#I guess that’s why he is Mr. Jalapeño | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thriveonanonymity · 27 days ago

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Okay I have some thoughts about the vengence saga. Unfiltered through thoughts, just what I think about it after only a few listens (like less than a dozen.

This is going to be a long one.

The first half slaps quite a bit; The voice of Calypso is great, Troy is always a pleasure to hear and the writing fits them just as well as it did in wisdom and circe sagas respectfully.

Ballads like 'I'm not sorry for loving you' are songs that take me some time to get warm to, so i want say much about it.

Dangerous is a little slowed and burdened by the intro; if it were a musical and the albums we got were a soundtrack, I would cut the song to begin basically after the ody intro (though that would be just a bit difficult because it follows exactly into hermes' parts). It feels somewhat expositiony and isnt written as well as it could have been? I might be wrong here, thing is, it just doest sit with me well writing wise. Soon as Troy enters stage, Dangerous goes HARD. The back half of dangerous slaps incredibly, no notes. Big fan of ody's verse too. and oh my god the livestream animatic. ody fighting monsters and hermes is there just DANCIN, my boy

Now charybdis feels like a transitional song a lot, which is okay. One that is more exposition than anything. Shit you need to talk about and set up; youre gonna have those in a 40 song musical. For a transitional song its quite cool, though its kind of hard for me to say much else on it. The instrumental shift at the end just as posiedon arrives feels damn right.

Get in the water is amazing. I dont like how some limes are timed though, 'ruthlessness / is mercy upon / ourselves' is an obvious as a way to chop it, but i feel like the vocal riffs on it couldve been made a bit more interesting, it feels a bit disjointed, and that might be the point. I might be wrong here, im not much of a musician. Now why he timed the lines delivered by the dead like he did i do not know, i dont like it. It just doesnt fit the timescale of the instrumentation. I might be obviously incorrect to someone more musically aligned, but thats what i see. If i am correct, it might be so off to serve the narrative, monster and all. To show that these calls from the dead aren't here to help him, basically, they're here to haunt him, which would be my first interpretation if the lines were more coherent. If it was more coherent, i would read it the same way i read the baby tele flashback in god games. But that NOT being the message, the dead NOT giving him the resolve to go on, it just doesnt really work with the lyrics for the upcoming anime battle i feel. Im starting to ramble so ill move on.

Six hundred strike is very cool. Except for about a half second when he screams his attack name, that goody enough to take me out of the story, and that aint good, and the last lines post torture. Firstly, i love the fact that we come straight in with electric guitars, you can tell that cunning ody ain't fucking around. The battle itself is very epic, very grand, again, except for the 'six hundred strike'. Like. Horge. Mr. Jalapeño. What does that even fucking mean. I would get it if there was a line previously that was like "for every pain you caused" but like. Even then. It ought be plural. It just feels incredibly goofy and incongruous with the otherwise epic battle. Moving on. Torturing an immortal scene is always aweosme, and the execution is very good, ody's screams are very nice indeed. Vocals convey emotion quite well here, from both Jorge and Steven. The one thing i DO have a problem with is how they handled the last few lines. I understand what they are intended to do, and they do that, but they don't do the idea justice. It could have been made LESS like a piece of exposition, and i wish it was.

Generally i liked it??? I guess?????? Im not sure. Im not as dead hyped as i was after underworld or circe, but underowlrd is an act finale, and circe has me biased as it has some of my top songa from the musical so far. Vengance hits a little weak compared to wisdom, but that might be that i didnt have time to really proccess it. I felt similarly about underworld when it first released, to a lesser degree, but still. Maybe ill get around to it.

Also not a single beloved character died horribly.

Im disappointed, captain.

#epic the musical #epic the vengeance saga #its a review i guess????#if i had a nickel #for every time i used the tag 'its a review i guess????'#id have two nickels #which isnt a lot but its weird that it happened twice

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depressedacadamia · 4 years ago

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5 times Leo hit on Calypso as her Barista and one time it worked

Word Count: 3.8K

Summary: Coffee Shop AU! Calypso is running late one day so she ends up going to a coffee shop- what she doesn’t expect is for her barista to be Bad boy supreme

Later on in this fic, they sing this song.

Warnings?: Not much, terrible pick up lines, mainly fluff, making out.

A/N: This took me so long but alas, here it is! This is kinda my first official fluff and I tried okay. Anyway, enjoy, comment, share, like- you know the drill. <3 from moi!

The 1st Thursday

Calypso was not happy with the line she was waiting in. She was running late and thus was at a coffee shop- somewhere she preferred not to go. The weather was terrible, grey skies as well as heavy rain that had Calypso drenched. The stupid forecast hadn’t predicted the rain and thus she had left her apartment without an umbrella nor raincoat.

The coffee shop was small but cute, she had to admit. The staff seemed small but efficient and within a few minutes, Calypso found herself at the front of the line, face to face with a boy with rich dark tan skin and the most dazzling smile she had ever seen. He had long dimples and his dark curly hair would flop over his face in a cute manner.

“Hi, Welcome to Steamy Beans Coffee. I’m Super sized Mcshizzle and I will be taking your order today, do you have your order ready?” He looked up at the girl in front of him and immediately, his lips stretched into a lazy and goofy smile. She frowned at the nickname but internally she wanted to laugh, even his name badge read Super Sized Mcshizzle- Who called themselves that?

“Can I get a cappuccino with 2 espresso shots, please.” She reached into her bag to pull out her purse while the boy at the counter hummed and tapped at the machine in front of him.

“What kind of milk?” He looked up again, cheekily smiling as if he had something planned.

“Uh, almond is fine.”

“And your name?” He asked, pulling out a marker. Before she could answer, he cut in.

“Does your name start with a C-”

“-Actually it doe-”

“-Because I can C us together.”

Calypso resisted the urge to smile and instead raised an eyebrow at the horribly cheesy pick up line. Despite this, she was a bit impressed- Her name did technically start with a C.

“Calypso. That’s my name,” She told him as she walked away from the counter and sat at one of the stalls, waiting for her name to be called out.

The 2nd Thursday

Somehow, Calypso found herself queuing outside the same coffee shop the next Thursday. Whilst she told herself it was because the coffee was perfect, it was truly to see the brown haired grinning boy who had served her last week. Pick up lines weren’t really her poison, but he wasn’t creepy and even she had to admit it- He was cute.

As the queue grew shorter, she grabbed her purse ready to pay. She had subconsciously chosen to wear better clothes and style her hair today. Was it a stupid decision to wear white when drinking coffee? Absolutely. But Calypso was 100% willing to take the risk.

“Hi, welcome to Steamy Beans Coffee. I’m Bad Boy Supreme and I will be taking your order today, do you have an order ready?” The boy looked up, with his hair flopping about. He had rolled his sleeves up and Calypso, who wasn’t about to get caught, quickly averted her eyes elsewhere. She noticed that his name had changed- so had his badge. Did he have a collection of these names? She’d have to ask him next time.

Oh, so there will be a next time, huh? She asked herself.

Shut up.

“Oh. Calypso, right? Same as last time?” He asked as he hovered his finger over the machine.

“Oh, yeah. Cappuccino please.”

As she waited for her name to be called out, she pulled out her sketchbook and started sketching the cute barista. From his elf like ears to his slanted chocolate eyes and the funny curl that went in the complete opposite direction of his hair earning him a messy hair look. It was only a basic sketch but it had outlined him.

“Cappuccino for Calypso?” a familiar voice called out. She was slightly surprised to find her Barista also handing off her coffee but she also quite flattered. Or maybe she was just overthinking this. He could easily just have switched around for a friend- it can’t have been just for her.

“Thanks,” she murmured as she reached into her purse, trying to find the appropriate change in her purse.

“You and I are like nachos with jalapeños. I'm super cheesy, you're super hot, and we belong together.” The pick up line rolled off his tongue as he leant over the counter separating them. He had a smirk that made Calypso immediately lose her strong front and spill her change all over the counter.

“What?!” she sputtered as her eyes darted to the change. She managed to scoop most of it into her arms without looking too much like a fool. She quickly grabbed her coffee and made her way out of the shop as fast as she possibly could, hoping she didn’t look as ridiculous as she thought she did.

The 3rd Thursday

“You don’t understand, last time the pick up line was creepy. She probably thinks I’m a weirdo now!” Leo groaned as he slammed his head on the counter beside his friend Will who always worked the same shift as him. Unfortunately, Will did not get to witness what Leo kept on describing as ‘a catastrophe’.

“She won’t come in today, I bet. Ugh, I really screwed up.”

“It really can’t have been that bad!” Will argued, dragging Leo by the arm to the front counter.

“I said You and I are like nachos with Jalapenos. I’m super cheesy, you’re super hot and we belong together.”

Will cringed. “Okay, that is bad.”

Calypso could not believe she was coming back to the coffee shop. The previous pick up line was terrible, in fact it was almost as bad as the ‘I’m here, what are your other two wishes’ pick up line that a creepy person had used on her earlier but in all honesty it wasn’t the barista that was the problem. It was the fact that she could not crush over someone with pickup lines as bad as those. This time, she had decided to use her card to pay so she wouldn’t have to deal with spilt change everywhere.

“Hi, welcome to Steamy Beans Coffee. I’m Commander tool Belt- that’s because my major is engineering and I fixed the old coffee machine- how can I help you?” The curly haired boy in front of her said miserably while slumped behind the counter with his face practically leaning on the machine.

“I was hoping for the usual?” Her meek voice came out questioning. Leo’s head shot off the counter, almost slamming into the machine.

“Wow… uh cappuccino again?”

“Yep…” she searched for something to say. “So engineering major huh?”

“Mhmm. I like making things I guess. What about you?”

“Natural sciences. I was going to do art but I guess plants and animals are more of my poison.” She shrugged.

“You can draw?” he asked, his voice peaking interest and turning around slightly.

“Yes, why do you sound so surprised at that?”

He batted his hand. “Oh nothing, just something we have in common.” He then winked and Calypso had to do everything she could to not react. She stood in front of the counter, waiting for her coffee but saw that her barista was screwing his eyes up and writing something on a cup. She wanted to pull out her sketchbook and draw the cute face he was pulling, leaning back and holding the cup in front of him as if it were an invention he had never seen.

“Cappuccino for Calypso!” A sing-song voice that could only be her barista called out. She had to admit, his voice was not bad. In fact, it was quite impressive and it had a nice harmonious tune to it.

“Thank you…” she said in a suspicious tone, as she swiped her card over the contactless payment machine. Her barista was suspiciously silent and she had yet to hear a terrible pick up line. He had a mischievous smile as if he had set something on fire and not told anyone anything about it. As she picked up her coffee, she noticed a lot more black marker on the cup and held it away from her face to read it.

Are you made of Copper and tellurium? Because you are CuTe.

She wanted to face palm at such a classic science pun but she was also impressed that he knew elements of the periodic table so easily. She let out a small laugh to let him know that she had noticed the pick up line before she took a small sip and smiled.

The 4th Thursday

“I’m telling you, she actually laughed at the line! That’s a good thing right?” Leo asked as he put on his apron.

“And I’m telling you, if you want her to go out with you, hit her with a star wars pun,” Will ugred while tying his apron behind his back.

“You’re obsessed with star wars.”

“Hey, it worked for me and Nico!” Will pointed out as they made their way to the counter.

“Sun boy, we all know you and Mr Debbie Downer did not get together over Star Wars pick up lines,” Leo argued.

Calypso was running late. She hated being late. It was like slowly ticking off the boxes for panic 101. She was wearing mismatched socks, had the wrong books for class and the laces of her shoes were untied. At least the line was significantly shorter than usual and while normally that would have made Calypso question the occasion, she was too much in a rush to truly care.

As she ran in, she tripped over her laces and almost fell had it not been for the arms of the person in front of her. As she looked up to find her saviour, she found herself face to face with the curly brown haired boy who today wore the badge of ‘Admiral Leo’. She thought Leo was a nice name and it suited him very well- much better than any other name would have.

“Hey, tie your shoes!” he scolded her and she was surprised by his concern over her safety. Alas, she had spoken too soon,

“I don’t want you falling for anyone else.” he murmured, his lips right by her ear and his hot breath making goosebumps form all across her neck. He then reached down onto his knees, and did her laces. However, she noticed the manner he did them were different to how she would normally do them.

“You know that’s how children do their laces, right?” Her hands rested on her hips as he gasped dramatically and held his hand over his heart.

“Are you calling me a child?”

Before she could say yes, he cut her off.

“The answer is I totally am a child because that means I can eat off the child menu,” He grinned foolishly. “Life hacks with Admiral Leo!”

The 5th Thursday

“I’m telling you Leo- Make the Star Wars pun. Please! For me, do it for me!” Will begged as he tied Leo’s apron for him. Leo was reluctant to go with a Star Wars pun. He didn’t know if Calypso would get it or if she was into nerdy stuff like that but he was running out of ideas. He hadn’t gotten any terrible sparks of inspiration and the Star Wars inspired pun that Will had told him couldt go too badly?

Nervously, Leo waited behind the counter, his hands tapping as if he had just slapped on a nicotine patch and then glugged 6 espresso’s. In other words, Leo was anxious. If he just made the drinks without thinking about it, he could get his mind off it but when he started remembering that she may walk in at any moment, he could feel his hands shake and his stomach begin to churn.

Calypso was very happy. She had no classes today, no research studies to deal with and she had even managed her time well enough to hang out with a friend before heading towards her newly found and now favourite coffee shop. She knew it was it because of a certain curly haired and cheekily grinning boy.

“Hello, welcome to Steamy Beans Coffee, I’m Flaming Valdez- don’t ask please- how can I assist you today?” He once again looked up and when seeing Calypso, he recited her order before the words could come out of her mouth.

“Cappuccino with 2 espresso shots and almond milk?”

Calypso, a bit shocked, nodded. She could feel small butterflies forming in her stomach thinking about how Leo had memorised her order.

Stop being silly. He probably memorises every regular’s order.

“Soo… Flaming Valdez… what’s the story behind that?” She asked, despite his warning. Leo tipped his head back and let out a throaty laugh that had Calypso tingling all over- How can a person have such a gorgeous laugh? How can someone look so good while laughing?

“Oh, that’s a good story. Every year, we celebrate the owners birthday by having the shop to ourselves. No customers, just the staff chilling. Anyway, so it’s like 9pm and we’re all meant to be out because it was sunset an hour ago but instead we’re still in the shop. Everyone’s gathered right out there because your boy, Flaming Valdez, brought in Roman candles!” Leo pointed to the chairs and tables outside the shop.

“Roman candles?” Calypso asked, a tad confused. Her face scrunched up a bit and Leo almost died from how cute her face looked.

“They’re like fireworks. There’s a slight difference with how the shell explodes compared to fireworks and they are a much more traditional version of fireworks but…” He trailed off when he noticed Calypso’s confused face- he just managed to remember that she wasn’t a nerd like him and didn’t study fireworks in her freetime.

“Anyway, Will has the red ones and I have the green ones and so we literally start shooting them at each other like we’re re-enacting Harry Potter or something!”

“What! Can’t someone get set on fire from that?”

“Well yeah actually, they can. Will shoots one at me, sparks at my hair and sets it on fire. I’m running around trying to stop my burning hair while everyone is laughing. The crowd started cheering ‘Flaming Valdez’ and since then, they’ve adopted me that name. I’ve tried to get them to change it but it seems to stick,” he laughed while making her coffee.

“Yeah, I think I’ve seemed to notice. Super sized Mcshizzle, Bad boy supreme, Commander tool belt, Admiral Leo and today- Flaming Valdez.” She listed all the names he would wear on his badges off her fingers. However, that may have been a mistake because when she looked up, she saw Leo shooting her a sly grin that made the butterflies start going crazy in her stomach again.

“So you remember my names, huh?”

“It’s the nice thing to do,” she defended, a blush rising on her cheeks as she reached for some napkins.

Leo took a deep breath- he couldn’t believe that he was going to use Will’s Star Wars pick up line.

“Do you like Star Wars? Cause Yoda only one for me.” The words practically rolled off his tongue and Calypso froze before breaking in laughter. She couldn't hold it in anymore- this was by far the funniest of all the pick up lines he had used. She pulled out a pen and scribbled something down on her sketchpad before ripping it out.

Leo, distraught, watched as she laughed at the pick up line. He should have listened to his gut and never made the pick up line. Oh gosh, he looked like an absolute loser now. Who makes Star Wars puns other than nerds? He handed Calypso the coffee and watched as she quickly left.

He noticed the sketch she had left behind, it looked oddly familiar. In fact, he could have sworn it looked just like him. She had been sketching him everytime she waited for her coffee. He traced finger gently over the outline of his face, smiling. She had drawn everything in such detail, he felt like he was looking in the mirror but at the same time he felt she had facetuned him and made him look.. Well, perfect. Did she think he needed all these faults fixed? Or was this just how she saw him? She somehow made every flaw seem gorgeous and beautiful and he didn’t know how to feel as he looked at the bottom of the sketch.

His eyes widened as he read the note left at the bottom of the sketch.

Hey Leonidas (your co-worker told me that). Here’s my number - 07669833256.

P.S- Star Wars puns ALWAYS work.

Yours truly, Calypso

“Leo? Are you good?” Will stopped to ask him.

“Star Wars puns always work- you were right,” he said starstruck.

The Next Friday

“Mamacita, get off those tables, I need to clean them,” Leo huffed, holding a spray bottle threateningly and a cloth in his other hand. Calypso, giggling and giddy hopped off the table. She watched as Leo quickly sprayed it down before wiping it.

“Are you checking me out?” Leo’s smug voice cut through Calypso’s thoughts, snapping her out of mind. Her initial reaction was to stutter and wildly deny it however today at 7pm, she felt more bold than usual and decided to tease him a bit.

“So what if I was?”

Leo almost froze at the bold response, not expecting the reaction from her. They’d been officially going out for one week and so far, Calypso had been quite shy. A kiss on the cheek here and there, a bit of innocent flirting but no one had really openly confessed their feelings. It was obvious to everyone around them that they liked each other but they seemed determined to have the other say it first.

“Well if you were… " He turned around to see her smirking with both hands on her hips. He was not losing to Calypso- he would make her confess her feelings first if it was the last thing he did. She sat herself on the counter behind her and beckoned Leo forward with her finger. He raised an eyebrow at the bold move but obliged.

Leo stood between Calypso’s thighs, his hands slipping around her waist. Their faces were close enough that if Calypso and Leo both moved their head slightly forward, they’d be kissing. Funnily enough, they both had started eating mints and chewing gum whenever they’d be with each other as if they were planning the moment.

“I still can’t believe those pick up lines worked,” Calypso sighed, her hands moving onto Leo’s shoulders, comfortably rubbing them back and forth.

“Bad Boy supreme is very much offended by those comments.”

“Nu uh. Ever since that blond co-worker of yours told me that your full name is Leonidas...” She paused to unsuccessfully hold in a small laugh. “...That your name is Leonidas, it’s been Leonidas and it will always be Leonidas to me.”

“Not even Leo?” He asked, his eyes entering puppy eyes mode. Calypso remained unimpressed and shook her head. Their eyes locked and they could feel each other's thoughts. Just as their heads were leaning in,the radio behind the counter bugged out and static started blaring everywhere. Calypso wanted to curse god- of coure something just had to ruin the moment. Immediately, the two students shoved their hands over their ears and Leo jumped over the counter to quickly fix the horrendous noise. A few minutes later, About Love by Marina started softly playing through the cafe’s speakers.

The moment seemed like it was manufactured for a movie. The beautiful sunset on the horizon, the romantic music and most of all, Leo’s playful smile as he held his hand out asking Calypso to dance. She, of course, accepted and the two twirled about in each other's arms. They weren’t very good and they kept on stepping on each other's toes but eventually they got into a position where Leo’s hands were wrapped around her waist and Calypso’s arms were thrown around Leo’s neck.

Leo watched as Calypso closed eyes and softly sang the words to the song under her breath.

“Started in the strangest way, didn’t see it coming.”

Leo started singing with her, “My head gets messy when I try to hide.”

“The things I love about you in my mind” Their voices were harmonious and in sync.

“I don’t really know a lot about love, a lot about love, a lot about love but you’re in my head, you’re my blood and it feels so good, it hurts so much.” Calypso had her head leaning on Leo’’s chest and she could hear the steady thumping of his heart quicken.

“Shall I take this as your confession of love to me?” He murmured into her hair. Calypso shot her head up so fast that she almost butted Leo in the chin.

“Hell no, Leonidas.”

Yet, as she said those words, her face leaned upwards towards Leo with her intense gaze falling to his lips. They looked soft, supple even and she felt so tempted to reach out and brush them. In fact, she felt so tempted to touch them that she didn’t even notice her actual hand reaching out to brush against his bottom lip.

Leo had to physically restrain himself from shivering when he felt Calypso’s finger brush over his bottom lip, dragging it back slightly before slowly setting her hand at the side of his face. Slowly, like they were two magnets slowly attracting each other, they leaned in. When they were practically breathing in each other's face, Leo decided to spring one more pick up line on Calypso.

“Did you know that my lips are skittles?” Leo cut in quickly. Calypso quickly frowned, not catching on. Leo continued, “ And you’re about to taste the rainbow.”

Calypso groaned, throwing her head back while Leo giggled to himself. Sick of chasing each other, Calypso grabbed Leo’s face with both her hands and smashed her lips into his, abruptly shutting him up. To say Leo was surprised would be the understatement of the year. He was in a true state of panic, thinking what he should do with his hands, his lips, his entire being. Her lips moved against his, encouraging him. He wrapped his hands around her waist, both of them moving up her back, pulling her into the kiss.

They pulled away for a brief second, looking each other in the eye before slamming their lips back together. Had anyone walked in on them, it would have only been appropriate to say that they were devouring each other- their lips pushed and their hands pulled. Their lips moved in sync and Calypso weaved her hands into Leo’s curls. It was demonically passionate as their tongues slipped across each other's lips. The heat of the kiss spread across Calypso’s face- the blush was so obvious, she felt like her lips were on fire. Nothing could have stopped them, not even if the entire world was on fire.

As they pulled away, Calypso had one more trick up her sleeve.

“As far I’m concerned, the rainbow tasted pretty damned good,” She remarked, referencing to Leo’s previous pick up line.

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lovelyyy-luna · 4 years ago

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time capsule

pairing: (peter parker x fem!reader)

fandom: avengers

type: fluff

word count: 843

a/n: sorry if this is really bad. Was kinda distracted while writing this.

date: march 29, 2021

masterlist

-flashback to kindergarten-

“Okay, class now did you all bring the items you wanted to put in the time capsule?”

The whole class tells your teacher, Ms. Reinhold, “Yes!”

“Awesome! Now I’m going to give you a few minutes to get everything ready! And then Mr. Gutierrez is going to seal them in tightly!”

Ned raises his hand, “Ms. Reinhold?”

“Yes, Ned?”

“How long until we get to open up the time capsule?”

“Well, we get to open it when you are all in your senior year! That’s twelve years away.”

The class then gets back to what they are going to put in the capsule. “Michelle, what are you going to put in the time capsule?”

“I'm writing a letter to myself and hopefully future me follows our plan to meet our goals.”

“What goals?”

“To be the first female president,” Michelle says confidently, putting the letter in the envelope.

Ned wobbles over to Peter, “Peter, what are you going to put in there?”

“Im writing a letter to Y/N! Gonna tell her that I like her!” he says happily putting a ‘to y/n, from peter’ on the back of the envelope and skipped over to the barrel and dropped the letter in.

-present day-

“Hey, ned why is everyone acting crazier than usual?”

“Dude, don't you remember? Twelve years ago we did that time capsule in Ms. Reinhold’s class.”

He chuckled, “Oh yeah.” Then he had a sudden realization, “Oh shit!”, he forgot that he professed his love to you in that letter.

“What’s wrong man?”

“I wrote a letter to Y/N!” he said, shaking Ned.

“So?”

“A love letter!”

“Oh! Well come on everyone is gathering in the gym to open it!”

They both run down the halls and walk into being greeted by their former kindergarten teacher, “Ms. Reinhold!”

“Oh, Peter! Ned! You two have grown up too much! You missed the opening but we are passing out all of your things.”

Ms. Reinhold continued to talk to the boys but Peter was distracted by you trying to find your things. Then Michelle handed you a letter.

You and Michelle walk to the bleachers and count down and open them. You wait for Michelle to finish hers and then on to yours. Peter ran over to you bumping into Ms. Reinhold.

“Hey peter I got a letter from you!” you say waving it in front of him.

He snatched it from your hand and said, “No you dont!”

“What the hell peter?”

He started to ramble on, “this letter isn’t for you! I-I don't even know why I put your name on there-”

The letter was then snatched by Flash, “what do we have here Parker?” he opens it and reads the letter, “Roses are red, Violets are blue, I think you're pretty, do you want to get some ice cream?” flash breaks down in laughter, “dude this shit is hilarious! It doesn’t even rhyme!”

You look at Peter and his face is pink and in a state of shock, then he runs out. Everyone in the gym watched and then looked back at you.

You excuse yourself and find him in the hallway banging his head against the wall.

“I heard if you do that enough times your brain becomes detached and free floats and you die,” you say.

He chuckled, “Is that true?”

“No. But I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. Listen Flash is just an asshole and-”

“Listen Y/N I was just a stupid kid back then with a stupid crush.”

Your heart breaks a little, “Oh so you dont like me?”

“Well I mean,” he sighs and hides behind his hand, “yeah I still like you.”

His cheeks and yours go red. “Well, I also have something for you as well,” you give him a letter that you wrote for him.

He reads aloud, “dear peter, I hope one day we live in a big castle and have a field of candy trees. I like your curly hair and the way you always have spicy jalapeño chips in class. Got to go see you at recess.”

You both laugh at the letter, “yeah the letter was a little bit all over the place.”

“So we both had a crush on each other for 12 years?”

“I guess so.”

“Guess what I have?” he grabs his backpack, opens it up, and reveals a bag of spicy jalapeño chips.

You laugh and take the chips from him, “Hey! Those are mine!” Peter tries to grab them from you and gets you against the lockers.

His face was close and he couldn’t stop smiling. He gives you a quick simple kiss and you pull him by his collar for another one.

When you both let go, he takes the bag of chips from you, “Hey!”

“Sorry but I believe these belong to me.” he starts walking down the hall and you catch up to him.

“Fine! But you owe some ice cream.”

Both of you laugh walking down the hallway holding hands.

♡please like, comment and/or reblog♡

wanna be tagged? (X)

tags: @amourtentiaa @allthisfortommy @l-some0wierd0girl-l

#lovelybean #marvel #marvel comics #avengers #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #spider-man #spider-man x reader #spider-man x you #spider-man x y/n #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n

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phantoms-lair · 5 years ago

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MSA Secret Santa

@accidental-child

Arthur sighed, leaning against the steering wheel of the van. The bus was a little late, but that wasn’t unexpected. Not out here at any rate.

There was a small selfish part of himself that wished he hadn’t picked up the phone that day. It was selfish - and ridiculous. The call had been at the garage, he needed to answer those calls!

It had been some great Aunt, or far removed cousin. He wasn’t quite sure how they were related. Apparently her son was originally going to spend summer break with one of his friends, but their trip had been cut short. The problem was said parents and their daughter had already made other arrangements and wanted to know if the aforementioned son could stay with Lance.

The problem was, Lance wasn’t there and wouldn’t be for a while. He was off on a road trip with some of his old buddies from his days when he absolutely positively was not a wrestler. It was a well overdue vacation and Arthur wasn’t going to call him back from it.

But something stopped him from just turning her down. It wasn’t her, but… it was the idea that their current plans ‘couldn’t be altered’. Lance had planned his trip to originally be last year, but he’d dropped everything after Arthur had turned up in a hospital without an arm. Also that they were reaching out to family that wasn’t that close at all made Arthur wonder if the closer relatives had also had plans that couldn’t be altered. It stank too much of no one wanting this kid, and damned if he was going to add to that

So here he was, waiting for a cousin he’d never met who’d be spending a month with him. He didn’t think it would matter so much if he wasn’t the age he was - 18. Younger would have been easier to slip into a child-guardian relationship and older meant this wouldn’t have been an issue in the first place. But 18 was an age of feeling you were coming into your own authority, and much more likely to take onus with someone a mere five years older than you being in charge.

The bus pulled up and Arthur braced himself. Two figures got off the bus, his cousin and...a dog? A rather large dog at that. Something else Aunt Wendy had forgot to mention. Hopefully it was good with other dogs and hamsters.

Pushing his misgivings aside, Arthur left the van with a big welcoming smile. No need to borrow trouble till it was here. “Hi, you must be Norville, right?”

The teen winced. “Like, call me Shaggy please. I hate Norville.”

“Done and done.” Arthur agreed readily. “The name Norville is thus dead and shall never be spoken from mine lips again.”

“Ri’m Scooby Doo.”

Another talking dog, huh. “Just to make certain, you’re not actually an ancient kitsune with an evil Japanese tree after you?”

“Like, not that we know of?” Shaggy looked confused. So did Scooby so Arthur let it slide.

“Okay, let’s get some food, and we can figure out stuff out.” Apparently he said the right word, because his cousin and dog perked up a lot. “Let me help you with your bags.” “Is your arm metal?” Shaggy asked, surprised.

“Sure is, made it myself.” Arthur wiggled his fingers at him, inwardly bracing himself. “That’s cool.” Shaggy said earnestly, picking up his other suitcase.

No ‘How did that happen?’ or ‘That must be so terrible’? Okay, thus far Arthur was counting this as a win.

“So,” Arthur started as they slid into a booth at Pepper Paradiso, “Let’s go over your options.”

“Options?” Shaggy asked, surprised.

“Yeah, you have two main options, and we can tweak them as need be. The first is what I told your Mom. You come to stay with me and my boyfriend and girlfriend. We’ve set up a spare room for you, and Scooby I guess, sorry no one told us he was coming.” “If you’d prefer not to deal with three people being kinda mushy, or just want more privacy I’d give you a key to Lance’s place. You could stay in my old room and basically have the house to yourself. I’d still be checking in everyday and making sure you had food and stuff, but other than that, you’d be on your own.”

Shaggy seemed to think a moment. “You have a boyfriend and a girlfriend? You can do that?” “Yes.” Arthur answered simply.

“Okay, like if it’s all the same, man, I’d rather stay with you. I don’t think me or Scoob want to be alone.”

Arthur tried not to take it as a warning sign. True, most teens would jump at the first chance to be on their own, but that was hardly universal. There was a small feeling that something was wrong, not just parental negligence. What, he didn’t know. And truthfully it could be nothing. Arthur had a tendency to jump to worst case scenarios (catastrophizing, his therapist had called it), so for now he’d wait and see.

“So is this the mysterious cousin?” Mrs Chef Pepper came over, winking .

“Yeah, this is Shaggy. Shaggy, this is one half of the best cooking team in Tempo, and honestly Texas.”

“Flatterer. My name’s Carmella Pepper. My husband’s running the kitchen, so I have the front end today. I assume the usual, Arthur?” “With no Cayenne additions, please.”

“She’s banned from the kitchen after the last hot sauce-strawberry shake.” Carmella assured him. “What about you, Shaggy?”

Shaggy looked at the menu. “Like, could Scoob and I each get a ‘Vivi Special’ “ he pointed to the menu.

She raised an eyebrow. With the exception of its namesake, the Vivi Special was usually ordered to be shared by a family. She’d never seen an order of two of them. “Do you want the plate of spicy chorizo or pancake poppers?” Scooby and Shaggy looked at each other. “One of each please. And, like separate checks? Mom set up an account for me for food and stuff.” Arthur tried to hide his relief. One extra mouth he could feed. Two more Vivi appetites would have strained his budget beyond feasibility.

~ “Lewis, Vivi— we’re home!” Arthur called, letting himself and his two guests in.

“Welcome home, Arty.” Lewis greeted, pulling his boyfriend in for a kiss. “So this must be Nor-”

“The name is not to be spoken. It has been cast into the abyss and replaced with Shaggy.” Arthur said with a completely straight face. “It has become one with the void.” Lewis rolled his eyes. “Sorry for the melodramatic one, I’m Lewis. Lewis Pepper.”

Shaggy shook his hand while Arthur sputtered over Lewis calling him melodramatic. “Pepper, like the people who run the restaurant?” “My parents.” Lewis explained.

“Wow, like they’re great cooks, man. It’s the first place me and Scooby found that we could be full off one thing on the menu.” “If you can call the ‘Vivi Special’ one thing.” Arthur quipped.

“Someone call me?” Vivi slid into the front room, literally, her socks holding no traction on the hardwood floor, causing her to crash into Lewis. “Arthur’s cousin Shaggy is a fan of your addition to my parents menu.” Lewis said.

“Ooooo Did you get the version with the spicy chorizo or pancake poppers?”

“Like, Scoob and I got one of each. I really liked Aztec Chocolate sauce on the sweet chili!”

“I know! And the smoked gouda filled jalapeño poppers!”

“Arthur, I think our girlfriend just adopted your cousin.” Lewis commented.

Vivi stretched as she got home from her morning shift at the Tome Tomb. Arthur was having a full day at Kingsmen’s, so she figured she’d check in on Shaggy and Scooby before getting in some serious cuddle time with Lewis.

She found them in the living room, Shaggy was looking at a book. Not reading it, but staring at the cover, while Scooby leaned against him comfortingly. “Everything okay boys?” She asked softly.

Shaggy took a moment to answer. “Do you believe in this stuff? Magic and monsters?” “As a matter of fact I do.” She tried to keep the humor out of her voice. Shaggy had no idea he was spending the remainder of his summer with a ghost and a kitsune. “Do you?”

Shaggy didn’t answer. “Doesn’t it scare you?” he asked.

“The supernatural? Not really. Or at least, not more than anything else.” She sat down next to him. “There’s good and bad magic, just like there’s good and bad technology. Some beings are friendly, some just want to be left alone, and some are truly evil, just like people. You always, always, have to be careful. But I’d rather know, you know?” Shaggy shook his head. “Like, I think I’d rather not.” He looked at the book again. “Like, have you ever heard of something called the Chest of Demons?”

“Not off the top of my head, why?”

Shaggy shook his head. “Nothing, like what’s for lunch?” Vivi accepted the topic change, but didn’t forget what she’d heard. This merited some digging into.

Arthur felt dead on his feet (though not quite as much as Lewis, ha!) as he got home that evening. Working in the garage was one thing, but running it was quite another. He couldn’t wait for Lance to get back.

It was Vivi who greeted him at the door, wrapping her arms around him and squeezing him. Arthur melted into the embrace, the warmth he felt in his heart giving him back the strength spent on budget balancing and unruly customers.

But as he felt himself relax, he realized she wasn’t easing up. Something was wrong. “What is it, Vi?”

“Your cousin.” She answered, her head still buried in the crook of Arthur’s neck. “He was looking at my books and mentioned something called the Chest of Demons. I hadn’t heard of it, so I sent out some feelers.”

“Bad?” Arthur guessed, as if the name didn’t give that away.

“Not just the chest itself. I still don’t know what it is, because one of the few things I did manage to learn is it’s protected by near total secrecy. It’s not something he could have just randomly heard of.”

Arthur’s mouth set into a grim frown. He could think of a few reasons, but none of them were good.

“And this isn’t some random client messing with something he shouldn’t, he’s your cousin and I like him, but this is serious.”

“I’ll talk to him.” Arthur promised.

“No!” Vivi squeezed him tighter. “I don’t want to think he’s up to anything bad, but-” Honestly with how Shaggy had reacted to ‘Magic and Monsters’ she doubted it, but she couldn’t be sure and she wasn’t willing to put any of her boys in the path of danger.

Arthur laid a gentle kiss on her forehead. “You can have one of the Beats watching over us if it makes you feel better, but we can’t leave this alone and he’s nervous enough I don’t want him to feel like we’re ganging up on him.”

“That still puts you at risk,” Vivi argued.

“There’s always a risk, love. And you can’t take all of them for me. And I think this is a small one. Have you talked to Lewis yet?”

“Talked to be about what?” Lewis popped his head in. “You guys were taking a while. Is everything okay?”

“Shaggy may or may not have gotten mixed up in something supernatural and I want to talk to him about it. I want to do it alone so I don’t overwhelm him, but Vivi doesn’t want me to go talk about an evil artifact with the person who brought it up by myself. I volunteered to take a Beat with me.” “Take Mystery too.” Lewis suggested. “Shaggy likes him, so he wouldn’t feel ganged up on.”

Vivi let out a sigh of relief. “I love your Deadbeats, Lew, but I feel a lot better about that plan.”

“Hey Shaggy,” Arthur sat down. Mystery curled up by his feet, looking innocuous, but keeping a careful eye on Shaggy and Scooby.

“Hey,” Shaggy didn’t look up from the video game he was playing. “Like, how was work?”

“Not too bad. Can we talk about something?”

“Sure, man.” Shaggy paused the game. “What’s up?”

So many questions ran through Arthur’s head. Why do you know about the Chest of Demon? How did you find out about it? How much do you know? But there was one question he felt the need to ask above all the others.

“Are you in any danger?”

Shaggy blinked, caught completely off guard. “Huh?”

“You brought up something called the Chest of Demons to Vivi today. She did some digging. It was bad.” Arthur kept it vague to hide how much he didn’t know. “It’s also not a name you’d just stumble on. So, are you in any danger?” Shaggy deflated. “Like, not right now. Probably later. Thirteen seems to be keeping a low profile, but given the other twelve? At least Boggle and Weird are sealed up.”

Okay, Arthur didn’t understand any of that after ‘Probably later’. “Can you start at the beginning?”

“Okay, so like originally the five us were supposed to spend the summer on a global road trip, but Fred and Velma ended up going to camp, so like it was just me, Scooby, and Daphne. And we kinda sorta got lost. We ended up in the place where the chest was hidden. There were these two ghosts, Boggle and Weird. They wanted the thirteen evil spirits in the chest free, but it can only be opened by the living. So they tricked me and Scoob into opening it.and setting their masters free.”

Shaggy then rolled his eyes. “And of course only the ones who open the chest can return them, so like, suddenly we’re chasing down the nastiest ghoulies this side of the River Styx. We got the first twelve and got Boggle and Weird sucked in for good measure but with no sign of number thirteen Vincent cut us loose till he finds him.”

“Vincent?” Arthur inquired.

“A mystic who knows a lot about the Chest of Demon and it’s prisoners. He’s been helping us.” Shaggy shrugged. “Daphne suggested continuing our vacation while we’re on break, but I just kinda wanted to go home.” “Did you tell your family any of this?” Arthur wondered.

His cousin snorted. “Besides you? Like no one would believe me! And Daphne….” Shaggy trailed off.

“And Daphne?” Arthur prompted.

“It sounds weird to say, but this seemed to be, like, good for her? Before she kinda followed whatever Fred said. This summer though, she was taking charge and becoming more confident in herself. And like, I’m happy for her, but it means-” Shaggy seemed to struggle for his words, Scooby putting a reassuring head on his knee. “I’m a coward. I’d rather run from scary things than fight them. And I know I have to get them back in the box, cause it’s my fault they’re out-”

“Rour fault,” Scooby corrected.

“-but I’m scared all the time and I don’t want to be and no one but Scoob seems to get that.”

“Of course you’re scared,” Arthur scoffed. “You’ve had thirteen evil spirits after you. That’s objectively terrifying. You’d be crazy not to be scared.”

Boy and dog seemed taken aback.

While he couldn’t say he had been expecting those details, at least this lined up with what Arthur suspected, that Shaggy had stumbled into trouble, not sought it out.

“Okay, so first things first, what do you know about Spirit #13? What kind of spirit is it?” Arthur’s voice was all business.

“Not yet, Vincent usually tells us about them as he finds them.” Shaggy explained.

“If you can contact him, see if you can find out what we’re dealing with. It’ll be more effective if we can narrow that down.”

“What will be?” Shaggy asked, confused.

“Protective wards. That reminds me. Lewis, Vivi, Shaggy has a potential evil spirit after him. Brainstorming time.” “Huh?”

Lewis and Vivi showed up a bit too quickly to not have been listening in, but Arthur hoped Shaggy wouldn’t notice.

“There’s already some basic wards against hostile entities on the house, Pepper Paradiso, Lance’s, Kingsmen’s, and the Tome Tomb.” Vivi listed.

“I’ve got a few things around town warning me of anything of any level of power entering.” Mystery put forth. “It’s only weak spot is the lake.”

“Which has a protector of its own.” Arthur had a wry grin. “Nothing coming in from that side.”

Shaggy and Scooby shared a confused look. “You guys had this already set up?”

“You get surprised by a Jubokko once, you take precautions.” Vivi said dryly. “But this is all general stuff. The more specifics we know, the better defenses we can make. We can also figure out what places near your home we need to ward, or come up with something portable.”

Shaggy just looked between the four of them, confused. “Why?”

Lewis took a deep breath ( or at least mimed doing so). “Shaggy, you’re Arthur’s cousin, do you know what that means?”

Shaggy shook his head.

“It means you’re family, you’re our family. And we protect family however we can.” Lewis stated. “And we know monsters exist. We’ll be ready.”

Shaggy seemed at a loss for words. His mouth opened and closed a few times. “Thank you,” he finally whispered, his voice raw with emotion.

Arthur pulled him into a hug. “That’s what family does.”

#Accidental-Child #MSA #Scooby Doo #MSAHolidaySpirits2019

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littleredroseonthevalley · 4 years ago

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Voyage, Voyage

Summary: Emily is tired of pretending to be a nice girl, so she runs away with someone just as tired as she is.

Rating: T - Suitable for teens, 13 years and older, with some violence, minor coarse language, and minor suggestive adult themes.

Words: 1019

Notes: Well, how about a non-dumbass TF MC?

“Do you think we will ever be like this again?”

“Be like what?”

“Like this. All together. Talking, eating, laughing. Sharing our lives, you know?”

“Of course, we will. We are best friends, we’re the real thing.”

“Just you look, this time, next year, we’ll be all together again!”

“Besides, all the shit we’ve been through. I mean, I bet no-one else in this campus had to deal with an entitled fraternity moonlighting as a criminal enterprise. That gotta to make people stick together.”

“You mean, twice?”

“Fuck you. Kappa Phi Sigma was an upstanding organization.”

“I meant the Delacroix corporation. You’re so defensive about it. Have anything to share with the group?”

“Guys, please.”

“I just mean, we lived together, and then we lived apart. We survived college together, and all the extra shit life threw at us. Do you really think we will drift apart?”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. I’m worried over nothing. Hey, pass me up those jalapeños!”

Emily often looks back to that moment in time, more often than she does towards her actual graduation. It was the last time she had her friends from college over at her apartment in Hartfeld, the night before her graduation ceremony.

Everyone was rather wistful, feeling the impending change on their sheltered lives, real world glared at them, feeling hungry for eating them whole. Amongst the turmoil, Zack turned to his friends and wondered aloud if they could count on each other for support.

Them all nodded enthusiastically, assuring they would be friends for life. That they were there for support, for each other.

Except for Emily herself.

Perhaps she was just bitter and cynic, her parents would not come for her graduation, not that she expected them to, and she had been through it all in high school, of promises of friendship that would not survive the Summer. Perhaps she had the benefit of foresight, knowing she would not be there for them, regardless of them being there for her.

Nevertheless, the fact was, Emily certainly did not believe it, and while she did not burst their bubble, as it would be out of the character she so painstakingly built over her four years of college, she did not echo their assurances.

She was done with the whole charade, she was over college. Call it her own send-off.

And, hey, turns out she was right all along. No-one ever called her up, hit her up on Pictagram or anything, and as far away she was now, her social media stayed exactly the same. Perhaps they knew all along she was faking it, but she doubts it. The truth to the matter was that they did not care. People did not care, and at least now she was free of pretending otherwise. So, she did not regret following through her plan.

In the morning, she did her make-up beautifully, tied up her red hair and went on to pick up her diploma. Her name was up, she crossed the stage, had her valedictorian speech that moved audiences, received the most overpriced piece of paper in the East Coast, shook hands with the Dean and left, with great care not to cross paths with anyone.

Her suitcase in tow and passport in hands, she hailed a cab and went to the airport.

“Looking for me?” He had said from behind her.

Emily smirked, as the young man’s voice sent chills down her spine. Not that she was on the mood of letting him know it. Leave him wanting, keep him guessing, just for a little while, for a little bit of fun.

Without turning around, she responded, “I might. What do you have for me?”

“Two tickets to anywhere and a promise for a life without boredom.” He responded, with a smirk of his own.

Then, she turned and took the tickets from his hands. “Look at that, you are what I am looking for.”

With that, they kissed passionately in the middle of the airport lounge. Soon afterwards, they boarded their flight and begun their journey around the world.

“What are you doing?” A voice was heard from behind Emily, on the hotel room they were currently staying.

She turned to him and smiled. “Just thinking.”

“The world should beware. Nothing good comes from you thinking.” He kissed her forehead. “I suppose we have that in common.”

She laughed. “I disagree. My ideas are mostly self-indulgent, different from yours, Mr. Criminal Arsonist.”

“You wound me, babe. You know I chose you to torment especially because I saw you as my equal.” He smirked.

“Here I was, thinking you just had a thing for redheads.” Emily smirked.

“Well, that had some thing to do with that.” He laughed. “What were you thinking about?”

“Falseness.” It was the response. “Pretentiousness. Pettiness. Boredom. All those lovely things we ran halfway across the world to escape.”

“And why, pray tell, are you spending time with such things?”

She smiled at him. “Not to take for granted what I have now.”

The blond man laughed of happiness and kissed her on the lips for the implication. He could not claim many instances in his life when people felt glad to have him, much less worry they were taking him for granted.

Emerging from the kiss, he said, “Well, am I not the luckiest man in the world?”

“Yes. Yes, you are.” She smirked haughtily at him.

“So, Mrs. Sterling, where are we going now?” Nathan asked, taking out his mobile phone and ready to schedule their first-class tickets. “India? Thailand? The Amazon?”

“Well, I don’t really know, Mr. Sterling.” She pouted, pretending to think hard about his question. “Anywhere is fine by me, as long as we can be alone, together.”

“That might be arranged.” He smirked. “Do you want to have a head start on that whole thing of alone together right now?”

“I thought you would never ask.” She met his smirk with a devious one of her own and unhooked her bra. “Put up the Do Not Disturb sign, will you? We have a long night ahead of us.”

#the senior #Nathan Sterling

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kaychawrites · 6 years ago

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TRP: Valentine’s Day One-shot

My Hero Academia One-shot

Characters: Katsuki Bakugou, Kia Hales (OC)

Rating: K

Tag List: @rageyoudamnednerd @fourth-best-jeanist @bettyvampyra @cobblepottantrum

Valentine’s Day

Bakugou and Kia were making their way to the agency when he noticed all the flowers and hearts. Tch, that’s right Valentine’s Day is tomorrow, Bakugou thought to himself. He hated Valentine’s Day every year he would get bombarded with girls wanting to give him chocolates and gifts. It didn’t seem to matter how rude or mean he was it never deterred the girls from trying to push their feelings on him.

“How do you celebrate Valentine’s Day here in Japan?” Kia asked suddenly.

“Heh?” Bakugou replied.

“Are you gonna ask someone to be your Valentine?” she teased.

“Girls are the ones who give gifts on Valentine’s Day. Guy’s give gifts next month, on White Day,” Bakugou grumbled.

“Really? Is it just couples or do friends give gifts too?”

“Why the hell are you asking me?”

“Just wondering, maybe I should call Mina and Ochaco?” Kia pulled out her phone and started texting her two friends. The conversation was dropped between them as they reach the agency.

%%%%%

They got back to the agency early that evening and Kia got dressed in her street clothes. “Hey, B, I’m going out with the gals. See ya later!” she said, waving as she left.

Kia hurried to the bus stop and took the next bus to the shopping center where Mina and Ochaco were going to meet her at. She spotted the two heroes as soon as she entered the shopping complex.

“Hey!” Kia called out to her friends.

“Kia, you made it!” Ochaco cheered.

“You ready to do some shopping?” Mina asked. The three of them started walking through the store looking at all the shops.

“So, what do people usually do for Valentine’s Day?” Kia asked them. “B said that the girls are usually the ones that give gifts.”

“Yep, girls will give chocolates or sweets to the guy they like!” Ochaco explained.

“Can you give your friends gifts too?” Kia asked.

“Yeah! You have a couple people in mind?” Mina asked throwing her arm around Ochaco.

“Maybe,” Kia laughed.

“Well let’s get shopping then!” Ochaco said throwing a fist in the air.

They walked around looking at all kinds of stores and helping each other pick out gifts. After about an hour they were headed to the entrance of the shopping center.

“Did you get all the gifts you needed?” Ochaco asked.

“I did!” Mina replied holding up her bags.

“I still have one more,” Kia replied.

“There is a sweet shop! Maybe you can find something in there?” Ochaco said. They all went into the shop and started browsing the shelves. Kia looked at all the cute chocolates and sweets and shook her head.

“I don’t think he will like any of this,” Kia said.

“Are you talking about Bakugou?” Mina asked.

“He used to get all kinds of gifts back in school, but he would always leave them in the dorm common area for everyone else to eat,” Ochaco said.

Kia paused by a stand of cupcakes and a smile spread across her face. “I know what I’m going to do! I will see you two tomorrow, ok!” Kia said as she left the store at a jog.

“She seems excited,” Ochaco smiled.

“I can’t wait to see what she comes up with!” Mina giggled.

%%%%%

Bakugou got back late. He walked into his apartment and made his way to the kitchen. Opening the fridge he didn’t find anything appealing to eat. I wonder if Sunshine made extra again, he thought as he headed to his balcony. He opened his sliding door and headed to the gate that separated his balcony from Kia’s. Sometimes he was thankful that she lived next door, especially on days when he didn’t feel like cooking. He reached out to open her door and was surprised when it didn’t budge. Kia always left her door open for him. Annoyed, Bakugou tapped on the glass.

After a couple seconds Kia’s face appeared around the curtain. She unlocked the door and cracked it open, just enough for her to speak through. “Sorry, B, you can’t come over today.”

“Why the hell not?” Bakugou asked in surprise.

“I’m busy,” Kia replied.

Bakugou was about to snap back at her when a delicious aroma wafted through the door. “What are you making? It smells good,” he asked.

“Sorry, B gotta go!” Kia smiled before shutting the door and locking it.

Bakugou stood there with his mouth agape. Kia had never locked him out before. He felt his mood souring as he trudged back to his apartment.

%%%%%

The next morning he left for the agency without waiting for Kia. He was walking down the street when Kia caught up to him.

“Morning, B. Happy Valentine’s Day!” she smiled at him. Bakugou ignored her and turned away. “Hey are you still mad I wouldn’t let you come over last night?” she asked.

“Tch,”

“Jeez, quit being such a baby,” Kia said, grabbing his arm. Bakugou huffed and walked faster, until he had to stop at the next crosswalk. “How about I make you dinner tonight to make it up to you?” Kia baited. Bakugou looked over at her and she gave him a big cheesy smile.

“Fine,” he grumbled as the light turned.

When they reached the agency they ran into Jeanist and Nina in the foyer.

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” Nina said.

“Happy Valentine’s Day! Here, I got something for both of you!” Kia said as she started digging through her bag. She pulled out two small bags with chocolates in them and handed them to Jeanist and Nina.

“Thank you, Miss Hales,” Jeanist nodded.

“Aww, you didn’t have to get us anything!” Nina added.

“I wanted to show my appreciation,” Kia said.

She said her goodbyes and followed Bakugou to their office. After checking their email and getting their costumes on they headed out on patrol.

“Hey, can we go and see a few of the others while we patrol?” Kia asked, slinging her bag onto her shoulder.

“Tch, why? You gonna give out more Valentine’s,” he asked.

“Of course! I’ve got gifts for all my friends, Mr., and Mrs. Kawahara too!” Kia replied excitedly.

After getting his bike, Bakugou drove all around so Kia could deliver her gifts. With every gift delivered Bakugou’s mood got worse and worse. At the end of the day he wasn’t even talking to anyone as he and Kia headed home.

“Are you still coming over for dinner?” Kia asked.

“Tch, I’ve had enough for today. I’m going to just go to bed.” Bakugou growled as he entered his apartment.

Kia rolled her eyes as he slammed his door. She hurried into her apartment and grabbed a small box from her counter before heading out onto the balcony. She walked over to Bakugou’s door and was pleased to find it open. Sliding the door open she stepped inside to find him sitting on his couch flipping through the channels on the TV.

“You sure you don’t want to come over and eat?” Kia asked as she leaned against the back of the couch.

“Tch,”

“Seriously, B, you are so easy to read. You really think I didn’t get you anything?” Kia giggled before holding out a small box in front of him. Bakugou stared at the box then looked over at his partner. “Happy Valentine’s Day, B! Thanks for being my partner!”

He reached out and took the box from her. Opening it up, he pulled out a cupcake. “What is this?” he asked.

“What does it look like?” Kia said as she walked around the couch and sat next to him.

“I’m not big on sweets,” he said.

“Really? I would never have guessed,” Kia said sarcastically. “Just try it.”

Bakugou held the cupcake up and looked at it. The bottom was wrapped in a green paper cup with lines on it to make it look like one of his grenades. The frosting was colored yellow, red and orange. He glanced at her one more time before taking a bite. He was expecting it to taste like a regular cupcake so he was surprised when he tasted cream cheese and jalapeños. The cupcake was a mix of sweet and spicy.

“How is it?” Kia asked. “I filled the cake with jalapeno jam. I thought you might like something with a kick.”

Bakugou took another big bite of the cupcake and looked over at her. The look on her face made a warm feeling spread through his chest. “It’s good,” he replied. “Here try it.” He held the cupcake out to her. Kia leaned forward and took a bite out of the cupcake. She sat back and he noticed there was bit of frosting still on her lips.

“It tastes amazing!” Kia said with a smile.

Bakugou reached out and wiped the frosting from her lips with his thumb. Kia watched him in surprise as he licked the excess frosting from his finger. “It sure does,” he said with a smirk.

Hope you all liked it!

#happy valentine's day #mha #bnha #My hero academia katsuki #boku no hero academia #ground zero #fanfiction #oneshot #OC #TRP #Kia Hales #@kaychawrites

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thetenthdoctorscompanion · 6 years ago

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A One Shot Series - Peter Parker/OC

Word Count: 3285

Warnings: Idk language? Teens being awkward and fluffy.

A/N: Do you like how every time I post a ‘one shot’ I add another eight hundred words? Eventually these won’t even be one shots lmao.

MASTERLIST | PREV | Three

The full magnitude of what he had done didn’t hit him until the next morning. Peter woke with a start, the words tumbling out of his mouth in a half-formed haze.

“I tol’ ‘er em Spid-man!”

“What was that, Pete?” asked Aunt May, who was unloading a basket of laundry onto his dresser.

“Uh—nothing! Sorry, um…morning, May.”

“You too, sleepy head. Get going, will you? I don’t want you to be late again.”

Peter was anxious all morning. He sprinted to the train, to school, to class. Even when he was safely in his seat, five minutes before the bell, he couldn’t stop himself from twitching. What if she told someone? Would it matter? What if someone followed him back to his apartment one day? What if they found out who he was? What if May found out what he was doing? Shit, if May found out what he was doing he was so, so, so dead. No one could know what he was doing.

The whole day, Peter kept expecting someone to point at him and say, “Look!” But no one did. He told himself he was being irrational. He hadn’t even told Yasmin who he was, just the name of the mask. There was no way she’d be able to recognize him. They weren’t even really friends.

He kept an eye on the news as well, just in case there was any gossip. One of the local channels covered the break-in the next morning, but it was a short piece. There were a couple shots of the store, one or two of Mr. Delmar talking to the police, but it was all swept under a tight voiceover. Two robbers, one gun, apprehended by a masked individual before the police could arrive. No name, no sketch, and no mention of spider-webs. For the most part, he seemed to be in the clear.

Still, Peter decided it was better safe than sorry. He skipped out on his trips to the Delmar’s bodega for the next week or so. It didn’t look like they were losing patronage anyway. Any time he dared to pass on the corner, the place was packed with customers. Mr. Delmar had the front door replaced the afternoon after the robbery, and the new metal stood out against the window frames. Peter could only imagine that he’d been explaining what happened all week. Everyone wanted to hear the story for themselves.

Or maybe they just really liked Milo’s sandwiches. Peter didn’t want to be self-absorbed.

The curiosity was eating at him, but he stuck to his decision to keep his distance. It wasn’t until one day when he was helping Aunt May with the grocery shopping that she made the decision to swing by.

“I just want to get some ham,” she said pulling him into the store. “I know you usually eat at school, but just in case you want a sandwich or something…”

“Ay, Ms. Parker!”

Mr. Delmar was beaming behind the counter. He’d never bothered to hide his shameless flirting with Aunt May. May always brushed it off, saying that was just the way he was with people, but Peter had never seen him flirt with any of his other customers. Customers, Peter noticed, that were not flooding the store for the first time in days. It seemed like the crowds were finally starting to thin out.

“Hi, Ricky,” Aunt Mat said with a smile. “How are you doing?”

“No, no, no. More important question is how are you doing, bonita?”

“Oh, stop. I’m good. I’ve been good.”

Peter rolled his eyes, going to grab a bag of chips from the rack. He eyed the jalapeño flavor longingly, but stuck with sour cream and onion.

“Now, this might be a silly question,” Aunt May started as Mr. Delmar wrapped her purchase, “but didn’t your front door used to open the other way?”

“Yup,” he answered, irritation clear in his voice. “That’s what I get for hiring a rush job, I guess. Had to replace it last Sunday.”

“Oh no! Why?”

“Why? Didn’t you see on the news?” He gaped at her, almost affronted when she shook her head. “Well, someone tried to break in. Did break in, actually.”

“Oh my God!”

“That’s awful,” Peter chimed in, nodding.

“Well is everything okay? What happened?”

Mr. Delmar leaned forward over the counter. He clasped his hands in preparation for his story.

“So, Saturday night we’re closing a little later than usual, and I ask Yasmin to finish up for me—she’s fine,” he added at May’s gasp, “really, she’s fine. I get her set up, go upstairs to help Abuela, and then I hear this crash. Loud. So I call downstairs to her but she says she’s fine. Now, I knew she sounded worried—stressed—but I figure, you know, maybe she broke something. I’ll give her a minute or two to fix it before I go down and find her. And that’s when I hear the gunshot.”

“They had guns?” May asked, horrified. “Oh no, Ricky…”

“I go running downstairs. I grab my bat, I’m ready to go, but by the time I get down there, everything’s stopped. Yazzy’s behind the counter, temblorosa, and there’s three guys. One’s all red and blue—he’s got the mask, he’s got the gun—and the other two are in black, strung up in these spider-webs. And I mean up, like cocooned three feet off the ground.”

“What?”

“Exactly what I’m thinking. So, of course, I go to take out the guy with the gun, and Yaz runs up waving her hands. ‘No, Dad! He saved me! He saved me!’ Apparently he came out in the middle of the robbery, shot out these webs, climbing up the walls. Stopped the whole thing before I could even hit the stairs. Another one of those enhanced people, you know? Saved Yasmin’s life.”

“Oh my goodness,” Aunt May sighed, hand on her chest. “Ricardo, I am so sorry. How’s she doing? Is she alright?”

“She’s doing okay,” said Mr. Delmar, nodding solemnly. “I think she’d having trouble sleeping, but you know kids. She doesn’t want to tell me that. And when she’s awake she just won’t stop talking about this Spider-Guy.”

“Well, he saved her life,” said May. “I don’t blame her.”

“Y-You know that’s really crazy, Mr. Delmar,” Peter piped up. “I didn’t see anything about that on the news. Wouldn’t that, you know, be…news?”

“You’d think,” he said, and jabbed a finger at Peter’s chest. “Everyone’s been coming in here, wondering what really happened. Not a peep on any of the reports. And you know what I think? It’s the cops.”

“The police?” asked May. “They wouldn’t do something like that, would they?”

“Course they would. After all that shit in Manhattan? That Devil guy, the Punisher? All makes people think they can’t trust the police. Like they don’t do a good enough job. Last thing they want is more people in masks.”

“But—But this guy was just helping, right?” Peter asked persistently. “I mean, he—uh—it sounds like he just caught the guys. You still called the police, right?”

“Yeah, I called the police. The Spider-Guy, he was…I don’t know. He was a little weird.”

“Bad weird or just weird weird?” asked Aunt May.

“Nah, nothing bad. But he didn’t seem like the big ones, you know. Sounded like he didn’t really know what he was doing either. He didn’t have a supersuit or anything, just like a little track suit with the face covered up. Wouldn’t take any kind of reward, didn’t want to stick around for the cops or help get rid of the robbers. Just took a bag of chips and skipped out.”

“That’s totally weird,” Peter agreed, nodding sagely.

“Hey,” Mr. Delmar said with a shrug. “Guy could wear a tutu if he wants, for all I care. Long as Yasmin’s alright and my store’s still upright. Hell’s Kitchen’s got their masked guy, and now it looks like Queens has got our own.”

“God, I couldn’t even imagine,” said May, still shaking her head. “Peter Benjamin Parker, if you ever see anything like that, I want you to run as fast as you can in the opposite direction, do you understand? The last thing I need is to worry about you getting caught up in some robbery or vigilante or conspiracy plot or…”

“No worries, Aunt May,” he promised. “I have no desire to be anywhere near a gun.”

Again, he added to himself silently. At least any time soon.

They left shortly after that, heading home so they could put the groceries away and Peter could finish his work. The whole time, he kept playing the conversation over in his head, different parts sticking out to him at different times. Was he really making life harder for the police? Was Yasmin having nightmares? Was he doing more harm than good as Spider-Man? Was she really talking about him non-stop?

It wasn’t a conscious decision. At the same time, Peter wasn’t surprised to find himself out that night, perched on the snow-capped building opposite the bodega. The lights were on in the apartment upstairs. Blue lights flickered through the cracks in the blinds, someone watching TV on the other side. A set of pink curtains glowed with lamp light, the yellow bulb making them red in the darkness. As Peter watched, someone pushed them apart, a silhouette with elbows propped on the window sill.

A car passed, and for a moment, Peter could just make out her face. He could see what Mr. Delmar meant. He hadn’t seen Yasmin in days, but she looked tired. Peter wasn’t even sure what time it was. She just sat there, staring listlessly out the window. The only time she moved was when some kind of noise echoed down the street—a car horn too close, the slam of a dumpster in another alley, a cat’s yowl. Every sound made her jump a bit. Peter could sympathize with that, at least. It wasn’t always fun, being hyperaware of everything around you. With him it had been involuntary, a side effect of his powers. But after what happened to Yasmin, he couldn’t blame her. Slight paranoia was probably part of the reason she was having so much trouble sleeping.

Beneath him, someone slammed their window shut. Yasmin flinched, and ran her hands through her hair. Then she froze. Peter looked around, trying to find the focus of her attention. Until she raised a hesitant hand and waved.

“Oh, shit, shit, shit!”

He considered ducking, considered sprinting off the other end of the roof and bolting it all the way home. But that wasn’t exactly going to change anything. He’d already been caught. It would look just as bad if he ran away after being caught, if not make it look worse. Besides, he reminded himself, his face was covered. He was Spider-Man, the crime-stopper, not Peter Parker, the awkward nerd.

Uncertainly, he raised one of his hands to her as well. Any doubt faded away instantly as another car passed by, lighting up the smile on her face.

Peter took a running jump, and flipped across the street. He landed on the wall just beneath her window. There was a metal grate on the street side—an empty flower bed that had never been filled—and he scooted up to fold his arms on it, his feet sticking to the bricks below.

“Uh…hey there.”

“Hi,” Yasmin managed. She’d clapped her hands over her mouth when he jumped, and had to lower them before she continued. “You kind of scared the crap out of me for a second.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to—you know, I wasn’t trying to be creepy by watching you. Not that I was watching you! Just that I was sitting across the street watching…the street…”

“It’s fine! I guess that’s what you do, right? Go out at night and keep an eye out for trouble?”

“Well, yeah. Sometimes.”

“Actually, it uh…kind of makes me feel better. Safer.” She bit her lip, nervously winding the ends of her dark curls around her finger. “Sorry. That probably sounded weird.”

“No, not at all. I mean, there’s a guy hanging from your window in sweatpants, so…I don’t think I’ve got any room to decide what’s weird here.”

She grinned and relaxed a bit. Peter tried to keep his eyes from wandering into the room behind her. Her walls were a light blue, clothes and books scattered around the floor. There were a few band posters around the walls, and the yellow lamp that was still shining on her desk. When she leaned back from the window, he could hear the squeak of bedsprings. Her bed must’ve been pressed up against the other side of the wall.

“I’m Yasmin, by the way.” Peter blinked at her as she continued toying with her hair. “I didn’t get the chance to say that the other day, with all the…guns and stuff.”

“Right. Well, it’s nice to meet you, Yasmin. Officially. And um, like I said—I’m Spider-Man.”

He was not expecting her to smirk at that.

“Well, Spider-Man, I think you kind of lied to me the other day.”

“I…did?”

“Well, you told me you were nobody, but as it turns out, you are all over the internet. I found like six different videos of you on YouTube—backflipping off buildings, stopping car crashes, saving cats from trees. And there’s a whole thread of tweets with people talking about this crazy guy that’s been doing parkour all over Queens in a red and blue sweat suit. Like, jumping-off-buildings and flying-through-traffic parkour. I even found a blog post where someone cut down the webs you left behind and they saved them. There were pictures and everything. Kind of crazy.”

This was all news to Peter. Sure, he’d kept an eye on the news, on the trending topics, but seeing as nothing had gone viral, he’d thought he was in the clear. He hadn’t heard anyone talking about it at school, and he figured hallway gossip would be his first sign of trouble. Despite this, only one part of the conversation seemed to stick with him.

“You Googled me?”

Yasmin flushed.

“Hey, a mysterious stranger in a onesie saved my life. I’m allowed to be curious.”

“No, totally. I just didn’t realize you were running a background check.”

“Shut up.” Her eyes popped wide and a hand clapped right back over her mouth. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. That sounded so rude. I just meant…”

“Yasmin, it’s okay,” he chuckled. “You are definitely allowed to tell me to shut up.”

“Right.” She shifted again, hugging her knees up to her chest. “So uh…what brings you back to the neighborhood?”

“Well, I wanted to check on the store. Make sure those guys didn’t have any ideas about coming back with reinforcements. But uh…I also guess…I wanted to see how you were doing. Most people wouldn’t be great after something like that.”

“I’m fine.”

Peter hoped that his disbelieving expression could still be read through his mask. Yasmin must have gotten the message, because she sighed and pulled her legs closer.

“I will be fine. As soon as I start sleeping again and Dad learns to trust me and things go back to normal.”

“What do you mean trust you?”

“Just that he won’t leave me alone anymore. I can’t open the store. I can’t close. I can’t run the register if there’s not at least one other employee in the room with me. And I get it. I don’t think I’m ready to be alone there either, but it’s—it’s everything else. I have to text him when I get to class and when I leave practice. Call with every change of plans if I’m going to a friend’s house. He’s even on my back about walking to school.”

“Well it sounds like he’s just worried,” Peter reasoned.

“I know he’s worried. I’m worried too. That doesn’t mean he has to coddle me every second of the day. Bad things happen sometimes. It’s not like getting robbed increases the chance I’m gonna get snatched off the subway.”

Yasmin shut her mouth abruptly. Eyes squeezed shut, she forced a deep breath in and out of her chest.

“Sorry. You don’t need to hear this.”

“Hey, I asked. If talking about it makes you feel better, then I’m all ears.”

“Oh really?” Yasmin peered down at him in amusement. “I didn’t realize therapy was on the superhero agenda.”

“You didn’t? Shit. I guess I can’t charge you for this, then. Normally, you wouldn’t be able to afford me.”

Yasmin laughed again, the sound too loud at first. She frantically looked at her bedroom door, as if expecting someone to come barging in. But there was no movement in the rest of the house. Another thought seemed to occur to her.

“Actually, that reminds me.”

She rolled off of her bed, moving to grab something in a corner Peter couldn’t see. When she came back, she was blushing again, chewing on her bottom lip.

“Don’t make fun of me,” she warned.

Peter was about to ask why when she handed him a brown paper bag. The top was rolled down like an old-school lunch bag, and there was a poorly doodled spider on the front.

“Aw, no way! Is this what I think it is?”

He scrambled up the wall, moving to sit on the iron flower bed without invitation. He ripped the bag open, and inside was a pile of snacks—water bottle, apple, granola bars, gummy worms, jalapeño chips, even a few lotto tickets.

“I was gonna make you a sandwich or something,” she explained, “but I didn’t want it to spoil with the meat and everything, or if you even eat meat, or if I was even gonna see you again. And—wow, now that I said that out loud this whole thing just got even more awkward. Please pretend I didn’t say any of that.”

“I don’t think I wanna do that,” Peter said smugly. “I think I’m gonna remember that.”

“Smart-Ass.”

“Yeah.” He rolled the bag up again, swinging his legs idly over the street. “Really, though. Thank you for this. I’ll probably stash it up on some rooftop for emergencies. Last minute snack reserve. Except the apple, obviously. But man, I love these chips now. I kinda just grabbed them on a whim, you know? I’d never tried them before, but they’re crazy good.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. And if you ever want some more, um…you know where to find me.”

Another car drove by, and Peter tensed.

“Ah, I—you know, I probably shouldn’t. If I’m hanging out of your window all the time asking for potato chips, people are probably gonna start to notice. Then they know where to find me, and…”

“Right! Oh my God, totally. I get it. You’ve got to stay undercover.”

“Exactly, yeah.” He forced himself to climb off of the grate and back onto the wall. “I should probably get going. Try and get some sleep tonight, okay?”

“Yeah, I will,” she promised. “And…thanks for listening, Spider-Man.”

“You got it, Yasmin.”

She beamed at him, and Peter quickly jumped off the wall before he could change his mind. He’d stopped by to make her feel better, and he had. Job complete. If he was going to keep being Spider-Man, he had to be smart about it. Don’t give away your identity. Don’t take the same patrol route every day. Don’t stay in one place for too long. Simple stuff.

He just had to stay smart.

FOUR

#peter parker #peter parker oc #peter parker x oc #tom holland #ocappreciation #spiderman oc #spider-man oc #stories #marvel stories #spiderman stories #holding onto you #brittney writes

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a-monthly-rumbelling · 6 years ago

Text

A Jug of Wine, A Loaf of Bread

For the January non-smut prompt: “I’m not dressed for this.”

—————————————————————————-

"‘A jug of wine, a loaf of bread and thou beside me,’“ Belle quoted as they settled down in twin wingback chairs across from one another, the game table between them. And indeed they’d taken Literary Night (i. g., Friday) quite literally: it had been Belle’s turn to choose the night’s reading and Gold’s turn to do the reading-related cooking. After his choice last week of Rick Riordan’s Big Red Tequila (Gold had a taste for mysteries) and the subsequent case of heartburn they’d had to solve (really, what drove a 350-year-old man to think he had to prove himself by consuming an entire bowl of jalapeño-topped firehouse chili and wash it down with a tumbler of Texas Sunrise—a shocking mixture of tequila and Big Red soda pop?), they’d agreed a light repast would be preferable tonight.

Besides, Belle adored romantic poetry, especially when she could persuade Gold to read it aloud against the backdrop of a snowy evening and a crackling fire in his antique fireplace, and so "The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam” it was, and they’d cuddled on the settee as he read to her, in Farsi, with his Gaelic accent. On the coffee table he’d strewn red rose pedals; for their supper he provided a repast of sangak, barley soup, spreadable goat cheese, grapes, and, indeed, mulled Shiraz in a ceramic jug warming beside the fire. She praised him for his cuisine, but he’d shrugged and given credit to the Internet. Between the wine, the fire and quiet, leisurely conversation, she’d nearly drifted to sleep, her head in his lap, until he nudged her: “Game time?” She nodded, prying herself from the arms of Morpheus and her beloved. After all, with his win last week, she had a score to settle.

So they’d relocated to the game table in the center of the spacious but somehow cozy (maybe, she thought, cozy because he was in it) living room. Wide awake now, they settled into their opposing chairs, drew a tile each to decide who’d take the first turn (she won the draw), then filled their trays and studied their options.

He may have been the most powerful sorcerer in the world, but as Scrabble players, they were evenly matched. When they had chosen Scrabble for their weekly game night, they’d assumed she would have an advantage: after all, she read encyclopedias and dictionaries for entertainment. But he had a command of scientific terms, especially chemistry and botany, that he called upon to catch up.

Tonight, though, he seemed a little off his game. For his first turn, he traded in four tiles. On his second, he lay “ring” off her “quince,” but he traded in tiles on his third turn. And so it went, with him falling farther and farther behind. By mid-game, she was worried. “Rumple, are you feeling all right?” At his assurance, she pressed, “A headache? Shall I get you some aspirin?”

“No, no, I’m fine. Why?” He lay down “wed” off of her “oozed.”

“Just wondering.”

His next offering, “babe,” built off his earlier “clergy,” elicited a frown from her. “You had two 'b’s.’ Why didn’t you use one to make 'booze’ and benefit from my 'z’?”

“Guess I didn’t think of it.” But as he raised his eyes from his tray, she caught a sparkle in them.

They played in silence a little while longer, but she couldn’t help huffing at some of his boneheaded moves. It appeared he was intentionally throwing away opportunities for bigger points, instead laying simple words. Her hackles rose: even back in the Dark Castle days, they’d always had an unspoken agreement to give their best efforts. Tonight he seemed determined to lose.

She sat back, sipping her wine and studying the board, not to plan her next move but to scrutinize all of his. Allowing him to hear the irritation in her voice, she read them aloud: “'Ring,’ 'babe,’ 'wed,’ 'will,’ 'vow'—Rumple, the best word you’ve made all night was 'bouquet.’ Look at this: 'gown,’ 'clergy,’ 'you,’ 'tonight,’ 'wife.’” Her voice dragged as her mind detected a pattern. As she read his most recent offering, she stared at him: “'Wife.’”

A grin took over his face as he spun his tray around so she could see his tiles and the word he’d arranged there. His voice lifted into a question as he read it to her: “'Marry?’”

Her mouth fell open.

He reached under the game table for a small velvet box, then stood, pushed aside his chair, and knelt before her. He opened the box and presented it to her. His voice thickened. “Will you marry me, Belle?”

She dove at him with open arms, knocking them both backwards onto the Persian rug. “Yes! Of course, yes!”

When he finally pried his lips away from hers, he had another question: “Tonight? Please, after all the interruptions we’ve had to our personal time, let’s not wait another day. Who knows what villain tomorrow may bring to our door. Marry me now. If you want a big wedding, we can arrange that with a snap.”

“No, I don’t want a big wedding. All I want is you.”

“Then let’s marry tonight. I have the justice of the peace on speed dial. We can call a few friends, move this furniture aside, set up some folding chairs right here, your father has a bouquet prepared—”

“You’ve spoken to him?”

Rumple ducked his head. “I apologized and made restitution. He accepted my apology. After thirty years, he said, it was probably time for him to admit we were a couple. He’ll walk you down the aisle.”

“Thank you, Rumple.” To Belle, this news was as precious as the diamond ring he was slipping onto her finger.

“Tonight, then?”

“Yes. There’s no other place I’d rather be married than right here in this room. Ariel can be my maid of honor and Dove can stand up with you, as he always has.” She clambered to her feet. “We’ll set it for ten o'clock.”

He pulled himself up. “We’d better start making some phone calls. Thank you, sweetheart. It’ll be perfect.”

But as they both reached for their phones, she glanced down at the slacks and pullover sweater she was wearing. “Oh, Rumple, I’m not dressed for this.”

He examined his own inadequate attire: soft cotton trousers and a plain white shirt open at the neck. “Easily fixed.” With a snap of his fingers she was clad in a familiar gold ballgown and he, in a tux. “Now, let’s make those calls.” A wave of his hand and the furniture was replaced with white folding chairs entwined with ivy and baby’s breath. The remains of their repast vanished and the red pedals reconstituted themselves into long stemmed roses artfully arranged in vases.

“Perfect,” Belle sighed.

He cocked his head, admiring her. “Yes. Perfect, Mrs. Gold.”

She linked her arm in his. “Let’s have a wedding, Mr. Gold.”

#a monthly rumbelling #january #submission #darcyfarrow2005

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pirate-autobot · 7 years ago

Text

The Experiment: Ch. 14

A chance encounter with Blue Agate, an additional name, and an obedient drone.

The Captain Underpants gem au is by @angerydj

“We’ll be fine here.”

A red light shined on the cave wall.

“Are you sure?”

A pink light shined next to him.

“Nobody leaves the colony. We’ll be safe here.”

“What if we’re caught?”

“If they try separating us, I’ll shatter any gem that gets in the way. Nobody will tear us apart.” They held each other hands...

Monday.

The day he would break up George and Harold, no, they were Red Zircon and Yellow Sapphire. Red Agate felt ecstatic about the fact. But a part of him, that annoying, stupid part, it was sad. Remorseful.

He would not let that get in the way of his victory. He will have order in his school. Starting with the separation of those two.

He could have filed and filled out the forms at any time between Saturday and the moment he walked into his office on Monday. He had to do it in front of them. He wanted to see all of their hopes and dreams die in their eyes. He wanted them to suffer as much as he could make them. He wanted...

The drone bumped into him. Red Agate rolled his eyes, stopping at the door to his office. Melvin explained that it would stay with him at all time until it was imprinted by another’s gem.

It was so clingy. It was... it was nice.

It made Red Agate... happy?... to have something to look after other than his reef. Granted it’s only been a couple days. At least the drone obeyed his commands. Unlike SOME GEMS.

“Ugh, that reminds me.” He groaned

Red Agate pulled out his data pad. He almost forgot he still needed to send out a message to the colony and council looking for a new science teacher.

“And sent.” He said to himself

When he looked up from the pad, he had the shock of his life. A certain gem had snuck up on him and waited in silence for him to finish his task. Thankfully that gem was the prettiest gem in the whole school. So Red Agate tried to calm himself down after the fright.

“Blue Agate.” He said

“I’m sorry if I disturbed you. I hope you can forgive me.” She said, feeling guilty and holding something in her hands, “I should go.” She took a couple steps away.

“Uh, no! Blue! It’s okay, I was just um, so, hi.” Red Agate said. He slid his pad back into his pocket and picked up the drone, tucking it under his left arm.

“What brings you around here?” He asked

“It’s just that... I was preparing a recipe for the infants, and I wondered if other gems liked eating food. Then I accidentally made this tuna casserole, with your name on it, in jalapeño peppers.” Blue Agate explained

Instead of ‘Red Agate’, the peppers spelt ‘Krupp’. But Red Agate leaned forward and smelled the dish. He was suddenly at a loss for what flavors food had. He wasn’t a gem to eat food, but he has tried a few small bits here and there.

“Smells, uh... Spicy.” He said, hoping that was the right word. Blue Agate nodded her head, a smile tugging on the corner of her lips.

“That’s because it’s it’s been dry aged for a week.” She explained

“I don’t know what that means but it sounds time consuming.” Red Agate responded with a nervous smile.

“It took a week.” Blue Agate responded. Red Agate kept smiling while his mind raced for something else to say.

Anything! Don’t stand there looking like a fool! This isn’t working. Get out! Get out with some dignity left in tact!

“Well, I guess... I should get back to work. School’s not going to run itself!” Red Agate said, retreating to his office. He sighed in relief. He looked down at the drone he still held. Wait, where’d that food Blue make go? He made the drone hand on to his leg beneath his pants and opened the door, but she was gone.

“Wait! Blue! You never gave me that tuna casserole!” He called out, running in the direction of the cafeteria. He managed to catch up to her just outside of it.

“Oh. Are you sure? You don’t have to if you don’t eat.” Blue Agate said

“I uh, I’m willing to try it.” Red started

Especially if I took was made by you! Say it!!

“Especially if you made by... it.” He blurted out.

“What?” Blue asked

“Nothing!” Red Agate quickly said before gently taking the casserole dish from Blue, “I’m just going to... put this in the teacher lounge... than bring it home. Thank you Blue Agate.”

“It’s Edith, actually. That’s the name Harold and George gave me.” Blue Agate explained

Edith. Her name is Edith.

“And I’ve been meaning to ask you,” She started again, pulling Red Agate from his thoughts.

“Ask me? Uh, what?” He asked, nervously.

“Most humans have two names. I mean, I know we gems have one name, but if a human is called ‘mister’ or ‘missus’, than they have a first and last name. I know your last name is Krupp, but what is your first?” Edith asked

Two names? Why do humans need two names? What’s the point? And why can’t Krupp be my first name? Come on think! What humans do you actually like? Let’s see... Guggenheim, Banneker, Butler, no wait Franklin! That’s it!

“It’s Benjamin.” Red Agate responded

“Hm. Benjamin Krupp. Has a nice ring.” Edith said before walking into the cafeteria, closing the door behind her.

He was alone. He put a hand on his gem.

“Edith.” He whispered. He sighed with a smile on his face.

He felt himself heat up slightly. It was nice not to burn anything in his path. Thankfully, the infants were all in their classes. They would not see him redder than usual, walking down the hall to his office.

The high of talking to Edith suddenly wore off when he saw his door slightly open. Two little whispering voices soon reached his ears as he carefully walked closer. But Red Agate still felt the drone hanging on to his leg.

He walked in without them noticing. They were looking over the cabinet drawer where he kept all of their confiscated goods. Red Agate silently closed the door then clicked his heels together. The two jumped and turned around, clinging to their comics.

“Well, if it isn’t George the red zircon and Harold yellow sapphire.” He said confidently, he pulled a chair up, “To what do I owe the pleasure?” He put his foot on it. “Is it, perhaps, this?” He lifted up his pant leg to show the drone still hanging on.

“Oh no.” The zircon sighed

“Nice try.” Red Agate said with a smirk, “Melvin had the bright idea to make it smart enough to be imprinted on by gems. He never leaves my side.” He picked up the drone and put it on his desk.

“That poor turtle.” The sapphire whispered

“Everyone, sit.” Red Agate said

On a shelf were various datapads for various duties. Red Agate picked out the one he needed and slapped it down on his desk. The infants were sitting in their chairs, while the drone and stack of comics were sitting on his desk. All was as it should be.

But it wasn’t perfect yet. It will be soon!

“Do you know what this is for?” Red Agate asked, holding up the pad. The boys were too scared to answer. “Why this is the form that seperates you. I can actually see the end of your friendship.” The infants gasped “And it ends right here,” he picked up a stylus from its holder, “on this dotted line.”

“George! Do something!” Said the yellow sapphire

The gem “Yellow Sapphire” will be transferred to another classroom to be determined by “Benjamin Kru-” Red Agate scribbled out his human name and wrote Red Agate.

“Put that stylus down Mr. Krupp!” Red Agate looked up to a swirling red and white patterned ring on the finger of George, “Or we’ll hypnotise you!”

#captain underpants #gem au #red Agate!Krupp #krupp #Red Zircon!George #George #Yellow Sapphire!Harold #harold #Blue Agate!Edith #edith

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tamiddyinyourcity · 4 years ago

Text

12:48pm.

Cool.

Sunday, May 31st of 2020.

I'm alright so far.

Haven't posted in awhile.

Its been busy, mates.

Made some friends.

People send me money to make sure I eat. I'm thankful for that. I've definitely been needing the money and food.

My older brother, despite me specifically asking not to get me a burrito with jalapeños.... got me one *chock full of them*. Guess who spent yesterday miserable, and shitting what felt like red scalding fucking lava into the toilet yesterday? It hurt. A lot. Too much. Fucking idiot. See, this is why he's going to be estranged very soon.

But the bright side is that being lactose intolerant means that milk helps my teargassed organs (i almost wrote 'orgasms' on accident) simmer down. Milk is the "you can eat anything you want, as long as you chug a fuckton of milk down with it" emergency evacuation drink for situations like that.

I didn't realize that until AFTER an entire day of scalding shit, so yeah. Not amazingly fun bros.

The neighborhood jazz kids did a balcony recital again. Making a habit of sitting on my porch to vibe with them and listen to all the tunes. They genuinely uplift my mood, I'm happy they started doing that. Especially with how much of a trainwreck yesterday had been. (Too much to describe, just a friend that was instigating a little too much for my own comfort.)

Here's a song that my middle school bus driver listened to a lot.

I miss when this was the sexie-- nevermind, it still is. It makes me get goosebumps. Good ass song.

TONIGHTS THE NIGHT I LET YOU KNOW, BABY TONIGHTS THE NIGHT WE LOOOOSE CONTROL.

Sooooo.

I'm trying to record.

And I feel paralyzed.

Not totally sure why, but it's intense.

Emotional peril? Not exactly. I wake up and feel like shit, but that could be for a multitude of possible reasons.

......

I guess some things have changed.

Me trying to die overall confirmed the "i rely on my family for nothing, and never will" thing. Plus the burrito thing confirmed it. I can't even tell my mom about food poisoning. Or why a jalapeno burrito on a starving stomach after five days without eating and also recovering from a suicide attempt and a drunk night of almost a half bottle of wine was absolutely terrible for me more than they could imagine. Since they dont know any of that. I never once relied on them like that.

Hell, I called the random dude from my high school film class before I bothered to text my mom I was feeling bad. I messaged STRANGERS and ACQUAINTANCES before I even bothered with them. Fuck them.

Marco and me aren't talking. I officially removed his place from my life when he did what he did. He did message me a few days later, like "Yo, phone died. No one had a charger, theyre an Android family". I told him to check his voicemail. No response yet again. Fuck him. He can masturbate to Animal Crossing and never hit me up again.

Same for the other ex, the one from the summer. He can go eat shit.

Overall, fuck these people.

Human attachment is stupid.

I hate these people.

1:07pm.

Ugh.

I hate things.

Peace out.

#SoundCloud

0 notes

alphacrone · 7 years ago

Text

and i'll use you as a focal point [bittyrans vampire au]

[Read on AO3]

There was something off about Bitty.

At first, Ransom thought it was the gay thing—but not in a bad way! Ransom was, like, 90% sure he was bi, so the idea of Bitty being gay didn't make him uncomfortable, per se. It was just, they'd never had a guy as small or as feminine on the team before. Things were weird because a lot of the guys clearly didn't know how to act around Bitty. But no one was an outright dick to Bits, except Jack, but he was a dick to everyone in the pre-season, and soon Bitty was just another teammate.

Even then, Ransom couldn't shake the feeling that something was off about Bitty.

Most of the time, the kid was a sackful of sunshine and puppies and rainbows, bustling around the Haus kitchen and making the best fucking pies appear out of thin air. But sometimes...sometimes there was something sharp in his smile, something harder in his gaze.

Bitty let slip in a conversation once that he'd been bullied growing up, and for a while Ransom believed that was the secret he'd come to believe Bitty was hiding. After all, no one as kind and bright as Bitty could harbor anything more sinister than that in his heart, could he?

The thing was, when you were best friends with Adam Birkholtz, you tended to live half your life in fantasy.

And not in a fun, sexual way. Hell, not even in a regular fun way most of the time. Holster consumed media the way most people consumed oxygen: constantly and effortlessly. And he exhaled commentary on it like it was carbon dioxide. Ransom knew far more about Netflix shows and web comics and sci fi novels he'd never even seen than he felt was appropriate or even possible.

So it was really all Holster’s fault when he started noticing the signs.

The first was the most concerning, in the beginning. After a year of team meals and literal buffets of pie in the kitchen, Ransom looked across the dining hall table one morning to realize he had never seen Bitty eat. Bitty baked and cooked constantly, attended every team meal, even made himself plates of food, but he never, ever put anything in his mouth. Ever .

Ignoring his own dirty joke setup, Ransom continued to spiral down this path. Bitty was super thin, he already knew that. Jack was always harping on Bits to eat more protein, to Bitty’s annoyance. But Ransom had met Mrs. Bittle and she was tiny too; he'd just assumed Bits was naturally... bitty.

Now, Ransom wasn't Holster. His first thought wasn't some grand conspiracy theory. Instead, he approached Bitty on a sunny September day, a baggy of kolaches from Svoboda’s in hand. No one could resist Svo’s jalapeño-cheese kolaches. No one.

Except Bitty, apparently. Ransom found him lounging on a blanket by the pond, textbooks open but blatantly tweeting instead of studying. Bitty was stretched out like a cat, languid, and his tank top was rucked up a little to show off the thin, blonde happy trail running down his stomach and disappearing beneath the band of his shorts.

“Bits, bro,” Ransom said, plopping down next to him, shoving one of the books away. “Have some kolaches with me, man. They're fresh.”

Bitty grinned up at him, wide and amused. “Those are klobasneks, you heathen.”

Ransom, who already had one shoved into his mouth, barely managed to say, “But the sign-”

“It's not uncommon to lump the two together,” Bitty continued, tucking his phone back into his pocket and turning to better look at Ransom. “Especially since the Svobodas are from Texas and it's a whole, complicated thing there. But kolaches have fruit filling; klobasneks have sausage or cheese or eggs.”

Ransom was a bit taken aback. Swallowing the half-chewed pastry roughly, he asked, “How did you know these were cheese and not fruit?”

Bitty shrugged. “I could smell them. Plus you and Holtzy love the jalapeño ones.”

Ransom couldn't argue with that. He held out the bag to Bitty, shaking it a little. “Eat me, Bitty!”

Bitty laughed and shook his head. “I'm good, thanks.”

Ransom frowned. Maybe Bitty’s food issue were worse than he thought. “Dude, I don't wanna sound, like, intrusive, but honestly...I have never seen you eat. Is it…? Do you need to talk to someone? You can always talk to me.”

Bitty’s smile turned endeared, and he shook his head. “I can smell garlic in those.”

“Huh?”

“I'm allergic,” Bitty clarified. “I have quite a few food allergies. It's why I have a mini fridge in my room, it's stocked with things that are safe. I really can't eat most of what I bake, but I love baking so much I do it anyway. And I go to team meals to socialize, not eat. I promise I don't have an eating disorder,” he said, touching Ransom’s arm gently. “But thank you for being concerned.”

“Oh.” Ransom frowned, then gasped and tossed the bag of kolaches away from Bitty. “Shit, dude, I'm so sorry-”

“Ransom, it's okay.” Bitty laughed again. “There isn't a whole lotta garlic in there, being near it won't kill me.”

“You've really got a strong nose, eh?” Ransom asked, leaning back on his elbows. Bitty shifted onto his side, and Ransom couldn't help but note the sharp lines of his silhouette, the stark brushstrokes of muscle in his shoulders and arms, the thickness of his thighs in contrast to his small waist. When they were on ice, Ransom was guilty of thinking of Bits as small and fragile; it made him a more ardent d-man, for sure, being on Bitty’s line, always looking out for his bittiest bro. But here, in the reddish sun of early Fall, Bitty was nothing if not a perfect specimen of raw, compact power. It unsettled Ransom, mostly in a totally gay way, but also, a little, in a way that made something small and primal at the back of his mind cower in fear.

“Ha, yeah,” Bitty said, in response to the question Ransom had forgotten he'd asked. “Survival instinct, I guess. You know, because of my allergies,” he added quickly.

“Right,” Ransom said, feeling hot and awkward under the gaze of Bitty’s dark brown eyes. “Allergies.”

When he eventually excused himself to go to class, Ransom didn't even remember to grab the bag of kolaches from the ground. It wasn't as if he had much of an appetite anymore.

After that, it was little things that made Ransom wonder just what Bitty was hiding behind his sunny, southern facade. Though he wasn't proud to admit it, Ransom had started an Excel doc just to keep track of everything, titled ERB and hidden deep in his pirated comics folder on his laptop (labeled PORN, of course, just in case).

Bitty wore sunscreen constantly. He tried to claim it was a southern thing, but Holster had family in Texarkana and claimed that they all had nasty, leathery skin because they literally never wore sunscreen ever and that Bits was full of shit. And he didn't just wear it in the summer—Bitty showed up to morning practices in January smelling like Coppertone. It was one of those quirky things about him. Absolutely no cause for alarm.

But then there was the way he was always cold. Bitty’s hands could rival ice cubes, even in the heat of August or after working out. “Poor circulation,” he'd explained once while drunk. “What can you do?”

Except, it wasn't just his hands. Bitty didn't let people touch him often, but Ransom had held his legs for kegstands and clapped his shoulders and even, once, slapped his bare back in the locker room and every time it had felt like Bitty had just stepped out of an ice bath. That couldn't be normal, could it?

And there were other things: his freakishly good sense of hearing and smell; how silent and still he was when he slept on roadies, barely seeming to breathe; the way he went on and on about his church back home but didn't attend at Samwell. Ransom had them all marked down in his spreadsheet, and on nights when Holster was dead to the world and Ransom sad supposed to be studying, he'd make whole charts of possible ailments, disorders, and lifestyle choices that could add up to the enigma that was Eric Bittle.

A small part of him—the part that had been forced to binge-watch those godawful Twilight movies with Holster and Shitty—whispered that there was another answer, one far simpler than the impossibly rare diseases he’d researched.

But that was the same part of him who believed he was being haunted by two dead sororities girls, the same part of him that got scared when Lardo and Nursey exchanged their favorite urban legends, late at night. There was no fucking way Bitty was a v-

He couldn't even think the word, it was so ridiculous. Bits was just a quirky dude with health problems; there was nothing paranormal about it.

Still, there were times Ransom felt Bitty’s gaze on him, and a chill would involuntarily run down his spine. And only a little in a gay way.

Everything came to a head when Ollie got decked in the face by a puck.

The dipshit had removed his helmet in the middle of drills, so Ransom didn't have that much sympathy for him, but it still looked like it hurt like a bitch. His nose broke with an audible crunch and Ransom saw the blood on the ice before he even realized what had happened.

“Shit, fuck, man, I'm so sorry!” Wicks called, skating over as fast as he could. “Bro, are you okay?”

But Ransom didn't hear Ollie’s answer; he was too distracted by Bitty.

Bitty was staring at Ollie with his mouth agape, eyes large and- not scared, or angry. Shocked seemed a closer description, but didn't feel quite right. Determined, maybe. His hands were shaking in his gloves, and his knees were bent, like he was poised to rush over to Ollie at any second. What was most unsettling, however, was the fact that Bitty didn't appear to be breathing at all.

Before anyone could blink, Bitty was in front of Ollie, half-crouched, eyes black in the weird light of the rink. He opened his mouth, but said nothing, and everyone fell deathly silent in their confusion.

Then Bitty was gone, sprinting from the rink faster than anyone on skates should be capable of. Ransom stared after him, unsure of how to process what he just saw.

“That was weird,” Holster said as Wicks moved to get Ollie off the ice. “Li’l dude can't handle the sight of blood?”

“I guess,” Ransom murmured. “Weird.”

As soon as practice ended, Ransom rushed to the Haus. Normally he hung out at Founders until class in the mornings, but today he was on a mission. One way or another, Ransom was going to figure out what Bitty was hiding from them, from him.

Without even bothering to check the kitchen, Ransom sprinted up to the second floor, throwing his bag to the side of the hall and knocking on Bitty’s door. “Bits, bro, you okay?” He called. When there was no reply, he pushed open the door.

Nothing could have prepared Ransom for the sight in front of him.

Bitty’s room was a mess. Books had been knocked off his desk and the chair was overturned. His mini fridge was wide open and empty, cool air drifting to brush past Ransom’s shins. Several IV bags and plastic tubs were scattered across the floor, empty but stained pink by something . And Bitty-

Bitty was curled into a ball in the corner, half hidden by the bed, face pressed into his knees. His whole body was shaking like a leaf in the wind. He hadn't even changed out of his under armor.

“Bits?” Ransom moved around the bed slowly, lowering himself to his knees in front of Bitty. “Hey, are you okay?”

Bitty raised his head from his arms slowly, and Ransom almost screamed. Bitty’s lips were stained red, and protruding over them, just slightly, were two fangs, clear as day. But the fear in Bitty’s eyes kept Ransom from running. He'd never seen Bitty look so small.

“I nearly attacked Ollie,” Bitty whispered, not meeting Ransom’s gaze. “I...I thought I was getting better. I thought I could handle things like that.”

“But you didn't attack him,” Ransom said, trying desperately not to let any hysteria seep into his voice. “You ran away. That's…that's good, isn't it?”

Bitty groaned and covered his face in his hands. “Not good enough. I can't just run away every time there's blood…”

“Is it-?” Ransom paused, grimacing. “Are you-?”

“It’s a rare disorder,” Bitty said quickly, voice monotone. “Porphyria. It’s why I wear sunscreen all the time, why I don’t eat with the team-”

“You don’t have any of the other symptoms though,” Ransom interrupted. “Pain, seizures, vomiting. And it doesn’t make you crave human blood . Bits.”

Bitty looked up at his name, shaking a little with...fear?

“It’s okay if you’re a vampire,” Ransom continued, not missing the way Bitty flinched at the word. “I mean, as long as you’re not killing anyone.”

“Ransom,” Bitty said glibly. “You’re pre-med, you don’t believe in- in monsters .”

Ransom shot him an unimpressed look. “I live with Holster. I’ve seen Twilight. And, like, weird shit happens to me all the time.”

“The ghosts?” Bitty asked softly.

“Yeah, them,” Ransom huffed. “Pretty sure my neighbor growing up was a werewolf. Or maybe just a hairy alcoholic.” At Bitty’s confused and horrified look, he added, “Dude woke up naked in our backyard, like, a hundred times.”

“You can’t tell anyone,” Bitty pleaded. “Please.”

“Of course,” Ransom said, sitting back on his heels. “Not that anyone would believe me…”

“I need to clean up,” Bitty said after a moment, looking around the room. “If MooMaw hears about this…”

“She won’t, because nothing happened,” Ransom said, standing and holding out a hand to Bitty. He took it and rose, slowly. “You just got nauseated at the sight of blood and left practice early. Tomorrow you’ll take a pie down to the coaches and apologize. Bits, it’ll be okay.”

Bitty sighed and began picking up plastic tubs. “If I end up killing someone again, the Council is gonna make me go back home to Georgia and live in the compound. I can’t be out there, or bake for anyone, or even listen to my music. There’s no skating, no hockey, nothing .” He sighed and sat down on the bed, face distraught. “If I go back there I’ll die .”

“Then, we’ll...work on it,” Ransom said with a shrug, feeling a little too much like Jack in this moment. “Somehow.”

Bitty’s lip quirked up at one corner. “Sure. We’ll just run some drills, learn not to murder people. Easy.”

“That’s the spirit,” Ransom said, clapping Bitty on the back. Bitty flinched involuntarily, then let his shoulders droop.

“You’re a good friend,” he said quietly, picking at some dirt under his nail to avoid looking up at Ransom. “And weirdly okay with... all of this .”

Ransom shrugged and picked up a few scattered IV bags. “Got your back, bro.”

Bitty laughed and Ransom’s heart skipped a beat. Definitely in a gay way.

[My writing tag]

#bittyrans #bittyransom #omgcp rare pair #anna writes things #check please!#vampire au #a different one lol #omgcp fic

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ryanellisphoto · 6 years ago

Photo

#148 — Saturday, February 2nd, 2019 — Ryan Ellis Photography - Detroit Street Photography Session #148 — Nikkor 24mm f/2.8 (ca. 1971) - Nikkor 55mm f/1.2 (ca. 1977) - Joel Bosco

Arrived @ 10:30 AM

Departed @ 4:30 PM

796 photos (and 13 videos) taken in 6 hours with just 63 “keepers” among them, rendering an 8% “success” rate at a pace of 132.67 shots per hour (I aspire to have at least a 10% “success” rate, taking at least 100 photos per hour as I am going out and around).

PATH TAKEN:

Greektown

The Broadway (and Shoes) (I met [again] and photographed the owner, Pepper Martin)

The Belt (I hesitated to photograph as freely as I usually do in order to preserve what I thought were the only two batteries I had on me… I wanted to put a positive twist on my blunder in my head [extoling the creativity that might spring at last by the pressure of a limitation], but my realism overrode my optimism this once, and I let myself mourn my apparent absent-mindedness)

David Klein Gallery (So very graciously, I was allowed to see the showing prior to the gallery’s opening time for the day. This is already my favorite gallery in the city. To use a lovely old-English word, I was astonied by that level of kindness; it stuck with me all day)

The Detroit Shoppe (I photographed and chatted with the man tending the store)

Campus Martius Park (I met with my hip hop pal, “Shadow Klan.” I told him I had portraits of him as well as a mix CD made by a recent friend I met at the Detroit Synth Project. This man can do a good bit musically, and in this context was doing early hip-hop-sounding beats. I hope to collaborate with the good man.)

Monroe Street headed towards GT (I photographed the two birds [one in flight] here… I asked a man passing by why there was a small knot of sparrows all collected on top of one SUV parked by the road with bike racks on it as opposed to the similar SUV right behind it that had nothing whatsoever on top of its otherwise quite-identical roof. He said that it was because there was snow that was turning to ice atop the one that was absent atop the other. I agreed and praised the man’s intelligence and perception. Also, the sun, I thought, was shining on the one car and not the other.)

Greektown (I gathered my portraits of “Shadow Klan” as well as my Detroit Synth Project-veteran pal’s hip-hop mix CD, and I laughed immensely [and for the rest of the day] about the fact I was going to turn the tables on my friend by essentially giving the giver what the giver usually gave ………… Also, I scoured my vehicle and found TWO more batteries [and this time full instead of half-full batteries for my Nikon D800! I thought I had put them on one bag, but they were in another. I shouted and sang in out and out joy for a while in my freezing cold car]! That turned my day right around from gloomy to glowing [regarding my outlook on how many shots I would be able to take] …………………… It was so cold in the car that drinking the Powerade I left in there as I went out and walked gave me immediate and intense brainfreeze!)

Campus Martius Park (No “Shadow Klan” [my rapper pal] in sight)

The Esplanade on Woodward Avenue (from here I spied a SMART bus [just a plain, old city “omnibus,” as old Brtisihers might call it] across the street from me. I photographed the driver [with his ascent] through the window before taking a couple of portraits of him at the door from farther and nearer. He was a nice gent, and I showed him the shots and CD I had in my left hand in a grocery bag. He seemed charmed by the mission I was on to give these to my pal.)

Spirit of Detroit Plaza (Here I met Joel Bosco [travel {etc.} photographer -- his IG is joelbosco] I joked that the Spirit of Detroit had strong arms to be holding the people and gilt bronze sphere in his two arms without budging for so long. I added that we should shoot sometime together in the future, and I gave him my business card and headed further out to anywhere, Detroit)

Hart Plaza (I decided, whether or not good pictures would occur along the way, I would take my chance to wave hello to the nation geographically above and below me [Canada]. Before I got my chance, as I was walking that way, I turned and looked down a stairway that led to a below-ground commons loop, with both open and enclosed gathering areas, in the plaza. I usually avoid that area, because it is rife with homeless folks year-round and has too many spots that have too few wider views along its course to see if an attacker might be in waiting. It was what turned out to be a post service shopping cart that caught my eye and beckoned me warily down the snowy stairs. I can be daft, and I was here. I did not notice there were several young men snowboarding perpendicular to the path down the stairs I was on. There was a perpendicular set of stairs that also went from the ground level down to an underground level. I asked permission to use my camera, and when the athletes agreed, I took full advantage of the Carhart bib and coat I was wearing [with Red Wing boots] and layed across the ground to get my first shots of the extreme sports fanatics. I am a tad ashamed to include three shots from this part of my day, since I took so many other good shots; I just liked the way these felt better) ——— (I ran into Mr. Joel Bosco [the aforementioned photographer] again. I restated my desire to sometime shoot with him in the city, and he asked an interesting question, querying me what it meant to go shoot with someone. I paused and pondered and looked at him and asked what he was doing at the moment. He took on an open posture and gestured quizzically. I then said I was headed anyplace myself and asked if we might do the same path together at once, and he agreed.)

Campus Martius Park

The Hudson Site

Urban Bean Co.

David Klein Gallery (I had such a grin on my face [and it was a dumb one] as I walked again through the gallery. I could not shake it off my face. It was shaping to be a good day, and I was overwhelmed by the goodness of the folks I knew and had just met in the city. I decided to direct more of my energy to enjoying the flutter of endorphins rather than trying to finesse their exact source)

Library Street Collective

The Belt

Greektown

Diamond’s Hot Dog Stand (You will never guess what Joel and I bought at the stand. He got a dog and a Pepsi; I got a dog and a Mountain Dew [I mostly never drink pop, so this was a rare treat]. His had jalapeños while mine did not. Diamond bought a food truck! She is expanding her business. I am happy for her and wish her all the best in the world.)

Eastern Market

Hot Bax (His IG is greektownhotbax -- He is Deon, my street drummer / bucket drummer friend. I have seen and photographed the man as long as I have been doing street photography in Detroit. I told him that my second week in Detroit [in January 2016… look up my D.S.P.S. #002] doing street shooing, I photographed his longtime collaborator drumming not far from where he was drumming. Deon seems to be doing well.)

The Belt

The Guardian Building (Mr. Joel Bosco and I parted ways after seeing just inside and part of the way around the outside of this building)

Campus Martius Park (I saw a beam of light hitting these three young men in Detroit Red Wings [our city’s professional, big league {at times world’s best} hockey team]. They were crowded around a pair of public electric scooters. I asked and was permitted to photograph them, and that I did. The one man with the overalls had a Detroit Super Mario look about him. I told him as much, and he chuckled over the resemblance)

Greektown

——————————

WHAT WENT ON ON THIS DAY IN DETROIT?

I just told you. Hahaha.

TL;DR — I shot alone (in the sense that I had no plans to meet with anyone that day) for the first time in months, but Providence paired me with a new friend, and together we traversed downtown and Greektown and eastern market, cameras in hand, having conversations on foot.

——————————

If you like what I do, consider supporting me on Patreon:

https://www.patreon.com/seedetroitlikeido

Check out my YouTube channel:

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCmWGEXMZfJn5tutCOgK_dtg

I have a Twitter that has unique content from the rest of my social media accounts:

https://twitter.com/prayforryan

I have an Instagram that I am proud of. It has neat write-ups for my different works that also appear on my YT versions of the same videos. It also has photos and videos that appear nowhere else:

https://www.instagram.com/rellish3214/

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rose-of-pollux · 8 years ago

Text

The Deadly Admirer Affair (MFU fic), part 2/10

Title: The Deadly Admirer Affair Rating: PG13 (for action/danger) Chapter summary: Illya’s disappearance has not gone unnoticed, and it’s a long night for Napoleon and the others as they find him under shocking and baffling circumstances.

If you prefer reading on FFN, you can read it here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12338876/2/ If you prefer reading on AO3, you can read it here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/9472766/chapters/21604133

Act II: Early Morning Vigils

Napoleon was relieved when Waverly finally seemed satisfied with the debriefing—it was still a long session, nearly ninety minutes, and he breathed a sigh of relief once he left Waverly’s office, still holding Baba Yaga in his arms. That cat purred contentedly, enjoying not having to walk.

“Remember to send Mr. Kuryakin here once you’ve finished your bagels,” Waverly called after him.

“…Yes, Sir…”

“And you go home and rest,” Waverly added. “In fact, it probably wouldn’t go amiss to have Medical check you before you go--”

“I’m fine, Sir—really!” Napoleon insisted, and he darted off down the hallway before Waverly could tell him anything else.

He carried Baba Yaga back to the office he shared with Illya, ignoring the people in the hallway trying to catch his eye or speak to him.

“Hey, Illya, I’m finished, so I’ll have that bagel now…” He trailed off as he found the office empty; Baba Yaga let out a murowr of puzzlement, also wondering where Illya was. “…Now where’d he go…?”

Puzzled, he left their office, deciding to check out Section VIII, but stopped as he saw April and Mandy heading his way.

“Have you seen Illya?” they all asked, in unison.

“…Well, I guess that answers that,” April sighed. “He was supposed to pick up the latest batch of reports for Mandy to translate.”

“And that was over an hour ago,” Mandy added. “He said he’d pick them up along with the bagels.”

Napoleon bit his lip.

“Hopefully, it’s just traffic slowing him down,” he said, but there was an unexplained worry growing in his voice, and, still holding onto the cat with one arm, he pulled out his communicator. “Open Channel D. Illya, you alright?”

Silence.

“…Illya?”

“Maybe… Maybe he’s preoccupied with something?” April asked, but her voice lacked any conviction, as well.

Napoleon exhaled as the feeling in his gut increased.

“…April, can you--?”

“I’ll get Mark; we’ll meet you at the front entrance,” she said, immediately, and she gave Mandy’s shoulder a squeeze before heading down the corridor.

“Thank you!” Napoleon called after her. He turned to Mandy. “Mandy, can you and George use Illya’s homing device signal to help us get a location on him?”

“Right,” she said, her reports forgotten.

Napoleon sighed and now placed Baba Yaga back in the office, in her basket. She let out a concerned meow, prompting him to gently scratch the spot behind her ears.

“I know,” he sighed. “I’m worried about him too.”

She meowed again, and Napoleon managed a wan smile.

“I’ll bring him back,” he said, softly. I hope…

He bid the cat farewell and headed out, meeting Mark and April there, and the three of them headed downtown. They had checked out both the message drop as well as the bagel shop; finding the former empty and the latter confirming that Illya had been there nearly an hour ago, it left many question still unanswered for the other U.N.C.L.E. agents, and more for them to worry about.

Napoleon’s communicator went off as George called him.

“The good news is that I’ve located the signal from Illya’s homing device,” he said, relaying the coordinates to Napoleon.

“Thanks, George. …And what’s the bad news?”

“…The signal isn’t moving—hasn’t moved in a while, according to the data.”

Napoleon exhaled and began to run, with April and Mark right behind him, turning into the alley. Napoleon paused, seeing nothing in his line of vision first, but then glanced down—

“ILLYA!”

He was at his partner’s side in an instant, checking his pulse and breathing.

“Is he…?” April began.

“He’s alive, but he’s been shot,” Napoleon said. “Mark, contact Medical.”

“Right,” he replied, reaching for his communicator.

Napoleon didn’t respond to him or to April, who was now inspecting the items around Illya; Napoleon instead focused his attention on his partner.

“Illya,” he said, softly. “Illya, can you hear me?”

Illya was unresponsive, and Napoleon just held him close, trying to stop the bleeding as the world continued on around him—yet stopped for himself.

***********************************

Time never seemed to be real when worrying over an injured partner, and Napoleon paid no attention to it. He merely waited outside the operating room doors as the Medical staff worked to remove the bullet from his partner—a place where he had stood before, far too many times.

Beside him stood Baba Yaga, subdued and clearly upset; she didn’t even react as people filed in and out, querying about Illya—maddeningly enough, about the rumors in addition to his condition. Napoleon didn’t answer them, either, and he was grateful when Mark, April, Mandy, and George showed up, shooing the curious away.

“Any update on him?” Mark asked.

Napoleon shook his head.

“They’re still working on him.”

“Napoleon, I’m so sorry,” Mandy said, unable to look him in the eyes. “This whole thing is my fault… If I hadn’t asked him to get the reports for me--”

“He volunteered, Mandy; he didn’t want you going downtown after midnight,” April said, placing a hand on her shoulder again. “And this wasn’t about the reports.”

Napoleon blinked in confusion.

“It wasn’t?” he asked. “I’d just assumed that THRUSH or whoever attacked him had gone after the reports…”

“That was my first thought, too, but the envelope with the reports was still there beside him, and the seal was still intact,” April said.

“Then, why was he attacked?” George asked. “Just because they recognized him as an U.N.C.L.E. agent?”

“I don’t know whether or not they knew he was from U.N.C.L.E., but they were after the bagels,” April said.

“What?” everyone else asked, in unison.

“I can’t explain it, either,” April said. “But when I noticed that the envelope with the reports was untouched, on a whim, I looked in the bagel bag. A piece from one of the bagels was missing—the jalapeño-and-asiago one with the herb cream cheese.”

“Do you mean to tell me that Illya was shot for a piece of my bagel?” Napoleon asked.

“Perhaps whoever did it thought that the envelope was a decoy and a real message was in a bagel,” George said. “I can’t possibly think of any other reason.”

“Then why wouldn’t they take the entire bagel bag and the reports just to make sure?” Mandy asked.

“THRUSH were never ones for rational thought,” Napoleon said, darkly.

“Steady on,” Mark said. “I know you’re angry, Napoleon; we all are. We will find who did this.”

“Indeed, we will, Mr. Slate,” Waverly said, joining them now. “And we shall all require our wits about us to do so. Any word on Mr. Kuryakin’s condition?”

Before Napoleon could reply, the doors of the operating room opened, and he now focused as a stretcher was wheeled out, his partner lying on it, wide-eyed on account of whatever painkillers he’d been given.

“Illya?” Napoleon asked, hastening to his side as the orderlies began to wheel him to the recovery ward.

“Hmmmmmm?” Illya asked, airily, as he tried to focus on Napoleon; it took him a moment to recognize him. “…Dorogoy…! …Ahh, ‘Poleon, ‘m sorry…”

“Sorry? For what?” Napoleon asked, incredulously.

“…Lost th’bagles…” Illya trailed off as his sedated mind recognized the others crowding around the stretcher. “Ahh, Mandy, and ‘m sorry I lost th’ ‘ports…”

“We have the reports, Illya, but never mind those,” she said. “I’m just glad you’re okay…” She trailed off and looked to the orderlies. “…He is going to be okay, right?”

“We got the bullet out and gave him a transfusion,” one of the orderlies replied. “He should be fine.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” George sighed.

“You can say that again,” April said. “Now we can focus on finding out who did this to him.”

“Quite right, Miss Dancer,” Waverly said. “Mr. Kuryakin?”

“Sirrrrrrr…?” Illya slurred.

“Mr. Kuryakin, is there anything you can tell us about your attacker?”

“‘Twas verrrrrrrrrrry stealthy.”

“Any specific details? Identifying features or anything else you observed?” Waverly asked.

Illya responded with a long, drawn-out “Ahhhhhhhhhhhh” that ended up being a prelude to a song that he started to hum.

“Ah, Sir, I can speak from experience and say that we are not likely to get any coherent details from him until he sleeps it off,” Napoleon said.

“Oh. Yes, I suppose you would know best,” Waverly agreed. “Very well, we’ll do what can for now—and we’ll need everyone’s talents for this. Miss Dancer, Mr. Slate—I want the both of you to search downtown for any possible leads, and do be careful while you’re there.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Of course, Sir.”

“Miss Stevenson, I want you to go over those reports with a metaphorical fine-toothed comb and see if there’s anything out of the ordinary about them.”

“Right, Sir.”

“Mr. Dennell, though it seems unlikely, I would like for you and the lab technicians to analyze those two bagels and make sure they aren’t amiss in some way.”

“I’ll get on that right away, Sir.”

“And lastly, Mr. Solo, you will continue to look after Mr. Kuryakin, and let me know when he is able to give some details about the attack.”

“Thank you, Sir; I will certainly do that.”

“Right, we’ve all got work to do,” Waverly said. “For Mr. Kuryakin’s sake, let’s hope we get some results.”

The others went their separate ways, and Waverly went back to his office; Napoleon followed the orderlies to the recovery ward and, after the orderlies had left Illya in one of the beds and left, Napoleon snuck Baba Yaga into the room.

“They say a cat’s purr promotes healing,” he said to her. “So if you want to help your papa, here’s how.”

Baba Yaga meowed at him and then leaped up onto the bed, curling up against Illya’s side and purring away. Illya grinned and gave her some rather uncoordinated scritches that were supposed to be behind her ears but ended up on her back—she appreciated them all the same, and Illya glanced back at his partner.

“She ‘llowed to be here?” he asked.

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” Napoleon promised.

“Da, da—th’ word is mum,” Illya slurred, giving a vigorous nod that only ended up making him dizzier. “Ooh…” He placed his other hand on his forehead.

“Okay, okay,” Napoleon said, gently placing Illya’s hand back down by his side. “You need to sleep.”

“Mmmmhhh,” the Russian protested. “You going home, then?”

“Of course not; I’m staying right here.” Napoleon paused, now putting together the pieces—the rumors he had heard flying after his debriefing, and now, despite his partner’s reputation as the Ice Prince, they would have surely bothered him nonetheless. “Illya… I’m so sorry for all of this.”

“You’re s’rry?” Illya asked. “S’my fault. Got distracted.”

“That’s exactly what I mean,” Napoleon said. “You did everything by the book on our last mission—everything I would have done if our situations had been reversed. But, somehow, so many people here think you’re suddenly Vlad the Impaler—you wouldn’t have been distracted if that hadn’t been going on. And I should have realized that anyone outside of Section II who doesn’t know you would have been spreading those rumors. Maybe I am a bit too idealistic, like everyone says.”

“You’re wonderful.”

Napoleon smiled at him.

“And so are you. Now get some sleep—you need it.”

Illya exhaled and relaxed, and Napoleon brushed away the strands of hair falling over his face.

“I meant that,” Napoleon said, softly. “…And I know you meant it, too.”

And he sat there, maintaining his vigil.

#Napoleon Solo #Illya Kuryakin #the man from uncle #napollya #mfu fic #The Deadly Admirer Affair

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abovethecanyonwall · 7 years ago

Text

Best Restaurant Review Ever

GUY FIERI, have you eaten at your new restaurant in Times Square? Have you pulled up one of the 500 seats at Guy’s American Kitchen & Bar and ordered a meal? Did you eat the food? Did it live up to your expectations? Did panic grip your soul as you stared into the whirling hypno wheel of the menu, where adjectives and nouns spin in a crazy vortex? When you saw the burger described as “Guy’s Pat LaFrieda custom blend, all-natural Creekstone Farm Black Angus beef patty, LTOP (lettuce, tomato, onion + pickle), SMC (super-melty-cheese) and a slathering of Donkey Sauce on garlic-buttered brioche,” did your mind touch the void for a minute? Did you notice that the menu was an unreliable predictor of what actually came to the table? Were the “bourbon butter crunch chips” missing from your Almond Joy cocktail, too? Was your deep-fried “boulder” of ice cream the size of a standard scoop? What exactly about a small salad with four or five miniature croutons makes Guy’s Famous Big Bite Caesar (a) big (b) famous or (c) Guy’s, in any meaningful sense? Were you struck by how very far from awesome the Awesome Pretzel Chicken Tenders are? If you hadn’t come up with the recipe yourself, would you ever guess that the shiny tissue of breading that exudes grease onto the plate contains either pretzels or smoked almonds? Did you discern any buttermilk or brine in the white meat, or did you think it tasted like chewy air? Why is one of the few things on your menu that can be eaten without fear or regret — a lunch-only sandwich of chopped soy-glazed pork with coleslaw and cucumbers — called a Roasted Pork Bahn Mi, when it resembles that item about as much as you resemble Emily Dickinson? When you have a second, Mr. Fieri, would you see what happened to the black bean and roasted squash soup we ordered? Hey, did you try that blue drink, the one that glows like nuclear waste? The watermelon margarita? Any idea why it tastes like some combination of radiator fluid and formaldehyde? At your five Johnny Garlic’s restaurants in California, if servers arrive with main courses and find that the appetizers haven’t been cleared yet, do they try to find space for the new plates next to the dirty ones? Or does that just happen in Times Square, where people are used to crowding? If a customer shows up with a reservation at one of your two Tex Wasabi’s outlets, and the rest of the party has already been seated, does the host say, “Why don’t you have a look around and see if you can find them?” and point in the general direction of about 200 seat? What is going on at this new restaurant of yours, really? Has anyone ever told you that your high-wattage passion for no-collar American food makes you television’s answer to Calvin Trillin, if Mr. Trillin bleached his hair, drove a Camaro and drank Boozy Creamsicle? When you cruise around the country for your show “Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives,” rasping out slangy odes to the unfancy places where Americans like to get down and greasy, do you really mean it? Or is it all an act? Is that why the kind of cooking you celebrate on television is treated with so little respect at Guy’s American Kitchen & Bar? How, for example, did Rhode Island’s supremely unhealthy and awesomely good fried calamari — dressed with garlic butter and pickled hot peppers — end up in your restaurant as a plate of pale, unsalted squid rings next to a dish of sweet mayonnaise with a distant rumor of spice? How did Louisiana’s blackened, Cajun-spiced treatment turn into the ghostly nubs of unblackened, unspiced white meat in your Cajun Chicken Alfredo? How did nachos, one of the hardest dishes in the American canon to mess up, turn out so deeply unlovable? Why augment tortilla chips with fried lasagna noodles that taste like nothing except oil? Why not bury those chips under a properly hot and filling layer of melted cheese and jalapeños instead of dribbling them with thin needles of pepperoni and cold gray clots of ground turkey? By the way, would you let our server know that when we asked for chai, he brought us a cup of hot water? When you hung that sign by the entrance that says, WELCOME TO FLAVOR TOWN!, were you just messing with our heads? Does this make it sound as if everything at Guy’s American Kitchen & Bar is inedible? I didn’t say that, did I? Tell me, though, why does your kitchen sabotage even its more appealing main courses with ruinous sides and sauces? Why stifle a pretty good bison meatloaf in a sugary brown glaze with no undertow of acid or spice? Why send a serviceable herb-stuffed rotisserie chicken to the table in the company of your insipid Rice-a-Roni variant? Why undermine a big fist of slow-roasted pork shank, which might fly in many downtown restaurants if the General Tso’s-style sauce were a notch less sweet, with randomly shaped scraps of carrot that combine a tough, nearly raw crunch with the deadened, overcooked taste of school cafeteria vegetables? Is this how you roll in Flavor Town? Somewhere within the yawning, three-level interior of Guy’s American Kitchen & Bar, is there a long refrigerated tunnel that servers have to pass through to make sure that the French fries, already limp and oil-sogged, are also served cold? What accounts for the vast difference between the Donkey Sauce recipe you’ve published and the Donkey Sauce in your restaurant? Why has the hearty, rustic appeal of roasted-garlic mayonnaise been replaced by something that tastes like Miracle Whip with minced raw garlic? And when we hear the words Donkey Sauce, which part of the donkey are we supposed to think about? Is the entire restaurant a very expensive piece of conceptual art? Is the shapeless, structureless baked alaska that droops and slumps and collapses while you eat it, or don’t eat it, supposed to be a representation in sugar and eggs of the experience of going insane? Why did the toasted marshmallow taste like fish? Did you finish that blue drink? Oh, and we never got our Vegas fries; would you mind telling the kitchen that we don’t need them? Thanks.

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