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#i mean yeah they were up a way in a blimp but still
thatfandomslut · 1 month
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It's a Competition
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Janis Imi'ike / Regina George x Reader
Word Count: 2k
Trigger Warnings: girls competing for reader, not a poly story, a cliffhanger ending (two separate fics to follow)
Request:
Can you do a Janis Imi'ike x fem!reader / Regina George x fem!reader where basically they're just competing for the reader bc she's the prettiest/sweetest girl in school
Mean Girls requests open.
There were several differences between Regina George and Janis Imi'ike. For one, Regina was the school 'it' girl, the queen bee of North Shore High School, but Janis was the school resident art freak. Regina was refined and punctual, and Janis was loud and tardy. However, there was one similarity that caused them to hate each other more than they ever had before. They were both crushing on (Y/n), the school resident's nice girl. She didn't have a mean bone in her body while, let's face it, Regina and Janis had many. Still, their attempts at wooing (Y/n) did not go unnoticed by each other.
"Why are you flirting with (Y/n)?" Regina questioned, slamming Janis's locker shut before she could grab her book. Janis swore that Regina almost caused her to lose a finger that day. Regina's perfectly glossed lips adorned a sickly sweet smile as her eyes trailed over Janis menacingly. But, Janis wasn't one to back down from Regina's will. Instead, she narrowed her eyes, looking up at her. "Just so you know, (Y/n) is my future girlfriend, and you aren't going to ever get with her. I'm sorry to be the one to break it to you. You're just not good enough for her."
Janis scoffed at this, crossing her arms. Damian stepped behind her just as Gretchen and Karen found themselves behind Regina. It was as if a turf war was brewing, even if (Y/n) wasn't property. "Right, Regina and you are? Your ego has made your head swell to the size of the Hindenburg blimp. Just a reminder, it caught fire. Just back off." Janis stated, a scowl forming on her face. She didn't care if Regina tried to scare her out of her relationship with (Y/n), it wouldn't work. She had just as much of a chance as Regina. Only, at least Janis wasn't terrorizing the entire campus.
Regina's brow quirked up at Janis's words and her smile fell into a frown as she glowered at Janis intensely. "So, it's a competition then?" She inquired, already knowing that her competitor wouldn't back down. She wasn't going to just allow Janis to ask (Y/n) out without wooing her herself. Regina honestly didn't think Janis had a chance, though. After all, as everyone knew, Regina was hot, rich, and powerful. Janis Imi'ike could not compare to Regina George in any sense. And, if Regina was going to have to prove this, so be it.
A smirk tugged at Janis's lips as she glanced back at Damian who gave her a nod. Leaning against the lockers, she examined the situation she had put herself into. "Yeah, Regina, sure. It's a competition." Janis confirmed, letting the words sink into the air as Regina's face grew a shade of red and anger began to seep into her chest. The tension between them grew thicker after the bell rang. Before a word could be shared between them, Ms. Norbury called them out for not heading to class. Regina sent a final glare Janis's way before Janis opened her locker again to grab her textbook before class. A class that she happened to share with (Y/n).
"I can't believe you challenged Regina George," Damian said as he waited for Janis to collect her things. Neither of them cared too much if they were late for chemistry. Their teacher also didn't care, as long as they made it within the first twenty minutes and weren't loud. Janis snickered at his words causing him to raise his brows at her. "You do realize that Regina is ruthless, right? She's going to make your life a living hell… Again."
Janis narrowed her eyes at him for a moment at the 'again' but sighed softly since she knew he was right. "I'm not going to let her bully me out of my chance with (Y/n). She's not Regina's property, you know?" Janis said, closing her locker and then locking it. She looked over to Damian who was giving her a stare that she knew all too well. "I know she isn't my property, either, and the competition is dumb, but I really like her Damian. I'm not just going to dismiss my feelings just because Regina thinks she is the only one that (Y/n) can date." Janis defended herself, walking to their class. When they entered, Janis immediately smiled at (Y/n) who waved over at her, and Damian had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes.
Of course, Damian was happy for his friend and (Y/n), even though they weren't official. He genuinely likes (Y/n). She was sweet and kind, and she was everyone's friend. (Y/n) was the perfect floater. The problem was, that Damian couldn't stand Janis starting a competition that was only going to get her in trouble.
The entirety of class for Janis was spent flirting with an oblivious (Y/n) until the bell rang. "What are you going to have for lunch?" She inquired as they walked down the hall. She hoped she could convince (Y/n) to eat lunch with them, however; this plan would soon be thwarted as Regina made her way over with her usual smirk that she wore when she bests someone. Janis wanted to knock the smirk off Regina's face as (Y/n) greeted the blonde happily. If Janis didn't find (Y/n) so cute, she would curse her for her oblivious nature.
"Hey, (Y/n)," Regina all but purred into the girl's ear. The action made Damian and Janis shudder as they looked at each other with two different emotions. Damian looked perplexed while Janis looked annoyed. Of course, Regina would swoop in like that. Janis wanted to curse herself for not asking if (Y/n) wanted to have lunch with her during their class. As predicted, Regina asks her to eat with her, which (Y/n) accepts happily. "Great, I already got you your lunch. Gretchen, Karen, and Cady are already at the table. We can go ahead and meet them there."
(Y/n) gave Janis and Damian a small wave as she followed Regina. Janis was about to groan in disappointment when she realized something. She could have Cady help her cause. That's basically what she was doing already. "What if we got Cady to talk me up to (Y/n)? We can have her tell her how great I am and she'll fall for me." Janis decided with a wide grin before walking into the cafeteria with Damian hot on her heels as he shook his head. Damian wanted Janis to win, too, but she was beginning to get obsessive.
At the lunch table, Regina flirted easily, flipping her hair over her shoulder. She made sure to laugh at anything remotely funny that came out of (Y/n)'s mouth as her hand fell gently on (Y/n)'s knee. From her peripheral, she watched Janis's eyes narrow to her. But Regina was unphased as she continued to flirt shamelessly. It was no secret from the school that (Y/n) was the girl who held all of Regina's attention and affection, that is why she found it even more infuriating when Janis decided that she should also flirt with (Y/n). But Regina worked too hard to allow Janis to win this stupid competition of (Y/n)'s heart.
"You look really pretty in that pink sweater, (Y/n). It really brings out your eyes." Regina stated, running a hand down (Y/n)'s arm gently. She was definitely more of a hands-on flirt versus Janis's approach of standing six feet away and pining. Regina decided that she had this competition in the bag as long as Janis stayed her six-foot distance. "Maybe we can go shopping this weekend. I have so many outfit ideas for you if you'll allow me to pick out some outfits for you."
(Y/n) smiled a bit, not backing away from Regina's touch, but she also didn't know that Regina was flirting with her. To be frank, she didn't even notice Janis flirting with her in their chemistry class. "I can see if my mom would be okay with me going. I wouldn't mind the hangout. I just don't know if my mom and I have the funds to actually buy anything right now. We're saving up for my Spring Fling dress." (Y/n) spoke thoughtfully, shrugging a bit. Her mom didn't want her to work during school so she could study and have fun. There was always the summer if (Y/n) chose, but she wasn't forced to.
Regina waved her hands as if she was swatting an imaginary fly as (Y/n) spoke. "No, no, I would buy you the outfits. You won't have to worry about a thing." Regina is a big spoiler. Even if she came off as mean, she bought various gifts for her friends. It was her giving love language, gifts. Though, if she is receiving love, she prefers words of affirmation. With her father's credit card, she was unstoppable when it came to buying the best gifts for her friends. She even took Cady shopping so she would stop looking like she was mirroring the 2010 fashion statement of flannels. Now, Cady looked amazing. However, (Y/n) already looked amazing, she just wanted to spoil her.
(Y/n)'s cheeks tinged pink as she looked down slightly. "Regina, I can't take your money." She said softly, staring at a spot on the floor. She didn't want to disrespect Regina's offer, but she also wasn't the best at receiving gifts. It made her feel bad.
Regina gently took (Y/n)'s chin with her finger and her thumb, allowing her to have (Y/n) look up at her. "It's no trouble at all. Maybe, we can exchange an outfit for one of those cute sweaters you crochet. Would that be a good deal for you?" Regina questioned, knowing that (Y/n) loved to crochet cardigans and sweaters. It was a win-win. She got to spoil (Y/n) and receive something sweet and homemade from her in return. Regina felt satisfied with her deal-making skills. It seemed (Y/n) did, too, as she simply nodded in Regina's touch.
"Okay, we can do that." She agreed with a kind smile. The kind of smile that made Regina's icy heart melt with warmth. She let go of (Y/n)'s chin gently before glancing at Gretchen and Karen. Gretchen was intentionally looking in every other direction than theirs as Karen sat there with a wide smile, watching the exchange, and Cady was just staring at the table not knowing what to do. As the bell rang, signaling that lunch was now over, Regina gave (Y/n) a hug as they separated from their classrooms. Regina cursed whoever made their schedules so opposite as she headed to the opposite side of the building from her.
As Regina walked away with Gretchen, Cady, and Karen behind her, she abruptly stopped, almost causing a collision. "This weekend, I'm going to ask her to Spring Fling." She said with a small, determined smirk playing on her lips. Regina wasn't going to allow Janis the opportunity to steal whatever was building between her and (Y/n), and she was going to make the first move. "Checkmate, Janis Imi'ike." She muttered as she entered her history class. Cady glanced at Regina before looking back to where they had just left (Y/n) behind for her class.
Cady Heron was now the person who either helped Regina or Janis accomplish their goal of asking (Y/n) to be their girlfriend officially. She knew she needed to get ahold of Janis as soon as possible, wanting to help her friend. She wasn't sure exactly who to be loyal to, but she knew that Janis at least deserved to hear Regina's plan so she could come up with her own. As her loyalty wavered with Regina, it strengthened with Janis as she texted her once she sat down for her class.
Regina's Ending | Janis's Ending
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cowpokeomens · 4 months
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How do you think would Noah be in the dating phase realistically?
Shy? A gentleman? Open and forward?
So you said realistically and I think I have a very different opinion on Noah and romance than seems to be the popular opinion on here, so like, disclaimer for that lmao also I definitely have familiarized myself with this man’s birth chart so if you don’t like astrology bs this might be annoying to you, anyways!!
I think he’d be sooooo charming, if he was interested in you in any way. Like, almost in a slimy way- you can’t tell if he speaks to all romantic prospects this way, or if it’s just you. I do not think he’d be up front about his feelings at all, and I daresay he might even have some difficulty labeling those feelings. Regardless of your personality, you’re a fully fleshed person with your own thoughts and feelings, and I think his little control freak ass would have a difficult time coping with the fact that you’re not gonna follow the script he made in his head. If he really liked you- not just lusted after you- it would take a lot of confrontations with himself and his own tendencies towards romantic partners (I’m looking at you, internalized misogyny!) before he’d come around to realizing he really does enjoy your company and not your 😏company😏. So like, all that aside: I think he’d be devoted if he could just Get Over Himself. He thinks vulnerability = weakness, so he’d be against PDA that can convey how gently he touches you, how soft his eyes get when you speak to him. Sitting in his lap while he nibbles on your ear? Whatever. Holding hands as you walk through an airport? Absolutely the fuck not, he’s no softie. You’d have to really wanna tear down those walls because he seems like a big stubborn idiot. He is NOT clear about what he’s feeling (he’s an Aquarius moon right? Yeah.) but his personality leans towards flirtation, so he gives you all these signs that he’s so open and available and then you ask one probing question and down come the gates. He has no problem showing the world he wants to fuck you, but feels weird showing the world that he cares for you very deeply. I think this is all really conflicting with the fact that he does feel real emotions for you, and he feels them big. He’s a grand gesture guy when he can get out of his own head, like 100-roses and fireworks and a blimp with your name on it grand gesture. So his friends are like “he said they were just casual?” as you’re there, 6 months into a relationship, holding your 100 roses and talking about moving in together at the end of the year. By no means do I think Noah is a terrible awful human, or I wouldn’t write for him, but I think he has some real issues to work out as a human being before he’d be a good romantic partner. But if he got those issues worked out? He’d worship you. Says he loves you 10000 times a day, cooks every meal for you, massages your feet when you get home from work, would give the best, most meaningful compliments. Like, “you’re so pretty” goes out the window when he looks at you and says “I love how you see to the heart of things and understand what I’m trying to say so well.” I still hate him though.
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What Do You See?
Wheeljack leaned against a wall, throwing a grenade up into the air and catching it.
Bulkhead glanced at the oil barrel he was holding, then he slowly started to mimic his teammate—throwing the barrel and catching it, slow at first and going faster as he gained confidence.
Ratchet just watched the two from this seat on the couch, his optic twitching. The field-tech wasn’t sure who he wanted to yell at first:
Wheeljack, for not only playing with a fraggin’ grenade but doing it indoors,
or Bulkhead, for actually thinking that the Wrecker was a good role model.
Wheeljack had been living the team for about a month by that point, and Ratchet was willing to admit that the other mech was intelligent and even reliable after the assembly-line incident—but you can be book-intelligent and trustworthy, even a good warrior with a pair a swords to swing, and still be really fraggin’ stupid.
“Wheeljack,” Prowl spoke up before Ratchet had the chance, and the Wrecker caught the grenade and looked at the cyber-ninja with a raised optic-brow. “Do you… do that often?”
“Do wh-?” Wheeljack blinked before he glanced at the grenade, then at the ninja-‘bot… then back at the grenade. “… Oh.”
“… Please, tell me you knew you were doing that,” Ratchet said, sitting back in his seat on the couch and feeling as though he had aged a million years in less than a second.
Wheeljack looked at him awkwardly. “Heh… Old habits die hard, I guess.”
“Why is that an old habit?!”
“Alright, alright,” Optimus cut in, and everyone looked at him. “I think that we’re all still getting used to our new living situation.” He looked at Wheeljack. “Um, if-… If you could please… try to be a little careful, with that?”
“Yeah.” Wheeljack nodded, seeming genuinely embarrassed. “Right… Sorry, ‘bout that.”
Optimus looked away from the Wrecker. “We have a lot to learn about each other, and we also still have a lot to learn about Earth customs—which is what I wanted to talk to you about.” He crossed his arms. “We’ve been here a month now, and it seems our adjustment has reached a standstill—so, I’m just going to put this out there: I believe that the best way to learn about Earth is to keep our optical and auditory sensors open.”
“Prime’s right.” Wheeljack placed his grenade at his hip and crossed his arms. “In my experience, the best way is to learn from a human and go see the sights yourself—even if you hafta keep a low profile. I traveled around my own Earth for about six months, saw a lot in that time—and then did a lot of bridging with the team after.”
“Really?” Prowl looked at him, surprised. “You must have seen a great deal.”
Wheeljack shrugged. “Yeah, I guess I covered a bit of ground. Mostly stayed on this continent, though.” His brow furrowed after he said that. “… We are on North America, right?”
Bulkhead shrugged. “Are we?”
“… Different reality. I’ll double-check,” Wheeljack told them. “But I’ll admit: while I was solo, I was mostly a scout and saboteur—busted up a lot of ‘Con minin’ operations—and contact with the humans was strictly off-limits to maintain cover. When the team regrouped, it was at the start of an intense campaign. No time for sight-seein’.” He huffed out a laugh. “And as we’ve just seen, I’m not entirely sure of how much of what I learned in my universe carries over. I mean, just look at how different we seem.” He frowned. “Humans don’t seem too different, but I don’t recall all these robots or blimps in their cities.”
“So, even you have a lot to learn,” Optimus said, and the Wrecker did not protest.
Bulkhead lit up. “Well, let’s get started!”
His winglets folded and molded underneath him to make a ‘chair’, and he tucked a leg up.
Wheeljack just blinked. “… How in-?”
“Yours don’t do that?” Ratchet joked.
The Wrecker glanced at him. “He-? I can’t figure out how that was physically possible!”
As Prowl held up the remote and turned the television on, Bulkhead stabbed a pipe into his oil barrel and bent it to make a straw. “We’ve got over five-thousand channels to monitor here!” The green mech took a sip of his oil, then he cringed in sympathy as he saw an advertisement on the television where a human was refueling their car. “That looks like that hurts.”
Wheeljack was just watching Bulkhead drink his oil, an optic-brow raised. “… Yeah…”
Ratchet was genuinely starting to get concerned about the biological differences he was dealing with. This was way above his paygrade.
Suddenly, there was a loud crashing sound on the television—and Wheeljack’s face was lighting up as two cars smashed against each other.
Meanwhile, Prowl gasped and recoiled—looking deeply disturbed. “Not as much as that.”
Wheeljack looked a bit disappointed when Prowl changed the channel, but again did not protest.
Ratchet just shook his head.
Of course, the Wrecker loved bloodsport…
But when the field-tech saw the other mech cast a second glance at their cyber-ninja, making a subtle check-in, his expression softened a bit.
Ratchet didn’t consider Wheeljack to be a good role model for the young ‘bots—too reckless, wild, violent even—but it would be wrong to say that the Wrecker didn’t care about them.
He showed it small, quiet ways.
The next channel Prowl stopped at showed a man in a long coat with a microphone in his hand. He stood on some sort of dimly-lit stage surrounded by a crowd, and Wheeljack seemed to think that he recognized whatever the setup was because he sighed and leaned back against his wall.
But then, the man started talking.
:Have you ever wanted to be thinner, taller, faster, even stronger?: The man asked, then he gestured as two pictures appeared. :Well, these people did!: The pictures changed. :And they turned their dreams into reality! And you can do that too, with my biochemical makeover!:
“Body-shamin’ scam,” Wheeljack said flatly, and everyone looked at him in surprise. “… Human marketin’ tactic. They make folks, especially the young ones, feel bad about their bodies so that they buy their products.” The Wrecker shook his head. “The kids back home explained it to me, and -heh- you should’ve heard the rant one of the adults went on. I swear, human or ‘bot, all our medics were forces of fraggin’ nature.”
“As they should be,” Ratchet found himself grumbling in agreement, and he could have sworn he saw Wheeljack grin at him.
“Hm.” Optimus smiled, then he looked at the television and shook his head. “But human upgrades? What will they think of next?”
Wheeljack snorted. “They’ve already thought of it, Prime. Patent’s just pendin’.”
:Hi, there.: The man on the screen grinned. :I’m Prometheus Black, and I can transform you! If you’re still not convinced- Well, then you better watch one of my bio-enhanced success stories in action!: The crowds surrounding the stage cheered. :You see them every day. They clean your house, they teach your children, and they take your jobs—but tonight, man will triumph over machine in a fight to the finish!:
“What RAM-damaged, programming-impaired ‘bot would agree to be in such a degrading spectacle?” Ratchet asked, annoyed.
Wheeljack suddenly cringed. “Never say somethin’ like that, Doc-‘Bot.”
“Why not?” Bulkhead looked at him, confused.
Wheeljack rolled his optics. “Because movie rules. If you ask what idiot is doin’ the thing, it’s always gonna be your idiot doin’ the thing.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Optimus scoffed, smiling teasingly at the Wrecker as he crossed his arms.
Wheeljack looked at the Prime. “… Head-count, boss.” He gestured to the screen with his thumb. “Then, get a load of the coach.”
Optimus blinked, then he looked around the room. “… Wait a minute…”
Ratchet peered at the television, noting the red-haired figure dressed in orange who was standing beside the hooded machine challenger… and the field-tech sighed as Prowl groaned and rested his face in one of his servos.
Wheeljack nodded. “Yeah…”
Prometheus gestured. :Representing the machines, I give you BUMBLEBEE!:
“Yeah.” Wheeljack was grinning wryly as Bulkhead spat out his oil. “Told ya.” The Wrecker raised an optic-brow as he glanced away from the yellow mech on the screen and looked at the team’s Prime expectantly. “So… are we just gonna sit here, or are we gonna go save our idiot?”
“… Autobots.” Optimus sighed, closing his optics. “Just… transform and roll out.”
“Now, hold on just a second,” Ratchet protested. “Is he even in trouble?”
Prometheus gestured again, giving a devious smile.. :And representing the humans, I give you Cyrus ‘the Colossus’ Rhodes!:
A small, frail looking man shuffled forward. He had pale green skin, and implants in his back.
“That’s a human?” Bulkhead wondered.
Prowl frowned. “Must be a new model.”
:Good luck, and let the best man win!:
Wheeljack blinked, then his optics narrowed. “Guys, I don’t like this.” He looked at Optimus. “Listen to me, we need to go.”
Optimus looked at him, surprised. “What is it?”
“Remember what I told you? Back on my Earth, there were nasty humans that had a grudge-match with ‘Bots and ‘Cons alike,” Wheeljack informed him. “What if this is where that starts here? They targeted-!” The Wrecker stopped himself. Ratchet saw him glance at the screen. Then, Wheeljack looked at Optimus again. “… I just think we should be careful.”
A chill went down Ratchet’s spine.
It was the way the Wrecker spoke, and how quickly he could change it. It was a snap.
Wheeljack could be a little odd, especially when he was reminded of home—get real serious out of nowhere when the situation really should’ve been nothing too serious, have these odd looks on his face when someone said something that rubbed him wrong—but since his first day, the Wrecker mostly kept to himself. It was like he still lived in another reality, and kept that wall up.
Who was he protecting?
Himself, or them?
Prowl blamed introversion, and called attention to the uneven power dynamics and the lack of trust they had shown the Wrecker who had put all of his faith in their team. The cyber-ninja’s first intervention taught them to formally invite him into their casual settings. The aftermath of Sari’s slumber-party had made him more comfortable with entering them by himself, though he tended to stand against a wall rather than sit—a watcher rather than a participant, an outsider.
When he was with them though, unless he was in one of those rare moments when the warrior or the engineer came out, he wasn’t a serious mech. He was all wit and dry remarks, snark and jokes, sarcasm and shock humor—that was what they had learned about the Wrecker, so far.
This was the warrior, showing himself.
And he was afraid of something.
It showed—he’d gone from all casual and jokey, going ‘round in circles and teasing, to being quiet and speaking in a stiff, grave tone. It was like he thought they were under a sniper’s scope, or standing on a minefield—and his whole being went still, his frame winding like a spring.
So, Ratchet found himself on-edge—one veteran ready to trust the instincts of another… because, the more he got to know Wheeljack, the more it seemed to the field-tech that the younger mech had seen more than it looked on his face.
Pretty much all young mechs on Cybertron these days were raised to serve their planet. They grew up to go into the boot camps, and from there they would be divided into military or labor.
They were all ‘soldiers’ in mind, in their own ways—the protocols etched into their habits, itching to prove themselves. Ratchet could just remember a time before the war when it wasn’t quite like that, and he knew there were few left like him.
But Wheeljack?
He spoke like he had seen true war.
He talked about a unit being used for fodder with a sick sense of nostalgia, a fond smile and a jaded knowing that none of these kids with their rose-colored glasses could possibly fathom.
That warrior was a soldier, one of a rare kind—the kind that were either drowning their sorrows at Maccadam’s, confined to a ward or the stockade because they couldn’t take it, missing and likely never to be found, or otherwise silenced.
Wheeljack spoke like he was one of them. Any of them. As young as he looked, ancient.
And that terrified Ratchet. He saw so much as a field-tech, before Project Omega.
What did a Wrecker see?
“… Freaky science with corpses,” the young Prime murmured, his optics going wide, and Wheeljack nodded. “… Different universe.”
Wheeljack raised his shoulders. “Well, differences aside: there’s fraggin’ two of me.”
There was suddenly a scream.
Everyone looked back at the screen to see that the little, frail looking human had grown into a muscled giant and picked Bumblebee up—and with a single punch, he knocked the yellow mech out of the view of the cameras.
“And there’s the freaky science,” Wheeljack said, his optics wide. “Let’s move!”
“Transform and roll out!” Optimus agreed, this time with much more urgency.
No one was inclined to argue.
It didn’t take long to reach the arena.
They recognized it by the hole in the roof, and the enormous biochemically-enhanced human trying to squash their teammate in the parking lot.
Colossus was truly living up to his name. He was around Bulkhead’s size, perhaps even larger.
And while Bumblebee laid on the ground, injured and defenseless, Colossus picked up a car and held it over his head—then, he actually threw it.
Luckily, Ratchet moved—using his magnets to catch the falling vehicle. “Looks like you’re in over your head again, kid!”
Bumblebee looked up at the field-tech, surprised, then the young mech’s optics narrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?!”
“Mute it,” Optimus told him sharply, and Ratchet noticed Wheeljack shooting a look at the Prime and clenching his fists. What was that all about? “We’ve got bigger problems.”
“Wh-What?” Bumblebee stammered out as he stood. “Bigger than me?!”
Optimus got a bewildered look on his face. “What are you talking about?”
Meanwhile, Wheeljack had stepped between the team and Colossus.
“Well, now.” The Wrecker raised an optic-brow. “You ever hear the ol’ sayin’: the bigger they are, the harder they fall?”
“You think you can take me, machine?!” The massive human snarled.
“Uh, yeah.” Wheeljack smirked, raising his shoulders. “Obviously.”
Colossus threw a punch, and Wheeljack easily side-stepped to dodge it and threw a punch at the human’s exposed stomach—landing it and knocking the air out of the man.
Colossus looked up again, growling, and clasped his hands together to swing them both at the Wrecker’s side—but Wheeljack merely ducked beneath the giant’s swing and then jumped back when both fists came right at him and struck the ground, cracking the concrete apart.
Wheeljack landed on his servos and flipped back onto his feet with a grace that Ratchet had always assumed only Prowl possessed, as far as their team was concerned. They had learned because of Prowl that Wheeljack was unnaturally quiet and graceful, but that was on another level.
How could a such big ‘bot move like a little one? He was no Decepticon warframe, but still!
Ratchet was getting more worried about the differences in their biology all the time, especially since the Wrecker was so damn reckless!
Wheeljack crouched as Colossus came running at him, smiling deviously and resting one servo on the ground, then he suddenly moved—kicking up and spinning around on the heel of his palm to both evade his charging opponent before he swung his leg to sweep the enhanced human’s legs out and send him falling onto his face.
That just made Colossus angrier, and he stood up straight and snapped at the Wrecker: “Stand still and fight, you coward!”
Wheeljack snorted as he stood up again as well and easily avoided a clumsy kick, resting his servos on his hips as he backed away—turning his body and dodging ill-coordinated punches. “And give you an easy target? I didn’t know you wanted to play on ‘easy mode’!”
Colossus practically howled in rage and charged at Wheeljack, but the Wrecker side-stepped and landed a punch on the center of the human’s back—causing him to fall flat on his face again.
“Heh.” Wheeljack grinned, then he looked over at the rest of the team. “How’s Bumblebee?”
Ratchet was examining the young mech’s arm. “A little battered, but he’ll live.”
Bumblebee looked at the field-tech indignantly, his fists clenching. “Okay, really?! Can you please just not, with the phrasing?!”
Ratchet raised an optic-brow, then it really clicked for him what had gotten into the young mech and he huffed. “Oh, for-…”
Wheeljack blinked, then he must have noticed as well because he sighed. “Oh, no.”
Ratchet glanced back at him, annoyed. “Will you please prioritize?! I’ll handle this!”
Colossus was staggering to his feet behind the Wrecker, and Bulkhead noticed and ran forward to meet him. “Time for the big guns!”
Bulkhead collided with Colossus head-on and overpowered him, knocking the bio-enhanced human down and into the pavement.
“Oh! Just rub it in, why don’t you?!” Bumblebee threw his arms up in frustration.
“What?” Bulkhead looked up at his old platoon-mate, confused. “What did I say?”
Colossus suddenly threw Bulkhead off of him, and the green mech landed on a parked van—causing the vehicle’s alarm to go off.
Colossus reacted to this, reaching up to grip the sides of his head as the marks on his skin flashed and the implants on his back sparked.
Seeing an opportunity, Prowl threw his shurikens and struck the implants—and Colossus dropped to his knees as he rapidly shrank back into a withered old man before collapsing.
“Good thinking, Prowl!” Optimus commended the cyber-ninja. “Way to cut him down to size!”
Instead of commenting on the praise, Prowl went over to Bumblebee and lightly swatted the back of his head. “Next time, use your head. Find your foe’s weakness and strike there.”
Bulkhead smirked, walking over and tapping the side of Bumblebee’s head. “If you can reach it.”
Wheeljack blinked, then his optics narrowed as he crossed his arms. “Hey, that’s enough.”
No one seemed to pay the Wrecker any mind.
“Oh, right. I get it.” Bumblebee crossed his arms as he shrunk in on himself (no joke intended) and glared up at Bulkhead. “‘Cause I’m short.”
Bulkhead chuckled at the reaction. “What? I’m just busting your bumpers, little buddy!”
“Wh-Why does it have to be ‘little buddy’?!” Bumblebee demanded, closing in on himself all the more. “Why can’t it just be ‘buddy’?!”
Ratchet scooped Sari up when she came running up through a row of parked cars, then he looked at Bulkhead. “What’s with him?”
Of course, the field-tech knew fully well what was going on. He just figured that Bumblebee was being a little too sensitive.
So, he was a small model. Tricky to operate on, but what was the big deal?
“Oh, he’s just mad ‘cause he… came up a little short!” Bulkhead replied—then he, Ratchet, and Sari all burst out laughing.
Bumblebee stamped his foot, frustrated. “Okay, now: you’re doing it on purpose!”
It was then that Wheeljack walked over and stood next to the yellow mech. “I said, that’s enough.”
And it amazed Ratchet, how quickly the laughter cut off after the Wrecker spoke.
Whatever this side of the Wrecker was, it was new—some mysterious third thing, serious but not the emergence of the warrior or engineer.
The closest comparison Ratchet could link to it was a brief flash he saw, about a week before.
Prowl had one of his nature documentaries on, and it had been Bumblebee who had snatched the remote and laughed at the look on the cyber-ninja’s face as he changed the channel. The rest of the team merely smiled and shook their heads.
But Wheeljack had stood up from his place at the wall, silently walked over, grabbed the remote off of the table in one of those big and jagged servos, changed the channel back to the documentary, and set the remote on the table again.
The room had gone silent as the Wrecker went back to his previous spot, crossed his arms, and acted as though he had never moved at all. The documentary played on, and everyone just let it—acting like nothing had happened.
But Ratchet had seen something, a flash in the Wrecker’s optics—a silent “I dare you” that swept across the room as he walked back.
This was more than a flash.
This was a boldfaced dare.
“Easy, Wheeljack.” Optimus smiled nervously as he stepped in and held a servo up in a placating gesture. “I think they’re just yanking Bumblebee’s chain. No harm done.”
Wheeljack frowned. “That’s not up to you or them to decide, Prime.” He looked down at Bumblebee. “He’s been tellin’ ‘em to stop.” He looked back at the other members of the team. “So, you stop.”
Bumblebee looked up at Wheeljack, his optics wide. “Wheeljack?”
“You’re taking the kid’s side?” Ratchet asked, genuinely bewildered, then he gestured to the arena. “An hour ago, you were right there with us—calling him an idiot for joining this farce.”
“Poor decisions are one thing. That’s on you, it’s fair game,” Wheeljack insisted, then he glanced down at Bumblebee with a smirk. “Pro-wrestlin’, kid? Really?” The younger mech huffed, and the Wrecker snorted before looking back at the other members of the team. That strange, serious look returned. “… This is different, and you know it.”
And frag, that struck a chord.
Ratchet blinked, surprised, then frowned as he actually had to fight an urge to look away from the Wrecker and his narrowed optics.
But Wheeljack wasn’t done with them yet. “He’s a kid, and he’s supposed to be your teammate. So, yeah: I am takin’ his side when you’re goin’ after him for no damn reason other than just feelin’ like it... Now, is there a problem with that?”
“… Just with how scary you look when you’re angry,” Bulkhead admitted, his optics wide.
Sari nodded shakily. “Yeah. Yeesh.”
Wheeljack blinked, his expression immediately softening a bit, then he sighed before raising an optic-brow. “If that’s what you’re takin’ away from this, you’re kinda missin’ the point.”
Ratchet agreed with him there.
Especially since he didn’t entirely agree with what they’d decided. The look on Wheeljack’s face, it had been severe—but not rage.
Ratchet… actually hadn’t ever seen the Wrecker’s rage. Frustration, sure. Not rage.
And again, that day… Wheeljack was showing his care in silent ways no one noticed.
Checking on on Prowl after the cyber-ninja had been startled by crashing cars on TV.
And adjusting his facial expression the moment he realized it had scared a couple of kids.
“Hey, man,” Bumblebee finally spoke up, and the Wrecker looked down at him. The young mech was frowning. “I think they’re done.” He reached up and grabbed Wheeljack’s arm. Ratchet saw Bulkhead almost jump, almost like the large mech thought touching the Wrecker would give his best friend cosmic rust. “Let’s just head home.”
“… Alright.” Wheeljack nodded after a moment, his shoulders lowering. Ratchet hadn’t even noticed that they had stayed raised since the fight against Colossus. The Wrecker glanced at his arm as Bumblebee let go, then gave a small grin. “How about we make it a race?”
Bumblebee managed a smirk. “Oh, you’re on.”
Optimus frowned. “Now, hold on-”
It was too late.
Before the Prime could really protest, the Wrecker and the team’s youngest member transformed and left the rest of the team in the dust.
“… That was rather deliberate,” Prowl decided.
Ratchet glanced at him. “Picked up on that, did you?” He glanced off after the two departed ‘bots and shook his head. “Touched a nerve.”
What nerve, Ratchet did not know.
He just knew that, whatever this third side of the Wrecker was… as serious and chilling as it could be… he’d decided what else it was.
Strange as it seemed, the field-tech couldn’t think of a better word than gentle.
Wheeljack let him win.
Bumblebee knew because he wasn’t feeling it, not really. He barely tried.
Towards the end, he even tried to throw the race—but he still somehow won.
And Bumblebee’d had enough.
“Kid,” the Wrecker tried, transforming back at the Plant’s front door while Bumblebee was already making his way through the base’s main room and towards the door to the hallway.
The others weren’t back yet.
They had left the television on, and the news was covering the incident at the arena.
Great.
“Forget it, Wheeljack,” Bumblebee muttered, his fists clenching at his sides. “I’m tired.”
“Hey.” A large servo grabbed his shoulder. How was Wheeljack so fast? He’d lied, that night with the assembly line! “We’re talkin’ about this.”
Bumblebee looked back at him, annoyed. “No offense, but I really don’t need to hear a pep talk from the second-biggest ‘bot on the team.”
Wheeljack frowned as Bumblebee pulled away from him and turned away again, then sighed and lowered his servo. “It’s not about how big you are. It’s about how you use what size you’ve got.”
The younger mech scoffed. “Like you’d know.”
Wheeljack was quiet as Bumblebee started walking again, then… “Bumblebee.” For some reason, there was something in the Wrecker’s voice that made him stop. “… I do.”
“Huh?” Bumblebee blinked, then he looked back with a raised optic-brow. “What?”
Wheeljack just looked at him, then he sighed again. “See, the thing is… where I’m from, I’m-… Well, I’m-… Heh.” The Wrecker smirked tiredly. “… I ain’t exactly reachin’ the top shelf myself.”
Bumblebee turned around. “Wait, what?”
“Ugh.” Wheeljack reached up to massage the space between his optics, his free servo resting on his hip. “For example… I’m about six and a half meters and-…” He lowered his servo and looked at Bumblebee in exasperation. “My, uh… My commander is three meters taller than me.”
“… What?” Bumblebee honestly didn’t think that he had heard that right.
Wheeljack cringed. “Honestly, second year with him leadin’, I think he figured I was avoidin’ lookin’ at him just to be a pain. Really? It was partly that, but I also had the worst fraggin’ crick in my neck. You wouldn’t believe-”
“What?!” Bumblebee raised his servos to his mouth, stifling something that was a mixture of a laugh and a scream, then he lowered them and pointed at his teammate in disbelief. “You-?! But-?!” He lowered his servos, his optics wide. “Oh, frag—that is terrifying. You’re what passes for a little guy, where you’re from?”
Wheeljack gestured. “Mm. Low average.”
Bumblebee smirked. “No offense, but that’s exactly what a little guy would say.”
“Ugh.” The Wrecker rolled his optics. “Why am I tryna help you, again?
Bumblebee crossed his arms. “What’s average, where you’re from?”
“Hm.” Wheeljack rested both of his servos on his hips. “… Before the war, it was-… It was closer to seven or eight meters, I’m thinkin’.”
“News flash: you’re short,” Bumblebee told him, grinning, and Wheeljack sighed. Then, the yellow mech grew serious. “Wait, before the war?”
Wheeljack blinked, then he looked away. “… Big guys may be able to take more hits, but they also make bigger targets.” He glanced at Bumblebee again, and he shrugged. “Things kinda leaned closer to seven by the time it all cooled off, and… our leader, one of our medics, and most of what remained of the Wreckers were bigger ‘bots.” He shook his head. “This Wrecker, our warriors, our other medic, our scout? No. Somewhere in the smoke, it all just… evened-out, somehow.”
“… You were still short, though,” Bumblebee finally decided, putting on a weak grin.
It was the right move.
Because Wheeljack smiled at him, reaching over and gently nudging his arm. “Yeah, yeah.” He let out a little laugh, then sighed and grew serious again. “But the point is… I fight like a little guy. That’s how I took on Colossus, back there. And if you wanna learn the tricks for how to take down enemies who are bigger than you-”
Bumblebee’s optics widened. “You’d teach me?”
“I can show you the ropes,” Wheeljack said, then he shrugged. “And why not?” He put on another smirk. “Just… never mention the-” He reached up and gestured above his head. “Yeah.”
Bumblebee snorted, then nodded. “Deal. Little guys gotta look out for each other, right? At least, until we get you home and everyone gets to see for themselves. Can’t help, then.”
Wheeljack chuckled. “True enough. Now, get some rest. We start in the mornin’.”
Bumblebee watched as the Wrecker went to turn away, then he shifted uncomfortably in place.
Something had started eating at him…
“Big guys may be able to take more hits, but they also make bigger targets.”
“Hey, Wheeljack?” He asked, and the Wrecker looked back. “Your commander… He make it?”
Wheeljack blinked, then he nodded. “Yeah. Oh, yeah. I think I -uh- might’ve mentioned-…”
Bumblebee raised an optic-brow, confused. “Wait, what? What do you m-?”
“Late for patrols, again. My commander, he-… He’s gonna have my head.”
The yellow mech cringed.
“Ooh… Right.” Bumblebee looked at the Wrecker sympathetically. “Three meters taller than you and after your head. That’s rough, man.”
Wheeljack snorted. “No, no. My commander, he can be a strict pain in the aft, but… he’s a good guy, really. Took some pretty heavy hits towards the end of the war, lookin’ out for… his soldiers.” His fists clenched at his sides, then they fell open as he gave a small, sad smile. “He was our final commander for a reason: we never needed to find another. He always got back up again, and not because he was a big guy. He could be smaller than either of us, and he’d still defy Primus and Unicron if he had to and keep fightin’.”
Bumblebee smirked. “And KO Sari’s boogeyman, while he was at it?” He shook his head. “Seriously, sounds like a great guy. Never thought I’d hear you talk about a boss like that, though.”
“Yeah…” Wheeljack had an optic-brow raised as he looked at the younger mech. “It took some gettin’ used to.”
Bumblebee yawned and walked off, heading to his room to get some stasis like the Wrecker had recommended.
Little did he know, he’d left said Wrecker in the beginnings of an existential crisis.
‘Okay, recap… Did that kid just compare Primus and Unicron to the boogeyman?’
The next morning, Bumblebee met Wheeljack near the assembly line. The Wrecker had one of his swords in his servo, and he was spinning it as he leaned against a wall by the monitors.
He had been the one to fix them, after that night when it all went haywire. Ratchet had watched him do it. Bumblebee wasn’t really interested in that stuff, but it had been fun to watch the field-tech’s face—all wide-optics, a slack jaw.
Turned out, Wheeljack was a smart guy—just like the version from their universe, even if he didn’t always act like it. After all, there he was with a sword—not even looking at it as it spun.
It could take his arm or his leg off, or fly up and pierce his chest—but he was looking up at the skylight, watching a flock of birds fly by.
No wonder he and Prowl got along.
But Bumblebee focused on that sword, and he raised an optic-brow. “Why do you do that?”
“Hm?” Wheeljack looked at him, catching his sword and holding it in a steady grip. “Before a fight? Oh, it’s just a thing I do to in-”
“No, I get that. You’re a show-off.” Bumblebee snorted, and the Wrecker went wide-opticed. “But why do you -I dunno- play with your weapons when you’re just hanging around? You don’t mess up. Do you… practice?”
“Not really.” Wheeljack shrugged. “I just… get bored, I guess. Occupy my time.”
Bumblebee blinked. “… That’s it? It’s just you getting bored?” The Wrecker nodded, and Bumblebee smiled. “Heh. And you think playing with weapons is the best thing to do?”
“Without settin’ up a full workbench, havin’ my face in a screen, or leavin’ the room?” Wheeljack looked away. “Kinda? It’s… familiar. Simple.” He looked at Bumblebee—and he raised an optic-brow as he rested the flat of his blade against his shoulder and stood up from the wall, placing his free servo his hip. “Ready to get started?”
“As I’ll ever be,” Bumblebee admitted, not as sure of this as he had been the previous night.
Wheeljack gave a small smile, nudging him with his arm as he walked by, and Bumblebee followed him out into a more open area of the room.
“Okay, so—situation: you’ve got an enemy my size comin’ atcha,” the Wrecker began, turning to face him. “Unless I really need to learn a whole lot more about your reality, you probably cannot outmatch them in strength.” He raised an optic-brow. “So, what do you have goin’ for you?”
“Hm.” Bumblebee frowned, then he looked down at his servos. “My stingers?”
“Yes.” Wheeljack nodded. “Your weapons are a good first thought, kid. In some situations, the best defense can be a good offense.” He started walking, and Bumblebee raised an optic-brow. “Because see, your best option is always to keep your enemy from ever gettin’ close to you. Hone your aim. Take ‘em down before they reach you—or at least injure ‘em, slow ‘em down. Keep them off of you for as long as you can, until you can get away or make a plan.” The Wrecker’s unconscious blade-spins started again. “But now, tell me: what happens if your enemy is also armed, kid? They’re shootin’ back at you—and unless you can quickly find some decent cover, you do not want to hold still and count on them bein’ a bad shot. Real life ain’t a movie, and odds are they carry ranged weapons for a reason.” He looked at Bumblebee, who realized that the Wrecker was pacing a large circle around him. “Now, cover’s great. If you can find it and wait for backup, I recommend it… but cover can be blasted. And your enemy ain’t stationary. Sooner or later, you’re gonna hafta leave—so, what do you have?”
“Uh…” Bumblebee looked down, then he looked at his teammate again. “I’m fast!”
“Good!” Wheeljack nodded in approval. “Like I said, you need to think about gettin’ away if you can’t bring your enemy down.”
Bumblebee frowned. “But-”
“Somethin’ you should also keep in mind is that you need to avoid gettin’ hit at all costs,” the Wrecker told him. “Yeah, you need to be ready and able to take a hit—but the more you can avoid, the more you tire your enemy out. Waste their energy, as much of it as you can. Then-”
Bumblebee’s optics narrowed. “But I’m supposed to stand and fight!”
“Uh, no.” Wheeljack deadpanned. “That’s a stupid lie made up by bad guys so that you’ll hold still and let them kill you.”
Bumblebee blinked. “… What?”
Wheeljack turned to face him, resting the tip of his sword on the floor. “Kid, whatever your size, you make your enemy’s life a whole lot easier if you give them a stationary target—and they know that. So, of course, they’re gonna make up some fake rule about you not bein’ a real fighter if you don’t hold still—make you self-conscious, play by their rules.” He shook his head. “Don’t let them do that to ya.” He snorted. “And even if there were rules, forget about ‘em. Fight dirty! Throw dirt in their optics! Bite ‘em! Do whatever you hafta do!” He grew serious. “Don’t even worry about finishin’ the fight. You just can’t win ‘em all, kid, so… your only priority should be to bring the enemy down long enough for you to get away and come home alive. You understand?”
Bumblebee just stared at him, then he slowly nodded. “Y-… Yeah.”
“Alright, then.” Wheeljack picked up his sword, resting it on his shoulder again. “Now… you’re right, your speed is an asset. You’re usin’ it to dodge their attacks, land attacks of your own, even make your getaway. But big guys can be fast, too. Look at me.”
Bumblebee rolled his optics. “Ugh.”
Seriously?
Did he get anything?
“What else do you have to your advantage?” The Wrecker asked him.
“I don’t know,” the yellow mech said flatly. “Do I actually have anything, Wheeljack, or will the big guy always win?” He rolled his optics and turned away. “They’re bigger than me, they’re stronger than me, they’re armed, they can even be fast! What do I get that’s mine?!”
“Kid.” Wheeljack was smirking when Bumblebee turned to face him again. “… Your size.”
Bumblebee blinked. “Wait, what?”
“You’re smaller than your enemy,” Wheeljack said, starting to walk his wide circle again. “Ever think that could be an advantage?”
Bumblebee scoffed. “Why would being small ever be a fraggin’ advantage?”
“Want a list, right off the top of my head?” The Wrecker asked. “One: environmental advantage. You can fit places most can’t, make use of spaces and resources most can’t. Even on this planet, made for humans, you’re not as limited by the spaces as a larger ‘bot would be because you’re not as far away from human size as Bulkhead or even Prime. With mild duckin’, you could probably walk down hallways in most buildings.” He looked at him and shrugged. “Frag—before I built a new remote, only you and Prowl could interact with the TV. The others had you two turnin’ the lights in their room on and off, changin’ lightbulbs. You can interact with the world in ways others can’t, kid… Bein’ big can be a disadvantage.”
Bumblebee’s optics widened, and he looked away. “I… never thought about it like that.”
“I know.” Wheeljack nodded. “It’s not really made out like that, is it? Especially when big ‘bots make your life the Pit, like they don’t need you just as much as you need them.” Bumblebee looked up at him. “… Two: speed and agility, whatever the mode. You weren’t even tryna beat me yesterday, and I’d like to see Prime or Bulkhead or even Ratchet reach speeds like you did.” The Wrecker paused his steps. “The bigger you are, the more of you you’re havin’ to move around. You can train yourself, but there’s only so much you can do against fraggin’ physics—area, wind resistance, mass. Prowl might have one advantage in vehicle mode because he’s more streamlined—but -well- he still has the mass and he’s more dense-” He pointed at Bumblebee. “Don’t laugh… And his engine ain’t as big, so it balances out.”
Bumblebee smirked. “Fastest thing on land. Even the folks on Cybertron usually gave me that.”
Wheeljack chuckled. “Fastest thing on land? Yesterday was fun, but we gotta remember our traffic laws. Fanzone won’t always be distracted by pro-wrestlin’ gone wrong.” He started walking again. “Now, more advantages… Ugh. I wish I could show you.” He stopped, and he raised an optic-brow. “Hm.” He turned to face Bumblebee, holding his sword at his side. “What do you see?”
Bumblebee shrugged. “A big guy with a sword.”
Wheeljack huffed. “Try again. Look closer.”
“I dunno, man!” Bumblebee gestured. “I mean, look at you! Your arms are pretty much as big as I am!” He blinked as the Wrecker nodded. “… How is that supposed to be a good thing?!”
“Maneuverability,” Wheeljack told him “You’re fast, and you’re the size of my arm. Don’t you realize how much damage you could do?”
Bumblebee frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Here.” Wheeljack held a finger up, then he glanced towards the lounge area. “Hey, Prime!” Optimus looked up from his data-pad, an optic-brow raised. “Come over here for a second?”
Optimus frowned, then set his data-pad aside, stood, and walked over. “What is it?”
Wheeljack looked at the Prime, then he sighed as he looked behind the Prime. Bumblebee followed the Wrecker’s gaze, and he noticed that Ratchet, Prowl, and Bulkhead were looking at them.
His fuel-tank churned.
Wheeljack turned his focus back to Optimus, and he frowned. “… You’re the only one I know will take this seriously, not give Bumblebee any scrap. Mind lendin’ me a hand with this?”
“… Of course.” Optimus nodded, crossing his arms. “What do you need me to do?”
Wheeljack gave a small smile, then he stepped back. “I need to show him somethin’. Position yourself like you’re gonna attack.” He saw the Prime grow uneasy. “It’s okay.”
“Alright.” Optimus took his axe out and gripped it in two servos. “Like this?”
Wheeljack nodded. “Good.”
“Hm.” Bumblebee craned his neck to look up at that axe. “You sure about this?”
“Hey.” Wheeljack walked over to stand beside him, and he got down on one knee. “It’s okay, kid.” Bumblebee looked at him, and the Wrecker smiled and nodded. “It’s okay. You’re not fightin’ anybody. We’re just havin’ a look. Now-” He gestured. “What do you see?”
Bumblebee looked at Optimus again, and he shrugged. “I-I dunno.”
“That’s okay. Wanna know what I see?” Wheeljack asked, and Bumblebee nodded. “Most enemies take on a heavy stance when they’re about to attack, especially if they’re ranged or strength-based. They ground themselves to keep steady. It’s habit.” He looked at Optimus. “Prime here? He’s a jack of all trades, but you see how he goes a bit stiff when he’s ready to attack?” He saw the Prime go wide-opticed and grinned. “It’s alright, Prime! Might just be nerves. We’ll work on that, later.” He looked back at Bumblebee. “But okay. Big enemy is about to take a swing. What do we see?” He shook his head. “I don’t just mean with your optics. What’s goin’ on inside your head, right now? Look at the big picture, everythin’ you’ve got and everythin’ you can use to make this work. What are you gonna do?”
“Uh…” Bumblebee blinked. “Huh.”
Optimus raised an optic-brow. “What?”
“It, um…” Bumblebee shook his head. “No, it’s probably-”
“No.” Wheeljack was smiling. “Come on. What do you see?”
“… It’s just kinda obvious,” Bumblebee told him, uncertain. “I-I mean, if Prime’s legs are rooted like that, he-… He won’t won’t move fast enough to kick me if I come at him. He could swing at me, but look at how he’s holding his axe. I know which way he’s gonna swing. I’ll just go the other way.” He slowly nodded. “And… if I run around and duck through the little spaces, ‘cause… he’s so big… I can get behind him.”
“And he’s gonna be slower than you, right?” Wheeljack asked. “You can do some serious damage before he can react. Aim for the joints, back of the head, neck-”
Optimus gripped his axe a little tighter. “Yeah, uh… I’m feeling a little unsafe.”
“It’s alright.” Wheeljack looked at him, grinning. “This is just an exercise.”
“Heh.” Bumblebee looked at his leader sheepishly. “Sorry, Prime.”
“Now.” Wheeljack glanced at Bumblebee again, smirking. “Wanna know what else I see?”
“… The environmental advantage,” Bumblebee realized, and the Wrecker nodded.
“Exactly,” Wheeljack said. “Look at this place. An enemy Prime’s size can crash through it, sure—but you can navigate it. I saw you the night it was hacked. It trapped everyone else in minutes, but not you. And once Prowl taught you the trick, you beat it in seconds. Imagine usin’ it.” Bumblebee’s optics widened. “In any situation, you might have to climb or jump to get a different vantage point or leverage, but that also gives you the ability to give yourself some force or momentum in an attack—make up for the strength difference. And you’re very fast.” The Wrecker looked downright devious. “So, tell me… what do you see, now?”
Bumblebee stared at the Wrecker, then he looked back at his leader. “I… kinda wonder if I could take down Optimus Prime.”
“Don’t.” Optimus pointed at him, his optics wide. “Don’t you dare.”
“Well, Prime seems to believe in you,” Wheeljack joked, then he looked at Bumblebee with a grin. “I do, too.” He grew serious again. “Now… next time you’re facin’ an enemy that’s bigger than you… what are you gonna do?”
“… Keep them away from me as long as I can,” Bumblebee began, trying to carefully organize all that he had learned in his head. “Try to bring them down before they can even touch me. Avoid their hits for as long as I can, but be able to take hits. Tire them out. Keep moving, especially if I can’t find cover. Use my speed to my advantage. Being big can actually suck.” Wheeljack snorted, and Bumblebee grinned. “Watch and learn. Find an opening. Use my surroundings in ways they can’t. Don’t let them set rules. Don’t be afraid to fight dirty. Bring them down.”
“Good.” Wheeljack nodded. “But you forgot one.” He stood, and he rested a servo on Bumblebee’s shoulder. “… Come home alive.”
Bumblebee beamed. “Right.”
Wheeljack held a fist out, and the yellow mech made a fist and bumped it.
Then, the Wrecker looked at his wide-opticed assistant. “That goes for you too, Prime.”
“Hey!” Optimus complained, then he huffed and put his axe away. “One time.”
“One’s more than enough,” Wheeljack told him.
The Prime looked away, then looked back at the Wrecker and nodded. “Hm.”
“Thank you,” Wheeljack told him sincerely, then he smirked. “Now, you can tell the others: next week’s crash-course is gonna be ‘how to handle an enemy smaller than you’.”
Optimus blinked. “Next week?”
“Yeah.” Wheeljack grinned, patting Bumblebee’s shoulder twice before he started walking away. “I think I’ll just let the kid have this one.”
“Wheeljack,” Optimus tried, but the Wrecker just chuckled and spun his blade. “Wheeljack!”
Bumblebee looked at the Wrecker, then at the Prime… then at the Wrecker again.
“… Oh, he is the best,” the yellow mech said with a grin, jumping a few times in place, then he chased after his newest teammate.
Little guys gotta look out for each other, right?
Bumblebee found Wheeljack on the roof.
The Wrecker was sitting on a raised section, just looking at his sword in the light of the rising sun.
Bumblebee wondered if he was thinking about their talk, how he’d just play when he got bored.
And the yellow mech blinked before giving a small smile, and he rested his servos on his hips as he walked over. “What, no spins?” The Wrecker looked at him, and he shrugged. “You can interact with the world in ways others can’t. Don’t let anyone else set the rules. That’s stupid.”
Wheeljack blinked, then he smirked and gave his sword a little spin. “I should probably keep an optic on it, though.” He sheathed the sword and rested his arm on his knee. “I think I’ve given the team a few scares. That’s no good.”
“Nah.” Bumblebee ran over, jumped up onto the raised section of roof, and he sat down beside the Wrecker. “Ratchet’s always scary, and we still keep him around.” Wheeljack barked out a laugh, and Bumblebee snickered before grinning up at the other mech. “No, uh… No. Seriously, don’t worry about it. You’re not scary.”
“Easy, now.” Wheeljack smirked again. “I don’t want any of you on edge, but I can be scary when I wanna be. I’m a Wrecker, after all.” He looked up at the sky. “The ‘Cons back home heard I was comin’, and they did all they could to stop me from reachin’ my team.” His optics narrowed as he leaned on his arm. “But even on my worst day, I was far from the scariest thing out there. I… didn’t even know that I was-…”
Bumblebee nodded, then he looked out over the city with him. “Hey, um… Thanks.”
“For what?”
“Well, you know: all of the… tips, and stuff.” He raised an optic-brow. “How’d you know how to do that, anyway?”
Wheeljack merely shrugged. “We all learn from somewhere.”
“I mean, yeah.” Bumblebee gestured. “I went to boot camp. But it’s all pretty standard, y’know? I would go through the same drills as someone Bulkhead’s size. He’d go through the same drills as someone Optimus’s size.”
“Seriously?” Wheeljack looked at him, annoyed. “Tch. Ridiculous.” He gestured. “I get that some jobs might need you to be able to pass certain standardized thresholds, for safety reasons—but you need to be able to adapt your teachin’ methods to suit individuals. No two people are ever gonna be the same, do things exactly the same, be built the same. We’re not all gonna be benchpressin’ Star Hammers.”
Bumblebee snorted. “Yeah, I’m just gonna pretend I know what that last part meant.” He saw Wheeljack roll his optics, and he tilted his head. “So, you had a teacher?”
That didn’t quite explain how Wheeljack got so good at teaching, but it would explain where he learned everything he knew.
And hey, whatever worked for him. Bumblebee was just excited to be getting a conversation out of the Wrecker. The past twenty-four hours was really the first one-on-one time they’d ever had, and… it was pretty different.
Bumblebee kinda liked it.
“I had a few,” Wheeljack told him. “Different times of my life, each teachin’ me different things. I was usually my own teacher.”
“But sometimes, it was someone else.”
“Yep.”
Bumblebee raised an optic-brow. “So, uh… I know you don’t do seem to do ‘backstory’, but… if you had to pick one… who was your favorite?”
Wheeljack blinked, then he gave a small smile. “Hm.” He looked at the sky again. “… Probably the Wrecker who went out of his way to show me a lot of what I showed you today.” He shook his head. “Now, he-… He wasn’t a little guy. But he learned to think like one, so he could train me.”
Bumblebee crossed his arms and leaned on them, curious. “What was he like?”
“Heh.” Wheeljack grinned. “He was… stubborn. Short-tempered. Rude. Swore like a sailor. Fought like a ghost.” He looked at Bumblebee. “I learned from the best. I can be scary, but the Decepticons were absolutely terrified of this guy! He had this trademark, this audial-piercin’ whistle he would sound when he was right on top of ‘em. That was how they knew it was too late.”
“Sounds like a real charmer,” Bumblebee said flatly, not really getting why this ‘bot of all ‘bots had to be Wheeljack’s favorite.
The others had to be nightmares.
“Yeah.” Wheeljack chuckled, then he sighed. “… He was the one who taught me how to fly.”
“Fly?” Bumblebee blinked, then he grinned. “Heh. Not just a ninja-scientist, but a pilot? Seriously?”
“Yeah.” Wheeljack nodded. “I’m at my best when I’m in the air.” Bumblebee grew surprised, and the Wrecker looked at the sky again. “And… it’s all thanks to him.” His face fell. “He-… He wasn’t the easiest guy to get to know. Frag, I don’t know if I ever really knew him. He didn’t like to make chit-chat. He was rough, sharp—the kind who’d cut your engines right when you thought you’d finally gotten the hang of things, just to see what you were really made of. Of course, if you weren’t ready, he’d yank your aft outta the fire—but then he’d put you through it all again, so that when the time really came and you were in the fire alone, you’d be able to pull yourself out. Maybe save someone else, too.” Wheeljack looked down. “… He wasn’t the Wrecker who brought me into the unit, but he was the one who saw me strugglin’ among those… massive, experienced ‘bots who took to battle like it was what their sparks were forged for… and took responsibility for a smart-mouthed kid who never should’ve survived his first day on the battlefield.” He gave a little smile. “He never said it, and he was the sort who would point everythin’ out. Everyone knew, but he never put it into words… And whatever it’s worth, I wouldn’t be here right now if that rude, foul-mouthed ol’ pain in the aft hadn’t taken me under his wing.”
Bumblebee slowly smiled at him. “Hm. Now, he sounds like a good guy… Like you, actually.”
Wheeljack looked at him, his optics shining. “He’d roll his optics if he heard that… but it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, turnin’ out like him.”
“Heh.” Bumblebee sat back. “A pilot, huh?”
“Yep.” Wheeljack grinned, sitting back with him and leaning on his servos. “I can fly anything you can get off the ground. Even a Seeker, in a pinch.”
Bumblebee snorted. “You are so weird.” He raised an optic-brow. “Hm… Your mentor. He make it?”
Wheeljack’s face fell, then he sat up straighter and looked up at the sky again, and he sighed.
“No,” the Wrecker admitted quietly. “He didn’t.” He rested his servos on the raised section of roof at either side of him, and he closed his optics. “… I guess he should’ve drilled me, one last time.”
Bumblebee’s optics widened, then he looked up at the sky. The rising sun had turned it orange, with the far edges fading into a soft blue.
“… You made it,” Bumblebee finally said. “I think that he’d say that’s worth something.” He looked at the Wrecker, and he smiled. “He would point everything out, right? And he wouldn’t care if you’d complain. He was stubborn, like you.”
Wheeljack opened his optics and blinked, looking over at Bumblebee in surprise, then he slowly smiled before reaching up and affectionately rubbing the top of the smaller mech’s head.
Bumblebee let out a loud, surprised laugh—and Wheeljack just shook his head. “You’re right, kid. You’re absolutely right.” He lowered his servo, then looked up at the sky again and sighed. “He’d like you, Bumblebee… and scare the Pit outta ya.”
Bumblebee snorted. “Nah. I think we could team up, and then scare the Pit out of you together.”
“… Huh.” Wheeljack’s expression slowly dropped into something that might have been fear. “Why do I think he actually might’ve gone for that?”
Bumblebee closed his optics and laughed, and Wheeljack laughed right with him. It felt good, and… it had been a while, since Bumblebee was really sure that he had made a friend—let alone one who got him like Wheeljack seemed to.
He actually wasn’t sure anyone ever had.
Not quite like this. It was just… easy.
And he opened his optics and sighed, looking at Wheeljack with a frown. “Hey, um… I know I haven’t made this the easiest on you. The whole ‘new reality, new team’ bit, I mean. I’ve said some things, and-… Well, I’m really sorry.”
Wheeljack just looked at him and smiled. “Kid, seriously: no worries. You’re fine.”
Bumblebee was still unsure. “Really?”
“Oh, yeah.” Wheeljack chuckled. “Everyone keeps talkin’ about a rough adjustment, and it has been awkward—but trust me: this is fraggin’ nothin’ compared to the last time I joined a team.” He looked away. “As long as no one loses a limb this time, this will be an absolute win.”
“Haha.” Bumblebee rolled his optics, smirking, and Wheeljack just looked at him and tapped his fingers awkwardly on the roof. “… Low bar.”
“Yep.” Wheeljack looked at him, and he put on a new smile. “So, like I said: no worries.” His optics slowly widened before he deadpanned. “Oh, for-! I just told Optimus to come home alive, ‘cause he’s already fraggin’ died! That’s how we met! We’re already below the damn bar, aren’t we?!”
“Oh, frag—we are,” Bumblebee realized, and the two of them just looked at each other before they wheezed and started laughing again.
It was so ridiculous, they couldn’t help it.
Bumblebee learned a lot about the Wrecker, that morning—in the training, and on that rooftop.
The most important thing he learned was that his new teammate was someone worth befriending.
That stubborn, reckless, wild Wrecker who played with grenades and swords when he was bored… was also just a really, really good guy.
He had his own problems, his own baggage—and he still took responsibility, took Bumblebee under his wing, pulled his aft from the fire.
So… Bumblebee really liked him.
Sari came to the Plant later that morning with a grave expression on her face, clutching a piece of metal shrapnel with strange signs of corrosion.
That morning, her father’s demonstration of a new police drone had gone horribly awry—and she wanted to know why. That was her evidence.
She ended up perched on Ratchet’s shoulder while the field-tech took a look, his examination mod sliding into place over his left optic.
“Definitely sabotage,” he decided, glancing at Sari. “But I’ve never seen a corrosive like this.” Using a pair of tweezers, he carefully tried to remove some of the residue from the corrosion site—but it left his tools smoking, and what little he was able to drip onto a sample nearly burned a hole through it. Ratchet’s optics widened in disbelief. “It can even melt Autobot alloy.”
Wheeljack was watching the tests from nearby, and his optics narrowed. “Hm.”
“Wheeljack.” Ratchet glanced at him. “Have you ever seen anything like this?”
“You see a lot of things come into play durin’ conflict,” Wheeljack replied. “But this?” He looked at the smoking armor plate. “… There’s one thing I can think of, stories I’ve heard about somethin’ similar. A friend of mine encountered it, this green acid that burned through just about anythin’.” He shook his head. “This probably ain’t the same, but… can’t hurt to be prepared, right?” He turned his gaze to Ratchet again. “It was one of the trademark weapons of a pretty nasty ‘Con: an organic-based chemical compound, an acid that she secreted from her fangs and fingers—to cause as much pain as possible to her victims.” Ratchet grimaced, and Wheeljack sighed. “Like I said, she was a nasty character. ”
Sari frowned. “Organic-based?”
“She had a whole motif,” Wheeljack told her. “To make a long story short, she was known for wiping out species and twisted by the standards of both sides. ‘Bots locked her up, and—with the exception of one major slip-up—the ‘Cons kept her that way. I’m not the best ‘bot to get into it.”
“Hm.” Ratchet seemed unsettled, but he nodded. “I appreciate the input, even if it doesn’t apply. I hadn’t even considered an organic source.” He glanced over his shoulder to address the rest of the team, as they were standing around his med-bay and observing his progress. “I’d like to run some more tests. It should only take a few hours.”
“That long?!” Bumblebee asked.
And Bulkhead smirked at the yellow mech. “His attention span is short, too.”
Bumblebee looked back, annoyed. “I heard that!”
“Apparently, so is his fuse,” Prowl drawled.
“Whoa! The ninja-‘bot gets in a good one!” Bulkhead cheered, holding up a servo, and Prowl silently reciprocated the high-five.
Ratchet sighed and glanced back at them again with a smile. “Who knew he had it in him?”
“Yeah.” Bumblebee crossed his arms, not amused. “Aren’t you supposed to be the ‘strong, silent’ type? Emphasis on the ‘silent’?”
Before Bulkhead or Prowl could respond, Wheeljack glanced back over his shoulder with a raised optic-brow. “Prowl, buddy? You might be interested in this human phrase: those who live in glass houses should not throw stones.”
The rest of the team was left bewildered.
Sari blinked in surprise before her eyes widened.
And Prowl was taken aback for a moment, then he cringed. The comment was subtle enough for dignity, but still got the message across.
“… Point taken,” the cyber-ninja said.
Wheeljack nodded. “Point made.” He sighed, shaking his head. “Bulkhead, it’s gettin’ old. Ratchet, don’t fraggin’ encourage it.”
Bulkhead huffed, crossing his arms. “What’s the big deal? We’re just messing around!”
“No, Bulk: you’re messing around,” Wheeljack disagreed, looking back at him with narrowed optics. “Bumblebee’s not laughin’, is he?”
Bulkhead blinked, then his expression dropped.
“Knock it off, you motorheads!” Sari jumped down onto the floor, gravely serious. “We’ve gotta warn my dad! He could be in trouble!”
“Transform and roll out!” Optimus ordered, and off they went—with Sari riding with Bumblebee.
As they drove off, Wheeljack pulled up alongside Bumblebee with something to say: “I swear, I’m one more comment away from drastic action.”
“I’m genuinely concerned by what your definition of ‘drastic action’ is,” Bumblebee told him in a joking tone, and Sari raised an eyebrow.
Since when were they getting along?
“One more comment, kid,” Wheeljack told him. “I swear, I’m gonna do it. They need the ego check, and I’m willin’ to take one for the team.”
“Dude, you’re scaring me.”
“Don’t worry. It’s gonna be funny.”
“You think ZOMBIES are funny!”
“No, I think that your reactions to zombies are funny. There’s a distinct difference there.”
Bumblebee honestly didn’t know that his new vehicle mode came equipped with a video-phone until Sari used it to call her father.
“Dad, those breakdowns this morning were no accident!” The girl shouted. “It was sabotage!”
:Sabotage?: The scientist’s eyes widened. :But who would want to-?:
:Isaac Sumdac,: a voice spoke, and Sari’s father looked up. His expression shifted into one of absolute terror. :We need to talk.:
“Dad?!” Sari asked fearfully. “Who is that?!”
:I-…: Professor Sumdac looked back at his screen, then took a deep breath. :Bumblebee, do not let my daughter come up here. Do you understand?:
“Dad?!” Sari tried again, then she gasped as the call was cut off. “No!”
“It’s gonna be okay, Sari,” Bumblebee promised as the team approached Sumdac Tower. “Last one in’s a rusted axel!”
Sari blinked, then her eyes widened. “Wait!”
Bumblebee suddenly hit something with enough force to throw him backwards and knock him back into ‘bot-mode. Sari was sent flying—but luckily, Optimus transformed and caught her.
“Gotcha!” The Prime said, relieved.
As the rest of his teammates transformed behind him, Bumblebee sat up and rubbed his aching head. “What the spark was that?!”
“A force-field,” Sari replied as Optimus set her down, pointing to a barely-visible shimmering barrier. “When the Tower’s under attack, it goes into auto-defense mode.”
“What a dumb design!” Bumblebee protested. “If your dad’s in trouble, how are we supposed to get inside to save him?”
Wheeljack frowned, approaching the force-field and looking up at the Tower through it. “Whether the design’s stupid or not depends on the threat, actually.” His fists clenched. “Some things are so bad, you can’t be saved.”
“So, what?” Bumblebee stood up. “You just trap yourself with them?” Wheeljack looked back at him, silent. “… What could be that bad?”
“Doesn’t matter.” Wheeljack drew his blades. “Not to me, at least… When it’s a friend, you go after ‘em anyway.” He got down on one knee and set a blade down, running a servo against the bottom of the shield. “Impressive. The ground doesn’t stop it. It’s a fraggin’ bubble. No way around, so we’re gonna hafta find a way through it.”
“Leave that to me.” Ratchet came forward and activated his magnets, his optics narrowed.
Wheeljack grabbed his sword and stood up, and he watched as the field-tech gradually began opening a hole in the shielding. “Frag, Doc-‘Bot. Pullin’ off a controlled magnetic disruption on an energy field like that-”
“Heh.” Ratchet smirked. “Impressive?”
Wheeljack raised an optic-brow. “Back home, tech like that was lost to the ages. We only had one viable example left, and that thing was highly unstable. Mind showin’ me the schematics when we get back to the Plant?”
“Will I have to worry about you replicating it, messing it up, and sticking Prime to the ceiling?” The field-tech asked dryly, and Wheeljack made a so-so gesture. “… I’ll think about it, alright? Just let me focus on this.”
“I don’t think so!” A voice shouted, and they all looked back to see Colossus approaching.
The old man stopped, and his implants started whirring and glowing. One pump into his back, and he stood up straight.
Prowl stepped back, raising one arm to shield himself while the other servo gestured to the others—urging them to back away.
Within moments, a giant stood over the Autobots and snarled as he ripped a streetlight free and brandished it like a weapon.
Wheeljack suddenly moved, pushing Optimus out of the way before Colossus could strike him while Prowl used his thrusters to fly up and throw his shurikens at the enhanced human’s implants.
The weapons bounced off, and Colossus smirked as he merely rolled his shoulder. “The boss reinforced that little weak spot.”
“Bulkhead! You, Wheeljack, and I will keep him busy!” Optimus shouted as he and the green mech went to move forward, but Wheeljack raised an arm to hold them back. “Hey-”
“Bad idea,” Wheeljack insisted as Colossus started spinning the streetlight.
“Now, it’s payback time!” Colossus yelled, and Prowl was smacked aside by the streetlight when he tried to approach the wrestler.
Wheeljack gestured. “See?” He looked down at the recovering cyber-ninja, cringing in sympathy. “Just walk it off, Prowl! Walk it off!”
Optimus looked back over his shoulder. “Sari, see if you can deactivate the auto-defense! Prowl and Bumblebee will get to your father!”
“Environmental advantage,” Bumbelbee recalled quietly, then he nodded.
As Sari ran towards the hole Ratchet had made in the force-field, Bumblebee followed right behind her. He was vaguely aware of Prowl recovering and running over to join him, and Bulkhead swinging his wrecking-ball over his head and launching it at Colossus.
The enhanced human struck the wrecking-ball with his streetlight like a baseball, and the momentum of the strike sent the green mech flying back. And Bulkhead ended up hitting Bumblebee through the breach in the barrier, knocking Prowl aside, and plugging the hole.
“Bulkhead!” Prowl protested as Bumblebee recovered beyond the shield, the cyber-ninja grabbing his largest teammate’s arm and pulling. “Move your oversized fender!”
“Hey, watch it,” Wheeljack insisted as he ran up to the barrier, then he deadpanned. “And don’t rest your fraggin’ foot on Bulkhead while tryna pull him outta there. Prowl, come on.”
“I can’t move!” Bulkhead told them, his optics wide. “I’m sorta stuck here!”
Ratchet took his magnets to the shield again, and he shook his head. “I can’t open the field any wider! Bumblebee!” He rested his servo on the force-field. “You’ll have to go on alone.”
“Oh!” The yellow mech stared at the field-tech, dread washing over him. “Lucky me!”
“Bumblebee.” Wheeljack walked up to the barrier and looked at him, and he put on a small smirk as he raised an optic-brow. “… What do you see?”
“Huh?” Bumblebee blinked, surprised, then his optics narrowed as he nodded. “Hm.”
Right.
Bumblebee stood, picking Sari up and setting her on his shoulder, then turned and ran to the Tower.
Wheeljack believed in him.
Maybe he could, too.
After Bumblebee ran off, Ratchet put himself between Bulkhead and the battle.
The kid was helpless, after all. What was the field-tech supposed to do, leave him?
“Either I’m getting bigger, or this thing’s getting smaller!” Bulkhead told him at one point, cringing as the force-field dug into his armor.
“Sari, stop!” Ratchet yelled, hoping that the girl heard him. “You’re making it stronger!”
He heard the approaching footsteps too late, then gasped as he looked up to see Colossus smirking and swinging that streetlight at him.
A large servo reached up and caught it.
“Oh, wow.” Wheeljack stood behind Colossus. “Look what we have here. Targetin’ a medic and a downed, trapped combatant?” He shook his head, wagging a finger from his free digit. “Tch-tch-tch. I know you’re avengin’ your dignity right now or whatever, but really?” He looked up, his optics narrowing as a strange expression crossed his face: dark, and serious. “… There’s no dignity in this. So, guess what? No more ‘easy mode’.”
Wheeljack’s free servo curled into a fist, and he lashed out and punched Colossus in the face—throwing him down the street.
Ratchet watched this, his optics wide, and he stepped back as Wheeljack moved between him and the enhanced human.
The Wrecker looked down at the streetlight he was gripping in his servo, then snapped it over his knee and threw it aside.
“You alright, Doc-‘Bot? Bulkhead?” He asked, and the two of them just stared at him. “Prime, Prowl, and I will keep him busy.”
Wheeljack cracked his knuckles before he started walking down the street.
And Ratchet and Bulkhead just exchanged wide-opticed glances, stunned.
‘The third thing,’ Ratchet realized, and he looked at the Wrecker again in disbelief.
Serious, but not the warrior or engineer.
Something that emerged from within just to turn on Prowl’s nature documentaries and defend Bumblebee when most of the team was picking on him, something easily mistaken for rage but not… because it was too gentle.
How had Ratchet not recognized it before?
It had been there since the very first day, when Wheeljack had revealed himself and risked his life to try and protect Optimus from Starscream.
It had never gone away, as the Wrecker had not hesitated to make his body a shield for Bulkhead and Ratchet the night the assembly line attacked—and he was even ready to sacrifice himself if it provided Prowl or Bumblebee with a distraction.
It could even be there in the big moments, but it was just as present in the small ones—the silent choices to not protest in favor of something he wanted when he could tell it would make another person unhappy, the little glances to check in on someone he had seen be troubled, lessons early in the morning to prepare for future struggles.
It was subtle, and showed itself as the Wrecker’s care always showed itself: quietly. That was why its louder moments were surprises, sometimes even unsettling for those who were involved.
And… Ratchet was sorry for that.
Sorry, because it shouldn’t have taken so long for him to see it—and he should have been the first. He knew this reality’s Wheeljack, after all.
The mech who was told to make mindless war machines, and made pupils meant to learn from teachers… and called them ‘sentinels’.
Watchers. Guardians.
Protectors.
The third thing was a protector.
Colossus recovered and stood up, growling. “Oh, I’ve been looking forward to this!”
There was no snark, no snappy comment.
Wheeljack side-stepped to evade a punch and delivered a brutal uppercut that sent Colossus staggering back before he stepped forward and slammed a foot into the enormous human’s stomach, knocking him to the ground.
“Sorry to disappoint,” Wheeljack said flatly, his optics narrowed as he reached up to draw one of his blades. He pointed it at Colossus’s neck, then glanced at Optimus and Prowl. “I need somethin’ to hold this guy down, now!”
Optimus blinked, then he nodded and prepped one of his bolas—and Ratchet looked away.
Wheeljack had the battle covered.
He could focus on Bulkhead.
So, the field-tech opened his commlink to make a call—and when Sari picked up at the front desk, he updated her on the situation. “It’s not working! Try another data-port!”
Suddenly, the portal was gone and Bulkhead was dropping to the ground.
The green mech quickly scrambled to his feet and ran towards Sumdac Tower, and Ratchet went to shout after him but-
“RAH!”
Colossus snapped the bola and threw Wheeljack off of him, sending the Wrecker through the side of a nearby parking garage before turning on the rest of the team.
“Okay, that’s not good,” Optimus said as they stepped back, then he looked at Ratchet and Prowl. “Take cover!”
As Colossus stormed down the street, throwing cars for the group to dodge, the Autobots quickly sought cover behind a pair of overturned trucks.
“We’ve tried everything!” Optimus told the other two, his optics wide. “What’s it gonna take to bring this guy down?!”
“More than you’ve got, tin can!” Colossus replied as he peered over the trucks and raised a fist.
Wheeljack suddenly came out of nowhere and grabbed the enhanced human from behind, putting him in a headlock and gritting his dentas as the man thrashed. “Move, move!”
“You heard him!” Optimus shouted, and Ratchet and Prowl got out of the way as Colossus rammed his way through the trucks.
Wheeljack lost his grip and hit the ground hard, and Colossus slammed his foot down on the Wrecker’s back. “Stay down, you little-!”
“Hey!” Optimus grabbed a car door off of the ground and broke it over the human’s head, then he blinked as Colossus turned to him with a growl. “… Let’s talk about this-”
The enhanced man swatted the Prime aside with his fist, and Optimus flew up until his back struck the bell in an old clock-tower.
While the alarms from the surrounding cars were not affecting Colossus’s implants as they had at the arena, the ring from that bell caused the marks on his skin to flash while he gripped his head and wailed in pain.
“The bell,” Prowl realized. “Hit it again!”
Optimus nodded and drew his axe, and the Prime repeatedly struck the Bell—causing Colossus to sink to his knees.
“The frequency must disrupt his techno-organic circuits,” Ratchet decided, then he activated his magnets to pick the bell up and bring it closer to their opponent.
Once the bell was directly over Colossus, Optimus leapt down from the clocktower and continued to strike it with his axe—and the Autobots watched as their adversary shrank down to his normal size and collapsed.
Ratchet dropped the bell, then he quickly went over to Wheeljack and helped the Wrecker off of the ground and into a kneeling position. “You alright, kid?”
“Heh.” Wheeljack looked up at him, smirking tiredly. “You kiddin’? That was nothin’.” Ratchet clapped a servo on the Wrecker’s shoulder, giving a small smile, and Wheeljack nodded before looking at Sumdac Tower and growing serious again. “We need to move.”
Sari looked up from the front desk in surprise as Bumblebee’s vehicle mode came crashing down the stairs and slid across the lobby floor, tires screeching before he came to a stop.
“I believe this is your stop,” the Autobot said, opening a door—and Sari’s dad came stumbling out, looking ready to be sick.
“Dad!” She stood up from the front desk and ran over to her father, giving him the biggest hug (even as he gagged). “You’re alright!”
“But not for long!” A voice shouted from above as a loud hissing sound filled the room.
A large section of ceiling fell through, and some… guy… dropped down to face them.
Sari thought it was a guy, at least.
He was dressed in a suit that made him look like he should have been walking down the Las Vegas Strip—at least, that was a joke her father would have made. But his face, his hands…
It was like he was made of liquid: yellow and black, constantly flowing. Sari didn’t know how he stayed together—but wherever liquid dripped, the surface melted and steamed.
This guy was somehow made of living acid.
And his voice…
Prometheus Black?
Whoever he was, he ran towards Sari and her dad—and Sari felt her father hold her closer and turn her away, like he was planning to shield her.
Then, they were separated from the man by a wall of black and yellow as Bumblebee drove forward and put himself between them—another shield.
Sari knew that wouldn’t be enough.
She saw what happened to the armor Ratchet had tested. She looked at her best friend, and she wanted to scream: ‘no, don’t—you’ll melt!’.
But she didn’t have time to scream.
The man didn’t have time to attack.
“Leave them alone!” Bulkhead shouted as he came charging in, the green Autobot grabbing the man and picking him up.
“Ah, you wish to give them a hand?” The man asked, smirking as green smoke started to rise from Bulkhead’s servo. “So be it!”
And Bulkhead closed his optics and screamed.
Sari’s father pulled her back, his eyes wide, as Bulkhead quickly sank down to the floor—metal dripping off of his melting servo as he still did not let go of the man made of acid.
And the man just kept smiling. “See how easily I bring you to your knees?” He freed one arm and pointed his dripping hand at Bulkhead’s chest. “I will melt you into molten slag!”
Sari didn’t even hear Bumblebee transforming.
She just saw the man send a jet of his acid at Bulkhead, and a flash of yellow leap in the way.
“No!”
“Bumblebee!” Sari pulled away from her father and ran forward as Bumblebee hit the ground, a smoking hole in his back.
His optics were closed when she arrived and kneeled beside him, and he curled up on the lobby floor as he gritted his dentas in pain.
Meanwhile, Bulkhead had finally been forced to release the acid man—who walked away with ease after the green mech collapsed.
“Now, it’s your turn!” He announced, stretching out a hand towards Sari’s father.
“I don’t think so!” Optimus suddenly ran into the lobby with… what kinda looked like the old bell from the historic clocktower down the street… and slammed it down on top of the acid man. “There. That should hold him.”
“What?” Wheeljack arrived and stood next to the Prime, looking at him in bewilderment. “Why?”
Optimus glanced at him, surprised. “Huh?”
“I thought you had somethin’ after that,” the Wrecker said as Prowl and Ratchet caught up, visibly worried. “That was the whole plan?!”
“Guess you didn’t get the memo about the acid that melts through anything!” Ratchet agreed as a hole started to be burned in the side of the bell.
“Fools!” The man stepped out, his fists clenched at his sides. “Nothing can hold me!”
He shot a jet of acid out of his hand, and Optimus and Prowl quickly had to leap aside to dodge it.
“Suggestions on how to stop him?” Prowl asked.
“Hey.” Optimus blinked. “How about using the same thing that stopped us?”
“Sari!” Ratchet understood immediately. “The auto-defense field!”
Sari glanced away from Bumblebee, then her eyes narrowed. “Gotcha!”
The girl stood, running over to the front desk, and the acid man noticed and raised his hand to point at her instead of her father.
But then, that half-melted bell came flying and knocked the man flat on his face—and Wheeljack lowered his servo, his optics narrowed.
“Supervillains. This universe had to have actual fraggin’ supervillains.”
Sari changed the settings on the force-field and plugged in her Key, and a cable shot out.
Ratchet plugged it into his arm, activated his magnets, and took aim at the acid man.
When he next fired a jet of acid, the field-tech activated his magnets and instead produced a smaller force-field, and the acid bounced off.
The acid man’s eyes widened. “What?!”
“You can’t melt what you can’t touch!” Ratchet informed him smugly.
“No!” The acid man panicked and kept firing, but Ratchet merely shrank the field—and soon, the acid man was trapped in a floating bubble, sitting in pool of his own acid.
“I say, let him stew in his own juices,” Ratchet told everyone in a vindictive tone, detaching the cable and crossing his arms.
“Hm. Works for me.” Wheeljack nodded, then he looked down at Bumblebee and Bulkhead—and his face fell before his optics widened. “Oh, slag. Hey, hey.” He got down on one knee between them, resting a servo on Bulkhead’s shoulder before looking at Bumblebee. “Kid?” He rested a servo on the smaller mech, who just curled up more and whimpered. “Hang on, kid. Sari!”
“On it!” Sari ran over, taking her Key from around her neck and resting it on Bumblebee’s forehead.
When a slot appeared, she placed the Key in and turned it—and the wound flashed and sealed up.
“Ugh.” Bumblebee cringed, then he opened his optics and looked up tiredly. “… Ow.”
“Heh.” Wheeljack gave a little grin, then he nodded. “Okay. You’re okay.” He looked at Bulkhead. “Hey, buddy. Lemme see.”
“It hurts.” Bulkhead shook his head, clutching his half-melted servo to his chest.
“I know, Bulk.” Wheeljack carefully reached over and took the injured arm in his servos as Ratchet came over to take a look. “I know. Sari?”
“Here!” Sari came running, and Ratchet picked her up and brought her to Bulkhead’s shoulder—where she let her Key work its magic.
“Mmph.” Bulkhead winced, then he sighed in relief before looking at her. “Thanks, Sari.”
Sari smiled at him. “Any time.”
Wheeljack rested a servo on Bulkhead’s shoulder, then he turned back to Bumblebee and sighed—his own shoulders sagging under an invisible weight as he saw as he saw that the yellow mech was already sitting up. “Frag.” The Wrecker closed his optics and hung his head, raising a shaking servo to rest his forehead on it. “Frag…”
Sari looked at him, surprised, then she gave a little smile and raised an eyebrow.
Everyone always acted kinda nervous around Wheeljack for some reason, but… this was just more proof for her that the the big, bad Wrecker was really just another big ol’ softy.
“Hey,” Bumblebee spoke up, and Wheeljack opened his optics to look at him. “… I saw where he was aiming.” He gave a weak grin. “It’s about how you use what size you’ve got, right?”
“Hm.” Wheeljack lowered his servo, and he nodded. “Damn straight, kid.”
“Heh.” Bumblebee raised an optic-brow. “Is this the part where you tell me not to do it again? ‘Cause I won’t listen.” He smirked. “Stubborn.”
“I know.” Wheeljack rested a servo on the yellow Autobot’s shoulder. “You did good, Bumblebee.” He gave the smaller mech a playful shove. “Self-sacrificin’ little punk. I really gotta worry about all of you, don’t I?” He reached up and affectionately rubbed Bumblebee’s head, earning a laugh, then his optics widened and his face dropped. “… I really gotta worry about all of you, don’t I?”
“Wheeljack?” Bumblebee blinked, his grin falling away into worry. “Hey, what-? What is it?”
“… Nothin’.” Wheeljack’s smile returned, but there was something different about it. It wasn’t sad, but it was almost… fragile. “Nothin’, kid.”
With Bulkhead and Bumblebee patched up by the Key, Ratchet helped Wheeljack to his feet.
“The Sumdacs?” The Wrecker asked.
“Shaken, but intact,” the field-tech assured him, giving a small smile. “And the police are on their way. You can stop fussing, now.”
Wheeljack shot a look at him, annoyed. “I’m a Wrecker. I don’t fraggin’ fuss.”
“Sure.” Ratchet chuckled, slapping him on the back. Wheeljack jumped a bit, like he expected the strike to be harder, then looked at Ratchet in surprise. “… You did good, today.”
And he meant that.
After a day like that -well- Ratchet was willing to admit when he had been wrong.
The Wrecker was far from the worst role model any of the young ‘bots could have.
Wheeljack blinked, then he crossed his arms and looked away. “Weird day.”
Ratchet raised an optic-brow and shook his head, still grinning fondly at that strange young mech from another universe. What was the field-tech ever going to do with him?
Meanwhile, Bumblebee had rested his servos on his hips. “Big help you were, Bulkhead. Why didn’t you just draw a big bullseye over that oversized chest-plate of yours?”
“Gotta admit, kid.” Ratchet looked at the yellow Autobot with a smile. He really needed to stop underestimating these kids. “For a little ‘bot, you’ve got a great big spark.”
Optimus nodded. “You showed a lot of courage, taking that hit for Bulkhead.”
“Sorry about yanking your crankcase,” Bulkhead said, genuinely apologetic, then he held up his servo to gesture. “I was just having a little fun.”
Bumblebee looked up at him, an optic twitching. “… Little? Did you say little?”
“No!” Bulkhead replied quickly, then he cringed. “Uh, I mean—yeah. No, but I didn’t mean-!”
“I may be small, but I’m scrappy!” Bumblebee retorted, then he transformed and started driving in screeching circles around the lobby. “And I can run circles around your big ol’ rusty chassis! You know, I got major skills!”
Sari sighed, watching her best friend go. “He’s gonna be impossible to live with now, isn’t he?”
“Oh, yeah.” Ratchet nodded, pretty much tuning-out the young mech’s continued rant. “Big time.”
“Hey.” Wheeljack shot a look at both of them, the protector rearing its head. “Take it easy.”
Ratchet snorted as he looked up at the Wrecker, resting his servos on his hips. “You’re too easy on that kid.”
“Hm.” Wheeljack raised his shoulders. “So what, if I am?”
Wheeljack looked at Bumblebee again, and Ratchet saw his face change—the seriousness dropping away from the Wrecker’s face, and something gentler settling over his features.
His shoulders didn’t lower, though—like he was physically still on-guard, but… the big emotional response, the tension and the fear, had ebbed for the moment. It was a kind of resignation.
What he was resigning himself to, Ratchet didn’t know… but it was only a few moments later when the Wrecker began to smirk.
Ratchet blinked, then he frowned. “Wheeljack? What’s the face?”
“That last slip from Bulkhead was technically ‘one more comment’,” Wheeljack mused. “And I’m a Wrecker of my word.” He glanced down at the little girl at their feet. “Hey, Sari? You like causin’ chaos. Mind if I ask you for a small favor?” She looked up at him, an eyebrow raised. “I’m gonna need a tape measure and some chalk.” Wheeljack looked forward, seeming immensely proud of himself, then he sighed. “And… maybe a ladder.”
Adjustments can vary.
Sometimes, it’s quick and painless.
Other times, it’s slow and rocky—complete with awkward introductions, accidental multiversal travel, battles for the fate of worlds, resurrections, introverted avoidance, misunderstandings, trust issues, scary stories, an unknown enemy’s attempt at murder by way of assembly line, loud arguments, post-race pep-talks, confidence-boosting training sessions, nearly dying at the hands of evil supervillains, staring at chalk marks on a wall and contemplating recent decisions as they realized how massive their alternate selves were in comparison (and Wheeljack really took one for the team, just to make Bumblebee smile), swapping a teammate’s Energon and turning their optics purple, nearly burning a voice-box out while telling a story for several hours in a test of patience, and some light eavesdropping.
Or maybe this was just a special case.
Regardless, Bumblebee could never pinpoint for sure when the team’s adjustment to Wheeljack’s presence was over. He just knew when his was.
Yeah, he knew the two of them would still have a lot to learn about each other—but something had changed that morning, from the training session to their talk on the roof and then during the fight with Colossus and Meltdown, then it had started to settle in when it finally sank in for him that… Wheeljack was really his friend, and—for more than one reason—would always go easy on him.
And once it had finally settled in… something else unsettled, and Bumblebee knew he had to fix it.
“… The couch is too small,” he spoke up, and his teammates looked at him in surprise. Bumblebee was standing in front of them, his servos on his hips. “We made it before Starscream’s attack.”
“Your point?” Ratchet asked flatly.
Bumblebee frowned. “We made it while there were just five of us, and now there are six of us. Prowl has his tire seat whenever he wants his own space, and Bulkhead can sit on his winglets—but there’s still not enough space for everyone to sit down.” He gestured to where Wheeljack was in his usual spot: standing, leaning against the wall, and suddenly wide-opticed. He nearly dropped the sword he had been spinning. “The couch is too small, so I say we need to make it bigger.”
“I’m fine,” Wheeljack said quickly when all optics turned on him, putting on an awkward grin as he was met with realization quickly turning to guilt.
Bumblebee deadpanned. “Uh, wrong. You’re just too awkward to say ‘hey, I’d like to sit down’.”
Wheeljack shot an annoyed look at him. “Hey!”
“Someone had to say it!” Bumblebee threw his servos up before crossing his arms. “I saw some extra slabs out back. We can do it in less than ten minutes, but… I know that I can’t lift those things alone.” He looked at his other teammates, then he walked over and leaned against the wall next to Wheeljack. “… And I won’t sit until he can.”
Wheeljack looked down at Bumblebee, his optics going wide again. “It’s really not a big d-”
“You mean to tell me that you haven’t just been standing there for the last month because you’re keeping up some image?” Ratchet asked him, his optics narrowed. “You actually-?” He closed his optics and took a deep vent. “… You couldn’t just say ‘hey, can someone move over?’ or ‘hey, can we add some furniture in this room?’.”
“It’s your place. I’m just livin’ in it,” Wheeljack argued, his shoulders raising a bit.
Optimus sighed. “No, Wheeljack—until we get you home, this is your place too.”
“And let’s not forget we’re all mooching off of the Sumdacs,” Bumblebee added. “A seven year-old pays our electricity bill so her dad doesn’t notice that we’re using his building.”
Optimus cringed. “Yeah, there’s also that. We should always remember that.”
Wheeljack snorted, and Prowl stood up. “Well, I fear that I’m not much for heavy-lifting—but I believe that every little bit counts.”
“I’ll lend a hand—but -uh- not literally this time, if that’s okay.” Bulkhead stood next, and Optimus and Ratchet were right behind him.
“Guys, seriously!” Wheeljack complained with a chuckle as the whole team started heading to the hallway, and he shook his head as he trailed after them. “I mean it, I’m fine! As far as moochin’ off of mooches goes, I’ve been perfectly happy with my wall! I’ve spent plenty of my life sittin’, I am just makin’ up for lost time!”
“Too bad.” Bumblebee fell back to walk beside him, smirking. “You taught me too well, and I’m stubborn—like you. I watched and learned, found an opening, used my surroundings, wasn’t afraid to get my hands dirty, and didn’t let anyone else set the rules.” He shrugged. “Because there was no space for you to sit down with us, since being big can actually suck… and us little guys gotta look out for each other, right?”
The Wrecker sighed before smiling down at him, and he nodded. “Count on it, kid.”
And Bumblebee knew he could.
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engardeitsme · 1 year
Text
The Flicker of a Candle, the Soaring of a Flame - Part 3
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Pairing: Chishiya x fem!Reader
Word count: 4.6k
Summary: An involuntary trip down memory lane leads to you seeing things in a new light and temporarily (?) parting ways with Chishiya.
Warnings: canon typical violence, swearing
A/N: ngl i had sm fun writing this aksks idk i tried to be a little more creative with the structure this time, hope it doesn't read too confusing>< anywayy i love writing them bickering but i also love forcing them apart so they both have to reevaluate stuff hehe😈❤ hope you enjoy reading<3
***
Part 3
"Fuck this."
You walked down the street in such a brisk tempo you were nearly running. Just put as much distance between you as possible, just get as far away as possible... You didn't even really realize what you were doing. Your head was pounding and your eyes were burning and you just wanted to get away, away, away.
"It's almost admirable how you always manage to run from the truth", you heard him say behind you.
Despite your emotional state of mind, you had to roll your eyes. Never had you missed your friends more than in this moment. Even the thought of being torn to pieces by a grenade seemed much more tempting right now than having a screaming match with Chishiya Shuntaro.
"I'm not running from the truth", you still yelled back, against your better judgment, "I'm running away from you! I thought that's what you wanted?"
You could vaguely hear him chuckle. "Oh yeah? And where to?"
Bastard.
"Honestly? I don't care! I just want to get away from your sad existence! So leave me the fuck alone and- oh."
You stopped abruptly after walking around the next corner. You almost thought your eyes were playing tricks on you, that was how unprepared you were for the scene that presented itself in front of you all of a sudden.
It was a real nightmare.
Dead people, dozens of them, covered the narrow street. They were everywhere you looked, some even lay on top of each other. Most of them had small bullet wounds, but some were missing entire body parts; you saw a severed foot and a man with only half a face. There was no question that a massacre had taken place here. These people had been executed.
Only when the stench of decay wafted around your nose did your brain manage to reconcile the image before you with reality. You quickly raised your arm in front of your face.
"Oh", Chishiya suddenly echoed next to you – albeit much more calmly – and you winced slightly, not expecting him to catch up with you so quickly, "Seems our Spade friend has wiped out an entire camp here."
Only then did you, too, register the makeshift dwellings cobbled together that lined the road. You saw camping tents, but also the odd converted car wreck. Why these people hadn't just used the surrounding buildings instead was a mystery to you. On the other hand… That probably wouldn't have saved them either; the King of Spades was a true professional after all.
"He was here? When?", you voiced your next thought aloud, this gruesome discovery putting your prior argument on the back burner for the time being.
Chishiya remained as unfazed as ever as he began to slowly walk across the battlefield. "I saw his blimp hover over this area for a while last night before he turned west."
Your mouth dropped open. "You mean this last night? Why didn't you say anything?!"
He slightly turned his head toward you and wordlessly raised an eyebrow.
You snorted. Of course. He had thought, you couldn't handle it. Condescending prick.
Your legs began to move almost automatically in the next moment, but you deliberately took a different path than he had chosen.
It must have been a well-organized community; it looked like they had looted an entire Outdoor-store - and maybe they had. You saw all kinds of fancy camping furniture: Tables, chairs, couches, and hammocks. They were complemented by cooking equipment and other knickknacks.
You got the impression that these people must have been here for quite a while, but you couldn't say for sure. In the Borderlands time was a tricky thing after all; if it weren't for the day changing into night, you probably would have lost track of it all long ago.
A spot further in the back, but still relatively centered, caught your attention. It seemed to have been used as some kind of dining area; under a row of shady umbrellas, there were more chairs, but also benches and simple wooden boxes arranged around a fireplace. Here and there you recognized a slumped figure still sitting there, or hanging from their seat, eyes lifeless, mouth opened in a silent scream... You quickly turned your gaze away again and instead focused it on another, but no less grotesque detail.
In the midst of all this chaos stood an ambulance. While the other vehicles in the area looked half in ruins, this one still seemed to be in relatively good condition, almost looking brand-new even. But maybe you only got that impression because everything around it was bloody and in pieces.
It was strange. You were only too aware of the cruelty and destruction all around you, and yet you just couldn't bring yourself to feel particularly shocked or horrified. At the most, you felt vaguely uncomfortable. Back at the Beach this had been different, the witch hunt had haunted you even in your nightmares. So what was wrong with you now? Had Chishiya infected you with his cynicism? Or had all the violence of the last few weeks already made you this jaded...?
It was this thought that finally let a shiver run down your spine and almost made you disgusted at yourself. No. That was out of the question, under no circumstances did you want to get used to such a sight. It seemed like a defeat to you. You might have sworn to conquer this world, but you still wanted to do so as the old you. The Borderlands would always keep a piece of you, but you would do everything you could to leave this entire nightmare behind.
Suddenly, as you took another step, you accidentally kicked a thermos flask. It rolled across the floor with a soft clatter before hitting a dead body. No sooner had your eyes absorbed this new image than your feet moved again and came to a stop next to the flask shortly after. You let your arms hang at your sides.
Two dead girls lay before you. The younger one had a bandage around her left leg. She lay half buried under the older girl. It was obvious that she had laid down on top of the younger girl to protect her from the hail of bullets, probably because she had not been able to escape quickly enough thanks to her injured leg. The sight brought tears to your eyes and made you clench your trembling hands into fists. Thoughts whirled through your head and suddenly transported you back in time...
///Past neatly arranged green areas, through a stony archway, before an elongated building made entirely of concrete and glass. You and your sister stopped and looked up at the large letters, proudly emblazoned above the entrance door: "Tokyo University of the Arts". Of course. How ironic that your potential last game would take place here of all places.///
"Ah, what a fool."
Again you winced before snapping your head around to the light-haired man who was suddenly standing directly next to you. He really did move like a cat sometimes...
"What...?", you asked, but were still miles away in your mind.
///The building was brightly lit, while everywhere else lay in the deepest, darkest night. At first glance, it looked inviting, and you didn't risk a second. Perhaps you would have noticed then that the windows rather resembled the eyes of a hungry predator... But did you even have a choice? Your visas expired today, so it was play and maybe die, or don't play and definitely die.///
Chishiya shook his head, sporting another one of his nondescript half-smiles. "She could have escaped if she hadn't let her emotions carry her away and lead her to the obviously doomed action of trying to protect the other girl."
"What are you saying exactly...?"
///You didn't have a clue how this was possible – another indication that this world didn't seem to be bound by the usual laws of nature –  but on the highest floor of the university building there was a rushing river. It bisected the room and fell down the western side of the building. A boat was anchored in front of you, swaying dangerously back and forth.///
"That she could have lived if she had valued her life more."
You frowned. "But what kind of life would that be? She probably would have blamed and hated herself forever for that moment. Nothing weighs heavier than a blood guilt", you added at last, so soft it was almost a whisper.
"Hmm", Chishiya hummed thoughtfully, "Well, I'm not sure about this blood guilt... But two bodies pumped full of lead definitely weigh heavier than just one."
You looked at him annoyed. "What do you know? You've probably never helped anyone in your life before! At least not if there was nothing in it for yourself."
You had never been able to come to terms with his ruthlessness, nor with his indifference to anything that wasn't his own survival – and even that he was sometimes disturbingly indifferent to – but it had never bothered you as much as it did in that moment. It literally made your blood boil.
And the fact that he was now tilting his head and smiled at you didn't make it any better.
"Hit a nerve?"
"Oh shut up."
///Your heart was pounding as fast as if you had just finished a marathon. And yet you stood rooted to the spot, only looking down at the cell phone you were clutching with white knuckles - and at the symbol it displayed.
Five of Hearts. A game of Hearts.
The moment the card had been revealed, you had already pictured yourself half dead, and you were sure that your fellow players felt the same way. There were four of them, so including you and your sister, six people were taking part in this game. You felt her reach for your hand and squeezed it comfortingly, although you yourself wanted nothing more than to cry your eyes out.
Heart games were generally the most difficult, so it didn't say much that it was "only" a Five. According to the rumors, they all meant certain death.///
You turned away and made for the street of horror again. Vaguely you noticed Chishiya following you.
"They seemed to have been close...", he mused out loud, "Maybe they were even sisters."
"I said shut up."
But of course he wouldn’t listen, after all, he had decided to drive you completely insane today for some reason.
///"Game: 'River Crossing'", the already familiar voice announced and you involuntarily flinched at the volume, "Objective: All players must be transported to the other side of the river and leave the building."
"Sounds doable", one of your fellow players muttered, a middle-aged man with horn-rimmed glasses, and you immediately knew that he had to be relatively new to this world. A game of Hearts never seemed "doable." Although you couldn’t help but feel sorry for him, you already classified him as a risk.
And then there it was, the expected catch: "In addition to the players, all six wolves must also be transported to the other side."
As if on cue, a lady with a perm suddenly let out a shrill scream and you watched in horror as a wall to your right was lifted to reveal a huge cage behind it. Immediately all of you backed as far away as possible as you suddenly found yourselves face to face with the aforementioned wolves. At first glance you could already tell that the animals were completely starved.
At second glance you noticed that the boat was also divided into two halves by thick bars, each accessible from your side and from the wolves‘.
"Rules: On each side of the river there is a panel that controls both the boat and the adjacent cage doors. The boat must not hold more than four passengers or it will capsize and all passengers will go overboard, which means instant game over. For the boat to move, the minimum number of passengers must be two.
If there are more wolves than players on either side of the river, the cage doors on the aforementioned side will open until the next round. The game will continue with the new number of players.
The game must be completed in eleven rounds. In the case of failure, the cage doors will open on both sides of the river.
There is no time limit. The game will now commence."
As soon as she had finished talking, you caught the horrified look of the glasses-guy before he hurriedly turned his back to you and threw up.///
"Don't you think the younger of the two would have probably wished for her sister to live on rather than die here with her?"
"How should I know?", you replied irritably, "I wasn‘t there."
You knew that he knew that you had definitely realized what he was alluding to. And so you did what he said you did best: Running away, again. But you just couldn't talk about this now, you didn't even want to think about it. Not here, you had sworn so to yourself. And especially not in the presence of a certain Chishiya Shuntaro.
"Fair point", he said conversationally, "Though be honest, you have to admit it's quite a waste that they're both dead now."
///It actually would have been doable if the bespectacled man had proven you wrong about himself. But in the end, unfortunately, you were right and he had become a fatal risk.
In the sixth round, he suddenly lost his nerves and his trust in his fellow players and, fearing the wolves, jumped back onto the boat, upping the number of passengers to five and causing the boat to capsize. Three of your teammates and two wolves were swept away, their wild cries quickly drowned out by the roaring water. At the same time, your only remaining comrade-in-arms, the perm lady, fell victim to the two wolves on her side due to being outnumbered.///
Her screams you could still hear echoing sometimes when you closed your eyes...
///And so, on the seventh round, there were suddenly only you and your sister left... And four wolves. That this calculation didn't work out was probably self-explanatory, but your desperation made you come up with a daring plan:
Without further ado, the two of you boarded the boat along with the two wolves on your side and crossed over. As soon as you reached the other side, you put all your eggs in one basket; while the predators feasted on the corpse of the permed lady, you gathered all your courage, jumped from the boat and rushed towards the door. This short distance seemed like an eternity, but in the end it paid off. The wolves didn't notice you and the door was indeed unlocked, just as you had hoped and prayed, for all conditions had been met.
You had never felt more euphoric in your entire life than in this moment.///
"...Don't you agree?"
"Huh?", you merely replied, confused, until his words had fully sunk in, "No. No, I don't. She didn't throw her life away, she lost it in an attempt to save someone she cared about. Making a sacrifice like that is not a waste, it's- Ugh, why do I even bother..."
"Selfishness."
"What?" You stopped dead in your tracks and turned to face him.
"You said it yourself earlier. Quite a fascinating thought, don't you think? That in the end, it’s every man or woman for themselves. Even if you want to save someone close to you, this 'selfless' act is also, ultimately, nothing more than a lie... The wish to not have to spend the rest of your life in the company of sorrow and regret."
You shook your head vehemently. "That's not true."
"No? But that‘s your own words. You said she chose dying over her sister's last wish. How is that not sheer selfishness?" He gave you a questioning look.
"I-" You faltered.
Was that true...? Did you only long for a second chance, did you only wish for a redo, because you wanted to avoid your own suffering? Even if this would mean your own end...?
///But then you turned the next corner and saw the staircase – and the closed door that separated you from it. Immediately, all color drained from your face, all euphoric thoughts abruptly forgotten. You tried desperately to break it open, kicking against the glass together, pulling on the handle, but it didn't help. Your sister finally had the idea that you should use her hair clip to try and break open the lock while she would stand guard at the door at the other end of the hallway.
As you began your tampering, you heard her chuckle softly. "Just like old times, remember? When we locked ourselves out and didn't want dad to notice us sneaking away?"
Your own mouth bent into a smile at the memory. "Yeah, we nearly made it, if not for you tripping over the doorstep."
"Who even came up with this stupid idea to put a step there…", she pouted.
You laughed briefly, but then quickly became serious again at the memory of the following events. That evening had not had a nice ending. And if you didn't concentrate, neither would this one.
You had almost made it, the goal was almost within your grasp! Of all the players you were the only two left who would win a game of Hearts. It was nothing short of a miracle given everything that had gone wrong so far, but you wouldn't dream of questioning it. Still, your hands grew a touch shakier at the thought and you felt cold sweat on the back of your neck. If you didn't hurry and got that door open, it would all be for nothing... Come on, come on, come on, come on!
The hairclip fell out of your hands.
For a moment that seemed like an eternity, you just stared at it, while the rushing in your ears continued to swell. It almost made you ignore your sister, who was trying to coax you along.
"You can do it, I know you can! Just take a deep breath, Sis, I don't think they're onto us yet."
She was right, just take a deep breath... So you did just that before bending down and fishing for the hairclip. Then you tried again. You can do it!///
You felt hot tears of anger welling up in your eyes. Anger at Chishiya, of course, that he had managed to get you to the point where you began to question even yourself. That he had so easily managed to open up wounds that you had struggled to keep closed for so long. And anger at yourself for letting it get this far in the first place.
You had strictly refused to think too much about it. Had completely banished that one day from a few weeks ago from your mind, had completely banished all memory of her from your mind. And yes, you knew that by doing that you were only delaying the inevitable. The longer you kept it all bottled up inside, the more destructive its release would be.
But it also kept you going. You wanted to remember, you wanted to grieve. But you knew it would destroy you and you just couldn't allow yourself to do that in this situation. So you had made it your drive. You would leave this world and then, finally, be able to let go.
And you would not let Chishiya take that away from you now.
"I'm not doing this", you therefore declared before turning away from him again, "I'm not letting you get into my head again."
You could hear him smirk as he said: "Ah, so it's okay if you try to psychoanalize me and play therapist, but not if I do it. Got it."
"I feel sorry for whoever lets you be their therapist. Even Aguni would do a better job at..." You trailed off as you stepped out of the narrow street onto the wide intersection.
Where you stared wide-eyed at the blimp hovering above.
You were already tensing every muscle to run for your life again, but then you looked closer and realized that it was not the King at all, but the Jack of Spades. The pieces that formed the huge card blew lazily in the wind as you turned your gaze to the building directly below. And that was when your eyes got as big as saucers.
You had not been mistaken, you knew this place. Very well, in fact.
You almost laughed at this absurd déjà vu. Now it was truly official. Someone had it in for you and was playing one sick joke after another.
The two of you were in one of Tokyo's most famous shopping and pop-culture districts. And directly across from you, on the other side of the street, was one of its most popular arcades – aka your workplace; one of them at least.
It was hardly recognizable under the lush vegetation. Here and there, a tree had even dug its way out from under the asphalt already. Soon there would be a real forest here and you would have to take bug spray to work. You could no longer stifle an amused snort at this thought.
Whether this was all a big joke by the local overlords or a sign of fate... You couldn't shake the feeling that it was a very personal message, just for you. And the longer you absorbed the image before you, the longer you pondered its meaning, the clearer it became what you had to do. It suddenly seemed like the most logical thing in the world. And so, slowly but resolutely, you started moving again, toward the familiar building.
You heard Chishiya step out onto the intersection behind you and spot the blimp as well, but you didn't turn around. Even as he was calling your name, you kept walking. You only faltered briefly when you suddenly heard faint pop-music and saw that the entire inside of the building was brightly lit. Everything had electricity, from the slot machines to the large lettering above the entrance. Ignoring the apocalyptic-looking surroundings, it wasn't hard for you to imagine that you were back in the real world. The only other telltale sign that this wasn’t true was, that the building seemed absolutely and uncharacteristically deserted.
You had almost reached the entrance when you suddenly felt a hand wrap around your arm and force you to a stop.
"What are you doing?", Chishiya asked with a slight frown.
You stared at the man in front of you, but couldn’t make a sound. You felt as if you were in a dream.
"Did you have a heatstroke? In case you hadn't noticed, that's Spades. I thought we agreed to give these ones a wide berth."
We had agreed...?
"No. You", you finally voiced the thought out loud, "You decided that. And I had to conform to you because I had no other choice, because I didn't want to be alone. But you know what?" Without further ado, you took the backpack off your shoulders and pressed it into Chishiya's arms. "That's over now."
And with that, before Chishiya was even able to react again, you turned around and stepped over the threshold into the entrance area of the arcade. It even smelled familiar... But by this point, nothing would surprise you anymore. Shortly thereafter a loud tolling sound made you wince and turn your head towards the ceiling, where you suspected the loudspeaker. And lo and behold, it was exactly there.
"The required number of participants has been reached. All players are requested to report to the designated venue", the announcer said loudly.
You didn't even realize that you had already stepped through the barrier... Briefly, a whole range of emotions – naked fear, sheer horror, utter panic – gripped you as the full implications of your rather spontaneous decision threatened to overwhelm you, but then you just breathed deeply in and out, willing your body to calm down again. It was done. Now you had to make the best of it. It also helped that this whole thing still felt strangely... right. As if it had been predetermined that you would come to this point. This would’ve probably creeped you out some time ago but now it only gave you extra courage.
You turned to Chishiya again. He hadn't moved an inch. Your backpack still pressed against his chest, he just stood there and looked at you, his face as unmoving as if carved out of stone. Suddenly, your previous drama seemed absolutely pointless to you.
You smiled. "What? No 'good luck'? Guess I was expecting too much there..."
"That was probably the dumbest thing you've ever done", Chishiya said dryly.
"Eh." You shrugged. "I think that credit goes to me teaming up with you."
He ignored your bad joke. "You didn’t strike me as suicidal, but I guess this is one of those rare instances where I was wrong."
"If you're saying that I could very well die playing this game, then thanks for the reminder! Really appreciate this pick-me-up…" You rolled your eyes. "But no thanks, I don’t plan on that today."
"Then why be so intend on running headlong into your certain death?", he questioned.
You studied his face for a few more heartbeats, tried to commit every single detail to memory, then let your eyes wander past him across the street. Over rustling leaves in the sunshine and a dragonfly that had perched on a slowly swaying blade of grass.
"To be a selfish fool, I guess", you finally said, "To prove that I'm good for something after all." That it makes sense that I’m still alive. "And for all of this to finally end."
"You didn't have to prove anything to me."
"Then it's a good thing that this wasn't my intention. As I said, the world doesn't revolve around you, Chishiya Shuntaro", you repeated your words from before, albeit a lot more gently, "I'm doing this for me."
And for her, you added in your mind.
///You couldn’t do it.
It took only a few more minutes for the first wolf to show its bloodied snout and set its sights on your sister through the glass door. You only became aware of it because she let out a choked sob.
You had no clue if she had planned to sacrifice herself for you from the start or if this had been a spontaneous idea. All you knew was that she couldn’t have had a lot of trust in the door to withstand a hungry pack of wolves, which was why she suddenly tore it wide open, stepped out behind it and then slammed it shut again.
This had happened so fast, you hadn't even been able to react. And then everything happened even faster.
Behind her, the hungry animals came closer and closer, but you only had eyes for your little sister. Already you opened your mouth to scream her name and moved to rush to her, but she just shook her head and you froze again.
"Live on", her lips formed silently, before she gave you one last loving smile.
And before you had to turn away.
The rushing in your ears was suddenly a blessing in disguise, drowning out all the noise behind you as your heart shattered into a million pieces, though you still continued to poke around in the keyhole as if on autopilot. It was much, much too late, but finally it gave away. You didn’t hesitate for even a second before throwing yourself against the door and storming out into the stairwell. At breakneck speed, you then literally flew down the many stairs and out the front door into the cool night.
Where you finally let loose and screamed your pain away, your sister’s smile fresh on your mind.///
And so it was still as you gave Chishiya one last wave, turned around again and took a deep breath. The sight before you was even more surreal now, from within the building. The flashing slot machines, the colorful decorations, the squeak of the linoleum under your feet... At the same time, this familiarity gave you the last bit of courage you needed to get going.
You were just about to walk deeper into the building, out of sight of the light-haired man, when you heard him say: „Luck is for fools, you don’t need it."
Well, you thought with a small smile, as you turned the corner, I'll take what I can get.
***
thank you for reading! as always, feedback is very much appreciated<33
i smell a part 5 in the air tbh but we'll seee~ anyway planning the 5 of hearts game was sm fun ajsksk i actually sat down and did it all with pen and paper lmao took me quite some time but i think it paid off in the end🙏😌 also yeah, i took the jack of spades from kuina and will redesign the game for the next part, i'm sorry queen pls forgive me;;
tags: @sabbthrd @hjjks @obsessionsdumpster @aoihikari03 @drunkjazed
lmk if you want me to tag you too❤
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five-rivers · 9 months
Text
Life's Great Lie 16
AO3
Sand swirled on the flight deck. 
“I thought I told you not to do that while I’m driving!” snapped Jazz.
“It’s an emergency.”
Jazz twisted to look at Tucker.  “What, did something go wrong with--?”
“No, that’s all fine.  This, though?”  He pointed at the alien-spewing portal.  “This is an emergency.  Backup’s still got a ways to go before they reach the portal.  I came to scout things out.”
“How long is ‘a ways?’” asked Sam. 
“I don’t know.  You know how distances can get in there.  Maybe fifteen minutes?  I can pull a couple of people over with me at a time, like with Thor here, but—”
“Thor came with you?” interrupted Jazz. 
“Yeah, he’s—What the heck, how did he do that?  He’s huge.”
“Never mind that,” said Sam.  “Are you okay to keep using the staff like that?”
“I’m fine.  I’ve been managing my jerkish urges by being low-key kind of a jerk to Valerie.”
“That doesn’t sound like managing them at all, actually.”
“I’m fine.”
He didn’t sound fine.  But then, who was?  Not Jazz. 
“How’s the shield setup going?” continued Tucker, not giving Jazz a chance to dispute his statement. 
“Not great,” said Sam.  “Romanov got ahold of one of those bikes and we’re trying to get the generators set up on nearby buildings, but—” She summarized the rest of the technical problems (explosions, enemy forces, skyscraper roofs being really far apart) with a shrug. 
It really was too bad that Loki’s portal was so far up, and that they didn’t dare bring the Ops Center closer.  Then, they could have tried to encircle the portal with the Ops Center shield. 
But the blimp was not a match for space whales.  Or whatever those things actually were.  And they were still unclear on what forces Loki had in the building. 
Apart from Danny, who, really, was more than capable of drilling a hole through an unshielded Ops Center.
“How can I—Oh, heck.  He isn’t.”
“Isn’t what?” asked Jazz, trying to see what Tucker was so upset about.  She leaned forward and flinched as a gust of hot, sandy air scraped along the back of her neck.  “I hate that.”
“There!” said Sam, pointing. 
There was someone new on the roof of Stark Tower.  Two someones.  Thor, and now Tucker. 
“Oh, no, they’re both idiots,” said Jazz.  Her dramatic, tension-filled reunion with a mind-controlled family member could wait.  Why couldn’t Thor’s?
One of the computer banks beeped.  “We have incoming,” said Sam.  “Ten o’clock.”
“I see them,” said Jazz, spotting the small formation.  But the Ops Center didn’t have any power to spare.  All it had was going into the portal and the shields. 
“Should I go out?” asked Sam. 
“No way,” said Jazz.
“I have a bazooka.  And a jetpack.”
“That’s not—”
Something small and narrow arced upward into the lead glider, then exploded.   
“Oh, yeah,” said Sam.  “I’d forgotten about arrow boy.”
.
“Loki!  Turn off the Tesseract or I’ll destroy it!”
“Brother!” exclaimed Loki.  “Come, drink with me!  For the dawn of a new and more balanced age!”
Danny did not like that emphasis on balanced.  It sounded like something out of someone else’s mouth.   And Loki had said it, or something like it, before, to Iron Man, hadn’t he?  But Danny had other concerns at the moment.  “Hey,” he said, by way of greeting.  “So, before we start, is he drunk enough to be actually impaired?  He keeps telling me Asgardians are different and all, but I’m not super clear if he’s actually an Asgardian, like, species-wise, culturally, obviously, I mean.  Is he drunk?”
“What?” asked Thor. 
“Look, I haven’t slept in…  I just haven’t.  So.  Words.  Forget them.”  He pointed at Loki.  “Drunk?”
“I’m not drunk,” said Loki.  “I am merely showing Thor some hospitality.”
Thor scowled at them and turned his hammer on the Tesseract.  Naturally, it bounced off the shield, and Thor flew backward several meters. 
“Should I have warned him?” asked Danny.  He was sort of annoyed that Thor hadn’t at least answered the question about alcohol. 
“It wouldn’t have made any difference,” said Loki, draining another shot of alcohol.  “He never listens to me when I tell him things, anyway.”
“That might be because you’re sort of unhinged.”
“Oh, yes, so unlike SHIELD and Fury, using an infant as a soldier.”
A gust of sand blew over the roof, revealing Tucker. 
“Oh, hi, Tuck!” said Danny, waving.  “Here all by yourself?”
Tucker looked up, red flashing behind his glasses as he wobbled.  “A son of Ra never walks alone.  Wadjet rests upon my brow, Nekhbet shelters me with her wings.”
Oh, that didn’t sound good. 
“Finally,” said Loki.  “Someone who can give me a decent fight.”  He threw the glass aside and walked forward, only to be stopped by Thor. 
“No, brother,” said Thor.  “If you fight, you fight with me.”
“Well, sounds like it’s just you and me, then,” said Danny, pleasantly unsure about his odds against Tucker given their respective current states.  Ice crackled under his feet even as the air grew dry and desert-like.  To their side, Loki and Thor fought with more traditional means. 
Captain America and Black Widow zoomed by the tower on a stolen chitauri glider.  Both Danny and Loki noticed at the same time and turned to fire – Danny hoping Tucker would take advantage of the distraction, Loki for who knew what, considering he was still in the middle of a rather nasty sibling brawl, complete with hair pulling on both ends.
Thor tackled Loki and the bolt from the scepter missed.  Danny’s ectoblast didn’t.
.
It was only a slight graze, one that barely made the chitauri bike shudder, but it must have gone through something important, because although they weren’t in freefall, Steve and Natasha soon found themselves in a steep spiral.
Steve prepared to grab Natasha and jump.  Bleeding off even a little momentum meant a lot in these situations. 
But before they got close enough to the ground to do so, sand blasted up, buoying them up with enough force for Natasha to get more control and set them on the street in one piece even as individual grains of sand scored lines in their protective gear and sometimes their skin.  The sandstorm died down, revealing a street full of enemies, Stark Tower looming high above them, and other bikes hurtling towards the ground and exploding into fireballs.  The sandstorm had, apparently, been too much for them.  The street itself was, and there was no good way to say this, brutally shredded.  Not a single window on the block still had glass in it.  Was that where all the sand had come from?
The portal disgorged another huge creature, flanked by fliers.  Steve could spot what looked like hundreds of soldiers on it, made tiny by distance. 
“Well, plan A is screwed,” said Natasha, as they prepared to fight.  “What now?”
Steve touched his communicator – the Fenton Phone – then turned to slam a chitauri soldier into the ground.  He tossed the weapon to Natasha.  “Fentons,” he said, “we’ve been shot down.  Can you make a shield around the portals with the generators we’ve already dropped?”
“No can do, Cap!” shouted Jack Fenton.  “Any shield we could make right now would miss it by a mile!  Geometry’s all wrong!”
Steve looked up the tower again, casually deflecting an energy blast from one of the Chitauri.
“What’re you thinking?” asked Natasha. 
“What if we got some of the generators up on top of Stark Tower?”
“That might work,” said Maddie Fenton.  “We’re going to have to do some very fast and dirty math to get everything working, but I think it might work…”
There were screams – civilians – down the street, and Steve’s whole body twitched towards them.
“Give me the generators,” said Natasha, acquiring another weapon as her first one seemed to run out of charge.  “You go.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.  Given how big Stark Tower is, and how many people Loki probably had, sneaking through that place is more my thing, anyway.”
“And I can give you some tips!” said Stark, who had, of course, been listening in.
“Alright,” said Steve, already planning on how best to organize a civilian retreat.  He tossed the pack of shield generators to Natasha, who caught them easily. 
“Don’t die!” she said. 
“Don’t plan on it!”
.
Tucker jerked his staff sideways with a gasp, and that was enough of an opening for Danny.  He stepped forward, smoothly, winter in his wake, sliding past the not-quite-real vulture and snake that had faded into being around Tucker. 
Duulaman had given Danny a lot of trouble the first time around, throwing constructs in his path and warping reality as he saw fit.  But there was a lot to be said about experience. 
He grabbed Tucker’s wrist and squeezed.  The snake sunk its teeth into Danny’s shoulder.  They all hissed.  Danny looked into Tucker’s red eyes, and wondered if the color of his eyes was just as jarring to Tucker. 
Then, the red flared brighter and Tucker—
Tucker dropped the scepter.  The red in his eyes vanished immediately. 
“No, no, no, I can’t do that,” said Tucker, whose skin had taken on a clammy, sickly cast.  “No, nope, not doing that, oh my gosh—”
Danny grabbed the scepter and tossed it over the edge of the building.  Which was… okay, that could have gone better.  
“Sorry,” said Danny.
“Crap,” said Tucker, but he wasn’t a threat any longer, so Danny let him go.  He had his orders. 
Protect Loki. 
“Loki!” shouted Thor, even as Danny pushed him away and called up a shield.  “Look at this! Look around you! You think this madness will end with your rule?”
“It’s too late,” said Loki, voice cracking.  “It’s too late to stop it.  Any of it.”
“The army isn’t ours,” reminded Danny, helpfully, looking back.  He could see the knife between Loki’s fingers. 
The sounds of battle seemed to swell.  The shadow of one of the huge space whales passed overhead. 
“Get me out of here,” whispered Loki.
“Got it,” said Danny, and he pulled them both off the side of the building. 
.
Tucker didn’t know how much more of this his heart could take.  First, Captain America and Black Widow going down, then the sudden fear that he’d killed them with that glass sandstorm, then Danny getting the scepter from him and tossing it off the roof, and now Danny and Loki were skydiving without parachutes.
Please let them not have pancaked on the ground.  He knew Danny could tap his flight a little, even in human form, but there was still that fear.
“Call back your staff!” called Thor.  “We must go!”
“Wh—I don’t know what you can do with your hammer, but I can’t just call back that thing,” said Tucker.  “It’s probably broken into a million pieces on the sidewalk by now!”  And good riddance, honestly.  He could still feel something in the back of his head.  Something nasty. 
“Have you ever tried?  Tools like that tend to return to their rightful owners,” said Thor, taking a few steps towards him.  “I do not pretend to know what you are going through with this ‘past life’ of yours, but you can control it.  Just as Banner controls his anger, or any mage of my people controls the power that flows through them.  And you must.  This city depends on us.”
“Oh, no pressure, then,” said Tucker. 
“Good man.”  Thor patted him on the shoulder and then jumped off the building.  Great!  Great.  It wasn’t like there was any other way for him to get off this roof, what with Loki’s other forces in the building.  He was stuck on the roof alone!
“Ughhhh.”
Or maybe not so alone.  He pulled his emergency lipstick out of his pocket.  Not the best weapon against humans – and he had no idea what it would do to aliens – but it was better than nothing.  And how arrogant had the staff made him, that he didn’t think to get something more robust from the Ops Center before leaving? 
Near the portal device, an old man was sitting up, holding his head.  “Ugh, oh, no.  Oh, no.”  He stared up at the portal in awe and horror. 
“Hey,” said Tucker. 
The man jumped.  “Who’re you?”
“Who’re you?”
They stared at each other for a moment. 
“… are you pointing a tube of lipstick at me?”
He had pretty good eyesight for such an old guy. 
“It’s a deadly laser,” said Tucker.  Well.  It was a laser, and it did have an association with death, via ghosts, so.  It wasn’t like he was lying.  “Are you one of Loki’s people?  Did you help make this?”
“I—Not of my own will.”  The man got to his feet shakily.  “I was—The scepter.  You can’t—You can’t protect against yourself.”
“I know the feeling,” said Tucker.  “You know any way to shut it off?”
The man nodded, slowly.  “Yes.  Yes, we did.”
“You and Danny?”
“All of us.  Loki…  There’s something very wrong with Loki.”
“Cool.  So.  How do we do it?”
“We need Loki’s staff.”
.
After they’d fallen a few stories, Danny flipped them into the building.  Whatever Tucker had done had taken out all the glass, leaving Stark Tower, with its ultra-modern design, missing much of its outer walls.  Loki landed easily, which maybe, maybe supported his position that he wasn’t drunk. 
Maybe. 
He also caught Danny by the arm when he stumbled.
“What’s wrong with you?” he snapped. 
“Uh.  Not sleeping in days.  What’s wrong with you?”
Loki scoffed.  “Hide us,” he ordered. 
Danny turned them invisible.
“So… What now?”
“I should be leading this army,” said Loki, looking out into the city, his eyes slightly unfocused even as Thor swooped down from the roof and back out into battle.  “I should be directing them—They should be hunting down these heroes, not wasting time with humans that aren’t even warriors.”
Danny swallowed.  Loki was right – right both ways, actually.  The way the chitauri were fighting was stupid, but it wasn’t stupid enough.  Fewer people would get hurt if they were focused on people who could take it.  Except…  “You do know it isn’t your army, right?  You do—What happens,” Danny tried, a bit desperately, “when your boss comes through that portal?”
Loki froze.  His breathing went shallow.  “No, no, no,” he said.  “That was not our bargain.  I will deliver the Tesseract and the scepter to him.  He has no reason… no reason…” 
“What did he do to you?” pushed Danny.  If he knew it was something bad, then maybe…
Loki shook his head.  “I need to take command.”  His voice was flat, lifeless. 
“Okay,” said Danny.  “Elevator or stairs?”
Green light flared from above, and they both strode to the edge of the floor to look up. 
.
“We’ve got increased energy influx, kiddos!” said Jack over the Ops Center intercom.  “Get ready to adjust for momentum bleed-off, Jazzypants!”
“Right, right, right,” said Jazz, making sure she had a good grip on the controls.  If this wound up being a thing where they had codenames printed in the newspaper, and hers wound up being Jazzypants, she’d be committing some crimes. 
“Wait, what does he mean momentum bleed-off?” asked Sam, who had noticed what controls Jazz had and was now buckling herself in. 
“Ever notice that you slow down when you go through a portal?”
“Sped up a few times, too.”
“Well, that energy goes somewhere, so—”
The Ops Center lurched, and Jazz steadied it in the air, running the engines just enough to keep them in place.  The anchor was all very well and good, but it had limits, too. 
A familiar figure, smaller than the space whales but, but still huge, with a weapon held in each of her four hands, emerged from the portal, trailing dozens of smaller glowing dots. 
“Yes!” shouted Sam.  “They made it!”
And then the shield cut out. 
“Uh, we might have underestimated the juice the portal would take when actively transmitting.  Just a bit.”
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loveyourownsmiilee · 1 year
Note
Relooking at 6A after the start of the second half of the season is kinda funny. First episode with the blimp. They need to use the extended ladder but need to wait till the electricity is shut off so they don’t get electrocuted. . In the happiness convention the guy makes buck think he learned the secret to happiness right as he died. (Looking at you 6.10) In the episode where we see how Karen and hen got together, after Chim makes Karen think hen died Karen says so you wanted to what “pay it forward” Cursed gives us once again Eddie’s “prove to me something is real and I’ll believe in it” and the whole are curses real universe screaming at you of it all. Red flag gives us a few mentions of Shannon from Eddie. Interesting we haven’t really had a mention of Eddie’s wife/partner for awhile until the episode before buck loses a fight with Zeus 👀. We also get Denny questioning about his bio parents bringing up the issue of real parent vs “real” parent. And who does Hen talk to about it? Eddie. Who also has a son and might one day have the issue of navigating assigned parental roles eventually and a small insight of where his mindset on such issues would be. I’m sure there’s more and maybe none of this means anything idk I just found some of it to be ironic given what we saw happening in 6.10 and what we know going forward from bts stuff with 6B.
Nonnie I am fully applauding you for this magnificent meta!!! Because what I’ve been trying to explain in my weekly metas is that there’s a rhyme and reason to each and every episode we’ve gotten thus far. Everyone who’s been complaining about the lack of Buck and Eddie scenes aren’t looking at the full picture and that is everything else that’s going around them. Every single episode has had something significant occur that can in one way or another be connected to Buddie if they were choosing to make them romantic. I’ve mentioned so many different occurrences in my meta’s that are deliberate foreshadowing for a lot of things that I think are still yet to come and this is a wonderful summary of everything thus far. I also keep holding onto that very first episode where we had the Buckley-Diaz family dinner. Typically the first episode heavily foreshadows what’s to come by the finale. Well the finale is currently being filmed and who still doesn’t have a couch? Oh yeah that’s Buck. These writers and directors who’ve been chosen for this season are all pro Buddie canon people and their work is being laid out for all to see. What I’m trying to say is that everything you said is important for people to read and sit on bc they’ve been trying to tell us since the beginning! Thank you for sharing!
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shmothman · 11 months
Note
Thank you for responding! I love the essay you wrote about what we've seen about his character thus far and you brought up good points! When you put it like that, his 'recklessness' does come from things that he planned for. While true, having the Brave Asagi fly through a thunderstorm for the sake of shaking of the Explorers is reckless, it also gave Cap a power boost from the lightning, bringing back that image of Ash's Pikachu way back in the first episode getting struck by lightning against the Spearow flock.
And yeah, instead of letting Liko just rush in like that, he held her back and put down a plan; distracting Amethio with a battle while Liko goes ahead to save her Pokemon. It makes me wonder if Amethio would wise up and makes it harder for Friede to taunt him into battles, seeing that he's done it twice now. I'm super intrigued to see the origins for the crew! Like, how did he scrounge up people from various backgrounds and ages, and where the Brave Asagi even came from. Did they build it from scratch? Repurpose an existing blimp for their purposes? It's super technologically advance to me, given that they can have an on deck battling arena plus those force fields(?) covering it. From the character sheet we've seen of him, there was one where he made this pouty face and one that I could see where he's getting reprimanded or maybe feeling sick. Given that there's Mollie on board, I just want to see moments where he's wrangled into the infirmary for one reason or another. With the stunts he's pulled thus far, I want to see one where things doesn't go exactly as plan. He strikes me as someone who maybe has a hard time staying still. I know I'm waiting every week for new bits of information cause I want to write him so much!
Right right right—the thunderstorm bit seemed risky, but I think it really mostly showed that he has confidence in what he does; he didn’t doubt his and pikachu’s ability to navigate through it safely, and he knew the tactical advantage it would give to pikachu in battle. (There’s the question of whether learning that these things would work took a lot of risk on his part in the past, and I do have an inkling that he was more reckless as a kid/teenager than he is now, but who knows what we’ll learn about his past.)
And yes I also hope Amethio is the type of antagonist that doesn’t fall for the same thing twice—now that he knows Friede is prone to Being The Distraction, I hope they’ll have to find new ways to beat them! (Though, if we’re being honest, we’re coming from the series that had ash/team rocket fall for the same things every time, so we’ll see 🤣) And I really want to see what Friede does when plan A doesn’t work 👀👀
I’m so excited to see the origins of the crew, too! I mean obviously Molly has a history with the Nurse Joys (given the pink hair, the Chansey, and the fact that she didn’t want to go into the pokemon center) so my guess for her is that she ran away from being a nurse—and what better way to leave everything behind than to join the crew of an airship. But I would guess that either they were all friends and decided to go into the adventuring business together, or Friede was the one who came up with the idea and met/hired/befriended the rest along the way. Or Captain Pikachu found them all 🤣🤣 it’s anybody’s guess right now!
I wouldn’t say that the airship is super advanced, given what we’ve seen of the rest of the technology in the pokemon world: the forcefield around the battlefield reminds me of the energy barriers in the stadiums in the journeys series—it’s probably pretty standard tech in-universe. And there have been much more futuristic methods of travel, off the top of my head I remember Hunter J’s airship from the Diamond and Pearl series; though I do get the idea that it was at least a little bit cobbled together—or at least improved by Orla and the rest of the crew when they got it. Maybe they inherited it from someone? Maybe they bought it? I can’t wait to find out!
I also agree that he seems like someone who can’t stay still (listen I know I’m always HCing my favs with at least one of my Mental Issues but this one for sure has adhd)—I would bet that he’s always looking for the Next Mystery to Solve, and would probably get restless pretty quickly if there wasn’t anything to do next. But I also think he’s okay when the thing to do next is just… make some money 🤣 because hey, more money means more adventure, right? Though I do think he took this job more for the mystery of it than the money of it 🤣 it really seems like he’d do just about anything for a good mystery 👀👀
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bitchysongcomputer · 2 years
Text
Married Men by BearTrainer
From BeefyFrat Library, before it disappears.
Don’t ask me what finally made me do it. I guess surfing all those gainer sites and lurking around those bulletin boards after Janine and the kids were in bed. Of course, when I first found them all, I did what you usually do. I knew they got me hot, but I just told myself I was bored and stressed out from work, which is true. Now that my contracting business is taking off, work is far more of a bitch than it ever was when I was hurting for jobs. But, you know that’s bullshit, even I knew it was at the time. So I’d jack off real quick to some of the hot stories, some of those big belly pics and drawings, and then forget about it. I’m not gay—I’m not. Janine still turns my crank after 15 years, and if it weren’t such a hassle, me being boss and all, I’d gladly go pussy-chasing with the Mexican crew I got on Friday night. It’s just that when it comes to fat guys, guys blimping, guys getting soft, sprouting a gut and growing tits, I pop a boner. The rest of that gay shit doesn’t do anything for me—just fat guys. So after getting up enough nerve to exchange a few E-mails with some of the cooler dudes on the gainer boards, I decided to see what kind of action I could scare up for myself. Opened a Hotmail account and got my ad together: Straight married encourager guy looking for straight married gainer into getting fed, growing gut. No strings or romance. Just hot man-to-man action. I’ll bring the eats. You bring the appetite. Beginners welcome. I put that last part in mostly to cover my own ass, since I’d never been with a guy, period, no less doing any kind of shit like this. And maybe it was my own denial or something, but even though I plastered the ad everywhere I could think—even on the Yahoo personal boards, for Christ’s sake!—I didn’t really think I’d get a response. And for a month or two, I didn’t. But then. . . . I remember thinking, "Man, he sounds a helluva lot more nervous than even me," when I answered the phone and heard him say, "Hey, man, this is Gary," then a long pause, "You know, from the ad. . . ." Like I wouldn’t know. Right. Like I hadn’t fucking waited three days by the phone. "Hey, Gary! Cool. I was wondering if you were going to call." "Well, you know, stuff came up. How you doing?" "I’m great. Just great. How’s by you?" I could hear him coughing, clearing his throat. "I’m OK. So, what’s the deal? You want to meet or what? What do you usually do?" I was such a wuss about this, I don’t mind telling you. I’d been putting these ads out and actually hadn’t really even thought about what the fuck I’d do if someone called. But I think quick on my feet, so I said, all cool and suave, "Well, let’s at least meet for a cup of coffee, then you know, if we want to take it the next step, we can always go down the street for a tub." "What do you mean, like a hot tub?" I was thinking of the place next town over where Janine and I would go every once in a while before the kids. It was nice, not sleazy, well-run, and all the rooms had a little bed and a sauna. Plus, I wanted to get a look at this guy before I committed myself to anything. You know, what if he was some ugly old skank or something. "Yeah, but let’s just talk first. Like I said, no strings." He hung up so quick after I named a place to meet that I really didn’t think he’d show, so after telling the guys I was taking off to price a job in the city, I brought some paperwork with me the next day, got my coffee and figured I’d wait a half-hour, no more. Knock me over with a fucking feather if he doesn’t show up like right on the button and isn’t like one of the hottest guys I’ve seen. Just the way I like them—looking about early 30’s, real all-American, about six-foot, should have been about 180 and maybe was for most of his life, but clearly packing an extra 30 or so, lots of it hanging over the front in a sort of clingy yellow T-shirt. "Gary, it’s Doug. How you doing, guy?" I thought he’d be a nervous wreck, the way he sounded yesterday, but evidently he got his shit together and looked cool, sat down, chunky football player ass and legs spreading big on the seat, smiling like we were both being bad boys. Figured I might as well set a tone. "Can I get you something? Couple of donuts. Coffee." Still smirking, he nodded, "Yes. And yes." So we chit-chatted some, keeping our voices a little low. Turned out this was his first time with a guy, but his wife—he wouldn’t tell me her name, just called her "my wife"—seemed to be intent on fattening him up. "You should see what she cooks for me. And I don’t dare tell her I can’t eat any more, because I get the look, you know. Plus she’s always handing me what our daughter doesn’t eat. And of course there always cake and ice cream in front of the tube. It’s like I get up feeling like a stuffed pig sometimes when I get into bed. You see, this." He rubbed his gut. "All in the last two years, and I can’t lose it. So I figured, why not just forget about it and let it go." Thinking to work him a little, get him hot, I said, "The wife likes it that way, doesn’t she?" He smiled shyly. "She can’t keep her hands off it. Neither can the guys at work. They’re always ribbing me, but that’s why I called you. Because it like turns me on when they do that shit. Am I, like twisted or something?" I leaned back and pushed the second donut at him, trying to act smug, like I was the big expert. He looked like a little boy, cheeks munching away, looking up at me. "I don’t know, man. What’s twisted? I just know what I like." I waited till he swallowed. "So, you feeling like a tub?" He laughed out loud and slapped his belly. "Yeah. You bet I’m feeling like a tub. But I guess you mean a hot tub, huh?" If this was his first time, it didn’t show. I went in first and paid, and then he waited in his truck a little and came in after, just in case anyone might see us walk in together. I had my wits about me—either that or my old army training—but I had crammed my bag full of plenty of supplies from the bakery around the corner from work where all the lardasses seemed to go, all the stuff I’d fantasized for years seeing a guy eat—chocolate eclairs, a big box of butter cookies, a marble cake, and a bunch of cupcakes. (I’d have loved to bring a coconut cream pie but I couldn’t figure out how to smuggle it in, since you’re not supposed to bring food into the tub place.) Anyway, the door hardly closed when suddenly big Gary was all over me, pressing his overfed belly right into mine and knocking me back against the wall, nuzzling my neck with his face, smelling of sweat and sugar. I ran my hands over his straining T-shirt, feeling the heft of him, rolling his fat back and forth in my palms, half-teasing, half-dominant, and using my own strength, pushed him back. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, bubba. Not so fast. You gotta do what I say or you ain’t gonna get your eats." I stuck my thumb in the deep depression of his navel. "Got that, gainerboy?" It was a risk, I knew, pulling that attitude, but figured putting it out there would give us something to work with. He smirked, embarassed and horny, and played along. "Sure, man. Whatever you want. You be my coach. I’ll follow orders." Then he hung his head and looked up at me. "Pants off." He obeyed, but when he went to pull his jockeys off, I smacked his hand. "Leave them on." I went over to my bag and started laying out the goodies in front of him, taking my time, keeping my own gym shorts and tank-top on, looking at the fine sight of his belly hanging out of the now loose T-shirt. We were both throwing major woodies, but I just stood there and took in the sight of him, like he was a big piece of beef, and that really seemed to make him crazy-hot, started pulling on his dick. I cocked my head toward the bubbling tub, and saying nothing, we climbed in with our clothes on, as if we were just straight guys doing a jacuzzi together, but I pushed him back and climbed on top of him, running my face and hands over the now soaking-wet, clinging T-shirt, straddling his fat thighs with my legs and sort of sitting on his lap. We didn’t talk, rubbing our face next to each other. I wasn’t sure I really wanted to kiss him, to tell you the truth, having never smooched with a guy, but eventually we started, mostly because it seemed he wanted it, and I had to say, the taste of his tongue was a real turn-on. I just kept thinking about how his whole life was going to revolve around that greedy mouth of his, his big hungry greedy voracious gainer mouth, how he was starting to live for his food, for being fed, for getting everything he could into that mouth, and at some point I guess I eventually started to say shit like that in his ear, whispering it, being a big tease, talking into his mouth. The whole feeling of this big dude under me, slick and wet, begging for it, was the most intense turn-on and he just moaned when I flipped both our cocks out of the shorts and started belly-fucking under the water. "You like this?" he said, his eyes kind of closed, putting his hands down my shorts and holding my ass. "I mean, you’re so tight, you work out." I poked my cock right into his underbelly as a response. "I don’t know. What do you think? You think I like this?" He moaned a little louder and pulled me into him a little harder. "I’d have to say yes. But man, like I’m so fucking fat." "That you are." I kept up the belly fucking, holding his wrists down on the sides of the tub, licking on his chin. "And you are going to get fatter." "Oh fuck. Really? You want me fatter. I’m such a blimp already." "You saw that food, didn’t you?" He licked his lips, looking over my shoulder at the spread. "You ain’t going to make me eat all that? Man, I’ll be sick. Already had a huge lunch." I grabbed his lovehandles under his shirt and started jiggling them, his soft mantits shaking just above the surface of the water in wet, nearly see-through T-shirt. "Yeah, I can feel it, right here, fatso. Is this where the guys at work poke? In your fat, right here. What do they call you these days? Chubs? Tubby? Jellybelly?" He was getting breathless, which I figured meant he was getting close, so I stopped the belly-fucking, peeled off my own shirt and shorts, threw them into a wet heap across the room and moved over to the other side of the tub. He didn’t expect this, but I was really getting off on being a cocktease for change, I guess ‘cause of all the years of having chicks do this teasing shit to me. Kind of helped me see it from their perpsetive, you know what I mean. It was pretty damn fun. Anyway, he started to come over but I stopped him with a foot, wiggling my toes in his flab. "Uh, uh, uh. Food first. Fun later. Just relax, big guy. Take a breather. We got a whole hour." He shook his head and decided to give me a taste of my own medicine, sitting back across the tub from me and lifting up the wet shirt just over his tits and cupping them, trying to act real matter-of-fact. "If I gain any more weight, I’m going to have D-cups, what do you think?" Thing was his tits weren’t really that big yet, most of the weight was in his belly and hips, but I played along because it was kind of hoot talking about a guy’s breasts, plus it was very hot watching a guy fondle himself, breasts all hairy and butch. "Nips getting sensitive, darlin?" I said, looking away like I didn’t give a shit. "All the gainers I know say their nipples start fucking talking to them after a while." He chuckled at that and wincing a little, began to flick the tips of his nipples with his fingers. "Yup, they’re talking all right. Hear em?" I guess I deserved it for being a prick, but the sight of it was kind of driving me crazy, him leaning back, double-chin under his sexy, cleanshaven face, teats almost as big as Janine’s when she was revved up, and it was about all I could do to keep bringing myself off in the water in my own shorts. So I used my feet again and knocked his hands away from his breasts. "Yeah, I hear ‘em. They’re saying, ‘Feed this fucker. Get him big.’ " and with that, I climbed out of the tub and started toweling myself off right next to him. He was definitely getting off on my body—which after years of construction gets plenty of looks still, I will say that—but frankly, I wouldn’t look twice at a guy like me, while a big soft old doughboy like Gary just was working me to the bone. But there he was, jacking himself furiously as he watched me, so I gave him a little show, a few ass shorts, flexing the legs, shooting a bicep curl now and then. His face was red and sweaty, eyes kind of going glassy from being so turned on, and he looked like he was having the time of his life. "Isn’t that what they are saying, Gar? Aren’t those nipples saying, ‘Mmm, mmm, want some pound cake.’ " I lazily made my way over the to the bed and sat cross-legged on it, arranging the food around me. "Or maybe it’s that hungry mouth of yours?" He didn’t say anything, but with a big whoosh, he hoisted himself out of the tub, struggled to get his soaking wet clothes off, blubber shaking the whole time, which I wasn’t about to complain about at all, and then, quickly drying himself, made his way over to the bed. I checked out his cock, which wasn’t as long as mine but was real thick and uncut, which kind of surprised me, and with a sound kind of like "oomph," he plopped down parallel to me on his back, all the goodies lined up between us, making a pillow with his towel, so his head was propped up. In this position, his belly flattened out some, but I could still see the roundness spreading and his navel looked real deep. "You want dessert?" I tore off a hunk of cake and nibbled on it myself. He still didn’t say anything, and I couldn’t figure out if he was embarassed about this, or ashamed, or if this was part of the turn-on for him, having me take charge like this, but he nodded, staring straight into my eyes for a long time, and then parted his lips and closed his eyes. So I started feeding him like that, at first giving him chunks that were way too big, but then realizing that all my fantasies of cramming guys full of food had to be brought into reality and that little bite-size pieces made it easy to just keep the rhythm going, one after another, trying to time his swallows with another little bit ready and waiting, right on the edge of his lips. He was moaning and groaning the whole time from pleasure, making little baby sounds, and I let myself sort of lean over him so I could hear him better, because I found that part of it really, really hot, like he were my son and I was his dad, and I was growing him into a huge fat stud. In fact, pink and round and fat as he was, he sort of looked like a little kid, and so I just started rubbing his belly really affectionately, not like sexual or nothing, rubbing my hands in long, slow circles up from his navel to just under his pecs and back, like I sometimes did on my own kids backs to help them go to sleep. Well, big Gary put away a pound cake, gut getting higher and tighter toward the end and he managed to pack away about a dozen sugar cookies before opening his eyes and saying, "Got a take a break, Doug. Belly’s real full." The look in his eyes made me think he was hurting, but the smile on his face told me a different story. So, I raised my eyebrows, said, "Hey, sure," but since he had responded so well to me being kind of a mean bastard, I decided to keep it up, and sat back, took one of those heavily iced cupcakes in my hand and began to lick it off. "Man, is this shit ever good! I don’t usually eat this stuff, but now I see why you fatguys like it. Real sweet. Real soft." My cock was jutting straight up against my own flat belly and I just thinking about all those chicks I had see in the Playboy movies and the way that they made you really believe that they didn’t want to do anything but go down on that guy’s prick, like they were living to suck that fat cock. So thinking of that, I made love to that sweet cupcake like I’ve never made love to anything. "I mean, you can’t be full yet. Big dude like you. You gotta wanta just taste this, don’t you? You don’t want me eating all your treats up, do you, bigguy?" I started making little thwacking sounds with my lips, thinking that might do it, and sure enough, Gary closed his eyes again and opened his mouth, my signal to start feeding. Well, getting this round down him was a little more work, and in all honesty, I started feeling a little sorry for him, because his gut really did start to look like a beachball and there was an edge to his groaning that made me think we were moving past pleasure into pain. But the fact was, the whole time, his cock was hard as a rock, drooling like a hose pipe and he opened his mouth to whatever I offered. After the last cupcake, he was breathing real hard, his eyes sort of rolling back in his head. "I’m like getting a sugar rush or something," and I don’t know what made me do it, I guess instinct, but I grabbed his cock and began to slowly give him a handjob. I’d never touched another guy’s cock before, this was the first time, yet the position we were in made it easy for me, you know, side by side, kind of like I was jacking myself off. "Breathe deep, baby. Just breathe into your belly. Make a little room in there." The back of my hand was stroking his lower belly and I could feel him doing what I was saying. "You just gotta keep breathing. It’s like any kinda training. You know what I’m saying." His prick was really slimy, which wasn’t my most favorite part of this, but he started to clench his big ass with every stroke of mine and the movement seemed to make him more comfortable. "That’s right," I prompted him. "Get into it. Fuck my fist. Come on, you’re fat and happy, ain’t you?" He knocked my hand away suddenly and grabbed himself, a sign the big guy wasn’t going to be lasting too much longer. Staring right into my face, he croaked out, "Eclair," and fumbling a bit, I managed to lay hold of an eclair, aiming it right into his open mouth as his whole body tensed and released. It was an amazing sight, seeing this overfed guy cumming next to me, a sight I had only dreamt of for many years. I could see all his muscles tight, but on top of it all was a big quivering layer of manfat, shaking like jello, the orgasm just shooting through him in waves, his mouth frantically trying to down the eclair I had pushed in it without choking, and again, mostly from instinct I guess, I got on my knees, aimed my own cock straight over his stomach and with no more than five solid pulls, shot my wad on that blubberbelly quivering underneath me. I had cum about a thousand times thinking about this, spewing right on top of a big man’s fat hairy stomach, and it was like I stayed there frozen for a real long, the orgasm absolutely one of the most intense I had ever had, so intense I forced myself to keep my eyes open, to take the whole fucking scene in, and just when I thought I was done, I heard Gary groan, saw his lips smeared with cream and chocolate and damn if I didn’t fucking lose it all over again. This time I let out a yell, because this had never happened to me, cumming twice right on top of each other, and it scared the shit out of me, thought I might be having a convulsion or something, and I guess Gary saw that because he put one of his arms around the back of my neck and using his strength, pulled me straight down on top of him, holding me like a fucking doll against his huge warm soft body, as I just let loose again, thrashing wildly, crying, hunching my prick into his belly. It was like I had been reduced to some kind of animal or something, and all I could think about was trying to stay conscious while I rode this incredible wave of pleasure—not my family, not my job, not my wife, not my kids, not nothing—just this mind-blowing orgasm. All I can say was that it was a good thing Gary was a big strong guy, because he held me good and just let me carry on, all of him shaking underneath me from laughter. I ended up laying completely limp on top of him, drooling between his pecs, panting, feeling my own thighs wedged between his, my cock just sore and throbbing buried in his fat, almost too sensitive for me to touch. Trying to get my own shit together, I mumbled something like "Goddamn. That was a first," and taking stock of the situation without moving, I realized that both of us were pretty much of a mess, between the food, sweat, spit, and cum. He was stroking my head and I responded by reaching up and the back of my own hand against his cheek. "First for me, too," he said, good-humoredly. "You could have warned me you were a wild man." "Then I thought you might get scared off." I managed to say this and sound like I knew what I was talking about. "You know how uptight married guys are." "Don’t I ever!" We both laughed, and after hearing the buzzer for ten minutes, took our time showering. Worst part was realizing suddenly that the only clothes we had were the soaking wet things laying in the corner. "Oh fuck," I said, wringing the shorts and T-shirt out. "Guess I’ll have to say I went to the gym." Gary made a face, holding the shirt. "Wish I could use that excuse. I’m going to have some major explaining to do. Walking down the street, looking like the goddamn Goodyear blimp in a wet T shirt. Least I got my pants." He caught me looking and laughed again. "You are a big prick, aren’t you? Use me and abuse me." I smirked. "Me? What are you talking about? You ever going to call me again or you just gonna just dump me?" He fiddled with his wedding ring, not thinking about it, far as I could tell, but that’s what he was doing. "We’ll see. It’s going to take me a month to digest what you fed me today." I gave him a soft punch in the gut, copping one last feel before we opened the door and went back to real life. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Anyway, you got my number. Thursdays are good for me." Then I handed him the four eclairs left over in the box. "Here, share these with the wife and kids. My compliments." He stuck his tongue out. "You are a prick, aren’t you?" Guess I fed him good, because I never heard from him again. I did hear from a lot of gay guys who didn’t seem to be able to read, though, or who musta thought I was kidding when I said I was looking for straight, married guys. I didn’t answer any of them, mostly because the pics they sent didn’t do much for me, but also it was clear that they were looking for love in all the wrong places, as far as I could tell. I was certainly not going to be throwing my whole life down the toilet for a little gainer fun on the side. Plus, I couldn’t figure out what to say without sounding, you know, like an asshole. What was I supposed to say--"Sorry, I don’t get into fat queens," which is what they were. My momma always said, if you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all. So I just didn’t write back. Anyway, a month or so passed and then, finally, I got a note someone who could not only read English but wrote me quite an intelligent-sounding letter, by the name of George. Said he was a college professor, kids grown up, wife away a lot and said he was doing all the exploration he had put off for all these years. Clicking on the attachment, a pic came up that did a number on me—him wearing a Speedo on the beach, taken from below, big goofy smile on his bearded face, eyes squinting from the the sun, and what looked like quite a hefty, hairy belly and big soft manpecs, real dark tan. I popped a big boner immediately, not so much because he was a fat fox, which he was, but really because he was the spitting image of my father-in-law. That, I will say, felt a little weird, jacking off thinking about Russell while looking at this guy George’s picture, but after cumming, I knew I’d have to get together with this dude, just to push the envelope. He was real friendly on the phone and very well-spoken, so I knew he wasn’t giving me a line about him being a professor and all. This put me immediately at ease and we shot the shit some, all the usual stuff—no, the wives didn’t know, yes, we had both been into this for as long as we could remember, no, we weren’t looking for romance, just play—moving quickly to "how’s your schedule look?" When I said it looked good, name a day, he said, "I don’t know what you usually do, but may I suggest this? Let’s meet at La Picante for a little Mexican fiesta and then, if you can wait till next Friday, I’m going to have the whole house to myself." "How come?" He chuckled. "My wife travels a lot on business. She’s an entertainement lawyer. It does make it convenient, however. I got very tired of having sex with my socks and shoes on. Plus, going out to eat makes it easy, get filled up, do a little take-out and finish it off in the privacy of my own boudoir. You want to see if you can help me beat my taco record?" "Yeah?" I had cruised all the eating contest sites in the course of my websurfing, and knew this kind of turned me on. "How many?" "So far 21, at a single sitting. But that was when I was a mere slip of a thing at 245." I felt myself get real hard real quick. "And what’s the weight now?" "Hovering around 270. Need help to push that needle over. You up for some pushing, Doug?" I was up for some pushing, all right. I had always dreamt about being with a guy that huge, seeing how far I could take him. So I was definitely up, no problem, except maybe keeping from whacking off right here in my office where any of the Mexicans could walk in, which they usually did without knocking. We decided to meet on Friday after work, and that whole week I jerked off over his pic, thinking about rubbing suntan oil all over that gut. I also found myself saying, "Daddy" when I came, which freaked me out a little, but I tried not to think about that too much. I wanted to get there early, order some stuff like margaritas the place was famous for and sort of set the stage, but the professor beat me to it, already camped out at the table with a basket of chips, three bowls of salsa, and a frosty pitcher waiting. He rose, looking hefty and preppy, wearing a snug striped button down and khakis with the pockets flaring a bit on account of what I saw was a big rumproast on him. He was a lot darker and hairier looking in person and a lot bigger than the pic he had sent, looked to be about ten years older than me. The handshake was strong, and the smile was real friendly. I liked him right away and felt like I was with someone who knew what he wanted and knew how to get it. It felt kind of good to not have to be in charge. He piled the chips into his mouth in a steady stream while talking. Looked to me like he was a born eater, and when I said something, he laughed a little, wiping sauce off his beard and licking his fingers off. "Yeah, I eat like a breathe. Spent most of my life trying to hold back, but once the kids left, I said, ‘Fuck it, life’s too short.’" "Does the wife give you trouble about the weight?" He waved the waiter over and made a face. "She makes noises like she cares, but she doesn’t. I mean, I think she knows about me, my being bisexual, I mean. I think she’s known for years. Her approach is very ‘don’t ask,’ and mine is very ‘don’t tell.’ So it works. After being married 25 years, it’s not an especially pressing issue. Say, you want something?" I ordered a combination plate, thinking what I didn’t finish, George would get—turned me on thinking about making the big guy eat my leftovers, I have to say. However, George had definitely been through this drill, because he told the waiter that he wanted him to just start bringing tacos in batches of three until he told him to stop. The waiter looked at him strangely, but then I caught the dude checking out the professor’s gut and realized George was for real, so he just nodded and asked, "Chicken, beef or pork?" "One of each. And when you see me start on the third one, you start getting the next three ready." I was stiff as steel down below, something about watching this already fat guy intent on shamelessly pigging out in public was making me nuts, and I think George could sense my excitement, because he poured me another ice-cold margarita and snickered. "I like taking my time, Doug. Don’t you like taking your time? Makes the release so much sweeter." Well, that’s when I knew I had met my match in this one. Fasten your seat belt. This guy knew what he was doing all right. "Yeah? You know that from experience?" "Mmm, mmm, mmm." He struggled to get the last handful of chips down, swigging the rest of his drink like it was Kool-aid and crunching loudly on the ice. "Not as much as I’d like, that’s for sure. I’ve got a very demanding gut. Brought some pics for you." And so what does he do then, but he pulls out a bunch of old photos, tosses them on the table in front of me while we are waiting for the food to arrive, and just sits back, legs spread, belly pulling on the lower buttons of his dress shirt—before food!--looking the spider that ate the fly, knowing the effect they’d have on me. "Man, you were in great shape, weren’t you!" He had a few photos of him at about age 25 or 30, I was guessing, at the beach, wearing some real little bikini thing. "Where’s this?" The tacos arrived and he dug in, slurping them up, one bite taking care of half, cheeks stuffed and munching contentedly. "Greece. Family’s Greek. Used to have to visit grandma every summer. Tight gut, huh? I think I was 32’ there." It was hard to believe this was the same guy, really, because in the photos he could have only weighed about what I was weighing, 175, 180. "Really?" "Oh yeah. I was 32" for years. You know, until this." He rubbed his hands around the circumference, taking the opportunity to sling his belt down a little farther and push out his stomach. "I think this fellow measured 50" last weekend." He smiled wickedly. "You’re a contractor, aren’t you? You measure things for a living. That’s makes 18 inches of fat in five years. I don’t tell a lot of people. And a good 80 pounds or so, right? 180, 270. Guess 90. I’ve never paid much attention to the scale till lately. I started eating whatever I wanted whenever I wanted and figured I’ll end up weighing whatever I weigh. Once I got to 250, though, I figured I might as well shoot for a 100 pound gain. That’s been a bit more work than I thought it would be." He leaned forward to catch the drippings of the third taco and I could see his tongue darting in and out of his furry mouth, all red and wet. I wondered if he liked to suck dick. "Hey, why not?" I tried to sound casual and not to stare too much, but the real story was that I was pretty fucking mesmerized. I picked at my food and when the waiter didn’t do as he was told and the tacos didn’t arrive, I decided to give it my own shot, taking one of the tacos off and giving George the rest of the plate loaded with rice, beans, two enchiladas and two big greasy chile rellenos. I didn’t say anything. "So you aren’t going to finish that, huh?" he said, pulling the plate closer toward him, so the edge was almost touching the top of his gut. "Funny, you look real hungry. Or is that blush just the alcohol?" I acted cool but really all I wanted to do was fucking jump his fat ass right there. It was also pretty damn clear though that the professor was in charge of this. So what else did I have to do but toss back my margaritas and watch him eat. And man, did he eat! We were at that fucking restaurant for every little bit of two hours, between him announcing that it was time for what he called "a short hiatus" which meant him shifting around trying to get his now beachball-sized stomach into a position for further feeding, making conversation with me about the wife and kids, as if we was two old buddies catching up, and then starting in for another round. Around taco 18 or 19, he let out a very polite burp and then scooted himself to the end of the chair, letting his gut sag between his legs, elbows on the table, letting gravity make some more room. "You want to help me break my record, don’t you?" "Hey, sure, man. That’s why I’m here." He lowered his voice, as the waiter placed another three tacos in front of him and walked away. "Then this is how you help. Tell me what you like to do." At first I didn’t get it. "Like what do you mean, do?" He wiggled his eyebrows and picked up a taco. He was practically whispering. "You know, do. When you are with a guy." I couldn’t believe it. We were in a crowded restaurant. I was very turned and also very self-conscious, and he knew it. He also knew that I wasn’t going to say no to him. "Well, it’s time for the truth," I finally said. "I ain’t done much." He was munching away, words a little jumbled. "You fuck?" I looked around, hoping no one could hear him but sort of getting off on being so public at the same time. It was really a mindtrip, that I have to say. "Never fucked a guy. No." "Just handjobs then, like in the car, in the park. Right?" I continued to squirm like a deer in the headlights, watching him pile in the 20th taco. "Nope, ain’t done that either." "Tell you what, Doug." He picked up the last taco, full of shredded pork and cheese, and held it in front of his mouth. It was dripping red grease off the end onto his plate. "You want to see me break my record, don’t you?" "Absolutely, man. I want to see you eat that." It sounded lame, but I didn’t know what else to say. "Then you’ll let me suck your dick, won’t you? How’s that sound?" This dude was really out there, I remembered thinking, and I was so strung out at this point, I just bust out laughing at the whole thing. I figured, shit, I might as well say yes, since he had fucking read my mind. He was cool as a cucumber, though, waving that damn taco in front of his mouth, staring me down like he had just asked what time it was. Finally, I pulled myself together, stopped laughing and said, "Hell yeah," figuring I didn’t have to keep my promise, even if he did eat that damn taco. Truth was his mouth looked pretty damn fine for cocksucking, that I had to admit, and I was hoping that I wasn’t wearing a cooz spot of my own in the crotch by now. I don’t think I have been so hard for so long since high school. "Come on, eat it, cocksucker," I said, wearing a big grin. "Earn your keep, you fat fuck." Which evidently got him completely hot, because I have never seen anyone eat and whip out a $50 bill, keep the change and make for the door so fast in my whole life. "Follow me home," he said, waddling toward his brand-new Cherokee, big ass cheeks fighting to get out those khakis, basket almost as swollen high and hard as his belly full of food. Well, the professor was definitely an education for this hound dog. He sucked me not once but twice, the first time barely in the door of his fancy home in the hills, opening my pants and fly with one hand like he had gotten a master’s degree in doing married men on the run. I came in about ten seconds flat and he slurped me all up, getting on his feet and telling me, "Just to drain off the tension. Call it an hors d’oeuvre." The second time was much better, him taking great care of me after he had gotten me all hot and bothered again with that ass of his. Turns out that he got into this very specific sex thing: he pulled his pants down right under the cheeks of his ass, pulled his shirt tails up, so that his humongous soft cheeks sort of squeezed or jutted out in the space between, which is when he wanted me to start patting them—not slapping or spanking them, just jiggling. We were in his bedroom at this point and I have to admit the whole thing was really a trip, because he had positioned us so I could see the two of us reflected in the full-length mirror on the closet door off the mirror on the nightstand where all his wife’s shit was, hairbrushes, make-up, lipsticks Of course, he could see himself too, watching my hands on his cheeks, shaking his fat, watching me get into it with two hands, getting a rhythm going, each buttcheek bouncing up and down. "Rough hands," he grunted out at one point, pulling on his own cock with his eyes half-closed. "Like that." "Like that?" I said, giving him a little bit of a slap, making him jump. "Yeah, keep it up. I’m so fucking fat. I’m so fucking fat," which he just said over and over again until he shot onto the carpet, with me watching him in the mirror from behind, all of his blubber shaking under its own power at that point. I had such a big boner then I actually thought about maybe porking the guy, after all, his ass was right there practically begging for it and I was ready to go off again, but then I thought maybe that’s what he wanted to do all this for and I backed off, decided an another long, excellent bj would do fine. He was in fact a very excellent cocksucker, but my theory is that most gainers are. What do you call it, oral fixation? He lived for my dick for about a half hour, cupping his big titties the whole time and moaning, and it felt great, standing there, my hands on my hips, my big old prong wet and warm, feeling him suck that second load right out of me. I didn’t have to do shit, just come in his mouth a second time, and the look on his face was just priceless, like he’d won the Kentucky Derby. Now, trippy as the whole scene was, you can’t argue with getting two great blowjobs in a day, can you? It’s the kind of thing that I think maybe only a married guy can really bend his mind around, lucky as we are to maybe get one good blowjob every year. And the professor was digging it big time, no hesitation, no whining, just pigging out on cock, my cock. That was when I decided I liked doing gainerguys for real, right there in George’s bedroom in the hills, and on the way home, I was hoping that the professor might turn out to be a very useful tension reliever for those days when you just need to get off and you know that it ain’t going to be happening at home. Shit, this stuff was great, I thought: I didn’t even have to pay for dinner. He could be my fat cocksucking daddybear any old day he wanted. . . . Well, the thing with George went on for a bunch of months, as a matter of fact. His wife was traveling a lot that summer, some case of hers she was working on, and he’d call whenever she was gone. It got to the point I’d answer the phone at work and all I’d hear was "I’m hungry," which meant "Show up at La Picante at 5:30 pm." Which I would. He built his capacity up to a pretty impressive 35 tacos, and so he blimped to way past 300 in a flash. Or I guess I should say, in reality, he didn’t know what he weighed at that point because the scale they had only went up to 300, a fact I never failed to mention as his "breaking the goddamn scale," which always gave him a hard-on when I said it. And talk about quick, easy and painless--he was a married man’s dream come true, a little bit more of a prissy queen than at first glance, I found out, but hell, I wasn’t about to grouse. Even Janine noticed I seemed to be much more relaxed at home after work on those Fridays, and when she said something about it at dinner, I grinned and said "We’re raking in the dough these days with all these jobs. Sure, I’m in a good mood," wondering what she’d do if she knew I was getting my hose drained on a regular basis by a fatman. It was really all I could to keep from cracking up. But then, it all started having an effect. First thing I caught was me staring at big guys wherever I was, sometimes like really obviously without even knowing I was doing it. Going to Home Depot on the southside was like hog heaven—those dudes must do nothing but munch a bunch in the back, because every last one of them is fat-bellied piglets, waddling around the aisle, guts sticking out, and then they’d get up on those ladders, stomachs and lovehandles hanging out of their shirts with me looking up, and whew, sometimes it just got to be too much for me. I had to sometimes literally close my mouth and try to turn away before I gave the whole jig up right there in the power tool aisle. Then it got a little closer to home when my oldest boy Brad came home from school one day and said that he wanted to try out for wrestling this year, but that it meant putting on 25 pounds and what did I think? I didn’t quite know what to say really, because Brad had always been kind of stocky and had taken shit for it from some of the kids growing up, but he said he and his buddy Dan were going to bulk up together, hit the weights, get big. I got the same kind of freaky feeling then as I had had when I had been jacking off to George’s pic that time while thinking about Janine’s father. So, I said it was his decision, just no drugs or I’d bust his ass, and he looked at me like I had three heads, because I had never said anything like that to him before. I didn’t want to start thinking about what it might be like to have a gainer son right under my own roof, but of course I couldn’t help thinking about it and getting turned on, which it made it kind of hard sometimes to relax when I was with George, because I felt mixed up and kind of weird and guilty. But the final straw came when we all finished the Woodward job, this big mother of a custom house that tipped me into a six-figure income bracket and forced me to hire all the Mexican guys I had working for me now. Anyway, we’d been on that for a solid nine months and the day we turned it over, I took the crew out for a party at this divy Mexican bar place where the muchachos all hung out—figured they could use some serious Corona-action after what a pain in the ass the Woodwards had been with all their design changes and demands. So anyway, I’m the only gringo at this place and there’s Miguel, my foreman, who used to be my handyman and is now running the show for me on site, meanwhile there’s also the whole crowd of his friends and relatives he had me hire who did a good job for me after all because they appreciated getting the steady work so much instead of all that shitty day labor. The cholos are getting plenty blitzed, dancing and carrying on, and I’m feeling no pain either after an easy five or six Coronas, so I go outside for from fresh air and a smoke, about ready to take off when Justino, Miguel’s brother-in-law, comes out, this little fireplug of a Mexican guy, pretty quiet, never said much, to me or to anyone. Justino looks wasted and fumbling lights up a cigarette, too. "I just wanted to say thanks for the work, Senor Douglas. It’s been hard getting jobs, you know." I shrugged and smiled politely, realizing just how buzzed I was. "You all did a good job. Don’t worry about it." So then he’s standing there, shifting back and forth, and if I hadn’t been so shit-faced maybe I could have seen it coming, but then, real casual, he says to me, "You like guys, don’t you?" A chill goes up my spine and I look at him. "What did you say?" I ask him, real sharp, throwing down my cigarette and stamping on it. "I just see the way you look at us. You know, you like guys, too, don’t you, Senor Douglas." Which is when I realized he was fucking trying to come on to me. Maybe it was the beer, maybe it was who knows what, but I stand there like I been hit by lightning and it just fucking comes out of me. "Yeah, I like guys. Only I like fat guys." To this day, I can’t believe I said it, but I guess I thought it would throw him off the trail or something. Or maybe I just wasn’t thinking too straight after all the brew. "So, if I get fat, we can do it?" I couldn’t believe he was serious but damn if he didn’t look like he was, all shy and aggressive at the same time. "You are really a hunk, you know what I’m saying. I think you are a real man, you know." "Justino, come on," I tried to brush it off. "Knock that shit off. You’re married, wife’s pregnant. Who are you trying to shit?" His eyes got real wide and that’s when I really felt the fear of God, because he was dead on, no-shit, totally fucking serious. No joke. "I know. She’s all big, and like, I ain’t had any, and I keep seeing you and, senor, you are like driving me crazy. How much you want me? 200? 250?" Well, I sobered up right quick and realized if I didn’t handle this one right, the jig would be up, because this was Miguel’s wife’s sister’s husband and what one of them knows the whole pack of them knows. All of this was just beginning to hit way, way too close to home, so I bust out laughing, mostly from nerves, and tossed the whole thing off like he was pulling a joke on me. "What are you now? 160, 170? Huh? 200, Justino. You weigh in at 200 and we’ll talk. Okay?" And I poked him in the belly and walked off, sweating pouring off me like I’d jumped in a pool. Fun’s over, I decided that night driving home. No more of this shit. It was getting way too complicated. I wasn’t hiding my tracks well enough, not if fucking Justino, who I said maybe two words to in nine months, could tell what was up with me. Then add on to that the fact that the more I got, the more I wanted, and where was that going to end? I was already jerking off twice a day, checking my E-mail for messages all the time, hoping every phone call was George. So that was easy to take care of. I closed my Hotmail account the next day, and next time George called I pushed delete on the machine and hoped he wouldn’t call back. I continued to get a little bit of a break on this score when Brad told me that his buddy Dan flaked out on the training and that actually the wrestling coach told him to lose weight if he wanted to try out for the team. They’d want him to qualify for a lower weight class if possible, not bulk up. We were all at dinner that night and Janine cracked up when Brad said the coach had said, "It ain’t sumo, you know. I want my boys light." "Guess that means no more apple pie, huh?" she said, dishing out dessert. "Give mine to Dad," he said, flashing me a smile. "He’s the one that needs to bulk up." Yup, it was getting way too close to home, all right. That night I deleted all the gainer shit from the computer—all the links to all the sites, all the stories I had downloaded, all the pics. It took about ten minutes to wipe out almost all of a year’s worth of obsession, which made me feel good because I had always been a little worried about Janine or one of the boys coming across it, even with all my passwords and stuff. George did call twice more, even though I hadn’t called him back, and in the last message said he wouldn’t call again, which also made me feel good. So that was that. Chapter closed on a dark corner of my life. I thought a lot about why and how I had gotten onto that track, but really, mostly I tried to forget about it. And I would have been able to, except for Justino. . .. So, my life is going just totally dead-on normal. It’s a warm spring for a change. I go to work, send Miguel out to supervise the jobs, I stick in the office to handle all the bids and estimates, occasionally go on site to check up on the guys, then I go home, kiss Janine, toss a ball with Brad and Corey, go to my parents for dinner on Sundays. Very straight. Very suburban. Until one day, about two months later, late in the day, there’s this big sort of commotion in the shop outside the office, a bunch of wild Spanish, not angry really, but like all excited, laughing and so forth, all the guys coming in from this commercial store downtown we were hired to remodel, a Italian deli. They all sound like they are having fun, and I hear Miguel on top of all the voices, so I saunter out, the big padron and what’s in front of me but a circle of these Mexican guys, one of them holding Justino with his arms behind his back, another two lifting up his shirt, exposing what has become a big round brown soft beachball of a borriga, and no one else but Miguel standing there with his hands on it, looking real thoughtful, occasionally putting an ear right on Justino’s deep bellybutton. They are all chattering away, and Miguel sees me and gestures for me to come over. "Ay, Douglas. What do you say? Is it going to be a boy or a girl?" I look at Justino who looks at me, not doing shit to get away, big dark eyes with this strange, kind of proud expression on his face, looking right the fuck at me, no less, and I hear another of the Mexicans say, "Si, senor Douglas. We are wondering how Justino’s wife got him pregnant. Maybe you deliver before her, ay, papi?" Meanwhile Miguel is bouncing the belly back and forth in his hands, and I’m looking at all the fresh new fat which shaking like a flan, and of course, I’m immediately hard, because I haven’t had any of this for months and months and months. "If he gives birth, I think it’s going to be a pair of twins—burritos!" "He is a big burrito, what you saying. He’s going to have rice and beans." "Yo, Justino, no beer for you tonight!" They had their fun at this point, especially since I was hanging around, being the boss and all, so after a few more pokes, they all let the poor guy go, though he didn’t seem be too worse for the wear, and still laughing went about getting ready to go home. I, however, tried to seem like it was just some harmless fun, too, but I don’t think I did a very good job, because who should follow me into the office but Justino, not even closing the door, just standing on the other side of it, lifting up his shirt and rubbing it, teasing me. "Not 200 yet, senor, but soon. See, I getting big belly for you, papi. You want to touch, too?" I stood there and glared at him, trying to pull off the same lame "I don’t know what the hell you are talking about" act as I did outside of Los Caballeros, and being about as convincing as I was then. "You make me pregnant. I get big and fat for you, papi." He pulled up his shirt and ran his finger under his gut, licking his lips, looking at me. "You the man. I want the man." Behind him, through the crack of the door, I could see them all taking off for home in their broken down cars, Miguel looking around for Justino then shrugging and taking off in his new truck. The place was quiet. "Come on, Justino. Don’t do this. You don’t want to do this. I mean, last time, you were drunk. It was a joke. At least I thought it was a joke." He looked at me hard, real hard, almost buying it and then, I blew it. Without thinking, I pulled on my crotch, and he caught me. "Come on, you, senor. No one know. I promise. Who I tell, my wife? Your wife? Women don’t care. My wife like me big and fat. She feed me like a big pig. Feed me like she eating. Feed me for two. Only she don’t know. Come on, senor. I’m happy, she’s happy. You be happy." And knowing I was completely fucked, really deeply, seriously fucked, what do I do? Well, about the only thing I could do. I walked over and closed the door on the two of us, making sure it was locked. "No one knows?" I asked. He grinned. "Senor, we two married men." In everything he had said to me, it was that happy part that got to me: what was "happy"? What it would feel like? For the time being, though, I tried not to think about things like that, choosing to lose my soul instead, burying my face in all that new warm flesh of his, rolls of manfat grown just for me.
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I'm rewatching pokemon (indigo league) for the first time since it I was a child 20 some years ago and holy shit jesse and james just tossed their pokeballs through the ceiling window of a pokecenter and I'm just wondering how strong those things are
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“Babe, what have you done to me?” You turn to see her reclining on the sofa, eyes closed in a t-shirt and shorts two sizes too small, her belly hanging out, being caressed by her hands. God, she’s gorgeous. You take note of the take out containers, fast food bags, and pizza boxes piled around her; the dozen empty cans of soda arranged neatly on the floor to her right. You smirk. “Babe, what do you mean what have I done to you?” “I’m so fat now,” she whines, grabbing the upper roll of her belly. She can barely fit her hand around the amount of blubber there. “You feed me too much.” A burp escapes her mouth. “I used to be fit before I moved in with you.” She isn’t wrong. When you first met three years ago, she was a professional dancer; strong, slim, and flexible. She moved with ease. Now just a year and a half after moving in with you, she was three times her original size. She was so out of shape she would get out of breath climbing the stairs to the bedroom. And you barely had to lift a finger. All it took was some simple changes to her diet (caused instantly by her moving in with you) and a sprained ankle she sustained after she gained her first 20 pounds. She went from celery, hummus, salads, grilled chicken, water, fruit to chips, queso, stir-fry, fried chicken, orange soda, and cakes... Once the sprain happened, fast food, takeout, and delivery was introduced. The portions of her three square meals and dessert grew in size, just like her. By the time her ankle healed, she was 40 pounds bigger than when she sprained it. She went back to audition and was  deemed “too big” by the casting directors of the three shows she tried out for. If she was being honest, she had lost a decent amount of flexibility - splits that had taken no effort were now impossible. She could barely lift legs to her waist. She had thought that was her wake up call, her sign to get back into the swing of things before her injury, so she had tried to lose some weight. She found herself out of breath during her workouts almost immediately, but she stayed strong and finished them. However, burning all those calories made her ravenous, and her old dancer diet could not fill her. She ate the right portions, she ate the right things, but her stomach growled no matter how many vegetables and lean proteins she ate...Eventually those servings increased, but still, she’d feel hunger. Her cravings for grease, cheese, carbs, and sweets didn’t relent, so eventually her willpower caved. She had only lasted a week before she had eaten an entire pizza for lunch and a two pound box of bakery cookies as a “snack”. She continued to work out, but her cravings got the best of her and she ended up gaining even more weight.  Depressed that she had gained another twenty pounds in her efforts to lose it,  she ate even more and put on even more blubber. No one wanted her to dance anymore, so why bother trying to get fit? And you were right there, getting more and more food, leaving it around the house, making bigger and bigger portions of all the most fattening things, occasionally feeding her when she would ask, but mostly just watching her stuff her face, trying to fill the hole inside. You glanced at her, beached on the sofa. You walked over and grabbed her belly, gave it a jiggle. “How is this my fault, love?” She glared up at you over her swollen belly, pouting, her double chin clearly visible. “You made me eat all that unhealthy stuff when I moved in. It was all we had around. And then there was just more and more of it.” “I didn’t tell you to eat it, or to eat as much as you did. You enjoyed it, so you ate.” “Yeah... but you didn’t stop me either,” she complained. “It’s almost as if you wanted this to happen to me.” You did enjoy seeing her get bigger and lazier, her capacity increase... but you didn’t make this happen. You hated seeing her sad, and the food seemed to make her happy. “Hey... You’re beautiful. What are you talking about? I just want you to be happy.” You sit down next to her and look her dead in the eye.  “How can I be happy when I look like a blimp? How can you think I’m beautiful when I look like this?” She said, motioning towards her body. “I’m the heaviest I’ve ever been, I can’t stop eating because I’m addicted to food, hungry all the time, there’s just so much of it around, it tastes so good... and... I don’t think I can stop... I don’t think I’ll ever dance again if I keep going at this rate.” “Honey, none of that matters to me. I still think you’re incredible and gorgeous no matter what! So what if you’ve put on some weight? If you’re hungry, you should eat. If you want to dance, I’m sure you could get up and move around...” “But it’s not the same! I’m not as flexible! It’s not like I can jump and turn, and move the way I used to...” “But you can still move.” “For how long? I’m already over 360 pounds!” she exclaimed. This caught you off-guard. “Over 360 pounds?” You ask, eyebrows raising. “I got on the scale this morning... The scale I never thought I’d need when I moved in. I’m 367 pounds. 367!” “I had no idea you had... grown that much,” you say, trying to hide how turned on you are. “But you know your worth is not tied to a number on the scale, your size, or your physical ability, right?” She doesn’t answer. “Right?” You repeat. “I just feel like I’m letting you down. I let myself go so badly and even when I tried to get a handle on it, it backfired. I got even bigger.” “You could never let me down, babe. I think you’re perfect no matter what.” You kiss her forehead. “Honestly... I love you.” You grab her belly. “And this is just gravy.” “You like me like this?” She asks, looking you dead in the eye, completely serious, needing to know your answer.  “Yes. Like this. Smaller, bigger, it doesn’t matter because I love you... But I am pretty fond of your body at the moment.” She sits up suddenly, couch groaning with the shift of her weight and looks at you, confusion crossing her face. “You like me fat?” “Yes. But I want you to be happy. If you’d be happier weighing less, I’ll help you get there.” She bites her lip and looks down, thinking. Her belly is in her lap, rising and falling with each breath. Her love handles are emphasized by her too-tight shorts. You want to grab her belly again, but you know now is not the time. Almost as if her belly has gained sentience and can read your mind, it growls, loudly, despite the evidence she’s done nothing but eat all day. At first she is surprised, but then she looks at you shyly... “Y’know... before you mentioned gravy... Maybe some biscuits and gravy for now, and I’ll decide what I want to do later...” You nod and raise yourself from the sofa, brushing her belly along the way. “You got it, babe.” When you’re in the doorway of the kitchen, you hear her call after you, just as shy - “And maybe some chicken wings too?” “Sure thing!” You smile to yourself, knowing that if her hunger has this much influence over her, she’s only gonna blow up more. 
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showtoonzfan · 2 years
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One of the HUGE HUGE important problems I have with the Hazbin Hotel pilot (and yes, I find myself saying that a lot, there is a LOT of issues I have) is how it’s just structured and paced so horribly. Now when it comes to the pacing, I’m glad that I’m not the ONLY one who felt this way, because I’ve discovered that other people agree with how the pilot’s pacing was WAY too fast and energetic. However, when it comes to how the pilot is structured, I never really see anyone mention that, probably because they don’t have a problem with it personally, but I did, and I’ll tell you what I mean.
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So, the first thing to state is that by now, everyone KNOWS that a pilot serves to be the proof of concept for your show, and to introduce the characters. For the big cast route, the pilot mainly should consist of what they’re like, what their motivations are, how they bounce off one another, as well as of course, the problem or the action to the story. Now this post will mainly be referring to the CHARACTERS of Hazbin Hotel, and how they were executed. In the opening of the pilot, we start with Charlie singing. Since Charlie is the character we technically open up with, a first viewer would mostly likely assume SHE’S the main character. Oh, that and she’s on the thumbnail so. Opening with Charlie is...of course I would SAY a good idea, but then the problem arises. After Charlie’s song, we don’t SEE her for about the next 4 MINUTES. During that time, again, in the span of about 4 MINUTES, were introduced to 5 OTHER CHARACTERS BEFORE WE ACTUALLY PROPERLY INTRODUCE OUR MAIN CHARACTER. That of itself is just a huge problem, but I wanted to elaborate further, starting with Angel.
After we close with the shot of the clock tower, we see the logo, and then cut to...the exact same shot of the clock tower, so....that was weird. Anyway, after a car runs over a demon who seemingly just got throw into hell, we’re introduced to Angel Dust. I never really liked this idea, if we’re going to open with Charlie, we should have FOLLOWED her around for the next few minutes. Instead, we keep getting introduced to ALL these characters, and an average viewer wouldn’t know what the FUCK is going on. In fact, the whole PILOT seems to be structured ONLY for fans who followed vivziepop around, and NOT newcomers who happened to come across her channel.
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I MEAN LOOK AT ALL OF THIS. This is just WAAY to much. We’re only 5 MINUTES IN and yet we’re introduced to 5 NEW CHARACTERS before we meet our MAIN character. And yes, I know that some people will say “BUT IT’S A PILOT, AND A PILOT INTRODUCES THE CHARACTERS REMEMBER?” Yeah, I know, but Christ, not THIS many. In fact, since we’re RIGHT here, I might as well confirm that I’m one of those fans who thought the pilot had WAAYYY too many characters introduced. In my opinion? The pilot should have only had Charlie, Vaggie, Angel, AND Alastor if you don’t want to go the route of keeping him in the shadows and building him up for the actual show (which btw, I think this idea is 10x BETTER). Every else should have just been revealed in the show. Sir Pen is just a plot device for the turf war and contributes nothing, Cherri bomb is forgettable and barley did anything either, and Husk and Nifty got so little screen time that it’s just better to put them in the actual show, and you could have honestly took out Katie and Tom as well. That way a first viewer won’t feel so damn OVERWHELMED by all these characters. The way each scene transitioned to the next in the beginning of the pilot is ALSO a problem. Right after Angel’s scene, we have a shot of him looking up to see Pentious’s blimp, not even REACTING to it, just....a still image of him, and we’re IMMEDIATELY introduced to Sir pen without NO proper segway or NO time to take a freaking BREATHER. The pacing is just SO fast paced and all over the place, my mind would be SPINNING if this was the FIRST time I was introduced to the show as a whole.
And that’s the issue. Viv can’t properly introduce people to her characters because she ASSUMES you’ve been following her projects around, or have seen her livestreams and clips. Like....Viv, not EVERYONE is ganna have the same goggles I and some fans had going into this pilot. Some people are NOT actually going to KNOW ANYTHING about this pilot at all, or the characters, or the story, and you have to be able to CONVEY ALL OF THIS INTO YOUR SHOW. It’s like how she releases bits and pieces of information on the show through social media, when she SHOULD be explaining us this shit in the actual show. Now, I know some people might say “but for HH, this was Viv’s FIRST attempt at a pilot, she’s going to be rusty”. Which, I can understand, but not only does her ADHD SHOW in her work, with nonstop characters being introduced and the pacing being all over the place, but she screwed the SAME thing up with Helluva Boss.
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Ironically, Helluva Boss’s pilot did a MUCH better job at properly intruding each character, even if the structure and execution was...... dare I say, WORSE than Hazbin’s. But putting that aside, the pilot showcased how each character was, how they bounce off of one another, ect. Now, I think some people are ganna go “BUT SHOWTOON, HELLUVA IS DIFFERENT, IT HAS 5 MAIN CHARACTERS, AND HAZBIN HAS A BUNCH”. And yes, I know that it is easier to structure Helluva’s pilot because while Hazbin has a bunch of main characters and a larger cast, helluva has a very small cast. I don’t mind it being that way, but it still doesn’t excuse how poorly Hazbin was handled. In my eyes, Hazbin could have easily been structured in an easy and simple way, if Viv wasn’t obsessed with introducing all the characters for her show. Introduce Charlie and trying to do this whole hotel thing, introduce vaggie helping her, and introduce Angel and how they’re trying to redeem him, being the first test subject. When things don’t go well, Al comes in, and promises to help. There. Now.......let me finish saying what I wanted to say about helluva, because it’s not the PILOT that’s the problem, it was episode 1. In episode 1, the characters are NOT introduced properly. Sure, Blitzo is shown being an ass to Mayberry in the opening, as well as we see Moxxie, Millie, and Loona, but it just didn’t feel like a PROPER introduction like the pilot. And before people go “BUT THE PILOT IS RIGHT THERE, YOU CAN JUST CLICK ON IT AND WATCH THAT”. Like....guys, it doesn’t MATTER. Even if you do have a pilot, you STILL need to properly introduce the characters so the audience will know what they’re dealing with. It’s not that hard to REINTRODUCE your characters, ESPECIALLY since the Helluva pilot isn’t canon. (Confirmed btw.)
Going back to Hazbin, another issue is the information. The reason why I say the character introductions in the HH pilot are so bad, is because an average first time viewer wouldn’t know what the hell was going on. With Angel dust, for all we know when he gets introduced, he’s just some RANDOM guy, same for Sir Pen and Cherri. Katie and Tom at least fit more, because the main character Charlie is AT that location, but as for the rest of the characters, they’re all over the place. Now when it came to the fandom, I always HATED it when the reaction was just “JuST dO tHE rEsEArCH, iT tAKEs TwO sEcONdS.” Or the casual “bUT vIV sAID iN A LiVEsTrEAm—“
LIKE I DON’T CAAAAAARE.
To the people who say that, guys.....an average viewer SHOULDN’T HAVE TO DO ANY RESEARCH WHATSOEVER. All the information SHOULD BE CONVEYED TO US AS AN AUDIENCE THROUGH THE CONTENT. I SHOULDN’T HAVE TO LOOK UP BASIC EASY INFORMATION AND DIG THROUGH A BUNCH OF HOUR LONG LIVESTREAMS TO GET AN ANSWER THAT SHOULD HAVE BEEN SHOWN IN THE ACTUAL SHOW. That’s just RIDICULOUS. I’m sorry I sound pissed but part of this fandom REALLLYYY needs to hear that okay? Viv should be able to do these things, and she just...can’t in my eyes.
So in conclusion, the HH pilot is just all over the place with its pacing, characters, and narrative because it assumes you’ve followed the project and know EVERYTHING, and while Helluva’s pilot did it better, episode 1 didn’t introduce the characters properly.
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If I were to erase one Danny Phantom episode from existence, it would be Memory Blank. I have never watched Phantom Planet myself, I've gotten enough hints that it's not worth my time, so I have no personal feelings towards it. But it does burn me up that Memory Blank butchered the continuity established in it's own freakin intro and the entirety of season 1. It twisted Danny's motivation for stepping into the portal, from wanting to help his parents after they were upset enough to quit their lives work into him being peer-pressured by his friends. The entire arch of season 1 was that it was taking Danny months to get full control and acceptance of his powers and ghost identity, it did not take on freakin night.
Also, as much as Jack is into putting his own face on Fenton merchandise and blimps, I do not buy that he would put his face on his son's personalized jumpsuit. Do not buy it.
And as a blanket statement, every character in that episode was being stupid. I can handle a few stupid moments from some of the characters in the rest of the episodes, but in that episode it was everyone the whole time.
Could the show writer truly not think of a better way for Danny to get his superhero logo? In Splitting Images they let Hero Danny be whimsical enough to change his ghost form's physical characteristics, if regular Danny wanted to give himself a Sam-designed logo he could do that whenever he wanted.
ohohoho okay yeah this episode grinds my gears something fierce because I have no idea what the fuck it did to the continuity
(this rant got the hell away from me so I'm putting it under a cut, there's a basic tl;dr at the bottom because this shit is fucking hard to understand and most of it is complete rambling)
first of all, are Desiree's powers actually universe altering? can she REALLY change the past?? that seems op as HELL
and then there's the whole thing with Sam pressuring Danny into the portal again, with seemingly no guilt for being responsible for this happening to her friend?? it makes her so callous and selfish I hate it
and then there's the part where she wishes that everything was back the way it was, which????? how?????? does that work???????? technically that should mean that the entire last few days just didn't happen, which means he shouldn't still have the logo, because if the last few days DID still happen, then how does that work in conjunction with the previous events of the series?
I'm assuming when she undoes her wish that the original timeline takes over and replaces the altered timeline where Danny didn't meet Sam, but that would mean that the altered timeline where she gave him a logo shouldn't exist at all anymore, so why does he still have the logo, how can these two timelines exist together??
there was a gap between the altered realities, basically a few days post-wish that completely splits from the original timeline, those few days are taken up ENTIRELY by the altered timeline, so what happens to those days when the past is restored to normal?
like maybe any altered memories of past events were fixed, but that gap of alternate reality that happened immediately after the wish still happened? do people still remember what happened in this chunk of time that was influenced by the events of the altered timeline? like there's just a few days where everyone was acting slightly different? like does Tucker wake up the next morning remembering that he'd forgotten Sam for a few days? this is so hard to explain dhekdbsn
the only way I could make sense of it is if Desiree like... I dunno lays down an alternative reality on top of the existing one, kind of like a hyper realistic illusion that weaves itself into the real world instead of actually changing time
that would mean Danny would still be half ghost the whole time, he just wouldn't be able to access his powers or even his memories while under the wish's influence
meaning anything that happens in this illusory reality doesn't actually happen, Danny can't legitimately regain his powers in the portal because it isn't the real portal and he never actually lost his powers, all of the events taking place in the illusory world that are affected by the wish don't actually take place, everything that happens isn't real, it's entirely encased within a bubble of FAKE REALITY
when Sam unwishes all of the wishes, she pops the bubble, everything snaps back to how it should be, which means the fucking logo should have disappeared dhsklagsnd
the only explanation I can come up with for that is that Danny subconsciously actually changed his form to keep the logo, like maybe the 'sticker' Sam put on the suit disappeared but Danny by total accident had already mentally imprinted the logo onto his form so it stayed behind because he subconsciously chose to keep it and altered his ghost form accordingly
fuck I'm trying to find a way to summarise this in an easier to understand way but it's so hard fuuuuuuck
OKAY SO, TL;DR - the timeline was never changed, the altered memories were fabricated and they were all put into a little reality bubble that sort of played along with the fantasy of the altered timeline, when Sam unwished all of the wishes that bubble popped and they all fell back into the real world, everyone sort of remembers the events that took place in the altered reality bubble, but it's kinda fuzzy, like a dream, Danny's logo stayed because he'd already mentally imprinted it onto his ghost form, the actual physical sticker Sam put on his suit is gone along with the fake reality
THERE I DID IT, THIS EPISODE CAN STOP HAUNTING ME NOW
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airis-paris14 · 3 years
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See You Again
A/N: Just something short I never posted. It probably sucks, but I thought I'd share anyway. WE OUTSIDE YALL. (Please be outside RESPONSIBLY. COVID is still a thing. Please get vaccinated and or wear a mask.) Love Y'all.
Masterlist
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“My King,” Okoye called, handing T’Challa a bag he forgot. “Next week.”
“ I know Okoye. I promise I will be ready to leave.” Okoye nodded before reboarding the jet. The king watched before beginning the short walk up to his friend's front door.
He rang the doorbell before staring up at the building. It’d been years since he’d last been in this apartment. Freshman year of college to be exact. Anaya’s parents had invited him to spend Thanksgiving with them after finding him and their daughter studying together on a surprise visit to their daughter's dorm. They weren’t in the room, lucky for them, but it seemed that her parents were invested in a dream that wouldn’t come true. Not that either of them was ready to admit they couldn’t be together either. At least that early on.
So much has changed since then. They graduated. Got two Ph. Ds respectively and then moved on. Anaya became a celebrated fashion historian and critic, and T’Challa a king. Halfway across the world, they’d reconnected by chance in Paris and hadn’t let go since. Somewhere T’Challa had been holding on to a silly notion that maybe he and Anaya could give being together another go, but he knew it was a fruitless endeavor.
Same as his ringing of the doorbell had been. Worried, the king began knocking on the door. “Quit your racket! She’s not here!” An elderly woman crooned from her front porch. “Pardon?”
“She ain’t here! The baby called.” The woman chuckled to herself, “Ran outta here like a firecracker. Her two friends following close behind.”
“She was pregnant?”
“Don’t know how you missed it sonny, big as a blimp, carrying high though. My bets on a girl you know,” she paused to size up the young king. “And you must be that no good bastard baby’s father. Walking out on her like that you know I should-!”
“Ma’am, I promise you I am not him. As much as I wish I could have been,” the king mumbled the last part.
“Well then now’s your chance son. The real father ain’t here, and I hate to see that child grow up without a father figure. What’s keeping you from claiming that child?”
“A lot more than you’ll ever know..” T’Challa looked up, despair written across his face. The woman's gaze softened. “You’ll never know till you try. At least go and see her. I mean you came to her house. All dressed up with flowers and a bag of gifts. You must really care for her.”
“I do.”
“She’s at the university hospital.” The old woman instructed. “Thank you,” the king nodded. “Anything to see her happy, ever since her parents died she’s been sitting up in that house all alone. Make it right.”
Two hours and four phone calls later, T’Challa pulled up to the hospital in his hired car. The driver opened the back door of the SUV to allow the king and his baby present out into the air. He nodded at the driver before making his way up to the reception desk. “Hi, how may I help you?” The woman looked up from her computer. “You must be looking for our maternity ward. This your first?” She nodded at the gifts. “You could say that,” T’Challa chuckled.
“May I have your name and the patient’s?”
“T’Challa, and Anaya Johnson.”
“Great, Ms. Johnson is in room 408 in the maternity wing. Go down the hall, on the left, there will be an elevator. Take that up to the fourth floor, make a right and it should be the fourth door down. You can’t miss it.”
“Thank you,” the king smiled hoisting up the big teddy bear, careful not to crush the flowers and various other bags. “Would you like an escort Mr. T’Challa?”
“I believe I can handle this one,” The king insisted. “Very well, and congratulations.”
The king frowned. “Thank you.”
Four floors up, and three doors down, T’Challa finally stood outside of room 408. He took several steadying breaths before knocking. “Who is it? A familiar voice called. He heard footsteps on the other side of the door before it carefully creaked open.
“T’Challa?”
The king smiled in surprise. “Tella? Hi.”
“Hey, what are you doing here?” The brown skin woman beamed, opening up the door, her eyes widening slightly as she saw all of the gifts.”She said she hadn’t heard from you in months.”
“Yeah, I was on my way to visit Anaya and her neighbor told me she was here, having a baby.”
“Yeah, um come in. She and Jean went for a walk, the doctor said it would help with contractions.” Tella grabbed the bear from T’Challa and moved to set it in a corner, while he found space to set down his other gifts. “So how’ve you been? We used to get status updates from Anaya for you. Then you just vanished.”
“Well, there is a lot I haven’t told you all. Wakanda is a monarchy, and my father, and his father, and his father, and his mother, and her father, and his mother, and so on, have all ruled our country. Now it is my turn.”
“To rule?”
“To rule.” The king nodded. “So you vanished because you became king?”
“I vanished because there was a coup, an attempt on my life, which was almost successful. The coup sent my country into a civil war,” The king explained.
“T’Challa, this doesn’t even sound real,” Tella interrupted. “I mean, how is anyone supposed to believe you?”
“May I see your phone?” T’Challa stopped her.
“T’Challa,”
“Just let me prove it to you. I did not ghost Anaya by choice. I still want to be with her.”
“After all this time-”
“Please, I know it seems implausible, but let me show you,” the king reached out a hand.
“Fine T’Challa-” Tella handed over her phone. “Ask siri,” the king instructed.
“Seriously?” Tella frowned. “Just ask her.”
“Siri, who is the king of Wakanda?”
Her phone glowed before responding, “T’Challa Udaku was crowned King of Wakanda after the passing of his father last summer during a United Nations Assembly. I found this article online from the New York Times and several other sources.”
“T’challa if this is true, I mean since this is true, the prospects of you and Anaya getting together is now even more impossible. Why are you here?”
“Because she is my friend, and I love her. She is having a baby, and I will support her.”
“You are not its father!”
“Don’t you think I know that? Do you know how much it hurts me to know that I’m not? That I may never be the father of any of her children.”
“This isn’t about you T.”
“I know, but the child’s father is not here. I am. Even if he was, I still would be, because she is my friend too Tella.”
“I just do not want to see her hurt. Don’t give her false hope T’Challa.”
“On the contrary, I believe it is she who gives me false hope,” the king sighed. Tella pulled him in for a hug. “Just give it time, and who knows, you’re a king now aren’t you?”
“That I am,” T’Challa nodded as the room’s door squeaked open. A nurse helped Anaya back into the room and T'Challa couldn’t help the way his eyes widened at Anaya’s pregnant form. His heart erupted in butterflies, imagining if that had been his child. Tella slapping his arm startled him back to reality. Tella jerked her head towards where the nurse was trying to help Anaya and maneuver the IV stand back into the room with her. T’Challa hurried over to wrap an arm around Anaya’s waist and grab her other hand. The nurse smiled in thanks and surprise. No surprise could top Anaya’s expression. She gaped as T’Challa shot her a smile. “Long time no see,” The king teased as he helped her further into the room and onto her bed. A grimace stole her smile as another contraction hit.
“I’ll grab Dr.Ben and she’ll be right in to check on your progress, Ms. Johnson.” The middle-aged black woman smiled at the expecting mother. “Thank you,” Anaya smiled before turning back to her best friend. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to surprise you, only to find out from your neighbor that you were in labor,” The king smiled.
“Mrs. Patterson told you where I was?”
“I guess so,” the king frowned. Anaya and Tella laughed. “What did you do to her? Mrs. Patterson doesn’t like anyone. Especially men.” Tella explained.
“She did almost try to beat me up when she thought I was your ‘bastard baby’s father’.” T’Challa told the two women who groaned. Anaya grimaced her way through a contraction and T’Challa stepped over and offered her his hand. The mother smiled at his touch and threaded her fingers through his as the contraction dissipated.
“I’m gonna go find Jean in the gift shop,” Tella excused herself, leaving T’Challa and Anaya alone. “What’s been going on with you King T’Challa,” Anaya teased as she tried to push herself into a seated position.
“Nothing much. The world of politics cooled off for a while and I wanted to apologize for being awol these past months.” T’Challa helped rearrange the pillows so she could sit up. “What about you soon to be umama?”
“Well, this has been my life pretty much, still don’t know how I’m going to manage working at museums and shows towing this one around.”
“Where’s the father?” T’Challa asked softly. A tear formed in Anaya’s eye, “He doesn’t want to be involved. We were drunk that night and you know…..”
“You don’t have to explain,” T’Challa squeezed her hand. “Thanks,” she murmured. “What are you having?” The king inquired, sweeping some box braids back over her shoulder. “I don’t know. I wanted to be surprised.”
“Your neighbor thinks it’s a girl,” T’Challa laughed. “She’s been telling me about me carrying high since it became visible I was pregnant.” Anaya laughed. “I guess we’ll find out today or tomorrow.” T’Challa chuckled. His face quickly fell as she slipped into another contraction. He tried to help her breathe the way he’d seen on television but ended up making her laugh. “You’re really bad at this,” Anaya reclined back onto her pillows rubbing her stomach absentmindedly. “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” T’Challa smiled. “It’s two quick ones and long out. Not in out in out,” Anaya explained. “I’ll do better next time,” T’Challa promised.
“How long are you visiting, you don’t have to stay. It could be another day or so before I give birth.”
“I’m here for the week, until next Tuesday. And Anaya I want to stay. Besides, I can give Tells and Tonya-Jean a break to walk around.”
“Thanks,” the pregnant mother smiled. Her face contorted as another contraction washed over her. “There you go,” T’Challa soothed as she squeezed his hand. He helped her breathe through and eventually, she settled back. “At this rate, it’ll only be a couple of hours until they’re here with us,” the mom to be sighed. “Then I’ll be here as long as you’ll let me be here,” T’Challa kissed the back of her hand. Sweat had gathered on her forehead and he reached for something to dab it away. “I want you here as long as you can be, distract me.”
“Why? You are not enjoying the miracle of life.”
“Says the man not currently pushing a baby out of his body.”
“Fair enough,” he raised his unoccupied arm in surrender. “Tell me about Wakanda and being a king,” Anaya asked, groaning through another contraction.
“Well,” T’Challa started.
Eight hours later, the room was silent. Tonya and Tells had gone home to catch up on sleep. Anaya was sleeping off her exhaustion and the king of Wakanda sat rocking a sleeping baby girl. Well, she was sleeping. Sydney Iesha Johnson’s big brown eyes fluttered open and stared at the man holding her. She stretched out her tiny body and T’Challa’s heart soared at the feeling of her moving around in the swaddle.
“Hi pretty girl,” he whispered. “Hi,” he cooed, smiling as she yawned. “You are so beautiful, just like your mommy. She was the most beautiful girl in the world and now she’s tied with you.” He rocked the infant softly. “T’Challa?” Anaya croaked. “Hey,” the king stood up and walked the baby over to her mother. “She was fussy in the crib, and the nurse suggested I hold her, I hope you don’t mind,” he rambled. Anaya laid a hand on his arm and shook her head. “It’s fine. I love seeing you with her.
“You know I’m here for you right? Both of you now,” the king searched her eyes. “I know I’m not her father, and I’ll never try to be that for her, but she’s a part of you and that makes her important to me.”
Anaya teared up and nodded.
“I want you to move to Wakanda.”
Taglist: @almostpurelysmut @blackbypurpose @tchoking @sisterwifeudaku @wikiwakanda @royallyprincesslilly @90sinspiredgirl @thedelightfulone @autumn242 @purple-apricots @kumkaniudaku @queertrex @kaciidubs @halfrican-heat @skysynclair19 @dramaqueenamby @leahnicole1219 @kreolemami @mzbritt @derangedcupcake @chaneajoyyy @lalapalooza718 @ororowrites @leahnicole1219 @sarcastic-sunshines @sarahboseman @faatassbitch @lady-love-and-glitter-roses @cxnismajcr @tchallasbabymama
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beewolfwrites · 3 years
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The Oar in the Sand - Chapter Ten: In the Hands of the Morai
@cheshiya @tenseoyong @szallejhscorner @something-more-original-please @ofsunsetsandpoetries @nek0dzuken @allozaur @hiqhkey @serenzippity
This should’ve been posted yesterday, but I didn't get the chance all day. I hated Chishiya in this and maybe he’s a little ooc, but for the sake of angst as well as the next update, it had to happen. 
AO3 Link for those who want it :)
Thanks for reading! 
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‘Kuina!’ 
I blinked several times, double checking this wasn’t another trick of my mind. When she didn’t disappear, and I realised she was standing right there, alive, my chest flooded with warmth. I leaned towards her automatically, causing Chishiya to sway unsteadily beneath me. He hissed at me again to stop moving. 
Kuina held back a giggle and came towards us. ‘Here, give me that box before you do anything stupid.’ 
I carefully passed her the box and she set it down on the concrete floor. Then her arms wrapped around me as she helped me down from Chishiya’s shoulders. The whole manoeuvre was clumsy, and I had to grab one of the shelves to regain my balance. Now free, Chishiya was rubbing the back of his neck and scowling like I’d never seen before. 
I didn’t even had a chance to thank Kuina, as the moment I stood upright, I was engulfed in a giant bear hug. 
‘I’m so glad you two are alive!’ 
I squeezed her just as tightly. ‘I can’t believe you’re alive. I met An in a game. She told me what happened to the Beach’s camp.’ 
‘Yeah, about that.’ Kuina pulled away slowly, her smile turning into a grimace. ‘I wish I could say everyone got out. We never even saw him coming. The King of Spades, I mean. His aim was insane, even at that distance.’ 
‘He attacked us too, right after you guys.’ 
‘You’re kidding, right?’ Kuina said in disbelief. ‘How did you get away?’ 
I opened my mouth to reply, but the thought of the Queen of Diamonds stilled my tongue. That smile as her platform gave way, so peaceful and calm. And then her purple skin, swollen with blood, as she leered down from the bathroom ceiling. 
‘We ran away, just like you did,’ Chishiya said. ‘I’m assuming you were with Arisu in the King of Clubs venue.’
If I thought Kuina’s grimace couldn’t have gotten worse, I was wrong. Her expression turned sickly all of a sudden. ‘Yeah… I grouped up with him. Who told you?’ 
Something must’ve happened. Something really bad. 
‘Apparently you jumped into a car with some of the others. I saw the blimp fall.’ Chishiya leaned back against the shelves, smiling like a satisfied cat. ‘Arisu may not be intelligent enough to look for a hidden safe, but he’s sharper than I gave him credit for.’ 
He’d mentioned before that Arisu was presumably the one to clear the King of Clubs game. In fact, it was only this morning we’d had that conversation, yet it felt like a whole world away. Thinking back now, I made a mistake by never asking him why. 
As I looked up, Chishiya was watching me with that calculating stare, and as if reading my mind, he explained, ‘Arisu must’ve realised it too. Out of all the games, Clubs are the only game where you have a chance at saving your friends. If there’s anyone who’d be willing to give us answers, it’d be the King, Queen or Jack of Clubs.’ 
He has a good point. Clubs games are the most forgiving out of them all. Maybe the King of Clubs was a little like the Queen of Diamonds. 
All the while he was talking, Kuina shrank further and further down until she was sitting on the box. Her shoulders were hunched over and she was staring at the grey floor. I was right. Something had to have gone wrong in that game. Crouching beside her, I put a hand on her forearm. 
‘What happened?’ 
She shook her head, forcing each word as though she was reluctant to relive the game. ‘There were only four of us. We needed a fifth player to enter the game, so we didn’t have a choice. I’m so sorry…’
‘A fifth player?’ 
‘It’s Niragi,’ she said. ‘He’s alive.’ 
That’s all? 
A breathed a sigh of relief. I was half expecting her to reveal that Arisu or Usagi was dead. Unfortunately I’d had to learn about Niragi the hard way. 
‘It’s okay,’ I assured. ’I already know.’ 
‘How? He was in our game for the whole afternoon yesterday.’
‘I saw him in a hospital.’ My stomach crawled with butterflies even talking about it. ‘Today, actually.’ 
‘What?!’ Kuina stood up so suddenly I almost fell backwards. ‘Did he see you?’
For a good few seconds, I couldn’t find the right way to phrase what I meant to say. Everything Niragi had done was impossible even to talk about. From the shelves, Chishiya was silently observing my face with that same clinical edge from earlier, and by now, I understood him enough to know that he was gauging my every reaction. It was like we’d retreated back to those days before Chishiya had even tried to bring me to the Beach. 
I hate this. I hate feeling like a test subject. 
‘Nothing happened,’ I told her earnestly while getting to my feet. ‘I hid until he was gone.’ Strictly speaking, it was the truth. Niragi might have heard me, but he didn’t find me. Hoping for a distraction, I asked, ‘So what about the King of Clubs? What was the game like?’
Kuina visibly tensed once more, and that’s when I knew there was more. Niragi’s presence was just the start.  
‘It’s hard to explain,’ she began. ‘It was in a shipyard filled with containers. There was me, Arisu, Usagi, Niragi and Tatta against the King of Clubs. He had a group with him too. At first, everything was going pretty well. Niragi came up with a strategy, and I hate to say it, it was a good one.’ She paused, chewing on her fingernail. ‘But then things changed. Niragi kept making comments at Tatta. We were losing points and running out of time.’ 
She stopped all of a sudden, and I had to prompt her. ‘How did you win?’ 
‘We didn’t really,’ she said. ‘Tatta sacrificed himself. From what I could get out of Arisu, Tatta tricked him into cutting off his hand and he bled out by the time we won.’ 
My whole body turned cold, every hair standing on end as Kuina’s words sank in. They’d lost Tatta. 
He made Arisu cut off his hand? No. That can’t be. 
And how could Arisu have been tricked into doing something so violent? That wasn’t like him at all; he was the softest person I’d ever met. Unless the situation was so desperate that they had no choice. Judging from Kuina’s defeated gaze, things must’ve been dire for them to resort to something like that. 
I gently shook her shoulder. ‘Arisu’s okay, right?’
‘Well, he’s alive.’  
I hadn’t known Tatta well. Aside from seeing his face around the Beach and learning his name, I hadn’t really spoken to him properly. But from what I’d seen, he was bright and cheerful, and the news of his death sparked a coldness deep within me. 
Everyone’s dying around us. They’re all falling down one by one. 
‘Interesting.’ It was the first Chishiya had spoken in a long while, and Kuina and I were caught off guard by his curious smile. ‘I wonder what made him so willing to put the others’ lives before his own.’ 
‘Chishiya.’ 
All the comfort I felt with his presence vanished in an instant. His indifference to human life had always disturbed me, but I’d never felt such a strong wave of disgust. How could he be so cavalier? How could he not care in the slightest? 
There was something in his gaze that couldn’t be pinned down. Almost like amusement, yet oozing with disregard. He must’ve sensed that I wasn’t willing to put up with his snippy comments, and remained silent. 
‘We buried him near the coast,’ Kuina said, breaking the tension. ‘None of us would be alive without him.’ 
‘I’m glad you are,’ I admitted, the vision of her walking away only yesterday still fresh in my mind. ‘When you left us, I was worried it would be the last time.’ Now that she was here again, I couldn’t resist asking. ‘Why don’t you come back with us? It’s safer if we all stay together.’ 
She shook her head. ‘It’s okay, I’ve got my own little camp going on. That’s why I’m here actually. I had to bust down the door of an apartment and now I’m fixing up the place a bit.’ 
An apartment. It reminded me of when I’d first arrived in the Borderlands. Back then, I’d been scared of ruining my brother’s friend’s home by screwing in a new lock. Considering everything that had happened since, breaking into a home or store was the least of our worries. 
‘Are you sure? We’re still in the furniture store.’ 
She wrinkled her nose and smiled gently. ‘I’m good, thanks. Not to brag or anything but the apartment is pretty cool. You could both stay with me, if you want. There’s loads of room for two more.’ 
Chishiya declined on the spot, and while I was a little torn about having to leave Kuina once more, I had to say no. How could I leave Chishiya? Even though we’d had our ups and downs, and I was still annoyed with his casual indifference, my feelings remained the same. 
A little disappointed, Kuina insisted that we stop by and told me the address, which I repeated over and over under my breath to commit it to memory, much to Chishiya’s amusement. She stayed with us for a little while as we wandered around the aisles of the hardware store in search of a lock and tools, but soon insisted on parting ways. I gave her a last hug, squeezing her as hard as I could because even though she had been lucky to make it back to us this time, there was no way of guaranteeing it would be the same again. Chishiya simply gave a nod of acknowledgement. 
And before we knew it, she was on her way with a plastic shopping basket of goods. There was something reassuring this time, especially as her new temporary home was quite close to us. Part of me wondered if it was intentional. 
The two of us walked back in silence. Well, Chishiya walked, I pushed a trolley containing the large water dispenser box, a new lock and a range of tools. The wind had picked up strength, and the air was sticky with humidity. 
Please, just rain. Rain and get it over with. 
The King of Spades blimp was nowhere in sight, and I felt a little more comfortable rolling the trolley down the road. 
‘You didn’t go with her.’ 
Chishiya’s voice took me off guard. He hadn’t said a word since we set off so I just assumed he didn’t want to talk. I pushed the trolley closer so I could reply without shouting over the wind. 
‘Did you really think I’d abandon you? I want to stay.’ 
‘Abandon?’ he mused. ‘I’m not a child. And besides, what’s the point in staying when the King of Spades could attack us at any moment?’
Yet again, it became apparent that he was blaming me for something I didn’t know about. ‘You could’ve gone with her too.’ 
‘An apartment isn’t safe enough.’
‘And neither is a furniture store.’
He instantly fell quiet, and I knew he had no counterargument. That didn’t mean he was finished. Not by a long shot. 
‘The King of Spades knows where we are,’ he said. ‘Our lives depend on where he is at any moment in time. We can’t outrun him a second time, and fighting death is even more pointless. Whether or not we live or die is entirely up to fate.’ 
‘And your point is?’ 
‘Your idea of abandonment is ridiculous. If the King shows up, there’s nothing you’ll be able to do anyway.’ 
Ahh, this again. 
It was as if he just couldn’t accept the fact that I might actually want to be around him. I could’ve sworn we’d had this argument before, had we not? 
‘Fighting death isn’t pointless. Even if I can’t do anything about the King, I want to protect you. Is that so bad?’ 
He didn’t answer, but from the side glance he gave me, the answer was a clear yes. 
We were approaching the furniture store now, and Chishiya went ahead, climbing the steps to the door while I lifted our supplies out of the trolley. He didn’t even try to help, and as I dumped the water dispenser box on the floor inside the entrance, I found him lazing on the couch in our little living room. I stared at him pointedly, but his eyes were closed, head tilted back against the fabric. It was hopeless. 
I brought the rest of the tools inside and left them on the ground. They could wait until later. Right now, I was very, very tired with Chishiya’s games. If he wanted to complain about me being around him, it was far too late for that. He was the one to make that grandiose confession on the roof of the hotel. And he was the one who gave me this stupid ring. 
After all that, does he really want me to leave with Kuina?
I needed an answer. 
‘Why are you being like this?’
 He huffed, his eyes remaining closed. ‘I’m not being like anything.’ 
‘Yes,’ I said, ‘you are. First you told me you wouldn’t try to stop me from getting shot, and we both know that’s a lie because you already did during the Witch Hunt. Secondly, you make me feel so guilty for accidentally walking into a Diamonds arena, but at the same time you’re fine with me kissing you.’
If not for the anger quickly bristling within me, I would’ve felt embarrassed by that last comment. I no longer cared though. Chishiya had finally opened his eyes and was looking at me with detatchment. 
‘Then you start acting so cold, all because I cleared your precious Queen of Diamonds game, and especially after I ran into Niragi this morning. That wasn’t my fault, Chishiya, but you keep acting like it is.’ 
I could hear my voice rising throughout the room, and a tiny part of me tried to keep a lid on the noise. But I had kept a lid on it. And now, I couldn’t control the words as they spilled out. 
‘Its like I’m just one big nuisance that you have to babysit. And despite all that, you still kicked down a bathroom door because I got scared. You still care about these things, but you keep saying you don’t. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. Tell me what you want from me, because you’re making it impossible to figure it out.’ 
He raised a brow and sat up straighter. ‘You’re overreacting, as always.’ 
Oh? Oh really?
‘Am I?’ I laughed, trying to hold back all the upset that had been slowly festering over the past few days. ‘As far as I’m concerned, you won’t even come near me except when I’m asleep!’ 
Chishiya froze for just a second. It was so subtle, I almost missed it. All those nights I’d felt his fingers tracing my skin or winding in my hair, I hadn’t meant to give away that I’d known all along. 
‘You are a nuisance,’ he said quietly. He punctuated every word like someone having to explain themselves to a child. ‘And you’re also jumping to conclusions.’ 
I couldn’t believe it. 
That’s it. I’ve had enough. 
Backtracking out of the room, I made for the stairs. I needed some time alone, just to get my head around everything that had happened today. The hospital… Niragi… those hideous bodies hanging from the ceiling… and now this.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, I rubbed my face, wishing it would all disappear. As I wiped my eyes, the daylight glinted off the ring on my finger. I held out my fingers and examined the green peridot for a moment, as a thought suddenly crossed my mind. A painful thought, followed by humiliation. I twisted to pull it off and placed it on a bedside table. 
Of course, Chishiya chose now to appear in the doorway, casually strolling along the rows of model beds until he reached ours. 
‘You’re running away now too,’ he said dryly. ‘It’s no wonder I have to babysit you.’ 
When he sat down beside me, his gaze stilled briefly on the ring, glinting silver and green from the bedside table. It felt like a test of patience, but I somehow managed to squash the urge to shout at him to leave. 
‘I wasn’t wrong before,’ he said. ‘You are jumping to conclusions, and most of all, you’re being an idiot.’ 
‘Did you come up here to insult me?’ 
Chishiya smiled like he couldn’t think of anything more fun. ‘Unfortunately, no. I came up here to explain things to you, since you’re refusing to act your age.’ Before I could snap back at him, he cut in. ‘Like I said, I wasn’t wrong. But neither are you.’ 
It felt strange hearing these words come from him, like an admission that he would never normally admit to. ‘Stop talking in riddles and just say it.’ 
He huffed under his breath and stared off at the sloped ceiling. ‘It’s true. I’ve never particularly enjoyed being near people, physically. Even if there are a few exceptions now, that won’t change.’ He paused, the smile faintly dropping. ‘I also assumed you wouldn’t be interested in anything like that after what happened at the Beach.’ 
‘Like that?’
Oh… oh. 
The words took a moment to sink in, and when they did, all the thoughts scrambling around in my head suddenly made a little more sense. The way Chishiya would sometimes become tense and reluctant whenever I got a little too close or tried to do anything affectionate. How he let me kiss him first, despite meeting me in the middle. And the fact that he hadn’t been bothered by my embarrassing state of undress in the bathroom earlier. 
But it didn’t justify his cruelty in wanting me to leave. Nor did it help me understand why he was doing everything possible to try and make me hate him. 
It also didn’t explain what he did next. 
His thin fingers locked around my wrists, pulling them over my head. My mind jumped, caught in a dizzying whirlwind of deja vu as I found myself lying back on the bed, with Niragi’s - no, Chishiya’s face hovering above mine. 
‘He held you down like this, didn’t he? I could tell from the pattern of the bruises.’ All traces of amusement had vanished from his features, leaving behind cold mockery, with a slight trace of distain. He was serious. 
Why… Chishiya?
Why was he doing this? There was no weight to him, not like Niragi. Chishiya was smaller and leaner. I could easily kick him away or at the very least, pull my hands free, and I knew for certain there would be no resistance. Nevertheless, how could he do something this hateful?
‘Stop it.’ 
‘Why?’
‘Because I already know you won’t hurt me.’ 
His lips curled and he leaned in closer until I could feel every soft breath against my skin. ‘Are you forgetting why I wanted you to join the Beach?’ he taunted. 
And just like that, I could see his whole world right there in his eyes. All the small signs I’d missed right from the start, and that hollow bitterness that dared me over and over to shove him away and leave him alone for good.
This whole time, that’s what you were doing. 
‘I know,’ I said, remembering everything he’d confessed to on the hotel roof. ‘I’m still alive though. You didn’t do it in the end.’ 
‘But I could.’ 
‘Do it. If you’re so willing to get rid of me, do it.’ 
His grip tightened, pushing my hands deeper into the mattress, then everything slipped away. And before I’d even seen him move, I felt his mouth on mine, pulling me into a clumsy, yet insistent kiss that we both knew would lead into something more. 
69 notes · View notes
pterodactylterrace · 3 years
Text
Guys Like You ~ENDING~
Title: Guys Like You
Chapter: 20
Chapter Summary: My ill fated attempt to tie everything up nice and pretty and end on a positive note. In my head, this went a different way, but I decided to go the happy route for everyone
Rating: 18+
Warnings: Mentions of blood and childbirth 
“I feel like a blimp.” Faye groaned, giving up on trying to fasten her sandals herself and plopping down on the bed instead.
“I think you’re gorgeous.” Henry soothed, straightening out his tie in the mirror and crouching down to help her with her shoes.
“I can’t see my feet.”
“They’re still here.” Henry chuckled, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to her swollen belly.
“What about my vagina?” Faye grouched, smoothing a hand along her bump.
“I plan on thoroughly investigating that later.” Henry purred, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.
“Why not now?”
“Because we’ll be late if we do. Now come along, darling. We both know everyone is dying to see the bump.” Henry encouraged, standing and gently helping her to her feet. They had posted earlier that week to his Instagram about their newest addition. Just a picture of a Superman onesie, captioned “Baby Boy Cavill, coming early next spring.” To say it had blown up would be an understatement. This was going to be their first public outing since they had announced the pregnancy. Faye had gone back and forth several times on whether or not she had wanted to actually accompany him, ultimately deciding to spend the evening out with her fiancé.
“Carry me?” Faye whined, giving him a pouty look.
“I’ll carry you around all you like after the premiere. If we show up in wrinkled clothing, people may get the wrong idea.”
“Henry, I’m pretty sure they know we’ve been having sex.” Faye pointed out, gesturing vaguely toward her belly. “Plus, you’ve done a wonderful job of making sure I’m satisfied at all times.”
“The pleasure is all mine.” Henry chuckled, placing a hand on her lower back to urge her to the door and quickly readjusting himself in his suddenly too tight trousers. This woman was going to be the death of him. All she had to do was allude to sex, and all the blood would rush straight to his groin. He was fairly certain she had trained his dick to get hard with just a look, not that he was complaining. He’d heard several men grumbling about how their partners didn’t want anything when they were expecting. He seemed to get lucky with the opposite. She’d been much friskier during her first trimester, but after she hit the halfway point, she was damn near insatiable.
“Now make sure you behave. Hands to yourself.” Henry murmured in her ear, the couple stopping just long enough to remind the babysitter that Briar had to be in bed by eight and to tell the little girl goodbye.
“You were joking about the hands to myself thing, right?” Faye questioned almost as soon as the driver had rolled up the partition.
“It’s been less than two hours.” Henry half laughed, tangling his fingers with her wandering digits.
“So? Are you really going to turn down getting busy?”
“Darling, we’ll make a mess right before we end up in front of a ton of cameras.” Henry pointed out, kissing the back of her hand lovingly. “Just try to contain yourself for a few more hours, then I’ll be yours all night.”
“All night?”
“All night.” Henry confirmed, kissing her temple adoringly and gently placing a hand on her swollen stomach. “You look beautiful.” Henry whispered, shamelessly staring at her cleavage.
“Don’t be a tease.” Faye pouted.
“My apologies, darling.” Henry chuckled, resting his cheek against her head.
~*~
“I’m not leaving this house again until this baby is born.” Faye declared dramatically as she flopped down on the couch.
“Does that mean you’ve decided on a home birth?” Henry asked, glancing up from the puzzle Briar was trying to put together.
“Yes.” Faye growled, glaring down at her extended belly. “Tell me, Mr. Cavill. Is there a particular reason you decided to put a gigantic baby in me? Hmm? Is this some sort of payback for something?”
“Darling, the doctor said he’s only slightly larger than average.”
“Baby brother is BIG!” Briar giggled.
“Yes, he is.” Faye agreed, pushing herself up from her slouched position. “He also likes to kick Mommy in the ribs.”
“I’m sorry, darling.” Henry cooed, pushing himself up from the floor to sit next to her on the couch.
“You should totally carry the next kid.” Faye grumbled, leaning against him.
“I would if I could, darling.” Henry assured, wrapping his arm around her and kissing the top of her head.
“My feet are swollen, my belly is huge, I’m pretty sure I just peed a little and all I can think about is oranges.” Faye grumpily listed off, wiggling her way to the edge of the couch and rocking herself to her feet.
“Oh…” Henry mumbled, his eyebrows pulling together as he watched the wet darkness rapidly spread across the back of her sweats and down her legs.
“Oh shit.” Faye gasped, staring in horror at the wetness soaking into her pants. “Oh fuck… Henry!” She yelled, trying to peer over her stomach to see her legs.
“Yes?” Henry asked unsurely as he stood himself up, intent on cleaning the mess before it soaked in anymore.
“I don’t think that was pee.”
“What?”
“That. Wasn’t. Piss.” Faye ground out, snapping her head around to look at him.
“I don’t know what you’re trying to get me to understand, darling.” Henry admitted, his brows pulling together as he studied her face. “Wait… you don’t mean?” Henry whispered, realization washing over his face. “But he’s not due for another couple of weeks!”
“Well, it looks like he was just as tired of waiting as I was!” Faye grumbled.
“Mommy, you had an accident.” Briar pointed out as she put the last piece in her puzzle, hopping to her feet and scampering off down the hall, assuring her mother she would find her something else to wear as she ran off.
“Ok… I’m not going to panic.” Henry promised, more to himself rather than to his fiancé. “I’m going to call the doula and the nanny. Do you need me to help you to the bathroom?”
“I’m not contracting, I can walk.” Faye pointed out.
“Just in case it starts, then.” Henry suggested, resting one hand on her lower back and taking her hand with the other, keeping pace beside his fiancé as she did an odd combination of a shuffle and a waddle to the bathroom.
“FUCK!” Henry shouted as soon as the door was closed, his heavy footsteps falling down the hallway as he ran back to the living room, frantically trying to locate his phone. “KAL!” Henry called, his wild eyes darting around the room. “Kal where’s my phone?!”
“KITCHEN!” Faye yelled from the bathroom, rolling her eyes to herself. “So much for not panicking.”
“Thank you, Kal!” Henry called back, his rapid steps sounding again as he crossed the house, snatching his phone from where it was peacefully charging on the counter, hitting the contact number for the doula and impatiently listening to it ring.
“He does know the dog can’t talk; I promise.” Faye sighed, shoving her wet clothes down and sitting on the toilet to kick herself free. “Papa’s just a little excited right now. He’s going crazy waiting to meet you.” She assured her swollen stomach.
“Faye?” Henry called softly from the other side of the door, slowly cracking it open and giving her an apologetic smile. “She’s asking questions I don’t know the answer to.”
“What does she want to know?” Faye asked, watching as he slowly slid his giant frame into the bathroom with her.
~*~
“You’re doing so good, darling.” Henry whispered, gently running his hands up and down his fiancé’s back. “Another one’s coming up, deep breath.” He instructed, his eyes flicking to his watch back to Faye. He gripped her hips firmly and dug his thumbs in right where she’d shown him so many contractions ago, rubbing in slow small circles to ease the pain in her back.
“I wanna get in the tub.” Faye groaned as the tightness in her belly began to ease.
“Alright, darling. I’m going to need you to stand up with me.” Strong arms wrapped around her and slowly helped to her feet; an adoring kiss being planted to the crown of her head. “Now I need you to walk with me, can you do that?”
“Yeah. It’s not bad between the contractions.”
“I’ll be right here if you need me.” Henry assured, taking her small delicate hand into his calloused paw, slowly leading her to the bathroom. He let her rest against the sink as he fiddled with the taps, plugging the drain once the water had warmed.
“Fuck… Hen…” Faye hissed, her jaw clenching along with her distended abdomen.
“I’m right here, I’m right here.” Henry quickly took her back in his arms, letting her lean against him as he tried to find the spot on her back from the new angle.
“For fucks’ sake, how long has it been?” Faye groaned, helping Henry pull her shirt off and toss it onto the growing pile of laundry she was creating during her labor.
“Just over three hours.” Henry informed, biting his lip at his fiancé’s hopeless groan.
“That’s it?!”
“You’re doing so good.” Henry repeated, expertly unclasping her bra with one hand and casting it aside to help her step into the warm waiting water. He settled in next to the tub, holding his phone up where she could see it and pulling up one of her favorite shows, hoping to distract her.
~*~
“I wanna push.” Faye gasped, her knuckles going white as she squeezed the side of the tub, her entire body tense with a contraction.
“That’s great, that’s your body telling you you’re ready to have your baby.” The midwife assured, gently wiping her face with a wash rag. “You’re in charge here, how do you want to do this? Do you want to stay in the tub, or do you want to move somewhere else?”
“I’m staying.” Faye groaned, maneuvering herself to her knees with Henry’s help.
“You’re so close, darling.” Henry whispered, kissing her forehead adoringly, wincing slightly when her next contraction came, and her nails dug into his arm. “You’re doing so good.”
“Henry, I need you.” Faye hissed, desperate hands attempting to drag him into the tub with her. “Come here, please.” She pleaded, throwing her arms around his shoulders when he carefully lowered himself into the tub with her.
“I’m right here, darling. I’m right here.” Henry assured, rubbing her back softly, letting her lean into him as much as she wished. He paid no attention to the blood tinging the water or her nails digging into his shoulders. Instinct took over when Faye said she could feel the head coming. He reached between himself and his fiancé, gently cradling his son as he was pushed into the world.
“He’s here. He’s here.” Henry gasped after a final push, bringing the baby to his chest, quickly wrapping an arm around Faye’s shoulders to ease her back against the side of the tub.
“He’s here.” Faye breathed, a tired smile spreading across her face as Henry gently laid their son on her chest, peppering her forehead with adoring kisses and pushing her wet hair from her face.
“You did it, Faye.” Henry whispered, smiling down at the baby in her arms, his heart swelling with pride. She did that. His fiancé just brought a new life into the world. In that moment, he was simply blown away at just how strong she could be. It took almost all the mental focus he had remaining not to propose to her again, still crouching in the blood and goo filled water with her.
Reluctantly, Henry removed himself from the tub, taking a second to appreciate Faye’s demand of the oversized bathtub when they had renovated the bathroom. He was quick to rinse himself off in the other shower, throwing on dry sweats and returning to the bathroom where Faye was still gushing over their newest addition. The baby was handed to him while the midwife attended to his fiancé, draining the tub and gently rinsing away the sweat and mess clinging to her skin with a cool stream.
“He’s so tiny.” Henry whispered in awe, staring down at his minutes-old son.
“The hell he is!” Faye groaned, shooting him a look fit to kill.
“I think he agrees with you.” Henry grunted, his son’s chubby fist finding his chest hair and gripping it tightly, squirming his newly freed limbs the best he could in his tight swaddle.
“He’s only small compared to you.” The midwife compromised, Henry helping Faye step out of the tub with one arm, the other tightly cradling their son to his chest, hovering close as the midwife helped her to redress. “You have another child already, right? So, you know the bleeding is going to continue for a few weeks. Make sure you rest as much as you can. Now isn’t the time to be a hero. You’ve just gone through a lot; you need time to heal.”
“Can I have our son back now?” Faye asked, raising an amused brow at her already doting fiancé, who reluctantly handed the infant back to his mother.
“Rest, darling.” Henry reminded her, securing one arm around her rapidly deflated waist and holding her tight to his side, walking her back to their waiting bed, their son’s bassinet already pulled up close to her side.
“I wanna hold him a little more.” Faye pouted when Henry took the baby back, holding her hand to help her into bed the best he could.
“Lay down first. You’re getting shaky.”
“Then can I hold him?”
“I suppose, since you did just birth him an all.” Henry playfully sighed, handing off their son again and seating himself on the edge of the bed, content to just watch mother and child for the time being.
~*~
“Papa?” Briar yawned, shuffling into their room with her stuffed bunny in tow.
“Yes, princess?” Henry mumbled, already half asleep after changing his son and passing him back to his mother for a midnight feeding.
“He too noisy. Can you tell baby brother to be quiet? I can’t sleep.”
“You heard her, Liam. No more screaming in the middle of the night. You need to use your inside crying after 9pm.” Henry informed his young son, the only reply being his son’s usual cooing grunt as he continued to nurse.
“Sorry, Briar. He’s still little, he needs a lot of attention right now.”
“I like attention too.” Briar pouted, stubbornly climbing into their bed and perching herself on Henry’s stomach as she watched her mother.
“I know, baby. I’m sorry.” Faye sighed, fighting the tears welling in her eyes.
“How about Mummy takes you to the park for a little bit tomorrow?” Henry suggested
“Liam is too little to be bringing out to a playground, Hen.” Faye pointed out, relatching the child when he stopped to stare at her nursing bra in confusion.
“So feed him right before you go, and again when you get home. You need a break from baby duty, babe.” Henry suggested, shifting Briar off his stomach to sit next to him instead.
“I wanna go, Mommy!” Briar whined, looking up at her mother hopefully.
“What if he gets hungry while I’m gone?”
“I know damn well you have extra in the fridge. It’s a bit of a surprise when you add some of that into your coffee in the morning by mistake, by the way.”
“So that’s why I was missing some.”
“I thought it was that ‘fancy’ cream you get from the farmer’s market. I was wrong.”
“It was in the same bottle, though.”
“You little…” Henry grumbled, pushing himself up on his elbows to glare at her properly. “Why would you refill a container with milk that looks startlingly similar to what was in it in the first place? You set me up for failure!”
“Mommy, I sleep with you tonight?” Briar asked hopefully, blissfully ignorant to her parent’s playful discussion.
“No, baby. You’re not going to get any sleep in here with us. Baby brother wakes up too much at night.” Faye explained, glancing hopefully at Henry. Understanding what she was trying to tell him, Henry snatched the little girl up and rolled out of bed, smiling at her excited squealing as he carried her down the hall under his arm surfboard style.
“Do you want me to turn on your Baby Shark music?” Henry asked once she had been replaced in bed, Kal lazily licking at her ear when she rejoined him. He didn’t bother even waiting for an answer before flipping through her tablet, pulling up the hour long loop they usually played for her at bedtime.
“Kal wants ice cream.” Briar informed him, batting her lashes up at her father figure hopefully.
“Kal knows he can’t have ice cream. It’s too hard on his stomach.” Henry yawned, looking suspiciously at the canine.
“No, he wants it for me, silly.” Briar giggled.
“You know the rules, princess.” Henry sighed, brushing her hair from her face softly. “Now get some rest. We all love you.”
~*~
“Did we wait long enough? Do I still look like a slob?” Faye fretted, turning this way and that, her eyes fixed on her lower stomach, trying to see if it still protruded further than she wanted.
“Faye, relax. You look amazing.” Her sister assured, turning her away from the mirror. Briar was happily running in circles with her little flower basket, all too excited to be involved in the affair. Her twin sister was in a beautiful, blue floor length bridesmaid dress, her younger sister in a matching shorter dress and her brother struggling with the matching tie.
“Are you ready to marry?” Her mother asked her giddily, squeezing her daughter’s hand softly.
“I am. I really hope he is too.” Faye replied, stealing a glance at the closed door.
“Oh please, he was ready to marry you the first time he saw you.” Her brother scoffed, finally taming his tie into something passable. “You’ve been killing the poor guy making him wait this long.”
“I didn’t want to get married while I was pregnant.”
“I really don’t think he would have cared.” Her youngest sister pointed out. “He seems pretty convinced the sun shines out of your ass.”
“Hear that, Delilah?” Her brother jumped in, setting his teasing eyes on his sister. “Get you a man that looks at you the way Henry looks at her.”
“It’s the same way you look at pizza.” Their sister added.
“I’ll find someone when I want to.” Delilah grumbled, shooting her younger siblings a glare out of the corner of her eye.
It took the effort of three people to hold Briar back once the music started, all desperately explaining that she was going to be almost last to go. Once the time came, she threw all her flower petals on the ground at the start of the runner and then sprinted down to the other end while laughing wildly. It was deemed that was close enough and it was finally Faye’s turn to walk the aisle.
Her father’s arm was a steady, comforting constant, something she desperately needed in that moment. She could swear she saw a small tear forming in the corner of her husband-to-be’s eye, but mostly his face was one of proud surprise.
Niki was elected to hold the ‘ring bearer’ the baby happily drooling all over the ring box he was allegedly in charge of. The photographer went nuts with pictures when Henry gently pried the box from his son’s chubby fist, removing the ring from inside and handing him the box back to chew on.
The couple stared into each other’s eyes, everything else melting away in that moment as they both closed a chapter in their lives, only to begin a brand new one they hoped would be filled with adventure with two simple words.
“I do.”
Tags:  @weallhaveadestiny @lunedelorient @summersong69 @mis-lil-red @lharrietg @amberangel112 @mansaaay @packerfan43
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five-rivers · 1 year
Text
Life's Great Lie 10
Okay, so.  Clint had a concussion.  A nasty concussion.  Not the worst he’d ever gotten, but he was impaired.  Probably wouldn’t be hitting any bullseyes in the next few hours, that was for sure.
However, he wasn’t nearly as impaired as he was letting his current captors believe, thank God.
(No, wait, a god was the reason he was concussed in the first place.  Screw god.)
At least, that had been his initial impression.  When one of his teenage captors disappeared in a whirl of sand and the other two had started hitting buttons that turned the… Yeah, okay, he didn’t know what he was in, but he’d seen brick.  He was pretty sure that things with brick in them weren’t supposed to turn into a blimp.  Or a jet.  Since the two remaining children (who had tied him up surprisingly well) were arguing about turning it into a jet. 
Had Barton seen some weird stuff in his time?  Yes.  Did he frequently work from an aircraft carrier that also flew?  Yes.  Had he just spent the last several days mind-controlled by a Norse deity alongside a kid who was fifty percent dead?  Yes.  Was he, Clint Barton, also incredibly strange?  Yes.  Yes, he most certainly was.
But a guy had to draw the line somewhere.  He was just debating if he should draw the line before or after the weirdly competent children simultaneously being wizards and mechanical geniuses.
… Or, now that he was starting to reorient himself, they were just using the Fentons’ gear.  Where were the Doctors Fenton anyway? 
.
Maddie Fenton squinted at her phone.  “Jack, honey,” she said, with the kind of venomous sweetness she generally reserved for Vlad Masters and Pamela Manson, “I think we’ve been had.”
Jack with an equally uncharacteristic grimness surveyed the mostly empty street.  “I think you’re right.”
“There’s been another report,” said Maddie, still squinting.  She wished she remembered how to make the words on the phone bigger.  “Park and Amity.”
Jack started for the GAV.  “Park Place?  Or Park Row?”
“Park Row is in another city, dear.”
“I was sure there was a Park Row here as well!”
“Alright, and which Amity is it?  Or did you mean A. Mitty?”
“You’re the only one who calls Alfred Mitty Boulevard that, dear.”  Maddie sighed.  “I suppose we’ll just have to check them out one by one.”
“Ha!  Well, with the Fenton Ghost Assault Vehicle, that’ll be a snap!”
.
The most surprising thing about all of this, mused Danny, was that his parents had yet to add to the chaos.  Uncharacteristic of them, really. 
He phased a prone SHIELD agent’s body armor into the sidewalk and pivoted to punch another in the face, bypassing their helmet and face-shield.  Come to think of it, were the ones wearing armor and combat gear agents, or were those just the ones in suits?  Not that it particularly mattered.  His job right now was just to keep anyone from getting killed.  A task that would get exponentially harder once SHIELD’s backup got here. 
“Why,” he asked Loki, when the rhythm of the fight allowed it, “are we still here?”
Yes, technically the answer was ‘we haven’t gotten Barton’s signal yet’ and, yes, he knew the real answer was probably ‘self-sabotage’ of one kind or another, but keeping everyone alive was a strain, if not on his abilities, then on his focus and attention.  There was Loki, Loki’s various minions, SHIELD, the police, random people still inside the nearby building – It was a wonder the GIW hadn’t shown up, and Valerie and his parents would be here before too much longer.  Not to mention—
“Phantom!”
There was a slight pause in the gunfire. 
Danny looked up to see Valerie Gray, Iron Man a growing red streak in the sky behind her.  His secret identity had been a very secondary concern since Loki snatched him, a lost cause, really, considering this fight, but the only way Valerie would have gotten the memo this fast was if someone told her. 
… Maybe Danny would pretend to be mind-controlled a little longer than strictly necessary, for the purpose of punching a certain few SHIELD personnel.  Namely, Fury and Coulson.  He felt like he deserved it.  As a treat. 
“Hi, Red?” tried Danny, knowing that he was just trying to delay the inevitable.
“What,” demanded Valerie, calling up her biggest gun, “do you think you’re doing?”
“We need to leave, now,” said Danny.
Loki grinned.  “But the fun’s just getting started!”  He multiplied himself, which was the ‘we’re leaving’ signal, and Danny disappeared. 
Valerie fired the gun, which was honestly really unfriendly of her.  What had SHIELD been telling her?
Finding the real Loki was easy.  Danny had experience at this point, and a touch was all it took to make him invisible and intangible, too. 
“Do you think Barton’s gotten what we need?” asked Loki, airily. 
“I think Barton’s been caught,” said Danny, flatly.  “If we came to draw out my parents, it hasn’t worked, and the only reason I can think of why it wouldn’t work is if they got distracted by something else.”
“Like Barton breaking in prematurely.”
“Yeah.”
“Pity.  I suppose we’ll have to—”
And this is where Danny was revealed as just as self-sabotaging as Loki, because he had neglected to remember that Valerie’s equipment could pick him up while invisible.  Unfortunately, the fact that he did know that combined with his sharp reflexes meant that he was able to shield himself and Loki from the blast. 
“Oi!  Red riding hood, can you see them in all this?”
“What did you just call me?”
And there was Iron Man.  Lovely. 
“Red, can you point me at them or not?”
“Come on,” said Danny, tugging on Loki’s elbow. 
“But this is entertaining.”
“It’ll be a lot less entertaining when your brother and Captain America get here.”
“Oh, very well.  We’ll go.  To Fentonworks.”
“Oh, come on—”
The sandstorm blindsided them, literally and figuratively, the heat of cutting through Danny despite his intangibility.
“WHEN I FIND LANCE THUNDER,” shouted Tucker, voice supernaturally loud and deep, “I’M GOING TO KILL HIM.  HE KNOWS HOW MANY DIFFERENT PARK AND AMITYS THERE ARE!”
Ah.  Heck.  Duulaman.  Why did Tucker have Duulaman’s scepter?  Were they trying to solve mind control with different mind control?  That was a terrible idea. 
… But admittedly about on par with Danny’s current plan.  Darn it.  There really weren’t a lot of better options out there.
“Oh,” said Loki, “I didn’t know there were any humans who still practiced the arcane arts!”
“Uh huh,” said Danny, pulling on his core to cool the air around them and gritting his teeth.  “That’s Tucker for you.  This is going to be fun.”
“And by fun you mean…?”
“Absolutely miserable.  You’d better hope you’re as good at magic as you think you are.”
“He hasn’t seen us yet.”
Sand swirled around them and deposited them on top of a sand dune directly in the middle of the Park and Amity crossing.  A few of the SHIELD vans had turned to stone, and others were slowly dissolving into sand. 
Tucker was still, mostly, in his normal clothes, but gold bangles were wrapping themselves around his right arm and his beret was looking awfully Nemes-like.  His eyes glittered red, accentuated by kohl. 
The scarab jewel on the end of the scepter flashed, and Danny felt a tug on his mind. 
.
“How dare you,” hissed Loki, reasserting his control of Phantom with a twist of his staff.
“How dare you,” snapped the dark-skinned boy.  “He’s mine.  He was mine first, and you have no right to him!”
“I have every right!  I am a god, you pathetic sorcerer!”  Loki called on his magic, and on Phantom’s blanketing the sand with ice. 
“You?” sneered the boy, tilting his chin up.  “You think you are a god?  I am Nebmaatre Djedamun, called Duulaman!  I am the Son of Ra!  The Son of the Sun!  I have lived and walked through the Duat and returned, as Osiris!  Who are you, foreigner, to take what is mine?”
The ice beneath Loki began to steam, and the sun burned down from directly overhead, a position it should not be in under any circumstances at this latitude on Earth. 
So.  That was how it was going to be, was it?
“I am Loki Laufeyson, god of mischief and rightful king of Asgard.”  He bared his teeth and called up his armor, scepter growing into a full staff, the false sand desert morphing into an equally false vista of ice.  “Let’s see if you’re worth my time.  Human.”
 .
It turned out that extended desert-based trauma and resultant obsessive sand-proofing of technology was good for something.  That something was freak sandstorms caused by strangely glow-y teenagers.  Who knew.  Not Tony, that was for sure. 
“Hey, Red, you okay?”
“I’m fine,” hissed the girl – and Tony really had to have words about whoever was setting SHIELD policy regarding the recruitment of teenagers, planetary threat or not – doing something that had her hoverboard zooming back to her, shedding sand as it went. 
“Great,” said Tony, “you know this new guy?”
Red was silent, and Tony wished he could see her face through the tinted visor of her suit.  “I know the kid, not the ghost possessing him.  I’ve never seen any of them use sand like this before.”  She looked up.  “Or the sun.”
Yeah, whatever was going on with the sky was throwing Tony for a loop.  Sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic, yadda, yadda, yadda, like he hadn’t heard that spewed in his direction a few hundred times.  Thor made him believe it a little more, though.  There had to be some explanation behind all the freaky stuff he could do. 
The sand was abruptly replaced by a blizzard, and Tony pulled the girl to the roof of one of the buildings just in time for the river to melt into a gleaming river, its banks thick with reeds and flowers.  The river rose out of its bed, sporting fangs and scales, eyes sharply green.  Sand sizzled against its clawed feet and the plants wilted and burned.  The good thing was, there didn’t seem to be any actual people down there, beyond Loki, Fenton, and the new kid. 
The possessed new kid.  More mind control.  Just what they needed. 
“Any way to un-possess someone?”
“Shoot them with one of these,” said Red, lifting a gun Tony was pretty sure she hadn’t had before.  He had no idea where she had gotten it from.  Neat. 
He reached for it.
“Nuh uh,” said Red.  “This stays with me.”
“Okay, little Red, I don’t know if you’ve noticed—"
“Here’s how this’s gonna go,” Red interrupted him.  “I’m going to go take down Phantom while those two are distracted with each other.  You cover me.  Once I’ve got Phantom, I’ll shoot the ghost in Tucker out, and you and SHIELD have a clean shot at Lorry or whatever.”
“And I’ll be way better at covering you if I have a weapon that can actually do damage to these guys.”
“I don’t have time to argue with a stupid billionaire—”
The building they were standing on turned into a sphinx, and moved, dumping them at its feet.  It leaned close and growled, eyes glowing.  Both Tony and Red fired at it, their weapons leaving craters on its face.  It only made it flinch. 
Then lightning cleaved the sky. 
“It’s about time!” shouted Tony, ignoring Jarvis’s comment about the rising temperature of the sand for the moment. 
Thor jumped up on the rubble that had been the sphinx and shrugged.  “The directions were very confusing, and there is strange sorcery on this place!” 
“No kidding!  Where’s capsicle?”
“Captain Rogers was taking the plane with the Widow!”
Next to him, Red started to move again.  “You’re not a ghost,” she said. 
“Yeah, he’s an alien, get with the program.  Are you sure you can take care of Fenton?”
If Tony hadn’t been looking for it, he wouldn’t have caught the split-second hesitation.
“I’ve fought him before,” said Red. 
That didn’t mean anything by itself.  Tony had frequently fought gravity, the ground, and chemistry during pre-horrible-kidnapping benders.  That didn’t mean he’d ever had any chance of winning.  Still, he supposed they had to take it.  There weren’t any other options. 
“Come on, Red, you know I was always holding back.”
Feeling like he was in a cheap horror movie, Tony looked to the right to see Danny Fenton. 
.
Delight was almost certainly the wrong emotion to be experiencing at the moment, but Danny wasn’t exactly in what he’d describe as a proper state of mind.  Besides, Tucker’s giant lens was really cool.  Danny hadn’t known that a lens made out of illusions could focus light like that, but it was logical enough.  Most illusions probably were just bending light, at their base.  Although why he was going through the steps of creating a false sun, the fake lens, and aiming, Danny didn’t know.  Wouldn’t it be easier to just create lasers or something like that to begin with?
“There is something wrong with the people on this planet,” hissed Loki, ripping the lens to shreds before it could melt through Danny’s ice shield.
“Well, yeah,” said Danny.  “But I’m not sure you can generalize what’s wrong with Tucker to the rest of the planet.”  He leaned as heavily into his ice powers as he dared in human form, which was actually quite far, and used telekinesis to bat away a pair of animate statues. 
Arctic cold and equatorial heat pushed together in the air, swirling into clouds.  Lightning forked from the sky.  Danny caught a bolt and swung it to the side, glassing the sand under him. 
Tucker was looking up at the sky, teeth barred.  “Who dares strike against my people?”
Oh, Tucker really was a great friend.  But fighting Thor really wasn’t a good idea—Assuming the lightning was Thor arriving, and not a random weather phenomenon caused by three people with superpowers playing with the laws of physics.
Good distraction, though. 
Danny appreciated what Tucker was—Well.  What he assumed Tucker was trying to do, underneath the past life personality takeover.  Rescue him, and all.  But Danny did have his orders.
Loki’s mind control and Tucker’s were different.  Loki’s was focused and direct, while Tucker’s diffused like dust on the air, subtle but insistent.  Loki’s staff was of this world, powered by something native to this part of the universe.  Duulaman’s was laced with ghost magic.  Loki’s drew on something primal, something that brushed at some fundamental force Danny could only guess at.  Duulaman’s control was woven, carefully, from ancient spells layered on one another like steel folded over and over. 
Tucker’s pull on Danny’s mind wasn’t negligible, but Loki’s control of Danny was stronger.
Also, this couldn’t possibly be healthy for Tucker. 
“Tucker!” shouted Danny, over the howling wind.  “Snap out of it!  Don’t let Duulaman make you do this!”
The expression on Tucker’s face was offended and incredulous.  Danny would have liked to laugh but the fate of the world was at stake here. 
“That’s what I want to say to you, idiot!”
“Hey, I’m not doing this willingly!  Why do you even have that?  You know what it does to you!”
“Forgive me for wanting to get the big guns when my best friend is shanghaied to lead an alien invasion!”
“Don’t be ridiculous, I’m not leading it, that’s all him!”  He gestured behind him in Loki’s general direction. 
Oh, and there was Thor.  And Iron Man.  And Val.  Oh, they really did have to get out of here.  Danny didn’t think he could handle all this while still in human form.  They looked like they were having some sort of planning session over by the sphinx, but he didn’t think that would last all that long.  On the other hand, it looked like Loki was sneaking up on them, so that was about to become very interesting.
The sensation Danny was coming to associate with Duulaman’s magic spiked as Tucker tightened his grip on the staff.  “His arrow minion shot Jazz.”
Danny froze.  “Is she okay?”
“She’s not bleeding to death, if that’s what you mean,” said Tucker. 
Danny expanded the list of SHIELD agents he wanted to hit to include Barton.  He probably wouldn’t hit him, given the mind control, but he wanted to. 
“Look,” said Danny.  “I do have a plan.”  One that was, admittedly, falling apart rapidly. 
“Which you haven’t told us beyond trying to use us for shopping!” 
The influence of Tucker’s magic on Danny wasn’t as strong as Loki’s.  But that didn’t mean it was nothing. 
Danny gritted his teeth.  “That’s because the stuff wasn’t for me to use, it’s for you.”
And then Tucker was hit by one of Iron Man’s repulsor bursts.
.
In Tony’s defense, he still wasn’t used to the illusion thing, and he wasn’t the only one who had fallen for the fake Fenton.  He hadn’t meant to hit the kid with the staff, and given a few minutes out of battle, he’d probably feel bad about it. 
He also hadn’t realized how angry Fenton would get about it. 
The boy’s body flickered and his eyes started to glow with a radioactive light even as the rest of him seemed to fade into shadow.  The air got cold and heavy. 
And then the quinjet arrived, laying down cover fire between Phantom and Tony.  The feeling vanished as Fenton threw up a shield, protecting himself and Loki.
And then, because the day just had to get weirder, a blimp with Jack Fenton’s face on it showed up and started shooting at the quinjet. 
And then an absolute monstrosity of a vehicle, an unholy cross between an RV and a tank, barreled over the top of a nearby dune and started blasting everyone.
Between defending himself and trying to keep the poor unconscious kid from getting shot again, Tony was just barely able to see Phantom grab Loki’s arm and phase into the ground.  What he wouldn’t give to be able to get out of stupid situations so easily. 
Finally, proving that the only god of this world or the next was Murphy, a green-tinged energy bolt went wide, soaring over the sand, the ice, and several streets’ worth of intact buildings to ping off the bottom of the helicarrier and somehow short out all the camouflage panels. 
The fighting stopped as the blimp turned into a jet and zoomed – complete with sound effect – away, and the Fentons seemed to realize who they were firing at. 
A blond civilian Tony had somehow missed in the chaos staggered into view, followed by a bedraggled cameraman.  “Yes!” he said, hands raised in jubilation.  “Yes!  Now this is some freak weather, baby!  Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve been able to report on the weather?  This is the best day I’ve had all week!”
Before Tony had any time to process that, Maddie Fenton got out of the Monstrosity (which was quickly becoming capitalized in Tony’s head), calmly walked over, and slapped the man across the face.  She grabbed his shirt and pulled him down to her level.  “Do you have any idea how many Parks and Amitys there are in this town?”
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