You grabbed a spare mug from the cabinet, one that was your favorite color, and filled it with hot coffee. You added some creamer and sugar before sitting across the table from the lanky doctor.

“Still running tests?” you asked, taking a sip of your drink quietly, savoring the taste.

“Of course. Our work is never done and there is always more to know,” he said contently, his fingers gently tapping the handle of his mug.

You hypnotically watched his hands, your mind wandering off into the night and leaving your body sitting completely still, your hands around your mug. Once Egon had realized you were dissociating, he moved his mug aside and sat forward, his hand reaching to yours. He knew the risk would be that he would scare you, but he figured the likelihood of that was low considering how sleepy you seemed. Once his hand touched yours, your eyes blinked rapidly, scanning your surroundings until you landed on Egon in front of you.

“You seemed lost,” he stated.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to space out on you.”

“No need to apologize. Dissociation can happen when one is fatigued.”

He retracted his hand slowly as you gripped the handle of your mug and readied yourself for another sip. You closed your eyes and held the mug up to your nose to smell the coffee, then took another swig. You refocused on him and put your mug down.

“Do you do that too or are you just kept awake by science?” you asked jokingly.

“I tend to eat a lot of snacks. Also, I lose track of time. Aren’t you almost done with your work though?” he asked. “I’d cover for you if you want to leave and get a proper eight hours.”

You thought for a moment but wanted to impress him. “No, no. I really should get the paperwork done so it doesn’t pile up on top of the workload in the morning.”

“Well if you’d like, you can come into my lab to finish your coffee before returning to your work.”

It was odd that he made the offer, but you certainly weren’t going to turn it down. You were curious about what all was in his lab and what he was gathering data on. “I’d love to.”

You stood with him, your mug in your hands as he finished his coffee and placed his mug in the sink before sticking his hands in his lab coat pockets and leading the way to his lab down the hall. You carefully followed him, keeping his pace and holding your mug tightly, so as not to drop it. You went up the stairs to his lab, and right as you met the threshold of the doorway, the smell of earth, dirt, and metal hit you in the face. It was somehow comforting and warm, though that was probably because of the heat lamps he had over his growing fungi on the shelves. He walked over to his collection on the shelves and gave a small smile to the growing organisms. You could tell he was proud of his collection and indeed enjoyed watching these things grow. You thought to an extent it was adorable, even if you didn’t understand it fully. You scanned the bookshelves, seeing many books on anatomy, botany, and other fields of study. Some more recent reads were stacked and opened on his desk, one catching your eye, called Human Sexual Response.

“It’s very comfortable in here,” you commented, looking from his face to the gadgets and wires and hunks of metals he was using to make machines in the room. “I’m honestly surprised you wouldn’t fall asleep in here.”

“Well, it’s warm enough to keep my collection thriving. Though I usually run cold, so it’s warm enough to keep my body heat within a normal range,” he explained, walking toward an island table that held what looked like an upgraded version of the PKE reader that Egon had used for many ghost hunting trips.

“Well, Dr. Spengler, I do adore your lab. I wish my desk was as nice,” you said longingly, setting your mug down on the surface.

“Then perhaps you could rethink your choice of a job. You could become a lab assistant, if you’re interested. I admit I may need help in here soon with the amount of work we’ve been picking up.”

You approached him carefully, getting closer than you usually would. “Well, Dr. Spengler, your lab isn’t the only thing I’d love about a job like this.”

He scanned you with keen and clever eyes, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. He had been reading the research of Dr. Bill Masters and Virginia Johnson, which had made him wonder if sex was as formulaic as they had written. Maybe this was his chance to test the findings of Dr. Masters with his own experience. Your hand touched his shaven cheek, snapping him out of his thoughts. His eyes met the heat of your gaze, as your other hand rested on his sweater vest-covered chest. You felt the beat of his heart increase, and the breaths he took were more shallow.

“Y/N. Are you sure you…want me? If this is going to happen, I have some conditions,” he said, his hands now caressing your forearms.

“I want you, Dr. Spengler. What do you need from me?”

“You need to be my lab assistant. You’re obviously too curious to be behind a desk. Peter will find more help for Miss Melnitz, I’m sure.”

“Yes sir. But what do I need to do for you to have me now?” you asked, the hand on his chest gliding down his pec and to his side.

“I think tonight we’ll start with heart rate before and after coitus,” he managed, a shake in his voice as if your touch made him tremble. He too was human, and even if he tried to act like he wasn’t, he still had desires like his friends.

He reached his right hand to your neck, two fingers resting on your pulse point as his eyes trained on his watch to check your beats per minute. He stayed still, breathing quietly through his nose as you stood frozen for him. You could feel yourself getting excited. He was going to fuck you. In his lab.

“58 BPM,” he said, turning away from you to a notepad on his desk as he scrawled the information down, making sure to label it properly so it wouldn’t be another number written on the sheet. He stayed turned away from you as he took his own heart rate. You drank in the sight of his fluffy dark hair atop his head, his collared shirt covered with a sweater vest that smelled earthy, and his grey slacks that showed his shapely backside.

After he had written his down messily, he turned around to face you. “We need a flat surface, unless you’d like to perform this in an unusual way. Though, I’m not sure how much that would affect my results,” he said, his eyes wandering from yours to the steel table behind you. He was getting caught up in his thoughts here, while you were excited from anticipation.

“Dr. Spengler—” you started before he corrected you softly.

“Please, call me Egon, since we’re alone.”

“Egon,” you corrected yourself. “If we’re doing this for research, surely you’d like to include variables other than visual and audible stimuli. The position can be factored in as well. I’m perfectly comfortable as long as you’re here.”

He had looked from the floor to your face again once you started speaking his language. Science. Stimuli and scientific method speak. His gaze was curious and hungry.

“You have a point,” he muttered.

He took two steps toward you, closing the gap of space between your bodies. His hands cautiously rested on your waist, his fingers not sure what to do other than brush your shirt up for skin-to-skin contact. A shiver ran down your back at the coolness of his thin fingers. Your arms snaked up his chest and around his neck, your fingers brushing his fluffy hair at his nape. You leaned in, stopping just shy of his lips and grinning. His eyes were half-open, looking at your lips before he closed the space that was left. The kiss was soft at first, warm and inviting. But as you got heated, the kiss increased in intensity as you began to move your tongue along his lip. He complied and opened his mouth, clashing tongues with you. You were so close, that you could feel the heat emanating off of his groin and the thump of his heart against his ribs. Once you broke the kiss, you started to peel off his sweater vest, your fingers gliding down to mess with the hem as you pulled it up. He followed your movements and smoothly took it off, setting it on the desk behind him as he studied you. His hands went for your shirt, pushing it up and off your torso, revealing your lack of a bra.

“Oh,” he chirped, his cheeks turning pink. He obviously wasn’t expecting that to be missing. He awkwardly looked away.

“Egon, you can look at them. Hell, you can touch them. I guess I should've warned you.”

“Is this something you do often? Omit this article of clothing?” he asked, his eyes slowly crawling back up to gaze at your chest.

“When I can, yes. Some bras are very uncomfortable.” He nodded in response, understanding. You imagined he probably took a mental note.

Your hands gently grabbed his wrists and guided his hands up to cup your breasts. His fingers weren’t as cold as they had been, but they were still cool enough to make your nipples go hard. You softly gasped as he delicately brushed the tender skin of your chest. As you reveled in his touch, your hands had found the tie around his neck, working the knot out of it and pulling him close with it before you removed it from his shirt. Your fingers next found the top button of his collared shirt, undoing each of them, showing more and more flesh. His hands had begun to massage and toy with your nipples, drawing purrs from your lips. Once his shirt was unbuttoned, he leaned toward you to kiss you again before he lined your neck with kisses, occasionally suckling hard to leave a mark. He grazed your breasts with his lips and nose before arriving at a nipple and letting his tongue circle it. You trembled, feeling yourself become wetter for this nerdy scientist who was appearing to be a great lover as well.

“Egon,” you breathed, your hands clutching the back of his head, his soft curls intertwining with your delicate fingers. He released your nipple from his mouth and gazed up at your euphoric face.

“Something the matter?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

You shook your head, loving the pace this was going, but at the same time longing for him to fuck you into next week. “I want to see you. I know you’re modest, but you’ve only got your tie off while I’m already topless.”

His face turned a little pink and pulled his sleeves off to remove his shirt from his body, revealing a toned but not too toned body shape. He obviously got enough exercise doing ghostbusting, but he did make up for it by eating Cheez-Its and Twinkies. “I apologize. Is this arousing for you? To see me without a shirt?”

You mentally facepalmed. He had to be joking. You nodded, biting your lip at the sight of his smooth skin, his light patch of chest hair as fluffy as the hair on his head.

Another mental note taken, he set his shirt on his desk, holding your gaze until you broke it to see where your hands would touch. His chest was soft but solid underneath the layer of skin and little fat. You felt his sides, each rib felt on your way down to his hips as he shuddered beneath you. You snuck a glance downwards and could tell his erection had to be getting painful. He noticed your glance and took the opportunity to surprise you by lifting you up and sitting you on the edge of the cool table behind you. It was solid wood, slightly colder than the room surrounding it. You squeaked when he lifted you, your hands grasping his shoulders as his hands firmly grasped your waist. Then, those magic fingers of his began to pull on your dress pants, and you shifted to help him get them off. Once they had fallen to your ankles, he roughly folded them and put them where his shirt was on the desk. The dampness between your legs was visible on your mid-colored underwear, the waistband lacey and soft. Your panties had soaked through, getting your thighs damp now, which sent a tingle down your spine at the chill in the air without your pants. This was happening.

Egon kissed you again, grunts from his chest being heard between each one, your hands holding his freshly-shaven face. One of his hands had found your heat, the pressure from his hand on your mound making you shift up into it. He rubbed and felt your folds through the underwear, a grin crossing his face as he broke the kisses and moved his head to kiss your navel, stopping just short of the lace. He played with the hem, hesitating.

“May I?” he asked. As per usual, always the gentleman.

“Yes,” you breathed, “please.”

He took them off gently, as if unwrapping a neat and pristine present. Once he got a look at your core, his face definitely ran hot. He squatted, his hands each taking a leg under your thigh and placing them on his shoulders. His hands reached around the tops of your thighs and caressed them, kissing them up and down before focusing on your quivering pussy. His tongue laid flat over your clit, nearly causing you to buck into his face before his tongue began tracing your labia. You squirmed beneath him, giving Egon the sense that what he was doing was desirable to you. Your fist clenched beside you while your other hand held your breast.

“Ah, oh, Eg-gon,” you stuttered, the pleasure removing cohesive thought from your mind. Your heart was leaping, and just before you could grasp a climax, he stopped. “Egon?”

You looked to where he was, and you saw him looking at your face hungrily. “You make interesting faces when I do this. I had to see them in action…and wanted to see what would happen if I stopped.”

He sounded logical, but still lustfully charged. “May I pleasure you in return?”

He raised his eyebrows. He was so hard, he thought his slacks would tear. He nervously nodded as you sat up, laying on your belly to reach his belt and undo it, pulling his briefs and pants down. His cock sprung free, twitching and begging for attention. It was so red, you couldn’t believe there was still blood spare to go to his face and make it blush. His size was impressive in terms of length. He was girthy around the top and obviously hadn’t shown this part of himself to anyone in a long time. He covered his mouth as he watched you take his penis in your soft hands and guide it to your mouth, the taste of precum coating your tongue. His length throbbed in your mouth, and you knew too much would make him cum before he even had a chance to enter you. He let out a shaking moan, his hands stroking your hair and your shoulders, as if to praise you. You hollowed out your cheeks and let your tongue run along the underside, drawing out a grunt from Egon, followed by a small gasp. You stopped and pulled him out of your mouth, looking up at his euphoric face. You sat up and got back into place, your hips resting on the edge of the table, your hands drifting to find the small of his back to pull him towards you.

“Please, Egon,” you whined, making a face at him as he was caught in his head on the stages of human sexual arousal. His gaze raked you, taking in the sight of your form as if he’d never see it again. But a sly grin crept onto his face as he remembered the arrangement you two had agreed on. You would become his lab assistant and accompany him on this journey of experiments.

“Are you at full arousal?” he asked.

You nodded, your hair trembling on your head. “Are you?”

He grunted in satisfaction, grabbing his cock with his hand and lining up with your heat. He pushed in slowly, his girth spreading and filling you like nothing you’d felt before. You never imagined this would happen, and yet here you were, with Dr. Egon Spengler inside of you. Once he’d buried himself to the hilt, he hummed a moan as you contracted around his length, adjusting to his size. His hands gripped your hips, knowing it would leave a mark on you. He showed signs of possessiveness over you. The question you asked yourself next was, was it because he was aroused or because he actually liked you?

“Please fuck me, Egon,” you pleaded.

He complied, beginning a rhythm of thrusts, his girth hitting just the right spot while the room crowded with the sound of skin-to-skin contact. Your hands covered his on your hips as he gasped for air, each thrust drawing out squeaks and moans in a symphony of pleasure from your mouth. He threw his head back, humming louder until his lips could no longer hold in his sounds of euphoria. Hearing him make these noises because of you drove you wild, your hands reaching for his shoulders to pull him towards you as you sat up. He slowed the pace, panting as you grounded him with your gaze before making him tilt his head again to give you access to his neck. Your lips brushed along his tendons before settling on a spot and suckling on it, leaving a hickey that surely would last a week. He tried to control his breathing, his hips shaking as he desperately wanted to come. You laid down again and he resumed his rhythm, hissing through his teeth as he watched your breasts move to his beat.

“I’m gonna— Egon, right there, there,” you whined, your arms moving above your head, clenching your fists around the air.

“You’re close to orgasm, Y/N,” he huffed. “I’m right behind you.”

“Cum for me,” you begged, a moan ripping through your chest as your orgasm rocked you. Your walls clenched around Egon’s length, as he let himself go, his cum spilling into you. You didn’t think there would be so much, it felt like he had filled your stomach. It was satisfying.

As he came down from his high and refocused on you, he saw your hands cupping your breasts as your chest rose and fell. His rationale returned to him and he quickly took two of his fingers and pressed them to your pulse point on your neck, his eyes (while seeing stars) trained on his watch as he counted in his head. He slowly removed his cock from you before turning around to write down the number he had recorded, then taking his own heart rate. Your eyes were scanning his back when he was turned to you. You could see the hardened muscles that he used to carry his proton pack along his shoulder blades, the line down his spine finally stopped before his round ass cheeks tautly sat below it.

“You have a beautiful ass, Dr. Spengler,” you chuckled, the feeling of his seed spilling out of you giving you a shudder. It was still warm.

“Thank you,” he responded, turning back around so you could take in the sight of his face, chest, and now resting penis. “I think.”

“It is a compliment, Egon. Your behind is very shapely. Most women like a guy with a tight ass like yours.”

“Well, I’ll keep that in mind.”

He gave a small smile, clearly indicating that the dopamine from the sex had not yet cleared his system. “So, when is our next experiment?”

He thought for a moment, thinking about what he would need to gather and read on before the next one. “How does next week sound? It will give me time to gather my materials for further experimentation and for you to get to know your way around the lab.”

“That sounds perfect,” you said, sitting up and sliding your fingers to your slit, getting a drop of cum on your fingers, and sucking it off as he watched intently. The salty taste coated your tongue as your eyes met his. He seemed confused, intrigued, even, but not disgusted.

“I’m not judging you, if that’s what you’re thinking. I was just curious why you did that. Is it sexually arousing or pleasing?”

He could be so linear. “It’s satisfying to taste you. Think of it as…a gesture of pleasure. I enjoyed you.”

“Ah, about that. I forgot to ask if you’re on birth control.”

“I am. No worries.”

“So,” you said, hopping down from the wood table and approaching him as he stood and observed you. “Same time next week?”

He nodded, moving out of your way so you could grab your clothes from the table. This was going to be very informative for him. Not only would he compare his findings against those of Dr. Masters, but perhaps he could learn some other things about human intimacy that couldn’t be measured in numbers or statistics.

368 notes · View notes

leroyzboots · 3 years

Text

you and i are trying, together.

part two.

The amount of unease that can fit into Tommy's more-than-human-less-than-god body is honestly surprising.

Tommy paces back and forth on the floor of the Lambda lab, his Beyblade whirring between his fingers and his precious immortal dog following behind him with love.

They'd arrived at around half past midnight, but it's now early morning and there's been no sign of the other two members of the science team.

Bubby leans back in their chair, crossing his knee-high laced boots over their knee, and bounces the other one out of anxiety.

"Tommy," he barks; "you're scaring the other scientists."

Tommy glances down and realizes that the Beyblade is whizzing madly in the air around his hands, suspended from nothing.

"D-dammit," He mutters, snatching his toy back and returns it to his pocket.

"They sho-should have been back by now."

Tommy stops pacing for a second and stares down the Coomers with his father's intensity.

"Surely, Benrey could have used teleportation?" Harold chimes in, his knuckles bruised slightly from his repeated stims.

"I think that's what he meant, dear," Bubby replies, patting their husband's shoulder affectionately.

"Yes, exactly!"

Tommy throws his hands into his pockets, huffing out his frustration.

"The f-fact that they're not...back yet! Means something has gone-"

A enormous thud echoes from the the floor, a piece of tile juts out slightly and scatters the scientists nearby.

"Wrong," Tommy finishes miserably, drawing his gun and preparing for Xen's creatures.

Beside him, Sunkist snarls, her hackles raised in warning.

The tile cracks and shoots into the air, with accompanying gunfire from below, and a hatch busts open from the hole.

Tommy aims to shoot, but immediately lowers his gun upon seeing Mr. Freeman's tired but happy face, followed closely by Benrey, the bags under his eyes looking darker than usual.

"G-Gordon!!"

Tommy rushes forward, embracing them both, and the knots of tension unravel in his stomach.

Benrey snuggles just a little closer into Tommy's coat, and Tommy releases Gordon to pull Benrey into a full hug.

Tommy planned on never admitting it to himself, but these two were the people he loved the most.

Benrey..he'd known Benrey for years.

It started when Benrey was just out of training, and Tommy had completed his certification to become a top scientist.

Benrey was 19, maybe 20 at the oldest, his hair pulled into a ponytail that ran down his back.

They weren't close, then, Benrey had been assigned to guard the G-Man's adopted son.

Benrey couldn't die, and Tommy's line of work was dangerous enough to need protection.

So it all worked out.

They barely exchanged more than a few words to eachother until that one night, that one fucking night and Benrey is tripping over himself in tears, blood pouring from the wound on his back and he's clutching Tommy, pawing at his shoulders.

Benrey trembled like he's made from glass and will break if he falls, and Tommy gripped the back of the others security vest so tightly the kevlar nearly rips in half.

And that's saying something.

That night they sat together and they're closer in distance than they've ever been, Tommy's warm and gentle hands bandaged the wound above the numbers tattooed onto Benrey's tailbone and Benrey spilled everything.

Between sniffles and the occasional sob, Benrey confessed, about the tools that somehow hurt him beyond regeneration, leaving a scar, about the men and their evil sticks of lightning that would seep into his bones and fill him with pain so intense he felt like he would break in half.

Tommy nearly broke in half himself.

He felt helpless, and so he went to the only person he knew would make the ones who hurt his first and only friend pay dearly-

His father.

Oh, Tommy had never seen the G-man so angry.

Black Mesa was a research facility, for god's sake, dedicated to the study of alien life and the progression of the human body.

So when Tommy's dad realized that the prototype imprisonment he had resolved several years ago had resurfaced with an even uglier face, he sent scientists who had never experienced fear in their lives tripping for the door in yelps of terror.

And that had been the end of it.

Benrey continued his job as a security guard, people who had previously been made in the facility were hired back on as scientists in new departments such as mixology and cybernetics, and Black Mesa cut its ties with the military.

Black Mesa, Benrey explained later in his own broken way to Tommy in the quiet breakroom during lunch hour, had been trying to create the perfect human being.

There were thousands upon thousands of prototypes that had been created, and Benrey had been the last.

But there had always been something wrong with the ones they created, whether it was serious physical or mental deformities, or simply a sense of fucked up little creature that ended up resulting in the insane amount of scientists with the ability to grow in size, and the security guards that always had a few too many rows of teeth or glowing eyes and severe anger issues.

They weren't always grown in tubes, Tommy learned, but they were always branded with their serial number on the base of the spine.

The one before him, Benrey quipped with a mouthful of sandwich, had been born to a prototype and a normal human employee, before they stripped them out with a memory wipe and sent them into normal society.

The anxious feeling that haunted Tommy in the years that followed had something to do with that piece of information in particular.

Something told him that the military and the alien planet they were studying wouldn't let go of Black Mesa kindly.

Mr. Freeman confirmed that.

He's in the hallway, on his way to get a soda, when he's met with a newer employee, only worked here about 4 or so years.

He seemed kind enough, if a little loud and stubborn. And alright, maybe it hurt Tommy's feelings when Gordon called him a freak, but that was pushed aside with the Resonance Cascade.

Tommy knew that this was it, this was the boot boys' revenge for cutting them out of the picture, but there was something else, distinctly and unsettlingly alien about the Cascade.

The whole of Black Mesa fell into shambles, with creatures of Xen integrating into their carefully built walls and lives, and Tommy kinda freaked, okay?

He'd seen Dr. Coomer around, always greeting him with a wonderful "Hello!!", and was met with a thrill in his stomach when he introduced another prototype as his husband.

Those two had been with him, in the observation room when the project exploded around Gordon and Benrey-

he wasn't supposed to be in the test chamber, what if it seriously hurt him?-

And maybe that was when Tommy realized he was in love with Benrey.

Over time, he felt a sense of conflict slowly building as he made friends with Mr. Freeman.

He seemed to hate Benrey, they hated eachother, but Tommy liked one and loved the other so he became their middle ground.

He was convinced to himself that Benrey liked him as well, until that room, that dark, dark room, and suddenly Benrey is kneeling in a puddle of Gordon's blood and Bubby is screaming, sobbing, blubbering his apologies to anyone who is listening as the soldiers drag them away and Benrey-

He says it, he says those words and it breaks Tommy's heart into a billion pieces-

"Because I love him, okay?! I'm fucking- whoop-de-doo, in love with Gordon god. G-goddamn Freeman, okay?..."

And then Benrey teleports, and he's gone, and Bubby is gone and Dr. Coomer leaves him in the cold dark sewer by himself.

Tommy cried.

Burying his head in his coat, he cried hard and long, alone on the rocky floor.

And then Mr. Freeman crawls out of the pipe, and Tommy can't help it, he holds him.

Gordon reeks of sewage and his bloody hand smells of copper but Tommy doesn't care, and alright, maybe that's when Tommy realized he's in love with Gordon too.

Alright, Tommy can deal with that.

Something Tommy can't deal with is the fact that his instincts are going fucking haywire.

Tommy's always been very perceptive when it comes to time, maybe he can't stop time like his father can, but he's definitely got a certain sense of time and reality as it surrounds him.

Being able to reach out and touch and feel certain areas, but not control them, and all of time is wrapped around him like a blanket.

So when the floor crumbles away below them and Benrey and Gordon fall deep into the recesses of Black Mesa's hellscape, Tommy freaks the fuck out.

A deep, inherent concern lays nested in the pit of his mind like a pile of cottonmouth snakes, hissing madly and snarling that something, something, is absolutely wrong with how this is supposed to go.

Tommy has a sinking feeling that something terrible is going to happen.

Man, Benrey really hates this place.

The scientists of the Lambda lab asked a simple request of the Science Team- go through the portal to Xen, get rid of the Nihilanth, bring back some weird space shit.

Easy as pie.

Right?

Wrong.

Benrey feels sick, feverish on this planet.

As he follows behind the group, his legs feel leaden and heavy, and he tugs at the collar of his uniform, which feels uncomfortably tight around his neck.

He's sweating, unusually warm beneath his helmet, but shivering as though chilled to his bones.

There's a tug, deep in his torso, pulling him along, but it's a nasty, oppressive feeling that makes his limbs feel like noodles.

He swallows nervously, eyes darting across the fetid, blood colored planet of Xen.

The sour smell clogs his senses, and as they trudge deeper and deeper through the portals, away from the floating rocks with little gravity and past strange barrels of highly toxic looking liquid, the heavy pull in Benrey's chest only grows stronger and more sickly.

They push through a final, puke-green portal, and the feeling inside of Benrey swells to near explosion.

A cave, with jagged and dark stone running up the walls in wicked cracks, a deep red flush to the area.

Water is flooding Benrey's boots, a putrid and decaying smell to the liquid, and it only adds to Benrey's fatigue.

The creature before them could only be the Nihilanth itself, and the very sight sends such a fucking shudder down Benrey's spine.

It's disgusting, twisted and pulsating flesh running down what must be its face, beady eyes in a cadaverous socket.

It looks like a fetus, a failed attempt of termination long after the allotted time.

It speaks, and the chorus of voices that accompanies it gives away the fact that Xen isn't just the planet-

It's the entire race.

"So. The humans have finally decided to be rid of us."

Gordon looks tired, beaten, but pulls himself upward and grunts through the pain of his broken shin.

"Get your video game dialogue out of the way," he says, with a dismissive wave of his gun-hand.

"I'm about done with this alien shit."

The Nihilanth laughs, a hideous and painful sound, and tilts its head in curiosity towards the little group of vagabonds.

"But you have brought us the very thing we need, Mr. Freeman."

Gordon groans in frustration, turning back to his friends with his teeth grinding against eachother.

"Why does it know my name?"

Xens' audience shrieks with delight, and the Nihilanth's barely feasible mouth twists into what can only be guessed as a grin.

"Xen knows everything about you, Mr. Freeman."

Benrey sways on the spot, his boots splashing the strange water, and the scene before him blurs.

"Whadda....what the hell are you..talking about, man?"

Xen's creatures seem to roar with laughter, and beside Benrey, Dr. Coomer throws up his fists protestingly.

"Xen has been all knowing, all seeing since time begun. As we grow, so do our minds, until we are forced to repopulate. Regrow."

Beneath their feet, headcrabs scuttle ominously, causing Tommy to jump backward with surprise.

"But human beings became a problem for Xen. Their flimsy bodies failed, burst open upon integration."

Benrey is only just awake enough to process this.

"The scientists of Black Mesa were so eager to learn of a new planet. So Xen took influence, and under the guise of building a perfect human being, created what Xen needed."

Gordon scoffs, his shoulders shaking as he laughs scornfully.

Xen reacts strongly, a collective hiss rising around them.

"Do not laugh at us, human."

The headcrabs stay at a distance, but raise their pincers and click them menacingly as the Nihilanth's speech continues.

"Xen required a human being who could withstand radiation, a being who could lose blood en mass and not perish."

A sense of dread washes over the Science Team, and Tommy instinctively puts himself in front of Gordon.

Bubby ignites his arms protectively.

"Let me guess," Gordon growls, revving up his minigun limb; "you needed me?"

Xen's creatures wail in joy, and Benrey takes that as a yes, and reaches for his gun, when something big and poisonous and slimy wraps around his ankle.

"Xen requires Benrey."

Benrey yelps as the Nihilanth drags him underneath the water, bubbles of Sweet Voice trailing from his mouth as his back bounces on the cragged floor beneath the surface.

The Nihilanth swings him into the air, and Benrey splutters, ears waterlogged under his helmet, which slips from his head and falls to the ground with a splash, Benrey's short black hair now dripping wet.

"Look at you, our once perfect vessel- a mewling, pathetic dog."

Hung upside down by his ankle, Benrey gasps in pain as Xen shakes him repeatedly, and for a brief, sickening moment, Benrey is forcibly reminded of the Finding Nemo movie Tommy showed him-

He feels like a fish in Darla's little bag.

"Bark, bark, bark but no bite. You were made with Xen's own blood and yet you cannot even protect those you are infatuated with."

With that, the Nihilanth throws him to the far wall, and his skull cracks on the rock.

It doesn't heal, and Benrey slumps down, struggling to stand, his eyesight swimming with tears.

"You think the Freeman human loves you? You cost him a limb. You would be perfect save for your one flaw- you kneel before a man you could kill with no effort, and you beg him to love you as you love him."

Benrey shakes, kneeling, and whimpers as he chokes out a sob, not trying to disguise his tears.

"You truly are nothing."

"No."

The word is tiny, barely audible.

Then again, louder, with a crack of his voice but more than enough power-

"No. You're wrong."

Gordon pulls himself to full height, scowling so deeply the age shows on his face.

"Benrey is everything to us. To all of us, but especially me."

"Y-yeah! We're not afraid of you!" Tommy chimes, and Sunkist howls with approval.

"If you or your alien bitches thought we'd just leave him here, you're just as stupid as you look."

Bubby grins wildly, cracking their neck from side to side, his bright and eager eyes flashing beneath their glasses.

"Don't fuck with the Science Team!" Coomer bellows, and Bubby cheers beside him.

"Now I'm only gonna tell you once," Gordon beams, turning away from his family to draw his gun-hand and point it at Xen's Nihilanth.

"Piss off."

Gordon fires, and the accompanying screams of headcrabs and peeper puppies echo across the cave, and Benrey is overtaken with an aching, sweet feeling he usually associates with Gordon.

It's love.

Benrey smiles fondly as his knees buckle and he falls to the ground and submerges in the murky waters.

Benrey wakes up and immediately is struck with a massive goddamn headache.

He closes his eyes and pulls the pillow over his ears, but the pain is there and clearly is not going anywhere, so he's going to have to ask for an aspirin or some shit.

Sitting up makes him so nauseous it's not even funny, so he decides it's not worth it to stand.

A loud snore startles Benrey enough to yelp, and he glances around for the source of the noise.

Sitting hand in hand on the floor, against the wall opposite his bed, are Gordon and Tommy, both bearing signs of wear and both dead asleep.

Gordon is clutching Benrey's helmet so tightly to his shirt it looks uncomfortable, and Tommy is curled protectively around Gordon's shoulders.

They're half dressed, like Black Mesa decided that the HEV suit and a bloody lab coat was not appropriate clothing but also did not have a whole lot of options for back up wear.

Benrey guesses this based on the fact that Gordon's not really wearing pants and Tommy's wearing a t-shirt that says "Birthday Girl".

Something about the fact that they're holding hands hurts Benrey, just a little.

His heart aches for a moment as he remembers the warmth of Gordon's hand and the feeling of a hug from the Beyblade enthusiast who was his best and only friend for a very long time.

Benrey shakes his head, decides he's going to repress it, and yawns.

God, his head hurts.

Benrey figures that if he stands, he's going to trip and probably break something, and since he doesn't trust his regeneration ability right now, he's not risking it.

Instead, he picks up his pillow and heaves it at the two scientists as hard as he can.

Tommy jolts awake, blinking, then smiles widely upon sighting the guard.

"Benrey!!"

Tommy shoots upward, and makes the distance between the wall and the hospital bed in one step, leaving Gordon to slump over and yell in surprise as he hits the floor.

Benrey's pulled into a crushing hug, and he wheezes for Tommy to be gentle.

"S-sorry!" Tommy cries happily, pulling back to take in Benrey's face.

"It's..it's g-good to see you awake."

Gordon stands, still holding the helmet, and wanders over to where Tommy is perched on the edge of the bed.

"You've been out for hours," Gordon adds, gently reaching out with his left hand to ruffle Benrey's hair.

"We were starting to get worried."

Benrey swallows his funny retort for once, instead choosing to spit out some clear blue song in response.

Tommy reads it almost immediately, and excuses himself to get medicine.

Gordon takes his spot on the bed, and just looks over Benrey.

Benrey feels like he's being scrutinized, with Gordon's soft green eyes just roaming over his face.

"Alright. Fucking. Get the questions outta the way," Benrey mumbles irritably, sticking out his tongue.

"I know you're fuckin. Curious about the shit Xen said."

Gordon laughs sweetly, setting the helmet down on the bed next to him and runs his fingers over it fondly.

Benrey takes a note of his new right hand, a grey-black prosthetic that clicks when Gordon moves his knuckles.

"I don't really have any questions," Gordon grins, adjusting his shirt.

"Other than, are you okay?"

Benrey's taken back by this one.

Not only did he cost Gordon his hand and almost his life about thirty billion times, but everyone (including him!) also just found out that Benrey was made with Xen DNA.

He's essentially Gordon's enemy in every sense of the word, and Gordon is asking if he's okay?

"....did the Nihilanth hit your head or somethin', man?? What the hell kinda. Question is that one??"

Gordon's smile softens massively, and it makes Benrey's heart melt into a little puddle in his stomach.

"Benrey, you saved my life a whole shit ton of times back there."

"Yeah, I also almost got you killed," Benrey interrupts, but Gordon doesn't pause.

"I've been thinking about a lot of things while you've been asleep, and I've been talking with Tommy a lot too."

Benrey's happy puddle evaporates into a heavy leaden ball inside of his chest.

"I don't need to hear this, dude."

Gordon looks a little confused, so Benrey keeps going.

"You're. I know you heard the shit Xen said about...."

Benrey pauses, unsure if he wants to say it out loud.

That'll finalize it, forever.

He takes a breath, then with a great effort, says it out loud.

"I love you. Have since we were kids, have since I first met you. Xen was...right. They were fucking right, you're happier with Tommy because he's never hurt you or..fuck. Fuck, man, you don't feel the same and I'm done pushin' it on you. We uhh, clear?"

Gordon covers his mouth with his hand, and for a split second Benrey thinks he's made him cry, but Gordon bursts out laughing, clutching his stomach and snorting in between giggles.

"B-Benny, you idiot, I am in love with you."

Maybe it's the sudden affectionate nickname, or the fact that Gordon said he loves him.

But Benrey blushes, hard, and pink-to-blue sweet voice bubbles out of his mouth in surprise.

"Whuh?"

Tommy walks back into the room, bottle in hand, and pauses at the sight in front of him.

"Oh, are w-we doing conf-confessions now?!"

Before Benrey can even speak, Tommy drops down beside him and kisses him on the cheek, putting him and Gordon's hands in his own.

Tommy doesn't say it, but Benrey gets the point.

"Fucking- FINALLY!!"

Benrey just might die for real.

Bubby leans in the doorway, a smug grin on his face, elbow resting on Dr. Coomer's shoulder.

"Ah, young love is beautiful!"

Tommy and Gordon laugh cheerfully at Dr. Coomer, and Benrey buries his face sheepishly in the blankets.

It takes a few days, but Benrey recovers pretty well from the Nihilanth.

He's thought a lot about what Xen said.

And he's decided that they were very wrong about him.

His love for other people isn't a flaw, it's his best quality.

He can and will protect the people he loves with his life, no matter what.

And he knows that the people he loves will do the same for him.

With time, Gordon learns not to flinch at the sight of his right hand, or gag when he drinks a soda.

Benrey learns to accept hugs and snuggles from Tommy, and figures out the jokes that Gordon likes and doesn't like.

Tommy is always there to patch up Benrey's injuries, and learns better responses that don't involve soda when Gordon needs to vent.

So Benrey feels safe, and knows that he's not the only one who's trying to be better.

Benrey and them are trying, together.

#hlvrai #frenrey #tomrey #freelatta #frenreylatta #leafy fics

64 notes · View notes

firebrands · 3 years

Text

the square root of infinity | stevetony

2.7k, established relationship, first fight angst | on ao3 | for @maguna-stxrk

***

Tony finds out with his hands deep in JARVIS’ code. Former-JARVIS, actual-JARVIS, he hasn’t really decided on what to refer to the mess of numbers of letters that formed his former AI, and now, well—Vision, too. It’s all a mess, really, and Tony wanted something simple to do with his hands, minimal focus, low-risk.

He should have known better, really. Nothing about him, his work, his life, has ever been low-risk.

It’s a command from Steve with a privacy protocol. Search, identify, and surveil Sergeant James “Bucky” Barnes, also known as The Winter Soldier. Missing, found, and missing again as of six months ago. Tony frowns at the monitor. He knows he hasn’t read it wrong, but can’t believe it; he reads it again.

Somehow, in the span of time of Steve coming back from Washington, of them settling in together, he’d done this. He’d asked JARVIS to do this for him, and keep it from Tony.

Tony leans back against his chair. “FRI,” he says.

His new AI chirps to life. “Boss?”

“Gimme everything JARVIS found on this.”

“It’s on your phone now, boss.” In front of him, a hologram materializes as well, displaying hundreds of photos, grainy and filtered, and copies of reports on sightings. Tony stands up, takes a step back and frowns some more. He opens his mouth a few times, borne of his need to verbalize even without anyone listening; he’s angry. He’s more shocked than angry, but the anger is there, low and simmering.

Beneath it, though, is a grain of doubt: Why? Why did he keep it hidden? Especially now—after all the truth came spilling out of them, crystallizing into something Tony held dear. And after all Steve had said, about keeping secrets, about trust. He briefly considers asking FRIDAY to print it all out, just so he can throw the sheaf of paper in front of Steve and demand: what the fuck, but he’s better now, more mature. Or so he likes to tell himself.

So instead, he walks to the penthouse and finds Steve reading.

Tony clears his throat.

Steve looks up. “Hey,” he says, setting his book down. “You done working?”

Tony smiles, pained and tight. “So,” he says, sitting at the foot of the bed. “Bucky.”

Steve’s eyebrows meet, looking concerned. “What about him?”

Tony shuts his eyes and counts backward from five. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

Steve inches closer to him and rests his hand on Tony’s knee. Tony doesn’t open his eyes.

“I didn’t want to worry you,” Steve says very quietly.

Tony’s eyes fly open, the anger now boiling over. “Oh is that it?” He asks sarcastically. “So you decided to use JARVIS—without my permission, to look for him?”

Steve’s mouth works, and he looks genuinely shocked. “You said I could talk to JARVIS.”

“That’s not the point!” He pushes Steve’s hand off him and stands. “Why would you keep that a secret?”

“I—I didn’t,” Steve says haltingly. “I wasn’t thinking. I just wanted to know if JARVIS could find him, but I knew it was almost impossible anyway, so there was no real point—”

“If there was no point,” Tony says, voice lowering, “then why’d you do it?”

“Tony,” Steve stands now, too, tries to reach out and touch Tony’s elbow, to disentangle Tony’s arms that have crossed over his chest on their own volition. “He’s my best friend. I’m worried about him. I just thought it was something I should do myself.”

Tony nods, not really listening. His head is swimming with what he thinks could be actual reasons why Steve had kept this from him. A tangled mess of fear and insecurity, then shock at his ability to be aware of it. Is this maturity? He doesn’t like it much. Better if it stayed Steve’s fault—and it is Steve’s fault, it is. But maybe Tony doesn’t need to work himself up like this. But then again, Tony’s already worked up. “Stop,” Tony grinds out.

So Steve stops, a foot away from Tony, looking more scared than Tony’s ever seen him.

“I’m going to go.”

“Don’t.”

Tony looks up at Steve. He hadn’t even realized he’d looked away. Steve takes a deep breath, closes the space between them, and takes Tony’s hands in his.

Tony sighs.

Steve threads their fingers together, squeezes Tony’s palms. “Hey.”

“Hi.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Want to say more than one syllable, maybe?”

A joke? Now? Tony feels his frown deepen.

“No.”

“Is this a fight?”

Tony looks up at him. “A fight means you don’t think you should be sorry.”

“Now, hold on a second,” Steve says, a small frown beginning to form on his face. Barely perceptible, if you didn’t know the signs. “I already explained why—”

“And that’s supposed to make it okay?”

“Where is this coming from?” Steve asks, letting go of Tony’s hands, which means he’s mad too, which drives Tony insane.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“There’s no need to raise your tone—”

“Don’t fucking use your de-escalation tactics on me.” Tony hisses, turns on his heel, and walks out the door. He gives himself the satisfaction of slamming it shut.

***

The next few days are filled with small acts of penitence: a cup of coffee on the bedside table when Tony wakes, a sandwich in the workshop, a completed report for a day-old mishap. It’s on Thursday that Tony’s heart finally softens. Over nothing, really, just a small doodle on his desk. He realizes, in that moment, that of all his achievements, perhaps learning to understand Steve Rogers should rank highest. Right up there with being understood by him, too.

Tony’s lying in bed, reading a report on his tablet, when Steve peeks in.

“Hey.” He sounds tentative.

Tony sighs, sets his tablet aside, and takes off his glasses. “Well, come in.”

Steve’s barely able to hide his grin, and nearly bowls Tony over when he hugs him. “Hi,” Steve says, burying his nose against Tony’s neck.

“Hello to you too, you overgrown labrador,” Tony laughs, pushing Steve away a little lest he be crushed under all combined weight of supersoldier and three bowls of pasta that Clint prepared for dinner.

“I missed you,” Steve says, hugging Tony closer to him. He looks up at Tony, resting his chin right on Tony’s sternum. “Was that our first fight?”

Tony snorts. “Unlikely to be our last,” he says.

“Hey,” Steve chides, leaning up and brushing Tony’s nose with his. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s true. Anyway,” Tony leans closer, brushes their lips together. “Make it up to me.”

Steve arches an eyebrow.

“Don’t start,” Tony warns.

Steve huffs out a laugh, tips them over until they’re lying down, and makes it up to him.

***

As a man of science, it behooves Tony to conduct experiments and to test hypotheses.

First, identify the problem.

Second, conduct research.

Third, develop a hypothesis: follow if / then structure.

Fourth, test through experiments: ensure factors are varied one at a time.

Fifth and final, draw a conclusion.

Tony’s tapping the tip of a screwdriver against his bottom lip as he thinks, and then two strong arms wrap around his waist and just like that, the problem has identified itself.

(One frustrating blind spot in Tony’s life: relationships. Which isn’t to say he hasn’t tried to make sense of them, sped read through self-help books and trawled through Reddit. Unlike everything else, research pales in comparison to experience, and there’s only so much he can do to make sure this one precious thing in his life is perfect.)

“Busy?” Steve presses a small kiss on the back of Tony’s neck. Tony can barely suppress a shiver.

He wants to say, I was, until you showed up. It doesn’t just apply to this moment. That fact shouldn’t hurt.

Instead, Tony says: “Yeah, kinda.”

“Okay,” Steve says easily, pulling away. He comes back to press a quick kiss to Tony’s cheek. “See you later?”

“Yup,” Tony says, and okay. Maybe he needs to spend a day or two really figuring out who the problem is, here. (It’s him. He knows this. He’s always the problem.)

Two days later, Tony settles on having to review related literature. In this case, this means sitting alone in the workshop as he relives every moment when Steve was distracted. Was that a sign? In a brief moment of clarity, Tony asks: “Fri, am I crazy?”

“Signs point to no, boss. But I can pull up recent results on the search engines?”

“I’d rather not hear what the general public thinks, thanks,” Tony says, sighing. He rests his face in his hands. It’s not like he meant to think of this—what is wrong with his brain, that the intrusive thoughts come in the form of the few moments he’d asked Steve what was on his mind, only to be brushed off?

What did that mean?

Did it matter?

Step three: if that was a sign, then there was a problem.

If that wasn’t a sign, then there wasn’t a problem.

If Tony didn’t figure this out, then there would definitely be a problem.

This isn’t how a hypothesis is meant to sound. Tony’s a terrible scientist.

“Fri, call Bruce.”

“Tony?” Bruce’s voice is rough. He sounds annoyed.

“Hey, seven PhDs, how do I form a proper hypothesis?”

“Fuck you, Stark.” The line clicks off.

Tony turns his wrist, checks his watch. Three AM? Figures.

He stretches out his back. “Friday,” he says, standing up. “The search functions for Barnes.”

“On it, boss.”

“Atta girl.”

***

Try as Tony might—and he’s trying, which in itself feels like a failure, because Tony stark does or does not and there is no need to attempt—he feels like something has shifted between them, and he doesn’t know how to fix it.

Maybe he’s just making it all up in his head. That’s the easy solution, isn’t it? And that’s usually the answer: start with the easiest answer and work your way up. He can already see Natasha rolling her eyes at him. Maybe the solution is to stop treating your relationship like it’s quantum theory.

Steve’s hand is on his lower back, steering him inside a restaurant. He thinks only of what Steve said, all those weeks ago: I had to do it myself.

Tony wants to argue, right this moment. But how can he? It’s awful that they can be so alike. The only reason he keeps his mouth shut is because he knows that Tony’s used that argument before. Maybe this is growth, to know when to back down from a fight. Or to avoid one totally.

Steve reaches over the table, brushes his fingers over Tony’s wrist. “You okay?”

There are a lot of answers to that. Tony settles on the truth. “Not really.”

Steve’s brow creases with worry. “What’s wrong?”

Again: an infinite multiverse of answers to answer a question that simple. With this, Tony does struggle for a moment, and the next words are much harder to say—they almost feel caught in his throat, like a lump of meat. “I don’t know.”

“You can tell me anything, you know,” Steve says gently. So gentle, it almost breaks him; Tony doesn’t deserve this. Steve doesn’t deserve this.

“I know,” Tony says, and this is him lying through his teeth, and this is what he’s good at, and maybe this is why he’ll never know how relationships are. It’s a trust issue, probably. He doesn’t know if the issue is with Steve, or with himself. “Don’t worry about it.”

Tony tries harder, now: smiles more, eats with gusto. He knocks Steve’s thigh with his knee, looks up at him from under his lashes. This is what life is like for Tony Stark: it’s acting. He knows the approximations to get his point across. As their evening goes on, the small wrinkle on Steve’s forehead smooths out, and maybe Tony wishes he wasn’t so good at pretending.

Maybe he wishes that Steve read him better.

***

The moment of epiphany is often described as transcendental.

This one hits like a ton of bricks—literally, because Tony does know what that feels like, and the suit is shock proof, sure, but that shit still fucking hurts, and even in moments of epiphany, somehow he still manages to go off on a tangent. The point remains: Steve’s hand is on his hip, and they’re in bed, and epiphanies usually equate clarity, peace.

Tony freezes up.

“Tony?” Steve murmurs, sliding his hand up Tony’s side.

“I’m sorry,” Tony says, sitting up. “I know I’m being difficult.”

“I didn’t say you were.” Steve sits up beside him, rests his hand on Tony’s shoulder, and turns Tony to look at him. “Who said you were being difficult?”

“Me, I’m saying it,” Tony says. Panic is beginning to bubble in his belly, slowly rising up his throat. Typical of him to mistake a eureka moment with a panic attack. Par for the fucking course for Tony Stark. “I’m being difficult right now.”

“No you’re not,” Steve says, rubbing up and down his arms. “Tony. Look at me.”

Tony breathes out through his mouth, then in through his nose. Steve tips his chin up and meets his gaze.

“Here are the variables,” Tony breathes out, is afraid of what he’ll say next, his brain is fogged over and full of static. “I love you, and I don’t know what to do with that.”

Steve takes a deep breath, takes Tony’s face in his hands. “Here’s a constant,” he whispers, breath warm on Tony’s cheek. “I love you. I love you. You, Tony Stark. I love you.” He kisses Tony, hard and close lipped, more aggressive reminder than affection.

“Okay,” Tony says, because there’s a wild part of him that still thinks—there was a problem, there was a problem and if this is love, then what comes next? If this is constant, then what variable will arrive to change all of that?

Steve kisses Tony again, almost desperate, this time. “Is this about Bucky?” Tony sucks in a breath at the question, horrified at being discovered. Steve hums, then he runs one hand down Tony’s back, up his arm, down his side. A reminder of his presence. Tony is suddenly grateful for it.

“And if it is?” he murmurs.

“Tony,” and somehow, Steve sounds fond, which throws a wrench in this whole debacle, and deep in the recesses of Tony’s brain, rationality begins to take root. “He’s my best friend. You’re the love of my life.”

Tony breathes.

“Did you hear me? You. You’re the love of my life. Please don’t make me compare,” Steve huffs out a small laugh, and it warms Tony all over, like sunshine peeking through the clouds after a strong rain. “And maybe you don’t believe me just yet,” Steve touches their foreheads together, then rubs his nose against Tony’s, the affection plain and chaste. It makes Tony feel more loved than he’s ever felt in his life—not that there were many moments to compare against, but still.

“I feel a little crazy,” Tony says, finding it in himself to smile up at Steve.

“A little crazy in love?” Steve asks, grinning.

“I can’t believe you just made a Beyonce reference. In the middle of my panic attack.”

Steve bites his bottom lip, a poor attempt at stopping himself from laughing. Tony flicks his forehead. “Say it again,” Tony says, and his smile still feels a little wobbly, but it’s a step.

“Crazy in Love?” Steve asks, pulling Tony close and wrapping his arms around Tony’s waist.

It’s an odd angle, and eventually Steve shifts to lift Tony up onto his lap. “Ass,” Tony says. “You know what I meant.”

Steve smiles again, right before pressing a kiss to Tony’s shoulder. “Step one,” he says. “The problem is you’re afraid I don’t love you. Step two: find out how to show you that I do.” He pauses, and Tony feels breathless as he presses another kiss to Tony’s bare skin. “Step three. Hypothesis? If I show Tony I love him all the time, then eventually he’ll believe me.”

“Sounds like a shaky hypothesis,” Tony says, but his voice quivers a little as he says it. He can’t explain how he feels, other than warm in Steve’s embrace.

Steve tuts. “Step four, experimentation. Small gestures, date nights.” Steve rubs Tony’s back as he speaks, and stops to tilt Tony’s head up to face him. “Am I getting this right?”

Tony smiles. “I don’t know, what’s the conclusion?”

Steve wraps his arms around Tony’s waist once more. “You’re here. I’m here. I love you.” He leans up, brushes their lips together. “Is that enough?”

#stony #steve rogers #tony stark #stevetony #(well hello) (sometimes you just want to write something warm and familiar. i thought i'd forgotten how.)#things i write

236 notes · View notes

qqueenofhades · 3 years

Note

Some additional points about that grave find in Finland that you may or may not find interesting. And that may or may not be dated, because I studied history 20 years ago. That said, I'm not sure if 1000 years ago is firmly middle-ages in this context? At least back in my uni days, they told us that here middle ages got going slowly during 1100's and 1200's when Sweden started converting the population to Christianity and the prehistorical era gradually ended. Maybe they teach differently now.

More about the grave. I don't know why The Guardian would talk about Vikings in this context at all, because the erstwhile population of current day Finland is not considered to have been Vikings, afaik. They were similarly warlike, and the graves from that era have a lot of weapons, and they certainly encountered Vikings, but they never participated in the raiding, and isn't that what makes Vikings Vikings? Their language and religion was also different. But anyway. I don't mean to correct you because the larger point stands. When I saw the headline in a Finnish news paper about that grave and traditional gender roles my first thought was, well, maybe the gender roles hadn't become traditional then yet. Just some additional context, which could be illuminating or could be totally dated.

I did the stupid thing and sent you asks about the Suontaka burial before reading the Cambridge article about it: I'm reading it now, and my comments seem fairly useless. Feel free to ignore with extreme prejudice. We're in agreement on the guardian article.

Aha, well, we all make mistakes from time to time, so no worries! However, since you do touch on a few points that I would like to discuss, I'm going to go ahead and answer, whether for you or anyone else who might find it useful. (It's the teacher in me, I'm afraid.)

First, I have to say that I had a definite "eeegh" moment at the idea that the eleventh/twelfth century isn't "medieval" in Finland just because it (at least prior to the Baltic/Northern crusades, if we're considering them to begin with the Wendish Crusade in 1147) wasn't yet fully Christianized. Scholars pretty universally accept "medieval history" as referring to the time period between 500--1500 CE (the fall of the Western Roman Empire to the Renaissance). These, of course, are horribly Eurocentric frames of reference, but there you have it. Any event or culture taking place within that span of dates, no matter where in the world it is or what its socio-political circumstances may be, is medieval. We have to call out the pernicious equivalence of "medieval" with "Western Christian European," since that seems to be the underlying assumption. This is also what makes people mistakenly think that the medieval world (which, y'know, was just as big as it is now) is exclusively about white Christian Europe, and that no other global regions have a medieval history. Either way, the eleventh/twelfth century is actually closer to the end of the medieval era than it is to the start. I'm certainly not suggesting that you were consciously implying this; I have no trouble believing that that is indeed how they taught it twenty years ago. But yeah, the idea that still-largely-pagan eleventh-century Finland couldn't be "medieval" until it's Christian is definitely not the case as understood now.

The idea that anywhere in eleventh-century Europe is still "prehistorical" in any sense of the word is likewise a little baffling, tbh. Once more, it associates "history" only with "Christianity," and that would get quite a bit of pushback if included in a paper on medieval studies today. That is what also annoys me deeply when I see people describing the pre-Columbian Americas as "prehistoric" (read: pre-white-people-historic). If the chief marker of "history" is "written history," sure, there is a very narrow pedagogical argument to be made that these societies don't have narratives or chronicles in the standard historiographical sense. But also, uh, European colonialism and conquest destroyed vast swathes of records that we have never been able to read, understand, or even access, because they're just not there anymore. There is ample evidence that the ancient (and I do mean ANCIENT, up to thousands of years BCE) and early-to-late-medieval Mesoamerican societies had complex systems of writing, astronomy, calendar-keeping, and other history-recording practices, right up until 1492. There are something like four (FOUR) pre-Columbian Mayan scrolls still in existence, out of probably thousands and thousands, because the Spanish destroyed the rest. So "prehistoric," unless you're literally referring to the Stone Age, is never a politically neutral word or a word to use uncritically...

...and speaking of the Stone Age, we actually have histories for that too! Or rather (iirc) the Ice Age, because for example, Aboriginal Australians transmit their history orally and require each new generation to memorize it, word for word, exactly as taught to them. Some of these histories stretch back over ten thousand years, which means that we actually have first-person accounts of life during the end of the Ice Age, and scientists recently discovered that these traditional narratives accurately reflected the archaeological and geological record of Australia during the time period in question. (Indigenous people know what they're talking about and should be listened to, example number 85,000.) Of course, the Western-white-supremacist model of historiography calls these just "legends" or "myths" or "folktales" rather than history, because I guess not writing it down in a chronicle as a monk in a European Christian monastery in the year 1015 or whatever doesn't qualify as history for some people. (I don't have strong opinions about this or anything. Welp.)

I likewise don't know why the Guardian article brought up the Vikings, aside from the fact that they were quoting someone who explicitly used the Vikings in a hypothetical scenario about "traditional gender roles." This person expressed surprise that an intersex person living in a medieval Scandinavian society could rise to a high social role, by citing the widespread belief that "Vikings" were all dedicated to being very manly at all times and nobody with feminine qualities/feminine-coded social power could rule over them. I don't know if this was just a bad phrasing (plus, it obviously overlooks the often-egalitarian nature of medieval Scandinavian societies and plays into the favored white supremacist stereotype of the Vikings as some Master Aryan Race Where Men Were Men, etc) or what, but yeah, it's wrong across the board. Viking is the name of an occupation, not an ethnicity. It comes from the word wicing, meaning "seafarer" or "sea raider," and referred only to those guys who went out on their longships and stole a lot of stuff from their neighbors, most notably in the eighth to eleventh centuries. Their families back at home were part of the exact same society and benefited from those raids, but strictly speaking, they weren't vikings. We use the word "Viking" to describe any member of a medieval Scandinavian society, but it's similar to describing everyone living in the eighteenth-century Caribbean, no matter who they were or their social status or ethnic background, as "pirates," which is obviously inaccurate.

As you correctly point out, the Finns aren't considered quite the same as the Norwegians, Danes, and Swedes (as anyone can tell from looking at their written language; N/D/S are mutually intelligible and derive from the same linguistic family, while Finnish is COMPLETELY different and comes from an altogether separate branch of the tree) and therefore it's even more baffling that the person quoted in the Guardian article would cite them as an example of a "Viking" society. Likewise as you note, the whole phrase "traditional gender roles" is intensely problematic in most contexts, and especially here. It assumes that modern Western ideals of sex and gender have been static and unchanging throughout history, and that means that we tend to read our own (biased) assumptions onto the historical record and then get surprised when, shock of shock, they don't fit. The burial at Suontaka seems to have been of a biologically intersex person (i.e. someone with Klinefelter syndrome), but this is also the case when it comes to people assigned the usual male or female at birth, without any complicating genetic conditions. I'm working on a book review for an entire edited volume that discusses the intense gender-fluidity and proto-transgenderism in some medieval saints' lives, and how obviously the fact that they have been held up as a holy example, while explicitly subverting the so-called Traditional Gender Roles of the Middle Ages, means that it was (and is) a lot more complicated than shallow stereotypes and Bad Medievalism would have it.

Anyway, this is long enough (especially considering that you graciously offered me the chance to ignore it) so I think we'll stop here for now. But yes, there you have it. :)

#history #ancient history #medieval history #queer history #anonymous #ask

22 notes · View notes

nikatyler · 3 years

Photo

Axel: “Dude, you got a haircut for this! Now I feel unprepared. Should I quickly call a hairdresser before the interview starts?”

August: “Or maybe, what do you think, you could let your future partner have a say in that. After all, that’s why we’re here, right?”

Axel: “Yes! I’m sick of being forever alone. And why’s that even a thing? Just because I’m a ‘spare’, I can’t fall in love? That’s bullshit.”

Nika: “You guys know I was saving you for this very moment, right?”

August: “Shit, the watcher’s here already.”

Nika: “Yup, I’ve been sitting here this whole time. Anyway, we’ve agreed that we wouldn’t show your faces just yet, but the contestants deserve to know at least a little bit about you, don’t they?”

Axel: “Yeah, definitely.”

Nika: “So let’s begin. Who would like to introduce himself first?”

Axel: “Okay, I’ll start, since I’m the older twin. The expected one.”

August: “All things considered, neither of us was expected.”

Axel: “Fair point. So, my name is Axel, I come from Sunset Valley and I’m a doctor. Oh, and since the audience probably doesn’t know this yet: August and me are the two younger gen 2 siblings in watcher’s new lepacy. Then there’s also Morrigan, but she gets left behind completely.”

Nika: “Okay, fair, call me out for that, I do keep forgetting about her. Anyway, what about your hobbies?”

Axel: “Well, when we first went to Champs Les Sims with our older brother, I really got into wine---I mean, nectar making. I’ve been making wine, I mean, nectar, for years now, and I think I got really good at it. I also enjoy martial arts and meditation. I learned that in Shang Simla.”

August: “We both really love travelling. I’m glad our brother is still taking us with him.”

Axel: “Yeah, Ember is the best.”

Nika: “So what about you, August?”

August: “I work at the science facility in Sunset Valley, but I wouldn’t really call myself a scientist yet. Maybe someday, but I’m not there yet.”

Axel: “Don’t be so humble, you’re doing amazing.”

August: “Thanks. In my free time, I like to be outside. I go fishing often and I also spend a lot of time taking photos.”

Nika: “What do you like to take pictures of?”

Axel: “Toilets.”

August: “Hey, that was just one time!”

Axel: “Yes, and that stupid picture is still in my wine room.”

August: “So? It’s art. But usually, I take pictures of architecture. Interesting places in Sunset Valley, nature and such. I haven’t had the chance to walk around Riverview yet, but I’d like to add it to my collection as well.”

Nika: “Awesome! I’m sure you’ll get a chance. Now tell me something about your brother.”

August: “About Ember? He’s not here.”

Axel: “I think they meant it more like I talk about you and you talk about me.”

August: “Oh. Yeah that makes sense. Well, Axel is a great guy, I think. He’s a bit stubborn though, and his biggest fear is that he’ll die alone.”

Axel: “I would protest but you’re actually right, I’m scared of that.”

August: “I’m surprised he’s still single though. It’s not so surprising with me, but --”

Axel: “You’re being humble again, dammit. And it’s not like the dating options in Sunset Valley are great, right? People my age were mean to us in middle school and they’re still mean to us.”

Nika: “Really? Why?”

Axel: “Eh, you know. Don’t act like you don’t.”

August: “Daddy issues, sort of.”

Axel: “Yup. We’ll leave it at that. The audience will figure it out eventually.”

Nika: “Well, I’m sure the contestants won’t have a problem with that. Speaking of them: What are your expectations? Who do you want to see enter your bachelor challenge? Girls, boys...anyone? What do you want them to be like?”

August: “I don’t think I have any preferences.”

Axel: “Same. I mean, I’ve had some one night stands, they were mostly guys, but I like girls too. I haven’t had a chance to, you know, be with an enby, but they can obviously enter too. Like August said, no preferences, not really.”

August: “And moving on from that, I don’t even have a type when it comes to what you look like.”

Axel: “The real beauty shines from within anyway, right?”

August: “Yup. And it looks different on anyone. It’s like, fairy lights are beautiful. Flowers are beautiful too. And they don’t look alike.”

Axel: “Dude, that was great. How comes you’re still single?”

August: “Maybe I was saving myself for a BC. I’ve always wanted to have one!”

Axel: ...

Axel: “Oh. Well now everything makes sense. And you were afraid to do it alone, so you asked me to join you. I love that! By the way, I think we skipped over the part where I would talk about him.”

August: “You’ve already said a lot about me.”

Nika: “No, he’s right. Axel, would you like to say something else?”

Axel: “Yes! Uh...wait, I lost it right now. What was it...oh yeah. August is like...a god when it comes to eyeliner. Just not when he’s doing it on himself. And he always makes a fool of himself when we’re travelling, but he’s still the best.”

Nika: “That was an important addition.”

August: “Absolutely. He’s still mad at me about the toilet photo, can you tell?”

Axel: “Because it’s the ugliest photo ever! Why do you even need to take a photo of a toilet?”

August: “You wouldn’t get it, it’s art!”

Nika: “Alright, alright, before you start fighting, one more very important question.”

Axel: “We get along, I swear. Anyway, what’s your question?”

Nika: “Twelve contestants - if everything goes according to plan - will enter this house. They will try to impress both of you.”

Axel: “Or they’ll come in and decide ‘oh, I want that one’ and focus on that for the rest of the competition while completely ignoring the other brother.”

Nika: “Yes, that’s possible, but what I mean is that they could end up with either of you, only time will tell. It’s not like six people will enter for you, Axel, and six for you, August. What if you both fall madly in love with one contestant?”

August: “That’s an interesting question.”

Axel: “Old-fashioned sword fight.”

August: “What?! You’d stab me?! I’m literally your twinbrother!”

Axel: “I’m not saying I’d stab you, watcher could interfere. No, jokes aside, I think we’ll figure it out when it happens. If it happens.”

August: “Or we let the person decide who they want more.”

Nika: “I think that could work, but what if they’re not sure either?”

Axel: “You’re stressing me out with that question.”

August: “It’ll be fine, I’m sure.”

Nika: “You’ll figure it out.”

Axel: “Yes. As I said before.”

Nika: “Good! I think you can take it from here.”

August: “Yeah, we’ll do just fine on our own, but thanks for talking with us.”

Axel: “When can we expect the contestants to come?”

Nika: “Soon. The applications will be opened in a short moment, so don’t walk away just yet, or you might miss it.”

#ts3 #sims 3 #sims 3 bc #sims 3 bachelor challenge #axel and august's double bc 00 #axel fleur #(the one with the longer hair)#august fleur #(the one with the shorter hair)#simself #i think it's obvious from the post but please!! don't ask me for spots yet! they will open eventually!#(also how tf is my simself looking so pretty today)

23 notes · View notes

justafandomfollower · 3 years

Text

Thoughts on Stargirl S02E01

Season 2 is here! So, I watched the first episode last night and, while I don’t often do this for TV shows I watch, wanted to share/write up my thoughts about the episode. I mean, overall, I thought it was really good and I was grinning like a loon to see the familiar characters back onscreen. But, more than that, I had some thoughts on individual characters.

First, I really really liked the way they handled Courtney’s “overworking” as Stargirl. A lot of other shows would have the debate about how being Stargirl is dangerous and she’s just a teenager, etc., etc. But they hashed that out last season, and they’re not bringing it up again here, which should be the bare minimum but ends up just being refreshing. Pat never says she needs to put away the staff (except for that last bit where he grounds her, and even that’s temporary). Instead, he cautions her to find a balance between the superhero and non-superhero parts of her life, to pass her classes, get good grades, get some sleep, learn to take breaks every now and again, and think about her future.

I do think Courtney will ultimately be proven right about the threats that are out there (I mean, duh, we saw Cindy and Eclipso right there), but nothing Pat said was wrong, or telling her that there were no threats. So, yeah. Big fan of that part. As for Green Lantern’s daughter, while Courtney was her usual “act first, think later” self, I also kind of can’t blame her, because someone did sneak into their house and steal important JSA relics. There were faults on both sides here.

The rest of my thoughts I’ve thrown under a read-more because it’s long and rambling:

I’m pretty solid and happy with where the other three JSA kids are at the moment, but I figured I’d still break it down a little.

Yolanda: I like that she’s struggling with what she did, even months later. I like that she knows she can’t say anything at church, I like that she’s still able to talk about it with Courtney, and I like that Courtney was supportive without outright agreeing with or condemning her actions. It’s a tough thing for kids to talk about, and while an experienced adult like Pat might be able to understand it better, I like that Yolanda’s not completely bottling it up.

On that note, though, they said Cindy might have gotten crushed when the satellite came down, “like Brainwave”, so there’s a possibility here that nobody else knows what Yolanda did, which’ll be interesting to see play out, if that’s true.

Rick: Again, I like where he’s at. He’s more confident in who he is, a little more settled, but also still lost. He claims Tyler as his name again and knows he’s a hero, but he doesn’t know where he goes from here. I think that’s part of why he’s seeking out Grundy, because he’s still clinging to that part of his past because he doesn’t have any clue of what’s in his future.

He’s still very much an angry teenager new at being a superhero, ranting to that teacher about how he saved her, but knowing his character (and acknowledging how crappy that teacher was), I can’t entirely blame him for that. Was it a good move? No. Did it make sense? Absolutely.

Speaking of that teacher, she was not a good one. Can I understand her wariness about the bad boy of the school suddenly getting every answer right? Sure. But, 1) it’s been months, so surely there’s been some gradual improvement, 2) that’s not the way to do it; talk to him about it, sure, but don’t refuse to accept his explanations, and 3) refusing to accept his name change is a jerk move that a figure of authority shouldn’t be making. I could wave away the first one from TV-time-skipping-magic, but not the other two. I don’t really think we’ll see this character again (but maybe in summer school), but she’s more of a vessel to show us 1) how Rick’s changed and 2) how the way others see him hasn’t, so, I suppose, in that regard, she did her job.

Beth: It’s neat that the goggles still seem to be (mostly) working, but it’s the AI that’s not functioning. Not the route I’d thought they’d go, but it’s really interesting because it gives Beth a chance to expand her skill set, or at least expand it to the viewer, and give her a role as a coder/computer scientist. It also doesn’t cheapen the “death” of the AI that happened last season.

Also, like the others (Rick at school with the teachers, Courtney and Yolanda having a discussion in the middle of main street, even Pat with STRIPE), she’s not great at hiding her activities. They’re just goggles, maybe, and she could explain them away fairly easy, but I don’t like the way she just leaves them out around the house. I’m okay with it for now because 1) she’s a teenager, still learning, and they are pretty innocuous, 2) some of it’s probably just TV “requirements”, like not wanting to cut from scene to scene or whatever (idk, I’m not in the TV business), and 3) her parents seem pretty clueless.

And speaking of her parents, man did I not like them even more this season. Every time I saw them on screen my mind went straight to: “good people, terrible parents”. Did they ever even want a kid, or did they just like the idea of having a kid to fit into their “perfect lives” until even that wasn’t enough to keep them together? They’re barely aware of what Beth does on a day to day basis, she still seems to be the one doing all the cooking, and they forget to tell her they’re coming home late? Bad parenting, and selfish parenting at that.

Overall, my mood about Beth this episode can be summed up like this: Do I like Beth struggling? No. Does it open up possibilities for what could be a really intriguing character arc? Yeah.

My biggest complaint about our JSA is that there weren’t really any scenes of them together, but that’s more of the time constraints of having so many characters we needed to get concrete information on regarding where they stand. They had that nice patrol scene in the beginning to let us know they’re all still solid friends, so I’m happy enough with that for now.

Other thoughts:

Barbara wasn’t really in it much (no mention of her job, though the newspaper article did say something about The American Dream going through changes after the death of its leader or something like that), but I can sympathize with her wanting a vacation and not getting one. It’ll be interesting to see how okay she is with Courtney as Stargirl as things get more dangerous.

Mike, likewise, wasn’t much present, but it’s clear he’s still struggling to be a part of things. Pat wasn’t wrong, when he said that the discipline, etc. from having a job was important, but it still feels like he’s brushing Mike aside and not letting him be involved, so I can see some more resentment brewing this season. Better than last season, but c’mon Pat. Mike just wants to help. Still, hopefully we’ll get a better idea of where Mike stands in future episodes.

Artemis. Really interesting the way she brushed aside her parents being in jail as them being wrongly convicted. I’ve seen Young Justice, so I’m looking forward to seeing if they turn her into a villain or hero here.

Zeek. (Is that how he spelled it? It looked like that on his hat.) I’m, probably unnecessarily, wary of how interested he was in working with Pat at the show (does he know something?) but for now I’m mostly just mildly amused at his “I don’t care what you do on your time, but hey, do you think that robot could use a flamethrower?”. Also. Pat. C’mon man. You’ve been in this business for decades. Hide your robot better. (Though, I’ll admit, he was only resigned when he realized Zeek had found it, so... Did he have an excuse ready? Did he just not read Zeek as a threat? I’m probably reading too much into this, but it’ll again be interesting to see where it goes.)

Cameron’s back, seemingly unaware of everything, and it looks like his murderous grandparents are taking care of him. Not great, but, eh, we’ll see what happens.

Sylvester is still tracking down Pat. I’m a little bit glad the landlord either didn’t give him, or didn’t have, Pat’s information from that end scene last season. I’m also interested to see if Maggie (Mike’s Mom, if my understanding of comics I haven’t read is correct) sticks around. Sylvester seems supremely unworried and in a mostly good mood, despite his desire to track down Pat, so I really want to know what’s up with him. I’ve seen some fan theories of time travel and him being a displaced Starman, which could be interesting, but I have no idea if they’re accurate. He certainly seems to be the real deal, at least with all the right memories.

Cindy and Eclipso. That opening scene was creepy, and made me question if I’d turned on the right show, and the connection with the McNider family is really interesting. Did not like the way she had Mike’s picture, but from a writing POV I really liked it. I don’t want Mike to go villain, but I mostly trust the writers to see how this plays out.

Other thoughts: The town seems to have moved on from the mind control/satellite-dish-from-the-football-field thing, so I’m guessing there weren’t too many causalities. New principal makes sense, and I like that they didn’t need to shove it in our face to remind us what happened to the old one (plus that scene where Courtney bumps into her kid; nice and simple and shows a little of how he’s coping). I appreciate that Henry hasn’t been forgotten. No glimpse of Yolanda’s home life yet, or Rick’s uncle. No idea how Rick managed to change his name, but the threat he was hiding from is more or less gone, so it makes sense.

I may have forgotten something here or there, but anyone who’s made it this far deserves a cookie, so, thanks for reading! I’m always up for discussion if anyone wants to add on or debate any of my points.

#Stargirl #My thoughts #just talking to myself

14 notes · View notes

danurso · 4 years

Text

That's pretty D.U.M.B

Part 0 - Part 1 - Part 2

Oobleck: Which one of you is going next!?

Ruby: . . .do. . .do we have to doctor?

Oobleck: what do you mean miss rose?

Ruby: i mean that you already tested and found out that the machine works, couldn't we stop here?

Oobleck: OF COURSE NOT!!! science has in its basis constant testing! one single success can't let any scientist or researcher like me satisfied! Why did you suggest that miss rose!?

Ruby: it's just. . .i don't know, the other Weiss seemed nice but, Jaune was a bit. . .

_WBY/J_P_: Rude?/Mean?/Stuck up?/S-scary?/Abrasive?

Ruby: yeah, all of that, what if we bring another jaune like that? Or one even worse?

Oobleck: Well, considering the infinite possibilities out there, it wouldn't be impossible to bring other Mr.arcs like the previous one, but the same way a bad Mr.arc can show up, a good one can as well.

Yang: yeah. plus, we're talking about vomit boy, how many evil versions of him can be out there?

Ruby: i don't know, and i honestly don't wanna find out.

Yang: come on, he wasn't that bad, he was just like weiss cream would be if she was a boy but still had to deal with her period 24/7 and weiss cream was just like jaune if he was a girl, which, i think wouldn't change much aside from what's between his legs.

Jaune/Weiss: HEY!

Ruby: still, i'm not sure if we should keep going.

Yang: Come on, what if the next Jaune that comes up is a reaper that uses a cool gun just like yours?

Ruby: . . .it sounds cool, but still. . .i don't know about it.

Yang: *sigh* welp, then i think i'll have to go next.

Ruby: w-what? Yang you-

Yang: relax, considering what happened last time this Jaune is probably going to be a cool brawler who loves parties like i do.

Oobleck: while that is indeed a possibility ms. Xiao long, i wouldn't take it for granted until we see who's coming through the D.U.M.B.

Yang: welp, only one way to find out, right? *walks up to the D.U.M.B* you're coming vomit boy?

Jaune: err, can't we just listen to ruby and stop here?

Yang: you too? C'mon, man up vomit boy! Its gonna be fun!

Jaune: you only say that because you weren't the one watching a mirror version of you looking at you like a pathetic little bug, i'm not looking forward to that again.

Yang: come on, how bad can the next you be?

Jaune: i have no idea.

Yang: and that's why we have to find out! *holds jaune's arm and drags him to the D.U.M.B, placing both of their hands on the device*

Jaune: w-wait, yang i-

Suddenly, the device lights up with an yellow aura similar to yang's, before it fades away.

Blake: and it did it again.

Weiss: *sitting behind a table* i am not taking another explosion.

Ruby: *hiding behind weiss* me neither.

Weiss: what are you doing you dolt!?

Yang: *grinning and with her semblance on* ready vomit boy?

Jaune: *with closed eyes and bracing himself* not real-

*BOOM*

Once again the room was filled with smoke, this time though it was a yellow one, which quickly started to dissipate thanks to the open windows.

Jaune: *on the ground* oww, why does this thing has to explode to work?

Yang: *shrugs while still standing, her body covered with aura* no idea, but seeing you fly is funny.

Ruby: *still behind weiss* so? What jaune showed up?

Oobleck: *fanning some smoke away* they're probably still in the smoke ms.Rose. The device seems to have worked again, but we still need to wait to see who-

A blur then jumped out of the smoke, and in the blink of an eye collided with doctor oobleck, it happened so fast that the group barely had time to react, and only realized what happened when they saw oobleck pinned on the ground.

(A)Jaune: *wearing a white T-shirt, blue pajama pants, with several visible scars on his legs and arms, holding oobleck down by the throat and holding a handcannon on his forehead while glaring at him with scarlet eyes and black scleras*

RWBY/J_P_: *shocked*

(A)Jaune: i'll ask this only one time, and you better give me a good answer. What did you just do?

Oobleck: *sweating bullets* w-well, you see, i-i-

(A)Yang: jaune!

(A)Jaune: *looks back at the smoke cloud*

(A)Yang: *coming out of the smoke, wearing her usual sleeping clothes but with a yellow robotic right arm and rubbing her eyes* don't you think it's too early *yawn* to be causing havoc?

(A)Jaune: *looking back at oobleck* look around yang, we're not at the dorm.

(A)Yang: *looking around* huh? How did we- *notices the group, including herself and another jaune* . . .okay, what the hell is going on? Am i still dreaming?

(A)Jaune: you're not dreaming, and i'm trying to figure out exactly what is going on.

(A)Yang: by scaring the hell out of everyone around you?

(A)Jaune: do you know a more effective way of getting answers?

(A)Yang: yeah, did you tried to ask first before going straight into violence like we talked about?

(A)Jaune: hmph, do you realize how much of an hypocrite do you sound like right now?

(A)Yang: punching someone is way different from holding them at gunpoint bad boy. Now, why don't you just let poor professor Oobleck off the hook before he vomits out the rivers of coffee he's always drinking?

(A)Jaune: . . . *sighs, eyes going back to white scleras and marine blue iris* fine. *gets up and stands next to yang* but if your way doesn't work out i'll-

(A)Yang: dismember them, kill them, yeah yeah i know the drill with you, so relax and just leave it to me okay bad boy? *grins and winks at him*

(A)Jaune: *crosses his arms* hmph.

(A)Yang: i'm sorry for him, he gets grumpy when you wake him up out of the blue like that, specially on a sunday.

Pyrrha: *helping oobleck up* to the point of hurting a teacher?

(A)Yang: can we all just be happy that "hurting" was all he did to professor oobleck? If you did that a few months ago jaune would've probably beheaded him.

Oobleck: *gulps*

(A)Yang: speaking of which, what the heck just happened? I was enjoying my warm bed on a cold sunday morning and now we're on a classroom, with people that look way too much like us.

Oobleck: w-well, i am sorry to disturb you and mister arc with this experiment miss xiao long, but we are testing a new device, a device with the power to bring other versions of peoples to our universe.

(A)Jaune: *raises eyebrow* so we are in a different universe?

Oobleck: precisely!

(A)Jaune: that explains why there's another "us" here. How do we go back?

Weiss: wait, so you will just believe in what we're saying?

(A)Jaune: i've dealt with things stranger than this before, jumping into a new universe isn't anything too out of the common really. Plus, i know when people are lying.

(A)Yang: you did that before?

(A)Jaune: no, but it's not really worse than salem's shenanigans.

Ozpin: salem you say?

RWBY/J_P_: WHA-!?!?

Weiss: where do you teachers keep coming from!?!?

Ozpin: *behind the students* that's a very good question miss schnee. *sips coffee, completely ignoring her very good question*

(A)Jaune: Oz? You're here too? Guess this universe is not that different from ours. Do they know about her?

Ozpin: no, at least not yet mister arc.

(A)Jaune: good, ignorance is a blessing.

Blake: what are you two talking about?

Ozpin: nothing that really matters miss belladonna, i'm here just to observe oobleck's experiment. *sits on the farthest table.* please proceed as if i'm not here.

Weiss: why are all teachers in beacon so weird?

Yang: you talk like we're any better.

Weiss: we're not. . . .okay, point taken.

Oobleck: answering your previous question mister arc, this device has a time limit of half an hour or a manual trigger for you two to go back.

(A)Jaune: good, i'm tired and want to go back to bed as soon as i can. How does the manual trigger works?

(A)Yang: hold up you lazy bun. come on, we're in a whole different universe, don't you wanna take a look around? See if we can find something interesting?

(A)Jaune: i've already seen my fair share of weird stuff on our own world, i'm not interested.

(A)Yang: *grins* oh really? *walks up to yang, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and pulling her closer* are you going to tell me you're not interested in a world with two of me?

(A)Jaune: . . . . *blushes a bit and looks away*

(A)Yang: oh? What is that? Did you just think about something naughty bad boy?

(A)Jaune: . . .no.

(A)Yang: *grinning* li-ar~

(A)Jaune: i'm not lying.

(A)Yang: *gets closer, booping his cheek* of course you're lying, how can you not love the idea of having two me's around you?

(A)Jaune: *looks back at her* because you're the only yang i love you dumbass blonde.

(A)Yang: *blushes* . . . .that's a low blow.

(A)Jaune: you started it.

Ruby: is it me or these two really look like they like each other?

Weiss: *deadpans* wow, how did you figure that one out ruby?

Yang: so me and vomit boy from the other dimension are together?

(A)Yang: vomit boy? Why do you call jaune like that.

Jaune: oh god, please don't-

Yang: because the first time i saw him he ended up puking on my shoes.

(A)Yang: PFF! HE WHAT!? YOU GOTTA BE KIDDING!?

Yang: *grinning* i'm serious. guess seeing me for the first time was too much for him.

(A)Yang: *starts laughing*

Jaune: *red* i have motion sickness! It's a very common problem!

(A)Jaune: so i not only look like an idiot here, but act like one as well?

(A)Yang: i don't know, i kinda like the idea of a softer and dorkier version of you.

(A)Jaune: i don't.

Pyrrha: but why are you like this?

(A)Jaune: what?

Pyrrha: you are a lot different from our jaune.

Ruby: yeah, yang looks almost the same, but you are a bit different.

Weiss: a lot different actually.

(A)Jaune: judging by how he acts and looks like, he probably had a comfortable normal life, with little to no training.

Jaune: h-how-

(A)Jaune: the moment i attacked oobleck i saw everyone tensing in reaction, it's an combat instinct to get ready whenever something unexpected happens, you were the only one who didn't reacted like that, which means you have barely any combat experience.

Jaune: i. . .can't argue against that.

(A)Jaune: meanwhile, i didn't had it so easy.

Weiss: let me guess, your father was a heartless bastard?

(A)Jaune: *snaps to weiss, eyes get red and surrounded by a black sclera* say that about my father again and i'll cut your throat.

Weiss: *shivers*

(A)Yang: *flickers his forehead* hey! cut it out bad boy. i know it's hard to believe but for once ice queen wasn't trying to be mean, she was just asking a question.

(A)Jaune: R-Right. . . *sighs, eyes going back to normal* sorry.

Yang: what's up with his eyes? It almost looks like a grimm.

(A)Jaune: that's because i am partially grimm.

PR__Y: what?

Oobleck: *taking notes* please elaborate more mr.arc.

(A)Jaune: genetic enhancement. I got through a lot of experiments when i was seven.

RWBY/J_P_: SEVEN!?!?

(A)Jaune: the genetical enhancement is lethal on adults with fully developed bodies, only small children have a chance to survive.

Ruby: just a chance?

(A)Jaune: yeah, fifty children ranging from five to ten were tested on, only three survived, one of them being me.

Pyrrha: oh my god. . .that's so cruel.

(A)Jaune: not really, we all knew what we were getting into.

Blake: how can any five year old consent to something that has a chance of killing them?

(A)Jaune: because they would wind up dead without this power. We all agreed to go through this because we all had the same objective, take revenge on the organisation that killed our families.

RWBY/J_P_: . . . .

(A)Jaune: when i was a kid, a man tried to recruit my father to be part of his organization, when my father refused he blew up our home, killing my sisters and my mother, only me and my dad survived, but he lost an arm and was really hurt, he carried me as far as he could but the man found us and killed him. . .i only survived because of my mentor Qrow branwen and his sister.

Ruby: uncle Qrow? He was your mentor?

Yang: *shocked* wait. . .did you say his sister was there too?

(A)Jaune: yeah, they both saved me and took me to the Reaper organization, they offered me a choice to try and have a normal life or join the reapers, qrow wanted me to have a normal life but i didn't listened to him, i was so full of anger that i signed up and proceeded with the Reapers.

Oobleck: reaper program. . .sounds like something i heard before, but the project i knew was stored for being not very ethical.

Jaune: makes sense, the program consisted in making genetic enhancements on kids and making them go through the toughest training possible.

Blake: what kind of training?

(A)Jaune: several kinds, ranging from survival training to durability training, they would expose us to harsh places and teach us to survive, as well as expose us to high levels of pain, heat, cold, electricity, poison and others just so our bodies could get used to it.

Blake: that's. . .inhuman, how could they do this to children?

(A)Jaune: we did this to ourselves, we asked for the training. . .we just didn't knew how insane it would drive us.

Yang: i mean, i'm not a specialist but you don't really look that insane.

(A)Yang: that's because you met him now, he wasn't like this a year ago.

(A)Jaune: because of the grimm essence and the painful training, me and the other two kids didn't turned out very well, i was probably the most mentally balanced out of the three.

(A)Yang: and he still tried to kill me at least three times.

Weiss: and you're dating him!?

(A)Yang: *shrugs* he's wasn't that bad after you got to know him well, specially compared to his friends. One of them was a sociopath that tested the most painful ways to kill on his enemies. the other was a wild animal that killed anyone who got near him.

(A)Jaune: unless this person was qrow, oz, ironwood, raven or steph.

(A)Yang: yeah. Jaune was the least fucked up of them, yet he tried to kill me twice and two other teachers as well on his first week on beacon.

(A)Jaune: *deadpans* why do you keep bringing that up? I apologized didn't i?

(A)Yang: only after we started to get together, and every time remember you pointing that gun to me i get annoyed, *grinning* specially because your handcannon is not the kind of gun i like to see you pointing at my face.

(A)Jaune: can't you leave the dirty jokes for later? Or just stop with them altogether?

(A)Yang: you know i can't.

Ruby: so, jaune got through a lot and became a killer. . .please tell me you aren't evil too yang.

(A)Yang: well, last time i checked they didn't had my size on the killer's clothing store, so i guess i'm with the good guys for now.

Yang: what about my arm? What happened to it?

(A)Yang: i lost in a grimm attack.

(A)Jaune: *looking down* it was my fault.

(A)Yang: no it wasn't, and even if it was you still made up for it, so don't go getting gloomy because of it, okay? Basically a group of grimms came after me, i was so distracted with the fighting that i didn't noticed one had a bomb attached to it.

(A)Jaune: i tried to shield her from the explosion but in the end it still took one of her arms away.

(A)Yang: which was still a pretty cheap price to pay for the result, even though i still think you're an idiot for doing that.

Yang: what did he do?

(A)Yang: in our world, there's a woman who can control grimm, and she was the one who sent the grimms after me by request of the same guy who killed jaune's family.

Ruby: but why did he wanted you dead?

(A)Yang: because i'm jaune's angel.

Weiss: you what?

(A)Yang: angel, i'll explain that later. Well, this idiot right here *points to (A)Jaune* had the great idea to go after her even with the injury of the explosion leaving him vulnerable.

(A)Jaune: i already told you why i did that, i was angry and couldn't think straight.

(A)Yang: *glaring at him* and i already told you i don't give a damn to your reasoning, you're still an idiot. Anyways, he obviously failed and had to run away, but while he was running away he found my missing mother and saved her.

Yang: Raven?

(A)Jaune: Summer Rose.

Ruby/Yang: *shocked*

Ruby: m-mom is alive in your universe!?

(A)Yang: yeah, she disappeared during a mission when we were really young. . .we thought she was dead, but she was being kept alive in suspension so they could understand more about her. . .special powers.

(A)Jaune: i woke her up and managed to escape with her. Nowadays she is working as a teacher in beacon while trying to rebuild her marriage with qrow.

Ruby/Yang: SHE'S TRYING TO REBUILD WHAT WITH WHO!?!?

(A)Yang: i know right? It was one hell of a surprise, we had no idea they were married, but after uncle qrow saw mom again and kissed her in front of everyone, it was kind of hard to keep it a secret.

Ruby: wait, does that means i'm-

(A)Yang: uncle qrow's secret daughter? Yup, you are.

Ruby: oh my god. . .it's so much to think about that my head is starting to hurt.

(A)Yang: i don't blame you, it took awhile to digest everything weird that was happening in my life. One day i'm just good ol' me, going to beacon like i always wanted to do, and suddenly i lose an arm, my dead mom is alive and back, i find out she was actually married to my uncle, my sister is technically my cousin and i am the new angel of the guy who tried to murder me a few times when we first met.

Weiss: you mean girlfriend?

(A)Yang: *shrugs* works too, it's the same thing.

(A)Jaune: *frowns* no it's not, an angel is one of a kind, you can find other girlfriends but an angel is unique, you're the only one i ever confided with my fears and weaknesses, you're the only one who ever saw me cry and the only one who i ever showed my love to, you might be my girlfriend but before that you're my angel, because only an angel like you to bring peace to a demon like me.

RWBY/J_P_: . . . .

(A)Jaune: . . . *red* can you stop staring at me like that?

(A)Yang: *smiling* i can't, i love when you get on your poetic mood, it's too cute.

(A)Jaune: ugh, i should've just stayed shut.

(A)Yang: yeah, you should've known better than giving me ammo to tease you at this point.

(A)Jaune: i hate you.

(A)Yang: nope, you don't. But putting the cheesy and cute poetry to the side, an angel is like a break to the reapers, they usually don't trust anyone and are terrible people, but when they find someone special that they can trust they change a lot. I told you about jaune's friends earlier, the one who liked to torture people as a hobby now likes to plant flowers and care for them on his free time with his angel, meanwhile the psycho animal got just like me, a fun guy who loves to crack jokes and tease other people, though he isn't as cool as i am.

(A)Jaune: but is still a lot more perverted than you. . .if that's even possible.

(A)Yang: i know right? I don't know how that girl survived dating him for so long, if all the reapers have the same level of stamina i wonder how she isn't on a wheelchair.

(A)Jaune: now you're just being dramatic.

(A)Yang: remember when we first did it? And i couldn't stand without my legs shaking like leaves for almost a whole day? Imagine a girl going through that almost every day.

(A)Jaune: . . . . . .yeah, you got a point.

(A)Yang: i know. though, if she keeps having sex with him so much it's because she likes it, sometimes i imagine how it feels to do it all the time.

(A)Jaune: *deadpans* knowing you, i'm sure you do.

(A)Yang: *grins* are you saying that you don't think about that too? We're almost on our vacation you know? We could go out for a few days and find out~

(A)Jaune: *blushes* y-you-

(A)Yang: pff *chuckles* you're too easy to mess with sometimes.

(A)Jaune: *sighs* Can we leave already?

Oobleck: *looking to his clock* well, since you've been here for twenty seven minutes and forty three seconds i don't think there is much time left anyways.

(A)Yang: well, it was good while it lasted.

(A)Jaune: yang, we didn't do anything but tell them how our world is.

(A)Yang: *ignoring him* It was nice to meet you awkward jaune, i mean, vomit boy. *winks*

Jaune: *chuckles awkwardly*

(A)Yang: oh, and other me.

Yang: yeah.

(A)Yang: you better not let him slip, i had to work a lot to make this jaune here soft, you already got a softy ready for you, they might not be the same but if he's also jaune then i'm pretty sure you're not gonna regret.

Yang: i'll think about it.

J_P_: you WHAT!?

Yang: what? If i'm the one saying it then it must be true. Not to mention that Jaune does look cute so its a double win for me.

Jaune: *blushes* i-i'm cute?

(A)Yang: good. *starts glowing along with jaune* i don't know much about your jaune, mine was a knucklehead most of the time but when he wanted to be, he was very kind and supportive, he helped me to deal with a lot of old issues, and i'm pretty sure your vomit boy isn't different on that aspect.

Yang: right. . .i'll keep that in mind.

Ruby: err, other yang?

(A)Yang: yeah?

Ruby: can you do me a favor?

(A)Yang: i don't think i have much time left to help you other rubes.

Ruby: no, it's nothing really big, just. . .when you go back, can you please tell mom that i love her?

(A)Yang: . . . *gives her a small smile* sure, i promise i'll tell her when i get back.

Ruby: *with a shaky smile* right. . .thank you.

(A)Yang: and hey, please don't cry, my ruby or not i still don't like to see you sad.

Ruby: right. *sniff* i'll try.

(A)Yang: good. *glow gets stronger* Bye everyone, it was nice meeting you.

Yang: same.

*(A)Yang waves one last time before vanishing completely from the room*

Blake: . . .once again, that was something.

Yang: ruby? *puts a hand on her shoulder* you okay.

Ruby: y-yeah, i'm fine, i just. . . *sighs* i wished i could go there myself, even if i could just go for a minute to see her. . .

Yang: yeah, i know how you feel.

Oobleck: well. . .it seems that you just got through a very sensitive moment mr.rose, would you like to take a break?

Ruby: no, it's okay, i. . .i think i'm fine.

Yang: you know you don't need to push yourself, right ruby?

Ruby: i know, and don't worry, if it becomes too much i'll stop, but for now. . .mr.oobleck?

Oobleck: yes miss Rose?

Ruby: can i go next?

#rwby #jaune arc #yang xiao long #weiss schnee #ruby rose #pyrrha nikos #jaune x yang #yang x jaune #rwby dragonslayer #dragonslayer #jaune x harem #colorguard #That's pretty D.U.M.B

191 notes · View notes

julietnterein · 3 years

Text

•| Violacea I. chp. 8 |•

I quietly stand behind the glass, while I'm watching the red headed woman behind the glass, as she sits by the window with her arm in the cast.

There is no need for me to be that quiet because there is no way she could hear me through the glass and all the noise that is around me.

I was just about to go, with the help of my crunches, to Bruce's lab as he wanted to show me some breakthrough on my leg problem. But I just wanted to take a look on my own, to be sure. As I was lied to for twenty-four years of my life, I guess I developed myself some trust issues.

Redhead behind the glass turned around like she felt that I was staring. I panic and tries to get away from there as quickly as possible.

I stopped myself in the elevator with an embarrassed shake of my head. „You idiot.”

With another shake of my head,, I step out of the elevator to go to the labs. I haven't met Tony properly from my room blowout. I mean I met him when he was passing around me and the small wave he sometimes gave me was probably the best I could have hoped for. He still hasn’t trusted me enough to assign me a room in their compound.

I don't mind my room at all, I'm grateful, but it would still look like a cell, then a room. Pietro often brings me books and stuff to catch up on things that I missed. Bruce is trying to talk Tony into giving normal room, but I guess I wouldn't trust myself as well.

„You are late.” Smiles Bruce from his usual place.

„Y-yea...Uh… Sorry.” I say quietly before I decide to sit on one of the many chairs.

„You don't even have to sit down. I feel like I figured it out.”

„Oh cool.” I look at him without any expression.

He looks at him surprised and then I roll my eyes. „I'm kidding. So what's it gonna be?”I laugh a little.

„Okay, okay. So I have these nano-implants that I will inject under your skin and they should improve the damaged nerves that doesn't allow you to move your legs.” He explains enthusiastically.

„Do you think it's gonna work?” I ask him a little not convinced.

„Excuse my seven doctorates, then?” He says jokingly. „And Tony agreed with me that it's gonna work.”

„Bang it in, then.” I resign.

„Well,, that is disgusting.” Says someone from the door.

We both turn our heads towards Tony, who stands in the doorway.

„I didn't take you by the banging type, Bruce.” He smiles as he walks towards him and takes him around the shoulders. „And you…” He looks at me. „Seducing my best scientist.” He laughs quietly.

„I-I wasn't…”

„Tony…” Bruce gives him a growl, as his cheeks go red quickly.

Tony burst out laughing. „You two are a real pair.” He shakes his head. „You act like I just catch you doing something inappropriate. Or…?”

„Ne!” We scream out both in unison.

„Jesus, no…” Says Bruce quickly.

„Excuse you?” I lift my brow at him.

„No, that's no… Jesus, let's talk science again.” He turns back to his table, to take the huge syringes and put the nano-thingies in.

„Are you really sure it's gonna work?” I ask once again.

„Well excuse you.” He snores. „I wasn't awake whole night for someone to disrespect my work like that.”

„Well I'm sorry, I wanna be sure before he stick this huge injection under my skin!” I frown at him.

„It's probably gonna work.” Says Bruce as he puts the injection against my skin.

„Wait, did he really said PROBAB-..OUCH!” I jerk with my whole body.

„Don't be a baby.” Say Stark. I'm not gonna lie that this is a nice change of paths, but if he says one more sarcastic comment towards me, I swear to god to kick him in the face, the first moment my legs are gonna start working.

„You wanna try?” I bark at him. „Maybe I could try to inject it through your neck.”

He raises his hands to protect himself. But before I can even realize Bruce is pushing the last nano-implant to my second leg and I jerk again.

„Okay, let me turn it on.” He says before I can give him peace of my mind of not telling when he's gonna inject it.

He starts clicking something on his keyboard. „Turning it on...right...now.” He clicks on enter.

I can feel a small pinch on the back of my neck, so I jerk my whole body once again.

„Did you see it?” Asks me, Tony, quickly.

„What?” I turn my attention back to my legs.

„You twitched your toes!” He pointed at my foot.

Bruce quickly comes to me and Tony, to see on its own. I'm trying to think about twitching my toes once again, but to move with something you weren't able to move before, is probably hard, but when it's happening the moment I thought about it I can't hold the excited shriek in me.

„Does it hurt?” They both turned towards me.

„No!” I shriek out in excitement. „I can feel my legs!”

„You don't say, Einstein.” Smirks Tony.

As he stands closely, examining my leg I swiftly move it upwards and kick him in slightly into his stomach.

„Hey!” He push my leg aside and steps away a little.

Bruce starts laughing quietly and comes to the table to help me get down from it on the floor. They both takes me bellow my shoulders so my legs would get used to my weight first with a little help.

„Alright, slowly one foot in front of the other.” Says Bruce patiently before they both let go of me, letting me tries it on my own.

In that moment freedom gets completely new meaning. Even though my first steps aren't perfect, I still spin around to happily look at them, excited from the new skill they just helped me to gain.

„I'm walking on my own!”

„You still have a lot to learn.” Says Tony.

I frown and point at him. „Do you want me to kick you again?” But before he answers I'm focusing again on my legs. My bare feet are touching the cold floor and that feeling excites me in so many ways. I just can't believe that after all those years I actually stand on my own foot.

I happily jump a little on my foot in one place and shriek out in excitement one more time, before I start walking around the lab again.

„Is this normal?” I hear Tony whisper to Bruce.

„She is just happy.” Smiles Bruce.

I look at both of them, before I jump into their arms with a loud: „Thank you, thank you!” I kiss them both on a cheek. „You are both geniuses!”

„That's what they say.” Smirks Stark, but I can see the tug of a smile that he is happy that he helped me.

I just leave his sarcastic comment without noticing and one more thing, which I would call running until the moment I tripped over my own foot and end up lying on the ground, face down.

„Jesus!” Says Bruce as he runs up to me.

„No.” I stop him as I make myself stand up. „I can do this alone.” I stretch my back as I stand up. „I really need to tell Pietro!” I say in excitement as I'm making my way to the door.

„Hold up.” Stops me Bruce. „You just had a injected in yourself two foreign chip fragments. Your body won't be able to process it on it's own, so you will have to inject yourself with the serum that will help your body to process that, and I need to show you how to do that.”

What's a one syringe a day for a whole life of walking.

Chp. 9

TAG LIST:

@littlegasps @multi-images

33 notes · View notes

cat--ann · 3 years

Text

.flow

I just finished playing through .flow, so I think I’ll try to give my full thoughts and interpretations on a lot of I found and experienced in the game (in the form of a series of points, because my thoughts are scattered even at the best of times).

for now I will be just be tackling characters roughly in order of how relevant I believe them to be to Sabitsuki’s life and experiences, while I will talk about Sabitsuki (and, by extension, Rust) at a later time.

CHARACTERS:

Black-Haired Girl / Onigo: Sabitsuki’s life began with a death. Specifically, the death of her mother. Onigo represents the very few things Sabitsuki both remembers about her mother (her distinctive long black hair and blue dress) and what she was told by the hospital staff (the fact that she died giving birth to Sabitsuki). The reason why she dies so often in the game itself (childbirth event, every time you encounter her as Rust) is because thats all Sabitsuki can relate her with. Sabitsuki also likely feels guilt in relation to "causing” her mother’s death, as she manifests the idea in the form of the incredibly visceral Childbirth Event.

Oreko: Sabitsuki’s childhood friend, another child who either “lived” in the hospital like Sabitsuki or simply another kid who met Sabitsuki during a time she was in the hospital. Oreko would grow interested in technology and machines as she grew older, eventually becoming something of a mechanic/scientist (though Sabitsuki likely never exactly understood what Oreko’s machines were, which is probably was she internalized them as looking quite bizarre and scary). She also likely had a very big interest in the seas, explaining why she wears the divers helmet and why Sabitsuki associates her with the ocean. Oreko was Sabitsuki’s only companion in any sense throughout the majority of her life, someone who was there for Sabitsuki no matter how much abuse Sabi sustained from society or no matter how bad Sabi’s illness got. Unfortunately, Oreko’s life would eventually be cut short. Sabitsuki most likely never figured out how her best friend perished and was likely in denial about it for some time before making peace with it (Finding Oreko’s ghost requires interacting with her “alive” self a decent amount, and the area her specter is found in is relatively calm compared to most other areas containing significant characters). Oreko’s final appearance to Rust in deadhole could be the last remaining shred of “normal” Sabitsuki having one last memory of her best friend, before she disappears and only Rust remains.

School Girl/Kaibutsu Sabitsuki: Sabitsuki’s manifestation of what she once was/fears she could become again, the one who was harmed by and later took revenge on Smile and the one Sabitsuki is always running from to some extent. School was likely a very, very bad time for Sabitsuki on a personal level, possibly due to Oreko’s death (though there isn’t anything that really indicates when Oreko’s death happened in relation to Sabitsuki’s life so it could be for any currently unknown reason). Kaibutsu Sabitsuki is what Sabitsuki remembers herself as during that time: a violent monster who hurt the only person Sabitsuki was even remotely close to at the time.

Smile: Though Smile is obviously a very significant person in Sabitsuki’s life, exactly what their relationship was and Smile’s history in general is very vague. His appearance in Disposal is likely a representation of his first meeting with Sabitsuki, as he isn’t wearing his usual outfit and lacks his tattoos (their appearance while as Rust may just be because Rust always sees Smile as his “true” self) and seems to react to Sabitsuki’s presence with mild confusion more then anything else. They later met properly during school, where by this point Smile had gained his tattoos and they obviously had formed a relationship of some sort (whether it was just an acquaintanceship, a friendship, or something more significant isn’t exactly clear but Smile was at least comfortable enough around Sabitsuki to have her visit his house and meet his sister). Unfortunately, their ambiguous relationship didn’t last. Sabitsuki’s corrupted school event shows what I believe is likely the end of their relationship and the last time they ever interacted with eachother. For one reason or another, and I suspect the cause was likely Sabitsuki herself, Smile attacked Sabi in the basement of the school. On a personal level, Sabitsuki likely viewed this as an injustice against herself (even if Smile was likely only doing what had to be done) which is why Rust later imagines herself getting revenge against the boy.

The Cleaners: The Cleaners are people who “clean up” (i.e. kill) those with the illness Sabitsuki suffers from. At some point in the past, they massacred the residents of the hospital Sabitsuki was staying in (as seen in 0.16) but left her alive for whatever reason, taking her away to live an actual life beyond the hospital walls. Why they spared Sabitsuki specifically isn’t something I can explain really, but its possible she was simply much less far along in her illness compared to the others and had the potential to be “saved”. Sabitsuki likely doesn’t view the Cleaners as a threat or “enemies” as it were and rather seems fairly neutral about them despite understanding what they do on some level (as seen by obtaining the limbless effect from one’s chainsaw). The Cleaners also had a second purpose asides from their main directive: working at the Sugar Hole (or whatever its “real” equivalent may be). Given Sabitsuki’s fondness of the place (it being one of very few areas in .flow that aren’t directly threatening or foreboding in some way), its possible The Cleaners brought her to the Sugar Hole shortly after leaving the Hospital with Sabi.

The Girl In The Yellow Dress: Buried far in Sabitsuki’s subconscious are the few memories focused on a mysterious girl known only for her faded, dirty yellow dress. Though not strictly always buried far beneath (being seen in Deterioration very easily while smoking in the hall) and never reacting to Sabi’s presence, she is clearly someone Sabitsuki lost tragically and has done her best to bury all the remaining memories of. So, who is this girl? Though my theory is abit shakier thanks to just how vague a character she is, I believe the Yellow Dress Girl to have been a sex worker who briefly acted as Sabitsuki’s caretaker before she somehow met her end. Maybe through knowing the Cleaners somehow or just being in the right place at the right time, this girl ended up as the guardian to a young Sabitsuki. Working as a prostitute (either already her job or something she took up to support Sabitsuki), the young Sabitsuki grew to genuinely appreciate this girl as a motherly figure and they briefly shared a legitimately nice life together (as seen in the “sugar float days” event). However, it didn’t last, and thanks to the darker side of her job creeping up and taking over her life, the Yellow Dress Girl ended up separated from Sabitsuki and possibly even dead. Sabitsuki, unable to properly deal with the trauma of losing someone who did so much for her and she held so dearly, repressed the memories of her and pushed the Yellow Dress Girl into the furthest points of her mind, where memories of the good times were fleeting and brief while memories of the end lingered unchanging.

Little Sabitsuki: Little Sabitsuki is fairly self-explanatory: she represents how Sabitsuki remembers herself as a child, either weak and bedridden (hospital), or lost and forgotten (snow world). Little Sabi’s condition worsening as regular Sabitsuki’s does could represent just how sick Sabi truly believes she is, unable to see even her past self as anything but diseased and broken. Sabitsuki never got to experience a “proper” childhood, she has no memories beyond the hospital, the overgrown halls, and the cold.

The Inner Demon: Underneath it all, this is how Sabitsuki truly sees herself. A bloody, diseased demon who exists only to cause suffering to both the world and people around her, aswell as her self. A manifestation of all of Sabitsuki’s sins and wrongdoings in the form of a dark mirror, buried so far deep within Sabitsuki’s subconscious the idea of confronting it leads Sabi to vomit her own blood in anxiety and terror. Only once Sabitsuki sheds her sense of self and becomes Rust can she properly confront her demon. The years and years of self-loathing building up from her birth, to her disease, to the loss of her friends, to the loss of control, to the loss of her self, leads Rust to perform a metaphorical suicide as she beats the demon to death as the final action taken in her own subconscious.

Kaibutsu: What Sabitsuki fears she will become should her illness completely take over. They take the form of grown-up versions of her fellow children at the hospital, possibly meaning that she believes all of them would be doomed to become a Kaibutsu, or perhaps that she saw multiple children become Kaibutsu at the hospital.

Fetuses: Sabitsuki’s physical manifestation of her illness, only appearing by the time Rust takes over (as while Sabitsuki rejects and is terrified of the illness, Rust embraces it).

Takibi-san: A homeless girl Sabitsuki spent a small amount of time around after leaving the hospital. Sabi mostly remembers her thanks to Takibi’s distinctive pink hair, a very uncommon trait in .flow’s world.

While this is all for now, I do plan to do a similar analysis for Sabitsuki and Rust. If that goes well enough and I still feel up to it afterwards, I will do another two analysises for the maps and the effects.

#.flow #smile #oreko #smile (.flow)#analysis #.flow (game)#sabitsuki #rust #.flow spoilers #spoilers #theory

28 notes · View notes

alovevigilante · 3 years

Text

(This monologue can be performed with a normal breathing pattern, cause the message is important and should be emphasized accordingly.)

When I was younger I didn’t know from a gay person. I went to a small school, where that wasn’t mentioned. It wasn’t a part of the curriculum in schools in the 80s as it is now. So, when I heard the word, “gay” being used in society it had an entirely different definition from the meaning it takes on today. When I used to use the word “gay” when I was a kid in sentences back in the day to communicate, it was usually to say that something was “uncool”. But that’s grade school for ya. That’s why you’re there when you’re younger, to learn better.

But now at 46, out of school for many years, and after having witnessed, and after getting to know people who define themselves, and identify as “gay” I realize that they are some of the coolest people on this planet. And “gay”, in my new definition, is very very very very (meaning emphasis on very) cool. Cause gay is colorful, all colors, and vibrant. Gay is bright, and fierce. Gay is creative, and brave. And gay is a term to explain certain people’s authenticity; showing themselves to the world honestly, and not afraid to profess and show their love openly.

Being gay is not the issue. The issue is recognizing that all people, no matter who they choose to love, are of LOVE, AND Love is where it’s at! It, in this case, its the feeling of belonging, sharing joy, experiencing happiness. It’s world peace first starting from your internal, individual worldview, and then the world around you. But it starts by leaving the judgement at the door. Because the person that feels the judgement first, is you. And others feel it, if they choose to allow it to affect them. If you don’t like something, and it’s not for you, then don’t do it. We will all be happier by allowing everyone the opportunity to be themselves too, without condemnation, and dipping in others business which isn’t our own. Being responsible for how you feel if we want to stay happy, should be our primary goal. And that’s a big enough job without getting into other people’s lives.

I also forgot to mention, that if you’re at the point in this monologue where you’re not only judging the gays, but you’re judging me for loving and supporting the gays because we’re all human and made of love, please feel free to include yourself in that love. It will help to lift your spirits if you do. Cause when we judge others, we all feel the exclusion. And feeling excluded doesn’t feel good. So please don’t choose a life without love. Choose a more inclusive mindset. Ok? I’ll answer that. Yes it IS ok!

I’m not ok with judgements or hate, cause it hurts the whole of us as a human race. Cause we are all fundamentally the same. Take biology 101 for example. Like the late astronomer, planetary scientist, cosmologist, astrophysicist, astrobiologist, author, and science communicator, Carl Sagan used to say, “we are all made of star stuff.” But the point is, the SAME stuff! Water, skin, muscle, bone and organs… But listen, all science aside, we all have a fundamental need to feel loved, and to belong, no matter how much we fight it sometimes.

Internalizing love, and acting on that inspiration toward all people is needed to change the world in a positive way. And I’M DOWN wIth THAT!!!!!

(Please emphasize the word, “THAT”... say it fast in one syllable, and also, that’s why the “with” in the last sentence, is tiny...)

Let me repeat, I AM DOWN, MEANING in FULL SUPPORT of, the LOVE, and of the GAY NATION because gay people are a part of the whole of who we are as a human race! And no matter how hard one may try, no person is excluded from that. So make it a loving experience.

(Ok, back to a more neutral energy, and for me, that’s not saying much)

So, fellow humans, I’m now also coming out of the closet, to say, that I am extremely JEALOUS in a great way of the gays! (Including the lesbians, cause they’re also under that umbrella term) Because I think they’re AWESOME, and I support them 100%, and I strive to be as cool as they are!!!! Ok?!?! Yeah! It is!!!! So there!!!!! And also, because I love them dearly... 🙈🤷‍♀️💕☺️🥰

*For those of you who read all the way through to judge and rip on my writing, you clearly have missed the point entirely. I chose being gay as a group to use as an example in this case, but sub in any race, and creed, and gender or any group that has been discriminated against at one time or another throughout the history of humanity, and you can get the same result. (Although they are a part of the whole of humanity, hate groups are excluded in this case because, because A. They have excluded themselves with their fear-based, loveless choice of behavior by treating all people as the enemy, and also because some people refuse to sway from their hardened beliefs and B. I’m focusing solely on groups that embrace a loving energy, and don’t wish to harm others.) We are all human. We have all experienced things that have alienated us, and make us feel excluded, no matter how accepted we seem to be outwardly. And we miss out on a lot of wonderful people by excluding them due to our own judgements.

My point of all this writing? To unite people, in human emotions, by my deliberate choice of energy. My message is clear, if you choose to be open enough to glean it. But for those who aren’t, here’s the deal: yes, I am fully aware that my writing isn’t normal. The tactics I use, are unorthodox because it’s a way to get everyone reading on the same side. I’m over separation.

I experiment to try to figure out ways to eradicate the loveless energy. I guess I’m starting to realize that I can’t do it alone. So, some say “choose love”. “Love matters” “Inclusion matters” and it does. But unless we make a conscious effort to change the way we approach our societal norms i.e. comedy, music, entertainment in general, commercialism, big business, government, how we treat one another in our daily lives, and the treatment we accept from others and ourselves, nothing will. The sooner we can internalize that, the better. I guess that’s why I feel that starting with changing myself is the best way to it. You see, I mention all of those things, because they have the biggest platform to influence people. They also have the ability to persuade. If that isn’t utilized for a positive result for all people, we get what we essentially have now; an uneven exchange. And life isn’t fair? That shit, is old school mentality. Life can be anything we want it to be. And that’s the truth. We just have to decide to adjust it.

It’s not easy for me to fully accept myself for some reason. I’m having great difficulty sometimes maintaining a loving outlook. When I judge myself like this. I feel like there must be something fundamentally wrong with me. But there isn’t. We all feel this way from time to time. What I think about me, is what I need to focus on. Because what I feel about everything, comes from that very place. I act according to how I feel. Point blank. When I’m not consciously trying to think differently, cause I’ve been conditioned by myself to think in a fearful way, I also get just as wrapped up in the upset of the outside world as everyone else does, and I feel that life is insurmountable, and that nothing can change from how I’m seeing it at that moment in time. It takes a change in my thinking, my perception, the union of me now, not me from the past focusing on what was and how I didn’t enjoy the experience. It will take the union of me changing my mind about what I observe to make the change. I can’t hold onto the past hurts, and expect a positive change in result of my now or my future. All I can do, is redefine my past, and lose the loveless energy. That will be enough to keep me busy for quite some time.

That’s why I write. I write to cheer myself up. I write to amuse myself. I write to clear out the cobwebs of my past I have in my head, and try to accept where I am now. I write to move myself forward in a peaceful and loving existence. I write to feel better, period. Doesn’t always work. Sometimes I find that being a loving person isn’t the easiest choice, especially when you’re living in your head in past hurts. So, all of this experimentation i do with my own energy is a process that I’m willing to share with whom ever, whatever the consensus may be. My love for me and the love I have for all people is growing, and with it so is my recognition of the dissonance that is us as a human race. That is also being highlighted intensely.

I guess my point is, I understand fully that the change can’t come from just one person to affect the whole. Well, essentially it could, but it’s unlikely due to our vast majority of differences. But, if I change and affect the people in my life positively, that chain reaction could be like a pandemic of love, instead of disease. We can all affect one another, and be infected, by the love virus. Let’s choose to laugh together more often, let’s be together in love as we feel comfortable doing so, let’s stop all the things that aren’t loving to ourselves and others. Let’s decide both individually and together. Let’s choose to “be the change we want to see in the world.” (mahatma gandhi.) And let’s “be the ones to make it different.” (Me, Kari Keillor)

(Please sub the energy of pandemic and fear for the energy of love traveling the world and affecting it positively.)

“so it goes.” -Kurt Vonnegut.

16 notes · View notes

pennamesmith · 3 years

Text

Romeo and Skeletor

Double Trouble needs dating advice. The Super Pal Trio is here to help. More Skeletor stories!

“Remember,” Wrong Hordak recited, “recovery comes from connection!”

Several hands went up. Most belonged to clones. This was a common and welcome sight in Wrong Hordak’s Ex-Horde Therapy Group.

“And no,” Wrong Hordak continued, anticipating everyone’s question, “that does not necessarily mean romantic connection, or even connection with another sentient being. It means that in order to heal our traumas, we must be a part of the world around us, and acknowledge the world as a part of us.”

Most of the hands went down. Thoughtful murmurs rippled through the crowd. It was the end of another day of helping and healing. With a few more words of wisdom Wrong Hordak closed the meeting, and the assembled members began to stand and make their way out of the room. Most seemed sanguine and cheerful, but one stayed seated and watched the others wearily.

Double Trouble was the group’s newest and most skeptical member. They were trying, they really were, but it wasn’t easy. A lifetime of artful deception did not exactly lend itself to sharing or emotional honesty.

They had their reasons for being there, though.

Wrong Hordak, effervescent as ever, looked over and winked. “Another successful session, my most exalted paramour!” he told Double Trouble proudly. “Now then, I must consult with Perfuma about the itinerary for next week’s field trip to Mystacor. But tonight, I hope you are prepared to be dazzled by my famous quiche!” He beamed brightly.

Double Trouble worked very hard to maintain a calm expression while their stomach did acrobatic flip-flops. “My breath is bated, darling,” they finally managed, before scurrying off to the other side of the room.

The thespian cursed, internally. It should not be this difficult for a shapeshifter to hide a blush.

Closer to the door, Hordak was showing Adora something on a data pad. Double Trouble wended a wide circle around them, even as Adora gasped in surprise and began babbling what certainly seemed like juicy gossip. They simply weren’t in the mood.

Outside, Catra, Scorpia, and Entrapta were strolling away together, while the scorpion princess spoke excitedly about something called ‘Super Pal Trio Game Night.’ Double Trouble pricked their ears — this, perhaps, was a more promising prospect for their problem.

They took a step forward, and were immediately interrupted.

“Where do you think you’re going, hmm?”

Besides Perfuma, Wrong Hordak’s other assistant for his therapy group was ‘Skeletor,’ one of Entrapta’s eccentric bots. Once, he had been a part of Horde Prime’s drone army. Now, he had a nasally voice, a talent for self improvement, and a puppy.

The puppy’s name was Relay.

“How’s this for a surprise?” Skeletor said, holding Relay and patting the robotic canine gently on the head. “I’m considering putting him on a leash!”

“That’s very nice dear, but you’ll have to excuse me,” Double Trouble deflected. “I’ve got issues right now.” They began to move past the skinny robot, before a thought occurred to them.

“Actually, you might be able to help me out with something. Tell me, how do you feel about aiding and abetting identity fraud? I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Mehehehehe! Just like the old days!” Skeletor cackled. “All right, you’ve got yourself a deal! What’s your plan?”

Shadows Over Salineas was going swimmingly.

It wasn’t really a game night, more of a game afternoon, but that hadn’t stopped Scorpia from bringing a tower of boxes into Entrapta’s Bright Moon lab. An entire world of cardboard and plastic was spread out before the three women.

“I am going to finish this Sword of Protection quest!” Catra angrily declared as she moved her game piece back and forth. “No matter how long it takes!”

“Okay, but the Evil Horde already has a lot of points at the Princess Alliance table,” Entrapta cautioned, gesturing to another part of the board. “Plus they’ve got a lot of tanks in front of the castle.”

“Anyone want to help me battle the Laughing Dragon?” Scorpia spoke up from behind a clawful of cards. “I’m gonna —”

She was cut short as the laboratory door suddenly opened and Skeletor slouched inside, wearing a miserable expression.

“This is the worst day of my life!” Skeletor moaned, flopping bodily across the table. Game pieces flew in every direction and clattered on the floor. The other three exchanged nervous glances.

Catra tossed her cards aside. “Well, I guess this is what we’re doing now. What’s the matter, boneface?”

“You’ve got to help me!” Skeletor blubbered. “When are you goody-goody fools going to understand? I care for no-one and no-one cares for me!” He shook his fists and produced a rose tied to a card covered in cartoony hearts.

Scorpia tilted her head. “Is that a flower?”

“It is a flower!” Skeletor howled. “The bitter rose! From a secret admirer.” He clutched it to his chest lovingly.

“Seriously?” Catra floundered. “Does somebody actually have a crush on that goof?”

“I know it sounds strange,” Skeletor retorted. “Never mind that!”

Entrapta rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “So, to be clear. You’re happy about getting the rose?”

“Yes, I am!” Skeletor shouted.

“But it’s a problem because…?”

“I live to be bad!” Skeletor whined. “How else can I act when I’m surrounded by such fools?” The robot swooned again. “Nice? Doesn’t sound like much fun to me! Yuck! What a disgusting idea!”

“Oh, I get it!” Entrapta grinned. “Skeletor needs us to teach him about love!”

Scorpia’s eyes sparkled. “A Super Pal Trio rescue mission? For love? I accept without any further questions!”

“Wait, wait,” Catra protested. “Stop. No. None of this makes any sense. Entrapta, is this another one of your secret friendship experiments?”

“Nuh-uh,” the scientist shook her head. “But... it is unexpected. Skeletor, are you sure you’re feeling all right?”

Skeletor looked uncomfortable. “Certainly! Um… Tell me about the loneliness of good! Is it equal to the loneliness of evil?”

Entrapta seemed suspicious. “Hang on,” she said, peering more closely at Skeletor. “Something isn’t quite right here.”

At that moment, Skeletor walked into the room, again. This time he was holding Relay and a fresh armload of barbarian romance novels.

“I can’t do it,” he admitted with an apologetic shrug, sheepishly handing back the books. “And, I do not look like you.”

“Oh phoo. I went too far, didn’t I?” the other Skeletor sighed, in a completely different voice. “I knew this wasn’t going to work.”

In a flash of dark light, Skeletor morphed into a decidedly more reptilian shape. Double Trouble huffed and tossed their hair back. “Well, that was different, at least. I’ve never done a robot before!” They paused. “Not in that sense, anyway.”

Catra started out of her chair. “What are you doing here?” she demanded.

“Just what I said.” Double Trouble sat back down on the table and nonchalantly studied their nails. “I need advice. Romantic advice. And since you three are all half of some of the oddest couples on the planet, I thought I might start here.”

“Okay,” Entrapta said, already beginning to take notes. “But you’ve come to me for that before. Why the disguise?”

Double Trouble looked away and muttered something.

“What was that?”

“I said it’s because I was embarrassed, all right?” Double Trouble crossed their arms and pouted. “This is not something I usually need help with. I’m supposed to be the one who’s cool and in control. I’m Double Trouble! But now I keep feeling things! In my mind, and my body! Making my guts act all weird, and my brain stop working, and… gah!”

“Those are called emotions, Dee Tee,” Catra deadpanned.

“Plus, you and Wrong Hordak have been going steady for a while now,” Scorpia added. “What’s the matter? Oh no! Have you lost… the spark?” She gasped, claws to her face.

“Just the opposite. Wrongie is perfect! He’s always in a good mood, he always wants to spend time with me, he always knows the right thing to say, and he’s just so darn cute! All the time!” Double Trouble’s face sank. “And sooner or later he’s going to realize that I’m not perfect, and it’s all just an act.”

“You don’t have to be perfect,” Entrapta pointed out, looking up from her notes.

“This is just like what happens in Romeo and Julian!” Double Trouble wailed, ignoring her.

“What?” asked Skeletor.

Double Trouble sniffled. “It’s a play. Someone in the Bright Moon army wrote it and it’s been getting rave reviews in all the theatre magazines — oh, but that’s not important! We’re talking about me!” The lizard flailed their hands helplessly. “What I mean is, it’s like we’re from two different worlds!”

“What, Horde World and Etheria?” Scorpia guessed.

“I’m thinking more Innocent Baby World and Cynical Opportunist World,” Catra cut in.

“Hey!” Double Trouble snapped. “I am not a cynic! Anymore!”

They turned to Scorpia. “But I can still make it work! I just need more research. Your girlfriend is all about this self-care nonsense. How do you deal with that?”

Scorpia got a dreamy look in her eyes. “Yeah, Perfuma’s pretty great. She’s kind, and patient with me, and she knows all kinds of meditation stuff, which is good because hey, funny story, it turns out I’ve actually got a lot of pent-up anxiety from —”

“Ugh! Useless! Next!” Double Trouble pointed to Entrapta. “You! Space bats. How do they even work?”

“Good question! I could share some of my research on Hordak with you,” Entrapta suggested. “It’s more of a hobby though, so I’ve only got a few terabytes of data. Did you know their species has an entire sub-language of ear movements? It’s fascinating!”

Double Trouble paled. “Um. Do you have an abridged version, or…?”

“Look,” Catra interrupted. “I think you’re coming at this the wrong way. First off, you can’t control what other people do or feel.”

Double Trouble narrowed their eyes. “That’s a bit rich coming from you, kitten.”

“I have been doing a lot of self-reflection the last few years, okay?” Catra growled back. “And trust me, trying to be the coolest, the strongest, the best? It doesn’t work.”

She looked across at Entrapta and Scorpia, and fiddled with the wedding ring on her finger. “Sooner or later you have to show your real self. Even if that’s uncomfortable. You can’t connect with someone that way until you’re willing to be weak in front of them.”

Double Trouble regarded Catra for a long time while their face registered a range of unreadable emotions.

“Fine,” they finally groaned, defeated. “But can you at least help me think of something nice to do for our dinner tonight?”

Catra smiled. Entrapta and Scorpia squeaked in excitement.

“For that, you’ll need my help!” said Skeletor. “I’ve longed for this moment!”

Wrong Hordak looked up brightly from his cooking. “You are here! Come in, come in!” He swept Double Trouble up in an enormous hug.

The lizard blushed and did not try to hide it. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world, darling.” With a flourish they revealed a rose and a box of distinctively tiny chocolates, which Wrong Hordak accepted gleefully.

“Now then, why don’t I stand back and let you impress me for a while?”

Wrong Hordak glowed with excitement.

“Impressive?” Skeletor said, somewhere far away. “You boob, it was spectacular!”

#spop #spop fanfic #skeletor #double trouble #wrong hordak #wrong trouble #catra #entrapta #scorpia #super pal trio #DT had everyone fooled until they quoted Skeletor from the live-action movie instead of the 80s cartoons #Romeo and Julian was written by General Juliet #it's a romantic comedy and everyone lives

22 notes · View notes

daretosnoop · 3 years

Text

Chapter 7: Dr. Buford

Chapter 6:

Coming out after a hot bath, Bess meandered around the hotel room and watched the rain drizzle down. The reporter mentioned it would rain every day for the rest of the week. Bummer, how are we going to enjoy New Orleans now? Deep down Bess new that the idea of vacationing was gone now that Nancy found herself a mystery. Joining in on Nancy’s mysteries were fun, and nothing brought a gleam in Nancy’s eyes like a mystery. She’d been like that since they were kids, so really, if it bothered Bess, she would have long stopped being Nancy’s friend. But, she couldn’t deny that it hurt to be tossed aside so easily. The only consolation was the rain, at least Nancy had an excuse to hang out elsewhere.

Through the rain Bess saw the yellow-green hue emanating from the sign of Zeke’s curio shop. It really was a doozy of a place, though Bess felt bad that she dumped a bottle of sneezing powder onto Lamont. The poor guy didn’t even suspect her and blamed customers moving things around. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed the food truck and an old man who sat at a patio table reading a newspaper. Bess’s stomach rumbled. Well, it wouldn’t hurt to eat a bit while finding out about the old man.

Bess hurried over to the food truck and placed an order for crawfish. She then moved towards the old man and asked if she could sit by his side while she ate.

“Now why would I object to having such lovely company in this lovely rain we seem to be having?”

Bess smiled and pulled out a chair. Southern hospitality was about to meet Midwestern friendliness.

“Are you, by chance, Dr. Gilbert Buford?”

“That I am miss--?”

“Marvin. Do you know a Dr. Bruno Bolet? He passed away recently”.

“Of course I know him. He was my friend, not to mention my patient. Whole of New Orleans knows about the Bolets”.

“Right,” Bess started on her food. “I was wondering if you could tell me a bit about him?”

“Now why would you want to know about Dr. Bolet? You look to young to be spending time with an old coot like him”. Gilbert lowered his newspaper and looked thoroughly at Bess. He’d never see her around Bruno. The only young person Bruno kept around him was that curio shop owner Lamont.

“Dr. Bolet was you friend right? I was wondering if you could tell me a bit about him. What was he like? How did he die?”

“I would prefer a topic of a happier nature, but I do not want to be inhospitable,” Dr. Buford hesitated.

Score one for hospitality!

“I was Bruno’s friend, however, I cannot say he was mine”.

“Oh? Why so?”

“Fact is, while socializing with my fellow people, such as you, give me happiness, it did the opposite for Bruno. He was an eccentric man, an acquired taste. And the older he got, the less he seemed to care about how his idiosyncrasies negatively affected others”.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, take his nephew for one thing. Never talked to him. Never even talked to me about him. Never talked about his family. He wasn’t an egoist, but some might take it that way.”

“Did his idiosyncrasies ever bother you?”

Dr. Buford hesitated before responding. “There were times when Bruno was plain ridiculous. But, how should I put this?” Dr. Buford rubbed his hand on his chin in thought, “A mad scientist has sound reasoning and end result, even if it’s strange and abnormal to the rest of us”.

So it’s a matter of perspective? After his statement, Gilbert looked out into the rain for a while and Bess had to wonder how personal his last statement was. If Dr. Bolet wasn’t Dr. Buford’s friend, why did he react like so?

“For such an eccentric man, surely only an eccentric death suffices?” Bess quipped, hoping it would draw Dr. Buford back into the conversation. The old man turned and smiled, the orange light warmed his dark skin. He looked haggard and it struck Bess that Dr. Bolet died not too long ago. Grief acted in mysterious ways.

In an old professional voice, Dr. Buford answered, “He died of myocardial infraction likely caused by age-old atherosclerosis”. He then laughed at Bess’s confused expression. In all his years of study, he never understood why doctors gave such long complicated names to diseases when simple names existed. He once asked Bruno this as a jest, but the dentist spurred up with such vigor, declaring the whole medical industry as a farce. Everybody stared at them with the outburst and Gilbert asked himself again why he hung out with Bruno when the man did nothing but embarrass him.

“He died of a heart attack,” Gilbert clarified. “All too common with old age and with people who are socially isolated. “Apparently, the Bolet family has a history of heart attacks in old age, though none of them were health related”.

“So they were all fit as a fiddle, then one day, boom?” Bess asked.

Dr. Buford nodded. “Odd one, that family. But then again, this is New Orleans. Here the abnormal is normal, for those of us who are really in it, that is”.

Bess waited for the man to explain what he meant, but Dr. Buford did not elaborate.

“Funny thing was,” he said, “Bruno wasn’t always so recluse. Sure he was more reserved than others. The whole Bolet family was, but Bruno—well, after his brother’s death, something in him just broke, I guess”.

“How do they know it was a heart attack? Did they do an autopsy?”

Dr. Buford shook his head. “No. Given Bruno’s age, his family history, and the absence of foul play, an autopsy was declared unnecessary. His body was cremated as per his wishes. Funny thing is, he was the only member of his family to want a cremation”.

“Who decided to not do the autopsy?”

“Why, me. I was there when Bruno died. Saw it happen”.

“What happened?” Bess urged forgetting about her food.

“Well, I hadn’t seen him for a while so I went to visit him. When I arrived, the door was unlocked, as usual. I opened it and saw Bruno lying on the floor in obvious distress. Next thing I know, his housekeeper comes running up and just stared in shock. I sent her to call the ambulance. Then I—“.

Gilbert paused and thought over what he was going to say next.

“Well, I bent down and saw he wasn’t breathing. I pulled him away from the door and began to do chest compressions. I kept doing it till the medics arrived but nothing they did made a difference”.

“And Dr. Bolet was unconscious the whole time?”

“Yes,” Gilbert sighed. “Yes he was. One mercy I suppose”.

“You said you came to meet him, why then was he at the front door?”

Dr. Buford stared oddly at Bess. “You ask a lot of questions. You a reporter or something?”

“You guessed it sir. I am a reporter. Given that this is the Bolet family, it’s only natural everyone wants to know what happened in all the details”.

“Well, I don’t know if it’s any of the public’s business, but I suppose I could tell you. You’ve been nicer than the other reporters”.

Score one for friendliness!

Dr. Buford looked up and thought over Bess’s question. “Wait a minute. Why, yes—he was holding something. A piece of paper. And on the floor was an envelope”. Dr. Buford turned sharply at Bess, eyes widening in realization. “He must’ve collapsed after reading that letter!”

“Do you remember anything else?” Bess asked, leaning towards Dr. Buford. The story was finally getting good.

Dr. Buford chuckled. “Miss reporter, it’s quite a miracle I’ve remembered this much”. But the man still thought hard. “The odd thing is the letter. It was no longer in Bruno’s hand when the paramedics arrived. He might have let go when I moved him, but then it would have been lying around nearby and I did not see any paper around the area”.

Dr. Buford pressed his fingertips together as he went through his memories. Then, it dawned on him and he let out a grin.

“Iggy”.

“Iggy?”

“Bruno’s pet iguana. Bruno let all pets roam around the house freely. Iggy soon developed an irritating habit of stealing paper and stockpiling it in the vent system. I can’t recall how many times his housekeeper would call, asking for another copy of the medication because Bruno brought it home and left it on the table for Iggy to snatch up. Iggy must have taken the paper that day”.

“Did you see Iggy that day?”

“No,” Gilbert confessed. “But Bruno told me he was training Iggy to retrieve the things he’d stolen”.

“Dr. Buford,” Bess waited a moment before going forth with her question. “Do you think it’s possible that the housekeeper caused Dr. Bolet’s death? Maybe anger or vengeance or greed? Maybe she horded his pills and gave it all at once or something?”

“Young lady,” Gilbert exclaimed. “Are you insinuating that Bruno was murdered? I know you reporters need a good catch scoop, but possible murder is pushing the limits! And besides, if Bruno’d died from an overdose, he would have looked and reacted differently. No,” Dr. Buford hit the table with his hand. “I am certain it was a heart attack”.

Why is he so adamant?

“However,” Dr. Buford added as an afterthought. “I know Renee is deeply involved with the practice of hoodoo. As Bruno’s housekeeper, she had perfect opportunity to use it against my poor old friend”.

“Surely you jest! Hoodoo works?” Bess laughed.

“Miss reporter, one thing you should take to heart in your career is to never ever underestimate the power of suggestion. If a person believes something, even on a subconscious level, fantasy can easily become fact. Who knows what rubbish Renee filled Bruno’s head with. Drink this, don’t eat that, this brings good luck, that brings bad luck. Day in, day out—even if he didn’t believe in the stuff, who knows how much his subconscious was absorbing. Remember he was very old, very isolated, very lonely. He was a vulnerable man”.

“So it is possible that Renee could have caused Dr. Bolet’s heart attack?”

“Now don’t quote me on this because I still say it was not murder, but yes, she very well could have”.

So he doesn’t have a good opinion of Renee. I wonder why? Bess thanked Dr. Buford and hurried back to her hotel. Once inside, she called Nancy and conveyed what she had learned.

Nancy woke up to crows cawing at each other. For a sweet moment she relished going back to sleep. The bed and pillows were very soft and Nancy was not ready to take on the day yet. Then her body woke her up to her position. One leg was half off the bed, numb. One hand was holding onto her phone. Her notebook was lying open and her pen left an ink stain on the paper. Her arms were splayed out and her back was aching. Slowly she lifted herself up and her bed head came tumbling forward. Her eyes slowly closed but the caws opened them back up. Nature was in no mood to let her sleep.

Nancy recalled her conversation last night. Bess was right in her assumption that Dr. Buford seemed way too quick to make a diagnosis. Then again, he was a doctor. But he provided Nancy with a better understanding of that envelope. Now she was sure that Dr. Bolet was reading a letter from Milo Research and Technology, and Nancy had a hunch it was to do with the whisperer skull. She told Bess about Henry and his illegal sale, and what she learned about the crystal skulls and Bruno Bolet. Bess was silent for a moment, then in a worried voice, asked Nancy if she knew what she was getting herself into.

“Nance, this really sounds like a cult,” Bess remarked, and Nancy had to agree. There was too much hush-hush and a desire to put the past behind. Given how much everyone gained from Dr. Bolet’s death, it seemed like everyone would have a financial motive. Nancy even wondered if Dr. Buford and Renee were working together, but that seemed too cheesy. Not to mention, Bess said that Dr. Bolet did not seem to like Renee. I wonder if she feels the same?

But for now, Nancy had more pressing concerns. Iggy. She had to get Iggy to give that paper. Correction, I have to get Henry to get Iggy to give that paper. He seemed distressed when she bumped into him last night, but said nothing. Wonder if those ghosts came after all. She still could not believe that the supernatural existed. It seemed too ridiculous, but then the mystery was still young, and Henry said he felt nothing, so maybe the ghost thing was just a hoax. Nancy glanced at her phone and her eyes widened. It was nearing noon. She had slept late, but she was usually always an early riser. She quickly got out of bed and hurried to get ready.

When Nancy came into the kitchen, she was surprised to see Henry sitting at the kitchen table, nursing a cup to his head. He glanced up when she arrived, nodded at her, and went back to nursing his head. If Nancy didn’t know better, she would have assumed Henry had a hangover, but it seemed that both of them were beginning their day late.

“Did you eat yet?” Nancy asked. Henry shook his head. Guessing it must be too early for a meal, Nancy opted for toast and butter. She popped the toast into the toaster, and then buttered them heavily. She then poured herself a cup of tea and joined Henry at the table, giving him his plate. Henry seemed surprised at the gesture and mumbled a thanks. They ate in silence. Once the first toast and half the tea went down, Nancy felt invigorated to start her day. She turned towards Henry and started to talk.

“Got a task for you today”.

“Oh? The great detective need my help?”

“Yes, you should be so honored. I’m usually figuring things out myself”.

Henry laughed softly then asked what she needed.

“I need you to find Iggy and see if you can find where he stores the paper he steals”. Nancy pulled out the envelope. “We need to know what letter this envelope carried because your uncle was reading it on the night he died”.

“How do you know that?”

“Bess talked to Dr. Buford. Here,” Nancy showed Henry Bess’s number. She also gave him her number. You can call her if you want to know more about their conversation. Also, if you have any questions for Dr. Buford yourself. Henry took out his phone. He noticed there were two unread messages but ignored them for now. Instead, he quickly added Bess’s name to his contacts.

“Thanks. What else did she say?” he asked.

“Well Bess and I both think that Dr. Buford is trying to hide something. Bess also mentioned that Dr. Buford does not like Renee”.

“And how does Renee feel about Dr. Buford?”

“That’s what I’m going to figure out today”.

They finished their food and Henry took the plates and washed them. This time, Nancy helped to dry them and place them away. Henry then went to Bruno’s study while Nancy slipped out to the garden. Renee was in her usual spot, tending to her plants.

“Hello,” Nancy called out.

Slowly, Renee put down her garden tool and turned to face Nancy. She gave a nod but did not smile.

“Hello dear. Did you eat the rice and beans I left out for you?”

“Oh,” Nancy faltered. “No, I didn’t”.

“Oh”. Renee turned down towards her plants.

“I was wondering if I could ask you some questions?”

“Some more questions?”

“Yes”.

Renee sighed and nodded.

“What’s your opinion of Dr. Buford?”

Renee seemed surprised by Nancy’s question but did not hesitate to answer.

“Dr. Buford is a fine doctor. Treated Dr. Bolet well”.

“So you have no suspicions of his practice?”

“Dear girl,” Renee exclaimed with a laugh. “Why would I have any suspicions of Dr. Buford?”

Nancy took a shot. “Do you think he might be the skeleton man?”

Renee sputtered and Nancy continued.

“You mentioned that you saw the skeleton man too, right? Well from what I’ve learned, it seems that Dr. Buford was the only person who regularly meet with Dr. Bolet. So, it’s likely the skeleton man was him”.

Renee was quiet for a moment, then she said in a low voice, “I don’t know”.

Nancy tried another question.

“Your room, it’s, it’s got markings on the wall. What are they?”

“They are what keeps that dark being away from my room”.

“Dark being?”

“Those voices, they call to me at night. Can’t stand it. So I put those signs on the wall to send those spirits away”.

“Did it work?”

“Oh yes,” Renee gave a pleased smile. “They vanished the day I put them up”.

Nancy hesitated with her next question. “Dr. Buford doesn’t seem to like your practice in hoodoo. Has he ever told you that?”.

“Oh my dear,” Renee sighed. “The world is too complex for this question to have a direct answer. If I said I didn’t believe, then why do I participate in hoodoo? If I do, then everyone is ready to prove me wrong. But, my experiences are mine. I know there is something unnatural about our world. It doesn’t need a name, but if you want to give it a name, give it”.

Nancy groaned internally. In all of her mysteries so far, there was always some logical reason, something that would give way to some sort of explanation of unnatural causes. And yet, she knew that Renee was right. The atmosphere in the San Francisco house, the Mayan museum, Malone’s speakeasy, Camille’s sparks, they all exuded a presence of something beyond the fabricated ghosts, but she never bothered to investigate beyond the mystery. Now it was coming back to bite her. Then, Nancy realized a crucial question.

“Renee, where did you get that doll from? The one on your chair? I’ve seen it before, but only in a remastered train meant to look like something from the eighteen-hundreds”.

“Oh, that old thing? I just found it in a curio shop?”

“Which one?”

“The one where that young man who came over to visit Dr. Bolet works. What was it now?”

“Zeke’s?” Nancy asked.

“Yes! That one. He sells all sorts of antiques. Many of which decorate the manor”.

Nancy thanked Renee then went to find Henry. He wasn’t in the study, so Nancy went up to the secret room and saw Henry standing in front of the open vent, arms crossed. He turned, and when he saw Nancy, he beckoned her towards him.

“Iggy likes to hang out in Bruno’s study. Lots of paper to steal. So I watched him to see where he went. He went into the duct and I remembered this one was open, so I headed up here but he hasn’t come yet”.

Henry turned towards Nancy. “What did you find out?”

“Well, Renee has a good opinion of Dr. Buford. She doesn’t know he is the skeleton man”.

Henry sighed. “So we know nothing new”. He looked towards the vent. “I can’t believe we’re depending on a lizard”.

“Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve relied on lizards,” Nancy said as she snickered. She moved towards the pirate marionette doll. It reminded her so much of the doll in Renee’s room, but the pirate theme screamed Bruno’s jolly roger club. It even had an eyepatch over the left eye.

“Hey, Henry, what eye was the glass eye?”

“Left eye”.

Nancy then noticed that the doll was holding some box with buttons, and each button had a word under it. Bah? Moo? Boo? They were the same words in the hoodoo book Renee had! Quickly she brought out her notebook and pressed the buttons in the order she wrote down. There was another button labelled ‘talk’ which Nancy pressed. Suddenly the doll whirred to life, blinked it blue eye and repeated the words in a low robotic voice. The voice attracted Henry’s attention who snapped his head towards the sound. When the doll finished, it’s eyeball fell out. Nancy caught it quickly and noticed a piece of paper inside the eye. Carefully she pulled it out and opened it.

It’s time to learn about the Bolet family Henry.

Follow the clues to learn about each member.

Learn their roles and duties.

Recognize your own.

Recognizing the scrawl as Bruno’s hand, Nancy continued to read and found that Bruno had created another scavenger hunt for Henry. The first clue was to go to the last denizen buried on Bruno’s guard. There were subsequent clues, but they did not make any sense and Nancy guessed that whatever they would find would make the next clue make sense.

She went over to Henry and silently handed him the letter and the eye. Henry read it quickly and shook his head.

“There’s eccentric, and then there’s uncle Bruno. Come on, Iggy’s not coming. Might as well do something else”.

“Maybe we should give him food? The smell might attract him”.

Henry agreed, then added, “But it can’t be anything that will rot easily. I don’t want ants”.

Nancy rolled her eyes and jabbed her elbow into Henry. “Such a clean freak”.

After a moment, Henry jabbed her back, hesitated, then said, “What can I say, I’m an accountant. I like everything to be organized neatly”.

They came out through Henry’s room and collided into Renee. She looked at them and her eyebrows raised a bit as if she were amused. There was an awkward silence and Nancy, hurried to fill it in.

“Uh, Renee. Can I ask you something?”

“Again?” Renee quirked.

“Um, yes. That box in your room. The one with blue circles on it. Is it yours?”

“No. Dr. Bolet gave it to me”.

Nancy nodded then hurried after Henry down the stairs. As they descended, Renee called out to them.

“It’s raining again. Would you like the beans and rice for dinner? It’s good on a rainy day”.

“Anything’s fine Renee,” Henry said.

“Very well”.

Renee went into her room and shut the door. Nancy and Henry looked at one another and Henry just shrugged and went towards the living room.

“Should we give Iggy the rice and beans?” Nancy asked.

“I don’t need a gassy iguana”.

#nancy drew #nancy x henry #henry bolet #CRY #legend of the crystal skull

4 notes · View notes

mimosaeyes · 4 years

Text

“You could talk,” Jon says slowly. “Doesn’t matter what about, just as long as it’s distracting. That would... that would help, I think.”

Set during episode 39, when Martin and Jon are hiding from Jane Prentiss. 2.1k, pre-relationship.

For TMA hurt/comfort week organised by @themagnuswriters, prompt: “treating/distracting from injuries”

Content warnings: canon-typical worm imagery, blood, Martin’s Prentiss anxiety

Beta-ed by @emberidzae

Also available on AO3 here

Martin has triple-checked that the door is locked. He knows he has; he remembers jiggling the knob and scuffing his shoe on the seal over the crack at the bottom. Yet he keeps throwing nervous looks at the square of dirty glass through which he’d peered into the corridor. From where he’s sitting on the floor, knees hugged to his chest, he can’t tell where Jane Prentiss currently is, or what she’s doing. Not unless she were to press her wan face up against the window, the holes in her skin indistinguishable from her eye sockets, and raise one infested fist to knock.

He shudders and makes himself take a deep breath, subconsciously tightening his grip around the corkscrew. It’s still slick with Jon’s blood. His fingers slip a little, a sensation that makes his stomach turn. He takes another deep breath and glances to his right, where Jon is propped up against the wall with his injured leg stretched out in front of him. To Martin’s surprise, Jon’s attention is focused not on the door or his wound, but on him.

“What are you thinking about?” Jon asks — quietly, but the sound still startles Martin after a couple minutes of tense waiting. In the silence after Jon had paused the tape recorder, Martin has been left listening to his own, anxious thoughts. They’ve been running along the same well-worn tracks as during those thirteen days he spent trapped in his apartment: where is she, what do I do, is anyone coming, how long since I checked the door, where is she?

What do I do?

“I guess…” Martin hesitates, having a brief mental debate about how much is appropriate to say to your boss who’s just confided in you that he’s only dismissive because he’s afraid; helplessly so. “I felt safe, here. I didn’t think she could get in.” He pauses, glancing at the door. “Guess I was wrong.”

Jon surprises him for the umpteenth time today by saying, “I’m sorry.” He sounds genuinely sympathetic, and even leans forward as if to pat Martin’s arm, although he stops halfway, looking awkward.

As he slumps back against the wall, he winces, hissing slightly.

Furrowing his brow, Martin scoots closer to him. “Does your leg hurt?”

“I’m fine,” Jon says, literally lying through his teeth. A muscle in his jaw jumps as he clenches it. He sighs. “Nothing to be done anyway, while we’re stuck here.”

He’s right, to an extent; they don’t have any medical supplies or even water to wash out whatever secretions a worm might leave behind. Martin shudders at the thought while eyeing the small pool of blood that has trickled out of Jon’s wound. “We can at least put pressure on it,” he decides at last.

After casting about the room for a moment and seeing only boxes and papers, he starts to remove his own jumper.

Jon blinks. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t have any other cloth,” Martin explains, lowering his arms again.

“I’m hardly going to bleed out from this,” Jon scoffs, his voice returning to its usual prickly tones. “There’s no need to be so dramatic.”

A few weeks ago, Martin would have backed down at once, stung by Jon’s standoffishness and jumping straight to the conclusion that Jon wouldn’t trust him to perform even such basic first aid on him. In light of today’s revelations, though, he merely narrows his eyes. “You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what,” Jon says flatly, looking askance. Martin takes that as a good indication that he’s hit the nail on the head with his inference.

“Pretending you’re not scared, so you won’t have to deal with how crazy this whole situation is. Well, you’re not fooling me.”

He maintains a firm, steady tone but holds his breath once he’s done speaking, silently worrying he has crossed a line. Several beats pass before Jon mumbles something in response.

“What?”

“I said you can use my vest,” Jon repeats, over-enunciating. He sounds arch again, though rather more cowed than before. Deftly, he unbuttons his vest with one hand while waving the other vaguely in Martin’s direction. “That’s one of your favourite jumpers; don’t ruin it on my account.”

The motion of him shrugging out of the vest does something fascinating to his collarbones, the lines of which are visible through his white button-up. It takes Martin a moment to process Jon’s words and ask, “Wait, how do you know I like this jumper?”

“Well, you wear it on special occasions, like your birthday,” Jon says as Martin begins to fold the vest. “You didn’t make Tim any tea for two days after that time he spilled some pasta sauce on the sleeve. And before you lived here, you sometimes left a hoodie or cardigan at your desk overnight, but never this jumper…” He trails off. “I’ve said too much, haven’t I?”

“It’s alright,” Martin tells him, while a pleasant, dizzy feeling starts up in a corner of his mind. He had no idea Jon noticed anything about him at all, aside from his supposedly incompetent work. “We do investigate mysteries.”

Such as the mystery of why Martin is about to use a vest made of what feels like rather expensive fabric to staunch the bleeding, when his own, comfy but ratty jumper is on hand. He clears his throat, glancing at Jon’s leg. “May I?”

At Jon’s nod, he pushes his trousers up to mid-calf. Then he stops and just stares at the ragged wound for a moment. He’s never thought of himself as being particularly squeamish, but he gets a little lightheaded anyway at how far the worm had tunnelled before Sasha managed to extract it.

This is what he’d pictured in the initial days of waiting out Prentiss, when he was still weighing the possibility of making a break for it. The mental image had effectively deterred any attempts. Since he’s started living in the Archives, he’s also woken up several times gasping from nightmares about the parasites burrowing into his exposed flesh. He always gropes for his corkscrew and the fire extinguisher he keeps next to his cot, clutching them to him while staring blearily out into the darkness beyond the circle of light cast by the lamp he leaves on.

He shakes himself. There’s no point thinking about that now. His fears have come to pass after all, and Jon needs his help. Martin places the fabric over the injury and presses down. Immediately, Jon gives a quiet hiss.

“Too much?” Martin asks, easing up a little.

Jon’s already shaking his head. “No, it’s okay. Thank you.”

They both fall silent for a while. Martin’s thoughts inevitably wander back to whatever’s going on outside. Whether Tim and Sasha are alright, whether help is coming. Too soon, he lifts the vest to check on the bleeding. It has slowed a little, but there’s still a sluggish ooze from the wound. He resumes the pressure, then looks up to find Jon watching him again.

“Why are you being nice to me?” Jon asks.

“Um.” Martin shifts into a marginally more comfortable position while he tries to find a polite way of phrasing Because of basic human decency…? “Why wouldn’t I?”

He means it rhetorically, but Jon actually starts to answer. “Well, I haven’t exactly been lovely to you. Yet here you are, offering to sacrifice your favourite jumper and — and staying here with me, when you could run for it and escape a situation you’ve probably been dreading for the past couple of months.”

I wouldn’t just leave you, Martin thinks at once, with a resolve that surprises himself a little. The time he’s spent living in the Archives has been stressful, sure, but it’s also brought him closer to each of his co-workers. (Regularly dousing one another and the premises with fire extinguishers will do that.) He wouldn’t abandon any of them.

That seems too heavy to say to Jon, though. Especially since, if it needs saying, maybe that means Jon hasn’t felt the same sense of solidarity. So Martin deflects instead. “Should we be talking at all? It might give away where we are.”

“You checked the door. We’re fine.” Jon attempts a reassuring smile but breaks off and flinches, his leg twitching briefly under Martin’s hands.

“What’s wrong?”

Jon pulls a face. “There’s a weird… pulsating feeling. Like it’s still crawling about in there.”

A horrible thought occurs to Martin. “Sasha did get all of it, didn’t she?”

“I’m sure she did,” Jon says. “I’m just being paranoid. In any case, I... don’t exactly relish the prospect of digging around with the corkscrew some more.”

“Hmm.” Martin bites his lip. “Then I don’t really know what else I can do.”

His thoughts stray back to the door, to the taste of canned peaches, too sweet in the back of his throat. He hates all this waiting. He needs to be doing something.

Jon tilts his head at him as if puzzling something out. “You could talk,” he says slowly. “Doesn’t matter what about, just as long as it’s distracting. That would... that would help, I think.”

Martin perks up at this — though of course, his brain chooses this moment to forget just about everything he has ever heard of, read about, or thought. “Ah…” he flounders. “I, I watched a documentary last week. It was about sharks.”

Breath hitching slightly in pain, Jon settles himself against the wall. “Tell me about sharks,” he says, with a wry and strangely indulgent smile.

So Martin does. “Um. Okay. D-did you know,” he says, starting with his favourite fact, “sharks that lay eggs do it in leathery pouches called mermaid purses? I’m not making that up, they’re really called that...” Then he goes on to explain how scientists determine the age of a shark by counting the growth rings formed on its vertebra, much like the rings in the cross-sections of trees. (At this point, his spiel is interrupted as Jon mumbles, “That’s... dendrochronology, right?” Only he stumbles over the syllables, so Martin repeats the word correctly, and somehow it turns into a weird competition of who can say it five times fast. Martin wins, but all of his blood is where it should be, so he’s hardly gloating about the victory.) Finally, he moves on to trivia about specific species, like the epaulette shark, which can walk on land, or the bonnethead shark, which for some reason enjoys eating seagrass.

Martin saves the best for last. “But my favourite,” he says, fully chatty by now, “has got to be the cookie-cutter shark.”

“A great name,” Jon remarks. “Why do you like them?”

“Well, first of all, they’re tiny. They kind of look like large fishes, really. And they glow! They have the strongest known bioluminescence of any shark. They migrate every day — but not from place to place. Up and down, actually. They’re, uh.” At this point, probably extremely belatedly, Martin realises he has been going on about sharks for quite some time. His mother, for example, would have stopped him ages ago. “They’re pretty cool,” he finishes rather lamely.

Instead of berating him or yawning pointedly, Jon actually still looks interested. “You haven’t explained why they’re called cookie-cutter sharks,” he notes. There’s a gentle quality to his voice that Martin has never heard before. It makes him genuinely believe that Jon wants him to continue talking. After all, this is the man who rambled about emulsifiers during Martin’s birthday celebration, pausing only to tell him he was about to put his elbow (and thereby his jumper) in a bit of melted ice-cream on the table. It had been embarrassing for Martin, who may or may not have been fawning slightly and absently letting his vanilla-honeycomb dribble out of the cone — but perhaps Jon was actually trying to be considerate.

Still, Martin hesitates before diving into his explanation. “It’s a little gory,” he hedges.

“If we die today,” Jon deadpans, “for me, it’ll be out of curiosity.”

It takes Martin a moment to realise he’s joking. Then he laughs, startled and faintly delighted. “Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he says. He pauses for dramatic effect. “Their signature feeding habit is to gouge round holes in their prey. Like… like a cookie cutter with dough.”

Jon groans, though not out of pain, and starts laughing. “Well, that’s certainly topical.”

“Not the best distraction, in retrospect,” Martin says apologetically.

“No, it’s alright. Touch of humour. I enjoyed it.”

More than enough time has passed by now, surely. Martin checks under the cloth again. “You’ve stopped bleeding,” he reports.

“That’s good,” Jon says softly. “Wouldn’t want the sharks to get me.”

It’s only then that Martin realises he’s entirely forgotten to fret about Jane Prentiss. For quite a while, too. Huh, he thinks, mentally replaying the way Jon had asked him for a distraction. That would help, I think.

Help who?

[my TMA fic on AO3]

[my post-canon JonMartin + cat fluff AU]

#the magnus archives #TMAHCweek #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jonmartin #mimofic

94 notes · View notes

persephonesfill · 3 years

Text

choke on me—chapter three

breathe me in (prequel fic)

chapter two

chapter four

a/n: no you did not read that wrong, this is chapter three. i’m not dead. 2020 did not kill me. this is a bit of a filler chapter but chapter four should be up before the month’s over. if not, yell at me, i won’t mind.

rating: pretty gen this time but don’t worry chapter five is a goddamn trip

warning(s): n/a

—————

Despite being on opposite sides of the country, Tony and Pepper talk more often than people think. Pep’s an early riser, and Tony hasn’t gotten a good night’s sleep since he was born, so it balances out.

“I should tell you to go to sleep,” Pepper says, sighing. “But I miss the sound of your voice too much.” She’s sitting at the island, a cup of coffee in hand. She had pulled her hair into a bun and still has her reading glasses on, the red ones that she hates because she thinks she looks like someone's grandmother.

Tony loves seeing her like this. Loose and comfortable with him. After they broke up, a part of him worried that things would be strained between them. He should have known that was impossible.

“I don’t know whether to be happy or insulted,” Tony says.

“Both,” Pepper says. “Your sleeping habits are abysmal.”

Tony shrugs and takes a sip of his own coffee. He had always had issues with sleep. He woke up frequently throughout the night and would only start feeling sleepy around two in the morning to the point where attempting to sleep at all felt like a waste of time. Give him a cup of coffee with four shots of espresso, and he'd be good to go.

“You can’t deny that I’m more productive, though,” he says.

“Okay, you do work hard,” Pepper admits, pursing her lips. “But you work too hard. When’s the last time you had a day to yourself that you didn’t spend in your workshop?”

Usually, Tony's quick with a quip, but Pepper's question makes him pause. Last week, Steve asked Tony if he wanted to join him on his run around Bryant Park, and what had Tony said? "No." Like an idiot. It's not that he hadn't wanted to go; it was just that between SI and Avengers business and—

Tony was making excuses. Even he could see that. Hook-ups? Hook-ups Tony could do, specialized in, even, but Steve's question had ventured dangerously into "date" territory. The last time Tony had tried to seriously date was when he was with Pepper, and that had been a piping hot mess in the end.

"Tony? Hello? I swear to God if you've just been using your life model decoy on me, I'm going to fly directly to Manhattan just to—"

"What? No!" He says, raising his hands. Hell hath no fury like a Pepper scorned. "I'm here, in the flesh. I just got...distracted. I guess I haven't really taken a day for myself."

Pepper sets her mug down and levels him with a stern look that puts him in the mind of a school principal.

"Tony," she says in that way of hers that usually means she's worried about him, and Tony's heart twists. "Is everything okay?"

Tony's not a liar, but he does believe in omitting information.

"Everything's as good as I can hope for, Pep. I'm going to therapy, and I'm still taking my meds. You know how it is," he says, shrugging. "Some days are better than others."

Pepper nods, looking a little less concerned, which is all Tony can ask for. "And the others? They're not bothering you?"

It takes him a second, but Tony realizes that she's talking about the Avengers. He shakes his head. "They're fine. It's...weird living with so many people," he says. Tony had lived alone for half of his life now, aside from that brief stint in Malibu with Pepper. "They leave coffee grounds in the sink, and last week, Romanov and Barton convinced JARVIS to play Iron Man every time I went into my workshop and—"

"You like them, don't you?" Pepper says. It's not a question.

He does like them. The entire time he had been complaining about them, he knew his face had been stretched into a grin.

"Maybe so. It's refreshing having another scientist to go mad with," he says, smiling devilishly when Pepper pales.

"Oh, God, you've corrupted Bruce. There's two of you now."

"Okay, I take offense to that," he interjects. "Bruce keeps me in line, promise.”

“Give him my thanks,” Pepper says. "Is it just Bruce? What about the others? How do you feel about them?"

He speaks without thinking, something you'd think wouldn't happen so often to a literal genius. "Steve's been...Steve's been good." More than good, actually.

Pepper raises a brow. "It's Steve now? What happened to Rogers? Capsicle? Any other one of your incessant nicknames?"

He's been caught. Lying isn't even an option; Pepper would sniff out the truth like a bloodhound. She was like Natasha in that way. If those two ever team up again, Tony feels sorry for whichever poor soul they set their sight on.

His only choice is to play it cool. "First off, you know you love my nicknames, case in point, Pepper," he says, knowing damn well she hadn't gone by Virginia since she started working for him. "And…it's Steve now. He's not so bad when you get to know him."

Pepper looks unconvinced, but mercifully, she lets it go. "Hmm. You guys are friends now?"

No. Never. Not even close.

"What can I say?" Tony gives her his cheesiest grin. "I wore him down."

She rolls her eyes, but it's all in good fun. "Well, then, I'm happy for you. You deserve all the love that comes your way."

"Ugh, don't get all sappy on me," he jokes, even though his heart spasms in his chest. He doesn't love the Avengers, and he doesn't—

He doesn't love Steve either.

And they don't love him back.

Pepper's eyes soften. "Tell you what," she begins, "since you're so adamant on working too hard to have some fun, how about I do it for you?"

Tony latches onto the change of subject like the lifeline it is. "What do you have in mind?"

"Carmen Solomita is doing a fundraiser event for A Helping Hand. Does that sound up your alley?"

Carmen Solomita was an old friend from his prep school years. A fellow gifted kid, and the daughter of the iconic Italian husband-wife fashion designer duo, Isabela and Marcello Solomita, it was a no brainer that Tony and Carmen would become friends.

She had followed in her parents' footsteps, designing luxury clothes and even starting her own separate fashion house right here in Manhattan.

“What’s she doing this year?” he asks.

“She’s organizing a week-long carnival in upstate New York for local orphanages. Think you or any of the others would be interested in working a booth?” Pepper says. “Having all of the Avengers show up would drum up a lot of publicity.”

Tony furrows his brows. A carnival does sound fun, and he has no problems with running a booth. It’s the others that are a problem.

“Don’t you think six, let alone one Avenger, would take away from the cause? And that’s if they even agree to it.”

Pepper raises her hands. “Just throwing it out there. Again, you need a break. And think of the kids when they see your faces.”

Tony’s face wrinkles. So, maybe, he has a soft spot for orphans. He still can’t help but feel like Pepper has some ulterior motive.

“I’ll ask,” Tony says, caving. “And if they say no, I’m not forcing them to go. Tell Carmen she’s getting one Avenger, at the least.”

“Yes! I knew you’d come around.”

“I hate you.”

“Love you too, Tony.”

***********

Tony broaches the topic of Carmen’s carnival at dinner and immediately braces himself for the worst. He’s not a pessimist by any means, but he sure as hell doesn’t expect the best from people whenever he asks them for a favor.

There’s a pause as they take the time to ponder over what he said, long enough to make Tony squirm.

God, why did he even ask? He should have just told Pepper that the others were all unavailable or—

“What kind of carnival?” Clint asks, breaking Tony out of his reverie.

"I'm sorry," Tony blinks. "Are you actually considering this?"

Clint shrugs. "What's not to like? Just want to know what we'd be doing."

"Um, okay," Tony says. He's never, never been at a loss for words in his life, and yet...

"We'd just be running booths, meet and greets, that sort of stuff. Nothing too crazy," Tony says. Pretty run of the mill stuff for a fundraising event.

"And the charity, A Helping Hand, was it?" Natasha says. "One of yours?"

"No," he replies. "Carmen Solomita's. She's big on philanthropy, always trying to help out in some way or another. She's always been like that."

"Solomita?" Natasha asks. "Fashion designer Carmen Solomita?"

"That's the one," he says, some of his initial anxiety ebbing away. They weren't saying no. Not yet. Or maybe they were just trying to let him down gently.

"She an old flame of yours?" Clint says, and Tony tries to ignore how quickly Steve's head turns to look at him.

"No," Tony says immediately, putting an end to any questions before they can begin. "We've been friends since high school. It'd be like dating my sister." Not to mention Carmen had known him when he had still been under five feet and had a mouth full of metal. Any attraction on her part had either never existed or died as soon as Tony had opened his mouth.

"Hm," Natasha says. Tony's still learning how to speak Natasha fluently, but it's apparently enough for Clint.

"Alright, I'm in," he says. "Dibs on the sharpshooting booth."

"You can't call dibs on a booth," Natasha says, rolling her eyes. "And it's mine."

"I'll arm wrestle you for it."

"No," Tony says, pointing a finger at them. "The last time you two arm-wrestled at this table, you split it in half. You'll be assigned whatever booth is available."

Clint grumbles something under his breath, and Tony closes his eyes.

"I think you annoyed Mom," Natasha whispers, and really, for a spy, she sucks at being quiet.

But if he was mom, who was dad?

"Enough, you guys," Steve says, backing him up. "Stop messing around."

"Thank you," Tony says, massaging his temple, trying to stop his stress headache before it begins."It's like having children."

"Am I your favorite?" Clint asks with a shit-eating grin on his face.

"No, it's Bruce," he answers immediately, his voice deadpan.

"...You answered that insultingly fast."

"You asked," Tony says. "Speaking of Bruce, Brucie, you've been quieter than normal. What's going on in that brilliant head of yours?"

Tony doesn't want to put him on the spot, but he knows Bruce will just try his best to brush his problems under the rug.

Bruce is staring down at his plate, poking absentmindedly at his pasta with his fork. "I don't think I should go," he says.

"And why not?" Thor, of all people, asks. The god levels Bruce with a heavy stare. "You deserve to amuse yourself like the rest of us."

"Is that a joke?" Bruce says, throwing his fork down, sending it clattering against his plate. "Do you really think unleashing a big green rage monster at a carnival with children present is a bright idea?"

"Where's this monster you speak of?" Thor says. "I don't see one."

"Come on," Bruce mutters.

"I don't see one, either," Tony says. "I see a genius nuclear physicist who moonlights as an equally amazing superhero."

"And I see a kind, honest man who would never harm anyone intentionally," Steve says, jumping in.

Bruce purses his lips but based on the flush spreading across his face, Tony can tell they're wearing him down.

Oddly enough, it's Natasha who reels him in. "I've seen a lot of monsters in my life, Banner. You're not one of them."

Bruce chuckles, but it's not a happy sound. Tony's familiar with it enough to know that it's chock full of bitterness.

"I'll be there with you," Thor says, his voice a soft timber. "I won't let anything happen to you. None of us will."

"...It's not me you should be worrying about," Bruce says. "But...if you're going...I guess it'll be fine."

Thor smiles, looking every inch the god he is. "We'll have a grand time, Doctor Banner."

Dinner ends quickly after that, the others petering off until it's just Steve and Tony left sitting at the table.

Tony's glad the Avengers are helping him out, honestly. It's just...the thought of six Avengers...around young, impressionable children…

"Oh, God," he says aloud, burying his face into his hands.

He can hear Steve stand up, rounding up the dishes left behind. "It's not going to be that bad," he says.

"We don't know that," Tony says, his voice muffled. He looks up to see Steve raising a judgmental brow at him. "I'm letting not one, but two master assassins, the Hulk, and a fucking god, interact with children."

"They'll be on their best behavior," Steve says. "Thor said he'll keep an eye on Bruce, and I know for a fact that wherever Clint goes, Natasha's gonna follow and vice versa."

"And that doesn't worry you?"

"No, because I actually have faith in our teammates. Clint's not gonna peg a kid with an arrow just because he feels like it. He's not the type."

Tony sighs but damn it, Steve's right. He's always right. Tony doesn't know much about Clint's life before SHIELD and the Avengers, but he knows it wasn't pretty. Seemed to be a common theme amongst their little team.

"Must have a shitty parental figure in order to be a superhero," he thinks to himself.

He rises out of his seat and grabs the few dishes that remain. Tony helps Steve load up the dishwasher. He tries not to think about how domestic it all feels, how it's practically become routine for Tony and Steve to look after the others and put away their dishes. He doesn't know what it means, but he has the strangest feeling that Pepper is smiling to herself halfway across the country.

***********

Carmen's beyond delighted when Tony gives her the good news over the phone the next day. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Her voice still does that weird squeaky thing when she gets really excited.

"One more thank you, and you're going to rupture my eardrum," he says, holding his phone to his ear. He's making breakfast, which for him consists of swiping a yogurt cup and spoon from the kitchen.

"I'll stop shouting," she says, which is a complete lie. "I just can't believe the Avengers are going to be at my fundraiser!" Case in point.

There's still that gnawing pit in his stomach at the thought of the Avengers running rampant around a carnival, but they could use the publicity. Maybe it'd calm down some of those Daily Bugle conspiracy theorists who thought that the Avengers were Chitauri shapeshifters who actually started the invasion. Tony has a video of J. Jonah Jameson screaming about it saved to his phone whenever he needs a good laugh.

"I know, I'm amazing," Tony says around a mouthful of yogurt.

"You are, and I will literally owe you for the rest of my life," she replies.

"I want your firstborn child," Tony says.

"Done," Carmen says without missing a beat. "That's how serious I am."

He can't help but chuckle to himself. Talking to Carmen was always so fun. She had the same (admittedly dorky) sense of humor as him. He remembered the days when they sit in the back of their homeroom, laughing at each other's stupid jokes over the morning announcements while their teacher gave them death glares. They kept in touch after graduation but not enough for Tony's tastes.

"But seriously, how does it feel to be a superhero? You guys all live together, don't you? Oh my God, you're just like firefighters. Do you have a little pole you slide down when there's an emergency? Ooh, is there an alarm—"

"Carmen, cool it before you pop a blood vessel," he says, mentally filing away the idea to add a pole leading directly to the tower's hangar. "And I promise you can grill them when you see them at the carnival."

"I'm holding you to that, Stark."

"Figured you would."

"Smart boy," Carmen says. "Any questions, comments, or concerns you want to pass along?"

"Actually," Tony begins, his brain chugging along at its usual speed of light. "I have some requests…"

Two weeks later, the look on everyone else's face when Tony presents them with the matching t-shirts he designed is more than worth the hour of alone time he promised her with Natasha.

“She’s so mysterious,” Carmen had said over the phone. “Tony, I need to see if she’s as calculating as she comes off.”

“Why,” he had said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Why would you do that?”

“Because I’m bisexual and have no sense of self-preservation. It’s why we’re friends,” she had chirped.

He didn't blame her, though. Had he not jumped at every chance to hook up with Steve like his teenage self would have wanted?

"Is this another one of your strange Midgardian customs?" Thor says, holding the t-shirt out in front of him. They're done up in his signature hotshot red, of course with Carmen's charity, A Helping Hand on the front, but the back is the real masterpiece. Under the words, Super Helper was a personalized emblem meant to represent each one of the Avengers. Mjolnir for Thor, Cap's Shield for Steve, a bow and arrow for Clint, and so on so forth.

"...Is it weird that I kind of actually like these?" Clint whispers to Natasha, who's tracing the lines of her hourglass on her shirt.

"You would like them," she says.

Tony blinks. "I can...get us normal shirts?"

"Nope, too late," Clint says, shrugging his shirt on over the long sleeve he had been wearing. "I've already grown attached.”

Tony looks at each of them head-on, noting the way Natasha’s slender fingers dance over the cotton and Thor’s curious gaze as he inspects the true to life runes Tony had painstakingly copied from the real-life Mjolnir. Bruce looks at the fist clutching the beaker on his shirt like it holds all the secrets to the universe, and Steve—Steve’s not looking at the shirt at all. He’s looking at Tony. Of course, he is.

Tony's always liked puzzles, and right now, the biggest puzzle of them all is what exactly made Steve's face go slack, his eyes all clear and soft and staring directly at him.

Tony shakes his head, clearing his head of puzzles and Steve and piercing stares.

"So," Tony says, "we're good to go?"

Later on, when they're all piled into Tony's limo like they're going on a field trip, Steve texts him even though they're sitting right next to each other.

It's just four words, but it's enough to make Tony blush. He facepalms, under the pretense of annoyance at something one of the others had said.

"I'm proud of you," follows him all the way to upstate New York.

#stony #steve rogers #tony stark #stevetony #steve x tony #superhusbands #marvel #mcu #imperialstark fic #my fic #my writing #choke on me

23 notes · View notes