#LOOK AT THE SMALL HUMAN ON THE SCREEN WHICH PAIR OF SHOES MATCHES THE DRESS??? CHOOSE FAST!!!!!!

[wormshirt]

The Doctor needs one of those classes they give to expecting/hopeful parents but for humans. Get their ass enrolled in a parenting course. And everytime they get a new companion he has to retake the course.

[sleep-deprivedracoon]

Tell it to my heart

Here's to the one with the scorching stare of love, blood, and vengeance. Eyes killer cold, blue and bare.

pairing: Gojo Satoru x f! reader AU - Mafia

warnings: angst, implied abuse, injuries, blood, alcohol, death, suicide, drug usage, addict, recovery, smut, gore, violence, trauma, guns, abuse, sex, overstimulation, rape threats, murder

Author’s note: This fanfiction is going to be a slow build story with an irregular upload scheme. I am not sure when I will be able to update. I might upload multiple chapters in a single week or not upload for a few weeks. It depends on what my daily schedule is and it is very dynamic. This story is for a mature audience and will have a lot of problematic themes. If this is triggering to you, please refrain from interacting with this story. The content warning is for the entire story and not just for this chapter. Again, I cannot emphasize enough, this is a slow burn story. In this story, you will find some changes in mannerisms among characters. Gojo  Satoru will be smoking and drinking. Yuji and Sukuna will be 2 different people but are related by blood. The main reason is, I do not see Yuji being part of a Mafia unless he had no other choice. The cursed spirits will be human in appearance.

Chapter 10 – Envy

Back in your room, you look at all the shopping bags you had carried with you. Gojo had one job. One job. To get you a pair of clothes to go back home. Instead, it seemed like he went on a shopping spree. His reasoning – You’ll need these for the trip.

You open a suitcase and begin packing. You were asked to pack for a week. You put in your clothes and then peep into the shopping bags that Gojo gave. Dresses, Bikini, Lingerie, make up… Everything you could think of was there including flip-flops and sunscreen. You looked at the bikini and lingerie he shopped for you and blushed. Some of these lingerie’s left very little to the imagination. You discretely pack them up and close your suitcase. For your flight, you took a small laptop bag which fit your laptop, tablet, some files, your passport, and 2 books. You dressed in a pair of leggings and a hoodie. As usual, you tied your hair into a ponytail and wore running shoes. While dressing up, you notice several marks on your body. You curse at the platinum-haired menace for screwing you over like this.

“Yo, are you done packing???” You hear Sukuna outside your door.

“Yes!! I am coming.” You pick up your suitcase and walk out of your room.

“So… I am bringing the boys with me…” Sukuna rubs the back of his head. “Since it isn’t mob business and all.”

“The boys?” You raise your eyebrow.

“Yeah, the Fushiguro brat and my brother. Thought they could use a vacation.”

“If it isn’t mob-related, why are you coming?” You cross your arm.

“Because I am Gojo’s head of security. Duh.” Sukuna rolls his eyes.

“As long as they aren’t in any danger, that’s fine by me.” You close the door behind you.

“Let me carry this.” Sukuna picks up your suitcase and walks ahead.

“I can do that myself, you know.” You try to match his pace.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. We’re going to go in 3 cars. 1st car would be Me and the brats with a driver. The car in the middle would be Gojo and you with one of my men and the car behind would be 3 of my men.” He explains as the two of you get down the staircase. “We’ll be meeting Utahime and her men at the airbase.”

“Utahime is joining as well?” Your ears perk up at her name.

“Yes, she’s mostly in charge of business operations and new ventures.” He pushes the main door open and you see 3 cars waiting in the front yard.

You head to the car in the middle to see Gojo already in the backseat, working on his laptop. You enter the car and sit on the other side of him.

“All set?” He asks without looking at you.

“Yeah.” You nod.

“Good. I know we’re there for business but try to have fun when you can, yeah?” He looks away from his screen for a split second to smile at you.

“Okay, boss!” You salute and giggle at him as the car begins to move forward.

The ride to the airbase was quiet. You were busy sorting and setting up Gojo’s schedule for the week in Melbourne. Most of his evenings were free. You assumed that Utahime’s schedule would be similar to his in some manner.

The car pulls over a little away from the charter plane. You get off the car and Gojo follows.

“Oi (y/n)! This is perfect! We can now move your practice to the ocean.” Yuji raises his thumb at you.

“Um. No thanks..” You refuse. You weren’t going to swim on the beach for two reasons. One, you were not confident with your skills, and two, because of all the hickeys Gojo left on your breasts and thighs.

“Yeah, brat! Let her relax, she can probably sunbathe or something while you goof off on the beach.” Sukuna smacks Yuji’s head.

Soaking up some sun did sound good to you but it was out of the question.

“Looks like they’re here,” Megumi mumbles as you see two cars approach the plane.

The cars stop a few meters away from the plane. Utahime gets out of the car and 3 men follow suit. You groan internally as you see Shin was one of the men with Utahime. You see him grin at you and you smile back at him to be polite.

Sukuna nudges you with his elbow and smirks at you and you roll your eyes at him.

“You’re late, Utahime. Come on, don’t keep me waiting like this.” Gojo teases her.

“Shut up, you annoying idiot.” She shakes her head and hugs you. “I am glad that you’re joining. I won’t have to deal with him all by myself.”

“Meanie.” Gojo sticks his tongue out at her.

“Hello (y/n)!” Shin smiles at you, showing off his dimples.

“Hello, Shin!” You greet him back.

Gojo ushers all of you to enter the plane and take a seat. You enter the plane to see Gojo sitting with Utahime. They had to discuss some plans and wanted to make the most of their time. Sukuna sat with one of his men and towards your left, Yuji and Megumi sat together. They had their phones out and were playing some multiplayer game.

You take a seat by them on the opposite side of the aisle. You sat by the window and plugged in your headphones. The pilot makes a few announcements about the weather and the arrival time. You put on your seatbelt and start playing some music. The plane takes off the runway and is soaring among clear blue skies. You unbuckle your seatbelt as the sign goes off and pull out a book to read. You didn’t know how long it had been since you had been flying. You felt a tap on your shoulder. Startled, you pull out your headphones and look at the person who interrupted you.

“Oh, Shin! Is everything okay?” You close your book after placing a bookmark.

“Mind if I sit here for a while? I had something to talk to you about.” He looked at the empty seat beside you.

“Um.. Yeah… Sure..” You reply.

He takes a seat beside you and sighs. “About last night… I am sorry, (y/n). I was drunk. You looked uncomfortable around Yabe and me. I am sorry you felt that way. I didn’t mean to pressurize you, I just wanted to help you unwind. I felt like you could use it.”

“Uhh…” You weren’t sure how to respond to his apology.

“I know better now. Can we… Can we just pretend that it didn’t happen? I would like to start over. We were having such a great time getting to know each other.” He looked at you with hopeful eyes. It was like watching a puppy.

“Yeah, I guess.” You sigh. “I mean, yeah I think I can look past it.”

“Great! I am really happy to hear you say that. I really like you and would like to see where this goes.” He reaches for your hand.

You pull your hand away from him. “Shin, I am not… I am not looking for anything. I think you’re a nice guy and I would appreciate it if we could be just friends.”

“Oh… Oh… Yeah… That works for me. I am sorry for coming off as too forward.” He rubs the back of his head. “We can be friends.”

“That’s fine. I am just making things clear.” You smile.

“If you don’t mind me asking, is it something that I did? I mean we were hitting it off so well.” He asks.

“Oh no no.. It is just me. I am not ready for anything serious in my life right now.” You reassure him.

“Why is that?” He tilts his head.

“I mean… Uh…” You try to phrase it in a way that did not give it away. After all, you agreed to Gojo’s condition. “It’s just that I have a lot on my plate right now. I am not in the headspace for it.”

“Understandable… Unfortunate, but understandable.” He sighs.

“I am sorry.” You mumble.

“Don’t be. You are honest. I respect that.” He smiles. “So you were telling me about your college degree, tell me more about it.” He digressed.

The two of you talk about your lives for a while and he leaves to use the washroom. You stretch in your seat. You were tired, and you leaned your head against the window and close your eyes for a bit.

The plane hitting the tarmac woke you up. You found yourself nuzzled against Shin’s shoulder. You quickly move away and look around. You were disoriented as the plane moved along the runway. You looked down to see that your seatbelt was fastened.

“You were asleep and we were about to land, so I .. I hope you don’t mind.” Shin explains.

“Thanks, you should have woken me up.” You try to set your hair.

He doesn’t respond back. The plane slowly comes to a halt. You are seated for a few more minutes before you get the signal to leave. It was already dark outside.

Shin leaves first and then you follow him. You see multiple cars waiting for all of you on the runway.

“We’re going to use the same formation that we used before.” Sukuna orders all the staff. “unless, (y/n), wants to change her seat.” He winks at you.

“I am fine.” You glare at him. He was being a child. You glance at Gojo who was busy texting on his phone. He looked expressionless.

You enter the car and Gojo sits on the other side.

“Slept well?” Gojo smirks. “That shoulder did look pretty comfortable, didn’t it (y/n)?”

“Shutup…” You roll your eyes.

“I mean, I am sure he enjoyed it. You didn’t forget our terms, did you?” He places his hand on your thigh.

“I know what they are. I told him that he and I are just friends.” You quickly explain.

“I don’t think he got that message.” He chuckles. “If he bothers you too much, let me know.”

“Yeah, I will.” You sigh.

“What’s my schedule like for tomorrow?” He puts his phone back into his pocket as his hand on your thigh squeezes you.

“Um. Nothing except a phone call with Naoya Zennin at 10.00 am.” You look at his calendar on the iPad.

“Perfect. The weather is going to be great tomorrow. We can all relax at the beach.” He grins. “Can’t wait to see you in those clothes that I got.”

“Uh.. yeah… You guys can carry on. I am not coming.” You lock the iPad.

“Why not? You don’t have to swim. You can sit far away from the beach and look pretty for me.” He winks.

“Because you marked me with hickeys all over.!!” You rub your eyebrow.

“You bruise that easily?” His eyes widen. “You should have told me that before. You really are a peach.”

“How was I supposed to know all of this would happen?” You roll your eyes. “Listen, you guys carry on. I’ll just binge on something in the hotel room. There’s no point in not enjoying good weather.”

“If you say so.” He shrugs and gets back to texting

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

The next few days pass by with Gojo and you sneaking off into each other’s hotel rooms at night. Your lust for each other was insatiable. You almost had a close call with Yuji and Megumi trying to barge into Gojo’s suite. You hid under the bed when he entertained the young boys. You were not amused but Gojo found the whole ordeal funny. But what Gojo didn’t find amusing was Sukuna and Utahime’s attempts to get you to be alone with Shin. It was pretty obvious what the two of them were scheming for. It was painfully awkward for you as well as you did not want to lead Shin on. He was fun to be around and it was easy to talk to him. If circumstances were different, you would have probably been attracted to him but that was not the case. You found your thoughts clouded by Gojo and you knew you’d been getting too deep in your feelings that probably would not be reciprocated.

On the final day of your stay, the business associates organized a party at a resort near the beach. Everyone was present, including Yuji and Megumi. Shin kept offering to get you drinks throughout the party and you politely refused. It reminded you of Shoko’s birthday when he would do the same.

“Come on, (y/n). Share one drink with me.” He grinned, flexing his dimples.

“Yeah, I really don’t feel like drinking tonight.” You rubbed your arm as the warm sea breeze swept over you. Yuji looked at you with concern and you smile to reassure him.

“One drink, it won’t change a thing. We all know that your tolerance for alcohol is pretty good. Come on, it is our last night here. Who knows when we’ll see each other again?” He pleads

“Shin, really. I don’t feel like drinking.” You stood your ground. You thank your phone as it vibrated. You’d gotten a message from an unknown number.

You unlock your phone and open the message. ‘Coming to get you.’

You scrolled below to see a photo. Your fingers began to tremble as you see the familiar sinister eyes from 20 years ago. His face was rugged and scarred but the eyes still held the same malice.

“(Y/n)? Is everything okay? You look really pale.” Shin takes a step towards you.

You take a step back. “I just need some air.” You rush out of the party to the beach. Your pace caused the sand under your feet to spread everywhere. Your breaths were quick and labored. He was supposed to be in prison. Did he get out? If he did, how did he find you? How did he know how to contact you? What was going on?

“You really are a pain” You hear Shin’s voice behind.

“Shin, I am really not in the mood right now. I’d like to be left alone, please.” You glare at him.

“Oh (y/n)… You really think I am some hopeless idiot pining on you, don’t you?” He chuckles humorlessly.  “God. Pretending to be into you was tiring.”

“W-what the fuck?” You flinch.

“You heard me.” He walks around you. “This charade can finally end now that you and I are finally alone. Master Geto will be really pleased indeed.”

“You’re a member of the SnK.” You whisper. “You’re the mole.”

“Ding ding ding. 10 points for Gryffindor.” He laughs.

“Are you going to kill me, now?” You take a step back.

“Master Geto wants you preferably… alive. So let's make this easy on both of us. Be a good girl and come with me willingly.” He shoves both his hands into his pockets.

“And if I don’t agree?”

“Then I will have to take you by force, (y/n). But given the situation you are in right now, I would say that wouldn’t be wise.” He runs his tongue over his lower lip.

You take in a deep breath and walk towards him. “Fine.” He chuckles. “Well, that was easy.”

You stand right in front of him and he steps closer to you, inches away from you. He traces his finger against your jawline and you grimace at his touch. “Switching loyalties like this, (y/n) you really are scum.” He grabs your jaw and pulls your face closer to his.

You raise your leg and kick him in the groin. He lets go of you and gasps for air.

You turn around quickly and bolt towards the party. You had walked quite some distance away from the resort.

“YOU BITCH!!” You hear him yell behind you. You don’t turn around and keep moving forward. You had to make it inside and this would be over.

You fall down as you feel a huge weight slam into you from the back, knocking the air out of your lungs. Your mouth is filled with sand and you cough it out as you struggle against the weight pinning you down.

“You had to make this difficult, didn’t you?” Shin growls as he tries to pin you down. You feel something sharp sting your arm. He flips you around to make you face him. You claw against his face, marking him with your nails. He grunts trying to pry your hands away. You look at the syringe lodged in your arm.

“What did you do to me???” You struggle against him.

“Nothing that you’re unfamiliar with. Heh. Gave you some morphine to calm down. You can feel its effects slowly creeping on you, right? Did you miss it? The sense of calm wrapping you and your worries slowly fading away.” He pins your arms above your head. “In a few minutes, it should take effect and you’d be powerless.”

“You bastard!” You whispered. You felt light-headed and tired. You knew he was right, you probably had only around another 3-4 minutes before you could feel the full effects of the morphine. You knew you were fucked.

“Now, where were we, (y/n).?” He caresses your face. “Ah yes, I need to get back at you for the stunt you just pulled. Where do I start? Master Geto wanted you alive but he didn’t say you had to be unharmed… Do I ruin this pretty face of yours? Or do I break a finger? Or maybe dislocate a knee so that you don’t run anymore? Oh yes, that seems like  a better idea – AHH.”

You no longer feel the weight of Shin on you. You slowly try to sit up, your head spinning, your eyes slowly nodding off. You try to push the sensations away from you, to stay present in the moment. You see two men over Shin. A pink-haired boy along with a messy dark-haired boy. “Yuujii – Guumi..” You mumble.

“Megumi, look after (y/n)! Something is wrong with her. What did you do to her, you bastard?” You hear smacking sounds and groans.

“(Y/n)… (y/n)… Stay focused. Eyes on me.” Megumi held you upright as you could barely stay seated without support.

“So tiired, need to rest… good boy guumi.” You try to pat his head and fail miserably.

“Yuji. You need to stop. He’s unconscious!” You hear Megumi yell at Yuji while still holding onto you.

“He tried to hurt (y/n)? Am I just supposed to let him go?”

“He’s not going anywhere. Call Gojo or Sukuna. We need help. To carry him and to see what’s wrong with (y/n)!” Megumi orders.

“M okayyy… “ Your speech is slurred at this point and your eyes were closing.

“I think it has something to do with this.” Megumi pulls the syringe out of your arm. You barely felt anything at this point. You sigh as you relax in Megumi’s arms. A peaceful, calm wave washed over you and you wanted to relish it. Familiar sinister eyes bore into your mind but were immediately pushed aside as you were euphoric.

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

The basement smelled damp as if it hadn't been used for months. The lights were dim and a bloodied man was seated in the middle of the room with his arms tied to the back of the chair. He was an utter mess yet maintained a smug smile throughout. You’d woken up a while ago, confused and disoriented. The morphine took about 7 hours to get out of your system. You had not seen anyone except Megumi and Utahime. The woman kept apologizing to you for putting you in that position. You knew it was a difficult time for her as well. From what you’d heard, Yuji was confined to his room as he’d gone apeshit on Shin for hurting you. After you had come down from the high, you were summoned to Shin’s interrogation. The SnK member refused to spill any information without you being present. You stood in a corner of the room looking at the injured man in the middle. His eyes never wavered from your figure.

“I am going to ask this one last time, what kind of information does Geto want from (y/n) that he thinks she got from Asami Saito?” Sukuna towered over Shin.

“Can’t tell you.” He grins. “Maybe if (y/n) gives me a kiss, I might consider being more generous.”

Sukuna’s fist makes contact with Shin’s face and you hear the impact. You flinch at the sight.

“Man, Sukuna, your brother throws better punches than you do.” He chuckles as he spits the blood out of his mouth. “See (y/n), this is what happens to people like us. This is what is in store for you. There’s no escaping it.”

Sukuna punches him again and you hear Shin groan. Gojo’s eyes meet yours and he shakes his head as he sees you flinch again. He walks toward Sukuna and Shin.

“That’s enough, Sukuna. Shin, was it? Your phone has some encrypted information about something that SnK plans….” Gojo purses his lips. “What is Geto planning to do in Shibuya?”

For the first time, you see Shin’s eyes widen. He quickly composes himself. “Well, I am not sure what you’re talking about. Could be a party, could be a heist, could be a murder, could be anything really…” He grins.

“You really think you’re strong, don’t you?” Gojo grabs Shin’s jaw. “You can sit here and pretend to be strong while my men and I crush your mind, body, and spirit trying to get answers out of you. You have no idea for the world of pain  that you’re about to experience.”

Shin swallows and straightens himself. “Is her pussy really that good that you want to risk it all to keep her as your fucktoy?” He smirks.

You look away in disgust as Sukuna punches Shin before Gojo could respond. “Shut up, ass face.”

“Oh… (Y/n), You really have these men whipped for you, don’t you? Are you really that good? Wish I could have had a taste of it. Shame, maybe then I would have considered switching sides to you triad scum. You really have a fuckable body. If you were captured I am sure all of us would have had an amazing time taking turns with you until you were useless.” He bites his torn lip. “Can’t believe that Satoru Gojo is a cunt worshipping coward.”

BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG. You hear four gunshots go off. Your eyes widen as you see blood pool on Shin’s chest, soaking his shirt in the red liquid. His body went limp and you see Gojo’s arm stretched with a gun. His hands clenched around the trigger.

“WHAT DID YOU DO!!!?” You scream at him. Your legs felt like jelly.

“Hm.. He got what he deserved.” Gojo puts the gun in his pocket.

“You killed him!” Your voice trembled.

“And?” Gojo raises his eyebrow. His eyes were cold, devoid of any emotion. It felt like you were looking at a complete stranger.

“You killed him… you didn’t have to…” You look around to see all the men around you unfazed by what just went down. Two men untied Shin’s hand and began to take the body outside the room.

“(Y/N)… Let’s get one thing straight. This is my world and I play by my rules. Just because we’ve fucked doesn’t give you the right to tell me what to do.” He straightens his shirt. “Clean this mess, Sukuna get the plane ready. We’re going home.”

[keelywolfe]

FIC: This Is A Test (standalone)

Summary: Gaster has always been a loyal subject to Asgore, always obeyed his word and order. Until today.

Notes: I had this idea a long time ago of Underfell Gaster working for Fellgore because he didn't really have a choice, shoving down all his emotions and working as an unfeeling scientist, doing his experiments and following orders like a loyal subject...until he can't. Not anymore.

This story contains mentions of past failed experiments in the form of created children, essentially children dying or being stillborn, not explicitly so but it is there. There are also mentions of experimenting on created Monster children, again, not explicitly so. I consider this to be a prelude to a good Dadster-type story.

Tags:  Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Found Family, Pre- Good Dadster, Medical Experimentation, Bad Fellgore, Babybones Red and Edge

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Read it on AO3

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Read it here!

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None of the lab technicians could ever hope to match Royal Scientist Gaster when it came to typing speed, but to be fair, it was hardly their fault. When one had numerous magical hands to assist, one was understandably more proficient than someone with only two.

Standing at the keyboard, repurposed from a derelict at the dump for his needs, Gaster added the last formula and hit enter. There was a moment of concern as he waited to see if the old, forgotten machine still worked, an uncomfortable amount of time drawing out to the tension of a piano wire before in an abrupt surge all the dusty lights in front of him came to flickering life. With a belch of grinding sounds the gears began to turn, slowly dimming to a loud hum as it began processing the inputted data, the monitor filling with characters scrolling too fast to be seen as it churned through hundreds of thousands of possible coordinates in seconds, searching for possible matches to his if-then qualification.

Gaster took a step back, watching his abandoned creation’s rebirth so intently that he didn’t hear the door opening behind him, nor the shuffling footsteps. It took a single word, the voice rising over the droning machinery to give him a pause.

“doc?”

He turned around to look at experiment S-23 standing by the opened door, shuffling their bare feet nervously on the dirty floor. In truth, that voice should be far too deep to come from such a small body, but extensive testing confirmed their accelerated growth cycle had already ended. The experiment was a failure and termination should have been the next step. None of the other experiments had required it; their systems shut down after the failure of the growth process ended. This one, though, clung stubbornly to life years after they should have dusted.

Terminating defunct test subjects was simply a part of experimentation, Gaster knew it well, and did not appreciate being prodded about it. He’d curtly informed the very few techs who dared question him on his decision to forgo termination that S-23 was still being monitored because of their unusual longevity. Such a thing could be quite useful in upcoming studies, there was no reason to sacrifice a possible source of information so hastily, and their careless disregard for the patience of longer termed studied would be noted. Those questions quickly stopped and now the technicians tolerated S-23 as a sort of mascot, mostly ignored as they went about their duties.

S-23 shifted to scratch nervously at the back of one leg with the toes of their other foot, wobbling unsteadily until they caught their balance. Their lack of grace was forgivable; at their side was S-47, clinging tightly to their hand with only one crimson eye light visible as they peered out around S-23’s billowing gown. S-47 was only two days out of the incubation tubes and already walking, part of the accelerated growth process. Talking should have been next and tests confirmed at least rudimentary understanding, which was all Asgore required for a soldier. Should have been talking, but S-47 said nothing, only clung to S-23’s small hand, still standing so they were half-concealed by the other. They were already nearly as tall as S-23’s shoulder and would continue to grow. Estimates were promising, putting them at nearly twice the previously attained heights.

Strong and able, capable of understanding orders. All that was necessary for an army waiting to be grown.

“Thank you for coming,” Gaster said. Even alone, it was difficult to allow his stiff professionalism to ease. “I’m aware it’s earlier than you’re normally awake.”

S-23 only nodded silently, well accustomed to disruptions of their sleep. They slipped an arm around the shorter one’s shoulders, pulling them closer. “i think he’s hungry.”

“I expect so,” Gaster said, almost absently. “That sort of growth consumes a great deal of magic. Here.” He crouched by the heavy pack that was leaning against one of the walls and pulled out a cinnamon bunny purchased that morning. It was no longer warm, but the smell was still enticingly fresh. Such a thing was a rare treat and S-23 brightened visibly, the expression faltering as the younger beside him grunted eagerly and reached for it.

Gaster watched, unable to prevent himself from cataloging S-23’s reaction. They unwrapped the treat and gave it to the younger without saving even a small portion for themselves, swallowing hard as they watched S-47 devour it. Before they finished, Gaster retrieved another from the bag and handed it over silently, watching with a sort of wearily resigned amusement as S-23 started handing it over as well.

“Stop,” Gaster told him, and S-23 froze, looking up at him with wide sockets. It was rare that Gaster spoke sternly. It was normally unnecessary, S-23 was always near pathetically eager to please. No, he told himself, not pathetically. Childishly. “Eat at least half of that yourself, food may be scarce for a while.”

He could see S-23’s confusion, though they did as they were told and the supreme enjoyment on their small face as they relished the treat made a lump form at the back of his throat, viciously swallowed away.

Gaster turned back to the machine, his eyes skipping over the crumpled missive on the nearby table. Despite the destruction, the royal seal was still visible and Gaster did not need to read it to know what it said. The order was too brief to be forgotten.

Bring them.

Bring them, the first soldier for his perfect army. After all this time, the experiment worked and…no, not experiment, the child. If he was done with the lab then he could be done with that as well. The child was thriving, growing as expected, their long-fingered hands were tipped with the demanded sharp claws, their teeth wickedly sharp as they tore into the small pastry. Asgore was eager to begin their training, teaching them the skills they would need in the war against the Humans. Teaching them to be a killer, filling their tiny soul with LV.

S-47 looked up at Gaster with wide eye lights, their face smeared with crumbs as they offered him an incongruous, innocently happy smile through those jagged teeth.

Gaster turned away again, back to the pack, and he roughly pulled out two pairs of small shoes and some mismatched clothing. All of it would be too big for either of them, but when he’d begun bringing clothes to the lab months back, a single piece at a time and no more than one article a week to be carefully concealed outside the watchful eye of the cameras, he’d been unable to gauge what size might be necessary. Better to be much too large than too small and useless.

Their confusion was obvious as Gaster hurriedly pulled off the thin gowns they both wore and replaced them with shirts and trousers. S-23’s confusion was more profound; they’d never worn real clothing in their entire short life. Even the blanket in their tiny room was rough and utilitarian, their cell sterile and bare. The solitary toy in it was a worn stuffed rabbit missing one of its button eyes, given by Gaster during a test of their capacity for empathy and never retrieved. That toy was usually hidden beneath their pillow, kept out of sight of the other lab technicians, and was now stowed away at the bottom of the backpack.

He only had one of S-47 shoes tied when the machine burped out a cheerfully musical sound. Gaster nearly fell as he staggered to his feet, assisted by his own magical hands as he stumbled over to the monitor where two words stood out bluntly on the screen.

Coordinates found.

Gaster took a long, slow breath, and turned to look at…at the children. They stood there dressed in a hodgepodge of stolen clothing, confused and yet so trusting. Their wide sockets curiously watching as they waited for him to give them orders; they were accustomed to that, already accustomed to being told what to do and ready to be molded, ready for that innocence to be ripped away, to be turned into something else.

There was another, newer computer on the other side of the room with orders already typed in, waiting for confirmation. Gaster went to it and tapped in his keycode, turning away before he could watch his life’s work destroyed as the virus he’d created greedily ate its way through the servers.

“Come along, children,” Gaster said firmly, with confidence he did not feel. He shouldered the backpack with its meagre supplies and paused only long enough to tie S-47’s other shoe before he took each child by the hand, leading them to the machine. There was only enough charge for one attempt but that was fine. They wouldn’t be back and when the virus was finish with the main servers, it would infect the machine’s drives as well.

They needed to hurry now and Gaster let go of S-23’s hand…no. No, the child’s name was Sans, given to him in a barely audible whisper when Gaster first held him, still wet with sticky fluids from decanting. He’d named every one of them, all forty-five of the others, every lost child falsely called an experiment and he’d hold those names in his soul until the day he dusted. On his other side, Papyrus, once called S-47, was bouncing excitedly, lifting a foot to admire his new-old sneakers.

Gaster let go of Sans’s hand long enough to press the single glowing red button on the machine’s control panel. On the large metal pad that extended from the machine’s side, a wavering cloud of blackness formed, a portal that, according to his calculations, should lead to somewhere else. Where exactly that was could only be answered by going through it.

If it worked, wonderful, and if it didn’t, well. That might be for the best, too.

“Come along, children,” Gaster said again, and he led Sans and Papyrus to that portal, dim shouts from down the hallways already audible and growing louder. They followed him trustingly, never pausing as he stepped through the darkness with his children as they traveled to whatever lay on the other side.

~~*~~

end...?

[cherrywoes]

ii. come with me, destroy the masses.

tw (general): graphic descriptions of blood, gore, sexual content, violence, homicide, physical torture, psychological torture, rape, dubcon, drugs, overdosing, suicide, cannibalism (brief desc/mention), knife play, wax play, dacryphilia, sadism, masochism, bdsm, corsetry, human trafficking, drug trafficking, oral fixation, thigh kink, stocking fetish, food play (and more to be named.) tw (this chapter): stabbing with knitting needles, mention of oral sex, mentions of displaying heads upon mantles, blood, gore, etc.

“MAMA, YOU LOOK like you were drowned in a river and left to dry out in the sun,” were the first words that Akamine Jun’ichi said to you when you exited the prison facility with a grace only you could have afforded. He was dressed to impress in a two piece suit, the back panels hanging a few inches lower than normal and fluttering in the slight breeze. His hair, dyed to such a blue fluorescence that it was almost too bright, had been grown long, longer than you had seen him last, and now framed his face in feathery layers with the rest tied to the top of his head in a messy knot that was almost stylish. The hair pin he’d shoved through it was just a little bit too ostentatious, but he wouldn’t be Jun’ichi if he wasn’t the least bit over extravagant. You observed him with an amused half-smile upon your lips, eyes darting down to the gold rimming the seams of his expensive dress shoes and the gold plated spikes embedded in the back heel. “Ah, or should I have said your beauty has not faded a day since you went in?”

“Oh, you know I hate dishonesty,” you tutted, reaching up and patting his cheek condescendingly. He leaned into it slightly and you smiled knowingly, withdrawing your hand before a crimson blush could make its way up his cheeks and fluster him. Where Nao was like your child, Jun’ichi was your doting husband, always quick to defend you and flourish at your side—you could always count on him to have your best interests at heart. While easily flustered by any smidgen of affection you gave him, he was quick to recover, clearing his throat and giving your mundane sweatpants and shirt a cursory once over. You sighed and lamented,”They burned my clothes when they were done using them as evidence. That was an expensive pair of Louboutins I lost; I’d rather like another pair of them.”

“As you wish.” Jun’ichi bowed slightly at the waist, almost mockingly, but you adored him for his candor. He plucked a new cell phone from his coat pocket and handed it to you with a flourish. When you raised a fairly bushy and unplucked eyebrow, he said, carefully,“Your last phone was… a bit outdated, [Name]-sama.”

You scowled at the dark screen of the Samsung. Technology had advanced while you were rotting away in a cell block, that was for certain. A quick press of a short button on the side sent you to a home screen; from there it was easy enough to figure it out, though you didn’t like change. You much preferred your flip phones and old burners compared to the pricey piece of technology in your hand; it was fragile and felt like it could break easily. You examined the lavender casing on the back and the three cameras in the top left corner, eyes narrowing in displeasure.

“Fine.” Tucking it away into the waistband of your pants, as there were no pockets to be had, you fixed him with an irritated stare. “But we need to make several stops before I’ll feel like myself again. You haven’t emptied the coffers while I was away, have you?”

Jun’ichi laughed lightly. “No, I merely filled them. You may take a look at your account on your phone if you like.”

When you glowered at him at the mention of the phone, he looked away.

“Perhaps not,” he mumbled, as an afterthought. In an effort to draw your attention away from the shiny new toy he had bought you, he said,”So, to the salon? Your hair looks very unhealthy.”

“No, the seamstress.” You reached up and plucked the collar of your cotton and polyester t-shirt with a grimace. It was cheaply made and something you wouldn’t have been caught dead in if you had a choice; you much preferred silks and pure cotton and the comfort of a nicely pressed pantsuit or jumpsuit. “Mixed fabrics make me itch.”

“Of course.” He gestured for a car idling at the curb of the police station. You watched the sleek black Lincoln pull out and begin to drive towards you, your eyes flicking over the shiny new finish and the dealership plates still screwed into the front plate. The driver was unrecognizable to you, with his hair buzzed short and a plain black suit to match his unassuming appearance. He wore sunglasses as well and you attempted to peer past them, but found it worthless to do so. You trusted Jun’ichi to vet the staff properly, and if he didn’t, you would have his head—whether it was between your legs or on your mantle was his decision to make. He was lovely at apologies, but you weren’t in the mood to deal with another betrayal—Nao’s already stung quite considerably and your temper would flare if you had another. You hoped his teeth were sitting on your desk, waiting for you to admire them: the gold caps had been quite nice and you were debating having the diamonds embedded in a dog collar so you could leash it around his throat and walk him around in public and within your manor just to humiliate him a little more. He hadn’t cried when you had pulled out his teeth, but maybe he would at the thought of public humiliation. He always was sensitive to his image.

Your parents would be so disappointed that you forewent the traditional Yakuza punishments. It was a pity they were too dead to see the empire you had built from their ashes.

“Did Nao return to the manor?” You inquired as Jun’ichi opened the door for you politely. He hummed in an indication for you to elaborate, hand pausing on the door and the other held aloft to help you into the cabin. “Did he put his teeth on my desk like I asked him to?”

“Ah.” Your advisor grimaced, as if imagining the pain his subordinate had gone through himself. He was always the sympathetic one, even if you forbid him from doing anything to help the people you punished. “Yes, he did. By the cup of red pens, I believe.”

With a curt nod of satisfaction, you stepped into the cabin and allowed the door to shut behind you. It was a luxurious car, of that you were certain, the leather soft and buttery and surprisingly real. Faux leather was disappointingly common in most cars you had purchased, even from luxury dealers like Mercedes and Lamborghini. You ran a finger down the seam of stitching on a corner, watching the flesh of your thumb catch on them as you went. You ignored the bustling city in favor of examining the car, uninterested in the changes that had occurred in the time you had been incarcerated. You were eager to return to your throne and get back to work; after all, no one ran the underworld quite as well as you did. You trusted Jun’Ichi to keep things stable, but he was soft and malleable, a trait you should have beaten out of him years ago; but you had needed that softness during that time in your life, and while it wasn’t a regret, it was a mistake you acknowledged with your heart.

You pulled your new phone out of your waistband with a tired sigh. You felt you could do with a few hours of sleep in a proper bed with satin sheets and a weighted duvet, but there was work to be done that couldn’t wait a second longer. Ten years was too long to be out of the game. You had meddled in affairs, of course, but you had never been able to get to the full extent of your former power while you were trapped in that prison. Now that you were free, there would be several people who would pay dearly for what they had done to you—but first, you had to lay low. Your release had been a secret thanks to hush money paid to several media outlets and cops, of which you had no doubt paid a small fortune for. You didn’t want rats scattering back into their hidey holes and popping back out to be menaces when you least expected it.

Before you could explore the features of your sparkling new touch screen phone, a call came through. The contact icon was blank and only displayed a gradient of color, but you recognized the number typed into the contact name well enough.

“Swipe right to answer it,” Jun’ichi offered helpfully.

You frowned and did as he said, holding the phone up to your ear and hoping you didn’t accidentally press something wrong. You were rewarded with an excited yell on the other line.

“Lǎo bǎn niáng!” You pressed your lips together at the term but did nothing to correct it. “You’re out of prison! I was wondering when you would finally get out; I’ve missed you over the years.”

You could practically hear the pout in Huang Jinhai’s voice when he spoke. The man was over fifty years old, yet he still acted as if he was a sulky teenager, which wasn’t much of a change since the last time you had spoken to him. The prison didn’t allow you to collect calls from China, citing you were a ‘risk’, so you never spoke to him as often as you got to with your own syndicate, which wasn’t often at all. “Shū fù, you know as well as I do that they would never allow me to call you. It is nice to hear your voice, though.”

Jun’ichi caught your eye in the rearview mirror. You scowled at him and jerked your head to indicate he should look forward and away from you.

“Ah, I can hear the lie in your voice even over the phone.” You repressed a sigh at the sniffle you heard over the line, turning your head and knocking it against the window. “But that’s an issue for another day. I had a gift sent to your manor house when your lieutenant told me you would be released—I think you’ll love it when you see it.”

A flash of color caught your eye. You turned to look out the window, holding the phone slightly askew from your face. “You know I don’t like surprises.”

“But you’ll like this one, I think.” He laughed. “Knowing how you are, you’re eager to get back to work, so I’ll let you go.”

You hung up before he could take you on another tangent. While you loved your uncle, he could be a bit much, even for you at times. The fact that he had somehow gotten a ‘surprise’ into your manor was interesting, however; his last surprise had been a very crude rendition of a Jackson Pollock painting, however it had been all over your bedroom and in blood and various entrails you weren’t keen on identifying at the time. He was never one to do things in halves, your uncle, so whatever surprise he had gotten you was doubtless something to be wary of.

By the time you had thought through all of the possible things he could have done to your home, you had arrived at the seamstress’ home. It was a small thing nestled between family owned bars and shops catered to foreigners, and in a shady enough area as well. There were thugs crawling around every corner, some from syndicates you knew and some that you did not—several hosted fairly visible tattoos of panthers on their arms, exposed by short sleeved shirts and wife beaters that looked to have seen better days. While they weren’t clean, per se, they appeared well taken care of and the stains on their shirts were old blood or sake stains. Their shoes denoted a fairly well off syndicate as well, cleaner and fancier than their clothes; their jewelry as well, the same panther motif hanging from gold or silver chains or even studs in their ears.

“I see you’ve let interlopers into our midst,” you noted quietly. Your fingers began tapping a rhythm on the window button, counting each panther you saw on the street. You could see Jun’ichi stiffen in the front seat, leather creaking under the sudden shift in weight. The driver paid no mind to it and waited for you to either step out of the car or deal with Jun’ichi while he still sat in the front seat, in the perfect position for you to rip the drawstring from your pants and slide it around his throat and choke him with it. Sliding your fingers off of the button and to your phone, you idly checked the time and glanced at the driver, still silent. “Your failure will not go unpunished. For now, I think, I don’t want to keep the seamstress waiting.”

You leaned forward and snatched the sunglasses off of the driver’s face. You saw his eyelashes flutter in surprise as you were setting them upon your own nose, hooking them behind your ears. When you were satisfied with how you appeared, you stepped out of the car. You didn’t wait for Jun’ichi to follow you; you didn’t trust yourself not to force him to his knees and beat him with his own belt buckle for his indiscretion. There were too many panthers roaming the streets for your taste; they likely reported to someone within the area and your low profile would be blown far too soon.

The inside of the seamstress’ home was quaint and humble. Littered with silks and numerous fabrics, it was a mess of chaotic order, and there were several needles within grabbing distance with enough length to puncture through someone’s eye and into their skull. You picked one up as Jun’ichi squeezed through the door behind you, pressing the sharp tip to your finger and watching a bead of blood well up from the slightest pressure. Other than Jun’ichi’s breathing and your contemplative hum, the house was quiet besides the settling of the wooden support beams and rustling of fabric from somewhere deeper within.

“So the Monster of Tokyo returns,” a wizened, cracked voice sussured. Nestled in the darkest of corners and between large bolts of fabric, Fushimi Chinatsu looked up from her complex knitting pattern with a smile and the corners of her eyes crinkling. Her needles snapped together with a metallic clack, the yarn discarded into a small basket hidden near her feet. She stood slowly, the sound of her bones protesting the only other audible noise in the room, her spine bowed and her neck hunched. She wore a humble outfit of a skirt and a modern graphic t-shirt that was slightly too-large to accommodate the scoliosis in her spine, looking entirely out of place among the yards of silk and lace. Other than her dark, beady eyes and silver hair, Chinatsu was every bit the grizzled ex-Oyabun that you recalled her being. As she drew closer into the light of the windows facing the road, a tattoo of a spiraling dragon and white koi came into view, once hidden by the shadows. “I wondered when you would finally one-up those dicks playing law and order.”

“Fushimi-sama,” you greeted her cordially, the smallest of smiles on your face. “It’s good to see you.”

She laughed, an inhuman cackle that had the hairs on your arms and neck standing on end. “And it’s good to see I can still tell when you’re lying. Don’t worry, [Name]-chan, your secret is safe with me—I have a few more years in me before I hit the grave.”

“I’m surprised you’re still alive.” Slowly, you put the large needle back where it had been laying. Chinatsu watched your movements like a hawk, dark gaze following your hand as it moved away from the needles to pluck at samples of fabric lying beside it. “I would have thought you’d be dead by the time I got out.”

“By natural causes or by my brother-in-law?” She remarked snidely. When you gave her a loose shrug and a quick raise of your eyebrows, she snorted. “Either is likely at this point. But I don’t think you’re here to discuss my death, Akamine-sama, unless I’ve done something to slight you in the past?”

“No, you’re right.” You examined a sample embroidered with cranes and white lotuses; for a kimono, most likely, with the quality of the fabric. “I’m here for new suits. In the same style as usual, of course, and with payment in full.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” Chinatsu was deceptively calm as she lifted a spool of crimson red thread and an equally as livid vermillion silk to compare, holding them up for your inspection. You didn’t miss the slight tremble of her hands as she did so. “I believe a red suit would be in style, no?”

“That would be perfect.” You picked the needle back up and twirled it across your knuckles and between your fingers. “But first, I need to take care of some business. You’ll understand, won’t you?”

You reached back and yanked Jun’ichi forward by his tie. Not expecting the sudden show of force, he fell to his knees, the wood groaning under his weight and the sudden movement. You barely detected the splintering of a singular board beneath his knee. His eyes went wide as you grasped his hands and placed them together in a mockery of prayer.

“Akamine-sama…” Chinatsu tutted. “Prison seems not to have blunted your blade.”

The needle punctured through Jun’ichi’s palms with one quick, precise thrust. There was a momentary pop as it broke through a joint and ligament in his palm. He didn’t scream—your men never screamed—but he did let out a strangled breath at the needle jutting out of his hands, pinning his palms together in front of his face. You had avoided anything purposefully crippling, but blood streamed down his wrists and disappeared into his suit sleeves regardless.

After a moment of consideration, you patted his cheek mockingly and turned your back on him. Then, you turned and pointed to the steadily growing puddle of blood between his knees and underneath his hands, giving Chinatsu an inquiring look.

“Can I get that shade of red?”

i. i wish i could say i'm sorry. | masterlist. | iii. speak my name, tremble with fear.

taglist (open):

[sebspocketsquare]

Quarantine 5

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (online)

A/N: Heya guys! Here’s part 5, sorry it’s been a little bit. I had some trouble with this one because I really just wanted to get to part 6 LOL. Anyway, i hope you enjoy it! -T

Warnings: Flirting, language, quarantine, feels, fluff

The next morning, a string of texts wakes you. 

It’s J, letting you know his friend will be by in a couple of hours to install your security system and bring by groceries. 

He tells you to double check who’s on the other side of the door before opening it, and informs you that his friend's name is Sam.

Seems simple enough.

You get dressed, deciding to wear something a little nicer than the pajamas you’d been wearing lately. Makeup finds its way to your face and you even manage to brush your hair.

You could at least make yourself look human today, especially since you didn’t know how good of friends J and Sam were.. what if he went right back and told J you looked like you hadn’t bathed in weeks? 

That wouldn’t be good for your blossoming relationship…. friendship? Whatever it was.

You’re getting yourself a glass of water when someone knocks at your door. 

The couch had been moved back to its original position, and you look through the spyhole on your door to find a man standing there in a doctors mask with a backpack and bags of groceries in hand.

“Can I help you?” You ask through the door.

He makes eye contact with you through the spyhole. “I’m Sam, J’s friend. I’m here to install the security system for you?”

That was convincing enough for you. Opening the door, you offer a small smile. “Hi.. I’m uh.. I’m Clair.”

You can’t tell if he’s smiling through the mask, but he makes his way inside and sets the bags on the floor. 

“You mind if I take this off now? I promise I’m not sick.” He motions to the mask and you laugh softly. “No, go ahead. It’s fine. Just uh.. Stay six feet away.”

He removes his mask with a sigh of relief before flashing a pearly smile at you, “I’m Sam. Nice to officially meet you.” He looks familiar for a split second, but you convince yourself you’re merely imagining it.

Sam gets right to work with the install, and you take that time to put away the food and wine he’s brought. It’s too much for just you, it’ll last you months, but with everything that’s going on, you don’t know if you’ll even be ready to leave the house again anytime soon.

You make sure to shoot J a text telling him thank you.

Sam puts a device on each window and in each doorway of your apartment. A keypad is put right by your front door, and a panic button right beside your bed. He helps you set up a 4 digit pin that you’ll need to enter any time you come or go, and shows you how to set the alarm when you go to sleep at night. It’s so simple, but so secure.

J was right. It made you feel better. Safer.

Once everything is completely set up, he pulls a piece of paper from his back pocket and hands it to you. It’s an order form. For your computer and television. You’d made the decision to not let him replace your tablet. He was already doing too much.

“Oh..” is all you can manage to say as you look it over.

Sam chuckles in return, “He um.. he really cares about you, you know..”

Meeting his eyes, you risk asking him a personal question, “What’s your opinion in all of this..? How he feels about me?”

He looks taken back for a moment, but smiles fondly before he answers. “I’ve known him for awhile now, and.. He’s the happiest I’ve ever seen him when he’s talking to you.”

You can’t help but smile at that knowledge.

“And Clair?” 

You meet his gaze one more time.

“I know it’s probably weird for you, that he wants to take care of all of this for you, but.. let him. He’s a good man. He doesn’t have any ulterior motives. He just.. when he cares about someone, he’s all in.”

Your heart warms at his words and you nod slowly.

He smiles again before picking up his backpack and heading for the door. 

“Hey Sam?”

He turns to you just before he’s out the door.

“Tell J I said hi.”

He chuckles and shakes his head, “Will do… and don’t tell him what I said about him being a good man and all that…  he’ll never let me live it down.”

HIM

I know as soon as the system is installed because a crude outline of her apartment appears on my computer screen. 

I set alerts to let me know anytime someone approaches the vicinity, when she leaves and when she sets the alarm for the evening. If she presses the panic button, it alerts the authorities first and then me.

I have to take every precaution to keep her safe. 

I’m closing the window on my computer when Sam returns home. I hear him kick his shoes off and set his bag down before heading straight for the shower. He pokes his head in my room on his way there. “System is installed, also.. damn she is way out of your league.”

His observation makes my heart rate increase. “Wait, what? What does that mean?”

He laughs and shakes his head, leaving it at that as he continues on his way.

I find myself suddenly jealous that he’s gotten to see her with his own eyes and I haven’t.

“You could at least describe her for me!” I call after him, to which he just cackles.

My best friend is an asshole.

HER

You’re sitting on the couch watching random videos on your phone when a new message comes through from J.

[Sarge:] Everything go smooth? :)

You’re sure he already knows the answer, and you’re positive that Sam already told him all about you, but you decide to humor him anyway.

[clairv0yant:] Yes. :) Thank you again for everything.. I really appreciate you. I checked the tracking on the form that he gave me and everything should be here by the end of next week. 

[Sarge:] Doll, I promise you don’t have to thank me. I’m happy to be able to help you out. :) 

[Sarge:] It will be strange not gaming with you every night for a while, but.. We’ll just have to find another way to spend time together.

His words only cause the smile on your face to grow. He’s so sweet. So considerate. So genuine and unfathomably selfless. You weren’t sure what you’d done to earn the affections of such an amazing person.

[Sarge:] By that I mean.. expect phone calls every night ;) 

[clairv0yant:] That sounds perfect to me. :P

xxx

You spent more time on the phone with J over the next week and a half than you’d ever spent in your life. Constantly exchanging texts and making phone calls, but never once asking the other for a photo. Not that you weren’t curious, because you surely were, but you were afraid of what he expected you to be like. Did he already have an image of you in his head? An ideal Clair?

You’d tried to picture him several times, but failed at each attempt. He still remained a mystery to you.

When your new tech finally arrives, you nearly jump out of your skin with joy. You make sure to lysol the holy hell out of the shipping boxes before touching them, and once the product inside is removed and placed in the safety of your apartment, the useless cardboard goes into the recycle bin outside.

It takes you an hour and 45 minutes to get everything set up, but of course as soon as you’ve finished, J is insistent about playing.

It’d been so long, there was no way you were denying him.

You missed it just as much as he did.

“You know what I miss most?” You speak into your mic, keeping your eyes trained on the battle scene happening on the screen before you.

J hums a soft, “hmmm?” in response, trying to keep his focus too.

“Mexican food.”

He can’t help but let out a bark of laughter, obviously shocked at your most missed thing while locked away.

“Mexican food? Really?”

It’s your turn to hum a soft, “Mmmhm”.

He’s quiet for a few moments except for the sound of his keyboard clacking as he fights, determined to win this round.

When the word Victory appears on your screen, he speaks again.

“You know I um..” He pauses, and you can feel his anxiety seeping through the internet connection. “Nevermind, heh..”

“What is it?” The first emotion you feel is concern. What could he not feel comfortable telling you?

“Promise you won’t just laugh at me?”

That’s a promise you know you’ll be able to keep. “Of course, J. What’s up?”

There's a bit of silence on his end, and then you swear you hear his adam's apple bob in his throat in a gulp for courage. “When all of this is over, I.. I’d really like to take you out on a date..”

You’re stunned into silence, thankful that a new game has yet to start.

He must take the quiet as a negative response, because he immediately backtracks.

“I-I mean, that’s stupid right? You wouldn’t go on a date with some guy you met online.. Hell, I could be some cree--”

“I would love to.” You cut him off before he can ramble on too much.

“You-really?” You can hear the smile in his voice and it brings an even bigger smile to yours.

“But only if it’s mexican food.”

He lets out a soft chuckle, the rumbling of the sound making your heart flutter.

“I wish..” He stops himself again, letting out a little sigh, “I wish I knew when that would be though.. When all of this will be over.. I just.. I really want to spend time with you, Clair.”

A new match begins in the game, but you’re so distracted by his confession that you almost miss your window to pick your character.

“We’re spending time together right now, aren’t we?” You joke, but there’s a falter to your voice, a doubt. You know what he really means.

“You know what I mean, I.. I want to be there, with you.”

It’s your turn to exhale a sigh.

“I know what you mean..” A funny image comes to your head, and you find it slipping from your tongue before you can stop yourself. “What would a quarantine date consist of anyway? You sitting on the opposite side of my front door drinking beer, while I sit inside drinking wine?”

He’s silent.

Not even a laugh.

It’s a whole two minutes before he speaks again.

“You know.. That could work.”

TAGS: (I wasnt sure who to tag, so if you dont want to be, I’m sorry!! Just trying to get this out there. ALSO if you wanna be tagged INBOX ME! I tend to miss people in the notes :(  ).  @mindingmyownbusiness​ @plumfondler​  @buckybarnesappreciationsociety​ @loricameback​ @tinaferraldo​ @geminimoonbeamx​  @preserumsteverogers​ @moderapoppins​ @lowkeysebby​ @buckyshattergirl​  @jayattemptstoruletheworld​    @the-observant-fangirl​ @moondancewrites​ @moonbeambucky​ @trinityjadec​  @stevieang​  @bionic-buckyb​ @eyecandybarnes​ @propertyofpoeandbucky​ @promarvelfangirl​ @ballyhoobarnes​ @bucky-plums-barnes​ @cate-lynne​ @witchymarvelspacecase​ @imaginingbucky​ @theimpossibleg1rl​ @babygurl8840 @wonderlandmind4 @buckysthing​ @formulafun​ @curvybihufflepuff​ @fanficsformarvelkillme​  @shadyskit​ @lostinthoughtsandfeelings​ @reading–mermaid @fuckmestan​ @siliverin​ @verygraphicink​ @sallyp-53 @thatsbucknasty​ @steadyphantomcat​ @booktease21 @kiki5283 @lostinspace33 @drayshadow​ @theperditioncrasher​ @mmyepic​ @feelmyroarrrr@alien-beans @heartsaved​ @sideeffectsofyou​ @dreamingofonceuponatime​ @just-a-littlebit-of-everything​ @bluerorjhan​ @tarynsnotokay​ @jamdropx35 @turquoisekokiri​ @pinknerdpanda​​ @starkrobb​ @marvelgirl7​ @unscriptedtimetraveler​ @fangeekkk​ @wonderlandmind4​ @pinkisokay​ @mrsdaamneron​ @rynabarnesrogers​ @wish-i-had-something-better​ @stanning-seb-stan​ @oilersgirl35​ @vaisabu​ @paranoid-borderline-insane​ @bonkywobble​ @vikki-rogue​ @witchymegg​ @a--1--1--3​ @margetastic33​ @stuffandstuff-stuff​

[sylvanfreckles]

Day Nine: Midwinter

Fandom: The Lord of the Rings (Over the Mountain and Through the Wood)

Summary: Aragorn arrives at Thranduil's palace to celebrate the mindwinter feast with Legolas.

(Note: I have an upcoming series called "Over the Mountain and Through the Wood" that's basically a fantasy adventure series of Legolas and Aragorn's adventures in Middle-Earth. It's less angsty than the Mellon Chronicles, and has a lot of headcanon I've developed. I'll list the ones from this story at the end.)

* * *

“Aragorn! You made it!” Legolas held his arms out in a welcoming gesture as he swept into the room. “Old Bellyacher thought for sure the storm would keep you away. You earned me a new belt, my friend.”

The ranger let out a snort of laughter at his friend's antics. “Your brother was betting against me?” The thought of Belegdur, Legolas's stern older brother, doing something as trivial as betting whether a guest would arrive before a winter storm seemed uncharacteristic.

“Well, he doesn't know about your winter horse,” Legolas explained. He folded his arms and leaned against the wall, watching the attendant take Aragorn's wet and muddy boots and cloak away to be cleaned and dried. The ranger was now wearing a pair of stiff, soft-soled leather shoes like most of the inhabitants of Thranduil's keep. Not that boot were forbidden, but tramping around an underground fortress in wet footwear was distinctly uncomfortable.

“And you didn't tell him about Song,” Aragorn guessed. For most of the year he rode a bay gelding that had been a gift from his foster father, Eldrond of Rivendell. But in the winter, when the snows of the north washed up in drifts as high as a man's head, most of the rangers turned to the sturdy, powerful animals favored by the local farmers. Song of Thunder was a tall, broad-shouldered mare with the strong build of her sires, a thick mane and tail, and long forelocks that nearly brushed the ground. The war horses of the north were not as fast as the steeds of Rohan, but they were strong and dependable and much more suited for the perilous winter weather.

“Why would I give away my advantage?” his friend asked, pulling Aragorn into an embrace. “Besides, he hated that belt and I needed a gift for Bard next time I go to Dale. Now everyone's happy.”

Aragorn shook his head and looped his pack over one shoulder. “Even Belegdur.”

“He's happy in his way,” Legolas replied airily, leading the way through the halls to the chambers that were reserved for Aragorn's visits. The ranger looked around happily, admiring the palace of the Elvenking in winter. Bright-colored tapestries were hung on the walls to block the chill in the stone and fires were lit in every hearth. The wood-elves moved into the palace for the long, bitter winter, and thus the halls were filled with merry voices and laughter.

“I had hot water sent up,” the elf added as they reached Aragorn's room. “You can wash and change before we join my father and the others.”

“Thank you,” Aragorn's shoulders relaxed in relief when he entered the room. The fire was burning to warm the chamber, and the walls were blanketed in swirling designs of blue and silver, as a nod to the household of Elrond. “That one's new,” he remarked, nodding at one of the tapestries. It was of a silvery tree, with stars peering out through the gaps between its branches.

“Ah, yes. Tathariel's betrothed made that,” Legolas called, as Aragorn slipped behind the room's dressing screen. There was a basin of steaming water next to a small table, where towels and a shaving razor had been laid out.

“Tathariel?” Aragorn frowned to himself. He remembered the name, but not the elf in question.

“She works the northern watch patrol. I think you've met her.”

Aragorn nodded silently. He wiped off the dust and sweat of travel—the palace had indoor baths, but they were not in use at this time of day, so this would have to be enough—and quickly scraped away the stubble on his chin and cheeks. He would have to hope the clothes in his pack weren't too wrinkled...though he doubted there was anything to match the finery of court. Legolas had assured him that the midwinter celebrations were not a formal event, and he wanted to trust his friend...but an elf's definition of “not formal” might not be in line with that of a ranger's.

He stepped back around the screen, wiping the last of the water off his face. Legolas had been busy laying clothes out on the bed—trousers, shirt, and tunic. Not anything Aragorn had packed for the journey, and he approached the bed to stare down at the clothes worriedly.

There was no getting around it. He and Legolas just weren't the same size. While Aragorn was trim and fit for a human, he still had the broad-shouldered build of a man of Numenor, and Legolas had the willowy grace of an elf of Mirkwood.

“Don't look like that,” Legolas teased, flicking him on the arm with the backs of his fingers. “Father had these made for you, to keep in the palace here. He didn't want you to worry about something as trivial as clothes when you visit us.”

Aragorn sucked in a breath, glancing over at his friend. Legolas smiled fondly at him and nodded at the clothes before turning to Aragorn's pack to unload it. “Wear them well, Ranger. We do not dress all of our visitors so grandly.”

The clothes were made in the fashion of the men of Dale. A hip-length wool tunic over a loose linen shirt, both dyed in deep blue and gray. The breeches were black, and they were wool as well, which always felt a little...fragile...to Aragorn after the leathers he wore for the rangers.

“What's this?” Legolas's puzzled voice pulled Aragorn out of his thoughts. He turned around in time to see the elf pull a fabric-wrapped bundle out of the pack and lunged for it with a yelp.

“That's nothing!” Aragorn protested. Legolas held the bundle away, mischief lighting in his blue eyes.

“Nothing? It doesn't look liked nothing.”

“Give it back!”

“Doesn't feel like nothing,” Legolas hefted it in his hand a few times, easily dancing out of Aragorn's reach, then lifted it to his face for an exaggerated sniff. “Smells like leather, not nothing. I think you're lying, Ranger.”

“Legolas!” Aragorn lunged, managing to get one arm around the elf's waist. Legolas gave a shout and tossed the bundle to one side, and Aragorn managed to push the elf over before diving to catch the bundle up and hide it behind his back.

“Come now, Aragorn,” Legolas protested with a laugh. “Why so secretive?”

The heat was rising in Aragorn's cheeks and he looked down, refusing to meet his friend's merry eyes. “It's just nothing.”

“If it's nothing than you can let me see it, hmm?”

Aragorn backed away until his legs hit the bed. He was conscious of his half-dressed state—he hadn't quite managed to pull the linen shirt over his head before Legolas had found the bundle. He wouldn't be able to make a run out of the palace like this, shirtless and clad only in wool breeches and a pair of soft-soled elven shoes.

“All right,” Legolas raised his hands, laughing. “If it's so important to you, Aragorn.”

It was important. It was also embarrassing and so, so stupid. Why had he done it? It wasn't like gift-giving was a particular tradition among the elves...not for midwinter, anyway. That was a human thing, and as close as he and Legolas were the elf was still an elf.

“It's a gift,” he finally admitted, holding the bundle of fabric out. “The rangers have a tradition of exchanging gifts for midwinter. I brought...this is for you.”

Legolas's eyebrows shot up in surprise, but to Aragorn's relief he took the bundle without another word. Quietly, almost solemnly, the elf unrolled the plain fabric to reveal a pair of leather bracers. “These are for me?”

“I had them made. They're...” Aragorn's voice trailed off. He felt small, and ignorant, and far too young. Who was he to think an elf would appreciate a gift from a mortal?

But Legolas was studying the bracer's closely, holding them up so that the firelight caught the grooves of the tooled leather. “This is when we first met!” he exclaimed, a pleased smile lighting up his face.

Aragorn relaxed a little, half-sitting on the bed. The design had taken some time, many long nights spent with the rangers' armorer working out the pattern to apply to the bracers. At the cuff against the wrist were two figures, one with a sword and one with a bow, while at the elbow's end an avalanche tumbled down the side of a snow-covered mountain. Midway down the mountain the rolling snow became the heads of snarling wolves, all intent on charging the two figures at the far end of the bracer.

“Aragorn, these are wonderful!” Legolas exclaimed. “The craftsmanship is excellent—why were you so shy about this, my friend?”

He studied the floor for a moment. “It seemed...it's a ranger tradition, Legolas. I wasn't sure if it was appropriate.”

Legolas threw his head back with a laugh. He dug a hand into the pocket of his tunic and pulled something out, flipping it toward Aragorn. “I was planning on pinning this to your cloak before it was returned to you, then marveling over it the next time you put your cloak on.”

Aragorn caught the small, silvery object and cradled it in the palm of his hand. It was a cloak pin, in dark silver. It was shaped like a leaf, but the intricate design was of a sprawling tree with bare branches reaching toward the sky. Just at the top, an eagle was flying over the tree with a star clasped in its talons.

It wasn't the tree, but it was close enough for those who knew. Aragorn felt himself swallowing back a tear, and looked up at his friend in gratitude.

“Did you think rangers were the only ones who gave gifts at midwinter?” Legolas teased. “Now, come. Dress yourself, Aragorn. Tonight we feast and sing and laugh at bleak midwinter!”

* * *

So. Wanna hear all about how Legolas and Aragorn fought an avalanche full of angry wolves?

Headcanon: 1) Legolas has an older brother named Belegdur. He's a throwback to when I was first writing LOTR fanfic. The two brothers look a lot like their father, except Belegdur has green eyes like Thranduil and Legolas has blue eyes like their mother 2) Aragorn and the other rangers ride draft horses in the winter. Think of the horses in Skyrim. Song of Thunder's name is based on the naming conventions my ex used to talk about for thoroughbreds, where part of one of the parents' names is including in the offspring's names 3) the tapestries on the walls is based off my first apartment, where I couldn't afford to keep the heat up very high. I figured out that hanging blankets on the walls blocked a lot of the chill and kept things warmer. 4) The Mirkwood elves have houses outside the palace, but in winter they all move into the palace to stay warm and share provisions. It's been a while since I read The Hobbit but I know the palace was described as the fortress of Thranduil's people 5) Legolas's mother is not dead, she sailed into the west with Celebrian because they were friends, and she chose to offer her companionship until their husbands could join them again. Thranduil accepted this at first, but his anger built until he shut Mirkwood off from the rest of Middle-Earth. So the fact that he had some clothes made for Aragorn shows that he's trying to move forward.

Please leave a like or a comment! I had a shit day at work or I wouldn’t ask, haha.

* * *

Next time: Sweater - "You traitor!"

* * *

Day Eight - Master List - Day Ten

[littlestsnicket]

the witcher: four marks

I think it’s interesting that we meet Yennefer and Jaskier in the same episode

What is Istred doing here? Is he really trying to protect her from Tissaia? Cause if so, it’s not super effective, and I would think he would know that? Also, I feel like Istred would think it was best for Yennefer to study magic? 

“That woman’s a witch, you know what she will do.” What is that supposed to mean? They certainly can’t suspect what she actually does to young girls that don’t make the cut.

It’s really cruel that Tissaia haggled like that. She could easily afford 10 marks for Yennefer, but she wants to make a point that Yennefer is worth less than a pig in the eyes of her father, and that is really messed up psychological manipulation.

Clever Ciri, hiding her hair! And she looks so cold, poor baby. 

Dara is excellent. He’s so patient with Ciri while she gets over being casually rude and dismissive. But he’s also never like a dishrag, doesn’t endorse her bad behavior. And she shares her gloves :)

“You think you're safe” of Jaskier’s song overlaps with Ciri entering the encampment where she thinks she will be safe!!! AAAAAAAAH!!! Also, what is up with Posada? That tavern is in an absolute batshit location that doesn’t really match with where they end up going looking for the devil.

All the tavern patrons just looking at Jaskier, lol. He’s also clearly dressed better than anyone else there. He can (or could until recently) afford really nice clothing but it 

“They don’t exist” what was Jaskier playing before the “abortion” song cause I’m sure Geralt knows that people having ill advised sex exist. 

So, I’ve seen people make fun of this (Jaskier stating the obvious that Geralt is a Witcher), but Jaskier knows who Geralt is, specifically, by name. And the kid that gives Geralt the job, even though he is clearly desperate, doesn’t approach him until after Jaskier has identified Geralt as a witcher. 

“I could be your barker, spreading the tails of Geralt of Rivia, the Butcher of Blavikin.” Jaskier is not stupid. Does he possibly really think that Geralt is not upset about that story? Depending on how it is told, he probably comes across as competent and ruthless and efficient, and “taking no prisoners”, which would be good things for a witcher to trade in on for work. It does make a certain amount of sense to assume that a Witcher (especially as they are known not to have feelings) wouldn’t mind being associated with that story.

Tissaia’s outfits are all great, but I particularly like this pin-strippy one. The silhouette and the sleeves!

“You should have let me die, at least I had control over it” --that’s a big thing for Yennefer.  

I like that they don’t try to hide how short the actress that plays Tissaia is. It makes her presence that much more impressive when she is so small. 

The face Tissaia makes when Yennefer eats the flower, like she puts together where that came from that quickly. 

“Doing my part to avenge the lives lost in Filavendral’s uprising” which WOULD NOT HAVE HAPPENED IF THE ELVES HAD STAYED WHERE THEY WERE OUTSIDE OF POSADA!!! Actions having far reaching and unintended consequences is a witcher theme. What is Jaskier doing all the way out there?

(Since I paused to look at the map, Arteuza is really close to Oxenfurt, huh.)

“Oh child your shoes, let’s get you a fresh pair.” this is so uncomfortable. Like this woman is so cruel and racist (speciest?) but she’s kind to Ciri--possibly only because she can identify her as someone of high class. There’s a lot going on. (“Don’t worry, he’s one of the clean ones” eeeeeh!)

Jaskier clutching his lute case strap when Geralt moves past him too quickly. He has some amount of self preservation instinct after being sucker punched. But then he is also like “ACT TWO BEGINS!” 

You have to admire Yennefer’s nerve just lying to Tissaia like that. That’s crazy. 

“Even if you were a beauty, still no one will love you.” --this colors so much of Yennefer’s behavior.

Istred is so kind to her. Maybe he’s the first person to do so. “Are these the things you love? These are the things I thought you would love.” That is such a subtle poetic difference, I love it. 

Shouldn’t someone know who Geralt is and be able to tell Ciri? There are a bunch of points where he seems like almost a household name. 

“That’s impossible, No, it’s magic” it seems like Tissaia has taught them nothing. 

“There are mages like Sabrina who ignore their emotions, then there are mages like us who are consumed by them” You have to wonder what Tissaia is like when she lets her emotions out.

Jaskier seems to speak Elder pretty well. And goes from delighted to concerned about Geralt headbutting elf lady so quickly!

Jaskier’s education on elves at least started as part of a deliberate misinformation campaign, though that was probably generations ago. It’s interesting that he seems to be fairly unquestioning about it while he clearly has his own highly developed skills in the area. But he does take being wrong in stride, so he must be well versed in propaganda, just hadn’t questioned that specifically?

Filevandral is “not a king, not by choice”

“One human, and you can let him go”

“The lesser evil, no matter what you choose, you’ll come out bloody and hating yourself.” --someone is speaking from experience :(

“They’ll make slaves of us, pharias of half blood children” — I doubt Yennefer’s deformity actually has anything to do with being part elf, sounds like racist fear mongering.

“Show the humans that you are more than what they fear you to be”

Oh, Yennefer is lying about being sent home. But i think most of this is her using her real feelings to manipulate Istred rather than actually lying. 

“Rewriting history with the stories we tell, the songs we sing about our own triumphs, it’s what we do.” the “plot arc” in this episode is questionable at best, but all of the different threads tie together so nicely! They all build on one another despite taking place decades apart. 

Stregobor!!! In this moment, he’s not doing anything worse than Tissaia, but he still makes me angry just by being there. 

I don’t even know what to say about that bit with the mother and how the dwarf stabs her. I don’t blame him?

Dara rescuing Ciri!

So there’s a bunch of points earlier in the episode where Yennefer asks questions and is ignored. It feels important. 

When are mages supposed to learn that Aretuza is powered by eel-girls?

So how did Jaskier end up with Filavandrel’s lute? Was he just like, you broke my lute give me a new one?

“That’s not how it happened, where’s your new found respect?”

“Respect doesn’t make history.”

The face Geralt makes is pretty close to “oh no what have I unleashed on the world? Should I do something to stop this?” he’s underestimated how clever and ruthless Jaskier is. And it’s also too late, this is Jaskier’s thing and Geralt does not have the skills to counter it if he wanted to. 

“He wiped out your pest” also lines up with Yennefer sweeping the eels into the lake. (And of course, as the writer of the episode mentioned on that podcast, Yennefer is on screen with the line “a friend of humanity”)

Yennefer and Tissaia smiling at each other in that last moment. This is probably the one singular moment where Yennefer is taken in on the whole being a mage thing. It gets more complicated for her again very quickly.

[welcometophu]

Not Your Love Song: Chapter 24

Marked Book 2: Not Your Love Song

Chapter 24

[ Previous | First | Next ]

Rory sits on his bed, his back against the wall and knees drawn up, shoulders slightly hunched to keep his head from hitting the ceiling.

Alaric grabs clothes and shoves them into a duffel, pausing when he has to pull his suit out of the wardrobe. Alaric frowns at it—a dark charcoal jacket and slacks, with a deep purple shirt. “This isn’t going to work,” Alaric mutters.

“Football season’s over, why are you getting dressed up?” Rory has seen that suit come out exactly three times over the year, usually with the addition of a gold and purple striped tie in PHU colors, and the last time was the banquet at the end of the season.

Alaric mutters something, and when Rory makes a noise because he can’t hear it, Alaric grunts. “Paint it Red,” he says. “It’s a charity dinner tomorrow night. SigPsiE does it, benefits heart disease. Everyone’s supposed to wear red. ’S’formal.”

“So you’re going because Drea—”

“Said I had to or she was going to make our parents buy tickets,” Alaric mumbles. “Better to go there with Chris than have my father here on campus.” He carefully pulls the jacket from the hanger, undoes the shirt and tosses it on his bed before rehanging the jacket. “Need to see if Chris has a shirt I can borrow. And a tie. Red doesn’t go with any of this.”

“You could buy more formal wear eventually,” Rory suggests. He toys with his phone, opening the text app and closing it again. He finally opens it and leaves it open, staring at the end of his infrequent text stream with Kit. They aren’t quite back to their previous amount of texting, but they’ve been talking again. “Drea will probably make you go again every year,” Rory points out.

“Mm.” Alaric huffs. “Corbin’ll be there, too. Ought to be okay.”

“Do all the sisters drag their siblings or parents into it?” Rory asks, thumbs sliding across his screen. Kit hasn’t mentioned it. On the other hand, they talked about anything personal. Fine. He should just ask. He types in a text: Are you going to your sister’s charity thing?

“Have to sell the tickets somehow.” Alaric shrugs. “They aren’t cheap, but it’s less if we’re students. The parents pay more. And they sell tickets to all these pretend celebrities, like radio DJs and newscasters. She said there’s going to be dancing, like that’s a draw. Corbin probably thinks it is.”

“You could actually dance with Chris,” Rory tells him. He’s still watching his screen, as Kit apparently rethinks what he’s typing several times without sending anything. “Call him. Ask about a shirt and tie. Or if he’ll take you down to Albany to go shopping.”

Alaric winces. “Not my favorite part of football.”

Rory would bet that Chris has a better selection of formal wear than Alaric, and probably doesn’t hate wearing it nearly as much. “But if you see Corbin, you can also take a break and go flying to get it out of your system after dealing with being dressed up,” he suggests. It seems like a decent solution, and a way for Alaric to blow off steam.

Rory’s phone chimes, and he waves it at Alaric, miming putting it to his ear. “Call him,” Rory says, before checking his messages.

Paint it Red on Saturday? Yeah. I bought tickets for me and Serina a while ago.

Rory winces.

“Hey. Yeah, purple and gold don’t match red at all,” Alaric says, leaning his elbows on his bed, his back to Rory. “No, why would I have anything else? We could do that I guess. Or that. Yeah. Okay. I’ll be over soon.”

Alaric tosses the phone on his bed. “We’re going to deal with it tomorrow. OPT’s having a barbecue in the snow thing tonight, and we’re heading out early tomorrow to go to the brew store. If I can get something while we’re out, I will, or I’ll just borrow a shirt from Chris.”

Rory nods, because that isn’t any different from every suggestion he’s already made, whether Alaric wanted to think about it or not. “So basically I’m not going to see you until late Saturday,” he says.

“Probably Sunday.” Alaric shoves everything but the suit into his duffel, including a pair of dress shoes. “I’ll just crash with Chris on Saturday night. Figure Dax’ll be with Cass anyway.”

“Doesn’t Cass have a roommate?” It seem just as unfair to always sexile Cass’s roommate as it was when Dax used to leave Chris stuck without anywhere to go. But maybe that’s just Rory. Maybe they don’t care.

Alaric shrugs. “That’s their problem. I’m not bringing Chris back here and making you uncomfortable. And Dax and Cass can crash in his bed as long as they’re not doing anything.” He wrinkles his nose. “They always reek around each other.”

“Healthy young allosexuals, always wanting to get it on,” Rory deadpans. “It’s probably a good thing I can’t smell things like you do. I’m pretty sure you’re pretty stinky yourself. And Thorne must reek.”

Alaric’s gaze narrows. “Thorne wasn’t so bad, really. Not the same.”

Yeah, that conversation has the potential to go downhill fast. Rory shifts direction abruptly. “Have a good time at Paint it Red. Give Drea a hug for me. Kiss Corbin on the cheek—it’s the only way he’s getting one from me.” He almost wants to say to check on Kit for him, but that’s not really an Alaric thing.

Alaric approaches the bed slowly, and Rory wonders what he must smell like for Alaric to look so wary and slightly worried. Rory inches to the edge and slides off, landing just as Alaric’s arms wrap around him. Rory tilts his head down so Alaric can reach him, rub their cheeks together. It’s both hello and goodbye for Clan and family, and it feels good to let go of his tension and let Alaric hold him.

“Try and have fun tomorrow,” Rory says. He doesn’t bother with well wishes for tonight; he doesn’t want to think about fraternity related activities.

“Mm,” Alaric agrees. “If you need anything—”

“I’m not going to pull a fire alarm to get you out of a formal event,” Rory says with a small laugh, and Alaric growls. Rory nudges him toward the door. “Go. See Chris and relax. Go do your brewing thing, and you’ll be fine.”

Alaric stops at the door, lifts his head, nostrils flaring. He shifts his duffel on his shoulder, looks around the room with his brow furrowed. “If you need anything,” he repeats.

Rory shakes his head. “I’m fine.”

He has his phone in his hand by the time Alaric closes the door.

I bought tickets for me and Serina a while ago.

Rory has no reason to be upset about the message. But it still picks at him, digs under his skin and makes him itch. He rubs at his right arm.

Have fun at it. Alaric’s all grumpy about getting dressed up.

It’s easier to keep the messages light. For the past day, he and Kit have exchanged maybe a dozen messages, all about either the ritual (in the group chat with Shane) or about superficial, easy things. This is the closest they’ve gotten to talking about what happened between them, ever since Kit told him that maybe it was just fucked up to begin with.

It’s going to be awkward.

Rory can’t disagree with Kit’s assessment. Sorry, he sends back. I didn’t mean to make your life more complicated.

That’s got potential. Rory grabs for his notebook, scribbles down yet another potential stub for a song. That’s probably what he’ll do tonight, fall into a music fugue and let himself forget everything else.

A whisper of sound, a low cough. Rory turns, and a shadowy figure stands in the corner. As he watches, she becomes less dark and more human, still wreathed in shadows.

She raises a hand. “Hi.” She points at his phone. “Go ahead, if you feel like you need something and want to call your Clan roommate. Pretty sure he smelled me.”

Rory blinks as his phone chimes in his hand. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Actually here? Not long,” she says. “I was in the shadows, waiting for him to leave. He doesn’t like me, for obvious reasons.”

“I can’t blame him.” Rory tilts the phone so he can see the message.

It’s not you. She broke up with me on Tuesday, before the ritual ever happened.

Something twists in Rory’s chest. He sends back, oh. It’s not enough, but he has no idea what to say that right now. He tosses his phone on the bed which both keeps him from continuing to talk to Kit, and makes it obvious that he isn’t afraid of the shadow. He’s willing to listen to her.

“I’m Mattie.” She takes a step forward, hesitates as soon as she’s standing out of the shadows that linger near the walls. She turns, fingers out like she finds them comforting and is reluctant to move into the light.

“I’m Rory, and I’m not going to do anything to you unless I have to,” he says. He doesn’t want her on either bed, and there’s still only one chair, so he gestures at the floor. She sinks to sit slowly, and he mirrors her, about a foot away, both of them sitting cross-legged.

“You saw my humanity,” she says quietly. “Even then.”

“You were trying to scare the shit out of me,” Rory counters. “All of us.”

She shrugs one shoulder. “It’s a thing. When you’re soulless, the whole world is a playground made of fear and elation. It’s better when you taste good.”

Kit was right about the adrenalin rush. “And now?” Rory asks.

“You’d still taste good,” Mattie admits. She gestures at his chest, waves her hand from his head to feet. “You in particular would taste good. Even better now, there’s all this energy crackling off of you, like it’s reaching out to something that’s not here. You’re having a harder time keeping it together.”

“I don’t steal energy.” Given all the difficulties he’s had so far supplying energy for rituals, Rory’s pretty damn sure he’s not taking it and storing it for future use. “I just stop it.” He holds out his hands, and she leans back and shakes her head.

“Speaking as someone who used to guzzles souls for meals, and sip the best ones for dessert, I’m something of an expert on energy transfer,” Mattie tells him. She looks pointedly at his hands, waiting until he lowers them before she sits upright again. “You didn’t stop my Talent, you took it. Not the Talent itself; you weren’t going to turn into a Shadowwalker. But you took the energy that feeds my Talent. Think about it, Rory. It’s magic. It can’t just stop. And if you make it so I can’t use my energy, it has to go somewhere. You’re the only logical choice.”

“I don’t feel it.” That’s not a lie, not when he’s talking about stopping Talent. That has nothing to do with the tingle in his wrist, the way he can feel Kit walking across campus, moving closer to Douglass as if Rory’s drawing him in. Even though Rory knows Kit isn’t coming over.

He wonders if Kit feels the same thing. He probably should ask. Eventually.

“You’re touching yourself.” Mattie nods at his wrist. She doesn’t reach for him, and he’s thankful for that. It’s good that she doesn’t want him to touch her, because he really doesn’t her to touch him, either.

“That’s something completely different.” When Mattie wiggles her fingers, Rory shows her the mark. He carefully sets his other hand down, doesn’t push at the sparks he can feel. He simply rotates his wrist while she leans in to look at it more closely.

“You didn’t have that when I saw you last,” Mattie says quietly. “It might have been a fight to see if you could break me before I drank you down, otherwise. You taste different now. Better. Like there’s more of your essence. You’re like a fine champagne; you sparkle.”

“Great, I’m a weird kind of vampire.”

Mattie snorts, presses a hand to her face like the sound surprises her. Rory’s just surprised she gets the reference.

“That’s all the funnier because technically I guess I am a kind of vampire,” Mattie says, her gaze dropping. She makes a face. “I don’t feel the same as I used to. I regret things now; it’s like needing to become a vegetarian.”

“I’m already a vegetarian,” Rory tells her.

Mattie’s gaze drifts toward the door. She pushes to her feet, hands pressed against the floor for a moment before she rolls to standing. Her movement is fluid, shadows flickering around the edges of her skin. She still seems alien, not quite human.

“He would kill me if he catches me,” she says.

“Alaric? No, he wants to question you,” Rory says. He can’t promise it, but he’s pretty sure Alaric wants answers first, vengeance second. “But I wouldn’t recommend that you come visit him any time soon.”

She makes a soft noise that Rory thinks is probably agreement.

“How human are you?” he asks, when she is silent for several breaths.

She turns slowly, raises her hands, palms up. She walks closer and sinks into a crouch, offering her fingertips to him. She is wreathed in shadows, like smoke swirling around her skin. “Just touch,” she says, and Rory nods. It’s an agreement that neither of them will invoke their Talent.

He reaches out, bridging the distance between them. She flinches when his fingers brush hers, then she carefully holds herself still and nods. “Go ahead,” she says. He rests his palms atop hers, her skin warm.

“I am as human as any other with Talent,” she says. “More human than I was, and not any less than you. And even before, I was still human. Simply lacking a soul.”

Rory withdraws slowly. He grabs his notebook, rips a piece of paper out, and scrawls down his phone number. He folds it up, then hands it to her. “If you’re human and determined to join the modern age, find a way to get a phone,” he says. “We can keep talking. We should keep talking, because I’m hoping you’re the key to figuring out how to keep from more of your kind killing people who have fresh, new Talent.”

“I agree.” She takes the paper, unfolds it long enough to look at it, then carefully refolds it and tucks it into a pocket. She’s dressed like anyone their age—t-shirt and jeans, beaten up sneakers that look like they came from the thrift store.

Wait.

“Where are you living? How are you affording anything?” Rory asks.

Mattie looks at him, her head tilted. “You probably don’t want to know. I’m not killing anyone. It’s complicated when I was declared dead a long time ago. I’m working on getting a lawyer. There are funds that belonged to my family.”

“I could put you in touch with Mages who would probably welcome you,” Rory says, although he’s not sure how his extended family would feel about a Shadowwalker in their midst. “They’d have a lot of questions, though, and would probably want information in exchange for your room and board.”

“I’ll call you when I get a phone.” She ducks her head, rocks back and puts space between them. “Thank you, Rory. For trusting me. For not trying to kill me immediately.” She hesitates, smiles slightly. “For treating me like a human.”

“I’d say thank you for not eating me as a sweet dessert like you once promised to, but I’m pretty sure it’s a given that I don’t want that,” Rory says drily. “Keep behaving like a human, and I’ll keep treating you like one. I think we need each other right now. Because I know you’re not the only one, and you’re the only way I have to figure out what to do about the rest.”

“I’ll try to help.” Mattie stuffs her hands in her pockets, takes another step back until she stands half in shadow in the corner, just past Alaric’s equipment. The shadow has spread as the sun goes down, and the lower half of her body seems insubstantial where she stands within it. “I’ll see you again.”

“Yeah.”

She’s gone between one breath and the next, and Rory exhales. His chest is tight, his shoulders aching, and his skin still pricks. He pushes his hair back from his face, presses the heels of his hands against his eyes until it feels like he’s breathing normally again.

Fuck. This is… overwhelming.

It’s been a hell of a week.

Rory climbs onto his bed, picks up his phone. There’s no further response from Kit, and Rory still isn’t sure how to poke at that. He can’t think Kit’s had a good week either; breakups, for whatever reason, are never fun.

He brings up a new text to Mac. The last time they texted was in December, when they were first planning to capture the shadow. To capture Mattie. Yeah. Rory doesn’t think he’s going to tell Mac that he’s been talking to the enemy.

He wants something else.

I figure you’ll be at that Paint it Red thing tomorrow. Kit’s going to be there with Serina. I don’t know if you know, but I guess they broke up earlier this week. And Kit’s my soulmate and everything’s weird. It’s probably going to be really awkward for Kit at the thing.

Mac’s reply comes quickly. I’ll keep an eye on him, Rory. He’s a good guy.

Rory laughs, because that’s not the problem at all. He knows Kit’s a good guy. He likes Kit. He just doesn’t want to feel like he’s being forced into something. Or to have Kit feel like that. Or to feel like anyone’s going to expect more than Rory’s comfortable with.

I know. Thanks, he sends back.

He leaves it at that.

[ Previous | First | Next ]

[yuniesan]

Heroes of Tomorrow, Heroes of Today - Chapter Six

Synopsis: Riley is the daughter of Tony Stark, but no one knows who she is. Her life has been a lie for her own protection, so when she strikes a deal with her father in six months the world would know. How hard can that be? Well when you’re going to a school where your teachers had once betrayed him, and the one guy you might like hates your father, well everything just becomes a complicated mess.

Or How I mixed two of my favorite universes and made Tony Stark a better father than his own father ever was.

[Previous Chapters]

Chapter Six – Sometimes it’s easy to sneak around

Tony flirts with everyone, he knows this, he didn’t expect to have Captain America the paragon of all that is good to flirt back. The only reason he had used the opening that Steve had given him was because he needed to find a way to get all of the Avengers into one place. Panic attack or no panic attack he needed to sit down with them all and actually have a conversation. The barbeque was out of the question because everyone invited knew about Riley so they were allowed to be father and daughter for a day without worrying about the media. After thinking about it since the conversation with Steve, and promptly blowing up the upgrade to the boot of his suit and having DUM-E use the fire extinguisher on him and not the boot.

“Did you invite the Avengers to our family barbeque?” Pepper asked as she walked in through the door.

“Yes and no, Steve invited himself and the team and I agreed to it, but I have an idea, the barbeque can be on Sunday because it gives you an excuse to force everyone to bed since the next day is a school day, and I’ll tell the Avengers to come over on Saturday and we can have our dinner that day.”

“You’ve thought of everything except one little detail,” she said raising her eyebrows at him.

“What? What did I forget?”

“Riley.”

“She can hide for a day.”

“From super soldiers, spies, and powered individuals?”

“Her lab has a lockdown, and the vents are so small that not even Clint could get inside of them so she’ll be alright.”

“You know sometimes I’m afraid that our daughter takes too much after you.”

“Yeah until she starts handing out words of wisdom or asks me for shoes, the shoe thing I’m pretty sure comes from you.”

Pepper sighed before sitting down on the couch. his workshop. It was brand new since the last one had been torched when he accidentally set off the repulsor in his glove the week before while doing an upgrade.

“Do you want to talk about the other thing?”

“You mean the fact that you and Rhodey are dating? Let me think… Yes,” he said smiling before sitting down next to her. “There was a time where I was sure that we would stay together but now I’m not so sure.”

“I wished for it too but in the end I guess I was more afraid you’d die as Iron Man.”

“But Rhodey bear is a service man, and he’s the Iron Patriot.”

“But he’s more careful than you are when it comes to a lot of things, and he always remembers the small things, with you some days I was lucky that you remembered to sleep.”

“Harsh Pep.”

“Let me just tell you the easy part,” she said taking a deep breath. “We started dating about two months ago.”

“Who made the first move?”

“He did, and he was a complete gentleman about it too.”

“I’m happy for the both of you, and if he hurts you in any way tell me, I’ll send Riley to kick his ass.”

“No, I’ll kick his ass, with my million-dollar heels.”

“Did I ever get you a pair of million-dollar shoes?”

“If you did I would remember but no you didn’t. Although maybe for Christmas?”

“Listen if you and Rhodey get married I’ll buy you the shoes and the dress to match, hell I’ll walk you down the aisle and give you away.”

“Sounds like a plan,” she smiled at him before pulling him into a hug. “Are you going to give James the shovel talk today or are you waiting until he starts sweating?”

He thought about it for a moment before he decided. “I’ll wait, he still needs to get Riley’s permission to date you.”

“She’s a tough one,” she said laughing. They both knew how protective their daughter was, for Tony she worked to make sure he survived. For Pepper she made sure that he did his paperwork, and they had the occasional shopping trip with one another.

“By the way,” he said once they stopped laughing. “How did you find out about the team coming to the barbeque?”

“I got an email from FRIDAY, which was just the first because I also received a voicemail from Vision.”

“Betrayed by my own creations, I should have known.”

“I’m actually Riley’s creation Boss,” FRIDAY said making Pepper laugh.

“Yeah yeah,” he said before leaning into the back of the couch and rubbing his eyes.

“I know it’s useless but you should get some sleep,” she said to him.

“I should but I need to finish this up before tomorrow, I signed all the paperwork you sent me earlier so you can pick it up from my office of have someone pick it up for you.”

“You know you’re being very responsible, especially now that you’re the Director, if I didn’t know better I would have thought that you’d been possessed by something.”

“No, just trying to make my kid proud.”

Pepper left him alone in the workshop not long after that, leaving him to fix the problem with his boot in peace. He had sent off an email while he worked to Steve that he had to be at the house by six on Saturday, and then sent the same email to all of the other Avengers, including a wayward archer who hated him because he was nice to the guy’s kids.

“Time to fix some relationships,” he said out loud to himself.

“Whatever you say Boss,” FRIDAY answered.

“I didn’t forget about your meddling young lady so don’t push me,” he said threatening the A.I. which shouldn’t be weird because it was a normal occurrence but now he didn’t know if FRIDAY was working with him or against him. It was Riley’s creation but it felt as though his own kid was using the A.I. to manipulate him into a false sense of security. When had his daughter become the parent in the relationship?

Tony sent Steve a message telling him that they should have their date on Saturday, and then promptly sent an invite for the barbeque to the rest of the Avengers for the same day. He had to believe that his daughter was right about families fighting but he also knew that there was going to be an all-out fight that day as well.

“Fri, can you tell Vision to come down here so I can get his help,” he said thinking of JARVIS his old friend still lives within Vision but in some ways he’s learned that Vision was also becoming a good friend so he didn’t mind.

“FRIDAY has told me that you would like to see me,” Vision said as he came through the wall making Tony jump and fire off the boot he had been working on for the second time.

“Jesus,” he as the far wall exploded. “Doors Viz, learn to use doors please.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s alright, I wanted to see you because I’m planning something and honestly I don’t want the other avengers to know I’m planning this, and Steve thinks it’s a date but it’s actually a team bonding thing,” he said only stopping because he needed to breathe. “Anyway, Riley wants me to work on mending these relationships with the team, and honestly no matter how much we all fucked up, we need to once again function as a team even if that means lying to everyone to make sure that they show up for dinner.”

“And what is my role in all of this?” Vision said looking at him with wonder. Although for Tony is was still a bit freaky that the guy could look so human and not be human at the same time.

“Well you’ve been working on your cooking skills, so can you be in charge of food, nothing fancy just something that says home.”

“It sounds like a strange concept but I have been working on several recipes with Riley, Isaiah, and Peter so I believe I can try.”

“Thanks Viz, for everything.”

“No problem Mr. Stark,” he smiled for a moment but before Tony could correct him the android left the room.

“I hate it when he calls me Mr. Stark, and now I’m sure he does it on purpose,” he said to himself before moving on to fixing the latest disaster.

Riley had gotten the message from her father, she wasn’t allowed upstairs while the Avengers were on the premises and since they weren’t sure when the team would arrive, she had locked herself away the night before. She had homework to do and things to build, plus she had to figure out the formula for that nail polish which had been bothering her since she blew up the science lab.

As she worked on the equations for the nail polish, her phone started ringing, she saw Zay’s face light up the screen so she put the phone to her ear as she answered.

“Hey Zay,” she said as she tweaked the equation, making FRIDAY run the numbers before the screen turned red making her grunt at the fact that she couldn’t perfect the damn thing.

“So I think my dad is dating your mom,” Zay said making Riley drop her tablet.

“WHAT?”

“Well your mom came over yesterday, my dad thought I was sleeping, anyway they were downstairs talking about how she told your dad that they were dating because my dad was too much of a coward to do it the other day.”

“Zay, Uncle Rhodey is not a coward.”

“No he’s not, but apparently he needs your approval for their relationship to continue, because your dad has already blessed them, but because we’re their kids they need our approval. I mean if they got together to the point where they got married we’d be brother and sister, which is cool, but why do they need our permission to date?”

“I think it has to do with boundaries and how it would be a blended family, and all of that kind of stuff,” she said thinking about how it would make them all a real family. “You know, I approve of their relationship, plus they know each other so there’s no awkward thing where they have to explain that they have kids.”

“You’re being optimistic.”

“Yeah well I’ve been locked in my workshop for an entire day because of whatever my dad is up to, and since the Avengers were coming over I can’t go to my room… it gives a person time to think about things.”

Her phone beeped three times, as her tablet alerted her that Peter was on the other line.

“Hey Zay, Peter’s calling,” she said.

“Go talk to your boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend, will you let that go.”

“Nope, talk to you later.”

“Later Zay.”

She switched the call over only to have Peter sigh in her ear.

“So I’m at your house, and I can’t bug you because the Avengers are coming over, what’s your dad up to?”

“Team building exercises,” she said smiling. “Actually I’m not sure, all I know is that I’m not allowed to go out, and you can’t come down here, but we’re having a barbeque tomorrow and your invited to that.”

“Am I?” he said and she knew he was bored because he was trying to find something to talk about with her even if he questioned everything she was saying.

“Yes, it’s only family, so basically my parents, Zay and Uncle Rhodey, you, Ned and Vision… In the end it’s just the people who know I exist. I mean dad invited Uncle Nick but he’s busy.”

“How your dad has kept you a secret is beyond me,” Peter said before becoming quiet. “Everyone is starting to arrive.”

“Game face Pete,” she said smiling.

“I wish, it’s still a little weird that they know who I am, but not know who I am… wait did that make any sense?”

“Not really but then again you’re in a room full of superheroes so who knows what makes sense anymore. Text me when you’re ready to run and Vision will probably find a way to sneak you away.”

“Funny, but even I’m sure you’re as stuck as I am in all of this,” he said and she knew he was waving his hands around. Peter was very animated when he spoke to anyone and sometimes is was fun to watch.

“Who’s up there anyway?”

“Well that panther guy is here, and Dr. Banner has been talking to Tony about something and of course… Tony is trying to convince him to teach a science class at the academy,” he said and Riley could tell that he was trying to hold back the words your dad. “Vision is in the kitchen cooking, and Zay’s dad is here making himself a drink.”

“Yeah… good luck with that and talk to you later,” she said before attempting to hang up.

“Later… yeah hopefully nothing happens… so yeah later,” he said mumbling along. He was nervous and she knew it.

Letting go of the phone she walked over to the couch she kept in the shop and sat down trying to figure out what to do with herself when Vision came in through the wall making her jump.

“Jeez, why can’t I get used to that?” she said with her hand on her chest as her heartbeat sped up.

“I’m sorry, but since I’m not allowed to open the door and not alert the others within the house it was unavoidable,” Vision said uncovering a plate full of food. Riley smiled when she saw nothing but comfort food in front of her. Before Peter knew who she was Vision had been her only real friend outside of Zay, so when Vision had started to learn how to cook with Wanda, he had come over to the house with plates of food for Riley to try.

Lately he had been cooking dinner with even Peter in mind, as he was coming over more and more. Ned came with him sometimes, but mostly went to Zay’s because they had some kind of competition going on a video game.

“It’s okay,” she said smiling as he put down a plate of mac and cheese with stuffed chicken breast and mashed potatoes. “You know if mom saw that there were no veggies in this she would probably freak.”

That was when Vision uncovered a second plate with the most colorful salad she could have imagined. She couldn’t help but smile at the android wishing that he could taste the things he often made for her.

“Thanks,” she said before receiving a smile from Vision.

“You’re welcome,” he said before leaving.

The only thing she could do now was wait so she had FRIDAY put on a movie as she settled down to eat her food.

Steve drove his motorcycle to Tony’s house for their date, he had thought it was going to be a barbeque but when he had gotten the message it hadn’t seemed that way anymore. He had learned from Bucky, in what seems like another time, to flirt with others but had never actually flirted. Even with Sharon everything had been an awkward mess, but he tried it out on Tony and didn’t really expect the reaction he had received.

He also hadn’t expected up to the huge house and see the rest of the Avengers standing in front of the door as if they were debating on whether to knock or run the other way. Clint was standing next to Natasha who was holding his hand while Bucky glared from her other side. Wanda was letting out sparks of magic from being nervous, Sam was watching everyone, and Scott wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be there.

“Hey,” he said walking up to everyone utterly confused as to what was happening.

“So Stark invites the whole team over for dinner,” Clint says as he tries to pull away from Nat. “Without telling any of us that he invited the other members of the team.”

“Well he hasn’t really spoken to any of us since he announced that he was the director,” Natasha said, Steve could see a bit of sadness in her eyes.

“I’m pretty sure the only person who talks to him is Colonel Rhodes,” Steve said watching as everyone was nervous. He had realized at that moment that Tony had lied about the date, and for some reason it stung because he wanted it to happen, but Tony had to deal with his trust issues with the team. He should have known this but he had given himself a little bit of hope anyway.

Steve watched as Clint attempted to run away for a second time but Natasha grabbed onto his shirt collar and pulled him back choking the man.

“Damn it Nat let me go,” Clint said trying to get away from her grip.

“No, Laura says you have to do this, she’s still pissed off at you for leaving and going off to help Steve because you were supposed to be retired. She also told me how much fun you all had on Tony’s private island so stop being stupid and fucking apologize to the man like the grown up man that you are or else I’ll get James to sit on your head until I can get your wife over here to yell at you,” she said without stopping, and Steve knew she meant business.

He had wondered about Clint and his family for so long, after everything that had happened, about his own selfishness in asking the archer for help and what it had cost him. Only finding out from Nat weeks ago that Laura Barton believes in family, and that although they fight she’s still pissed off at Steve and the rest of them for what had happened. But also there had been some connection formed between the Barton kids and Tony. Nat wasn’t infallible in all of this either since she had left Tony behind to help him get away and then joined him in the months after. They had all in some way abandoned Tony, and none of them had tried hard enough to repair that damage since they returned.

The door opened with Dr. Banner on the other side, someone else that they had to learn to work with a get pass another wall. Bruce in some ways understood Tony’s need to have laws for powered individuals in a way that Steve had missed since he had made the safety of his childhood friend a priority. Once Tony had modified the Accords to the point where Ross was no longer involved and SHIELD as the in between with the UN. Banner understood the Accords in a way that Steve hadn’t and it had been because Banner had the Hulk, but he had also grown up in the same world that Tony had where people take advantage of those with any kind of power, and some who had power took advantage of their position.

Steve had seen it with the Red Skull, but what he had undeniably missed the first time around was just how frightened the people of the world were of those with the kind of powers that the Avengers had. Natasha had told him once while they had been on the run, that in a world like theirs there had to be some kind of checks and balances because if there wasn’t it would be as bad as having a mad dictator taking over. Now as he worked to repair so much of what had gone wrong he had to also deal with the fact that as much as he acted like a man out of time, he had been in this life long enough to see what happens when someone has too much power and takes advantage of that.

“Hey everybody,” Bruce said welcoming them all in. “FRIDAY had announced your presence but also told us that you were all questioning whether you should knock. So I gave you a few minutes before opening the door.”

“Hey Bruce,” Natasha said finally letting go of Clint so that she could hug the other man, but it hadn’t gone unnoticed how Bucky had stood behind the archer to keep him from running off.

“Hey Nat,” Bruce said smiling. Steve had found out that after the war with Thanos, after what had happened to the man while he was in another realm, long after Ultron, Bruce Banner had found himself able to truly control his other half. He had gotten help from Tony in some ways and in others he had gotten help from an old friend.

“So what have you been up to?” she asked walking into the mansion.

“Well Tony’s trying to convince me into working at the Academy, he even offered a position to Betty, and we’re both considering it.”

“Betty? As in Betty Ross?” Clint said astonished at what he was hearing.

“Yes, Betty and I got back together and we’ve decided to work on our relationship especially since well, after the whole near end of the world thing. I don’t want to hold back anymore and lose someone so special.”

“But she’s… she’s Ross’s daughter,” Clint said making Steve’s head turn to the two men. Bruce saw his reaction immediately before offering up a quick explanation.

“Betty and her father haven’t gotten along since what happened in Harlem, it’s a long story and not one I’m planning on going into right now, this is a dinner to fix the dynamics of the avengers at least those who were involved in that stupid pissing contest, so come in and make yourselves comfortable.”

The group walked in to see Peter Parker standing next to T’Challa while talking to Tony who was mixing some kind of drink. Steve hoped it wasn’t alcoholic since the kid was still underage. Tony walked up to the bar and give Tony a knowing look before the genius poured him a drink shrugging as he walked to the mini fridge and grabbed some more ice.

“What,” he said as Steve took a drink from the cup and tasted nothing but fruit. It was fruit punch, with actual fruit which surprised him. “I never said today was a date, I just said dinner and told you to be here.”

“Well that’s true, I guess I should have gotten more details in the end,” Steve said before turning around to greet Peter and T’Challa.

Once everyone sat down comfortably around the living area Tony finally walked out from behind the bar and sat down on the couch next to Peter.

“So,” he said putting his drink down on the side table. “You may all be wondering why you’re here. Well I think it’s time for us to actually have a conversation that doesn’t end in someone throwing a punch, of having an arrow shot at my ass.”

Clint choked on his drink for a moment, Natasha started hitting him on the back trying to help him breathe.

“Anyway, Barton already knows this is coming especially since his lovely wife threatened him within an inch of his life just to make him show up here today, because as angry as he is with me over all of the stupidity he himself created, his wife is scary if you cross her. So we’re here to mend the fences, to fix this bullshit, and to let go because honestly I can’t deal with Natasha popping up somewhere and scaring the living shit out of me again. I get enough of that from Vision and the walking through walls bit he loves to do.”

Steve couldn’t help but laugh, thinking of how popping up out of nowhere freaks the other man out, but he could understand where the whole conversation was going to go because they needed to mend this team of wayward heroes.

“So where do we start?” he asked looking over at Tony.

“Dinner or a movie night, twice a week, we could do it here or at NAF but we need to get together more often. Today we start with food and conversation, because Vision has been cooking up a storm all afternoon,” Tony said while everyone else stayed quiet.

Steve saw a pained looked on Wanda’s face because as close as the two of them had gotten since the Civil War, there was still a small rift there because of what had happened to Tony and Steve only knew about it because the same rift was slowly mending itself between Tony and himself. Vision and Tony were family, because of how much of JARVIS lived within the android but also because he was created by the genius himself. To Tony Vision was as much his child as JARVIS had been, even Tony’s bots were his family.

Now they just had to work on mending the human family that Tony had once relied on, that Steve had torn apart and now regretted it after being on the run because of all of their fighting.

“Families fight,” Tony said shrugging his shoulders. “In the end it’s up to us to fix it so that we can trust each other again.”

[disrepairhouse]

Chapter 8 - New Years

“But RK, why?”

The tall red robot towered over the tiny hedgehog staring up at him with the most pathetic, pleading expression he’d ever seen her make. She sat on the edge of her bed, her ears flattened against her quills, her bottom lip poking out, trying to get as much sympathy as she could from the un-budging robot.  She was dressed in a shorter, A-line-style blue dress that came up to a little below her knees, a thick blue sash wrapped around the waist and tied up in a large bow off to the side.  The sleeves were long and fitted with a small pouf at the shoulders and the skirt of the dress, in contrast to the dark blue of the top, was a thick cotton with a light blue gingham style pattern.  Two large, shimmering, dark blue ribbons tied her quills up into pigtails.

She wasn’t the only one dressed better than usual, either, as RK had managed to find a pair of black dress pants he’d fixed up to fit him as well as a loose-fitting, sleeveless burgundy turtleneck.  Though because his shirt was sleeveless, he’d also found a black and grey trench coat to wear over it and had removed his hook for the time being.

“Because, from what I read online, it seems these kinds of parties are normally more formal than casual.  This was the best I could find on such short notice,” he explained, reaching over to put the little girl back on the floor, checking her ribbons before standing back up straight, “It’s just until midnight, and it’d be rude to not go at all.”

“I fail to see the problem with that,” Itara glared back up at him, crossing her arms.

“No you don’t.”  He turned around and left the bedroom, Itara huffing and mumbling behind him as she followed him out to the living.  There was a TV and stand set up in front of the window now, as well as a somewhat newer reclining chair next to the couch, where a bored Metal Sonic was sitting, staring at the blank screen.  “Okay, we’re leaving now,” RK stated, getting little more than a side-eyed glance from the other bot, “as I explained before, we’ll be at the house three doors down on the other side of the street and we’ll be back after midnight. Don’t cause any trouble while we’re gone.  And if Kipper decides to activate while we’re gone, don’t listen to anything he says. He likes to cause trouble.”

Metal scoffed and looked away towards the window, “What trouble could I possibly cause in the state I’m in?”

“That’s a longer list than I care to go through at the moment,” RK responded, getting Itara wrapped up in her jacket before picking her up and getting her situated on his back.  “See you in a few hours, then.”  With another scoff from the annoyed robot, they were out the door and headed down the street to the party.  RK had to take special caution to keep his pants, which were normally tucked into the top of his boots, from dragging through the slush and end up soaked through before they got down the street.  Not only did he not want to track the snow into Lynda’s house more than his shoes already would, but he didn’t want to deal with wet pants at someone else’s house.  He had at least waited until nearly eight before heading over, purposely avoiding the dinner so he wouldn’t have to explain why he couldn’t eat or drink anything. He still wasn’t upgraded enough for that.  Plus, the less time spent around Lynda, the better.  He had no idea what the rest of the neighbors would even be like, now that he was thinking about it.

It was a short walk to the right house.  Both outdoor and indoor lights lit the snow all the way to the sidewalk while the murmur of music and talking filled the air around it. A line of multicolored lights still hung around the roof edges and the vague shape of some yard ornament poked out of a snow mound at the end of the driveway.  Three cars were parked between the driveway and sidewalk, though only one RK recognized as being Lynda’s, suggesting at least two people had driven from elsewhere to attend the party.  The driveway and porch was cleared of snow but a thin layer of slush, packed down by several pairs of feet, still covered the outer edges of the sidewalk, much like the rest of the neighborhood.  Their own house was the strangest in that regard, since they had no car there was little keeping the snow off their driveway and RK only cleared out a path to and from the street, rather than clearing the entire width.

Itara sighed and leaned forward against his head as they approached the house, grunting in slight annoyance when he reached up to pull her down and set her back on her feet in front of the door.  “Watch your temper, alright?” he warned, eyeing her, though she only crossed her arms and looked away.  Shaking his head, he looked up and reached over to ring the doorbell, though before he could press it down, the door swung open, revealing a widely grinning, luxuriously dressed Lynda.

“RK!  Itara! Welcome to the party!”  She had always looked decent whenever she visited them, even wrapped up in thick coats and long pants, her hair was always lightly curled and her makeup was always done up, so he was used to her looking considerably better than most.  Today, however, for the sake of the party, she had gone to even further measures. Though, admittedly, they only ever saw her wrapped up in large coats, today she wore a fitted, long-sleeved red dress that went just above her knees with a layered, ornate, silver necklace. Her long, strawberry blonde hair was elegantly curled and carefully positioned around her head for the most volume. Her makeup was noticeably more dramatic, with a smoky eyeshadow and bright red lipstick to match her dress. Even her nails were newly and carefully painted with two silver bracelets on one wrist, matching her necklace.

“Hello Lynda, sorry we’re here so late.  We had some work to finish up before we could head over,” RK explained.  It was partially true, he was working on Metal Sonic again while Itara finished her homework up.

“No worries, no worries, like I said before, everyone tends to come at different times.  Come on in, it must be freezing out there!” Lynda exclaimed, ushering them in, “let me hang your coats up for you.  You look incredible, by the way.”

“Thank you.”  RK hesitated for a moment, having planned to leave his coat on because of the sleeveless state of his shirt, but didn’t want to look strange if it was common to remove your jacket while inside.  Itara shook her jacket right off, looking away towards the living room full of people.  He glanced towards her to check that she wasn’t glaring at everyone before pulling his own jacket off, catching that strange look from Lynda again once he did. One of these days, he would figure out what exactly that look meant.  But for the time being, he just watched as she hung their jackets up in a nearby closet before leading them further into the house.

“Just about everyone is here already, you remember Aiko and Juri from before,” Lynda continued, motioning towards the two that had accompanied her down to their house before.  They were standing near a snack table, talking with another couple but waved when they caught sight of them.  RK gave an awkward wave back.  He wasn’t sure about them just yet, they seemed to follow Lynda around fairly often, yet they rarely talked.  “Over there with is Susan and her husband, Lawrence.  They live at the end of the street, on the other side of the crossroad. Susan and Lawrence have a daughter in the same school as Itara and my son.  Susan and I are both part of the PTA and Lawrence heads a neighborhood watch program around here.  Then you’ve got Kimmie, Evan, Jack,” she continued showing them around the living room and kitchen, introducing them to everyone present.  Most were parents from the neighborhood.  There were only the two that went to Itara’s school while the rest of them either went to the public school, were homeschooled, or were in college elsewhere.

There were one or two couples that didn’t have children and there was one elderly couple whose children were all grown and off on their own. The two that had been far enough to drive were childhood friends of Lynda’s that had come from out of town. Lynda’s son and Susan’s daughter were in a room away from everyone else playing some game of some kind; they were the only kids close to Itara’s ‘age’.  “You haven’t met my son yet, have you?” Lynda asked, finally finding her hideaway son, “Simon, pause that game and come say hello.  Have you met Itara?  She goes to your school.”

The young brunette gave a quick roll of his eyes before pausing the game and looking over, studying the three standing in his bedroom door.  Itara had been half standing behind RK, mostly ignoring everyone, but looked over curiously at the mention of a fellow classmate.  Sure enough, she recognized him from around the school, but he was a grade above her.  She’d never spoken to him.  The school had both mobians and humans, but it wasn’t exactly an even split.  There were considerably more humans.  Most mobians went to the public school, she’d learned.  If they went at all.  Mobians had much different ways of life than humans, school and work and such systems didn’t much appeal to most mobians, but those were the ones who usually lived as far away from the cities as possible.  Mobians like Sonic, for example.

She and RK were the only mobians at the party, as well.

“Oh,” he frowned, looking back at the screen, “yeah, I’ve seen her… I guess.”

Susan’s daughter, a taller, thinner, black-haired girl, looked over as well, studying them with a cautious eye.  She said nothing, but turned back towards the game after a moment.  Itara recognized her, as well.  She was friends with Sceira, the pincer-haired pseudo-scorpion she distinctly loathed.  She’d said all of maybe a sentence to her since being enrolled but there was something about the blind mobian she just didn’t like, didn’t trust.  The same went for her friend group.

“Jeez, you kids and your video games,” Lynda sighed, turning back towards the two, “he’s not the most social of kids, but hopefully you two can get to know each other before long.  Simon, why don’t you let Itara play with you two?  You have another controller, don’t you?”

“Mom, this is a two-player game,” he sighed.

“Well then let her have a turn!”

“It’s f-fine,” Itara interrupted, “I don’t really… play games.”  Actually, she was curious about them, but she didn’t want to be left alone with the human children at the moment.  She hadn’t liked the look the other girl gave her.  She would be staying by RK’s side until they left.

“Well, if you’re sure,” Lynda frowned, “I’m sure they’ll be in there for a while so if you change your mind later just go ahead and join them.  For now let’s get back out to the others.  Are you hungry or anything?  There are leftovers from dinner and I have plenty of snacks.  I’ve got plenty of drinks, as well.  Go ahead and make yourselves at home and don’t be afraid to ask for anything.”  She led them back to the kitchen, “did you eat dinner before coming over?”

“Yes, we did,” RK answered, while Itara scanned what she could see sitting out on the table.

“D-Do you… have any cookies?”

“Of course!” Lynda led Itara to the snack table set out in the living room, pointing to the trays as she explained, “there are chocolate chips, peanut butter, oatmeal; the chocolate chips are vegan, too.  Do you have allergies?”

Allergies?  Allergies. She looked up at RK in confusion, not even sure what constituted an ‘allergy’ to begin with.  He shook his head and explained for her, “No, she doesn’t. None that I’ve found yet, anyway.” Initially he would have doubted a part of a God could even have allergies, but he also didn’t think she could get sick before a couple weeks ago, either, so he was no longer sure of this.

“That’s good, then.  What kind would you like, then, little one?”

“Uh, chocolate,” Itara answered, looking between them and then back at the table, curious what else could be up there.  She could barely even see over the edge.  Stupid humans and their tallness!  She wanted back on RK’s shoulders.  Would it be weird to ask to be picked back up?  She wasn’t sure.  Lynda put a couple cookies on a small paper plate and handed them to her, smiling and patting her head between her ears, turning back to RK to continue talking to him.

“Can I get you anything?  A drink, perhaps?  We’ve got the adult drinks cooling in the garage.”

“Ah, no, that’s alright.  I’m fine,” he explained, looking away, wondering what exactly an ‘adult’ drink was and pulled up a side window to look into it.

“Well, as I said before, just let me know.  For now, come!  Get to know everyone!”  She reached over and grabbed his wrist, staring at the long, metallic claws protruding from the one hand for a moment before pulling him towards the group of four standing at the end of the table.  “Susan, Lawrence, have you had a chance to meet RK here yet?  His niece goes to the same school as our kids.”  RK jolted from the movement, but reluctantly followed, having finally discerned that ‘adult’ drinks usually referred to alcoholic beverages and focused in on the conversation again.  He was a bit taken aback when Lynda referred to Itara as his ‘niece’ this time, though.

Itara blinked for a moment, having briefly forgotten she had told Lynda that RK was her uncle, but looked away again, not wanting to get caught up in whatever conversation was about to happen.  She was more interested in the cookies, anyway. What was ‘vegan’?  Taking a cautious bite, her face scrunched when the taste was… off.  She couldn’t figure out what exactly it was that tasted different right away, but it wasn’t what she was expecting.  It was still chocolate, at least, but she decided she much preferred a normal chocolate cookie over whatever ‘vegan’ meant now.  What other kinds of snacks did they have?

After a thorough search of the snack table, and a brief eavesdrop on RK’s conversation, deciding she wanted nothing to do with any of it, she decided to wander the house a little.  She didn’t necessarily want to stray far from RK, since human adults were even taller than the unnaturally tall robots she was used to being around, but she hadn’t found anything on the tables within reach that looked worth the effort.  The living room and kitchen entrance was full of loud, chatting humans, all dressed up, many of them glancing towards her and RK in the middle of their conversations, causing her to subconsciously wander towards the emptier hallway.

It was darker down there and the only time anyone passed through was when they were headed to the bathroom, so Itara found solace in the quiet corners of the house.  Most the bedroom doors were closed and she didn’t want to get in trouble for wandering too much, so instead she found the furthest corner to crouch down in and go into thought.  The dark, colder, isolation was far more comforting than the lively main rooms.  It reminded her of the abandoned lab she stayed in with her dad in the first timeline, the corner giving a similar comfort to her makeshift bed under the computer room’s console.

Her comfort was soon interrupted, however, when Simon came out of his bedroom, having been heading across the hall to the bathroom but jumped when he caught sight of Itara.  “What are you doing?!” he shrieked, looking back and forth between his bedroom door and the hallway.

Itara’s ears flattened against her head at the loud noise, frowning, her bright green and purple eyes nearly glowing in the dark corner.  “I… I was… n-nothing!” she stammered, not even sure how to explain it, “I was just… comfy…”  She looked off to the side as the other human girl came out from the bedroom to find out what was going on, raising an eyebrow at the hedgehog practically curled into a ball.

“What kind of freak are you?” she sneered, eyeing Itara with suspicion, receiving a glare in return.  Itara huffed in annoyance, but glared off to the side again, ignoring both of them.  She didn’t know how to respond without either sounding silly or accidentally saying something she shouldn’t, so she opted for silence, instead.  The other girl scoffed when she got no response, turning back around to return to the room while Simon looked between them both.

“Come on, Cam, that was a little mean.”

“I don’t care, there’s something wrong with her, even amongst her own kind.  Hurry and get back so we can finish our game.”

Simon sighed, looking back at Itara again, who was still ignoring them, continuing to the bathroom.  Once he was gone again, Itara’s shoulders dropped ever so slightly, her glare lowering with it, as she pulled her knees closer against her chest. Sceira was the one to blame for this, she knew it.  She didn’t want to associate with any of them, anyway.  She just wished she had brought Kipper with her.  Then again, they might have made fun of her for carrying a doll around, too.  It wouldn’t have been the first time.  Huffing angrily, she pushed herself back up and headed down the hall again, intending to tell RK she wanted to go home.  She no longer cared if it was rude to leave before whatever event was planned, she no longer wanted to be there.

“So, of course, Camilla won first place, as if the other kids even had a chance,” Susan was explaining, getting a slight scowl from the hedgehog that had just walked into the conversation.  “What about your, what was she again, niece, RK?  What kind of after school activities does she take part in?  Where did you say her parents were, again?”

“Ah, well,” RK began, crossing his arms, “none, at the moment.”  He hadn’t even considered after school activities before.  Was that something he should look into?  Then again, Itara hated going to school plenty as it was; he doubted she would want to be there any longer than she already was.  But then again, maybe if she found something fun to do it might change her mind.  “But her parents are…”

“Travelling,” Itara interrupted, making her presence known and glaring up at the nosy woman, apparently Camilla’s mother.  “My dad t-travels a lot.”

“And what of your mom?”

Itara frowned, looking away.  She didn’t have anything in the way of a mom.  She could suggest her mother had died, but that brought her thoughts to Mira and Kelly… and she refused to let them back into her head. Luckily, the awkward silence forced a change of subject and Lynda brought the attention to her, “you know, Susan, I heard Camilla only placed first in the finals because the other girl dropped out at the last minute.”

“What are you insinuating, Lynda?” Susan snapped, turning her sharp gaze from the two mobians over to the other woman, who only smiled sweetly and put her hands up in defense, holding a glass of red wine in one of them.

“Nothing at all, Hun, just a rumor I heard is all.”

A deadly silence drifted between the group as Susan and Lynda seemed to mentally square off.  RK and Itara exchanged glances, though not before catching a slight roll of eyes from the ever-silent Aiko and an uncomfortable shift from Juri and Lawrence. If RK had to guess, from the various reactions, this was not a new situation between the two, making him curious what sort of past they had.  Yet, at the same time, it was not something he wanted to delve into.  He was getting some high tension readings that he would prefer to avoid.

Lynda was the first to move, smiling sweetly over at the other woman and taking another drink of her wine, waving the mood off while turning back to RK, “you’ve kept relatively quiet so far.  You should tell us more about yourself.  Where are you from?  What do you do?  How did you come to take care of the little one?”

RK shifted, looking off in another direction as he debated the answer.  There was a lot there he couldn’t actually tell them.  He had hoped just letting them talk and maybe even keeping the topic on Itara would suffice.  He couldn’t tell them much about himself without giving away his identity.  “Ah, well, you can probably imagine I’m not from around here, per se.  We moved here because I had… an acquaintance… that used to own the house that no longer had need for it and we were looking to move.  As for what I do, I work… security….  I suppose you’d call it contract work, as it’s rarely for the same place.”

“Oh?” Lynda not so subtly moved closer, giving him a light nudge with her shoulder, winking, “well, with all that strength I’ve seen so far, it must suit you.  Roughing up troublemakers and all.”

RK watched her curiously while Susan dramatically rolled her eyes and loudly scoffed, crossing her arms and getting a playful scowl from the strawberry blond.  “Yes, I suppose,” he hesitated, “and as Itara explained, her… father… travels fairly often and didn’t want to move her around so much, so he asked me to take care of her until he returned.”

“Excuse me if I’m being nosy,” Susan began, though didn’t sound all that apologetic about it, “but I can’t help but notice you and Itara don’t look… much alike.  Is that common for mobians?”

“Now that you mention it,” Lynda paused, looking between the two, “you are a bit different.  How does that work if two mobians are different… breeds?”  RK looked off, going through a number of possible explanations, exchanging glances with Itara, who was more visually panicked about the question than him.  Before he could come up with a fitting answer, however, Lynda luckily decided she apparently no longer cared and leaned against him ever so slightly, grinning, “Actually, I’m more curious how similar mobian and human anatomy might be.” Susan, once again, audibly scoffed while Itara’s eyebrow went up, wondering why that would be important.

RK, however, just welcomed the change of subject and started explaining the various ways mobians and humans differed, as far as his data supplied, anyway.  He didn’t have extensive information on the subject, but he could at least explain basics. Though, Lynda seemed less interested in the actual answer, despite having been the one to ask, and more interested in leaning further against him.  Was she perhaps getting tired?  It was considerably late for most organics, save for the more nocturnal mobians, that was. “Would you like to sit down?”

“Only if it’s in your lap-”

“You’re drunk already, aren’t you?” Susan scolded, though there was a hint of vindictive amusement in her tone.  RK, however, was only further confused and doing his best to step further away from the human woman, without letting her fall over.  Something told him he should keep his distance, especially once Lynda started waving at Susan to hush with the hand holding her half-empty glass.

Itara’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, wondering what was even going on.  She still wanted to go home.  Before she could inform RK of this, however, the front door rather suddenly swung open and a worryingly familiar voice called out for him, instead.  Both she and RK, along with everyone else at the party, swung around towards the door in either shock or confusion, or panic in her and RK’s case.  Standing in the door, glaring over towards them with a noticeable amount of disdain, was Metal Sonic, wrapped up in one of the longer coats RK had hung in the hallway closet.  He had to pull it much tighter than RK normally did, as he had a much thinner frame, but at the very least, the coat and high-necked sweater underneath covered the majority of his broken, robotic parts.

“Me-!” RK began, though cut himself off, Itara taking over for him.

“Sparky!  Wh-what are you doing here?!”

The other bot narrowed an eye, but walked in towards them, seeming to all but ignore everyone else, “I grew tired of waiting and RK’s communications are offline.”  He briefly studied the room before his one red eye fell on the woman RK was propping up, who only stared over in confusion.  “And I did not give you permission to call me that.”

“Who is that?” Lynda questioned, attempting to stand up again, though wobbled as soon as she did, looking to Itara first, “a friend of yours?”

Itara resisted the urge to scoff, “n-not… exactly.”

“He’s my… partner,” RK explained, sending the room, including Lynda, into a shocked silence.  She had asked him about a partner once before so it was the first, and most viable, explanation he came up with on the spot.  Susan narrowed her eyes but Lynda looked between the two while Metal Sonic only raised an eyebrow.

“We haven’t-”

“We’ve worked together for a long time,” RK continued, moving over between him and Lynda, mostly to keep him from saying anything unnecessary.

“Oh, a work partner, of course,” Lynda laughed, relieved about something RK couldn’t comprehend.  “Well, it’s nice to meet a colleague of RK’s, then.  Why don’t you join us?  We’ve still got a couple hours until midnight, after all.”

“I have no interest in joining your human festivities, I am only here to retrieve RK,” Metal Sonic stated coldly, turning to the larger red robot, “why are your communications offline?”

“Because,” RK growled, grabbing the other bot by the shoulders and shoving him off towards the hallway to talk, leaving Itara to stare after them, blinking, unsure how to handle the situation.  Once the two bots disappeared into the hallway, a number of eyes fell on her, making her want to retreat back to the dark corner again, and averted her gaze as best she could.  She didn’t manage long before Lynda specifically put herself into her line of sight, crouching down to talk quietly with the hedgehog.

“So, who’s this colleague of your uncle’s, then?  Is he staying with you or something?”

Itara frowned and considered the question and possible answers, wondering what would be the best response.  “Uh… y-yeah… he’s… staying with us,” she stammered, looking away, “he, uh, he was pretty badly injured recently… so, RK said he should stay with us… so we can… help him out.”  That was one way to explain it, she supposed.  More importantly, though, she would have to have a word with Kipper for not doing his job and keeping the other bot home.  Then again, Kipper was more likely to goad him into showing up, rather than keeping him home, just to watch what kind of reaction it got.

“Oh, how caring,” Lynda beamed, clasping her hands together, “he’s strong, caring, and good with kids?  And here I thought all you mobians just liked running around causing a ruckus.”

Itara’s eyebrow rose, watching the human woman with suspicion and taking an unconscious step back.  What was that supposed to mean?  The humans were just as troublesome as any of the mobians.  In fact, save for maybe Shadow, they were debatably worse.  Not to mention Robotnik.

“Though, it sounds like he isn’t so fond of humans.” Itara stiffened, concerned Lynda might have caught on to something.  “Does he normally live with other mobians?”

“Uh,” she looked between the hallway and Lynda, “actually… he just used to live with an especially irritating human.  Soured his image of you guys a bit.”  Not that she thought any better of them.

“Oh, I see,” Lynda gave it some thought, looking towards the two quietly arguing robots in the hallway, before grinning, “well, I guess any friend of RK’s is a friend of ours.  I hope he enjoys his visit, however long it ends up being.”

Eyeing the woman suspiciously, Itara turned around and followed after RK and Metal Sonic, listening to their ‘argument’ about interrupting parties. Figuring they were likely having the real conversation via communication lines, and weren’t paying attention to her presence, she walked up and pulled on both RK’s pant leg as well as Metal’s coat, exclaiming, “I want to go home.  I no longer care that it’s early, I want nothing more to do with this party.” Both bots looked down at her, Metal Sonic glaring slightly while RK’s mouth pierced into a solid line.  Perhaps it was best to head back home, after all.

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New Post has been published on https://shovelnews.com/the-31-best-dance-scenes-in-movies/

The 31 best dance scenes in movies

Updated 4 hours ago

What do dance scenes add to a movie? Unspeakable bliss, for starters. Dancing starts when dialogue fails. When lovers need to move beyond conversation, when conflicts boil past negotiation, when joy can’t be expressed in any other way than by leaping into the air on a trumpeter’s high note.

With the rise of movie musicals in the early part of the 20th century, dancing moved easily from stage to screen, becoming bigger, more potent, ever more spectacular — and a lasting love affair with the moviegoing public was born. It’s still going on: Witness the mainstream success of “La La Land,” a film in the golden age mold.

Taking stock of film’s dance treasury to pick the paragons was an irresistible challenge. In making my choices for the best dance scenes, I looked at several factors: mastery of technique, imaginative choreography, quality of the music — this is very important — and design and storytelling. I value authentic expression more than dance doubles and tricky editing. But, in the final analysis, transcendence won out. Does the dancing carry me away, give me chills, distill some truth about the human experience? Whether it’s a masterpiece of steps and skill, or an intentionally funny, hot mess, or a dreamscape that’s intriguingly weird — dancing that moves you is great dancing.

I also had to set some rules for this list: I considered specific dance scenes, not the quality of entire movies. I didn’t include documentaries or foreign films; no “Pina,” no “Mad Hot Ballroom.” With matchless artists in movement, music and choreography, the 1940s and ’50s dominate my choices, but even those aren’t exhaustive. I settled on the era’s best and moved on. I handicapped Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers, limiting them to just one dance (it’s my No. 1, the best of the best) from all the jewels in their 10 films together, because if I didn’t, they’d eat the list. Our vast cinematic history is studded with marvelous dancing, but one has to draw the line somewhere.

1. ‘Swing Time’ (1936), ‘Never Gonna Dance’ scene

There are no greater dance musicals than the ones Fred and Ginger made together, because they accomplished so much, so beautifully. Their dances are artistic, emotional and inventive; the music is superb (Cole Porter, Irving Berlin, Jerome Kern, George Gershwin); the costuming and set design create a stylistic whole. And they aren’t mere interludes. What Astaire and Rogers communicate through dance deepens the story. To pick the pinnacle among their 10 films isn’t easy, but my choice is their final waltz in “Swing Time.” Why? Because we’ll think of Astaire and Rogers forever as a unit, falling in love on the dance floor, and this dance expresses something profound about their bond. It’s about the perils of breaking it. They begin by simply walking together; their mood is blue, but the sexual tension is red hot. Through a precise mirroring of movements, Rogers shows Astaire the kind of intimate soul mate he’ll lose if he doesn’t ‘fess up about his feelings. Astaire senses this and grows desperate. He spins her around dizzily, her dress whipping like a flag at sea. Then the cliffhanger: She whirls out the door, leaving him, and us, bereft – and dying to see how the movie ends.

2. ‘Stormy Weather’ (1943), ‘Jumpin’ Jive’

Fayard and Harold Nicholas, aka the Nicholas Brothers, were a pair of miracles in tap shoes. They hoofed their way from the Cotton Club to Hollywood, where their fans included Astaire, Gene Kelly and other dance greats who marveled at their skill, daring and sheer brilliance. This scene is the consummate joy-fest: They dart through Cab Calloway’s orchestra, skate atop the drums and piano, and end it all by plunging down a flight of stairs, leapfrogging buoyantly over each other to land in the splits, and then springing up to do it all again. They shot it all in one take.

3. ‘Singin’ in the Rain’ (1952), title number

Is there any more beloved dance scene on film than Gene Kelly’s inspired splashfest? This is the dance anthem for that inescapable experience of a thorough cosmic drenching. The answer: Enjoy it! Spin through puddles, gambol in the gutters, play a brass band in your head, and soak up every drop. Kelly was constantly experimenting, and although he whipped up more technically dazzling numbers in other movies, none is more uplifting or enduring than this one.

4. ‘An American in Paris’ (1951), final ballet

Kelly lured Leslie Caron from France especially for this movie and its climactic, 17-minute dreamscape of a ballet. The scene took a month to film. Its lush, Technicolor intensity has never been matched, and the dancing, which sweeps through paintings come to life, Parisian flower markets and moonlit fountains, feels like the very embodiment of postwar optimism. But the chemistry between its stars, accompanied by Gershwin’s sexy jazz: explosif.

5. ‘Ship Ahoy’ (1942), ‘I’ll Take Tallulah’

I once asked Fayard Nicholas (see No. 2) to name his favorite female dancer. His answer: Eleanor Powell. It’s easy to see why. Powell is arguably the greatest tap dancer on film, male or female, and in this number, she has the spotlight all to herself (after Bert Lahr serenades her). Three things distinguish this scene: Powell’s punchy, rascally athleticism, the musical star power of Tommy Dorsey and his orchestra, and the imaginative way Powell taps around the poolside set. She trades drum licks with jazz virtuoso Buddy Rich, hops on tables, swan-dives into an ocean of men, swings on a rope, cartwheels and catches flying rings and, still spinning, seizes airborne drumsticks and rejoins Rich to hammer out a scintillating flourish.

6. ‘Broadway Melody of 1940’ (1940), ‘Begin the Beguine’

Cole Porter, Fred Astaire and Eleanor Powell: the holy trinity of tap. I love the full-body, freewheeling spirit of this amazing duet – it’s a marvel of precision, with hints of friendly competition. Astaire and Powell chase, tease and one-up each other, ending in a synchronized storm of turns that sends them spiraling around each other like crazy spinning nickels in a tilted universe. How can two humans move so fast, in perfect time, with such giddy ease?

7. ‘Seven Brides for Seven Brothers’ (1954), ‘Barn Dance’

Michael Kidd’s exceptional choreography is full of earthy vigor and references to reels, logging and barn-raising. High-pitched and unusually athletic, the dancing moves from an outdoor stage to picnic tables to wood beams. There are backflips and diving somersaults, along with polka steps and lifts. The dancers include Tommy Rall, one of cinema’s greats, ballet star Jacques d’Amboise and Russ Tamblyn, the former gymnast about seven years shy of stardom as Riff in the movie of “West Side Story.”

8. ‘Small Town Girl’ (1953), ‘I’ve Gotta Hear That Beat’

Ann Miller was considered the queen of Hollywood tap dancers: She was tall, gorgeous and insanely fast. Her taps were like machine-gun fire. This scene, directed by Busby Berkeley and choreographed by Willie Covan, is her most famous. Miller, sequined and sparkly, whirls through an assortment of disembodied musical instruments; violins and trumpets in the hands of unseen players pop up through the floor. Spinning madly, she somehow avoids ricocheting off the trombones. It’s a tribute to Miller as the consummate musician – her tapping is a symphony unto itself – and the scene’s ingenious design, while visually striking, allows nothing to distract from her brilliance.

9. ‘West Side Story’ (1961), ‘America’

Rita Moreno and George Chakiris are a combustible couple, taunting and teasing each other through Stephen Sondheim’s lyrics and Leonard Bernstein’s music. But once they start dancing, their sexual energy could light up the city. Great dance fills this entire movie, but this scene stands out for the neat layering of Latin motifs – bullfighting, flamenco, mambo – and the exuberant staging of a gender war. There’s also well-earned fury: In lyrics and physical expression, the characters directly engage with the clash of cultures and racism that will undo them all.

10. ‘Saturday Night Fever’ (1977), ‘More Than a Woman’

This is not the trickiest dance from a technical point of view. You and I could pick it up in a snap. (Simple is good.) But John Travolta turns it into erotic gold. This scene rates among the greats for the spell it casts, far surpassing its modest mechanics. Plenty of other movies’ dance scenes are more complicated, more expertly executed, but this one is unusually immersive ­— I’m swept into a fever dream of feeling. Strutting like a show pony in his polyester suit and platform shoes, Travolta communicates the intent behind his smoothly syncopated steps and slow dips with co-star Karen Lynn Gorney; they’re a disco-driven lead-in to lovemaking. The dynamic tension is perfect – he revels in his own charisma, she looks at him in misty disbelief, like he’s her fantasy come to life. (For many of us, he was.) Filming wasn’t easy. So much heat and smoke filled that Brooklyn nightclub that at one point, Travolta was on oxygen. Installing lights in the floor, to flash along with the Bee Gees’ music, cost a fortune. It was worth it.

11. ‘All That Jazz’ (1979), ‘Take Off With Us’

Of course, Bob Fosse’s semi-autobiographical film contains his own snappy, sultry choreography. In this scene, cast members rehearse a flight-attendant-themed number for a Broadway show. What I love about it is not only the dancing — full of Fosse hallmarks, the tight little steps, the hats, the tense sexiness and exquisite control — but also the spot-on depiction of what rehearsals are like. The nearly naked performers sing and shimmy their hearts out, while the creative team watches impassively, smoking, frowning, scribbling criticisms. It’s show business, baby.

12. ‘Gentlemen Prefer Blondes’ (1953), ‘Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend’

That hot-pink dress, that cherry-red backdrop, those long, long gloves. Marilyn Monroe is glamorous perfection in this scene, choreographed by the great Jack Cole. He brilliantly played up her strengths, focusing on those beautiful bare shoulders with a shimmy here, an arm extension there, a lot of shaking and — whoopee! — a well-timed gesture to her back porch. Restrained in vocabulary and uninhibited in style and spirit, this witty dance is an exuberant celebration of the female assets, performed by one of the most vibrant bodies in cinematic history.

13. ‘The Band Wagon’ (1953), ‘Dancing in the Dark’

Cyd Charisse was tall for Fred Astaire, so she’s wearing flats here, the perfect footwear for a waltz of seduction that begins with these two extraordinary movers simply strolling through Central Park. Michael Kidd’s choreography is fascinating; it unspools in an expanding array of spirals, zigzagging lines and sharp changes of direction, sending the couple over benches, up steps and, finally, into a horse-drawn carriage. Astaire and Charisse sail through the complex geometry, each move flowing into the next, as though it were all just a walk in the park.

14. ‘Sweet Charity’ (1969), ‘The Aloof, the Heavyweight, the Big Finish’

“We don’t dance,” snarls one of the partners-for-hire in this film’s sleazy ballroom. “We defend ourselves to music.” You feel that bite in an irresistible, decadent floor-show extravaganza of ’60s go-go, choreographed by Fosse, the master of sinister sexiness. The starring attractions: dancers Suzanne Charney and a young Ben Vereen. Also, loads of eyeliner, minidresses and those Fosse-licious broken-doll struts, isolated joints and hips, hips, hips.

15. ‘The Red Shoes,’ (1948), ballet sequence

Within this masterful film, about the flaming passions of artists, lies a complete ballet that echoes the theme and foreshadows its tragic conclusion. The ballet tells the Hans Christian Andersen tale of enchanted shoes that dance their wearer to death; redhead ballerina Moira Shearer is their beguiling victim. Beautifully lighted and designed, this dark, wordless drama is by turns hallucinatory and Hitchcockian.

16. ‘Dirty Dancing’ (1987), final dance

For many of us of a certain age, this is the defining movie dance scene, as Patrick Swayze struts onto that Borscht Belt stage, and Jennifer Grey melts in his arms. It’s a singularly potent concoction: Swayze’s erotic beauty, Grey’s coming-of-age right before our eyes, the lusty grace of their moves, the crowd’s collective swoon. Because it happens in a middle-class family setting, with actors who weren’t yet icons, we can see ourselves in them, and fly along with them, at least in our minds. It’s a vicarious rush.

17. ‘Damn Yankees’ (1958), ‘Whatever Lola Wants’

Gwen Verdon as a leggy demon sent by Satan to seduce a ballplayer – OK, I’m in. Verdon, a singing, dancing, acting wizard of stage and screen, had a unique, commanding presence; although delicately built, she vibrated exactitude and authority. She’s funny, sexy and gleefully impish in this scene, choreographed by Fosse, who was soon to be her husband. Every step conveys that she’s a nonhuman in a new role and loving it. Verdon stays in this complicated character throughout her awkward-on-purpose striptease and a manic romp touched with flamenco, burlesque and quasi-Indian fillips. “I’m irresistible, you fool,” she taunts. Um, yes.

18. ‘All of Me’ (1984), closing scene

In this sparkling screwball comedy, Lily Tomlin’s soul transmigrates into Steve Martin’s body. Result: a high-pitched tug of war – she controls one side of his body, he’s got the other. (We see Tomlin’s reflection whenever Martin passes a mirror.) This internal mayhem smoothly resolves in the end, when we see the two whirling in a let-it-all-hang-out dance of pure joy, captured in a mirror, that grows goofier and giddier, accompanied by a swinging rendition of the jazz standard of the title. Before, the body had been a prison for Martin and Tomlin; here it’s a vehicle of spectacular release, and the display of rapture between well-tuned spirits is utterly contagious.

19. ‘Stepmom’ (1998), ‘Ain’t No Mountain High Enough’

This makes me cry, because it captures the very essence of living, and love. Susan Sarandon, dying of cancer, carouses in her pajamas with her kids, belting out the Marvin Gaye/Tammi Terrell anthem into a curling iron. They jump on the bed. They prance down the hallway. They give Death a big, fat, life-affirming kick in the caboose.

20. ‘La La Land’ (2016), opening sequence

The dance numbers in this loving nod to Hollywood’s musical history are so physically rapturous and vicariously thrilling that they almost lift you out of your seat. Attitude adjustment starts with the opening sequence, which turns a traffic jam on an L.A. highway into a full-throttle celebration of life, as folks sing, spin and stomp on the roofs of their cars, while a BMX biker and a freewheeling skateboarder surf the concrete barriers.

21. ‘White Nights’ (1985), the duet

Mikhail Baryshnikov and Gregory Hines, two of the greatest male dancers of the late 20th century, united on the dance floor: How can you beat that? This scene offers a side-by-side view of their styles – the tapper’s heavy-hitting power and connection to the floor, the ballet maestro’s elegance, airborne ease and elasticity. Watch how Baryshnikov sinks into his knees, while the lankier Hines stays more upright. In other ways, though, Hines is looser and jazzier, while Baryshnikov is knife-sharp.

22. ‘You Got Served’ (2004), dance battle

Dance contests come and go, but this one boasts muscular grace, jaw-dropping execution and incomparable street style. The most spectacular street moves require immense (that is, male) upper-body strength — the head-spinning and upside-down windmilling — and we get to revel in that here. But the ladies also have their moments to shine. Although the editing tends to get in the way of the best view of the dancing, the displays of raw, rhythmic power matched with impeccable precision and daring don’t get much better than this.

23. ‘Silver Linings Playbook’ (2012), dance rehearsal

Cute couple awkwardly learns to dance with the help of their cool friend. Bradley Cooper is the odd man out in this threesome, while Jennifer Lawrence and Chris Tucker offer up the dancing thrills. OK, so they’re modest — this is not showstopping material — but it’s so adorable. Tucker knows just how to womp up Lawrence’s uncooperative hips: “Girl, you gotta move your junk.”

24. ‘Center Stage’ (2000), ‘The Way You Make Me Feel’

Tutus and motorcycles: a match made in dance heaven. These white-frocked ballerinas are dutifully dull until Ethan Stiefel roars onstage on his bike. At the time, Stiefel was a star at American Ballet Theatre, and this scene offers a terrific look at his virtuosic technique (those pirouettes, those airy leaps – pure gold), as well as his heartthrob appeal. Accompanied by Michael Jackson’s bouncy pop song, this is simply tremendous fun. Classical ballet steps, beautifully performed, get funkified.

25. ‘Bye Bye Birdie’ (1963), ‘Got a Lotta Livin to Do’

Ann-Margret’s “torrid dancing almost replaces the central heating in the theater,” Life magazine declared in its cover story about “Bye Bye Birdie” and its young heroine. This is the movie that made her a star. She’s also a sensational dancer, in a vamped-up display of seduction aided by belly-baring ruffles and the sexiest pink capris you’ve ever seen. With all of her slinky allure, she also twists, hully-gullies and Watusis with the ensemble to the soundtrack’s brisk jazz. This frisky production is a great mood-booster.

26. ‘White Chicks’ (2004), dance-off

The premise: Two African-American FBI agents — Keenan Ivory Wayans and Shawn Wayans —disguise themselves as white women to lure a kidnapper out of hiding. It sounds so wrong, but it’s so funny, especially when miniskirted squads of frenemies shake off their frustrations on the dance floor. The undercover agents jump into the mix, in their low-rise jeans and pastel leathers (the girl clothes are craptastically horrendous). They’ve done such a good job of being female, and now their true, testosterone-fueled selves come out in aggressive, head-spinning moves that are just plain out of reach for most of us ladies. That should blow their cover. No one seems to notice this.

27. ‘House Party’ (1990), dance scene

Teens want to hang out together, have fun and party — this hasn’t changed since forever — but it’s the partying here that’s extraordinary. We see it on their terms, in the close, crowded quarters of a living room, with just enough space for explosive moves, sassy personal expression, all kinds of style and exhilarating, good-natured fun. It’s an instantly immersive experience; you feel like you’re on the dance floor with them, bopping along as hip-hop duo Kid n Play show off their swiveling, sliding, twisting footwork.

28. ‘Pulp Fiction’ (1994), twist contest

“I wanna dance, I wanna win, I want that trophy. So dance good.” A menacing Uma Thurman and a game John Travolta shed their shoes for an intense go-go scene that comes out of nowhere, in the middle of a bloody crime film. Director Quentin Tarantino has said he was inspired by New Wave master Jean-Luc Godard, known to drop an incongruous dance into his work. Note how the actors draw our focus to their fingers and toes. Of course, we’re also thinking back on the younger, disco-dancing Travolta, so the scene is poignant as well as darkly funny. And very, very odd.

29. ‘The Cotton Club’ (1984), ‘Crazy Rhythm’

Brothers Maurice and Gregory Hines were estranged for 10 years in real life, and this scene re-creates the emotional reunion on the dance floor of the siblings who had been childhood tap partners. Francis Ford Coppola’s film brought veteran hoofers such as Charles “Honi” Coles back to the spotlight, and these scenes are priceless. But the Hines duet is infused with palpable warmth and bone-deep sympathy.

30. ‘A Chorus Line’ (1985), ‘Next’

In some ways, the dancing life is like the military, especially here. This film about Broadway opens with auditions, where the dance captain is a drill sergeant and the chorines are uber-disciplined grunts firing off a battery of moves. A lot of movie dancing shows us the slippery ease and glory of moving to music, but here we see the opposite: the punishing work, humiliations and stoicism behind it. And after all that, the four cruelest words a dancer will ever hear: “Thank you very much.”

31. ‘Pennies From Heaven’ (1981), ‘Let’s Face the Music and Dance’

Talk about nerve: In this tribute to Depression-era musicals, Steve Martin and Bernadette Peters take on one of Astaire and Rogers’s greatest numbers. And they do it justice. They’re a well-matched pair —Martin, light-footed and quick; Peters, all soft edges. The black-and-white design, complete with a tuxedoed ensemble, is timeless.

Sarah L. Kaufman is The Washington Post’s dance critic.

Source: https://triblive.com/aande/adminpage/14292371-74/the-31-best-dance-scenes-in-movies