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juniorgman187 · 4 years ago

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Serpent of Eden (Part 2 - Reid Series)

~ Reader’s one-night-stand with Spencer turns into a year long semester ~

Summary: Spencer and Reader attempt to navigate through the shock, horror, and confusion of the revelation that Spencer is a professor at Reader’s college. Couple: Fem!Reader x Professor Spencer Reid Category: Series, Fluff, Angst, (eventually smut) Word Count: 1.5k (this will probably be my shortest chapter) Content Warning: mentions of one-night-stand, age gap, teacher-student relationship Disclaimer: This is a filler chapter, and you’ll probably find it boring, but it moves the story along so that we can get to the exciting parts next chapter.

PART 1 HERE!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

What’s that saying again?

It’s a small world?

Well, after today - I certainly agree.

More as a comment to myself, I muttered, “I guess I should’ve asked for your last name after all, Spencer.”

Was this my cruel and unusual punishment for my first one-night-stand? If so, this was enough humiliation to convince me it should be my first and last one-night-stand.

His eyes were wide with astonishment; his eyebrows knitted together. “I thought you said you worked at a law firm.”

He wasn’t mad or accusing me of lying, but he was more stunned than anything that I was really here standing in front of him. I knew his voice to be too kind to be accusatory.

“That wasn’t a lie. I do work at a law firm - I’m an intern there,” I said matter-of-factly. “I only said that to impress you because you were older and had this big shot job. Which reminds me - you said you were part of the FBI.”

“I am, but I occasionally teach here.” He almost chuckled.

It was the slight pout of both of our mouths that proved a mutual resignation to the fact that we’d reached a stalemate. We both ran out of moves and there was nowhere for us to go if we kept on this path, not unless one of us surrendered to the other, which wasn’t really an option here. Simply by the look on his face, I could tell he was going to assume the responsibility of inciting a productive discourse. And I let him, for subconsciously, I looked to him to be the bigger person, the more mature one, the wiser one, for he was the older one, too. Whether or not this was taking advantage of the natural assertiveness one gains with age, I wasn’t sure.

“W-what are you doing here?” He finally asked, bringing me back to the harsh reality of being stuck between a rock and a hard place. Had this been any other teacher, I might’ve not been so embarrassed to admit I was 20 years old and serving detention for being dress-coded. But, alas, it wasn’t any other teacher - it was Spencer . . . or Dr. Reid? Is that what I have to call him now?

“I got detention.” I sheepishly admitted.

The furrowing of his brows and narrowing of his eyes told me he didn’t believe me; all the signs of skepticism plain on his face.

“I was dress coded earlier.” If it was at all possible, that statement sounded even more ridiculous.

“Dress coded?” He clarified, like he almost didn’t believe me.

“I started taking off my sweater - not like that!” I quickly redacted, and the stunned look on his face told me he almost took it that way and found amusement in doing so. “I wasn’t stripping in front of the entire school. I just wanted to take my sweater off.”

“That shouldn’t warrant detention, though.”

“That’s what I was saying!”

And the comfortable, lighthearted dynamic that brought us together only two nights ago resumed as if it had never paused. It felt like we were at the bar again, talking as strangers falling in love, but here in this sterile classroom, I was chilled by the reminder that we were no longer two strangers getting drunk off the other’s presence. We were a student and a teacher in a professional setting.

“I’m just gonna sit down, now.” I awkwardly announced, fumbling into the furthest seat from him.

“No, no, it’s fine. I’ll just report to Ms. Whitman that you served detention, but you can go now. You don’t have to stay.” He turned away from me sharply and towards his desk, all but refusing to meet my eyes.

“No, that wouldn’t be right.”

As the sentence came from my mouth, my mind wandered into a trap my words had set. “What was right about this?” Because really, nothing was.

I knew I was charting dangerous territories by staying in his classroom alone with him, but those weren’t my intentions. If anything, this was one of those times where my “goody-two-shoes” mentality failed me. I was only furthering the chance something might happen and heightening my own attraction.

The more and more I sat across from the ever contemplative Dr. Reid, the more his figure began transforming into a work of art. I started to notice the little details, the nuances, the paint strokes. I couldn’t be bothered to figure out what he was actually doing, but I took notice of the manner that he was doing it in. He studied his papers carefully with almost the same level of intent as I had looking at him. Occasionally, his tongue would poke out between his lips and wet them, scarcely reacquainting me with the thought of how they felt against my own. His eyes would narrow at the words while he read them; his eyebrows twitching up every so often as a physical reaction to his reading material.

“Are you just going to spend the rest of detention staring at me, or are you actually going to get some work done?”

The sound of his voice snapped me out of my daze and before I could re-enter this dimension, he was already looking at me through smiling eyes.

“I am doing my work!” I defensively screeched.

“Oh, yeah? If I come over there right now and you haven’t written a single thing -”

“What?” I jested. “You gonna punish me?”

The words slipped from my mouth before my mind could process its subtly seductive suggestions.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.” My eyes fell to my homework that I hadn’t even started on as a way to avoid his. He looked so entertained by my previous words, and that made it even worse. How could he possibly enjoy my flirtatious advances when there was so much at risk?

“I guess we should talk about-”

“What’s there to talk about?” I abruptly interrupted. “It’s not like I have your class now, and I’ve been rejected from auditing it before, so we don’t have to see each other in school ever after today.” I rambled.

“In school?” He repeated.

“What?”

“You said we don’t have to see each other in school ever after today. Were you implying that you … you want to still see me outside of -”

“No!”

I answered all too quickly for it to appear like an honest response. He was too smart to see it as anything besides what it really was - a way to save my ass.

“I mean … yeah, I did want to see you again. But that was before I found out you’re a professor at my college.”

“Part time.” He emphasized, as if that somehow made things less illegal.

A frown formed on my face to tell him that that clarification didn’t make anything better.

“It’s your call.” I finally renounced. This was probably the most honest and raw my emotions could have been. I couldn’t have said anything truer to my feelings than that. “You have more at risk here than I do. If you say you don’t want to see me again, then you won’t. But if you think there’s something between us worth exploring, I’m willing to make it work.”

He was visibly conflicted; the weight of my words stealing his voice. He was quiet for more moments than comfortable, but he would finally tell me his answer only after rising from his desk to join me at the other end of the classroom. I stood up from my desk, making our lack of professional distance all the more glaringly obvious.

“(Y/n),” He slid a hand onto my cheek and up through my hair. “You’re worth the risk.”

He was about to seal his promise with a kiss, but when we leaned in, three hard knocks hit against the door. I jumped back in startlement, while Spencer did just the opposite. He leapt into action, abandoning me at the back of the classroom to flee to the front. He must’ve recognized the knocks were coming from the janitor just outside his door.

“Any trash you need taken out, Mr. Reid?” The janitor asked while scanning the room, glazing right over me.

“No, nope. I’m okay today, thank you. Bye, Randy.” Spencer waved him away with his hand, and luckily, I must’ve camouflaged into the wall because he didn’t seem to see me or my profuse blushing.

“I’m so sorry. I forgot he comes here every Monday at 3:45.” Spencer apologized while slowly making his way back to me.

“You forgetting something? How can that be.” I joked - well enough to hide my ever growing paranoia behind a mask of comical enjoyment.

“What can I say? That’s what you do to me. You make me forget everything else in the world.”

His words were enough to woo me certainly, even enough to accept his resumed kiss, but they weren’t enough to convince me to commit to the moment. It was spoiled by the knowledge of our sins, stolen by the fear of our actions. I simply couldn’t enjoy our relationship to the fullest anymore.

And I never would again.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

PART 3 HERE!

comment to be added to/ removed from the taglist

taglist: @andiebeaword @jesspavlik0vsky

#serpent of eden #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid series #professor spencer reid #juniorgman187 #angst #fluff #smut

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bigwriterenergy · 5 years ago

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yandere dio brando x reader

anonymous asked: “Hello! I'm super shy requesting stuff because human interaction (tm) but I love your writing so much! I also love yanderes, so could I request a yandere Part 1 Dio reconnecting with a childhood friend. Well...HE thought they were friends (and maybe even something more) but she was always so scared by him and only hung out with him cause he's a pest who scared away her other friends. It can be in any writing format you'd like! Thank you and have a wonder day :D”

hello! and please don't ever be afraid to send me messages or anything like that! i love interacting with my followers and talking about our jojo boys!! thank you for sending in the request though and i’d be more than happy to write what’s requested!! :)) thanks again1!

dio with yandere tendencies is far scarier than one would initially imagine. i think, in general, he hates humans, especially when he turns due to the mask in part one. the separation of dio brando and his humanity is an easy way for him to detach himself to other humans. he thinks humans are weak and settle for less than they are worth, so him becoming something other than human removes him from those labels.

but yandere dio? yandere dio hates humans even more. he hates them so much that the one human he deems above the filth, is only safe or saved from their primal instinct of wickedness when they are right by his side. his idea of “love” is completely warped due to his hatred.

those who are evil often cling to the past. so it made sense that he would seek the woman who first captured his heart. one who reminded him of his mother when times weren’t nearly as confusing or difficult. a woman who never doubted his abilities and listened to his ramblings about mundane things. you were on a pedestal in his eyes. a pedestal right beside the new god of this world.

he never realized that you spent time with him due to more malicious reasons. he was an intense boy and the intensity protected you from those who sought to harm you. when you were younger, being friends with dio meant being protected. but he also drove away those who were closest to you with his own antics. in the end, dio brando was the one you saw most often.

when his obsession begins again, probably spurred by the desire to feel equal to another or to cure his loneliness, he’ll stop at nothing to have you. the “romance” between both you and dio, whether you deemed it so or not, was clearly apparent to him. why couldn’t he just pick up where he left off?

it’d be inevitable. he’d find you. you would be something he can dote and protect all over again. you’d be treated as a queen, naturally. yandere dio has a lot more respect for his obsession than typical dio does. it’s almost comical how often he’d ask for your opinion on things or even the amount of domestic activities he loves to engage in. picking your brain and watching you is his favorite activity.

“you’ve already finished the book i’ve given you? hoho .. you quick little bird. tell me, what was your favorite chapter?”

yandere part one dio brando is FAR different from yandere part three dio brando.

you always knew it would end with this. although you’d like to pretend and spout that you never expected his behavior, you knew. you knew eventually that he would take drastic measures to ensure that you never left his side again.

although yandere dio is more loving, his intensity and ruthlessness is still maintained. he’s not afraid to punish those who act out against him, his darling included. he’ll claim it as an act of love.

“don’t you remember all those years ago? i am no longer the little boy you played with -- i’m finally able to make you mine now without interference. i couldn’t bear another second without you.”

#jjba x reader #dio brando x reader #dio brando #sfw #tw yandere #tw grim reading

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seancekitsch · 5 years ago

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Prize Buck

I’m out of my hiatus. I was asked for Klaus Headcanons, wrote a smut fic after work today instead whoops

A/N: drug use, addiction, oral(m/f receiving), unprotected sex (wrap that shit folx), female or nb afab reader, thinking sad thoughts while doing sexy things, sorta sub!Klaus, mental health issues, roughness, unedited, i added a line that only makes sense if you read the comics

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“You’re seriously telling me you’ve never done this? You?” Klaus asks, bringing the bowl and the lighter closer to you. You hadn’t, in honesty. You were the worlds most casual of casual stoners. You’d roll a joint if the mood struck you; meticulously crafted and thin for the perfect little heady time. Or you’d take a hit from a bong at a friends house, only if they offered to smoke you out. Really though, weed wasn’t your thing, it just had to become a part of the routine now because there weren’t other options. You couldn’t get your normal poison, amphetamines, so feeling uncontrollably sluggish instead of uncontrollably wired was the new normal.

A non-committal head shake was all you could offer. He was right to be incredulous at that revelation. You had met in rehab, for god’s sake. Klaus had, no HAS, a lot of problems, some you watched him scream and sweat through during his first week in the room across the hall from you. You were the one that he woke up constantly, because your crash left you near coma and crying when you were conscious. Despite making your recovery hell, he was the only one you could talk to when the tears subsided. Before rehab, you were a a published scholar at the height of your career, working with a newly discovered artifact from an anthropology dig. You’d spent your career hopped up on all of the meds you could find, culminating this research, staying up for thirteen days before having a breakdown in which you break the artifact from shaking so hard and crash your car fleeing the research center with your writing.

Weed was new. It was never your thing. But Klaus was new too, and he was your thing. You’d become fast friends in group therapy sessions, and inseparable out of them. It was unorthodox and frowned upon, but you became roommates once you’d gotten out. Just a small studio above a shop. A couch and a mattress that you’d switch off sleeping on, or you’d just both crash on the flood a hairs breadth away from snuggling. But it was the option that worked. You’d both confided that true sobriety wasn’t an option. So instead of anything hard, it was weed and alcohol. This was something that wouldn’t kill you or get you sent back. Controllable. And maybe one day you’d be able to go into a different field. Get an apartment with an actual bedroom. Maybe he could be able to shut out some of his power. But for now, this is what would work. It was a transition that made sense to you.

“I just can’t believe you’ve never shotgunned a bowl. Don’t all the great writers have their little parties where they smoke each other out? Isn’t that how Mary and Percy had that orgy with Lord Byron?” You wanted to correct him that you were a disgraced anthropologist, not a writer, but his warm thigh nudging yours reminds you now isn’t really the time. You give a weak smile instead.

“I guess since you’re the only person I smoke with, you’d be the only person to shotgun me.” He scooches closer to you, earthy scent already working wonders to entrance you. You wonder if he knew he had this effect on your mind and body.

“So you’ll let me shoot you now?” He asks. You smile, a little anxious, a little toothy.

“Shoot me? What am I, a ten point buck?”

There’s going to be a great feat of self control to keep yourself from jumping the curly haired man next to you, and self control is not one of your strong suits. You were head over heels in lust with Klaus and you didn’t even know if he was into women.

He begins with an unceremonious prodding at the fresh ground bud in the glass bowl with his pinky. Then he flicks the gas station lighter once. Twice. A spark. The flame dips into the bowl and there’s a soft crackle that’s accompanied and fueled by Klaus’ plump lips wrapping around the head of the pipe. It’s almost obscene to look at and you find yourself shifting uncomfortably. Well, not uncomfortably, but not in a way that’s appropriate for this setting. There’s probably more than a slight chance Klaus knows you’re aroused, but he’s being polite about it. Even now, as his lungs are filling up with smoke, and he’s puffing out his cheeks like a chipmunk, there’s this ebbing and throbbing between your legs.

And now, for the shotgun itself. You know he’s blowing all the smoke in his body into your mouth, but the last thing you expect is how it feels to actually have his lips on yours. At first he’s methodical, a slow diaphragm push of smoke into your mouth, your lips parted slightly and drinking in the smoke as it comes. But no, that’s not enough; not giving Klaus enough access to deliver the goods. He makes quick work of parting your lips further by a harsh squeeze to your jaw. The way the smoke and his tongue invade your mouth does nothing to help curb the lack of self control you possess as you moan wantonly into the kiss. The shotgun. You could be addicted to this alone.

By the time he pulls away, you feel like a balloon in that you’re floating, and the hand you have securely placed on your roommates thigh is the only thing keeping you from floating out the window and into some electrical wires or into a tree for birds to choke to death on. You start low, reddened eyes looking from your hand on his thigh, up to his chest. Klaus’ chest is almost always bare. His arms and the muscles of his abdomen were littered with the odd scar and tattoo here and there. He told you they’re from fighting in Vietnam in the 1960s and France in the 1400s. When he said it, he was so earnest you could do nothing but believe him. Then your eyes travel a little more north, to his lips. He needs a shave; his mustache and his chin getting a bit too scraggly, but they tickled when you came together for the smoke. And then you finally meet his eyes, unabashed that you just drank him in like lemonade. His pupils are blown wide when you finally look into them; not something weed would do to you. No, this was something else.

“Another?” He asks, voice trembling and breathy, not above a whisper.

“I- I want more.” Your voice coming out a tad huskier than you intended, not masking how his actions had an effect on you. Your skirt feels entirely too open right now. If you were wearing jeans, or tight pants like his, you’d feel some kind of restraint. Like a chastity belt, you think, some real medieval torture. But it would be all too easy to lift this skirt, or even to shift your hips and grind against something for even a tiny iota of relief.

You don’t even watch Klaus take the hit this time, only turning your head back to face him when you hear him stop sucking. This time, he sets the bowl down before leaning in. Your mouth is open and ready for him, already a quick learner from what just transpired. So Klaus doesn’t grab your jaw this time. Instead, he grabs the hand that’s still resting on his thigh.

And he shoves it towards the crotch of his pants.

Where your open palm lands clumsy and hard against the hardness straining at his pants.

He groans as contact is made and almost coughs the rest of the smoke into your mouth, but you’re there to suck it down in stride. There’s only a quick pause for you to exhale this now twice filtered smoke before your lips re-attach to his, the bowl and lighter now forgotten.

His hand drifts to your jaw a second time, before sliding down further to the back of your neck, pulling you in closer, until it strains your back. He knows you fell asleep on the couch last night, so he knows how much this burns your taught muscles. All to his advantage it seems, as you shift your weight to your knee before turning and straddling him, all without breaking the kiss or your removing your hand from his clothed cock. Your skirt pools at where both of your hips meet, and he readjusts it -ever the gentleman- for you as you begin to knead and squeeze him beneath your hand.

Instead of smoke now, your mouths fill with the moans and sighs of each other, both refusing to end the kissing first and both running out of air. The onslaught of kissing continues through some under the shirt fondling, through Klaus less than gently pinching at your nipples, through you unbuttoning Klaus’ pants- now much too tight. He only breaks the kiss finally to beckon you,

“Stand up, I’ve got something else I want to show you”

Wobbly, you give his clothed cock one more squeeze before you rise to your feet.

While you move to reposition, standing over him now with your skirt bunched in one hand and your panties in another, he shimmies his pants down to his knees. All of your wondering if he was into more than just men is silenced when his tongue makes first contact with your clit. He takes the time to swirl his tongue tantalizingly slow, then quickly flicking his tongue upward, making your knees buckle until they land at the back of the couch just above his shoulders. You lean into it as he writes letters to you with his tongue, teasing the entrance to your cunt with his fingers and gathering the wetness until his fingers are slick.

You’re about to beg for it, cry for his fingers to penetrate you, but you don’t have to because he plunges in to the hilt. There is no easing into it, he thrusts his middle and ring finger at a break neck speed. Your skin feels white hot and the only purchase you can find is in squeezing the fabric balled in your palms and Klaus skewers you and torches every one of your nerve endings with his hot mouth and fingers.

Your high is coming to a head, literally and figuratively, when Klaus retracts all attention. You whine, pouting and pitiful, when he says something that surprises you:

“You’re gonna cum, right? Order me. Order me to make you cum. I’ll obey.”

So you do.

“Fuck— Klaus. Fuck! Make me cum. Make me cum on your face.”

When he returns to your cunt he’s unmerciful, working you back up to and through your high before you can even realize it’s happening. You barely savor it before you’re convulsing, sinking your knees further until they rest on his shoulders and he has to grab you by the ass to hold you up. You hadn’t been touched like this since before you had met Klaus, and you wanted more. Insatiable and prone, you make your next move untangling yourself from his grasp.

Sinking down, you feel the old wood creak beneath your stiff knees. This would hurt like a bitch, but when Klaus smiles down at you with his face covered in the wetness of your orgasm, you can’t find a reason to care. His smile is genuine, wide and splitting, the same look he gives you when you come home with pizza. Well, this was about to be better than pizza. The tip of your tongue touches the head of his cock first, a tiny testing lick earning a full body shudder from the man in front of you.

“Please don’t tease. Do a guy a favor. Please baby?”

You’re a sucker for his pleading, and just as he didn’t give you time to adjust, you don’t give him any warning before you sink your entire mouth down on him, only stopping to hollow out your cheeks when his tip hits the back of your throat. You hold it there for a moment, and then only gag as your lungs run out of oxygen. Klaus could be a substitute for oxygen, you’d gladly rather take him in than anything you would have tried before.

He whines, you notice. High pitched and needy. He would probably do anything I asked right now to cum, you think, but you quickly dismiss the thought. In a way you’re glad it’s you sucking his soul out through his cock and no one else, because he’s putting so much of himself into this. You wonder if he’s been taken advantage before. You hope not.

You banish the thought by moaning around the head of his cock. You revel in his reaction, to bury both of his hands in your hair as he all but sobs out “oh god please keep doing that” or something like that, you can’t really tell for sure over the rush his touch sends straight back down to your core.

As much as you want to worship his cock, your own tears from gagging on it start to sting your eyes. So you pull off him, just long enough to ask,

“Do you want me to finish you like this? Or another way?” Pausing to kiss the underside of his cock before adding, “You can have any part of me you want”

It’s like a flip switches, and he’s pulling you back up, pulling your skirt down and off of you in fluid motion, before you take your spot straddling him again. Impatient, he pushes you down onto him, thrusting away immediately finding a groove.

“Oh I’m gonna make you cum— gonna be real good for you. M-make you feel real good.” He’s a stuttering, groaning mess as he thrusts up into you.

“You feel amazing inside me. You’re doing so good, Klaus. Making me feel amazing,” you coo, doing everything to praise and encourage him. “I’m gonna cum, can you feel that? It’s all for you, do you want that— OH”

The thought caught mid air stopped short by a particularly accurate thrust right into a spot that makes you scream, your second orgasm of the afternoon now much closer than it had been. You feel your muscles clench as you bear down on him, trying to make Klaus hit that spot over and over. By the way his rhythm is almost non existent, you can tell he’s almost there too.

Something crosses your mind, and before you fully process the thought, one of your hands is wrapping around his throat, fingers and thumb squeezing deftly so that you don’t close the airway, but that he sees stars. That does it.

Klaus cumming is almost more beautiful than it feels. His cock twitches and paints your insides, and you cum from the sensation as well, but the blissed-out fucked-out face smiling up at you is to see heaven itself. His eyeliner is streaked with tears, his lips swollen and bruised, a smile splitting his face in two.

You move to get up, maybe clean yourself up, but at least put your panties back on. Klaus stops you though with his hands gently but firmly on your hips, holding you in place.

“Just stay. For a bit. I’m not one of those dames you can deflower and avoid their calling cards.”

A snort of laughter. A joke covering real insecurity; you can see right through it.

“Klaus, you were deflowered long before I ever got here, but I’m not gonna go anywhere. You shot me, I’m your prize buck.”

#my work #klaus x reader #klaus hargreeves x reader #klaus hargreeves imagine #klaus hargreeves smut #smut #tw drugs #addiction tw #drugs cw #prize buck series

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story-collector · 4 years ago

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AU TIME!

This time it’s green lantern style

This entire thing is going to be based of an oc that I have not yet actually created...just fyi...

The Green Lantern I chose..*dramatic drumroll*

Hal Jordan!

Let’s make something clear...I don’t read a lot of the comics (I try but I don NOT have the attention span for that)

I watch mostly Batman based movies

And what I saw...I didn’t like

I know in one series (I believe it’s Young Justice) they are trying to decide who to let into the league

The other green lanterns already in the league are steadfastly against Hal joining the league

He is childish, immature, irresponsible and they just off about him

They don’t give him a chance

If you want to go off the live action movies (which I am entirely tying that into this AU) Hal was the FIRST and ONLY human to ever be a green lantern

We can pretend the others came a little later

So let’s say he was the first green lantern on earth

He fought hard to protect the planet (it’s that one animated movie when the JL first meets and it has Cyborg and I think Shazam’s origins in it... I forgot the name)

He was the only green lantern, fuck they didn’t even know he existed till he showed up

But the big three found him to immature and slowly edged him out till he didn’t become part of the league

He was like okay, what ever, I’m still a hero and this is still my planet (and sector of space) to protect and I’ll keep doing that

He’s a little hurt but it’s okay

Until the other green lanterns show up

When he became green lantern he was one a very tight schedule and had to learn a lot of things on the fly because he couldn’t get a full training from the green lanterns

And after he defeated the threat he just kinda...forgot, to bust protecting the planet and his people

So compared to a lot of new lanterns he is very undertrained, but no less serious

Now the other lanterns show up

And they are almost immediately brought into the league

And.. he has to admit, that kinda hurts

He was the first

And now he will be the last

They got more training and despite him being their senior as a lantern, the act like the bosses of him

The act superior to him and treat him like trash

It hurts

And brings down his self esteem a lot

The other hero’s still hang out with and talk to him like nothing is wrong

Like he hasn’t been slighted

And pushed to the side

He realizes they just keep getting his hopes up only to let him down later

And he just kinda sits on it and simmers and it gets worse and worse and suddenly there’s a red lantern ring coming right for him

Now this is where and OC would come in

I’m making the example female because I have never seen a female Green Lantern and there might be but not a popular one

Suddenly the ring is stopped by a ball of green light

Another green lantern

This one female, her eyes glow with an unearthly shine, even with her mask

Her hair seems to float around her and she has marks across her face and horns on her head

She’s not human, but she came in the direction of earth

She motions for him to follow her and she opens a portal to the green lantern base

The other lanterns can’t meet his eyes

They know why he’s here and they know where they failed, she made sure of that

She releases the red ring to some heavy duty greens and the salut her as she walks with him down the halls

She’s short, barely coming up to his shoulder, but it is very clear who has the power here

She brings him to a nice sitting room and deactivated her ring, and to his surprise, removes it

He had never seen a lantern remove their ring at the HQ and barely ever on earth

She sits him down and explains as much as she can

She’s not human, but she has been living on earth since Krypton fell

(For this AU I’m going to make the Krypton sector a fairly toxically radioactive place so only few species can withstand it, green lanterns can with the glowing shield around them, but not without it so they couldn’t stay on the planet)

This was her sector as she was one of the only green lanterns that could withstand the radioactiveness of the planet

Her home sector was much the same before it was destroyed by war

She reveals that she protected this sector on her own for millennia, through generations of the royal family (I’m making Superman the last prince of Krypton ok)

She was devastated when it fell because she wasn’t strong enough, to injured, to tired, to save them

She saved Supes pod and brought it to earth, a place she knew vaugely from her own planets war

Krypton was gone and she felt like a failure so she set down her ring and hadn’t even looked at it for almost 40 years

Until she caught wind of a lantern on earth

Who wasn’t fully trained

Who was treated like shit

Who was slighted and used and manipulated

And basically said fuck it, I’m going to train another lantern

Now she was one of the first

One of the oldest lanterns (though she didn’t look a day past 25 if Hal could say so himself)

She knew all the wisdom he would need

And she would stand beside him and protect the Milky Way sector

Hers were gone, so the elders reassigned her to the Milky Way and assigned Hal as her apprentice

They knew that he was destined for greatness and that he would blossom under her training

They agree to keep their knowledge of each other and her reassignment between each other

The other earth lanterns did not protect the sector like they were supposed to

So they would do it themselves

So she brought him under her metaphorical wings and trained him

And he became better

And because I love batman so much let’s say she lives in Gotham

And she’s fairly high up their on the social scale

Obviously she can had and transform her very not human characteristics flawlessly

And she’s been around for millions, if not billions of years, she’s basically a goddess I guess

So she knows her way around money and the good hustle

So she probably knows Bruce Wayne

And probably knows he’s Batman, not that he knows this

So there’s a gala like mabey a year after Hal starts his training

And he’s a fucking fast learner, which is good because the galaxy really needs its protectors

(Some how the JL haven’t noticed that their are next to no alien attackers in the last year, the word has spread and no one wants to go against Kryptons Guardian and her apprentice)

She’s literally shown him the universe

(And this isn’t necessarily a love story, I’d like to think of it as brother sister relationship that they end up developing,or like best best friends, but not lovers)

Anyway Wayne Gala

She’s invited and as a regular guest she is allowed to bring a guest

So she Chooses Hal

She knows that the rest of the JL was invited and some other hero’s as well

And she makes sure Hal knows as well

She tells him he doesn’t have to come

But no, with her guidance he has grown so much more confident and fuck it he’s probably almost as scary as her now and can almost as easily command a room

He’s come far

So they show up

And at first no one really recognizes him

He’s changed

He looks more confident, but he’s still got that childish spark (she told him she never wants him to lose that)

He has a new haircut

And the suit

It matches her dress

Green, for justice

So they don’t recognize him at first

Now the OC is a regular so while Hal gets them drinks and brings their jackets and her purse to Alfred (“a pleasure to see you here Master Jordan”) OC is found by one of the batboys

Let’s say Dick

Because he loves the lady’s

And he brings her over so Bruce can show off this lovely lady, and powerful business partner off to his friends

She know who they are (the other two lanterns are their and for some reason they feel very nervous around her)

She introduces herself and somehow she senses Hal come up behind her and introduces him without even looking

They all sweat drop

And then they start talking

They share story’s together, and laugh and act like nothing is wrong and it all comes to a point to where she responds to a story from... let’s say one of the other lanterns (sue me, I don’t know their names)

And she’s all like “oh that reminds me of this one time on Krypton”

And Hal is like “oh you mean the time...”

And the others are like wtf, who is this girl

The party ends and they go home, but that’s just the beginning

I don’t know what else to put so feel free to add your own stuff!!

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heart-eye-harrington · 5 years ago

Text

gwen stacy

Summary: Steve always hated how Spider-Man couldn’t save Gwen Stacy, but what will he do differently when put in the same situation?

Word count: 6.3k

Warnings: Mild swearing, brief mentions of blood/injury, my not 100% accurate retelling of Spider-Man lure

A/N: Hi! I’ve loved this concept for so long that I really wanted to write it! It’s a bit lengthy but didn’t feel right to break it up. Let me know what you think! okay hope you have a good day, i love youuuuuuuu

⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆

Peter Parker - the nerdy wallflower with a heart of gold. Greatness was thrust upon poor Peter when he was bitten by that radioactive spider. But what did he do with this greatness? Did he use it for his own benefit? No. He used his powers to help others, to protect the neighborhood, to look out for the little guy. He fought the evil in the world as one of the greatest heroes of all, but came home and was back to reality as plain Peter Parker again. There was still a boy under the mask; and a girl who loved him, with and without it on. He’d save the city, save civilians, and he’d save the girl; consistently proving that good would overcome evil and be rewarded. But that wasn’t always the case in life, even for Spider-Man. The fight started like many others, the bad guy had taken Spider-Man’s girlfriend and put her in the middle of the fight to slow Spider-Man’s attacks and distract him. Both powers found themselves falling into the routine brawl, until Green Goblin pushed Gwen Stacy from the top of the Brooklyn Bridge. Spider-Man shot a web in a desperate attempt to save her from the fall. Despite his efforts, she died, snapping her neck from the sudden shock. A deafening snap heard, dashing all hopes of her survival. Good had lost. Peter lost his first true love. Gwen was gone despite it all.

The story of Gwen Stacy always infuriated Steve. When he was young and read the comic he was baffled. How could Spider-Man let that happen? He could save everyone and still lose one of the most important people in his life. It just wasn’t fair. Steve swore he would never let that happen to him, he would fight harder than anyone, even Spider-Man, for those he loved.

As he got older, the childhood vow drifted to the back of his head. King Steve took its place. Basketball, girls, and kegs took its place. He was your average teen, prioritizing what you think will help you fit in and make you likable.

His vow resurfaced when he found Nancy at the Byer’s house that November night. Carol and Tommy struck a match when they struck a nerve.

Tommy tossed him a coke, letting him knew he owed him a buck fifty. Steve scoffed, because of course Tommy couldn’t just get him something without having to pay him back. Steve places the can to his injured eye, savoring the cool on his skin. The thumping in his head disappears for just a moment before being replaced with another, Carol and Tommy’s cruel jokes. Normally Steve would nod and laugh along, but this time something felt different. He really listened this time, to their claims that Jonathan killed his brother, that Nancy was a slut, and it just rubbed him the wrong way. It was as if they held a match, and he was the striker paper. They had rubbed so many times but this was the moment the match caught aflame.

“Carol, for one in your life can you shut your damn mouth?” Steve was shocked at the ease of his outburst, but not ashamed of it. It felt like a weight lifted off his shoulders. It felt good to get them to stop for once.

“Hey, what’s your problem man?” Tommy demanded, he and Carol both taken aback at his sudden opposition. But the fire was burning and Steve had no intention of extinguishing it.

“You’re both assholes, that’s my problem.” He saw he had befriended the heartless villains he swore to defeat, and worse, allowed himself to fall under their influences. He had to get as far away from them as possible and get back to the good in his life. He realized he needed to fight for good again, and that meant fixing his screw up with Nancy. She might be his Gwen Stacy, and he couldn’t sit back and watch as she slipped through his fingers. He messed up, and had to make things right. So he hopped in his car and sped off to his first crime of the day. After a few hours of scrubbing the paint on the marquee and volunteering to help with other odd jobs at the theatre, he sank into the driver’s seat and sighed. He knew what his next step needed to be, but just because you have a plan doesn’t make it easy. He turned the key, flicked on his headlights and headed to the Byer’s house. Tommy’s words echoing in his head, fueling the fire.

“That’s right! Run away Stevie boy! Run away! Just like you always do! That’s right Harrington!

Run away!”

While Carol and Tommy may have struck the match, seeing the flickering lights inside the Byer’s house poured gasoline on the small fire in him. It burned through and melted the hard outer shell he had developed, and exposed the hero his younger self always thought he was inside. The brave boy who fought to protect those he loved. He ran into the house and helped Nancy and Jonathan. After that night, he became his very own Spider-Man.

Time passed, but that night stayed with him. He kept his younger self in his mind more prominently. He did his best to be the best boyfriend he could be to Nancy, because that’s what she deserved. He did what he could for her, helping her with Barb and reminding her that none of what happened was her fault. Despite his best efforts, she slipped out of his grasp. Maybe it was all bullshit, but damn if he wouldn’t fight for her. He did fight, but not how he imagined. He had to grab his bat again and battle extra-dimensional creatures to protect kids he barely knew. He had a responsibility to protect them, something he quickly accepted and even embraced. He was their hero, fighting the monsters and evil. But, a reward didn’t come in the end. Nancy wasn’t his. He realized she never truly was. It took a while, but he accepted it, came to terms that his first love may have never loved him back, but that’s ok. She’s happy now and that’s all he could wish for her. With the gate to the Upside Down closed, his hero mask was hung up and bat hidden behind old clothes in his closet. Life went on. He graduated high school and got a summer job. Scoops Ahoy wasn’t a part of his ideal hero’s journey, but it paid the bills.

🕸

The last few cords of Queen’s Radio Gaga flow through the summer air before Steve turns the key, turning off his car. His chest rises and dramatically falls for no one but himself to see. He mustered up his energy before stepping out of his car. He blinked in the summer sunshine, taking a moment to enjoy how it warms his skin before being trapped in a prison of florescent lights for the next few hours. He drags his feet the entirety of the parking lot before reaching the doors. He adjusts the bag on his back containing his stupid sailor outfit as he makes his way to Scoops. He enters the ice cream parlor and heads to the back room. Just as he’s about to reach the door, it slams open in his face. Pain rushes to his nose and he’s doubled over, clutching it as a few choice words fall from his lips. The open door reveals you, grasping your own face in shock. You kneel down beside Steve, one hand delicately on his shoulder, not sure exactly what to do but wanting to comfort and help him.

“Oh my God I am so sorry!” your voice coming across breathless in your startled state. Steve lifts his head just enough to let his eyes catch yours. There’s a moment of silence where you’re searching each other’s faces. Something washes over you, but you weren’t sure what it was yet. He sees your worry and distress and can’t help but feel sorry for you.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. I’ve been knocked in the head so many times, this is nothing.” he chuckles, but his words didn’t put your guilt at ease.

“Please, let me help you. I know first aid.” Steve can’t find himself to say no, letting you guide him into the backroom to fuss over him. You lead him to the small table, guiding him to sit. As soon as you’re satisfied that he’s comfortable, you turn your back and scramble to get the supplies for his bleeding and probably bruised nose. He didn’t need to be coddled his much, but part of him enjoyed it. A small smile sneaks onto his face as you run a cloth under cold water, the first-aid kit tucked under your arm. You pull up a seat next to him, a serious and concerned look in your eyes. You lightly remove his hand from his nose and place a hand under his chin, turning his head better assessing the damage.

“Do you feel any blood going down your throat?”

“No”

“Good. Then it’s only an anterior bleed. Posterior bleeds are typical for people who have had head injuries in the past and are a bit more serious. I was worried after you said you’ve gotten hit a few times in the past. I’m just gonna put the cold cloth over your nose, can you pinch it? You should be fine after about 10 minutes” You eyes examine his face to see if he understands, and can’t help but blush at sudden realization at how close you are.

“You weren’t kidding when you said you’re trained in first aid” his laugh is a bit nasally considering his plugged nose, causing your laugh to shake your chest a bit harder.

“What can I say? I thought it would be good with all the babysitting I did. But the kid I watched doesn’t need a sitter anymore, so here I can scooping ice cream.”

“Well, I guess this is one way to be introduced to your co-worker”

“What can I say? I make a strong first impression.” You chuckle, but it’s short-lived as guilt pools in your gut. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Look, it’s fine, you fixed me up. So, what’s my nurse’s name so I may properly thank them?” He extends his free hand, an olive branch. A playful smirk plays your lips, giving him your name and a proper handshake.

From that moment on, there was an unspoken bond between the two of you, and you looked out for one another. Steve felt a sense of protectiveness over you, to make sure you were ok. It was always little things like making sure you took your breaks, shooting mean looks at creepy customers, or slipping you a banana when he knew you hadn’t eaten in a while. You’d do the same for him, telling Robin to give him a break after an exceptionally terrible attempt at getting a date or packing doubles of your lunch for him after seeing him eat smushed PB & J’s for the millionth time in a row.

“Aww, did your mommy pack you apple slices? How cute.” Robin’s joking condescending tone brought a grin to both her and Steve’s faces.

“No, they did.” He gestures to the counter where you stood scooping ice cream while your coworkers took a quick break. It was slow, so you volunteered to ‘man the ship’ so Steve and Robin could sit in the back room. They both peered at you through the crack Steve left in the sliding window. You were patiently listening to a little girl stumble through her order, sending her reassuring nods and smiles. You radiate positive energy like the sun, washing everything you touched in a warm light. Even from the brief interaction little girl felt it, Robin felt it, but Steve felt it most of all. The simplest actions would cause warmth to spread through his chest, occasionally rising to his checks if he thought about it too much.

“Earth to Romeo, you’re staring” Robin’s words pull Steve from his trace, the familiar warmth amplified by her words. He ducks his head in a vain attempt to hide it, but he knows nothing gets past Robin. She glances back to you, oblivious to the situation happening behind you. She shakes her head and chuckles, deciding it would be more fun to watch the former king of Hawkins fumble over a girl than call him out. So she simply stands, giving him a small pat on the shoulder on her way out the swinging door open to join you at the counter. She gives you a hip bump, drawing a laugh, and sending Steve back into his trance.

“So, how’s the ship sailor?”

“She’s in tip-top shape captain,” you tell Robin, saluting her and sending the two of you into giggles. You take a second to relish the moment. You would have never thought a summer job would give you two of your best friends. You’ve never laughed as hard as you did when at the ice cream parlor. You’re drawn from your thought when the bell on the counter rings. You turn to see three young teens staring intently at you.

“Is Steve here?” the boy with black hair and pale skin asks.

“He’s in the back on break. You guys ok?” you ask, seeing the discomfort on the youngest’s face

“Will scrapped his knee on the bike ride over and we just need a band-aid” the third boy, who you later learned was named Lucas responded, pointing to the youngest boy, whose name you learned was Will.

“I can help you out! Come on.” You gesture for the three to follow you into the break room. You get Will to sit, and you squat before him and examine the injury. It doesn’t look bad at all, but there’s probably some dirt in the scrape. Your eyebrows knit together as you think of what to do, making sure to wipe them away before meeting Will’s eyes.

“I’m gonna get some hydrogen peroxide, just be sure it’s clean. We’ll get a band-aid on it and you’ll be good as gold.” Will’s expression relaxes from your comforting words. You rub his arm before going to grab the first aid kit. You hear Steve making small talk with the boys, asking them about what they’ve been up to and when Dustin will be back from camp. You feel your heart flutter at the tone the boys use, all so comfortable with each other. Hearing how good Steve is with them almost makes you sigh with joy. You turn back to Will, supplies in hand. You make sure you’re quick with your work, knowing the hydrogen peroxide doesn’t exactly tickle. Smoothing out the band-aid on his knee, you give a content exhale at your handiwork.

“There, all better. But you know what makes everything better? Ice cream! You guys want some?” the three teens cheer, which you take as a yes. You share a look with Steve, neither able to deny the joy they boys spread. You bring them to the front, give them their orders, with a little extra for Will, and send them on their way. You smile to yourself seeing the three joke around, and can’t help but wonder what adventures they’d get into. Little did you know you were about to be sucked into an adventure of your own.

“TOUCH MY BUTT I DON’T CARE!!!”

“Uh, Robin? What’s doing on?” You timidly ask, taking slow steps into the backroom.

“I’m gone for two days and suddenly this is happening?” you gesture to Steve pushing a kid’s butt into the air vent.

“Yeah, it’s a long story” Robin chuckles and her eyes remain glued on the scene playing out in front of her.

After Steve and the boy, who introduces himself as Dustin, get down from the vent, the trio fills you in on what happened.

“You guys are crazy. Really? Russians in Hawkins? Why?” You cross your arms in disbelief. Do they really think you’re that gullible? Well, apparently you are.

“We don’t know, but we have to find out,” Dustin explains. You lean back, curiosity getting the best of you. Here goes nothing.

“Ok, I’m in. What’s the plan?” you lock eyes with Steve, sending him a small nod. That’s the moment the seed of doubt was planted in his mind. Deja vu flooded through his veins, making this body tingle. He had no idea how big this thing was. What is there really were evil Russians? What if people got hurt? What could he do to keep people safe? He wasn’t sure, but he knew he was willing to do whatever it takes to make sure you all made it out okay.

He kept his vow the best he could. When trapped in the elevator, he stayed up all night trying to find a way out. He lead the group around the base, making sure he was in front, the first line of defense. Seeing the guard in the communications room sent him into overdrive, charging and taking him out. He cleared as many obstacles as he could to leave a clear path for you all to follow. He did all he could until he was cornered.

The Russians banged on the door after chasing the group into a room. He screamed for the kids to run, to just go. In his efforts to save the kids he forgot about you and Robin beside him holding the door. It all happened so fast. The floorboard closed atop Dustin and the door behind him flew opened, pushing him, Robin, and you to the floor. That’s when time stood still. His breath hitched in this throat as his hands came up in surrender. The guards took you first, kicking and screaming in a last-ditch attempt to break free. When you turn to see your coworkers, tears streaming down your face, your gaze holds Steve’s in a vice grip. His heart shatters at the fear in your eyes and worse, the pleading. Before he can react, the metal door closes with a deafening thud.

He’s taken next, and the interrogation is hell. Yeah, the punches hurt, but they replaced the ache in his chest with another. He took it all he could until he couldn’t, succumbing to the pain. When he finally came back to, he hears Robin’s yelling and feels the vibrations from behind him. He only has the energy to stare at his lap, before he sees a yellow sneaker out of the corner of his eye. A familiar warmth fills his chest, the same one he felt anytime he saw them. They carried you throughout the store, often skipping or dancing to the beat of whatever song you had stuck in your head that day. He musters up whatever strength he has to follow the line of your body. There you are, eyes closed and body sprawled on the floor. Fear flashes through him until he sees your chest slowly rise and fall. You look unharmed, further comforting him. He didn’t fail. You were all still safe. The relief wasn’t long-lived, as a familiar fire made a home in Steve’s chest. He was going to fight tooth and nail to make sure you all made it out, he couldn’t lose anyone.

Erica and Dustin were able to rescue the three of you and get you out of the base. They sat you three in a movie while they got help. Steve and Robin went to get water while you stayed in the movie, too freaked out to leave. You rejoined the group when the movie was over, eager to leave Star Court. Your dreams were dashed when you saw the Russians checking the moviegoers. Steve’s first reaction is to grab your hand, dragging you out of your daze and away from the evil. You stumble over your own feet as you run, still not fully aware of what’s going on. It wasn’t until you saw their guns that the panic made its way to your legs, carrying you faster and closer to Steve. The five of you hide under the counter of Great Cookie, ragged breathing echoing in your ears. You wrap your arms around Steve’s bicep, clinging to him and burying your face in his shoulder, desperate for any comfort he can provide. You focus on his breathing, familiar scent of hairspray, vanilla and cologne, and the comforting heat of his skin. His free hand comes up to clutch your head, doing whatever he can to keep you close to him. The steps get closer and you squeeze your eyes shut, bracing for the worst. But it never comes. A loud honking and the crunching of metal filled the air instead of bullets. You lift your head to share a puzzled and relieved look with Steve. You take a moment to enjoy the closeness before turning to look above him, only to find find a group on the balcony. You recognize some of the faces, but not all.

While the drugs had worn off, you still felt like your head was whirling when you learned a girl flipped a car with her mind. The group obviously knew more than you did and you did your best to quickly absorb as much information as you could. In your whirlwind, you notice El stumble away from the group. You begin to follow her as she covers her ears.

“Hey, are you ok?” the second the question leaves your lips, she hits the floor. The group all turn their attention to her and you run to comfort her. You reach her first, kneeling beside her and fanning her face.

“My leg, my leg” she whimpers, pain evident in every muscle of her body. Someone unwraps the makeshift binding on her leg to reveal what looks to be an infected cut. Your suspicions are beyond confirmed when something begins moving under her skin. Training kicking in, you know what has to be done.

“Hey, someone grab a knife from the Chinese restaurant and heat it up to disinfect it. Grab something for her to bite. Get gloves too! Quick, please!” You do your best to remain calm for the girl, but need to relay the urgency everyone knows is needed. After seeing Jonathan run in the direction, you turn back to El.

“Hey, everything’s gonna be fine. You’re doing good. Just keep talking to us ok? Deep breaths.” She nods, sobbing as she waits for Jonathan to come back. You feel a hand on your back, turning to see Steve right behind you giving you a reassuring nod. He squats next to you, now putting his hands on your shoulders. It was like a chain of support, him for you, you for El. Jonathan comes back and does his best to get whatever it is out of her, but she insists on doing it herself. Everyone winces as they watch, you included, and you burry you head into Steve’s chest as he holds you close. You hear glass shatter and flinch closer into him. Everything’s silent for a moment, and you lift your head to see the chief of police, Mrs. Byer’s, and someone else. You look to Steve with bewilderment, and all he can do is shrug. He helps you up and the now larger group convenes. You’re mentally exhausted, once again finding yourself hanging off of Steve as you take everything in. You put together the pieces from the three groups and it makes just enough sense for you to follow along.

Once a plan was made, you see Robin eating out of the corner of your eye. You nudge Steve, a silent invitation to follow you. Robin throws you both something to have. You didn’t realize how hungry you were till you tucked in. It was the first moment of normalcy you’ve had in a while, and you savored every last second of it. It was just like the three of you in the breakroom, laughing, joking, being normal teens. Dustin runs over, excitedly holding car keys.

“Guess who got us a ride?” He beams. Steve gives him a puzzled look.

“Where are we going?”

“We have to go to the radio tower I set up. They need us to navigate them around the base to close the gate.”

“Okay, but what about El?” you question. She still looked to be in pretty bad shape, and you knew you were her best bet if her leg started causing her trouble again. A wound like that could easily reopen.

“They’re going back to Murry’s, and Hopper wants you to stay with El. Will told him about how you helped him that day in the mall, and he wants you to look after her. ” Dustin informs you. You nod,

“Ok, tell him I’ll go with her.” You say, Dustin nodding and running off the tell Hopper. Steve looks at you for a moment, realizing what you’re doing. For the first time in days, you won’t be at his side. He won’t be able to make sure you’re ok, and it scares him.

“Hey, don’t you think you should come with us?” he pleads, gently rubbing up and down your arm. You sigh, wanting so badly to give in and go with him, to follow him where ever he goes, but knowing you’re needed somewhere else.

“I’ll be ok. Don’t worry about me.” you send him a sympathetic smile, trying your best to convince him and yourself. Deep down you were terrified to be away from him, but you both had obligations now. You had but put your own interests aside and do what was best for the collective good.

“Promise?” Steve’s voice sounded as if it would break. In a spur of confidence, you cup his face in your hands.

“I promise, Steve.” There’s a gleam in your eyes, and Steve takes his hand from your arm and places it over yours.

Dustin returns, throwing the cars at Steve and basically dragging him away. Steve’s eyes stay on yours as you send a gentle wave to the group. You watch your friends until they round the corner, and sink into yourself. Your safety net was going to be driving far away, and taking your heart with it. You shake your head, clearing the thoughts like an etch a sketch. You make your way over to El, wrapping one of her arms around your neck as the group makes their way out of the mall. She groans and you can see she’s losing more blood.

“Hey, once we get in the car I’ll take another look at it, okay?” all she can do is nod. You situated the two of you in the back of the car and hear the engine sputter. You overhear Nancy and Jonathan say the ignition cable is missing. Before you know it Billy is revving his engine across the lot. You scrabble to get the kids out of the car and back into the mall. Once back inside, you lay El down and redress her wound. It’s not as bad as you thought it would be, but you know your efforts are helping. You reassure her that she’ll be fine and properly fixed up soon enough

In the distance you hear Mike calling to the “Scoops Troop”, and while in any other circumstance you would laugh at the name, you silently pray that they hear you and rescue you. While you were one who could normally save themselves, you were never trapped in a mall by a possessed Billy. Just as things were starting to look up, you notice Max and Mike looking up at something. Mike screams for his sister as the monster breaks through the mall ceiling. You grab Mike Max and El and hide under a food stand. You pull the three as close to you as possible and shut your eyes, a single tear streaming down your face.

From the radio tower, Steve can’t stop pacing. He knows that something’s wrong and it’s eating him alive. It’s like he has a sixth sense and it’s going haywire. His mind is going through every bad possibility. What if you got into a car accident on the way? What if the Russians were waiting at the secret safe house? What is none of this would work? He rakes his fingers through his hair in an effort to self-sooth. He looks to the mall and sees the lights flickering. He’s taken back that November night outside the Byer’s. Fear’s icy grip takes hold of his legs, freezing him in place. He hears Dustin to your group over the radio. After the first call goes unanswered he’s on edge. After the second he’s panicking. After the third is answered with a monster’s screeching, he’s near hysterics. Before his mind can keep up with his legs, he’s running down the hill. He had to get you guys out of there. He barely hears Robin’s labored breathing behind him as they both scramble to the car. A fire is burning inside him and he was prepared to fight like hell.

In the mall, you’re shaking, holding onto the kids like your life depended on it. You barely knew them but felt a responsibility to protect them. Mike wiggles out of your grip to peer over the stand. He hatches an escape plan to go up the stairs. Max reminds him that El is in no condition to do that, to which you nod and agree. That’s when you remember the way through the Gap. The four of you make a mad dash, you clutching El and giving her quiet reinforcement as she hobbles. Someone knocks something over in your haste, alerting the monster to your location. You once again scamble the kids under a counter and shield them with your body. The mind flayer gets distracted, and you guide the kids from the store.

As Steve turns into the Star Court parking lot, his adrenaline is thumping in his ears. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but Nancy shooting at a car charging at her full speed was not it. His knuckles turn white as he grips the wheel, speeding full force into the other car, causing both to spin out. He catches his breath, looking over to make sure Robin is ok. He lifts his eyes to see the Mind Flayer crawl along the mall roof. Nancy pulls up next to them, telling them to get in. For once he wanted things to slow down, but they’re being chased by the fleshy monster. As soon as it turns around, he thinks to take survey of the car. When he sees fewer people than he’s expecting, he’s near tears.

“Where are the others?” His voice is barely above a whisper, as if he doesn’t want anyone to hear and confirm his worst fear.

“Where are the others?” Robin echos his question, but loud enough for the whole car to hear. All Jonathan and Nancy can do is exchange concerned looks. Steve’s hands fly to his hair, unable to process what is going on. You’re not there, which means you’re back in the mall with that thing and Billy.

“Drive!” He screams, unable to do anything else. Words echo in his head “That’s right! Run away Stevie boy! Run away! Just like you always do! That’s right Harrington!

Run away!”

He wasn’t gonna run away this time.

“You’ve got this El. You’re so strong, you’re such a fighter.” You reassure her as the four of you make your way out of the mall. Just as the cool night air hit you, you see Billy emerge from his car.

“Shit” you whisper, directing the kids back into StarCourt. You follow close behind, acting as a buffer between them and Billy. Mike finds an elevator and desperately tries to push the buttons to get you away from your stalker. You hear the metal door open and know he’s right behind you. Before you can do anything, Max tries to talk to him, but he slams her against the wall. He turns his attention to you, Mike, and El. You push the two behind you, trying in vain to hide them from him.

“Billy. Please. They’re just kids. Please don’t do this.” He stares straight into your eyes and yet past you. Next thing you know he grabs your head and throws you into the wall.

As soon as the car stops outside the mall, Steve charges in as quickly as he can. He’s got tunnel vision and finds himself on the balcony with Robin and the fireworks. He looks down just in time to see you run out of scoops. You stop a moment and look up, locking eyes with Steve. A shiver runs down his spine. You avert your gaze to El laying on the floor, motionless and seemingly unaware of the huge monster crawling toward her. You rush to her side in an attempt to pull her away, but Billy intercepts you.

It was a routine fight that started like many others

Steve grabs a firework and throws it as hard as he can, hitting the flesh monster and making it cry out in pain. He’s doing everything in his power to distract Billy and the Mind Flayer. The fire inside him burning so hot he can feel in on his skin.

The bad guy had taken Spider-Man’s girlfriend and put her in the middle of the fight to slow Spider-Man’s attacks and distract him.

Billy grabs you by the neck, lifting you into the air, choking you. You kick at him and scratch at his hands, tear streaming down your face. You give breathless pleas, but know it’s no use. His grip is too strong. He won’t stop

Spider-Man shot a web in a desperate attempt to save her.

“ROBIN! I NEED MORE!” Steve held his hand back, awaiting the reload of him ammunition. He was gonna hit that son of a bitch with everything he had. The now-familiar weight fell into his hand, and he launched the firework through the air. He swore he threw his arm out but he didn’t care. He was gonna fight harder than anyone. The fire had made its way to his eyes, burning so hot tears streamed down his face. He saw the monster flinch. It was working, it would all be over soon. His arm hurt so much but he wouldn’t stop

Despite his efforts, a deafening snap was heard, dashing all hopes of her survival.

Billy mirrored the monster’s pain, twitching with each impact from the fireworks. He let go of you. You fell to the ground with a deafening thump. Steve felt his entire body go numb. A heartwrenching scream raked through his body. It was a cry that could make anyone grasp their chest as if the pain shot like shards through the air.

Good had lost. Peter lost his first true love. Gwen was gone despite it all.

From somewhere behind him he hears Robin over the radio tell Dustin they’re out of time. Boy, ain’t that the truth. He closes his eyes and remembers. Remember the first time you met, and hand coming to feel the bump on his nose. He remembers how alive you were, always singing to songs stuck in your head, helping others, doodling on your yellow shoes. The kind glances you’d give, quick remarks he’d counter, the way you made him feel. He felt the fire inside die, replaced by a glowing ember. The glow you’d carried now living in him.

Robin nudges him and he looks down, only to see the monster attacking Billy. Any trace of anger or a revenge plot melting away at the sight. No one deserves that pain, not even Billy. Suddenly the monster begins to flail, Steve and Robin stumbling back from the rail as it falls into it. The pair jump back to their feet and peer below. A fire burns, scorching the monster’s motionless body. Mike rushes to El, wrapping her in his arm. Max stumbles to Billy, sobbing over him. Before Robin can stop him, Steve is rushing down the escalators to you. His feet can’t carry him fast enough, so he slides down the center. When he reaches you, he collapses to his knees. Steve cradles you in his arms, sobbing into your hair. His hand supports the back of your head, holding you close to his heart.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry” he repeats, placing kisses on your head.

“I tried, I tried. I fought as hard as I could”

He’s rocking back and forth, trying to soothe himself and you. He screws his eyes shut, taking you in one last time

“Steve?” the voice was barely audible. Steve almost didn’t hear it

The voice comes again, groan follows, then a cough. He carefully moves your head from his chest and it met with the kind eyes he loved looking back at him. A sob crawled its way out his body as you smiled at him. A reassuring smile. You place a hand on his cheek, and he quickly pulls it to his mouth, planting a kiss on your palm.

“I thought I lost you” his voice coming across breathless in his startled state. There’s a moment of silence where you’re searching each other’s faces. Something washes over you, but this time you’re sure of what it is. You see his worry and distress and can’t help but feel sorry for the pain you caused him.

“You can’t get rid of me that easily” you grin, you words causing a choked chuckle and tears to flow from Steve. He pulls you close again, fully sobbing into your hair. You wrap your arms around him in a tight embrace. He savors the feeling.

Good had won. Steve saved his true love. You were here despite it all.

#steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington fic #strangerthings oneshot #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #heart-eye-harrington #heart-eye-harrington writes

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just-writing-things · 5 years ago

Text

Once a triplet

A collaboration between me and @the-writer-girl-nerd

Follow my main blog

@multifandom-miracle

It had been a quiet day in Duckburg, which was not a good thing. It meant the other shoe was going to fall. It meant something was going to happen. Something bad. Something… Dangerous. And sure, the rest of his family thrived on danger, but for Louie, he would prefer a little less catastrophe. So, even though it should have been a quiet, lazy Saturday, he was anxious. Waiting for something to go wrong.

Then the question, posed by Della, “Where’s Huey?” The other shoe fell.

Dewey shrugged as his other brother joined him and their mom in the foyer of Scrooge’s mansion.

“Probably organizing his Junior Woodchuck guidebooks in alphabetical order or something.” Dewey guessed as he headed towards the stairs to grab his video camera from their room.

Louie waved off Della’s comment as well, following Dewey upstairs and cornering him when they were alone.

“Should we maybe worry about where Huey is? Maybe something is going on?” He didn’t want to jump to conclusions or start panicking immediately, but it had been so quiet. And quiet never ended well.

“Why?” Dewey asked, pushing the door to their room open. “I’m sure he’s…..”

Dewey stopped in his tracks. The room was a mess, books and comics all over the floor, the blankets untucked, and a picture of the Duck family on the floor, the frame cracked and splintered.

“Fine?” Dewey finished, a warble of uncertainty in his voice. He didn’t notice Huey’s hat, crumpled on the floor, no sign of its wearer in sight.

“Yeah,” Louie said, eyes wide and horrified, picking up the hat and waving it in the air, “I’m sure he’s fine.” Sarcasm dripped from his voice, masking the fear.

Dewey took the hat from his brother. “Huey never goes anywhere without this! Where do you think he is?”

“If I had any idea where Huey was then we would already be there, looking for him! The only one who has any idea where Huey is is Huey.” Louie went to the closet and pulled down Huey’s conspiracy board, a few red threads hanging loose. He studied the board a little longer and made a guess.

“Uh, maybe the marina? Or the Beagle Boys’ hideout. Or maybe Funzo’s. I could be, might be… Definitely, probably am wrong…” He doubted himself more when he was anxious, and this definitely made him anxious. His brother could be seriously hurt or worse.

“Hey, don’t panic. We’ll find him!” Dewey reassured his brother enthusiastically. Actually, Dewey was just as anxious as his younger brother was, though he didn’t like to show it.

“Find who?” Another bright voice asked, making the two boys jump. Webby rocked back and forth on the heels of her feet, clasping her hands behind her excitedly with stars in her eyes, ready for another adventure.

“Huey is missing. The room is a wreck and nothing is okay,” Louie said, “And we can’t tell Mom or Uncle Donald because they’d freak out.”

“Wait, what? Wouldn’t they want to help find him?” Webby stopped bouncing, a confused look on her face.

“I just… If we can’t find him today, we’ll let them know,.” Louie suggested.

“Oh. Okay, well let’s get searching!” Webby said gleefully as she skipped into the hallway, the boys following behind.

Louie had a feeling she didn’t get it. Huey was missing. Someone had probably taken him, there had certainly been some sort of struggle. That wasn’t something gleeful. He was glum and quiet as he walked behind her.

Dewey noticed the trudge in his brother’s steps and gently placed a hand on his shoulder, a light squeeze reassuring him that they would do this together. “Hey, Webs?” Dewey called down the hall to the bubbly, pink dressed girl.

“This is kind of serious, I mean...Huey might have been kidnapped. This isn’t just another adventure, it could be super dangerous!”

“Oh,” Webby said, “good point.” She sobered up, looking between the brothers.

“But don’t worry, guys! We’ll find him. Even if something bad happened, it’ll turn out okay.”

“Thanks, Webby.” Louie said quietly.

The three ventured off towards Funzo’s Fun Zone. (Where fun is in the zone!)

When they arrived, the place seemed….quieter than usual. It was strange, especially for a Saturday. Not a single server looked their way as the kids made their way to a back table. Louie began to make a flattering comment to a waitress passing by, but she scurried away, squeaking in nervousness.

"This place is dead," Louie muttered, "Something is wrong here. Maybe that's why Huey…" Nothing could happen to his brother. He would never forgive himself if anything happened to Huey. Maybe everything would be fine but his mind rushed to worst-case scenarios. He thought about someone hurting Huey, or worse, and he just felt sick. Huey was his brother and Louie would die to protect him if he had to.

Webby glanced back at the boys, and for the first time, really noticed the grave and anxious look on Louie’s face.

“Hey, Lou?”

The young duck wasn’t paying much attention. He was too nervous, thinking about whatever could have happened to his oldest brother.

“Louie?”

Louie's head snapped up and he tried to fake a look of, well not confidence but apathy, and yet he couldn't shake his nerves.

"What's up, Webby?"

“You don’t…..”

Webby tried to choose her next words carefully.

“You know this isn’t your fault, right?” she spoke timidly.

Dewey stopped in his tracks.

“Wait, Louie...do you really think that?”

Louie covered his face with one hand.

"No! Of course not! It's just you know if we, if I were a better brother maybe Huey would be with us and not somewhere super dangerous maybe getting chopped into little pieces." Louie should’ve been paying more attention to Huey, then he would know what was happening. He felt incredibly guilty for seeming apathetic in the past about what happened to his brothers. He cared so much and maybe if he had shown that Huey wouldn’t have disappeared alone.

Webby and Dewey looked at each other, not quite sure how to respond to that.

Dewey put a hand on his youngest brother’s shoulder, squeezing gently. Webby did the same.

“This isn’t going to be like....well like when Mom first came back.” Dewey knew that would strike a nerve, but bringing it up even made him wince. He tried to recover his statement, though not very well.

“And that time you were the richest duck in the-”

"Alright, I get it, you don’t have to remind me of every mistake I ever made, I don't want to dwell on my past mistakes right now but I'm serious. Huey is missing. It's not my fault, maybe, but I still should've been able to do something and I can't."

“You just gotta look for the right angles, c’mon!” Dewey shook his brother back and forth vigorously. “You can do- I mean dewey it!” the blue triplet chuckled to himself.

Louie removed himself from his brother's grip.

“Alright, let’s see. Angles, angles…" He looked around Funzo's.

"Hmmm…"

Louie scanned the zone, looking for each possibility between the workers, the kitchen, the arcade, and the playground, for any pesky foes sneaking around.

He snapped his fingers.

“Okay, Here’s the plan. Webs, check the arcade, ship, and ball pit. Pay close attention to the scores of that one pattern game Huey likes to beat everyone at when we come here.”

“Got it,” Webby gave a thumbs up and rushed into the arcade.

“Dewey, ask the staff members if they’ve seen Huey, or anyone suspicious. Try to check the kitchen, see if anything weird is going on in there.”

“On it!” Dewey replied, slicking a hand over his head, and strutting over towards the tables, singing a beat of “Dewey-dewey-dew” to himself.

Louie stood alone then, looking around, whispering to himself, "And Louie-" He didn't get to give himself a task before he was picked up by his hood and spun around by Ma Beagle.

"The green one! I saw him come in with the blue and pink one, too.” Big Time Beagle snickered, rubbing his hands together in evil delight.

“Where are they?" Ma Beagle asked, squinting and looking around.

"Where's Huey?" Louie squeaked, struggling against Ma Beagle's hold.

"You're not the one who gets to ask questions.” Ma Beagle growled. “Boys, find the other two."

Bouncer headed off towards the arcade, Webby just on the other side of the wall. Burger chased after Dewey, right into the kitchen.

“What about me Ma?” Big Time asked impatiently, twiddling his thumbs with an antsy grin.

Ma Beagle rolled her eyes. She knew better than to leave the little green brat alone with her son, as previous events proved Big Time unworthy of the job. She sighed, and rubbed her temple in aggravation.

A loud crash in the kitchen grabbed their attention before Ma Beagle could scold her son. Dewey rolled out of the kitchen, landing flat on his face. He was just about to jump up and make a run for it, but Burger tripped out of the doors, his face covered in pizza sauce and soda. He landed right on the young duck, trapping him.

Ma Beagle smirked, pushing her son off Dewey and grabbing him.

“That’s two!” She snarled, as both boys struggled in her grasp.

“Seriously? The Beagle boys?” Dewey rolled his eyes.

“We’re not up to anything!” Louie desperately tried to lie, "You’re just paranoid because you're old." He got slapped.

“Hey! Don’t treat my brother that wa-” Ma Beagle held Dewey’s beak shut. Dewey tried to signal to Louie, now afraid for both of them. Hopefully Webby wouldn’t get caught and would go get help.

“Quit your yapping!” Ma Beagle snapped.

"Let us go!" Louie fought until he was tied up, his beak also held shut.

The two triplets struggled against the ropes furiously. Dewey’s eyes widened as he looked around, trying to figure out where they were. This place seemed familiar, though he couldn’t remember why. His breath hitched as they were tied up and left in the dark. The middle child wasn’t particularly fond of the dark, especially after the events at Castle McDuck.

Louie began to cry quietly without meaning to, and his tearful state only worsened when Webby was thrown in beside them, also tied up. He'd failed. He was useless and he'd failed. Now his whole family was in danger because he hadn't been able to talk their way out of the problem. This was all his fault.

Dewey noticed his youngest brother’s silent cry. His chest ached, wishing he could help, wishing that he could comfort him, that he could do something to make Louie believe in himself. He had no idea where to go from here. Even worse, no one knew where they were. The thought of never seeing Uncle Scrooge, Uncle Donald, Launchpad, Huey or his mom ever again made him sick. Why hadn’t they told one of the adults? Dewey felt foolish for thinking they could handle this on their own.

That had been Louie's fault too, his call, his decision, and he was arrogant for making it. To think that they could handle this on their own, save Huey on their own, was idiotic. Louie was good at faking confidence. Somehow, this time, he’d pulled his brother and Webby along and now they were all in terrible danger. He glanced at Webby to see if she could get them out of this but she appeared unconscious, no doubt having given whatever unsuspecting Beagle Boy that had grabbed her one doozy of a fight. Louie panicked when he saw that she was hurt and flinched and fought hard against the bindings, finally giving up and hanging his head, ready to succumb to their demise.

Then he heard a familiar voice. A wonderfully familiar voice.

"The boss said I could take over from here." Huey sounded so confident that the Beagle boys standing guard believed him, until they turned around and saw the red triplet. It didn't matter, though, because Huey shot them each with a tranquilizer gun.

"I don't exactly know what you three are doing here but let's try and get going before someone comes looking for us." Huey untied his brothers and was pulled into a big hug, first by Louie, then by Dewey. Louie only cried harder, this time from relief, as he held onto Huey.

“Whoa, Louie, it’s alright! I’m okay, guys.” Huey squeezed his brothers tightly.

“What the heck happened to you?” Dewey asked, irritated at first, but overwhelmed with relief that his brother wasn’t hurt. “We thought you were kidnapped! Or worse!”

The boys jumped as they heard a groan from Webby, who was still a bit woozy from the fight.

"Well," Huey said slowly, "I was. But, sort of on purpose. I set a trap, trying to get into F.O.W.L. You guys would never believe what I've found but-" Huey looked around nervously, "That's for another time. Webby, hang on to us, we've got to run.”

"You couldn't have left a note?!" Louie hissed.

"I did. Did you guys not find it?" Louie facepalmed. They could have avoided this whole thing by looking harder for a note? He could hardly believe it. Another consequence of just rushing in, of pretending to be confident without stopping to think first. He wiped the tears out of his eyes as they ran, not knowing what to do anymore.

“Uh no?! Obviously not!” Dewey groaned, trying his best to hang on to Webby and keep up with his brothers at the same time. Huey gave an exasperated sigh.

"Don't sigh like that," Louie snapped, "we came here to save you. It's not our fault that you ended up saving us."

“Well it’s not my fault you guys got captured either!” Huey shot back. That was like a slap in the face to Louie. He bit back tears and was ready to make another sharp remark towards Huey when the boys’ exit was blocked by a large rooster with a sharp beak made out of metal.

“And just where do you think you’re going?”

Louie looked around.

"Huey, I don't think we're in the ball pit at Funzo's anymore." Playing dumb worked about 50% of the time.

“You’re darn right! You’re in Steelbeak’s house now!” The villain cackled.

"This is your house? It's nice but we shouldn't be here. Our Uncle says we're not really supposed to talk to strangers and we're really not supposed to be in your house, so it's really nice to meet you, Mr. Steelbeak, sir, but we’ve got to get going!" Louie saluted the villain and tried to walk out, acting fully confident.

Huey resisted the urge to facepalm, and tried to play along.

“Um, yeah, according to the JWG, 46% of kidnappings happen by talking to strangers, so...bye!” Huey ducked under Steelbeak’s arm, making a run for it, and Louie and Webby, who had recovered save for a bit of a bruised knee and a few scratches, followed suit.

Dewey however….

“Wait a minute, aren’t you from the Double O Duck simulation game? But how did you-”

"Dewey come on, we can't talk to strangers!" Louie called, ducking in long enough to grab his brother and drag him away. After that, there was no looking back.

The kids sped towards the bus stop, catching the bus right before the doors shut.

Dewey and Webby watched through the back window as Steelbeak tried to run after them, but was stopped by… Well, they weren’t sure who, but Webby could’ve sworn it was Gandra.

The young ducks slowly climbed the front steps of the mansion, trying to catch their breath.

"You can't just disappear like that," Louie said suddenly, turning on Huey, "We were worried sick. I thought you might be dead!"

“Yeah, but I’m not. I can’t believe you didn’t see the note! I left it on your daily can of Pep!” Huey crossed his arms as they entered the foyer.

"I didn't see it! I didn't drink Pep today, is that a freaking crime? You should've told us you were gonna go try to be the hero!"

"I didn't try to be the hero, I am. I saved all of you from something that could've been avoided if you'd just tried a little harder to find my note!" Huey spat back.

Louie threw up his hands in exasperation.

"Why did we even try to save you?" But once the words were out of his mouth he regretted them.

"I'm sorry. Huey, I don't mean that, just… You've got to understand that we were really worried. We lost mom once. I can't lose you too."

Huey stepped back, a strange combination of hurt, guilt, and surprise weighing him down. He clenched his fists.

“Do you think I wasn’t worried? When I saw that you guys had been kidnapped? At least I can take responsibility for my actions!” Huey had never been this angry before.

“Alright, both of you just chill out!” Dewey exclaimed, stepping between his brothers.

Huey stepped back and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” he said quietly, barely glancing at Louie and opting to stare at the floor instead.

"I said I was sorry," Louie muttered, crossing his arms and hugging himself, "I thought we were doing the right thing, going after you. I'm sorry we didn't find your note. I'm sorry we worried you. Whatever. I'm sorry." He sounded bitter, still, turning and heading upstairs to their trashed room. They'd nearly lost Huey. Louie had already been feeling like a failure. Huey had just made it worse.

Huey groaned and ran a hand through his hair out of frustration.

“After all I do for him,” he muttered.

“Whoa hang on a minute,” Dewey grabbed his older brother’s arm before he could walk off.

“That was a bit harsh Hue.” Webby nodded.

“Louie was doing his best. He did get us past Steelbeak after all. We might not have made it home at all if it wasn’t for Louie. We were trying to help you. And after what happened with mom? Don’t you remember what that felt like?”

Huey stopped. He crossed his arms and nodded solemnly. When they found out what had happened to their mom....Well, he didn’t show it, but Huey had taken it pretty hard. He found it more difficult to trust people, even his own family. He became more independent. And when their mother returned, all he wanted to do was prove himself. He was just as good at solving mysteries as his brothers. Even though he couldn’t always talk his way out of situations. Not like Louie could.

“I….I didn’t think about it like that. I’m sorry Dewey.” The brothers hugged. Dewey punched his older brother lightheartedly on the shoulder.

“Thanks, but I’m not the only one you need to say sorry to.”

Huey nodded and looked towards the staircase that led up to their room.

Louie was sitting in his room, on his bed, playing with an old toy truck he'd gotten as a little kid. It was one of the few toys he'd had growing up that was his alone. Everything else he'd shared with his brothers, and not just toys, worries, heartbreaks, happiness. They went through all of it together. He understood Huey wanting to prove himself but after everything that they had been through, he couldn't help worry that he was losing his brother. And if he wasn't losing Huey to some secret organization, then maybe he was losing Huey to growing up and growing apart, and that scared him even more.

A knock on the door drew him from his thoughts. Huey gave a sympathetic smile as he entered, rubbing the back of his neck and plucking his hat from the ground.

“Hey Louie.”

Louie didn’t say anything.

Huey stepped over a pile of books and comics that had half-heartedly been pushed out of the way of the triple bunk. He took a breath, staring at his feet and fidgeting with his hands.

“Look, I need to apologize. I’m sorry I made you worried. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you what I was doing. I’m sorry I assumed you would be able to follow my plan without any explanation.” Huey paused, and looked up at Louie.

But most of all, I’m sorry I didn’t see how much I needed you before.”

Louie looked up in shock.

"You… I… What? I failed you. I didn't see your note, I let the others get captured, hurt even, I couldn't protect them or you. You don't need me…"

“What are you talking about? Louie, of course I need you! If I had brought you with me, maybe I could have avoided getting you guys captured in the first place. I can’t do everything you can, you’re the only person I know who can act dumber than the bad guys and still outsmart them!” Huey seated himself next to his youngest brother, gently putting his arm around Louie.

“You’re my brother, I’m always gonna need you.”

Louie smiled a little, leaning into the hug, "Thank you. I'm always going to need you too."

“Awww guys!” Dewey jumped onto Louie’s bed with arms spread wide, knocking the triplets over. The three laughed, with an unspoken promise to never abandon each other again, and the knowledge that they would always be there for each other.

#ducktales #ducktales 2017 #ducktales spoilers #huey duck #dewey duck #louie duck #angst #huey dewey and louie #ducktales webby #webby vanderquack #ducktales fanfiction #fanfiction #collaboration #collaborative

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rocksandrobots · 5 years ago

Text

Of Rocks and Robots Ch. 1 - The Arrival

“Soon, Dad.”

The hoarse, raspy voice broke the eerie silence that permeated the dark chamber, and Varian startled to hear himself speak. It was the first time he had spoken out loud in days and his own voice sounded weird and unnatural to him, caked with emotion.

The young boy glanced around the ruins of where he stood, shivering from more than just the morning chill as his eyes swept past broken timbers, rubble, and cobwebs. He could see through a hole in one wall out to the abandoned farmland and deserted huts that made up the village he had once called home, and no matter where he turned black pointy rocks of all sizes punctured the ground. A grim reminder of what had lead to such desolation.

Finally his gaze settled back to the object that he had first spoken to. A towering stalagmite made from amber stood before him. Enclosed within the golden resin was the figure of a man; standing tall, right arm reaching upwards, clasping what looked to be a note, and his face frozen; eyes closed in, what Varian thought was, pain. He stretched out his own hand to touch that face, but as so many times before, it only came to rest on the cold, unyielding, translucent stone.

Varian blinked back tears as he gazed up at his father, memories flooding his mind. Painful memories; the day of the accident, fighting his way through a snowstorm, the castle door slamming in his face, the endless weeks of isolation and failed experiments, the rage he felt while battling both his inner demons and the uncaring kingdom that abandoned him, the cold emptiness while lying on the dungeon floor, and most recently, the prison break that brought him back to where he began.

For upon acquiring his freedom, and being appointed the new Royal Adviser by the leader of the Saporians, the architects of his escape, Varian hit upon the idea of raiding the castle’s innermost vault. The precious treasure that it once held was no longer there, having been stolen by Varian himself, but the room still stored vast amounts of books and scrolls containing knowledge of sages past. Most importantly the notes of the famed alchemist Demanitus.

Varian had studied Demanitus work before, reverse engineering the ancient scientist’s deadly and near indestructible automatons for his own nefarious purposes. Those proved to be less than sufficient in the end and he hoped his newest discovery would be more successful.

His reminiscing was broken by a second sound, a small chittering noise coming from his work desk in the corner of the room. Distracted, he looked towards the creature that made it. Sitting back on his hind-legs on top of the desk was a rotund raccoon who looked expectantly at him. Varian gave his pet a warm but weary smile.

“Hello, Ruddiger.” he said softly, his voice still sounding rough to his ears due to its lack of use. He walked over the tamed raccoon and gave it an affectionate scratch behind the ears who nuzzled his hand in response. He then turned his attention to the assemblage of wires, gears, and levers that he had cobbled together over the last three days.

The machine stood on a tripod of metal legs next to the desk and vaguely looked like a drill. Only the “drill” part was a smooth metal cone with a glass orb attached to the tip and two antenna stuck out from either end at the back. Its intended use was to originally create portals to other worlds, according to the blueprints he had found amongst the old alchemist’s writings. Varian hoped that with his added adjustments he could configure the portal into a short range teleportation device. The amber that held his father was unbreakable. No amount of force could shatter the structure, but a portal could theoretically bypass the resin and allow his father out.

Varian took a steadying breath and tried to push out any expectations he held in his mind. He’d known the sting of disappointment far too many times to get his hopes up now. All he could do was try and see what would happen.

He gathered up his notebook, stuffed Demanitus’s papers and blueprints in between its pages, and having tied the cord around to hold it altogether, placed the journal inside his inner coat pocket. So should anything go wrong, like say a fire from an explosion, then the notes would already be on his person and kept safe so long that he was. He also scooped up his loyal companion and placed the raccoon upon his shoulders for similar reasons.

“Ready, Ruddiger?” he asked his pet, “‘Cause here we go.” He walked behind the machine, twisted some dials, and with the pull of a lever turned the device on.

------------------------

“Nothing can stop me now! Bwahahaha!”

Maniacal laughter emitted from the small man standing on top of the building. He was short in stature with light pink hair and was wearing a tacky purple suit. In his hand he held a simple remote and beside him stood a large metal ring held up by a framework of support beams attached to a steel platform.

A young Hiro Hamada stared at the machine transfixed; unpleasant memories flashing through his mind; the heat of the fire, his brother’s funeral, the lonely days spent in the room they once shared, the blinding hate he felt when facing the masked attacker that murdered his brother, and the cold emptiness of the void enveloping him as he entered a machine not dissimilar from the one standing before him now.

He was snapped out of his reprieve by a voice coming through the intercom in his helmet.

“How did Mr. Sparkles get ahold of Keri’s portal tech? I thought it was all destroyed.” Hiro’s friend Wasabi asked.

“It must be an old prototype; one that was abandoned in favor of the actual portals we faced later on.” Hiro replied back through the intercom to the rest of his friends.

After his brother‘s, Tadashi’s, death, Hiro and his friends had formed a superhero team to stop his murderer, using technology that they developed along with a robot Tadashi had built himself called Baymax. Even after having defeated the villain called Yokai, and his dangerous portals, they continued on thwarting other evil schemes pursued by other bad guys. One such villain, the aforementioned Mr. Sparkles, had apparently stolen the older tech and had set up shop with it in the middle of downtown San Fansokyo. Though to what ends was anybody’s guess.

“And if it was abandoned,” Hiro continued on, "then it’s probably even less stable than those were, so we have to make sure he doesn’t turn it on. Otherwise there’s no telling what it may do.”

He signaled for the team to move in and surround the villain but it was too late. With a gleam in his eye Mr. Sparkles pressed the button on the remote and the portal roared to life.

------------------------

Varian was having difficulty holding onto the machine. The portal that had appeared before him hung in the air sucking everything into it. Like a flaming circle, it shifted and writhed with green energy licking the sides and a crackling static could barely be heard over the wind whipping past his ears.

“Hold on, Ruddiger!” He yelled to the raccoon perched upon his shoulders. But no sooner did the words leave his mouth did the wind pickup speed and Varian found himself lifted from the ground and hurling towards the portal itself.

------------------------

Something was clearly wrong. The portal that Mr. Sparkles had switched on was bathed in a glowing green energy, that eerily looked like lightning, and a staticky sound could be heard coming from it.

“Look out it’s going to blow!” Yelled Fred, and “blow” it did. An explosion erupted from the machine knocking everyone back and sending rubble and debris down to the street below.

Everyone lay prone on the ground surrounded by twisted metal, concrete, and smoke. A large chunk of the roof of the building over head was blown away and nothing remained of the portal except for scrap.

Hiro recovered from the blast, hoisted himself up on his elbows, and scanned the destruction around him. He couldn’t see any sign of Mr. Sparkles but he did see his various friends also slowly sitting up.

“Everyone OK? Sound off.” Hiro asked.

“I’m Ok.” that was Gogo.

“I’m alright too” said Honey Lemon.

“Same here” replied Wasabi.

“I am also undamaged” came Baymax’s voice from behind him.

“That’s good… wait where’s Fred?”

As if in response to this query Hiro heard a scream come from across the way and Fred came running towards them.

“It’s an alien!” He yelled. He rushed over to grab Wasabi and began to excitingly describe the creature that he had seen. “Bugged eyed, dripping fangs, red claws, and it was missing a nose I think.”

“Fred, there is no such things as aliens.” Wasabi told him exasperatedly.

“Not unless it came through an inter-dimensional portal.” Fred retorted, "Gasp! There it is!”

Through the smoke they could make out the shape of something. It looked humanoid, bipedal, and with comically large eyes if the silhouette was to be believed.

They heard a voice call out from the smoke. "Ruddiger? Ruddiger?!"

Fred broke away from the rest of the group and slowly walked to meet the thing.

“We. Mean. You. No. Harm. We. Come. In. Peace.” He paused and held his hands up and out to signify he didn’t want to fight. “Do. You. Speak. English?”

“I speak a lot of languages” Was the annoyed reply.

The wind blew the smoke away getting a clear view of the “creature”. It was no alien but in fact a person. The bug eyes being a pair goggles, the red claws merely gloves, and the dripping fangs nothing more than a quirky design on a bandanna that obscured their face.

The person stepped forward and removed the bandanna and goggles revealing a boy underneath. He couldn’t have been much older than Hiro himself. He had thick black hair, with a blue streak in his bangs and large piercing blue eyes to match. He was dressed oddly. In addition to the goggles and bandanna, he wore a pair of baggy pants, a waistcoat, and a frock coat over that. His gloves had dials on the wrists and his boots had buttons rather than shoelaces. Around his waist was strapped various belts and from them hung multi-colored orbs that didn’t look dissimilar to Honey Lemon’s chimballs. He was covered in dust and dirt from the explosion and a black sooty smear streaked across the bottom half of his face.

The boy squinted his eyes in distrust and moved to unclip one of the balls hanging from his belt. He held it out in front of him and readjusted his stance to a defensive one.

“Where am I and who are you?” He asked. There was an edge to his voice and his eyes darted back and forth between the group and the cityscape behind them. It was clear he was lost and scared and putting up a brave front to try and hide it.

Hiro stepped forward to try and deescalate the situation, but no sooner did he move then sirens were heard in the distance. Cop cars came barreling down the road towards them, lights flashing. They quickly pulled to a stop in front of the heroes. The boy, startled by this new development, turned to face the noise. He threw the ball in his hand to the ground and from it poured a purple fog of smoke.

Using the fog as a cover Hiro signaled to his team to disperse. He hopped onto Baymax’s back and the robot turned on his jet pack. Still floating in the air, the robot then picked up Wasabi while Honey Lemon and Gogo skated away. Hiro nodded to Fred to grab the boy. He saluted his acknowledgement to Hiro and scooped the stranger up in his arms, bounding away before the smoke could clear.

------------------------

Chief Officer Cruz peered out through the purple fog to the debris filled street but no sign of anyone, hero nor villain alike, could be seen. He ordered his men to shine a light onto the scene of the crime and to search the area for the offending miscreants who caused the destruction. All that was found was a single raccoon. It picked up a piece of the debris in its mouth and then scampered away into a back alley. Cruz sighed in frustration and told his officers to pack it up for the night after sectioning off the road.

------------------------

“Oh, now that’s….that’s high up.” Varian gulped as he looked down from the dizzying height at the top of the building where the “monster” had deposited him. He had never considered himself afraid of heights before but the building was as tall as a small mountain and the days events, including the stomach lurching ride to the top, was getting to him.

“Oh don’t I know it. Just don’t look down. It makes things easier.” A not unkind voice told him. He turned to see who was addressing him and was faced with six armored figures standing before him. They were various heights and builds and each wore a set of armor that was uniquely modeled and highlighted with its own different color. One such suit was even crafted to look like a three eyed monster and Varian recognized it as the creature that he had first met; the one that had carted him away to way up here when the strange vehicles with flashing lights had arrived. They vaguely reminded Varian of the knights from storybooks he use to read as a kid. All decked out in shining metal and off to battle dragons and rescue damsels in distress. But life wasn’t like a storybook and Varian didn’t trust easily.

“Who are you?” He asked suspiciously.

The one dressed as a monster stood tall, flexed his arms, and proudly proclaimed “We’re Big Hero Six!”

He then paused for dramatic effect, clearly waiting for Varian to respond with either praise or recognition. But Varian could only stare blankly at him, confused as ever. Most of the other knights shook their heads in exasperation, and after a moment or two of awkward silence, the smallest knight stepped forward, patted the “monster” on the back encouragingly, and then removed his helmet. It was a small boy not much younger than Varian himself. He had a shock of messy black hair and large almond brown eyes. He smiled kindly at Varian and then introduced himself.

“I’m Hiro and these are my friends” He turned to gesture at each knight as he rattled off their names. “This is Baymax”

“Hello” The tallest and largest of the knights said in a lilted voice. He brought his hand up and proceeded to stiffly move it in a small circular motion. Varian repeated the wave, assuming it was a customary form of greeting.

“Gogo”

Gogo, as she was called, responded by chewing on some pink candy, that looked to be like taffy, blew it into a bubble form, popped the bubble with her mouth before saying, “Hi”, and then proceeded to chew on the confectionery once more. She was the second shortest of the knights and stood on large yellow disks while having two more of those same disks attached to her wrists.

“You’ve met Fred”

Fred was the aforementioned monster suited knight. He flipped back the helmet of his armor revealing a blonde haired young man probably only a year or two older than Varian himself. “Hey!” he enthusiastically said before returning the helmet back to its proper position.

“This is Honey Lemon”

Honey Lemon was a tall woman dressed in pink armor and she carried a pink purse that had attached to its strap small multi-colored balls that reminded Varian of the alchemy balls he wore currently around his own waist. She was all smiles and had long red hair that peaked out from underneath her pink helmet and visor.

“Please to meet you” she said in a light and airy voice.

“And Wasabi”

“How ya doing?” asked last of the knights and Varian recognized his voice as the one that had given him the advice about not looking down. He was decked out in green armor and had broad shoulders. While not as large as the knight called Baymax, who was like a small giant, Wasabi was clearly a tall buff guy who looked to be able to hold his own in a brawl.

Varian just stood for a few moments looking at the band of warriors, processing everything. They in turn stared expectantly at him and that is when he remembered his manners.

“I’m Varian.” He said and with introductions seemingly out of the way continued on with his line of questioning. “So where am I?”

“You’re in San Fransokyo” The smallest knight said, Hiro, wasn’t it?

“Where’s that?”

The younger boy seemed to be surprised by that question. “In .. America?” he hesitantly offered up.

“The Americas!?” Varian exploded back. “No! noooo, no, no, no, no. I overshot! How am I supposed to get back to my dad now?” He began to pace back and forth agitated. Unbeknownst to him, as he ranted, the knights shared a couple of confused looks among themselves.

“Overshot?” asked the green knight.

“Yes, I was working on a short range teleportation device when it must have malfunctioned and deposited me here on the other side of the ocean.” Varian explained irritated.

“Well, maybe we can help?” Hiro continued, “Where are you from?”

“Corona”

More confused stares.

“And where’s that?”

“Europe” Varian said less assuredly.

“I have researched my databases for, Corona, and have not found any matches” the tallest knight said. His voice was clipped and unnatural sounding to Varian’s ears and he was growing ever increasingly more uneasy with the weird situation he found himself in.

The boy, Hiro, cradled his chin in thought for a moment and then responded.

“I think you may be a little farther from home then just across the ocean.” He said slowly, carefully, trying not to upset the alchemist. “I think you may have crossed a dimensional barrier.”

Varian turned away from them upon hearing this and looked out across the cityscape displayed before him as the enormity of what the other boy said begin to weigh upon Varian’s mind. As far as the eye could see there were tall spires and metal towers, all taller than the tallest castle rooftop and flashing with a multitude of lights. Large decorative balloons that looked like giant lanterns hung in place over the rooftops and off in the distance there looked to be large bridge, also lit up against the starless night sky. Strange sounds filtered up from the streets below and into Varian’s ears reminding him just how far from home he was.

“What am I going to do?” He heart-brokenly whispered. Varian had known despair before, but looking out upon that sea of metal and glass he had never felt more lost and defeated.

“Well,” the young knight continued, "we were stopping a thief from getting away with a prototype portal device. He turned it on and it must have connected with your teleportation device, bringing you here. Unfortunately it overloaded, there’s nothing left. But if you’re capable of rebuilding your first device, then we might can get you the supplies to do so, and I could talk to the owner of the original portal to see if he has any plans or blueprints left that you could work off of.”

Varian thought this plan over and against his better judgment began to have a sliver of hope again. He still had Demantius’s plans and his own personal notes tucked away inside his breast pocket and this world seemed to be highly advanced. Surely there was something, some technological wonder, that might help. At the very least it couldn’t hurt to try.

“Alright” Varian agreed.

“Great! Now the best way to get you some supplies would be from our school, SFIT, but Professor Granville won’t be back from spring break until Monday. So we gotta find a place for you to stay until then.”

“What about our headquarters?”

“Naw, Roddy is redoing the plumbing remember? It won’t be ready for a week. Which means no cool superhero hangout for a whole week!”

“Well don’t look at us. Honey Lemon and I are cramped up in our studio apartment as is.”

“Well I can’t take him home. What would Aunt Cass say if she caught me sneaking a stranger into the house at two in the morning? Wasabi, didn’t your roommate graduate this semester?”

“Yeah, and he took his bed with him when he moved out of the dorm. What about you Mr. I-live-in-a-literal-mansion?”

“I told you, my parents require a three-year background check for overnight guests. He’s from another world. He has no records.”

Varian listened in on this exchange, lost as to what everyone talking about. Headquarters, schools, mansions, roommates; he had no frame of reference for anything all he knew was that they were struggling to find him a place to stay.

“It’s ok. I can sleep outside,” Varian interjected helpfully, not wanting to be a burden and not wanting to cause any arguments.

“What? No!” They all said at once, horrified, their debate coming to an abrupt end. Varian was taken aback by the ferocity with which they had turned his idea down and began to wonder what he could have possibly said that so offended them.

“Dude, we’re not letting you sleep outside!” the green knight, Wasabi said, aghast that he would ever suggest such a thing. Varian just stared blankly at him, confused as to why that seemed so awful. Wasabi sighed in exasperation and then took a deep breath as if coming to a decision and then continued. “Look you are more than welcome to stay the night at my place, as long as you don’t mind sleeping on the sofa that is.”

Varian didn’t mind at all. In fact a sofa sounded quite comfortable compared to the cold hard ground or the wooden cot of the jail cell that he had been used to for the past year or so. Though he left this last part unsaid.

“Great, so now that’s settled …,” the boy Hiro started to walk up to the tall knight called Baymax. He hopped up on the others back and the two wings on the side of his amour ignited with flame and propelled both of them upwards. “We can meet up for breakfast at the Lucky Cat tomorrow and in the meantime I’ll gather up everything I can on the portals.”

“Whoa!” Varian stared up at the flying armored figures in breathless awe as they soared away. His attention was diverted when the pink knight, Honey Lemon, walked forward. She pressed some buttons on the side of her purse and out popped a purple ball into the palm of her hand. It looked just like the one Varian had held earlier, only he assumed it did something different. She stopped beside him next to the edge of the rooftop, turned to give him a big smile, and then threw the ball down to the ground below. From the ball sprung a crystallized substance that created what looked like a blue slide from the top of rooftop to the ground below.

“Acetic acid?” Varian questioned, happy to show off his knowledge. Honey Lemon nodded enthusiastically as a way of an answer and then jumped on to the slide and surfed down to the ground, whooping loudly with joy as she went. The yellow knight, Gogo, followed after her and the monster suited knight, Fred, began to bound away, leaping across the buildings in large jumps.

Varian moved to the slide himself and hopped on the same as the other two girls had done. He turned around when he noticed that the green knight, Wasabi, was still standing around. He looked questioningly at him, wondering what fantastical way he may depart.

“I’ll take the elevator, thanks.” Wasabi replied.

Varian didn’t know what an elevator was, but he didn’t want to pursue the question and be made to look the fool, so he just shrugged his shoulders and then taking a steadying breath slid down the slide himself, also whooping in nervous exhilaration as he went.

------------------------

From another rooftop across the way, Mr. Sparkles, sat watching the heroes depart. He had his hands around his eyes in mock binoculars in order to focus his attention on the newcomer that had joined them. As the boy slid down the makeshift slide and out of sight, the villain removed his hands from his face and pulled out a cellphone from his pocket. He quickly dialed a number and waited for the person on the other end to pick up.

“Hey boss, bad news about the portal you had me swipe, but before you get mad, there’s been some, shall we say, new developments that I think you might be interested in.” He chuckled in his throat after saying this. The stranger that had just arrived was going to change the game and it was bound to be an entertaining show if nothing else.

#varian #tangled #big hero 6 #hiro hamada #of rocks and robots #tangled the series #bh6 the series #rapunzel's tangled adventure

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taylordempseyy · 4 years ago

Text

Pre-Production

Reality is what we all must live in, in the here and now, washing up, cleaning etc all very boring on many levels, therefore we need surrealism.

Surrealism is an art movement started by a Frenchman Andre Breton back in 1924. He was interested in things like dreams, fantasies and thoughts we have in our heads.

The following artist help create surrealism art.

1. Salvador Dali

2. Rene Magrette

3. Dorothea Tanning

4. Eileen Agor

There are two main Surrealism.

1. One being inspired by dreams, Salvador Dali, was well known for his wild behaviour in the art for surrealism his work, often a combination of things you would not expect to see together.

2. The second one is Automatism, Art made without thinking. Doodling while daydreaming, myself and many of us do that, this makes us surrealist.

How did people react?

Surrealists were amazing at promoting their work. Dali was especially great at promoting his work, the crowds loved his approach turning up to a London exhibition in full outrageous dress up gear, however most of his critics gave rubbish reviews.

Where are we today with surrealism?

In 2021 it is everywhere, its all about imagination from whacky adverts, video games, Comics and adverts. Surrealism is great it allows us to break free of plain old reality to inject weirdness and wild ideas to create.

Kyle Thompson

Kyle is an American photographer with an eye for surreal, forests and abandoned houses. He likes to create eery or visionary portraits of himself, compositions that feel magic

I Love the colours in this picture of the leaves, very much an autumn feel. His eyes are staring at you however you can still see the outline of this ears beneath the water.

This picture is so elegant and simplistic. The material with the wind in his wings. It is very elegant like a floating angel.

Catrin Welz-Stein

As a child she loved to draw and liked to be creative, her inspirations are fantasy and children stories. She gained her knowledge as a graphic designer and working with a lot of digital images.

This picture is replicating a hot air balloon, the top hat as the basket and the dandelion is the hot air part of the balloon, the partials from the dandelion fly through the air and you can see a man holding one of the partials and flying through The air.

Dariusz Klimczak

Klimczak is an experienced photographer, with more than 30 years of intermittent photography and photo editing experience under his belt. He currently works as a freelancer and has held numerous exhibitions. He says that the aim of his beautiful photos is to use stories and universal symbols to move his viewers and force them to think or to simply crack a smile. The atmosphere of the vast deserts and plains in his stunning pictures seem to be inspired by Dali’s work, as do the stilt-walkers and other characters therein.

His picture is simple and eye catching.

Erik Johonsson

I love this picture it reminds me of the picture I am working on in my personal time a picture of a face you can see face on (pardon the pun) and to the side I just love the images like this, to me this is a proper illusion, plain, simple and using simple objects, ie like a person no props just a face.

He is based in Berlin, he is also a very skilled retoucher, this allows him to turn his ideas into logically surreal projects that look like real photographs.

Johansson will often use hundreds of different original images to make one picture with the help of digital alteration software Adobe Photoshop.

He became interested in this art at the age of 15, he got his inspiration from his grandmother who was a painter, he then began to play

around with photos and creating something you couldn’t capture with a camera on a computer.

On his website he writes “It was a great way of learning, learning by trying,” this makes a lot of sense not that I can say my head space recently acknowledges this over the recent months, however given myself a good shake and learning by trying is a great way of learning.

Plan your own creative manipulation.

1. Round Glass vase

2. Candle

3. Spring Water

I want it to look crisp, clean and simple.

Production

For this brief I used the living room,

I bought blackout material from amazon this helped to enclose the area to be dark.

I used a tripod to keep the camera in the same position as I needed to take 2 pictures.

1. With vase and the candle lit, without the water I the vase.

2. With the vase filled with spring water, without the candle lit.

Where the yellow circle is this is what my dad stood on to position the lights for each shoot

Postproduction

What are Layer Masks and how do we use them?

Masks are non-destructive layers, providing more flexibility when working with images as they do not permanently delete information in an image. Layer masks can be used to hide parts of an image, cutting out objects and adjusting specific parts of a photograph (in combination with adjustment layers).

What are the names of the selection tools?

Marquee

This is the most basic selection tool available in photoshop, to use this, you click and drag around the area that you want to select.

Lasso

The Marquee tool is restricted by a frame, circle or line, you cannot select more than what you want to select. The way around this is to use the lasso tool. It works very much like the Marquee tool however it gives you more ability to move around the area freely and without any restrictions.

Magnetic Lasso Tool

This is an especially useful outlining tool it is more accurate than the lasso tool. It follows lines and outlines like a magnet, making it a lot easier to select elements with contours.

Magic Wand

This is used to select an area based in a specific colour. You are best using this when selecting areas where the colour is varied but you want to select a specific colour area. The magic wand makes the selection faster when dealing with contour and sharp edges that can be difficult to reach.

Quick Selection

This works very much like the magic wand. The quick selection selects areas based on colour and tone. What is great about this tool is it allows you to choose to include or remove certain areas using the add to selection and subtracting a selection option. It makes things quick and easy.

Colour Range

This is an especially useful tool available in photoshop, this works very much like the Magic wand. Unlike the Magic Wand where you have a limited selection based on specific area, colour range universally includes areas in the selection given a specific scope of colours you choose from within the image. Multiple colour selection and limitation is also available by using the ass and subtract eye dropper options.

Inverse

Inverse Is used only with a pre-existing selection. It automatically selects the area that isn’t selected initially and deselects the pre existing selection this then inversing the process. If selecting an area is more difficult than selecting the areas around it, you can use inverse by selecting those areas outside and choosing to inverse the selection later. This allows the process to be faster.

Grow

Grow is a selection option also used with a pre-exsisting selection. Grow simply extends the selection based on the current selection, this is normally done by colour and tone.

Similar

Once again this also works with a pre-existing selection and is much like colour range part of the programme, where is extends the selection to the whole image given the specific colour and tonal range of the existing selection you have on the screen.

Refine Edge

When you need to show great attention to detail about the edges of a selected picture, you can use this tool to manipulate or customize the contour selection. It takes a lot of practise to fully understand using this tool, you also need to fully understand this tool to use this correctly.

#illusion

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huilian · 4 years ago

Text

Alfred looks at the cat. The cat looks back.

Alfred already has a loaf in the oven and is preparing to do the second rise for this one. He has planned it to the minute, so that the moment he takes the first loaf out of the oven, the second will be ready to go in. But the cat, that damned cat whom Alfred refuses to call by its name, is sitting, just as you please, inside Alfred's pan. And it refuses to leave.

The clock ticks. Neither of them gives in.

Finally, Alfred says, to the cat, "Please leave your current premises immediately. Otherwise, I will have to use force to remove you."

The cat meows.

Alfred seethes. He does not particularly like moving that cat by force, anywhere, because that cat scratches, but he will do it to free his pan.

Before Alfred can move to lift the cat, however, a voice calls out, “Alfred!”

Alfred turns towards the kitchen door, confused, because in all the years Master Damian has been in his care, never has he called Alfred by his first name.

Master Damian, however, pays no heed to Alfred’s confusion. He walks towards the kitchen counter where Alfred and that cat are having their stare down, and simply plucks the cat from the pan. Of course, when Master Damian is the one who lifts it up, the cat has no objections whatsoever.

And it is then that realization dawns. Master Damian was speaking to the cat.

Alfred resists the urge to sigh. Of course Master Damian was speaking to the cat.

Master Damian rests the cat on his arms and it lounges perfectly content there. Alfred tries not to visibly show his annoyance.

Master Damian then says, “Apologies, Pennyworth. I am sure he did not mean to interrupt you. I will take better care of him in the future.”

Alfred gives in to the urge to sigh. He nods, then quickly retrieves the pan from the counter, lest that cat decides to leave Master Damian’s arms and reclaim the pan. He washes the pan, thoroughly, and dries it, all while listening to Master Damian having a conversation with the cat about the importance of hygiene and asking permission to use others’ belongings.

Alfred is pretty sure he heard that same speech being given to Damian, a couple of years ago, by Master Dick. The part of the speech about asking for permission, of course. There is nothing wrong with Master Damian’s hygiene. Except for the general teenage boys’ tendencies that Alfred has been dealing with for decades now.

Alfred re-kneads the dough a bit, because it has been left out for far too long, then forms the loaf and puts it in the pan. He turns around, expecting Damian and the cat to be long gone, but instead, he finds the two of them in front of him.

“Is something the matter, Master Damian?” Alfred asks.

Damian doesn’t answer. Alfred waits. He won the stare down with the cat, he will win this one too.

After a while, Damian swallows, then says, “Alfred wants to spend more time with his namesake, Pennyworth. I have reprimanded him about using your belongings, but I’m afraid you will often encounter him in the future.”

Alfred opens his mouth to protest, because he does not want to see that cat more often than he already has, but he sees the hopeful expression on Damian’s face, and closes his mouth again.

He could put up with the cat if it meant seeing more of Damian with his pets, because Alfred finds that Damian is so much more honest about himself if any of his pets are in attendance. And he wants to see his grandson- because that is what Damian is to him- without the guarded behaviour that Damian acquired from the League.

Because he will see more of Master Damian if the cat continues to disturb him. Encountering the cat means also encountering his master.

Alfred sighs. He has learnt, years and years ago, to never reject any time with his charges. In their line of work, any time Alfred spends with them can very well be the last. He has learnt that, a long time ago, and was recently reminded, harshly, with Damian.

He will put up with the cat.

“Very well, Master Damian. Would he”-not Damian, never Damian. The boy will reject it promptly-” like to start now? I am about to brew a pot of tea. The two of you are welcome to join.”

Damian tilts his head down, for all appearance conferring with that cat. He talks to it for a while, taking the cat’s meows to be actual words, then he looks back up towards Alfred. “We accept.”

Alfred squashes down a smile at the sight, knowing it won’t be received well by the boy. Instead, he nods, then walks over to the cupboard.

“What tea would you like, Master Damian? I have your usual chai. I also have green tea, jasmine tea, Master Jason’s herbal tea, pu-erh tea, my usual Earl Grey, and this absolute travesty that is instant tea, though I am assuming you would not want that.”

“Tt,” Damian says, “of course I would not want the instant tea, Pennyworth. May I have the pu-erh?”

“Not your usual chai, Master Damian?”

“I desire something different today, Pennyworth.”

“Of course,” Alfred says, bringing the pu-erh and his Earl Grey. He gives Damian the pu-erh package and his pot, and leaves to retrieve his own pot. From the corner of his eye, Alfred sees Damian deposit the cat on the kitchen chairs to boil the water for their tea.

That cat doesn’t even give a huff of protest. If Alfred tries to do that, his arms would be bleeding already.

Why can’t that cat behave better? Titus is perfectly well behaved, so is Batcow. Even Goliath, the absolute beast that he is, is better behaved than that cat.

Alfred walks to the kitchen table, a pot in one hand, with the tea bags already inside, and his usual tray for milk and sugar for the tea. He watches Damian precisely measure his tea leaves, as precise as if his life depended on it.

The kettle, because Alfred will be dead before anyone in the Manor boils water for their tea in a microwave, sings, and so Alfred moves to take it. To do so, he has to pass the cat.

Alfred gives the cat a look. The cat does not look back. It closes its eyes and continues lounging on the kitchen chair. Alfred doesn’t know if that is better than the cat returning his stare, or worse.

The kettle sings. Alfred abandons the infuriating cat and goes to turn off the stove. He brings the kettle towards the table, refusing to even look at the cat lounging on the chair. Two can play this game.

Damian takes the kettle from him as soon as he finishes measuring his leaves. That boy is more precise in measuring his tea leaves than some men are in defusing a bomb.

Damian pours the water from the kettle, to Alfred’s pot first, since he doubtlessly has calculated that Alfred likes his Earl Grey to steep for longer than Damian likes to steep his pu-erh, then pours his own pot. While they wait for the tea to steep, Damian walks towards the kitchen chair, retrieves the cat, and returns to the table.

The cat looks smug. Alfred refrains from having an argument with a cat.

When his tea is ready, Alfred pours the tea from the pot to his cup, to a very precise level inside his cup, and adds milk and sugar, the amount of which has not changed in the past forty-odd years. Damian pours his tea too, as meticulous as Alfred, but since he does not have milk and sugar to pour in, he finishes first.

Damian does not sip his tea until Alfred has done so. Alfred knows what that means, and is secretly touched by the gesture.

Alfred sips for longer, though. He needs the tea to calm himself after dealing with that cat for an extended period of time.

When he puts down his cup, he sees that Damian is looking at him oddly. The cat, now perched on Damian’s lap, is also looking at him, but its look is that of disdain.

“Is something the matter, Master Damian?”

Damian stays silent for a while, visibly debating whether he should speak or not, but eventually, he says, “How can you like that tea, Pennyworth?”

“The Earl Grey?”

Damian nods.

“It’s an acquired taste, I suppose, Master Damian.” Alfred sips at his tea again. When he finishes, he looks at Damian’s face, and feels a sudden pang of affection. “Would you like to know a secret?” he asks.

Damian nods immediately. “Yes.”

Alfred allows himself a smile. He can’t help it. “This tea is not my favourite.”

A clatter. Damian has put down his cup far too roughly for such a fine piece of china. The cat meows in protest. “But you drink it every day!” he says.

Alfred hums. “Yes, I suppose I do.”

“If you do not like it, then why do you drink that vile tea every day, Pennyworth?”

“I did not say I do not like it, Master Damian. I merely said that it is not my favourite.”

Damian huffs. “Semantics.”

Alfred tilts his head. He wants to dangle it in front of the boy, wants to keep it to himself, but he doesn’t have the heart to do it. Behind Damian’s aloofness is genuine interest. If he is not truly interested he wouldn’t have masked it so.

Alfred relents. “It is the easiest to find here, in the states. It is hardly prudent for me to go searching for tea, especially when one needs to take care of several vigilantes in one’s household.”

“Which one, then, is your favourite, Pennyworth?”

Alfred bristles, not wanting to answer this very personal question to his past, but also knowing that he’s led himself into it. Finally, he decides to answer it truthfully. “Taylor’s Yorkshire Red.”

Damian hums. He nods, then strokes his cat.

No conversation from the boy. Alfred also doesn’t offer any. Like his father, the boy is perfectly comfortable in silence. They don’t talk again until Alfred leaves to take out the bread and put in the second loaf. By then, they both have finished their respective pot of tea.

“Thank you for the tea, Pennyworth,” Damian says, standing up. He nods at Alfred, then leaves, bringing the cat with him, thank Heavens.

Alfred puts the newly baked loaf on the cooling rack, then tidies up the pots and cups they have used for tea.

He doesn’t think of that conversation until several days later, when six boxes of Taylor’s Yorkshire Red tea appears on his bed. Alfred smiles. The tea alone is worth dealing with the cat, never mind the company it brings with it, even if that infernal cat still lounges on Alfred’s pans from time to time.

#i'll put the read more tomorrow #i am... tired and want to sleep #but i want to post this first #dc #damian wayne #alfred pennyworth #alfred the cat #fic #lian writes #damianwayneloveshisgrandpa2020

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fly-flower-fanfics · 6 years ago

Text

Crafts and Kisses

Alpha Loki x Omega Male Reader

Warnings: None, I think.

~~~~~~~~~~

Things were different ever since I moved in with everyone into Tony's tower. I got to see my friends more often, and I wasn't as lonely anymore. My depression — although still bad — had decreased significantly. Life seemed to be all around better than ever before.

Bruce was my best friend. He was the one I went to constantly and for everything. He was always reminding me to take my antidepressants and heat suppressants, telling me that it was time for meals, and where I'd last left certain items.

If my head wasn't attached, I'd probably need Bruce to find that, too.

Natasha and Clint were betas, and I found it a bit comical that the only two betas in the building were together. Usually Bruce, the two of them, and I would be at home, cuddled up on the couch watching movies like best friends and couple do.

Lastly, you had Tony, Thor, Steve, and Loki that were the alphas. Tony and Steve butt heads sometimes, but Natasha was able to shut the two of them up almost instantly. Thor was the softest alpha around, literally acting like everyone was apart of his pack. Not going to lie, Thor was the best cuddle buddy when Bruce was shut up in the lab.

Loki, on the other hand, was an alpha that I didn't quite understand. It wasn't because he was an alpha; I wouldn't understand him if he was a beta or omega, either. He was just...odd. I never really interacted with him because he was always sneaking around. He'd stopped being a villain — as much as he could — so he wasn't doing anything wrong. Something was just different about him.

I didn't really think he would like me.

My powers were rather insignificant to everyone else's. All I could do was control electricity: turning on and off lights, appliances, etc. It was, however, good for playing pranks and charging my phone when I forgot to.

Because I was the newest addition to the Stark-Avengers Tower, I wasn't as open with everyone. Bruce knew I was an omega because omegas knew other omegas instantly. The others didn't ask because status was a bit of a sensitive thing. I just knew what everyone else the Tower was because they were so open with one another.

I'd only reached that point with Bruce, and everyone seemed okay with that.

Currently, I was in my room, laying on my bed and listening to my music blare through my headphones. My fingers were dancing to the tune above me, painting a picture with the air around me. I knew I looked silly, but I didn't particularly care at that moment. I was trying to picture what a painting would look like based on this song. And, not to toot my own horn, I was doing a damn fine job at imagining it.

Painting it? Now that was another story.

I was an artist, yes, but I was more into creating things and working with things like papier-mâché and clay. Painting wasn't my strong subject, but I wasn't terrible at it. It was just my ideas seemed to always be a bit too far out of my skill set, and I'd end up with a knock-off version of my idea.

I sat up in bed with the idea perfected in my head. I shoved my phone into the waistband of my boxers and rushed out my room towards the empty room Tony let me claim as an art studio.

On the way, I nearly crashed into both Clint and Thor. The two of them just laughed me off as I shouted an apology, spinning on my heel and waving at them. Whenever I had an idea, I always ran around to try and do it, and everyone knew it. Unfortunately for me, there was one other person I nearly rammed into: Loki.

I quickly apologized, but instead on continuing to run like I had with the others, I was frozen in place.

Why? It's not like I was scared of him or anything. He intently stared down at me; his green eyes felt like the burned straight to my soul. I didn't move, unsure of what the god would do or say. I never really got time to spend with him, and I didn't want to waste it, even if I had an idea.

The one corner of his mouth quirked up in the smallest movement that I had ever seen — barely seen — and he stepped to the side with a small nod of the head. Immediately, I smiled at him, brushed his cheek with my fingers, and went off running down the hall once more.

I never saw Loki as a threat to me, nor did I want to treat him any different than I did anyone else. I knew Tony and Steve treated him like an outsider, and Bruce and Clint were rather wary of him, too, and normally kept their distance. I was touch-feely with everyone, and Loki wasn't going to be spared of it either. At least, he hasn't told me he didn't like it with from our few interactions.

In fact, I don't think I've ever heard him talk at all.

Any thought of Loki and the others left my mind as soon as I reached the door of my makeshift art room. Opening it, I stepped inside and let the door close behind me. My paints were all set up in a corner already along with a clean canvas; I always made sure to do that when I left the room so I didn't need to prep when I had a brand-new idea.

I walked over and sat down by the table, pulling out a bunch of bright colors. After an hour, all I had was a rather beautiful mix of colors that looked like a splatter paint gone wrong. Even though I was disappointed that it was another idea that received a knock-off version, I didn't let it drag me down entirely.

I decided to go move to another kind of project: papier-mâché a mask.

With no set plan in mind, I plopped myself in front of the new table. It only took a few moments to get everything altogether, suit up into an apron, and get to work. I always stained the glue-water mix with a colored stiffener that would make it firmer when it dries. I'd always use clear glue because the white glue looked too much like something else. I made the mistake of using it once, and Tony made sure I never forget it. Clear glue looks like mucus, though, and that's disgusting, too.

I stained it purple today. Not that it mattered, but I liked the soft lilac color. I began placing the strips of newspaper onto a mask mold. It was peaceful enough until I realized one thing missing: my music. Whining, I got up and drug myself to the sink to wash my hands. I stuck my headphones in while I returned to my seat and pressed play.

New songs flooded my ears and motivated me to work. By the time I'd gotten the basic mold down to where I wanted it, I still didn't know what I wanted to make out of it. Then a song popped up that decided it for me: Miss Mysterious by Set It Off.

I knew I'd have to let the mask dry a bit before I'd start cutting into it, but I knew exactly how I wanted it to look. Half a mask, a bit like the Phantom of the Opera's, with a curled horn off to the side. It didn't sound as cool explaining it, but it was beautiful inside my head.

My fingers worked with the slimy mixture and the newspaper to create a thin, curled horn. I'd paint it a dark green, maybe add gold highlights to it or bells. Something like that. Something that would show how beautiful it was, how elegant it would be.

I sang along with the song. I could reach the high notes, and I wasn't the best at singing, but I was good enough that no one complained about my voice. Or at least they never complained to my face. Either way, I sang the song like no one else was in the room simply because there wasn't.

My hands glided over the mask, adding new pieces, creating the horn, and calling myself names when I'd accidentally drip the stuff on the table. I'd always then try and scoop it up in my hand but end up making it worse since my hands were covered in the gluey goop.

I'm sure if someone was outside looking in, I definitely was a sight to see. And I didn't care.

Once my mask was to the point that there was nothing left to do but let it dry, I stood up to go wash my hands. As soon as I turned around, I let out a scream.

"Loki?!"

His eyes lit up, just a bit more than usual, and I could tell he was laughing at me. Then, his lips began to move, but all I could hear was Who Is It by Michael Jackson blaring in my ears. I held up my hands to show him the goop they were currently covered in.

"Lemme wash my hands, and don't you dare leave, or I'll dip my hands back in it, find you, and touch you." I was sure I was speaking rather loudly because I could hear myself over my music.

I barely caught Loki's glare, and I smirked to myself. There was a fifty-fifty chance he'd actually leave, which meant there was a fifty-fifty chance I'd get to chase him with goopy hands. I washed my hands in the sink, making sure I got rid of all of it because it did stay a bit sticky when it remained on my hands.

I was equally surprised and disappointed to see Loki still standing there once I turned around. I removed my headphones from my ears, draped them around my neck, and gave Loki a slight bow while twirling my hand.

"You may speak now, my lord."

I heard the god snort. It was very soft, almost like a sharp inhale when one would be sick. His lips twitched slightly as I straightened up, but other than that, his face remained stoic. I knew that I was able to pull emotion from him, but I didn't understand why he tried to hide it.

Was it something I did? Something I said? Maybe it's just the way I am. Had I offended him in some way without realizing it?

His chuckle broke my train of thought. I blinked and saw the small smile on his face. I don't think I've ever seen him smile before. Even though it was hardly a smile, it caused me to smile.

"Are you always this energized, Y/N?"

His voice made me freeze. He knew my name. Well, duh. Of course he knew my name. I did live in the same building with the man. Oh god, I'm being stupid. What the hell? This isn't that big of a deal.

"Uh, yeah. Yeah. It runs in my genes, I guess," I answered, wanting to slap myself. I couldn't have replied in a more dumbass way. Conversation was never my strong point.

Another smile tugged the edge of his lips. "Of course."

"Can-can I help you with anything?" I asked, scratching the back of my neck nervously before turning on my heel to replace the paints and canvas. "Not that I don't enjoy your company, it's just strange that you're here in my studio. Especially since we haven't really talked the much."

How long had he been there? The thought hit my like a punch in the stomach and made me hesitate for a moment. I'd finished my mask and turned to see him. He couldn't have been there that long, right? Art is boring to watch to most, and I'd assume that watching me papier-mâché was not on his list of 'fascinating things to do today.'

"Just stopping by."

God, I hated his answers. I mimicked him in my facial expressions while my back was turned to him. Couldn't he give me more solid answers? I cleaned out my brushes in the sink and glanced towards him.

"Why?"

He seemed caught off guard by my question, but it was perfectly reasonable considering our past — or lack there of. Instead of an answer, when Loki regained his composure, all I received was a shrug.

"Did you want something?" I asked, trying to hide my nervousness now. I went to the closet to grab a new canvas, tucking my lip between my teeth. There was a chair within reach of my foot, so I pulled it closer to me with the top of my toes and stood on it to grab a new canvas.

Did he want something? Did I accidentally take something of his? It happened sometimes since I was usually so scatterbrained. I tried to scan my brain of the items I'd last had in my possession, but all that I could think of was my paints and some newspaper.

"Oh, my dear omega."

I nearly slipped off the chair when the words left Loki's lips. The canvas did fall from my hands and clatter to the floor, and I dove after it, picking it up. How did he know that? Bruce wouldn't snitch on me, I knew that.

"You reek of anxiety," the god continued. "You seem to forget that my senses are heightened over your Midgardian senses. No matter what you use to mask your natural scent, I can see right through it."

I walked my now slightly dusty canvas over to the table and laid it down. Did that mean Thor knew, too? If Loki did, then Thor had to. Bless them both for not saying anything. I proceeded to busy myself by making sure every little dust particle was off of the canvas. The lights dimmed slightly for a moment as my anxiety increased.

He's here to make fun of me.

Loki never thought highly of omegas or betas, for the matter. That was clear to me. Loki only ever seemed to respect other alphas that were able to take him size him up for a good fight for dominance. I always assumed that he and Tony would eventually get together, no matter how much the two currently avoided one another.

Clearing my throat, I straighten up and hung up the apron I had been wearing. Finally, after what simultaneously felt like centuries and mere seconds, I turned to face the prankster once again. My fingers were tingling, and I knew that just once more word might cause me to blow all the bulbs in my studio.

Tony never got mad at me for it because really, what was a few light bulbs to a millionaire? But I've been trying to learn how to control my powers in moments of high and nearly uncontrollable emotions.

"You didn't answer my question," I replied, letting a smile form on my lips. It wasn't nearly as large as my normal smile, but I wanted my normal persona back.

"Bruce is sick," he replied. I knew that. Bruce had gotten ill yesterday, and I told him I'd go see him later, no matter how much he protested. "Can't seem to get it if bed right now." A look of disgust floated over the God's beautiful features. "So I brought these for you since it seems you've forgotten them."

Loki held out a small, silver package towards me, and I recognized it instantly. My heat suppressants. Now that I was thinking back again, I couldn't remember the last time I'd taken them. A dark blush heated my cheeks, but Loki didn't seem phased by it whatsoever.

"We don't want you going into an early heat." I wanted to die at the words he was saying. Did he not understand how embarrassed I already was? I noticed the lights dangerously flicking as I took the package from him. I saw Loki's eyes glance up towards them before I turned to grab a bottle of water from the small refrigerator I kept in the back.

"How do you hide your heats?"

I nearly choked on the pill and water, but managed to get it to stay down. While I was able to save that, the light bulbs weren't so lucky. They popped, drowning the room in darkness that was almost pitch black. "Oh, dear. I do seemed to have caused some discomfort."

I wanted to punch Loki in his stupid, pretty face. I was a mixture of embarrassed and angry because he had no right to do this. Who was he to come stomping up into my safe haven and talk about my heats and being an omega? Then he plays it off like a joke? The nerve of the motherfucker.

Since I knew the room like the back of my hands, I had no issues navigating to the one corner of my room. I leaned my head against the wall and breathed out a sigh. I wanted to unlive the last ten minutes of my life and leave before Loki had ever entered.

"Y/N?"

Damn his voice.

Silence was my reply.

"Y/N, don't make me ask again.

Even though he wasn't my alpha, I found myself turning toward him before cursing and facing the wall again. Calm down. Count to ten.

"Y/N, please."

"What?" I hissed out before turning to face him. I didn't want to deal with this right now, but the two of us were stuck in here until Tony would manually unlock the door since that, too, was powered by electricity. I couldn't do anything because, more likely, I blew the fuse connecting all of that.

"It's not that big of a deal."

"Says you," I growled. I didn't like people finding out things about me without my permission. It was weird, I know, but I didn't like when people knew things that I didn't tell them. "No one hates you for being an alpha."

"And no one would hate you for being an omega."

I didn't reply this time. He was pissing me off, but I tried to calm down. I guess it wasn't that big of a deal... It still really bothered me though. Taking a deep breath, I tugged my hair, and then let it out slowly.

"I'm not ready to admit it, okay?" My parents had been very disappointed in me for being an omega and a gay one at that. Their only son was into other men and the weakest on the totem pole. Whether society really frowned upon omegas or not, in my mind, they did. Everyone did, and I was scared to admit it. Bruce didn't even know why I didn't tell people that I was an omega.

"And you of all people!" I nearly spat at him as I whirled around. "You're the one that would hate me for being an omega. I know the way you talk about them. God, can't even believe you can stand to look at me." I ground my teeth together.

This was way out of my comfort zone and personality. Hot tears streamed down my cheeks, causing me to curse aloud. I hated crying when I was angry.

I jumped when a hand fell on my shoulder, nearly decking Loki in the face. Was that really necessary?

Even in the darkness, I swore his green eyes were he only things that I could see perfectly clear.

"Calm down," he whispered to me softly, pulling me into a hug.

The coolness of his body helped my anxiety and the way he pet my hair caused me to let my guard down.

"Just listen to me," Loki continued. I was about to speak up, realizing what was going on, but Loki quickly shut that down. "You may not speak, do you understand?"

I closed my eyes and nodded against his chest. He's not my alpha, what the fuck am I doing?

"My omega, I kept my distance so I could keep watch on you. I kept my distance so I could se show others were interested in you. It also had come to my attention that you were into my brother." I could hear the jealousy laced in with his words.

The faint scent of possession filled my senses.

"I want you all to my own."

My knees felt weak at his words, and I found myself kneeling at his feet. As much as I had tried to push the feelings away, Loki was always the alpha I had wanted. He was off, odd, and different. Something about him always made my heart race.

I closed my eyes as I felt Loki's hand settle on my head. I rested my head against his thigh, closing my eyes. The amount of submission I felt was incredible, and I was incredibly embarrassed. Yet I didn't fight it as much as I normally would have.

"I didn't want you to hate me," I breathed out, hoping that he wouldn't hear my words.

"I would never." He backed away and knelt down to my level, sitting on the floor and pulling me between his legs. "I only ever wanted the best for my omega."

"You want me to be yours?" I asked softly.

I felt Loki's lips press against my skin at the base of my neck, near the place where he would mark me and claim me as his. "Yes."

I closed my eyes, letting myself enjoy the feeling of his cool lips against my skin. "Loki...I-I just... I don't wanna jump right in... I want you, but I want a relationship, too..."

"Then a relationship we shall form," he promised, tilting my head back to kiss my lips.

#marvel #marvel x male reader #marvel fanfiction #loki x male reader #loki fanfiction #loki #gay loki oneshot #lgbt #alpha #omega #alpha loki #alpha omega fanfiction

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curiositydooropened · 4 years ago

Text

Movie Night

Steve skipped up the lawn to the Buckley’s front door, sneakers dampening in the wet grass. The nights turned darker quicker and the bustle of the beginning school year settled the streets of Hawkins. A chaotic summer full of new shopping centers and a town torn apart soon dipped to cool autumn nights, and the rumors seemed to fade with the falling of the leaves.

---

Read the rest on AO3 or keep reading.

Steve could still smell SS Butterscotch, still nursed the tear at his lip with a slick tongue, still heard Russian conversation ringing in his ears. With the new school year came study sessions for the nerds, who weren’t allowed to be out on school nights, and Steve found himself mostly alone in his room, haunted by plaid walls and the Flesh Monsters of his mind. He thought he’d be used to it by now. A nineteen year old guy shouldn’t be afraid of the dark.

And yet, he practically sprinted from his BMW to the Buckley’s front stoop. The wrap of his knuckles was answered by a stately woman in a power suit, clearly readying herself to be out the door as fast as he had entered. “Mr. Harrington,” the woman commented with a knowing smirk on red lips. She fastened a pearl stud to her earlobe. “I didn’t know we were expecting you.”

“Sorry, Mrs. Buckley,” Steve leaned awkwardly on the balls of his feet, unsure if he was permitted to enter or if he should just leave now. He never knew where he stood with the Robin’s parents.

Understandably, they believed Steve had pulled their daughter from a burning building. Robin was convinced her mom thought they were screwing, an uncomfortable tidbit that sent Steve’s cheek burning as he stared into the older woman’s eyes. Robin’s father was a military man, not around much, intimidating as hell.

“That’s quite alright, dear. What are you two up to tonight?” Again, the look.

Steve rocked back on his heels, running an awkward hand through his hair. “Oh I don’t know. I think watch a scary movie?”

“How exciting. I’m off to a book club night. I’ll be home late. Take of her, will you?” Mrs. Buckley shoved a book under her arm for emphasis, the cover was stained purple and atop it was a Fabio-haired man that reminded Steve a little too much of Billy Hargrove. He blanched.

“Mom, go!” Robin’s voice called from within the house.

Mrs. Buckley waved her off with a smile. “I’m going, I’m going! Lock up behind me. You kids have fun!” And she was off.

Robin stood atop the staircase, all legs under an oversized t-shirt. Her hair was a mess in a scrunchie atop her head, and she stood with one hand on her hip, the other gesturing for him to hurry his ass inside. It��s getting cold.

Steve did as instructed, slipping soggy sneakers onto the entry mat and shrugging off his red and white puffed jacket. Dustin had asked him where he’d gotten it. He didn’t share, figured he’d get it for the kid for his birthday coming up.

“I’m thinking Evil Dead,” Robin squawked her way around the corner and up the stairs, not bothering to make sure he had followed.

Steve groaned. “Again? It’s like I’ve befriended Jonathan Byers.”

“You have befriended Jonathan Byers.” Robin reminded him, stopping at the doorway to her bedroom to prove her point.

“Shared trauma does not make us friends.”

“Shared girlfriend might.”

“Fuck off.”

Robin grinned.

Robin’s bedroom was a hodge podge of nerdom and geekery. It wasn’t covered in Science crap like Dustin’s, but the Arts. There were hand painted Drama masks in one corner and a Saxophone stand in the other. She had a collection of video cassettes and vinyl records and everything was bright colors and black all at once. She’d carved sonnets into her headboard with a ball point pen. A small television stand stood opposite her bed, just beside a window. She climbed out that window one night, late August, and biked to his house. They stayed up for hours outside the pool, talking about Starcourt, talking about it all.

Unceremoniously, she plopped onto her bed, belly first, legs flopping behind her. She fluffed a pillow under her chest and patted the spot next to her for Steve to sit. At the foot of the bed, near her head, was a bowl of popcorn and a platter of assorted candies. The colorful gummies reminded Steve of topping sundaes and his head spun a little. Reluctantly, he slipped beside her, back to her headboard, socked feet near her shoulder.

“Keith said they’re hiring down at Family Video,” Robin offered, pulling a gummy worm between her teeth. She leaned forward for the remote and the bed shifted under her weight.

“Ugh, Keith?”

“A job’s a job, dingus. Do you want cash or not?”

Steve supposed she was right. Well, it was Robin, she was always right. But the idea of slinging video tapes next to Loud Mouth Buckley and Pizza Face didn’t seem ideal. Although, his dad had been on his ass again. The novelty of his traumatic incident had seemed to have worn off on the old man. Steve should suck it up.

“So how’s school?” Steve asked as Robin fast forwarded through the commercials.

She shrugged. “Weird. It’s almost like no one else fought a human flesh monster from another dimension.”

Steve snorted. “Yeah, that’s so bizarre.”

Robin rolled over to face him. “No really, though. It sucks. It’s like everyone just forgot.”

“Everyone that could,” Steve nodded. He picked at a pen mark on the lap of his jeans.

“Nancy’s doing well,” Robin prodded at him with a spindly finger.

“I didn’t ask.” Steve sighed.

“I know, but you loooooved her,” Robin cackled. He always forgot how juvenile she was.

“Yeah, well, I’m seeing that… Patsy girl, or whatever.” He’d taken a girl from high school on a couple of dates now. She was a senior too, a little geeky. They mostly made out in his car. She was a sloppy kisser and didn’t seem like she was going to put out, and she definitely wasn’t relationship material.

“Ugh,” Robin rolled her eyes. “I told you not to go there. She’s a lost cause.”

“Apparently that’s my type,” Steve sighed. “Are we going to watch this movie or what?”

Steve didn’t know how they did it, how they could through hours of prosthetic makeup and gore and horror, after what they’d been through. Maybe they were desensitized. Scary movies just weren’t scary anymore, they were almost comical. Bruce Campbell had no idea of the real horrors that were out there, that walked among us. The worst of it was, most of Steve’s nightmares weren’t even about the monsters he’d seen and killed, but about the humans, the ones that got away.

The film had ended and he wiped at tired eyes, propped up against his bent knee. Robin slurped the last few bubbles from her can of Coke and threw her head back against the headboard. “Dingus?”

“Hm?”

“Do you think we’re going to be fucked up forever?”

“Probably.” Steve sighed. The red thread had become to pull loose on the toe of his sock. “I used to think I could be normal if I just pretended. Like, if I just act like a normal teenager, I am a normal teenager, but I think that’s… bullshit.” He snorted.

“Yeah, it’s like, I want to do normal teenaged shit, like get stoned with my friends after band class, but I can’t because I’m terrified I’m going to let it all out, and then they’re going to just ditch me because I’ll be that freak girl who makes up monsters.”

Steve ran his hand through his hair. “Yeah, I guess I never really thought of that. I always had Nancy, and then when I didn’t, I just channeled it into sports, I guess.”

“Ugh, sports,” Robin scoffed.

A moment passed between them.

“Dingus?”

“Yeah, Rob,” he closed his eyes, leaning his chin on his knee. He wondered if he had patience for more of her questions tonight. The lure of his bed at home seemed ever present, and sometimes he wanted to shut out the horror, to turn off his brain and think of sports and video games and the girls in magazines in his closet and not Hawkins and all of this shit.

“When I go to college, are you coming with me?”

He hadn’t thought of that, and he didn’t want to. The prospect of college felt far off, unwelcome, felt like something he wasn’t built to endure. He worried too much about his kids, his family, he had to take care of them now that Hopper was gone, and Joyce. He had to fill that void, subconsciously of course. “I don’t know, Rob. I haven’t thought that far ahead.”

“That’s fine,” she agreed. He was glad she knew he needed to take things slow. “I’m forcing you to apply for Family Video with me though.”

He groaned, flopping dramatically to the pillow beside her. She laughed and splayed a hand across his chest. “Think of the babes, Harrington.” She said softly. “Chicks love movies.”

Steve managed to slip out the door just as Mrs. Buckley was arriving home. The woman giggled her way up the stoop, slipping in heels, breath wine soaked. She gave Steve a kiss on the cheek, smearing her lipstick as she went, and he blushed as she grappled his arms for stability when she removed her shoes from her heels.

“Have a goodnight, Mrs. Buckley,” he managed, getting ready to close the door behind himself, but the woman stopped him with a slammed hand.

Her face went suddenly sober, eyes brimming with emotion. “Thank you for saving my little girl.”

He smiled softly and nodded. “Anytime, Mrs. Buckley,” and he meant it.

#steve harrington #robin buckley #stranger things #joe keery #maya hawke #autumn cosy #best friends fic #best friend movie night #mrs. buckley is great #steve is a softie #he loves his best friends #was just in the mood to write #fic #fanfiction #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington fanfiction

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