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tobiasdrake · 1 year ago

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Major plot twist has been staring us in the face this whole time. I love it.

This is so meta. Like the audience, Makoto wrote off the pink blood as merely being the psychopop genre aesthetic that happens when you're the protag of a Kodaka game.

I love this un-twist. I'm excited to be a part of it.

GODDAMMIT YAKOU, YOU UNKNOWING CORPORATE SHILL

Nobody thought the pink blood was suspicious because fucking Yakou's out here telling everyone not to think too hard about any weird physiological shit they happen to notice. He convinced the entire crew that the pink blood was part of the Forever Rain mystery.

Which it was but not... not the way that he implied....

FUCKING HELL. Yakou, you officially crossed the line from useless to actively impeding the investigation. >.<

I want to throw everyone off a roof. Yakou? Over the rail and off the roof with you. Makoto? Out the window with you. Phantom Yuma? There are unguarded edges in every direction so take your fucking pick.

Unfortunately, Phantom Yuma can fly and Makoto's the UG homunculus so the only person that would be adversely affected by a furious altitude adjustment is Yakou.

For real. Makoto, is that you? I don't know how you're masquerading as a phantom but it certainly seems within the realm of possibility. We've seen the weird Q imp things that swarm together to form the phantoms interact with people before. It's not out of the question that a person trying (or "trying") to thwart the mystery-solving might form an alliance with them or something.

I'm on to you, Makoto. Why don't you show your--

OH OKAY NOPE THAT WAS A PHANTOM AFTER ALL

Hey. Hey, uh. That. That looks an awful lot like Yuma's fancy sword, the Solution Blade. The mystery-slicing sword possessed by Yuma that can only be wielded by Yuma and cuts through anything in the Labyrinth.

Makoto? Hey, Makoto? What the fuck? How and why do you have that?

His name says "Mystery Phantom Makoto" but. Is he? Is he really?

For real. Explain the sword. You look nothing like a Phantom and you have a Solution Blade.

Only way I can imagine you having a Solution Blade is if you've previously been bonded with Shinigami. Which, given that you're Number One's homunculus, in a manner of speaking you probably have.

But even if you have a Solution Blade of your own, how did you get it? The Solution Blade is stored inside of Shinigami's body and is extracted via an uncomfortably gross cutscene that we don't speak of.

Okay but WHY tho. There's no way you did all this for the sake of a duel to the death with Yuma. That makes negative sense.

Oh, it's you, is it?

Interesting. Is it possible that Number One and the WDO aren't in cahoots with Makoto after all? Makoto is Number One's homunculus. He could just. Like. Be out there globetrotting under Number One's identity, solving mysteries himself to abduct people for meat buns.

That would explain why the human Number One took such an interest in the Ultimate Secret and its relationship to the Great Global Mystery. Right?

I dunno. This man is such an enigma.

Easy question. Makoto showed up three years ago in the wake of the Blank Week disaster. He built his weather machine then, turning this city into the homunculus reserve that it's become.

See, the way he phrases this makes me think he is working with Number One. He makes it sound like what he did here was on behalf of the WDO.

But given that he's the homunculus of the world's greatest detective, it's equally possible that just. Like. Talks like that.

Yeah, that's precisely what's bothering me. You seem more focused on covering things up than on making things better. Which. Is. Awfully un-detective of you, Counterfeit Number One.

Which is why it would be good to recruit help. Whether that's from the scientists at Amaterasu running homunculus experimentation, the detectives of the WDO, or the crack team at UG that successfully made you.

But you didn't. You threw up your arms and went, "Well, I can't solve it SO I GUESS IT'S NOT SOLVEABLE." Then spent the next three years preserving a hostile status quo rather than pursuing ways to improve life for your people.

There is no doubt in my mind about that. But there are many different forms of love. Yours is selfish and domineering. You gaslit your people and used Yomi's fascism to keep them in line, because you unilaterally decided it was better to keep them in the dark.

Again, I have no doubt that's true. You used the homunculus secret to blackmail UG into backing down and accepting Kanai Ward's independence. Good on you. I am not criticizing you for that.

Everything you did was to keep them safe, yes. But you also kept them docile. You didn't trust them to have a voice in their own fates. You kept them, like an owner keeps their pet. Looking down on them from your majestic tower. You didn't lead them; You ruled them, unwilling to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with them as peers.

All the while watching the clock tick down. As time came for more and more of your beloved citizens, gradually shifting the population more and more towards the ferals in the Restricted Area that you were doing nothing to help. What were you going to do when the last homunculus of Kanai Ward turned? When your time playing at governance finally came to an end?

I don't think you had bad intentions, Makoto. But you're such a fucking capitalist. You subscribe to a hierarchical worldview, where the people at the top are inherently superior strictly by virtue of being at the top. You don't believe that the people beneath you could possibly contribute anything to actually solving these problems if you, the pyramid's peak, can't flex your superiority and do it yourself.

It's the same poisoned worldview that guides Yomi. It simply manifests differently in you.

You shut down homunculus research. That's part of the reason I'm furious with your leadership. You should have kept the project going, under a new direction. You should have kept the project going but rededicated the project's resources away from creating new homunculi. Instead, putting those resources towards finding ways to stabilize the defective homunculi.

It's a problem with their DNA. Hire some fucking gene researchers and dump the defense contractor. I'm sure you must know more than a few. After all, they made you.

But that would require you to tell your people the truth, rather than gaslighting them into complacency.

But wouldn't it be better if they did?

That would be the morally ambiguous mass kidnappings, but I'm honestly unsure of how critical to be about that. I'm much more bothered by the lack of effort he's put into improving living conditions for his beloved people.

Makoto feeding the most dangerous criminals in the world to his homunculi in order to keep them stable is extremely morally complicated and it's hard to say whether he was right or wrong to take that plunge. But his decision to keep his people ignorant, govern them as an absolute dictator, and make no effort to solve the problem of their defective physiology is obscene.

So, did I misunderstand WDO's "complicity" in this? The Number One that they were referring to as their captor was homunculus One, not human One? The WDO was never involved in the abductions?

Oh, nope, we're gonna talk about that now. Okay.

#master detective archives: rain code #drake plays rain code

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da-floof · 2 years ago

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Cross wands-a generically titled comedy/somewhat creepy Hogwarts legacy romance.

AUTHOR NOTE:

First off I don’t own the Harry Potter series this is merely fan work and I don’t own Hogwarts legacy as a franchise OR AS A GAME. No I don’t own the game, no one makes money off of me writing anything so don’t @ me complaining.

“No…”

The pearlescent sheen of Amortentia shudders with your own shaking view, your hands gripping the desk become sweaty.

“No, it can’t be…” you desperately bargain against fate, despite knowing the cards are already well in place.

They’ve been so for many months.

However only now can you admit it.

Your shaking gets worse, you swallow loudly, glancing over at one of the large glass containers-only to see Sebastian standing right behind you in the reflection, silent but clearly unnerved by your flustered demeanour. After all, you can’t remember a time when you felt so powerless, a time when a single emotion had you pressed like a pin into a cork board.

“Hey…you ok?” Sebastian asks after he realises that your looking at him via the reflection.

You merely lower your head and let out a shuddering breath.

No, no I am not.

Sebastian starts to speak, no doubt some useless ‘I’ve got your back buddy, lets talk about it while I teach you illegal curses.’ Spiel.

Pathetic.

How can you even think about such frivolous time wasting when he needs you.

Luckily the moment Sebastian begins to talk, Professor Sharps voice cuts through the room announcing the end of class.

You make a large arcing wand movement, so utterly dramatic that it does the intended job and scares Sebastian back several feet as your potions equipment flings round you in a deterring makeshift shield before shrinking down as it dives back into your bag. With Sebastian stunned you take your chance and leave.

—————————————

“Hey-Hey wait!”

But you won’t.

Sebastian continues to call as you shove through the crowd without mercy.

Imelda squawks as she’s shouldered into the wall, Natty is shoved forward and crashes into Garreth who is almost backhanded out the way when he stops to turn and see what’s happened.

The path clear, you run.

He needs you.

——————————————

Sebastian had gotten through the crowd and was back on your tail.

You aren’t sure how but one thing is for certain, he will not stop you, he is merely the hopeful dog that must be lost as it attempts to follow a stranger for food.

Luckily your galavanting into cave systems and following the keepers trails has kept you very fit, fit enough that you turn sharply at a corridor and make a beeline up to the Astronomy tower.

——————————————————————

Your breaths are becoming ragged.

You knew the steps to the Astronomy tower, had done them several times.

But you’d never flat out run up them.

It doesn’t matter, you’re nearly there, the blue and gold theming coming into view as you round the top of the final staircase, almost dizzy from following the spiralling staircase for so long.

You dart past the classroom, a place you’d usually love to stop and marvel at but not today.

Proffesor Shah barely has time to look up from her desk before your passed her and continuing up the last set of rickety wooden stairs. The wooden slats are passing you by so fast, you feel like you’re ur about to faint-

No, I must get to him!

Finally you reach the Astronomy deck, almost tripping over yourself as the vertical stairs become flat wood. You stagger to the side, letting out a donkey like wheeze before dragging your exhausted body to the railing separating you from a perilous drop. Wincing at your screaming thighs you shakily get both feet on the top railing, strangely well balanced despite the the narrow metal ledge. For a minute you stop to catch your breath, appreciate the wind blowing against your non-standard uniform, tousling your hair.

The view, it’s fantastic, he would love it.

“For fucks sake man will you stop!” You startle, almost losing your balance before unsteadily turning round to face an exhausted Sebastian as he shakily climbs the last few stairs, one hand grasping at a stitch in his abdomen the other pulling himself up on the railing like it’s the hardest thing he’s ever had to do.

“Please!” He begs, pink faced, drool dripping from his mouth as he openly pants like an energised dog.

Gross.

Well, kind of hot but the only one you want to see drooling is still a fair distance away.

“What in Merlin’s name is going on up-oh my heavens!” Proffesor Shah shrieks as she almost trips back down the stairs she’s hurried up, seeing you standing on the ledge.

Before the Indian women can gather herself, you fling out your hands and fall back, letting gravity drag you down.

“Noooo!!” Sebastian wails in heartbreaking despair, his single word ending a sob while Professor Shah lets out her own agonised cry at seeing a student fling themself off the Astronomy tower.

You close your eyes as you drop, knowing that despite the pain they will undoubtedly recover.

Especially since you whip out you broom and mount it in one fluid motion, returning high enough for both others to see you as you speed towards your destination.

Realising what you’ve done, Sebastian let’s out a furious, horse bellow of ‘YOU LITTLE CUNT!!’ While Professor Shah sounds like she’s having a heart attack from your sudden re-emergence.

You swing off your broom as soon as you reach the front entrance to the clock tower and immediately regret stalling for so long as a practise round of crossed wands has started. It seems several students from potions had come straight here. Natty and Eric are duelling Hector and Charlotte.

With a furious cry you storm in, drawing all attention before sending a Depulso that sends Charlotte flying across the room, Levioso Hector straight up into the swinging pendulum with a reverberating clang. You sprint at Eric who’s face screws up in terror before morphing to pain as you drive your fist across his face then shoulder him into Natty sending the girl falling with a shriek.

There!-finally he’s right in front of you!

You can’t help but let out a low raspy gasp as you stagger towards him.

He’s frozen in either confusion or fear and oh god he smells like smoke, the resulting smoke of magic crashing into brick and stone mixed with leather from the quidditch gear he wears when flying.

And rubber from that damn rubber ball he bounces with such skill it-oh Merlin his confidence is so hot.

“…Can I help you.” He finally manages to squeak out, rubber ball rolling across the floor while he stares paralysed at you.

You’re rather paralysed yourself. The clean pale face, curly black hair, kind brown eyes-he’s so damn cute.

“I-I know your still setting up the next round of crossed wands but…I’d like to suggest a matchup?” You manage to say, stumbling over your words as you gaze into those deep eyes.

He nods dumbly, soft lips parted.

Cute.

Swallowing your fear you step towards him, you tower over him by nearly an entire foot but he isn’t scared, house of the brave and it suits him. Slowly you raise your hand and clasp his smaller one in it.

“I was thinking…me and you? Maybe at Hogsmeade sometime?” You say, desperately trying not to let your voice shake.

There’s a brief moment as he glances at your combined hands before he slowly closes his fingers around yours. Then he smiles at you.

“I’d like that.” He says softly.

Slowly, with small movements your heads come together until you’re inches away from a kiss-

“WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK ARE YOU DOING!?!?”

Unfortunately your tender moment with Lucan distracted you from hearing Sebastian catch up with you once more and you turn around straight into a stupefy.

You get a weeks detention. Sebastian ends up with a total of four weeks. A week for every time he attacks you in the hallways over the following week. However it isn’t the only thing that happens continually that week.

Natty ‘accidentally’ uses her Animagus form and slams her back hooves into you with enough force to send you into the black lake While your standing on the boardwalk. Imelda curses your broom. Charlotte jinx’s you in charms, Hector sends you dirty looks and Garreth tries to poison you but stops at the last minute before you drink your ‘pumpkin juice’ because you comment that you like his hair.

He says he thinks what you did was mean through his sobs but is willing to forgive you because he’s never received such validation.

Sad.

Regardless, as you stare into Lucans warm brown eyes while you share a smoothie in a little cafe in Hogsmeade, you think it was worth it.

Of course you can’t go much further then a snog because Professor Weasley kindly informed you that ‘He’s twelve and if it goes further then kissing I’ll rip your balls off and feed them to the Kneazles’ all while managing that gentle smile of hers.

But hey, you’ve promised him at some point you’ll cross wands.

#hogwarts legacy #male reader #Ive never done a reader insert and I hate it #lucan brattleby #sebastian sallow #Proffesor shah #natsai onai #Garreth Weasley #Eric Northcott #reader x Lucan brattleby

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29pageshomestuckeveryday · 1 year ago

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Homestuck, page 3,360

Karkat: Open memo.

Author commentary: Here's the first time we learn of Gamzee's aspect. It's Rage. Ya can't just give that away and expect people not to go, oh, he'll probably turn into a murderclown. (They probably still wouldn't have suspected their sweet, soft clown of any future wrongdoing, who are we kidding.) Actually, even the trolls didn't suspect it while knowing his aspect, since Karkat says here they all thought Bard of Rage was a joke title. To help us all freak out about this a little more, Karkat "reminds" us of how deadly Gamzee can be by citing his crazy, out-of-the-blue attack against the Black King. In doing so he provides some interesting color about how that battle went, which doesn't serve much purpose except to feed your headcanons somewhat on that event, as well as send the message "Gamzee is actually really strong under the right circumstances, and oh, also Vriska is too FYI, but you probably already knew that." Then Stoned Gamzee pops into the conversation like an idiot, and Karkat basically treats him like a completely different person than the one who did the murders. Which he sort of is. But also Karkat has grown accustomed to treating past and future versions of people he talks to as individuals who are completely distinct from each other, especially when it comes to himself. The bottom line is this "warning" Karkat tries to issue via memo obviously turns out to be completely useless. It serves a similar purpose as to when someone in a horror movie is trapped by the villain in a deadly situation and tries to call for help in some way. Like they make it to a phone and call some people, but frustratingly those people either don't believe them, are preoccupied, or the signal is bad, etc. I guess the "funny spin" on this trope here is that the people he's trying to warn or get help from are the very people both committing the murders and being murdered, from different points on the timeline, and they're all being similarly useless in frustrating ways per the aforementioned horror trope.

Here Karkat starts talking to another murderer who doesn't know he's a murderer yet, and who frustratingly doesn't believe Karkat when he tells him about it. It makes sense that Eridan doesn't believe him, since Karkat's talking about his future magic wand, and Eridan is on record as knowing magic to be fake. It's not that frustrating he doesn't believe Karkat though, because if he did, then that would change the past, resulting in this turning into a doomed timeline. But wait a minute... Now it seems like everyone is suddenly dying, so... How could anyone be sure this isn't a doomed timeline resulting from just such an intervention? What exactly is preventing Karkat from suspecting he's forked off somehow into a doomed timeline, resulting in the systematic demise of his friends? (Aside from the fact that he's probably too freaked out to consider that possibility.) If this were a doomed timeline, that would mean it's possible the right thing to do would be to try to alter the past via Trollian and set things back onto the rails of the alpha timeline, which is basically what happened with Davesprite. He, a strict product of a doomed timeline, is instrumental in the course correction which the alpha timeline needed to continue. Okay, I'm probably starting to slightly confuse myself, whilst massively confusing you. The bottom line is, even if Karkat did think "This is a doomed timeline, and I need to fix it," it still wouldn't have worked, because this isn't a doomed timeline. It's the alpha timeline, and everyone dying here is just normal-doomed, not doomed-doomed. There's a clear distinction between those things. If you're doomed-doomed, it means you're living in a non-viable timeline, which is running its course and tapering off into oblivion, sort of as a means of Paradox Space keeping itself tidy. But if you're just normal-doomed, it means your death was an important event in the long chain of authoritative actions which were all necessary to keep reality itself propped up. So does that mean it's better to be normal-doomed than doomed-doomed? I'm not sure. I guess you could ask some ghosts about it. Though chances are, the normal ghosts don't feel substantially more honored than the doomed ghosts for having died a relevant death. Mostly they stop caring about any mortality issues at all, and get back on their bullshit as soon as possible upon entering the dream bubbles.

#gif #pesterlog

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mega-ringsandthings-world · 9 months ago

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It's nearing about two years from the escape, Shanks has been prepping to set off on his own for several months by now. That's exactly it, Shanks is grounding himself, he has a goal and a need to take action, and he's doing so. The initial pushback against the marines/WG Mihawk and Shanks were involved in with the Revs has simmered down, so they both have time to pursue personal goals. Mihawk has his own goals too, but they differ in composition from Shanks', and that makes all the difference. Communication between the two is shoddy at the moment, so Mihawk thinks that Shanks is moving past him, that this thing with his own ship and crew has replaced Mihawk's place in Shanks' life, "At which point he's--useless. Some relic of the strangling past Shanks is trying to break free of" - ouch, yes, and Mihawk is predictably not taking that well in the slightest. (that is of course not true, and Shanks is under the impression that Mihawk is moving past him.) Crocodile is trying to see if he can get Mihawk to join him by some chance in a billion, trying to assess Mihawk's mental state, and trying to tell Mihawk he's an utter fool. The problem is that he is doing none of those things with any tact. Crocodile is Mihawk's close friend by this point, and he sees that things between him and Shanks are spiraling off, and he's trying to set him straight via passive-aggressive methods. "What are you going to do when he leaves you behind, hm? Why don't you do something so he doesn't?" Which only serve to send Mihawk spiraling more, and Crocodile knew it was bad, but not this bad. He keeps extremely cool, but he's watching Mihawk very closely here, because, after all, he's not unaware of just how Mihawk can get about Shanks. Maybe he wasn't expecting Mihawk to go full Juilet, but it does not surprise him. Which leads to the very next scene in which he physically removes Mihawk from the railing of the ship.

Let's fllash to the future for one second in the Lougetown AU to look at Crocodile having no concept of time, place, or delicacy; "He's going to set sail soon," Crocodile says. His tone is casual, bored even, but his eyes are fixed on Mihawk, dark in concentration. Anticipation. "What are you going to do when he does?"

It's a blow like numbered among the worst Mihawk has taken, the impact of a thousand backhands rolled into one, the space between his eyes exploding into a haze. Mihawk digs his fingers into his palms to keep standing, tastes blood running free from where the fist has broken skin and tissue, filling the space under his tongue. The haze rolls away bit by bit, he blinks and blinks, and when the last of it clears, he realizes he's biting through his own cheek, lip.

It takes a long painful moment to to force his seizing muscles to unlock, to remember how to move at all, but when he does and they do, Mihawk turns his back on Crocodile.

For the few seconds it takes him to walk across the deck to the railing, Mihawk hates the man, hates him with every aching cell of his body.

Becalmed as they are, the water below is flat blue sheet, the cool sunlight reflected off of it in glittery uniform bursts. Mihawk stares, opens his eyes to it, lets the haze come flooding back in, smothering bitter rage.

He could do it now, vault the railing to the smooth surface below, fall fall fall into the sunlight and the blue. The aft deck is abandoned, Crocodile would be unlikely to get someone in time, if he is even so inclined to do so.

The water shimmers, slow undulating and inviting, and Mihawk reaches up, hooks his fingers around the cord of his kogatana, pressing his thumb to the invisible seam of its midway point. He can make sure no one Crocodile brings can be brought in time. Sunlight, blue and red. His blood curling upwards through the water into nothing

Crocodile's shoes click behind Mihawk as he stands, takes a step forward, then pauses to light his cigar. Mihawk smells the first of the new smoke, rich with chocolate, and inhales despite himself, drawing the sickly sweet into his lungs, holding it. forcing it down, until it morphs into cloying sickness in his gut.

"Well?"

#lougetown au #mishanks #sir crocodile

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thorniest-rose · 3 years ago

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loving the johnny is a well behaved service top vibes lately. he went from feral top to performance top (via useless top during his erectile dysfunction era.) daniel has him so well trained......johnny gets gets done railing him to within an inch of his life and is like. collapsed on the bed barely able to breathe....daniels like actually i want to go again. johnnys like yes honey drinks a red bull and gets to work

oh my god yes!!!!! I'm so obsessed with this dynamic too. Usually I like to think of Daniel being extremely submissive once he's in the bedroom. Like he's coiled so tightly and all he needs is for Johnny to fuck it out of him as hard as he can. But I do also love a Daniel who's a bit more assertive and while he's still the bottom, he tells Johnny what to do to him. So how to fuck him, and what position, and how hard, and he'll put a cock ring on Johnny so he can't come (because Johnny comes really fast when he's fucking Daniel and he might not be able to get hard again for a while so Daniel doesn't want to risk it.)

And sometimes he just wants to kneel between Johnny's legs and suck his dick, like deepthroat it and get it all wet, without letting Johnny come, until Johnny's practically whining and pulling at his hair and begging to come, or he'll tell Johnny to fuck him. Like he'll be on his hands and knees in the middle of their bed and Johnny's fucking him from behind, and Daniel will be like, "Fuck me harder, baby, I want you to fuck me so hard it hurts" and Johnny doesn't know if he's died and gone to heaven, because being inside Daniel's the best thing he's ever felt, or if he's actually in hell and Daniel's his beautiful tormentor. Either way he loves it. Loves watching his dick sink into Daniel while Daniel tells him how good it feels. Or having Daniel in his lap, grinding down on his cock, his fingers in Johnny's hair, pulling it back until the roots scream while Daniel tells him how much better he is than the dildo he used on himself on the nights Amanda was away.

And it's only when Daniel's come as many times as he wants and finally feels satisfied, that he lets Johnny pull the cock ring off, his dick so rock hard it hurts to touch, and come all over his chest or inside him. Afterwards when Johnny's a strung-out mess, chest heaving as he pants, lying down on their bed, Daniel curls up next to him and tells him how good he is, how amazing it feels when he fucks him, that no one can fuck him like Johnny can, and Johnny feels so good. It feels like he was made to fuck Daniel, and nothing else can compare to that.

#asks #lawrusso asks #service top johnny #hmm this was more sub top johnny but i hope you still liked it anon <3

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xseaxwitchxkpop · 3 years ago

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NSFW Alphabet: Sub!Sannie Edition

A/N: I've seen a lot of dom!ateez edition for this but not really much sub!ateez, so y'all know I had to do it lol. As always, take this with a grain of salt as I do not know the ateezers irl

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

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Doesn't matter if y'all had rough and kinky sex or sweet and soft sex, this boy will always be blissed out when y'all are done. He needs all the sweet kisses on his cheeks, his neck freckles, knuckle kisses, and cuddles. Whisper praise to him and feed and hydrate him...and give him a bath if it was a particularly rough session complete with washing his hair.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He's most proud of abs because not only would he be able to see (and feel) a tummy bulge with ur larger strap on/large dick, he also knows it earns him praise from you because of how hard he works for them. On you, he can't choose his favorite: he'd sway between your lips and the way they make him shudder, your fingers and the way they dig into his hips, and your legs that he could hold onto in missionary, whether thicc or skinny.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

He definitely loves to eat cum, both yours and his, but especially his when it's paired with degradation. He also loves the feeling of you cumming in his ass and it never fails to send him over the edge and wiped out so quickly...he will beg for this. If you have a pussy, make him eat you out after he came inside, it's one of his favorite things.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He's really private with intimacy and prefers not to show off...however, at least once, he would love nothing more than for you to take him in front of a camera and treat him as nothing more than a useless plaything for your pleasure, showing everyone that you own him and then gift the tape to his members...perhaps to lead them to a whole ass orgy where he gets absolutely destroyed by everyone on your command.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Contrary to popular belief, he's not as experienced as we might be inclined to believed. He's probably only had a couple of partners because he fell in love way too fast and might have messed around with a couple of members, but overall he's only kind of experienced. He knows what he's doing as a baseline, but it's also different for different people, so he quickly learns YOUR body and its responses.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Honestly depends on his mood: if he wants it fast, rough, and completely fucked out it's doggy style hands-down; if he wants it slow and sensual, good old missionary with his legs laid over your thighs so he can squeeze them when the bedsheets aren't enough.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Most of the time, he likes to be more serious with sex because he views this type of intimacy as people sharing each other and putting utmost trust in each other but every once in a while he'll want soft, giggly sex where you two simply exist in a moment and in each other without the filth of kinky rough sex.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

I'm more than positive all of them, at the bare minimum, trim their pubes for logistical reasons but I think San probably just full on shaves down there as a matter of principle: if he likes you to be clean shaven down under, he'll put in the same effort for you.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

As I've said, he's a very intimate person, so he treasures every single moment every time you two have sex. No matter how far deep into sub space he gets or how severe his punishments, his heart will always fill up with joy and happiness whenever you two get intimate. He's also very possessive and he feels 1000x moreso when sex is involved which is why his orgy fantasy will be nothing but a fantasy for quite a while.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

He doesn't masturbate too often because the relief of the release is not satisfactory and he only really does it when it becomes an annoyance or interference in his daily routines. BUT. When he's on tour and finds himself on the rare occasion that he is aching for your touch, he'll take a pair of your used panties he snuck into his baggage and jack off in the shower to the thought and smell of you.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

This kinky mf will try most everything once. Some of his kinks include but are not limited to breeding (you breeding him and him breeding you, depending on if he's a service top in the moment), restraints (i.e., shibari, handcuffs), sensory deprivation (i.e., blindfolds), tummy bulge (in him), hair pulling, choking, cum eating, mommy/noona/hyung/daddy/master/mistress/etc., dollification, edging, pegging/anal play, biting, nipple play, and cock rings.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

He prefers the bed above all else because it resembles a little nest of blankets, pillows, and plushies which makes him feel the safest in whatever the mood y'all have goin on. He is not, however, opposed to being railed on the countertop.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Hmmmm I think a better question is what doesn't turn him on. He's definitely a kinky fucker and a sex fiend, but among his top turn ons are ass groping, lip biting, hair tugging, and gentle pats on his lower back, especially if you're doing it to guide him somewhere. Also the Voice (tm), especially in public!

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Deliberately ignoring him, even if it is out of playfulness and teasing on your end. I don't peg him as an attention whore by any means, but he is very sensitive to being included/excluded and the like, so this would only genuinely hurt him, especially if you decide to drag it out for longer than a couple of minutes.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

This man LIVES for eating you out and/or sucking you off, whether that's a strap on or actual dick. It gets him going so much so please let him just go down you at any time, any day, nearly any where. He doesn't like receiving much because he doesn't get too much pleasure -- he doesn't make him feel subby at all and that's not something he particularly likes but if you really want to, he'll let you go down on him every once in a blue moon.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

As emphasized previously, it very much depends on his mood, but he'll typically want fast and rough on his more stressful days and slow and sensual on his more "down" days when he needs to be reminded that he is loved for more than just his body, that he is more than just his body. The soft and giggly sex he'd want when he's in a very happy mood and just wants to share that warmth with you, the sweet thing.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

He's not really that into quickies, but if you want one or two, he's not gonna put up a fight lol.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Again, he'll do nearly everything once, so yes, experimentation/risk is the name of his game.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

During fast and rough intercourse, he could probably go three rounds with overstimulation but during slow and sensual intercourse, he could do a strong single round or a questionable two rounds because the slow and sensual one tends to be more emotionally exhausting than fast and rough for him.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Ofc the sweetheart owns toys! Miss Size Queen has his own dildos, vibrators, anal beads, handcuffs, and nipple clamps. Most of these things he uses on himself and his partner uses on him, but every once in a while the partner will use one or two things on themselves to tease and punish the poor boy.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

If he's being a brat, he will tease you to no end until you have his ass and remind him to behave. Most of the time, though, it's his partner that's teasing him and he might try to tease you back out of revenge. Keyword: try.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

San is loud as hell in bed and there is no convincing me otherwise. He will let out the most sinful moans, cutest little whimpers, and high pitched whines so muffle his mouth with your used panties/underwear or stuff his mouth with your fingers to decrease his volume. The only time he's not being loud is when he's so completely fucked out that all he can do is whimper, drool endlessly for your strap on/dick, and roll his eyes in the back of his head.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

He loves it when you make him cry from fucking him so good. The first time he cried from fucking was when you two tried out mirror sex and you forced him to look himself in the eye in the mirror and he was absolutely gone. This kind of fucking, however, leaves him kind of sore in the ass for the next couple of days so y'all rarely do it when he's working on promotions and a comeback so when y'all can do it...well, he won't be walking for a while.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

He's a little longer than average, but not by much; he also has average girth. This doesn't bother you, though, as you're the one fucking him most of the time and he knows how to use his dick, anyway, so it hasn't caused any problems between the two of you.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

He has a pretty high sex drive, so when you're not in the mood and he is, you indulge him in guided masturbation either with his hand or via plushie fucking. You'll also let him ride your thigh if you can handle that or give him a quick handy. However if you both have the same high sex drive, y'all gonna have a lot of sex at many times during the day.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He tends to fall asleep pretty quickly, passing out within like 20 minutes of y'all finishing. If, though, it was soft and giggly sex, he wouldn't fall asleep at all, he'd just snuggle into you and talk about cute things he saw that day or scroll through social media for cats or some cute shit because he's not really tired, just very warm and very content...dare I say, like a cat in the sun.

#ateez #sub!ateez #dom!reader #san #ateez headcanons #ateez imagine #my works #lemon hours #sub!ateez alphabet #sub!san #sub!idol #sub!kpop

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naralanis · 4 years ago

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little bumps in the road (pt. 19)

Previously, on LBitR...

Like her cell before this, the room Lena now occupied has no windows, only the bright fluorescent lights that emit a soft hum just loud enough for Lena to hear—something that would ordinarily drive her crazy with annoyance, but now just gives her something else to focus on.

There are no clocks, either, at least not that she could see, not even on the many monitors attached to her via an array of wires. Though, to be fair, her visibility is somewhat compromised by the limited range of movement the handcuffs afford her.

No one has come in to check in on her so far, not even a nurse doing their rounds or some hapless DEO agent—because she is very much not in a hospital, as much as it looks like she might be. Lena would guess she’s being held at the DEO, but she doesn’t particularly like guessing. She likes knowing. And what she knows is that she’s been here for what feels like forever and she’s starting to get antsy.

Not that Lena has much idea of how much time has passed; she tried counting the minutes in her head, but couldn’t concentrate long enough on the task to keep it up for more than twenty counts to sixty, which in her book, is long enough.

She half-expected Lex to come in at some point, even if just to gloat, but he hasn’t shown so far, and Lena figures he doesn’t need to. He’s already got his pieces in place—he controls both Lena and the Director of the DEO; he can just sit back, kick up his feet, and relax while he waits for the game to start up again.

For Kara to come flying into his trap.

Fucker, Lena thinks bitterly. She feels a little high—probably whatever pain medication she was given.

Her stomach growls, sudden and loud, and Lena realizes she has no idea when she had eaten last. But more than telling she’s hungry, the unpleasant sound tells her she’s been sitting here twiddling her thumbs (figuratively speaking, of course) for a few hours at least.

Tired of being laid up and useless, and entirely not in the mood to wait for Alex or whoever else to come in, Lena tries to shuffle down the bed, as much as the handcuffs will allow, to try to get to the bandages stuck to the side of her head.

There’s some incredibly awkward shuffling down the thin mattress and further into the cheap, staticky sheets, and the angle is far from comfortable, but eventually Lena manages to lean down just enough so her fingertips graze the edge of some gauze, right at her temple. She pinches it between her index and middle fingers—the only ones that actually reach—and slowly begins to tear it away from her skin.

It’s at this moment that Lena becomes exceedingly thankful for the invention of morphine—or whatever else it is they have her on, here—because after some poking around, she’s definitely reopened her wound. Her fingers come away bloody, and the whole spot feels raw and hot to the touch, but fortunately, she feels little more than pressure.

She’s very well aware that, as far as good ideas go, this one probably nears the bottom of the list (or perhaps isn’t in it at all), but her options are limited, after all. And to be quite fair, even if she doesn’t succeed, she’s already in this pseudo-hospital room—it’s quite unlikely her captor will let her just. Die.

The angle is mightily uncomfortable, which makes it less than ideal when it comes to actually digging into a head wound, and so far she’s felt nothing that resembles the minuscule implant in her skin, but Lena is nothing if not tenacious, not to mention stubborn as hell. Kind of like Kara.

“If you would like, I could provide you with the schematics to Lex Luthor’s mind-control implant without the need of aggravating your wounds.”

Lena jumps—as much as one can jump when they’re handcuffed to a bed—at the voice; she’d been so concentrated on her slightly insane task she didn’t hear anyone come in. Her bloodied hand snaps away from the wound on her temple in shock and hits the rail with force, enough to send her now-empty ice-chip cup flying to the other side of the room.

“Brainy!”

Lena cannot quantify the sheer relief she feels when she sees the stoic figure at her door, ramrod straight with his arms crossed at his back. His lips are tugging into a little smile, like he’s so clearly happy to see her, and for some reason that makes her want to cry.

She does cry a little, and it’s so pathetic, because her hands are still handcuffed so she can’t even reach out to wipe at them. But it’s the first time in weeks, maybe months, that someone other than Kara actually looks happy to see Lena, and she finds she’s wholly unprepared to deal with it.

“What are you doing here?”

He steps in, squinting at her and tutting under his breath as he sees her bloodied hand, head, and bandages. “Do you need me to tell you how exactly much you’re increasing your risk of infection by interfering with your bandages?”

Lena lets out a wet, choky laugh. “No, thank you. I’ll be good.”

He nods, lips tugging ever-so-slightly wider. It’s the closest to a beaming grin as Brainy can get, and Lena can’t help but laugh. Maybe she’s hallucinating. But she’s so, so very happy to see me.

“Good,” he says, looking a bit awkward just standing by her bed with perfect posture. Lena wouldn’t have it any other way. “I will call someone shortly to redress your wounds. Trying to remove this type of subdermal implant with a piece of glass only had a 9.7% chance of success, in case you were not aware.”

Lena lets out a little snort. “I figured the odds weren’t great,” she quips. Brainy’s now just close enough she can touch his elbow with her casted hand—the other one is erm, bloody. It’s a little awkward—Brainy, like Lena, was never the extremely touchy type—but he accepts it with a little laugh. “Brainy, Alex—she also has an implant; she doesn’t remember—”

“I am aware of the Director’s implant. I was working to disable it, but it seems you managed to trigger the return of some of her memories.” He raises his brow, and Lena can tell he is mightily impressed. “Well done.”

“Who else has them? Who else has Lex gotten to?”

“Only the Director, as far as we know. Lex hasn’t made many of them, but we are working on disabling the entire system.” He frowns. “I need your help,” he admits as if it both pains and delights him to need Lena’s assistance. “I found the schematics of the implant itself, but the system…”

“Works on the basis of a program I designed,” Lena groans.

Brainy nods solemnly, thankfully not saying anything further on the subject. Instead, he pulls a small tablet from his pocket, and taps at it until it flashes blue. He turns the screen for Lena to see, and her eyes have a bit of a hard time focusing on the diagrams slowly spinning in place.

“The implant cannot be removed without triggering an alarm,” Brainy begins, and Lena is glad to finally have someone who can get straight down to business. “As well as several countermeasures Lex put in place. Had you successfully removed it, it would have. Erm. Liquefied your brain. In essence.”

Lena lets out a low whistle through her teeth. “Talk about overkill. So I guess we can’t remove Alex’s either.”

Brainy shakes his head. “No. The only hope is by disabling the entire system, which unfortunately cannot be accessed remotely,” he sighs. “I’ve tried 346 times and haven’t gotten close.”

“Well, if we can’t access remotely, then the only other option would be to—”

“LENA! ARE YOU BLEEDING??!”

Brainy jumps back a full three feet, bumping into the monitors with a loud clatter, hugging the tablet to his chest like a kid caught stealing from the cookie jar. Lena yelps, startled by a blue-clad figure at the door to her room, mask off but scowl very, very much in place.

“Nia,” Lena breathes, but she doesn’t have the chance to say anything else before the young woman marches to her bed, looking exasperated.

“What the hell were you thinking—girl you made a whole-ass hole in your head, this is not the time to start poking around in there, if this scars I swear to god I am going to kill you before Kara kills me before Lex kills us all are you kidding me right now—”

“Nia,” Lena tries again, and she can’t even be bothered with the way Nia’s fussing over her torn bandages and slowly clotting wound, because she just wants to thank her, she wants to hug her, but most of all, Lena just wants to cry. “Nia—”

“Oh my god, are you crying!?” Nia yelps, her previous fury vanishing within a second as it turns to worry as she eyes Brainy, who looks completely out of his depth at Lena’s sudden sobbing. “Why are you crying??”

Lena wants to raise her arms to hug the young woman, but the stupid handcuffs won’t let her, so she just. Sobs. Like a little baby—it’s a little pathetic, but she can’t help it, because Nia’s here, Nia’s the one who took her to Kara. Their mad run across the country, the resentment that melted into companionship again, the laughs they shared along the way—it was all because of Nia.

Nia seems to understand, on a surface level, because she lets out a sigh, dropping the gauze she’d been unsuccessfully trying to stick back on Lena’s head, and just wraps her arms around her, tight and present.

“Thank you,” Lena sobs wetly against the crook of her neck. “Thank you.”

<< Previous || Next >>

#nara's word vomit #LBitR #supergirl #supergirlcw #supercorp #lena luthor #kara danvers #ficwriting #femslash #listen i rewrote this three times and then said fuck it #this programme is brought to you by Nara NOT being a bastard for one #featuring one Big Brain Boi #and the Incomparable Nia Nal #and baby Lena #lena luthor needs a hug #lena luthor gets a hug

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steve-rogers-ruined-men-for-me · 4 years ago

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Teach Me

Summary: Bucky’s worried about you overworking yourself at your teaching job.

Warnings: some swearing, cute couple shit

Words: 2014k

A/N: this is my first full fic! I’ve really missed writing just for fun and I have a few more fic ideas and hc ideas in the works! please please please comment and let me know what you think!

No matter what, you always came to bed when Bucky did. Sometimes you stayed up on your phone or reading but you always at least sat on the bed with him. He knew that you had a big week coming up, with your principal coming to observe you, midterms drawing closer, and your students struggling with the new curriculum the district was imposing.

You were a high school English teacher and Bucky had met you when your school had put on an assembly about the history of the Avengers. He had noticed you in the back of the auditorium, wearing a soft blue dress and encouraging your students to ask him questions about his prosthetic. He shyly asked Tony to see if he could contact the school later and get your number. He had rolled his eyes at him and had walked up to you and asked in plain English, “The Manchurian Candidate over there wants to take you to dinner. If I set up the reservation and promise to make him show up, will you go?” Your jaw had dropped and you had numbly agreed. James Buchanan Barnes wanted to go on a date with you? Despite your doubts regarding the reality of the situation, you showed up outside the quiet Italian restaurant and the rest was history.

Bucky smiled at the memory of you dressed in a red silk jumpsuit with your hair braided back. You looked like a modern version of the girls he flirted with during the forties. Only, back then, he had been wondering how to get up their skirts but now he was more concerned with taking his time getting the jumpsuit off your gorgeous body. He felt a twitch between his legs and, smirking, shook the feeling off. He padded down to the kitchen, thinking you had gotten hungry. When that search yielded no you, he wandered through the rest of the downstairs. He noted that your car hadn’t left the driveway and checked the calendar on the fridge to see if he had the opening shift at the mechanic’s tomorrow (he mercifully did not). But he took note of how small your writing was on your to-do list for Monday.

Feeling a pang in his chest, he remembered how he had begged you to let him have your full attention on Friday and Saturday. While you’d reveled in your domestic bliss, by noon on Sunday, you had been buried in your office with your laptop, surrounded by books, papers, and highlighters. Smiling to himself, he realized where you were. He headed up to the attic loft, converted into your office. The walls were a soft gray and the couch the two of you had bought for your tiny first apartment was squeezed against one wall.

Bucky’s heart tightened as he saw you sprawled on the couch, wrapped in one of his massive flannels. Your desk light was on and the desk was messier than he’d ever seen it. Your blinking phone alerted him to the fact that you’d set an alarm for midnight, but had been so tired you’d slept through it, a given considering you were working yourself to the bone and it was two a.m. Afraid to ruin your organizational system on your desk, he returned the pens and highlighters to the little decorative cups you kept them in, saved every file you had open on your laptop before closing it, and pushed the papers in imminent danger of falling onto the floor farther back on the desk.

Content that he had lessened the burden of cleaning you’d have to do tomorrow, he crouched next to the couch. Gently smoothing a stray hair out of your face, he whispered, “baby...come on, get up, let’s go to bed.” You opened your eyes slowly and then jerked upright, sending your phone flying and Bucky scrambling backwards.

“What time is it!” you cried, frantic. You ran towards your desk, frantically pinging your phone from your Apple Watch. Your clock on your desk blinked back 2:05 a.m. at you. Bucky picked up your incessantly beeping phone and handed it to you as you slumped in your desk chair, head in your hands.

“I just wanted to get this stupid assessment plan done,” you whispered. You hugged his flannel tight around you as tears started to fall. Bucky turned your swivel chair so you were facing him as he knelt in between your legs. You dropped your upper body and rested your forehead on his shoulder as you sobbed. The weight of turning in grades, making assignments, checking in with your students to make sure they were doing okay, it was weighing on you. Bucky had noticed you sleeping less and drinking more coffee but hadn’t truly realized the toll it was taking on you. Kicking himself for making you spend time with him instead of alleviating your burdens at work, he pulled you out of the chair to sit between his legs, curling you into him and rocking gently. After a few minutes, you tilted your chin up and scooched back. Sitting criss cross between his legs, you cupped your chin and closed your eyes.

“I don’t know what to do, Buck,” you said sadly. You tugged on a loose button on your sleeve, looking like a lost puppy. Bucky knew how much you adored teaching and how much you loved your students. You were always baking treats for them when they did well on exams, buying bagels so that they could eat breakfast, and extending deadlines for the kids who worked. He knew that the American school system had changed since the 1940s and when you had shown him what you had to teach in a week and just how much time and energy went into lesson planning, he almost formed his own teachers union to advocate for you.

When he found out your dismal salary, he had to take a walk. He spent an hour with Tony railing against your pay and the administrators who punished you for the test scores of students that you had no control over. Tony sat him down after an hour of not being able to get a word in edgewise and finally pledged to harass the local school boards (and the Board of Education if they would call him back) about raising teacher salaries. Bucky had walked home to you pouring over birthday cards your sixth period juniors had given you because they’d gotten a tip that it was your birthday. (Peter helped Bucky hack your Google Classroom). He felt a wave of pride come over him as he looked at you, his selfless girl, thrilled that she was having an impact on the kids she loved the most. You getting so down on yourself broke his heart.

“What’s wrong with your assessment plan?” he asked, intertwining your hands with his. You looked up angrily. “What ISN’T wrong with it is a better question!” you cried. “The district made the test up and it’s on a fucking scantron because what fucking isn’t these days and it’s not taking into account the fact that school is not the main focus for so many of these kids that have to fucking work and help support their siblings and all they are is numbers on a fucking piece of paper that tells you nothing about the effectiveness of my teaching or the district’s ability to educate them as a whole!” Bucky blinked rapidly as you huffed. You didn’t get angry very often, but when you did and you started to monologue, he understood why you received a distinction with your English degree.

“Baby,” he started gently, “can I ask you something you may not like?” He knew that you were a planner and that the odds were you were beating yourself up about a task that had taken your coworkers thirty minutes to do. You always wanted to do right by your kids but if you didn’t start sleeping and taking care of yourself, you were useless to everyone, including yourself. You looked up at Bucky through teary eyes.

“Are you going to ask me if the plan’s done and I’m just being picky?” you asked in a small voice. Bucky stood up, taking you with him. He pressed your frame against him, putting your arms over his shoulders and resting his hands on your waist. He stayed to sway slightly, trying to lull you back to sleep and to try to help quiet your mind. “I wouldn’t say picky I just...look. I’m being selfish. I want you to come to bed with me. I want you to play with my hair and whisper that you love me when you think I’m out cold asleep,” he gushed, noting the slight blush that crept up your cheeks. “You are incredible. Your admin are literally fucking stupid, doll. Nothing you do will change that. You are trying your best and if you think that your kids won’t benefit from the 12 different plans you’ve cooked up, then you’re crazy. Your kids don’t need a version 13, baby. They need you whole, in one piece, and ready to fight for them if they need.” He kissed your forehead, trying to ease your creased brow. Giving in to his ministrations, you sighed. You thought about how this plan should’ve probably only taken an hour. But then you rewrote the plan for the week based off of if your kids took a lot of time on the test, a little time, got anxious during it, caught on fire during it, committed larceny during the test and you had to contact the police. You knew it was overkill but you also knew that budget cuts were coming, contracts were up at the end of this year, and you and Bucky were saving to buy a house instead of living in a condo forever.

“Buck?” you whispered. He lifted his chin off your head and looked down.

“Yeah, doll?”

You felt the exhaustion settle into you all at once. “Can we go to bed?”

Picking you up and putting you in a fireman’s carry, Bucky held you the whole way down to your bedroom. He pulled out a shirt of his for you to sleep in while you brushed your teeth and rinsed off in the shower. He walked in right as you were towelling off and he slipped it over your head with ease. He offered to blow dry your hair but you declined, favoring slipping into a warm sleep with him. He cuddled you close, forgoing asking you to play with his hair in favor of trying to hug all the pride he felt about you into your body via osmosis. Your head was resting soft on his chest, one arm curled protectively around his torso. His metal arm was tucked up and around your shoulders, keeping you comfortable. His flesh hand caressed your arm around him to remind you that he would always be there for you. He loved you more than anything. As your breathing evened and his hand on your side rose in gentle time with your breath, he decided that he was going to call Tony tomorrow. He knew a few people who owed him from his time as the Winter Soldier and if they didn’t want their dirty laundry exposed, dammit he was going to make someone in the district fix the stupid test until it worked how you wanted it to work. He hugged you closer to him, giving you one final squeeze before he started drifting off to sleep. He slipped into a dream where he was a professor and you a naughty schoolgirl and he had just convinced you to bend over to pick something up behind his desk when...a loud snore from you jolted him back to the reality of his exhausted teacher girlfriend wearing his baggy shirt, with hair going every which way. There was no plaid skirt here. Only love and admiration. Bucky kissed your temple and willed sleep to come again.

#buckybarnes #bucky barnes headcanons #bucky x reader #buckybarnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff

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imtheflash · 3 years ago

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Tw: how about a one shot where baby Danvers is depressed and her sisters help her through it?

I do not give you credit to repost translate to another site or take credit for my work.. I spend a lot of time on it and plagiarism sucks.

anon I didn't really know how to make it so depressing so I kinda just went with the flow and made it hurt comforty

You weren't surprised when you didn't hear from your sisters in a while. One was a part time superhero and the other was a DEO agent that had a lot on her plate.

It still hurt though, more than you'd like to admit. Though you tried to ignore it you felt guilty as if you could've helped them if you didn't turn down the job of leading the DEO's department of weaponry. You were an mechanical engineer and a damn good one at that so they thought that you could help the designing team with efficiency and the engineering team with the actual construction. You're 24 though, fresh out of college and working on starting up your own shop. It was your pride and joy, a place where you would fix almost anything brought to you.

A toy car Mr. Rogers's nephew accidently broke? Yeah you got it. A motor that isn't spinning in the right direction? Don't worry about it. A freezer that stopped freezing? No problem. You could fix almost anything and everything. And if you couldn't then they sure as hell could count on you figuring out how to help replace it.

You never considered that you could be broken. But you were, and it isn't something you could fix. No everyone knows that the only way to fix someone is with people. The bell on your the door shakes you out of your trance. "Welcome to the mechanic shop how can I- Alex! Kara! Hi!" You move out from behind the counter and go to hug your sisters feeling at peace from the battle raging inside your mind for the first time in a while.

"Hi! we haven't seen you in so long oh my gosh Alex look at the shop its changed so much! Did you put a new wallpaper up?" You chuckle at Kara's rambling at the new changes and take the liberty to pull your other sister into a hug reveling in her warmth.

"So how are you guys?" You ask both of them gleeful at seeing your sisters after such a long time. They exchanged a look that made you nervous. "Well I've been great with Kelly and all but Kara" Alex starts but Kara cuts her off before she can say anything else.

"But I have been doing great I published my first article and I finally have my own office. With a chair this time!" She exclaims it hurriedly, as if she was hiding something.

You squint your eyes at them "Okay. That's great and all but the gigs up. What's up with you"

They exchange another look before Kara turns to you.

"A group of Maxwell Lord's minions created a drone to shoot at me whenever I go to save someone and it has this weird cloaking technology that isn't hackable by Winn which is saying something 'cause y'know Winn is the best tech guy we have so we were thinking its something mechanical which is why we came to you and because you're the best engineer we know so we stole one of the drones and took apart the tracking pin so if you agreed you could disassemble it and stuff so if you maybe want to you could you know?"

"I-wait-I'm sorry what? Am evil flying drone? I- sure I guess I could take a look at it?" You shrug and ignore the pang in your chest when you realize they came to get something fixed not to actually talk to you like they used too. Like you all used too.

You take the drone from Kara's hands and look at it for a beat before heading to the back of your shop "I have to take it apart before I do any of the actual decoding of the insides.

You miss your sisters looking at each other again.

"Was that a bit weird to you too?" Alex mutters under her breath so you don't hear her

Kara nods looking at your form bent over a table with a screwdriver. "It was wasn't it? Usually they're bouncing around in the shop not so_"

"Sullen" Alex finished. "We should check on them more often?"

"Hey" Kara nudged Alex's with her hip "don't worry too much, they know they can come to us if they need too."

You meanwhile were working on the drone and trying to black out the voices. Useless. Failure. Why do they even bother with you? God knows you're useless to everything that isn't mechanical.

You're snapped out of your spell with a sharp pain in your hand. You look at it and realize that your hand with the screwdriver slipped while you were unscrewing the drones mainframe and stabbed your other hand causing it to bleed. You stand up straight and wince shaking your hand up and down while your sisters run over to you.

"Oh Rao what did you do to your hand!" Kara rushes up to you and clutches your hand from where you were standing previously.

"Uh I stabbed it a little. Don't worry its not deep a band-aid will cover it. You sigh as your sister continue to fuss over the wound. Didn't they realize you weren't worth it? When would they realize.

Once it has been deemed "workable" they let you get back to work.

By the time you get to the bottom of the problem its nearly sundown and your sisters have responsibilities to get to, no matter how happy the day has been for you compared to the others.

"I will drop this off at the DEO tomorrow I just need to finish figuring out the mechanics of it. I believe that if worked right you can un-cloak the drones via a remote.

"Okay! Well go to bed and don't worry about the drones to much" Both of your sisters hugged you and you walked them to the door flipping off the open sign.

You had figured out the cloaking mechanism in an hour.

You had skipped breakfast and lunch but a sour taste in your mouth left you going straight to bed after a closing down the shop, ignoring the pain that throbbed in your hand again.

The next morning you spent an hour creating the remote and loaded the drone into a backpack driving to the DEO.

Apparently Winn figured out how to amplify the drones signal enough to blah blah blah blah you didn't catch the rest of whatever he was saying. It worked and that's all that matters. You stood on the balcony of the DEO. You hated having to leave, even though you had work to do. Lost in your mind you blink back into reality because of a copper coin in your face. "Penny for your thoughts?"

One of your sisters is on either side of you and Alex is holding out the coin in front of you.

You force a smile. "Nothing much is on my mind. I'm just surprised it worked to be honest the wiring on the inside was a bit iffy."

"C'mon. We know that isn't what your thinking." Kara bumps you with her hip. "You've been kind of... out of it since yesterday"

You panic. "I have not been out of it! I just have.. a lot on my mind i guess"

"Like what?" Alex speaks this time. She gives you a look, which makes you realize that there is no getting out of this conversation "You know that you can tell us anything right"

"I just- I feel guilty. Both of you are out there changing lives saving lives and here I am in a stupid mechanic shop. Its not even like it does anything besides fix a toy car Steve's nephew keeps breaking and the fix-its of anything someone broke. I feel so useless all the time compared to that. And i miss you two a lot too" You put your head in your hands still leaning against the railing as your sister lean in to hug you.

"You aren't useless. And neither is your shop. God knows how much time our engineering department would have to spend on the drones." Alex reaches up to rub your back.

"I agree with Alex. God knows how many civilians would've gotten hurt if it weren't for you. Also I am a literal superhero. Say my name and I'll be there in a flash"

You look up at her amused for a second, "isn't that Barry's calling card?"

She shrugs. "He won't miss it"

The three of you make your way away from the balcony. You'd be okay. Some times all you need is a hug and an evil flying drone.

Bonus:

"By the way, I saved Mr. Rogers nephew a couple times. Apparently he breaks his toy car every few days because he knows his uncle likes you" Kara looks at you with a smirk.

"Kara look their blushing"

"Oh my god no okay bye"

#Baby Danvers #kara danvers x baby danvers #Alex Danvers x baby Danvers #Request

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kth1 · 3 years ago

Photo

After months and months of planning between Jimin and Maggie, with the occasional help from Taehyung and accidental help from Namjoon, Maggie awaits in the baggage claim area of the airport after Jimin’s long flight from Korea to LAX. Jimin wants to surprise his girlfriend, Lindy, for her birthday this year as many times in the past he missed special occasions due to his hectic schedule. It’s understandable, being adults trying to figure out career paths makes you do that.

Be busy that is...

But luckily, Jimin is able to swindle his charms and cast his pleading eyes enough times to finally make a glorious trip to the States to revisit his love. Already debated on sweeping her right off her feet and bringing her back to Korea when he returns back home.

Maggie spots Jimin in the best, ‘no really, there isn’t a celebrity under these clothes’ hidden attire. A stark baseball cap covering the majority of his face along with a face mask covering. Large baggy clothes that he probably is eager to break out of once he hits the car or the apartment complex. To Maggie’s own surprise as she waits for the bags to flood in by the conveyor belt, are the two - yes two - companions accompanying Jimin. One she partially assumes is a manager of some sort and the other is none other than Jimin’s best friend and soulmate, Taehyung.

Thank God Maggie has a large car to house all these extra suitcases and bodies.

Maggie formally greets them to the best of her ability after Taehyung nearly crashes into her with a large bear hug, nearly suffocating the poor girl with how much he’s missed being around her. Jimin’s eyes shine bright and crinkle, no doubt matching the smile hidden under his mask.

“So I have it set up that I'll bring you guys to Lindy’s apartment. I have a spare key so we can chill there a bit. You guys can take a nap or something if you need to,” she checks her wrist at the watch that flashes her the time. “We have about two hours before I need to pick her up.”

“That sounds great. Did you get her the cake I told you about? The cream cheese cake one with cherries?” Jimin looks over to Maggie from the passenger seat of the car.

“Order it exactly how you requested!”

Jimin sighs relief. His mind hasn’t ever stopped the thoughts of excitement and nervousness of hopefully making this birthday one of Lindy’s best.

Time flies by and Maggie is already driving Lindy back home for what she knows as a night in with movies and drinks. Lindy looks slightly exhausted, surely work never helped make her mood lighter. However, Maggie tries to cheer Lindy up by bringing her a small bag of chocolates before the big surprise.

“You seem a bit off, did something happen?” Lindy quirks an eyebrow, fingers grabbing around a face mask that has been trampled on by her feet. It’s a full black mask, one Maggie doesn’t necessarily ever have to her knowledge.

“What do you mean?” Maggie’s eyebrows furrow, hiding the way her eyes nearly widen at the sudden question. Worried she ended up saying or doing something that tipped Lindy off.

“You’re quieter than usual.”

Maggie begins to laugh, more at herself but Lindy cannot detect that. “Oh? I’m honestly pondering if we should go with Jennifer’s Body or She’s the Man for movies.”

It’s a lie, but Lindy doesn’t know that.

Prior to Lindy entering the car, Maggie had notified Jimin via text that they would be arriving in roughly twenty minutes. So in the back of Maggie’s mind as she’s driving closer to Lindy’s block, is praying to the lord how this plan must execute perfectly for it to all work.

Jimin planned to put together Lindy’s cake in the stairwell of Lindy’s apartment complex, hiding from Lindy’s view from when he begins hearing both her and Maggie stepping up the concrete steps. Taehyung and the manager already planned to make their way around the block for some local convenience store snacks in the meantime, ready to bring back even more food and drinks.

“Oh shit,” Maggie exclaims as she’s only one foot through the door to Lindy’s apartment. “I forgot I had a bottle of liquor in the trunk of the car. I’ll be right back.”

Lindy stands awkwardly as her sweater starts to drape off her elbows, nearly falling to the floor when she goes to speak up.

“Ok?”

Lindy watches her best friend vanish down the stairwell before the door closes, preventing any further view to the outside world. She shrugs it off, ready to deflate her body to her trusty couch after kicking off both her worn down shoes and hooking her purse up on the hanging rack.

She stares at the odd placement of her remote, how a few of her magazines seem to be scattered erratically when she knows she almost always places them in chronological order whenever she touches them.

Once the door shut behind Maggie, she twists her head and halts her descending steps. After a few moments pass, she lightly walks back up the stairs and up the next flight. With a low whisper, Maggie calls out for Jimin.

Maggie rounds the corner of the railing, noticing Jimin is kneeling down with the cake set on the stairs and a handful of candles in each hand.

Maggie begins recording the set up, camera lens focusing on every move Jimin makes. You can see and feel the anxious energy off of him. It’s endearing how much he truly cares.

“You’re doing great,” Maggie whispers low. Her eyes continue to flicker down to where Lindy’s door stands, making sure that for whatever reason Lindy does not open that door back up.

Jimin lights each candle one by one, hands trembling with excitement. “I only saw the back of her and literally my entire heart jumped out of my chest. It keeps going ‘boom boom boom boom’,” he exaggerates with the gesture of his hands.

“She’ll be so happy Jimin, trust me!”

“We’re going to have to text Taehyung that the coast is clear,” he says as he slowly and carefully picks up the cake in both of his hands. Together the two of them walk down the stairs, edging closer to Lindy’s door. Jimin already has a wide smile plastered across his face, eyebrows raised and anticipating seeing his beloved.

With the twist of the handle, curiosity of Maggie, she flings the door open while holding her cellphone steady to capture the moment when Lindy first lays eyes on Jimin.

Lindy is leaning over her coffee table, shuffling through the random array of useless knickknacks when the door suddenly bursts open. Her head snaps to look, eyes immediately finding Jimin holding out her cake with lit candles who is beginning to sing ‘Happy Birthday’. Jimin steps through the door frame; a stunned beyond belief Lindy frozen to the middle couch cushion as her face is ready to burst into tears.

“Surprise! Happy Birthday, baby! I love you!” Jimin says with his whole chest.

#happy birthday lindy #jimin to my tae #edit #ok listen i know i messed up the timeframes with the flight and such #let's pretend i didnt mess it up #i didnt think that far through LMAO #so ignore the times ;)

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crazynekochan · 4 years ago

Text

Dangan Persona AU

Notes on the 6th palace

Ruled by Byakuya Togami.

Captive is Chihiro Fujisaki (trapped in a metal cage surrounded by some really nasty robotic animals in the boss room; will be torn apart by said animals as part of “showtime” if not rescued in time).

Shadow manifests as a cyborg-looking gladiator dressed as a king, with a classic ermine cape with the Togami crest embroidered on the back, with his boss form being him as a robotic gladiator with a sword and chains that bind him to a scepter and a shield with the Togami crest also emblazoned on it (he can wield both as part of his attacks), switching between different magic skills and physical abilities, representing how the Togami clan gives him great power but also brings him down.

Palace is a huge Colosseum where you have to fight through the levels before getting onto the actual fighting field where Chihiro is being kept. Byakuya is the most popular gladiator (well more of gladiator/heel wrestler mix) and there are tons of facilities dedicated to both his use and so that the audience can use it to both admire and rail against him.

During it, you see various parts of Byakuya’s personality that he refuses to show to others, like his care for his defeated siblings, his crush on Makoto, even his anger and hatred for being part of the Togami family ripping away whatever chance of a normal childhood he would’ve had. The whole thing is pretty much an exercise in breaking down Byakuya’s cool asshole exterior to find a true princely young man with a whole lot of daddy and mommy issues (because come one, no way this guy doesn’t have daddy and mommy issues). This’s really not what Byakuya would want to have the party here see, but he doesn’t have a Persona yet and his attacks aren’t that effective on shadows so he’s stuck with them to get through.

This palace also makes a lot more use of cognitions, with most of the fans being regular humans, while the enemies are his various fans or security, Aloysius acting as his mechanic/coach/high honored surrogate father. He even has his classmates there as some of the other fighters. With the exception of Toko, head of Byakuya’s fan club (and shockingly normal looking), and Makoto, who is depicted as a princess (basically Makoto but with a cute crown on his head and even more cutesy anime) that Shadow Byakuya is constantly trying to impress with almost no idea about how normal human courting customs work. It kills Byakuya so fucking much on the inside but it gives the party some good laughs and wishes that their phones worked in the Metaverse (or whatever this place is called), while the real Makoto just blushes like hell.

As the palace goes on, you see just how much Byakuya internally resents the role he’s been placed into by everyone’s expectations as a Togami and the heir, how he’s alienated himself from everyone around him and can barely interact with normal society without making an ass of himself, but he’s been so stuck in these ways that he would be “useless” in normal society, with the depictions of him (in the more stylized flashbacks to Byakuya’s childhood) becoming more and more robotic as time goes on.

When they finally get to the ring, Chihiro’s just generally doing their best to cling tightly to the bars of the cage while Shadow Byakuya lectures him in disappointment because he’s not going to get any stronger if he doesn’t at least try some pull-ups while on the bars. Byakuya gets up on the stage first and Shadow Byakuya at least gives him a good run, having the cage pulled to a higher vantage point via cables and the animals dispersed. But Shadow Byakuya absolutely fucking whoops Byakuya’s ass, with some of the most vicious, nastiest, most self-loathing things said to him in an incredibly brutal “why you suck” speech while simultaneously brutally kicking Byakuya’s ass all around the arena. Before, finally, the party gets there and keeps the Shadow from giving the finishing blow, starting the boss fight.

After the fight, Byakuya’s still not even remotely put together enough emotionally that he can confess that he’s actually the Shadow, so he orders everyone but Toko, Hajime, and Makoto to leave while he makes the contract, earning his persona. Then after they’ve escaped the collapsing palace and rescued Chihiro, Byakuya calls Makoto to talk in private in his dorm room. They never say what happened then, but Makoto was a bit pink and Byakuya still refuses to talk about it, but they are closer than before

---

Mod: The idea of having Byakuya as a famous and praised gladiator fits so well, cause he did basically fight all of his siblings despite being the “underdog” due to being the youngest and won against them. So also fitting to have the Palace be a Colosseum where the party has to fight their way up to get the chance to fight the Shadow

But oh god Byakuya must be suffering when all of his deepest most hidden emotions and feelings are getting revealed so openly for everyone to see, cause he has a gigantic ego and usually refuses to show emotions, especially ones like love and vulnerability, in the open. And here they are presented. Especially the part of his crush on sweet Makoto, which is good teasing material which is after all hard to get with Byakuya x)

Must be a sight seeing Byakuya being on the receiving end of his own “why you suck” speeches and getting kicked around like it’s nothing. Cause he’s such a prideful person after all who always pretends to have everything in control as if he were the king of this world who is as perfect as can be. Only that he actually isn’t and he has to admit to it or things will not get any better at all. Which is the hardest part, but at least he did it and even let the people he trusts see it and see him being vulnerable. Even if he refuses to say anything about it afterwards

#submission #danganronpa #byakuya togami #naegami #dangan persona au #friendlylifecherry

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mr-and-mr-diaz · 4 years ago

Note

First off, you're an amazing person w/ gr8 blog. Second of all, I hope you don't mind me saying it? If it's weird or creepy, please, disregard. Don't want to make you uncomfortable. Third of all, I came to your tumblr from ao3 and specifically the pirate fic and ma'am (sir? Neither? Wanted to use honorific and "my kind dude tends to not be *that* universal, sadly). It. ROCKS. If by any chance you feel like continuing it, I'd be forever in debt. Also hope you don't mind reviews via anon tumblr? ♥

ANON!! My answer to this ask is so long overdue I literally have no words. When I first recieved this ask in my box I was warmed through--thank you so much for your kind words! I determined to myself I would NOT send an empty response, would only publish this with the chapter in hand!! And then life picked up like crazy and I never seemed to have a spare BREATH to sit down and write this AU well enough that it would be worth reading. AND NOW I FAINLLY HAVE IT!!! Two more chapters for ya, I really hope you enjoy!!

P.S. Also, I refuse to be called ANYTHING except My Kind Dude from now on, that is the best address ever!

The Damned Disgrace--Buddie Pirate AU, Chapter 2

"Dios mio, you're useless."

Buck looked up from where he'd been struggling to swab the deck and met the glare of Captain Nash's angry first mate--Diaz, and sighed. He'd already been on the ship a fortnight, and while Chimney had fit right in, used to hard work and quickly picking up the vernacular of the other pirates, Buck stuck out like a sore thumb. He wasn't used to manual labor, having spent his life behind books and papers, and had no instinct for it. He tried, oh did he try so hard, but his clumsy hands struggled to complete work that someone else had to repeat later to make sure it was done right. And the pirates who didn't ignore him were usually laughing at him. What few acquaintances he'd made in his past life had been in academic circles. These men had no patience for or interest in unusual trivia about far away lands, or wonderings about what the world would be like if mankind lived under the water and fish lived on land.

Buck was red with sunburn, blistered all over--on his back, his forearms, and face from sunburn, and his hands, fingers and feet from work. He ached everywhere.

He looked away from Diaz and went back to stubbornly pushing the mop around the deck.

I won't be useless! I won't go overboard. I'm going to work hard and they'll help me find Maddie and bring her home! and if I get to shoot that thrice-damned Commodore Douglas too, well that would be a boon from God--

"Stop. Just stop."

Buck stopped, his heart sinking. He dared not look Diaz in the eye again, already knowing the derision and anger he would see there.

Sure the other pirates ignored him or laughed at him behind his back. But Diaz? Diaz detested him. This was the first time he'd ever spoken to Buck but definitely not the first time he'd loomed nearby, sneering at Buck's pathetic efforts to work as part of the team and fit in.

"We should've left you back at the port."

"What? No! No, I swear, I'm learning--"

"Learning what? How to smear muck around so someone else has to clean up after you? Again?" Diaz sneered, kicking at the mop. Buck's hands twitched around it, every blister flaring up painfully. Diaz's eyes caught it and he suddenly leaned forward. "Show me your hands."

"What...?"

"Show me!"

Buck carefully placed the mop against the rail of the ship and carefully unfolds his hands, wincing as the skin flares in pain with each motion.

"Dios...! Come with me."

"Wait, but I have to finish the--"

"NOW!"

***

Buck followed Eddie down into the ship, down down, past Buck's sleeping berth with the other sailors.

Buck looked around in trepidation. Is he taking me to the bilge? To the brig? The bilge was full of seawater, the brig a confined, rat infested cell where only the most unfortunate went.

They kept walking.

"Uh, Diaz, I... I swear, I'll work harder, I just--please don't--"

"You're not working any more today." Diaz replied shortly and threw open a door. "Hen, I've got the cabron for you. Destroyed his hands and he thinks he's magical enough not to get gangrene or something. Can you fix him up?"

The woman inside raised her eyebrows. "You don't usually bring me people, Eddie." She was dressed like the rest of the sailors but her clothes were neater and better kept.

"They aren't usually this stupid." Eddie growled.

"I... sorry." Buck mumbled, defeated.

"Don't worry about this one. He's always angry about something." Hen chuckled, and Diaz's scowl deepened. "What's your name?"

"Ah, Buck. Well, Evan Buckley, but... just Buck is okay." He felt another twinge in his heart as he said it. It was Maddie who had named him Buck.

"Buck it is. Come sit and we'll have a look at those hands."

Buck chanced a sideways look at Diaz, who was still standing there, muscled arms crossed. "Is he...?"

"Eddie was just leaving, weren't you, Eddie?" Hen's tone brooked no argument, and to Buck's surprise, Diaz obeyed.

Buck sat and held his hands out. Now that he had a moment to focus on them they hurt even more, and he could feel some of the injuries oozing. "I'm sorry, I tried to-- but--" he stopped abruptly as he felt his throat thicken and his eyes started to wet. You are already the most pathetic creature on this ship, you will not make it worse by whining about it. Silently he held his hands out, head down.

Hen sucked in a breath. "Eddie was right to bring you here. If you let these wounds get any more infected than they are and gangrene set in I might have to remove one or both of them."

Buck swallowed around a sob. As a teacher and writer, his hands were his life.

"I'll clean and wrap your hands for you." Hen continued softly. "That should be able to prevent it from getting worse, so long as you promise not to use them for the next few days and come down here every day for the next week so I can make sure they don't get worse. Okay?"

Buck nodded silently.

"Buck."

He looked up at Hen. She was wearing a kind smile and that was enough to completely undo him. A single tear slid down his cheek and he reached up a hand to stop it, but Hen wouldn't allow it. "I need to wrap these first." Her eyes and smile were all compassion. After two weeks in a foreign world with no friends on board it was a balm to Buck's soul. He kept his head bowed as she cleaned and wrapped, let the tears fall silently, unchecked. When she was done, she reached out a hand and clasped his shoulder. "The sailors are used to losing people and because you’re greener than most, they're expecting you to die. They don’t want to get close to someone they’re gonna lose. But if you stay alive they'll warm up eventually, don't fret it."

"Then.. why are you...?"

Hen snorted. "I walk to the beat of my own drum on this ship, Buck. Always have. And I've decided I like you, dumbass hand damage and all."

Buck sniffed. "Thanks."

Hen nodded. "Go to the captain and tell him that I've ordered light duty for you--no using your hands except to carry light objects. Errands only for you for the next two weeks."

"But Captain Nash said--if I'm not useful--"

Hen chuckled. "His bark is bigger than his bite. Besides, I'm pretty sure he's taken a liking to you too."

***

"Buckley."

"Uh, Captain. I... Hen, the doctor--" Buck choked off with a derisive snort at himself. Did I really just stop to explain to the captain who his doctor is? "Uh, she said I should tell you that I'm..." He held up his bandaged hands. "Light duty. Errands."

Captain Nash's face clouded and his brow furrowed as he took in the state of Buck's hands.

"But I swear, I'll be useful, I don't--please, don't throw me off the ship--"

"Buckley." One firm word and Buck silenced. "You'll rest today, and starting tomorrow you'll work as an errand boy around the ship. Messages, parcels, meals for sick crew. And anything Hen or I asks you to do, you do without question."

"I--yes. Yes, sir. Captain."

Nash looked up at him, his eyes showing the smallest glint of kindness. "A teacher's hands are his life's blood, Buckley. See to it you take care of them." Nash turned to gaze out the window of his office and sighed. "If you're very lucky, you'll need them sooner than you think."

Buck's pulse heightened. "Are we near Commodore Douglas's ship, sir?"

Captain Nash sighed. "Not as close as I’d like to be." He turned back to Buck. "Dismissed."

Buck nodded and left for his hammock.

Chapter 3

The next day he showed up bright and early at Captain Nash's office only to be sent down to Hen. Hen took one look at him and started loading a crate with various medicines and infusions, talking rapidly. For each bottle, Hen explained what it was, who it was for and why. Buck paid careful attention so he could keep up. Rote memorization and processes? He was back in his comfort zone.

"...garlic and chamomile for Wes, he ate something at port that we're still trying to get out of him. Then cat's claw for Lea, her knuckles are hurting her again. And that's all." Hen hesitated, thinking for a moment. Then she mumbled something under her breath before grabbing a few more vials. "Actually, got a few more. These are to be dropped off outside Eddie's quarters."

"Diaz? What are they for?"

"Eddie knows what to do with them." No further explanation came and Buck nodded at the dismissal and left, running around the ship to deliver the medicines to each ailing person. When he arrived at last outside Diaz's door, he paused, looking over the bottles. It made no sense to be bringing so much medicine to Diaz’s quarters. Buck had seen him just this morning, looking as healthy as ever, muscles rippling while he hauled canvas with the men. What is this for? Buck shook his head to clear the thoughts--no use risking his newfound equilibrium by prying. He hastily dropped the bottles outside Diaz's door, knocked and departed.

He followed this routine for the next week, deviating at times in the afternoon to run errands for the captain. But every morning started the same--Hen dropping several bottles and vials into a box for him to deliver around the ship and he running around as fast as he could to get it done quickly and efficiently. Each time, he would find himself hesitating outside Diaz's door, awash with curiosity at what the medicine could possibly be for. It wasn't hard to puzzle out the various vials, even though Hen hadn't identified them. Some were the same bottles he delivered elsewhere, others he recognized from his studies. Willow bark, cat's claw and ginger--pain relief.Chamomile, dried cherry, valerian, and peppermint--muscle relaxers. It was a mighty amount of herbs for the average aches of a day's work even as strenuous as the work Diaz did.

So who is it for? Buck wondered again as he approached Diaz's door to drop off the bottles. He had just turned to leave when he heard a thump on the inside of the office followed by a yelp of pain.

Good God, that's a child. There's a child in there!

Horrible images came to the forefront of Buck's mind as he imagined why Diaz might be holding a child prisoner. A child who would require so much pain relief. His skin paled in horror and he dropped the box.

I need to help! But his hands were still tightly bandaged and the door was latched shut from the inside. Buck thumped against it with his shoulders to no avail. The sturdy wood would not give.

If only I could unlatch it from the outside... Then he had an idea. He picked up one of the envelopes he was delivering for Captain Nash. It was thin but strong. Carefully, he eased it between the door and the latch, pressing the envelope between his bandaged hands to keep his grip.

With a click the latch came free and the door swung open.

Buck braced himself for what he might see and ventured inside, closing the door behind him.The room looked like the captain's, if smaller and simpler. Diaz's bed was neatly made, and soaked in sun from the window. His desk was neat and cleared off. The room was empty.

But I heard a child, I know I did!

Buck started looking around, when he heard a whimper of pain from the direction of the desk. Quickly he hastened over and pulled out the desk chair.

There, curled in the desk well and looking nothing like the skinny, dirty, or abused waif Buck had expected, lay a child. He looked clean and healthy, if in pain. He regarded Buck with large terrified eyes, his hair clean and curling every which way.

He was adorable. And as sure as grass was green, he was Diaz's own child.

So what is he doing hidden away in here?

The child whimpered again, obviously still in pain and Buck lurched away, back toward the bottles and vials he'd brought from Hen. "Here, let me help you, Hen sent me with a bunch of..." He fumbled with the bottles, pulling out the chamomile and the willow bark. "Here, this should help." The child shied away from him, curling deeper into the desk well with awkward jerky movements that only seemed to hurt him more.

"Oh God, please let me help, here, let me..." Buck backed up far away to give the child room and then gently pushed the vials at him. "Here. They're directly from Hen, don't worry. I haven't opened them or anything. See?" The child looked between Buck and the bottles, but didn't say anything.

"And--here, I'm leaving okay? Nothing to be afraid of, I'll leave you so you can climb out of that desk. It looks--God, you look like you're hurting so badly, is there anything I can do to help?"

The child still didn't respond, only regarded Buck with the same terrified eyes and Buck took it as his cue. He hastened to his feet and hurried to the door, away from the room. He was about to step out when he heard the child gasp and whimper again. He froze.

The child won't let me near him, but I can't leave him like that.

Diaz! Diaz can help him!

"I'm going to go and get your father, okay?" Buck took another step toward the door.

"Don't!" A small plaintive voice called, and Buck paused again.

"I can't just leave you like this... Wait, did your father do this to you??"

"No, no!" came the small cry. "He's the best papa ever. And..." the child paused then continued in a stronger voice. "He'll kill you if he finds out you know about me."

Buck's body froze in place. "Surely not--" The child cried out again, and Buck hastened back to the desk. The child was panting now, but still wouldn't move. "Oh, for the love of God, please let me help you!"

"Can't... don't... trust... you." Christopher panted in between pained gasps.

"Oh God, please--" Buck's voice broke and he felt himself start to cry. "I can't--you're hurting. You... I was a schoolteacher before I got onto this ship, I love kids, I swear I just want to help, please!" He reached out his bandaged hands toward the child. "Look, see? I couldn’t hurt you even if I wanted to! I--I swear I won't tell anyone about you on this ship, I'll never speak to you again. Just let me help you settle yourself more comfortably, you need to take some herbs for the pain..." He was blubbering now, his view of the child obscured by tears. He tensed as he felt small hands grasp around his bandaged hands.

"Please help." The boy whimpered.

He sobbed in relief and crooked his wrapped hands so they became large hooks to grip the child and carefully, oh so carefully pulled him out of the desk well. By this time he heard the child begin to cry as well, still on the floor. Buck quickly swiped his eyes with his threadbare sleeve to clear them. "There now, that's a bit better, I'm sure. Let's get you settled into the bed and I'll mix some medicine with water to relieve the pain.”

Buck carefully lifted the child, who whimpered at being jostled. Carefully he laid the boy on Diaz's neatly made bed and hastened back to the bottles and vials, pulling corks out with his teeth and pouring a the various powders into a tin cup. He filled the cup the rest of the way with water from a pitcher on the small wash stand and stirred it to mix before offering the cup to the child.

But the boy only shook his head, crying more."Don't want it. It tastes h-horrible." The child's big eyes were red from crying and Buck's heart broke.

"Oh, shh, there there. Yeah, I won't lie to you, it’s going to taste pretty bad. But once you drink it, you'll stop hurting so much and then you can relax and sleep or play." Buck clumsily rested a wrapped hand in the child's hair. "How's that sound?"

Still the child shook his head.

"Okay, how about this?" Buck took a theatrical sniff and wrinkled his nose. "I'll drink some and then you have to drink the rest, okay?" None of the ingredients were harmful to someone who wasn't in pain. "Deal?"

The boy looked at him, surprised. “Really?” Buck nodded and the boy sighed. "Deal."

Buck grinned, then made a big show of sniffing the contents of the glass. "Ohh blurggh," he shuddered theatrically, and heard the slightest huff from the bed. "Oh boy, here we go." He took a sip then screwed up his face and shook it rapidly back and forth like a dog. "Heaven and earth, but that's awful!" The child giggled and Buck continued with his performance, making gagging noises and funny faces. "You must be the strongest kid I know to drink this every day."

"That's what Papa says, too." The boy smiled.

"Well, he's right. I don't think I can handle any more." Buck made one more funny face and the boy laughed again. "Okay, you ready? I'll count to five, and then you drink it all as fast as you can, okay?"

The child hesitated. "How much is five?"

Buck turned to him, eyes wide. "You don't know...?" Then he paused. No use making the boy feel bad for something that wasn’t his fault. Besides, this was Buck's specialty. "Five is a number, you'll see. I'm going to count a few numbers, and when I say five you drink that down as quickly as you can so you barely taste it, okay?"

The boy nodded. "Okay."

"One, two, three, four... five, go!"

With Buck's clumsy assistance, the child drank down the mixture, screwing up his face just like Buck did. "Urgh."

Buck laughed. "I think you made a funnier face than I did." The boy reminded Buck of his own students. He missed children, their bright-eyed optimism, their enthusiasm for exploring the world around them. "I hope I don't die for meeting you, kid. You're just about the nicest person on this entire ship."

The child smiled. "Christopher."

Buck returned his grin and held out a bandaged hand. "Nice to meet you Christopher. I'm Buck." Christopher reached out in jerky movements and shook Buck's hand, both of them giggling at how clumsy the exchange was.

"I hope you don't die either, Buck." It seemed that the medicine was starting to work. Christopher was relaxing and his smile wasn't edged with quite so much pain anymore.

"In that case, I should probably run before your father finds me. those big strong hands of his would tear me in half like paper." Buck stood, patting Christopher on the head once more before turning away.

"...Buck?"

"Hm?" He turned back. The boy was starting to fall asleep.

"Can... Can you come back and visit me again?"

What a terrible idea. "Of course, Christopher." Buck rummaged up a brave smile. "I'd love to see you again." An idea occurred to him suddenly and he straightened his shoulders. "I'll even teach you how to count to five all by yourself if you want?"

The boy's tired eyes lit up. "Yes. Yes please..." His eyes slipped closed and he fell asleep.

Buck smiled, feeling warmed for the first time in weeks. Carefully he gathered the scattered items for the rest of his errands and slipped from the room, latching it behind him.

#buddie #buddie fic #evan budckley #eddie diaz #9-1-1 #pirate au #christopher diaz #Anonymous

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merakiui · 4 years ago

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then, could i rq mori with a guillable s/o who's maybe a little too trusting in others 👉👈? i just!! rlly like opposites attract stuff hgshndnd

An Ace and a Fox (Mori)

> spy au

Not good, you think to yourself as you analyze your surroundings to determine your current location. The warehouse provides little visibility, lit only by the windows on the second floor. Most of the them have been boarded up, and debris litters the ground. You’ve never found yourself in this sort of situation before. While you’ve been deceived in the past, it was never to this level of extremity. At least you aren’t blindfolded, so one of your senses isn’t completely useless. Still, this isn’t good at all.

No matter how Hollywood the circumstances may seem, you know this won’t have a good ending if you don’t find a way out. Your memory resurfaces as you sit there, tied to an uncomfortable chair with thick rope pressing against your constricted limbs. Hours ago, you were trying to pawn off some items you had found while dumpster diving. You had been desperate for cash, needing it for food and to pay your bills. There was also the money and favors you owed a few acquaintances. The scary reality is beginning to dawn on you as you remember just how late you are on your payment. And this time it’s gotten serious.

In hindsight, you should’ve moved to another country when you had the chance. But would any of that matter? You were positive they’d find you and attempt to wring you dry of the money you so rightfully owed. Unfortunately, you’re at a loss, unable to even afford a night at a one-star hotel. How did they expect you to pay off favors when you were barely getting by? Well, to be frank, you did this to yourself. You knew very well not to get involved with shady dealers. You should’ve turned a blind eye when that suspiciously inviting hand was held out to you in your time of need, a silent testimony to the unfavorable bond you were slowly forming with a hungry snake.

Though this can hardly be called a bond. Waiting for your demise doesn’t seem fair, but this is what your life has become. Best to suck it up and pray that luck is on your side.

A pair of fancy footsteps ring out, startling you into focusing. Designer shoes, made of leather and sewn to grim perfection, make their way towards you. You don’t have to look up to know who it is. You’re well aware of the man looming over you, dressed in a fine tuxedo and an even finer wrath. Your time of ruminating over an escape is over. Your lucky stars have burnt out, falling to Earth just like your dashed hopes.

“I had faith in you this time, (Name),” he speaks, tone thick and heavy with disdain. “I really did. But we both know it’s not good to hold onto worthless expectations when the ones I’ve set in place aren’t even being met.”

“I’m sorry.”

“An apology won’t suffice. I’m afraid begging for salvation isn’t a suitable look on you. What a shame. I thought you knew better than to ignore the clock.”

“I’ll get your money in a week. That’s all I need. You don’t have to tie me up to get your point across! I know I’m wrong, so let me fix this.”

“You can’t mend what’s already broken.” Sighing, he scuffs his shoe against the concrete. “My men are surrounding us as we chat. Try anything and it’s adios. Well, it’s not like you can do anything in that position.”

“One week,” you repeat, hoping to garner his withering sympathy. “Please. Give me another chance. I won’t let you down.”

“But you’ve already let me down. Countless times, in fact. Why should I believe your words now? What impact will they have if they’re spoken with the same tongue that’s lied a dozen times? You either pay now or you don’t pay at all.”

“I can’t!” you shout, glaring daggers at the snide man. “You know I can’t!”

“If you can’t fork over the money, you deserve to pay with your own blood. Surely that’s a fair deal?” He crosses his arms, tutting in mock disapproval. “It’s not what I would’ve wanted, but I need my money. You’ve ran out of time, (Name).”

“I was in the middle of selling some stuff when your men kidnapped me! I’ll give you everything I got today, and if you let me go I’ll get the rest.”

“Who’s to say you won’t contact the authorities?”

“Have I ever done it in the past?” you snap, a bundle of nerves interlacing with your frantic emotions. “I haven’t, so have a little faith in me.”

“You’re like a chapel that’s run out of hacks to sell. Give it a rest.” Pivoting, your kidnapper doesn’t need to announce his leave. “This is where our business officially ends.”

“Wait, no! I'm making a promise. If you just give me—don’t leave! Time. I need more time. I’ll pay you double of what I owe.”

“Don’t make me repeat myself.” He motions to the dark shadows surrounding the outskirts of your peripheral, and two people—a man and a woman—step out, pointing the cold steel of their guns at the back of your head. “Get rid of this pest. They’ve run their mouth long enough.”

And then he’s walking away, ignoring your pleading cries.

This is it, you think, pupils blown wide and darting to and fro. This is the day I die. These people are going to kill me, and then they’ll hide my corpse. No one will ever find me. I’ll be an unsolved case until the end of time!

You prepare yourself for the end of your pitiful life cycle. With twin barrels aimed for your skull, you know there’s no possibility of survival. Two bullets will find their way into your brain, causing a grand commotion of signals as your body prepares for death. You won’t be able to wonder whether or not endorphins will flood your head because your death might be instant. Or you could simply bleed out, living in a few minutes of cursed consciousness that have been granted unluckily. In your next life, you hope to be smarter than you are now. If you weren’t so easily tricked and manipulated, you might’ve been able to save yourself from this demise months ago.

It’s too late for that now, though.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you listen for the inevitable gunshots. And yet they never come. A dull click makes your eyes snap open, risking a glance at the people behind you. They curse, fumbling with their pistols and muttering about how both firearms are devoid of ammunition. Your heart practically leaps at this turn of events. As if life has been breathed into you via a tube, you struggle in your bindings, trying as hard as you can to loosen them before they’re able to reload. Around you, a symphony of clicking permeates the stilted air, grumblings coming from all over the place. You listen as your kidnapper’s underlings complain about this odd occurrence.

Without warning, bullets rain from above, and that’s when you see him. Dressed in attire befitting a silver-tongued casanova, rich in his appearance and flair, he’s leaning over the railing, looking down at the surprised men and women.

“Looking for these? You can have them.” His tone is teasing, a simple smile plastered to his face. “As long as I can have that hostage. I assume you’re content with this trade.”

“Absolutely not!” a woman shouts, scrambling to load her weapon. She motions wildly. “Go protect the boss. Little Fox is here!”

Little Fox? What a weird name. It’s one of the many thoughts that crosses your mind, but you’re grateful nonetheless for the masked stranger who has come to your rescue. If it weren’t for him, you’d be dead by now, brain matter scattered on the cold ground. I’m so relieved...

“I had a feeling I’d find everyone here.” He drops down from the second floor with such ease that it makes you question his humanity. “Perhaps you should spend your time gambling rather than intimidating this poor soul out of their funds. I suppose money makes people do crazy things. This is most certainly crazy.”

“Enough talking,” you murmur. “Help me out?”

Catching your words, he turns to face you. “And you’re just going to trust me? That doesn’t seem too wise.”

“Well, it’s not like things can get any worse, and you’re the only sane person here. I’m willing to hedge my bets.”

Your phrasing makes him chuckle. Wordlessly, he reveals a stack of playing cards, shuffling through them before plucking one from the deck. And then he flicks it in your direction. It whizzes through the air, past the men and women who are now shooting at the both of you, and it effectively slices the ropes, which fall in your lap. The glowing card returns to the deck in no time. In awe, you look around at the bullets that seem to evade you, as if they were being controlled.

“What is this?” you whisper, at a loss for an explanation. “Little Fox, who are you?”

“Who are you, to be so gullible as to get tangled up with these people?” he retorts. “We need to hurry. This gimmick won’t last forever.”

“Huh? I’m confused—whoa!” Another playing card zips past your face, nearly cutting your cheek, as it makes way for a man taking aim. More cards, glowing a bright, mesmerizing blue, circle you and Little Fox, inflicting minor flesh wounds to the men and women who can’t seem to get a fatal hit on either of you. “How are you doing this?!”

“You’ll see,” he says and you almost believe him. “Oh. Were you thinking I’d show you the trick? Maybe I should. You look like you’re inclined to trust my every word.”

“Hey, I’m not an idiot!”

“Then you’ll watch where you step.” He grabs your arm, pulling you closer to the floor before a bullet can graze your skin. Meanwhile, the cards work hard to sever the ammunition in two, rendering it inferior. You’ve never witnessed such an interesting force before. Whatever it is, you’re glad it’s working. “We should leave before their boss comes back with reinforcements.”

“Right!” Your hand locks with his, startling the blue-haired fox for a moment, and you make a run for the nearest opening, the cards lighting the way. You do your best to block out the shouting and loud gunshots of the boss’s underlings, pushing ahead even though your every nerve is riddled with fear. “How are we not dead? This is insane!”

Humoring you, he asks, “What if we are dead?”

“Are we? We’re not, right?” You clear your throat as you continue to run, pulling him along. “Just to clarify, we’re not actually dead?”

Your words hang in the air for the entirety of your escape. It isn’t until you’re a safe distance away, hidden on the rooftop of another building and catching your breath, when he finally gives you an answer.

“Don’t worry. You’re alive. That crime syndicate won’t have anywhere to flee. As long as the others apprehend everyone.” There goes that gleaming deck again, practically floating between his skilled fingers as it’s shuffled for the umpteenth time. From your viewpoint, you can see the entire city as the sun begins its steady descent. The colors bathe the fox in a soothing light, making him seem less mysterious than he initially was. “More importantly, do you trust me enough to take my word as the truth?”

“Yeah. I mean, obviously! You saved me. If it weren’t for you and your party tricks, I wouldn’t have survived. So thank you for coming to my aid, card person.”

“Little Fox,” he corrects you. “Although I have another name.”

“Great. What is it? I’m (Name).”

“I’m not going to give out such personal information to someone I’ve only just met.”

“I guess it can’t be helped. You’re supposed to be undercover, right? Like a spy.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. It all depends on what you choose to believe.”

“Okay.” Awkwardly, you avoid his gaze. “So are you a magical spy? Is that what I witnessed back there?”

He merely shrugs and continues to shuffle. A card slips out, floating to the ground. You snatch it before it can make contact, turning it over in your hands to figure out how it was able to slice a bullet in half. You never knew a card could be so strong.

“Which card did you pull?”

“I didn’t pull it. It fell out. But if you must know, it’s the ace of hearts.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure.” You look at the card once more, and its symbols change, reflecting the joker. “What? How? You did that on purpose!”

“It’s a possibility.”

“I’m not in the mood for card tricks. I was almost killed today!”

“Whose fault is that?”

“Mine...” You lower your head in shame. “This is the worst.”

“it’s only the worst because you’ve made it so. If you didn’t know, the ace used to mean bad luck. Now everyone sees it as a decent card.” Once again, the symbols have reverted to said design.

“I’m totally not an ace.”

“An ace wouldn’t blindly trust anyone when someone does them a favor.”

“That was a few times! I’m not going to do it again.” You huff, leaning closer to him. Curiously, you grab his mask, lifting it up to see his face. Golden eyes peer back at you, pupils dilated in silent shock. “Thanks again for saving me.”

“My services aren’t free,” he mutters softly, taken back by your sudden closeness.

“Oh!” You pull away, rummaging through your pockets for any spare change. “Right. Sorry, let me see what I’ve got.”

The fox deadpans, thinking to himself, They can’t be this trustful. There’s no way...

“I’ve got three euro coins. Will this be enough? Probably not, but it’s all I have at the moment. If you give me a few days, I can definitely pay you. I’ll even treat you to a pastry. Is that okay? If it’s not, you can name your price. I won’t—”

You’re cut off by his melodious laughter. Flinching, you stare at him, wondering what in the world could be so funny. “I was kidding.”

“What?! And here I was, ready to pay you for your hard work. I can still give you money, though. If that’s what you want!”

“No, I don’t need your money. Thanks, though. I’d advise you to take better care of your finances so you won’t get tricked again.”

“I should do that.”

“And you shouldn’t put your faith in just anyone.”

“Of course. I’ll do better.”

“And you can’t expect this to happen whenever you’re in a bind. I’m not a babysitter.”

“I... I know that.” Heat rises to your face, burning intensely as night falls upon you and your newfound savior. “You don’t have to scold me. I’m an adult just like you.”

“I would’ve thought you were a child, what with how gullible you are.”

“Very funny. That smile isn’t fooling anyone.”

“Hm? What do you mean?”

“I give up...”

------

Mori stares at the ace in his hand, glinting even when held against the stark, rainy backdrop of the window. He thinks of the peculiar person he met the other day. They could’ve been on death’s door, and then he stepped in, ensuring that that wouldn’t happen. It was a relief the Department chose to send him on the mission, as he knew how to look before blindly diving in. He’s learned many things in his past, all of which have been useful lessons in his present life. There’s a somber twinge to his thoughts as he reflects upon the one whom he currently misses. He flips the ace over once in an effort to distract himself from his master.

(Name) seemed like a fun person, albeit far too trusting when it came to a matter of survival. Mori knows better than to trust those around him. He won’t make the same mistake twice, so he can only hope that you will be smart in how you play your cards. Though he may never cross paths with you again and though fate has a cruel way of conjoining those who are opposites, he’s still impressed at your unwavering ability to follow anyone who so much as lends you a hand. How can anyone be like that? It must be a nightmare.

And yet it’s anything but a bad dream. You’re as real as he is, a huge contrast to his morals. While he regrets the fact that you’ve already seen his face—all prospects of anonymity gone—he can’t help the feeling of intrigue. Maybe it’s just misplaced, considering you’re one of the more interesting victims he’s seen during hectic missions. Regardless, he hopes you’ll be wise for the future.

Once again, the ace glitters back at him. Perhaps if you learn to fight your own battles, you might just become the unsuspecting ace in a deck of scrambled misfortunes. If anything turns sour, which is something Mori is more than accustomed to, he knows that money can be trusted far more than the thin wills of most people. Casting all thoughts of the master aside, he puts the ace back into the deck and shuffles.

The joker peeks out, a wild card that can be anything it wants if put to the test. Little Fox smiles a familiar smile. You’re an interesting card. Maybe your paths will intersect one day, and maybe they won’t. It’s not like he knows, nor does he trust that sort of intuition, but it’s nice to think about.

#afterl!fe #after l!fe #afterl!fe mori #afterl!fe x reader #mori x reader #afterl!fe mori x reader #afterl!fe the sacred kaleidoscope #spy au #oneshot

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