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waitimcomingtoo · 4 years

Text

Whatever A Spider Can

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Synopsis: Toms confidence is shaken when Harrison kills a spider for you

Masterlist

“AHHH!”

Your scream rang through the house as you hopped up on the kitchen table.

“What’s wrong?” Tom ran into the room with his fists up in a karate stance.

“Spider!” You pointed frantically to the spider that was crawling across the kitchen tiles. There were various spatulas and whisks on the floor that you had thrown at the spider in an attempt to kill it. When that didn’t work, up on the table you went.

“tHeRe’s A sPiDer?” Tom squeaked and backed up against the wall.

“Yes! Kill it!” You held your fists up to your face and shook nervously.

“What do you want me to do? Sacrifice myself?” He asked in exasperation.

“Well I’m not killing it!” You shouted back.

“Neither am I!” He exclaimed, flinching when it moved again.

“You’re Spider-Man. It’s your job.” You whined at him.

“That’s exactly why I can’t kill it. That’s treason!” He stamped his foot to stand his ground.

“It’s just a spider!” You protested. “He won’t be mad.”

“HE’S MY BLOOD.” Tom bellowed with a stamp of his foot.

“Ah! It moved its FUCKING MOVING KILL IT NOW!” Your screaming escalated as the spider moved towards you.

“I’m not going near it.” Tom scooted behind the table and flung his body over the couch. He peered at you over the top of the couch to see if you were okay.

“It’s gonna get me. Oh my God, it’s licking its lips.” You gulped and backed up even further on the table before shooting and angry look at Tom. “You’re just gonna leave me? To die?”

“I’m sorry, baby.” He said apologetically. “I’ll always remember you.”

You were about to scold him some more when Harrison walked into the kitchen.

“Harrison, thank God.” You breathed in relief. “I need you.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” He smirked and leaned on the table to give you his attention.

“Can you kill that spider?” You pointed to it and bounced up and down on your toes.

“This one?” He asked and easily stepped on the spider. “All done.”

You broke into a smile as relief washed over you.

“You just saved my life.” You said graciously as you held your clasped hands over your heart. You walked to the end of the table where he was and made grabby hands at him.

“I got you, girly.” Harrison laughed and scooped you up bridal style and carried you off the table. Tom watched as he carefully set you down on the ground, clenching the blanket tightly when you threw your arms around him. Everything about the scene was bothering him. From the way Harrison’s arms held your body close to his to the way you wrapped your arms around his neck, something didn’t sit right with him.

“Thanks for saving me.” You smiled in appreciation and squeezed his arm. Tom perked up from the couch and stared at you two interacting.

And he didn’t like it.

“Are you ready for bed?” You leaned against the doorframe of the home gym and yawned.

“Almost.” Tom grunted as he pumped his weights. “Just 100 more reps.”

“100?” You scrunched your face in confusion. “What are you training for? Sozin’s comet?”

“I can’t laugh at your pop culture references right now, baby.” He shook his head as he pumped harder. “Daddy’s gotta train.”

“Daddy better never refer to himself as daddy again.” You said sternly. You watched his face closely for any sign of something bothering him. It wasn’t like him to train so late at night, and definitely not this heavily.

“Feel the burn. Then feel it some more.” He grunted as he pumped the weights. “Baby, do you think you can crack some eggs into a glass so I can drink it?”

“Calm down, Rocky.” You laughed nervously as you watched the sweat roll down his forehead. “What’s going on with you?”

“I’m just working out so I can be big and strong. You need a big strong man to protect you.” He said matter of factly and you squinted your eyes.

“No, I can’t say I do.” You gave him a tight smile. He stopped pumping for a moment to look at you.

“Sorry, not like that. I know you can protect yourself.” He said sincerely. “I mean from things like burglars and pirates and spiders.”

“Well I do deal with those on a daily basis.” You said sarcastically. “And you’re already big and strong.”

“But I need to be bigger and stronger.” He punctuated his words by aggressively pumping the weight.

“Why?” You questioned.

“To protect you.” He said like it was obvious. You were growing frustrated and just wanted to go to sleep.

“From what?” You whined. “Really, Tom, what’s going on?”

He got off the bench and got on the mat to do push-ups.

“I can protect you from anything.” He said as he added in claps.

“I know you can, baby.” You assured him. “Who says you can’t?”

“The spider in the kitchen today.” He put one arm behind his back to push himself even more.

“He said that?” You played along.

“Yes. And then he called me a little bitch boy.” Tom said sheepishly.

“Ah, I see.” It finally clicked. “Is this because Harrison killed the spider?”

Tom rolled on his back and started to do crunches.

“I just want you to know that you can count on me to protect you from things that scare you. I didn’t do that today. Harrison did.” He said one word every time he crunched up.

“Just because Harrison killed the spider doenst mean you’re any less of a man.” You told him with a kinder tone now that you knew his feelings were hurt.

“But you needed me and I didn’t help you.” He said as his crunches got more aggressive.

“It was just a spider, Tom. It wasn’t actually going to kill me.” You pointed out.

“It could have.” He insisted. “I think it had a knife.”

“Well I’m safe now.” You held your arms out so he could see that you were perfectly fine. “Isn’t that enough?”

“It’s my job to keep you safe.” He stated. “Not Harrison’s.”

“How about this?” You knelt down beside him and put a hand on his back to stop his movements. “Next time there’s a knife wielding spider in the house, you can have dibs on killing it.”

“You mean it?” He smiled softly.

“I do.” You cupped his chin and kissed him. “Can we please go to bed now?”

“Okay. And let that be a warning to any spiders listening.” He said loudly as he looked at the corners of the room.

“Ooo. I think you really scared them.” You teased him before leading him to bed.

Three days later, Toms chance at redemption presented itself.

“Ah! Spider!” You shrieked when you saw a spinous black spider crawled across the living room wall.

“I GOT IT!” Tom ran into the room as quickly as he could.

“Tom! You can’t kill it with a pair of scissors!” You tried to hold him back when you saw the weapon in his hand.

“Not with that attitude.” He said as he tried to throw the scissors at the wall. You held him back and loudly bickered as you tried to stop him.

“What is all the noise -ARE THOSE MY CRAFTING SCISSORS?” Tuwaine yelled as he entered the room to see what all the noise was about. He immediately went to Tom and tried to wrestle the scissors out of his hands.

“I have to kill the spider! I have to avenge my lady!” Tom protested as he held on tightly to the scissors.

“White boy, you better chill.” Tuwaine warned, grasping onto the scissors and pulling ad hard as he could. You backed away, knowing there was no way this could end well.

“As soon as this quarantine ends, I am leaving you all and never coming back.” You mumbled as Harry walked into the room. He stood next to you and folded his arms as he watched the scene in front of him.

“What’s all this?” He asked you.

“Toms trying to kill a spider with Tuwaine’s scissors.” You said simply.

“His crafting scissors?” Hardy gasped at Tom’s audacity. “He’s completely lost it.”

“I tried to tell him.” You shrugged as the boys continued to fight. Harrison heard the commotion from upstairs and went to see what was wrong.

“What’s with all the yel-“

“GET OUT.” Tom bellowed as he pointed the scissors at Harrison like a sword. Harrison held up his hands to surrender and backed out of the room.

“What do we do? Do we just let them kill each other?” Harry whispered to you.

“I think I know how it solve this.” You nodded at Harry and walked over to the bickering boys. You squeezed in between them and slammed your hand on the spider, watching it anticlimactically fall to the floor. Tom and Tuwaine fell silent as they watched the spider corpse fall.

“You just killed the spider.” Tom said as he stared blankly at the spider on the ground.

“I know.”

“With your bare hand.” Tuwaine laughed.

“I know.”

“Why?” Tom looked around you in betrayal. “And how?”

“Because I don’t need anyone to protect me.” You stated. “Also because Tuwaine was two seconds away from stabbing Tom with his crafting scissors.”

“And you would’ve been lucky if I had.” Tuwaine dramatically snatched the scissors for Tom, snipped them twice, and left the room.

“You said I had dibs.” Tom whined and flopped down on the couch.

“That was before this became a crazy pride thing. Killing a spider does not determine your manliness.” You reminded him as you took a seat next to him. He stared at the floor as you gently rubbed comforting circles on his back.

“You two are such a weird couple.” Harry mumbled.

“But I needed the spider to redeem myself.” He told you.

“No you don’t!” You protested as you took his face between your hands. “If you’re not a man before you kill the spider then you won’t be a man after.”

“But I want to be the kind of man that can kill spiders for you.” He pouted.

“The only type of man you need to be is my man.” You smiled sweetly at him and stroked his face.

“No one else finds this conversation ridiculous?” Harry looked back at Tuwaine, who was cleaning his scissors in the kitchen.

“I’m sorry, baby. It just shook my confidence.” Tom sighed and looked down. “Every time the anniversary of the lip sync battle comes around, I get a whole slew of hate comments questioning my masculinity. I usually ignore it, but after Harrison killed the spider when I couldn’t, I felt like they were right.” He admitted and you install felt bad for teasing him.

“Being able to put on fishnets and dance your ass off to make the most iconic lip sync battle of all time is the most masculine thing you can do.” You assured him. “Think of all the little boys who love to dance who can do it proudly now because they saw Spider-Man doing it.”

Tom perked up and smiled at you.

“I didn’t think of that.” He realized.

“That’s because I have to do the thinking for the both of us, baby.” You patted his cheek and hoped he didn’t realize that was an insult.

“What a plot twist.” Harrison commented as he cake beside Harry. “I didn’t expect there to be a deeper meaning.”

“I just thought he was a pussy.” Harry shrugged and mumbled under his breath.

“Right? Who can’t kill a spider?” Harrison scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“Not me. I’d kill it in a second.” Harry stated with a confident nod.

“Thanks for getting my confidence back.” Tom thanked you. “I love you.”

“I love you more.” You pulled him into a hug and rested your head on his shoulder.

“What did we just watch?” Harrison shook his head.

“Couldn’t tell you.” Harry sighed. Tuwaine joined the boys in watching you and Tom until he noticed something moving on the wall.

“Hold on mates, there’s a spider right above you.”

“WHAT THE FU-“ Harry and Harrison completely spazzed out and ran in opposite directions as Tuwaine stood there laughing.

“And that’s for messing with my scissors.”

Tag List 🏷

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catboygretzky · 3 years

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best stucky fic recs pwease

Okay, disclaimer, these are all like five+ years old (which is the best Stucky era, imo) and definitely not the only ones I enjoy; these are just a few in my bookmarks on ao3.

In no particular order besides the order I bookmarked them and under a read more because there's a shit ton of them (really, it's a lot):

- hold me until we crumble; Not Rated, 23k

“Sam told me you were watching Antiques Roadshow,” Natasha says, shaking out her hair. “I assumed it was a national emergency.”

- despite the threatening sky and shuddering earth (they remained); Explicit, 72k

“They really didn’t want the mask to come off.” Hill thumbed through the scans, and pulled out a film that she then handed over to Sam, face mostly expressionless but for the flat line of her pursed lips.

Sam accepted the film and held it up to the light, angling so both he and Steve could see it, squinting at the outline of the Winter Soldier’s skull, and the blips of unnatural white that showed up, God, in his brain, not to mention about half his teeth, plus the mask, with its thin protrusions—

“Those are pins,” Steve realized. He looked over at Hill. “The mask—it’s nailed to his face.”

Hill’s face was as unmoved as ever. “Like I said. They really didn’t want it coming off.”

- family means no one gets left behind or forgotten; Teen, 11k

“Why did you think I wouldn’t like you for being gay?” Steve asks gently.

“You’re Captain America.” Eli’s got his teeth clenched and is resolutely looking ahead. “You stand for truth and justice and the American way. You stand for American morals. You stand for…” he shrugs awkwardly. “Not people like me.”

Steve blows the air out of his cheeks slowly, trying to figure out how to keep the anger out of his voice so Eli doesn’t think it’s at him.

Or, Steve comes to terms with his new world, and gains some children in the process.

- Mistake on the Part of Nature; Teen, 1.3k

Steve takes in Bucky's betrayed look and Sam's confusion, follows Sam's gaze to the pile of mangled fruit in the trash can. Sudden comprehension fills his face.

"Oh," he says. "Bucky found out about bananas."

In which an American icon is mourned. But probably not the one you're thinking of.

- Swear Jar; Teen, 1.5k

Bucky isn't the only troll in the future.

Steve has a Swear Jar and he makes the Avengers pay up every time they cuss.

- Barnes & Rogers and the Goddamn Truth; Not Rated, 19k

There are three well-known facts at Shield High:

1. The history teacher Mr. Barnes is a stone-cold terror, and it’s not even because he only has one arm. 2. The other history teacher, Mr. Rogers, is a mysterious enigma, and it’s something to do with the body of a Greek God and contradicting stories of his past. (They’re all rumours, anyway.) 3. Mr Barnes and Mr Rogers hate each other.

Bucky wouldn’t have it any other way.

- perfectly right wrong number; Teen, 32k

It all starts because Steve is too dumb to handle his smartphone.

A wrong number AU in which Bucky Barnes doesn't enter Steve's life (meaning: Bucky wasn't born until the eighties, but Steve is still Captain America) until Steve accidentally dials the wrong number. Wherein there is a lot of texting, some advice via Natasha and Darcy, a bit of pining, and a first date in an amusement park. Oh, and on top of being a disabled veteran, Bucky is a professional catwalker. Literally.

- The power of the right shirt (a.k.a. God bless America); Teen, 1.2k

"He just…" Phil trails off, mouth gaping. He is staring at the field outside the house, eyes glazed.

Clint sighs. "Yeah, he just ripped a log in two with his bare hands."

- To fill it up with something; Teen, 21k

A fateful encounter with Dr. Strange leaves the Winter Soldier transformed, and Bucky Barnes reunites with Steve Rogers in a most unexpected way.

“Steve brings the puppy inside, into the apartment that doesn't quite feel like home no matter how much he's been trying. He isn't used to being alone. Before the war, he always had Bucky, and his mother until her death. During the war, Bucky was there, too—and the rest of the Howlers, of course—but Bucky always meant home. (And well, maybe Steve's already got a name for the puppy in mind)."

- build it bigger than the sun; Teen, 10k

“Yeah, because nothing says heteronormative like living in Dupont Circle for two years and wearing skin-tight shirts to hit on hot airmen when you go running in the morning.”

“Look, I know you’re being sarcastic but I really don’t get how no one picked up on that.”

Steve and Bucky try to work out their relationship. The Avengers keep getting in the way.

- Memories Circle (Like Birds of Prey), Teen, 32k

Everything seems to be going right, Steve's fighting with his Commandos, they've saving lives-- until Steve falls from a train, is taken prisoner, and turned into the Winter Soldier. Meanwhile, Bucky takes up Steve's mantle as Captain America, and thanks to Zola's experiments, he gets dropped into a whole new time, only to cross paths with a Steve who doesn't know who he is anymore.

Essentially, the events of CA:TFA, mild mentioning of Avengers, and CA:TWS but with Steve as the Winter Soldier and Bucky as Captain America

- The Gentleness That Comes; Mature, 9k

Steve Rogers never really views the things he had to do to get by before the War with any sort of shame or embarrassment. People ask him for his opinions on modern issues in interviews, but Steve has gotten good at talking around those types of questions. Fury insists that there's no way to answer them without casting a shadow of controversy across the reputation of the Avengers, and that's the last thing Steve wants.

But then a sex tape is released featuring Tony Stark in bed with another man, and Steve can't stay quiet any longer.

- salt for the sea; Mature, 7.5k

Natasha comes home with intel regarding the fate of the Winter Soldier; Steve leaves to go and avenge Bucky Barnes.

“It's a list of everyone who was involved in his death, and a rough timeline of everything that happened beforehand,” she tells him.

“And the notebook?”

“I explained what they did,” Natasha says, “The blank pages are for you to explain what you do to them.”

- Lone Cat and Samurai; Teen, 8.4k

"We lost Kitten America sir!" Junior Agent blurted out. Then turned an unlovely shade of purple. "I mean, Captain America. Who’s a kitten. Because magic. Sir."

- Waiting To Prove You're Not Alone; Explicit, 41k

Months after he woke up on the banks of the Potomac, when a reporter mistakenly assumes Steve would disapprove of homosexuality being as accepted as it is in the modern day, Steve accidentally snaps and unleashes his real opinion on the matter... and with that, a secret he's hidden for over eighty years.

When that secret comes looking for him in New York, Steve can only hope that he can get a second chance at saving his best friend, even if it means keeping his heart in check.

“Yeah, back in my day it wasn't tolerated, and because of that I knew from the minute I figured it out, that I’d never get to tell my best friend that I loved him, and sure enough, he died without knowing that I’d been in love with him for a decade."

- I'm Not Sick (But I'm Not Well); Mature, 30k

Steve Rogers doesn’t meet Bucky Barnes in the 1930’s. Instead, Steve meets him April 17th, 2012.

Well…sort of meets him.

In actuality, Bucky had almost hit him with his truck.

Or: The fic where millennial Bucky Barnes nearly runs over a freshly thawed national treasure, and what Steve Rogers did to adjust to modern NYC during those two weeks before the events of The Avengers.

- pure as the driven slush; Explicit, 11k

He should have worked it out sooner. But then, Steve always was a sneaky little bastard—had to have been, just to survive this long.

For the SteveBucky Fest prompt, "Steve is quite experienced while Bucky's never gone beyond second base with anyone".

- Let's Be Exposed and Unprotected, Explicit, 5k

Bucky’s pretty sure he should be into getting fucked through the floor while walls explode around him like in that Mr and Mrs Smith movie that Clint loves. But he likes it like this. He likes being on his back with Steve looming above him, big and naked, blocking out the rest of the world.

- Man of Steel; Explicit, 6.7k

It’s like Steve looked at his metal arm and thought ‘Challenge Accepted.’

- 5 Times Steve Got Arrested and 1 Time They All Did; Teen, 4.9k

What it says, 5 times Steve Rogers ended up in jail (with and without Bucky) + 1 time all of the Avengers got arrested with him.

- the best of you; Teen, 16k

Bucky is on a mission when he gets the call.

They tell him that Steve has been compromised.

[The story wherein Hydra captures Steve to create a new weapon. Bucky, alongside the rest of the Avengers, come together and work through the fallout.]

- pull apart the dark; Teen, 79k

Steve's unending faith in his best friend was beginning to look less like hope and more like fantasy. When they'd caught the Soldier – in a fire fight that still gave Sam nightmares – the only thing the man seemed to recall was how to hit exactly where it hurt.

Four months later, Barnes still refused to speak English. Refused to heed anything but Steve's voice.

So, all in all, it was not a great time for Hydra to attack New York. All in all, Sam really wished they'd just killed him, instead of turning Captain America into a baby.

- Not Another Supersoldier Fantasy; Explicit, 8.9k

Bucky finds a popular sex toy modeled on Captain America's own anatomy. Well, isn't this just perfect? Because even after all this time, he still hasn’t seen Steve’s supersoldier cock. But apparently in this day and age anyone with $29.95 can get a decent replica. The unfairness of this is of galactic proportions.

- the blood of the covenant; Teen, 7.5k

Steve has a "thing" for hot water.

Or, Sam Wilson adopts Steve Rogers.

- Mighty like Love, Mighty like Sorrow; Teen, 19k

After freeing himself from the Russians' mind control, Bucky is left at loose ends, drifting through the decades. Still, he's in no hurry to take up Nick Fury's offer to once again fight the good fight -- especially not when Fury has the nerve to put some imposter in his best friend's old suit and send him out to fight against Chitauri.

- Read Me Like a Book; Gen, 1.5k

In which Bucky accidentally becomes a book collector, because when the universe gives you a million biographies about your boyfriend, you go bookcase shopping. And then he finds out about The Grenade Incident, and the boys actually talk about it like actual adults. (Somewhere, Sam sheds a proud tear.)

- the broadest stroke of color; Gen, 16k

Sarah Rogers always loved Steve's hands.

"Your hands will do a lifetime's work," she'd say. "Remember to do the work you can for those you love."

Almost a century later, Steve does just that.

[The story wherein Steve draws comics for Bucky to help him recover his memory. Through a series of events, the issues are leaked, and Steve finds himself reviving the Captain America comics. He still isn't sure how that happened.]

- If You're Loved By Someone (You're Never Rejected); Teen, 9.4k

You’re fifteen when you realize why you stare at Bucky’s lips more than normal when he laughs and when he says your name. You lean into his shoulder when you walk next to him and when you’re sick you don’t fight off his soft hands. You tease him, he teases back and being around him is so easy you forget what it was like to live without him. You can’t remember life pre-Bucky and it scares you.

- Unusual Weather; Explicit, 8.7k

Bucky’s been at the Avengers Tower for three weeks before he finally gives in to Steve’s gentle coaxing and Stark’s cheerful waving of fistfuls of circuits, and lets them scan the arm.

It doesn’t go well.

- this city bleeds its aching heart; Explicit, 35k

The one where Steve and Bucky pose as a happily married couple while on a mission for SHIELD, to catch an international arms dealer hiding in a suburban neighbourhood.

- Good Boy; Explicit, 13k

Bucky is still adjusting to life with the Avengers, and Steve is willing to do whatever it takes to make him feel comfortable. Increasingly, though, what seems to make him comfortable is strangely intimate.

Surprise, Steve! You're a gentle dom and Bucky wants to be your pretty pet!

- Brooklyn; Teen, 8.8k

"Captain America, what's your stance on gay marriage?"

Everyone knows that, by now. Everyone but Bucky.

#told you it was long as shit #fic rec #stucky #mcu #what do people have tagged #fsdjghk whatever

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geesecannotlove · 3 years

Text

Its KiriBaku week on twitter! I'm going to cross post them here as they go up over there! I hope you enjoy!

. . .

#KiriBakuWeek2021 day one: birthday / best friends

Cw// foul language, mentioned alcohol, insinuated adult themes but it's so breif and definitely still sfw

. . .

"Kacchan and Kirishima said this was okay right?" Izuku mused from the doorway of Bakugo and Kirishima's apartment, a pink box holding a cake balanced in one arm and a carefully wrapped present in the other.

"It's a surprise party Midoriya." Kaminari frowned from where he was inside with a few other people that had wiggled themselves into Bakugo's center circle, "Besides, Kacchan is so full of himself, why wouldn't he like being celebrated."

"I texted Kirishima." Sero called from the kitchen, his head peeking out from the archway that sliced the wall between the two rooms. Todoroki's own mismatched head of hair right behind him.

"Midoriya." He greeted warmly, squeezing Sero's waist as he passed behind him and into the next room.

"Hey Todoroki." Izuku sighed, resigning himself to stepping inside the nice apartment, "Where are they, Kirishima and Kacchan?"

"Romantic dinner." Mina sang from where she stood on the arm of their couch tacking up little orange ribbons, "They'll be back around 8."

"Right, let's do our best then." Izuku nodded to himself, rolling up his sweater sleeves and offering his help anywhere it was needed.

. . .

"Ka-tsu-ki." Eijirou hummed from across the now empty locker rooms, "Are you ready for the best birthday date ever?"

"Tch, last year probably will be pretty hard to beat." Katsuki snickered as he loudly tapped his engagement ring against the metal lockers.

"Babe you'll chip the stone." Eijirou gasped, running around the corner, he'd pulled on a /Dynamight/ shirt that was a little loose on his shoulders, dipping to show the bruises of the patrol they'd only just returned from.

"Relax, it's fine." Bakugo grinned as he took in the sight of his husband to be. Katsuki strode forward and placed a delicate kiss on pouting lips, "Are you sure we have to go to dinner, we could just go home."

Katsuki had pulled Eijirou so close their chests bumped and his face fell to the joint of Kirishima's neck. Soft kisses breaking up his words.

"Katsuki!" Eijirou gasped, shoving the blond slightly.

"What Eiji?" Katsuki whispered, biting down on Kirishima's cheek, "It's my birthday."

"Babe I made reservations." Kirishima whined softly, his fingers gripping the other's shirt, his face buried in Katsuki's chest to hide the furious blush that had taken over his features.

"Fine." Bakugo laughed out, his fingers pinching Eijirou's hip before turning to tug on his jacket, "Let's go."

Katsuki was smug around his birthday, his reaching fingers unashamed in their tendency to take. The feeling of being the center of everyone's attention went straight to his head and made his general attitude worse. But Eijirou found it amusing, the way Katsuki smiled so wide and his crimson eyes bright with childlike wonder.

"Happy birthday Katsuki." Eijirou hummed, swinging their intertwined fingers between them.

"You already said that stupid." Bakugo grumbled, despite the high blush on his cheeks and the self assured grin.

"I know, but I wanted to say it again." Kirishima mused.

The little restaurant tucked away from the general push and pull of foot traffic was lit up in a way far from normal. Little candles flickering in the freshly cleaned glass and the owner's son was at the door dressed in an ill fitted suit.

"Mr and Mr Bakugo." The boy said happily, his boyish smile lighting up his face in the presence of his favorite heros.

Kirishima blushed at the boy's words. They'd yet to decide which name the other would take. Hearing Katsuki's made his skin tingle with pleasant anticipation.

"Hey kid," Katsuki smirked, "I like your tie."

There around his neck was one of the limited runs of Eijirou's own tie collection. The kid smiled even bigger clasping his hands together to contain the normal endless string of words he had to offer.

"Thank you so much sirs, if you both would follow me this way."

They followed him into the otherwise empty establishment. A single table occupied the dining area and it was lined with various sized candles. Hot plates of food already being placed on the table.

"Let me know if you need anything else." The young boy smiled once they were seated and scurried into the back to meet with the rest of his family.

"You really went all out huh, Red?" Bakugo mused as he kicked out his legs to intertwine with Kirishima's own.

"I wanted it to be special." Eijirou pouted, leaning against the table until he'd reached Katsuki's delicate fingers and squeezed them between his own.

"Thank you Eiji, it's nice as fuck." Bakugo smiled softly, his sharp edges melting away until he was just him, a little brash but a heart too big for his own good.

"I'm glad you like it."

Dinner marched in under soft lighting and gentle touches. Their laughter mixing in the air in a perfect harmony of what it meant to be human, and not just a heroic icon.

"So Mr. Bakugo." Katsuki spoke with a sly smile playing at his lips.

Eijirou choked on the water he'd just started to drink. Sputtering all over himself, his cheeks painted a brilliant red and his eyes wide. Katsuki snorted out a laugh at his fiance's display and offered up his own napkin.

"Katsuki," Eijirou whined, but the complaint at the tip of his tongue faded when he took in the soft look Bakugo was giving him in response to his name, "Wow you're pretty."

"Whatever shithead." Bakugo snarled half heartedly, kicking Kirishima in the shin.

It was scary to fall in love with your best friend. Especially when they'd fallen into life together so long ago. They'd been neighbors in the dorms every year and they were attached at the hip by the end of it all. Moving in together after graduation felt natural. Breaking year long tension and making out against their brand new fridge felt like fate.

"I love you Katsuki."

"Love you too." Bakugo grumbled from around his glass of whine.

On the walk back to their apartment Eijirou's mind tickled with something he couldn't remember and chanted Katsuki's family name at a deafening roar.

"Katsu?" He finally broke the warm blanket of silence around them.

"Hm?" Katsuki hummed, his eyes darting around the late night traffic.

"I think I want to be Mr and Mr Bakugo." Eijirou was blushing his hand squeezing Katsuki's like his life depended on it but his eyes cast anywhere but the blond.

"Okay, no rush." Bakugo mused, his face bright with carefully contained excitement.

"Okay."

And suddenly Eijirou remembered what it was that was clawing at the back of his mind. Their little home was to be full of their friends, ready to celebrate Katsuki together. Selfishly Eijirou wished he would've told Sero it wasn't a good idea when he first got the text. He wanted Bakugo all to himself.

"Happy Birthday Bakugo"

"-Kacchan!" Echoing cheers escaped their apartment when the door swung open and Katsuki flickered on the lights.

Eijirou smiled, squeezing Katsuki's hand softly. Taking in the feral grin that had exploded over his features.

"You fucking extras." Bakugo barked but it lacked any anger as he strode into the main room.

A little white cake with an icing drawing of Katsuki in his hero mask was set up on their dining room table, an arrangement of gifts and a Red Riot balloon tied to Bakugo's chair. He laughed, comfortable in his own home and among the people that had watched him grow up.

They'd seen him at his worst, snarling and snapping, all teeth and harsh words. But when there was nothing to prove, no one doubted who he was, Katsuki allowed himself just to /be/.

Kirishima leaned over his chair, admiring his own plastic balloon self before pecking Bakugo's cheek and disappearing to change out of his wine splattered shirt from before. He could hear Kaminari's teasing and Bakugo's half heartedly angry retorts.

"Eiji said he's going to take my name." He could hear Katsuki brag.

"That's so exciting Kacchan." Midoriya chirped back, delicately ignoring the condescending tone Katsuki had used.

Kirishima padded softly back into their dining room, all smiles and found his seat at Bakugo's side. Allowing the blond to brag and boast about him. His cheeks tinted a soft pink when Katsuki winked at him as he offered a slice of cake.

"Ew get a room." Sero mocked, from where he stood with his arm looped around Todoroki's waist.

"This is my fucking apartment so shut the fuck up tape face." Katsuki bit back, a challenging glare flickering across his eyes before Eijirou's bubbling laugh drew his attention back.

They didn't stay long. The life of a hero left little room for relaxation. Sero and Todoroki had patrol into the early hours of the morning and Kaminari had a flight to catch.

Soon they sat leaning against each other on their well loved couch in an apartment still covered in streamers. Kirishima laid his head in Katsuki's lap toeing the line of consciousness and heavy sleep. The day was finally starting to catch up with with him and his body ached.

"Thank you Eijirou, for today." Katsuki whispered into the room.

"Of course. Happy birthday." Eijirou laughed softly, "Did it stand up against last year?"

"Tch last year was still my favorite but this was pretty close." Bakugo snorted.

"I'll take it as a victory."

"Good. I love you, always will."

"Forever and always Katsu." Eijirou echoed his voice thick with sleep.

#bnha fandom #bnha fanfiction #kaminari denki #sero hanta #kirishima eijirou #todoroki shouto #kirishima x bakugou #kirbaku #bakushima #seroroki #bnha prompts #mha fluff

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atmilliways · 3 years

Text

On the 2nd day of Dethmas this writer gives to thee…

Dec 14 - Kissing under the mistletoe (or office party shenanigans)

Charles gets roped into the role of Santa Clause at the holiday office party.

Charles/Pickles

The dreaded Dethklok Inc. office Christmas party was coming up—dreaded not by the band or most of the employees, who typically had a blast, but by the CFO who had to arrange and organize everything before and after, up to and including the inevitable handful of resulting funeral arrangements.

Charles was looking forward to it even less than usual, because the band had thrown an absolute shitfit to get him to agree to play Santa this year. He didn’t know why they wanted him to do this. The party didn’t even normally have a Santa. His first thought was that it was Toki’s idea, but on second thought Toki tended to lack the charisma to get the rest of the guys to throw in with him on niche interests like that.

But fine. Whatever. He’d agreed to do it once, and next year he could simply point to whatever came of it this year as an argument against repeating the experience.

He kept telling himself that right up until donning the red and white Santa suit, the iconic hat, and the fake beard. (The damn thing was so big that practically all he could see of his own face in the mirror were his eyes. At least they were letting him keep his glasses.) Then he took his seat in a throne-like chair that had been special ordered for the occasion, specially decorated with carvings of presents, the most unsettling depictions of Christmas elves that he’d ever seen, and skulls with real candles balanced on them, lit and already beginning to dribble red and black wax . . . and immediately felt that somewhere in life he must have made a grave, grave mistake to have ended up here.

The band took the stage in the center of the hall, half the room away from where Charles sat, and went into a jumbled “Merry Christmas, go fuck yourselves!” sort of speech. He mostly tuned it out until—

“And hey, errybody,” Pickles slurred into his mic, “don’t ferget ta sit on Santa’s lap and tell ‘im what you want fer Christmas!”

That had not been part of the discussion, let alone the agreement, but at this point what was he going to do about it? Besides hope that grown men and women hired for their professional abilities would have no interest in sitting on the lap of the man who signed their paychecks.

“You can’t have a pony,” Charles said flatly. “There isn’t space for one in the employee barracks, and even if there were it would be both impractical and unsanitary.”

The Klokateer perched on his lap, crushing the feeling out of his legs, tittered and took another sip of his holiday punch through a straw poked up under his mask. “Oo-kay Mr. Grinchy-claus, no pony for me then. Aren’tcha going to say ‘ho ho ho, Merry Christmas’?”

“Ho ho ho. Now go away.”

Laughing drunkenly, the man lurched up and made his way off the Santa podium to get a refill of punch. The next Klokateer in line had an Online Division pin on one shoulder and a spiked eggnog in her hand. Charles braced himself for yet another request for fewer blocks on searching for porn using company computers.

“Hey look, it’sch Schanty Clausche!”

Charles grimaced behind his beard. “Hello, Murderface.”

The first of the boys to visit him, Murderface seemed to be in unusually high spirits. His ass landed on Charles’ knees like a ton of bricks. “Wow,” he crooned with exaggerated delight, “Schanta really does know all the namesch of the good little boysch and girlsch!”

“Very funny. Would you mind telling me whose idea this was?”

The bassist shook his head. “Hey man, I’m not here to narc on my bandmatesch, I’m here to tell Schanta what I want for Chrischtmasch. ”

“Alright. Fine. What would you like for Christmas.”

Murderface looked around furtively, then leaned in and whispered, “A dischguische kit.”

“A . . . disguise kit.”

“Yeah! I’m tired of being mobbed whenever I go out in public, scho I need it. For camouflasche. ”

Charles couldn’t remember a single incident of a fan mob forming for just Murderface; it only ever seemed to happen when one or more of the other band members were with him, though there were probably a few people who did wander up and ask for an autograph. There had been one unfortunately memorable band meeting a few months ago where Murderface had bragged about someone wanting to touch his penis for good luck, pleased at the recognition but at the same time calling said fan an ‘incredibly fucking gay regular jackoff.’

“I’ll, ah, make sure that’s added to the list,” Charles assured him, and breathed a sigh of relief when Murderface nodded in satisfaction and stood to leave.

“Hey, knock knock.”

Charles sighed from the depths of his soul at this second Dethklok visitation. “Who’s there.”

“Nathan Explosion,” said Nathan Explosion, dropping unceremoniously onto his lap.

Luckily, the beard hid Charles’ wince at the impact. He was probably going to have a lot of weird leg bruises tomorrow. “Nathan Explosion who.”

“Nathan Explosion, here to tell you you’re the party ho ho ho! ” Nathan broke into riotous laughter and clapped Charles good-naturedly on the back, causing him to accidentally inhale a mouthful of fake beard.

After a moment to catch his breath, Charles nodded along. “Very amusing. What would you, ah, like for Christmas, Nathan?”

“I need new pants.”

Well, that was unexpectedly straightforward. “New pants. You got it.”

“One hundred pairs. Exactly one hundred.”

“Okay.”

“Just, uh. A couple inches bigger in the waist. For the holiday weight that I am definitely going to lose in January.”

He couldn’t feel his legs; this was not the time to point out that Nathan wouldn’t have time to wear all one hundred pairs of new pants between December 25th and the start of January, nor that January as a deadline for such a drastic fitness undertaking was probably an unrealistic deadline.

“That’s fine, Nathan. One hundred pairs of pants. I’ll make sure, the, ah, elves get the message.” Maybe he would throw in some math flash cards while he was at it.

Toki weighed less than the first two, but was unfortunately so excited that he landed on Charles’ lap hard . Definitely, definitely going to have bruises.

“God Jul, Charles —I means Santa!” the guitarist chirped, bright-eyed and swaying slightly. Charles fervently hoped he wasn’t about to throw up; he didn’t even think being covered in vomit would do much to get him out of this holiday circle of hell. “Merries Christmas!!”

“Merry Christmas to you too, Toki. What do you, ah, want to ask Santa for this year?”

He didn’t have a watch, but he estimated that Toki’s list, plus miscellaneous excited chatter, took at least half an hour and mentioned many things he knew for a fact that Toki already owned.

“Eeuyghh, looks, it ams everys-ones favorites butler,” Skwisgaar said, then folded himself gracefully into a sitting position. After an hour or two of being sat on like this and having plenty to compare it to, Charles wondered if the man was eating enough.

This was in spite of the fact that Skwisgaar was toting around a small plate loaded with various cheeses, fruit, and greasy finger sausages skewered on toothpicks. Party food. To Charles, who hadn’t realized that this gig would take so long and therefore hadn’t eaten in advance, it smelled wonderful.

The Swede must have noticed him eyeing it, or perhaps heard the growl of his stomach over the noise of the surrounding party somehow, because he smirked and held it out in offering. “Pickle says for you to haves this. Gots to keep yous strengths up, you knows.”

Pickles, Charles noted as he balanced the plate off to one side on one of the less obvious and candle-less Christmas skulls. He also pulled one of the sausages free of its toothpick and reached under the beard to jam it in his mouth. Still warm.

“Thank you, Skwisgaar,” he said once he’d finished chewing. “Now, what can I get for you? Ah, as Santa. Ho ho.”

“Everyones know it ams three ‘ho’s, dildo.” Skwisgaar steepled his fingers. “But I woulds like five ins mine room to enjoy ons the Christmas morning. You know the kinds I likes?”

Charles didn’t know what he’d expected. “It’s my job to know, so . . . yes.”

“Greats.” The guitarist patted him on the shoulder of his Santa suit. “Glads that ams sorted outs. Keeps up that good works, yous.”

Then he got up and wandered away, leaving Charles to realize that he hadn’t had a chance to ask him who was behind this whole Santa idea.

Charles finished the plate of food before Pickles made an appearance. He also realized that he could persuade his increasingly inebriated employees to bring him more food, and also drinks, by threatening them with cleanup duty after the party. (He was not in a generous mood; the ones that tried to weasel out of it at first would get cleanup duty regardless of whether they eventually caved or not.) There was no way to escape the alcohol content in the drinks—even when he asked for water it came spiked with vodka or peppermint schnapps, because everyone wanted to see the company’s CFO hammered.

At least they knew better than to roofie him, because Charles would have them killed.

He saw Pickles coming from a mile away. Maybe it was because Charles knew that once all of Dethklok had a chance to visit with “Santa Clause” he would be allowed to escape this torment; maybe it was because he really wanted to know if Pickles was, indeed, the mastermind behind this whole thing; and maybe it was just a tiny bit because he was annoyed the drummer had forgotten to wander over earlier.

But being annoyed at any of the guys was a nonstarter. Putting up with their antics was just part of the job.

“Heeeeeeeeeeey,” Pickles greeted him as he swayed his way over and plopped onto Charles’ lap. Unlike everyone else who had visited Santa this evening, he didn’t stick to perching closer to Charles’ knees but scooted in as close as he could until they were practically nose to nose. Mingled notes of every kind of booze available at the party wafted the short distance from the drummer’s mouth (and shirt, and hands, and dreads), until all Charles could smell was Pickles. “Lookin’ hot in that suit, dood. Is the temp in here okay? Gettin’ a little warm in there?”

“I’m fine, thank you,” Charles said, trying not to be too aware that Pickles seemed incapable of sitting still and his ass was rubbing against . . . things. “Ah. Merry Christmas.”

Pickles snickered. “Did Nat’en make that ho joke?”

No one could see for the beard that Charles’ lips twitched toward a smile at that. “Yes, he did.”

“‘M glad yer not a ho, Charlie,” Pickles slurred affectionately. “A'least, not no much'a one. That’d be a bummer.”

“Ah . . . okay.” He didn’t know what to make of that, or the continuing subtle lap dance, so he said, “What would you like for Christmas this year, Pickles?”

“Weeeeell. . . .” Grinning, Pickles waggles his double-pierced eyebrows. It seems like he’s trying to be suggestive, but Charles has no idea what that’s supposed to suggest. The drummer leaned even closer, lips brushing against Charles’ ear as he murmurs, “I kinda already got my present right in front’a me, chief. Just gotta unwrap it.”

All of this was sending shivers and goosebumps down Charles’ spine under the (admittedly warm) Santa suit, but for heaven’s sake, it was just Pickles. When wasted, which he was more often than not, man oscillated between being a destructive drunk and clingy one. Apparently tonight it was . . . very much so the latter. Not a good time to ask about the Santa plot, really.

He had dealt with this before, just not with Pickles literally draped over and inconspicuously grinding on him. Come on, Offdensen, pull it together . Do not get a boner at the holiday office party. No matter how long it’s been!

“Well, ah, sounds like you’re all taken care of then,” Charles hazarded. “All that’s left to do is, ah, enjoy the party. Why don’t you go do that.”

Pickles chuckled, a low, sultry sound that just made the situation even more difficult. “Workin’ on it dood, I’m workin’ on it.” He shifted thoughtfully again, then bit his lip through a grin. “And it feels like we’re gettin’ there, huh chief?”

“I. Ah, what?” At least the big fake beard was concealing his blush better than he’d been able to contain his body’s mounting interest in the increasingly distracting ass squirming around on top of him. This is a public place , he wanted to protest, but didn’t want to risk pointing out something that might be completely unintentional. After all, it was Pickles , who did this sort of thing fairly regularly.

But the next murmured words out of Pickles’ mouth stopped every single one of Charles’ thoughts in their tracks.

“Fuck, even in this stupid suit yer sexy. How d’you do that?” A brief nip, teeth closing and tugging on Charles’ earlobe before releasing with a soft wet pop .

Nothing but overwhelmed static on the other side of that ear; the quiet gasp was completely involuntary.

“C’mon Charlie,” Pickles all but whined, “you don’t have to do this anymore. Jest call it a night and meet me in the bathroom or somethin’, okie?”

The amazing thing, Charles thought distantly, was that from a distance, it wouldn’t look like anything was happening. Just a grown man, swaying drunk off his ass, sitting on Santa’s lap to whisper what he wanted for Christmas. Regular office holiday party shenanigans for a laugh. But under the surface, Charles was starting to feel like a shaken champagne bottle.

“You, ah,” he managed. “You do realize that you, ah, seem to be prepositioning me for, ah. Sex?”

Pickles leaned into him with a laugh. “Like I said, dood, that’s what I’m tryin’ ta do. Fer like, fuckin’ forever. For a smart guy you can be pretty stupid, y’know that?”

“Ah.” Charles shifted awkwardly and nearly choked when Pickles very pointedly pushed into it at the exact right moment. “There’s . . . a chance I’ve been told that before,” he hedged, already vowing to himself that he would never admit how many times. This isn’t something he ever would have looked for, but mistaking Pickles hitting on him for god only knew how long for just being an affectionate drunk? That was pretty fucking funny if you thought about it, and he'd consumed just enough alcohol so far to really give it some very serious thought.

And . . . his job was to keep everyone in the band happy.

“So, ah. There are several bathrooms off this hall. . . . Which one did you have in mind?”

#metalocalypse #metalocalypse fanfic #chuckles #12 days of dethmas

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boogiewrites · 3 years

Text

Never Break the Chain Pt. 4

Part 4 of 5

Characters: Javier Peña x OFC

Summary: Esme is left with the harsh reality of her feelings with Javi and what loving him means. Lead by her heart and her gut she leaps into action to try to secure her hopes of having a future with him. But in their line of work, things can take a turn for the worse in a second.

Warnings/Tags: Injury. Canon Typical Violence. Life or Death.

Click on my icon then go to my Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. (Had to do this since Tumblr killed links, sorry.) Please like, comment and reblog if you enjoyed it! It helps out us writers A LOT!

To hold herself together in times of distress Esme had to fall apart from time to time when she was alone. Tonight was going to be one of those times. She secluded away in her small hideaway in the mountains. She had always enjoyed her own company, knowing the difference between being alone and being lonely, but the latter was heavy on her back as she sat red-eyed on the bed, looking out the plantation shuttered double doors in her bedroom.

Her mind couldn’t decide if talking to Javi had been a mistake or not. She felt every buried emotion in a rush that left her a sloppy, blotchy mess. There was no one around for kilometers to hear her, so she let it all out. The rosary she’d mentioned to Javi was occupying her hands as she bounced her legs, full of anxious energy.

Before, the consequences of knowing Javi were something she could deflect, although the coincidence of knowing a cop from over four thousand km away from her childhood would be a hard sell, she hadn’t worried drastically about it. The more intricate reality of how she felt about him was what she was wrestling with. The fact that she had seen him, touched him, talked to him were no longer what ifs’ or fantasies but hard facts. The fact she was struggling with most intensely was that she was still very much in love with him. Before he was a memory, a myth, a story to be told over drinks. He was now the man in the next town over, sharing her same sentiment in both love and life. They weren’t kids anymore, he’d been right about that. Which meant seeing their lives for what they were in the harsh light of day and not through rose-colored glasses. Where they had wanted to be was no longer a thing to strive for, it’d become a prison of their own making.

She didn’t know if it was her body getting worn or the years of repressed emotions that made her feel so damned exhausted. The thought of going back into the den of the same men that wanted her one love dead suddenly wasn’t as easy to sit with. There were real consequences now. For both of them.

Perhaps it was paranoia, but it’s kept her alive this long. She had her bug-out bag by the bed, rosary wrapped around her wrist, and slept with her shoes on. She rubbed the wooden beads like a worry stone; even though she hadn’t been sure what she believed in for many years. Especially not after the things she’d seen, or the things she’d done. There was a strange comfort knowing Javi had a similar sort of experience. Even if she wouldn’t have wished it on anyone. Maybe he would understand. Maybe he was just as tired as she was. Maybe… she had some hope for a future. She had to talk to him again. This time with a purpose, to ask him to leave with her instead of abandoning him again.

———

As she had following every breakdown, she’d dusted herself off and got back to it the next morning.

In a dress and heels that said, ‘Don't fucking question me.’ She walked into the stone-columned entryway in a powerful man's home. It was a nice morning, not a trace of her collapse the night before remained on her face. She sat poised, with understated jewels glinting in the sun. Yet, her favorite accessories were hidden in places the sun wouldn’t hit, those were her weapons.

She had been establishing herself to get to this client, networking, and performing feats to gain trust in a trust-less circle. Playing it cool, she kept her face set into a lovely neutral but curious. It was a grand promise of cash. She found herself in the right spot for the rule as old as time; supply and demand. If she could seize the articles that had been taken from their owners, she would be compensated with a bigger payday than she’d ever encountered. The sentimentality of the pieces, the danger in the retraction, and the previous failures of those that had come before her secured the pay to be something someone like her could not resist.

“They were in my family... generations ago… before their family decided to fuck over mine we were joined by marriage, then by blood. We have not been able to get them through legal or... other means. But you, Estelle, I believe you have a chance to be successful.”

It was flattering but she was already decided by her motives. Enough money to run. And far. Not to mention a comfortable life on the other side when she sold what she’d accumulated over the years and combined with her savings. She’d played it smart the last few years and pulled the plug on the extravagant lifestyle that had beckoned her to this sort of work in the first place. She saw it as a sign, a dazzling neon one directing her to do it. So with a smile and a handshake, she did.

These people she operated with were not the cartel, but that did not make them just as dangerous. They had their hands in every sort of money stream and political influence. They couldn’t go into this location she was to infiltrate guns blazing, they had to have more finesse and mystery. Which is why they hired out. No connections made for less chance of blowback and made it easier to deny the job was them. And by the time they had to worry about such things, she’d be long gone.

She was being personable, enjoying a cocktail by a sapphire-blue pool and eavesdropping on the conversations around her. While ignoring the guy trying to impress her that had perched next to her she was tuned in to the young man that had a two-way radio by the stone fence that enclosed the pool.

They spoke English from time to time which she found unusual. But if they were looking to not be understood it wasn’t the worst approach. The staff here wouldn’t be able to understand them. Most of the men presumably wouldn’t recognize it either. Esme however spoke fluent English. She was raised by a Mexican mother who pushed her to speak English to fit in in Texas. At home, she was one person, a fluent tongue, and outside she was the brown girl that was berated with “HABLA ENGLAISH?” By every white woman she ran into. It had saved her more than once; when she was younger and especially now.

“The pigs are out today.” A statement she knew wasn’t about the animal was caught.

“Pigs are out every day.”

“They think they’re up to something.”

Esme knew that the people that were being referred to were the drug runners. These mining types didn’t pay much mind to cops, they paid them off when they needed and they were mostly left alone. When you have the foresight to build a public image with legal means of income, it’s easier to hide the sketchy shit.

“The gringo is asking questions.”

One of the white boys must have been trying to gather intel in the force. It could be Javier's partner but she couldn’t know for sure.

“Boss? Do we need to let the boys in town know? Is there going to be anything we don’t want them getting mixed up in?”

He thinks for a moment, Esme seeing him out of the corner of her eye, a squint down the mountain and onto the sprawling city below. “Our boys are in the east today, yes?” a pause and a nod of acknowledgment. “Tell them to come home.”

With that order, her jaw tightens. Esme knew something was going to happen. These men might not be narco’s but they certainly knew them, and ordinarily, they would tip the other off to trouble. Business going as usual was best for all involved. Normally she’d head back to her hideaway, let it all play out. But she knew if there was some trap that Javi’s partner might be falling into, that meant trouble for Javi. She couldn’t stand by idly and wait with that knowledge.

She remained composed, finishing her drink before a schmoozy goodbye, a promise to catch up as soon as plans were made. She acted nonchalant until she was past all the checkpoints, she knew better than to act in any sort of rush. Her little cabana was tucked away out of sight from the road between the deeply nooked mountain homes of powerful men and the city. She tried calling into town, a risk she was willing to take while she scurried to change her clothes and add a gun to her ensemble. She asked for Pena first. When she was informed he was not there she asked for his partner, and the same answer found her. She hung up swiftly, heavily armed but light on information. She knew the east side of the city would be the smallest area she could narrow it down to. She hoped her mind didn’t fail her at calculating where to go.

On her motorbike she darted about the streets, eyes peeled, heading by Javi’s place and finding his car gone, and the oil spots now dry, in its wake. He hadn’t been home in a while. Was it the smartest idea to break into an officer’s apartment? No. But was she? Yes. Javi had always been a researcher, if they were going to be zeroing in on a place, he would’ve been to it already. He was an active learner, not passive. He’d never be satisfied with being told what to do, he had to get in and see, touch, taste, and smell for his own opinion to be formed. She took a quick loop around, finding nothing out of the ordinary and circling back to the front door. The place was nicer than she’d expected, it did smell like liquor and cigarettes but so did he off hours. A little mirror and a catch-all basket by the door on a small table was her target, and inside were matchbooks, places she’d watched him go before buried beneath but one she wasn’t as familiar with on top. A pool hall, which wasn’t Javier’s style, sat like a sore thumb. She took the hint, this must’ve been the place they were headed, or at least close to it. She pulled her hair back and looked at herself once in the mirror before a nod to reassure herself and once again she was back out among the busy streets.

She pulled up and parked by a small marketplace, a casual place to leave her bike while she set off on foot, eyes behind her glasses ready to pick up any little nuance. Sadly seeing a guy with an automatic rifle wasn’t automatically a tell for narco behavior, this part of town was rough, you had to defend yourself. The uptick in the number of guys sauntering in the streets with them did however raise a red flag. She took to the rooftops with light feet, sneaking about and hopping from ledge to tin roof, shimmying up pipes and broken walls to scan. Not many were out on their rooftops, making it easy for her to cover lots of space fast, but that was also a bad sign. Like before a natural disaster happens, the animals clear out. The sentiment was the same.

She found a nice place to camp out, shaded by the sun and out of sight of the street on a corner near the pool hall. She could hear the static of a two-way radio a few buildings over from time to time, each time it made her jolt and she was growing impatient. The only thing that kept her calm was that she hadn’t heard any gunshots, and even that was grasping at straws. She eyes a few streets down, higher-end vehicles in red and blue, one after another. This meant one of two things, narcos or cops. She leaves the safety of her cubbyhole and crawls about to find a way to move quickly. She wasn’t being the most stealthy, leaping from ledges, but she had to follow the cars. Her instincts had been right.

Men in and out of uniform pile out, talking quietly, moving swiftly. Now she had to worry about staying out of sight as she got closer. She saw men on the rooftops she hadn’t noticed before, with sights on their guns and she would bet itchy trigger fingers. The static of a distant radio blurts out, a hushed voice in Spanish says “They’re here. Moving into position.”

It was a trap. The situation made her stomach drop and her pulse quicken. She wanted to be close, to warn them… well, to warn Javi. She was about to insert herself into the narco’s game and that would put a huge target on her back. It would potentially ruin her chances of booking this career-ending job she’d landed. She pulls out her gun, switching the safety off, and lowering herself with burning thighs as she used all her slyness. She could get away with it if she was smart about it... and killed all the witnesses.

She knew between the choices of standing by and watching Javi die, or intervening and getting ousted, she could only live with herself in one of those situations. Better to go out fighting for someone she loved than to be a coward and die with regrets. She jumps ahead, closer to where they seemed to be funneling to, various bursts of static around her as she studies to keep a close eye on not coming across anyone lurking.

She sees that shiny, coiffed head of black hair she’d wanted to run her hands through just days before, the lean build and tight jeans wrapped up in a bulletproof vest. His head was on a swivel, she knew he could look after himself but wasn’t about to take chances. She finds a man on his stomach, gun through a small slot in the wall, and aimed in their direction. She takes her moment patiently, padding foot over foot closer and closer with her gun drawn and her knife at the ready in the other hand. He wore no identifying markings, he wasn’t one of them, he might’ve heard her if he was. He was too zeroed in, potentially coked up so she had to act discreetly. She paused until that coke nose of his itched, hand off the trigger for only a few seconds before she latched and covered his mouth, head back and stabbing in deep to keep him making any sounds. It’s not that she wanted to kill him, she just saw no other way for this interaction to go down.

From here she had a better vantage point and was trying hard to look away from Javi and keep her eyes on every alley and rooftop. She lines up her eye with the scope, seeing it was aimed right at the group, she notices a man across from her, just a slight bit of an angle, an accomplice she assumed. The group moved forward, inching closer to being in between the two guns' direct line of sight. There wasn’t even a need for the sights at this point, a spray could take most of them out in a few seconds. These were calculated kills.

“Dibs on the gringo.” a crackle over the radio in Spanish, then another, “Which? There’s so many.” a hiss of laughter and she hears it from the other side of a half wall. They must’ve had multiple men camped out, she knew they intended to kill as many as possible. She couldn’t scream out, she couldn’t shoot them, she had to find that millisecond between when they would shoot and let their position be known. “When they get to the cars. Wait. Then fire.”

“What if I don’t fuckin’ want to? I want to shoot this smug look off this mother fucker’s face.”

“We won’t get them all if you don’t wait.”

She had pieces of information and tried to see the whole picture. She believed in the car there was a remote bomb being held by one of these sicarios. It’d take a good piece of them out and render them blind. It was a plan that had worked many times, but this time she’d be happy to fuck up a well-laid plan.

“Get the white boy, he’s been snooping. I got the mustache. Asshole fucked my sister.” If this had been any other situation it would’ve made her laugh, or at least crack a smile. But now it gave her a target, a plan of action.

“Maybe if your sister wasn’t a whore.” one laughs then a hiss follows throughout the rooftops among the static.

“Fuck you, man. Shut up or I’ll make sure you get shot today too.”

She moved as quickly as she could, having to backtrack to not be seen and climb over the wall to sneak up on the boy who was claiming Javi as a prize. She hunched over him, taking a chance at being seen, but since she couldn’t make out the placements of any of the other voices, she took her chances. A tension-filled hush fell across the street, no one but the cops out now. She waited for the man to readjust his arm, a sure sign of pulling the trigger shortly. They were holding their breath for the bomb, and she was assuming it was the double-parked cars, waiting for the group to get between them and hit them from all angles.

He swallowed, then popped his neck, settling down, face away from the hole he aimed out of and she took only a second to make up her mind. She shot him in the head as he braced himself.

“TRAP!” she screamed with all the force she could manage, tasting blood as she hit the ground, the cops now on high alert to the rooftops, and the guns fired. She’d given them enough time to duck for cover, having to take out the gunfire from one side of the street herself. She heard the bullets whizzing by as she hunched and ran down to the street, an alleyway where Javi had huddled down a moment before she saw the men barrel down the stairs opposite them. They’d had the same idea. “JAVI!” she screams, gun out and trying to peak from behind a dumpster.

His eyes were wild for the second he met hers. Confusion is all that read on his face, unable to answer under the gunfire.

“FOLLOW ME!” she shouted, firing off rounds to cover him as she motioned him towards her.

“You wanna explain-?” He’s caught off by the bombs in the street going off, knocking him back.

“SHUT UP AND RUN!” she shouts, shoving him forward, “You’re surrounded. Head West!” it’s all they needed, him hitting the pavement as hard as he could and her grabbing him by the vest to jerk him the way she needed. She hoisted him up against walls, all while hearing the men shouting and the stray spray of bullets hitting the corners they’d just passed. She knew they weren’t concentrated west, the men would instinctively run east towards the station, towards the backup, but she knew better.

She raced ahead, a small blocked-off space high up is what she yanks him down into. They don’t speak for a moment, catching their breath and her pushing him down to look out to see if anyone had been able to keep up with them.

“Now can I ask a fucking question?!” he rasps out.

“I got wind of something going down in the east today. So I came. And you should be kissing my ass for saving yours!”

“We were about to-”

“About to get blown the fuck up. Whatever you thought that was, it was a trap.”

“How did you know?” his eyes narrowed at her accusingly.

“I know that look and no, I’m not working with the narcos. I overheard some cronies at my meeting this morning. I narrowed down the options, ran across town and scoped it out, took out two guys, and then...lit the keg and ran.”

He blinks rapidly in response, processing the information.

“Yeah, you’re welcome. They wanted to kill you and your partner pretty bad.”

“Doesn’t surprise me.”

“Apparently you fucked one of their sisters?”

"I stand by my response.”

She smiles at him, something he doesn’t expect. He doesn’t have time to react until a few stray bullets hit something near them causing them to hunker down again.

“You could’ve gotten killed you know.”

“I’ve done it before.”

“Not funny.”

“It’s a little funny.” she rolls her eyes.

“I’m serious.” he grabs her wrist. “I have to deal with you being with these other... assholes and not the ones I deal with. Don’t make me worry twice about you.”

“I’m a big girl. I can handle it. I promise. I wasn’t about to let you walk into an ambush.” she states defensively.

“I’ve made it out before.” he huffs defensively.

“You will until one day you won’t.” when she meets his eyes again, after seeing his soot-covered knuckles wrapped around her wrist, she adds “If I can keep your ungrateful ass around long enough to make up for all the shit I put you through I’m gonna do it.”

He looks her up and down, but not how he had countless times with women, but biding his time to figure out what about that statement he wanted to ask her first. “What do you want me around for if you’re not gonna be there?” It was direct and hurtful, but also a fair point.

She stops looking out and meets his dark eyes to hers, she looked almost offended. “I want to be around,” she says softly. “I just wasn’t sure how.”

“Stay with me. Stop running. I’ll keep you safe.” he moves his hand from her wrist to interlock his fingers into hers.

“Over 20 years and you still haven’t come up with anything else?” she jokes and squeezes his hand. “I did want to talk to you about it. About… us...” she spoke softly and paused, ears perked up to the movement outside.

“What do y-”

“Shh.” a quick and low serious squeeze of his hand. “Someone’s close.”

“Where the fuck are you Javi?” blares out over his radio on his chest. Not a second later, bullets are coming through the back of their hiding spot, scrambling to get out, despite her fighting him, he covers her.

“Rooftop. West.” is grunted out as he and Esme wrestle to be the one to shoot the perpetrator.

She hits his chest and then right in the head, falling in a slump before she notices Javi is no longer hovering and trying to keep her down. A quick turn, intaking the rest of the space, knowing more would be on their way soon, and whether they were cops or sicarios she couldn’t let them find her. In her rush she hasn’t noticed Javi on the ground, she sees his face for only a second, slightly confused before looking at up her the moment she sees his side and hands covered in blood.

“Oh fuck, Javi... no.” She spits out and immediately ducks over him

“S’not... good news sweetheart.” He gives her a smirk, one she’d seen a thousand times on a younger version of his face. She knew with that expression alone it was indeed not good.

She doesn’t get time to react, to even breathe before more shots make her go into survival mode. She covers him, dragging him to a nearby brick wall to at least be safe from one side while she covered the others.

“Can you watch behind me while I look at this?”

“Yeah.” A pause while he holds his gun out. “I can try.”

“Was that your partner on the radio?”

“Yeah should be here soon.”

“Let’s hope so.” She grits her teeth and can’t tell if the shot went straight through, which meant he would probably be okay if it hit in and was now embedded in his stomach. Either way, this wasn’t ideal, to say the least.

“There’s-“

Before he gets it out she’s turned and shooting more men trying to get on the roof, none having the foreign blonde hair and pale skin of his partner.

“You should get out of here... y’know. They’ll ask questions.”

“I’m not leaving you.” She applies pressure to his side and he lets his head fall back to the wall with a heavy breath.

“Now is a hell of a time to start.”

She gives him a hard brow but would normally laugh because he had a point. “I never... ugh.” She grunts in frustration, shooting another man a few rooftops over. “I never wanted to leave you.” She continues trying to figure out the best way to slow the bleeding down. “It's the last thing I wanted to do. You know that right?” She asks to receive no response.

She sees he’s lost consciousness. Now it was proving to be worse than she had hoped. Cursing under her breathe, fighting back tears, the burning making a splitting headache form in her forehead, she uses the only thing in sight she can, taking her shirt off and ripping it tie a makeshift tourniquet around him.

She hears a bark from a man that sounds almost familiar and a dead giveaway as a cop. His partner was almost there. “You’ll be fine Javi.” She whispers, not knowing if she believed it or if he could even hear her. She kisses his cheek and holds his head close for a moment. A few seconds of kissing his hair, trying to forge a deep memory from a rushed moment. Just in case.

“JAVI?!” She hears shouted.

“UP HERE!” she shouts, knowing she had to get away but wasn’t going to leave him until she had to. She was soon not given a choice when orders were barked at her on sight.

She used her savvy, knowing how to get away, even if it was a stretch. “He’s shot.” She says backing away with her hands up to the edge of the roof. “Murphy, please don’t let him die.” She begs as the man’s face softens for a moment, she recognized he must have understood who she was.

The man coming up behind him however didn’t. He fires off a shot, hitting her and forcing her to make an abrupt jump from the rooftop.

“SHIT!” Murphy barks again and shoves the other man’s gun to aim down at the ground. “Don’t shoot HER!” He shouts in the man’s face. “She was helping him! Can’t you see that?!” He runs to the edge, looking down and seeing nothing but a dumpster and a few drops of blood on the pavement. Javi had been right. She was good.

@jaegeeeeer @likedovesinthewnd @inkededucatednnerdy @biharryjames @ladamari68 @past-romantic @weliketomoveit @shikin83

#Javier Pena #Javier Pena Fanfic #javier pena x reader #javier pena fic #javier pena fan fic

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masterweaverx · 4 years

Text

Me: “I should probably be writing so I don’t get so desperate at the last minute that--”

My brain: “The El Goonish Shive characters as students of Beacon academy MAKE IT HAPPEN GO GO GO!”

Me: “FINE. I’ll draw notes, but I’m not necessarily doing the story!”

So anyway here’s some notes for a story I’m not necessarily doing.

Team SPET (Spectral), led by Grace

Grace Sciuridae:

Faunus, Vale origin. Squirrel tail, “antennae” forelocks, and clawed fingernails/toenails (not actual claws, she just let them grow out.

Emblem: An acorn, generally worn as a pin on her sleeve.

Outfit is a loose long-sleeved shirt in green, black pants, bandoleer belt with a sheathe for her weapon and pouches, and no shoes/gloves.

Beacon uniform adjustments: no shoes, and she doesn’t wear the neck ribbon thing, but otherwise standard girl’s outfit.

Semblance: Extensorary. Grace can extend her aura to feel anything in the area, manipulate objects, or simulate flight.

Weapon: Shade Tail. A zweihander that splits into two bladed whips. Possible Dust effects.

Backstory: Kidnapped as a child by Damien, who in this universe is an absolutely insane faunus-supremacist that thinks he can control the Grimm, Grace lived several unkind years in the forests of Vale before managing to escape and arriving at Beacon academy. Ozpin let her in as a student mostly to provide her the protection of paperwork, since from what she’s describing Damien might be tied to the Bigger Secret of the world. She becomes partners with Tedd during initiation. Her upbringing does leave her mostly the same as EGS prime canon, ignorance of all social norms included, but she has an especial dislike of the creatures of Grimm due to Damien’s madness. Also she doesn’t get racism. Period.

Susan Pompoms:

Human, Argus origin. Appears mostly the same as EGS canon, with exception of single blonde side-braid.

Emblem: Venus symbol, used as a belt buckle.

Outfit is a dark blue longcoat has straps on the back, through which backpack straps are run to hold onto her Big Box O’ Stuff. Wears blue pants held up by belt and going into calf-high boots, black leotard, and black three-finger half gloves. Shoulder armor and a metal backbrace.

Beacon uniform adjustments: Boy’s uniform instead of girl’s, but otherwise standard.

Semblance: Portation. Susan can mark any container as hers and teleport whatever's in it to herself and back.

Weapon: Morrígna. A warhammer that can split into a sword and mallet. The mallet can morph into a one-handed gun.

Backstory: The early parts of the backstory would remain basically the same, but she doesn’t meet Nanase until Beacon and has only a passing familiarity with Sarah as ‘Oh yeah, her family comes to Argus sometimes.’ But she would have a friendship/rivalry with Pyrrha, which might lead to some interesting interactions with Jaune. She winds up partnered with Elliot during initiation. And, upon realizing how completely unaware of social norms sheltered Grace is, would be very vocal about certain people not abusing her.

Elliot Dunkel:

Human, Mantle origin. Literally looks the same as canon, because why break a good look?

Emblem: An oval with some abstract lines, seen as a symbol on his shirt.

Outfit is a White cape and black crop-top, black pants and white shoes, belts in an x-shape over his belly with pouches for carrying things.

Beacon uniform adjustments: he does not wear the white undershirt. That’s it. The jacket’s buttoned up, but he doesn’t wear the undershirt.

Semblance: Soul Fury. Elliot can draw on the negativity of others, such as pain and fear, in order to increase his own physical attack strength. He has trained this to a degree that he is capable of jumping to intense heights.

Weapons: Honor and Justice. Arm-mounted bladed tonfas, capable of shooting grappling hooks from the wrist to either drag himself to a location or to bring a foe to him. Used to be part of the Four Ideals, but leg-mounted equivalents went to Ellen.

Backstory: Saved Tedd from some bullies during one of his visits to Mantle, became close friends. Otherwise standard backstory. Some people might note his childhood doesn’t mention his twin sister, and he’ll say there was a whole money-legality thing until recently. Anybody with a truth-sensing semblance will know he’s lying. The truth, however, is Very Classified. Like seriously you don’t know how classified it is.

Tedd Verres:

Human, Atlas origin. Left half of his hair is the original ‘long hair’, right half is the new ‘pixie cut’.

Emblem: A circle with three lines extending from it, which is placed on his equipment.

Outfit is a light blue longcoat with internal pockets (and everyone is going to comment on that since none of the other characters have pockets), light blue pants, black shirt and boots. Also some purple armor around his chest that is slightly rounded and matching greaves on his legs.

Beacon uniform adjustments: wears the girl’s outfit, but with a tie.

Semblance: Copyscan. Tedd can identify other people's semblances with some observation, and make limited-use copies of them with physical contact.

Weapon: Convergence. A gauntlet with an extendable shield, which also stores copies of semblances. Ted also has an energy pistol called Expedience.

Backstory: Tedd’s dad still works for a coverup agency, but now it’s the RWBY-canon ‘Keep Magic and the existence of Salem an utter secret’ cover-up agency. Tedd was brought into this against his father’s wishes when General Ironwood realized the potency of his semblance, but this also gave him access to a few classified doohickies such as this fused universe’s version of the Dewitchery Diamond. Going to Beacon is meant as a ‘field test’ of Tedd as an agent, at least according to Ironwood, but there’s also his dad wanting him to have friends that aren’t involved in all the top secret drama. Also yes, he does have a copy of Ellen’s gender change spell in Convergence which she willingly refreshes for him, and he will sometimes spend time as a girl. (Possible connection to May Marigold down the line?)

Team STNE (Stone), led by Sarah

Sarah Brown:

Human, Mistral origin. The only real difference is that her hairband now sports fancy curls and flanges and also it’s made of bronze as a sort of informal helmet.

Emblem: a double-sided question mark which is engraved into her arm guards.

Outfit is a pink knee-length dress, belt with four pouches radially aligned. Armored boots, greaves, and with her shoulders, all bronze.

Beacon uniform adjustments: none, but she still wears her headgear.

Semblance: Lookout. Sarah can instantly take in details about her environment to a highly detailed degree, with a range that extends the more aura she pours into it. While she can examine things that might be hidden, i.e. the inside of a closed book, she cannot change anything.

Weapon: Zauberei. Spear/staff that can shift into a rifle and split into a pistol and dagger. It sort of looks like a giant paintbrush?

Backstory: An ordinary Mistral combat student who went up against Pyrrha Nikos and Susan during some combat tournaments and got a case of starry eyes for both of them. Upon hearing they were going to Beacon, she decided to go too because why not? What she doesn’t realize is that she’s going to be put in charge of a team of Secrets and Drama. She winds up partnered with Justin during initiation.

Justin Tolkiberry:

Human, Vale origin. Aside from a very fancy set of earrings in one ear, he looks about the same as his canon counterpart.

Emblem: Abstract fire, which is displayed prominantly on the back of his gi.

Outfit is an open orange gi with lots of red fire patterns and buckled belts around the ankles, thighs, biceps, and forearms. Also sandles. And he does have a belt around the pants with a few pouches.

Beacon uniform adjustments: Wears sandles instead of shoes.

Semblance: Not known, exactly. Justin knows he can ignore damage sometimes, but the details are unclear.

Weapon: Dashing Delver. A rectangle-headed shovel that turns into a tower shield/sled.

Backstory: Basically the same as canon Justin, except that because Remnant is more accepting of LGBT+ people overall he wasn’t bullied and was just very irritated at Mellissa. Also Elliot and Nanase were on entirely different continents so there’s that. He’ll be the snarky rational one when everything about his team is revealed.

Nanase Kitsune:

Faunus, Menagerie origin. Has naturally dual-colored hair to match her naturally dual-colored fox ears.

Emblem: A heart-shaped fox head thing she wears on her shirt.

Outfit is a black jacket, yellow croptop with emblem in red, red skirt with yellow trim, red armbands, black shoes, and a pouch belt that hangs off one hip instead of being used as a belt.

Beacon Uniform Adjustment: She keeps her armbands.

Semblance: Fairy Companion. Nanase can summon fairy companions to herself or anyone she has an emotional connection with. These fairies run off her subconscious unless she deliberately controls them, and can be used to communicate, scout, or detonate as weapons. Their size is controllable, ranging from ‘hold in one hand’ to ‘outright as big as Nanase herself’, though they always appear to be wearing what Nanase is at time of summoning. Larger fairies take proportionally more aura to summon.

Weapon: Faewind. A backpack with four cable-attached fairy wings. Each wing is a bladed arm/leg shield with inbuilt nozzles that serve either as short-range blasters or a jetpack when retracted.

Backstory: The Kitsunes are a very important family in Menagerie, with a lot of political clout, and Nanase is expected to reflect that as her mother sends her to Beacon in order to indirectly represent Menagerie at the Vytal tournament. Nanase, however, is using this first chance to not have to be a Perfect Icon to actually search for her own identity. She becomes partners with Ellen during initiation, and picks up on how Ellen is really not comfortable talking about her own past. There’s a slow gradual growth of trust going on, and Nanase slowly comes to realize she might love this girl.

Ellen Dunkel:

Human(ish), Mantle origin. Looks the same as canon because of course she does.

Emblem: A rectangular mirror with a suspiciously familiar diamond shape in the center, painted on her shirt.

Outfit: Where Elliot wears a cape, Ellen wears an open coat. But otherwise it’s basically the same, if adjusted for female.

Beacon Uniform adjustments: She doesn’t wear the socks. That’s it. She wears the shoes but not the socks.

Semblance: Shift Beam. Ellen is capable of generating a beam of light from her palm. If the target has no active aura, it is impacted with a degree of force relative to the amount of aura input. If a target does have aura, the beam can cause temporary physical alteration; Ellen is still learning the ins and outs of this, but she can usually make other bodies more like hers (i.e. physically female). This is noted to be unusual, since no other known semblance outright shapeshifts people. Consequently, she tries to avoid using it in ways where this can be observed.

Weapon: Courage and Virtue. Leg tonfas. Complete with jump-jets. Used to be Elliot's.

Backstory: Officially she’s just the long-lost twin of Elliot’s who recently got back out of the foster care system. Unofficially, the dewitchery diamond exists in this fused universe and Ellen has to keep her origin a secret because if Salem heard about her hooooo boy! The original plan was for her, Elliot, and Tedd to all be on the same team so they could protect each other but she wound up partnering with Nanase and then on a seperate team and now Ellen is conflicted between explaining her origins to her partner and not wanting people to freak out. But she does slowly start to explain her various quirks, as people (especially Nanase) start to notice stuff about her.

The Plot:

I dunno, team SPET and STNE interact with teams RWBY and JNPR and get involved in the world-spanning conspiracy? My brain is saying this is enough for now.

#RWBY #El Goonish Shive #fanfic idea #Fanfic notes #Grace Sciuridae #Tedd Verres #Susan Pompoms #Elliot Dunkel #Ellen Dunkel #Justin Tolkiberry #Sarah Brown #Nanase Kitsune #Yeah the outfits could probably use a little work

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anika-ann · 4 years

Text

Heart Too Cold, but Friends of Gold - Ch.1

Know the Enemy

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 1700

Summary: Avenger!reader AU. Part 2 of Melting Hearts series. Part 1 HERE.

Your parents have been taken, parents who didn’t even know you were still alive and playing hero. And now it’s time to negotiate.

Warnings: swearing, mentions of kidnapping, death threat,... crying? Light angst.

Prologue | Story Masterlist

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Tony barely managed to plug in the phone to his magical tech when the annoying ringtone cut the air again.

You had been sitting on one of the stools in his lab, staring ahead blindly. Instead of a science lair, you saw your parents, family dinners and tiny cute birthday parties in a close circle of the few people who still cared. You saw your dad’s proud smile when you finished high school despite all the odds of your poor health and your mother’s tears on the same occasion, the small diner they took you to after, because you loved it there and you had preferred it to some fancy restaurant.

A squeeze on your hand brought you back to the present and you blinked, looking up to Steve’s face. A shadow of concern was there, but he gave you an encouraging smile. You gulped, eyeing the phone as if it could explode.

“Gonna put in on speaker, sounds good?” Tony hummed, already accepting the call and truly setting it so all of you could hear the caller. Steve’s hand never left yours.

“He-hello?” you spoke up quietly, mentally cursing. Too low. Yet, the person on the other end of the line must have heard you, because he responded.

“Hello, my darling!”

Steve’s grip tightened as the man greeted you cheerfully and Tony quickly started typing sounlessly in order to trace the call. You closed your eyes, the picture of your parents, each tied to a chair and a tape covering their mouths, swimming behind your eyelids.

“What do you want?”

There was a short silence following your question.

“Straight to business, I like that,” the man commented, his voice, immediately burned into your brain like a brand, causing you to sober up. “I wanted you attention.”

“You have it.” You have no idea how much attention you have, you dickbag. Touch them and I swear I’ll rip you open with my teeth.

“Obviously, Snowflake.” You winced, just like Steve, who was trying to keep composed by your side. “I’d like a meeting.”

“Why? Why would you kidnap those people? What-“

“Told ya. Wanted your attention. Gotta admit, your backstory is less interesting then I thought, but the Michaels always had high expectations.”

There was a bitter note behind his words and your lips parted. What the fuck? Was he trying to lead you astray? Or did he really just introduce himself? Both men present with you seemed as surprised as you were – Tony’s eyebrows were up, while Steve’s face darkened. He didn’t like the man revealing himself so easily-- and honestly neither did you.

“Why do you want to meet?”

To kill me?

“Big fan of yours. But with how much fan mail you get, I figured I needed something… bigger.”

You gritted your teeth at the painful pang of anxiety attacking your stomach. Yeah, sure, kidnapping your parents was a bit bigger. How the hell had he figured it out? There was no chance this Michaels didn’t know who you were, no chance of your parents being abducted being a coincidence. Yet, you needed to be sure.

“And you thought kidnapping two innocent people would do?” you strained through your teeth.

Tony gave you a thumbs up and lighted up the big screen – he traced the call. Naturally, it was from Pennsylvania; right at the source.

“Worked, didn’t it? I’m sure your friends already traced the call to the right building, so now nothing stands in the way of our meeting-“ You shot Steve a panicked look – this guy knew very well what he was doing. He must have known how precise the program was, when using the military network combined with Tony’s. How could he know that? “-so why don’t you come tomorrow at 8 a.m.? I would set the meeting earlier, but I tend to be cranky before I have my coffee.”

Steve’s expression was one of furious, veins on his arms ascending as his free hand curled up into a fist. His other forearm was pale; you realized you had been subconsciously tightening your grip on his hand and what was worse, your powers started working on their own, cooling the limb down.

You immediately let go, shocked and horrified. After that, you didn’t think your horror could escalate, but obviously, you were wrong.

“Also, leave your group of merry men and deadly woman home. If you don’t come alone, I’ll know. And if I know, they die.”

Steve shook his head rapidly, his eyes hard and disapproving. Tony was trying to get your attention, waving his hands. ‘Prove of life,’ he mouthed.

You breathed in shakily, closing your eyes. You were out of options. You whole body, every single instinct was screaming at you to tell him to go screw himself, because it was an obvious trap, but you didn’t have a choice.

He had your parents. There was only thing you could do.

“8 a.m. it is. I’ll come. Alone,” you added firmly, ignoring Steve’s hand grabbing your arm and pulling lightly to make you face him.

You opened your eyes slowly, meeting his – they were speaking to you soundlessly, scolding your for even thinking about negotiating with the man and meeting him on your own. You allowed yourself to drown in the sea of outraged blue, surprisingly calming you despite the emotions promising a fight in it. You found yourself strangely relaxed, an insane reaction to this mess.

“But I’m gonna need a non-stop prove of these people being alive.”

Steve’s gaze softened with compassion and you pretended it didn’t do things to you. You fooled no one.

“Obviously. Accept the video feed,” Michaels ordered and Tony clicked on the icon, another big screen lighting up with a face of a man.

JARVIS automatically started the recognition program, while you instinctively started asserting the man. White male in his forties, a bit round face, dark stubble, piercing grey eyes. Two-inch scar above his left eyebrow. It was impossible to guess his built with his body out of the frame.

“And you know, you can cut the game of calling them ‘people’. I know who they are to you,” he exclaimed, one corner of his lips rising.

You swallowed loudly as he disappeared from the frame then, angling the phone and showing you old industrial metallic door. He nudged it with his foot and it opened easily.

You ceased to breathe, your heart stopping as well. Your palm fled to cover your mouth as tears gathered in your eyes.

Here they were; the scene in front of you resembled the photo you had received, so he must have taken it from the very same angle. There wasn’t any change really, but for that you were actually grateful. You parents were still alive and breathing, their scared eyes flashing to the camera for a second before they lowered their gazes to the floor again. Your mother’s shoulders shook, her sobs muffled by the tape over her mouth.

The table you set your fist onto covered in thick layer of ice. You quickly raised it again.

“See, Frostbite? Living and kicking. Let’s keep it this way. You’ll hear from me every half an hour so you know your precious p-“ you held your breath in anticipation. Had he told them? Was he about to tell them now? “-people are still breathing. Can’t wait to meet you, Snowflake.”

And then the line went dead.

You sobbed, folding like a house of cards under a slight breeze. Steve shifted in his position, wrapping his strong arms around you instead of the simple challenging grip on your arm, and you instantly reached for the comfort he was offering. He placed a kiss on the top of your head.

“Hey, we’ll handle this-“

“Alone,” you whimpered, your voice muffled by his t-shirt. You could feel him shaking his head.

“Not an option. We’ll figure something out. Tony? Who’s this guy?”

“Frederick Michaels. Former employee of… well, me. Stark Industries. MIT graduate, summa cum laude. Just your average IT guy here. Fired a year ago,” Tony informed him swiftly. He didn’t need an encouragement to elaborate. “For harassment. That poor woman had to take a half-year of therapy. Jeez, I wouldn’t be surprised if Pepper had been the one to pack his bag herself. She’s allergic to that stuff.”

You allowed yourself breathe in at the mention of Pepper Potts. That woman was a goddess among men, ultimately badass in a bit different way than Natasha. And you needed to be all kind of badass now. You retreated from Steve’s hug, rising from your stool. Yet, you didn’t quite leave Steve’s personal space, comforted by the heat he was radiating. You eyed Tony.

“Why would he target me?” Why would he target my parents?

“Given his history, I would say it’s your outfit, it’s very tight on the right places-“ Tony hummed, cut off by Steve’s murderous glare, “-but this seems much more complicated than that. Why don’t you chill while everyone else gets here? JARVIS?”

“Already sent an alert to Agents Romanov and Barton as well as Doctor Banner, sir.”

“That’s what I’m talking about, the team working like swish watch. He picked the wrong team to mess with. We’ll deal with that bastard in no time, no worries, Frosty.”

Despite yourself and the air so thick in the room you could cut it with a knife, you smiled.

“Also, get that ice from my table, Elsa. Your manners suck.”

You did as he asked, trying to ignore the anxiety at your powers going haywire – you had other things to worry about now. But you could feel Steve’s worried gaze at the back of your head as your hand hovered over the mess you had made.

He was shaken by that as much as you were, but you never got to talk about it, because Clint entered the laboratory with a yawn.

“What’s up, ki-“ The words died in his throat when he saw the frozen frame of two civilians tied to chairs. “Where’s the fight?” he asked instead and Tony sighed, zooming the map out, replacing the ugly picture.

When the red dot appeared in a town called Snow Shoe, you almost send an icicle through the hologram, really not appreciating the irony.

────── ·❆· ──────

Part 2

────── ·❆· ──────

Tags: @mermaidxatxheart, @murdermornings, @elisaa-shelby @ask-hellbent-tweek @cxptain, @kallafrench

#marvel #fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x you #avenger reader #avengers #captain america #steve rogers #captain america imagine #captain america x reader #captain america x you #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america fanfiction #heart too cold but friends of gold #anika ann

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angoramon-breeder · 3 years

Text

Tales From The United/Not-so-United/Vaguely United Nations/States Southwestern Frontier ~ Origins

Transcript of Duncan Cariode’s Research Paper and Oral Recitement for the Averlante Bard Institute

Classroom Eyestone #9901

There’s a great many molds of men out there. You see, first came the original mold that wasn’t much of a mold at all, the gods. They came from nothing hitting nothing and bleeding all over the place, and they came in any form they damn well pleased. So. the gods all got along real well, until Mind came along. It took a form similar to that of a parasite cause it was born too weak to live by itself. It clung to as many gods as possible, spreading itself across the cosmosphere. All the sudden, most of the gods found a self. It had infected them with sentience by being in their presence, and they went from blobs no smarter than rocks to people.

Mind got along real well with a whole bunch of folks. It was real swell, helping everyone it could. It gave the gods purpose. Many gods didn’t really like having Mind over, but Mind understood. After all, with all the pleasure it brought, it also brought pain. Stone and Metal in particular preferred to be alone, and because of that, found a nice peaceful life together spread apart the universe. Another quaint couple was Water and Water. It was quite the narcissist. It often broke up, but it always got back together.

The coziest of couples were Mind and Reality. Reality hated Mind at first, but grew to love them eventually. Reality thought of Mind like a drunkard views whiskey. Reality was often brought down by itself, and speaking to someone who had such lofty ideals was as if it, just for a moment, was really like that. Mind and Reality had such a deep bond that they made the first child, Magic. Magic only followed it’s own rules, and it loved making friends. Magic made friends with even the most ornery of gods, and it changed them all for the better.

The only one Magic had yet to change was Death. Death hated itself with a passion. It ruined everything it touched. It tried making friends with anyone who would take it, but alas, Death was far too awkward to hold a conversation. It always unnerved Water, making it change shapes anxiously, a feature common among gods. Stone and Sand were lonesome folk, so whilst trying to befriend them, Death had taken up a quieter, more peaceful visage. However, Stone and Metal didn’t buy it and told it that they weren’t really looking to expand their social circle. Frustrated with itself, Death had taken to brooding in the corner of the universe.

Magic approached Death in the corner of the infinite expanse with a lively skip. By this time, most of the sentient gods had started taking humanoid forms, and Magic bore lanky, feminine proportions with hip-length, immensely curly, sunset-colored hair. Despite its feminine appearance, however, Magic was larger than all of the other gods, towering over both of it’s parents. As it skipped merrily, Magic shook the cosmosphere. With every bound Magic made, Death became more anxious, or at least it did initially. After watching Magic bounce toward it for a while, it started to smile. Magic eventually ended it’s trot with a pirouette, and then spun clockwise towards the ground, ending up in a cross-legged sitting position in the space in front of Death.

“Hi,” Magic said, as it rocked it’s head violently whilst staring gleefully at Death. “What is it? Come to finish me off? No need. There’s not much worse than this.” Death’s white, translucent, viscous form uttered. “No. Not at all. What is it that you want? Why are you so... sad?” inquired Magic with a solemnity previously unseen by Death.

“I don’t know. I just... want to be part of something. It might sound silly, but I want everyone to like me. I just want everyone to give me a chance.”

“And you really want this? More than anything?”

“More than the ooze that composes me. More than there are stars in the cosmosphere”

Magic pulled out a strand of it’s orange hair. “Here. And, small tip, maybe don’t talk in so creepily.” Magic said as it handed the strand to Death. That strand was a piece of Magic’s will. The first spell. For some reason or another, Magic was the first to discover the ability to make spells. Willpower, words, and feeling were given gravity and power. A part of oneself forcing others, at least for a moment, to take it seriously. Death had gained an uncanny ability that it had not realized until after The Great Pissing Contest.

The Great Pissing Contest, for those who aren’t in the know, was when all of us smaller beings were made. You see after Magic gave Death a strand of hair, a whole slew of gods wanted in. They didn’t know that they too had it’s abilities, and a relentless war for Magic’s attention ensued. Quite a few gods that didn’t become as iconic as Death, Magic, Stone, and Metal started having children in the hopes that their children would have such strength as well. Entire factions formed whilst trying to harvest the power of their descendants. They even invented the concept of money, just to facilitate the trade and harvest of children. Essentially, entire wars were fought to obtain powers that they already had. Several hundred gods died, and Magic found itself being held captive often.

Magic had been held in multiple different prisons, subconsciously made real by their desire to contain it. They had walls of greed and a deep lust for power whose urges moaned throughout the premises. Magic always managed to escape, with each prison having a deep flaw in the design. They were unconsciously made, and because of this, the prisons were made as poorly as, well, anything you might make without thinking about it. Eventually, Magic disappeared. Fortunately, before they could find Magic again, they had found bigger problems for themselves in the shapes of other gods. The Least Meaningful War had been started. Gods had begun killing gods with no abandon. At first, there was a reason. Most of the gods had a purpose and reason to gain this power. However, after eons, reasons waned. Warring had become the only way of life they knew. The only gods that hadn’t participated in this war were what we now call the Prime Gods, Reality, Mind, Metal, Stone, Death, and Magic as well as a few others.

Eventually, the vying for power got so destructive that a truce had to be made. More than half of the gods’ number had been killed in the capture of magic. Those who lived were more often worse for wear. They were subjugated, forced to make children, or at least attempt to, as that was the only lead they had as to how they could obtain Magic’s power. The kindness that Magic once saw in each of the non-Prime gods was diminished. They were phantoms of people. Humanity and humility were traded for dimes on the dollar. Mind called a meeting in what would eventually be the little speck of dirt called Earth, and as it had infected almost everyone with sentience by this point, they all agreed to at least hear Mind out. A sudden realization had dawned on all of the gods as they stood on the manifestation of Metal and Stone. As they listened to Mind, a deep self-hatred grew in many of them. They knew the horror of their crimes, and a vast majority of them weren’t prepared to deal with that. It didn’t take Mind telling them that the war was pointless to get them to stop. All it took was a moment of silence. Nobody even listened to Mind’s speech to the point where nobody even knows what Mind said to this day. They just stood around ashamed. It also helps that it suddenly dawned on them that they already had said powers when they saw Metal and Stone, guided by Magic, shape the planet they stood on before their eyes. While relations between the gods worsened, there weren’t any more wars or slaves or needless children being made. Luckily, few ever figured out how to make children, and despite it’s length, the war wasn’t long enough for children to be harvested or even born. They would grow up in a mostly normal way, much like how Magic grew up. Having been severely traumatized beforehand by war, most gods relegated their expressions of disdain to small pranks and words, and the biggest prank war of all was The Great Pissing Contest.

It all started when Thylat, decided to make a series of people, just like they did before with animals and plants. It saw the planet that Stone and Metal had made and decided to do something similar. It studied the work of Stone intensely, taking mental notes as to how they could make it as diverse and interesting as the Earth. Water, the only Prime God to really take interest in the relations of others, saw them and, like always, had to give it’s thoughts. Water had involved itself so deeply with this little project that the critter couldn’t live without it. Thylat didn’t even mind none, as, despite Water’s pretentious attitude, it actually had some good ideas. Together, they made Wildlings, a species of short, skinny, people with colors of hair much like Water’s rainbows, and pointy little ears and noses. Meant to just be a neat little side project, soon everyone had to outdo Thylat, as ever since they made fools of themselves in the war, many of the gods had been desperate to prove their worth. Aposet made Giants (self-explanatory) and was showered with praise for it’s “creativity”. Kypnessi made Jiragige, a race of people with crystals embedded in their skin and skin that came in the colors of different types of stone. While Thylat liked some of the designs, it knew what they were doing, and they’d done it every time it’d make anything. They’d done it with plants and animals, and sure as shootin’ they were ‘bout to do it with people as well.

Needless to say, Thylat was made the punching bag of the cosmosphere despite being the sweetest god there ever was, except maybe Magic. Most gods made Wildlings but slightly different and slightly better just to stir up Thylat,but it was just light teasing. Enoucco, however, was a no-count rascal. You see, during the war, Enoucco was the one who started it all, and that embarrassment stuck. Enoucco made Humans, a race that wasn’t inherently bad. They had a few key differences like smaller, rounded ears and smaller genitals, but the way Enoucco made them was sly. Nobody knew how bad they’d get until they got bad, as Enoucco gave them subtle little differences to make them more akin to violence. The biggest change was their sexes. He made the males slightly bigger, and the females slightly smaller and with larger breasts. Pair that with outright telling them to be violent, and you’ve got a warring race if I ever did see one. They took as much as they could, and not much could stop them, as none of the other races even thought of fighting before humans came. Unable to watch them suffer any longer, Magic went down on Earth and tried to sort it out. However, Enoucco prepared for this, and the humans tried to run Magic out. For one, the female humans were designed in Magic’s image, and they were taught and conditioned to basically enslave their women. And two, they immensely distrusted outsiders, as Enoucco had a crafty little religion made to keep them in line.

Magic, realizing that not much could be done on the human end, planted a strand of it’s hair in the ground, and only told the other races how to use it. They fought tooth and nail with their newfound powers and retook a lot of land. However, the damage was done, and despite the halting of the human race’s genocides, they had still spread their culture in such a way that couldn’t be repaired by one person alone, to the point where even many Wildling nations adopted a patriarchal institution. Well folks, you’ve been a good audience. I do thank you, Miss Everland, for this research paper has been most enlightening. [Duncan turns in his written paper as well as his sources. After a brief silence in the room, Everland grabs Duncan by the hand and leads him into the hallway. Muffled screaming can be heard from her, and she returns, slamming the door on him.]

[END OF TRANSCRIPT. FOR USE BY THE AVERLANTE BARD INSTITUTE DISCIPLINARY ACTION BOARD]

#cowboy #SouthwesternFrontierSeries #wizard #fantasy #gods #origin story #my writing #writing #fiction #short story

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ifishouldvanish · 5 years

Text

Editing tips, I guess?

Hey uhhhhh, so I've gotten lots of new followers over the past few weeks and wanted to do some kind of thank you?? Also, I have seen a fair share of "omg HOW" in the tags on my edits (which??? always make my day?? my week??? my life????)

Anyway, I thought I'd share some of my ~techniques with y'all? So here goes:

(lmao this got really fuckin long so cuuuuuut)

1. Make EVERYTHING a Smart Object

Okay, maybe not EVERYTHING, but seriously. Do it. It will save ur editing life. You ever shrink something down and then an hour later change your mind and decide you want it bigger? If you're not using a smart object, it’ll get blurry when you scale it back up and you’ll be fuCKED!

To make a layer/group a smart object, just right click on it in the layers panel and select "convert to smart object". This makes Photoshop store the layer's original data in a separate space for safe keeping (an embedded .psb file, to be exact) -- so you can shrink it and enlarge it as many times as you want without any lossiness.

As soon as I paste/place a screencap, texture, or whatever into my document, the first thing I always, ALWAYS do is convert it to a smart object!!

Why, you might ask?? Continue to item No.2 :)))

2. Harness the POWER of Smart Objects!!

The reason I am obsessed with Smart Objects is because I am obsessed with making any edits as non-destructive as possible. If you use “Image > Adjustments > Levels/Selective Color/etc” on a regular layer, that’s a destructive edit. Same goes for any Filters (such as blur/sharpen) and transforms (Warp, distort, perspective). You lose the original data that was there and the only way it can be undone is with ctrl+z. Might not seem like a huge deal at first, but if you keep chugging along for an hour and decide, “hmm, maybe i went too hard on that levels adjustment after all...” your only options are deleting the layer and starting over, or uh... hoping it’s still in your history panel.

However, it's really easy to avoid destructive edits when you use smart objects!! Because all those adjustments, filters, and transforms become “Smart Filters”. Smart Filters have all the non-destructive advantages of performing these adjustments via adjustment layers, but have the added bonus of ONLY effecting the layer they’ve been applied to, instead of cascading down and effecting all the layers beneath. (Which can be a good thing sometimes, but that’s a whole other topic)

Smart filters are attached to their ‘parent layers’, and can be hidden, deleted, or modified (by double-clicking their names) at any time:

Can I hear a wahoo???

Other cool things about Smart Objects:

You can copy a Smart Filter with all its settings to another layer by alt+click+dragging it over

You can change the order in which Smart Filters are applied by clicking and dragging them around

You can edit a smart object independently/in a sort of 'isolated' mode by double-clicking on its thumbnail!! I like to use this for edits that are specific to a given screencap-- like cutting out the background and any initial adjustments, like levels and selective coloring. Once you’re done editing the contents of the smart object, hit ctrl+s and it will automatically update in the main document!

But really, the biggest thing for me here is psychological. I know I’m much more willing to try things and experiment when I know that I can easily go back and tweaks things at any time. Otherwise, I’d stick with adjustments I don’t really like all that much simply because it would take too much time/effort to redo them.

3. Don't even THINK ABOUT using the eraser tool or I will STOMP YOU to death with my hooves!!

Use a layer mask instead. Please I am begging you. It all comes back to making your edits as non-destructive as possible. If you erase something, it's gone forever. When you mask something, you can make changes to which parts are visible/not visible as often as you want.

For the newbies or the otherwise unacquainted, a mask is a greyscale ‘map’ attached to a layer (or layer group) that controls its opacity. Black areas give the layer 0% opacity, white areas will give it 100% opacity, and you can use shades of grey to achieve partial transparency. You ‘draw’ on these layers with the your trusty brush and paint bucket tools.

You can create a mask by selecting a layer and then clicking the little mask icon at the bottom of the layers panel (it’s the one with the little circle inside the box). Draw black on the parts you want to hide, and if you erase too much on accident? Just paint back over it with white!

I love masks, and sometimes i will throw an already masked layer inside a layer group and apply a second mask to said group. This way I have two masks that can be edited independently from each other. Like layer mask-ception.

So anyway, yes. Eraser tool? Don’t know her.

4. Try using channels to create masks!

This is a technique that works REALLY well for cutting out complex shapes, such as wispy hair (or feathers!) -- provided there's strong contrast between the subject and the background, and the background isn't too busy.

This is also a fantastic method for capturing alpha transparency. For example: If you have a neato paint stroke/splatter/watercolor texture you want to use as a mask, but has a solid background that’s getting in the way of things. This method will capture all the semi-opaque areas flawlessly!!

While editing your image (which you had better have made into a Smart Object!!!) do the following:

Switch from the "layers" panel to the "Channels" panel.

Toggle through the R, G, and B channels, and decide which one has the most contrast for the areas you are trying to mask.

Ctrl+Click that channel's thumbnail. This will create a selection marquee.

Switch back to the layers panel

Click on the target layer/group (the one you are trying to mask)

Click the mask icon at the bottom of the panel (the one with the circle inside a box)

Release the selection and invert the mask if necessary

If you're using this method to cut out a subject from its background, you probably won't want alpha transparency. In this case, select the mask thumbnail and use a levels adjustment on the mask itself to bump the contrast until you have more of a cutout effect!

It sounds like a lot of steps, but it’s really simple! So I made this handy GIF: (click to view from beginning)

Sometimes you won’t want to use this method for the entire image, but just a specific part. For example, if you’ve cut out a character with some other method (magic wand, manual brushwork), but are having a hard time with their hair in particular. Use this method to create the selection, but instead of converting the whole selection into a mask, use the brush tool to apply the mask only where you need it! You can invert the selection itself with shift+ctrl+i.

5. Outlining text

The font I used here is Salomé, which is actually a solid typeface with no outlined version. But you can make virtually any font into an outlined version if you so desire!

There's two possible methods here, actually:

The Easy Way:

Add a stroke layer effect to the text layer (by selecting the layer, clicking the little “fx” button at the bottom of the layers panel, and choosing “Stroke...”)

As far as settings go, aligning the stroke to the inside usually yields the best result/maintains the integrity of the letterforms.

Make the color of the text itself match the background.

If necessary, use the lighten/darken blend modes to create the illusion of transparency.

If you need true transparency (which I didn't until I decided I wanted to apply a gradient over the text), you'll have to try something else-- The Also Easy But Less Than Ideal Way:

Right click the text layer in the layers panel and select "convert to shape".

Now you can edit the fill/stroke the same way you would any other vector shape.

Again, you’ll want to set the stroke alignment to ‘inside’. For vector shapes, those settings are a little hidden. You’ll wanna open up that little dropdown in the toolbar with the line in it, and click “More Options”.

This is semi-destructive, so if you're working with a lot of text you might have to edit later, consider duplicating and hiding those text layers first so you'll have a 'backup' of it.

And while I’m on the topic of text...

6. Try breaking up your text layers!

I know a lot of people like to draw a neat little text box to put their text in, and then they center it all nice and neat and probably use a small font size to make it subtle and stuff... and that’s cool. Everyone’s got their different styles and things they like to emphasize in their edits and there’s absolutely merit to that sort of thing (case and point: the bulk of my dear @herzdieb’s work), but. Listen.

I love typography. I love a good typeface. The stroke widths, the letterforms, the ligatures, the serifs... I get like, horny on main for a good typeface. I like to make the text on my edits BIG, so that those details can shine. I also like doing interesting things with the text. Jumbling words/letters around, distorting them, deconstructing them and just... letting the text really ~interact with the rest of the composition instead of just kinda politely floating on top of it.

I’m not saying you have to do that kinda stuff. Or that I think neat little floaty text boxes are boring, or lazy, or whatever. It’s just... personally, I get really inspired by type. Fun type treatments are one of those things I LIVE FOR, something of a ~signature of mine, and I encourage everyone to just... try it? To use text as more of an integral Design Element and less of a... idk. A caption?

So if you have a quote, or even just a word... put each word (or letter) on its own text layer. And then: make ‘em different sizes. Make the words so big they don’t fit on the canvas. Rotate each one at a fun angle. Scatter them around. Go nuts. Use masks to chop parts of the letterforms off. Make ‘em overlap. Just have at it. Or, as the kids these days are saying: go absolutely fuckin feral.

If that really just isn’t your style, or doesn’t work/make sense for the edit you’re doing, fine. Delete all the layers and just do a text box or whatever. But. I’m tellin u.

Give it a try.

At least once.

Just... a lil taste.

7. Understand the difference between lighten/darken vs screen/multiply

For a while in my photoshoppin' youth, my understanding of these blend modes basically amounted to "darken makes things darker, and multiply makes things really darker", and vice versa for lighten/screen. But there's an important difference between how these blend modes work, and if you understand them, you can use them more... strategically? I guess?

Darken and Lighten are kinda misnomers tbh, because they technically don't really darken or lighten anything. What they actually do is make it so that only the areas of the layer that are darker or lighter than the content of the layers beneath them are visible. This produces some pretty nifty layering effects that you can't achieve with screen and multiply.

Here’s an example: (if you’re reading this on a phone with the brightness dimmed down you probably won’t be able to see the differences)

Without any the texture applied, you can really see the noise/graininess of Crowley’s jacket in the screencap. You can also see the ‘seam’ where Crowley fades into the background-- the jacket is a green-ish black, while the background it’s fading into is more of a purple-black.

With the texture set to ‘Screen’, the whole image becomes lighter across the board. Crowley’s jacket gets lighter, and so does Aziraphale’s jacket and the pink cloud thing. This does little to nothing to obscure the poor image quality and disguise that ‘seam’.

But with the ‘Lighten’ blend mode, ONLY the dark parts of the image appear lightened, and not only do they appear lightened, but they get kinda equalized. Notice how the patchy jpeg artifacts on Crowley’s jacket disappear, how that color seam smooths out, and how the brightness of Aziraphale’s jacket and the pink cloud doesn’t change at all.

This isn’t to say that lighten/darken are better and that you shouldn’t use screen/multiply. They each have their uses. But most often, I find myself using lighten/darken because the way they work is honestly really helpful? And just cool af?

8. Masking individual frames on gifs

If you ever feel like torturing yourself by making a gif that has frame-by-frame masking, my advice is don't try to mask each frame from scratch. You'll get patchy/wobbly results from the masks being slightly different on each frame.

Instead, mask the first frame, then alt+click and drag that mask onto the next frame. Make any minor adjustments to the new mask as needed, and repeat for each frame. This saves time and more importantly, keeps the masking consistent on areas with little to no movement, which makes a HUGE difference in how smooth the final product will be.

If you look at the edges of the animation, they’re nice and steady and consistent. It’s only the parts that have a lot of movement (like the back of his neck) where you can see any ‘ghosting’/wobbly-ness happening.

Sometimes the mask will move when I copy it to the next frame. Like, for the whole document. It gets nudged 20 pixels down or to the left or s/t every time. I have yet to figure out why, but I’m betting it has something to do with shooting myself in the foot with the frame 1 propagation settings at some point during editing?? ANYWAY, when this happens, just unlock the mask from its layer (click the little chain icon between their thumbnails) and move it back into place.

In these cases, I also like to pick a spot with a hard edge (such as the shoulder in the above gif) as a reference point of where it needs to be moved to. It kinda sucks having to do this for every frame, but you already signed up for some suckage when u decided to mask every frame of a gif, so I mean... 👀

9. Don't be afraid/too intimidated to do manips as needed!

Manips can be tricky if you're really striving for realism. There's light sources and color grading and perspectives to reconcile!! But when you're doing an artsy Edit with a capital E, odds are those kinds of discrepancies will be thoroughly camouflaged by all the levels, black and white, etc adjustments you're doing!

Something I run into often is, "I like this screencap, but the top of their head/hair is chopped off :(" But if I go back through all the screencaps from the scene, there's usually another frame where the camera is planned/zoomed out enough that I can steal the rest of their head/limb from it! And since it's from the same scene/shot, the lighting and color grading should already be a perfect match!

A super simple example:

So I wanted to use this picture of David and Michael for this edit, but 1) They’re standing on the wrong sides for their characters, and 2) part of David’s arm is covered up by Michael’s.

Of course, the easiest course of action would be to just mirror the photo so they’re on the correct sides, but 1) mirroring faces tends to yield wonky results, and 2) that still wouldn’t give me a perfect, free-standing cutout of Crowley to place wherever I want in my composition (as opposed to being forced to awkwardly position him off the edge of the canvas to hide the fact that the other arm is missing)

Fortunately, it only took all of like, two (2) minutes to draw a crude selection around his good arm, copy and paste it into a new layer, flip it around, and add any necessary masking to get the shape right.

My point here isn’t to teach y’all how to do manips, or to pass this off as an impressive example of one. Because it’s really, REALLY not. My point here is to demonstrate that even something as tiny and simple as this can really open up your options for what you can actually do with an edit/composition.

So next time you’re feeling limited/inconvenienced by the crop of a screencap, just... you know. Consider whether or not it’s worth attempting a quick and dirty manip to fix it.

Another Example:

Sometimes you’re torn between two screencaps. You like one element from Screencap A but also want some other element from Screencap B. What to do? Just frankenstein ‘em together. Layer one on top of the other, get them lined up, and mask out the necessary parts.

It’s easy to get hung up on stuff like “Uh... should Crowley’s shoulder be doing that?” but let me assure you that like... the people looking at the final product are none the wiser to your butcherwork and will not notice. Especially if you’re going to add a bunch of contrast and color adjustments later on. (in fact, sometimes I’ll apply those adjustments first so I’m not distracted by any discrepancies that are going to come out in the wash anyway)

“I dunno... 🤔🤔 doesn’t seem anatomically correct... 🤔🤔🤔🤔” thought no one.

Point is... point is... dolphins you can get away with a LOT more than you think you can. Don’t let the desire to make these kinds of manips perfect get in the way of just... making them good enough. The bar isn’t that high, I promise.

10. Know what inspires you

What types of edits get you EXCITED? What kind of work do you see on your dash and go, "oh, I'm reblobbin' THAT!!1!"

I know for herzdieb, she's all about emotional pieces. She likes matching words/lyrics/poetry to on-screen moments and punching you in the feels with both. She hears a song, or reads a poem, and the lightbulbs go off for her, and she does her thing.

As for myself, I just live for the aesthetics of an edit. The colors, the fonts, the composition. I almost never know what text/screencaps I'm going to use when I start an edit. I just see a font I like, or a color palette, or a texture, and think, "I wanna use that!"

And once you know what inspires you, collect that inspo! I hoard textures and fonts. I have them organized into neat lil folders. When I wanna make an edit, that’s where I start. I just browse through them all until one or two start calling my name. Herzdieb collects songs and quotes and poems. Maybe your thing is color palettes, or aesthetic-y photos. Or whatever.

The point here is make the kinda stuff you like/want to see. Not the kinda stuff everyone else is making or the kinda stuff you notice gets the most notes.

11. Be able to let go of things that aren't working

I often begin an edit with a rough idea of the style, colors, or layout I'm going for. And I almost always end up doing... something totally different.

So don't get too fixated on what your initial ideas are. Be open to experimenting and just let the edit be what it wants to be. If something looks nice, do it. If it doesn't, don't try to force it just because, "well, I was inspired by this piece that did xyz and I wanna try it too".

When you see a certain effect that inspires you, just keep it in mind as a possible solution for the next time you make something-- don't make it into a benchmark, or some imaginary 'goal' you have to meet for This Edit You Are Working On Right This Moment. In fact, sometimes the elements I end up ditching are the very ones I started with, that initially sparked my inspiration. And that's okay. Inspiration can be a moving target, and if your vision for something changes, let it.

You wanna know what inspo reference I was looking at when I started that “Temptation Accomplished” edit?

Fucking this: https://search.muz.li/YTdiNjkwN2Rh

You might be thinking, “how the fUCK was that the inspiration??!! Your edit looks nothing like that at all!” ...and you would be 100% correct, and that is 100% my point. I spent a good hour or two trying to incorporate that cutout text layering effect before finally accepting the fact that it just wasn’t working for the edit I was making. And it wasn’t until then that it actually started to come together.

12. Be patient, and take the time to explore all your options!

I’m not gonna lie, y’all. I spend hours on my edits. I usually complete them over the course of 2-3 days/sittings. I rarely have a plan. 99% of the time I'm just throwing things at the wall and seeing what sticks. When I get stuck (when, not if), it helps to step away from it and come back later with a fresh perspective/set of eyes.

Every single edit I've posted, I have at some point felt like giving up on because I thought it looked like garbage (and not just because I was being self-deprecating/doubting myself, but because at those points, they simply weren't finished/something about the composition just wasn't working for me)

Work through those moments, and if necessary, take a break/sleep on it. It's always after I've exhausted my early ideas that the really good ones start to come to mind!

Here’s how the character poster edits I did progressed:

In Classic Me™ Fashion, I literally started off with just... textures I liked, and a font that I liked. Now, there were obviously a lot more ‘steps’ involved in both designs, but hopefully at the very least this gives a sense of how things get from point A to point B.

So uh... thanks 4 comin 2 my TED talk. I hope u learned at least one (1) cool new thing or maybe just feel vaguely inspired by this rambling mess?

#idk what to tag this...#photoshop #i guess?#tutorial #maybe?#w/e

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ducktracy · 5 years

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bob clampett’s porky

porky was the original star of warner brothers after rising to popularity as the stuttering sidekick of beans the cat. we’ll get to porky’s full history when we get to friz freleng, who created him, but today we’re going to talk about bob clampett and his porky. without bob clampett, porky wouldn’t be one of my favorite looney tunes characters to date.

bob clampett’s first directorial credit was co-directing with ub iwerks and chuck jones on 1937’s “porky and gabby”. in it, porky and gabby goat (porky’s hot tempered, surly goat sidekick who got kicked to the curb in 1937 and didn’t come back until 2018 in wabbit/new looney tunes) go camping and (predictably) experience a series of mishaps. porky and gabby is a good short for 1937, highly predictable and low budget, but still entertaining.

porky was a bit of a trouble spot for directors. he was hard to get down. how old is he? some shorts he’s shown with having a mother, working on his father’s farm, etc. what does he do? what are his motivations? everyone struggled to really give him a definitive personality. everyone except bob clampett.

1938-1939 is really when clampett began to solidify porky’s personality. the 1938-1939 title card for looney tunes actually donned a porky drawn by clampett. notice how big his eyes are and how symmetrical and circular he is. clampett was pretty well known for giving characters bigger eyes than other directors.

clampett’s “porky in wackyland” (1938) was a huge hit and is considered one of the greatest cartoons even today. in it, porky travels to darkest africa to find the only existing dodo bird left. he ends up in “wackyland”, population 100 nuts and a squirrel with a slogan expressing that “it CAN happen here”.

porky wanders through wackyland, befuddled and confused. porky finds the ever elusive dodo bird, who harasses him and leads him through all sorts of obstacles: slamming into doors, brick walls, etc. porky finally dons a disguise and bonks the dodo bird on the head with a mallet. he asks “are you really the last of the dodos?” to which the dodo haughtily replies “YES, i’m really the last of the dodos! ...AIN’T THAT RIGHT, FELLAS?”

out of nowhere, an armada of identical dodo birds swoop in around porky and scream in ear-splitting unison, “YEAH MAN! WOOOOOOOOOO!” topped with the trademark iris out.

clampett made porky to seem youthful. before, he was just a prop for impending doom to beat him down, but clampett wanted to change that. he made him cute, appear as a young adult, and give him a lot of naïveté. he was good-hearted, bad things still happened to him, but at least he had some sort of innocence and personality to him. of course, in the same sense, he could occasionally foster a temper, feel frustrated, etc. he wasn’t just a prop. he had emotions, both good and bad.

the black and white shorts are surprisingly entertaining, especially clampett’s. the low budget was rather constricting, but clampett didn’t let that stop him. shown below in 1939’s “porky’s picnic” is an expression that i just LOVE that comes completely out of nowhere.

it doesn’t even have a name, but you can feel it. clampett is renowned for his zaniness and over the top expressions, and we can see that trying to weasel its way out of its egg here.

1940 comes and clampett opens up the decade known as the golden age of cartoons with “porky’s last stand”, the first short released in the 40s.

this is a personal favorite of mine. porky and daffy work at a restaurant together, an angry customer demands he get a hamburger. daffy (you can already smell the trouble) promises he’ll fix him up a hamburger right away, but when he goes to retrieve the meat, he finds a sign left by “the mice” who have beat him to it. daffy, desperate, finds a little calf grazing on some grass and decides to kill it. he follows it into a barn muttering and strutting along happily (and daffily), and when he goes to pull the calf out from inside the barn by the tail, he’s met face to face with an angry bull instead.

basically the rest of the short turns into a prolonged bull chase with porky and daffy. it’s a good one though, with porky’s oblivion as to why daffy is so upset (asking if someone is there to see him and declaring “must be a salesman!”) and daffy’s wacky nature always landing them into trouble (including waving a red cloth and yelling “HEY FERDINAND!”)

i LOVE this porky here. he’s starting to look a bit similar to how he’d continue to look. his head is still a perfect circle, but his ears have gotten more pointed and his eyes don’t take up nearly as much room on his face. this is my favorite iteration of porky, i think it’s a great balance. he looks so charming and adorable, but he has a lot of potential for some great expressions too.

here we have “porky’s pooch” from 1941, what would kick off the charlie dog and porky series—charlie dog winding up on porky’s doorstep begging to be taken in, porky denying him entrance, and a wild goose chase between a dog trying to find a home and a stubborn, oblivious, easily gullible pig. porky is still comprised of mainly circles, but his eyes are certainly a lot bigger than the last picture. his ears are also standing straight up instead of at an angle.

1943’s “a corny concerto” is one of the first clampett shorts we see with porky in color. it’s also interesting to note that this is one of 3 appearances he makes together with bugs, the other 2 in frank tashlin’s “porky pig’s feat” (1943) and gerry chiniquy’s “dumb patrol” (1964).

1943 was an interesting year for clampett, it was really when his shorts started to be up and running. he had taken over for tex avery who had left the studio in 1941, and thus clampett got access to iconic animators such as rod scribner and bob mckimson (who would take over for clampett).

here we can see porky looking a lot more like how he’ll continue to look through the years. his head weight isn’t as evenly distributed, instead of being a perfect circle on top of a mass of cheeks, the cheeks and his head sort of connect instead of piling on top of each other. his ears are smaller and less prominent, and bluntly speaking he’s a bit uglier too LOL. i like porky’s ambiguity, he can be REALLY cute and also REALLY ugly. i really like that though. maybe he’s getting wrinkly with age? 🤔

1944 gives us “tick tock tuckered”, a remake of one of clampett’s first cartoons, “porky’s badtime story” (1937). remember gabby goat? you should because he’s at the beginning of this post. since he’s currently in cartoon purgatory at this point, daffy decides to take over in gabby’s place instead.

clampett is known for making daffy live up to his name (which we’ll cover later), but in this short he shows some of his curmudgeon tendencies (lightning striking an umbrella to which he declares “EGADS, I MUST HAVE ENEMIES!”) porky is still mild mannered porky, trying to tell daffy what to do so they don’t make too much noise sneaking late into work, insisting that opening an umbrella indoors is bad luck, etc. this screenshot he’s definitely back to his “cute” stage, his head seems to be more circular again and his eyes are moderately sized.

then we have 1946’s “baby bottleneck”, one of clampett’s last shorts. i love this short so much. porky takes over as the stork and is in charge of delivering babies to expecting mothers across the world, with daffy as his assistant.

this cartoon just shows how flexible and malleable porky’s character is. he’s orderly and tries to get the job done, hard working and committed. he politely asks daffy to sit on an egg and “hatch it out” so they can find out who the expecting mother is. daffy agrees... until he doesn’t, randomly refuses out of nowhere, and walks away singing.

unexpectedly, porky, who was just smiling and batting his eyes at daffy is now grabbing him by his neck, demanding him to sit on the egg, and pushing and fighting and even throwing him to the ground to just sit on that damn egg. it’s rare that we see porky lose his temper since he’s so well known for being the straightman character, so when he DOES get angry it packs such a punch. porky barrels after daffy, not giving up his pursuit, until they both end up running on the conveyer belt that burps, swaddles, and delivers babies to their mothers. porky and daffy end up being merged into a hilariously disturbing baby, with daffy’s head and torso and porky’s stubby legs sticking out of a diaper.

finally, we reach “kitty kornered” (1946), clampett’s last short with porky. a pesky group of cats lock porky out of his house (one of which is a prototype sylvester) and he tries and tries again to get ownership of his house again. another great porky cartoon: he’s extremely gullible (believing the cats who claim that they’re aliens who are invading his house and that he should leave immediately) but at the same time runs for a gun and tries to shoot them, angrily protesting “I’M BEGINNING TO HATE PUSSYCATS!”, etc. the short ends with porky being kicked out of his house one last time.

he turns to the audience and asks “pardon me, but does anyone in the audience know somebody who knows somebody who has a house to rent?” (albeit with a lot more stuttering). i think this is an appropriate end to clampett’s porky. it’s almost as if he’s asking if there are any other directors who could take him under his wing, to give him a new home.

this is a bit discombobulated and disconnected, but i’m hoping that the pictures make up for what my words do not, how you can see his development physically (and hopefully emotionally too). i never expected to like porky, he bored me as a kid and i never thought twice about him, but now i like him more than i do bugs, and it’s all thanks to clampett. he gave porky a wide range, with looks and scenarios. he could be sweet and innocent one second and angry and bitter the next with absolutely no warning. even in a predictable plot you still didn’t know what he would do. he’s a very endearing character and has a ton of funny lines. he’s very hard to dislike.

i hope this was informative! the best way to see for yourself is to watch these shorts yourself and to get a feel for them. studying screenshots and analyses is helpful, but it’s truly something else when seeing everything in motion with sound, dialogue, etc. THANK YOU for sticking with me and i hope you enjoyed this!

#analysis #long post #lt

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artificialqueens · 5 years

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How Far I'll Go Chapter Six (Ninex) - Mia Ugly, Meggie

A/N: We’re baaaaack! Hi hello how are you? LIFE is crazy. We’re so sorry it took so long to get this chapter to you guys, but honestly, Snatch Game was probably the hardest thing we’ve written. It’s hard to be funny. I’m going to be way nicer to queens who do badly on Snatch Game from here on out because it’s not easy, mama. Anyway. We hope you enjoy this SUPER MEGA SIZED CHAPTER (10.5k!) to make up for the super long hiatus. And hopefully we’ll be back with more very soon. Come visit us on our blogs: @mia-ugly and @artificialmeggie

Previously: The runway was purple, but Blair’s Scarlett O'Hara realness wasn’t enough to save a poor performance and she was sent packing. Brooke and Vanjie are (most definitely) probably still messing around, and Nina and Monet had a moment backstage when Nina narrowly avoided elimination. Or was it a moment? Oh, and Nina’s probably losing his mind.

To come: Katya, Snatch Game, a hotel bar date, and a musical number.

Nina wakes up and is still on Drag Race.

He might be having some kind of a nervous breakdown (and breaking into song periodically) but that’s showbiz, kid.

And now it’s time for the fucking Snatch Game.

Shower, shave, dress.

Prepare for another sloppy Branjie moment in the elevator (and thank God, Nina gets to avoid that for a change). Nina Bo’nina is riding down alone, and the two of them chat distractedly on their way to the conference room.

A few of the mentors are there, but no Monét and no Trixie.

Nina tries not to let that bother him as he nibbles his toast and drinks his coffee. He’s focused this morning, ready for whatever happens next. He’s been thinking about Snatch Game since the moment he got the All Stars call, is determined that this is going to be his challenge (of course, he might have had that thought about the last challenge too… No, nope, move the hell on, girl.)

Nina doesn’t see Brooke until they film the Werk Room entrance. The man looks exhausted. There are circles under his eyes that the makeup guy has done his best to cover, but it’s still obvious Brooke is not at his best. It makes Nina remember that - no matter how stupid the Canadian is being about Vanjie (and no matter what sort of history he has with Nina’s equally stupid heart), Nina still loves him. Will probably always love him in some kind of way.

“No coffee this morning?” he asks quietly as they’re waiting to get mic’d.

“Not enough.” Brooke pulls down his hideous knitted beanie (where the hell does he keep getting those? A P.A. should - frankly - take them away.)

“Have a late night?” Nina doesn’t really want to know, but if Brooke needs to talk about it -

“Oh no. No. Just - thinking.” He rolls his neck. “Like - we know what’s coming up, right? And last season - it wasn’t my best look.”

Nina barks out a an embarrassingly loud laugh. “No kidding.”

“You didn’t have to find it that funny.”

“It’s pretty funny.”

“You’re a dick, you know that? No matter how sweet Monét thinks you are.”

This makes Nina stop laughing. “Sorry - what?”

“He was just going on about you when he was watching Asia film our scene last episode. Like - ‘try this, Nina does this, blah blah.’”

Nina doesn’t know what to think about that. It makes him feel a bit warm and light-headed, but absolutely incapable of responding.

“Clearly you’ve got her fooled. I know what you’re really like.”

“Haha, yeah.” Nina’s voice is weak and he hopes to God Brooke doesn’t immediately clock his blush. Luckily, Vanjie chooses that moment to start flirting with the sound guy, and Brooke’s attention is suddenly elsewhere. Yes, yes, that’s good. Nina will have to keep Vanjie close by at all times, just in case he needs to distract Brooke.

They all romp into the Werk Room together, Shea and Asia working their few seconds in the doorway for all it’s worth (“pose for me, pose for me, POSE”). They talk a bit about Blair going home, but before they can say much about it there’s the sound of a video message, and the television flickers to life.

“Ladies,” Ru’s face comes onto the screen. “I picked you queens for All Stars because you represent the best of the best. But on second thought… I think I’d like to see some other queens in your place. Sorry, not sorry.”

The video ends.

“What the hell does that mean?” Shea asks.

“Nah, nah.” Vanjie is shaking his head in denial. “We don’t need no more hos up in here. We got too many of y’all already.”

“Hello, hello, hello!” The door opens and Ru comes into the Werk Room, followed by the mentors. Nina tries to smile and look as excited to see Ru as he’s always supposed to be, but - he can’t help being worried about whatever the hell twist is coming up. (Monét winks at him as he comes in, so that’s something. Nina will keep that one brief moment like a diamond in his pocket.)

“Ladies, for this week’s maxi challenge, it’s time for another All Star Edition of Snatch Game!”

Most of the queens around Nina are delighted - except Brooke. Nina can see him smiling, but it’s fragile and fake, and his arms are folded very tightly around himself, legs crossed at the thigh even though he’s standing; a clear indication he’s stressing.

“This time, however, to celebrate my recent single ‘Queens Everywhere’— available now on iTunes—we’re going to do things a little bit differently. I know you’re all amazing queens, but for this Snatch Game, I’d like to see if you have any other queens inside you.” Ru raises a suggestive eyebrow. “Not to give Miss Vanjie an unfair advantage.”

Vanjie’s jaw drops even as he laughs, mutters “shade” through his perfect teeth.

“For this Snatch Game, I’m asking you to channel one of your sisters. We’ve had a lot of iconic queens on this series, so you’ll have plenty of personalities to choose from. And luckily you’ve got some experts here for inspiration. Hashtag Snatch Game All Stars. Gentleman, start your engines. And may the best All Star… win!”

“The fuck?” Vanjie whispers to Nina as soon as Ru leaves. “Bitch, I had a damn plan. I brought the little gold trophies and everything. Watched all the fucking movies. Now I got to be one of y’all’s tired asses? That ain’t fair.”

“Trophies, like - you mean Oscars?”

“Sure, whatever.”

Nina has to admit that he’s kinda thrilled about this twist. He’d been telling anyone who will listen who he was going to be for the Snatch Game if he ever got another chance. He’d had a couple back-ups, of course (they’d all been told to bring a former queen, so honestly, they should have seen this coming from a mile away), but this really couldn’t have gone better for him.

He feels bad for some of the other queens though, especially Vanessa (the bitch was prepped to do Meryl Streep - Brooke’s idea, and a fucking hilarious one. He’d kill to see it).

“X-Queens assemble,” Monét calls over at him, and Nina pats Vanjie on the shoulder, goes off to sit with Monét and Asia.

Monét looks good. Real good. He’s in some loud patterned sweatshirt that has tiny slices of pizza all over it, and another pair of thick-rimmed glasses (white, or maybe baby pink?), and he’s smiling at Nina like - no, nope. Move along.

“It’s actually the Avengers that assemble,” Asia tells Monét, who rolls his eyes at her.

“Girl, you can’t be a bigger nerd than me. I won’t accept it.”

“Yeah, ‘cause knowing about the Avengers is real obscure, serious fan-only shit.”

“The shade, Miss Asia! Nina West, are you going to defend your mentor?”

Nina holds his hands up. “You’re the fearless leader, you got this.”

“The pair of you.” Monét shakes his head. “All right, what you got for Snatch Game?”

“I’ma be Brown Cow Stun-ning, yes, honey.” Asia pops her tongue after a pretty admirable impression of Monique Heart.

“And Miss Nina West?” Monét is looking at him with an eyebrow raised. Nina wonders if he’s heard the interviews, if he already knows.

“Miss Vaaaanjie,” Nina says, “Bitch, you know I don’t play games. Don’t play Monopology, Uno, Twistah, Tag, Marbles -”

“Jesus Christ, stop it.” Monét is covering his face with his hands, while Asia is cackling. “Does she know?”

“Not yet.”

“She will live. Okay, okay, I ain’t worried about either of you. Take me straight to the finale, win me that serious mentor coin.”

They run through a couple ideas for jokes, focusing more on Asia (who struggled last time and still has a bit of anxiety flaring behind her contacts). There’s a break for lunch, but it’s weirdly quiet, subdued. Snatch Game is an opportunity to stand out, to prove you deserve to be there. It’s also an opportunity to crash and burn in front of Ru, the judges, and later on - the world. So there’s that.

After lunch everyone starts putting on their paint, fixing their wigs. The cameras zoom in to get some Werk Room chatter about who is playing who, and of course they’re all dying for Vanessa’s reaction (as soon as he sees Nina pull out his pink-petalled Barbie-head dress from its garment bag, the pussycat’s out of the Prada bag).

“Noooo, bitch,” Vanjie shouts across the room, but he’s smiling. “Oh, I’mma have to whup your ass if that’s what I think it is.”

“Deuces!” Nina shouts back at him, throwing up the sign as well, while Brooke covers his face.

“That ain’t right, it ain’t right. Thought we was friends, sis.” Vanjie is laughing about it, though; Nina knows they’re cool.

“Who are you playing, Miss Shea Coulée?” Asia calls over to her sister, who is fussing with a nasty looking green wig.

“Paaaarty…” Shea drags out the word, working that vocal fry for all she’s worth. “I’m going to be Adore Delano, darling.”

Nina Bo’nina Brown thinks this is the funniest thing she’s ever heard, can’t speak for laughing so hard. Shea seems entertained by it at first, but her smile starts to tighten a little after the laughter continues a bit too long.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, nothing. Just - good luck, girl.”

“Who are you doing then?”

“Yeah,” Cracker interjects. “You were Jasmine Masters for your season’s Snatch Game right? The judges loved it.”

“Right. So why mess with perfection? I’m going to do Miss Jasmine Masters.”

A couple of the girls stop what they’re doing when she says this.

“You’re going to play the same queen?” Cracker repeats, a bit shocked.

“Yeah. I was sickening last time, I’ll be sickening this time.”

“Aren’t you worried that they’ll read you for not showing them what else you can do?”

“Nah. They’re gonna be laughing too hard.”

“Mmmm…” Vanjie makes a low, skeptical noise.

“Trust and believe, Vanjie,” Nina B. calls over to her. “Trust and believe.”

The cameras have to reset then to film Ru’s entrance into the Werk Room, and catch all the queens’ “surprised” reactions.

“Hello hello hello, kitty girls!”

Nina beams, claps his hands, that whole production. He’s feeling pretty good though - the energy is real. He’s actually excited for this challenge, ready to show Ru what he can do. (That’s how he felt last year too, then Silky went and yanked the win right out from under him. But no time to dwell on that now.)

“How are my All Stars? I thought I’d take a little look-see at what you were planning for us. And I brought along one of our extra special guest judges to help me out.”

From behind Ru, Katya Zamolodchikova comes in waving and smiling, teeth glowing white against her red lipstick.

“Oh my god! Get your own thing!” Trixie yells from across the room, and Katya does that ridiculous/adorable silent laugh that Nina has seen on “UNHhhh” too many times to count.

“Thanks for coming, Katya!” Ru says cheerfully.

“No problem, Ru. Thanks for unlocking the attic door!”

“Well, it was a special occasion. And I was feeling generous.”

They go from station to station, cameras following them around silently, and Nina fusses a bit with his dress while eavesdropping on their conversations with the other queens. There is a bit of concern for Brooke, who’s playing Detox (no big surprise there). How is Brooke going to make Detox funny seems to be the main issue. Nina has the same question. Brooke seems more confident than last season, though, so Ru and Katya wish him luck.

There’s some controversy over Nina Bo’nina playing Jasmine again, but the girl won’t be convinced to try something else. Nina listens to some of the critiques, ignores some of the others. He’s interested, but he also knows he needs to focus on his own performance, and not get in his head. He’s not as bad as Brooke at over-thinking things, but no one goes into goddamn musical theatre who isn’t at least a little bit destroyed (psychologically speaking. Okay, maybe also a bit romantically. It’s fine).

“Nina West!” Ru says close to Nina’s ear, and he almost jumps a foot in the air. (Girl, Katya is standing four feet away from you, be cool, be cool.)

“Hello, hello, hello Christine,” he says, immediately launching into his Vanjie impression. Both Ru and Katya laugh - and Katya’s smile up close is completely unfair, like a smile cut out of paper, perfect and sharp-edged.

(“I don’t know her!” Vanjie shouts from across the room.)

“So who are you going to be?” Katya asks, completely straight-faced, as soon as she and Ru have stopped laughing.

“I don’t know, still making up my mind,” Nina says, back in his normal voice.

“And the uh -” Ru gestures to the hideous floral Barbie dress, “gown?”

“Do you like it? One of my best gowns. What’s funny?”

Katya is wheeze-laughing. Katya is wheeze-laughing because of something Nina said! He stores that one next to the Monét gem from earlier; hopes to have enough for his own tiara in the unthinkable event that he doesn’t win.

“Now on Season 11’s Snatch Game, you were hilarious, you played -”

“Harvey Fierstein and Jo Anne Worley-”

“Yes! And really, it might have been one of the strongest performances in Snatch Game herstory.”

Nina smiles gratefully (only slightly furious that Ru’s saying this despite the fact that Nina didn’t win. He deserved to win).

“So how can you possibly outdo yourself this time?”

“I’m not trying to outdo myself, I’m trying to do something different. Like Katya, when you played Björk -”

“Yes, yes, back to me,” Katya says, nodding.

“Completely different from Suze Orman, but still so funny. That’s what I’m going to do. Just - mix it up.”

“All right, Nina, good luck. Can’t wait to see it,” Ru says, moving on.

It’s fine. It’ll be fine.

As soon as Ru and Katya leave the Werk Room it’s a mad dash to get dressed and made up and before Nina knows it, before he can light a bunch of candles on an altar and find whatever religion will bring him the most luck, they’re all being rounded up and led into the studio for the Snatch Game.

Okay.

Brooke’s Detox look is iconic, the yellow and black striped bandage dress from the Season 5 premiere (probably borrowed from Detox herself) hugs his perfectly padded body, but he’s absolutely trembling as he walks beside Nina. Nina has to squeeze his shoulder, tell him it’ll be fine.

“It’s fun, Brooke. Just have fun with it,” he murmurs as he hits the bright studio lights, has to blink until his vision adjusts (the first thing he sees is Monét and Nina’s blinded by him).

Okay.

The mentors are sitting along the sidelines, ready to watch the show play out. Nina wasn’t expecting that, but it’s - fine. Monét smiles at him, and Nina’s going to use that smile as a good luck charm - a rabbit’s foot, a four leaf clover, whatever. It’s impossible not to feel lucky when someone who looks like Monét goddamn X Change smiles at you like that.

“Welcome to the first All Stars ‘Queens Everywhere’ Snatch Game!” Ru says after they’re all mic’d and seated, upbeat music playing behind him. “Let’s meet our contestants.”

Katya beams from where she’s sitting behind her glittery podium and microphone.

“It’s everyone’s favorite queen that we found digging in the dumpster outside - Katya!”

“And yet I’m still hungry!”

Katya smiles at Ru and then snaps her teeth at the other queens.

“And - just when you thought we’d finally seen the last of her - halleloo! It’s Shangela!”

Shangela raises one hand in the air, nodding seriously. “That’s right, I’m back again, bitches. And I ain’t even in a box this time, baby.”

“Ladies, are you ready to meet the queens?”

“Yaaaaaaaaaas,” they answer in tandem.

They reset so that Ru can film the introductions, and Nina’s heart starts rattling like bones in a bag. He’s buzzing with adrenaline and nerves, but he’s going to channel that into a goddamn win. That’s right, he tells his inner saboteur - you can fuck off. This challenge is mine.

“The heart of Season 10 - Monique Heart is here!” Ru starts with Asia, whose Monique look is extremely correct.

“Hello world! Hello America! Are you brown cow stunning?” She tosses Ru a ridiculous cow-patterned baseball cap. Ru briefly feigns excitement before throwing it over his shoulder in distaste.

“Burn that,” he murmurs to one of the camera crew. “Next up, we have the original party-queen - Adore Delano!”

Shea Coulee stretches her arms in the air before making a peace sign, growling “Party,” in a gravelly voice.

“How are you doing Adore?”

“I mean, I’m good, you know? Like. Excited to be back. Where am I again?”

Nina has to turn his mouth into his shoulder to stifle the laugh that bubbles to his throat immediately. He wasn’t sold on it when they were discussing it in the Werk Room, but Shea is killing it as Adore. Her voice, her delivery is hilarious. The makeup is flawless. Her perpetual open mouth is complete perfection. As always, Shea Coulee is slaying the competition. Nina’s stomach gives a nervous jolt, so he sucks in a deep breath and reminds himself to pay attention.

He realizes he’s missed Ivy’s introduction, but Katya is gagged at the illusion of, well - Her - that Ivy is turning today. A mid-length honey blonde wig barely brushes Ivy’s shoulders and her red bustier is covered in rhinestones (and, of course, the scythe and hammer.) The look is great. The accent, on the other hand… Nina sighs a little, but tries not to get comfortable, regardless of how terrible Ivy’s Russian accent is.

Vanjie is seated at the end of the top row, decked out in red lace, a large pair of dark sunglasses balanced precariously on her nose. There’s no denying the air about her: Miss Vanjie is living Miss Valentina’s French vanilla fantasy, and no one could doubt it.

Ru beams at him. “Valentina! How wonderful to see you again!”

Vanjie draws in a deep breath. “That’s right, Ru, it’s me - Valentina. I’m back, and this time, I just want you to know, I fully learned all the words to ‘Greedy.’”

“Excellent! You want to sing us a verse right now?”

“No,” Vanjie answers, extremely primly, and even in his gravelly voice, the delivery is enough to make Ru laugh.

“Maybe next time.”

“Probably not.”

Then Ru’s looking at Nina and - oh, god, why did he think coming back for All Stars was a good idea again?

“Miss Vaaaaaanjie is here!” Ru trills.

Nina sucks in a deep breath and - “What’s the grease, mama?”

Down the row, Brooke buries his face in his hands, but his shoulders bounce with laughter. Ru is giggling loudly. Even Katya and Shangela are agape at the spot-on impression like it’s the first time he’s done it, the first time they’ve heard it.

He lets himself relax a little.

“Three seasons in a row.” Ru consults his cue cards. “Girl, aren’t you tired of competing yet?”

“Mmhmm.” Nina shakes his head vehemently, the wig he pilfered from Vanjie weeks ago flying around his shoulders. (He really does owe Brooke one for that.) “Nah, girl, you know I’m still trying to get my own show. Like Vanjie of Love or some shit like that. You know, something where these triflin’ hos gotta pay me some damn attention.”

In his periphery, Nina catches Brooke cut his eyes to him. He hopes this is okay. They haven’t really discussed the Branjie territory in regards to his jokes, but he kind of assumed it was fair game. Besides, he isn’t planning on directly hurting anyone’s feelings. He’ll keep it light, keep it fun. Besides, they’re the ones who marketed their portmanteau and gave the profits to charity. It’s practically public domain at this point.

“Next up we’ve got - oh my goodness, it’s Jasmine Masters!”

Nina Bo’nina gives Ru an extremely “over it” look. “Yeah, and I got something to say.”

“Now Jasmine - no tea, no shade, but haven’t you been on Snatch Game before?”

There’s a bit of an awkward pause before Nina Bo’nina waves him away.

“Bitch, I’ve got something more to say.”

Ru chuckles a bit, “I bet you do,” and moves on to Brooke.

“Another former All Star contestant, welcome Detox!”

Brooke looks sullen and concerned. He gives a little nod at Ru and the contestants.

“Detox, what’s the matter? You don’t look happy to be here.”

“Oh, am I not smiling?” Brooke asks through his extremely full, painted-on lips. “I can’t feel anything above my neck.” He shapes his mouth into a grotesque smile using his hands, and Ru almost doubles over. Okay, okay. Nina feels a little less worried about Brooke.

“And last but not least, we have - um, Aquaria! Hey girl!”

“Hi Ru!”

“Aquaria, is that the new way you’re spelling your name?” Cracker has written Acwareea on her name-card. A couple letters are backwards.

“Huh?” Cracker looks down at the name card. “Oh, I can’t spell my name. Actually, I can’t spell anything.”

“Okay then.”

“You know, some girls chose to read books, I chose to turn looks.”

“Yeah, you did! Now let’s get ready to play the Snatch Game!”

They break for a few adjustments on the cameras and microphones, and Nina tries not to hyperventilate, and then fuck - they’re rolling again.

“Here we go. The first question is for Katya. Katya, All Stars Season 1 paved the way, and brought back some of the most celebrated queens of all time to compete. This time, instead of competing in pairs, the queens are competing in BLANK.”

Be funny, be funny, be fucking funny. Nina tries to think like Vanjie and writes down an answer as soon as he’s got one, hoping it will be good enough.

“Okay, pens down. Katya?”

“I said competing in traction.”

“In - traction?”

“Yeah, you know, when all the bones in your body are broken and you’re in the hospital bed with your leg in the air.”

“That would certainly be a different kind of competition.”

“I’d watch it,” Katya says seriously, and Ru laughs.

“Let’s go to the Queens and see if we have any matches. Miss Valentina. What did you write down?”

Vanjie has put a lace mask on over the bottom of her face. She mumbles something indecipherable.

“What was that?” Ru asks. Vanjie mumbles something again.

“Valentina,” Ru says, clearly picking up on the joke. “Take that thing off your face.”

“I’d like to keep it on please.”

Ru shakes his head slowly, and at last Vanjie removes her mask.

“Now, Valentina. What did you write?”

Vanjie flips her card over, and Ru starts to wheeze with laughter. “That’s what I wrote down. I’d like to keep it on please.“

Vanjie’s Valentina voice is slipping, but she’s hella charming anyway, as always.

“I’m sorry, my dear, but that is not a match. Moving on to Aquaria - oh! You’ve got a new outfit.”

Miz Cracker was scrambling to put on a new wig and geometric headpiece made of iPhones while Ru was speaking to the contestants. She looks great, and she’s killing Aquaria’s affected head wobble.

“This season the queens are competing in BLANK.”

Cracker flips her card to reveal Aquaria’s instagram URL. “I wasn’t born when All Stars Season 1 aired, so I just wrote this.”

“Oh, okay - not a match.”

“I’m young,” Cracker insists, and Ru nods, patiently.

“We all were once. What did Miss Vaaaaanjie have to say?”

“I said we’d have to compete in swimsuits,” Nina says, flipping over his card.

“Swimsuits?”

“Yeah. Cause maybe then Michelle won’t read my ass for filth every damn week.”

Ru gapes at him, like he can’t believe he just came for Michelle in Snatch Game.

“Swimsuits be glamor when everybody else is doing them too, bitch!” Nina pops his tongue.

Ru laughs, high and clear, and then turns to the other Nina. “What about you, Jasmine? What do you have to say?”

Nina Bo’nina slaps her hands on the table and purses her lips. “We gonna be competing in making viral videos to get Justin Bieber’s attention, Ru.”

The room — pauses while Ru tries to save face with a polite chuckle. Nina West can practically hear the shade rattle sound effect that will inevitably be edited in at this exact moment.

Jasmine Masters probably wasn’t Nina Bo’nina’s best option (anyone could have told her that and, good god girl, they really tried). It’s not working. Nina doesn’t think any of it’s working.

Ru clears his throat, shakes his head. “I’m certain you could teach them a thing or two about that, but unfortunately, it’s not a match.”

Nina Bo’nina shrugs.

Ru shuffles his cue cards and moves on. “This next question is for Shangela. In All Stars Season 2, we changed things up by letting the queens choose who would be eliminated. This season, as well as eliminating each other, the queens will have to BLANK each other.”

There’s the scribbling of markers from the queens around Nina (who like to think he’s got this answer down blind.)

“Okay, pens down. Shangela? This season, the queens will also have to…”

“I knew what y’all were looking for, because y’all are nasty…” Shangela turns her card around. “But I’m a lady, so I said they’d have to ‘tuck’ each other.”

“Tuck each other!”

“Sometimes a girl needs a helping hand, mama.”

“Ain’t that the truth. Let’s see if we have any matches! Katya, what did you say?”

Ivy looks a bit startled to be called on first, but she beams with her red lips, flips her card over. “I said eat each other. To consume each other’s power and fill the gaping void that lives -” She pats her chest. “Right here.”

Katya (the real Katya) shrieks, but Ru shakes his head.

“I’m sorry, that’s not a match.”

“Da,” Ivy says solemnly, in her terrible Russian accent. “Da. It never is match. Like me and Trixie. Match but… No match.”

And, okay, Nina might imagine it, but it seems like the studio goes eerily quiet as everyone waits for Trixie’s reaction. She’s smiling, but it looks forced. Katya clears her throat but laughs, which seems to dispel the weird tension that formed.

Ru, oblivious to the entire thing, moves on. “Miss Vaaaanjie, what did you say?”

Nina sighs and flips his card, feeling pretty pleased with himself. “I said date each other. You know, I still be lookin’ for that Notebook shit.”

“Oh yeah, we know. No more Post-Its, right?”

“No more Post-Its, never again. I ain’t got the time, Mary!” He glances over at Brooke, raises his eyebrows seductively. “Hey, how you doin’?” Behind him, the real Vanjie mumbles something under his breath.

“I’m sorry, my dear, that’s not a match.”

“Bitch, it might be!” Nina says, still looking at Brooke, and Ru bends over laughing, stomping his foot into the ground. It’s adrenaline, it’s power, it’s like Nina knows this challenge is his.

“You ain’t even know!” he continues, channeling angry Vanessa as much as possible. “Just ‘cause one tall blonde bitch did me wrong don’t mean they all will. Shit.” Nina crosses his arms over his chest, leans back in his chair, sees Brooke duck his head and blink rapidly a few times.

That might have been too much. He just got caught in the moment and… Fuck. Dial it back a little, but stay focused.

“Moving on to Aquaria,” Ru says. Aquaria, this season the queens will have to BLANK each other.”

“I said ‘copy each other,” Cracker says tightly, in Aquaria’s low voice. “And it’s too bad Miz Cracker isn’t here. Maybe then she would have won something.”

“Oho!” Ru laughs, a bit scandalized. “Not a match, my dear.”

Cracker shrugs and throws the card over her shoulder. “Someone save that so I can call and ask Cracker if she wants more of my sloppy seconds.”

“Adore Delanoooo!” Ru trills the last syllable as he turns to Shea, who tosses the long green waves over her shoulder.

She flashes Ru one of Adore’s signature winking, mouth-open, tongue-out smiles with a peace sign.

“What did you write down, darling?”

“I said ‘party with each other,’” Shea drawls in Adore’s affected tone, adding more fry than is entirely necessary, but it gets the point across. She’s goofy and perfect.

“Party with each other,” Ru repeats.

“Yeah! I mean, you guys all look super cool. I’d hang out with you, smoke a blunt, eat some pizza. You know, party!”

Ru tsks. “Sounds like a great Tuesday night, but unfortunately not a match.” He turns to face the contestants, where Katya is sitting with her hands folded primly on her stack of cards. “Back to Katya! In All Stars Season 3, BenDeLaCreme shocked the judges by sending herself home. This season, Michelle Visage will shock everyone by BLANKING herself.”

Katya takes a minute to ponder, pressing her index finger to her lips then writes something on her card. Nina and the other queens follow suit, and when their time is up, Katya is smiling ferociously.

“Let’s see what our contestant put down. Katya?” Ru faces her. “Michelle Visage will shock everyone by doing what?”

Katya clears her throat. “I could have gone the obvious route, you know.”

“Obviously,” Ru says.

“Instead, I said, ‘sacrificing herself.’”

“Sacrificing herself?”

“With fire. To the Gods, honey.”

“Okay… Any particular God?”

“…Satan.”

“Of course. Let’s go to our queens. Detox, this season Michelle Visage will shock everyone by…”

Brooke flips his card over. “I said motorboating herself. I mean, if anyone could do it -”

“I don’t know how shocking that would be… but either way, I’m sorry, not a match. Vanessa Vanjie Mateo! What did you say, my dear?”

Nina flips over his card. “I said cloning herself.”

“Cloning herself?”

“Mmm-hmm. Need two of her to manage your ass.”

Ru laughs, and Nina thanks every God he knows the name of. The burn landed!

“And now she got that done, she’s gonna clone me some Canadian bacon.”

“Is that right?”

“Hell yeah it is.” Nina does not look at Brooke or Vanjie. “But only the good parts, baby. Trim all the fat; I’m a growing girl, need more protein in my diet.”

“Bitch, you couldn’t handle that much protein,” Vanjie-as-Valentina cuts in, and Ru fans himself.

“A controversial question! Let’s go to Monique Heart, see what she said. Michelle Visage will shock everyone by…”

“I said believing in herself.” Asia-as-Monique-turns her face to the camera. “Like I believe in myself, America. And that’s why I’d like to take this moment to announce my run for office.”

“Which office is that?”

“Whichever.” Asia’s got Monique’s flighty passion down perfectly. “One of the big ones, you know. And thank you, America, for your trust. I won’t let you down.”

Ru reads the last question of the night. “In All Stars Season 4, history was made when we celebrated the first Drag Race double crowning. This season, we’ll be making history with a double BLANK.”

Shangela is already shaking her head knowingly. There’s a scrabble of writing from the queens.

“Ladies, pens down. Shangela?”

“I’m giving the people what they want, Ru. I ain’t proud. I had to say a double fisting.”

“Did you really have to say it though?”

“Actually, mama, I did. The PAs have my children.”

“Ha! All right ladies, let’s see if we have any matches. Adore Delano. This season we’ll be making history with the first double BLANK.”

Shea holds up her card proudly. “I said the first double… elimination.”

Ru is quiet for a moment. “That’s actually been done before.”

“It has?”

“A couple of times, actually.”

“Oh.” Shea is unfazed. “Well. I don’t watch the show.”

Ru wheeze laughs, and so does Nina.

“I mean, I don’t know who any of you people are.”

“Sorry, Adore. Not a match.”

Shea shrugs, flashes a peace sign.

“What about you Katya?” Ru moves over to Ivy.

“Well, I thought about what Trixie and I like to do behind the scenes of ‘UNHhhh’ and I just had to put - fisting!” She flips her card.

“It’s a match!” Ru exclaims.

Everyone is laughing, but Nina can’t help check out the subjects of Ivy’s joke. The real Katya Zamo is smiling but - her teeth look clenched. And over with the mentors, Trixie Mattel is not smiling at all. She’s staring at her hands in her lap, systematically picking at the baby pink polish that adorns her fingernails. Hopefully none of the cameras pick up on that.

“I’ll see you later tonight!” Ivy continues, pointing at Trixie. There’s a halfway amused smile on Trixie’s face right away, but Nina feels like he was punched in the stomach. Something’s going on between the two of them, clearly. It hurts to watch - not like watching Vanjie and Brooke hurts (that’s more like watching two attractive bricks smash together). But Trixie and Katya - there’s so much history there. So much darkness. And God knows enough people have been convinced they’re in love -

“Monique Heart, what did you put down? This season we’ll be making history with the first double BLANK.”

“I said the first double crowning, dahling.”

“I’m sorry Monique, we already did that as well.”

“I know y’all did it, but I feel like it didn’t really count because my ass wasn’t wearing one of those crowns. It should have been me, and that’s a fact, America. And facts are - what? Facts.”

Ru laughs for a moment before turning to Nina. “What about Miss Vaaaanjie?”

“I said the first double wedding. And before y’all even ask: I do.” Nina glances over at Brooke, hoping he isn’t hitting this note a bit too hard.

“You do? Who’s the other happy couple?”

Ivy interrupts before Nina can answer. “Trixie! I’ve been meaning to ask you!”

“Oh honey,” Trixie calls out, looking flushed and uncomfortable. “I know I said I’d give more to charity this year, honey, but my generosity has limits.”

Behind her podium, Katya’s face is absolutely expressionless.

“Well, queens, we’re out of time,” Ru announces. “Which means the winner is… Xanax! Talk to your pharmacist. See you next time on the Snatch Game!”

Nina throws ‘deuces’ at the cameras as they get some closing B-roll, keeping up his Vanjie-persona until the very end. As soon as the director yells “cut!” Nina lets out the breath he’s been holding for the past two hours. God, it went by fast, but now he’s feeling every second of it. His muscles ache like he ran a marathon this morning and then tried kick-boxing for the first time.

“Nice work, ladies,” P.A.’s are congratulating them as they leave the set, but Nina barely hears a word. He de-drags, does some of the talking head interviews he loves so much (has to look shady about Nina B.’s performance, and worried about Brooke. Nina doesn’t put on an act or anything - he is kinda worried about Brooke. Brooke did ‘okay’ - better than Celine for sure - but didn’t stand out the way some of the other queens did. And if Brooke goes home tomorrow night - fuck. Nina doesn’t quite know how he feels about that).

Brooke was also kind of weird as they took off their paint in the Werk Room. Nina thought at first that he was in his head about the Snatch Game, but now he’s starting to wonder if his answers as Vanjie might have fucked Brooke up a bit. He hasn’t had a chance to address it, but he’s going to have to tomorrow, just to make sure they’re cool. He thinks it will be okay. He’s pretty sure. Basically. Almost positive.

Nina might be working through some latent confidence issues as he pushes himself for four miles on the elliptical later that night in the hotel (work through the pain, he reminds himself), but it’s fine really. Nothing to see here. Move along.

His legs ache and his face drips sweat, but he feels—good, actually. Solid about his performance. (He did last year, too, but he’s trying not to think about that.)

Dolly is singing about ways to make a living in his ears. He’s not assuming - but he is preparing. Just in case. If he has to lipsync for his legacy, he wants to be ready. Wants to win this one more than any other challenge, and call him crazy, but he feels like there’s a real chance. He can’t pinpoint why exactly, but there’s some kind of feeling settling down into his bones, making him think that maybe maybe maybe—

Underneath that, something uncomfortable has wormed its way into his psyche. It has almost nothing to do with the actual competition. It’s stupid and predictable and oh-so-not what he should be concerned with while on the set of All Stars for Christ’s sake. But he is and he’s here and he’s feeling things, and Nina taught himself a long time ago that feeling things fully for a while and then letting them go is far more beneficial to his mental health than taking the Brooke route and bottling everything up and burying it under vodka cranberries and couch cushions.

So sure. Okay. He’s feeling some kind of way about this thing that he saw that he wasn’t even supposed to see and isn’t even any of his business, but that’s just Nina’s luck for you. So that’s what he focuses on (or tries not to) as he turns up the resistance and pushes through the last of his workout.

He’d risked a glance back at Monét right before the PAs had shoved them off the soundstage. He’s in the business of gem collecting now, savoring those moments, polishing them up for later use, and maybe he wanted a ruby tinted the exact shade of Monét’s lipstick as they’d smiled across the room at each other.

Instead, he’d seen Monét reaching out to Shangela, crimson lips puckered, arms outstretched, ready for the kiss Nina couldn’t make himself watch.

Maybe they had kissed, Nina didn’t know; he’d made himself turn away before he could inflict any more psychological damage on himself. (He’s choosing healthier options now, remember.)

Of course they hadn’t had a moment after the last runway. Why would he think that? When Monét could have anyone he wants, and Nina is practically an amorphous blob. Like. He knows drag queens are all touchy-cuddly most of the time, and he knows that there’s probably nothing going on between Monét and pretty, perfect, halleloo-ing Shangela. But there could be, right? And goddamn, that would actually make sense. As opposed to whatever madness was going on in Nina’s head last night.

He adds even more resistance to the elliptical - just for “fun.” Or maybe spite. And yeah, okay, one night of really solid work in the hotel gym isn’t going to turn him into Naomi Smalls with legs up to his asshole or anything, but it’s a start. And the sooner Nina can convince himself that he isn’t doing this for Monét (or anyone other than himself because he likes exercise, damn it), the better.

He’s a grown-ass adult. He recognizes delusion when he sees it in the mirror every morning. It’s time to face facts—he and Monét had one (wondrously) sensual, albeit (incredibly) drunken night months ago. Monét had left the ball in Nina’s court. Nina was too chickenshit to do anything about it. Now they’re tentative friends (Monét is his mentor after all), Nina might be going crazy (this whole bursting-into-song-but-not-really thing has gone too far), and it’s all just so messy.

Nina wipes his face, stretches, and heads out of the hotel gym. He probably looks like a sweaty disaster (okay, there’s no ‘probably’ about it) and he’s waiting for the elevator down to the floor with his room, when the doors “ding” open and he’s face to face with Monét.

Could be worse. Could be Branjie again.

“Get in loser, we’re going drinking!” Monét says, with a wide smile on his face.

He’s so fucking charming that Nina momentarily forgets that he himself is a hot damn mess. Literally, like hot. Dripping with sweat.

“Um.” He gets into the elevator anyway because - he’s gotta go somewhere. “Are we?”

“If you want.” Monét gets strangely shy as soon as the elevator doors close. Or maybe that’s just in Nina’s mind. “Was the Mean Girls reference too much? I feel like maybe it’s played out.”

Nina laughs out loud, awkwardness momentarily forgotten. Monét never seems anything but confident and composed, and that one moment of doubt is - surprisingly endearing.

Not that confident, composed Monét isn’t completely endearing as well. Like. It’s all good. It all works a little too well for Nina. Everything about Monét is working a little too well for Nina lately.

Shit, the elevator is moving, decision-making time is limited.

“I kinda look like - this?” Nina waves a hand at his damp self.

“Fine as hell, girl,” Monét says with a grin, “and no pressure, obviously. Though if I’m drinking alone at the hotel bar, it’s going to look a little sad. And, look, I can make sad work for me, that’s not a problem. But after the day I’ve had -”

“Oh, the day you’ve had. Yeah, I forgot how stressful it must have been. Competing on a reality show and all that.”

“Fuck off. Uh oh, we’re passing your floor -”

“How do you know which floor is mine?”

Monét blinks at him, briefly speechless, mouth agape. (It makes something spark like a firework in Nina’s chest, shoot colours across the night sky.) The moment passes and then Monét doesn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed, just smiles like a gorgeous monster as he taps his temple. “That’s classified mentor information.”

“Yeah?”

“Hell yeah. You don’t want to know about my top-secret dossier.”

“No, I - don’t.”

“You sure you don’t?” Monét winks at him, and the elevator dings as it reaches the ground floor. “Ah, shit, missed your stop. Better come do shots with me.”

“I mean, I could just press the button again.” Nina doesn’t know why he’s resisting, he wants to get tipsy with Monét more than he wants to do most things (aside from win All Stars and run for office someday maybe).

“Nah, girl, this elevator only goes down. One-way elevator. Sorry, should have told you.”

“Guess I’m out of options.”

“Guess so.”

They look at each other. Nina remembers the man that asked him up to his room the night of the finale. Nina remembers the taste of his mouth, the way Monét kept kissing him, like he couldn’t get enough. Nina -

- is clearly exhausted. And still delusional. But fuck it.

They go to the hotel bar (isn’t this how all the bad stories start?) and Monét buys them both a tequila sunrise and tells Nina way more than he should about Trixie Mattel.

“So her man and her are split. She’s feeling some kind of way about it.”

“Of course she is. Haven’t they been together for, like, ever?”

“Something like that. Fuck.” Monét drains his drink, motions for another round. “We’ve been talking about it, but I’m not - you know. I love her, she’s incredible, but - I’m not - her best friend.”

“You’re not Katya,” Nina says quietly, and Monét scrubs his hands over his face.

“Yeah. That.”

“So why isn’t she talking to Katya, then? You guys have your phones; Katya’s here now, for Christ’s sake.”

Monét shrugs. “Beats me.”

“Are they -” Nina doesn’t have any right to this information, but - he figures that Monét wants to talk about it. “Potentially… do you think -”

“Who the fuck knows? Honestly, when I said I’d come back to do this show, I did not think it would be like being in high school again. Like who is crushing on who, who is hooking up, it -” He darts a look over at Nina and then snaps his mouth shut. “I mean.”

Nina looks away. Finishes his second drink a bit too quickly. “You want another?”

“Okay,” Monét answers before Nina can even finish the sentence.

The bartender is particularly attentive, gets another round in front of them right away. He’s got a lot of smiles for them both, says, “This round’s on me, I’m a huge fan,” as he walks off to help another customer, and Nina - can’t help it, he’s a masochist - raises an eyebrow at Monét.

“Think you’ve got an admirer.”

“Yeah?” Monét rolls his eyes. “More like you do.”

“Should we turn this into an awful romantic comedy where we make a bet about who he likes more?”

Monét laughs like he’s shocked at himself. “Girl! Okay, but what happens at the end? Who wins?”

“Well, if we’re following the formula, we probably both realize that real love was right in front of - you know, I don’t know. You, you win.” Fuck fuck fuck, what the hell is Nina even saying? He watched too many Hallmark movies last Christmas. “That voice, that ass, right?” He tries to make it into a joke, even with Monét’s eyes all honeyed and serious on his face.

Monét purses those perfect lips, presses them into a semi-smile. “Just… didn’t want to assume nothing.”

They talk for another couple drinks, and it’s - shit, it’s easy. It’s never this easy with someone Nina likes. He knows he can be funny, knows he can bring out the charm (with the right amount of alcohol in his system) but usually if there are feelings involved it all goes to hell. Nina gets weird and in his head and laughs too loudly and spills his drink everywhere.

But with Monét - it shouldn’t be like this. It shouldn’t be this easy, especially with all the longing covering up the background like terrible flowered wallpaper. It shouldn’t be this easy for Nina to stop over-thinking things and just exist in the presence of this gorgeous person.

But it is. It is easy. That’s the worst part of it all.

Monét is laughing and grabbing for his arm (just like finale night in the other hotel bar) and there’s heat in Nina’s cheeks that isn’t just from the alcohol, and Monét’s lips are glistening and wet as he pulls the straw between them and sips every last bit of the cocktail into his mouth.

Nina swallows thickly, leans into the sound of Monét’s deep rumbling laugh, reaches for his knee when he starts to slip off the hotel barstool.

How many drinks are they in now? Four? Five? More? The room is spinning.

Nina is laughing. Light, airy. Not giggling exactly but laughing and his cheeks are burning and Monét is looking at him through narrowed eyes.

“Be careful, Nina West,” Monét says, and his voice is low and dangerous. “Be careful lookin’ at people like that. They might get… ideas.”

Nina’s breath hitches in his throat and he swallows hard. “Ideas?”

“I might get ideas.” Monét smiles crookedly; his eyes are half-closed and sleepy as he rests his chin on his hand and leans against the bar. “You never texted me.”

Nina’s so glad he’s drunk. So glad he missed his floor, even if it has led to this. Because this conversation, this thing has hung between them for the entirety of filming and it hasn’t been uncomfortable exactly (because they’re adults, thank you very much), but it hasn’t been wonderful either. And Nina more than anything wants to rewind back to May, go to lunch, talk about anything and everything and nothing with Monét until they fall back into hotel sheets and kiss and kiss and kiss until—

“Why didn’t you ever text me?”

Nina clears his throat. “I was… I… I wanted to.”

“But?” Monét’s eyes are wide and pleading now. Still glassy with the alcohol, but inquisitive, bright, waiting to see how Nina is going to explain himself.

Nina is too, to be honest.

So he shakes his head. “I don’t know. Honestly. I don’t have a good reason. I wanted to. I should have.”

Monét ducks his head, takes the paper straw from his drink and twirls it between his middle and ring finger. It sends tiny droplets of tequila sunrise all over the wooden bartop.

“I thought about that night a lot, Nina West,” Monét says quietly, wiping at the droplets with a damp beverage napkin. “I don’t do that. That’s not like me.”

“Me either,” Nina says.

Nina knows that if they were sober this would be a very different conversation. There would definitely be more emotions, there might even be some yelling (although that doesn’t really seem like Monét’s thing and he’s never been one to raise his voice, so maybe not). Either way, they aren’t sober, and now they’re the sleepy kind of drunk and exhausted, so they just sit there at the bar staring at each other, not sure what to say next.

“Why’d you pick me?” Nina finally asks. “For the competition? Because of… that night?”

Monét shrugs and pulls his credit card out of the back pocket of his jeans. “Just wanted to win, girl. That’s it.”

“Shit, I don’t have—”

Monét waves him off. “I got it. Consider it after-hours mentoring.”

Nina thanks him repeatedly as they stand (clumsily) and make their way out of the hotel bar (stumblingly) and back to the elevator. When the doors shut behind them, Nina has a brief flash of all the things that two consenting adults can get up to in an elevator (some of which he has seen in recent days). But no. No. They had their chance, right? The ship has sailed.

Nina’s room is a few floors beneath the mentors’ (apparently), so he steps off before Monét.

“Can you find your way back to your room?” Monét asks, and Nina wishes he could says ‘no. No, I’m going to get completely lost, no, I’ll fall down every two steps if I don’t have you holding me up. No, I need you to linger in my doorway, I need to panic about whether I should try to kiss you goodnight, I need to think about inviting you in.

(I wouldn’t. Of course I wouldn’t. So - unprofessional. But - it’d be nice to think about.)’

“Yeah.” He smiles. “I’ll manage.”

Monét grins. Nina likes to think there’s a bit of disappointment around the edges of it, but he’s also a couple drinks in, and wears the rosiest of glasses at the best of times.

“Thanks for the company and conversation, Nina West.”

Nina nods. Doesn’t touch him, doesn’t look over his shoulder at Monét as he leaves the elevator.

But he doesn’t go back to his room either.

He wanders the hotel. Presses the down button and gets on a different elevator a few minutes later.

Nina’s going to regret this tomorrow when he’s exhausted, but he just can’t imagine shutting himself in his dark little room and lying down right now. He’s vibrating, on edge. It’s a bad idea, because there’s nothing more depressing than a silent hotel after midnight - something about the lateness of the hour makes all the shine come off. Nina’s feet lead him down one hallway and down another, and he doesn’t realize he’s heading to their usual breakfast-conference room until he hears… music?

Yes, there’s definitely music coming out of there, the casual strumming of a stringed instrument that doesn’t have anywhere to go. Someone might be humming too, it’s hard to tell from a distance.

Nina follows the sound.

The door is open, just a bit, and all the lights are on. Sitting alone in the room is Trixie Mattel, bent in concentration over her autoharp.

Out of drag, she looks smaller, more vulnerable. It’s clear just how young she is. She’s picking at a tune, murmuring something under her breath. Nina suddenly feels a warm breeze against his skin, and the melody that Trixie’s playing becomes clearer, a delicate bluegrass riff that would be at home on Nina’s old Emmylou Harris or Linda Ronstadt records.

Along with the warm breeze comes a gust of dandelion seeds, floating through the hallway like tiny wisps of cotton. Nina feels like he’s alone with Trixie in the middle of a waving wheat field, sun-baked and desolate. He can smell the cracked soil beneath his feet, hear the sound of crickets chirping in time with Trixie’s brittle melody.

Oh no. That thing is happening again.

Trixie starts to sing:

“You’re the brightest star in any room.

I’m never lonelier than when I’m with you.

I miss something that’s never happened.

I miss a place I’ve never been to.”

Her voice is quiet at first, but it grows louder.

“There are some bridges that you cannot cross

Say it again ‘til I convince myself

But all this certainty it feels like loss.

I wouldn’t risk this much for no one else.”

Trixie gets to her feet, starts walking through the wheatfield as she sings the chorus.

“And there’s a wide field between us

How you traveled all those miles without me I don’t understand

I’m always on the edge of falling

And you could pull me over just by reaching out your hand

If you’d only take that chance.”

She keeps plucking at the harp, and Nina feels words welling up inside him, ready to spill from his mouth (when he starts singing, he’s thinking of Monét. Because of course he is.)

“This sort of thing, it don’t come easy

I never know just what to do or say

It feels impossible, believe me

That you would ever look at me that way.”

He thinks of Monét’s lips on Shangela’s after the Snatch Game. He thinks of Monét’s eyes on him at the bar. (“Be careful lookin’ at people like that, Nina West.”)

“There are some bridges that you cannot cross

I built up walls around this paper heart

But when I see you I forget it

All of the reasons we should be apart.”

Trixie harmonizes along with Nina as he sings the chorus.

“And there’s a wide field between us

How I traveled all these miles, baby, I don’t understand

I’m always on the edge of falling

And you could pull me over by just reaching out your hand

But could I ever take that chance?”

Nina sings the last line one more time, feeling the weight of his hopeless longing rising like a tide inside his chest. “If you’d only take that chance…”

“Nina?”

“Um.”

Trixie is sitting in the conference room, staring at him. She’s holding her autoharp but there’s no flowing wheatfields or whatever. Somehow Nina ended up in the doorway, just standing there. Fuck’s sake. Is he dissociating? Musically??? This is unbearable.

“How long have you been there?” Trixie asks, confused.

“Um, just got - here, so -” Nina’s face is probably turning bright red, and he’s hoping against that he hasn’t just been shouting song lyrics blankly at a terrified Trixie Mattel for the past few minutes. “Are you okay?”

Trixie winces. Then she nods.

“Yeah, of course. Just - yes. Couldn’t sleep. Figuring some - stuff out. You?”

“Just - you know. Having an emotional spiral.”

“Oh honey…” Trixie’s smiling but her voice is soft and sad. “My first perm was an emotional spiral, honey.”

Nina laughs in a brittle way, because 1) Trixie’s hilarious and 2) it’s obvious she’s trying to make him feel better.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not right now,” Trixie sighs, shakes her head. “But thanks.”

Nina leaves her to it. After - whatever that just was - he feels ready to crash at long last. He’s still a bit buzzed from the tequila, but his nervous energy has banked, and he heads back to his room. He’s ready to sleep, ready to deal with tomorrow when it gets here.

So of course, there’s someone waiting for him outside his room.

“Nina West.” Maya the P.A. gives him a slow, broad smile the moment he comes into view. “Found your way back, hey? Great. We need to talk.”

Interlude: Trixie

Conversation with:

swamp thing

i cunt believe i agreed to this

Fuck autocorrect CANT

It knows what you REALLY MEANT

It knew i was texting you and assumed

I’ll take it

You’ll take anything

I ain’t proud mama

I’m hunnnnnngry

For serious though, things okay there?

For serious serious

4 C-ri-us

GROSS

That’s gonna be my dj name

Please welcome to the stage

Why do I talk to you

Why do i even know you

Yes things are find its just weird

Being back on set

And like also runnign a business and

planning a tour and all of it. At least

they let us keep our phones

Must be hard being successful

I’m crying for you

I didn’t know you could still produce tears

I squeeze em out

Like milking a cow

Just need the right suction

Stop talking to me

What can you say that you won’t get sued for

I want drama

Who’s fisting who

Ha monet wishes she was fisting someone

Shes like middle school crushing on a queen here

Its kinda cute and sad

If love isn’t pathetic i don’t want it

And there’s last seasons whole thing

#branjie

sell those hats

That is not about hats

I saw them at a show in LA last summer

They’re fucked up in love, mama

IN LOVE???

Who even are you

I’m a person who has eyes

that can see things

Are they not together? They’re togther right?

NOPE

Are you fucking kidding

I don’t believe it

Since when are you this romantic

I’m not romantic

I have no romance in my bones

It’s just OBVIOUS

Well not to them

Ahhhh the gays

When will we figure our shit out

Realize what’s right in front of us

You gone?

Yeah sorry

Going to pass out

Don’t die or anything

Whiel i’m gone

Aren’t you sweet

Conversation with:

sure thing

Doing anything fun tonight?

Or just missing me

Babe?

Ok sorry filming again

Call you on break

Do not let me do this again

I don’t care what they offer me

(id o care what they offer me)

Breaks over talk to you after?

How was your day?

Call me if you want

I’m done for the night

Just getting white girl wasted alone

In my hotel room

At the mini bar yes i’m that famous now

I’m gonna crash call me if you get this

Love u

Conversation with:

swamp thing

I dreamt that i was in a bsatroom

At mcdonalds that one you puked in

After the show in philadelphia

Do you remember? Probably not

And you were there and fucking

Gordon ramsay was there (!!!)

And he wad hitting on you

And i wasd so pissed off

And thrn this lady came in and was like

‘You can’t be in here, this is for ronald only” And i fully shot her with a GUN

WHAT DOES THAT MEAN TRACY

I just woke up and feel like a monster

She was just doing her job

Ronald mcdonald needs his private shitter

And i just killed her

I killed a living dream person

Thank you for sharing this with me

I feel so close to you right now

Yeah i don’t confess dream murder

to just ayone

But WHAT DOES IT MEAN???

Latent Ronald mcdonald fetish

Clearly

I’m not a doctor or anythng

But i’m sorry you’re dying

Yep yep makes sense

I always knew it would end like this

fuck/marry/kill

me/gordan ramsay/ronald mcD

(you wanna know what the D stands for)

No i want to sleep

For 3 more hours

But i’m on reality tv again

You should havw stopped me

Maybe this dream was a warning!

I’m supposed to save you

From endng up on Chopped

What did you dream about?

U have to tell me even if it’s sexy

That’s the law

Another teeth falling out one

Mama you know that’s my kink

Conversation with:

sure thing

Good morning sexy thing

I’m so tiiiiiired

Don’t make me get up yet

Hey are u alive?

Yes

Yay u r alive!

I called u yesterday night

And at lunch

U ok?

Did u get my messages?

yes

Can i call you?

I miss your voice

I cant talk right now

Sorry

I’ll call you tonight

After filming?

Sure

Love u gorgeous

Hey just called left a message

Give me a shout later

I miss you

Brian

Have you seen the pics

from the MTV Movie Awards?

Ummm ok

No i’ll look them up

Fuck my lashes are so uneven

U breaking up with me over lashes

Lol

U and kat are pretty cuddly

Haha

are u being serious

Ur joking

Are u ok? Can i call u?

I’m out right now

Call you when i get home

But we’ve talked about this before right

U know we’re friends

Me and Kat

We’re just friends

U know this

Yeah i have lots of friends

And we don’t hold hands and kiss eachother

All the fucking time

So we’re fdoing this over text?

Is that what we’re doing

No i’ll call u later

Call me ok? I love u

U cannot be jealous of katya

She’s my Business Partner

And it’s DRAG

We touch each otehr all the time

We all do

Gotta go call u later

Conversation with:

swamp thing

Can we talk?

Not if ur busy

Let me just stop blowing this senator

And kick the clowns out

And get thes handcuffs off

No i’m not worth it

Keep these good things goin

It was winding down anyway

Gettin awkward

I have yoga tomorrow

Whats up pussycat

This is gonna sound really weird

Have you seen the pics of us

from the movie awwrds

Probably blocked them out

why????

am i like a troll

No more than usual

David texted me about them

And he’s all pissed off??

Because of us holding hands

Like so so stupid right

WHAT???!

Thats crazy!

Im so sorry

This isn’t the handmaids tale

He can calm his tits

(sorry, not to attack him just) Has he seen our shows??

What did you tell him

To fucking call me!!!

And he hasn’t

And i’m on this stupid set and can’t just go

See him and convince him how crazy he is

I’m so sorry

Do you want me to call him

I’ll call him

Tell me what to say

No don’t

Don’t worry

Its fine

I’ll talk to him

Conversation with:

swamp thing

Hey are you awake

If youre awake call me

david and I are done

over the phone

FUN

sorry you’re clearly asleep

I’m just a little drunk

brian

he said some things

that ive been thinking about

maybe call me tomorrow if u can

guess ill see you soon anyway

dont die while im gone

miss u

#rpdr fanfiction #nina west #monet x change #vanessa vanjie mateo #brooke lynn hytes #ninex #eventual branjie #background trixya #smut #angst #musical #all stars au #how far i'll go #hfig #mia ugly #meggie #concrit welcome #on set fic

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paperficwriter · 5 years

Text

The Boy and the Seawolf

A Mumarou story for @anonymousedward! In which Mumen (Rider) meets a certain protective sea spirit.

Dirty Paper warning for, well, tentacle sex. There it is. I said it. Cut is for length AND content.

“Stay to the public beaches, my little Mumen. We do not go to the cove.”

The small boy stands with his pail and shovel, staring at where he can see the land dip further in. The waves hit the cliffs surrounding it, but there’s an easy path they could take, either around and down or straight in on the shoreline, when the tide is out. He points this out, because he is a clever boy, and he loves to explore.

His grandmother smiles and strokes his messy brown hair back from the glasses that make his eyes look huge. One day the rest of his face will catch up but for now, his gaze is so painfully earnest that she can’t help but stoop down and kiss his forehead.

“This is not a matter of ‘can we,’ my child. This we ‘should not’ do.”

He wants to know why.

“Because that place belongs to the Seawolf.”

Patiently, the small boy tells his grandmother that wolves don’t live in the sea. He proceeds to explain all the places that wolves do live, until she laughs.

“This is a Seawolf, Mumen. A guardian beast of the ocean. They say that once he was fully a spirit, but when humans began to live near the water, he let the strongest man join with him, become one with him. Even today, it is considered very good fortune if you see one.”

The boy tugs her hand in reply. This only seems to make him more intent to go to the cove, if that is the case (which he still doubts, but…)

“No, Mumen. Now, he rules from there in seclusion. You’ll find no fish we can eat there. Only jellyfish, stingrays and occasionally sharks, all which he uses to deter passersby. Just like you.”

The boy shivers. Jellyfish. It’s the only thing that he is actually afraid of, when he visits her by the shore. Ever since one stung him when he was a toddler, sneaking up on him in the shallows and barely brushing him with its bright red body.

It’s easy enough to convince him to come to the main beach by the boardwalk after that, but he never forgets the cove. He always looks, craning his head around from his bicycle, hoping to catch a glimpse of something; fin, fluke, flipper, or maybe something else.

He doesn’t see anything.

And he doesn’t know that something is looking back at him.

---

“Okay, steady on, you can do this.”

Mumen rode his bike down the shoreline in the dark, the large, sloshing cooler balanced on his handlebars threatening to overturn at every bend. He had thought that if he waited to do this admittedly very silly thing until nightfall, maybe he could avoid getting caught, but tonight there were several clambakes happening on the beach that had attracted the attention of locals and tourists alike. Lights had been strung along the piers, and people were milling around, stargazing, drinking beers.

He had been invited but declined.

“Come on, Mumen! Something like this will cheer you up. Get you out of that house for a while,” his grandmother’s neighbor insisted.

That house. He liked that house. He had always liked that house, the way it smelled like the ocean even when you had washed it all off, all the blankets and pillows the only things that had been kept smelling like floral laundry detergent, clean of the remnants due to regular washes. “No, thank you,” he replied with a friendly smile. “I still have some work to do.”

Maybe he was doing this errand for her too, now that he thought about it.

When he came up to the cove, he almost turned around. Not because he faintly recalled something that his grandmother had told him about a local cryptid of some kind that lived there, but because huge signs had been erected since he was a child. Dramatic bold lettering screamed at him about riptides and the fact that there were no lifeguards posted past this point, and there were icons of fins and crashing waves.

“Perfect,” he said to himself. All of that meant no one else would be there either.

He rode his bike as far as the boardwalk would take him, and then he dismounted, beginning to walk it into the cove. The temperature dropped significantly, and when he followed the sandy shore further in, along the cliff and into the enclosed area, he was most surprised by the silence of the area, a still quiet that made him feel like he was actually the first person here in a very long time.

Turning on the headlamp of his bike once he was out of sight only confirmed his suspicions. There wasn’t a single sign of another footprint in the sand.

“Okay. Let’s get you guys home.”

Mumen felt a little bad as he dragged the cooler into the shallows, the cold water lapping at his ankle and making him dance a little as he got used to it. He was sure that although the fishmonger was happy enough about all the money he gave him for the twenty-some lobsters, the fishermen and other customers wouldn’t be at all.

But what was he supposed to do? Walk past the tank at the market and leave them there?

He picked up the first one and so, so carefully removed the rubber bands from around its formidable claws. When he put it down he walked a small distance to the right, then did the same thing again. And again. And again. Sweat dripped down his face, and for a second he stopped to slap some of the cold water on his face, licking the salty drops from his lips. Now, his legs and arms were beginning to ache as he dragged the cooler, but dumping all the lobsters out didn’t seem right. What if they were territorial?

When he suddenly heard a substantial splash up ahead of him, Mumen froze. In the yellow light across the surface, cast by the moon and his headlamp, he couldn’t see anything in the inky depths, but he was still only in the water up to his calves. No, not even his calves. More like his upper ankles. So it wasn’t like anything could get at him. Right?

It wasn’t the first time Mumen was wrong, but never, ever this wrong. Never so wrong that he would have dreamt he might suddenly feel powerful limbs wrapping around his legs and pull them out from under him. Even though there was no way he would have seen them in the dark, he couldn’t see past the cloudy sand and water blinding him, rushing up his nose. His glasses...where were his glasses?! Was he going to drown?

And then...hands. Hoisting him up, pulling him from the water, pulling his whole body from the water until he could feel air on his feet.

“What are you doing here?” a cold voice asked.

Mumen tried to respond, or at least to start, but he choked, sputtering out water from his lungs and onto his chest. He tried to scrub at his eyes, to clear the salt out of them.

“You shouldn’t be here!”

“I’m sorry! I was...was…” Another mouthful of water from his burning throat. He had been taken by surprise, and he didn’t even realize he had breathed so much in…

“Taking things that don’t belong to you!” It sounded so angry, insistent, and he was shook a bit. Now, he could see clearer, and Mumen could make out a pale face, light hair - white? Silver? - and bared teeth.

“No! I was putting them back!” He held up his wrist, where he had been placing all the rubber bands. “See?!”

At that, he was dropped back into the water. It wasn’t much deeper here, so he winced when his butt hit the sandy bottom. His hand hit something sharp, and when he touched it, he could feel where the skin had torn. The salty sting confirmed he was bleeding, but when he stood up to try to get out of the water, there was still...something...around his legs. “Help! I’m stuck!”

“You just wait!” The voice was farther away now, back near the shallows, and Mumen could hear him muttering as he searched around and picked up one of the lobsters. Now, he could just see him - or his back at least - muscular and bright, reflecting the light like metal. He could only make him out from the waist up, though; he was clearly kneeling in the water…

When he turned his face back around, Mumen gasped softly. Was this what people meant when they talked about someone or something being terrifyingly beautiful? Because the man was definitely still angry, full of fury, but also...Mumen had never seen someone so gorgeous in his life. “Who are you?” he asked, and the...things...that were around his legs moved away. “I’m...my name is Mumen.”

“Garou,” the man replied, approaching him again. All of his hair was that bright silver, and Mumen wondered what it would look like dry. Maybe white? What color were his eyes? It wasn’t light enough to tell. “You’re not supposed to be here. Nobody is supposed to be here.”

“I...didn’t want to get caught on the beach.” Something rough brushed his thigh, and Mumen jumped. “What was that?!”

Garou said something quietly again, and this time Mumen thought it clear he was not talking to him. He did directly answer him with a grin that made him shudder. “I brought some of my brothers to handle you, if you gave me trouble.” A straight fin broke the surface, coming just close enough for Mumen to see striped patterns along the back of the large body.

“You were going to get a shark to eat me?!” Mumen was entering into a realm of hysterics, waving his hands. “Are you insane?!”

The other man chuckled and came closer, grabbing his hand from the air. “I love how the thought I could get a shark to attack you on command is somehow harder to believe than everything else happening. Including that I could will it not to eat you.” Mumen tried to tug his hand away. “Let me see.”

“It hurts.”

“Yes, it’s bleeding.” Garou said it like Mumen must be stupid. He stared down at his hand in the water, stroking his fingers over the cut. “I’m not doing this because it hurts. You’re making them uncomfortable.”

One of the sharks caused a splash as it came by, circling them. Yes, this was definitely several sharks, because this one was more reddish. And bigger. “Yeah, I know the feeling!”

“They won’t hurt you. I’ve told them not to.” Garou brought one of his own fingers to his lips and bit down until a drop of what Mumen assumed was blood began to seep from the spot. He had to assume, because it was a dark purple, like ink. Garou started to rub it into the wound.

“Ow! And ew! That’s...there are so many things wrong with this!” Things that included someone who could supposedly talk to sharks, and who looked human but certainly didn’t act like it, and who was now putting his mouth directly onto the cut, sucking at it, mingling their blood together.

A jolt of something rather lewd travelled down his body, and he stared at his thin lips until he asked, “Why did you come back here?”

Mumen blinked. Did he know him? Did they know each other? “What do you mean? How did you--”

“You used to come close to the cove, on that...thing you ride on.” Garou nodded at the bike. “It always looked like you were going to approach, but then you would go. Every year. And then...you stopped.”

“I…” Why was he blushing? Why did he feel so put on the spot. “I used to visit my grandmother. She lived at the house on the hill, overlooking the lighthouse.”

“Why did you come back here?” Garou was glaring at him, still rubbing insistently at the mark between mouthing it. It hurt less now, which also made it feel more scandalous when Garou licked it. “I like when humans leave. I like when there are less of you.”

“Yeah, well, it evens out, because she died, okay?”

As Garou’s fingers stilled, Mumen felt a little sick. It was the first time that he had come out and said that, to anyone. Most people here at the shore knew, so they would offer apologies. And anyone else, he would say that he had a family emergency. Why? Why not just say it? Clearly this was why.

“I’m sorry.” Mumen glanced up at Garou, at his face. It hadn’t exactly gotten softer, but he didn’t seem as angry, as seemingly put out by all this. “I haven’t been here long, so far as my people go, but...she always believed in us.”

“You knew her?”

“I had seen her. And heard the stories she told. She told you too, I know.”

Seawolf. It came back to him suddenly. “Even I couldn’t remember that...how do you?”

Garou let go of him. When Mumen took his hand out of the water, he could just see a pale pink line across a third of him palm, but other than that, there was no sign of the cut. “My memory is much better than yours,” he said, smirking.

“Hey, you there!”

Both of them looked up the shoreline when they heard the voices calling out from the sand. Flashlights were bouncing back and forth, held by a pair of what Mumen thought were probably cops. Before he could think to reply, Garou shot forward to the shallows, taking out the last few lobsters. “Help me with them!” he hissed in the dark, and they both scrambled to remove the rest of the rubber bands.

“Out of the water!” one of the two yelled, and there was a sound of sand being kicked as they ran closer. Garou reached down into the water and emerged with something small in his hand. He threw it, and the light on the bike shattered.

“Hey! That was mine! What are you--” Garou grabbed him up in his arms, and Mumen felt his cheeks going red yet again. His chest was so firm, so secure, but at his waist, it was very, very different. Like the flesh changed there...

“Take a deep breath.”

“What--” He barely got in even a small breath before they were under the water again. Suddenly, they weren’t simply floating but shooting through the current in the dark. It was so fast, so full of bubbles and rushing water that Mumen couldn’t even tell what direction they were going in. It reminded him of being in a slide at a water park.

He did. He did, even in spite of how he was pretty sure he was losing his mind, because Garou’s voice was in his mind. In fact, he was clawing at his torso now, because he needed to breathe. It had been only a few seconds probably, but his lungs were aching. Where was the surface?! Where were they?! How far...how deep...how...

<Mumen!>

It was too much. As the water invaded his nostrils, filling up his chest, everything around them went bright white with pain, then finally hazy and dark.

---

And then...he was waking up. Something was touching his mouth, pressing against it, and there wasn’t a good opportunity to really know what it was before what felt like a pint of water shot up his nose and mouth.

He opened his eyes though, and...Garou. He was hovering over him. It was lighter around them, shimmering like the inside of an aquarium. His eyes were gold. How would he ever have guessed?

Sitting up to cough, he said, “You saved me…”

“Technically I drowned you first, but...sure. Also, I think these belong to you.” Garou handed Mumen his glasses, and he breathed a sigh of relief. When he put them back on, Garou smiled a little, his eyes no longer as severe as they were in the surf, and Mumen had a chance to look around.

They were in a cave, now, like an underground shore. The ground was a mosaic of turquoise and sapphire stones, and the sand was the softest Mumen had ever felt. “Where are we?”

“Under the cove. I had to swim pretty far down to get to the cave. I'm glad you just breathed in a mouthful of water and didn't get all weird with the pressure.” He trailed off when he noticed Mumen staring below his waist. “What?”

From about an inch below his belly and down, Garou… wasn't human. He was deep, rich purple and black, slightly opalescent, and where there should have been legs were…

Tentacles. Eight of them. Long and spread out across the ground but powerful, not limp like he had seen octopi at the market when they were left on the ice to stay fresh. In fact, as he watched him there, Garou straightened and sort of sat on top of them.

Suddenly, he remembered the feeling of being held in the water, like something was surrounding his legs and…

“Oh my God.”

“I know, I’m a vision to behold. You may bask in my might.”

Then, Mumen noticed something more immediate to be concerned about. “Oh my God! I’m naked! What did you do with my clothes?!”

Garou made a light ‘tch’ and gestured at a large rock behind them where the clothes were spread across it. “Even I know that if humans sit around in soaked clothing they’ll get sick.” He said it like he was surprised Mumen hadn’t come to this very logical outcome as well.

Doing his best to cover himself, Mumen closed his eyes for a moment to breathe. Why was he taking this so easily? Why wasn’t he more afraid? Why did it seem like Garou wasn’t going to actually hurt him? What was --

“Stop thinking so hard.” Mumen opened his eyes and jerked when he saw Garou right in front of him. “And so loudly. Obviously you need a distraction from your grief, and I am grateful for the way you saved my people. What more do you need?”

“How did you know --” Garou was coming closer, and his tentacles were wrapping lazily around his legs. He didn’t pull away, only breathed a little harder as they moved up a bit, around his calves, leaving neat little round sucker marks behind them.

“We’re bound now. By blood.” He held up the tiny prick on his finger, then pointed at Mumen’s hand. “I could tell that you were truly a hero - well, the little ones told me that too - and it let me talk to you too. Should have maybe mentioned that before the whole trying-to-breathe-water situation.”

Mumen stared up into his gold eyes for a moment, then down at the tentacles. They had stopped just above his knees. “Can I...touch them?”

“No,” Garou said sarcastically, then rolled his eyes. “Of course you can.”

“You’re really sarcastic for a...spirit of the sea or whatever.”

“I’m part human, too. And I watch the humans, listen to them on their boats. You learn a lot when people can just say whatever they want.” One of the tentacles moved up, curling into Mumen’s palm. He wasn’t sure why, but Mumen thought it would be rough or scaly, but it was surprisingly soft, the purple flesh almost plush in a slick way. He immediately thought of putting his hands on rays in touch tanks as a child.

“You’re not gonna, like...lay eggs in me, are you?”

Garou blinked slowly, like this was honestly the most ridiculous question he had ever heard. “That’s not how any of this works.”

Mumen licked his lips. He wasn’t unaffected by the feeling of the soft arms surrounding him so close to his groin, no matter how nervous he still was. “And you’re not going to eat me afterward? Or!” he quickly added, “Feed me to sharks! Or anything else!”

Garou kissed him then, instead. He thought his mouth might taste like ocean water or the shore, but it just mingled with his, warm and wet and hot. He didn’t waste any time adding his tongue in, long and rubbing, touching his teeth, the top of his mouth, everywhere he could get to. Garou pulled him forward and laid him down on the ground.

When Mumen opened his eyes again, it looked like Garou was hovering over him. Mumen went to put his arms around him but quickly found that he couldn’t, his whole body covered with flexing, exploring tentacles. They squeezed his arms, his middle, and around his waist and legs, like he was something to take apart and put back together.

“Take a breath,” Garou laughed softly, his hands cupping his cheeks. “If I wanted to do something to you, I wouldn’t have protected you or brought you back here.”

“I’m not afraid.” It was only a half-lie, because what he meant was that he wasn’t as afraid as he was turned on. One of the tentacles moved to play with his nipple, and Mumen dropped his head back, moaning.

“Hmm, interesting…” The tips of two purple arms moved to flick and toy with his chest, and Mumen squirmed. He felt like some kind of animal caught in a trap, unable to escape, and under any other circumstance that would terrify him. But here? Now?

“Ahh!” Mumen glanced down to see one of the limbs wrap around his cock, rubbing it up and down. “Oh god, oh god…”

“How do humans handle having a tentacle so small and...not dextrous at all?” A tendril flicked under the curve of his head, and Mumen could swear he saw stars. When Garou licked his face, Mumen realized then how warm his cheeks had grown. “It’s just hard and-- oh!”

He came suddenly, spurting, the strange otherness of having a tentacle being what was squeezing him too arousing to actually hold back. White drops of fluid stood out against the dark of Garou’s lower body, and he smiled, licking his lips. “I can taste it, you know,” he shared, kissing him again, hard and deep, making a vibrating noise through it as he shifted, sitting Mumen up, arms over his head to stretch him.

“Where is your…?”

Garou slipped one of his tentacles past his lips and onto his tongue, sliding it in and out between his front teeth and the top of his throat. Mumen shuddered, letting out a muted, muffled moan against it. “See? I can use mine for many things. Yours, you either use it or…” Mumen sucked hard as Garou once again gave it a squeeze. “You just take what you get, huh?”

“Mmm…”

“I think you like that, though. Well, I kind of know you do.”

Mumen flushed at that. If he had had any idea that Garou taking care of his hand would lead to him having such a firm idea of his proclivities, he might have reconsidered letting him. But this was so good...so good…

Garou delved a bit deeper into his throat, and Mumen tried to relax. He squirmed in his hold, feeling the tentacles tighten and touch all over him, stroking even at places like his armpits, his navel, the small of his back...places Mumen never thought would make him light up with arousal and yet somehow managed to do so.

He nearly choked when a particularly curious tip found the line of nerves running from his hole to his cock. “Aha! That's an interesting spot...you reacted strongly to that…” Garou did it again, slower, dragging the textured flesh across his taint.

“Mm!!” Mumen's chest heaved, eyes watering slightly from the way Garou's cock was pressing now in his throat.

“I didn't realize how tight it would be in there,” Garou murmured, pressing his torso in close, his fingers touching either side of the line of his neck. Mumen could feel his digits around his tentacle cock, curious, interested...and it should have been frightening. It should have made him panic, but…

All he wanted was to make him come. To even them up so maybe - maybe - Garou would be more of a mess like he was.

But the moment he considered that, Garou looked at him, amusement in his gaze. Although his cheeks were rosy, a shudder running through him, he straightened a little. “Do you really want to challenge me in stamina, little human?”

Okay. Mumen could work with someone who took a challenge like that.

Although he did not have the use of his hands to add to it, Mumen set to the task of sucking on Garou with even more vigor. After all, he didn't taste fishy or odd; really it was the texture that was the oddest. Smooth and slightly slippery, the suckers at the end small enough that he could slip his tongue in a circle around them without getting them stuck.

“Mmm...fuck…” Garou's curses sounded alien, like he was trying them out for the first time. Bolder than a child but less confident than someone who had said such words for years. “Mumen…”

“Mmmph…” Tipping his head forward, he let more of Garou in his throat again, having gotten used to it.

“I...I...ah!” Garou came suddenly, and, sure, Mumen hadn't exactly been with many men (mostly having only experimented with his childhood friend Saitama when they went to the same University together) but this was not at all how it was before. Garou came not only forcefully but plentifully and although Mumen swallowed as much as he could, quite a bit of the fluid messily fell down his face and chest.

He coughed, and immediately Garou pulled back, and for a moment, though they remained around him, the tentacles felt more like...a full-bodied hug than the sexual adventure it had been only a moment before. Garou licked up the remaining mess, kissing Mumen again. “You are very, very good at that…” he said in a throaty voice that was more growl than purr.

“Thanks,” Mumen croaked, clearing his throat as much as he could. Then, he watched as Garou lifted his hands and cupped them in front of his face, water magically gathering there. It was the crispest, coolest drink that he had ever had. Or was it because it followed the strangest thing he had ever put in his mouth? He wasn’t sure.

Garou attacked him with his mouth again, a mouth that was human in all the right ways, with soft lips and just-sharp-enough teeth. He bit and pulled at Mumen’s bottom lip, and when Mumen gasped and opened his eyes - they were closed so much of the time, trying to surround himself in the surreal, carnal dance he was taking place in, letting his nerves and flesh do the looking - he saw those slits of gold: a little mischievous, intrigued, and full of lust.

“Fuck me,” Mumen pled. “Please fuck me...Garou…”

“Is that what you want, human? Already?” He panted the words, just far enough from contact with him to reply. Long nails rake down his sides, toy with his ass.

There’s that tentacle again, rubbing, pressing. It’s like he’s riding on it, and then -- “Ah!” He wasn’t sure how he could describe the sensation. It was sort of like a shock? A vibrating shiver? “What...what was that?”

“It’s how I feel where I am through the water. I send it out, it bounces back, I can see what’s even in the darkest depths.”

“E- ahh, echolocation?” Garou did it again, and he could feel it travel all the way up to the tip of him. He struggled a bit in Garou’s arms, but the seawolf seemed more than intent to have his way.

“Whatever you want to call it.” Garou was tonguing his chest in broad strokes, probably to lick up the thin, viscous spunk that had dripped there. “Your body tastes amazing, by the way...gods, I’ve had a lot of humans but…” Garou laughed when Mumen pouted behind his glasses. “I was just kidding!”

“Do you bring many here?” he asked, seriously, then added, not wanting to ruin the moment or make Garou back off. “Because...I couldn’t blame them. You’re beautiful and amazing and...and...I’ve never been with anyone like you.”

Garou seemed amused by his confession more than anything, his hands going down to grab his waist and pull him in, rubbing him against what would have been his crotch. Mumen moaned at the soft flesh against his hard, sensitive cock. “No, no I do not. Most people heed the warnings, you know. Read the signs. Stay away from beasts like me.”

“You’re - mm, right there, yes, please - you’re not a beast. You’re…” Mumen trailed off, because he didn’t actually know what to say, as much as he wanted to say something. So he didn’t say anything; instead, he pulled out of Garou’s limbs, a cacophony of suckers popping following the movement, and initiated his own kiss, wrapping his arms around his neck and climbing more firmly into his lap. “You’re something I like, and that can’t be but so beastly.”

Smiling, Garou held him close, shaking his head as the tentacles that had been on his biceps and wrists took more to his legs, spreading them. “Something you like,” he purred in his ear. “I’ll take that.”

Mumen let out a deep, loud moan as Garou’s still-slick cock slipped into and around his hole. It wasn’t a definitive thrust to enter, but rather a feel, as though it were getting its bearings. It curled around and made that same, intense vibration, and Mumen sank his fingertips into Garou’s shoulders. “Oh God…”

“I like how warm you are inside,” he whispered, and another jolt made him clench. “It’s a challenge making room for myself...don’t worry, I won’t go too far.” He chuckled. “Just enough that you’ll like it.”

“Garou...fuck, Garou…” He nosed under his ear, sucking on the pale flesh there, the muscles. “Please...harder…”

He entered in more, still worming his way in, and just when Mumen thought he would stop, he hit the deepest end of him, nearly making him scream when he sent another wave into it.

“There...that’s what I want.” Garou pulled him back by the hair, devouring his face, sucking on his tongue in a way that made Mumen’s toes curl. When he did the same thrust and shock once more, he tried to bring his legs together with a whine. “Mumen…”

“I...I’m not going to be able to hold out!”

“I think you can.” Every time his canines scraped his chin, Mumen thought he might faint. “I want you to come with me. Don’t you?”

It was embarrassing how he whimpered. “Depends on how long you can go…” He gasped as the tentacles shifted for another angle that Garou pummeled vigorously, making it apparent that whether he said five minutes or five hours really wasn’t going to matter. “I-if I come, will you keep going?” he huffed out with each movement.

“Obviously!” Garou grinned, looking much more wolfish. His hair had started drying more, and it stuck up in two ‘ears.’ God, that was cute. He was so interesting…

Garou kept pumping, and when Mumen came again, it didn’t matter that it technically hadn’t been that long because he milked him with bump after bump on his prostate, twisting and making it throb. His orgasm made it so his whole body shook and jerked, dripping onto the blue stone floor.

He figured maybe that the way he went rigid would urge Garou with him, to join him.

It didn’t.

“Ooh…” Mumen moaned, suddenly so sensitive and aching that he got a little teary-eyed from it. “G-Garou...please…”

“Please?” Garou laughed. “Again?”

It was a bit like blacking out, then, because Garou picked up his pace, so fast and hard that the sounds of it echoed in the cave. The seawolf grabbed him up with his entire body, squeezing him, leaving circular bruises all over as he spilled out again, the hot mess leaking between and down his legs.

Mumen twitched, coming dry, and when it finally eased off like a fire being put out, he was in the water, being touched with such tenderness that he thought he might melt into it, float like seafoam that would fall apart once the moment ended. Garou’s voice was soft in his ear. “Okay?”

He opened up an eye and smirked. “We’re bonded, right? You tell me.”

Garou grinned and tugged him against his chest.

---

After that, there was only one person who could get him to leave the house, the one he moved into the next week.

And it wasn’t any of the neighbors.

#my paperfics #one punch man #mumarou #mumen rider #garou #dirty paper #tentacles

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