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#it's also funny considering that i still picture them as plastic people. just with the added ability to have a cool glowy outline
ser-i-vant · 2 years
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i’ve always liked neon signs. i also like the addisons. why not combine the two? (please click for better quality)
...though i don’t think spamton would’ve been able to reap the full benefits of being able to glow on command
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How to write a character with glasses
A guide for anyone wanting to write characters with glasses, but doesn’t know how yet.
 Different types of visual impairment
Near-sighted – not being able to see stuff in the distance
Far-sighted – not being able to see stuff up close
Presbyopia – easier in German: Altersweitsichtigkeit = elderly far-sightedness, not being able to read small print when you’re older, sometimes end up being far- and near-sighted at the same time
Astigmatism – light is not focused evenly on the retina, results in distorted and blurry vision
it’s also pretty normal to have different prescriptions for both eyes, one being stronger/weaker than the other one
 Different types of visual aids
Eyeglasses with actual glasses – easier to break, so more dangerous, can be grinded and polished differently than other material
Plastic glasses – lighter than the real glass, not that easy to get damaged
Reading glasses – only needed for reading and driving
Monocle – old-fashioned aesthetic
Bifocals – glasses that correct presbyopia, bottom is seeing closer, top for seeing in the distance
Contact lenses – different types (post about it coming soon)
 How to write it?
think about what kind of visual impairment does your character have?
what are they able to see?
can they see basically everything, but cannot read correctly?
can they see enough to get by, but cannot read and drive and get headaches without their glasses?
can they only see blurred images and colours?
do not change it halfway through the story! Choose their impairment and then stick with it.
what are situations where the glasses could hinder them?
are they doing a lot of sport, are they getting into fights, situations where they don’t want to wear them for aesthetic reasons?
can they not do something because of their impairment? (joining security forces, driving big trucks, etc.)
are they annoyed that they have to wear them? Are they only wearing contact lenses or are they just avoiding wearing anything even though they can’t see everything?
you don’t have to make a big deal out of your character wearing glasses, but it does play a big part in your character’s life
remember to put in a few references about it here and there throughout the story
things to consider
glasses fog up
through temperature changes
while going outside or coming in
while sweating
glasses need to be adjusted
they will never stay where they are supposed to be
especially when moving around and keeping your head down
the character will need to adjust them from time to time and push them up again
glasses need to be cleaned a lot
everything will make them dirty
best option are specific cleaners
if you don’t have them handy a shirt will have to do, but it needs to be the right material, synthetic stuff is not working
people with glasses will ask their friends for their shirts if they have to
sunglasses, swim goggles and 3D glasses are impractical
3D glasses need to be over the glasses and it can be tricky to get it right
sunglasses need the right prescription and then you would have to change glasses every time you enter a building
there are clips that go over the normal glasses, but they have to be exact to look fine
swim goggles can also be with prescription, but you would also have to get your glasses as soon as you’re out of the water to take the goggles off and still see enough
there are also special glasses for other sports (it’s not great to do sports with real glasses, because if they break it can severely damage your eyes)
times where you have to take the glasses off
when showering
when going to bed
when putting on shirts with a tight neckline
glasses are expensive
some insurances pay for them, a lot don’t
the worse the eyesight the more expensive they get
glasses and frames are two different things and get sold separately (you can have really expensive glasses in a cheap frame or vice versa)
you also need a spare pair of glasses, if you lose yours or they get damaged (often this is just an old pair, where the prescription is no longer strong enough)
more things to consider
a new partner cannot just take the glasses and throw them to the side, when the fun starts, if it leaves the character without being able to see properly, there needs to be some more trust there
people will take the glasses and put them on, yelling ‘OMG you’re really blind!’ and then ask you how they look like, especially funny when you really can’t see them
people asking ‘how many fingers can you see?’
light hits differently, which means you see light differently and also, it’s hard to take good pictures with glasses
rain is a nightmare, it’s like driving through rain without a windshield wiper
having to be careful on roller coasters and other stuff, because they can and will fly off
especially with astigmatism it’s hard to drive at night
going to the hair dresser can be annoying when they take your glasses off and then ask you if that’s the right length to cut it and you can’t see it
you cannot lie in bed (except on the back) without the glasses pressing uncomfortable in your face
mascara definitely will end up on the glasses and getting that cleaned is a nightmare
wearing hats, beanies, giant headphones and even facemasks can be extra annoying, because the arms of the frame will get in the way
you can get headaches from not wearing your glasses, from the pressure of the frame of the glasses and from wearing new and therefore glasses with a stronger prescription
small children love glasses, as soon as they can grab stuff, they will yank them off your face if you let them get close enough
kids will tease you about them, but after middle school it’s not really a thing anymore (mostly and as adults it’s really nothing special)
glasses have blind spots on the sides and top and bottom, so you sometimes have to move your head more
Tropes
Blind without glasses and dropped glasses
I actually only have sharp vision for a distance of 10 cm, which means I would not get home save if I had to cross a street to get to my building without glasses
but I very rarely lose my glasses
so, the trope of someone not being able to see without them is correct in some cases, but it’s definitely not hilarious and there are not often situations where they are just without glasses and fumbling around
Being smart
people wearing glasses can be just as dumb as everyone else
try not to make the only one wearing glasses be the smart kid
The Cure
often found in fantasy books, people will somehow get cured from needing glasses
getting some superpowers that eradicate their visual impairment and ‘fixing’ them
The Makeover scene
I love makeover scenes just like everybody else does
but: it’s not really cool to see the ‘ugly duckling’ suddenly becoming a beautiful swan by throwing away their glasses
and it’s impractical, if they just put them away and it was established that they can’t really see that well without them it’s just stupid to leave them at home
if they get new and cooler glasses, the person giving them to them would have needed to know their exact prescription, glasses are expensive and it takes time before they are ready
if they wear contact lenses from now on, they would also need to know the prescription and if they have never worn contact lenses before it will take some time to get used to putting them in and wearing them
Finally… please write characters with glasses. This sounds like a lot of hassle, but for most people it’s the most normal thing in the world. Studies show that soon half the world population will need glasses and I still didn’t really have a cool girl with glasses as a role model in literature when I grew up. It’s just another form of representation and I hope I can help you with this post to create some cool characters!
If you like my blog and want to support me, you can buy me a coffee! 🥰
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lazypeachsoul · 3 years
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you messed with the wrong woman - y.b.
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Warnings: this fic includes mentions of a creepy old man and a lot of cute girlfriend things.
Word count: 1,1k.
A/N: It's not actually a fic... it's closer to two headcanons...it's weird. But I hope you still like it 🌼 As always this was requested by and it's dedicated to @teenwonder and it's based on @imnotusedtobeingloved 's character scenario alphabet
Masterlist.
To be added to my taglist use this forms or write me an ask!
-
a - apple of my eyes. (when do they feel the need to be protective over their s/o and how do they express it?)
Being in a relationship with one of the best spies in the world was not what one would consider the safest. And somehow the constant threat of enemy attacks didn’t feel as threatening as other situations.
Nothing would stop Yelena from feeling protective of you when she could sense you were uncomfortable. Like at the grocery store when a creepy old man wouldn’t stop looking at you two.
“Can you remind me why we are here?” The woman’s voice was loud enough to be heard over the noises of the store but not to shift the attention to the couple.
“Because we need to eat, angel.” The response was short and lighthearted, but before Yelena could respond with her quick wits, you spoke again. “Real food, Lena. Not takeout, not pasta everyday...”
“But you love the pasta that I make!” Yelena’s voice rose, making people look at her funny.
“I do… but we need to eat vegetables and fruit and...rambutan?” You tried to reason holding the plastic tray filled with the pink and green fruit, something that was not helping your case to make fruit more appealing. Why was it hairy?
“Okay, rambutan...do you think it will taste good with ice cream?” Yelena joked, grabbing the tray from your hand and placing it in the shopping cart while trying to ignore your unamused look.
Life with Yelena was great, but with your work taking a lot of your time and her missions and secret things, domestic moments were not that common. Melina and Natasha had already talked your ear off about taking care, eating healthy and whatever. But you had taken to listening to Alexei who tried to say you are young and should just live your life.
Walking through the store trying to find ingredients for the meals you would try, and probably fail, to make should have remained an easy activity but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched. Getting closer to Yelena she didn’t seem too surprised at your actions. Or at least until she saw the uneasiness on your face.
“Something wrong, malishka?” Listening to her soft tone should have calmed you down but you still had that same feeling.
“I think someone is looking at us, and not in a good way.”
Yelena looked around but the aisle full of cleaning supplies seemed to be almost empty, except for an older man looking at the floor cleaning products. She put her arm around your waist, trying to pull you closer when she caught the man moving to look in your direction. She wouldn’t have thought anything of it if it wasn’t because she saw him pull out his phone and tried to take a picture.
With a rapid movement she had pulled you behind her and moved the shopping cart aside, now standing fully squared up in front of the man. He looked almost excited to have caught the attention of your girlfriend until his eyes reached her face and he seemed to turn pale.
If he had only known he had messed with the wrong woman today.
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She also felt protective of you after she received a threat to her loved ones during a mission. From that moment she knew she had to teach you how to defend yourself in case any of those useless threats became real. And she also knew she had to teach you how to hide, just in case the threat was too large, until she could come help you.
Countless afternoons were spent in the gym trying to learn basic self defense, only to turn into just play fighting to end up pressed against each other on the mat. Finally having to be trained by Natasha and away from Yelena to avoid distractions.
Yelena wasn’t completely on board with letting you train at the Avengers compound because she feared that any image of you entering the building would only put a bigger bullseye on your back. And she was probably right.
So now you were in god knows what part of Hell’s kitchen, in a hidden old gym that Natasha had somehow found, how you didn’t dare to ask. Everything smelled of sweat and rubber, but somehow the smell didn’t bother you as much as Natasha’s smirk when she lifted her fists in front of her.
You had tried to fight her but those damn girls were trained in the Red Room, there was no way you could compete with that. So when you tried to attack first and were quickly thrown to the mat, you could do nothing but groan in frustration and pain.
“That’s all you can do? You would be dead before you could attack them.” Natasha all but growled while pushing you further into the mat, making you let out a sound of pain.
“Natalia, stop.”
That tone couldn’t mean anything good. For as long as you had known Yelena you had never seen her speak in that voice, deeper and full of authority.
“You wanted me to train her and I will.”
“I asked you to train her, not hurt her. She’s not your pupil, she’s my girlfriend.” She spoke while moving closer to her sister and you in the centre of the ring. “And I will not hesitate to fight you if you hurt her again, I promise.”
Yelena extended her arm in your direction and you wrapped your hand around her forearm, using the strength left in your overworked arms to hoist yourself up. You shook your shoulders trying to relieve the stiffness and checked your hands to correct the bandages that had moved during the fight.
“Are you okay? You might need some painkillers tomorrow if you are sore…”
“Don’t worry Lena, I’m okay.” You placed your hand in her cheek trying to move her attention from your bruised hands. “That was really hot you know?”
She smiled, what seemed like a soft blush covering her cheeks, and moved to place a soft kiss against your lips. You tried to wrap your arms around her neck but were stopped by another voice you had almost forgotten was present.
“Training. That’s what we’re here for. I get it, you are very in love but knowing you two I’m going to stop it here before it escalates.”
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Yeah, Yelena was a very protective girlfriend and It probably was in her nature trying to protect the one person she would never want to see hurt. But that didn’t mean you were any less protective of her. Because nobody could mess with your angel.
Taglist: @kyli314 @princessayveke @insanitybyanothername @evalynanne
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werenotadulting · 3 years
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Routine Procedure pt. 5
Over the next couple of days, it was actually abnormal for Kate not to give me some special attention down there during a diaper change. Just woke up? Let's try using my vibrator on your soaked diaper. Need a change before lunch? How about reverse cowgirl while laying there on top of your fresh diaper. Time for your night diaper? Bedtime blowjob.
Don't get me wrong, Kate and I have always had a very good sex life, but this past week was unlike any other.
On Saturday, in the middle of a mid-afternoon change, was when Kate suggested we try getting out of the house for a bit.
"You really soak through these diapers quick, Mike. We're gonna have to see about getting some more soon."
"I suppose we should, right? I mean, they're working infinitely better than that condom thing," I said as I was laying back while Kate took care of wiping me down.
Despite what she had said about showing me how to change myself, she didn't seem to mind taking care of it, and I was in no rush to put a stop to it considering what was in it for me.
"That's very true. There was only that one minor leak you had last night, which I'm sure we can find a way to prevent in the future. I'll put in an order for some new diapers tonight, so they get here by Monday."
Kate secured the last tape and ran a finger along the elastic leg gathers. "You know, that new game store opened up in the mall on the other side of town. What do you say we stop over there and see how it is?"
I froze. Being diapered at home was one thing. Going out in public though.... Kate seemed to know exactly what I was thinking.
"Mike. Earth to Mike. Remember what we talked about? No one is going to be paying attention to the size of your butt or the sound of your pants. And guess what? Even if they do, who cares? You have a medical need to wear diapers. Just like people who have trouble walking use canes, it's a medical thing. You didn't ask to be incontinent."
────────
I looked at myself in the mirror. My jeans appeared to do their job of concealing my diaper.
"You know," Kate popped up behind me in the reflection, "if you're so worried about people seeing, they do make onesies for adults. Just a thought."
I scoffed at her, and we headed off to the mall.
About 30 minutes later, we arrived. I couldn't help but notice that it seemed like there were a heck of a lot more people there than normal. Another 10 minutes later and we were finally able to find a parking space towards the back. As I got out of the car, I made sure my shirt was pulled down as far as it could go. It was all I needed for my shirt to ride up and expose my plastic waistband.
Kate grabbed my hand, but not before giving my padded butt a firm slap. The corner of her mouth turned up ever so slightly, and we walked hand-in-hand up to the mall.
────────
You know that feeling you get when it feels like someone is watching you? Yeah, it did not go away no matter how much time passed as we meandered through the mall.
Our first stop was in the food court, where we grabbed a late lunch of chicken and waffles. Kate went to order the food while I found a spot to sit down.
"All ready," Kate said as she walked up with a tray piled with chicken. "They accidentally made your lemonade a large, and I wasn't about time tell them they were wrong."
"It is the best homemade lemonade in town," I said, grabbing my plate off of the tray.
Kate set the tray down, then went to grab a couple of napkins. A few moments later, I noticed my shirt rising up and the back of my diaper being pulled open. I spun around and swatted the offending hand away, which turned out to belong to Kate.
"What in the hell do you think you're doing?!"
"Giving you a diaper check, what else?"
"We are in the middle of the mall!"
"It's been awhile since you had your diaper changed, and I know you are bad at knowing when you're at capacity," Kate gave me a 'prove me wrong' look.
"I'm fine!! Just... not out in broad daylight, please?" I pleaded.
"Well I didn't even get a chance to properly check just now, but if you say so...."
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After stopping in a couple clothing stores, ("Hey, we should think about getting you some new jeans. Those ones seem a little tight all of the sudden.") we finally made our way to the new gaming store. It was like a one-stop shop for gamers, with board games, collectibles, and video games. Towards the back, there were tables setup, where people could break out their games or card decks and hang out for a bit.
Once we had searched down all the aisles, we found ourselves in the back next to the gaming tables.
"Hey, we're looking for two more for Ticket to Ride! Do you guys want in?" said a blonde girl from a table in the corner. She and another girl were setting up the board, getting ready to start.
Kate's eyes grew to the size of saucers.
"Oh heck yes! I never lose at this game!" It was true, she did never lose, and she never let me hear the end of it whenever we played.
An hour later, and it was clear that it was between Kate and Melanie, the blonde girl, on who would be crowned victorious. The other girl and I had all but given up. Seeing that there was no way I could complete all my routes, I had long since resorted to my usual strategy of trying to sabotage Kate.
"Annnnnd 110, 111, 112. I have retained my crown," Kate gloated.
"Oh wonderful," I said, "I can't wait to hear about this all the way home."
"Well played, you two," Melanie chimed in. "Don't worry about cleaning up, we are actually waiting for some friends to come play a round."
"Oh thank you, that's so nice," Kate said as we both stood up to leave.
"Of course! It was nice meet....." Melanie trailed off, staring at my crotch.
Both Kate and I followed her gaze, and it was then that I saw that I'd had a major leak.
Large wet spots had formed down the inside of my jeans, as well as two half-moon  shapes on my butt. Looking at my chair, there was more evidence of my accident, there for all to see.
It was obvious to anyone looking what had happened.
I was speechless.
"Oh shit, we're so sorry! Let me just wipe this up..." Kate said as she frantically wiped the seat down with a tissue.
The girls were equally dumbstruck, as they watched Kate lead me out of the store waddling behind her.
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The feeling of eyes on me increased tenfold on the walk through the mall to the car. Without a jacket or anything to cover up with, we moved as fast as we could, whispers and giggles following us out.
In what seemed like an eternity later, we finally made it back to the car.
"I'll get the seats cleaned, don't worry baby, just get in." Kate pulled open her door and got the car started. I didn't need to be told twice, as I practically leaped into the car.
"That...I...I'm so embarrassed...." I was starting to get choked up, tears forming in the corners of my eyes.
"Hey, hey, there there sweetie, I'm sorry. That can't have been fun, I know. It's not your fault." Kate was rubbing my back, the car still in park.
"That doesn't make it any less humiliating! And it's not even like I had a little accident, Kate, my diaper leaked!" I was almost yelling, my emotions getting the better of me.
"Shhhh baby, it's okay, take deep breaths, it's going to be okay. We didn't know anyone there, no one important saw, you'll be fine."
I was still upset, but I listened to her, taking steadying breaths that at least got my heart rate under control. Seeing this, Kate started to back out of our parking spot.
"Let's get you home and into a bath, baby," Kate soothed. We drove on in silence for awhile as I continued to calm down.
I think," Kate broke the silence, "that we might want to consider getting you some thicker protection. Just to be safe, you know? What do you think?"
"I think that means I will definitely be waddling, and it will be obvious to everyone what I'm wearing," I said, staring out the window.
"Well, do you prefer people maybe noticing that you walk a little funny, or running the risk of leaking like happened back there?"
"I don't know Kate, I just...I don't want to think about it."
"I'll take care of it then, babe," Kate said, "those hospital diapers are notoriously cheap anyway. We'll find something that works better for you. And I'll look into some of those onesies, so you don't feel so self-conscious about your diaper sticking out."
"Yeah, whatever," I said, as we continued down the highway.
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Kate knew exactly where to look when she logged on to order new diapers.
Let's see, she thought, I think probably a case of ABU Simple Ultra. Maybe a mixed case with some fun prints? No, it was too soon to go all-in like that. I'll just add in another pack of PeekABUs. That's 90 diapers, so at 2-3 diapers a day, that should be good for a month. Better throw in some boosters, too. And set up a recurring monthly order, yes please.
With that order placed, it was then to the ODU website, where she settled on several of their basic onesies.
"All in good time, Kate," she muttered to herself as she looked longingly at all of the cute designs. She could just picture how adorable Mike would look in that dinosaur onesie.
She was so horny right now. The sight of Mike in his wet jeans, his face burning bright red. Her hand slipped down the front of her shorts.
Oh fuck, she thought, he was so humiliated. She rubbed her clit to the image of Mike standing there over the pee puddle on his chair while those girls looked on.
Had she taped on his diaper perhaps a little loose before they went to the mall? Yes.
Had she intentionally ordered Mike a large lemonade? Also yes.
Had she suspected during her impromptu diaper check at the food court that Mike would protest and insist he was fine? Triple yes.
Had she known those flimsy hospital diapers would fail sooner rather than later, and she could talk Mike into something a bit thicker?
Ding-ding-ding, we have a winner.
Kate closed the laptop and got up.
She had a diaper boy she needed to fuck.
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Experiment 05SB
Alternatively titled “I’m sorry 2B don’t hate me please”
I hath given in to the M4dc0m brain rot at the cost of me now having written a 7k+ word fic because I’m not confident enough in my art skills to draw it at the moment. Here we go!
Oh, there’s also implied fatal in this (it’s of unnamed characters, plus this is M4dc0m, but I’ve gotta say it. I guess you could take it as reformation if you really wanted to.). Mentions of blood I guess?
As always, Vore under the cut :)
“Ey 2b? You there?” Deimos’s voice crackled to life through the plastic earpiece currently jammed into his left ear, yanking the hacker and unofficial ‘team medic’ as he was called once (much to his own confusion. Sure, he knew basic medical but by no means was he any sort of doctor) back into reality. A brief moment passed in the silence of his room, more often called ‘the lab’, of their base before everything came crashing back at once. Deimos, Sanford, and Hank were out raiding a A.A.H.W warehouse at his instruction. Meaning he was alone in their base, also known as a breaking down appartement they had taken shelter in. It had electricity and provided shelter from the harsh hell scape that had once been the state of Nevada. A dark red sunless sky overhead, vegetation and any ecosystems completely wiped out from what they’d seen, bandits and zeds equally ready to eat the nearest person if it meant living another day, the Agency hunting you down if they thought you’d possibly be working against them or with the infamous Hank J. Wimbleton, and having little to no essential resources for days at a time to top it all off like some twisted cherry on this sick cake. Home sweet fucking home.
“Doc? Helllloooo?” Shit, right. Deimos.
“Sorry, I’m here. What is it Deimos?”
“And the medic lives!” The small cheer was accompanied by laughter from the smallest member of the team. Jebus, how was he able to joke in even the most dire situations?
“Just get to the point, chucklehead.” 2b could hear Sanford add in over the static, the man’s laughter just barely making it to tired ears.
“Right right, sorry man. Anyway, if we wanted to get food on the way back would you say no?” Pardon? There was no way he was hearing that right. There were several reasons why he couldn’t be hearing that right. A. food wasn’t by any means the easiest thing to come by in this hellhole, B. restaurants weren’t really a common thing anymore so those were out of the picture, and C. there’s no way they could p- actually, scratch that last one. Robbing a corpse wouldn’t be the weirdest thing that those three had done. Not by a long shot. Still though, how was he supposed to respond to that request?
“…what?” Apparently by asking the first word on his mind.
“We saw that one hotdog vendor on the way here and we’re all starving. Can we or can we not get hotdogs on the way back?” Oh. That’s what Deimos ment. How on earth had that hotdog vendor not been killed yet?
“Is this a genuine ‘we’ or is it a ‘me’, Deimos?” That seemed like a more fair and answerable question.
“Hey I-!”
“It’s a genuine ‘we’ Doc,” Sanford’s voice chimed in. By the cursing in the background 2b could imagine that he had flipped up Deimos’s mic to temporarily mute him in the realm of their earpieces. “Pretty sure one of our stomachs gave us away to the last group of agents we had to take out. Not gonna point fingers but I’m pretty sure it was Hank- Ack! I’m just saying!”
“Thought we weren’t pointing fingers.” There was the third voice. Rough from years of fighting yet still all too recognizable as Hank. The same Hank J. Wimbleton on the wanted posters that scattered the walls of almost every nearby building, wanted dead by the Auditor and his whole agency. He must’ve smacked Sanford for his comment. Well at least he didn’t do worse, whether on purpose or accident.
“We aren’t. Now Cmon Doc, you never answered my question.” Hearing the other hacker’s voice ask for an answer again 2b sighed. Always eager, wasn’t he? How the man had seemingly endless energy on missions would forever remain a mystery to him, Jebus be damned.
“I don’t really care what you do on the way back so long as you all come back in one piece and with the stuff I sent you there for. Understood?”
“Aye aye, Captain Doc! Over and out!” And there they went. The earpiece went dead, leaving 2b on his own once again once he flicked up his own mic. Back to silence. Sweet sweet silence. It wasn’t often they got that in their shared apartment of a base. Someone was always awake, someone was always saying something. It was never really quiet unless you were lucky enough to be the only one awake. 2BDamned had seen plenty of those rare times, if only because he overworked himself and didn’t sleep. So maybe it was one of his less than desirable qualities, when living in a hellscape being ten steps ahead of the agency trying to kill you is always good. He had to keep that up, on top of keeping the others alive and well.
And then there was his little experiment. That also was taking a toll on how little he slept. Not all that long ago the trio had returned from a mission with the data he had requested and more. Specifically a duffel bag full of seemingly shrunken grunts and two only slightly bigger shrunken MAGs. Pft, how funny it was to say that. A shrunken MAG. Hell, he wouldn’t believe it if you told him with no proof. The idea seemed insane. Oh but it wasn't. Not by a long shot if the cages sitting on one of his tables said anything. Normally he’d call such a thing like keeping people in cages inhumane, not that there were many humane things in this hellhole to begin with. He’d expect keeping them in cages that probably used to be for pets to be a move pulled by the Agency, not himself, however he had to make do with what they could find and had access to. Also known as: not much at all. He wanted to study them after all. Letting them free was just not an option.
Now that probably sounds bad, studying living beings like himself, but one couldn’t blame 2b when you considered his situation (at least he hopes one couldn’t). Somehow the Agency found a way to shrink living beings. That’s power that could be used against him and the others to make everything turn for the worst, something which he wanted to avoid at all costs. However, if one of his teammates or himself were to be shrunken on a mission it would be possibly lifesaving to know how to reverse the effects. Plus, having the power to shrink enemies on their side could certainly prove useful. All that being said, he needed these few alive in order to try and figure out what caused them to be how they were. Hence the repurposed, beat up pet cages. Two of them to be exact. One held the grunts and the other for the two MAG agents. None of them had killed each other yet, so that was nice. A few simple experiments and a dissection of a grunt that had been dead upon arrival to him proved that they still functioned as they would if they were their normal size. Just on a smaller scale. He had sent Hank, Deimos, and Sanford out for supplies today, yes, though if they found any information regarding the shrinking of their little ‘guests’ then they were to bring it to him. With no information on that though, he had to continue his other work. Tired eyes met the screen through red goggles. Moments later his head found itself cushioned in the crook of one of his arms.
“What the hell.” 2b grumbled, a fresh headache slowly starting to pound against the inside of his skull. What the hell was up with him? He should be fine. This was only his second day without proper ‘longer-then-15-minutes’ sleep. He’d gone longer before, he should be able to function. Why was the screen giving him such a headache now of all times? He needed to get stuff done. He needed to finish up this…this……what was he working on again? Hold on, no, he should remember. This shouldn’t be slipping his mind like it is. Maybe if he just thought back a few minutes. It would come back to him, right?
“Ok right before Deimos called, what was I doing?” 2b thought out loud to himself, trying his hardest to recall what had happened prior to the call from his allies. ”I was sitting here…then Deimos called in. Wait, no. Go back. From the top. Since…however long ago I’ve been sitting here, working on…what was I working on before Deimos asked about getting food? I sent them on the raid, didn’t eat, got to work and- no. That’s not it. Why can’t I just-“
Gggnnnnnnrrrr…
Oh well fuck him. That’s why he couldn’t focus. 2b groaned, not bothering to hide the noise as of now. He was alone, no one would hear him or tease him. Unless you would count the shrunken men in the cages, however it wasn’t likely they’d say anything. When you’re the size of a rat, spare the MAGs who were more rabbit sized, to your captor pissing them off seemed like the worst thing one could do. Clearly the hacker wasn’t at all in the mood to deal with teasing, so their mouths remained shut. That left 2b alone to deal with his complaining stomach, a feat which proved easier said than done when one was going off a day and a half without properly sleeping. He couldn’t even remember the last time he ate something. It was all just fuzzing together at this point.
Pushing himself off his desk 2b flopped back into the worn chair he’d been sitting in for God knows how long. Relaxing into the backrest was certainly more comfortable than being hunched over a laptop screen typing away like he had been for the past day or two. A hand fell to rest over his stomach while the other removed his goggles. Those were not helping the blooming headache. A low growl from his stomach drew a small hiss through his teeth, the sound being accompanied by a familiar empty cramping.
“Oh you can shut up.” He grumbled at the organ half heartedly, “It’s not like I can eat anything right now. There’s a reason I sent Hank and the others out.” His stomach growled back, the empty sound ringing in the hacker’s ears. He needed to eat, that was undeniable. The problem was getting something to eat. He had few options, none of which he particularly liked. Option 1. going out to look for something even slightly edible on his own, option 2. wait and hope the others found and brought back food, or option 3. contact the others through his headset and ask them to get him something on the way back. The first option was clearly undesirable on its own and the other two weren’t much better. Sure, asking them to grab something for him would probably be easiest and most logical, however he was almost certain that they didn’t want to hear that out of the blue in the middle of a fight. That and he didn’t want to deal with any teasing that might come along with asking. He wasn’t about to take that chance when he had things to do. He couldn’t remember those things at the moment, sure, but they were still things he had to do! So asking was not an available option at the moment. That left waiting and hoping for the best.
Rrrrrrrnnngggggg….
“I know. I don’t like the idea either.” 2b sighed as he spun around in his chair, gently patting his stomach. He needed to get out of his chair, even if it was just a walk around his room. He needed something after a day and a half straight of sitting there hunched over staring at a screen. Maybe it’d help with the headache if he was lucky. Probably wouldn’t but hey a man could dream. With a small grunt of effort the hacker found himself on his feet, his balance wobbling and legs feeling like brittle pasta beneath him. Ah, that's what I wanted to do earlier. Go figure taking breaks gets ignored by my brain. “However, I do believe it’ll end with the best result. I’m sure they’ll be home soon anyway.”
They wouldn’t. That was a lie, to himself and to his stomach alike. He likely had a few more hours alone, maybe two at least. The A.A.H.W warehouse he’d sent them to was big and if you account for fighting delays and them stopping on the way back then the chance of them being back in the next two hours would be some sort of miracle. By the way his stomach reacted every time he brushed over the thought that the trio was getting food on the way back then he wasn’t going to be looking so hot by the time they arrived back. Oh he was going to get the short end of the stick no matter what he did, wasn’t he? Talk about luck. 2b sighed, running a hand up and through his hair as he walked along one of the walls of his small room. His stomach clearly wasn’t shutting up any time soon so the next best course of action would be to ignore it. Maybe that would help him wait it out. What could he focus on? There was work, he could clean up a little bit maybe, or he could focus on the rattling coming from the cages and-
Hold on.
That most certainly wasn’t right. 2b cocked an eyebrow, crossing the room to where the three cages were placed. Quite the interesting scene was playing out before him. From what he could see a few of the shrunken grunts were teaming up to try and break out of the cages. This wasn’t their first little escape attempt, no, but it interested him enough as he stood there watching and attempting to grab his tablet at the same time. Eventually he had succeeded, opening up a new document to scribble down a few notes.
Title: Log 073SB
Time: 6:34 pm, xx/xx/xx
Author: 2BDamned
Note: Grunts working together to attempt escape. MAG agent seems to be attempting to cause a distraction by rattling the wall of the cage. Or perhaps they just want out. Very annoying either way. None seem bothered by my presence.
Satisfied with his little note, 2b closed the tablet and set it down on the counter next to one of the cages. Whether it was him being too rough with setting the tablet down or the low grumble from his stomach that startled the cage of grunts was up for debate, but currently he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Right now he needed to have a chat with the little troublemakers. Without hesitation the unofficial medic reached forward, opening the little hinged door located on top of the cage with ease compared to what the grunts inside were attempting before. He didn’t think twice before he reached in and grabbed the two topmost grunts from the pile of attempted escapees before retracting his hand, repeating the process with his other hand, and finally closing the cage. Hands now full, each holding two fighting bodies, the hacker sighed.
“Escape huh? How many times have you already tried that and it didn’t work?” 2b asked, a less than impressed tone lacing his voice. Sure, he needed a distraction from his stomach but he didn’t want to have to deal with escape attempts left and right for the next however long. “What made you think it’d go any different this time?”
There was a moment of silence before a soft voice spoke up, one that clearly hadn’t been used recently. One of the grunts in his left hand. “W-we figured i-if we actually tried and w-worked together then maybe we’d b-be able to manage a successful…e-escape…”
“Really now? Interesting.” 2b mumbled, looking over the grunt in his hand. They were all so small. You’d think he’d have gotten used to their size by now but every time he held one it seemed to slap him in the face. Offing them if they got too rowdy wouldn’t be hard at all. Wouldn’t need to use anything to begin with. How crazy it was. “Though I’m not sure I can let this slide as I have with previous instances.”
“W-what?” His response seemed to temporarily stun the four in his hands, most likely because of how it was different from his previous comments on their attempted escapes. A shiver passed over them like a wave while the hacker only nodded.
“Your previous attempts at escape. While I can understand why one would try I’ve made it quite clear that successful escapes won’t be happening nor tolerated, correct? I need to prove my point here because you all clearly don’t understand words.” He shifted on his feet slightly, a new question wracking his brain. What could he do to show he wasn’t going to deal with constant escape attempts? It had to be something that stuck, seeing as they clearly didn’t understand his earlier comments about escape not being tolerated. Only a few moments of silence passed before his lips were moving again. “You four are going somewhere else. A stronger holding space. If any of the others try anything they’ll join you. Simple, yet effective.” Or it would be if he knew exactly where he planned to stick these four. What did he have that could serve as a stronger cell for them? The cages were already pretty secure in terms of what he could work with. He just needed something stronger, close to him, hard to escape, and threatening that held a sense of danger with it. But what could that be? His eyes darted around the makeshift lab, trying to find something.
Grrrrroowwwllll…
2b’s eyes slowly scanned down from his shaking captives to his stomach. For a moment he just stared, eyes lacking any readable emotion. Well now that was certainly an option. It fit his criteria. Almost too well. Strong, hard to escape, close to him, and it held a sense of danger. Under his mask his torn and scared lips quirked up into a little smirk. “Mmhm. That’ll do quite nicely, in fact~”
The final moments of peace were shattered as the meaning of his words collided with his captives like a well aimed punch to the gut. Hearts sunk to their feet like rocks in water, despair rearing it’s head in their struggles. Those fortunate enough to remain in the cages simply watched with a muted horror as the four bodies were tossed onto the table and held down with little to no effort. The hacker wasted no time removing the mask and bandages that usually covered his mouth, tossing the fabrics haphazardly beside his discarded tablet. Despite the word fresh being the last thing he’d use to describe the Nevada air, 2b knew he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t nice to just breathe the air in alone and not through the layers of fabric like he often did. With the temporary roadblock now gone his eyes drifted downward to the bodies pinned beneath his hand.
“Well, I believe that eliminates any preventable issues we could encounter here.” He hummed softly, plucking the grunt who was covered by his hand the least up into the air. It certainly was odd to watch the little body squirm and fight against him, all attacks on the two fingers holding it proving futile. Their only hope seemed to be 2b letting them go, something which proved less and less likely the longer they studied the look in the hackers eyes. It wasn’t a look one ever wanted to find themself on the receiving end of. The sight of sharp teeth, glimmering with saliva through grinning lips, certainly did not help to lower the grunt’s heart rate at all. 2b simply clicked his tongue. “Meaning stalling time is up. Stay still, won’t you?”
The grunt did not, in fact, stay still. It was impossible to do so as far as they knew when you had a spit soaked tongue dragging up every inch of your front, sharp daggers of teeth only millimeters from their face. A deafening silence washed over the others, only being broken by a small pleased hum from their normal sized captor.
“Not bad…” the man mumbled, dragging his tongue up the squirming grunt yet again. A small voice in the back of his mind, his voice of reason, yelled out the obvious loud and clear to him plenty of times: this was wrong. It wasn’t right to be doing what he was about to do. This was stooping down to the bandits level, something he never intended to do unless absolutely necessary. He shouldn’t be enjoying the taste of another living being like this. And yet…here he was. Ignoring any logic and reason in his mind to proceed with this. Thank goodness he was alone. 2b didn’t even want to think about what the others might say if they were to see him how he was now. Shaking his head softly he shoved away the thought, opening his jaw as far as the joint and scarred tissue that made up his cheeks would allow. He wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or concerned with how easily the small body slipped into his mouth.
Despite their best efforts to squirm free of their new confinement, the slippery surroundings of the unofficial doctor’s maw proved to have horrible traction. Saliva dropped onto the unfortunate grunt’s head from above while they desperately tried to crawl out of the dark cavern. Feet scrambled on the soaked surface of their predator’s tongue as the muscle moved and flipped them around as if they were some piece of candy, all while their hands desperately tried to keep as little of them between the axe like teeth. One bite and they were done for, a terrifying thought. Through it all only three sounds were ever heard from those lucky enough to not be in the current grunt’s position. The sickening sounds of soaked struggle, terrified yelps from the grunt stuck within 2b’s jaws, and the occasional hum from the man himself. The torture, as those watching from the cage would describe it, seemed to continue for hours and hours on end.
Glk
Glp~
Until it all stopped with two simple swallows and a collective gasp of horror from those watching. The relaxed posture of the man they all watched failed to help their situation.
“H….huhh…that was..” the uncertified medic breathed, breaking the silence. His free hand lazily felt down his throat, tracing where he could feel the squirming body slip further down by the second. It didn’t take a genius to decipher that the less angry sounding gurgle from the man’s stomach signaled the end of the unfortunate grunt’s descent. With eyes widened just beyond his natural look 2b gently pressed his stomach. How interesting it was, as morbid as it might sound, to feel something squirming around inside the organ. Before he could even stop to consider a better way to word his thoughts, he finished his sentence. Just not in the way the grunts wanted to hear. “…incredibly easy.”
The last thing any of the remaining grunts wanted to see was those eyes scan up slowly before locking on them as if they were some sort of dessert. The clearly out of place smile on the man’s face didn’t help the feeling of impending doom either. If anything it only made it worse as a rough hand plucked another grunt from the selected three that had remained under his hand. Down, beneath his newfound curiosity and odd urge to continue what he was doing, 2b knew he should have been more concerned about how easy this was coming to him. No sane person would take so calmly to swallowing living beings, especially not of his own kind. Yet here he was, smirking as he licked over his scarred lips with cold eyes locked onto the small shaking body like a cat would after spotting a mouse. Looking at their sizes in comparison to one another? The simile was scarily accurate. Through his whole little mental debate the hacker found it all too easy to slip the small body into his mouth, licking it over to draw out as much of that strangely addicting taste before slowly beginning to nudge it back. Just bit by bit until it was far enough.
Glrk
Grk~
“Two down…haahhh…two to go…” the hacker sighed as he traced the lump down his throat. There was a waiting period once more but it didn’t last long before the shiver inducing gurgle signified where the poor soul had ended up. How the man hadn’t gotten sick yet was beyond the understanding of those who witnessed the event and even the man himself. Surely he should feel at least a little nauseous with two rat sized bodies squirming within his stomach. Nausea and fullness were the two sensations he had expected by now and yet neither had shown their face yet. Deep within his mind, from an area he didn’t even know existed until it spoke, a voice urged him to test his limits. 2b had shaken that idea off nearly immediately. As….enticing as that idea was, he still needed a few of the shrunken grunts alive and well to continue his attempts to recreate and reverse however the Agency had shrunken them before. Four however….well that wasn’t the biggest loss in the world if something happened to go wrong. Leaning a little more heavily over the table he grabbed one of the last two grunts, shoving the struggling body into his mouth head first. Quite the sight it was to watch flailing legs be slurped into someone’s mouth like nothing more than wet noodles. Interesting and horrifying.
Glp
Glrk~
Though compared to seeing someone who had been beside you ten minutes ago disappear down your captor’s throat as nothing more than a barely visible lump would top it in the scarring scale. Nothing could compare to that sight. Good god was it terrifying. The reality that escape was impossible was all but cemented into the remaining grunts' brains now, as that had been what had gotten their companions into this situation in the first place. This was happening because their capturer wanted to prove his point that attempted escape would not be tolerated. At this point they were convinced they’d have to have a death wish to attempt escape now. Especially when their conditions weren’t horrible compared to what they could be in, something which hadn’t crossed their minds till now. Now don’t take their words wrong, by no means did they want to stay here. Especially not now. However, if it meant living another day and not ending up as lunch? Staying definitely was the preferable option.
“One to go. Damn.” The hacker's voice snapped all attention back to him. His position had changed, now leaning back on the table as he looked over the struggling form in his hands. The words seemed to flow from his mouth without too much thought needed behind them. They just felt…right. It was a feeling he never expected to experience in such a context that he was now, much less to have it almost piloting him as it felt now, but he was nearly willing to say he welcomed it. He wasn't well acquainted with the idea of eating living beings after all, so the subconscious help to ease the process along wasn’t something he’d push away. Not unless it were to cause an issue that is. However, nothing of the sort had happened yet, meaning he was going to keep letting his actions flow naturally.
Just as he had with the three before this one, 2b wasted little time starting towards his goal. Raising the grunt just above his head the man dangled the flailing body over his open mouth, a sight that he could assume would terrify anyone in the grunt’s position. All went smoothly as he lowered the small body in. That is until the grunt, having seen an opportunity and taken it, grabbed and yanked down his mic. While he tried to react as quickly as possible, he could only pray the microphone had not managed to pick up the gag he’d made after panic and shock had caused him to jolt forward and send the grunt to the back of his throat. He flipped up the mic as fast as he could, trying to determine the best course of action one could take with a squirming body halfway down their throat and a possibility of having just been ratted out to the others by their lunch. He was screwed were they to find out, what with how at least two of the three always seemed to be looking for teasing ammunition. That and this….well this wasn’t exactly normal, you know.
“Doc? Is everything ok over there?” Fuck. That wasn’t good. Ignoring the sinking feeling of dread in his chest the best he could, 2b took a deep breath and forced the fourth grunt down with a swallow that took a little more effort then he felt it should’ve. Flipping down the mic, he answered.
“Damnit- yes. I'm fine, Sanford. Don’t worry.” The sentence had to be his least convincing lie yet. Between his heavy breathing and dryness in his throat he could tell his voice wasn’t helping him in any way. Now he didn’t take his teammates for idiots, despite how it sure seemed like they were sometimes, but in the moment he found himself wishing they were.
“You sure? You don’t sound all that fine. Did something happen back at base?” The worry beginning to lace the man’s voice through the static filled earpiece only served to worsen the feeling of dread in 2b’s chest. He needed to get Sanford, and the others who were no doubt listening, off the idea something had happened. He needed to deal with the whole I-just-swallowed-four-people-alive thing before they came back, so them returning early was not in the plan.
“No, nothing happened.” He shot back, only realizing the speed in his voice wasn’t too reassuring after he said it. Ok, what was a believable excuse for why he sounded like he did? “I just…spilt coffee on my legs after burning my mouth. Must’ve knocked the mic down in the process.” With a hand to his chest the hacker forced a soft swallow, trying to at least get rid of the uncomfortable dryness that had settled in the back of his throat. Please say they believed that.
“Pft, really? Damn, wish I could’ve seen that. Think you looked like one of those old cartoons, Doc?” Phew, crisis averted.
“Real funny, Deimos. Get back to your mission.” 2b shook his head at the comment. At least they seemed to believe him. It was worth it, even if the mental image of those over exaggerated cartoon characters was now going to show up whenever he even slightly burnt his mouth on coffee. Oh well, some sacrifices must be made.
“Alright alright. We’re going.” The man on the other end laughed. Those idiots. Damn his heart caring for them, now he was attached. “See you when we get back. Over and out, Doc!” And there they went.
Fighting off his own soft laughter, 2b flipped up his mic. A soft sigh escaped him before he could even think to stop it. That could’ve been horrible. While one hand softly rubbed at his neck, sore from what he had to guess was the miniature disaster that just took place, the other gently laid itself over his stomach. The four inside never seemed to stop moving, constantly squirming and slipping about. There were a handful of reasons he could assume was the cause, though the most likely was that being shoved into a soaking wet moving sack with three of your colleagues provided little traction or ability to get comfortable. That and panic. Panic was probably a rather big factor in how they were feeling. 2b, on the other hand, had to be feeling the exact opposite of how they were. The warm weight of his four ‘victims’ was a welcome sensation within the previously empty pit of his stomach. As twisted as he knew it sounded, he would’ve been confident saying that what he was feeling was honestly satisfactory. Why having living beings stretch and actually round out his stomach in a barely noticeable way was causing this feeling was a mystery to him, but at the moment he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Not when it felt this nice.
“I hope I’ve made my point clear.” The unofficial medic hummed, looking over to the grunt filled cage. They had backed away from him by now, huddled in the back most corner of their confines. The sight drew a genuine laugh from the man they all seemed to fear ten times more than before. Well that was proof if he’d ever seen it. Looks like their escape wasn’t something he had to worry about any more. So maybe he sacrificed a little of his ‘I’m not going to hurt you’ act for this. It was worth it in his eyes. And besides, he was probably the most gentle with them out of his whole little gang. If they wanted to be left with one of the others then go ahead. Although being left with the mercenary who you were created to kill didn’t sound like the most fun time to him. Smirking, he collected his goggles, mask, and tablet from the table. “It seems I have. Glad we could have this little -hic!- chat. Heh.”
He gave the cage a pat, the rattling of the metal only serving to scare the grunts further back in the ball of bodies they’d curled into, before turning to walk back to his desk. He needed to sit down. Standing apparently became a lot harder when you had four people fighting against your insides. Thinking back, he didn’t know what he would have expected. Did he stumble a little bit trying to get back to his desk? Yes, he did. It was like he forgot how to walk in all honesty. Another reason he was glad he was alone in their base. Like most things though it proved worth it when he finally collapsed into the worn chair he used for work. Without thinking twice he opened his tablet and started a new log.
—————————
“Doc! We’re back!” The call rang out through the appartement, followed by three sets of footsteps marching their way in and the door slamming shut perhaps a little stronger than needed. As the hinges of the door stopped rattling the three expected to hear a displeased groan, followed by the ruffled form of 2b appearing in the hallway to scold them for being so aggressive or something like tracking blood into the base. Honestly, why he still bothered was a mystery to them, at least Sanford and Deimos for they had zero clue what went on in Hank’s head, for the most part. They were mercenaries, fighters, people looking to not end up with their brains splattered on the wall or something worse. They were going to be bloody upon returning, even if that blood wasn’t their own. It wasn’t like their floors were carpet or anything either. In the end though they never bothered to fight the scoldings. No use making the unofficial medic mad, especially if they needed help. The lack of disgruntled medic in the hallway or at least yelling when silence returned to the room was worrying. After a minute or two with nothing spoken and no ruffled hacker to be seen, Deimos tried again to call him.
“2b?” He called out, peering down the hallway which led to their rooms. There wasn’t any blood on the walls, a good sign to start, and no bullet holes that weren’t there before. Unless the Agency suddenly learned how to do stealth missions, something he and he knew the other two were hoping wasn’t the case, he had hopes. Again, no response from the man. Gun still in his hand he took one glance back to the others, a silent ‘follow me’, before continuing down the hallway. Although Deimos had made it to the closed door first he’d been pushed past by the red goggle wearing giant as he reached for the doorknob. Hank had been the one to open the door to 2b’s room. He’d also been the first of the trio to feel the tension in his shoulders drop. It wasn’t long after he had relaxed that he was shoved into the room by two bodies trying to get in and see any damage that could’ve been done while they were gone. The sight of 2BDamned softly snoring away in his chair, nothing in the room seeming out of place, was most certainly a welcome one.
“Ah. So that’s why he isn’t barking us up a tree for your entrance, Dei.” Sanford hummed with a laugh, careful to watch his volume. If there was one thing he didn’t want to deal with after their mission it was a cranky Doc who got woken up by them. It wasn’t a secret he didn’t necessarily sleep after all and there was no way he could survive off coffee like he seemed to silently claim he could sometimes. They all had times when their sleep schedules were fucked.
“Oh shut up, ‘Ford.” Deimos shot back with a playful punch to the man’s bicep. “It’s not like I’m the one who slammed the door. That’s what he would’ve been on our asses about.”
“You slammed it open then yelled loud enough for all of Nevada to hear you. Don’t act like you’re innocent!”
As the two’s words morphed into friendly bickering Hank took it upon himself to deliver the bit of what they got that couldn’t stay in the duffle bag slung over his shoulder at the moment. Buried in the pocket of his jacket was a small object. Something he hadn’t expected to find, but had snagged nonetheless when it had been pointed out by Deimos. For a second as he walked over to the man a rough hand dug around fabric, fingers gripping plastic as he arrived at his destination. Without thinking he tossed the USB onto the hacker’s desk, eyes wandering over small things like the empty coffee mug or discarded goggles. Behind red-tinted goggles they landed on the man’s tablet, the screen now illuminated thanks to what he could assume had been the small drive hitting the desk. Prying wasn’t something he often did when it came to his teammates, respecting their privacy as they often did his, but after a certain word caught his eye he couldn’t help but read the log that had popped up.
Title: Experiment 05SB
Time: 7:42 pm, xx/xx/xx
Author: 2BDamned
Note: I…cannot believe I’m about to write this. This is update one of Experiment 05SB, an experiment started without much if any bit of a proper plan behind it. Phase I, I suppose you could call it, was a success. The shrunken grunts are, in fact, small enough to swallow whole and…alive. MAGs have not yet been confirmed to be the same way, though I’m sure that answer will show itself one day. I am unsure why I am able to keep four of them down without feeling nauseated, but I can. I will update at a later time when more information has presented itself.
The log ended there, eyes falling away from the screen as Hank’s mind worked to process the information it had just been given. According to what had been written before the man had fallen victim to sleep, it was not only possible to swallow the shrunken beings sitting in one of the cages behind him, but the unofficial doctor had done it himself. Four times to be exact. Curiosity grabbed control of his eyes, slowly panning them up to the cage of grunts who looked noticeably more terrified than they usually did. Had they seen the whole thing go down? His mind continued to wander, finding new questions like how on earth the hacker had managed to keep living and no doubt moving beings down like the log said he did. That is unless he’d spit them up before falling asleep. However that seemed highly unlikely-
“Snooping around Doc’s stuff, are we Hank~?” When Deimos had appeared behind him was beyond the mercenary, though the shock of hearing his voice out of the blue was enough to startle him into quickly powering off 2b’s tablet and whipping around to face the two that now stood across with him with far too smug looks on their faces for his liking.
“Woah there, big guy! We didn’t mean any trouble.” Sanford cooed, the fucking Chad cooed, holding his hands up as if he was under some sort of arrest. “Just wanted to know what you were reading over here is all~.”
“Yeah, exactly. I never expected to find you clicking through Doc’s diary.” Deimos added on nearly flawlessly. Sometimes he really hated how well they worked together. Namely when it was against him. “So, was it a love confession~?”
Hank sighed, glaring at the two through his goggles. He sure fucking hoped they could see the look on his face, despite most of it being covered by bandages and his mask. Because he was not amused and he wanted them to know it.
“No, not a love confession, you morons.” He groaned, shaking his head. Telling them straight off what it said would probably be horrible. At the moment he was still having a few difficulties understanding parts of what he read. Lying just seemed like the best choice overall. It wasn’t like he’d be the only one doing so, after all. It sure seemed like 2b did to them over the mic. Speaking of the man, Hank turned around to take a good look at him. At first glance he seemed like he normally did when he passed out in his chair from overworking himself like this. It was only when Hank took an extra second to look and let the information in his brain guide him did he see the slightly out of place softness around the sleeping hacker’s stomach. Unable to help himself Hank felt his ruined remaining lip quirk up into a small smirk under his mask as he turned around to shove the Dumbass Duo out of the room so 2b could sleep.
“Bunch’a nonsense, is all. Now move. I don’t wanna deal with him if you idiots wake him up and we still have shit to put away.”
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internalsealpanic · 3 years
Text
Bloody Valentine
Summary: There is nothing more romantic than being stuck in an elevator and arguing about terrible life decisions. 
a/n: Blame @littleredwing89 for the existence of this.  This is, as of the time I’m posting this, the 4th part (chronologically) to my Dick Grayson/Merc!Reader series. It might be better for you to read part 1 or part 2 before reading this as the angst might hit harder if you do. 
Warnings:  Mentions of blood and injury. Dick and Reader are both hypocrites with no self preservation. It also gets a little heated(?) in the end but nothing really bad.
Main Masterlist
Dick Grayson Masterlist
Direct Sequel to this: Sweetness 
This was not how you pictured your Valentine’s Day. 
Sure, you weren’t exactly picturing a candle-lit dinner under the stars or slow dancing in the pale moonlight like a Hallmark movie. But you’re not exactly thrilled to be standing outside an emergency room waiting area, clutching an unopened pack of cigarettes and a spare superman shirt, as per the police chief’s suggestion. You tap your foot impatiently as an officer persuades the hospital staff to let you in as you stupidly forgot to bring any of your IDs. The pack of cigarettes crinkles loudly earning you a withering look from a tired-looking mother. 
You take a breath. 
You settle yourself in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs they point you to. There’s a scream in your throat. And you’re so close to crying. From frustration, anxiety, fatigue? You couldn’t distinguish. 
You flick your eyes to them. Finally, the staff relents and you brush past them brusquely.   
Your thoughts spiral. The bile lingers at the back of your throat. Burning. Acidic. Dick had lost a lot of blood but not fatal, they told you. The sob that left your mouth was inhumane. You’d almost dropped the phone. Static and white noise vibrated through your eardrums. In a trance-like state, you walk towards the room they kept him in, tunnel vision guiding you to his door. That’s what shock does to you. 
All you can think of is him.
You hold the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip, glaring at Dick through the rearview mirror, more specifically the white hospital issued sling cradling his arm. You watch Dick as he pretends to not notice the look you’re needling him with.  “I spy with my little eye something… green,” he says absentmindedly as he stares out into the flow of traffic. 
You keep your narrowed eyes straight ahead, not even thinking about dignifying his little distraction. Right now, all you were seeing was red. 
To your right, Dick sighs dramatically, running his hand through his black hair. “So you’re just going to ignore me, huh?”
You’re not but you sure are trying. 
Dick as far as you knew was used to silence but he thrived in noise. He lived off of interactions, good or bad. You’re usually an endless supply of banter and playful quips but right now you needed the silence. You needed him to stew in it along with you. This isn’t to say you were particularly ill-tempered or impatient with people, being friends with someone like Dick necessitated a certain level of patience in your opinion.  And sure, you had a sharp tongue but you didn’t lose your temper often. But as you sit there next to him with your teeth grinding, fingers tapping, and muscles clenched, you could feel anger coiling under your skin. 
He lets out another sigh, this time sounding genuinely exasperated. Good. “(y/n), I don’t know why you’re upset by this- I’m a cop. We both know the risks.” 
The coil under your skin burns and you break hard, pointedly ignoring the loud cursing from the driver behind you. Dick chokes and hisses as the seatbelt digs into his chest. You offer him no sympathy or apology as you shoot him such a glare that whatever smartass remark he has for you dies on the tip of his tongue. Considering all the villains and heroes he’s had glaring at him over the years, you consider this an accomplishment. Dick flinches at the intensity of the anger wicking off of you. 
You click your teeth and turn back to the road, seeing the light turn green again. “You were issued a gun for a reason,” you say flatly, opting for this instead of the litany of other ways to say ‘you’re a moron’. You’re polite like that. 
It’s Dick’s turn to level you a look but unlike him, you don’t flinch, too caught up in your own anger. “Well, I assessed the situation-”
“You were wrong.”
“- and thought I could deescalate,” he says scowling at you through the mirror. Hurt flashes behind his eyes.  He looks… like a mix between petulant and offended but you can’t bring yourself to care to do more than give him a withering look, especially not when you still have his bloodied uniform burned into your mind. You admired his determination to keep the peace the way you admired how uncompromising his stance was on second chances. You really did but… It was the second time he nearly died that week and it was just Tuesday. 
You stop again. You close your eyes. Loving someone who could someday not come home to you was not a possibility you had prepared for.  You just- You just weren’t ready to care for someone so… destructible.  You weren’t sure how to process all the anxiety that came with that, so you turned to anger. It just seemed so much more productive and tangible than the shapeless fear anxiety brought you. “And you nearly got shot in the heart,” you deadpan, heart twinging. You taper your emotions down into something more manageable, something easier to compartmentalize. You can tell Dick was going through the same process. Which one of you was having a harder time, you couldn’t tell. 
“He barely grazed me.”
“Correction, you have a hole in your shoulder.” Asshole.  You bite back the insult, trying not to escalate the argument. You click your teeth but try not to clench your jaw or grind your teeth. The first person to lose their temper loses the argument. 
Dick huffs, resting his chin against his uninjured hand. His eyes flicker to you then the window. “I’ve had worse,” he mutters and your stomach tumbles to the ground getting crushed by the tire. Your mind careens. Your lungs fill up with the smell of ash and gun smoke. For a moment, your eyes do not work. For a moment, you’re in a crumbling building. Your eyes watching the billowing smoke curl against the sky. A blast of heat so hot it makes the liquid in your eyes boil breezes past you. 
You feel the flick of Yasiri’s tail on your skin and suddenly your foot is on a gas pedal instead of a broken cement floor. You blink, a tar-like emotion is swimming under your skin. You breathe. You glare at the traffic in front of you if only to focus your vision. “You’re impossible,” you snarl. 
In the corner of your eye, Dick peels away from the window, anger flashing in his easy-going features. He’s brandishing a sneer. You brace yourself. Dick… Dick Grayson was a mean son of a bitch when he wanted to be and he knew too much of your hurts. You swallow, gripping the steering wheel. Yasiri swims on your skin, surfacing just enough to get ready to strike but also just enough to be hidden. 
Dick opens his mouth but no sound comes out. Dick closes his mouth then opens it again and instead of something truly scathing, Dic opts for something more teasing probably realizing that pissing off your driver is a really bad idea. “You say that like you’re any easier to talk to.”
“At least, I know how to listen,” you bite out, voice drawing dangerously low. Dick’s eyes flicker to you, his shoulders bunching up a fraction. You click your teeth and take a calming breath. 
Dick snorts, the knot in his shoulders disappearing. “Yeah, right.”
You bristle. Your fingers drum against the steering wheel contemplating on whether to deck him. You should deck him. You should definitely deck him. Would that open up his stitches? It probably would. You mutter a curse. It feels nice rolling off your tongue and it seems Dick feels the same when he curses in Romani. You catalog the word for later use. Dick turns away from you, glaring out the window. You can see the way his eyes narrow through the reflection in the window. The look in his eyes is a complicated mix of irritation and hurt and regret.  
You silently agree to table the discussion, at least, until you got off the road. 
You brush past the elevator door, tossing your bag to the corner and leaning against the cool wall of the elevator. Dick enters and leans on the opposite wall, gingerly rubbing his shoulder. Neither of you look at each other. You watch the buttons light up as the elevator climbs up. Your skin is still buzzing from emotions. You thought the quiet drive would right them but… it didn’t.
To your side, you hear the restless tapping of feet. You glance over to Dick whose body is vibrating and itching from movement. Seems you weren’t the only one jittery. You smother a snort in your hand. It was cruel but you find the fact that he’ll be so bored while recovering is slightly funny. 
The elevator shakes. You’re thrown off balance. There’s a metallic clunking above you. You both lookup. Dick strains his ears to listen. You quiet your breathing so as not to distract him. He sighs and curses, the side of his fist pounding against the wall. “It’s just broken.” You look at him, eyes wide and dumbfounded. 
“Are you fucking with me?”
He shakes his head. “I wish,” he scoffs. You scrunch your nose and Dick sneers. “We’re just gonna have to wait, I guess.”  And you press yourself against your wall. “Wonderful.” 
You both stew in silence. “I can’t believe I’m stuck...” you mutter under your breath as you try to pry the elevator doors open. Dick rolls his eyes at you. “You can’t open those doors, (y/n),” he ruffles his hair in frustration, “we just need to wait for the fire department, dumbass.”He says, his head lulling back against the wall. 
 You hiss, your fingers sore and red. “Has anyone ever told you that you were an ass?” You snarl making Dick scowl at you. 
“You’ve said so like 5 times in the emergency room and 2 times in- Do you really wanna start this again?!”
You punch the door, creating a deep divet. “You’re goddamn right I wanna start this again because, Richard, for once in your goddamned life I wish you would stop being such a self-centered dickweed!” You seethe. Your knuckles hurt. They feel cool. They’re probably bleeding. 
Dick shoots up from the corner. “How am I self-centered?”
“Risking your life like a fucking moron like that?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I was trying to save those people.”
“That’s exactly what I’m talking about,” you throw your arms up in exasperation, “do you know just how bad you are at keeping yourself alive because of that fucking hero complex, huh? You dumb. piece. of. Shit.”  You take a deep breath and continue your tirade. “You think you’re invincible just cus you run around in tights all night?”
Dick smirks at you. “You never had a problem with my tights when-”
“Check your ego, Grayson. I’ve dealt with a lot of spandex-clad pretty boys before, you’re nothing special.” You want the words to sting. 
“Oh please, you dealt with them by putting them in body bags!”
“Yeah! Fuck you! You’ll end up in one the rate you’re going.” Dick is speechless for a moment. Something in Dick’s eyes flares. You flinch and open your mouth to say something but Dick roars, the sound loud in the confined space. “What? Are you gonna tell me to stop being a hero? Are you gonna tell me that I’m not good enough to be Nightwing like how Bruce told me I couldn’t be Robin? Hah?”
Your heart drops and your chest burns. Your hackles draw up as high as they can. You bare your teeth. “No, you fucking moron That’s not the point!”
“What is it then, (y/n)? What do you want from me?!”
“You always go on this damn crusade to save everyone and everything and you don’t bother to take care of yourself or how it would affect others!”
“Wha-”
“No! You don’t- You don’t ever think!”You shove him against the wall, jabbing your finger into his chest. 
Dick glares down at you, grabbing your wrist in an almost painful grip. His finger jabs against your collar bone as he gets in your face, his hot breath fanning against your skin. “Fuck you! You’re just as bad as I am! You always throw yourself in front of others at the first sound of gunfire.”
“Dipshit, I have accelerated healing!” you say, ripping your hand out of his grip. 
“THAT DOESN’T MEAN YOU’RE INVINCIBLE.”
“Neither are you!” You sob, it comes out wet and raw. You close your eyes. You can still see the blood on his uniform. You sink to the floor, clutching at his shirt. Your tears sting even as they fall to the floor. “Neither are you.”
“(y/n)...” Dick’s shoulders droop as he watches you proud form crumple, entire body shaking.  He lowers himself to the ground slowly, careful not to agitate you. 
You press forward and bury your face into his shoulder, fist lightly punching his chest. You don’t want him to see you cry.  “Dick… I’m not saying you should quit… that- that’s just who you are.” You hiccup, tears flowing.“I just- I don’t want to bury you. I don’t- I can’t lose you, you fucking moron… You can’t just worm your way into someone’s heart and- and- ”
“(Y/n)...” Dick pulls you into his lap and lays his chin on your head. He hadn’t really thought… He should have known. He should have guessed. 
You pull away and look him in the eye, eyes bloodshot from crying. “You can’t just expect me to be ok with the possibility you won’t come back to me,” you say lowly, punching his chest.   The next few words come out in a shy whisper, low enough that Dick has to strain his ears to hear you. “Dick… I love you. I want to grow old with you, you waste of oxygen.” You cry into Dick’s shoulder not able to face him.  Dick shakes his head. He puts his hand on the back of your neck and presses a kiss to your hair. Dick doesn’t know how many times he has to tell you he doesn’t think less of you for crying on his shoulder but he’ll tell you no matter how many times you need to hear it.  
You sit in silence with only your muffled sobs and Dick’s comforting words filling the dead air. 
 “Timmy is gonna kill you for making me cry,” you sniffle, facing him with a wet tear-stained smile. 
Dick gives you a crooked smile in return.“ I still have no idea how you managed to turn my siblings against me,” Dick says, planting another kiss on your face but this time on your eyelid just below your brow. 
“You say that like it’s hard.” 
Dick pouts at you and you cackle loud and high, somehow still managing to sound musical. “I am a lovable big brother-”
“-And I’m a fucking nun-” Dick pinches your ass through your skirt. “We'll  have nun of that,”
You grab Dick’s wrist in a tight grip, managing to narrow your eyes at him. “I am not dropping this conversation just  to get fucked in an elevator.”
His eyes shine cheekily at the idea.“Wasn't my plan... but that works.”
“Dick…”
Dick leans down, his nose grazing your pulse, brushing like petals against your skin. “Let me make it up to you,” Dick says, licking a stripe up the column of your neck. Ignoring the swell of his pants against your inner thigh, you pinch his cheek, tugging him away from your neck. Your stomach roils at the loss of his lips on your skin but you suppress a whine to glare at him.
Dick looks up at you, mischief lighting his eyes. He pulls away from your hand. His lips find their way back to your neck then back up your jaw. His lips press kisses along your jawline. “It’ll-”kiss”-be-” kiss “-sooo worth it.”
Your breath hitches.“Dick...” you whine, feeling your skin heat. Your mind is buzzing. He smiles against you. His fingers toy with the strap of your bra, tugging it down slowly, carefully, making sure you feel every bit of his movement. “I hear my name-” he kisses your shoulder “-but you’re not stopping me.”
You roll your hips, panting for him. Dick’s tongue is hot against your skin. “C’mon, sweetheart, you know I can make you scream my name with just one hand,” Dick whispers against the shell of your ear. His hand slides down your arm down to your hip, his hand guiding your ass towards his growing bulge. “C’mon, Sweetheart, think about it-” Lick ”-the words I could make you sing.”
“Dick...” you pant, arching your back, pressing your body against his, giving him more access to your neck. Dick nips at your flesh happily. “Honey, I’m going to-”   
You yelp, your skin flying off your bones when you hear the elevator doors open. Dick, unphased, continues kissing you and licking up your skin. 
“Heeey guys, it’s Grayson,” the fireman calls out to the other men behind him. He turns back to the two of you with a cheeky grin.“Dickie, if I’d known it was you..” He glances towards you, eyes catching on the red hickeys blooming on your shoulder. You want to evaporate. “You guys need a minute?” Dick grins against your skin, looking up at you through thick lashes. “Thanks, Jerry, but we might need more than that.”
You glare down at Dick who simply smiles at you as he nips at your flesh.  “What? Feeling shy?” Dick breathes against your neck and all of a sudden, all of the anger and irritation comes creeping back. You shove Dick lightly, standing up and fixing your shirt. “I think he has a concussion. I suggest you check him out,” you snarl, brushing past Jerry leaving Dick on the floor, horny and stunned. 
“I’m totally fine!” Dick says, scrambling to his feet and grabbing your bag. 
You glare over your shoulder. “Our argument isn’t over.”
“What? But- I thought- We were about to-” Your scowl deepens as you see Dick flounder.  Jerry cackles as he gives Dick’s back an unsympathetic pat. 
“Sorry about that, Grayson. I guess you were destined to get blue balled,” Jerry laughs shaking his head. Dick sighs deeply, his shoulders drooping. “Are you really sorry?” Dick asks, side-eyeing Jerry. Jerry grins. “Nah, but it’s the thought that counts,” Jerry says, looking all too pleased with himself. 
Dick bumps past Jerry gently with a slightly petulant look on his face which earns him a chuckle from Jerry and a glare from you. “Watch the shoulder,” you crow from the hall. 
Jerry shakes his head. “No, hero’s welcome, huh?” Dick rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, she’s not exactly happy about the hole in my shoulder,” Dick admits, sheepishly. Jerry shoves Dick forward lightly and the other firemen do the same. “Go get ‘er, Tiger!”
Dick falls into step behind you, his lips brushing the back of your neck. His arm wraps around you as he pulls you close. He places a kiss behind your ear. You gasp and you hear hoots behind you. “Dick… Don’t… You can’t solve this with an orgasm,” you sigh, feeling your resolve crumble as his soft lips brushed the weak point of your neck. “Honey… please.” Dick holds you against his chest. The beating of his heart thaws you. “Honey, I’m sorry...” His breath runs down the side of your neck and it feels like feathers caressing your skin. You take a breath. He just knew how to make you melt. 
“... I love you too.”
Tag list: @batarella, @anothertimdrakestan, @lucy-roo, @multifandomgirl-us, @idkmanicantenglish,@birdy-bat-writes,  @boosyboo9206, @americasmarauders , @l-inkage, @arestorationofbalance , @cloudie-skay, @wunderstell   @hyp-oh-critical @glorified-red
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taxxpayermoney · 2 years
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the TAXX PAYERMONEY statue and other RUmINATIONS
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I’ve had this 3D printed statue since 2016. In these pictures it’s a little dusty.
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the statue is a stylized blocky version of a stock photo that I was originally using as my profile picture on youtube. It’s a pretty famous one, meant to depict a hacker, a guy in a ski mask with a laptop. I thought it was funny and I’ve always liked the romanticized goofy ideas of what people used to think hackers did.
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A friend at school (I’ll call him Peelo although that is not his real name and sounds nothing like it) was very interested in my ideas for youtube projects that I would explain to him on the bus ride home. Peelo had been my next door neighbor for as long as I could remember, going back to early childhood, he is just someone who has always been in my life in his own way and he makes me laugh. He would also be the person to invite me to my first dungeons and dragons games where we would continue to bond as friends. Peelo’s family is from the country of Georgia, because of this he inherited many Georgian behaviors and customs that he would tell me about. The Georgian sense of humor is funny in an indescribable way. Peelo was a funny guy.
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I would often ask Peelo if I could record our conversations and upload them to the channel but he was always weary of having anything non-professional involving him on the internet. He still wanted to support my new creative pursuit and happened to be in a high school class that, from my understanding, allowed him free unlimited access to a 3D printer. He had been using it to print custom DnD figures and offered to print the character in my profile picture. Previously he had only made smaller figures around two inches, I expected that to be the case with my figure. I was genuinely shocked when I saw how big it was, and it was solid plastic too, in fact, the reason for the colors is because the printer actually ran out of green plastic printing it because the figure was so big. I thought it was beautiful.
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This is the inscription on the bottom, he included both of our names. The top part reads “TAXX PAYERMONEY figure was completed on 12/5/16” In addition to making the statue for me, Peelo would go on to help me film one of my first videos (which I have now set to private). I consider the giving of the statue to me to be the true start of that particular chapter of my life, it was very symbolic. Peelo’s statue became a source of power.
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crystalkleure · 3 years
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I have a Concept.
BeyBurst beyblades are supposed to burst. As in, it’s actually a necessity. In spite of the Exploding Beyblade mechanic potentially causing sharp little bits of spintop to go flying everywhere and hit people, what if it’s actually a safety feature?
If I recall correctly, all the way back in s1 territory [specifically in the manga though, can’t remember if we saw it in the anime or not], Valt and Shu just straight-up got their original beys from a store. And there are also all of those Unimportant Characters running around with different-coloured versions of preexisting beys. This indicates that beyblades are, in fact, mass-produced and sold in stores, and those are all built to be able to burst. In fact, I still haven’t seen the newest two seasons of the Burst anime yet, but I’m pretty sure super special fancy custom beys, that some important character explicitly made themself, that have some really creative [and strong] anti-burst features built into them, don’t ever show up as NPC recolour beys? In spite of the trend of “random background characters in new season use recoloured versions of Prominent Character beys from LAST season” to me seeming to indicate that those new recolour beys are either bootleg copycats, or those actual official shelf models have just suddenly started selling really well, due to someone having just recently done something cool with one in a tournament/on TV lol. [Anyway, correct me if I’m wrong on which beys get NPC recolours, I don’t exactly actually, uh, pay attention to all the random background scrubs. That point’s not particularly important anyway because I’m sure unofficial bootlegs are a thing that exists, mmmm delicious plagiarism. The point is the stores seem to sell beys with the normal level of burstability. And so I’m only caring about the everyday random NPCs with no names or anything, if another important character specifically goes and painstakingly recreates a bey similar or identical to another important character’s bey just because they idolize that other character, that doesn’t count. That’s not important here, implication-wise.] So...
What if it’s actually a really bad thing that people keep making their own custom beys now that are increasingly more and more ludicrously difficult -- or even near-impossible -- to burst?
What if the self-destruct mechanic is intended to be an emergency shutdown switch, and actually really needs to not be subverted? We’ve seen what an adept beyblader can do while running at full-throttle -- they’re dangerous, to themselves and their surroundings. Beys have the power to be obscenely destructive...while they’re spinning and battling, primarily. They are by far the most potent while actively in use. But if they hit things too hard like 3-4 times or so...they burst. Their locks disengage, they fall apart, and thus they are forced to abruptly stop. That makes them theoretically incapable of just rampaging indefinitely.
Picture this: One day, in the probably-decently-distant history of the BeyBurst world, a kid has a spintop. Probably made that spintop themself. This kid, it turns out, happens to be one of the Super Special Powerful Kids, who’s not only REALLY GOOD at using that spintop, they also possess that funny little supernatural ability to accidentally create an incredibly powerful incorporeal monster ghost creature thing with their brain. And because they love playing with their little spintop so much, that spintop becomes the vessel for this Terrifying Monster-Shaped Culmination Of Spiritual Elemental Energy or whatever that they’ve manifested. That’s...good, probably, because at least that means the Scary Monster Thing isn’t 1. just stuck in the kid’s brain with nowhere else to go, which would lead to possession that would decidedly be incredibly difficult to deal with without harming the kid, or 2. funneled into something more dangerous to control, like a car or a nuclear warhead or some shit. But then it turns out that the kid is ABSOLUTELY still able to wreak impressive havoc and cause Large Amounts Of Destruction, even accidentally...until the spintop stops spinning. The Power Level drops dramatically as soon as the demon top is still, and it takes a little while for it to build back up once it’s launched again. But what if a feature is implemented into the spintop that allows it to keep spinning for much, much longer? Or just The Supernatural Monster Power itself becomes capable of sustaining it, through wind manipulation or something?
Now, imagine you’re idk, the government or something, someone with Power and Influence over the masses, and you see THAT happen. Shit, that was just a random kid that did that! Looked like any other kid, acted like any other kid! There is no feasible way to tell a kid with Brain Monster potential apart from other kids who are NOT That Powerful, until a brain monster happens. So, if you can’t predict it, and thus can’t do anything to mitigate the potential destruction on a case-by-case basis...well, how about you convince ALL the little kiddies that spintops are just the greatest thing ever, everyone should play with spintops, AND you ensure those spintops are mass-manufactured specifically to not be able to Hold A Charge for too long because...they burst! You’ve designed them so that violence itself causes them to fall apart and stop to cool down! It’s perfect! That way, anytime an odd mutant child with Brain Monster powers comes along, the chance of them funneling their Brain Monster into their spintop is now Very High, meaning that all the Brain Monsters will hopefully end up inhabiting these little plastic toys that actively inhibit them instead of possessing children or nukes. It’s brilliant!
This does raise some questions, though:
1. What happens when someone’s spintop breaks, and they DON’T get it repaired, after they’ve already manifested a Brain Monster to live in it? Where would the Brain Monster go in that case? Uh oh, demon on the loose? Exactly what we were trying to avoid? Shu’s change between Legend Spriggan and Spriggan Requiem in God does seem to indicate that the Brain Monster probably 1. by default, does just camp out in its blader’s brain until a new Spintop Vessel is created for it, and 2. the Brain Monster itself is probably not actually completely strictly sealed into any bey, because it doesn’t disappear as soon as the bey is destroyed, and it doesn’t stay with an old/broken bey that’s been discarded when a new bey has been made for it. Legend Spriggan was discarded and left on the riverbed, and Spriggan Requiem was then made from scratch, seemingly using no recycled physical parts from Legend Spriggan, but Spriggan Requiem’s bitbeast looks only very slightly different from Legend Spriggan’s. All of Shu’s Spriggans are honestly probably still the same creature, just progressively evolved. I don’t think we’ve ever seen somebody make an entirely NEW Brain Monster that does not resemble their original one, it seems the original simply gets developed more and more. One person apparently only possesses the ability to make a single individual Brain Monster. You Get One (1), but you can upgrade it. But what about Hearts? His Dead Hades, which very much had a Brain Ghost in it, was not only destroyed, but assimilated into Phi’s Revive Phoenix, to make Dead Phoenix. What happened to that situation, over time? We haven’t gotten to see. Is Hearts’ Hades truly actually fused with Phi’s Phoenix, ceasing to be its own entity anymore, or does Phoenix simply very slightly resemble Hades now due to its bey being upgraded with physical bits of Hades’ bey? What if it’s not even POSSIBLE to truly fuse Brain Ghosts, especially without consent? In which case...is Hades itself just lingering around back in Hearts’ brain, waiting for a new bey to inhabit, and Hearts isn’t making one because he doesn’t realize Hades isn’t just Part Of Phoenix now? That sounds potentially dangerous, there’s no more outlet for your Brain Ghost, buddy. I want to see Phi and Hearts again, to know what eventually happened there.
2. Why do the tournaments not actually enforce a rule that says “Your bey HAS to be able to be reasonably burstable”? Chouzetsu Wings and the Mugen Lock System did not equal disqualifications. Has it maybe, over time, been forgotten exactly WHY we Need Beys To Burst? Well, that’s a ticking time bomb, then. How difficult a bey is to burst does seem to directly cause its Potential Destructiveness Levels to scale accordingly. [With somewhat of an exception of Pot and his Pegasus, but it should be noted that Pot was not exactly terribly serious about beyblade initially and yet was STILL considered one of the strongest ‘bladers in the world, GT3 iirc, AND he’s very into the whole “Love and light, chillax, be in-tune with yourself and all the energy in and around you, etc.” peaceful thing.] This HAS To Be A Problem. Why is nobody concerned.
3. ...What is causing the general public not to panic about this? Why are people okay with Brain Ghost and Mass Spintop Destruction happening, instead of terrified? This shit is broadcast on TV. The stands during tournaments are packed with spectators. It may be that perhaps not everybody can SEE the Brain Ghosts themselves [and I’m skeptical about that, because there have absolutely been MANY indications that other people know what someone’s bitbeast looks like], but the Big Bada Booms they cause are DAMN sure Highly Visible. Aiga’s father seems to be the only one truly properly concerned about the incredible mass-destructive potential of the spintops. Realistically, The Salem With Trials 2: Electric Boogaloo should be happening due to the Scary Spintop Kids being Fucking Scary, and sometimes quite clearly even out-of-control of themselves.
Unfortunately, I’m pretty sure this is not a direction canon will ever go in, or I think it would have already done it. I don’t think they’re going to explore this route. It’s a shame I don’t have the chops for writing long-haul fanfiction, because if I did I would absolutely be hardcore capitalizing on this idea. This has incredible Worldbuilding Lore Potential.
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MK OC Randomness part 8... I think. Fuck it! We're going with it!
Welcome back to the shit show. Let's go!
also some of these jokes are from lamas with hats
Qiao Fu is my name for the Lin Kuei Grandmaster
Also some of these jokes are based off skits done by Moonkitti on YouTube. Just re-worded a bit
Nozomi: Hey uncle Shinnok! Do your old man voice!
Shinnok, in his normal voice: What old man voice?
Nozomi: Yeah! That one!
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Nozomi: ooh who's this?
Qiao Fu: That's my old wife.
Nozomi: The one who died long ago?
Qiao Fu: The very same
Nozomi: *eyeing the picture* That's too bad. She looks really cute.
Qiao Fu: I'm sorry, do you find my old wife attractive?
Nozomi: Do you not!?
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Nozomi: I wanna see my little boy!
Shang Tsung: *helping Meat walk* Here he comes!
Nozomi: *scooping Meat up and hugging him* I wanna see my little boy!
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"Revenant" Reiki: WHY WOULD YOU THINK ANY OF THIS IS A GOOD IDEA!?
"Revenant" Michiko: Probably because I'm a dangerous sociopath with a long history of violence.
"Rev" Reiki: Oh.
"Rev" Michiko: I don't understand how you keep forgetting that.
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Shinnok: Shh, do you hear that?
Shinnok: That's the sound of forgiveness.
Melantha: That's the sound of people dying dad!
Shinnok: That is what forgiveness sounds like. Screaming and then silence.
------
Shariah: How did you even do this!?
Meat: A dollop of fairy dust!
Shariah: Meat!
Meat: I ripped the tag off a mattress.
Shariah: This isn't funny Meat!
Meat: Who's laughing? Clearly not all the people that just exploded.
Shariah: I'm leaving! I've had enough of this!
Meat: But thank of all the perfectly roasted faces we get to munch on now.
Shariah: What? Why?
Meat: Because we're friends. And friendship is two pals munching on well cooked faces together.
------
"The bar was so low it was practically a tripping hazard in Hell! And yet, here you are limbo dancing with the devil!"- Melantha to Hotaru at a family dinner.
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"Oh no. There are consequences to your actions? Who would've thought?" Krow to Raiden and Flamus, still pissed at them for completely destroying a village that housed the remaining nymphs and nymphlims their husband made.
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Nozomi: I'm just here to collect Michiko
Qiao Fu: *tries to stab her*
Nozomi: YOU'RE AN UNFIT FATHER FU! THAT'S NOT EVEN YOUR DAUGHTER! YOU HAVE A HUMAN CHILD! WHO THE FUCK'S DEMON CHILD IS THAT! WHO ARE YOU STEALING CHILDREN FROM!?
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Michiko: You are not my father!
Qiao Fu: Bring proof you are not my daughter!
Meixiu's ghost in the background: Bitch! You literally murdered her birth father!
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Nyx: Get out
Reiko: Aww come on. Can't I check in on my favorite little sister?
Nyx: If you don't leave me my room Reiko, I will stab you. And when I do it won't look pretty.
Reiko: there's a pretty way to stab people? Like with a butterfly knife or something?
Nyx: yup. Handle and all.
Reiko: oh... OH!
------
Nemos: Greetings Thunder God!
Raiden: Eh? Nemos what are you doing here?
Nemos: I'm taking advantage of your guilt-ridden personality to get a head start on being a better realm protector while no one is looking.
Raiden: Nope. New timeline, new Raiden. Go- Go play with your sisters.
Nemos: I'll have you know I've lived 15 lives in which I've played with my sisters, and none of them have been consequential!
Raiden: *sighs* I'm trying to take you seriously. Really. But it just feels like an even smaller Shinnok is yelling at me right now.
------
Hotaru: *busting into the Sky Temple and picking up Nemos* My beautiful son, I am back from my epic battle of driving out the rebels!
Nemos: Tell me, man who sired me!
Hotaru: We were fighting when suddenly Soldier B produced a substance that burned through their skin!
Nozomi: That sounds like my poison...
Hotaru: Oh no! We'd never poison anyone. Only ambush them in the middle of the night, kill them through physical violence, and intimidate them in other wise orderly court proceedings. Poison is bad.
Nozomi: Have you considered maybe, asking him if he poisoned them?
Hotaru: Oh no, I trust him completely.
Melantha: *holding Discordia and Harmonia* But, what if he did?
Hotaru: *small whimper before glaring and shouting* Solider B! Come here and apologize to my wife for making her think about things immediately!
Solider B: Hi, what?
Hotaru: I said apologize to Melantha!
Solider B: Uh yeah, sorry for poisoning the rebels or something..
Melantha: Hey, has anyone seen Nemos?
------
Darrius: It seems one of the soldiers has summoned Melantha to their side.
Hotaru: *spying on the rebels* Gonna go see Melantha. I'm gonna see Melantha at the meeting. Gonna see Melantha. Melantha.
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OB: I made a perfectly good Titan
Fuyuka: You fucked up my daughter is what you did!
Fuyuka: Look at her! She's traumatized!
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Amara: Don’t worry, I have a few knives up my sleeve.
Leila: I think you mean cards.
Amara, pulling knives out of her sleeves: No, I do not.
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Ermac: Bad things keep happening to us, like we have bad luck or something.
Zyta: Ermac, you don't have bad luck. The reason bad things happen to you is because you're a dumbass.
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Zyta: You love me, right, Ermac?
Ermac: Normally, we’d say yes without hesitation, but we feel like this is going somewhere and we don’t like it.
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Kristy: *steps on her glasses by accident*
Kristy: *inhales* If I knew that this would be the fate that befalls me and these damned glasses, I would've just let the fire reach my left eye and burn it out completely!
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Megumi: I turned out perfectly fine!
Ayeka: Megumi, this morning you thought a ghost made your toast
Megumi: I DIDN’T PUT THE BREAD IN! YOU DIDN’T PUT THE BREAD IN!!!
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Zyta: Stop buying plastic skeletons for Halloween! It's terrible for the environment!
Philomela: Yeah! Locally sourced, all natural skeletons are much more environmentally friendly!
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Discordia, holding a python: Guys I impulsively bought a snake, what do I name him
Harmonia: You did WHAT–
Nemos: William Snakepeare
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Discordia: Hey Harmonia,
Harmonia: Yes?
Discordia: Can a person breathe inside a washing machine while it’s on?
Harmonia:
Harmonia: Where’s Nemos?
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Discordia: Here’s a fun Christmas idea. We hang mistletoe, but instead of kissing, you have to FIGHT whoever else is under it.
Harmonia: Discordia no.
Nemos: Mistlefoe.
Harmonia: Please stop encouraging her.
------
Store Worker: Would a Ms. Philomela please come to the front desk?
Philomela, arriving at the desk: Hello, is there a problem?
Store Worker: *points to Amara and Zyta*
Store Worker: I believe they belong to you?
Amara and Zyta, simultaneously: We got lost :(
Philomela: I didn’t even bring you guys here with me-
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Erron, driving Ash and Kamden: So how was your day?
Ash: We almost got surprise adopted!
Erron: What?
Kamden: We almost got kidnapped.
Erron: Oh, okay.
Erron: *slams on the breaks* WAIT WHAT?!
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Nozomi: Welcome, fellow idiots
Kung Lao: Hello, Nozomi
Nozomi: No, no, not you, you're not an idiot
Kung Lao: You underestimate me
------
Nozomi: What are your goals?
Kung Lao: To pet all the dogs.
Nozomi: No, fitness goals.
Kung Lao: To be able to run fast enough to pet all the dogs.
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Liu Kang: You know, not every problem can be solved with a sword.
Nozomi: That's why I carry two swords.
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Sareena: Ok, maybe playing ‘whose family is most dysfunctional’ wasn’t the best idea we’ve had. Michiko's been crying in the bathroom for an hour. We can’t get her out...
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Sareena: Do you have any skeletons in your closet?
Michiko: You mean literally or figuratively?
Sareena: Honestly, the fact that I have to specify...
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Sareena: Michiko... Why did you draw a pentagram on the floor?
Michiko: Your text told me to Satanize the house before you returned.
Sareena:
Sareena: I wrote sanitize, Michiko.
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Sareena: You kill people for money?!
Michiko: I can explain!
Sareena: And all this time I’ve been doing it for free like a chump!
@deepinthefog @merplderpl @yuvononik @dontunderestimatemypoison @feistyfandomthings @toomanyf4ndoms7 @daddydestrey @tora-lotus @calcium1790 @starneko123 @dinogoofy @bar10du @cyberbloodgoddess
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Text
we are our family, even if we don’t want to be.
Titans 3.07
a bit over halfway through the season, and we still don’t have all of our main characters on the board! i love this show.
as always, typing this up as i watch. live reaction, baby! *shadowboxes*
SPOILERS AHEAD
1. i don’t think i’ve mentioned this before, but i kinda miss the old ‘dc universe’ intro. it was cool! the whole idea of it was wild and waaaaay over-ambitious, but also very very on-brand because of it.
2. this is... the third time we’ve seen dick sleeping this season? that’s a record! checking another thing off my s3 wishlist...
2.5. i guess i rag on titans all the time for its wafer-thin plotting and bad pacing, but i have to admit that this season has been a step-up from the last one in this regard. titans has very reactive rather than proactive protagonists, and a lot of the last season seemed to be: x happened, the team reacted badly, then y happened, they reacted badly, etc. this time around, it’s not a huge leap up by any means, but at least they’re doing something about it. 
i do appreciate the focus on character arcs over everything else. and when i say everything else, i mean it: arcs that started two seasons ago with no big cathartic moments, intermittent payoff and multiple relapses. big bads have ranged from interdimensional demons to superpowered assassins to whatever in the world scarecrow is, but trigon’s big weapon against the titans was to... use their worst fears against them. slade’s was to... use their fears to break them up. crane’s is to... use red hood to use their fears to break them up. even the threat of gotham’s citizens being in danger doesn’t feel real: gotham is mythologised into an entity of its own, infecting our heroes like a parasite. like. this is not to say that most other superhero media aren’t big character arcs intertwined with the main plot, but titans doesn’t even make pretend that it’s anything but.
anyway. that’s my entry #2345 to ‘give a grand unifying theory for titans’. thanks. i’ll be back with more.
3. “anger is just fear in a little black dress.” god I HATE HIM
(what’s he doing with barbara’s likeness? oh... oh god. a terrible thought just occurred to me. what if they introduce hush at the very last minute for plastic surgery shenanigans? would you put it past this show?)
3.5. jason, nooooooooo
3.75. i mean, they’re making it very clear here that scarecrow is the one in control--the one who’s always been in control--and is manipulating jason and literally poisoning him, but i hope it doesn’t end up erasing nuance or jason’s autonomy. if jason’s to reckon with the issues that brought him here, then the lines of responsibility will need to be set somewhere. 
(this applies to dick as well but more on that later, i guess.)
4. just--the phrase “40% loss of income” is so funny to me. like, gotham is full of these larger-than-life characters who are idiosyncratic beyond belief, colourful and dramatic and creating chaos just for the sake of chaos, and then there’s the regular criminals and their henchmen who just want to make a quick buck sitting down with pie charts and graphs, griping about the joker reducing their returns or debating high risk investments in, i don’t know, two-face’s next scheme.
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“yyyyeeeeeaaah, my financial advisor is telling me that going all-in with a guy who literally makes decisions on the flip of a coin is probably not the greatest idea.”
4.5. god i hate smug!smarmy!scarecrow so much
4.85. as big plans to “control” gotham go, it’s pretty bog-standard. clearly scarecrow has some bigger plan in mind but it really feels like we’ve got no clear insight into him and he’s this generic creepy mystery-man who knows more than he lets on and springs a twist/cliffhanger every now and then. i liked the scenes with him and dick in 3.04 where it seemed like he was genuinely on the backfoot and things weren’t going as he predicted. for all of his faults, dick is at least familiar with scarecrow’s bullshit and knows not to give what he wants.
5. i mean... i see where dick is coming from with the “he’s not jason anymore; he’s red hood” because his immediate glaring concern is scarecrow’s drug and the damage it could potentially cause gotham? i do not doubt that it’s something batman drilled into him, too, but when you’re expected to take point on a situation where the lives of an entire city weigh down on your shoulders, it’s better to simplify things and prioritise. i’m not saying it’s great or healthy! gar is absolutely right to consider this facet of the situation. it’s just dick can’t.
6. hmmmmmmm. HMMMMMMMMMMM. 
i don’t know that i’m super fond of this iteration of oracle???? it looks like a cross between cerebro from x-men and jarvis from iron man. it’s giving me second-hand embarrassment. somebody help me.
(at least they remembered dick’s middle name is actually “john”. i like to think bruce printed D in that contract because for a while he genuinely thought richard “dick” grayson was his full name. duck duck goose, dick dick grayson, i don’t know alfred, the kid was in a circus, maybe they thought it was funny. or maybe it was a test in anger control, who knows.)
6.5 “maybe you two would like some time alone?” even AI can’t help hitting on dick grayson in this universe.
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“oh mr grayson, if i only had another eye to see you better...”
6.8. on one hand, it’s a bit disconcerting that the title of ‘oracle’ has gone from barbara herself to this gigantic machine; from my impression of the comics-verse, barbara had an extensive computing and surveillance system, true, but she was very clearly the brains behind the operation. on the other hand, i’m kind of glad that the ethical boundaries that this kind of surveillance violates is a sticking point for barbara. (tho let’s be real, the nsa would kill to have this in their arsenal).
6.9. also it’s now obvious that scarecrow’s big plan is to take control of oracle itself. it’s why he had lady vic take that picture of her eyes, or why he’s meddling around with it on his computer.
6.95. if only i could ‘command sleep’ anybody overstepping their boundaries re: personal information...
7. “you can just sit back and watch as the titans destroy themselves.” i mean... he’s not wrong
8. “dick’s parents were killed by a criminal mob; he won’t work with them.” it’s wonderful that you have this insight into dick, kory, i just wish we could’ve watched some of these conversations actually happen on-screen.
8.5. i’m glad that kom’s being treated with such nuance and understanding, though it’s obvious that she definitely has a Plan of her own. (and did i entirely imagine her ability to mimic other people flawlessly at the end of s2? or is that going to come into play at some point?) i think her story has the potential to be genuinely poignant, and in a universe where being Different, either because of mental health or physical differences or whatever else, leads a straight line to Evil, it’s important to acknowledge and then emphasise that the mere fact of your existence as a Different Person doesn’t predispose you to evil. maybe your act of destroying a system that has destroyed you and not scrambling to “fit in” is only evil as defined by that system. 
8.8. “you’re trespassing, i should call the authorities, i feel unsafe.” now this is a villain lady who’s definitely aware of her privilege.
8.85. kom smirking knowingly at her sister is everything.
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“oooh that’s the kory i remember”
9. conner and dick working together woo!
9.25. god i hate a villain who’s always just a step ahead, no matter what. so crane anticipated dick using oracle to track his personal communications and set him up? how did he know when exactly dick would get to do this? how long did he have that poor man tied up in that van?
(the “save me, grayson” is a nice touch, tho. send dick spiralling even further! because if there’s one thing dick will do, it’s take responsibility for every goddamn thing that goes wrong.)
9.5. ahem. i’m going to need a million gifs of conner yeeting dick across that yard, fandom, thankyouverymuch.
(i understand conner is invulnerable to explosions, but how do his clothes survive??)
9.8. oooh crane is already in oracle! i’m just sitting here laughing helplessly because they’re overpowering this goddamned guy so much. he can build a lab in arkham’s basement! he has access to lazarus puddles! he has minions working across gotham, including a fully functional chemical laboratory staffed by chemists who only answer to him! he has the crime families of gotham quailing in his very presence! he has assassins at his beck and call! he’s enough of a manipulative bastard to have red hood under his thumb! and now he has enough of a tech know-how to not only be aware of oracle, but know how to hack into it! i’m sick of exclamation marks! i’ll shut up now!
9.95. dick leaving behind that smouldering grave for a person he failed to save without taking a second to process how he feels about it and running towards his next plan to corner scarecrow: a microcosm of where his head’s at right now.
10. really hammering in the themes of this season, aren’t we. 
10.25. the interesting thing is the titans repeatedly call themselves a family this season (none more so than dick) and while that found family has helped encapsulate and put away their traumatic experiences with their ‘original’ families, it’s meant that they’ve not really dealt with those issues. and dick and gar and jason come from ‘found families’ of their own: they are twice removed, traumatised two times over. they still cling to this identity however, and because of it they’re losing each other. a family isn’t static. it’s an ever-evolving dynamic and you have to put in work constantly to keep it healthy.
10.5. anyway, that’s entry #2346. i’m here aaaalll night.
11. lookit gar the detective! half-transforming and using his powers to deduce things! what a hero! i’ve said this for a long time, but gar is the bedrock of this team, and an unsung one at that.
11.25. i’m confused about him calling this room jason’s though. it seems to me that this is dick’s room that jason later used, and one that dick’s using now. so the unmade bed isn’t really jason’s fault; dick was woken by barbara that morning, and in his hurry, he left without making his bed.
(it still confounds me that bruce didn’t find jason another bedroom in that gigantic mansion of his. you really didn’t give this kid a chance, did you?)
12. oh well. so much for the oracle.
13. ... sorry, wait. you didn’t think i wasn’t going to address the bit with dick right now, did you?
12.5. i honestly don’t think it’s very complicated: dick’s been reeling from one traumatic thing to the next, and just when it seemed like at the beginning of the season, he felt happy and secure with his team and his place in the world, bruce ups and leaves gotham to him, specifically naming him a successor and calling him a ‘better batman’. he’s lost garth and jericho and donna and jason and now hank and dawn. he’s not even sure where rachel is or what she’s doing. after being told that batman was a psychopath for moulding him into a weapon, he’s also been told that his failure to be a ‘better batman’ lead to further disaster. of course he’s going to get batman-goggles. of course he’s going to be a prick. 
12.8. i don’t know what to say. i feel his frustration acutely. i don’t think he should’ve said what he said to barbara (can people stop pushing her around this season????) but that pressure to step in where your parent fails? to clean up their messes and try to think like them? to fall into habits drilled into you when you developed them as coping mechanisms growing up? I FEEL THAT. 
every step he’s taking he’s putting 110% of himself in it and scarecrow’s still playing mindgames with all of them: i absolutely feel his desperation to take control of that game and turn it on scarecrow, no matter what it takes.
and he did apologise almost immediately, and finally--finally--actually works with barbara. 
12.9. again, not excusing him! but i get it. and i think that’s a sign of great character writing.
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“did you know i just reminded emmram of all of her daddy issues? what the fuck????”
12.95. i love that dick&barbara, kory&kom, and gar are all approaching solving this mystery from different angles, each as valid as the other. also, conner is there as... emergency bomb defuser man?
13. it’s like all fancy rich people in fancy rich houses do is pour fancy rich alcohol into fancy rich glasses on pristine, untouched tabletops. i wonder what it’s like to live like that.
13.25. I KNEW IT! poor michael. it was nice knowing you.
13.5. man, kory is contending with a lot of issues that she’s successfully bottled up and compartmentalised until now. the cold reality that a child can seek out their parents as refuge and they can view the child as a piece to be moved in a greater game (never out of cruelty, though, never, and somehow that makes it worse), that truth of blackfire’s treatment on tamaran because she’s different, and her own culpability in what happened. she exchanged one family for another, after all, and left that family to die and her sister to suffer. like dick, like gar, kory’s being forced to reckon with what the titans are meant to be, the larger implications of creating their found family in their own space.
14. it’s probably because it’s one in the morning and i’ve had two glasses of wine but i did not follow that bit of exposition at all and victor freeze??? what? 
anyway. look at them solving things! together! go team!
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“you made a deal with the mob?” oh the sense of betrayal on his face! fuck off, dick, your issues aren’t kory’s. 
15. conner is really sweet and a bit of an awestruck crush on kom is to be expected. especially after that power rangers-esque transformation (i say this as a former huge power rangers fangirl. i’ve seen every series until 2007 including the original japanese versions and written fanfic for all of them. so i love a cool costume transformation, is what i’m saying.)
also?
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FUCK YEAH
16. i love the gotham crime families just chillin’ around eating ice cream. I LOVE THEM
16.5. that was a fun fight sequence, if marred slightly by that bit of awkward flirting between conner and kom. i wonder if she’s really planning to use him in a larger scheme to get kory back to tamaran, or maybe something else. 
16.75. so i’m assuming that scarecrow has jason either so paralysed by fear that he can barely move, or jason’s withdrawing from the drug that he’s been sucking in every few minutes. 
17. it’s nice to see them chill after a successful mission! and it can be awkward, but conner’s crush on kom and him striving to impress her is also, well, uh... cute.
17.5. i guess the dick/barbara scene was inevitable, especially given the... unresolved nature of their relationship in the flashbacks? and they’ve been through a rollercoaster together this episode, discovering and then destroying an incredible tool within a matter of hours, re-discovering just how well they work together as a team. dick’s swimming in the nostalgia. i don’t expect it to last as a long-term relationship, but i totally get why this is happening now. and hey, they’re cute!
i have a weeeirrrrd feeling that kory is going to leave to tamaran at the end of the season and that dick and kory will rekindle--or rather realise--their relationship just before that. it’s going to be devastating and beautiful and painful and i will be writing essays about it which would be me just wailing into the screen.
18. gar found molly!!!!!!! MOLLY’S BACK! \o/ gar is the BEST
19. that was a fun episode! i love this silly show, even if it does destroy me sometimes <3
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rfamess · 3 years
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RFA + V and Saeran at a party!!
alright friends. picture this: a party. what kind of party? that is for you to think about. i’ll give my 2 cents on what they prefer, but their behaviors still stand. If you’ve ever been to a party, (and I consider just hanging w friends a party as well... literally anything is a party if you want it to be a party) you know DAMN WELL you can find a specific type of person at every single function. we’ve got the corner standers, we got the emotional rollercoaster, the bitches getting crossed, the couch chillers, the flirt, the table dancer. you get the vibe.
in short, this is a (very) drunk rfa at a party.
Jumin
- you already know this guy only drinks wine.
- two bottles; one red, one white (very bold) double fisting them.
- wine drunk is the best drunk lemme tell ya.
- he is just so relaxed. GODDAMN he’s chill
- he’s so chill that he could walk up to zen and take a drag of a cig. shocking. why would he do that? he would never do that! (he’s drunk bby)
- personal morals have left the chat
- definetly happy and very social. Likes to tell very good stories— and they are good. very funny guy
- total opposite from his work self, which many people know. it’s refreshing to see him let loose
- and when i say let loose i mean let loose
- oh, the function? he owns it. not only is he the life of the party, it’s actually in his penthouse. he literally owns it.
- he has the potential to throw a gatsby-like party, but he likes to stick with his close friends and colleagues. people are allowed to bring a plus one. the more the merrier. but not too many lol
Zen
- oh this guy? he’s a professional partier. balls to the wall type drinker.
- shotgunning beer, pong master, stack cup, ride the bus, shots, up jenkins. he plays them allllll
- very competitive. VERY. he gets really into it, but he’s not like a competitive jock type, he’s just very passionate.
- he will accept his losses with grace and dignity, as well as with a nice handshake with his opponent.
- his passion sometimes causes him some accidents. will probably bump into you, apologize and call you some sweet pet name, and then return back to his zone.
- everyone loves to talk to him. not just bc he’s handsome, but he is just so genuinely nice and can hold a great conversation, even while completely obliterated.
- he’s the kind of guy that goes around and makes sure everyone is having fun
- smooth moves. very flirtatious, duh. can literally charm anyone.
- ngl he’s probably also a horny drunk. he’s not creepy or anything. he is definitely very courteous and respectful, but sometimes he has a lot on his mind...
- you can probably find him at one of jumins gatherings, at a work friends house, clubs, etc.
- he also loves themed parties. he really gets into it
Saeyoung/Seven
- he goes so hard.
- another themed party lover. especially costume parties.
- would probably show up in a costume even if it in fact was not a costume party.
- sorry, have you ever listened to tik tok by kesha? seven literally IS the party. “the party don’t start til I walk in”
- freestyle dances literally any chance he gets. definetly starts a dance circle— everyone loves a good dance circle
- he’s not a good dancer. he’s not bad either. but dancing with the stars is not in his future
- he’s wasted, but even if he wasn’t, he’d still be the life of the party. it just becomes magnified by however many drinks he’s had.
- very much parks and rec tom haverford vibes. snake juice episode. classic.
- he gets antsy to build things for no reason. tries to do small physics balancing things or maybe just do something productive, like cooking. he never cooks so he has no idea what he’s doing. will probably set the smoke alarm off, sprinklers will be going and people will be partying with INDOOR RAIN.
- that’s his legacy— the guy who set off the sprinklers at that party that one time
- you could probably find him crashing random peoples parties. he hears one going on in some apartment on the street and somehow he gets in and nobody questions it.
Yoosung
- you already know he gets DRANK.
- he doesn’t drink alcohol, the alcohol drinks HIM.
- he always goes over his limit. not bad enough where he’s incapacitated, but he for sure blacks out a lot of the time
- he’s kind of like a mix of his two besties ;) zen and seven. he’s a dancer, but he’s a COMPETETIVE DANCER. lol he probably challenges people to a dance off or contest. also likes table top games.
- he is prone to.... emotion. which is okay! but it happens
- once in a blue moon he’ll cry over something minor, but then start crying-laughing over it 2 seconds later.
- he finds a wii console buried tucked away in a drawer somewhere. he really brings it together when mario kart or wii sports resort gets pulled out. especially if it’s the sword play one. his find gets him clout at the party lol
- probably sees someone he thinks he wants to talk to... he overthinks how to approach them a little too much. but he’ll take a shot and go do it
- it always works out, he’s very friendly and likeable.
- he attends his college parties and always ends up making friends but he’s also hammered so he might not remember it much.
- probably wakes up in a random field somewhere the next morning. he is very confused.
Jaehee
- she goes to town on hard liqour. she can handle it alright.
- genuinely wants to fight everyone. not in a bad way, more of a “let me show you how fucking strong i am” way. it sure brings an audience
- people accept her challenges— she always beats them. probably turns them into drinking competitions too.
- like zen, she’s very competitive. she might lose her composure a little bit, but always self soothes and gets right back into it.
- 2 words: HYPE. WOMAN.
- she can get ANYONE excited about ANYTHING. always cheering others on and having them break out of their comfort zone (if they choose to do so).
- very big emotions. fangirls a lot. flirts a lot. a little dramatic, but she’s very entertaining.
- another great story teller— she loves to talk to people about the things she loves or crazy things that have happened to her.
- once she sobers up a little more, she is quite the helper. she helps clean up, helps people who might be throwing up. she’s a gentle care taker and welcoming presence :)
- she attends house parties a lot. usually her office friends, but sometimes zen brings her to his friends parties.
- she doesn’t party a lot since she works so much but when she does, she goes DUMMY!!
V
- very creative guy. he’ll have a conversation with someone and midway through he goes HOLD THAT THOUGHT!! because he’s had a little intrusive lightbulb moment. runs to go write it down or do a quick sketch then return to said conversation.
- if there’s a hot tub, he’s in it. he’s so in it. he has a glass of champagne and just sits. a lot of the time he never changes he just keeps his clothes on in the water. people question his judgement
- he’s not super animated like a lot of others, he’s more chill, but he’s also very excitable.
- he’s very giggly. anything could make him laugh.
- he really stays true to his hobbies while drunk too.
- photographer/videographer. but since he’s at a party and he’s drunk, they aren’t professional photos. a lot of them end up blurry. but a lot of them turn out great!
- he leaves disposable cameras everywhere so people can just pick them up and take their own photos— he sends out all the pics after they get developed.
- he’s definetly the type to go around making sure everyone is safe and helping them whenever possible. he doesn’t take a lot of time for himself :(
- he parties with jumin at his penthouse. they have a lot of the same friends and it’s a familiar place.
- he doesn’t go to giant parties either, mostly just friends in the comfort of his or someone else’s home.
Saeran
- I don’t think Saeran drinks very much, to be honest. But hypothetically….
- he’s obsessed with making fancy cocktails. they are so beautiful. but they get infinitely worse the more he drinks them lol
- his parties are always with his close friends, probably at his own house. he’s more of a homebody. and the presence of his friends is very grounding
- he really likes to play tabletop-turned drinking games
- he also likes to make games up! kind of like true american in new girl. he’s actually really really good at making up rules on the spot and they always turn out super fun.
- he’s definitely the kind of guy you want at your party if you want to have a lot of fun just doing random shit.
- speaking of random shit, just like his brother he also gets spikes of energy to just go do something. he makes homemade ice cream in a plastic bag. he rearranges the furniture. he will learn magic tricks in about 2 minutes and then show everyone he knows.
- will try and flirt with you. like a lot. he’s incredibly endearing and gets kind of handsy. and by handsy i mean he wants to hold your hand briefly. both of his hands clasped around one of yours.
- he likes to do really harmless pranks. like so harmless that they’re just hilarious. he’ll take someone’s phone and sign them up for mailing lists they don’t want. he might replace a family photo with something else. or maybe just hide behind a wall and jump out and scare someone when they walk by!! PRANK CALLS. classic.
- he’s really funny. like really fucking funny. without even trying. and boy does he love to make people laugh. he’s comedy gold and a pro with the one-liners.
- after drinking he will fall asleep ANYWHERE. on the floor, in a chair, under a desk, on top of a desk, he could fall asleep standing up. all his friends have pictures of him just sleeping in strange places.
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ssson-of-sparda · 3 years
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Strawberry Sundae
Summary: It's story time! Have you ever wondered why Dante affectionate strawberry sundaes so much? Well Patty has and luckily for her, he is about to tell her. It will just cost her a small favour. A man got to pay his debts remember.
Tags: ANGST (but with some very cute moments) / Dante’s childhood /  childhood trauma 
Author’s note: This is my take on Dante’s origins and also my first time writing for the Devil May Cry fandom. I hope I did it right and that you will love it. Set whenever you want but definitely after the DMC Anime. I made the reader female (in case I write a sequel. I have ideas for one, just tell me if you want one), but it can definitely be read as Gen!Reader if you make some small changes.
           To most people Patty Lowell looked so cute and angelic with her girly lacy dresses and her silk ribbons in her baby blond hair they’d think butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. But to Dante, she was the most annoying brat that ever walked this earth and, even though he would never admit it, also one of his dearest friends. And like all his friends, he owed her big.             “I’ll erase that from your tab.” She said as she swallowed a spoonful of vanilla ice cream.   “Oh c’mon! You keeping counts now?” Dante harrumphed and watched the kid wipe her mouth like a very distinguished lady. “You spend too much time with Lady.”   “Not too much. Just enough to know you owe me a trip to the beach, two dresses, a dozen ice cream cones and six strawberries sundaes” She counted on her fingers and Dante sighed as he slouched in the fake-leather seat of Freddy’s diner. “Well, you can’t have it all now, can you?”       “You’ve been saying this for months. And for months you’ve been eating hundreds of sundaes and bought none for me.” She grumbled, staring at him with a pout as he nonchalantly took the strawberry on top of his sundae to eat it, eyes closed to savour the sweetness of the fruit in his mouth. “What’s with your obsession with strawberry sundaes anyway?” She asked, genuinely curious. After all, even after spending so much time with Dante, watching him evolve in his natural habitat (meaning the Devil May Cry) and coming to the conclusion that Dante was a very unique species of man, one that whose diet was only based on pizzas and strawberry sundaes and that knew nothing of women, Patty still hadn’t figured why he was the way he was.   Dante opened an eye to see her impatiently waiting for an answer. “If I tell you, would you consider erasing … let’s say six sundaes of my tab?” He smirked, knowing Patty would not resist the curiosity to know more about him.             “That could be arranged. But your story better be good!”
STRAWBERRY SUNDAE
                 One more step and this would be the furthest Dante had ever been from his house. Of course, he had dared follow Vergil down to that weird old man’s house to secretly spy on his brother, wondering what was so interesting and fun in keeping a wrinkly company but he had never stepped a foot in the city. Never could. The only time he had tried and had somehow managed to go down the hill of his red home without tumbling down the steep rocky stairs and lay even just a toe on the urban pavement he was now standing on, his father and his sharp demonic earring had found him and brought him back home with a firm grip around the collar of his white shirt. Sparda had scolded him so much that day that even Vergil hadn’t dared smirking.       But here he was. Wet, trembling and cold, under a pouring rain, wondering where to go, what to do, both feet on the pavement, his tiny arms holding on tight to his father’s sword which was way bigger than he was. He had never been so terrified, so alert, his blue eyes widened and scanning all his surroundings in every direction possible like a poor defenceless animal fearing for its life, wondering if a deadly predator was secretly watching him crouched in the thickest shadow, the same kind of predator that took his mother and brother away from him.                 He wanted to call for help, ask someone, anyone for guidance but he didn’t know whom to trust or if he could trust anyone. All he knew was that he had to be strong, that he had to be a big boy, a man. That’s what his mother had told him before leaving, before … A tear streamed down his childish face. Not the first one tonight. He wiped it with his sooty knuckle but a new one appeared, bigger and more painful. It stung his eye and he cried harder. A devil should not cry but he was so tired. And he wanted his mama. And he wanted his big brother. But they were gone and behind him, his house up the hill was just a pile of smoking ash and burnt bricks.            
“Why are you crying?” Dante jumped and his small yet strong grip grabbed a hold of Rebellion’s hilt. It took his eyes a short second to fall upon the face of a little girl holding a green frog-shaped umbrella above both their heads. “Are you lost?”  She said as she tried to catch a glimpse of Dante’s face hidden behind layers of soot and wet hair. “Is it a real sword?”         “Don’t touch it!” Dante growled, pressing his father’s sword tighter against his chest, shielding it from the curious child as she tried to put her fingers on the legendary weapon. It had seen Vergil do that countless of times. And though it never worked with him, it formidably worked with the child in front of him. “It’s my dad’s.”         “Is your dad a knight?” She questioned with amazed (colour) eyes, imagining heroes in shining armours resembling the ones in the stories her mother would read her before bed. “My dad is the Legendary Dark Knight.” Dante spat, scowling behind his silver hair falling over his eyes, a pitiful and vain attempt at sending the little girl packing. After all, to her eyes, he didn’t look impressive at all, more like a wet small kitten that someone had abandoned in the street.     She shrugged “My dad doesn’t have a sword and he is not a legendary dark prince or whatever but he has a mighty spatula and his strawberry sundaes are the best in the whole kingdom!” She exclaimed with an over-the-top enthusiasm that made Dante’s weary frown even more pronounced. “That’s the name of my father’s diner.” She pointed at the pinkish red neon sign across the street. Kingdom’s diner. “You’re hungry?” Dante thought he wasn’t until he heard a rumbling in his tummy. Yes, maybe he was even though his heart was preoccupied by other things than hunger. “Come on. Follow me.”         He hesitated for a few seconds, watching the girl cross the crowded street in her way-too-large yellow oilskin - which was probably not hers now that he thought about it – and feeling the rain pouring on his shivering body again. “Well? What are you waiting for?”           With one last look at his destroyed home up on the hill, Dante finally took a step towards the girl waiting for him by the warm neon lights of the diner. And he took another step, and another, feeling a weird weight forming in his stomach. A mix of apprehension and hope. Apprehension of what’s waiting in this unknown land and hope that his father would suddenly appear and bring him back home. But once more, Sparda never showed up and the child was left alone.   Dante had never ventured that far away from home but he had no home anymore, right?
                 The diner was warm and cosy, with red plastic booth seats and speckled grey linoleum-covered tables that were incredibly clean and shiny. On the walls there were vintage-like pictures of old cars, old advertisements and old Hollywood stars who were almost all complete strangers to Dante apart from a glamorous blond woman with a weird mole and another one with a tiara and a cigarette holder. Pretty sure he had seen them both in some boring movies he had seen – or slept through - with his mother and Vergil. Mama. Vergil. He missed them already. Terribly.
A new tear fell along his cold cheek and Dante looked down, devastated that he would never see them again; guilty that he could not save them, angry that his father had not been there to protect them. And with his wet sorrow came scorching flashes and piercing screams. But soon they were covered by the sound of weird music sizzling in a machine that looked like from another time. “I always listen to music when I feel bad. I like music. Do you like music?” She was impossibly chatty but deep down Dante knew it was only to take his mind off whatever she thought he was thinking about. After all, he would use the same trick on his brother. “There are a hundred of songs in this jukebox.” So that was this hellish machine was. A jukebox. “Pick one. I’ll make some strawberry sundae” She smiled and disappeared behind the counter which was way too high for Dante to see what she was doing. “Oh but don’t play the music too loud. My parents are sleeping upstairs.”  
He didn’t know how it worked but he thought that pushing a button would do the trick. And so he did. And he almost fell on his butt when the jukebox started shaking and doing weird sizzling noises. Had he just broken it? “I… I” He mumbled pointing at the machine and the girl’s childish head popped up from behind the counter a bit like a funny rabbit leaves his hole. “Kick it!” She said and Dante looked at her, harrumphed and unsure he had heard right. His mother never allowed him to kick anything … especially not Vergil … and he kicked Vergil a lot … because he deserved it.                 “There!” The girl approached and gave the dying machine a small yet firm kick that made it come back to life. “It does that sometimes.”
“What’s with all the racket?” A loud voice growled and a man with tousled and sparse black hair appeared from upstairs. Only wearing an old navy blue robe over a white t-shirt and a pair of checked slippers, he looked asleep and yet angry. “Y/N what are you doing … up?” His somewhat aggressiveness turned into confusion when he saw Dante standing next to his beloved daughter.  He blinked a couple times and shook his head to make sure he was perfectly awake and not dreaming. What was this boy doing in his restaurant? All wet and covered in soot? “Who are you?” He managed to voice.       Dante opened his mouth though unsure what to answer. “He’s my friend.” The girl replied. “Your friend?” She nodded vigorously. “I was making him a strawberry sundae.”
If there was two things Mister Y/LN had a soft spot for, it was food – sugary and greasy food – and his precious daughter Y/N. She was his little princess, his only daughter, the apple of his eye (even when there was sleep crust in its corner like right now). He could not refuse her anything and could not stay mad at her for more than a couple of minutes to the great disappointment of his wife.  And even though he knew it was wrong, he couldn’t help it.           “Y/N” He sighed and went to kneel in front of his daughter. “You cannot invite a little boy that late at night. I’m sure his parents must be very worried.” He glanced at Dante who looked down his brown boots hiding his eyes yet again behind his silver hair. What curious hair. “But since he is here, let’s eat those strawberry sundaes.” The little girl grinned and ran back to finish her creamy dessert with an enthusiasm that made the man smile for a small second.
Even though Mister Y/LN was weak for his daughter he was still a man of reason. Something deep in his guts was telling him something was wrong with that kid and the last thing he wanted was trouble. Who was he? Where did he come from? What happened to him? Where were his parents? Was he some kind of street kid? A child of drug dealers from the rough areas of Red Grave? Should he call the police? Maybe so. Certainly so. They would certainly know what to do. It was their job after all. He was just a cook, a sleepy cook. What could he do, except offering that scrawny kid a strawberry sundae? “Why don’t you sit, boy?” He waved at the stool and Dante climbed on it without saying a word. “I’ll be right back.”
“So what’s your name?” The little girl said as she placed two coupe glasses filled with cream, ice cream and strawberries right before Dante’s eyes that immediately ogled at the dessert with greediness. So much sugar, so much cream, so many strawberries. He loved chocolate, but this, this looked like even better than chocolate and his stomach seemed to agree.       Excited to taste it, he went to grab the spoon that was placed by the couple but was immediately stopped. “Wait. I’m not done.” Y/N shouted and, with a frown and the tip of her pink tongue out, cautiously topped both sundaes with a cherry and two pink wafers. “There. Now you can eat it.” She barely had time to finish the sentence that Dante quickly stuffed a generous spoonful in his tiny mouth. OH GOD! If his mother saw him right now eating so much sugar in the middle of the night she would be furious. But this was the most delicious thing in the world. After pizza of course.       He ate another spoonful, and another, humming after each, as he was slowly reaching a comforting sugary paradise. “I’m guessing you like it.” The little girl giggled, laughing at his mouth as round as a balloon and the cream running from the corner of his lips. Dante froze at the laugh and stare at her with a blush creeping up his inflated cheeks until he swallowed with a big gulp. “Yeah.” He confessed and Y/N smiled at the small amount of joy she caught in his childish voice.   “You still haven’t told me your name. I’m Y/N by the way.” She reached out to shake his hand and Dante stared at it for a few seconds, remembering what his mother had told him as she hid him a wardrobe.
You must change your name. Forget your past and start a new life as someone else. But who could he be? And could he be someone else? After all, he had always been Dante, the restless daredevil son of Sparda and Eva and annoying little brother to Vergil who always picked a fight for fun and found ways to be involved in new kinds of mischiefs.               There was a silence, heavy and pregnant, as the boy tried to answer the questions in his confused little head and as the girl patiently waited for him to talk. And only the lively music from the jukebox could be heard in the room. And it sang to Dante ‘Hey there Anthony boy. Why are you in such a rush (go!). The girl, she wanna talk to you. Look at him, how he blush (go!)’ giving birth to his new identity. A new beginning.               “I’m Anthony.” He finally grabbed her hand and she shook it with a smile that he tried to mimic. An effort he thought he would have never done tonight but that he did for her. Calm down, Tony me boy. “Tony for short.”         “Well nice to meet you, Tony. I’m sure we’re going to be good friends.”
And with a new spoonful of strawberry sundae he said goodbye to Dante. Hey there, Anthony boy!
***
“That was a lovely story, Dante. Sad but lovely.” Patty finally declared after being incredibly silent during Dante’s childhood story. A first. “Glad you liked it.” Dante said with a small smile that was barely concealing the sadness that this memory had brought back. “So does that mean those six sundaes are off my tab?”               “I guess so.” She shrugged as she drank the ice cream in her coupe. “Great.” He winked and stood up, throwing a bill on the table before putting his long red coat on.  “So … you love strawberry sundaes because they were the first things that gave you comfort after you lost your mom?”           “No, I love strawberry sundaes because they remind me why humans are sometimes worth fighting for.”
But mostly, he liked them because they reminded him of someone who had helped him build a new life, someone who had given him kindness, generosity and love when he thought that all he could expect from life was sorrow and pain. They reminded him of you.     Yes, that’s why he loved strawberry sundaes.
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giuliafc · 3 years
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When Magic Fails - chapter 2
Read on A03 || FFN || Wattpad (links to chapter 1)
Summary: The Miraculous Cure can fix the damage caused by a specific akuma. But what happens when said damage comes after the Miraculous Cure? When the damage isn't caused by an akuma? Follow Marinette through the worst day of her life. The day where her identity, or Chat's, won't matter any more. The day when she will discover what's really important. But at what price? Lovesquare story.
Warning: VERY intense! Read previous chapter here on Tumblr
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Betas: KhanOfAllOrcs, Agrestebug, Etoile-Lead-Sama, Speckleflower, AmberLambda, Anonymousfriend27 and MiniNoire
Big thanks to: Momo|MarinetteAgresteBrand and Genxha
Cover art and chapter art credit: Rosehealer02 on Deviantart.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by (c) Thomas Astruc; TS1 Bouygues, Disney Channel, Zagtoon, Toei Animation. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
oOo
Chapter 2 - Code Polkadot
It was a race against time. His ring beeped when she passed the Ministère de la Santé, and her own Miraculous beeped in front of the ambassade des Pays-Bas. People watched in horror as she jumped and zipped across the road. She could see their stares, could hear their whispers. They were probably wondering what Ladybug was doing, holding Chat Noir and running madly across the road, both covered in blood, dust and rubble. She glared at anybody that came within a glaring distance.
“WHERE’S THE HOSPITAL?” she shouted at someone who had just stopped on a bike next to her. A familiar face, but her vision was so blurred by tears and sweat that she couldn’t quite make out who the person was. She shrugged off the idea. Four different hands pointed in the same direction, immediately followed by another dozen. She attempted a grateful smile, but was certain, from the frightened reactions of the people on the road, that she had barely managed to put up a painful grimace.
She jumped across in the direction shown and immediately saw her reflection glaring at her from the windows of the building in front of her. She didn’t even stop to consider what she looked like. The words on the building's windows said Hôpital Necker, but they also mentioned "University". She looked around to find the blue "H" that clearly marked a public hospital and saw it just a few metres away, at the side of a small marble arched gate, which led into a courtyard.
She landed in front of it and burst inside; her eyes scanned the courtyard until she saw at her left a door manning the sign “Accueil”. As she walked inside and looked around, she saw lines of metallic black seats. Mothers and children moved to give her space, as well as the people queuing and standing in front of the reception check in. She heard whispers around the room, mothers consoling their children who were asking what happened to Chat Noir. Why were there so many kids? All the patients had children with them; that was weird.
“I need a doctor, quickly!” she said bluntly at the woman sitting at the check in desk. To her disappointment the receptionist was on the phone, so taken with looking at the screen in front of her that she hadn’t even glanced in her direction. Marinette’s gaze quickly ran to Chat Noir’s face. The side of his head was covered in blood, which had mixed together with the dirt and the pieces of mortar in his hair and had made a sort of paste that had glued to his and even to her own suit. Her heart raced faster in her chest. She needed to hurry.
“Have you got your child’s carnet de santé and carte mutuelle, and your carte vitale please?” came from behind the green desk the voice of said receptionist, who stretched her left hand out to her, her eyes still focused on the screen in front of her, her ear still glued to the phone receiver.
Marinette gulped. Child? She looked around again. There were plenty of colourful drawings and cartoon characters embossed on the walls of the reception desk and pictures of children with many different types of illnesses.
Oh yes. Hôpital Necker, the child hospital. That’s right. She had heard of it in the news so many times, looking for donations for their research.
“He’s not my child…” she said. If the situation hadn’t been so serious she was sure Chat would have found it funny.
The middle aged brunette in front of her took her eyes off her screen, put a thick pair of glasses on and gave her a practised look of pure boredom before her brown eyes widened. “Excuse me ma’am,” she said to the person she was talking to on the phone. “I have an emergency here. You will need to redial.” She hung up and dropped the phone receiver.
“La… Ladybug? Oh Jesus… Chat Noir? What… This is a child’s hospital Ladybug… we have adult patients, but they...they’re not our speciality...” She started stammering and paled considerably.
Marinette felt a gush of anger spreading all over her gut as she admitted it, hastily, “I’m fifteen… and I expect him to be around my age. I don’t care if it’s a hospital for children, for aliens or for wild animals. He could die if we don’t act fast. He needs help. NOW.”
People all around started whispering.
“Fifteen?”
“Oh my God.”
“They are kids.”
“Only kids.”
“Maman is Chat Noir really younger than my big brother?”
“Sure.” The woman at the desk picked up the phone and pushed a couple of buttons on it. “Dr. Richter? Yes, Sylvie here at reception. We have an emergency. Oh you know already? Good… code polkadot you say? What is it, I’ve never heard of it. Ah okay... Cool. Yes, they know. They’re 15! Yes. I hear you, yes. Crazy! I’ll tell her. Leave it to me.” She stood and ran out of the accueil’s room; Marinette could only follow. “They’re already waiting for you in front of the SUSI (2).”
Marinette paled. “But I thought this was…” she muttered, but the woman interrupted her.
“Ladybug, you’re in the wrong place. This is the reception for booked appointments and routine visits. The SUSI is over there.” She pointed to the left. “You’re probably going to be faster than the bed. It’s the other side of that rooftop.”
Marinette gave her a grateful look and a nod. “Thank you… Sylvie?”
“Good luck, Ladybug,” she said smiling warmly. “You saved my boyfriend when he was akumatised. This is the least I can do.”
Marinette nodded again and held Chat firmly, jumping on the rooftop as fast as her legs could take her. She immediately saw that three men dressed in blue were waiting at the back entrance of the next building, near what looked like a gurney and an ambulance. She jumped off right beside them.
“We’ve been waiting for you, Ladybug. Nadja Chamack rang the hospital to warn us of your arrival. Please allow me to take him,” one of the nurses said, as he tried to take Chat from her arms.
She initially resisted, but then heard Chat’s ring giving a louder beep, so she gave in. “Please, we need to hurry. One minute and our transformations will fall,” she pleaded. The man’s gaze became stern. He held Chat firmly and moved steadily towards the gurney next to him. He carefully put Chat on it and quickly pushed the gurney inside the building, trying to move it hastily to the corridor leading to a door labelled ‘PU - Urgences’ (1).
A loud beep came from her earrings, and in a flash of pink, Marinette’s transformation fell as she sped next to the nurses, not even trying to hide her face from the crowd that had gathered all around her. Her gaze stayed firmly focused on Chat and on the nurses who were putting what she thought could be an oxygen mask on his mouth and nose, taking advantage of a moment when the gurney stopped because of the crowd. She didn’t even pay any attention to Tikki, who had come out of the earrings and had looked at her worryingly before flying into her purse.
“Ew, what’s that?”
“A giant bug maman!”
“Does Ladybug keep bugs in her purse?”
“WILL YOU ALL PLEASE GO FASTER? HIS SUIT HELPS HIM, BUT THIS COULD BE THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN HIS LIFE OR HIS DEATH! HE’S ONLY GOT A FEW MORE SECONDS TO SPARE!” She could swear that she saw a few flashes and tried to cover her face as best she could. Suddenly she felt someone’s arms wrap around her as a jacket was thrown over her head.
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“There’s nothing else to see people, let the gurney pass!” a male voice said. She knew that voice… where had she heard that voice before?
They went through the doors of the PU and walked hastily a little longer until the gurney stopped and moved ninety degrees. The jacket was removed from her head as she heard the zipping sound of curtains being pulled all around them. A quick glance to her surroundings made her realise that they were in a sort of cubicle, protected from the view by a set of blue paper curtains, and the doctors and nurses were surrounding Chat, plugging different cables and machines all around him.
“Where do I plug the oximeter?” one of the nurses asked. She looked very young and a bit pale. She held a sort of peg in her hands, plugged into a machine and tried to attach it to one of Chat’s cat ears. “Nope. Does he have human ears?” She moved his hair at the side of his head and Marinette heard her sighing in relief as she attached the peg to something.
“What happened to him, how did he get hurt, Miss Ladybug?” she heard a doctor ask and she suddenly looked up, realising that the man was talking to her.
“Oh… he fell off the Eiffel Tower…” she started to say. Then she heard the last beep of her partner’s ring and in a flash of green his transformation fell. As Plagg twirled out of the ring and fell with a loud sob on top of Chat’s head, Marinette couldn’t stop her gaze from following the black kwami and running straight to the blond boy laying on the bed.
The plastic mask covered almost all his face, but even with that on, there was not a chance in hell that Marinette wouldn’t recognise his blond mane, now combed neatly to the side of his head and clean from the dirt, but not from the blood that plastered the side of his face. Pale; he was as pale as a ghost. She only caught a glimpse of his face before someone’s arms wrapped around her and held her tight. But that glimpse was enough.
No.
NO!
NOO! It couldn’t be...
“Gamin? Talk to me! Are you okay?” she heard Plagg say. Then, she saw something red dashing around the room, grabbing Plagg, oblivious of his objections, and disappearing behind the curtain. “Tikki, you don’t understand! I need to tell Pigtails! He’s been poi—” the little God of destruction whimpered as he was dragged away. She wasn't sure, but she thought she had seen tears at the corner of Plagg’s electric green eyes. Even her own eyes filled with tears, her chest shaken by loud sobs.
“Mar-Ladybug, it’s okay. He will be safe,” someone said, hugging her tight, but it sounded far away, like a whisper from a different time. "Marinette can you hear me? It's me, Luka," he added in a lower tone of voice. But all Marinette could hear were the sudden angry beeps of the machines in front of her, having gone mad the second Chat's transformation fell. A horde of doctors and nurses rushed to the gurney, busying themselves with plugging in more cables and hooking up strange machines to Chat's body and face.
“Sorry, Mlle. Ladybug, can you please wait over there? We need space!” Marinette heard the voice of one of the doctors say, and she felt Luka’s arms wrapping tighter around her as he tried to move her backwards.
She resisted sternly. That face. She had just given one quick glance to that face. She had to see it again, to see that it wasn’t the face she thought. She wriggled out of Luka’s hold and jerked towards the gurney, peeking around the doctors at work and trying to give another quick look, earning quite a few glares from a couple of nurses.
The neatly combed blond mane framed the handsome face of the boy she would recognise among thousands. As pale as a ghost. His once peachy lips now dry and blue under the transparent plastic mask. His beautiful green eyes closed. Why of all people did it have to be him?
She screamed.
"It's okay, Mar-Ladybug! He will be alright!" Luka's voice said again, his arms firmly wrapped around her shoulders to stop her from lunging straight to the bedside.
"ADRIEEEEN!!!" Her heart-wrenching screams came loud and clear in between the sobs that rocked her chest and lungs.
"Marinette? What… Adrien? Oh girl you must be kidding me! Mar… La-Ladybug?" This was Alya's voice. She heard Luka shushing her, and Alya’s eyes widened, as she corrected herself. What was Alya doing here?
Suddenly, a pair of extra arms wrapped around her from her left side. Another pair from the right, in a vice grip that kept her from going to him, that kept pushing her backwards.
A female voice spoke, the masked emotions trickling in through the tremble in her voice. “You can't go over there! You'll only get in the way of the doctors working on him! Stay here!”
“ADRIE—” A hand cupped over her mouth, barely able to muffle the sounds of heartbreak seeping out of her.
"Shhhhh! Do you want everyone to know, Ma-Ladybug?" It was Kagami's voice. She nearly didn’t recognise it, as the usually confident and blunt tone of the Japanese girl was missing completely. She sounded shaken and emotionally drained. Marinette darted her gaze around to notice that Alya was standing at her right and Kagami at her left, and they were both holding her tight, supporting Luka who held her from behind.
They were all there with her. She wondered when they arrived and how they knew where they were. Nadja probably had told them where she was heading, and they were allowed through the door of the PU before detransforming, Marinette thought, but the sight of Adrien being picked up carefully by one of the nurses and transferred into a hospital bed stopped the last of her rational thoughts from coming through. New sobs shook her chest, as new tears rolled off her cheeks. She buried her face in Alya's chest not even attempting to stop sobbing desperately.
Because Chat was Adrien. And Adrien could die. And it was her fault…
------------------------------------
Notes:
(1) PU - Pavillon des Urgences (A&E/ER)
(2) SUSI - Service d'Urgences et de Soins Intensifs (A&E/ER, Emergency and Intensive Care department)
-------------------------------------
Author's Note:
Hi! *Keeps hiding*
I know, I know, this is probably the most catastrophic reveal ever. Please don't hate me!
I'll cut the fluff and get straight to the point. In the next instalment of "When Magic fails", “Secrets in the Open”:
— “We will need to put stitches on this cut at the side of his head.”
— “He has the right to choose how to live his own life!”
— “Chat Noir hasn’t just been injured. He’s been poisoned. And it’s not just an average poison. It’s extremely dangerous.”
I know, I'm cruel. If you want to kill m—, I mean, if you read this and you’re not part of our wonderful Discord server already, but you enjoy reading, writing and talking about Miraculous, please join our Discord server, Miraculous Fanworks (for people on FFN, discord dot gg slash mlfanworks). See you there soon, and see you soon here with the next chapters of this story. Won’t be too long. Promise!
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gofancyninjaworld · 3 years
Text
OPM ‘Majin’ Drama CD Reviews.  Part 1 – “Saitama, Makeover”
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Summary:  Dunning-Kruger, anyone?
Direct link here.   Fair warning: don’t be drinking anything when you read/listen to it. It is utterly demented, in a good way.
So, Saitama’s minding his own business trying to score the best deal at shopping when a young lady approaches him with a fan letter.  He’s deeply flattered... until it turns out that it’s for Genos.   His disgust at this state of affairs is compounded by Genos tossing out the letter unread.  Genos doesn’t do fan letters as they have nothing useful to say to him. 
Saitama’s mood gets worse when Genos looks him up (at his behest) and the public image of Saitama is less than stellar: “I don’t remember this guy.” “Nothing special.” “Eyes of a dead fish.” And many more less edifying. 
As it’s set between the first and second seasons, neither Saitama nor Genos have hero names yet and this gives them an idea.  Since no one knows who Saitama is,  what’s stopping him from picking a hero name and debuting on his terms?
Well, nothing.  Except that between the two of them, they have less creative nous than an office full of auditors on hour 17 of their 3rd consecutive 18 hour work day.  But since when did they let total incompetence stop them?
They look around at other heroes for ideas, throwing out the idea of handsome (Saitama’s budget being too low for plastic surgery -- ouch, Genos), mascots, and finally settling on cute.  As cats are eternally popular, how about some cat ears.   Saitama immediately procures some and yes, they do attract attention but keep slipping off.  He asks, nay demands, that Genos get him some duct tape to keep them on his head.
It’s at this point that I stopped feeling sorry for Saitama.
As far as costume goes, heroes who have an athletic physique to show off like Tank Top Master and Superalloy Darkshine are very popular.   Saitama has an athletic physique.  So... and this is 100% Saitama’s idea... how about all the physique?  But for his cape,  Saitama strips himself naked,  painting himself in the colours of his uniform.   Genos has grave misgivings. Sadly these misgivings don’t rise to the level of saying ‘no’ and he keeps adding fuel to this fire.
You have got to listen to the section where the pair are workshopping what descriptors to add to Saitama’s introductory speech.  It’s when you realise that a lot of the words are in English and that Genos knows what they all mean, but is tossing them in anyway that the full madness of this segment becomes clear.  ONE is also having a poke at Engrish -- English words tossed in for the ‘coolness’, the equivalent of gratuitous French appearing in English. 
And so is born the ultimate new hero: “The collapse of the final strength gestalt with endless possibilities - The lone wolf Saitama, the boiled egg (Terror! The monster-devouring cat man)”    Yes, that is his new hero name.    All that’s left is to find an actual monster.
 This being City Z, monsters are never far away and one duly appears. The plan is for Genos to take it on, pretend to lose so that Satiama can swoop in, introduce himself with suitable bombast and send the monster to Kingdom come.  Three problems. First, Genos turns out to be an outrageously shitty actor, which quickly turns this showing into farce.  Second,  Saitama has lost his notes and is fumbling around for them rather than acting.  Third, the monster turns out to be actually strong meaning that playing around isn’t actually an option.
And then it starts to rain.  The bodypaint isn’t waterproof. Technically it should be as otherwise it’d run when we sweat,  but I guess that’s Saitama being a Saitama and going with what’s cheapest.  So it is that having finally found his notes, with a horrified crowd and incredulous monster alike watching as paint drips off his bits,  Saitama does his best to read the soggy notes that were supposed to mark his triumphant entry...  heh heh
Meta: Don’t Fake It
Hoo hoo!    I’m sorry, if you’ve still not read it, go read it.  It’s so full of evil, evil zingers and the summary really doesn’t do it justice.
Let us establish that any endeavour that starts with the phrase ‘with the help of Genos...’  is not going to be a good one.  Dude is like a chainsaw with no guards -- all enthusiasm, no safety.
Despite how disastrous this episode in Saitama’s life was, it’s also quite touching for me that he’s human.  He sees the enormous disparity between the way he is treated and the way Genos is and he minds.  Saitama doesn’t want to be rich and famous but being recognised and thought well of is important for him.  It’s the biggest reason he joined the Hero Association in the first place and so far, it’s not been working out for him.   So his grabbing at the chance to set his reputation properly ahead of getting a formal hero name made a lot of sense.  It’s good to see that he gets envious, proud, irritated, can say cruel things in the moment -- he’s a person, a good person, but not a saint.
Authenticity is a theme that ONE comes back to frequently.  Another is competence -- even if you’re competent in one thing, that doesn’t automatically carry over into other fields.  He makes a lot of hay out of the fact that people often over-rate their abilities in areas they know little about.  It’s almost axiomatic in OPM that if you hear someone bragging about an ability they have, they’re all but certain to be shown up.  And when you put inauthentic and incompetent together, well... it’s funny to watch.   So it is that Saitama, who fancied himself a creative, ended up naked in public in the rain.  With bodypaint dripping off him. I’m sorry, the image has been indelible for months.
If you’ve ever wished you were less sensitive, look at Genos and be comforted.  He has a legitimately thick skin and the way he lacerates Saitama with his words while not being in the slightest bit offended at Saitama’s comebacks is the opposite of life goals.  His sharp-eyed notes on the whimsical and superficial nature of public opinion?  Spot on.
Genos refusing to read fan mail on the basis that it’s not informative was an ‘oof’ moment for me. Fans often slam heroes for being too keen on public notice and admiration, but the converse is also painful.  It’s sad to think that if the little girl he saved from the Deep Sea King sent him a thank you letter, he threw it away unread.  It feels like he’s missing half the point of being a hero.   
Speaking of the hero name specifically, the requirements that Saitama had for a hero name are actually satisfied by One Punch Man.  But it’s not an obvious thing to hit on.  All things considered, it’s just as well the Hero Association doesn’t appear to have heard of these antics, or at least not taken them into account when naming him.  Or he’d have been Cat-Eared Baldie.
I can 100% understand why King needed to come into the picture. Between Saitama and Genos, they’re unable to muster even a pin-head’s worth of common sense. In particular, Genos doesn’t seem to be able to say no to Saitama and they just egg each other on.   King brings a much-needed measure of sense checking to their dynamics. 
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jonspurpleskirt · 3 years
Text
Perks of Beholding
Summary: Jon gets distracted from paranoia by learning he can now understand animals. This somehow solves all their problems. Or: Jon turns into a Disney princess the fic.
No Warnings apply. It’s just fluff. Heavily inspired by this lovely TMA comic:  ___
It started with the Admiral. Jon was about to read the first statement his mysterious benefactor had sent when he heard a small "Jon!" from the kitchen. It had a strange, rumbling undertone to it and sounded as though a human was trying to imitate a cat.
Jon startled so hard at the unfamiliar voice that he send the papers he had in his hands flying. Instinctively grabbing the tape recorder he sprung up.
"Who's there!"
The Admiral came out of the kitchen, rubbing against the doorframe and purring. "Jon! It's time for a midday snack."
Jon blinked hard, wondering if he had lost his mind entirely, while a much louder voice was screeching in delight.
"Admiral! I can understand you!"
"Give me food Jon, I beg of you. I'm famished."
The Admiral jumped up on his lap, claws snagging on the worm hole riddled arm. It should have already been healed, but Jon continued picking on it.
"Ah..ha. Careful please. I'm damaged goods."
"My apologies. Now food and then cuddles? I crave attention."
Statement forgotten Jon spend the rest of the afternoon debating with Georgies cat about the pros and cons of feeding the Admiral without Georgies consent, sneaking snacks anyway and cuddling on the couch.
To say that Georgie was bemused when she got home was an understatement. "You can speak cat now. Are you shitting me?"
"No. It's amazing! Georgie this might be the only good thing to have happened to me in years!"
Georgie rolled his eyes, grinning. "Don't be so dramatic. So what? Are cats really planning to overthrow us lowly humans? What is he saying?"
"I'm pretty sure he wouldn't tell me if that was the case. Admiral is there anything you'd like to say to Georgie?"
The Admiral, who hadn't budged from Jons chest since after he had been fed was staring straight at him. "Tell her I love her."
Jon turned to Georgie with the most serious face she had ever seen on him. "He wants you to know that he loves you." He announced gravely. And then, after a short pause. "But he loves me more."
"I didn't say that."
"He didn't say that!"
"No, but I know."
The Admiral bit at his finger and then immediately licked the raw skin as an apology. "Unruly kitten."
"I'm not a kitten!"
"You know I'm not sure if the noises you make are cute or creepy."
~~~
His language comprehension skills didn't only focus on cat speak, Jon found out soon after. He had been brave enough to step out of Georgies flat to go for a quick walk (and buy some cat food that Georgie refused to get for the Admiral), when a voice from above cooed at him.
"So shiny!"
Jon froze at the croaky exclamation, scanning his environment and trying not to panic. There was no police nearby. Which was good. But also bad if this was going to turn out to be a robbery. There weren't any people around at all, actually. Jon had gone out at an ungodly hour as to avoid big crowds and thus being seen.
The only being he could make out was a crow perched atop a lantern, gazing down at him. Jon pointed at himself. "Are you speaking to me?"
The crow tilted its head. "It would seem so, human."
"Oh. What is it that you find so shiny?"
It considered his question for a moment, then flew down. Jon flinched when the bird landed on his shoulder, a sharp beak tapping the hair clasp Jon had used to keep his mess of a hair out of his face.
"This. I'd like to have it."
Jon itched to stroke the black feathers that caressed his cheek. A childish excitement that he hadn't felt since uni thrumming in his chest.
"You can have it. Just let me take it out first."
The crow hopped on his other shoulder, nibbling at his scarf while Jon gently untangled the clasp from his locks, careful not to jostle his new friend too much.
"There we go. Here."
"Thank you. This kindness will not be forgotten."
Jon watched the bird fly off with his possession and wished his human encounters could go so smoothly.
Word did get around fast that he was a friend of corvids and provider of shiny things. Wherever he went at least two or three crows or ravens would appear within minutes chatting him up. Most of his spare change went to them and soon he found himself buying little trinkets for them to carry off.
In the weeks that followed Jon got out more and more, keeping to parks at unreasonable hours, driven to converse with all kinds of wildlife. He hadn't touched most of the statements he had been send, too fixated on the new, harmless ability he had been granted. This had improved Georgies and his relationship immensely. She had been worried that he would obsess over who could have murdered Leitner. Him going out and talking to various animals might not have been any less strange, but at least it felt harmless enough to her that she left him to it, sometimes even tagging along.
Jon had always felt it easier to communicate with animals. And this didn't change with his new ability. Interactions were simple and their stories were interesting, with a perspective foreign enough to catch his interest. Animals viewed the world rather differently, had different priorities and had less behavioral rules that Jon could mess up.
And they weren't shy to seek out his touch once they got to know him. More often than not these days Georgie would find him with a squirrel draped around his neck, a bird pulling his hair or a cat in his arms. He had even tried to talk to some insects once, but told Georgie with a look of disappointment that they didn't have the mind for idle chatter.
Like humans not every animal was friendly or even a good conversationalist. There was a white and grey pigeon nesting close to Georgies flat, who made for dreadful smalltalk and couldn't hold a thought to save its life. And Clara the sparrow loved to spew a litany of curse words at him, because she found they sounded funny.
In the end, however, his curiousity to learn more about his abilities led him to check out more of the statements and eventually, try and contact Jude Perry. They met in a quaint little café, opting to sit outside because of Judes flamability and Jons want to have a better chance of escape should anything go wrong.
Jon didn't shake Judes hand when she first asked. But after her statement and her willingness to give him the contact of an acquaintance he felt he had to. He reached out to take her hand when a crow dived down and crashed between the two. The ball of black feathers shook itself and snapped sharply at Jons hand.
"What do you think you are doing you lanky idiot! Do you not have any instincts left in your body! What are you?! A fledgling? Shame on you! You nearly gave us a heart attack!"
"I'm sorry, but you really should fly away. Your feathers are beginning to sizzle- Ow!"
The crow had squawked at him in a rather unbecoming manner for such a lovely lady, but had heeded his warning and flown onto his shoulder, opting to snap at his ear and pull it to get him to leave the firey lady, cussing him out all the while.
"I get it, I get it! Please stop assaulting my ear."
"What."
Momentarily having forgotten his audience in order to get the furious crow out of his hair, Jon send Jude an apologetic smile.
"Sorry. Marah seems to be quite against me shaking your hand. Ow. Would you stop that I'm not doing anything!"
"You can speak with animals?" Not even Jude - I'll burn everything you love to the ground - Perry seemed to be immune to the craziness of the situation. Her grin had turned from feral to amused. The air around her had gotten colder as well.
"Ah, yes. Wasn't Gertrude also able to do so?"
Jon had finally been able to get Marah out of his hair and was cradling her against his chest, patting down her ruffled feathers and let her play with the shiny decorative coins that hung from his scarf.
"I don't think I've ever seen her doing that. But then everyone Becomes differently."
"Becomes? Ah... right sorry, no further questions. I... I guess I've always had more interest in animals then humans. Could that... I mean that could be the reason."
"Could." She echoed him, eyes fixed on the crow nestled in his arms.
A flutter of wings made both of them look up and startle at the sight of dozens of black birds perched along the roofs staring down at them.
"Did you call them?" She hissed.
"No. It's not like I can control them. I occasionally give them stuff? And they make great conversation partners. I guess they're just pretty protective of me?"
"Fledgling." Marah huffed, winding one of his long locks around her beak and tugging.
"Ow. They call me fledgling for some reason."
Jude snorted into her boiling coffee. "Yeah that checks out." Her gaze skimmed the dark wall of feathers above them. People around them had become uncomfortable as well, hurrying to get out of the area. The waiter was giving them nervous glances, too.
"If it would ease your mind I doubt they'll try to attack you if you play nice?"
"You sound awfully unsure of that."
Jon shrugged as best as he could without jostling Marah too much. "I'm still not sure how all of this works. That's why I'm looking for other avatars."
Jude shook her head and laughed. "A Watcher not Knowing something. The world never ceases to surprise me." She took out her phone, which had a cracked display, the plastic scorched where her fingers touched, but miraculously was still functioning. "Give me your number I'll forward you some of my contacts."
"Thank you!"
"Don't. You'll pay me in cute pet pictures. Once weekly."
Jon smiled, that sounded like a much better price to pay than a scorched hand. "I'll do that. Any favourites?"
"Owls." Jude said without hesitation, then blinked and scowled at him. "You'll have to get a grip on that if you don't want Mike to throw you out the window."
"I'm sorry. I really don't mean to do... whatever I'm doing."
"Watch your wording then. Don't ask questions or whatever."
Jon sighed, holding out his phone for her to copy his number. "Right."
He bought Marah her favourite pastry as a thank you for saving him and promised to get her that pretty ring she had seen. It was quite expensive, but Jon thought it was worth it.
~~~
Jon was a bundle of frayed nerves when he went to visit Mike Crew. They had written back and forth a bit over the days and no matter how much Jon tried to coax Mike into meeting him somewhere more open the Avatar of the Vast never budged.
So here he was, sans crow support, knocking on the door of a serial killer. The young man that welcomed him in was only shorter than him by maybe an inch or two. He had donned a fake smile and was asking if he wanted some tea.
Jon didn't. He had a set of questions, hungered for Mikes statement. But Judes warning stopped him from immediately going for it. Drinking bland tea he didn't want was probably the better alternative to being thrown out a window. Not that that was still a very real possibility afterwards.
"I'd love to. Thank you."
Mike seemed surprised that he had taken him up on the offer. "Huh. Well then. Come in. I only have Lavender and Peppermint, any preferences?"
Jon tried to distract himself from the very obvious scar on Mikes neck by taking in the spacious flat he had just entered. "Peppermint sounds nice."
"Peppermint it is, then."
Jon trailed after him into the kitchen, a bit lost on what the etiquette was when being a first time guest. Was he supposed to wait somewhere? Go to the couch? Was he even allowed to take a seat before being told?
At least he had gotten better at small talk. True Mike Crew wasn't an animal, but Jon had found out that being nice was actually well received by humans and avatars alike. (What a shocker.)
"You have a lovely apartment."
Mike shot him what looked like a genuine grin. "Thank you! A gift from Simon. He's taking good care of all the new Vast avatars. Tends to try and adopt them, but I quite like my autonomy and the family parties he throws are dreadful."
Jon couldn't help but pout. The terminology didn't confuse him as much anymore. Jude had deigned to explain that to him via text, with a lot of gloating and bad puns. "I wish the Eye would be so welcoming. I swear for an entity that's all about knowing it doesn't tell me shit."
"Tough. You sure you work for the Eye and not the Web? Here. Come on don't just stand there like a bean pole the couch is a perfectly good place to sit."
"Good lord I hope so. I hate spiders."
"Cheers to that."
Not asking questions was hard. Jon was an impatient man, endlessly curious. And something within him craved Mikes statement. He opted to be honest with Mike about that, telling him without turning it into a burning question and the Avatar nodded in understanding.
"Alright I'll tell you my story then. Because you were nice enough not to ask and we short people should work together."
Jon hadn't been prepared for the sad tale that had been Mikes life. It seemed that he had only been able to somewhat settle down in the last few years. Being on the run for so long, Jon could only imagine what it did to a persons mind. He was only being wanted for murder for a bit now and the stress and paranoia was already killing him.
"Huh." Mike blinked when he was done, tea gone cold in his hands. "That was actually pretty therapeutic. I'm not opposed to doing this again."
They talked idly for a while after, Mike far less aggressive in his attitude than Jude, although he did lightly threaten him once or twice and gave him a horrible case of vertigo when Jon accidently insulted his taste in books.
Their conversation was interrupted by a knock on the door and Mikes eyes narrowed. "I thought we agreed you'd come alone."
"I did." Jon defended himself, fear easily flooding back into his body.
They both stood and carefully inched towards the door. Just as Mike was about to open it, mouth already open to scold whoever had dared to interrupt him, a chorus of loud hisses, meows and a surprised shout made them freeze.
"Jon! A Hunter is here! We've got her handled. Run!"
Not thinking Jon snatched Mikes wrist and pulled him away from the entrance to the flat. The floor underneath him seemed to give way, but Mike at least hadn't fully thrown him into his domain. He dragged them both deeper into the flat. "Shit that's Tonner."
"Who?"
"The police. I ah... might be wanted for murder at the moment. I thought I've been descreet enough. But apparently not. Sorry."
He didn't like that Mikes eyes gleamed with a newfound respect after hearing that. "Oh yeah. I forgot that murder was illegal for a moment. Who did you kill?"
"I didn't." Jon scowled. "I was framed. It was Jurgen Leitner."
"Leitner?!"
"Hmhm. Turns out he was hiding below the institute the whole time. Honestly he was a rather pathetic old man."
Mike tsked. "Good riddance."
"Quite."
Mike eyed the window as the cursing from outside continued. They both flinched when there was a gunshot. Jon lurched forward, running towards the sound, only to be harshly janked back with surprising force. "What the fuck are you doing?!"
"She's shooting the cats! I need to save them!" There might have been a bit of static in his voice, fueled by the panic.
An inhuman growl came from outside and a layered voice shouting "Stay back!".
"That's a Hunter out there!"
Jon only let out a pathetic whine. His cats. He couldn't leave his cats! But the arm around his waist didn't let him go. Mike cursed behind him.
"You're crazy. And weird. You owe me for this."
"I can pay in cute animal pictures."
Mike snorted and let Jon go, leaving him to open the door. As soon as Daisy was in sight there was a loud Pop and a yelp, then she was gone. Jon knelt down in the mass of hissing fur, hands stroking over every body he could find, frantically looking for injuries on any of his babies. They came to him immediately, butting against his hands, chanting "Jon!" and started to purr up a storm.
"I think she just fired a warning shot." Mike mused, pointing towards the ceiling.
Jon heaved a huge sigh. "Oh thank god."
Mike tilted his head at the strange display before him. "Are those free of fleas?"
"Of course! They all are perfectly well behaved, clean angels."
Mike rolled his eyes. "Cool. They can come in then. I'm sure they just saved both of our lifes. Might as well reward them a bit."
And that was how Jon joined an impromptu sleepover at a supernatural serial killers flat, drowned in cats and delightfully tipsy, because Mike insisted on drinking to not dying.
The next morning greeted them with more knocking, which was nearly drowned out by the screams of the cats begging for food. Mike shot him a tired look.
"I deal with the cats. You open the door. You only presumably killed one guy. I'm sure they won't shoot you on sight."
Jon really didn't think that logic was sound, but decided against arguing with Mike, who turned out to not be a morning person at all. Some of the cats came with him as he greeted Basira, who frowned at his entourage.
"I didn't know Mike Crew was secretly a cat lady."
"Ah no, that would be me."
"Right. That sounds more believable. I just came by to let you know that you're in the clear. Elias Bouchard is the murderer. We have evidence now."
"Cool." Came the nonplussed reply from behind Jon.
Both avatars (could Jon count himself as an avatar at this point?) stared the police woman down. Jon unsure how to either continue or end the conversation and Mike probably trying to glare her to death. By the looks of it Basira had suddenly developed a very bad case of vertigo.
She stood her ground, though, clearing her throat and staring right back. "Would you know where Daisy is? She came her to investigate yesterday and I didn't hear from her since."
Mike giggled, Jon sighed and the cats purred in triumph, looking smug. This did not reassure Basira in the slightest.
"Your feral mutt was making a racket outside my flat, Officer."
"She was shooting at the cats." Jon was still upset about that, bending down to cradle one of them against his chest. The good boy immediately began licking his chin to soothe him.
Basira just about held herself back from snarling at them, keeping her cold, professional mask in place. "And where is she now?"
Jon glanced over to Mike in question. The Avatar of the Vast grinned. "Enjoying a long skydiving trip!"
"I'd like to have her back, please. We'll need her to confront Elias."
"We?"
Basira shot him a glare. "Yes." There was no room for arguement there.
Jons shoulders slumped and Mike patted his head in faux sympathy. There was a scream from outside.
"There. Done. See you around Archivist. Send pictures not Cops."
"If I survive this." Jon grumbled, the cats trailing behind him as he left with officer Hussain.
Daisy met them halfway down the stairs and nearly lunged at Jon. Basira took the whole car ride to calm her down. A task that was made even harder by Jon, who was unconsciously bristling with static, still very much furious about Daisy trying to harm his babies. No matter how many times either of the women explained that they would never and that Daisy hadn't aimed at any of them, Jon could not be calmed. This was the only reason why Basira allowed him to take a huge orange tabby into the car.
Really.
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obxparadise · 4 years
Text
Last Friday Night
JJ Maybank x Reader 
Word count: 5,548
~A fic in which JJ helps you recount the memories of your wild Friday night~
Warning: Mentions of alcohol, weed, and implied sex.
A/N: This is my longest fic yet!! It’s a combination of a story and flashbacks. Flashbacks are in italics! I hope you enjoy it as much as I did. Leave a comment and reblog if you liked it :) I also recommend listening to Katy Perry’s “Last Friday Night” while reading :)
*Picture was found on Google. Credit to the owner.*
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~~~
There’s a stranger in my bed
There’s a pounding in my head
Glitter all over the room
Pink flamingos in the pool
I smell like a mini bar
DJ’s passed out in the yard
Barbie’s on the barbeque
This a hickey or a bruise?
Sunlight shines through the window curtains, brightening up what was once a dim room. Tired eyes squint against the light as you attempt to roll on your back, groaning as an unimaginable wave of discomfort shoots across your skull. Hands find their way to your head, kneading your temples to try and ease the pain of a growing headache. The heavy weight of your hangover keeps you from moving, although you desperately need a water and aspirin. Maybe something greasy too.
As your eyes flutter open slowly, they readjust to the light in the room. Heavy breaths leave your mouth, tongue darting out to wet your awfully dry lips. The rancid taste of liquor is still on your breath, and you decide the first thing you need before medicine is a toothbrush.
Movement beside you urges you to freeze in bed, heart beating quickly. Turning slowly to the side, your eyes meet with a pair of tired, baby blue eyes and a mop of messy blonde hair, sticking up in every which way. The image of the boy doesn’t register quickly enough in your head as you shriek, heaving him off the side of the bed, cringing when he lands on the hardwood floor with a thud. Whoops.
“Ow! What the hell was that for?”
Crawling to the other side, your heart stops when you realize who had been your bed mate. “JJ? What the fuck?”
Out of all the boys who could have been lying beside you, JJ Maybank was the very last one on the list of people you would have expected. Luckily for you, JJ was no stranger. Sure, he was more of your sister Sarah’s friend, as Sarah’s boyfriend John B was JJ’s best friend, so you didn’t mind him, but over the last week or so, you’d grown closer to the group, JJ especially. He was chill, funny, unpredictable. Extremely handsome, too.
“What the fuck me?” He asks incredulously, rubbing his now sore elbow. A tiny laugh escapes as you watch his brows furrow in confusion. “What the fuck you! Why did you push me?”
“JJ, what the hell were you doing in my bed?”
He stretches, bare, tanned abdomen exposed for your viewing pleasure. Well, you definitely could’ve been stuck with someone a lot worse. No complaints, though.
“Well, I was sleeping peacefully,” he grumbles, grabbing onto the end of the bed to pull himself up. Pink sparkles litter his body, and you watch in amusement as he vigorously attempts to brush them off. Eyes scanning the room, they land on a confetti cannon. And if you had to guess, Sarah replaced the confetti with glitter. Great.  “Oh, and by the way, you steal all the blankets in your sleep. I was freezing my balls off trying to wrestle them from you last night.”
Running a hand through your hair, which is somewhat damp and undoubtedly tangled thanks to alcohol, you try to connect the dots as JJ glances at you, lips curved, delight on his face. “What happened last night?”
How much did you have to drink that you couldn’t remember a single detail? To be completely hungover and forgetful the next morning is extremely unlike you, and if you were being honest with yourself, you were truly embarrassed.
“Only the best fucking night ever,” JJ grins, happily slapping your leg, giving it a squeeze. “I’ll tell ya, you and Sarah sure know how to throw a party. Best Friday night I’ve had in weeks.”
And that’s when it hits you. Your parents are out of town, your brother Rafe is away at a three-day golf tournament, and little sister Wheezie had spent the night with a friend.
Jumping out of bed, you run to the window and peel back the curtains. Your mouth drops in horror as you absorb the sight of your nearly destroyed backyard. Flamingo pool floats are crowding the pool, some full of air, and well, some had seen better days. Pong tables and plastic lawn chairs are flipped and broken. Red solo cups litter the patio, many still filled, others crushed and empty. Rubbing your temples, you cannot imagine how it could get any worse, but a dark figure between the bushes has you pressing your face against the screen, squinting to get a clearer look. For the love of God, the DJ is passed out in the grass. Is he dead? Shit.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
JJ appears beside you, looking over your shoulder. His eyes widen as he takes in the catastrophe that is your backyard. “Whew,” he whistles. “What a night.”
You elbow his ribs before stepping back, sucking in a breath as you realize how much cleaning you’ll have to do. Peeling off your clothes, you quickly change into a fresh pair of sweats and a cropped half tee shirt, making sure to throw on a few layers of deodorant after JJ’s teasing comment.
You catch him staring as you fix yourself in the mirror, smirking at a spot on your abdomen. Glancing back to the mirror, your mouth drops as your fingers brush over a deep red mark. “What is this? Where did this bruise come from?”  
You jump at JJ’s cool touch against your warm skin, and he smirks before pulling back. “That’s a hickey, Y/N.”
“A what?” Open palms slap against your forehead in disbelief. “From who?!”
The only thing JJ offers is narrowed eyes and a slight close-lipped smile.
“It was you!” The realization hits you like a freight train. “Oh my god. We fucking slept together didn’t we?”
JJ’s body shakes with laughter as you frantically search your body for more marks, exasperated sighs leaving your lips as you find a few more dotting your neck. Thank God you had just bought a new concealer because you were going to need it. “We spent the entire night together, Y/N. Do you really not remember anything?” He’s pouting, and his voice comes out almost…offended.
“Okay, you know what?” Throwing your hands in the air, you turn back to JJ, whose hands are clasped together in front of him. “I need to remember what happened last night. No more surprises.”
JJ cocks his head to the side. He considers you for a moment before hopping back into bed, patting the place next to him. Hesitantly, you join him in bed, unsure if you’re ready to recount one of the craziest nights of your life. “Where do you want to start?”
Pictures of last night
Ended up online
I’m screwed
Oh well
“Kiara Carrera!”
Squeezing your way through the various partygoers, a relieved sigh leaves your chest as you spot the feisty brunette sitting by the pool, legs dangling in the water as she listens to Pope ramble on about the season finale of The Walking Dead while simultaneously spinning in a pool float.
“What’s up?” Kie says, grinning as you bend down to hug her around the neck.
“Any chance I could borrow your Polaroid?” Right away, you see the hesitation in her brown eyes. She’s not stupid. Giving a drunk girl a camera probably wouldn’t be the best idea, but you’ve been known to be quite persuasive. “Aw, please Kie? I’ll take really good care of it, I promise.”
Sarah may have had problems with Kiara in the past, but there was never any bad blood between the two of you. Frankly, you’d been pissed when Sarah pushed Kie away. Her insecurities ruined a great friendship. Kiara had always been a good friend to your sister. It was nice to see them finally getting along again, now that Sarah and John B were officially together. I guess they really didn’t have a choice, but you knew them. Time would pass, and they would be thick as thieves again.
Kiara reaches into her bag and pulls out a light blue Polaroid camera, holding it out for you. Squealing, you eagerly take the camera, excited to document a night of memories. “Be careful with that thing. It’s brand new.”
Kiara rolls her eyes as you cradle the camera to your chest, rocking it like a child. The alcohol is finally settling in your system, so you squeeze the camera tight to your chest, saluting her before holding the camera to your eyes. “Pope, come in closer.”
He rests his arms on Kiara’s thighs, and they both flash a smile your way. Collecting the picture, you wait for it to appear on the printed film, smiling at the two happy faces. Hm. They’d make a pretty cute couple.
“Alright, I’ll be back!”
Kie and Pope send you off with a final wave as you begin snapping photos of people dancing, people drinking, people swimming. Sometimes memories fade, but with pictures, you could relive them, bring yourself back to that very moment.
Teenager years are the most important. It’s a time filled with adventure, embarrassment, growth, love, friendships. After high school, everyone goes their separate ways. It’s a part of life. Not everyone stays together. But the pictures would remind you of simpler times. Times when you were happy and carefree without a worry in the world. Times where you were surrounded by old friends. Times that would only be relived through photos.
~
The pictures are spread in front of you on the kitchen counter. Chin resting in your palm, you smile down at the photos, fingers delicately tracing the outline of the film as your body drunkenly sways to whatever song the DJ is playing in the yard. In one picture, Kiara is throwing up the peace sign while Sarah leans her elbow on Kie’s shoulder. Another shows Pope and John B, both curled in a cannon ball as they launch themselves into the pool. JJ and John B throw up the middle fingers in a third picture, and Sarah and Pope laugh at a drenched Kiara, who had alcohol spilled on her moments prior.
“Well these are pretty cool,” a voice slurs beside you. A ringed hand reaches out to touch the pictures, and you recognize the rough, bruised knuckles right away. “But there’s something missing.”
Hand on your waist, you stare up at JJ, brows raised. He leans his hip against the counter, hazy eyes trained on you as he lifts a beer to his lips, tongue slightly darting out to collect the excess. You don’t even want to know how much he’s already had to drink. “And what’s that?”
“You’re not in any of them,” He notes, motioning to the pictures. You follow his fingers as they point to each photo, and sure enough, you’re nowhere in sight.
“Huh. I guess I was so busy taking pictures of everyone else I forgot to include myself. Well then,” Grabbing the Polaroid from the counter, you hold it out in front of you. JJ watches you curiously until you nod your head toward the camera. “What are you waiting for? Get in the picture.”
He leans in close to you, his cheek centimeters from yours, hand resting gently on your hip. You smile brightly while JJ opts for a half smirk, his trademark.
“Do something silly,” You tell him, plucking the first photo from the camera. “Make me laugh.”
You joke with JJ the most out of all of Sarah’s friends. JJ’s sense of humor is unmatched, even when he’s not trying. He thinks for a moment, only briefly, before you feel his tongue flat against your cheek. It startles you but you laugh, a real, genuine laugh, just as your finger presses the shutter button.
The picture is perfect as you lie it alongside the others, gazing down at what would soon become mere memories. Head tilting to the side, you examine the photos as does JJ, and he speaks up, “We should date them.”
It’s as if he read your mind. Rummaging through the cabinets in your kitchen, you locate a black sharpie, pulling the cap off with your mouth before scribbling the date in the bottom left corner of each photo.
You smile triumphantly until JJ plucks the marker from your fingers, scrawling more words on the pictures of you and him. Grabbing the photo of JJ licking your cheek, which oddly enough was super attractive, you roll your eyes as you read the hashtag. “TGIF? Really, JJ? How old are you?”
“Thank god it’s Friday,” his smile is lazy and all you can do is shake your head and return the grin. “Come on,” JJ offers you his hand and you take it as he leads you through a swarm of people before you eventually find yourselves back in your yard. “Let’s get someone to take a group picture.”
You nod in agreement, clutching the camera to your chest, scanning the yard for the remainder of your friends. You spot them on the other side of the pool, Sarah and Kiara cheering loudly for John B and Pope, who are engaged in an intense game of one-on-one flip cup.
“Hold up, J, let me get a picture of this.” Glancing through the viewfinder, you shake your head as you find yourself to be too far away. Keeping the camera to your eye, you pace forward a few steps, oblivious to the circular pool float just inches from your feet.
“Y/N, watch out!” But Kie’s voice falls on deaf ears as you trip over the float, toppling into the water with her pristine Polaroid.
Resurfacing with a deep gasp, you rub the water from your eyes, blushing a deep red as laughter bubbles around you, but the only one with a sour expression on her face who is indeed not laughing, is Kiara.
Chuckling nervously, you hold up the drenched camera before shrugging. “Oops?”
~
“Oops?” You stare at JJ in astonishment, almost as if you don’t believe a word he’s saying. “I said oops?!”
You groan as JJ nods, burying your face in your palms. Kiara’s brand new, one-hundred-dollar camera and you just had to fall into the pool.
“God, how mad was she?”
JJ shrugs. “Eh, she was pissed for about ten minutes. But hey, she got her payback, though.” He wiggles his brows and you shrink back into the bed. “Do I even want to know how?”
“You didn’t see the Instagram pictures? Kie took them on her phone since you know, you killed her camera.” Heart hammering in your chest, you snatch JJ’s phone from his hand, mouth falling open as you scroll through and find Kiara’s Instagram, her latest post an assortment of pictures from the night before.
“Oh. My. God.”
Each picture of yourself made you squirm more than the previous as you scroll through, cringing in embarrassment. There were pictures of you with your tongue out, looking drunk and ridiculous. Pictures of you and JJ dancing on tables, flailing your arms dramatically, also made the post. Pictures of you puking in the grass and slumped over the toilet made the cut as well. And when you read the caption of the pictures, the bile rose to your throat.
“Thanks for ruining my Polaroid. #Revenge.”
Scrolling through the comments wasn’t the brightest idea either, as your eyes nearly rolled out of their sockets at the first two comments.
@rafecam19: So, this is what my sister does when no one’s home.
@wheeziebee: Wait, Sarah and Y/N had a party without me? Well, I know where these pictures are going. #momanddadsnewfavoritechild
“I am so screwed,” Your head hangs in shame, already picturing in your brain the tongue lashing from your parents when they find out. Grabbing JJ’s phone once more, you scroll to the picture of you two on top of the dining room table. Your back is pressed against his chest while his crotch is dangerously close to your ass, palm gripping your hip.  Cheeks heating, you turn the phone around, holding it out for JJ to see. “Okay, what the hell are we doing here?”
Last Friday Night
Yeah we danced on tabletops
And we took too many shots
Think we kissed but I forgot
“Y/N, you’re going to fall! Get down!” Sarah yells over the music, a beer in one hand while her other hand is firmly planted on her hip. Sarah, Pope, and JJ watch from below as you expertly climb onto the dining room table, careful not to spill the two shots in your hand.
Flashing your paranoid sister a smile, your body begins to sway to the music. Cheers are aimed your way, egging you on even more. “Oh, lighten up, Sar. Come up here and join me.”
“You’re insane,” Pope says, flashing Sarah a nervous look. “And very drunk, might I add.”
“Not drunk enough,” You answer, throwing back one of the shots. As soon as the liquid hits your tongue, you’re filled with a rush of energy.
“JJ, do something,” Sarah urges, shaking his shoulder to pull his attention from your body. You’d changed out of your wet clothes after the pool incident, and your body was now clad in tight jean shorts and a black off the shoulder shirt. The more he stared, the more he didn’t want to tear his eyes away. “Talk some sense into her.”
He watches you with a playful smirk before peering back at your sister. “I have a better idea.” Much to Sarah’s dismay, JJ gathers three more shots in his hands before heaving himself up onto the table, placing one of the shots in your hand. “For you, beautiful.” JJ winks and you gladly accept the shot, toning out your sister’s pleas. The shot glasses clink together before you and JJ down the liquid. JJ finishes the last two before chucking them to Pope, who has difficulty catching them, as he’s not the most coordinated of the bunch. Too much time on the math team does that to a man.
The music changes from rap to throwbacks, and the crowd of teenagers flooding your house erupt into loud cheers as they recognize some of the songs from their childhood. “Last Friday Night” blasts through the DJ’s speakers, and even Sarah, originally annoyed with your shenanigans, eases up and pulls Kiara and Pope away to dance.
You’re left alone with JJ who is trying his damn hardest to dance smoothly and not make a fool of himself. You laugh heartily at his amateur dance moves before moving closer to him, gripping his wrists to steady yourself. You turn yourself in his arms, jumping slightly as his hands grip your hips, lightly squeezing.  He’s gentle with you now as your bodies tangle together, his lips calmly brushing your neck, and it’s a different side of him. While most of the time he’s calm, you haven’t been around JJ enough to see him let loose. The alcohol definitely helps.
His lips brush against your ear, sending a slight quiver through your body. “Is this okay?”
The feel of his front side against your backside, his hands on your body, rubbing, squeezing, and his lips dusting against your neck, jaw, ears, it’s exquisite. Blood rushes throughout your body, down your legs, up your arms, through your cheeks, in your head, and the sound of it pumping blocks out the surrounding noise. You’re the only two people in the room. At least, it feels that way.
Before your brain has time to process your body’s actions, you face JJ in his arms, hands on either side of his neck. His lips are parted slightly, breathing even, and his eyes are calculated, focused, scanning your face.
“You’re not seeing anyone, right?”
The air around you is thick, almost restricting your breaths, but JJ remains collected, eyes steady on your face. One hand situates on your hip while the other rests easily on your back. “Fuck no,” he breathes. “I only see you, baby.”
“Thank God.”
You lean in the same time JJ pushes forward, lips finally connecting in a soft but urgent kiss. Does time stop? It feels like it. And there’s no way this is your imagination, either. Weak knees, fluttering heartbeat, small gasps for air, rosy cheeks. All products of a real, sensual kiss.
JJ controls the kiss. He captivates you, and you go along with the feel of his lips, letting him guide you. The light strokes of his fingers on your back are a reassurance. Reassurance that the kiss is genuine. Reassurance that you’re safe with him. Reassurance that he wants this just as much as you do.
The adrenaline pulses within your veins.
His tongue brushes against yours.
Your head spins.
It feels like you’re floating.
You want it to last forever.
A low whistle breaks the kiss and you’re reluctant to pull away. “Shit, bro,” The voice belongs to John B who stands below you, staring with upstretched eyebrows. You’re still perched in JJ’s arms, steadying your breathing, coming down from the high. “Didn’t expect that.”
“Get out of here, man,” JJ bends down, hand slapping the backside of JB’s head. John B flinches, careful not to spill the two solo cups in his hands, before sending a wink your way. “Get a room.”
~
You blink rapidly, almost as if you can’t believe the story JJ is telling you. He watches your puzzled expression, waving his hand in front of your face. “Earth to Y/N. You okay?”
“I’m…yeah,” you breathe out quickly, fidgeting with your fingers. Your eyes scan JJ’s face, eventually falling on his mouth, and your own lips tingle. You can almost feel his lips on yours.
“So that’s how we ended up having sex,” You finally begin to connect the pieces of the puzzle, blushing deeply when JJ howls with laughter. “No, not exactly. Well, I mean, we did fuck, but not until later. Twice, might I add.”
“Twice?!” It comes out as a screech. Dragging a hand through your hair, your eyes dart to the floor, unable to look JJ in the eye. “When was the first time?”
Last Friday Night
We went streaking in the park
Skinny dipping in the dark
“Aw, not this fucking game,” JJ whines, pulling up a chair beside Pope, blunt hanging from the corner of his mouth. The party has settled down a bit, but many drunk teens are still going, laughing, dancing, and chatting up a storm. Off to the side in the lawn, your friends are gathered in chairs, each with a unique smile on their faces. After three hours, they’re all either drunk, high, or both.
You grab a chair for yourself, but JJ’s voice catches you off guard, halting your movements. “Uh uh, princess,” When he rubs his thighs, John B hollers with laughter. “You can sit right here.”
His tone is raspy, almost as if he’s challenging you, waiting to see how you react. The electricity between you is crackling strong, and it pulls you toward him until you’re comfortably settled in his lap.
Kiara clears her throat. “Okay so I don’t know what that is,” her finger points in your direction and your body tenses up from the feeling of numerous sets of eyes on you and JJ, “But don’t let it distract you from the fact that Pope still hasn’t told us when his first kiss was.”
You silently thank Kie for bringing the attention back to the game. Pope whines childishly, taking another sip of beer for courage. “Fine, fine, if I must.” He glances around the circle sheepishly, sighing, “My first kiss was the end of sophomore year.”
“No way.”
“Shut up!
“That late?”
“Pfft. Prude.”
“Alright, alright, relax,” Pope’s hands fly up in defense. “John B, truth or dare.”
“Easy. Dare.”
Pope thinks hard for a moment, and then the lightbulb goes off. “I dare you to go streaking around the yard.”
You stifle your laugh as John B’s face scrunches together. “Aw, come on man! Have some respect, my girlfriend’s here. I don’t want anyone else seeing my balls.”
“Hold ‘em,” JJ pipes up. “They’re small anyway, wouldn’t be covering much.”
John B flips off JJ before quietly cursing Pope to hell. Placing his beer on the ground, JB sheds his clothes, cheeks reddening as he shields himself from wandering eyes.
Your yard is big, spacious, and it takes JB a full two minutes to run around the backyard, weaving in and out of trees and bushes. Some are recording, like JJ and Kiara, while others like you, Pope and Sarah, try (and fail) to contain your laughter.
John B’s cheeks are flushed red as he stumbles back over to your group, and you desperately try to hide your laughter as JJ replays the video.
“Think that was funny, Y/N?” John B asks, pulling his clothes back on. He settles back into his chair and takes a long swig of beer. “No worries. I have one for you. Truth or dare?”
Normally you’d opt for truth, but tonight is different. You’re feeling bold. “Dare.”
He doesn’t even need to think. “You still have that hot tub on the deck, right?”
You nod, curious as to where he’s going with this.
“I dare you to go skinny dipping in the hot tub.”
“That’s it?” You ask, shocked your dare wasn’t anything raunchy. “I mean, that’s a pretty easy dar-“
“With JJ.”
You freeze.
And suddenly, you feel sober, although your BAC levels suggest otherwise.
“Damn you got her good,” Sarah mutters, supplying her boyfriend with a high five. “She won’t do it, though.”
“Oh, no shot,” Kie agrees with a nod.
JJ shifts underneath you, hand brushing your hair from your ears as he leans in to whisper, “What do you say, baby girl?”
That fuels you. Determined, you stand in front of the group, fingers going to the hem of your top, pulling it over your head, and tossing it to the ground.
Left in only your bra and the tiny shorts that barely cover your ass, you direct your eyes to JJ, smirking at the shit eating grin plastered on his face. “You coming?”
~
You danced with him. No problem.
You drank with him. No problem.
You kissed him. No problem.
Getting naked with him? Problem.
The lights on the deck are dim, hiding the bright color on your cheeks. The jets in the hot tub whirl beside you, taunting you, screaming at you to complete the dare.
Opposite you on the other side of the hot tub, JJ stands coolly, eyes drooping, lazy smile, taking long drags of his blunt. You watch as his lips form an ‘o’, blowing the smoke into the air. He’s calm, and you want that same tranquility.
He smirks as you pluck the blunt from his fingers, taking a long drag yourself. You feel dizzy, lightheaded, and cough out a puff of smoke.
“Easy, princess,” He cocks a brow, studying you. “Nervous?”
It’s amazing how quickly alcohol fucks with your emotions. One minute, you’re having the time of your life, dancing and kissing a boy way out of your league. And then a minute later, you can barely look at him. “Little bit.”
JJ takes another pull. “Tell you what. You turn around and I’ll change first. Then when I’m in the tub, I’ll turn around so you can change.”
You agree and turn your back to him, providing him with privacy although your head is screaming at you to sneak a peek. A splash in the tub has you turning around, swallowing as JJ rests his arms on the outside, blunt hanging from his smile. He’s effortlessly sexy, and you’ll make sure to thank JB later for the dare.
He winks before turning around slightly, awarding you with the same privacy you supplied him. Your shorts go first, then your thong, followed by your bra. Breathing deeply, you cross your arms over your breasts, thankful that JJ couldn’t see.
But unbeknownst to you, JJ had turned back around. “Sweet ass.”
Yelping, you struggle to cover yourself as JJ chuckles, holding up his arms to block the water as you tumble your way into the hot tub, letting the water shield your body. “Shit, JJ. You weren’t supposed to turn around!”
“And you thought I’d listen, why?”
Rolling your eyes, you settle deeper into the steaming water, moaning slightly as the jets massage your back. Across from you, JJ observes you with a smile. “You don’t need to be shy around me, you know. We’re friends, after all.”
“I’m not shy.”
JJ snickers. “Please. You don’t think I notice how your body tenses up whenever I’m close to you? You think I don’t see when your cheeks get that little pink color when I look at you?” His head hangs, tilted to the side, blunt held between his thumb and forefinger., lowering his voice. “You think I don’t know how much you wanted to kiss me tonight?”  
There’s no way he can read you that easily, so you play it off. “Alcohol changes a person.”
His grin irritates you. He doesn’t believe you. Why doesn’t he believe you?
Drawing in a breath, you decide to go for it. You swim over to him, watching as his eyes widen, now alert, and climb into his lap, palms flat against his tanned chest. One hand goes to your hip, holding you in place. “What are you doing?”
“I’m not shy,” you repeat, brushing your lips over his. JJ’s chest rises and falls with harsh breaths, and for a second, you believe you misread the signals. He takes a quick pull of the blunt and you cover his mouth with your own, dragging the smoke back into your mouth, titling your head back, releasing it into the air.
“Fuck, that was hot.”
The blunt, now finished, falls from JJ’s fingers as his hand slides around to the back of your neck, pulling you in, kissing you hard. Your mouths mesh together, igniting a fire in your bones. Fingertips dig into his flesh, marking him. JJ’s hand on your waist pushes you further against him, impossibly close to his skin.
The sound of your heart is loud in your ears as you try to focus on moving your lips in sync. JJ’s hands roam your body, squeezing your hips, the curve of your ass. His fingers dance over your neck, your throat, and down the center of your breasts.  
The tip of his dick rubs against the inside of your thigh, causing your mouth to open slightly. JJ takes advantage of the opportunity, slipping his tongue in your mouth, exploring, claiming.
You find yourself not wanting to stop. All of the nerves leave your body with each kiss JJ presses to your swollen lips. He’s hungry for more and so are you, but for something different.
He freezes when your hand disappears beneath the water, gripping his length in your palm. His wrist flies to your hand, stopping you, as his other hand runs through his hair, considering. “Listen, princess, as much as I really want to do this, I don’t think--.”
A finger to his mouth cuts him off, a sly smile playing on your lips as you shake his hand from yours. You reposition yourself over him, breasts peeking out from the water, as you slowly sink yourself down onto him.
With every groan that leaves his lips, and with each new swirl of your hips, you feel waves of confidence wash over your body. You’re drunk, he’s high, and you both feel alive.
This Friday night
Do it all again
The ceiling in your room distracts you from JJ’s face, which, if you know anything about him, has a wide grin on it. Heat bubbles in your chest as you replay the story in your head, ignoring JJ’s teasing comments about the color rising in your cheeks.
Sitting up abruptly, you turn to face him. He’s leaned back on your pillows, arms behind his head. “After that, we fucked right here,” JJ pats the bed proudly. “And that, baby girl, was your Friday night.”
Well, it could have gone much worse.  
“Sounds like I embarrassed the ever-loving fuck out of myself.”
JJ laughs, holding out his arms. You send him a look before complying, hooking your leg over his waist, resting your head against his bare chest. His one arm lazily wraps around you, the free hand skimming over the skin on your thigh.
“I am never having another party ever again.”
JJ cringes. “Yeah, about that…you might want to check your phone.”
You snatch it from the night stand, crossing an arm over your chest as you read messages from a very large group chat. “JJ…why’s everyone talking about a party?”
But he doesn’t get the chance to answer as you scroll to the very top, phone falling between your legs as you read the message you drunkenly sent before you passed out at three in the morning.
Party at our house this Friday night! Let’s do it again, bitches.
You stare at JJ, palms flat against your head as he falls off the bed in laughter.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
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