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lincolndjarin · 9 months

Text

Best Kept Secret

chapter fourteen : condemned (RE-UPLOAD)

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ✩ main masterlist ✧

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 4.9k

summary : reader tries to take her mind off of things

warnings, etc. : domestic violence, language, angst

A/N : i had to change accounts so this is a re-upload of my ongoing fic bks!!

You’re having trouble sleeping.

You have no problem falling asleep, it’s mostly staying asleep. There’s a million different things that consume your thoughts and everytime you drift into unconsciousness you find yourself jolting awake, barely able to stay asleep for more than an hour at a time.

You’re haunted.

Your dreams are plagued by visions of faceless men. They’re fuzzy and vague, all you know is that you’ve been left behind, you just can’t keep up. And in every nightmare the faceless man carries on without you, as if you never meant anything to him at all.

You wake up covered in a thin sheen of sweat, gasping for air, with a dull ache in your chest.

So by the time the sun's up you’re more exhausted than you’d be if you had just stayed up without trying to sleep.

You have to fight to keep your eyes open as Lysa and Elaine carefully dress you, Elaine takes you by the arm and guides you to sit on the bed, crouching down to be eye level with you. Her mouth is moving but you can’t seem to figure out the words until she’s saying your name, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

“Sorry… what were you saying?” You manage to murmur out between yawns.

“How do you take your caf, my lady?

“Oh… I umm, I don’t know. I’ve never had it.”

Why is she looking at you like that?

“I’ll bring you some options okay?” You can only bring yourself to nod, your thoughts are muddled as she leaves, Lysa silently running a brush through your hair.

What had that look been? It had been sad, but it seemed like more than that.

Pity.

That’s what it had been. Huh. Maybe she had just noticed how tired you were these last few days.

Elaine returns just as Lysa is finishing your hair, she’s got a tray with three mugs on it, all containing liquids of various shades of brown. She hands you the darkest one first, it’s almost black, it smells… strong. You take a small sip and your face scrunches at the bitter taste as you quickly hand it back to her.

“Definitely not that one.” You cough slightly as you reach for the lightest one, a creamy beige, sipping this one carefully, not sure what to expect. You’re pleasantly surprised by the sweetness of this one, nodding as you take several sips. It’s the same color as the gown you’re in today, a light sort of cinnamon color. It makes your skin buzz, your mind still feels tired but at least your body feels awake. You watch curiously as Elaine sets the tray onto the vanity before taking the mug of black caf to the door, opening it slightly, setting it on the floor just outside before shutting it once more.

You continue to slowly drink yours, the girls standing across the room from you whispering to each other with a companionship that fills you with yearning. When you finish the caf you walk to the tray, setting it down, thanking Elaine as you open the door.

And there he is.

Setting an empty mug on the stone window sill across from your door.

And then there is an emotion you aren’t sure you’ve ever felt in your life, at least not like this. It’s an unpleasant feeling and you’re certain you aren’t doing a good job of keeping it off your face as you look at the mug and then at his visor. You desperately wish you could hide behind a helmet so he couldn’t see the wounded look on your face.

Jealousy is an ugly emotion.

And it’s one you have no right to feel for two very obvious reasons. One being that Elaine has done nothing to earn the resentment you feel bubbling up inside of you. She has been nothing but kind to you, she takes care of you, she has been a consistent source of comfort to you just by being in your presence. So why do you suddenly feel like she’s your adversary?

The second reason is plain and simple. You have no claim over the Mandalorian. No right to be bitter over him accepting a drink from someone who wasn’t you.

You need to stop. You can’t be thinking things like this, it isn’t healthy. So you summon Leo with a call of his name as you glare at Mando with a faint look of betrayal. He’s there quickly, giving you a low bow.

“How may I be of service, princess?”

“Can you find me a few empty journals? And some more pens, just bring them to the library if it isn’t a hassle.” It isn’t a hassle, nothing is ever a hassle when it comes to you and it’s getting infuriating. Only one person ever said no to you and you never thought you’d miss it.

Leo gives you a nod and vanishes as you storm off to the library.

For Makers sake, stop throwing a tantrum. He isn’t yours to feel envy over.

You get to the library in record time, pinching your eyes shut as you walk past the nook, deeper into the library to the table from yesterday, still covered in parchment. You shuffle them all into one pile and set them aside before beginning your search for books with pictures. You decide on A Field Guide to the Creatures of Tatooine and The Illustrated Encyclopedia of Fish & Shellfish of Naboo.

The Mandalorian still isn’t speaking to you.

At all.

Sure he’s always been quiet, (except when he’s fucking you senseless, then he can’t seem to shut up.) but this is different. It’s intentional silence, and it hurts.

So you pretend he’s just muted himself through the helmet, that he’s talking to you and doesn’t even realize you can’t hear him.

It doesn’t really help.

Leo is as quick as ever to bring you your items, two leatherbound sketchbooks and a handful of pens.

You immediately get to work, desperate to get thoughts of the Mandalorian out of your mind as you draw as many animals and fish as you can until you have to take a break because your wrist hurts. It’s a messy jumble of inky fish swimming around the pages and a lot of them were drawn so hastily you can barely tell what they are. But you stopped thinking about him, briefly.

And this works for a few hours. But then it stops working when you flip to a page with koi fish that has you furrowing your brow. You swear you’ve seen them before and before you can stop yourself from making the connection you realize that they’re the same fish that swim in the lake near the garden. The lake that he lives next to. The lake that he took you to.

And drawing in the library to distract yourself becomes a short lived success. So you decide to pack up your supplies and explore. It’s been a long time since you felt the urge to do so, giving you déjà vu to your first couple of weeks here. Maybe you could pretend you’re back in those days, when you could still be optimistic about your marriage, and the Mandalorian was nothing more than an annoyance. You walk the halls until you stop in front of a set of large ornate doors, you aren’t even sure what’s inside but you sit on the floor, your skirt falling in a circle around you, with your torso in the center as you open one of the sketchbooks. You draw the woodgrain of the doorframe. You leave an absence of ink on the brass door knob to show the light reflecting off of it. And you’re about to draw the stone walls around it but you freeze in place as you hear the familiar crackling static of a modulator.

It’s barely audible, most people wouldn’t ever notice it. But not you. You notice things, especially when they have to do with him.

You don’t dare move. Holding your breath in anticipation until it stops.

You resist the urge to turn around to look at him, hoping that if you don’t pressure him he might speak but it never comes.

He was going to speak.

That’s a start.

Do you want him to speak? Don’t you hate him? Do you even know anymore?

You’ve been so busy trying to not think about him that now you don’t know how you feel about him. That should be a sign for you to say something, or at the very least allow yourself to think about him.

But instead you stumble to your feet and start walking. And you keep drawing to distract you from the living armor that follows behind you silently. You lean against a wall as you draw the stone archway above a staircase, and once again, just as you're finishing up you hear that crackle, just behind you.

This time you can’t help but cock your head to the side slightly, the moment you do you’re back in silence.

Kriff.

This carries on like clockwork through the rest of your day. You draw as many doorways and windows as you can, if you were tired when you started the day you have no idea what you are now. You’re loopy with exhaustion as you stumble to your chambers.

Maybe it’s the lack of sleep or maybe you’re just sick of hearing that crackle but when you open the door you lean against the frame and stare at him. You don’t say anything but you give him the chance to if he wants, you wait several moments, just glaring at him.

He doesn’t speak. So you close the door. You don’t even make it to the closet, not bothering to remove your gown you collapse onto your actual bed.

✩

You get a few hours of sleep in this time. It isn’t much because you’re still chasing after faceless men but it’s better than nothing. This time when you wake you stumble to the vanity, the bags under your eyes are dark and they make you look too serious.

It’s clockwork again, You’re back in purgatory. Without Mando planning things for you to look forward to you’re trapped in the loop you hated so much when you first arrived.

Wake up, be dressed like some sort of doll, find an aimless task to keep your brain occupied, sleep, repeat.

Except today isn’t another day in the loop, because when the girls arrive Elaine already has a mug of caf in her hands for you and Lysa is getting a blue dress from the closet and you have to physically restrain yourself from groaning as you realize you have dinner with Kodo tonight.

Everything is blending together. Days seem shorter and you feel like you spend all your time trying to get to sleep.

Is this the rest of your life? Days so unremarkable you can’t remember them?

You gratefully take the cup and drink it down quickly as they dress you. At least you have something to worry about other than the Mandalorian today. You can worry about your revolting husband who was more than frightening last time you had spoken.

You push those thoughts away the same way you push thoughts of the Mandalorian away. When the girls are finished you thank them both before grabbing the sketch book and pens. You leave at the same time as Elaine and Lysa and you catch Elaine glaring at Mando, she gives him a look of rage and then raises her eyebrows expectantly at him before taking Lysa’s arm and walking off.

You didn’t even know Elaine was capable of anger, she was always so reserved and put together.

Maybe he did the same thing he did to you to her.

The thought makes your stomach ache.

You decide it’s best not to dwell on it further as you begin to walk. He follows behind you like always, just a few steps back. You don’t bother going to the library today, you don’t want to copy pictures anymore. Today you’re going to draw from memory. It takes about half an hour but eventually you find a window with a wide enough sill that you can sit in it, pulling your legs up as well so you can balance the sketchbook against your thighs. The Mandalorian settles against the opposite wall.

As of today it’s been a week since you last heard his voice.

Don’t.

Don’t think about him. Just draw.

You draw Elaine.

You draw the short horns that come up from the top of her head in cone shapes. The long head tails that fell down her shoulders, you’d never seen a Togruta with them as long as hers. You lightly shade in the red parts of her skin, leaving the white spots on her face empty of any ink.

You try to draw her with the expression she had made earlier.

You can’t seem to get it right. Your depictions never seem angry enough.

You draw Lysa.

Her big round eyes, her olive skin, and her short black hair. You draw her next to Elaine. It feels weird to separate them.

You draw Leo.

His head tails are significantly shorter than Elaines and he usually wears a beige cap over them.

You draw him exactly as he always is.

Stern looking and uptight.

You wish you had asked for paints so you could color his skin orange.

Before you know it you’re flipping to a new page and drawing someone unfamiliar.

Your eyes glance up for just a moment to look at him. There hasn’t been any static today.

You draw a sharp jawline, covered with stubble.

You draw round, plush lips, open just enough to see his front teeth.

You draw furrowed brows, and forehead creases from frowning too much.

You draw short buzzed hair, before deciding it doesn’t look right and scribbling it out.

You draw several noses. Some small, some large, some button and some bumpy. None of them fit the face you’ve drawn.

It looks all wrong, so you start again.

And again, and again, and again.

But none of them look right. None of them suit him.

You keep trying. Your wrist aches but you have some sort of primal desire to get it right.

You try hooded eyes, round eyes, almond eyes, at one point you draw squares just for the hell of it, of course they don’t look right but neither do any of the other ones. You try every face shape you can, round, sharp. None of it’s right and you’re starting to get frustrated.

Again.

And again, and again, and again.

And then there’s static.

He’s standing just in front of you now. You hadn’t realized he’s walked over as you slam the journal shut.

He clears his throat.

That’s it.

He doesn’t speak but he does make you aware of how much darker it is in the hallway, you need to go to dinner. You look at him once more, waiting, hoping he’ll say something but there’s nothing. So you nod and stand, walking to your chambers first, tossing the book inside along with the pens before heading towards the dining hall.

Your pace is sluggish. You know you’re already late but you have no desire to see him and Mando doesn’t rush you so you take your time.

Your walk is over too soon as the guards at the door nod when you approach.

As the doors are pushed open you can’t help but pray to all the gods that he isn’t sober. There’s no way you can handle that bone chilling venom in his voice when he talks to you without his drunken drawl.

You step in to see him already finishing what you assume isn’t his first glass of ale, relief rushing through your veins, the Mandalorian hot on your heels, Kodo looking up at the sound of your footsteps with a twisted grin.

“There you are my nervous mouse!” Nevermind, sober would be better than this anyday.

“Hello dear husband.” You mutter as you take your familiar seat across from him, the Mandalorian taking his position just behind you.

“How are you my mouse? Have you been well?” He chews with his mouth open, little bits of the meat pie before him spewing out from between his lips.

Maker, he’s disgusting. You wish he was the one who was sworn to forever wear a helmet.

“I’m perfectly fine, my prince.” You play with the food in front of you, you have no appetite as you watch him, possibly the most drunk you’ve ever seen him.

His dinner conversation is filthy.

He won’t shut up about one of the girls his brother just became betrothed too. He goes into graphic detail how attractive he finds her “lithe figure.”

There’s a sadness in your heart for this stranger.

Does she know what she’s marrying?

Of course he can never seem to stop talking about his brother's wives as he mentions that one is currently pregnant, claiming she’s the size of a barn.

You don’t hide your frown.

Why should you?

If he’s going to be a pig you might as well treat him like one.

Eventually he settles on rambling about how he wants to get more battle droids for his personal guard because the people in the city don’t seem to be fond of him, and because he’s often out in public spaces he needs more protection.

Personally, the six he currently has following him at all times already seems to be a bit much but you could care less.

They take your untouched plate and bring out another course that you don’t touch as he continues to ramble about his battle droids for the entirety of this course.

Finally someone comes to take the plates and you’ve only got dessert left to get through. He finishes another drink as he begins to talk with his mouth full of whatever pastry is in front of the both of you.

“Still hiding in the library little mouse” He raises his once again filled glass in your direction.

Your jaw twitches at the nickname.

“Yes my prince.”

“Still my little mouse I see. How dull.” He laughs loudly, when he slams his glass down on the table a bit of the dark liquid spills onto the white tablecloth.

“I suppose I just like reading.” You don’t want to entertain him any longer. You just want to go back to your room.

He hiccups as he releases the glass in his hand and points at you, taunting you.

“You’re a tedious little thing aren’t you?” There’s that cruel grin.

He must get off on this or something.

You have no interest in being a part of that so you just pick at the pastry in front of you with your fork.

“Did you hear me little mouse? Your prince asked you a question?” His smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

“I’d like to be dismissed.” You push your chair away from the table standing and collecting yourself before you start walking out. You hear Kodo’s chair screech against the wood floors and he goes around his side of the table to cut you off before you reach the exit.

For someone as drunk as he is he’s surprisingly quick on his feet.

“You’re dismissed when I dismiss you.” He spits out, glaring down at you, even slouched he’s got a few inches on you. You roll your eyes as you start to push past him but you’re suddenly knocked to the ground, a sharp sting on the left side of your face.

It all happens in slow motion.

The force of the slap has you reeling to the floor. Your head knocks against the cold ground.

Your teeth cut deep into your lip, and you taste blood.

His handprint lingers against your face and you know you’ll have a mark.

All of this registers in an instant. The next thing you do is purely on instinct, your eyes go to the Mandalorian. Because somehow you know that if you don’t stop him he’ll do something irreversible.

You give him a warning look, eyes wide, shaking your head the tiniest bit, just enough that only he will register it.

And you were right to do it because his hand is already on his blaster and he’s taken a step forward in your direction, positioning himself beside you defensively.

You’re actually grateful for how drunk Kodo is because he doesn’t seem to notice any of this and it only takes one more stare from you to get Mando to take his hand off his firearm.

“Now you’re dismissed.” Kodo growls at you before throwing his glass against the wall, screaming at one of the servants to find his brothers, not bothering to be discreet as he yells about some whore house.

The moment he storms off you’re struggling to your feet, groaning, you never actually get to your feet though as you’re lifted off the ground.

The Mandalorian picks you up effortlessly, holding you bridal style as he rushes you out of the dining room, his helmet trained on your face as he brings you towards your chambers on muscle memory alone, his visor never looking away from you.

You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, trying to process anything that’s happened in the last two minutes, your hand coming to your face causing you to wince as you poke at the gash on your lip.

He’s shaking.

His entire body trembles and his grip on you is unyielding as he walks.

You stare up into the black line of the visor and the shakes seem to lessen so you stay like that, staring at each other as he carries you until you get there and he leans down to open the door, never letting his gaze falter as he brings you inside and sets you on the bed. He puts his satchel next to you before giving you one final look.

“I’ll be right back. Don’t move.” It’s the first time you’ve heard him speak since the night he ended things. The hoarse rasp of his voice crawls deep into your brain, settling like warm honey and calming your nerves.

You want to plead with him. Beg him to stay, but he said he'll be back so you stay put. He quickly leaves the room, grabs the book on flowers off the vanity on his way out. The one he had been reading that you had taken. He’s only gone a moment, you hear a tearing sound and when he comes back the book is gone.

You don’t push further as he approaches you. Taking your face in his hands to observe the injury.

“I’m… I’m sorry.” He says it like he’s the one who hit you. Full of regret and longing.

“I don’t want your apologies.” Liar. You want anything he’ll give you. You want his apologies, his insults, and his praises. But more than anything you want that soft tone, that gentle way of speaking that he reserves just for you.

“I don’t care what you want right now. My only concern right now is making sure this doesn’t scar.” You cringe as he runs his thumb over your bottom lip, pulling it down slightly to get a better look at where your teeth cut through the tender flesh there.

“I’m sure you’d hate that. What use would I be to you without my looks?” You don’t know why you say it. Maybe you just need someone to be angry at right now. Maybe he deserves it. You aren’t really sure. But there’s a harshness in it you didn’t know you were capable of. If he has a reaction to your words he doesn’t show it physically as he continues inspecting the small wound.

“I’m the last person who cares about that…” Now he seems concentrated on prodding and inspecting the red mark that’s certainly forming on your cheek as you push his hands away.

“Thanks.” You scoff, crossing your arms as you glare up at him. He lets out an exasperated sigh.

“You know that’s not what I meant, now can you not be difficult? For just a few minutes? This is really deep… it’s almost all the way through your lip. It will definitely leave a mark if I don’t take care of it…”

His gloved hands gingerly grab your chin, he sounds more frustrated than you’ve ever heard him. He reaches into his bag and retrieves some antiseptic and a rag. He pours a bit onto the cloth before dabbing it at the broken skin of your lip causing you to wince at the sting.

“I know. Just a little more.” It’s almost that familiar soft tone he takes with you as he finishes up before grabbing a small vial from his bag, a viscous clearish, white liquid in it. You can’t help but furrow your brows as you stare at it. It’s like he reads your mind as he uncorks the top.

“It’s bacta, you deviant.” He mutters as he pours a bit of the slimy solution onto the fingertips of his gloves as he generously applies it to the cut. Your nose scrunches up at the sour smell of it. He’s silent as he carefully coats the side of your face with a thin layer of the stuff before hesitating and then continuing. “Do you want to talk about it?”

No.

Not really.

You weren’t really sure how you felt about it. You knew Kodo was a bad person. You just hadn’t realized how bad.

And you’re married to him. Condemned to be his wife.

But you don’t want to tell Mando all that so instead you just shake your head no. You’re grateful that he doesn’t push you for more, he simply nods as he coats the inside of your lip with the bacta.

“Maker, that's gross…” You groan as a bit touches your tongue, it tastes just as sour as it smells.

“It is. But it won’t scar.” He hands you the rest of the vial. “Have one of the girls put more on in the morning, you should be good as new by tomorrow night.”

“Oh great. It won’t scar, thank the gods.” You roll your eyes as you take the tube, tossing it onto the bed.

“Watch it.” His tone is sharp and you feel it stab into your chest, it’s just like the first few days. When he’d snap at you because he thought you were plotting against him, of course, you were but he was presumptuous to assume that.

You don’t like that it reminds you of what you used to be.

“You don’t get to talk to me like that anymore. You don’t get to do anything to me anymore, including tell me if I can or cannot have a mark on my face. It doesn’t bother me, so maybe when you leave I will wipe off this disgusting salve and let it scar, I don’t understand why you care so much about my face having an imperfection.” You shove past him.

You don’t know why you’re so mad. It isn’t his fault.

You definitely just need someone to be mad at and he just so happens to be here.

But that doesn’t matter. You deserve to be angry. And he deserves to have someone angry at him because of how he’s treated you.

You walk to the closet, as you open the door he’s already caught up to you, grabbing your arm. He immediately pulls it back, like your skin was ablaze and you had sent him up in flames. You glare, waiting for him to speak or leave.

It's quiet for a long time.

The only sound is the crack of the modulator.

It gives you goosebumps as you wait.

“If I had to look at you every day and see that reminder of what he did, sooner or later I would walk into whatever pleasure house he’s defiling on that particular day, and no amount of battle droids, or royal guards, would be able to stop me from cutting off the hand that had struck you.”

Oh.

You don’t have a witty remark.

Or any sort of comeback.

There are no words to explain how you feel so you nod before stepping into the closet and shutting the door. After a few minutes you hear the click of your bedroom door and you know he’s gone.

Oh.

You can’t really focus on anything that’s happened tonight. There’s too many things happening in your brain.

So you tug at your dress.

Desperate to be free of the suffocating blue fabric. You don’t know when you start crying but your cheeks are wet with tears and bacta and eventually you manage to tear the fabric in the front of your bodice as you rip the front of the dress completely in half. Frantically pulling yourself free of the cloth you open the closet door to throw the wretched thing into the main room before curling into a ball on your blankets.

You’re just so tired.

But you can’t stop thinking.

And you don’t want to think about Kodo.

So you let yourself think about Mando.

You don’t tell yourself to stop. And you don’t deny things as you think about what he said.

Eventually you fall asleep.

And that night in your dreams the faceless man stops running away.

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astroboots · 1 year

Note

Where does Boa hide these around the house to best fuck with Santi?

BEHIND ENEMY LINES

Summary: Santiago is on a mission to take out your army of freakishly ugly mutant toys that you keep placing on his desk.

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They're back again.

Santiago stares at the horrifying toy creature. Half husky and half--- penguin? Is that what it fucking is?!

He can't keep his eyes from the small miniature toy, its hauntingly blue piercing eyes and dog-like snout, its two flappy wings held against its protruding belly and standing on two webbed feet.

He doesn't know. Doesn't know where you managed to find this godless toy. Doesn't know what the toy manufacturer was thinking when they greenlit this for production. Doesn't know what kind of hallucinogenic drugs the designer must've been on when he made it.

Only thing he knows, is that it's fucking hideous is what it is.

Narrowing his eyes at the abomination, he glares at it in indignant anger where it sits perched on his desk. He threw this out last week. Stealthily took it out on the day it was Frankie's turn to take out the trash, so you couldn't find it and stop it beforehand.

So he doesn't know how it's back. Or worse, he doesn't know how now there's not only a husky penguin but right next to it there's also malformed sad looking half-tiger, half-squirrel.

He thought there was only the one. But with the appearance of this second one... fuck it can't be.

... Fuck.

You have the whole fucking line up hidden somewhere don't you?

And if he throws these two away... he's pretty sure like the fucking mythical Hydra of Lerna, there's going to be four of them lined up on his desk by tomorrow.

That won't do.

But he also doesn't want to sit here, looking at schematics for his latest consulting project, and having to stare up at these hideous crimes against nature and god. No, he needs to get rid of them...

But there's no way out of this that doesn't end in an escalation until his desk becomes a gathering ground of these horrifying mutant toys... Unless he takes it out by the source. Destroy the nest so that it cannot breed more... Sniff out where you've hidden this mutant-freak toy army and get rid of them before you'll ever see him coming.

Santiago glances up at the clock. 4.30pm, you'll be home within the hour, he still got time. Pushing his chair away from his desk, he skulks down the hallway to the guestroom where you tend to store all your junk. All the crazy shit you keep dragging back home from the antique stands and farmers market you drag him to at ungodly early hours on Sunday morning. The haunted porcelain dolls, the joke taxidermy--with mice wearing human clothes and squirrels that are in a boxing match-- and the collection of inappropriately sexy Christmas baubles you got in a moving box on the shelf.

He continues to root around, in the empty shoe boxes stored under the guest bedroom. The first one contains--- more sexy Christmas baubles, one that looks eerily alike Michael Bublé that makes his skin crawl. The second--a bunch of old photo albums. The third-- just a bunch of brightly colored socks, that shouldn't be stored there in the first place. He digs around and-- Bingo.

In the very bottom, inside a sealed plastic bag he finds what he is looking for. It's the rest of the pack. A confused looking zebra-kangaroo, a lion-gerbil?! (or is it hamster, jesus-- it's horrifying). And finally a face that will haunts his nightmares until the end of time... The face of a gorilla staring up at him, eerily detailed and accurate, with the body of an elephant.

Actually forget seeing this in his nightmares, Santiago doesn't think he'll ever sleep again after seeing this. He shakes his head as he pulls up the bag pinched between his thumb and index finger, not even daring to clutch it in his hand, as he tucks it inside his sweater, closing the lid before leaving the room and heading down towards the garage.

He's not taking any risks, he's heading straight into the car to the junkyard himself to make sure these things aren't recovered by some deus ex machina intervention.

"Santiago have you been going through my stuff?" you ask.

Santiago doesn't look up from the pages of his book, as he takes another sip at his piping hot coffee. "What do you mean sweetheart?"

He doesn't need to look at you to know the look that will be in your eye. The way you're narrowing your eyes at him in observation, the way a detective would pin down their suspected perpetrator in an interrogation room.

"My stuff in the guestroom," you clarify.

"No clue." He has to bite the inside of his cheeks to tamper down the grin that's threatening to escape.

What follows is your usual morning routine after breakfast. When he says bye by the front porch, you throw him a quick kiss goodbye, but you linger for longer than you normally do. Your eyes squinting down on him, a silent accusation of, "I know what you did."

Santiago doesn't say shit.

Instead he waves you off like a young maiden in an old timey black and white movie waving off their husband to war with a handkerchief, as he turns back into the house, smiling like a loon. The feeling of victory surging bright in his veins.

Santiago practically skips on each steps up the staircase back to his office, humming, and if he could be any happier he would be floating.

He opens the door, the refreshing spring breeze flowing in through his window. The morning sun spilling across the length of his desk when he sees it.

His smile drops.

No.

Fuck no.

You gotta be kidding.

They're back again.

Standing in a neat tidy line in front of his computer screen, the whole family is gathered. Husky-penguin, Tiger-squirrel, Zebra-kangaroo, Lion-gerbil/hamster and the most nightmare inducing of them all... Gorilla-elephant.

He doesn't understand.

He drove them there.

Personally chucked them into a bag and into the junkyard where it can never be retrieved. But...

They're all back... and they brought friends.

He threw away five, and now there's ten....

He stares at them, the whole of the line up. At each ugly, deformed, mutant, hybrid animal toy creature, eyes lingering in particular at the horrifying shark with four slim and graceful legs and hooves.... And he doesn't even know what to say.

He doesn't even know what the fuck this is.

Follow me on astroboots-writes and turn on notifications to be notified when I post something new!

#oscar isaac #pedro pascal #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier fic #triple frontier fanfiction #santiago garcia #santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia x you #💌 asks

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eggmacguffin · 1 month

Note

#I HAVE A HAUNTED CLOWN DOLL NAMED CHARLISLE#AFTER THIS EXACT THING#HE PLAYS A HAUNTING MELODY IN A MINOR KEY AND SWAYS UNSETTLINGLY

I need you to know that you are SUCH an entity in the BEST of ways, this made my day and I will smile every time I think of it going into the future, AMAZING

TY TY TY

and I'm sorry but I am using this as an excuse to talk more about Charlisle because he is the light of my life and no one irl ever wants to hear about haunted clown dolls

my girlfriend's mom used to be a professional clown, so everyone in her life assumed* she liked clowns a lot and gave her clowns and clown themed things as presents for years. As a result, she has a TON of clowns. So many clowns that one year when my gf and her siblings couldn't find the Christmas decorations they decorated the entire house with clowns instead.

(*She liked clowns fine, but finds clown dolls a little creepy, actually)

So in 2021 I was helping my gf's mom move, right? And I unearth the Bad Clown section of the storage closet. For broken clowns, ugly clowns, clowns with missing limbs AND. Clowns She Doesn't Like Looking At. Charlisle was there. and I was enchanted.

gf's mom noticed, and said I could have him. I asked if she was sure. she said "I Don't Like Him. I Don't Want Him."

He stands close to the height of a newborn baby. His color scheme is a Ronald McDonald nightmare, his makeup is garish, his expression is inscrutable. his hands are blindingly white, huge, stiff, & ceramic. they sound like bone when you clack them together.

He can stand on two legs but is most comfortable balanced on one, and has a key installed in the middle of his back that, if you wind it up, makes him dance and play a twinkling little melody.

Now, I have no idea how old Charlisle is, but I assume the song was once whimsical and the dance was once charming.

This is not the case in the present day.

the song has slowed into a haunting minor key, and the dance is now a rigid, jerky bending of the body with limbs frozen unnaturally in place. each performance grinds to a slow, unsettling stop with the last note drawn out unnaturally like a question for which no answer exists.

The best part, however, is how very sensitive the winding mechanism is.

If you turn Charlisle's key and let him perform, for the rest of that day he is now "alive".

This means: if you pick him up, touch him, or even set something on the table next to him, there is a chance his mechanism will trigger just a little.

What this looks like in practice: you visit my home, you set your stuff on the dining room table, and a horrid little clown monster sings a single haunting note and twitches menacingly in your direction. for no reason at all.

I love Charlisle so much. he is like a son to me

#asks #sexysmeagolshitposting #i guess if anyone's curious i could take a photo after i get home?#clownposting #twilight #rereading this and. im not sure this post has an audience anywhere on the entire planet. oh well. maybe i could send it to my gf's mom

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whatdoyoumeanitsnotcanon · 2 years

Text

JUST BABY GURL GHOSTLY THINGS, PART II.

Remember those ugly-ass grizzly bear slippers you got him as a gag gift? Well, jokes on you, babe, because he'll absolutely wear them in the house. And will stare anybody down who comments on them. Fuck you, Soap. Now get a matching pair so he doesn't look crazy by himself.

Doing your makeup better than you do your own makeup. What the fuck? ("Comes with the job." "What job? All you do is put face paint around your eyes." "Exactly." "....")

Being lowkey amused when Shadow and Blondie prevent you from kissing him. Goes double when you get out of bed and they take your spot next to him. Shadow can and will put her paw on your face if you get too close to his. You can practically see the bastard laughing with his eyes.

The almost inaudible sigh of exasperation when every time you hug him, your hands always manage to clutch his ass. ALWAYS. NEVER HIS WAIST, GODDAMNIT. ("Didn't know my waist was so low." "Mmm, me neither. ♥️")

Staring down folks staring at him when you take Blondie out for one of his daily walks. You're also watching folks watch him when y'all walk Blondie. What, they've never seen a big scary guy walk his cute ass dog before? Is that it? ...Or maybe, just maybe, it's the fucking sling you bought to carry Shadow in so she won't feel left out. ("Why would she feel left out? She's a cat." "Yeah, but you know how much she likes to be around you! It'll break her little heart if we didn't bring her along.") They didn't have the color you wanted so it's pink. It's fucking pink. ("Nice bag you got there, Lt." "Can it, Soap.")

Him sometimes giving you a snarky remark when you give him a compliment. Easier to take away from the fact that his cheeks are burning. ("You know, you have really nice eyelashes." "Good genes." "Uh, "thank you" maybe, Simon?" "I just said that." "You asshole.")

It's hard for him to fall asleep. In the event that he does, it's hard for him to stay asleep. You find out the reason why he's such a cuddle bug at night is that it helps him sleep as best he can. Helps keep the nightmares at bay a good portion of the time, too.

The blank, unimpressed stare he gave when he caught you doing your best Ghost impression with the rest of the 141 as your audience. ("What?" "At least get my voice right." "What the hell? Your voice sounds like you swallowed gravel your whole life, how the hell am I supposed to do that? "You'll make it work.")

Introducing him to, I don't know, the Sims. Against his will. Because of reasons (you think it'll help him de-stress). You play together and holy shit, he's actually good at it. Too bad you never really cared to hone your Sims' cooking skills. All that hard work went in a blaze. Damn. Simon stares, you giggle nervously, and the Grim Reaper is vibing amidst the destruction.

Texting him throughout the day (because why not?) and getting mad when he doesn't answer the way you want him to. For example: "Ayy, gorgeous, you got a band-aid 'cause I scraped my knee when I fell for you. ❤️ " "At least you didn't break anything." "Simon, what the fuck?"

#simon 'ghost' riley #simon 'ghost' riley x reader #call of duty modern warfare 2 #ghost x reader #just ghostly things.#modern queue-fare.

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lionasvault · 25 days

Text

puppy and lamb love to quilt.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

pup learned the skill all by herself !! maybe she followed a couple of those awful youtube tutorials from 2016 that caused her to break a few of her sewing machine needles. but, she got the hang of it after a couple weeks.

she has this sad old sewing machine from her grandma that she has propped up on this low folding table in the corner of her bedroom, and a short bar stool that she can easily push under it for more storage space.

she usually makes her quilts out of jonbee's old clothes, especially the ones that get ripped and torn. she hates wasting clothes, particularly ones that still have the faint smell of him, so she incorporates them into her pieces of scrap fabric.

she never plans out her quilts. she doesn't care how bad they look in the end -- the jumbled patterns and colors, different textured fabric -- because at least the quilt works, right? besides, jonbee loves them no matter what.

. ⊹ ₊ ݁.⊹ . ݁

"look!" she giggles, softly waving the heavy quilt in front of john b's face. "i finished the quilt!" this is her first ever quilt -- and you can definitely tell; the uneven stitching, gaps in places, and the filling almost spilling out -- but even with all of that, she's so proud of herself.

"wow pup, that's very nice," he says, his hands resting on his hips as he appreciates the work she's put into this quilt of his old jeans, ugly dad shirts, and boxers.

he gives a small dad nod of approval, patting pup on her head before giving her a soft forehead kiss.

the following nights, he gets the best sleep of his life laying next to pup under the quilt. no night terrors, nightmares, or stirring.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

on the completely opposite side - lamb. she was taught from when she was younger how to quilt by her mom. growing up religious, those traditional gender roles were burned into her by family.

she hangs out with pope quietly when she works, maybe he reads while she gets into the zone. they never talk, only the sounds of the sewing machine and her soft sighs when she messes up a stitch.

she's so high strung that even this relaxing hobby gets torn into it. her designs are thought out for weeks. intricate stitching designs, pretty fabrics, and soft undersides. it has to be perfect - otherwise she can't stand to use it.

. ⊹ ₊ ݁.⊹ . ݁

lamb and pope sit quietly in her room, the slight sun peeking through the windows. pope is reading some nerdy book, his nose slightly scrunched as he tries to read the long paragraphs.

lamb has her back hunched and eyebrows furrowed as she focuses on sewing, working on a new quilt. she's shakey today, messing up every two seconds. eventually, frustration takes over. she starts crying silently, her stomach aching and her face growing warm.

pope looks up from his book when he doesn't hear the sewing machine for a good minute, seeing lamb crying with her hair all messy. he holds her in his arms as she cries.

"oh, honey- you need it to be perfect for me? no- no, sweetie, i don't care if it's perfect. I'll love whatever you make, hear me? yes? okay, good. now, let's calm down, okay?"

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

based on my and @starfxkr's discussion! credit to her for some of these ideas

#puppy!reader #lamb!reader #john b prompt #pope heyward prompt

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luckbealincoln · 11 months

Text

Best Kept Secret

chapter fourteen : condemned

THIS SERIES HAS BEEN MOVED AND RE-UPLOADED TO ANOTHER ACCOUNT. WHICH CAN BE FOUND HERE. THIS POST STILL EXISTS AS AN ARCHIVE BUT THIS ACCOUNT IS NO LONGER ACTIVE!!

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 4.9k

summary : reader tries to take her mind off of things

warnings, etc. : domestic violence, language, angst

You’re having trouble sleeping.

You’re haunted.

You wake up covered in a thin sheen of sweat, gasping for air, with a dull ache in your chest.

So by the time the sun's up you’re more exhausted than you’d be if you had just stayed up without trying to sleep.

“Sorry… what were you saying?” You manage to murmur out between yawns.

“How do you take your caf, my lady?

“Oh… I umm, I don’t know. I’ve never had it.”

Why is she looking at you like that?

“I’ll bring you some options okay?” You can only bring yourself to nod, your thoughts are muddled as she leaves, Lysa silently running a brush through your hair.

What had that look been? It had been sad, but it seemed like more than that.

Pity.

That’s what it had been. Huh. Maybe she had just noticed how tired you were these last few days.

And there he is.

Setting an empty mug on the stone window sill across from your door.

Jealousy is an ugly emotion.

The second reason is plain and simple. You have no claim over the Mandalorian. No right to be bitter over him accepting a drink from someone who wasn’t you.

“How may I be of service, princess?”

Leo gives you a nod and vanishes as you storm off to the library.

For Makers sake, stop throwing a tantrum. He isn’t yours to feel envy over.

The Mandalorian still isn’t speaking to you.

At all.

Sure he’s always been quiet, (except when he’s fucking you senseless, then he can’t seem to shut up.) but this is different. It’s intentional silence, and it hurts.

So you pretend he’s just muted himself through the helmet, that he’s talking to you and doesn’t even realize you can’t hear him.

It doesn’t really help.

Leo is as quick as ever to bring you your items, two leatherbound sketchbooks and a handful of pens.

It’s barely audible, most people wouldn’t ever notice it. But not you. You notice things, especially when they have to do with him.

You don’t dare move. Holding your breath in anticipation until it stops.

You resist the urge to turn around to look at him, hoping that if you don’t pressure him he might speak but it never comes.

He was going to speak.

That’s a start.

Do you want him to speak? Don’t you hate him? Do you even know anymore?

This time you can’t help but cock your head to the side slightly, the moment you do you’re back in silence.

Kriff.

He doesn’t speak. So you close the door. You don’t even make it to the closet, not bothering to remove your gown you collapse onto your actual bed.

✩

It’s clockwork again, You’re back in purgatory. Without Mando planning things for you to look forward to you’re trapped in the loop you hated so much when you first arrived.

Wake up, be dressed like some sort of doll, find an aimless task to keep your brain occupied, sleep, repeat.

Everything is blending together. Days seem shorter and you feel like you spend all your time trying to get to sleep.

Is this the rest of your life? Days so unremarkable you can’t remember them?

You didn’t even know Elaine was capable of anger, she was always so reserved and put together.

Maybe he did the same thing he did to you to her.

The thought makes your stomach ache.

As of today it’s been a week since you last heard his voice.

Don’t.

Don’t think about him. Just draw.

You draw Elaine.

You try to draw her with the expression she had made earlier.

You can’t seem to get it right. Your depictions never seem angry enough.

You draw Lysa.

Her big round eyes, her olive skin, and her short black hair. You draw her next to Elaine. It feels weird to separate them.

You draw Leo.

His head tails are significantly shorter than Elaines and he usually wears a beige cap over them.

You draw him exactly as he always is.

Stern looking and uptight.

You wish you had asked for paints so you could color his skin orange.

Before you know it you’re flipping to a new page and drawing someone unfamiliar.

Your eyes glance up for just a moment to look at him. There hasn’t been any static today.

You draw a sharp jawline, covered with stubble.

You draw round, plush lips, open just enough to see his front teeth.

You draw furrowed brows, and forehead creases from frowning too much.

You draw short buzzed hair, before deciding it doesn’t look right and scribbling it out.

You draw several noses. Some small, some large, some button and some bumpy. None of them fit the face you’ve drawn.

It looks all wrong, so you start again.

And again, and again, and again.

But none of them look right. None of them suit him.

You keep trying. Your wrist aches but you have some sort of primal desire to get it right.

Again.

And again, and again, and again.

And then there’s static.

He’s standing just in front of you now. You hadn’t realized he’s walked over as you slam the journal shut.

He clears his throat.

That’s it.

Your pace is sluggish. You know you’re already late but you have no desire to see him and Mando doesn’t rush you so you take your time.

Your walk is over too soon as the guards at the door nod when you approach.

“There you are my nervous mouse!” Nevermind, sober would be better than this anyday.

“Hello dear husband.” You mutter as you take your familiar seat across from him, the Mandalorian taking his position just behind you.

“How are you my mouse? Have you been well?” He chews with his mouth open, little bits of the meat pie before him spewing out from between his lips.

Maker, he’s disgusting. You wish he was the one who was sworn to forever wear a helmet.

“I’m perfectly fine, my prince.” You play with the food in front of you, you have no appetite as you watch him, possibly the most drunk you’ve ever seen him.

His dinner conversation is filthy.

He won’t shut up about one of the girls his brother just became betrothed too. He goes into graphic detail how attractive he finds her “lithe figure.”

There’s a sadness in your heart for this stranger.

Does she know what she’s marrying?

Of course he can never seem to stop talking about his brother's wives as he mentions that one is currently pregnant, claiming she’s the size of a barn.

You don’t hide your frown.

Why should you?

If he’s going to be a pig you might as well treat him like one.

Personally, the six he currently has following him at all times already seems to be a bit much but you could care less.

They take your untouched plate and bring out another course that you don’t touch as he continues to ramble about his battle droids for the entirety of this course.

“Still hiding in the library little mouse” He raises his once again filled glass in your direction.

Your jaw twitches at the nickname.

“Yes my prince.”

“Still my little mouse I see. How dull.” He laughs loudly, when he slams his glass down on the table a bit of the dark liquid spills onto the white tablecloth.

“I suppose I just like reading.” You don’t want to entertain him any longer. You just want to go back to your room.

He hiccups as he releases the glass in his hand and points at you, taunting you.

“You’re a tedious little thing aren’t you?” There’s that cruel grin.

He must get off on this or something.

You have no interest in being a part of that so you just pick at the pastry in front of you with your fork.

“Did you hear me little mouse? Your prince asked you a question?” His smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

For someone as drunk as he is he’s surprisingly quick on his feet.

It all happens in slow motion.

The force of the slap has you reeling to the floor. Your head knocks against the cold ground.

Your teeth cut deep into your lip, and you taste blood.

His handprint lingers against your face and you know you’ll have a mark.

You give him a warning look, eyes wide, shaking your head the tiniest bit, just enough that only he will register it.

And you were right to do it because his hand is already on his blaster and he’s taken a step forward in your direction, positioning himself beside you defensively.

You’re actually grateful for how drunk Kodo is because he doesn’t seem to notice any of this and it only takes one more stare from you to get Mando to take his hand off his firearm.

The moment he storms off you’re struggling to your feet, groaning, you never actually get to your feet though as you’re lifted off the ground.

You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, trying to process anything that’s happened in the last two minutes, your hand coming to your face causing you to wince as you poke at the gash on your lip.

He’s shaking.

His entire body trembles and his grip on you is unyielding as he walks.

You don’t push further as he approaches you. Taking your face in his hands to observe the injury.

“I’m… I’m sorry.” He says it like he’s the one who hit you. Full of regret and longing.

“I’m the last person who cares about that…” Now he seems concentrated on prodding and inspecting the red mark that’s certainly forming on your cheek as you push his hands away.

“Thanks.” You scoff, crossing your arms as you glare up at him. He lets out an exasperated sigh.

No.

Not really.

You weren’t really sure how you felt about it. You knew Kodo was a bad person. You just hadn’t realized how bad.

And you’re married to him. Condemned to be his wife.

“Maker, that's gross…” You groan as a bit touches your tongue, it tastes just as sour as it smells.

“It is. But it won’t scar.” He hands you the rest of the vial. “Have one of the girls put more on in the morning, you should be good as new by tomorrow night.”

“Oh great. It won’t scar, thank the gods.” You roll your eyes as you take the tube, tossing it onto the bed.

You don’t like that it reminds you of what you used to be.

You don’t know why you’re so mad. It isn’t his fault.

You definitely just need someone to be mad at and he just so happens to be here.

But that doesn’t matter. You deserve to be angry. And he deserves to have someone angry at him because of how he’s treated you.

It's quiet for a long time.

The only sound is the crack of the modulator.

It gives you goosebumps as you wait.

Oh.

You don’t have a witty remark.

Or any sort of comeback.

There are no words to explain how you feel so you nod before stepping into the closet and shutting the door. After a few minutes you hear the click of your bedroom door and you know he’s gone.

Oh.

You can’t really focus on anything that’s happened tonight. There’s too many things happening in your brain.

So you tug at your dress.

You’re just so tired.

But you can’t stop thinking.

And you don’t want to think about Kodo.

So you let yourself think about Mando.

You don’t tell yourself to stop. And you don’t deny things as you think about what he said.

Eventually you fall asleep.

And that night in your dreams the faceless man stops running away.

tag list : dm to be added!!

@stagerightlauren - @dins-riduur-anthe - @littleguy-bendy - @rarachelchel - @laurensnotsparkly -@gerardingurway - @reallyidontcare- @clear-your-mind-and-dream - @estoniacobaltpayne - @buckyandgeraltsupremacy- @cookielovesbook-akie - @diabaroxa - @love-the-abyss - @sasakipsposts - @eclipsedplanet - @fatima-marisa - @somanyminidragons - @dindjarinsmut - @lemonboynsp - @disregardedplant

#din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x reader #din djarin/reader #mandalorian fanfic #mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #din djarin #best kept secret

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fractiflos · 7 months

Text

Okay, for months I have had so many fic ideas revolving around the first three holders, I've decided to put them all down here for the Three Weeks of Trioholders Event hosted by @aimportantdragoncollector, to help inspire others. Feel free to use these for the event or any future fics (or drawings), since I don't think I'll have time to write them (and I didn't want to overwhelm the ask game lol).

Cheerleader bet: The first 3 holders make a bet; losers have to wear a female cheerleader outfit. I like the idea of Yoichi winning, so he gets to see Second and Third in cheer skirts waving pompoms, but this is your fic (or art)

An AU where Yoichi works as a nurse and Second lands himself in the hospital with a gunshot wound

The 2nd and 3rd are scientific rivals forced to work together by the government to oversee the creation of an important new technology

Ichinii kindergarten AU: Second and Third love pretending to be knights and rescuing people, but Second hates having to rescue princesses because "She's not pretty enough to be a princess" until one day, Yoichi Shigaraki transfers to their school and volunteers to let them rescue him, but wants to pretend to be a princess, much to the amusement of the other boys. Oddly enough, Second has no complaints about this princess.

Deku and Bakugou's uncles both come on the same day to pick them up from preschool, bump into each other, and would you look at that Second, love at first sight is real after all. Meanwhile, Yoichi just thinks of him as a friend at first.

Deku and Todoroki are studying together, when his Uncle Yoichi walks in, with his two best friends, Second and Third, along with his cousin Hikage. Naturally, Todoroki sees the green eyes and pale hair, and immediately thinks that Hikage is Yoichi's secret lovechild. All that's left to do is figure out who's the father, Second or Third? Meanwhile, AFO catches wind that Yoichi has a secret lovechild, and assumes that the father must be All Might. (I left a lot of details out, but it's fun to see what people fill in. I submitted this as an ask, but I was super tired, so it ended up being barebones and I hated it, so I'm rewriting it here)

A modern AU where AFO has been secretly scaring off all of Yoichi's boyfriends. It's actually pretty easy as even without his quirk, he's still terrifying. Then one day, Yoichi brings a certain spiky-haired man home, and not only does he look like the rebel bad boy from every father's nightmare (very different from the previous nerdy cowards Yoichi's dated before), but none of his previous tricks can drive him off.

Genderbend! I guess this is more geared for art, but hey, who's to say our first three holders aren't unlucky enough to be hit with a genderbend quirk while out on patrol

Angel and Devil! Yoichi is an angel, the brother of the Big Guy himself (Yep, AFO gets to be God). Tired of the rules of heaven, he sneaks into hell, where he meets a pair of very interesting (read: hot) demons.

OR REVERSE: Angels, Second and Third are tired of following the overly strict rules of heaven and sneak into hell, which is ruled by Demon King All For One. There, they meet a rather attractive white-haired demon...

After a terrible incident with some hair dye, and a friend who is now on very thin ice, Second's pink hair has now been turned into a really ugly shade of orange, and he has a date in less than 48 hours (I refuse to get over his hair color)

College AU: Second and Third have been friends since they were in diapers, and are now getting physics degrees. One day, Third decides to introduce his childhood best friend to the new friend he made in art club, Yoichi Shigaraki. Then ends up having to Third-wheel as they spend the whole-time flirting

Romeo & Juliet AU. This time, it's Second & Yoichi. I mean, they're both star-crossed lovers doomed by the narrative to die, so why not?

Victorian Era! Yoichi is secretly in love with his servant(s), but is engaged to marry someone else

Second is a horror writer with writer's block. When his apartment lease is up, he decides to finally buy a house out in the countryside, thinking the nearby spooky woods will inspire him. The house tends to inspire him more, what with the random oozing, slow opening of doors, and breezes that sound like whispers. It's almost as if he's really haunted...

Yoichi is in college now and away from his strict brother. He decides to go with his roommate to a party, but his sheltered upbringing has left him woefully underprepared for the wildness of a college party and... Has he been drugged? Don't worry Yoichi, your heroes have come to save you!

Baby Izuku Midoriya is babysat by his uncles! So, while they do all sorts of fun baby things that somehow turn out to be extremely dangerous, Hisashi has a nice dinner with Inko.

Done! I hope I've managed to inspire someone.

#Three Weeks of Trioholders #yoichi shigaraki #mha #second one for all holder #second one for all user #third one for all holder #third one for all user #duoholders #trioholders #jane's fic ideas

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starkwub · 1 year

Text

(Tw: Starkercest, Peter is 17)

Scientist! Tony and his son peter who's simply a long for the ride of a work day.

Gosh I haven't written this much (or posted, really) for a while--it feels good though to get back into it :)

So much starkercest, ha!

Word count: 2,716

-- -- --

"Pardon my asking Doctor, but who's the new member?" A particularly brute looking general chimed out. His scar riddled, chiseled face was red like a ripe tomato--no doubt from the yelling he'd done just 10 minutes prior in the hall.

Tony hummed and wrapped a loose arm around the boy beside him,

"What does it matter? He's with me, that's all."

The man glared and slapped his hand down on the packet of papers in front of him, as well as in front of every other highly classified personnel sitting around the ovular table.

"It matters because of context, Dr. Stark. What we speak of is classified, confidential, even harmful to the general public as well as the national world if anything in this room gets out." Then came a huff of smokey air from his nose, if it were possible that is.

"--is he even certified? He look's 12."

Tony's lip twitched as he let his fingers caress up and down the boy beside him's navy colored jacket.

"If you really must insist on knowing, he's my son. And he's 17, not 12." he corrected, enjoying the way the generals face contorted even more, looking much more ugly than he already did.

"Why is he here?"

All eyes were on him--well, of the people who were here. The meeting didn't start for another 15 minutes, but he had figured it would be best to show up early in case someone found it within themselves to strike up a conversation. He'd hoped for something a little more interesting though since exasperating authority figures never really did it for him.

"School was out and I didn't want to leave him. Terrible nightmare you see.." Tony cooed and leaned over, pulling the boy closer in order to place a soft kiss atop his head of soft brown curls.

Peter may be 17, but that didn't mean that he wasn't a Daddy's boy. His vigor to retort against anything his father said had left him early on, and thus--here they were. Tony taking care of his precious, smart little boy, and Peter, willingly receiving it.

Tony didn't ever want to give up the power he had because the sweet sickening madness that erupted in him at the idea of Peter growing up--leaving to never return except for on holidays and birthdays..

Well, one birthday to be exact. His own--and perhaps his friends if they are still around town, but that was besides the point.

The point is, Tony liked being needed. He figured if he wasn't, his job and the life he's made up until now would hold very little value--and if the states knew what was good for them, they wouldn't ever want that to happen.

Painted pictures of dystopian worlds passed across the inner workings of his mind, but when he took a deep breath of Peter, it all went away. It always did.

"The kid can be left at home can't he? Mine loves it when me and the wife are out of the house--" and he was becoming bored as the man spoke on further.

"17's old enough to get a job--and 18, well..you know how that goes. Fly the coup and never return..." and the man squinted, no doubt peering at the badge that rested against his son's left breast pocket.

"Isn't that right Peter?"

Tony felt his son stiffen for only a moment as he watched the typing on the screen below the table stop mid-sentence.

Looks like he's texting his friend about his Spanish test coming up..

"Daddy I need to use the bathroom, could you show me the way?"

Tony's ears perked and his stomach lurched in the same way his legs did. Quickly, and automatically at the mere mention of a desire coming from his son's soft lips.

"Of course." He murmured before turning to the blush red general, "I hate to cut this conversation short but I do believe that's my cue."

As they made their way out of the room, a hand of his own placed currently in-between Peter's shoulder blades, he heard the man muttering about his son's particularly dated word choice.

Oh how wonderful it felt to be needed...

"Those men..I don't know how you put up with them Daddy. I knew you said they were annoying but..jeez! How rude.."

Tony chuckled and rubbed his sons back, "Yes well, I have to work with them. They're normally not so rowdy. I think you must be such a star they can't help but notice you." He purred, leaning in close enough to Peter's ear to make him giggle.

"Too pretty." His son started.

"Too good.." he returned, nipping his son's ear with his hot, hard breath as they entered the empty bathroom.

"Now go pee, I can't be late no matter how horrid my workmates can be. The president wouldn't be too pleased at the unprofessional display."

Tony glanced at himself in the mirror and fixed a couple hairs that had fallen out of place. The grey's were much more noticeable, but Peter told him he liked it, so they stayed.

The wrinkles that formed beside his eyes were also more defined than they had been 5 years ago, but Peter said he liked those too. He'd also taken his hand while they were eating dessert with a movie and told him he liked the spots on his hands that signified his age. Told him how much he enjoyed his Dad's old sense of humor and horrid dance moves..

Sniffling, he felt his eye twitch as the memories flooded by. Peter loved him like no other, and he..he couldn't..

"Daddy?" Came Peter's shy, hesitant voice--only this time it was filled with concern.

I'm fine, he thought, but turned to Peter and ushered him towards one of the sinks.

"I'm fine, don't worry." He reassured, standing now right behind his precious boy as the sink water flowed.

Peter pressed back into him suddenly, leaving him to be a bit shocked, but he tried to act unfazed.

his boy was also always so..touchy. It wasn't like he'd ever complain, but the way he spoke sometimes..

The way he'd taken to adjusting himself way too many times during their last movie night. It had gotten a bit..heated on his end. It was a physical reaction though--nothing out of the ordinary.

"Mm..Daddy.." Peter practically moaned, letting his hands rest in the hot water that was slowly turning his son's hands red. Tony reached out, grabbing them with his much larger pair, and pulled them away before they could start to hurt.

"What is it baby?"

Peter seemed to think as he swayed on his feet, body pressed against Tony's, and his eye's half lidded.

"Can we get ice cream after this before we head back to the lab?"

How peculiar, though he had no reason to say no, so he didn't. He couldn't ever seem to find the two letter word in his vocabulary when it came to his sweet precious boy.

That smile..and the adorable little noises and flush that fell over his son's cheeks was to die for.

They eventually made it back into the room 5 minutes before the meeting was due to start, and he was glad to see that the general didn't have enough heat inside of him to utter anything else.

Well, except for 'thank you', but that was his job--not anything particularly personal.

-- --

"Thank you for the ice cream Daddy.."

Tony spared a glance over at his son who was currently devouring his double scooped chocolate hazelnut, and smiled. How precious he was in moments like these. The shine in his eye and the way the chocolate seemed to always make its way all and around his mouth. He loved it to no end, and that was somehow still an understatement.

"Of course baby. Can't say no now can I?"

Had he ever?

"Can uh.." and the voice sounded nervous which only inclined for Tony to want to know more.

"Can I sit in your lap?"

The request was stark and strange to his ears, as he hadn't ever heard it before-or at least in well over a decade. Peter? In his lap?

Tony glanced down at the space between him and the steering wheel, and remembered the same elated feeling he'd been filled with when his son had practically worked his way up against him during movie night.

He reached to his side and heard the soft, familiar hum of his seat inching back to create more space. Tony wasn't doing it without knowing if his boy would fit though--no no no, he'd had one too many delectable women in his lap before.

Within the past couple years not as much though, for reasons unbeknownst to him still, but that was neither here nor there.

"Sure Pete, put your ice cream on the dashboard so it doesn't spill."

His heart thudded when his son began to move--skittish and awkward, but move nonetheless.

He grunted from the pressure of a boy resting on his, but soon was facing his boy head on. knee on either side of him--and a hand resting on his shoulder while he turned to grab his cup full of ice cream. Tony had never been a fan of the cones in the car. Too messy..too unpredictable.

Much like his son was right now come to think of it.

Tony hummed and took a few spoonfuls into his mouth when he spotted Peter staring--more than he usually did.

"Something wrong? Ice cream on my face or something?" He questioned, and suddenly looked down to find a hand resting against his side.

"And don't drip any of that on my suit--I can't be running home to get a new one, okay?"

"What about your change at the lab?--"

Tony eye'd him with a quirked brow in unison, "The one at the lab's for the lab, you know this."

Peter nodded and leaned back against the wheel behind him--momentarily puzzling Tony as to how the horn wasn't doing off. Perhaps they were just lucky because whatever entities from above knew that he didn't want a lick of attention on him right now.

This feeling he had..which was pounding harder and harder every second that his son was on his lap, was strange to say the least. It left him twitchy, and with a hot collar he wanted to loosen.

Perhaps he needed to get laid if physical touch such as this was getting him bothered. Perhaps even more, he should've said no.

No..what a blunt word. He often pondered it at night when he had the sudden urge to sneak into his son's room at night, or when he wanted to hide him away in their fancy, yet moderately normal looking home, never to be seen again.

When he wanted to wrap him up and kiss him for doing so good--or when he wanted even more to hit him when he'd been bad.

There were a lot of thing's Tony said no to.

Tony took another bite of cold coffee flavored ice cream, wishing dearly that it might soothe the growing heat within himself.

The urge to grab--to touch--to rip and pry..

He took another bite and licked his spoon in the process.

To see tears in those precious dark-brown bambi eyes.

"Daddy?" Came the familiar voice of concern yet again, now knocking him out of whatever deep seated monstrous thoughts he'd just been having.

"Yes dear?"

Peter squirmed a bit, and put his delicate hand on his belly, making Tony's breath startle just a tad.

"I know you said some of the lab techs make fun of you for having a dad bod but..I think it's nice." The boy smiled out, his tone light and breezy, innocent as can be.

"I like it."

he chuckled almost immediately after the words were spoken as he took yet another bite, now coming sadly to the end of his dearly beloved treat.

"What?" Peter accused, now pouting around an empty plastic spoon.

"Oh nothing bad sweetheart, I swear. I just think it's sweet how you tell me how much you like things, that's all." He brought his hand innocently up to brush a hair out of the way of his son's face, and hummed deeply.

Peter eye'd him nervously once more, "Do you like it?"

What a wonderfully complex question. To what regard? He wasn't sure. He think's a less than innocent part of himself liked it more than he does right now, but it's all the same, isn't it?

"Oh of course I do. Sometimes I wonder if I like it too much."

Peter shifted again, getting closer to himself as both of their empty ice cream containers now rested in the passenger seat. His arms quickly wrapped around his hips, digging behind him and grazing against the seat no doubt as Tony felt like one of those sloths on the nature channel.

he felt latched onto--suckered into this strange, new, startling situation in which his son was hugging him, whilst his own cock was in fact, erect in between them.

How peculiar, he thought, as he wrapped his own arms around the sweet boy in front of him.

How glaringly devious of him to ignore the way Peter's breath caught after a subtle movement.

Tony held still, merely letting his body lie still in use of whatever situation was transpiring before him.

"Just.." Peter uttered wetly with another subtle brush, "Just like the videos daddy..Watch em just to i-imagine you."

What a positively corrosive ego boost that was.

"Oh really? Won't you tell me what happens next?" He cooed persuasively, letting his hands continue to merely sooth--now eternally grateful for the illegal tint that he had on his glass.

being the most popular mad scientist of the government world did have its occasional perks. not that it's a popularity contest in the slightest--though he was the smartest.

"T-The daddy he..he's all sweet but..then he.." and Peter whimpers, brushing his erection against his own larger one.

"..he's mean."

Mean, you say?

"With the..um.." and Peter's fingers wrapped around and tugged at Tony's belt, making he himself shiver at the possibility.

Such a perfect deviant.

"Would you like it if Daddy hit you with the belt Peter? Have you been a bad boy recently?"

Peter shuddered, a cry reaching out from his throat to take hold of his soothingly harsh worlds as he nodded against Tony's shoulder.

"U-uh huh.."

Tony let out a gentle breath, followed by a subtle hummed grunt.

"And what is it that you did, to make you so terribly deserving of such a punishment?"

"A boy--a-at school. He..I..we kissed behind the school, after class. He'd offered me a cigarette and when I said n-no cause you'd be real mad if I did that..he told me I could get a taste of it from him."

Hm, yes, Tony though, I would be rather upset. Perhaps one of those punk seniors thought to get a handle on his junior year aged son.

He continued to comfort his boy through the subtle cries and soon, even his climax.. now letting his shaking son breath hot puffs of air out against his suit jacket covered shoulder.

Perhaps, Tony thought as he pulled Peter closer, he should've said no. This feeling he had..this loose string of fear from the secret they both now held between them. He wished he could be so oblivious as to think it was okay, but he knew it wasn't. He knew it was dark and twisted--unfavored by the masses, but in moments when the little crying voice in his mind wasn't spewing out regrets, he wondered what life could be like.

"I'm glad you told me what was on your mind..seems like that was a lot to keep in, huh?" A sleepy nod could be felt only making him hold him tighter.

To never touch his boy in ways that were inherently malicious.. but rather to merely allow peter to use him..

Need him..

"I love you baby." he whispered against the head of soft curls, now taking in a deep, soothing breath while kissing the area for good measure.

-- -- --

Tony is definitely dealing with something mentally--but he can't really put his finger on it--and neither can I XD Poor poor Tony..always in so much anguish. Perhaps I should write something a tad bit more cheerful next time, yeah?

Sorry the belt scene isn't in here either-- I wanted to make sure this actually got posted as opposed to sitting in my drafts (like literally so many other things XD) So perhaps Tony wielding a belt will make it's appearance another time?

Hope you all enjoyed that, if you've made it to the end :)

#starker #starkercest #iron man x spiderman #tony stark x peter parker #starker fic #starker au

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dualglitch · 7 months

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in your personal tastes from everything we have so far. also my own design notes/tierlist below the cut. pls add your thoughts

2nd/personal fave it's a close tie between nibbly and tinky for me but ill go nibbly. i really like tinkys true form/doll design but i wish the npmd costume incorporated more of that tealy blue contrasting eye/tongue color, it works so well. that wouldn't have translated super well on stage I guess? dunno slap some blue horns on him. or hey he already has goggles but theyre red?? make that shit blue.

first: wiggly. i like that wiggly is the eldest/leader and also has a design that most closely represents the 'classic' eldrich horror cthulu look! i think his design is just the most solid, there's really nothing id add or subtract from him. his palette of soft and dark greens look great and the yellow/red eyes are the perfect extra pop of color. not my personal fave but once again I think his design is objectively the most solid

nibblys doll design is eh but the stage version is just PERFECT truly could not envision him better. nibblys just a mouth so they were forced to get creative and god damn did it pay off. the visor and bangs drawing attention to the teeth is MWAH. also Kim was just the perfect person to cast for this.

pokey is also great. major props for how creepy he is, and the otho puppet in yellow jackets is just fucking ASTOUNDING. one of the reasons i view yellow jacket at the best nightmare time story ever. prob would win if it wasn't for just personal tastes here. stage design is pretty good too I just think those fur ruffs are kinda ugly. theyve all got a little fur on em somewhere and i think pokeys is the least well utilized idk

blinky is eh. I like the color palette and doll. I think blinky is even harder to conceptualize than nibbly but I feel like they could have done a reverse thing with blinky in some kind of mask that covers the mouth? Lauren slayed but the designs still the weakest

i guess it checks out that webby is the most normal since she likes humans/ she wants to look human for Hannah/lex, but eh I'm tired of the The Girl One Is Pretty trope, she deserves to be as eldritch and monstrous as the rest of them. i wish she was more spidery. maybe theyll drop a true form reveal at some point? i wish she had a doll. all in all she's just A Person. id like them to do a jane doe and give her some blackout lenses or somethin

ranking: wiggly nibbly tinky pokey webby blinky

#the lords in black #npmd #nerdy prudes must die #starkid

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apolloanddaphnis · 1 year

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Amberline

Disclaimer: This story is going to be dedicated to a very good friend of mine, why she thinks I'm good enough to let me write a character for her, I dunno.

This a Kyle Scheible x OC, there's definitely smut, adult situations, all high school characters are portrayed by adults. There's mention of eating disorder.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Part I

Sacramento High School was no longer a public school.

This year it was changed to a charter due to its very low performance.

To be honest, this town is now poor or rich, and I fall into the latter as my mother loves to remind me. It's why I've been babysitting since I was twelve, and why this past summer I was working at a doughnut stand at a fair, and this school year I'll be working at Blockbusters.

College doesn't pay for itself, and mom made it no secret that she wasn't going to donate one red cent, why should she even though my babysitting and doughnut money go toward the nice apartment we live in and toward her payments for her Lexus she can hardly afford.

I don't even have a car, and does she ever drive me to work or school? No, it's my bicycle or a bus.

She's one of those southern women that always drone on about earning things, telling me life ain't easy and I best get a grasp of that early, especially since I'll be joining the rich kids of Sacramento for my senior year.

Immaculate Heart of Mary Catholic High School is so graciously funded by Charlene Sixkiller, my dearest mother. She said it'll help me get to a good school. I'm truly grateful, but I feel so pressured, I feel like school and me leaving at eighteen is all we talk about at home.

I don't even know what I want to do.

Like fuck.

I love writing but my mom says that it doesn't pay the bills. It's a big reason why she won't help me with college, because I'm choosing to be an English Major.

Okay so maybe I do know what I want to do with my life.

I write gothic novels, a cross between horror and romance. I'm not very good at it but I love writing, between that and my diary it's the only way I can actually express myself.

It's awkward going to Catholic school and you're not a catholic, mom was brought up southern Baptist, and I hardly know a damn thing about my dad. Although he's probably the same, being from the same area.

I've only been to my mom's hometown of Rocky Mountain, North Carolina five times in my life, and every single time I count the hours for when we return to California.

My dream school is UCLA. It's hard as hell to get into, but going to this school will help. L.A. is far enough from central California where I won't have to deal with my mom again, and besides my dad's there. Maybe I can find him, ask him why I wasn't worth sticking around for.

My alarm clock blared Good Charlotte throughout my room. With a long groan and a painful stretch, I literally threw myself out of bed.

Dragged myself to the bathroom and pulled myself into the shower. I know being goth at a catholic school is going to be a total nightmare, but I was still Gung ho on making a good first impression. I washed my hair twice with the fruity smell of my Garnier shampoo and conditioner. Then massaged my loreal color mask into my waist length black hair before combing it through and clipping it up on top of my head.

My acne is starting to clear up but there's still some stubborn blemishes on my cheek. I washed my face with a morning burst about four times before using the scrub, why did I have to have problematic skin? Between acne, my fat ass and my boobs, I felt like there were twenty signs to point out how much of an ugly freak I am. I still tried though, some days I didn't think I looked bad, but days like today…

I scrubbed my skin with my electric apple lathered loofah until it was red and raw, and then rinsed my hair mask. I turned on the radio and brushed my teeth to the new Red Hot Chilli Peppers song By the Way, my eyes gazed with judgment at my reflection. How shall I fix myself today? I was getting over an eating disorder from last year, this weight is new to me. My doctor said I looked great, but sometimes I see a dancing hippopotamus in fantasia.

I rubbed Ponds onto my face and Bath and body works toasted hazelnut lotion on my skin. I sprayed my Secret powdery deodorant on. Blowing drying my waist length, ebony hair took a half an hour and that was me rushing. I sealed it with my Garnier serum and then did my makeup, far too much black eyeliner just past the point of you have gone too far, and cherry chapstick.

I pulled on my black panties and bra before pulling on the gray pleated school skirt I was forced to wear, I felt like a soldier preparing for war. The white buttoned down shirt was tucked in and I threw on my black zipper hoodie leaving it unzipped. I pulled on black knee high socks and scrunched them down before tying on my doc martens oxfords. I shoved on my many bracelets from a Hot Topic haul and made sure my black, stretchy choker constricted my neck. I brushed my hair down one more time and sprayed on my Victoria's Secret love spell body spray I got for my last birthday. I looked at myself, the kohl making my green eyes pop like I was on something. I wouldn't call myself hideous, just not pretty, not enough.

I wasn't enough for my old friends, when I was found passed out in the girl's bathroom everything changed. Nobody wanted me around, Alyssa and Taylor stopped sitting with me at lunch, and Alyssa started dating my crush Zach. They all acted like we never met.

But I was always the one who brought the least to the group. If I couldn't make it to a Marilyn Manson concert, they still went, but when Alyssa had the flu and couldn't make it to Disneyland, everyone canceled.

I was the one who was everyone's shoulder to cry on, at twelve I taught Taylor how to use pads and take motrin when she got her period, I told Zach he was good at drums, and anytime Alyssa had guy troubles it was me who lost sleep talking to her until 3am on the phone, it was me who bought her Häagen-Dazs and watched her stupid guilty pleasure show with her, Sex and the city, it was me who washed her hair and ran her a bath.

But it was never enough. Who knows, maybe I'm not meant to be happy. It's not in the cards for me I think.

The main reason for starting fresh and going to a new school wasn't just about college. It was so I wouldn't have to see the faces of the people who were supposed to be my best friends in the whole world, and couldn't get off their asses to visit me in the hospital.

I put my headphones and placed my Simple Plan CD into my player and turned it on blast.

Mom already left for work, she wasn't the kind of mother to prepare me a big breakfast for my first day. I grabbed an apple and granola bar and left to go catch the bus, getting catcalled on the way by guys old enough to be my dad.

Getting on that school bus was what you expected, the kids caught a look at the girl with black hair and equally black eyeliner and snicker or get out my way faster than a bat out of hell.

I sat in the very back next to a girl with shoulder length, dirty blonde hair pushed back by a headband that matched her gray school skirt.

She started talking to me, I saw her mouth move but couldn't hear one word. What is wrong with her? Can't she see that I'm wearing headphones? I wanted to ignore her so badly but I could not be rude to save my life. So I tapped the pause button with a black nail and pushed my headphones down before looking at her. "Can I help you?"

She smiled and laughed. "I was just saying you're new, I've never seen you before."

She wanted to bother me for that? I smiled though. "Yes, you're right. How perceptive of you."

The girl just laughed. "I'm Gretchen, I go to Mary's too, what grade are you in?"

"I'm a senior."

"Me too! We're the only seniors on the bus, did you know that?"

Thank you Gretchen for making me feel like such a loser.

The bus ride consisted of Gretchen asking for my entire autobiography. Was she a news reporter or something? All she got out of me was that I went to Sacramento High, which she made a snobby face at, and that I didn't leave behind any friends.

Once we got off of the bus, she didn't leave me alone. She was telling me about everyone who went to our school. I nodded along without paying attention but couldn't find the heart to be mean. I mean she's taking the time to get to know me and be my own personal tour guide.

"Amberline is a really strange name." She said suddenly.

I shrugged. "Yeah, I'm sorry about that, I'll change it when I get the chance."

She laughed and I held back the urge to roll my eyes. "I'll just call you Amber, come on Amber I'll take you to morning mass?"

"Morning mass?"

She nodded. "It's a catholic school of course."

I followed her to the chapel, it was all very beautiful and sacred looking. Pairs and pairs of eyes focused on me though, and I noticed boys filing in, which confused me since this was an all girls school. I asked Gretchen about it.

"The boys school shares certain things with us like the chapel for morning mass." Then Gretchen gasped and whispered loudly to me. "Oh there he is!"

"Who?" I asked with confusion, she was acting hysterical.

"Kyle Scheible!"

Walking in the line of boys to the priest was a boy far too handsome to be in high school, but you could clearly tell he is in fact in high school. Is he the usual ghostly pale and manic panic black haired with piercings type I go for? No, he was so much better than that. Something I thought I'd never say.

I can't believe that I can actually understand Gretchen's state of hysteria, but I do.

He has hooded, sleepy looking dark green eyes, with flecks of Hazel, I saw this as he walked by me. His lashes were poetically long and his nose pronounced beautifully. His lips were drawn in a pout that matched his careless posture of hands buried in the pockets of his khakis, which should have taken away how hot he is but it didn't.

His hair, God his hair needed the attention of my fingers combing through the dark chocolate curls. He wore it longish in a poetic way, his lean physique made him look taller, and he has the sort of neck you just know smells so good.

And because Gretchen isn't that great of a whisperer, he did look over. It was a lazy look over at first, like he was used to these whispers of him, which he probably was. But then his lazily droopy eyes popped open and bit when looking over at us. At me.

Oh no, oh God he was looking over at me? I immediately felt self conscious, what if he notices my breakouts? What if he finds my nose strange or finds me annoying looking? It's a catholic school. What if my look was too Crucible for him? Why did this guy who I don't know, opinion matter so much to me?

He looked at me, he really looked at me– Oh God, he stepped out of line to walk over straight to me. I could barely hear Gretchen's panicking, it was just me and him in this place of worship. Someone whispered how Kyle never approaches anyone.

He then stood over me, my eyes widened a bit and a hardly there smirk painted his pursed lips. His dead eyes swept over me, and in a lazy voice he asked, "Do you smoke?"

"Yes."

I don't know why I said it, I've never touched cigarettes in my life and I've only had one beer when I decided alcohol wasn't for me. But for this mystery boy, I thoughtlessly said yes.

"I mean no, I lied, I'm sorry. I don't know why I said that." I said breathlessly. Why was I out of breath?"

Kyle just…smiled at me, it looked foreign on his lips like he wasn't used to it. "What's your name?" His voice was musically calm.

I opened my mouth to answer but I was up next to bite the wafer and sip the wine. I didn't hear from Kyle for the rest of the day.

@meetmyothersouls

#timothee chamalet #timothée chalamet #timothée chalamet x oc #timothee fanfic

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canarysage · 9 months

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Channel Mixer For Dummies <3

— as written by a dummy.

hello again! welcome to photopea for dummies, the series where eos tries to explain things. today, we’re covering an adjustment layer—channel mixer! (why do i do these things to myself)

first things first: what is channel mixer? put simply, channel mixer is a layer that lets you target the individual color channels of your image: red, green, and blue. what does that mean? it means it lets you fuck up your colors.

channel mixer has four channels: red, green, blue, and gray. gray is the simplest, found by opening channel mixer and clicking the button below the channel options that says monochromatic. gray makes your image… gray. it’s more or less a copycat black & white layer, which is something for another time.

how do you use channel mixer? you adjust the various channels, naturally! the main thing to bear in mind with channel mixer is that everything must add to 100. if you’re really bad at arithmetic you can use a calculator. this does include negatives: -200 + 200 + 100 = 100! you might be thinking, but isn’t that the same as just leaving one channel at one hundred? you’d think so, wouldn’t you? but you’d be wrong.

the way i figured out channel mixer was by duplicating some fairly simple settings, and then i started messing around a bit more once i was comfortable. here are some nice colorings to use in your psds!

— author’s note: the moodboard i used here to showcase these settings is, admittedly, super ugly. i like to test my psds on a variety of cards to see how it works with different lighting, coloring, and atmospheres!

channel: red settings: red slider 200%, green slider 100%, blue slider -200%

this setting is a good way to split your colors into primary colors: red, blue, and yellow. i like using this when making a red or yellow focused psd, as it’s easier to eliminate blue this way. you can also see this setting in the example image above

channel: green settings: red slider 35%, green slider 30%, blue slider 35%

this settings softens the blues and reds, eliminates magenta, and darkens green. i usually add this somewhere in the middle of my psds at about 60% opacity if i want my reds to be less aggressive, as red can tend to be. you can also see this setting in the example image above.

channel: blue settings: red slider 75%, green slider 200%, blue slider -25%

this setting is a personal favorite of mine, and you can see it in a lot of my edits! it puts an emphasis on blue and red, eliminating magenta and green completely. it also makes your yellows much more orange-ish, which i prefer, because yellow is a nightmare color. you can also see this setting in the example image above.

channel: red settings: red slider 150%, green slider 20%, blue slider -70% channel: green settings: green slider 70%, blue slider 30%

this setting is a bit more subtle than the others, having the most effect on mafuyu (sorry mafu) because it strips the purple from her card and makes it blue. this setting makes blues into more of a cyan, and makes yellows into orange.

channel: red settings: red slider 150%, green slider -30%, blue slider -20% channel: green settings: red slider -10%, green slider 0%, blue slider 110%

you’re probably thinking, jesus christ eos my eyes are bleeding, what would you use this for? and the answer is: not much, honestly. those setting makes magentas, blues and cyans into a very greenish cyan, and turns yellow and green into a dark red. (please be careful when using this one, as most skin tones are classed as red. don’t make your people look like a firetruck.) i like to use this one when i’m trying to get rid of green or magenta. maybe lower the opacity a bit.

in all seriousness, there is no right way to use channel mixer. you can use it to completely change the coloring of your image, or to do some fairly simple color correction. as per usual, it’s just best to fuck around and find out. good luck!

sincerely, eos

#i love channel mixer but i have no idea how it works. at all.#ʚɞ — tips.#photopea for dummies

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themetalvirus · 1 year

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Do you have any recommendations for fountain pens? I was looking at some but i dont know if the ones i was looking at are any good lol

OH YOU ASK BISCUIT ABOUT HYPERFIXATION? YOU ASK THEM AND ARE GENUINELY INTERESTED? HUG FOR LIBELELLE. HUG FOR TEN THOUSAND YEARS. you will regret this i am so sorry in advance

anyway, the most recommended beginner pens are the lamy safari and pilot metropolitan. i personally don't like the metro (the grip section is slippery and makes my fingers inky, and the ink capacity is tiny teeny baby size), and i have never owned a lamy safari, but some people hate the triangle grip. their nibs can also vary greatly in quality, so buying one is a gamble, but a lot of people seem to like their safaris (and metros, some people swear by the metropolitan)

if you just want something cheap, you can try the platinum preppy - they're reliable for the price. the catch: the pen body will crack after about a year. they are not built to last, but if you wanna just test out if you like the (BEGINNER) fountain pen writing experience, then they're a fine choice

personally, i'm a big fan of the twsbi eco, but they are also prone to cracking over time and they get into a lot of shitty corporate slapfights with other pen companies who make piston fillers (my favorite kind of filling mechanism, so much ink capacity [but harder to clean!]). their nibs are reliable and juicy. you can also try the twsbi swipe for a very similar experience with a... cheaper price and look to match. the swipe comes with the same awesome nibs though

there's also the kaweco sport, which a lot of people swear by, but i've never owned because i personally find it ugly and unappealing (SORRY). it's a pocket pen, which means it's tiny when closed but full length when posted (when you put the cap on the end), making it a versatile everyday pen for people who have, like, jobs and stuff. i haven't heard many complaints about the quality control with the sports' nibs. i personally don't think it's the best pen for someone JUST starting out because of its status as a pocket pen, but again, lots of people swear by it. the ink capacity is piss tiny

there's also, of course, the pilot kakuno! cheaper than the pilot metro with what sounds like a reliable nib. i've never owned one, but they seem good for students and the like. it has a fun little smiley face on the nib =) because it's a pilot, the ink capacity is PISS TINY. but it's a good pen.

a word of warning. do NOT buy the ooly splendid. i repeat, DO NOT BUY THE OOLY SPLENDID. cleaning it is a NIGHTMARE because it has a little wick in the nib. like a marker. imagine trying to get all the ink out of the tip of a marker. it is a nightmare. do not buy the ooly splendid it sucks it doesn't even have a good seal so all the ink gets all boogery on the nib. bad

SOME NOTES: lamy and pilot use proprietary cartridges/converters, which basically means you can only use their way of refilling your pen. converters let you use whatever ink you want, which i greatly prefer. kaweco uses international standard short cartridges and converters, which gives you more options for cartridges if you choose to go that route. twsbi uses the piston fill mechanism, which has the most ink capacity by far, but it's harder to switch colors because of the way you have to dismantle the pen to clean it

ok. one thing to note is that these pens will either come with one (1) cartridge or no ink at all. so. what ink do you use?

WELL! one thing that is important to stress is to not use india ink. it will clog and destroy a fountain pen. make sure you only use inks that are clearly labeled for fountain pen use - any other ink may damage your pen.

in any case, i really like waterman intense black for a nice black ink that's easy to use and clean out of pens.

don't use any piddly shit they sell at michael's, it sucks (know from experience)

for any other colors, some brands i can fully endorse are diamine (cheap AND very very reliable!!) and pilot iroshizuku (more expensive, but the ink writes wet [more ink flow] and is vibrant).

brands i would warn against for ink are... NOODLER'S. the owner of noodler's ink is a rabid trump supporter and conspiracy theorist, and with ink names like "1984" and "censor red", i'm surprised more people don't know/care. another is ferris wheel press just because their shit is overpriced and underperforming compared to most other brands. if any ink is more that $40 it's basically a scam

also, shimmer inks are NOT for newbies; they are prone to clogging pens and ruining them. no glitter for new people you will regret it

UHHH OKAY THATS ALL MY BEGINNER ADVICE. SORRY ITS SO MUCH. GOOD LUCK OUT THERE SOLDIER

#exoticbutterstxt

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swanqueenelmaxshadowhunters · 5 months

Text

It was Eleven's first Christmas, and she couldn't be more excited. The whole concept was still new to her, but El enjoyed seeing houses and businesses adorned, the large Christmas trees with all those colorful balls and other ornaments, not to mention the snow.

People also seemed to have a penchant for themed sweaters, and that was one of the things Eleven liked the most. Most people said they were horrible, and especially the boys, like Mike, refused to wear anything resembling a Christmas sweater, but El loved them.

Hopper had bought her four sweaters with Joyce's help, and El suspected, with Max's assistance as well. Although Max claimed not to be a fan of such things, Max knew El's tastes better than anyone, even better than Mike.

Thinking about Max made the corners of Eleven's mouth curve up in an involuntary smile and brought warmth to her heart. Since the events of that fateful July 4th, they had started spending more time together. At first, El felt guilty about everything that had happened, especially Billy's death, even though he wasn't a good person, especially to Max.

El knew she didn't understand relationships very well, and she didn't understand, especially, how Max could feel so bad about Billy's death, but Max was her friend, and she was very sad, and El hated seeing her that way. Not to mention the nightmares.

Right after Billy's death, Max told her that things were ugly at her home, with Neil arguing with her mom more and more intensely. El knew she couldn't use her powers on Neil, but she could try to keep Max safe, so she always found an excuse for Max to sleep in the cabin, and Hopper seemed more than happy to accommodate her requests.

When Max woke up screaming and crying on the first night, Eleven woke up startled, but seeing her friend's state, the shock was replaced by guilt and concern. She didn't know what to do; all the movies she had ever watched never showed how to comfort a friend.

So, El let her instincts speak. She pulled Max close and hugged her as best as she could, and felt relieved when Max didn't reject her approach, but instead buried her head in her neck and gripped her pajama shirt, letting tears flow freely as sobs shook her entire body. Despite the trauma and sadness that moment represented for Max, and for El too, she couldn't help but like how it brought them even closer.

"Earth to Eleven."

Dustin's voice snapped her out of her thoughts, and she noticed he was staring at her. "What?"

"Is everything okay? You were—" Dustin shrugged. "I don't know, seemed like you were far away."

"But I didn't go anywhere." Eleven furrowed her eyebrows, looking confused at Dustin.

"No." He smiled. "It's like when we start thinking about something, or remembering something, and get carried away by it, you know?"

"Ah." Eleven's eyes shifted to Max for a moment, then back to Dustin. "I think I know."

Eleven watched in silence as Dustin, always so perceptive, seemed to study her for a moment, as if deciding something, and then he just shrugged and asked, "How are you liking Christmas so far?"

"I like the lights and the sweaters." El smoothed her sweater as if to make a point.

"Sweaters are great! I don't know why Mike doesn't like them."

"Mike doesn't like a lot of things." Max grumbled from where she was, helping Robin put up some lights on the wall.

"Not true, I like plenty of things." Mike replied, coming from Joyce's room, with Will right behind him, each carrying a cardboard box. "But these sweaters are ridiculous."

"Your hair is ridiculous, and no one says anything."

Max shot back, giving Mike a challenging look. El watched the scene and felt her heart warm. She knew that was Max's way of defending her interests, and she liked how Max didn't care if she had to argue with Mike or anyone else to defend her. Not that she needed someone to defend her, but it was nice to know there was someone willing to do so.

She smiled, seeing Max narrow her eyes at Mike, and the way she lifted her chin slightly.

She knew the other boys would hardly stand against Mike, especially Will, even though they were almost brothers now, and she understood. They had been friends for many years, and she was the outsider. Just like Max.

Maybe that's what brought them together, in parts. And it was good to have someone to talk to and spend time with beyond Mike and the boys, especially now that she and Mike were no longer together. Someone to teach her things that Mike could never. And who understood her.

"She's doing it again."

Dustin's voice brought Eleven out of her thoughts, and she looked at him for a moment. "Sorry."

"Nah, no need to apologize." Dustin smiled and tossed a ball to her. "Help me finish decorating the tree."

Eleven nodded and joined Dustin and Steve to decorate the Hopper-Byers Christmas tree.

Yes, that was another thing Eleven liked a lot; since the events on July 4th, Hopper and Joyce had started going out, or as Max had explained to her, having dates. It was good because Hopper smiled a lot now, and so did Joyce.

And it was really nice to have a large family, even though Eleven was still getting used to all this. Being closer to town, she and Hopper had moved to Joyce's house a few months after the July 4th events.

She wasn't sure how it had happened, but one day Joyce came to the cabin to talk to her and ask if Eleven would like to live with her, Hopper, and the boys in her house.

What Eleven liked most about Joyce was that she didn't try to use anything to convince El about anything. Instead, she sat and talked with her, giving options, explaining things, and letting Eleven decide what she would do.

Max's laughter filled the room, drawing Eleven's attention, and she smiled widely at seeing her friend on the floor with Robin on top of her. Robin had fallen from the ladder. Again. Eleven didn't know Robin as well as Dustin, Erica, or Max, but she liked her. Robin was funny and smart, and she made Max laugh. That was one of the things El liked most about Robin.

"Oh my God, are you guys okay?"

Joyce came from the kitchen upon hearing the noise, hands covered in flour and something else.

"We're fine, Mrs. Byers." Max laughed, pushing Robin. "Sorry."

"No need to apologize, dear." Joyce smiled kindly, and her gaze shifted to Eleven. "Are you okay?"

"Yes." Eleven nodded, her eyes finally leaving Max. "I'm fine."

The door opened, bringing in a blast of cold air as Jonathan, Hopper, and Nancy entered with more Christmas shopping; food, last-minute decorations, and extra gifts.

"Hello, kiddo."

Hopper ruffled Eleven's hair as he passed by her. Eleven smiled at him but didn't stop what she was doing. She picked up another ornament from one of the boxes Will and Mike brought from the room and busied herself helping the boys decorate the tree.

Jonathan joined them and went to help Steve with other decorations while Nancy took the Christmas lights from Robin's hands, instructing her to help Max hold the ladder so she could put the lights on the wall.

Surprisingly, Lucas was helping Joyce in the kitchen. Apparently, he had a hidden talent and a taste for cooking that caught everyone by surprise, but no one was complaining or judging him.

"After we finish here, we're going to make snowmen," Mike said, his smile widening.

"Snowmen?" Eleven furrowed her eyebrows.

"Yeah, with the amount of snow piling up in the backyard, we can make a bunch of them!" Will said, excited. "But don't worry, El, we'll show you how to do it."

Eleven nodded, and without even realizing what she was doing, her eyes met Max's across the room. Her lips curled up into an involuntary smile, and she felt relieved when Max said, "You got this!"

(...)

After finishing decorating the tree, walls, and doors, Eleven and the others headed to the backyard of the Hopper-Byers house. The house was larger than when El first set foot there; when Joyce asked if she would like to live with her and the boys and Eleven said yes, Joyce and Hopper started the project of renovating the house to accommodate everyone. It wasn't a big house like Mike's or the other boys', but it was cozy and familial, and most importantly: Eleven felt safe there.

"Here, let me help you with this," Joyce said, stopping Eleven on the porch. "There you go, now you're ready." She said, closing the zipper of Eleven's winter coat and adjusting a beanie on her head.

"Thank you."

"Come on, El, let's go."

Eleven felt her heart race, as it always did every time Max took her hand and smiled at her that way, highlighting her dimples. She ran hand in hand with Max across the yard and joined the boys, who were making snowballs with their hands and throwing them at each other.

"Hey, you idiots, be careful!"

Max shouted, sending an irritated glance toward the boys when a snowball came too close to Eleven's head.

"Sorry, El!" Lucas offered an apologetic smile.

Eleven looked at the boys, one by one, and then exchanged a glance with Max, in a silent conversation only they understood. Max nodded, and Eleven's smile widened.

She looked back at the boys, her expression neutral as she focused on her powers and made a massive snowball float just above the boys' heads. She exchanged another brief glance with Max, who nodded, and Eleven turned to the boys with a smile on her face that they knew well at this point.

With a slight nod of her head, the snowball fell onto the boys, and she and Max burst into laughter.

"Hey, that's not fair!"

"This is cheating!"

"I'm going to freeze to death."

The girls' laughter intensified in the face of the boys' indignation and drama, and soon Steve, Robin, Nancy, and Jonathan were by their side to see what had happened.

"What-" Steve blinked, confused. "Did you do that?" He turned to Eleven, eyebrows raised slightly.

Eleven just nodded, laughing. Her eyes sparkled with innocent mischief, and soon everyone was laughing at the boys partially trapped under the snowball.

"Well done, you idiots." Max stuck her tongue out at the boys and pulled Eleven by the hand. "I think here is good to build our snowmen."

"If you say so."

To anyone else, this simple phrase might sound rude or dismissive, but El knew that Max already knew her well enough to know that it was just her agreeing with Max.

"First, you do it like this," Max said, kneeling in the snow and grabbing a handful of snow between her hands, forming a small ball. "You make a snowball like this, and you keep adding snow to this ball until it's about thirty centimeters."

Eleven nodded and started doing the same as Max, gathering snow until she formed a ball large enough for them to place on the ground and roll it to achieve the ideal size for the bottom part.

With the corner of her eye, Eleven noticed that the boys had already been freed from the snow and were building their own snowmen.

She turned her attention back to the snowman she was building with Max, and soon they moved on to the middle part. Building the snowman was faster and easier than Eleven expected - especially when you have powers and can use them to stack the snowballs on top of each other, she thought. Once they finished, they ran inside the house to grab scarves, hats, and other things to decorate their snowmen.

They placed carrots as noses, blue bouncing rubber balls and green gems for eyes, and colorful pebbles for the teeth. Eleven put a blue scarf on her snowman, and Max put a red one on hers.

"Now we need sticks for the arms," Max said.

Eleven joined her in searching for the ideal sticks for their snowmen's arms, and after a few minutes, they were complete. The boys', however, were still halfway done. That's because every now and then, they interrupted the snowman building to play snowball wars or to mock each other's snowman-building skills.

With not much else to do, they joined the boys in the snowball fights and chases, zigzagging between the snowmen in the yard.

Eleven had never felt such happiness in her life as in that moment; surrounded by people she loved and trusted, people who cared about her and saw her as more than a girl with special powers.

She never imagined it was possible to feel such joy, the kind that feels like your heart might leap out of your chest at any moment, and this feeling intensified when she and Max fell into the snow - breathless and sweaty - with Max on top of her.

Her eyes locked onto Max's, and Eleven felt her heart race. Max's blue eyes were already mesmerizing on an ordinary day, but in that moment, against the gray sky and with cheeks red and glowing with a happiness Eleven hadn't seen in months, they seemed even bluer, even more captivating. Eleven felt her breath catch in her throat as Max's eyes dropped to her lips, and she thought she saw something in them, like when Mike went in for a kiss, but she wasn't sure.

"Hey, dingus, let's go inside before we become part of the decoration."

Robin's voice interrupted that moment, and Max's eyes widened as she quickly got up; her cheeks turned an even deeper shade of red. She reached out to Eleven and helped her up, but for some reason, it seemed like she was avoiding her eyes.

"Come on, let's have hot chocolate to ward off the cold!"

Joyce called from the door, and Eleven followed Max inside. She still held her hand, but something felt different. Max seemed tense and thoughtful, and El wanted to ask her if she had done something wrong, something that upset her, but she knew she would have to wait until they were alone for that.

As they entered, each one hung their coats on a hook. Hopper was in the living room, sitting in his armchair and sipping on a mug of hot chocolate, but Eleven was pretty sure it wasn't just chocolate in there. He smiled at her, and she returned his smile.

Mike, Will, Dustin, and Lucas sprawled out on the carpet, all talking at the same time and gesturing wildly. Jonathan and Steve went to the kitchen to help Joyce bring trays of hot chocolate and cookies, while Nancy, Robin, and Erica settled on a sofa.

Eleven pulled Max by the hand, and they sat on the carpet near where Nancy was. El liked to look at Nancy. She was so different from Mike, with her big, intense, blue eyes, completely different from her brother's dark brown eyes.

"Your snowman looks really nice," Nancy said, pulling Eleven out of her thoughts.

"It's the first time I've made one."

"You've never made a snowman before?" Robin's eyes widened, and she grumbled when Nancy nudged her.

"She lived in a lab, dingus. I doubt that old man made snowmen there."

Max's protective tone made Eleven smile involuntarily, and she noticed Nancy and Robin exchanging a look, like the ones she and Max exchanged sometimes, but at the same time, it was different.

"But now you're here, and you'll build many snowmen from now on," Nancy said gently.

"Yes," Eleven smiled. "And I can also go to the arcade, and to the movies, and I learned how to ride a bike. Hopper even gave me one!"

"The next step is learning to skateboard," Robin said, wiggling her eyebrows.

"I prefer to watch Max do that. She's really good at it."

"And to think that when you two first met, you looked like you were going to rip Max's head off," Steve said playfully, coming with a tray of cookies for the girls.

"Things changed. Now I don't want to knock her off the skateboard anymore."

"Wait, you were the one who knocked me off the skateboard that day at the schoolyard?" Max's eyes widened comically, her mouth open in disbelief.

"Maybe." Eleven bit her lip, trying to hold back a smile.

"Oh, you're so in trouble for that." Max said, narrowing her eyes and pushing Eleven, falling on top of her again.

Eleven gasped and burst into laughter when Max started tickling her. When Jonathan approached with the tray of hot chocolates, Max stopped tickling Eleven and helped her sit up, and although that had been a normal moment between them - Max often tickled her - while sitting, Eleven noticed that Max was still avoiding her gaze a little.

Eleven tried not to care about it and not to dwell on it at that moment. Later, she would ask Max, and whatever it was, they would figure it out together. She accepted the mug of chocolate that Jonathan handed her and focused on eating some cookies.

After eating and drinking, everyone settled in the living room to watch a movie, and it took longer debating which movie to watch than to actually watch it.

After the movie ended, Joyce went to the kitchen to check on dinner while Hopper, Jonathan, and Steve set the table. Will, Mike, Lucas, and Dustin took charge of tidying up the living room, while Nancy, Robin, Max, Erica, and El helped bring dishes from the kitchen to the dining room.

El had just placed a plate on the table and was heading back to the kitchen when she nearly bumped into Max.

"Sorry, I was distracted," Eleven said, still standing in front of Max.

"Oh, oh!" Robin's voice made El shift her gaze from Max to her. "Mistletoe!"

"What?"

El and Max asked simultaneously, but Eleven could sense a nervousness in Max's voice that rarely made an appearance. She looked at her friend and saw that she was as white as the sheet she once used for a Halloween costume.

"Mistletoe. You know what that means," Robin wiggled her eyebrows, but despite the gesture, there was no malicious intent in her.

"No, she doesn't!"

Max shot a furious look at Robin. Eleven knew she had a lot to catch up on, but she didn't understand why Max seemed so upset. Max blushed, turning as red as a ripe tomato, and El, oblivious to social implications, was genuinely confused.

"What's the mis... mistle-"

"Mistletoe," Steve said, appearing beside her.

"Yeah, what about it?"

"It's just a silly tradition," Max quickly said.

"What tradition?" Eleven asked, ignoring Max's eye roll. She knew Max did that when she was annoyed or upset, and she knew it wasn't anything personal against her.

"According to tradition, when two people find themselves under the mistletoe, they should-" Steve gestured vaguely.

"I don't understand."

"Oh, for God's sake." Max huffed, annoyed, even redder than before. "According to tradition, when two people meet under the mistletoe, they're supposed to kiss."

"Oh." El's eyes widened, still innocent, and she looked at Max. "Oh! Do you want to... kiss?" she asked.

Max hesitated, her eyes shifting between El and the mistletoe. She managed a small, uneasy smile. "We don't have to, El. It's just a silly tradition."

"Ah." Eleven didn't know why, but the fact that Max seemed uncomfortable with the idea of kissing her made her feel sad.

Max took a deep breath, seeming to notice El's unease. "I mean, we can if you want, but it's not a big deal." She nervously chuckled, looking at Steve and Robin, who tried to contain their amusement.

She couldn't understand why Max seemed so bothered by this seemingly harmless tradition, but the subtle uncertainty in Max's eyes caught her attention. "If it's just a tradition, why not do it? Traditions are supposed to be fun, right?"

"Yeah, you're right. It's just a silly tradition." She then turned her attention to the mistletoe. "Okay, let's do it."

El tilted her head, still unsure. She didn't want to upset her best friend.

Max leaned in, giving El a gentle kiss on the cheek. The room fell silent for a moment, and El touched her cheek, feeling the warmth there.

"Oh, come on!" Robin grumbled.

Max rolled her eyes again, her cheeks even redder than before. "Fine, you want a real kiss?"

She turned to El, who nodded, now understanding the situation a bit better.

Eleven watched as Max leaned in slowly, her eyes locked on El’s. As their lips met, El's eyes fluttered closed as the new sensations swirled within her.

The room faded away, leaving only the warmth of Max's lips against hers. The kiss was sweet and innocent, yet filled with unspoken emotions. El found herself enjoying the sensation, and a small smile played on her lips. Max's kiss was gentle yet firm, so different from Mike's sloppy ones.

Before she could fully process what was happening, Max had pulled away again, and El immediately missed their closeness. Although she still didn't understand many things, that kiss made her comprehend a bit the confusing feelings she had been experiencing toward Max for the past few months.

As they pulled away, there was a discreet celebration from Steve and Robin. "It was about time!" Steve smiled, clapping.

She tucked a strand of hair behind El's ear. "Well, that was unexpected."

Max chuckled, her cheeks still very red, and her eyes sparkling in a way Eleven hadn't seen in a long time.

"I liked it. Can we do it again?"

"Sure, El. As many times as you want."

Max was still as red as a tomato, but she didn't seem upset anymore, Eleven noticed. This time it was El who leaned in and pressed her lips softly against Max's. “Okay.”

(let me know if you are interested in reading Max pov as well.)

#elmax #stranger things #max mayfield #eleven hopper #elmax fanfic #elmax fic #christmas fic #elmax first kiss #mad max #max x eleven #stranger things fanfiction #eleven stranger things #max stranger things

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nyxlaufeyson · 8 days

Text

Hello, World, I'm Your Wild Girl (Pandora's Box)- Chapter 10

Main Masterlist - Pandora's Box Masterlist

A/N: Okay, so uhm this is a chapter I wasn't sure how to go about and it turned into a cliche party fic. Whoopsies. Enjoy the fluff while it lasts. Yes, the chapter name comes from Cherry Bomb by the Runaways.

After that incident, nothing much changed. Pandora avoided the subject at all costs, and Loki didn’t push it. He figured that with time, things would become clearer. He wasn’t going to risk fracturing one of his only friendships.

The next step in Pandora’s new journey was to be introduced to the world. Well, re-introduced. Some of the world already knew her, just under different names. But she was never the center of attention, so it was unlikely anybody would remember Pandora, the bartender Roxie, the waitress Leslie, or any of the other facades Pandora had hid behind.

Unfortunately, the best way to introduce her to the world that Stark could come up with was a party. A party where invitations had been sent out to the press before Pandora even heard a word about it.

When Tony struck her with the news, she looked at him with wide eyes. “A party? To introduce myself to the public? Absolutely not. That’s ridiculous.”

Tony looked at her like she was the one who was being ridiculous. “Why not? I have parties all the time, the press will never see it coming. It’ll be great. And don’t worry, the press and all the other boring people will get cleared out after an hour or so, leaving us to celebrate!”

Pandora shook her head. “Tony, it’s going to be a nightmare. You don’t want me anywhere near the press, I don’t know what to say! ‘Hey, I’m this magical girl that’s been living amongst you with no one the wiser?’ Plus, parties are dumb. I don’t do parties.”

“Don’t worry, my PR team will work with you. Plus, you’re an avenger, you do parties now. It’s part of the job description.” Tony said, tilting his head. “Which, actually, I think Pepper asked me to get you to sign that. Something for the job, I don’t know, just go talk to her about it sometime.”

Natasha, who was sitting nearby, jumped into the conversation. “Don’t worry, there’s been much harder introductions that have been made about members on our team. It’ll be over before you know it. Public opinion isn’t that hard to win over, just ask the PR team. They’ve worked wonders with some of the shit Tony’s done.”

Tony’s eyebrows shot up. “Hey! I never do anything that bad .” He said, but everyone in the room knew that was a lie. He had done some pretty stupid things.

~~~~~

Pandora, Natasha, Wanda, and Pepper weaved in and out of stores, looking for the perfect outfit to make her first appearance to the public. According to the PR team she had been working with the past few weeks, first appearances were everything.

So she tried on all different colors and styles of dresses and suits, looking for the right one. Although, unfortunately, the PR team suggested not wearing a suit for the first appearance. The public could be brutal, even if wearing a suit meant absolutely nothing about anything. That was just how the world worked.

That didn’t stop her from trying on some suits though. She even bought one to keep for a future occasion.

With each dress she tried on, there was always something wrong. The color was off, the waist was too tight, the neckline dipped a little too far. Pandora was about to call it quits for the day until she tried on a beautiful golden dress.

Not quite long enough to touch the floor, it was the perfect length. The color wasn’t an ugly yellow, it was a gold that matched the shimmer that Pandora’s magic sometimes left behind.

When Pandora stepped out of the dressing room, the rest of the girls nodded. “This is the one.” Wanda said without hesitance, and so they bought it. Pandora was relieved to be done with trying on clothes. It was always so exhausting.

They made it back to the tower in time for Pandora to nap off the shopping before her next session with the PR team.

~~~~~

The night of the party, Pandora was nervous. Under regular circumstances, she could drink a little to ease her nerves, but she didn’t want to risk the alcohol making her say something dumb. Especially with the world watching.

Her hair wasn’t in space buns like they typically were, but instead in a singular bun. The front bits of her hair framed her face in waves.

She exited her room and started her walk to the elevator. Loki was also heading to the party, and they met in the hallway.

He flashed her a smile. “You ready?” He asked as they stepped into the elevator. He pressed the button for the second-to-last floor, where the party was being held.

Pandora let out a sigh. “Not really, but I don’t think that matters at this point.” She fiddled with her necklace.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine. Give people just enough truth to keep them satisfied, while fabricating in other elements.” He sounded so well versed in the art of public speaking.

Pandora smirked. “You have experience with lying to the public, mischief?”

Loki smirked right back at her. “You know I do, darling.”

The elevator reached their destination, and they stepped off in sync. They could already hear the music.

As they reached the door, Loki turned to Pandora. “I’ll go in first. Wait a few minutes before you make your entrance. Don’t want the public to see us walk in together. My reputation isn’t the best, and you don’t need nasty rumors already.”

Pandora frowned, but knew that he was right, so she agreed. Loki took one more look at her before he grabbed the handle to the door.

“By the way, you look stunning tonight.” He winked at her. “Good luck.” With that, he opened the door and entered the party. Pandora felt herself blush lightly at his compliment.

After a few minutes, she gathered all the courage she could muster and walked in. Faces turned towards her, and conversations seemed to die down. Pandora took a deep breath and smiled.

Then, once the shock wore off, people were all over her. They shot questions at her and took pictures, crowding around her.

Luckily, Tony saw the struggle and made his way over to her. “Okay people, there’s a designated Q&A later, let her breathe first.” The crowd reluctantly dispersed, and Pandora gave Tony her thanks.

Pandora mingled with both familiar and unfamiliar faces, some friendly, some not. It wasn’t long before Tony came to get her and brought her to the stairs that lead to a small stage with a microphone. He told her to walk on when he signaled, and so he went on first.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” He tapped the mic to ensure that it was working, and the attention of the room shifted to him. “It is with great honor here tonight that we get to welcome the newest member of the Avengers. Please welcome Pandora!”

The crowd clapped and cheered as Pandora walked onto the stage and took her place next to Tony, who cleared his throat to quiet the crowd. “She will now be taking your questions, and please keep the questions appropriate to the situation.”

He gave her a thumbs up and exited the stage, leaving Pandora alone.

Then came the questions. Several people spoke at once, and she could only make out a jumbled mess of words. So she held up a hand, and to her relief, the crowd quieted. She pointed to one of the reporters near the front. “You first.”

The reporter beamed. “How exactly did you become an Avenger?”

Pandora gave a smile that she had practiced in the mirror, as requested by the PR team. “Well, to make a long story short, I ran into some of the other Avengers and we had a misunderstanding of sorts, but I suppose I must have grown on them since I was offered the job.”

She picked out the next person to ask a question. “What do your powers include? What do you bring to the team?”

“I practice an ancient magic that is beyond the reach of most individuals. I can use this to assist in any of my new duties.” Simple and short, not revealing too much information, was exactly the kind of answer she was going for.

There was a short reporter in the back with their hand raised, so Pandora chose them. “Are you Asgardian? Like Thor?”

She shook her head. “I am of a sister race to them, but we are similar in many ways.”

“Do you have any family?” Another person asked.

Pandora inwardly cringed a little at the question. “Not on Earth, no. But I do have family back on my home realm.”

After that, the questions breezed by. She had prepared for the exact questions that the press asked, and for the most part, she didn’t need to think twice before responding. That was, until she got to what would be the last question of the day.

“What size dress are you?”

She froze, caught off guard. Why would anyone want to know? Luckily, Tony took that as his cue to return to the stage. “Alright, everyone, thank you so much for coming tonight, but unfortunately we are out of time for our little Q&A! We hope everyone had a great time.”

He ushered her off the stage and away from the press. She followed him over to an area that was mostly people she was familiar with, as the rest of the crowd began to file out.

Natasha, who was behind the bar, eyed Pandora. “You look like you need a drink. Got any preferences?”

Pandora shook her head. “Surprise me.” She replied, and Natasha sent her a wink.

“Careful, I wouldn’t let her do that if I were you.” Bruce said. “Last time I told her to ‘surprise me,’ she gave me straight up vodka.”

Natasha smirked. “It’s not my fault you can’t handle a little vodka, Banner.”

She handed Pandora a drink, who then took a sip. “Nope, not straight vodka.” She took another sip. “Madras?”

Natasha nodded. “You know your alcohol.”

“Yeah. I was actually a bartender once.” Pandora said, causing several head turns.

Tony cocked an eyebrow. “Bartender, wow! I didn’t see that on your resume.”

Pandora rolled her eyes. “I didn’t even give you a resume, Tony.”

She went and sat on an empty couch, relaxing her head back. She felt the seat beside her dip down, but she neglected to open her eyes at the moment.

She felt someone lean a bit closer to her ear. “You did good tonight, darling. The press is taxing to put up with, unfortunately it is a necessary evil in this world.” Loki said.

She sighed. “You don’t say.” At this point in the night, her bun felt too restraining, so she unpinned her hair and let it fall around her face.

“The press always asks dumb questions. Especially to us girls.” Wanda said with a frown. “I guess that’s the sort of thing that sells.”

Natasha shrugged and took a swig of her drink. “Money makes people do stupid things. You won’t believe the amount of people in this world who don’t have any common sense.”

Pandora laughed. “Believe me, I’ve met quite a few in my travels. Working customer service was a nightmare that I will never do again.”

Clint, who had just started listening, raised an eyebrow. “You worked in customer service?”

She nodded. “Unfortunately. Those are the types of jobs that are easiest to secure. For quite a good reason, too. It’s atrocious.”

“I had a job in retail once.” Tony said, causing everyone to look at him in disbelief. “What? It’s true. My mother told me that I needed to start being productive with my life, so I was like ‘how hard can it be?’ I got a job at some random store down the street.”

Steve laughed. “And how long did that last for?”

Tony shrugged and scratched his head. “A little less than two days.”

Everyone laughed and Tony went on trying to defend himself. “But listen, I had a terrible first day. There was this old lady who came straight up to me and started yelling in my face, and she spit on me! I mean, what was I supposed to do?!”

Pandora contributed to the conversation here and there, but she found herself slowly not paying attention. Once her eyes began to close on their own accord, she decided it was time to head back to her room. “Well guys, I think it’s time for me to call it a night.”

Tony pouted at that. “But you’re not even drunk yet!”

She laughed. “I’m not looking to be here all night, Tony. Besides, that’s not my definition of fun anyways.”

So he gave up and said goodnight, prompting the others to do the same.

“Would you like me to walk you back to your room?” Loki asked from his spot on the couch. He had been engrossed in a conversation with Wanda, and he seemed to be comfortable. He didn’t seem to be that way around the team that often, so Pandora quickly shook her head.

“That’s quite alright, thanks though.” She said, and then slipped out of the room and headed towards her apartment.

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