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thenakedgingerwrites · 3 years

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Gullible Mike

AN: I’ve had a few prompts on my notepad for years that I haven’t fleshed out and finally got into a creative and horny mood today. Prompt below. I welcome any other authors to take it and run with it to make their own variation on the simple idea. I ended up having the POV be the controller but I think my original prompt idea was that the POV would be controlled. If you use the prompt shoot me a message so I can enjoy your mischievous minds :)

Prompt: “Photo or video gets found of a friend and he has to convince his friend it’s not him by getting naked.”

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The hypnosis show me and some buddies went to a few weeks ago was pretty fun. A few of us had been called up on stage and while it didn’t appear to work on a few invited volunteers, it had certainly worked on Mike.

His instruction was pretty simple: to be incredibly gullible. The hypnotist lady had then gotten him into a number of funny situations by proving just how gullible he was. He had offered a bunch of money to random members of the audience since it was obviously illegal to have more than $2 in your wallet at any time. He talked like a baby to anyone who claimed they were a parent because that was the polite thing to do. And lastly, he had taken off his jeans because the hypnotist thought they were on fire!

The show wasn’t x-rated or anything, so it stopped there, but it was pretty funny to see Mike hopping around on stage in his boxer briefs and polo. The audience’s wolf whistles agreed. Before a heckler’s shout of “I think your underwear’s on fire too!” she had put him back under.

It wasn’t until a few days later that it became apparent to me that Mike was still under this ‘gullible’ command. We had been hanging out just the two of us and watching the Packers v. Steelers game and he was going on and on about how Roethlisberger was going to wipe the field with my team. I jokingly said something like “since you’re clearly in love with him, a good luck kiss might go a long way.”

He somewhat seriously asked me, “you think so?” I figured we were still just razzing each other and so I responded, “Oh for sure. If you plant a big one on the TV when he’s on screen I’m positive that’ll make sure the Steelers win.”

Mike just sat there with a curious face as we continued to watch the game. I thought it was just a weird interaction until the camera zoomed in on Roethlisberger between downs. Mike nearly sprinted to the TV and kissed the image of Ben. “Good luck Ben!” he said, somewhat seductively.

I burst out laughing thinking he was still just trying to be funny. He looked back at me and said, “we’ll see who’s laughing at the end of the game.”

I rolled my eyes and got us another round of beers, but these bizarre actions continued. All through the game anytime Ben was shown on screen, Mike would run up and kiss the TV. Luckily we were at his place so I didn’t care about the lip marks and saliva streaks on the screen but I was flabbergasted. What the fuck was wrong with him?

And then I remembered the hypnotist.

It clicked that Mike was clearly still under the command she had given him. I wasn’t sure what to do about it though. I remembered the bar she had performed at so maybe I could call them to get in contact with her and have her reverse this thing.

Then the Steelers scored and he gloated to me that my team was gonna lose because I didn’t have as much team spirit and loyalty like he did.

“You haven’t kissed Rodgers once and you call yourself a fan? You should be ashamed.”

Really, Mike? That’s how you’re gonna act?

“Well at least I’m not kissing him wrong unlike you. What you’re doing is far more disrespectful. I bet they lose the game since you’re doing it so wrong.”

Mike looked worried, “what do you mean?”

“Everyone knows you don’t fucking kiss the quarterback like it’s your grandma or something. I haven’t seen tongue once this whole game. And your silent ass kiss is probably gonna make him miss every throw from this point on.”

Mike was wide eyed. I wagered that in his warped mind now he thought HE would be responsible if they lost. He looked to the TV in terror. Serendipitously, he actually did botch the pass in the next play. Honestly it was more good defense from the Packers end and less-so a poor throw from Roethlisberger but to Mike, that was the confirmation he needed.

The camera zoomed in on Ben cursing inaudibly and Mike went to work. He was fucking making out with the screen, tongue and all, and moaning a ton. He even ran one of his hands up the screen like he was caressing the dude.

I was filled with mixed emotions. I felt bad that I was taking advantage of the situation, I felt ecstatic because this shit was hilarious and I couldn’t wait to tell the guys, and, scarily, I felt turned on watching him make out with 2D Ben Roethlisberger and moaning louder and louder.

The tent in my gym shorts told me I was feeling the third emotion more than anything else.

We were close to the end of the game and I wasn’t pleased that the Packers had lost but for the first time in my life I didn’t care. The day had made a turn and seeing Mike in this way was a treat I didn’t know I wanted.

He continued to berate me for not caring about the Packers as much as he cared about the Steelers which was an argument I let him win. I was still a bit in a state of shock.

I finished my beer and needed to get home. As I was getting ready to leave, I decided to try something. It was dumb, but at that point I was still thinking with the hard dick in my shorts.

“Alright, Mike, I need to head out.”

“Sounds good Matt. Sorry, I made your team lose. Not!”

I rolled my eyes again, “yeah, well maybe next time I’ll try my own good luck charm.”

He raised his eyes, “What’s that!?”

“Well I’m not going to give you any secrets to let your team keep winning against mine.”

“Ah, fuck you Matt. We’ll win no matter what.”

“Sure, sure. Anyway, should we do the kiss now?”

He looked at me confused and took a step back. “The what now?”

“You know, the goodbye kiss.”

He still looked at me like I was crazy. I started to get nervous but doubled down, hoping it would work.

“When two friends watch a game together, they have to kiss after it’s over to show there’s no hard feelings. Have you honestly never heard of that rule?”

He shook his head, “No I… I guess I haven’t. I’m sorry, Matt.”

“Shit, I hope you haven’t pissed off any of your other friends.”

I could see panic in his eyes as he thought through how many times he had botched this gentleman’s rule before.

“It’s probably fine, Mike,” I assured him. “You didn’t know. I’m sure no harm done.”

“Fuck. I hope so.” He looked up at me, “Well I won’t fuck up from now on, that’s for sure!”

He walked up to me and kissed me.

It was so quick and I was on cloud nine with the realization that it had worked that I just stood there for a second.

He looked at me curiously and asked, “We good?” I blinked away my shock to continue the game, “Is that how you kissed Roethlisberger? I thought we were actually friends, dude.”

“Oh, shit sorry!”

I didn’t even need to coach him on what I wanted. He leaned back in and planted his lips on mine but this time, began to invade my mouth with his tongue. As he did he rubbed my back and began to moan. This time, I kissed back.

My arms also stroked up and down the small of his back and I even risked a single rub down onto his butt. Man, was it hot. If he felt my boner pressing up against his thigh, Mike didn’t say anything.

We kissed hot and heavy like this for a good 30 seconds before he broke away.

“Sorry, Matt. I’ll be sure to give a proper kiss moving forward.”

“Yeah… Yeah.”

I was at a loss for words.

I should leave.

I should.

I didn’t.

I’m not sure why it came to mind but I was running on autopilot at this stage controlled entirely by the dick in my shorts. I wouldn’t identify as gay or really even bi, but I had been curious for a bit what it would be like to be with another guy. Mostly like a morbid curiosity or something, but now that there was a real opportunity on the table, with someone I trusted and who was pretty freaking hot, I couldn’t resist the temptation to get it out of my system.

“Oh fuck, dude.”

I looked down at my phone as I exclaimed that.

Mike looked at me, “What’s up? Everything okay?”

“I think your ex leaked dick pics of you.”

“What?!” Mike shouted and ran over to my phone to try and get a look.

I hid my phone from him quickly and covered myself by saying “wait, Mike. You don’t want to look at these in case it’s not actually your dick. That would make you gay if you did.”

He quickly backed off, “I’m not gay!”

“Right, right. Me either. But I didn’t have a choice, I had to look at them but you don’t have to.”

“Okay, yeah. How the fuck would she have done that though? I don’t remember her even taking them!”

“I’m not sure, Mike,” I said. “Maybe she took them when you weren’t paying attention.”

“Fuck, are you sure it’s me?” he asked nervously.

Gotcha.

“Well, I’m not sure. The only way I could know for sure would be to see your dick to compare.”

Mike looked confused, “Well that would be pretty gay dude. I don’t want you looking at my junk and I’m sure you don’t either.”

“Well of course not, but chances are I’m already looking at it right now. But I’m willing to do this as a friend, and that wouldn’t be gay. And if it’s not actually your dick then you don’t have to worry. If it is, we should report them and try and get them taken down.”

“Fuck. Fuck! I don’t want dick pics of me out there on the internet!”

“I know! Think about if your work found them, or your family! That would be so embarrassing!”

“Shit shit shit.” Mike was freaking out. “Okay… Okay, are you sure you don’t mind helping me out?”

“As a friend, I have to do everything in my power to confirm whether these pics are of you or not.”

“You’re such a good friend, Matt. I’m sorry you’re in this position though.”

Oh, no worries.

Mike hesitantly started to undo the button on his cargo shorts. He didn’t strip in any sort of sexy way but a second later his cargo shorts hit the ground. I was staring at a similar image as last week: Mike standing there with nothing but a shirt and underwear. This time though, his hands were reaching for the waistband.

“I’m sorry,” he said to me one more time.

I went to say ‘no problem’ but got caught off by the shucking of his boxer briefs. As he stood back up I finally got to see it. The whole package.

Mike clearly didn’t manscape much and honestly neither did I, but that didn’t hide what he was packing. His soft cock was cut like my own and pretty thick. I knew not to judge a guy based on his softie but wagered he was large. And as a double bonus the balls below, while tight to his body, looked pretty big too.

I stared.

“Well?” Mike asked me cautiously with his palms extended, miming ‘what do you think?’

“I… I’m not sure.”

“What do you mean?” he asked me.

“Well, Mike, this is awkward… but the photos here are of a hard dick. It’s difficult to know for sure if this is you or not comparing the two.”

“Fuck man! What are we gonna do?”

“I’m not sure,” I replied.

I wanted him to come up with the solution. Somehow that made me feel less like a terrible person and friend.

“I hate to ask…” he started. “But, would you be willing to look at my stuff if I went and got a boner?”

“Man, Mike… I mean. Like I said, as a friend I basically have to. It’s my duty, as everyone knows. So yeah, I’ll compare your boner to the pictures.”

He sighed in relief. “You’re the best, Matt.”

He looked around, “I’m not sure if I’ll be able to get it up though given the situation…”

Time to test this hypnosis. I planted a seed. “Well, I heard that in this situation I’m supposed to be the one to get you hard.”

“What? Where did you hear that?”

“Greg, my buddy from work, told me a year or so ago. This same thing had happened to a friend of his.”

“Fuck, really?”

“Yeah,” I said. “And I asked him if that was gay or anything.”

“That’s what I was wondering too.”

Mike was falling perfectly into my made up scenario. “Yeah, but Greg assured me that it isn’t. Literally anything I have to do to make sure you’re good isn’t gay. It’s just being a good friend. But he told me that his friend couldn’t get himself hard because boners look different when you get it up versus when someone else does.”

“Really, I’ve never noticed before.”

“Me either, but I guess that’s because I don’t really notice dicks, you know?”

He nodded his head eagerly. “Right, right.”

“So, I guess, I’ll have to get you hard. That’s like the only way I’ll be able to tell for sure.”

“Damn. I’m so sorry, Matt.”

“Honestly, don’t worry about apologizing. I’m just happy I can hopeful help to confirm you have nothing to worry about with these photos.”

“Thanks man!”

He looked around the room a bit awkwardly. “Should we uh.. Sit down or something?”

I pointed to the couch. “Yeah, why don’t you sit there.”

He did as instructed and spread his legs out. He hadn’t bothered to cover up at all this whole time and as he sat down and reclined a bit, his soft dick fell to one side of his thighs.

I timidly knelt down in front of him. He watched me. Now just inches from me was the first dick I had really ever seen up close besides my own. Gym showers don’t really count. This was entirely different.

I reached my hand out. I was no longer nervous that I would get caught or something because it was clear I could do anything with Gullible Mike at this point. I was just nervous about how much I was going to like this.

My fingers touched flesh. The soft skin of Mike’s cock was warm and spongey. I sort of just played with it in my finger tips for a few moments before palming it. As I started my slow strokes to bring Mike Jr. to life, I looked up at Mike Sr.

He was watching but was clearly embarrassed. He was blushing profusely. I probably could have spared him with some command, but I decided against it. It was fun to watch him squirm a bit.

He slowly began to inflate and as he did I took note of his balls with my other hand. They were indeed large. Larger than mine at least. Mike clearly didn’t shave them but there wasn’t much hair. Mostly up near where they met his body. I lightly massaged them, earning me the first moan from Mike.

He had leaned his head back, no longer watching the action. Perhaps he was imagining some girl doing this to him. Perhaps he was just enjoying the experience as much as I was.

My hand was now grasping onto firm meat. His cock was at full mast. Finally I had him beat somewhere. His dick was probably only about 6 inches hard, maybe a little smaller actually. However, he still had me beat in girth. I continued to stroke him for a bit when Mike finally spoke up.

“I think I’m fully hard now. Can you tell if the pics are of my dick or not?”

I pulled out my phone, letting his dick fall back onto his belly with an audible ‘smack.’ I pretended to compare the imaginary pics up against his dick.

“Hm, mind if I take some photos of the same angle so I can compare them side by side?”

“Umm…” he bit his lip.

“I’ll delete them obviously.”

“Oh yeah, sorry, that’s fine.”

I took a myriad of photos for my own personal entertainment. Some close up, some showing all of Mike including his face which was still flushed. I even took a secret video of me holding his dick upright and stroking it a bit.

“So, I’m feeling more confident that it may not be your dick.”

“Oh thank god!”

“But, there’s a few things that are still off.”

Mike was worried again, “like what?”

“Well… the photos of the dick are kind of… wet.”

“Wet?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Like, your ex had just given you a blowjob or something.”

“Fuck. Is there that much of a difference with a bit of saliva on it?”

“Surprisingly yeah. It’s hard for me to know for sure. Unless…”

“Unless you…?” He asked.

I feigned hesitation. “I think I have to blow you.”

“Matt, no, that’s too much. I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“Mike, you don’t have to. You’re one of my best friends.”

“Seriously, Matt. I’d rather just have my dick pics leaked. I would feel so bad asking you to do that for me.”

“No, I’ve made up my mind. This is for you, Mike!”

Without letting him try and talk me out of it, I brought his dick to my mouth.

“Oh fuck! Mmmm” Mike no longer protested.

Being the first blowjob I’d ever given, I didn’t get much in at first. Maybe two inches of his thick cock. But as I continued to bob on it, I got past the halfway point.

Mike’s dick tasted great. There was a fleshy, salty taste that I’d expect from skin like when I’ve licked my fingers in the past after getting food on them or something. But there was also an extra flavor that I realized must be his pre.

In under a minute, Mike was moaning loudly. He even placed a hand on the back of my head. Not forcing me down his dick or anything, but he kindly rubbed and played with my hair as I sucked him.

I hate to admit it, but I loved it. I don’t think I could say I wasn’t bi anymore.

I continued to nearly gag on his thick tool when he interrupted me to say, “Matt, I think you should stop. If you go any further I might fucking cum.”

I stopped to look up at him and deliver my last line, “I didn’t want to mention this, but the pics also had a video of the dick cumming. I think that’s the only way I’ll know for sure.”

“Matt…”

Mike was fully flushed both from the seemingly great blowjob I had been giving but also the idea that he was asking his friend to make him cum. He was so embarrassed.

“You don’t have to ask me, Mike. I want to. You’d make me into a bad friend if you didn’t let me.”

“Well, you are a great friend.”

“So it’s settled.”

I went back to work.

“Fuck, Matt…”

It honestly didn’t take long. I hadn’t gotten to the point where I could take his whole dick in my throat; I’m not sure how gay guys do it. But I got probably 4 or 5 inches down when I felt his ball sac start to tighten up.

“Matt, I’m gonna cum.”

I wanted to taste it but I also got a little gun shy and scared. This was maybe too much for my first gay experience. I released his dick from my mouth and began to stroke him instead. Eight strokes later, his thighs flexed and he grunted.

Mike wasn’t a shooter like myself but fuck did he cum a lot. The first spurt actually shot out a couple inches onto his abs. The next four were just gushes that flowed out and down his dick onto my hand but it was a ton. Then he dribbled more and more for a minute or so as I continued to stroke his slowly deflating cock.

“Wow, Mike. That’s a lot of cum.”

“Haha, thanks. I feel terrible for putting you through this though. I’m a fucking asshole.”

“No you’re not! And, now that I’ve seen you cum, I’m positive these dick pics aren’t of you.”

“Really?!”

He shot up in excitement which caused his semi-hard dick, covered in cum, hit me the face. I fell back in shock and he quickly knelt down to make sure I was okay.

“Shit, sorry Matt! Oh fuck, I got my cum on your face.”

I could feel the warm liquid on my cheek and bit on my mouth.

“Well you know what they say,” I said with a laugh.

“What?”

“You know, ‘if you get cum on a guy’s face, you have to clean it off with your tongue.’”

“Shit, I had no idea. Matt you seem to know so much.”

“Oh I do. I’ll be sure to keep teaching you.”

We shared a laugh before he leaned in.

#hypnosis #aware #tricked

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moth-based-cryptology · 3 years

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HELLO BESTIE I am currently having Ralbert Brainrot and you're the best person go come to for this, obviously,, so PLEASE share! I would like to hear about ufc albert or youtuber race, or dancing partners!! I love them smm

HI YES HELLO USING THIS AS AN EXCUSE TO WRITE UFC FIGHTER AL PART 2 THANKS BABES

i just witnessed a literal crime and i’m Feeling The Rage (boxing judges at mma events can catch these hands) so here is. my brain on anger.

also the first half of this is pretty fight-talk heavy but the second half is more al/ralbert central so message me/send me an ask if i don’t explain something well enough <3

here is the ask i sent to @we-are-inevitable (thanks jac i’m in love with you mwah) and here is part 1 for this au if you haven’t read that one yet !!

also,,,,, this is fairly obvious. but trigger warning for violence/physical fighting, as well as blood. (it’s a rough gig y’all fjdhdb) oh and swearing but that’s pretty much just me LMAO

here i am, bein mad and writing ralbert. therapy time with chandler ig

OK SO

this is after his debut. duh. continuation

i think he’s probably 5 fights in with 5 wins. he’s been running people through, especially with four full camps after a short notice start, and he’s never even seen a decision in the ufc

let’s just say the hype train is moving FAST and it’s moving LOUD

everyone has to have those people that watch their fights just to see them lose, on top of the majority male fan base that have to have a little bit of toxic masculinity and homophobia in there

so there’s A LOT of people that are waiting for him and his hype train to get derailed. but there’s also a fair amount of fans, so you win some you lose some (the way i would die to see this be a real fighter pls)

now albert’s not always the most confident guy, and he’s never been cocky, but none of this shit gets to him. he’s got his coaches, he’s got his friends and he’s got race behind him. he knows he’s got the skills, and he’s got his support system, so who gives a shit what a bunch of cowards on the internet have to say?

and then they put him against someone known for his grappling and stamina. and the “it’s a wrap for dasilva!” bandwagon starts. it happens every time a rising striker and early knockout artist fights a well known grappler with any semblance of later round power (even if al has a background in wrestling and has gone 5 rounds and won outside of the ufc. it’s a bandwagon for a reason)

and it’s not Upsetting, it’s not really getting into his head in any way that’ll make him do worse, but it’s kinda pissing him off. which is bad for his opponent

the last person on earth you want to be fighting is an annoyed albert dasilva who thinks he has something to prove

he works his ass off in camp, and the press tour is a self-assured albert vs. a loudmouth who thinks he’s hot shit cause a few people on twitter think he’ll sweep

and, to be completely honest? it’s starting to look that way 2 rounds in.

it’s a 5 round fight, co-main event on a big card, and so far all al’s opponent has done is pinned him to the cage and kept him there. a few strikes worth anything - at least enough make al’s cheek bleed, no takedowns, which would at least give him some activity, and so submission attempts, so he can’t even gain any ground that way. he’s just- Stuck. and if THIS is how he loses, he’s gonna be pissed

the bell for the second round sounds, and you can actually see al’s chest heaving on camera as he walks to his corner - not because he’s tired or out of breath, but because he’s MAD, and fuck if he’s not going to do something about it

not only that, but he can not only see race and jack standing up by the cage - plus race’s expression, which is slightly annoyed and super anxious, which hurts his chest to think about - but he can hear them too

jack is yelling profanities, as per usual. he doesn’t that regardless of how the fight is going, but it’s less encouraging when you’re the one losing.

race though,,,, race isn’t really yelling, he’s more talking to himself than anything, but he’s close enough to cage and al knows him well enough to figure out what he’s saying. and if the muttered almost-prayers while he paces back and forth weren’t enough, the shiny gold engagement ring on race’s hand definitely is

round 3,,,, let’s just say it goes a little differently than the first 2 had gone.

he opens with a spinning back kick, of all fucking things, and that truly sets the pace

he’s the taller guy by a few inches, like usual, which makes his arms longer. the only reason crushing his against the cage worked is cause the guy he’s fighting cuts weight like a wrestler, so he’s easily got 20 pounds on albert come fight night

but once he finds his rhythm and starts throwing, he starts connecting too. he manages to stay out of range of his opponent and stay his comfortable distance to start t-ing off

this isn’t a one punch power ending. this isn’t a beautiful head kick, or a giant knee, or even just a clean right hook.

this is albert, who’s arms are starting to feel the 3rd round a little bit, hitting this guy with everything he has cause he refuses to lose this fight.

i mean- everyone watched him get up at the start of the round with a set jaw and a scary determined glint in his eye. he’s not a person you fuck with, and he’s definitely not a person you publicly ridicule before being locked in a cage to fight with

the guy he’s fighting is absolutely battered, but he manages to survive until round 4. the first of the championship rounds, something al’s never seen in a ufc fight before, and it feels like the arena is holding its breath

so when al comes out and does the same thing as round 3 to better results - fight ending results - everyone’s a little shocked, honestly

the commentary team’s in disbelief, cause albert is NOT a slow starter, regardless of what this fight would tell you, and the fact he managed a win at all, let alone such a phenomenal one, is fucking astounding

he gets his hand raised, obviously, but the really interesting part is the post fight interview

“albert, man, what changed between round 2 and 3? what second gear did you find?”

“bro, i just— it was pissing me off, honestly. i don’t come in here to get pinned down for 25 minutes. and, y’know, my team gave me good advice. i had all the pieces, straight from the jump, someone just had to force me to put them in place…”

and then he looks over at race, who gives al one of those half grin, half smirks and winks at him, and al just chuckles to himself and finishes answering the question

“the thing that really forced my hand is race. i won’t get cheesy on you, but watching someone who loves and supports you through everything panic cause he’s scared for you - it’s a big motivator. everyone would figure out a lot more of my motivations if they went and watched race’s expressions back instead of whatever the hell i’m doing in here. he’s always been the brains, i’m just the brawn.”

and that’s a better answer than anyone was expecting, plus he’s just had the fight of a lifetime that’s probably earned him a title shot, so he’s done soon after that and gets to have his little in-cage celebration

he hugs his team and jack, who razzes him a little bit as per usual, and makes some dumb quip about going over tapes later like he’s a coach. and then comes race

he hugs him, all tender and cute and also very sweaty cause That’s How It Works, and the camera’s focused on him, so they can tell they’re whispering back and forth. but there’s no mics on them, so what’s said is missed entirely on the audience, but it’s their usual cheesy, in love mess

“congrats, baby. i’m proud of you.”

“oh please. it was 90% you anyway. i meant what i said, it wasn’t just for the cameras.”

“i know that. i’m gonna have to get you back somehow for telling everyone to go back and watch my awful anxious expression. i’ll think of something.”

“i’m sure you will, sweetheart.”

and then al does that awful, adorable lil nose bump thing, and then kisses race. and then jack covers his eyes and whines until they stop like the actual 12 year old boy he is inside

and then they leave the octagon, race and al holding hands, and al throws his arm over jack’s shoulder and shoves his head down and pushes him, cause even though he was just in a literal cage match he’s still a roughhousing teenager at heart

and he’s got interviews and press shit that separates him from his people, and he’s gotta slide that bulletproof mask back down over all the happy and in love shit he’s feeling so he can not smile like an idiot on camera constantly

but every once in awhile he’ll catch jack giving him the finger and laugh before returning it below view of the camera

or he’ll catch race’s eye from where he’s standing behind all the studio lights and do a little wave under the camera and return the wink from earlier, and the unbothered fighter facade will crack a little bit

but he’s not completely convinced that’s such a bad thing

GOD THIS POST IS SO MUCH LONGER THEN I MEANT IT TO BE IM SORRY

but Yeah. Them.

i love this au a helleva lot more than i should but that’s Fine cause i’ve got thoughts for days on it

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improvidence318 · 4 years

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i said screw it so here it is

howdy howdy, this is the anon with the 20’s lingo sheet. i don’t have a tumblr (though i wish i do tbh) and realized that i don’t know how to work shit on tumblr, so i’m just sending in the sheet through a text post. i am highly aware of the amount of power i’m bestowing upon you and honestly couldn’t give a damn

ab-so-lute-ly: affirmative all wet: incorrect And how!: I strongly agree! ankle: to walk, i.e.. “Let’s ankle!” apple sauce: flattery, nonsense, i.e.. “Aw, applesauce!” Attaboy!: well done!; also, Attagirl!

baby: sweetheart. Also denotes something of high value or respect. baby grand: heavily built man baby vamp: an attractive or popular female, student. balled up: confused, messed up. baloney: Nonsense! Bank’s closed.: no kissing or making out ie. “Sorry, mac, bank’s closed.” bearcat: a hot-blooded or fiery girl beat it: scram, get lost. beat one’s gums: idle chatter bee’s knee’s: terrific; a fad expression. Dozens of “animal anatomy” variations existed: elephant’s eyebrows, gnat’s whistle, eel’s hips, etc. beef: a complaint or to complain. beeswax: business, i.e. “None of your beeswax.” Student. bell bottom: a sailor bent: drunk berries: (1) perfect (2) money big cheese: important person big six: a strong man; from auto advertising, for the new and powerful six cylinder engines. bimbo: a tough guy bird: general term for a man or woman, sometimes meaning “odd,” i.e. “What a funny old bird.” blotto (1930 at the latest): drunk, especially to an extreme bootleg: illeagal liquor breezer (1925): a convertable car bug-eyed Betty (1927): an unattractive girl, student. bull: (1) a policeman or law-enforcement official, including FBI. (2) nonesense (3) to chat idly, to exaggerate bump off: to kill bum’s rush, the: ejection by force from an establishment bunny (1925): a term of endearment applied to the lost, confused, etc. Often coupled with “poor little.” bus: any old or worn out car.

cake-eater: a lady’s man caper: a criminal act or robbery. cat’s meow: great, also “cat’s pajamas” and “cat’s whiskers” cash: a kiss Cash or check?: Do we kiss now or later? cast a kitten: to have a fit. Used in both humorous and serious situations. i.e. “Stop tickling me or I’ll cast a kitten!” Also, “have kittens.” cheaters: eye glasses check: Kiss me later. chewing gum: double-speak, or ambiguous talk. choice bit of calico: attractive female, student. chopper: a Thompson Sub-Machine Gun, due to the damage its heavy .45 caliber rounds did to the human body. chunk of lead: an unnattractive female, student. clam: a dollar coffin varnish: bootleg liquor, often poisonous. copacetic: excellent crasher: a person who attends a party uninvited crush: infatuation cuddler: one who likes to make out

daddy: a young woman’s boyfriend or lover, especially if he’s rich. daddy-o: a term of address dame: a female. Did not gain widespread use until the 1930’s. dapper: a Flapper’s dad darb: a great person or thing. “That movie was darb.” dead soldier: an empty beer bottle. deb: a debutant. dewdropper: a young man who sleeps all day and doesn’t have a job. dogs: feet doll: an attractive woman. dolled up: dressed up don’t know from nothing: doesn’t have any information don’t take any wooden nickels: don’t do anything stupid. doublecross: to cheat, stab in the back. dough: money drugstore cowboy: A well-dressed man who loiters in public areas trying to pick up women. dry up: shut up, get lost ducky: very good dumb Dora: an absolute idiot, a dumbbell, especially a woman; flapper.

earful: enough egg: a person who lives the big life

face stretcher: an old woman trying to look young fella: fellow. As common in its day as “man,” “dude,” or “guy” is today. “That John sure is a swell fella.” fire extinguisher: a chaperone fish: (1) a college freshman (2) a first timer in prison flat tire: a bore flivver: a Model T; after 1928, also could mean any broken down car. floorflusher: an insatiable dancer flour lover: a girl with too much face powder fly boy: a glamorous term for an aviator For crying out loud!: same usage as today four-flusher: a person who feigns wealth while mooching off others.

gams (1930): legs gatecrasher: see “crasher” get-up (1930): an outfit. get a wiggle on: get a move on, get going get in a lather: get worked up, angry giggle water: booze gimp: cripple; one who walks with a limp. Gangster Dion O’Bannion was called Gimpy due to his noticeable limp. gin mill: a seller of hard liquor; a cheap speakeasy glad rags: “going out on the town” clothes go chase yourself: get lost, scram. gold-digger (1925): a woman who pursues men for their money. goods, the: (1) the right material, or a person who has it (2) the facts, the truth, i.e. “Make sure the cops don’t get the goods on you.” goof: (1) a stupid or bumbling person, (2) a boyfriend, flapper. goofy: in love grummy: depressed grungy: envious

handcuff: engagement ring hard-boiled: tough, as in, a tough guy, ie: “he sure is hard-boiled!” hayburner: (1) a gas guzzling car (2) a horse one loses money on heavy sugar (1929): a lot of money heebie-jeebies (1926): “the shakes,” named after a hit song. heeler: a poor dancer high hat: a snob. hip to the jive: cool, trendy hit on all sixes: to perform 100 per cent; as “hitting on all six cylinders”; perhaps a more common variation in these days of four cylinder engines was “hit on all fours”. See “big six”. hood (late 20s): hoodlum hooey: nonsense. Very popular from 1925 to 1930, used somewhat thereafter. hop: a teen party or dance Hot dawg!: Great!; also: “Hot socks!" Rarely spelled as shown outside of flapper circles until popularized by 1940s comic strips. hot sketch: a card or cut-up

"I have to go see a man about a dog.”: “I’ve got to leave now,” often meaning to go buy whiskey. icy mitt: rejection insured: engaged iron (1925): a motorcycle, among motorcycle enthusiasts iron one’s shoelaces: to go to the restroom ish kabibble (1925): a retort meaning “I should care." Was the name of a musician in the Kay Kayser Orchestra of the 1930s.

jack: money Jake: great, ie. "Everything’s Jake.” Jalopy: a dumpy old car Jane: any female java: coffee jeepers creepers: a term of exclamation jitney: a car employed as a private bus. Fare was usually five-cents; also called a “nickel.” joe: coffee Joe Brooks: a perfectly dressed person; student. john: a toilet joint: establishment juice joint: a speakeasy

kale: money keen: appealing killjoy: a solemn person knock up: to make pregnant know one’s onions: to know one’s business or what one is talking about

lay off: cut the crap left holding the bag: (1) to be cheated out of one’s fair share (2) to be blamed for something let George do it: a work evading phrase level with me: be honest limey: a British soldier or citizen, from World War I line: a false story, as in “to feed one a line.” live wire: a lively person lollapalooza (1930): a humdinger lollygagger: (1) a young man who enjoys making out (2) an idle person

manacle: wedding ring mazuma: money milquetoast (1924): a very timid person; from the comic book character Casper mind your potatoes: mind your own business. mooch: to leave moonshine: homemade whiskey mop: a handkerchief munitions: face powder

neck: to kiss passionately necker: a girl who wraps her arms around her boyfriend’s neck. nifty: great, excellent noodle juice: tea Not so good!: I personally disapprove. “Now you’re on the trolley!”: Now you’ve got it, now you’re right.

off one’s nuts: crazy Oh yeah!: I doubt it! old boy: a male term of address, used in conversation with other males. Denoted acceptance in a social environment. Also “old man” “old fruit.” “How’s everything old boy?” Oliver Twist: a skilled dancer on a toot: a drinking binge on the lam: fleeing from police on the level: legitimate, honest on the up and up: on the level orchid: an expensive item ossified: drunk owl: a person who’s out late

palooka: (1) a below-average or average boxer (2) a social outsider, from the comic strip character Joe Palooka, who came from humble ethnic roots panic: to produce a big reaction from one’s audience percolate: (1) to boil over (2) As of 1925, to run smoothly; “perk” pet: necking, only more; making out petting pantry: movie theater piffle: baloney piker: (1) a cheapskate (2) a coward pill: (1) a teacher (2) an unlikable person pinch: to arrest. Pinched: to be arrested. pinko: liberal pipe down: stop talking prom-trotter: a student who attends all school social functions pos-i-lute-ly: affirmative, also “pos-i-tive-ly” punch the bag: small talk putting on the ritz: after the Ritz Hotel in Paris (and its namesake Caesar Ritz); doing something in high style. Also “ritzy.”

rag-a-muffin: a dirty or disheveled individual rain pitchforks: a downpour razz: to make fun of Real McCoy: a genuine item regular: normal, typical, average; “Regular fella.” Reuben: an unsophisticated country bumpkin. Also “rube” Rhatz!: How disappointing! rub: a student dance party rubes: money or dollars rummy: a drunken bum

sap: a fool, an idiot. Very common term in the 20s. says you: a reaction of disbelief scratch: money screaming meemies: the shakes screw: get lost, get out, etc. Occasionally, in pre 1930 talkies (such as The Broadway Melody) screw is used to tell a character to leave. One film features the line “Go on, go on – screw!" screwy: crazy; "You’re screwy!” sheba: one’s girlfriend sheik: one’s boyfriend simolean: a dollar sinker: a doughnut sitting pretty: in a prime position skirt: an attractive female smarty: a cute flapper smudger: a close dancer sockdollager: an action having a great impact so’s your old man: a reply of irritation speakeasy: a bar selling illeagal liquor spill: to talk spoon: to neck, or at least talk of love static: (1) empty talk (2) conflicting opinion stilts: legs struggle: modern dance stuck on: in love, student. sugar daddy: older boyfriend who showers girlfriend with gifts swanky: (1) good (2) elegant swell: (1) good (2) a high class person

take someone for a ride: to take someone to a deserted location and murder them. tasty: appealing teenager: not a common term until 1930; before then, the term was “young adults.” tell it to Sweeney: tell it to someone who’ll believe it. tight: attractive Tin Pan Alley: the music industry in New York, located between 48th and 52nd Streets tomato: a “ripe” female torpedo: a hired thug or hitman

unreal: special upchuck: to vomit upstage: snobby

vamp: (1) a seducer of men, an aggressive flirt (2) to seduce voot: money

water-proof: a face that doesn’t require make-up wet blanket: see Killjoy wife: dorm roomate, student. What’s eating you?: What’s wrong? whoopee: wild fun Woof! Woof!: ridicule

You slay me!: That’s funny!

zozzled: drunk

have fun.

#it's the 20s slang list #thanks dude #submission

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keelywolfe · 3 years

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FIC: Drifters ch.2 (spicyhoney)

Summary: Edge doesn't exactly have a plan, here, now that he's hit the goal of getting to Underswap. Luckily, an unexpected person is ready to take over.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Violence, Rescued Child, Medical Experimentation, Babybones

Read it on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

Stretch had never struck Edge as the person to turn to during any sort of emergency. His laissez-faire attitude about life was one generally matched by his own brother and by Sans, but Red at least understood when some urgency was necessary, at the very least in the interest of staying alive. Unfair as it was, Sans was also given something of a mental pass for simply looking so much like Red and if he’d been thinking clearer, Edge might have chosen a flight plan to Undertale instead. Typing in the coordinates for Underswap was more an automatic reflex on his part than any direct decision; he was simply here more often and while he might not mind sharing a bed with Papyrus, putting it to use the same vigorous way he often did with Stretch didn’t have quite the same appeal.

So it was something of a surprise for Stretch to immediately take over.

Once it became clear that questions would have to wait, he got moving immediately, his slippered feet going far faster than Edge had seen before. In short order, Edge and the baby were wrapped in a heavy blanket that was ripped right from Blue’s bed going from the cheery rocket ship pattern. Red was firmly tucked into another, snoring underneath it before the blanket was even settled.

“i gotta hit the store real quick, we don’t have anything in the fridge for a baby,” Stretch panted as he made another mad dash down the stairs, this time directly to the front door. He didn’t wait for an answer, already kicking off his slippers and stuffing his feet into his sneakers, the door slamming loudly behind him.

Well. That was…unexpected. Edge might have more room to spare for astonishment and perhaps a touch of guilt over his assumptions if he weren’t so exhausted; such emotions would simply have to wait.

The house was silent except for the baby. Now that she was warming up, her little pleading snuffles were slowly resuming in volume.

He drew back the corner of the blanket, carefully keeping his hand out of reach of her tiny grasping fists before she tried stuffing his fingers back into her mouth. As uncomfortable as the gnawing had been, he was more concerned with her accidently hurting herself on his sharpened fingertips than her little teeth.

It was the first chance he’d had to really look at her since that first moment in the lab and he took the chance to study her carefully. Her eye lights were pale white, offering no hint to the color of her magic. Perhaps they’d stay that way, Stretch and Sans’s were white when they weren’t using their magic, or perhaps they’d change as she grew older and they would be more like Blue’s…or his own. It was possible, she was from Underfell, but there was no sign of that in her. Her teeth were blunted, except for the little points of her canines, and her skull softly rounded, giving her the appearance of chubby cheeks.

She was merely a child, a skeleton child, there was nothing remarkable at all about her, and Edge knew very little about children. That was a fact very quickly proven when her small face suddenly screwed up into a ball of anger and she began to scream.

“Don’t do that…!” Edge began, then trailed off, cursing his own stupidity. Yes, a stern talking-to would certainly calm a bawling child. He shifted her awkwardly in his arms, giving her into a little bounce as he tried to coax her instead, “Shh, shh, it’s all right. It’ll be all right, baby.”

The child was having none of his lies. Her hands were clenched into tiny fists, her little face sufficed with bright pink that had nothing to do with her magic and everything with the purity of her anger as she shrieked her rage for all to hear.

Exhaustion gave way to panic. LV maddened Monsters attacking him, Edge could handle, a howling baby was far, far out of his area of expertise.

At the other end of the sofa, his traitorous brother didn’t even stir, not even when Edge gave him a kick. He only lay with his mouth open as his snores competed with the baby’s screams in volume, and Edge couldn’t even accuse the bastard of lying; he’d used a lot of magic in their escape and was as exhausted as Edge, more so.

Tears were beginning to roll down the baby’s chubby cheeks and humiliatingly, Edge felt a faint prickle of his own tears. He hadn’t cried since he was a child himself, how ironic that it was another child dragging it out of him. That was all he needed, the two of them blubbering together on Stretch’s sofa for him to find, while his brother snored away, that would certainly be an impressive sight. Why had he ever thought for even a moment he could manage this, he knew next to nothing about babies. All he’d done is drag the child from one horrible situation to another.

The door opened just as he ran a hasty arm over his sockets, wiping away any revealing moisture as Stretch stepped inside, juggling numerous bags in his arms as he kicked the door shut.

“okay, back, sorry it took so long, the dogs dug some baby gear out for us, said they’d bring more later…woah, hey, what’s all this?” Stretch dumped the overflowing bags by the door and before Edge could protest, whisked the baby into his arms, settling her on his hip with a practiced bounce. “c’mon now, princess, got a broken volume control? you’ll be waking up the folks in new home if you keep up at that level.”

The screams faded into pitiful hiccoughs as the baby looked up at Stretch with wide sockets and when he gave her a playful little chuck under the chin, she let out a watery chuckle. Stretch grinned back at her. “that’s more like it, sugar butt. let’s get you something for that empty tum, yeah?”

If he hadn’t been so relieved, Edge might have resented how easily Stretch took over. As it was, in only moments the baby was propped up in a nest of pillows, gurgling happily as she drank from the bottle Stretch gave her. She was swimming in one of Blue’s t-shirts, the arms rolled up enough to let her easily grasp the bottle. Her eye lights were following Stretch’s fingers as he broke up a cinnamon puppy into bite-sized pieces into a small plastic bowl with colorful animals painted on the side.

Edge frowned. “Isn’t she too young for that?”

"nah," Stretch said carelessly. He slid from the sofa to the floor, long legs folded under him as he set the bowl in easy reach for little hands. “we’re born with teeth, may as well use 'em.”

"Nonetheless, the sugar—"

“relax, edgelord, these ones are meant for her age,” Stretch reassured him. “i promise, i’m not about to turn your little sweetheart into a sugar fiend on you. not until she learns how to brush, anyway.”

The baby was already inspecting the bowl, her discarded bottle close by as she happily stuffed bits into her mouth, smearing crumbs over her small face. Not that he’d expected Stretch would do anything to harm her, but the promise, unnecessary as it was, was comforting. It did bring up another point, however, ‘his little sweetheart’ was entirely his responsibility, he’d chosen this, and now he needed to find their path, in whatever direction it might lead.

Stretch was watching the baby eat and his smile might be careless, but his watchful gaze was not. The instinct to come here was the right one so far, Edge could only hope it remained so.

"I must ask that you let us stay here for a while," Edge said stiffly. "If not my brother and I, then at least the child. We…can’t go home right now." Or ever, but that wasn’t information that needed shared just yet. If he couldn’t care for her, at least he trusted that the Swap brothers would. Sleeping in the rough in Underswap would at least be relatively safe, certainly in comparison to their universe.

Stretch’s head whipped around, his mouth dropping open as he stared at Edge. "are you serious right now?"

The question stung. He’d assumed Stretch wouldn’t mind caring for the child for at least a little while. "Yes, of course, I am. She's an infant, she needs a roof over her head. She can't possibly—"

"shit, you really are,” Stretch interrupted, and his expression was torn between irritated and incredulous, “yes, dumbass, you're staying with us, why is this even a question? you ain’t getting off that easy. besides, you really think you'd be able to get little miss here away from blue when he sees her?"

Edge smiled reluctantly, already imagining Blue’s starry-eyed excitement when he saw the baby. "I suppose not."

The baby chose that moment to add to the conversation, offering a loud, razzing, “brrrr!” and spraying Stretch with a fine mist of slightly used cinnamon puppy crumbs.

“thanks, kid.” Stretch said wryly as he wiped his face on his sleeve. He crawled over to one of the bags and pulled out a stack of cloths, using one to wipe the baby’s face clean despite her vigorous protests, “so. you gonna tell me where the snow princess came from?”

"She's not mine,” Edge said automatically, then winced. “I mean, she is, she’s my responsibility, but she’s not mine, not in that way."

Stretch slanted him a glance, “yeah, uh, i saw you two days ago.” His faint smirk was fraught with memories of that particular meeting. “you weren’t hiding a baby bump under your shirt then. unless you not only solved the problem of getting pregnant but also how to bypass the waiting period, i figured she wasn't. sooooo?”

It was lightly said, but he’d seen Stretch’s smile falter when he was changing the baby’s clothes, peeling away her plain, sterile blanket to reveal the similar gown she was wearing beneath it. Not the cozy warmth of pajamas that a child should wear or even a borrowed shirt like the one she was in now, but a hospital-style gown with brusque ties in the back for easy access.

The story needed told, but Edge found he didn’t want to tell it. The scars he knew were on Stretch’s lowest rib were faded, scrubbed and sanded down until the numbers were barely visible. But they were still there, just like his brother’s were, and both were a match the fresh ones that were stark on the child’s own fragile rib.

In her little pillow nest, the baby was beginning to drowse and Stretch took the bottle, pulling it from her sleepy mouth and wiping away a trickle of milk. He tucked a blanket gently around her, not the discarded one from earlier, but one from the seemingly endless depths of those bags, soft and fluffy, cradling her tiny, precious skull in fluffy warmth as she slept.

But the pointed lack of further questions were a quiet demand of their own, giving Edge time to answer, but still needing one.

Edge slipped down to sit on the floor next to Stretch, wrapping up in the warmth of his borrowed blanket as he stared down at the baby. Watching the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed easily, safely asleep for perhaps the first time in her extremely short life.

“It started this morning,” Edge began, slowly, and kept his gaze on the baby, watching as she slept on, completely unaware of the turmoil she’d caused in his life, in all their lives. “When my brother said that he had something important to show me.”

tbc

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #drifters

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reyescarlos · 4 years

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I don’t know if I’m allowed to make more than one prompt request but I’m LIVING for your writing. So, if I can, 97 for Buddie please :)

Dude, I’ll write as many as you send! I’m so glad you’re enjoying these omg. This is so much fun.

#97. Taking care of the other when sick/injured

Eddie places the back of his hand against Buck’s forehead and frowns. He repeats the gesture alongside his throat and clicks his tongue. “Buck, you’re really hot.”

Buck manages a cheeky smile. “Tell me something I don’t know,” he says smoothly before groaning and swallowing thickly.

Eddie scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Christ, even with a fever you still manage to find a way to be a little shit, huh?” he razzes. “No more talking. You’ll only make yourself feel worse.”

Buck watches as Eddie gets to his feet again and retrieves a hand towel from one of Buck’s drawers. The ease to which Eddie moves in his home is not lost on Buck. Eddie is assured in each step he takes, knowing just as well as Buck where everything is. There’s a comfort to that, Buck thinks, in knowing that there’s someone out there that’s so attuned with him that being in a place that isn’t theirs can still feel like home.

Eddie leaves the room and Buck’s tired eyes drift shut though he remains awake. He can hear Eddie’s bare feet padding against the hardwood floor, followed by the rush of running water. Buck can just picture Eddie mulling about the kitchen, grabbing whatever odds and ends he needs to help Buck through. A soft smile tugs at his lips but he doesn’t even have the energy to keep it for long. He can feel himself drifting just as Eddie’s footsteps approach.

“Here,” Eddie says softly and Buck’s eyes flutter open at the feel of a cool compress on his forehead. He shudders slightly in relief. Every nerve in his body is firing and any form of reprieve is welcome to him.

“I hate this,” he mutters, his bottom lip jutting out.

“Oh boy, you’re such a baby,” Eddie teases from the bedside. “I swear, you’re even worse than Chris when he gets sick.”

“To be fair, that kid is tough as hell,” Buck counters.

Eddie nods and concedes. “Fair point but you’re also one of L. A’s finest. You’ve survived far worse than a fever. You’ll be okay.”

Buck makes an undignified sound and Eddie laughs. “Drink some of this,” he says to Buck, reaching for the mug he brought up with him.

“What is?” Bucks asks.

“Vodka. Good lord, it’s tea. What else would it be?”

“I don’t like tea,” Buck replies, sitting up in bed.

“Fine. Then stay sick longer. See how much you’ll like that.”

The words are a challenge and Buck can see it’s a losing battle. Grudgingly, he takes the steaming mug from Eddie’s hands and bring it towards his face. He breathes in the vapors and feels his heaviness in his chest lift marginally. After a moment he takes the first sip, savoring in the warmth of the liquid as it hits his tongue and coats his throat.

“That’s actually good,” he says, his tone colored in obvious surprise.

“Abuela’s recipe. Works every time,” Eddie replies as Buck helps himself to more of the drink.

Eddie sits on the edge of the bed beside Buck and brushes his fingertips against Buck’s cheek. Buck’s heart lurches at the contact. As sick as he is, there’s no getting over how it feels to be touched by Eddie; his body will always respond to this man. Eddie murmurs something so softly that Buck can’t discern but it hardly matters. He gets swept up in the repetition of Eddie’s gentle strokes, sighing contently as he finishes his tea.

“All done?” Eddie asks. Buck nods and Eddie’s takes the mug from him, setting it on the nightstand. “We’ll get you better in no time, I promise,” he assures.

Whatever pledges Eddie makes, Buck will take him at his word time and time again without question.

Eddie removes the cloth from Buck’s forehead and tosses it next to the cup as he lets loose a low sigh.

“I wish there was more I could do,” he says, his hand reaching for Buck’s who doesn’t hesitate in linking their fingers.

“You’re doing plenty, Eddie. Thank you. Even you just sitting here is enough, honest.”

The sentiment seems to do the trick and Buck watches as the corner of Eddie’s mouth turns up into a shy half smile. Buck exhales audibly and closes his eyes once more. He feels the pad of Eddie’s thumb making soft circles against the back of his hand. Despite how much he loves the gesture and this stole moment with Eddie, a part of him worries that all this closeness now won’t be good for him later.

“You’ll get sick too,” Buck says though he makes no effort to make Eddie move.

“It’ll be worth it. Try to get some sleep, alright? I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

#bighimboenergy #buddic fic #911 fanfic #buddie fanfic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #kimmy writes #ask #message

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sailorspazz · 4 years

Text

10 Dance - chapter 29, part 1 summary

Okay SoOoO...long story short, I completely fell in love with the BL ballroom manga 10 Dance a few weeks ago. Once I read all of the collected volumes, I was absolutely devastated at the point where they left off (like why...whyyyyyy), so, knowing that it’s an ongoing series, I simply had to go find the chapters that haven’t been collected yet, needing to see where things go from that point (I just need my Shinyas to be okay, dammit). And I know this manga doesn’t get a lot of attention (it deserves way more!), but figured, maybe other fans might be interested in finding out what happens in the latest chapters? Most of the English information I’ve seen online seems to stop at the most recent volume, so I hope some other heartbroken fans will find this useful!

Out of respect for the fact that this has an official ongoing release in English, I don’t plan to post full scans or scanlations. Instead, I will provide text summaries alongside select images from the chapters that illustrate things such as important plot points, romantic moments, comedy bits, or shit that just makes you wanna cry (at this point in the series, there’s too much of that ;_;)

So, without further ado, I’ll start off with what will be the beginning of the as-of-yet-unannounced/unreleased vol. 6. The volume is out in Japan as of March 18, 2021! Check here for details about the release.

An update from the future, the official English release is finally available as of January 2022! It’s much better to see it in its full glory rather than just get the descriptions and limited images I share, so I encourage you to go buy the volume digitally or physically from your preferred bookseller.

In the issue this was published in, 10 Dance had the honor of being the magazine’s cover image, tied to the fact that vol. 5 of the manga was released around that time.

Chapter 29: Que Sera, Sera

Published in Young Magazine the 3rd, 2019 vol. 9.

At the Sugiki residence, Shinya’s mother comments that she got a call from the hospital saying that he missed his medical checkup yesterday, and says that he needs to make sure to go. He doesn’t reply, but is soon shown leaving the house and getting on a train.

Meanwhile, Suzuki is shown instructing students at his school, though in his mind he’s distracted by thoughts of what happened with Sugiki. He thinks that he finally stopped lying to himself and let things end between them, and he feels relieved. As he talks to a male student named Shun, he can’t help but notice how this student looks delicate, not like Sugiki whose face and body are both solid. Looking regretful, he wishes they had parted with a proper embrace.

Later, Suzuki and Aki are walking together, and he comments that her new hairstyle looks odd on its own without the heavy makeup. She fires back that Sugiki said this style would pop better in competitions, and mentions he accompanied her to the salon himself. Aki expects Suzuki to keep razzing her, but his reaction is very subdued, which she finds unusual.

The two arrive at Sugiki Dance School. Though practice sessions are continuing with the four of them together, the two Shinyas are no longer having their late night lessons; Suzuki doesn’t think either of them are comfortable with being alone together yet. During practice, Sugiki gives some advice about controlling balance using the knees, and he demonstrates the movement. However, he winces as he does so, and there’s a flashback to his doctor’s appointment earlier that day.

The doctor says that this type of injury is common among dancers, so he recommends that Sugiki take two weeks off from his training and then he’ll check on his condition again. Sugiki thinks about how that would mean he wouldn’t see Suzuki for a while, and that he needs to tell him that today. Aloud, he tells Suzuki to repeat the part he just did, then Suzuki approaches him with his hand held up, but Sugiki pulls his hand away, and they stare at each other for a moment.

Suzuki goes back over to Aki, while Sugiki thinks that if they don’t come in contact with each other for two weeks, then surely it’ll be like nothing ever happened, and they can return to just being members of two different dance pairs. It’ll be like there was nothing between them, like they’re just fellow friends training for the 10 Dance, like there was never any elation that welled up from within them…

...he stops his train of thought, filled with images of their more pleasant memories, and reminds himself that he needs to tell Suzuki he won’t be coming to practice for a while.

Next chapter: #29 part 2

#10 dance #10dance

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melyaliz · 4 years

Text

Chapter 2 Enter the SandMan

Masterlist

Fandom: Marvel / X-men

Pairing: Peter Maximoff x OC

Summary: No matter when she goes to bed Gemma always feels exhausted when she wakes up.

Notes: special thank you to all the support I have gotten so far on this fic. Gemma has been an OC I have had for some time now but always seem to struggle to tell her story (for some reason)

Also, I feel like not a lot of happening but I promise it will pick up.

All Masterlists @melyalizarchive

Connect with me! AO3 / Instagram / Pinterest

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They had been dealing with these mutants for over a year now. Not consistently but every once in a while they would pop back up. Only stealing weird stuff from power cells. Once they had stolen a whole truck full of household batteries (like AA and stuff). Another time they had broken into a string of car dealerships but only took the engines

Regardless they would strike and then disappear just as quickly.

Xavier had said that it was possible they had been causing crimes for longer but the X-men had only come upon them recently.

Because of their mutant powers he had been worried they would ruin all the hard work he was doing to build a better world where Mutants and Humans could co-exist. They weren’t shy about using their powers both in a fight and when they were busy taking whatever they wanted.

Peter had never really thought much about it.

They were just more baddies they needed to fight.

Until he met one of them on the bus.

Gemma

-----------

Gemma yawned again rubbing her eyes as she turned on her boombox letting the music pulse through the room. James Hetfield’s gravelly voice filled her small bedroom as she changed from her work clothes into something more comfortable for bed.

It was soothing, the energy pulsing from her speakers. Not that many people would call the tunes of Metallic soothing but she wasn't many people. Sitting down in front of the boombox she hummed along letting the manic sounds flow through her like sparks from a current. As weird as it was to say the fast-paced rhythm was calming she couldn’t explain it any other way.

Getting up she threw herself down onto her bed letting out a low moan as she buried her head in her pillow. Closing her eyes letting sleep overcome her. Praying it would be a peaceful night. That her body would just rest. Just let her have one good night’s sleep.

Was that too much to ask for?

Apparently

Her dreams were filled with weird lights flashing behind her eyelids. Yelling and screaming. Flickers of energy flashing like lighting across her face as monsters with human faces she didn’t recognize danced around her. Their deformed bodies flickering back and forth as if the lighting itself was summoning them.

And a silver-haired boy.

Running around her faster and faster. Her headphones on his head.

“Wake up, wake up, wake up.”

Gemma found herself laying flat on her back on the hard floor of her bedroom, her body unable to move as she looked up at her ceiling blinking a few times. Reality slowly seeped into her consciousness images from her dreams fading.

All but one, a silver-haired boy.

Well man really, but you know.

“Maybe I need to stop playing music before I go to bed” she muttered sitting up rubbing temples trying to bring some feeling back into her body. It felt so numb and exhausting. As if she had just run for miles. Getting up she turned off the buzzing alarm on her clock before dragging herself into the bathroom to try and get herself ready for the day.

“Morning!” Drew said as his older sister stumbled down into the kitchen looking like death itself. He would never say it to his sister but later she really didn’t seem… herself. “I made coffee,” the 12-year-old said, holding out a mug.

Gemma smiled gratefully taking it in her hands letting the warmth fill her body before taking a sip. “Ok but why are you the coolest brother ever?”

Drew shrugged “It’s my gift.”

“Oh, if only I could be as cool.”

“Maybe someday my young padawan”

“Teach me your ways yoda” Gamma chuckled already feeling the effects of the caffeine bringing her back to life.

“Speaking of the best movie that has ever been made, are we still on for marathoning tomorrow?”

“Don’t you have like, cool friends you want to hang out with?”

“Yeah but my sister said she would make her sugar popcorn and I got a bunch of star wars themed snacks with that money you gave me.” As he said this he pulled out a box of C-3PO's cereal out of the cabinet. “I mean look at this,”

“I mean, I know I want to hang out with you and quote Star Wars ad nauseam until our sweet dear parents make us turn it off or at least speak with inside voices but I assumed you had like… you know kids your own age you wanted to hang with.”

“It’s the summer we hung out all week. Weekends are our time.”

“Sounds perfect to me. I literally can’t wait.”

After a hearty breakfast of sugary themed cereal and coffee Gemma grabbed her bag and rushed off to the bus stop while Led Zeppelin cheered her on through her new headphones.

Normally Gemma wasn’t one to really pay attention to the other patients on the bus. Keeping her head down and enjoying whatever mixed tape she had made that week. But as she walked onto the bus that morning she couldn’t help but notice a silver-haired boy sitting at the back.

Was he stalking her?

Naw probably just had the same route.

---

Peter was stalking her. All night he had rushed around unnoticed by the small family that resided in the house Gemma had entered.They were your classic American family. Two kids, a boy and a girl (if not a bit of an age gap) with loving parents. They said grace and talked about their days over a roast.

Picture perfect.

Besides the constant yawning, Gemma seemed happy. Smiling and engaging with them. Very polite and even seemed to care about the work story her father had to say or what drama Karen was causing in her mom’s sewing circle.

Shit that Peter would have bashed his head in if he had to listen too.

Shit, a villain like the woman he had fought wouldn’t sit through. Or at least with a genuine smile like the one Gemma wore. It was like she actually enjoyed family time.

After dinner, they all watched some TV but Gemma had chosen to rest early. Going to her room where she blasted some music from her stereo turning around letting her hands hover just a few inches from the speaker. This was the first time he noticed any non-normal action from her. Just her standing there, eyes closed, head tilted back, mouth open slightly letting the music wash over her with her hands so close to the sound it was as if they craved it.

After a few moments she removed her hands then walked toward her bed face-planting on the bed and promptly fell asleep.

Which was his cue to leave. Yes, he was stalking her but he wasn’t a creeper. Time to find out who this weird girl was.

A quick break-in and a couple photo books later and he learned she was a VERY average girl. Normal grades, all comments in her yearbook generic like “good luck” “rock on” with a few quotes from songs, all heavy rock and metal. (At least she had a good taste in music)

There was one thing though, it looked like in her early years she had dark brown hair and eyes which slowly through her teens faded into the white hair and bright blue that she had now. Probably had something to do with her mutation.

This also confirmed she was one of the four mutants.

Which was almost impossible to believe considering how generic and bland this girl’s life seemed.

It was a puzzle.

---------

Their eyes met in that awkward “so should we act like we know each other or not’ look. In the light of day and (in the loosest term possible) rest, the silver-haired boy wasn’t bad looking. Large brown eyes and that laid back “whatever” attitude that Gemma had always fallen for in high school.

But she wasn’t in high school anymore and he was just some weird guy on the bus.

Deciding to not engage she flashed him a half-smile before taking a seat in the middle of the bus. Ok, maybe she shouldn’t have smiled. But it was that christen upbringing engaged in her.

Be kind to others.

Or some bullshit like that.

“You forgot your headphones yesterday.”

Gemma basically jumped out of her skin when the boy appeared out of nowhere now sitting next to her in the empty seat. Holding out small headphones in one hand for her to take.

“I…” she checked behind her to confirm that the seat he had been in was empty, it was. “I didn’t forget them,” she said, turning her attention back to him. He smelled good, was that bad for her to think? But he did so maybe it was just more of a fact. Kind of like fun. He smelled like fun. Which shouldn’t have a smell… but if it did it would be how this boy smelled.

He was still sitting there holding out the headphones for her, a look of confusion on his face.

“I gave them to you.” she clarified, “So you could listen to some better music than Pink Floyd.”

“Outch, what do you have against Floyd?”

She chuckled, shrugging, “Honestly I don’t, I just felt like razzing you.”

The boy shrugged fighting back a smile, (was it ok to like this girl if she was a bad guy?) “Fair.”

Both of them sat in an awkward silence for a while.

“Well this is my stop” the boy said as the bus slowed.

“Cool, bye”

And like that he was gone.

Weirdo.

Cute, but still a weirdo.

Not that she was really one to talk. She was VERY far from being normal.

Turing up her music she leaned back in her chair letting it play as she held the cassette player in her lap trying to make sure she didn’t touch it with her hands. Sometimes her powers would drain electronics when she wasn’t paying attention, especially when she was tired.

Tired.

Why was she always so tired?

Music playing through her head and thoughts of a silver-haired boy played around in her mind as the world rushed past her.

And that was the last thing she remembered.

-GET TAGGED!-

Forever tag: @the-shadow-of-atlantis @coffee-randomness @0hmydeku @xx3fsxx @daisyboobear @ @jason-redhood @hello-i-lovespiderman-blr @ocelysium @pinkwitch21 @tomhncharliep @cdwmtjb8 (Let me know if you too would like to be tagged)

#Peter maximoff #peter maximoff x reader #Peter Maximoff x oc #Peter Maximoff fanfic #x men oc #X men reader #X men fanfic #ocaap #my fic #my oc #my writing #Gemma #Thief and the Outlaw

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skellies-n-their-human · 4 years

Text

more bio shit (i’ll edit this to look more presentable when i have access to a computer, tumblr mobile really sucks :< i apologize if it’s hard to read for the time being)

Sans owns the house that everyone lives in. He’s pretty laidback and lenient about lots of things, so it takes a lot to get him angry. But when he does, he gets pretty fuckin’ scary. In fact, everyone is or has been scared by Sans at one point (which is kinda funny, considering Sans’ biggest fetish is fear). Thankfully he’s only gotten super angry twice. No one likes to talk about it.

Sans is also a space geek — more than a few times has he been caught reading a thick astronomy book “hidden” inside of a little paperback full of jokes and wordplay. If you have a question about the universe, he’ll most likely have an answer at the ready. Suffers from hypersomnia, so he sleeps a lot.

Papyrus is a pure SOUL, and everyone can’t help but love him. He’s super sweet and loves to help everyone out! Unsurprisingly, he’s very good with kids. He’s often given the nick Creampuff and he’s come to not only accept it at this point, but to embrace it. YES he is a creampuff, soft and fluffy with yummy filling inside! What of it?! He’s so full of energy, and would absolutely beat you in a game of DDR.

He is nonbinary, going primarily by he/him pronouns, but any pronouns are perfectly okay with him! Papyrus is also gray-ace, preferring to keep away from any sexual stuff, but is not outright repulsed by it.

At first glance, Red would seem to be your stereotypical “macho man.” He’s big and burly, drinks and smokes, he’s loud and rude — basically a skeletal frat boy. But what most people don’t see from him is his softer side; he’s such a romantic, he will go out of his way to plan the perfect date night for he and his partner/s. He loves to spoil, and will do exactly that. He’ll give little inexpensive gifts every now and then, like your favorite candy he picked up while buying some cigarettes, or maybe a pair of shoes you’ve been looking at during your online window-shopping. He’s better at showing his love through actions than through words, and he tends to stutter when he shows any sort of strong emotion, like anger or nervousness. Despite this, he’s not one to sugarcoat his opinions. Has an affinity for cars and casually watch NASCAR (he’s not a huge fan or anything).

Boss... oof. Boss is Red’s younger brother. He and Red grew up in a very hostile environment. I won’t go into it much on this post, but Red took raised him from a babybones, but once Boss reached adolescence Red fell into a deep, heavy depression and the roles were reversed. He’s strict and a little mean at times, but he’s only doing what he was taught in order to protect himself and others. That being said, his displays of affection start out very rare, as showing affection was considered a sign of weakness. Eventually he’ll open up to hugs, kisses, cuddles, and even *gasp* PDA, but it will take some time before he gets to that point. He has a high LV, the highest of all the skeletons, and it affects him greatly. When Boss feels any sort of strong negative emotion, he’s at risk of his LV taking over his mind and body, putting not only himself but those around him in danger. There’s a special protocol in place to calm him down whenever this occurs.

On a brighter note, he loves to cook and is very good at it. He keeps a small booklet of everyones favorite recipes! His dream is to open a five-star restaurant.

Stretch loves sweets, adores companionship, and taking everything slow and steady. He’s never in a rush, the chill stoner he is. Most of the time you can find him lounging on a sofa or armchair playing cheap games on his phone. He’s the kind of guy who would spend hours browsing a Spencer’s, staying towards the back and giggling at the silly sex toys. Stretch is extremely interested in the concept of body piercing, and though he’d never get any piercings himself, he’d love to become a professional body piercer one day.

He lives off of touch, both giving and receiving; hugs whenever he’s greeting someone, a bit of hand holding while walking together, little head pats or shoulder touching when he’s standing next to you. His primary love language is touch, and it becomes apparent very quickly. He also had an oral fixation, and will usually be seen with a cigarette, a joint, or a lollipop between his teeth.

Blue, it almost seems, is going through a permanent sugar rush. In fact, he’s not really allowed to indulge in sweets because of how even *more* hyperactive they make him. That’s okay though, he’s more into salty and savory foods. He has a habit of working himself to exhaustion, sometimes even having to be nursed back to health by Stretch or Papyrus.

Blue’s a little -shit- /troublemaker/, using those big, bright eyes of his to play innocent, easily deceiving anyone and everyone (unless you’re used to his tactics, then he just gets frustrated). He’s a social butterfly and absolutely hates being alone for long periods of time. He doesn’t do well under pressure and as a result, isn’t good at lying or keeping secrets. He loves sports, but most of the time he’ll just go for a quick run with a buddy.

Slim is a gentle giant, easily towering over all of the other skeletons yet wouldn’t hurt a fly. He’s selectively mute, speaking only once in a blue moon. In fact, if it wasn’t for his extreme height, one would almost forget he existed. He’s been through a lot back home, developing severe general anxiety disorder and perhaps showing signs of C-PTSD? No one but Razz can say for sure, and Razz isn’t going to tell anyone anytime soon. Slim’s jacket is his security blanket, and he rarely takes his hood off, even home. The only times his entire skull is seen is straight out of the shower, or in the morning after he stumbles out of bed. Even during heatwaves, he has to be coaxed into taking it off.

Despite being so withdrawn, Slim craves companionship and tries to join in on group activities to the best of his ability. Like Stretch, he’s very touch-hungry and will help himself to cuddles. He’s pretty primal and dog-like, and uses petplay as a coping tool. He kiiinda has a problem with drooling, apparently it’s happened ever since his fangs got -pulled- knocked out. Even his new gold replacements don’t seem to help any. He doesn’t let it bother him, he just wipes his mouth on his sleeve and moves on. Most skeleton monsters have the ability to purr, and his is the loudest.

Whereas Slim is the tallest, his brother is the shortest of the group. Razz often wears heels to compensate for this, so most of the time he appears just about the same height as Blue (or taller, depending on the pair of shoes he’s wearing), even if he’s three or four inches shorter. He doesn’t let his lack of height get in the way, as he still has the the courage to boss everyone around. He’s very hard to please and can even be pretty argumentative about the littlest things. Despite this, he tries not to push people past their limits and he looks out for those closest to him, even if he has questionable ways of showing his love.

Razz keeps his interests to himself most of the time, so not too much is known about him when compared to the others. What we /do/ know is that he’s interested in fashion, sometimes sketching out a few designs even if he’ll never have the ability to create them — at least, not yet. Maybe someday he’ll pick up tailoring and fashion design as a full-time hobby. The closest he’s ever come to that was designing and creating the collar Slim constantly wears around his neck.

#edit later #info #sans #papyrus #red #boss #stretch #blue #slim #razz

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ladyshandioftheendless · 4 years

Text

Shandi’s StarTerror Saga 18!

Last chapter, babies!! I was gonna wait until I finished a chapter of another story but I figured what the hell~ I’m excited to finish this! And also crying. But I hope everyone who’s read it has enjoyed~ Thank you all for your encouragement and your feedback~ It’s always appreciated~

~Shandi

Before there can be forgiveness, Vince must prove that he deserves it.

MAKE ME FEEL AGAIN Part 18

“You ready, love?”

“Yes..I’m ready. Show them in.”

Nicholas nodded and opened the throne room doors, showing Vince, Tommy and Mick inside. M narrowed his eyes. “Not all of you are here. Why?”

“Nikki brought Prince Hottie back to KISSteria.” Tommy replied. “I’m sure we can grab him later.” M sighed. He was still much too tired to argue. “Very well. You, the Mötley Crüe, stand accused of the willful desecration of the land of Hanoi. You betrayed my friendship. You killed my family. You left my Nicholas for dead. And you fled without ever taking any responsibility for what you had done. What say you? How do you answer to these charges?” Vince stepped forward slowly. “We have no choice but to admit our guilt. But..before judgement is passed..may I be allowed to give an explanation?” M glanced at Nicholas who nodded in return. “You may speak.”

“I...I never meant for Hanoi to get involved with my feuds. I only..recently discovered that I had family still alive..a cousin. I welcomed him and his friends. Made a home for them on one of Anarkia’s habitable moons. And since then..they’ve been nothing but a bane to my fuckin’ existence. They’re freeloaders! They’ve ruined every opportunity we’ve had to form alliances with other Realms! When you extended an invitation to Hanoi I tried my hardest to keep it a secret. I don’t know how they found out! They followed us here. They started causing trouble! I tried to get them to leave without anything escalating..but I failed. I don’t have any excuses. We’re all to blame as much as those assholes are. At this point I don’t care if we’re punished as long as they are too.”

M leaned back against his throne to contemplate. Nervous, Nicholas leaned close. “I know there’s little evidence to support his story, but we should at least look into it don’t you think?”

“I suppose. What do you suggest I do?”

“Let me go back with them. I’ll take some of the soldiers with me. We’ll confront them. We’ll bring them back here to be judged.”

“I don’t want you to get involved, my darling. You’re still--”

“Please don’t. You need to get over your protectiveness of me. At this moment you’re in need of care far more than I. That’s why I’m offering my help. Don’t start taking steps back now, love. We have to move forward~” With a heavy sigh the Fae King conceded. A-alright. Just be careful?” Nicholas smiled and kissed his hand. “I promise ya~” Smiling, M turned back to the Crüe. “I will allow you to return to Anarkia and bring these other perpetrators before me. Nicholas will accompany you along with my Guard. Do this, and I will lessen your sentence.” Vince smirked. “If you throw their asses into the deepest hole this place has it’ll be worth it. You got a deal, Mike.” Nodding, M waved his hand to create a portal. “Don’t betray my trust again, Renegade Prince. My Guard will not be as kind as I am.”

Vince’s rowdy cousin wasn’t hard to find. He and his friends had all but taken over Anarkia’s Palace. Vince was already seconds away from completely losing it. Mick grabbed his shoulder. “Keep it together, Anarchy. Once the guards have ‘em in chains you’ll be rid of ‘em.” Vince scowled. “I’m trying, old man..I’m fuckin’ trying..” Tommy clutched his drumsticks tightly. “That asshole Stix better not have messed with my drumset. He won’t be alive long enough to be taken prisoner.” Nicholas stepped out of the portal with the Hanoi Guard following close behind. “Shall we go in? I’m sure you’re eager to get them out.”

“More than. Follow me.” Vince said through gritted teeth. As long as he could throttle at least one of them before they were taken away he’d feel better. The inside was a total disaster. Banners and carpets were torn and stained. The floors were littered with all kinds of garbage and womens’ lingerie. Vince’s face was red with absolute rage. He kicked open the throne room’s doors with a strength his bandmates had never seen.

“STARR, YOU FUCKING BASTARD I’M GONNA MURDER YOU!!!”

“Well well look what the cat dragged in! Its own shit!!” Michael was sitting on his cousin’s throne with a woman in each arm, both of them moaning and giggling as he fondled them. “Been gone a while, cuz..I bet you’re all dying for some pussy huh? There’s plenty here if you want it~”

“GET OFF MY THRONE!!!”

Michael rolled his eyes. “Geez, lower the fuckin’ decibels will ya? Here I am tryin’ to be gracious and you gotta come in here like a bitch on her period. Well sorry I don’t got any tampons for ya.” Nicholas cringed in disgust. He began to see what Vince was talking about now. “Guards, take him. Search the Palace, find his companions and take them too. I’ve heard enough.” As the Guard approached, the women in Michael’s arms screamed and ran away. “W-what the fuck? Who’re they?! What’s goin’ on here?!” Vince crossed his arms and looked smug. “What’s it look like? You’re gettin’ arrested~”

“We haven’t done nothin’!!”

“BULLSHIT!! Remember Hanoi, cuz? Remember you bein’ a fucking nuisance and wrecking the entire place just to chase after me? You may have selective memory brought on from brain damage from all the booze and coke you’ve been snorting but let’s see you try to use that as an excuse at your trial~” The rest of the Guard returned to the throne room with Stix, Satchel and Lexxi chained in heavy iron manacles. “Holy fuck, dude did you bang some King’s wife or sister again?” Satchel asked as he was shoved forward. “I warned you about that shit!!” Lexxi was on the verge of tears. “M-Michael..they wouldn’t let me..take my mirror..or my..makeup..!!” Stix just glared at Tommy who flipped him off. “I’m still bigger than you, Tweedle Dum. When I get out I’m gonna find you and snap you in half like the twig you are..” Michael was then chained and taken off the throne. He shot a glare at his cousin as he passed him. “Don’t think this is gonna get rid of me, Barbie. I’m like a bad penny. I always turn up.” Vince sighed. While that was true, he could at least take solace in the fact that they’d also have to pay for what they did. And that was good enough for him. “Hey Razz..think you can make a stop in KISSteria and grab Nikki?”

“Sure, friend~” He patted Vince’s back. “You’ll be alright. Once Mikey meets..them you’ll have no trouble gettin’ a lighter sentence. Trust me~”

“I hope so. Thanks Razz~”

After watching the others disappear into the portal back to Hanoi, Nicholas created his own to KISSteria’s Palace.

“Uncle Razzy..!!” Ayesha ran to Nicholas and hugged his leg. “Hello, Pixie! Where’s ya mum and dad?”

“Sleeping..”

“Oh damn..well is there anyone else I can--”

“May I help you?”

Nicholas turned to see the Elder standing behind him. “S-sorry to barge in uninvited. I...I was lookin’ for Nikki. He’s got important business on Hanoi.”

“I see. I am glad to hear things are on the mend there. Whenever Prince Michael is feeling well enough, please extend him an invitation to KISSteria. We would be honored to have Hanoi join our Alliance~”

“Thank you, Elder I’ll do that~”

“Very good~ Now, I believe Nikki is with my son. I will return with him momentarily.” Nicholas sat down on a bench with Ayesha in his lap, weaving his magic to create small flowers to place in her hair. The Elder soon returned with Nikki..and StarChild. “Hey Razz. Guess it’s time huh?” Nicholas nodded slowly. “‘Fraid so, friend. Gotta come with me now.” StarChild tightened his grip on Nikki’s hand. “T-time for what? What is he talking about?” Nikki sighed. “Gotta go back to Hanoi..own up to what I did.” He hugged StarChild as he clung to him and sobbed. “How long will you be gone? When will I see you again?”

“I dunno. Depends on how generous Mike is feeling.”

“I’ll miss you so much..I love you.”

“I love you too~” Nikki wiped StarChild’s eyes, kissing him deeply before pulling away. “Just don’t count the days and I’ll be back before you know it. Thank you, Princess..thank you for makin’ me feel again~”

~END~

#Shandi's drabbles #Shandi's KISSteriaverse #StarTerror Saga #this is more amusing than feelsy #but feels are present #also the return of Steel Panther!!

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write-havoc · 5 years

Text

Of Sons and Daughters Ch 11

Summary: Arthur is tasked by Dutch to watch over a young woman who had just lost the last member of her family she had left. That young woman just so happens to be the daughter that Dutch told no one else about.

This is a non canon AU with no major spoilers

Fandom: Red Dead Redemption 2

Pairing: Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character

Status: Ongoing

Contains: swearing, PG 13 smut

Intended for readers 18+ of age only

Masterlist in my bio

Several days pass as the gang comes to terms with Micah’s betrayal to them. With what Charles had told them about what he had seen, it’s evident that after Micah’s plan to get Dutch out in the open to meet with Colm had failed, he went out to that train station to telegraph Milton. Once the agents arrived, Micah must’ve told them Dutch didn’t take the bait. Milton’s impatience apparently had gotten the better of him because he then decided to just raid the camp instead of going about contriving another plan to get Dutch away from everyone to arrest him.

During these days, Emmeline settles in more. She tries her best to do jobs around the camp at Shady Belle. Laundry, mending clothes, washing up, none of it is really new to her, anyway. Once the sun goes down, she starts to help Lenny in his pursuit to teach Sean how to read. The Irishman seems more inclined to listen to Emmeline than Lenny, so he actually makes progress.

“The... dog... j-j-“ he reads along as he points to the words on the page with his finger.

“Sound it out,” Emmeline says in support.

“J-um-p-ed. Jumped!” he calls out excitedly. “That fucker jumped !”

Emmeline and Lenny both laugh at his reaction.

“You’re doing good,” she comments. “See, you’re getting it down. You’ll be reading novels in no time.”

Karen, who is close by, decides to see what all the hubbub is about. “Who jumped?” she asks as she comes to stand by Sean.

He points to the illustration of the little puppy in the book that Lenny had borrowed from Jack. “The dog!” He follows the words with his finger again as he reads. “The dog jumped!”

“You can join us, Karen,” Lenny mentions. “If Sean can learn, you surely can, too.”

She thinks it over a minute. “If I learn to read, Mary Beth will be shoving those stories she writes in my face all the time askin’ if they’re any good.” She moves to sit down next to Sean. “But I guess I ain’t got nothin’ better to do right now.”

Soon enough, Abigail and Jack join in on the lessons, though Hosea has to be recruited to help out with the teaching. It helps to keep spirits high in this time of uncertainty. Arthur often sits next to Emmeline as she continues to help, though most of the time he’s sketching in his journal instead of helping out.

“Who taught you to read, Emmeline?” Abigail asks one of the days they’re all sitting around the fire.

“Both my parents loved books,” she answers. “They didn’t send me off to school, but they both taught me all they knew. Taught me to read and write. How to add numbers. Even had me read some history books, too. They wasn’t really educated, but they did their best.”

“Well you’re loads smarter than Arthur, here,” Sean calls out at Arthur’s expense. “How’d you manage to convince a sweet girl like that to be with you.”

Before Arthur can respond, Emmeline steps in to defend him. “He didn’t have to convince me. Arthur is sweet and kind. And he ain’t dumb. He’s taught me a lot.” She looks over to Arthur and smiles.

“Ain’t that sweet!” Sean razzes him further.

Karen slaps the back of the Irishman’s head. “He’s a better man than you, Sean.”

“Aw, you love me. Give us a kiss.” He leans into Karen, his lips puckered.

“I don’t love you, you pig!” Karen calls out, but everyone knows she’s not serious.

About a week after they had moved into Shady Belle, Arthur finds Dutch standing at the back of the property looking over the swamp.

“Whatcha doin’, Dutch?” he calls out as he approaches.

The older man doesn’t even turn around, though he does answer. “Watching the alligators,” he says with very little emotion in his voice.

Once Arthur comes to stand next to Dutch, he can see blood in the water and an alligator moving around underneath it. “They fighting or something?”

“I watched a boar walk over to the edge of the water,” Dutch starts, eyes still fixed on the swamp. “I watched as one of those gators silently swam up to it, the boar none the wiser. Only took but a few seconds and that gator had that boar in its mouth, dragging it in the water as its meal.”

“Shit,” is all Arthur can think to say.

Dutch lets out a sigh. “All this time, I thought I was the alligator. Turns out I’m the boar.”

Arthur could tell that Dutch hadn’t been taking Micah’s betrayal very well. He had shut himself in his room, barely talking to anybody, which isn’t normal for him. This is actually the first time Arthur had spoken to him in days.

“Now come on, Dutch,” Arthur replies gently. “You ain’t no boar. You’re a man. And men make mistakes on occasion. I know that more ‘n anyone.”

“I’ve been thinking about... him ,” Dutch says, refusing to use Micah’s name. “About everything he’s done. Everything he’s said.” He lets out a heavy breath and casts his gaze to the ground in front of him. “He played me, Arthur. Like a fiddle. Told me everything I wanted to hear. Then he tried to get me to turn on you.” He finally looks over to the younger man. “And John. And Hosea. I nearly fell for it.”

“But ya didn’t.”

“But I nearly did. And everything I’ve been working for would’ve been lost .” He lets out a sigh. “I’ve just been trying so hard ,” he brings his hands up and clenches them into fists in front of him, “to hold onto everything. To keep everyone together. Not to fall into the trap of this...” he waves his hands around, “ civilization .”

“I know, Dutch. We’re still here. We’re still with you.”

Dutch turns his body to face Arthur and places his hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “But for how long?” He doesn’t stay to get a response, instead, walking past him toward the house.

Just a little while later as almost everyone is eating their supper, Sean calls out, “Hey, English!” in Arthur’s direction. Bill is walking next to him, which can mean nothing good, most likely.

Arthur lets out a sigh, causing Emmeline to chuckle beside him. “Yes, Sean?” he replies, already exasperated.

“Me and Bill was ‘avin a drink at some saloon in San Denis when we hear these two blokes talkin’ about some train that’s s’pose ta be carryin’ a lot of gold. Apparently they gonna be movin’ money outta the bank fer some reason.”

“And...?” Arthur says after a pause.

Bill jumps in. “We rob it!”

Arthur just shakes his head. “I don’t think we should be doin’ nothin’ like that right now. All the heat that’s been on us... we need to lie low.”

“Don’t we need the money, though? To get to Tahiti?” Sean asks, parroting Dutch’s words.

“Right now we gotta focus on not getting nabbed by them Pinkertons,” Arthur explains. “Micah don’t know where we went to, but I’m bettin’ he’s told them agents that we’d head further east once they ran us outta Clemens Point. If we do something big, they’ll know it’s us and it’ll only be a matter of time before they find this place.” Arthur scratches at his beard as he thinks it over. “We need to do shit much more quiet than we have been. No train robberies. No banks or stagecoaches. Nothin’ like that. We send the women into the city to pickpocket some rich folk. Javier and whoever else can rob homesteads as long as it’s quiet. Me and Charles can hunt and sell the pelts. It won’t get us a heap load of money, but it’ll make us enough to keep surviving. For now, anyways.”

Since Dutch is continuing to lock himself away most of the time, there’s no one else giving the gang orders but Arthur and Hosea. They are both in agreement that the gang needs to lower their profile for the time being. Especially until Dutch gets back to his old self. Arthur hopes he’ll come out of it, sooner rather than later.

During this time, Emmeline and Arthur try to figure out what it means to be in a relationship together. She, of course, has no experiences of her own to draw off of. Arthur isn’t much better, though, only having one serious relationship in his life. There are some awkward moments, usually coming in the form of Arthur being teased every time someone catches him even so much as looking at Emmeline. She shrugs it off, but Arthur usually has to try to hide his blushing cheeks.

While he’s never been very comfortable with public displays of affection, he makes up for it in the privacy of their own room. He’s tentative for the first few nights, but with Emmeline’s assurance that she is fine with his advances, he gets more comfortable with her physically. Before too long, he comes to crave the intimacy that she provides. He had long since accepted that he would never have another woman in his life, but then Emmeline showed up and awakened parts of him that had been dormant.

One morning, Arthur and Emmeline are cuddled up together in the small bed in their second floor room. Arthur has been working hard lately, so he decides to sleep in a little today. As for Emmeline, her pregnancy has continued to take the energy out of her, so some extra time in bed doesn’t bother her any.

“You awake, Emma?” he whispers when she stirs a little from her position lying on his chest.

“Yeah,” she answers sleepily without lifting her head. “But I’m still tired. I might just fall back asleep.”

He kisses her crown. “Go on ahead. I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

Just a few minutes after she tries to fall back asleep, she’s overcome with a wave of nausea. Thankful that she decided to put her nightgown back on last night after she and Arthur were done with their “activities,” she runs out of their room to try to make it outside before the contents of her stomach could come up. Unfortunately, she just barely makes it out into the hallway before she starts to heave.

Abigail can hear the commotion from her room just a few feet away. She leaves Jack, still sleeping soundly, to see what’s going on. “Are you alright?” she asks Emmeline when she sees the mess at her feet.

Emmeline clears her throat and wipes her mouth. “I’m fine,” she says as she looks up to the other woman, unsure what else to say.

Arthur comes out of the room, having hastily put on his pants to cover himself. He shares a look with Abigail before he gently lays a hand on Emmeline’s back. “Why don’t you go back in and lay down,” he says to her. “I’ll clean this up.”

Abigail’s face suddenly lights up as she calls out, “You’re pregnant! I knew it!” She had her suspicions, but the fact that Emmeline had gotten sick and Arthur isn’t at all worried about it confirms what she had thought.

Both Arthur and Emmeline snap their heads to look at the other woman.

“Keep it down,” Arthur growls out.

Abigail lets out a scoff. “Ain’t nobody up here but Jack. And he could sleep through the end of the world. Even Dutch and Molly are out, for once.” She starts to vibrate with excitement despite Arthur glaring at her. “But it’s true, right?”

Emmeline smiles gently as she nods slightly. There’s no use in lying at this point.

Abigail can’t hold back the squeal of happiness as it leaves her mouth. The thought of having another child in the camp for Jack to play with swirls in her mind.

“Shh!” Arthur pats the air to try to calm her. “You can’t tell nobody, Abigail. Especially not the rest of the girls.”

“I wont.”

“Abigail?” John’s raspy voice rings out from the steps. “You alright up there? I heard you yell.” He starts to come up the stairs before she even answers.

Abigail runs over to meet her husband on the landing. “Emmeline’s with child!” she tells him immediately.

Arthur throws up his hands and rolls his eyes. “Abigail! I just told you not to tell no one!”

“John doesn’t count,” she replies as she leads John over to where the group stands.

“Is that sick?” he points to the pile a few feet away.

Abigail swats him on the chest. “Don’t worry about that! You’re gonna be an uncle!”

“Don’t tell nobody else,” Arthur asserts. “I mean it. Both of you.”

“Alright, alright.” Abigail turns to leave. “I’ll get a bucket to clean up that mess. Then we’re gonna talk all about this.”

John shakes his head and claps Arthur on the shoulder. “Looks like we’re more alike than I thought.”

Emmeline scrunches up her face in confusion at his comment. “What?”

“I knocked Abigail up with Jack on accident, too.”

Arthur shakes his head. “Shut up, Marston.”

She looks over to Arthur for a moment before turning back to John. “But you were happy, right?”

“Little Johnny Marston ran away. Like an idiot,” Arthur answers for him. “I won’t never do that.”

“I came back,” John defends himself.

“It only took four years for you to get your shit together to be somewhat of a father to the boy,” Arthur bites back sarcastically. He had always looked down at John for his decision to leave instead of accepting his role as a father. Now that he’s put himself in the same position with regards to an unexpected pregnancy, he’s focused on not repeating the younger man’s mistake.

Abigail reappears carrying a bucket and some rags. “Stop fighting, you two. You should be celebrating.”

“We ain’t ready to tell everyone just yet,” Emmeline comments. “So I think we’ll have to wait for any parties.”

“It’s your news to tell. But the second you do it, there’s certainly going to be a party.” Abigail bends down to start to clean the floor. “I suggest you nibble on some biscuits to settle your stomach, though. If you start getting sick all the time, people are gonna get curious and ask questions.”

Early one morning, Emmeline takes Abigail up on her advice. Once her stomach starts to roil, she sneaks out of bed quietly enough not to wake Arthur to head down to Pearson’s wagon in search for biscuits. The sun isn’t even up yet, so it takes her a few minutes in the dark to locate the small tin on the table.

After eating a few of the biscuits, she decides to head over to where Miss Susie is hitched at the edge of camp to visit with her for a moment.

“How ya doin’, girl?” she asks as she pats the horse on the neck.

Upon hearing a rustling behind her, she flips around just in time to see Kieran exiting his tent not far away from her.

“Miss Emmeline?” he croaks out, his voice still tinged with sleep.

“I’m sorry, Kieran. I didn’t mean to wake you. I honestly forgot your tent was over here.”

“That’s okay.” He moves to the other side of Miss Susie, petting her on the nose. “It ain’t too much before I’d get up anyway.”

“I need to thank you for taking such good care of her,” she says as she continues to stroke the horse’s coat. “I haven’t gotten the chance to take her out much lately.”

“She’s a real good horse. Very friendly. I must admit that she’s my favorite to ride out of all of them.”

She smiles. “Really?”

“Most of the other horses only accept one rider in the saddle. Miss Susie here don’t mind me taking her out at all.” He pats her neck. “I’ll get her a couple of carrots for a treat.”

He starts to move further away to where he keeps his supplies while Emmeline continues to pet her horse. Suddenly, there’s a scuffle and when she turns to look, she sees a man in a green vest grappling with Kieran, trying to pull him off into the woods.

“No!” she screams at the top of her lungs and instinctively runs toward the man that she realizes must be an O’Driscoll with what Arthur has told her about them. She doesn’t have any weapons on her and she’s only in her nightgown, but she doesn’t let that stop her from trying to help Kieran. Jumping on the O’Driscoll’s back, she forces one arm around his neck and tries to pull him away.

Unbeknownst to her, the O’Driscoll hadn’t arrived alone. His partner roughly grabs her by the shoulders and throws her off the first man and onto the ground hard. She’s stunned for a moment, but once a gunshot rings out, she comes to just in time to see the man on Kieran crumble to the ground.

With the O’Driscoll’s plan well and truly bungled by the surprise appearance of the raven haired woman, the remaining man can only think about making it out alive. He quickly pulls the woman in front of him up by the hair and holds her to his chest, using her as a shield.

“One move and she gets it,” he calls out to Bill, first and foremost, since he’s the only one close by with a gun. That’s not going to last for much longer, though. He can hear everyone else in the camp stirring at the noise. And with the sun starting to bathe the landscape with light, he no longer has the cover of darkness on his side.

“Let her go,” Kieran pleads.

The O’Driscoll knows he has to make a run for it now before he has more guns trained on him. He figures that the only chance he’ll get is if he kills the girl, catching them off guard enough to make his escape. He cocks his gun then a shot rings out.

Meanwhile, Arthur is pulled from sleep by the sound of Emmeline screaming “No!” It’s faint, but it’s like his mind is attuned to her voice. Without much thought, he grabs his gun belt and runs out of his room in only his union suit. As he’s running down the stairs, he’s bucking his belt around his hips and drawing his Schofield, ready for a fight. The sun is just barely up, but there’s enough light that he can see a man on the edge of camp holding Emmeline to his chest. Their right sides are facing Arthur so he gets a good look at the gun the O’Driscoll is holding to her head.

Arthur runs full bore at them. Without slowing even a little bit, he readies his gun to shoot the man behind Emmeline. Despite everything going on around Arthur, he somehow sees the small movement of the man’s thumb pulling back the hammer on his gun. Time seems to slow as Arthur lines up his shot to the side of the man’s head before he can fire his gun. Arthur wastes no time in pulling his own trigger, sending a bullet straight into the O’Driscoll’s temple, dropping him.

Emmeline thinks she’s been shot for a moment. She waits for the pain to radiate through her, but it doesn’t come. The only feeling she gets is the cool morning air rushing over her back, signaling that the man that had been holding her isn’t behind her anymore. Before she can turn to see what had happened to him, Arthur rushes over and turns her back to him.

“Don’t look, sweetheart,” he says hurriedly.

Bill’s voice calls out, “We got more bastards coming!”

Without a thought, Arthur picks Emmeline up, cradling her to his chest and runs back to the house. Gunshots start to ring out as he gets closer to the front doors. Before he can open them himself, Dutch bursts through them, both of his guns in his hands.

“Get her in here with the women!” he calls out to Arthur then starts shooting from the porch.

Arthur deposits her just inside. “Run upstairs to Abigail.” He places a kiss on her forehead then turns to go back outside.

Emmeline does as instructed and rushes up to the Marston’s room. She finds Abigail cradling a crying Jack to her chest on the bed.

“Get in here!” Abigail holds her free arm out to Emmeline and she huddled up next to the woman.

Though they’re about the same age, Emmeline allows Abigail to hold her as if she were her mother. She wraps one arm around Abigail’s back and places the other around Jack as an added layer of protection for him.

Outside, the firefight is intense. Round after round of O’Driscolls come at them. It has to be every single member of the gang, Arthur reckons. He sticks right beside Dutch as the man takes down his fair share of enemies. That is until he hears Sadie scream from behind the house.

“Go,” Dutch calls out unprompted. “I’ll cover you.”

Arthur runs around the house as Dutch takes down any men that might shoot at him. When he sees Sadie, she’s pinned down behind one of the buildings in the back. He fights his way toward her, then the two fight their way back out, clearing out all the O’Driscolls that had flanked the house. Soon, the gunshots fade as the few remaining enemies retreat.

Arthur doesn’t even give himself a minute to rest before he’s rushing back into the house and up the stairs. John is hot on his heels as he’s thinking similarly to Arthur in wanting to check on his family. Both men come through the door to the Marston’s room and see the women and Jack sitting on the bed, still cuddled together.

Upon seeing Arthur, Emmeline jumps up and runs over to him, enveloping him in a hug. “Are you hurt?” she asks into his shoulder.

“I’m okay.” He pulls back to look at her. “You okay?”

She nods, her eyes still watery with unshed tears. The battle had certainly shaken her up.

He pulls her back into him and cradles her head to his chest. “It’s alright. It’s over now,” he whispers to the top of her head. After a moment, he looks over to John, now sitting beside Abigail and Jack, his arm around them. “We need to get out of here,” he says suddenly.

John looks at him confused. “What do you mean?”

Emmeline backs up to look at Arthur as well. “Are they coming back?” She takes his statement as meaning that they need to clear out the camp again.

“No. I don’t know.” Arthur shakes his head. “I mean we ,” he gestures between himself and John, “should leave.”

“What are you saying?” John bites back.

“This life ain’t no place to raise a family, John. We all know that. Jack shouldn’t be raised like this.” He looks over to Emmeline. “No child should. Both of us need to seriously start thinkin’ about leaving.”

John stands with a huff. “All the shit you gave me for leaving and now you’re suggesting it?!”

Arthur takes a step towards the younger man. “You didn’t just leave us . You left them .” He gestures to Abigail and Jack. “Your responsibilities to the gang are one thing, but you left your responsibilities as a father. That’s what I gave you shit about. That boy needed a father. Still does. And this life more ‘n likely is gonna end in him losing you. Or bein’ an orphan.”

“Arthur’s right, John,” Abigail concurs as Jack still clutches his arms around her, though he’s cried himself out and is now falling asleep despite the voices around him. “We can’t keep doin’ this forever. Jack’s getting older and he’s gonna be aware of what we do pretty soon. What you do. He’s a good boy. Smart, you know. He could do so much more than either of us.”

Emmeline feels a bit like a third wheel in this conversation. Though, undoubtedly, she’s one part of the subject of the conversation, everyone else besides her is dealing with a history she’s not involved with. Arthur and John have lived together for over a decade as brothers, for lack of a better word. And Abigail has been with the gang for a few years as well. The decision whether or not to leave the group certainly must be a difficult one for them. The input of a person that’s only been there for a few weeks probably won’t be very welcome at this point, so Emmeline keeps her mouth shut.

John looks from Abigail to Arthur then flicks his gaze over to Emmeline. “You plannin’ on leavin’ with her?” he asks Arthur.

“Don’t have no plans, really.” Arthur runs his hand over his beard as he lets out a sigh. “That O’Driscoll had his gun to her head, fixin’ to shoot her,” he says as he gestures to Emmeline. “In one second she coulda been gone. I coulda lost that chance to...” he swallows roughly at the thought, “to be a father. All because of some old gang feud she ain’t had no part in.”

Not knowing what to say, Emmeline just takes Arthur’s hand in hers. Truth be told, she was specifically avoiding thinking about how close she came to death. And how close Arthur came to it as he battled outside. This whole situation is something she’s never had to deal with before.

Heavy footsteps echo in the hallway outside the room causing everyone to look in that direction.

“Arthur, John?” Dutch’s voice calls out as the footsteps grow nearer.

“In here,” Arthur answers.

A moment later, Dutch appears in the doorway, looking more lively than he has of recent. “Everyone alright in here?”

Everyone nods.

“Good,” Dutch continues. “No major injuries on our side. It seems the O’Driscolls plan was thwarted thanks to you, Emmeline.”

“Oh?” she replies. “I didn’t really do nothing.”

“You alerted us,” Dutch says, pride in his voice. “And Kieran told me you went after the man that attacked him. That was very brave.”

Arthur whips his head around to look at her. “You what ?”

“I just reacted,” she answers. “I saw someone hurting Kieran, so I tried to stop it.”

“You can’t do that,” Arthur asserts.

“Now, son,” Dutch interjects, “she most certainly saved that poor boy from a grisly fate. I think she deserves praise for that.”

Emmeline gives Dutch a genuine smile. Despite the fact that she hasn’t known the man that fathered her for that long, she’s not immune to his charms. Much like the way he’s fostered loyalty in Arthur over the years, she feels a sense of pride that the man is complementing her.

Arthur, on the other hand, is not happy. “I don’t think we should be encouraging her to put herself in danger.”

“It’s not encouragement, Arthur. Just acknowledgement.” Dutch pauses then lets out a heavy breath. “That’s not why I’m here, anyway. Javier caught one of the O’Driscolls before he could run away. I thought I could use you two,” he gestures to Arthur and John, “to interrogate him. See if he won’t tell us where that bastard Colm is so we can return his hospitality .” The word is laced with venom.

Arthur and John share a look before nodding.

“I gotta get dressed first,” Arthur says as he turns to leave with John and Dutch.

“Meet us in one of the buildings in the back,” Dutch calls out as he an John start to descend the stairs.

Emmeline follows Arthur over to their room. “Did you really mean all that?” she asks while he gathers some clothes from his trunk. “About leaving?”

He pauses his motion and turns back to her. “I’ve been scared since... the doctor told us we was gonna be parents, really. Scared what kinda father I’d be. Scared what Dutch is gonna say. Scared about it changing everything here, my whole life, everything I’ve ever known. But all of that weren’t nothing compared to how scared I was when I thought I was gonna lose the two ‘a you. And I don’t wanna leave you a widow, neither. We both need to get outta this. Together.”

She gives him a soft smile as she looks up at him. “That’s what I want, too.”

Over the last few weeks, Emmeline has come to care for the people around her in the camp. All she’s seen is people working together in a normal way, doing everyday things like tending the horses and cleaning up. But this burst of violence is unlike anything she’s ever experienced. She’s never been so close to gunfire, never seen anyone be fought with or shot. Now that she has, she wants nothing more than to never experience that again. If that means leaving everyone here... it’ll be hard, but she’s fine with it as long as she, Arthur, and the baby are safe.

#of sons and daughters #writehavoc Of Sons and Daughters #writehavoc writes #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x oc #arthur morgan / oc #arthur morgan x original female character #Arthur Morgan / Original Female Character #Red Dead Redemption #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #rdr

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odderancyart · 5 years

Text

Retribution

Chapter 6

First

Last

On AO3

Summary: A late night, after yet another unfruitful day with no work, Detective Edge Serif receives a phonecall from the countryside. There seems to have been a murder.

Warnings: Murder, Violence, Swearing, Past Abuse, Past Rape (of a character not in the story)

Worry shines in Stretch’s eyes as he steps inside, placing the tray on one of the chests of drawers by the wall. Inspector Fuente keeps his eyes on him the entire time, and so does Edge. Trying to read any traces of guilt on the face of someone he’s nearly began considering a friend. He doesn’t want Stretch to be guilty, but what he wants doesn’t matter. Fate, or God, or the universe, doesn’t care. It’s with heavy soul he gestures for the other to take the office chair and pull it up so he can sit, facing them.

Stretch’s hands rests in his lap as he sits. It would’ve been the perfect picture of propriety, hadn’t he been fiddling. His shoulders are hunched the tiniest bit, but he meets their gazes straight on.

“Mr Fontaine,” the inspector says, grinning humourlessly. “Detective Serif has found that you delivered wine to the deceased the night he died. And I have gotten the autopsy back. He died by cyanide poisoning. Cyanide that had been mixed into wine. What do you have to say about this?”

“Nothing.” Stretch’s voice is tight. When Edge narrows his eyes, his expression becomes strained. He straightened and sighed. “I really don’t know how that happened. I did what I did every night: bring a glass of wine to the music room. Doctor Gaster always spent an hour or two there before going to bed, playing piano. Apparently his genius was stimulated by fine wine and music. I left, made myself ready for bed. Then I came back, just to check if he needed anything before I went to sleep, and I found him on the floor, whimpering. He went silent and limp within seconds.”

“Who else had access to the wine?”

“Everyone in the staff.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Edge rolls his pen between his fingers, trying to keep his calm. He has no right at all to feel upset. Betrayed. Stretch owes him nothing, and they have known each other for absolutely no time at all. That he is pleasant company doesn’t mean anything.

It takes a few moments before Stretch answers. He closes his eyes and exhales. “Blue told me not to. Didn’t want any unnecessary suspicion on me. Or us.”

“Well, Mr Fontaine.” Inspector Fuente stands, taking a step forward until he’s almost in Stretch’s face. “That backfired badly, because you’re now our main suspect and I will need to search your rooms. And your brother’s too, in case he was involved as well. I can also charge him with obstruction of justice.”

Stretch visibly pales. Before Edge can do as much as react, he’s halfway out of his chair. “No, don’t-” He seems to catch himself and sinks back. “Blue’s only trying to protect me, as always. Don’t get my brother in trouble, please.” His expression is almost pathetically pleading. “Search our rooms, search the entire manor if you wish. But Blue’s only doing what he can to help me. Please.”

Inspector Fuente hums. He stares at Stretch for a few, long seconds before nodding and sinking back into the armchair. “Very well. He’ll walk free this time. But if any of you try to hide anything from me again, you will need an attorney.”

The relief on Stretch’s face is evident. He nods quickly. “Thank you, sir.”

“You may leave, Mr Fontaine.” Inspector Fuente waves toward the door. “But let your brother know what happened in here now, that you’re both our main suspects, and that we will be searching your rooms.”

“Of course, sir,” Stretch mumbles as he rises, half-bowing quickly before he exits. Edge stares after him, clenching his fists in his lap. It is stupid, how he has to resist the urge to rise and rush after him. They hardly know each other. And Stretch is suspected for murder.

In the back of his mind, Edge knows he can’t blame him if he did it. He knows he would’ve done it to the foreman if he ever had gotten the chance. He still isn’t sure what he’d do if he ever sees the man again. Exhaling, he schools his face into gruff neutrality before he turns to the inspector. Inspector Fuente watches him with an eyebrow raised.

“What?”

“You seem fond of the butler, Detective.”

Edge glares at him. “I don’t see how that is any of your business, sir. I can relate to having an abusive employer, that is all.”

“Oh?”

“None of your damn business.”

The inspector grins, clasping his hands behind his neck. There’s almost something kind in his eyes, but not quite. Edge wonders if he’s capable of that. Probably not, members of the Police force seem incapable of showing compassion to anyone ‘below them’. He learnt that early. “It isn’t.” He leans forward, grin falling. “You do look like you’d like to talk about it though. Have you ever? I can swear by God Himself, or by my own honour if you’d prefer that, to keep silent about it. I already know some details, through my research. Your mother and your boss, eh?”

For a few seconds, Edge only stares tat him. How the fuck did he know that? Nevertheless, he was right. Edge hadn’t talked about it, even once. It wasn’t anyone’s business but his own.

No one had never asked before.

He is an idiot. A lonely fucking idiot.

“Fine. Swear. On both of them.”

Drawing a cross over his chest, the inspector swears.

“It’s a simple thing,” he says. “As the unwed mother of a bastard my mother had few choices. I got badly injured at work when I was fourteen, and the foreman, who had been trying to get her in bed for months, offered to pay for the medical care if she would sleep with him. And then she was in that trap. If she refused him, he could easily have us out on the streets. He started coming and going in our home as he wanted, got himself a key. And he was a violent, cruel man, and as much as he lusted after my mother, as much he disliked me because I refused to bend. I couldn’t. And now I couldn’t even escape him in my own home. Then she died, and I was on my own.”

“Shit.” Inspector Fuente stares at him, his eyelight flickering in shock.

“What’s your sob story then, Inspector?”

“Heh.” The corners of his mouth tilt upwards. “Afraid I ain’t got one. My mother’s a sweet lady from a good family and my father’s a preacher, an’ th’ kindest person I’ve ever met. They’re both disappointed I ain’t got much faith, but nothing that damages any familiar bonds, here. Most of our property survived the crash, even.”

“Hm. Lucky.” Shaking his head, he turns toward the wall with the pictures and texts. “Your thoughts?”

Luckily Inspector Fuente doesn’t comment on his obvious change of subject.

…

To be honest, the inspector doesn’t know much Edge hasn’t’ figured out himself. The background checks were more thorough, and he has a time of death that matches up with what Stretch had told them, but otherwise he didn’t give Edge anything else to work with. Soon enough they part, each going their own ways. Edge wanders through the hallways of the manor, searching for someone, when he hears quiet talking from behind the corner. Stopping dead, he considers whether he should leave or not as he hears his own name mentioned. His eyes widen. With a few careful steps, he goes up to the corner, leaning against the wall so he can listen.

“-to hide,” he hears. Blue. That is Blue’s voice, gentle and patient. “There is nothing to worry about, brother, because neither of us have done anything.”

A loud exhale. “I know, Blue. I know. But. They really seem to think it was me. I don’t- Blue, I didn’t kill Doctor Gaster, you know that.” Stretch’s voice shakes as he speaks with his brother. Edge closes his eyes, resisting the urge to walk around the corner and confront them. “I wouldn’t-”

“I know,” Blue assures him. “I know. And soon they will know too. They can’t prove something that didn’t happen.”

“True.” Stretch sighs loudly, his voice still trembling somewhat. “You should go back to work, Blue. Sir Razz will wonder where you are.”

“Will you be okay?”

“Aren’t I always?”

They say something else, quieter, something Edge can’t hear, before footsteps is heard. Edge freezes, but they disappear the other way and he relaxes again. He waits a couple minutes, but when Stretch doesn’t move either, he steps around the corner. The other stiffens when he sees him. He’s sitting curled up in the beige, old-fashioned couch standing along the wall, but immediately throws his legs off it and straightens.

“Dete-” he begins, his smile obviously straining on his face, and his hands balls together in his lap.

“Edge,” Edge interrupts him, sitting down next to him. Stretch twitches. Or perhaps it’s a flinch. It’s hard to tell. “I don’t think you did it.”

“Wha-”

“And honestly. I can’t blame you even if you did. The amount of times I wanted to kill my foreman…”

Stretch stares at him, mouth open, Edge’s expression is fully serious as he regards him before looking down on his own hands. There’s a perfectly straight crack running over his fingers. Straight as a ruler. He closes his eyes for a few moments, and when he opens them again, Stretch is still staring mutely at him, shock shining in his eyes. The corner of his mouth curls upward in a bitter smile. “Do you want to hear a sad story?”

Slowly, the other nods. He looks thoughtful as he regards Edge. And Edge has no idea why he’s doing this, but he is, and he doesn’t want to stop. Two times in a day, huh?

“Growing up in the slums isn’t easy, especially when you’re a bastard, and your mother isn’t married. She was a beautiful, kind-hearted woman, she could have done well, hadn’t she had me.” He’s been battling the guilt ever since he was old enough to realize that hadn’t he been born, his mother’s life would have been better. Even though she always had told him that it wasn’t true. “And when I got injured at fourteen, at the steel mill I worked, she was desperate to pay for the doctors. I was dying. My arm was crushed and the infections… Even with medical assistance, my chances for survival was slim, and she couldn’t afford it. So she made a deal with my foreman, who was lusting after her. I would say in love, except there was nothing loving about that man. She sold her body to him so he’d pay, and then there was no end to it. Even though I healed, he came back. And I’d spend nights lying on the kitchen couch where I slept, and I’d hear them. Hear her whimpering as she was raped. And he hated me. I’ve always been stubborn, and now he seemed to believe that because he was fucking my mother he could do anything to me. I-”

He swallows. Glancing around, he ensures no one is there. Stretch watches him, wide-eyed, as he takes off his coat and pulls up the back of his shirt. A horrified gasp escapes him. Edge knows he doesn’t have to explain, it’s obvious what happened from the criss-cross patterns across his back. Bone doesn’t heal as well as skin does. “Leather belt,” is all he says. He huffs out a quiet laugh. “Not the worst he did, but probably all you want to hear. Then he infected Mother with syphilis – I usually say the flu, but it wasn’t – and within half a year, I was alone. I was seventeen. He’s probably dead now too, that whore, but if I ever saw him, I don’t know what I’d do.”

Correcting his clothes again, he finally meets Stretch’s eyes. “Point is, I do know how it is to be abused by an employer you can’t escape even at home.”

“I’m so sorry,” Stretch whispers, compassion shining in his eyes. His hands rests over his mouth, horror evident in his expression.

“It’s fine. Was years ago.”

“No it’s not. You shouldn’t have had to-” Edge’s eyes widen as he realizes there’s tears in Stretch’s eyes, and the other smiles awkwardly as he wipes them away. “It’s just unfair, you know. That-”

He doesn’t seem capable of continuing, but Edge nods. “I know. It is.”

Unfair that they have to suffer. Unfair that the powerful are cruel. Unfair that the world doesn’t care for people like them.

The great clock on the wall rings. and Stretch twitches, glancing up at it. “I have to go. Sir Razz will be waiting for his tea.”

Edge nods. “Go.”

As Stretch disappears around the corner, he stands as well. He has a job to do.

…

He can hear the ringing of the church bell from over the meadows as he makes his way toward the library once more. It’s where he was pointed, so it’s where he goes. Stepping in there is much like stepping into another world. The room is dimly lit except for the reading lamp standing away by one of the armchairs, and the scent of dust and books is almost overwhelming.

In the armchair with the reading lamp lit, Sir Razz sits, a book in his hands. The new master of the house lowers the book as he hears Edge’s footsteps and nods in greeting. He gestures for him to sit down, and Edge takes place in the dark blue armchair next to him. All the armchairs in the room are old, that much is obvious from the design, though he has no idea how old.

Sir Razz’s smile is polite as he gestures toward the teapot standing on the table next to him, but Edge denies it politely. “You wanted to see me, sir?”

“Yes.” Putting away his book, Sir Razz nods. He clasps his hands in his lap. “I’d like to hear how the case is going. Inspector Fuente does not need to tell me anything as he works for the state, but as you are under my employment, I believe I can ask you this?”

“Yes,” Edge confirms. He can. He considers for a moment what to say: technically, Sir Razz is still a suspect, although he’s certainly the one who seems the least guilty right now. “Our main suspect is Stretch, though I personally am not convinced. Inspector Fuente is awaiting some constables to come help search his and Blue’s rooms at this very moment. If nothing is found, then it is only to keep investigating: everyone has a motive, though Stretch and Blue has the most obvious ones, which is to be expected as they knew Doctor Gaster the longest.”

“I see.” Drumming his fingers against his skirt-covered leg, Sir Razz looked thoughtful. “Well, I quite doubt it was either of them. Blue is the most loyal individual I have ever met, and Stretch does not seem like he’d be capable of murder. He cannot even bring himself to hurt those abhorrent cats.”

Edge nods. To be perfectly honest, he agrees. Nonetheless, someone in this house is a murderer, and he hasn’t the faintest idea who it actually is. Stretch and Blue sure do have motives, but they don’t seem like the murder-y type. But then again, who knows? Anyone can be a murderer. One of the sweetest girls in his old class had been arrested for the murder of her husband only last year, it had caused quite the stir. She’d been driven to the edge by him threatening to kill their children if she wouldn’t obey. So she had killed him.

Desperation could bring people to do horrible things.

Though, to be perfectly honest, Edge isn’t certain if he would call the murder of an abuser, a would-be-murderer, and likely rapist horrible. Sounds like he’d deserved everything he got. If there is such a thing as Heaven and Hell, he better burn.

Both of them twitch as it knocks on the door. A young human man sticks in his head through the doorway, nodding in greeting. “Are you Sir Razz and Detective Serif?”

“Indeed we are,” Sir Razz confirms, standing up. “And you are?”

“Constable Johnson, sir. We are conducting the search and the inspector sent me to invite the detective.”

“Thank you.” Edge stands as well. Sir Razz follows him as he marched out of the room and followed the constable as he navigates through the manor’s countless hallways. At one point Sir Razz has to tell him he was taking the wrong way. It is a labyrinth. The rooms are on the ground plane. Not in the basement as he had expected, but in the back of the manor.

Stretch and Blue are standing outside of an open door, close together as they watched. Stretch hugs himself as he watches the Policemen poke around his room. Papyrus is there as well, watching the search attentively. Edge can’t help but wonder what he is doing there. Then again, surely it was a curious thing to see. Inspector Fuente stands just inside the room, leaning against the open door with his arms crossed. His suit jacket is unbuttoned, and his hat tilted on his head. He grins as the two of them show up.

“Come to see yer first proper investigation, Detective?” he asks, eyes glittering. When Edge only stares at him, he shrugs. “Come and take a look at what my constables find. Sir Razz,” he adds, tipping his hat.

“Inspector,” Sir Razz replies, sounding amused. He casts a short, concerned glance at his servants before smiling at Inspector Fuente and looking into the room. “Finding anything?”

“Not ye-”

“Inspector!” one of the constables calls out. Inspector Fuente immediately twists around, just in time to see a uniformed man step out of the wardrobe. He’s holding a box. “There’s hydrangea flowers in here, and a bottle with white powder. It’s literally marked Cyanide.”

Edge stiffens. Sir Razz stops dead behind him. And Inspector Fuente twists around again, staring straight at the butler, who is wide-eyed and gaping. “But-” Stretch begins, but doesn’t have time to get out anything else before the inspector steps up to him. His expression is serious as he grabs Stretch’s arms, twisting them behind his back. Stretch lets out a small noise but doesn’t fight as the handcuffs click into place.

When Edge meets his gaze for a moment, panic shines in them as the inspector proclaims him under arrest. Blue’s hands are slapped over his mouth but when the word arrest is uttered, he lets out a small shriek. “No! No my brother isn’t a murderer Inspector this isn’t-”

Sir Razz gently puts his hand on his arm, silencing him. He leans forward and says something that Edge can’t catch, but tears spring up into Blue’s eyes as he steps out of the way. Edge’s eyes flicker back up to Stretch’s face. Fear and confusion is written all over it.

The inspector leads him out of the room, past Papyrus who is silently watching everything unfold. Edge startles when he sees the cook’s face. His expression is compassionate, and he’s watching the events unfold with remorse on his face.

But there’s a faint glimmer of triumph in his eye.

#underfell #underswap #undertale #swapfell #noir detective #sf sans #uf papyrus #us sans #us papyrus #uf sans #ut papyrus #my writing #murder #death

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justanotherloveaffair · 6 years

Text

All That You Can’t Leave Behind [Part 6/14]

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader, T’Challa x Reader

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 1,482

Summary: Reader and Steve debrief.

Author’s Note: Some Steve x T’Challa references in this chap.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Your name: Submit (what is this?)

Taglist: @nah-imjustfeelinit, @tchallaholla, @a-heretic-child

With no real table in your studio apartment, T’Challa ate his noodles cross legged on the bed with a fork you brought from your kitchen after you took pity on him. The chopsticks lesson lasted about 2 minutes: one minute of actually trying and the other minute of you razzing him.

While you ate, he remarked on your unpacked suitcase and you took the chance to bombard him with questions while you could. “Do you have wifi? Plug-ins? Is it warm? Should I bring a jacket? How many pairs of shoes?”

To your frustration a lot of your questions were waved off with “you won’t need it” or “it will be provided for you.” In the end, he seemed to think all you should need is a bag with your most valuables and everything else would work out.

“Hey,” his hand stroked your hair and cupped your cheek. “I know you feel anxious, but you will be my personal guest.” He kissed your forehead, your nose, your lips. “I will take care of your every need,” he smiled provocatively.

You had to give it to him, he was saying all of the right things. You tried to push your concerns aside as he kissed you to comfort your thoughts and make you feel his presence beneath your skin. He finished the kiss, bringing your hand up against his chest and said again softly, “Don’t be nervous,” he kissed your hand, “And if you are, just remember you’ll be protected by the King and the Black Panther.”

…. The Black Panther?

You looked at him with surprise. At that moment he noticed the clock behind you, “I have to go. Late for meetings.” He had already put on his pants before eating so he slipped back into his shirt and lifted the heavy coat back on while you stood there blinking at him.

“We’ll talk later,” he answered your questioning look and began to come towards you to quickly kiss you on his way to the door.

“Wait, when am I seeing you next… tomorrow?”

His hurried movements slowed and he paused at the door to glance back, and then seeing your expression, he crossed the room back to you. In the few extra minutes he took to spend with you then he was probably making some important delegates angry and impatient while they waited.

“We leave tomorrow morning, I will be here at 8:00am for you, entle.”

“Where are you staying tonight?” You tried to keep the clinginess out of your voice, you really did and you prayed it didn’t come across that way. You hated to be that girl who suddenly wanted to monopolize the time of a man she’d just slept with but there was so much you wanted to talk about. And yes, part of it was just wanting to be around him.

In a completely normal tone he said, “I have the royal suite at The Plaza.”

Your eyes widened. Not knowing how to respond, you just answered “oh,” as if that little tidbit of news was as normal as could be, while trying not to sound intimidated or overly impressed, which you were.

From the Royal Suite at the Plaza to a studio apartment literally without a table to eat on and yet he had complained not once or seemed bothered by it, you thought with amazement.

“So, tomorrow it is then.” You looked up into his eyes with unconvincing agreeableness and gently pushed at his shoulders, knowing he needed to be out the door.

A smile curled over his lips, turning into a lopsided grin as he said, “I’ll pick you up at 6. Dress nice.” He pecked your lips and left, leaving you staring after him in wonder.

Text from Steve: How’s your day?

Y/N: OMG. Steve. OMG…

Steve: OMG

Y/N: I know!

Steve: I knew he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off of you.

Y/N: I already miss him. What is happening

Steve: Holy shit. Let’s get coffee?

You met at your coffee spot, The Mighty Bean just downstairs from his place. Cap hadn’t bothered with his baseball cap and glasses disguise, since he and the coffee shop owner were on good terms and he made sure it was never awkward for him with intrusive fans. It meant you could sit at a window table in relative peace.

Steve’s blue eyes were bright with interest once you were settled with your coffees. “So? How did it start?”

You described how he arrived with food and he nodded as if he knew all too well, “Ah, the ‘ol “I brought lunch” move. Classic. And did you eat before or after he made sweet, sweet love to you?”

You giggled and took a sip of your coffee mostly to hide your overly giddy smile behind the coffee cup. “After.”

“Oh, I’m so proud of my boy. What a dreamboat.” He rested his chin on his interlocked hands and sighed dramatically. “This is big for him, you know.”

It was the second or third time Steve had mentioned this and once again your expression was bewildered. “How though?” You took another sip. “He could have literally anyone he wants.”

“He could,” Steve nodded in agreement, “And he’s gone through that phase, but he was never the one pursuing. As you can imagine. He doesn’t have to, the gorgeous bastard.”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” You remarked, narrowing your gaze and he smiled boyishly, not oblivious to how attractive he was but he’d never fully embraced it either.

“Oh my god, I just remembered… Steve, I have to ask,” you lowered your voice to a hush. “T’Challa mentioned something about the Black Panther before he left… is this something nobody’s bothered to tell me?”

Steve stared at you unblinking and then deadpanned, “Wait, how did you NOT know the King of Wakanda is the Black Panther? This is literally common knowledge.”

You made a dramatic hand movement to the heavens. “Gahhh! Am I the only one who didn’t know this?”

“Yes, Y/N. The answer to that is yes.”

You groaned with frustration at yourself. You could be so painfully oblivious. Steve wasn’t going to let you live it down either and you endured his ribbing for the next few minutes until he decided to leave you alone.

“So? What’s next for the future Queen?” he smiled devilishly knowing you would swat his arm and he deftly dodged it.

“Well… he’s picking me up at 6. I have to dress nice.”

Steve expressed genuine shock and put his hand against his chest, “My word! Well I do declare, Mr Udaku is positively besotted with you.”

You didn’t have any best girlfriends and Steve’s willingness be your gossip buddy never failed to crack you up. At the same time you were biting the smile back at the mention of T’Challa’s interest.

“And is he staying at his usual royal suite at the Plaza?” You nodded in answer. “Ooh, I’ve been there before. It’s nice.”

Your curiosity got the better of you again and you thought to just be direct was best. “Steve, will you tell me about you two?”

To your great relief, Steve was in a talking mood and didn’t brush you off or give a vague answer. You adopted your most eager listening expression and took every detail like a rare gift, entrusted into your hands for safekeeping.

Steve described his time in Wakanda after they put Bucky on ice and how easily he and T’Challa had come to know each other. It was a hard time for him, and the steadfast support of the King meant the world. They were drawn to one another, both being so alike in character and morals, and during his time in Wakanda they were inseparable for a time. Steve’s feelings were strong, not romantically but in an “I would die for you” way. One night he was struggling emotionally, and T’Challa was there for him in a way no other man had ever been. They held each other, kissed, talked all night and Steve had felt complete love and peace in his heart.

Finishing his story, which you admit you’d listened to with a few shining tears from the telling, he splayed out his hands, “that’s it, that’s all I have to tell unfortunately. I won’t lie, I’m a little jealous you got the full thrust of T’Challa if you know what I’m saying.”

Your hand, that had been holding Steve’s on the table for some time, squeezed his and you smiled. “Who knows what the future holds. I’d be happy to share him with you,” you winked, returning his earlier statement to him.

“We need to stop talking about this or I’m going to have to take you upstairs.”

You lifted an eyebrow and moments later, you had stashed your empty coffee cups and were out the door.

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