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intrikatie · 18 days ago

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♡ Pairing: Minho x Jisung ♤ Genre: Mafia AU, Romeo x Romeo ♢ Chapter Warnings: Graphic descriptions of Violence, foul language throughout ♤ Author Note: introduction of several reoccurring OC's THANK YOU @skzdreamer13 for getting me through this chapter! I hope it doesn't disappoint! ♧ MINORS DNI🔞

♤ ♡ TASTE Synopsis & Chapter List ♢ ♧

<< Chapter 4 - The Wolf & His Pack ♤ ♡ ♢ ♧ Chapter 6 - Hoodie Season [WT] >>

Chapter 5: Comflex

♤ ♡ ♢ ♧

The smell hits him first. A mixture of sweat, deodorant and talc. Then the rhythmic sounds of bags being punched, ropes being skipped, weights being lifted. The air is warm and humid despite the air conditioning humming under the sound of the pulsating electronic dance music. It’s all oddly comforting.

A traditional boxing club in every sense, but with better equipment and a very strict acceptance criteria; knock out, family or referral only.

“There you are!” Nikko says from the ring at the centre of the hall. He's leaning on the ropes, his hands and knuckles wrapped in black gauze. He’s already sweating. The black hair that isn’t pulled into a knot at the back, falling in elegant tendrils over his forehead and accentuating the sharpness of his jawline. He’s wearing a loose white tank top and long black shorts. His golden-brown eyes sparkling as they watch Minho cross the hall towards him and drop his gym bag beside a vacant bench. “You’re late.”

“I’m not that late,” Minho says, pulling his blue hooded sweatshirt over his head and draping it over the bench. He tugs down the hem of his black t-shirt at the back, loosens the ties of his grey joggers.

“Oh-ho-ho! What’s that I see on your neck?”

Automatically, Minho raises his hand to cover the mark just below his left ear. Truly, it isn’t even that bad. Trust Nikko to spot it from several metres away.

It's been two days and twenty-one hours since he'd spent the night with Jisung. Not that he’s counting. He still hasn't heard from him. His own pride prevented him from sending any of the several messages he'd typed out to him. The mark on his neck, a leopard-print shirt in his wardrobe and a slightly morose cat at home, the only reminders that Jisung had been more than a fantasy. Oh, and a television that is still trying to recommend stupid reality dating shows. Algorithm wrecker.

Nikko laughs, slapping the top rope, before announcing, “My boy got some!”

There's a spontaneous round of whistles and applause from the dozen or so members scattered throughout the hall. Minho raises a hand, thanking them for their acknowledgment of his sexual prowess, then flips off Nikko.

Despite dreading what’s about to come, he settles on the bench, unzipping his bag to retrieve his gauze and tape.

Nikko steps through the ropes, hopping down from the ring, punching the air as he bounces over to him on his wrapped feet before he drops on the bench at his side. Minho braces himself for Nikko says next, “So, tell me. Who? When? Where? And how?”

And there it is.

“I’m not telling you a damn thing,” Minho says, tearing tape into two inch strips and sticking the ends to the edge of the bench.

“Oh come on!” Nikko can’t arch just one eyebrow, but Minho can tell this is what he’s trying to do, because he looks a little startled, “You know I live vicariously through your sexual exploits. I wanna hear!”

“No,” Minho says as he starts wrapping his right hand with the white gauze. “And stop doing that with your face. You look like a scared goldfish.”

“Was I even close?”

“No.”

Nikko laughs, “Come on, give me a little something-something.”

“Why are you even interested?” Minho asks, “Last I checked, you have a girlfriend, or whatever witchcraft that is.”

“Three months,” Nikko shakes his head, smiling fondly. “Can you believe that? Three months?”

“Jess deserves a fruit basket.”

“Right?” Nikko sighs. “I don’t know what I did to deserve her. Fuck knows what she sees in me.”

For this, Minho can offer several answers; he’s young, handsome, wealthy but not pretentious, has a great body, a great sense of humour and is loyal to a fault. Instead he says, “Just propose to her already.”

“Man, I’m warning you. It’s on the cards.”

Now Minho arches an eyebrow, “So why the fuck are you asking me about my sex-life when you’ve got one eye on wedding plans?”

“Your experiences are vastly different from mine.”

“That’s because you’re a massive heterosexual,” Minho points out, “Aside from your little experiment with–”

Nikko claps a gauzed hand over Minho’s mouth, “Shush!” he hisses as he looks around, checking that no-one overheard. “I told you that in confidence.” When Nikko drops his hand, Minho smiles his cat-like smile at him, because he knows Nikko finds it annoying. “You’re such a chore!” Nikko chuckles. Thumbing his nose he leans forward, elbows on his knees looking back at him.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You like this one.”

Minho scoffs, “I wouldn’t have slept with him if I didn’t like him.” I have some standards.

“No, that’s not what I mean,” Nikko says. “Usually you have no problem giving me the explicit details of your encounters. I’m still in awe of what happened between you and that Brazilian three years ago.”

Minho can’t help smiling. That was fun. Mostly, because neither of them could understand each other, through words, at least. Though Minho couldn't forget how they said maravilhoso it wasn’t the same as his experience with Jisung. No previous experiences quite match up to that, which is odd, because he doesn’t feel like he’d done anything different. And yet, Minho can’t help recalling the way Jisung threw that punch. The way he smiled. The pink hue of his cheeks when he got shy. The sparkle in his eyes. The way his waist fit perfectly in Minho’s arms. The way he arched up to meet him. The way he called out 'My Irino'.

“Your ears are getting red,” Nikko reaches up and gently touches Minho’s ear with cool fingers. Minho tugs his head away and Nikko chuckles, “I think you really like this one, that’s why you want to keep him private.”

“It’s not that, it’s just…it’s…” he says, weaving the gauze between his fingers, thinking hard. “It was just… different.”

“Different? How?”

Earth shattering, time bending, mind altering and… familiar…

“I don’t know,” Minho frowns down at his gauze. He’s gone wrong somewhere, thoughts of Jisung clouding his mind. Minho unravels a layer and rewraps it. He peels a length of tape from the bench, securing the gauze. Flexes his fingers to ensure it’s sturdy. “Just different.”

Nikko pushes his eyebrow up with his finger.

“Piss off!” Minho laughs at him, jostling him heavily with his shoulder. He starts to wrap his left hand.

“Fine!” Nikko pushes himself off the bench, “Hurry up and warm up.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Minho says.

♤ ♡ ♢ ♧

Minho takes the mitts.

Nikko is quick, sharp and fucking lethal. Despite the mitts, Minho can feel every jab.

“Wanna kick?” Minho asks him.

Nikko nods, and Minho readjusts his stance, after a few more high-low combo punches, he raises a mitt level with his head. Nikko spins, hits it perfectly, the shockwave travelling down Minho's arms, torso and through the soles of his feet.

“OI!” The shout booms across the hall. Several trainees pause mid-lift or mid-punch to see exactly who the shout is aimed at. Clowder ‘The Titan’ Jae, club owner, jogs down the metal staircase from his office, his heavy boots clanging against the steps. He’s a tall man, six foot something with shoulders that look like they could support a globe. He’s wearing a black t-shirt, branded with a poisonous-green COMFLEX across his broad chest. His hair, once jet black has more silver in it these days. But it doesn’t subtract from his air of authority. Jae is a scary looking man. Many of the trainees here are petrified of him. As they should be. Minho fucking loves him. “What have I told you two fuckwits? Wear your headgear!”

“I’m not about to kick him in the head,” Nikko calls back, his hands on his hips, panting.

Jae keeps advancing on them, ignoring the bows of the trainees. From up here, it looks like a ripple effect. It’s pretty cool. “No headgear. No kicks. That’s the rule.”

“Since when?”

“Since thirty fucking seconds ago when I saw his dirty great big foot careening for your numbskull.”

Nikko chuckles, “He’s not a numbskull.”

“And his foot isn’t that big,” Minho laughs.

“But it’s dirty?” Nikko questions, offended.

“I can smell them from up here,” Minho says.

“Pack it in the pair of you,” Jae threads himself through the ropes before the furious façade disappears and he grins. He hugs Nikko, slapping him roughly on the back. Then ruffles his hair. “Get a fucking haircut.”

“I can’t, my girl says I look like a prince with long hair, and what my queen wants, she gets.”

Jae rolls his eyes, then turns to Minho, “How are you, Min?”

Minho holds a mitt under his arm, tugging it off so he can shake Jae’s gigantic hand. “Good, sir. And you?”

Jae ruffles Minho’s hair, “Happy that you haven’t gone back to blonde.”

“I don’t know,” Nikko says, “I liked his golden cat alter-ego.”

“It’s getting long,” Jae comments, ignoring Nikko entirely. “I thought you preferred it short.”

“I did, when I was in service. Now I’m just enjoying being allowed to have it longer.”

“How are the kids? Good?”

“Yeah, all good.”

“And your shadow? Mini-Min?”

“I was including him and you know I hate that you call him that,” Minho says.

“I would like to see him here more often.”

“He’s picking me up after I’m done here. He’s been looking into some accounts for me.”

“Hmm, that’s not what I meant. He’s a string bean. It won’t do.”

“He’s never been the fighting type,” Minho says, which isn’t inaccurate. Seungmin can fight, but he’s very selective about the battles he chooses. Further proof that he’s the smart one of the family.

“And my brother is okay with that, is he?”

“Yeah,” Minho lies. “Besides, I’m responsible for the youngers.

Seungmin is brilliant in other areas, and I’m happy to utilise those skills. I have this big lug,” he claps Nikko on the shoulder, “Felix and Hyunjin skilled up enough for any fighting requirements,” he knows he sounds defensive, because, well, when it comes to Seungmin, he is. Seungmin is the best of them. He doesn’t understand why Jae or his father can’t understand this simple fact. “Seungmin benefits us all by having actual brains.”

Jae still looks unconvinced. “Well, I suppose he’s not stupid enough to let someone spin kick at their unprotected head, eh?” he arches an eyebrow, and Nikko frowns enviously at him. “You two warmed up?”

They nod.

“What the fuck are you pissing about for then? Headgear on and get to it!”

♤ ♡ ♢ ♧

The fight goes as it often does when Minho is in the ring with Nikko. Exhaustingly.

They stopped doing rounds even before Minho had gone into service.

They made their own rules: ‘first blood’ or ‘tap out’. The longest they had gone before Minho cut Nikko was eighteen minutes. It was the only time a bout ended on first blood.

Their synchronisation is flawless. Their ‘fight’ looks more like a violently choreographed dance, not unlike Capoeira. It’s not by design. They just know each other too well. They’ve trained with each other since they were six years old. They know each other's moves and can effortlessly predict what the other is about to do. Minho knows Nikko’s left foot always slides half-an-inch forward before he’s about to throw a right hook. Nikko knows Minho is about to kick, even before Minho has his foot off the floor.

Despite submitting to Jae’s request to wear padded headgear, they forgo wearing chest guards or shin pads. They know, in the real world, getting hit hurts. You have to know how to utilise the pain and hit back. But the headgear is annoying, interrupting Minho’s field of vision. Nikko catches him with a teeth jarring jab to his shoulder. Minho, in response, axes Nikko’s thigh with his heel.

It’s not long before they draw a crowd as other trainees forgo their own training regimes to watch the Clowder’s battle in the ring. Soon, they are choosing sides, betting between each other on whether the Cat or the Lynx will take the win.

A boxing ring is smaller than an MMA octagon, but Minho prefers it. He likes the forced proximity. Nikko might have a longer reach but Minho is quicker. He spends most of his time ducking and diving, rolling and dodging. The canvas beneath them becoming increasingly slippery from their combined sweat. Minho has to be patient.

“Getting tired?” Minho asks a little breathlessly. He’s fucking exhausted. Every muscle and sinew in his arms and legs feeling as though they are on fire.

“Fuck you,” Nikko says, blinking sweat from his eyes.

Minho smiles round his black mouth guard. Nikko is grouchy, which means he is tired. Minho only has to keep going a little longer.

Nikko’s spin kicks are becoming sloppier. His punches, a little less centred. Then Nikko does what Minho has been waiting for. He bares his blue mouth guard. He’s trying to get air into his lungs. He’s feeling it now.

Minho launches on the opportunity, the shift from defence to offence taking Nikko and the spectators by surprise, their cheers and shouts loud above the rush of blood in Minho’s ears. Minho catches him on the right side of his protected head three times before Nikko can raise his forearm to block him and Minho instantly switches to lower body blows. Backed into the corner, Nikko spins to his right, his left foot sliding that telltale half-an-inch forward, and Minho spins to his side, the right hook missing his face by millimetres. Minho snatches hold of Nikko’s extended forearm, his feet leaving the floor, his legs encircling Nikko’s waist in a koala hug. The momentum of Nikko’s punch combined with Minho’s full weight wrapped around him, alters his centre of gravity and tips him off balance.

They go down together. Nikko spins as they do, landing full on top of Minho, knocking the air from Minho’s lungs in a spray of saliva. But Minho doesn’t relax his grip. In here, it would mean his defeat, but out there, in the real world, letting go would mean death. In here, he’s only required to hold on, he doesn’t have to break a neck.

The spectators are screaming at them now. Slapping the canvas, urging Nikko to get up and Minho to hold on. Jae stands at the ropes, arms folded over his chest, towel around his neck, watching on, looking bored. Nikko might have an advantage when it comes to height and reach, but he doesn’t have Minho’s core strength. On the ground, Minho is better. He only has to hold on.

Grunting, Nikko wriggles and writhes, trying to grip Minho’s wrists, forearms, ankles, anything to get Minho to release him. His blunt fingernails claw at Minho’s sweaty skin, seeking purchase, seeking an escape. He reaches towards Minho’s head, fingers reaching towards Minho’s eyes as his elbow jabs Minho’s ribs and legs. Minho only has to hold on.

Then Nikko goes still, “Arsehole,” he says, as he taps Minho’s thigh three times.

Minho instantly let’s go. Nikko, still lying on top of him, starts laughing and Minho is laughing too. Hands reach down, helping them up off the canvas, cool water hits the back of Minho’s neck, sending a refreshing chill down his spine. He spits out his mouthguard as someone unclasps his headgear and he’s supported to a stool in the blue corner.

“You could have had him five minutes earlier,” Jae says, never satisfied, his massive arms folded across that broad chest of his. “He lost his balance after the fourth spin kick. You could’ve taken him down then with a leg swipe.”

“I would’ve broken his ankle if I did that,” Minho says, nodding a silent ‘thank you’ to a trainee who hands him a towel. Minho scrubs sweat from his face. In the real world, breaking ankles is a good way of winning. Minho had done it. In here though, it’s war games. Minho and Nikko don’t pull punches. They hit to hurt, but they would never try to actually maim the other.

Jae leans over the ropes to speak into Minho’s ear, “I would’ve called that a teachable moment,” he says, before hopping down to the floor. “Everyone! Back to work!”

Minho watches him cross the hall, back towards his office.

“Nineteen minutes!” Nikko calls from the red corner laughing heartily.

Minho grins, “And no blood!”

♤ ♡ ♢ ♧

In the changing room, Minho towels his hair, pulls on clean sweats and a long sleeve shirt. Rotating his shoulder, he sits on a bench and starts to roll a sock. Nikko, towel around his waist, his wet hair brushing the top of his shoulders, sits beside him and hands him a mobile phone.

“They’ve called a meet.”

Instinctively, Minho glances up to check they’re alone before glancing at the message.

♧ Lil’ Wolf: Business. Usual spot. 1400 Weds.

Minho hands the phone back, resumes pulling his sock on, “He’s still a man of few words.”

“‘Spose there’s no point being poetical about it,” Nikko reaches into his gym bag and fishes out a change of clothes. “You want to take this one?”

“Nah,” Minho says automatically. “It’ll be the usual bullshit. Some affiliate ruffling feathers on the wrong side of the river. I can’t be arsed.” It’s partially true.

Nikko sighs.

Minho looks at him, “Do you want me to take it?”

There’s only a two week age difference between them, but Nikko’s legitimacy as Clowder outweighs Minho’s age. Though Nikko has never once used his legitimacy to undermine Minho’s decisions, Minho is always conscious that he could.

They’d first met when they were four. Minho still remembers how nervous he’d been, brought up to the big house and introduced to his new brothers who were older, tough and scary. Nikko was the only one his age, a skinny, brattish thing. All teeth and snot and the only one who made Minho feel accepted. They’d bonded over toy soldiers and jam sandwiches. Had supported each other through bad break-ups, and fights. To the outside world, they are brothers in all but blood. But blood is thicker than the water of the womb.

Despite that, they had agreed when they were fourteen, that they weren’t actually brothers. But best mates. So when Minho is asked how many brothers he has, he only counts Hyunjin, Felix and Seungmin. He doesn’t count the three in prison, the three who died or the one who disappeared. And he doesn’t count Nikko. His best friend.

Nikko shakes his head, “No. I’ll do it. But I was meant to meet with Jess for lunch on Wednesday. She’s going to be pissed.”

“Take her out in the evening, make a proper night of it. Make a reservation at a posh restaurant, book a hotel and order pancakes for breakfast. That’ll make up for any lunch plans.”

Nikko half smiles, “You old romantic you.”

Minho pulls on his other sock.

“I kind of like Chan you know,” Nikko says, drawing a look of warning from Minho. “What? Come on! He’s not a bad bloke. I always wondered what you got from all your covert meetings with him, but I think I get it now.”

“There’s nothing to get,” Minho tells him, an outright lie.

“How many folks are in our position? You and I have each other, and that’s great and all, but sometimes, I like to hear his side of things. It makes what we do feel less…I dunno…less…”

“Isolated.”

“Yes!” Nikko jostles Minho’s shoulder, making Minho wince. “I knew you’d understand what I meant.”

Annoyingly, Minho understands full well. Before Minho had gone into service, it had crossed his mind that if he and Chan had met outside of their ‘family business’ meetings, they might actually be mates. He’d be someone you could share a beer with. They’d seen some shit in their time. Had probably perpetrated a lot of it. Doesn’t matter that they are on opposite sides. They’d both been in the trenches.

Which is precisely why Minho hadn’t been keen to take back the role of intermediary when he got out of service. He couldn’t afford to think of the enemy like that. Besides, Nikko had been doing a great job keeping the peace without him. Nikko’s personality, likeability is far better suited to the role. Far better suited to Chan. Though Minho occasionally feels guilty about how his last meeting with Chan had gone.

“Never let my dad hear you talk like that,” Minho says with sincerity. “I mean it. It’s okay with me, but you know what he’s like.”

“I know,” Nikko leans back against the tiles, palms a growing bruise on his ribs. “Anything I should know before I meet him?”

“Nah, it’s all quiet this end,” Minho stands, lifts his bag off the floor and zips it up. “Give me a call and let me know how it goes.”

“Sure thing.”

They bump fists.

“And order extra syrup,” Minho says, before clarifying, “For the pancakes. Jess has a sweet tooth.”

Nikko laughs, “Right, yeah. I’ll see you at home on Friday?”

“Yeah, see you then.”

♤ ♡ ♢ ♧

Minho steps out of COMFLEX and into a horrible day. The rain seemingly coming at him sideways when his phone starts ringing.

“Sam? Everything okay?”

“Uh, yes, sir. Sorry for bothering you–”

“What’s wrong?” Minho ducks under an awning of a neighbouring café.

“Uh, well,” Sam lowers his voice, forcing Minho to increase the volume on his phone. “There’s a young lady here and she’s very keen to see you.”

“A lady? What lady?” Minho’s not sure he knows of any women who know about his connection to the DLC excluding those that already work there.

“Her name is Jin-Ae,” Sam says like this should clarify matters.

It does not. “I don’t know anyone called Jin-Ae.”

“She’s returning your coat?”

“My coat? What’s she doing with…” Minho’s brain whirs and clicks, his hand clenching around his phone as he silently curses at the universe.

“Do you want me to send her away?”

“No, no. Don’t do that. Has she been there long?”

“No sir, not long. Ten minutes or so.”

“It’s going to take me twenty minutes to get there,” Minho sees the BMW Series-7 pull up and jogs over to it, throwing his bag into the back seat and sliding in the front. “Can you keep her there–willingly, I mean.”

“I’m sure she’ll wait sir, she’s pretty keen to see you.”

“Right, Sam, I’ll be there as soon as I can,” he nods to Seungmin.

Seungmin is already driving, swinging the car into the flow of traffic south westerly, towards the club.

“See you soon, sir,” Sam says, disconnecting the call.

“Trouble?” Seungmin asks.

“No,” Minho says, but he’s not entirely sure. He’s trying to understand how Jin-Ae found him.

“I see you won your little fight,” Seungmin says. “Nikko tap out?”

“How do you always know?” Minho chuckles, adjusting the seat warmer.

Seungmin shrugs, “How’s ahjussi?”

“The same,” Minho says carefully.

Not carefully enough, “He’s still pissed at me missing sessions then.”

“You know what he’s like,” Minho says, like it’s a valid excuse.

“Uh-huh,” Seungmin chews his bottom lip. “So why are we heading to the club? Have you seen sense and decided to sell up?”

“No,” Minho says. “We discussed this on Sunday.”

By ‘discussed', he means that he had spent forty minutes listening to Seungmin berate him and remind him just what a balls-up he’d made. According to Seungmin’s calculations, someone would soon be coming to collect the equivalent of two years worth of profits. That was the protection fee, plus their extortionate late payment fee, which had been growing even before Minho had signed the papers. Minho was, and still is, of the attitude ‘let them try’ much to Seungmin and Hyunjin’s annoyance.

Hyunjin, in response to Minho’s request for a security review and risk assessment, and upon learning that it wasn’t protected under the family name, had done a complete overhaul. He replaced about seventy percent of the original security with guys he knew and trusted. He’d installed new CCTV, upgraded the alarm systems, replaced the access doors and installed keypad security systems. He’d even upgraded the apartment doors with fireproof ones, and transformed the club office into a panic room with an auto-lock system. He’d achieved all that in the space of forty-eight hours. Whilst impressed that Hyunjin could pull all that off in a ridiculously short space of time, Minho is dreading the invoices.

“You haven’t grassed me up to dad yet?”

“‘Yet’, being the operative word,” Seungmin sighs. “You asked me not to, so I won’t. But I still think you’re taking a hell of a risk. And Hyunjin agrees with me on this and that should be an indicator of how messed up this is. The DLC is an albatross. You’re safer without it.”

“You know sailors consider it bad luck to kill albatrosses,” Minho says in his defence.

“You’re not a fucking sailor, Min!”

“No, but I am a Clowder, and I’m not letting the Parks run me out of the place.”

“You paid in cash under your own name, for a club south of the river, which is outside our territory,” Seungmin points out. “They don’t know it’s Clowder owned yet.”

“‘Yet’, being the operative word,” Minho chuckles.

“I don’t understand you,” Seungmin shakes his head. “You could be done with it if you publicise it as Clowder. It’s not even your debt for fuck’s sake.”

“Precisely,” Minho says. “Let them fuck around and find out.”

“You’re forgetting you won’t be there when they do fuck around,” Seungmin says. “Sam and the staff will be. The longer you drag this out, the more risk you’re putting them under.”

Now Minho sighs. Seungmin, the smartest of them all.

“You know what, you’re right,” Minho says. “I’ll speak to dad on Friday and get the deeds changed to Clowder.”

“Thank fuck,” Seungmin says. “Maybe Nikko managed to knock some sense into you after all.”

♤ ♡ ♢ ♧

Minho rings the buzzer. Waits. Kicks the metallic door three times, hard.

He and Seungmin are in the alley at the side of the club. Seungmin with his suit jacket pulled up over his head, and Minho getting weighed down by his soaked sweatshirt.

It’s just under a minute before the door clangs open outward. The sudden movement causes Seungmin to take a step back, and into a puddle, “For fuck’s–” he hisses, shaking his foot.

“Hello, sirs–”

“Yeah, welcome, pleasantries, all that,” Minho says, “How about just letting us in before we get any wetter?”

Sam steps aside and they enter the back stairwell that leads to the private apartments. Seungmin swears under his breath as they drip on the concrete floor.

Sam looks at them, presses his lips together.

“Don’t you dare fucking laugh,” Minho says, but he starts chuckling himself. “It’s fucking torrential out there.”

“Ah, but it’s good for the flowers,” Sam says, fully smiling now. “Can I get you towels? A change of clothes?”

“You think anything you have would fit either of us?” Minho asks mockingly. Sam is not a small guy. Even standing in front of them in a t-shirt, basketball shorts and foam sandals, he’s an intimidating figure. Before you throw in his tat-sleeved arms and calves.

“Maybe Seungmin,” Sam allows, “But I’m sure one of the girls might have something that could fit you.”

Seungmin barks out a laugh, which in turn makes Minho smile. Seungmin has a great laugh. Minho doesn’t hear it often.

“Can I fire him?”

“No, he’s indispensable now.”

Minho shakes Sam’s hand before he peels off his soaked hoodie and drops it over a radiator. Seungmin rids himself of his suit jacket. His shirt is near translucent from the rain and a mark on his shoulder blade visible through the fabric catches Minho’s attention. It’s black, circular, divided into four sections and contains intricate swirls that interlace each segment. Minho grabs him roughly, “Did you get a fucking tattoo?”

“Yes,” Seungmin sighs.

“When?”

“The day after you went into service.”

“You’ve had a tattoo all this time?”

“Yes,” Seungmin shrugs Minho off, turns to face him. “Problem?”

Minho blinks, “No. No problem, I’m just surprised that’s all. I didn’t think you’d be the type to…” his voice trails off as Seungmin’s eyebrows raise slowly, and Sam surreptitiously shakes his head. “What the fuck do I know? It looks cool.” Minho says, before asking, “What is it?”

Sam, standing slightly behind Seungmin, has his head tilted as he inspects it himself.

“If you must know, it’s the elements.”

“Ah, I see it now,” Sam says, “That’s cool. I’m not familiar with the artist.”

“My brother designed it, taking my suggestions,” Seungmin says, looking back at Minho. “I knew what I wanted and Jin made it better.”

Minho makes a note to have a conversation with Hyunjin about this later.

“Why the elements though?” Minho asks. This is a whole side of his brother he didn’t know about. He’s not entirely comfortable with the feeling that there are things about his little brother he doesn’t know. Things that he’s missed.

“It doesn’t matter,” Seungmin says, striding towards the club proper.

Minho jogs to catch up. Seungmin has freakishly long legs that move him great distances in only a few strides. “Go on, tell me.”

“You wouldn’t get it,” Seungmin says.

“Tattoos are kind of personal,” Sam says quietly.

“Listen, jackass!” Minho snaps, “Just because I’m dressed like a fucking civvy today, don’t forget who you’re talking to.” Sam immediately raises his hands level with his shoulders, mocking surrender, biting down a grin. Minho lowers his voice, “I’m allowed to ask though right? Like, there isn’t a rule that I can’t ask?”

“You can ask, but he doesn’t have to tell you.”

Minho chews this over for a solid two seconds, “Seungmo, why the elements?”

“Fuck off Min,” Seungmin says, his knuckles whitening on his balled up suit jacket.

Minho sighs, turns to Sam, “Why did you get your tattoos?”

“A combination of inebriation, poor impulse control, vanity and enjoyment of pain, sir.”

Minho doesn’t think he’s joking.

They enter the main body of the club through an upgraded security door. In the daylight, with the main lights on, it looks like a warehouse with a raised bar. The walls and windows are painted black. There are black and red couches lining some of the walls and some tables and chairs strategically placed around the raised bar area and the podiums. The dance floor is a wide open space, polished to a shine from hundreds of dancing feet. There is rigging criss-crossing high above them holding lights and mirror balls. It’s all pretty ugly in the day, but it is all his.

Minho grins to himself as he crosses the dance floor and jogs up the steps to the bar area. Jin-Ae is perched on a stool. She’s wearing a fluffy pink jumper, pale blue chinos and pink pumps and carrying a black handbag gazing at the optics behind the bar. Her long black hair reaches down as far as her waist.

“Hello,” Minho says softly, pausing a good couple of metres from her.

Jin-Ae turns to face him, smiles, then immediately starts to cry.

“Oh!” Minho says, looking to Seungmin and then to Sam who look at each other in response.

Jin-Ae hops down from the stool and bows low, her long hair almost sweeping the floor. “Thank you for coming to meet me, sir. I know you must be busy and I am very grateful to have the opportunity to thank you in person. Thank you, a thousand times, thank you.”

“Oh, well, that’s, um, okay,” Minho says, to the back of her head. “It’s Jin-Ae, isn’t it?”

She looks up, sniffs. Nods. Sniffs once more. Her long black hair is styled to cover the worst of the bruising to the left side of her face. The white of her left still-swollen eye is blood-red. She looks even tinier than she had on Friday night and a hell of a lot younger. “I can’t tell you how grateful I am.”

“You really don’t have to–”

“But I do! If your friend hadn’t found me I–” she bites her lip, pulling her hands into the sleeves of her jumper. “I don’t know how to repay both of you for what you did.”

Minho catches a glimpse of Seungmin and Sam’s questioning looks. He gestures to a table in the corner. “Shall we grab a seat?”

Jin-Ae nods and follows Minho. Seungmin props himself on a stool at the bar, whilst Sam walks round behind it.

“Would you like a drink or…?”

“No, thank you, sir.”

“Minho.”

“No, thank you, Minho,” Jin-Ae smiles shyly.

They sit and look at each other for a couple of beats, before Minho says, “How did you find me?”

Jin-Ae reaches inside her handbag and pulls out neatly folded papers and holds them out to him. She’s wearing a thumb splint on her right hand.

Minho takes them, unfolds the top sheet and exhales. It’s his solicitors papers confirming the purchase of the DLC. Important documents of the kind you don’t want to lose, or leave in a coat pocket before giving it to a stranger.

“They were in the inside pocket,” Jin-Ae points at a suit bag hanging from the back of the bar stool next to Seungmin. “I bled on it a little so I took it to be cleaned. They were very good and they got it all out. It’s as good as new.”

Minho can’t help smiling. She’s a sweet thing, “You shouldn’t have worried about that. And thank you for bringing these back to me.”

“It’s the least I could do…after…”

Minho sets the papers on the table. “Are you okay?”

She smiles widely, but the smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Still a little sore. But it would’ve been worse if your friend–”

“Jisung.”

“Jisung,” she smiles with fondness. Then it falls away completely. “He saved my life,” she says quietly, “I tried to fight them off…but…” she rubs the back of her tiny hand. Her knuckles are scabbed. The bruises yellow with a hint of green. Her thumb is clearly swollen beneath the splint. “If he didn’t appear when he did… if he didn’t intervene…” she sniffs, a single tear trickling down her cheek and dripping off her chin, staining the knee of her chinos. “He was the only one who stopped to help me.” She wipes her nose with the sleeve of her jumper. “My dad blames me.”

Minho feels a heat burning in his chest, “You know it wasn’t your fault, right?”

“If I hadn’t separated from my friends, if I was wearing something sensible–”

“That is utter bullshit,” Minho says, unable to maintain his temper. Out of his peripheral vision he sees Seungmin and Sam look in his direction and fights to maintain his cool, “it shouldn’t matter what you wear, or what time of day it is, or whether or not you are alone or with friends. They were the ones in the wrong.”

“But if–”

“No,” Minho says with finality, “They were the ones in the wrong. And if your dad has an issue with anything that I just said, you send him to me.”

Jin-Ae smiles a little at that. “You wouldn’t hurt him, would you?”

“Not if you didn’t want me to,” Minho says and Jin-Ae giggles. It’s a nice sound. A shy titter, that she covers with her hand. “You know, I could show you how to punch, if you’d like to do it yourself.”

She full-on laughs at that.

“Look, what happened to you, shouldn’t happen to anyone, and I am sorry that it did, but I am so happy that Jisung was there to prevent it from going further.”

Jin-Ae nods, “I’d like to see him. Jisung. To thank him in person.”

“Well, uh,” Minho clears his throat. “It’s not really…I mean… we’re not really… we actually only met that night.”

“Oh, I thought…you seemed close?” Jin-Ae says. “But you know how to contact him?”

“Well, I guess…”

Jin-Ae is reaching into her handbag again. She pulls out two square envelopes. One is pink and the other is green and immediately they remind Minho of Jisung’s hideous socks. She holds them out to Minho. “One for you and one for Jisung.”

“I can’t accept–”

“Please? I am really grateful for what you both did,” Jin-Ae says, “It’s not much. It’s nothing really. I made them myself.”

Reluctantly, Minho takes the envelopes.

“You’ll pass one to Jisung?”

“Yes,” Minho says.

“You promise?”

Minho inhales, “Yes. I promise.”

Jin-Ae’s smile finally reaches her eyes and Minho knows he can’t break this oath. “You know,” he says, “I was being serious about showing you how to punch? Did you break your thumb or–”

“Dislocated.”

Minho nods, “Show me how you make a fist.”

Tentatively, Jin-Ae raises her tiny left hand, her fingers wrapped around her thumb.

“See,” Minho nods and points, “That’s how you dislocated your thumb. You want your thumb to rest beneath your middle knuckles,” he demonstrates and she adjusts. Minho nods, “Now really clench those fingers together, that’s it,” he holds up his palm, “Now hit it.”

She blinks at him.

“It’s okay, go on.”

She does. Smacking straight into his palm.

“How did that feel?”

“Well, it didn’t hurt this time.”

Minho beams at her, “If you’d be interested in learning some defence moves, I’d be happy to recommend a place.”

Jin-Ae grins, and now, for the first time Minho can see the real Jin-Ae. The Jin-Ae from before. The Jin-Ae that fought. “I’d really like that.”

Half an hour passes. Minho has never been good at small talk, but he finds Jin-Ae easy to listen to. Now, she animatedly tells Minho about her college degree in computer engineering. Apparently, her father (who Minho dislikes immensely) would prefer her to become a doctor or a pharmacist, “…I prefer computers, they don’t have emotions.”

As if on queue, Seungmin comes over to their table with a couple of lemonades.

“Oh! Thank you,” Jin-Ae says, drinking deeply.

“Jin-Ae, this is my brother, Seungmin.”

“Hi,” Jin-Ae smiles up at him.

“Uh–huh-hi, I mean, hello,” Seungmin says, his cheeks going a similar shade to Jin-Ae’s jumper. He clears his throat, “Hi.”

“You said that,” Minho can’t help himself.

“Sorry for all this,” she gestures to the air around her, “I’m sure you’re both really busy and I’m taking up way too much of your time.”

“No, not at all,” Minho says, partly out of politeness, partly because she’s a sweet girl and partly because Seungmin looks a little warm.

“I should actually probably be going, I don’t want to miss the bus,” she stands, and Minho rises to his feet with her. She fumbles with her handbag, and Seungmin gently takes hold of it, holding it out for her.

"Thank you.”

Seungmin blinks.

“Do you live far?” Minho asks.

“Gangnam.”

“The weather is awful today, Seungmin can give you a lift, if you’d like?”

“Oh I couldn’t ask him to do that,” Jin-Ae says.

“Uh–” Seungmin looks at Minho a little helplessly.

“You wouldn’t mind, would you?” Minho says, nodding at Seungmin that he’s not actually requesting his honesty here.

Seungmin nods back, “Yeah, I mean no, I… yes. Not a problem. Sure.”

Minho squints at him. Jin-Ae smiles warmly at him. Seungmin blinks a few times before he spins on his heel and heads back to the bar for his suit jacket. His shirt has dried considerably, the tattoo barely visible through the fabric now.

Jin-Ae tucks a length of hair behind her ear, watching Seungmin walk away. Minho catches Sam’s knowing smile across the bar. Jin-Ae turns to Minho, “Thank you again.”

“You don’t have to keep thanking me,” Minho tells her. “Remember, if you go to the club and I’m not there, ask for Jae or Nikko and tell them I sent you.”

“Jae or Nikko. Got it. Thanks,” Jin-Ae inhales, then hugs Minho around his waist. “Thank you so much.”

Hesitantly, Minho pats her on the back. “Please stop thanking me.”

Jin-Ae lets him go, “I don’t think I’ll be able to do that,” she tells him, pointing at the envelopes on the table beside Minho’s untouched lemonade. “You will give that to Jisung?”

Minho nods.

“You promised,” Jin-Ae’s smile is a little teasing.

“I’ll make sure he gets it,” Minho says as Seungmin returns.

“And you’ll text me when you do?”

“You like to cross the t’s and dot i’s, don’t you?”

Jin-Ae smiles in response.

“I’ll text you.”

“Ready?” Seungmin says to Jin-Ae. She nods, smiles. Seungmin blinks. He looks at Minho, “See you in a bit?”

Minho nods and watches as Seungmin strides towards the foyer and the main exit. He holds the door open for Jin-Ae, who pauses on the threshold and waves a final goodbye before she disappears, Seungmin a couple of steps behind.

Sighing, Minho lifts the envelopes and the papers off the table and walks over to the bar, where Sam is leaning.

“Well that was interesting,” Sam says as Minho slides onto a stool. “I don’t think I’ve heard him speak that ineloquently before.”

“You and me both,” Minho chuckles, inspecting the small envelopes.

“She seems like a nice girl.”

“She is.”

Sam nods at the coloured envelopes, “You going to open them?”

“Only one is for me. The other is for–” Minho shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Pink is definitely your colour,” Sam grins.

Rolling his eyes, Minho sets the green envelope on the bar and peels open the pink envelope. Inside, wrapped in matching tissue paper, is a piece of red cord, threaded to resemble a four leaf clover with a tassel and attached to a small brass ring.

“That’s nice. A Korean knot,” Sam says, “They’re not easy to make. My grandmother used to make them to sell at flea markets to tourists and people with superstitions. I think this one represents protection or luck? I know red is used for protection and to ward off evil spirits… Sir? Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Minho smiles, admiring the small token resting in the palm of his hand. It’s beautiful. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“It might not look like much–”

“No,” Minho interrupts. “It’s a lot.”

Sam nods. “So… who’s the other one for?”

“What did I say about talking to me like I’m a regular?”

“Force of habit when I'm on this side of the bar, sir,” Sam says, drumming his fingers, but he’s smiling. He’d sussed out Minho’s sense of humour a lot quicker than some of Minho’s closest friends had. Minho doesn’t have many friends outside of his family unit. Very few in fact. It’s kind of nice, just chatting.

Minho tucks his knot into his pocket, looks at Sam. Perhaps it’s because Sam knows him, that he says, “It's for Jisung.”

“Oh,” Sam’s eyebrows rise swiftly and he grins, “Oh I see.”

Quickly, Minho explains the circumstances surrounding Jin-Ae, the six men that attacked her and Jisung coming to her rescue.

“I heard about that. Happened a couple of blocks from here? Jisung did all that? Six of them? Apparently four of them are still in hospital.” Sam looks at a spot above Minho’s head, nods, “Guess I underestimated him.”

Something in Minho’s chest swells. It’s pride. He’s proud of Jisung.

“She is lucky Jisung was there,” Sam continues, “She’s a tiny thing.”

“So lucky.”

“And, he was lucky you were there for him.”

“I guess,” Minho sighs, though he’s sure Jisung would've been fine without him. Minho hadn’t seen dirty street fighting quite like that. It was filthy. Kind of hot. “She wants me to pass this on to him. She made me promise.”

Sam shrugs, “So do it.”

Minho hesitates. “He said he’d call and he hasn’t.”

“Ah,” Sam sighs, scratches his forehead, leans on his elbows. “You know, he comes here every Friday night. You’re bound to bump into him now that you own the place.”

“Great,” Minho pushes his fingers through his still damp hair.

“Do you want him to call you?”

“Yeah, but–”

“I think you need to take the lead on this one, sir,” he stands to his full height, arms folded across his chest.

“I could leave it here and you or one of the others could pass it to him.”

“Or you could just text him…” he shrugs. “But if I were you, I’d try and keep your promise to that girl.”

Minho stares at Sam for a long moment. “Fine,” he says, reaching into his pocket for his phone.

LM: Hi. It’s Minho–

“You really think he needs to be reminded of your name?”

“Excuse me,” Minho laughs, pulling his phone out of Sam’s eyeline. “Privacy, please.”

LM: Hi. It's me. Any chance we can meet up? Just to talk.

“Done,” Minho says, setting the phone on the bar. It vibrates within thirty seconds signalling a new message.

Sam grins. Minho wants to slap him.

ACE: 2222555555633

Minho frowns, “What the fuck?” he shows Sam, who chuckles in response. Minho narrows his eyes at him. “You know what that is?”

“Maybe,” Sam says, he’s still smiling. “I guess you weren’t in the navy?”

“Army. I can’t swim,” he stares at the numbers on his screen.

“Neither can I,” Sam says, turning to grab his bottle of water. “Still spent eighteen months there.”

“You can’t swim and you chose the navy? Do you have a death wish or something?”

Sam drinks, shrugs, “Well, my naïve mind at the time figured that I’d rather serve on a boat with people that would be very keen to keep it afloat, than be in the army and receive no water training and wind up on a boat anyway. And they do provide life jackets.”

“That makes no sense.”

“Like I said, ‘naïve mind’. I spent six weeks in a life jacket. Slept in the damn thing too. I was glad when they stuck me back on land and behind a desk,” Sam grins, “Where I was taught how to use touch-pad phones for some transmissions.”

Minho stares at the numbers again. “Okay smartass. So what does it say?”

“C-A-L-L-M-E.”

dividers by the talented @firefly-graphics

TASTE M.List & Sypnosis

Chapter 1 - Parley

Chapter 2 - The DLC

Chapter 3 - Broken Compass

Chapter 4 - The Wolf & His Pack

Chapter 6 - Hoodie Season [wt]

#skz fic #Lee Minho #Han Jisung #Christopher Bahng #Bang Chan #Changbin #Seungmin #Hyunjin #Felix #Jeongin #Soonie #Stray Kids Fan Fiction #Mafia AU #Romeo x Romeo #stray kids fanfic #intriwrites #minsung fic

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kenny-the-ken · 2 years ago

Note

Omg imagine a kenny or kyle fic of a pregnancy scare like theyve been together for ages and they both just got into university and they’re like shit oh fuck what are we gonna do

I have a toddler so this one hits close to home considering I ended up pregnant at 18, and at the beginning of the pandemic 🫢 ALL AGED UP CHARACTERS!!

Positive or Negative?

You were due your dreaded monthly a week ago, and the longer you'd been waiting for it to come, the more and more worried you became. You hadn't told Kenny, even though you both shared an apartment together, you were too scared to tell him, how would he react if he thought you were pregnant?! Would he stay with you or run for the hills? Not to mention, did YOU even want to be pregnant?! You just wanted this nightmare to end! But would it end how you wanted it to?

You couldn't believe you were saying this, but you were praying for your period to come, and Kenny had picked up on your strange mood and behaviour the past few days, and he thought it was something that he had done, and as he rose from your shared bed, the smell of pancakes wafting through your apartment, and the sound of the radio radiating from the kitchen. He decided that you had seemed off for long enough, and he needed to know why, and was he to blame.

"Hey baby." Kenny's voice was groggy, his arms wrapping themselves around your waist, his head resting on your shoulder as you stood over the cooker, flipping the four pancakes in the frying pan, a smile on your face, melting against his touch.

"Morning, babe, sleep well?" You asked, as Kenny pressed a gentle kiss on your cheek. And Kenny nodded, watching carefully what you were doing.

"Yeah I did, babe. Can I ask though... have I done anything to piss you off or... has something happened you haven't told me about, cause you've seemed off the past few days." Kenny asked, as you turned to look at him, shaking your head no.

"No no, Ken, it's nothing like that it's just... it's silly really, it doesn't matter." You spoke, shaking your head no as you turned back to serve the pancakes, placing two each on the plates sitting on the worktop, you had already sat out a collection of different toppings, and you hoped that Kenny would let the issue go, you really didn't want to talk about this right now.

It was early and both of you had class in a few hours, the first semester of university had only just started, Kenny was studying Physics with an interest in Quantum Physics and mechanics and you were studying Criminal Law with Forensic science. Both of you wanted to get ahead in life, give your children in the future what you both never had. You had both worked your asses off to get a scholarship, and you both got accepted at South Park University, on top of that, working all hours for minimum wage so you could both leave your shitty living conditions and finally have a good life, but if you were pregnant, then what?! You knew Kenny would be worried sick, he'd probably go back to drug dealing to keep you both ticking over and able to afford the rent, since you'd end up out of work for a while, and what about your degrees?!

"Babe, please. Talk to me! We promised no secrets, whatever it is we can get through this together, just please don't shut me out." Kenny pleaded, his eyes soft, almost teary looking, and you couldn't keep it in any longer. A long sign escapes you as you sat opposite him at the kitchen table, your head landing in your hands before rising to look at your boyfriend.

"I'm freaking out because I was supposed to have my period a week ago, and it still isn't here! I think I might be pregnant, Kenny." You spoke, voice quiet, tears in your eyes as you looked up at him, his mouth agape and eyes wide.

"Holy shit! Um... okay. Have you taken a pregnancy test?" Kenny asked, trying to approach the situation calmly.

"No, I'm too scared to!! I just... promise you won't leave me?" You spoke, head back in your hands, wiping the tears that fell from your eyes, and you felt a warm embrace, Kenny held you close, peppering kisses along your face, shushing you before he spoke, his tone soft.

"Babe, we'll get a test, if it's negative, then we're okay, and if it's positive then we'll discuss it further, but I swear to you, baby or no baby, I will always be with you, no matter what, okay?" He reassured you, gently moving a strand of your long h/c hair from your face, smiling at you, and you smiled back, wiping your eyes with the backs of your hands.

"Okay, Kenny. Thank you." You said, returning his hug and taking a deep breath of his scent, he smelt like aftershave, your perfume and weed, and you suddenly felt safe, your mind slightly more at ease.

"I bought a test the other day, I've just been too scared to take it." You spoke, and Kenny took your hand, making you stand from your chair, completely forgetting both of your breakfasts, as he led you to the bathroom.

"I'll come in with you, I'll be there every step of the way baby, okay?" Kenny was taking this far better than you expected him to, and you nodded, taking it from the pharmacy bag you had dumped there the other day, and staring blankly at the box, before opening it, taking the test from its plastic packaging and reading the instructions.

You sat, hovered above your hand that was underneath you, holding the test, as you sat on the toilet, and once you'd peed on the stick you put its cap back on and sat it on the sink, cleaning yourself up and then washing your hands.

"How long till we know?" Kenny questioned, looking more nervous than he was before, a small bead of sweat visible on his forehead.

"Three minutes." You replied, coming to hug your partner, needing some serious moral support in this moment.

Those three minutes felt like the longest three minutes of your life, and you swore time had came to a standstill. You lifted the test when your timer went off on your phone, your eyes closed, before cracking one open slightly to see the words Not Pregnant written on it, and you felt a huge wave of relief crash over you, as you handed it to Kenny, and both of you smiled at each other, Kenny also sighing, wiping his forehead.

"This calls for celebration sex!" Kenny exclaimed, picking you up bridal style as you laughed the whole way to the bedroom, both of your minds now at ease. Sure, you both loved each other, and you both wanted to have a family, but you wanted financial stability first, and to live your lives child free, at least for a few more years till your degrees were finished.

"Yeah, well pull out this time, before we end up in this mess again with a different outcome!" You replied, both of you laughing as Kenny plopped you on the bed, before landing beside you, pulling you down with him.

While happy that you weren't pregnant, you couldn't wait for when you would be, just knowing you both would create the most beautiful little baby ever, but that was for the future, right now in this moment, you were both happy just you two together.

#kenny mccormick #kenny south park #eric cartman #kenny mccormick smut #kenny mccormick x reader #kyle south park #stan marsh #stan south park #kyle brovlofski #south park #kenny sp #sp kenny #kenny x reader

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gloomverse-theories · 5 months ago

Text

About Rylie’s Red Magic

Rylie getting magic was possibly one of the most awaited moments in the comic, and the way it happened was incredibly impactful. A hat, emerging from her shadow in a time of need, hidden so close yet so far from her reach. And her magic was the cherry on top of this terrible cake tragedy! Color-coded super abilities definitely makes her magic stand out, but when talking about it, there’s always this question:

What will Red do?

And until it’s answered in the comic (or not), we have a lot of room to explore!

But first, let’s go over

Magic Personalities

What is that, you ask? Why, it is conveniently explained in Purple’s “How Magic Work” bonus strip! But knock-off Purple here explains it decently too.

The magic that you get is dependent on your interests, your biggest one, unless you’re really into rule-breaking things like the human body or cats. The type of magic you got is then fixed forever, and you have to live with the consequences of being really into marbles at age 10. Not everyone of us fixate on something cool like space, WALLIS.

Going back to Rylie. What WAS Rylie’s biggest interest at the time? What we know about Rylie is that she likes black and edgy/rebellious fashion, but is also cursed with rainbow dreads. That’s a solid contender, since her magic is based on colors. Looking at her room, she likes skull motifs, ponies, anime, and plushies.

A bit less relevant to her magic, although it is very anime magic. And finally, when she was in the hat store, dreaming up of what her magic could be, it was the power to jump as high as building, a nice foreshadowing and a sign that she did want that!

But let’s look deeper.

Assistant’s biggest desire was to belong, and the Gloom filled it and made her feel like family.

She got her hat when they were all in danger of death.

She got her magic pleading for a way to save them.

And the magic answered.

So I think the conditions in which she got her hat possibly influenced her magic!

Blue and Yellow Magic

Before going over the possibilities for red magic, let’s see what common points we can find between the two revealed power ups.

The most obvious thing is that they are color themed, in case you hadn’t noticed, and correspond to the rainbow (blue - yellow - red) on her wand (which is where we get the red for her next magic). She starts by saying the color out loud, but later manages to switch without speaking.

Both of her powers manifest as clothes: a pair of boots and a pair of gloves, and give her superhuman abilities, like lifting giant rocks and jumping very high.

So now we have the blueprint of her future magic: themed after a color (most likely red), wearable as clothes on her body, and providing Rylie with superpowered abilities.

I want to add that it should also respect the three rules of magic, but it’s a bit late for that, isn’t it.

Telekinesis

Let’s start with something silly. Rylie has been shown a few times to be interested in ponies. She has an Unicron poster in her new room, and a twilight plushie in her old room.

Ponies are a longstanding interest of hers, and magic is based on interests! Most My Little Pony iterations have 3 main types of ponies: earth pony, pegasus, and unicorns.

Earth ponies are strong, and are shown to give stronger bucks/kicks than others. Rylie uses Yellow magic to punch people into the air.

Pegasus ponies can fly around and walk on clouds. Rylie uses Blue magic to jump around and almost fly (though the only time she sinks into a cloud is when she’s wearing her boots in her dream, but that’s the trauma).

Unicorn ponies are overpowered and can make incredibly complex spells, but the most commonly used one is telekinesis. In this theory, Red would allow Rylie to move objects from a distance (like Wallis can already do!), and the article of clothing could be anything, from a differently shaped wand she can point at stuff, to a headset with horns. Who knows!

Senses

Rylie’s magic has a running theme of splitting her wand into two parts: pair of gloves for her two hands and pair of boots for her- ah, nevermind that.

But do you know what else comes in two? Kidneys! Lungs! Ears! Eyes! I think I’m safe to discard the first two since they are inside, but eyes and ears make for good contenders. If Yellow gloves boost her strength, why not Red goggles that improve her eyesight? Perhaps a full headset to improve both hearing and seeing! That may not be as exciting as jumping around, but it is definitely useful in a situation where discretion matters (like Virga hunting the group down).

Wings

Something really interesting about the Yellow magic is that the hat STILL has a little wing as a decoration on it! It made sense for Blue since winged shoes have been a thing for thousands of years (Hermes’ winged sandals) and it grants her the power to almost “fly” when she jumps, but why keep the wing on her hat when she has punching gloves? Because it’s not any kind of punch. It’s an AIR-punch! That sends Cakegirl FLYING! Interesting!

Rylie does have a lot of connections to clouds and sky, for someone who takes after a Light-themed mancer, does she not? That’s why I argue that Red could be a pair of wings, either as a cape or fixed to her arms. While that could seem redundant with her jumping boots, it could also go well with it, allowing her to glide instead of falling immediately back down. That would be a useful mid-air shift, or a good way to not die when plummeting towards the ocean from a height that transforms water surface into deadly concrete, as a random example.

Freeze

Finally, my main theory. There is another theme that I noticed between Yellow and Blue magic: Fight or Flight response. Yellow is Fight, Blue is Flight. It’s the possible reaction to a threat: you either run away and escape the threat, or you attack the threat and dispose of it. Rylie got her magic during a very active threat to her wellbeing and her friends’, and she pleaded for a way to save them. Magic answered by enhancing her ability to flee and to fight!

But there is a third (and fourth) response to a threat: freezing behavior, to become rigid and petrified in place. Red would be the magic’s “freezing” response, and allow Rylie to block a direct attack, through a shield or armor, and overall make her be able to tank and sustain damage. While not as showy as the other two colors, and definitely harder to turn into an asset for her own magic show, the theme of the three stress responses makes me really like this option.

The fourth response is fawning, but it is not as easy to translate into a magic power up as freeze.

Something else

I’m no wizard, and the future is as clouded to me as it is to you. Red magic could be either or none of these options. Perhaps it enhances something else, like her speed, or gives her more ranged powers, like a whip or a bow, perhaps it’s dual swords because it would be cool! Maybe it will come up in a moment where Rylie experiments with her magic while everything is calm, or maybe it will be something that helps Rylie in a dire moment, summoned from instinct. Who knows! But it is fun to speculate, and I hope you had fun too.

There is however one last possibility.

We will never know what Red magic does, if Rylie never tries it.

After all this time, all those nightmares, the color Red may not be the most enticing color to try with magic. Something about an evil magician with red eyes and a red wand.

Why try RED, when there’s so many other colors to try from? Perhaps Green will be a combination of Blue and Yellow, or an entirely new ability! The Green lady seemed so much nicer than the Red figure obliterating her.

So those were my thoughts on Rylie’s magic!

TL;DR

Magic is based on personal interest

Rylie got hers in a moment of trauma

Her magic consist of ability-enhancing color-coded accessories

Possible options for red magic power-up:

Telekinesis as a nod to Rylie’s brony phase

Enhanced vision/hearing to pair with her other enhanced abilities

Wings because of the air-theme and little wing decorations

A shield/armor as a freezing response to go with the current two’s fight or flight theme

Something else

We will never find out because of Rylie’s trauma with red tinted magic

#gloomverse #gloomversetheories #gloomverse theories #mod green #theories #royletta greenwitch biv #rylie #assistant #magic

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fiannans · 8 days ago

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For the New Years Ask Meme! (Only if you want!)

👾 Do you have any "bad" writing habits you want to break?

🦷 Is there a chapter, scene, or WIP you're dreading to write (but is necessary to your plot)? Share a snippet or tell us about it!

💥Is there a chapter, scene, or WIP you're most excited to write? Share a snippet or tell us about it!

🛏 Is there a new trope you'd like to write this year?

👾 Do you have any "bad" writing habits you want to break?

Probably making excuses about waiting for the "right" writing conditions or inspiration to strike, rather than putting in the effort to establish a regular writing habit. In 2025, I'd like to make writing a priority again. Also not finishing what I've started! 2021/2022 showed me I still have the ability to finish things when I put my mind to it, I just need to work on my discipline!

🦷 Is there a chapter, scene, or WIP you're dreading to write (but is necessary to your plot)? Share a snippet or tell us about it!

Oooh good question...probably anything longer than a one-shot, because it's been years (decades, even!) since I attempted to tackle anything longer than a single scene or that required more than one chapter. I do have ideas for a bunch of longer, multi-chapter fics that I really want to bring to life though, even though the additional planning and time commitment involved feels intimidating (sometimes TOO intimidating). Things like my "Nihlus lives" Garrus/Shepard/Nihlus AU, my "What Comes After" post-ME3 Shakarian epilogue, and my ME OC couple Caius and Kate's story, which takes place around roughly the same time as the trilogy.

All I have is a bunch of random, disconnected snippets from each so far, but here's two short snippets from early in Kate and Caius's story.

“What’s your name?” “Caius,” he said, dazedly. He was starting to feel light-headed. Probably from the blood loss. Or maybe from the shock. “Nice to meet you, Caius. I’m Kate.” She smiled at him. “You’re going to be alright, Caius. I just need you to keep talking to me, okay?” “Okay,” he said. “I think I’m just going to rest my eyes for a bit.” He closed his eyes, shutting out Kate’s concerned face and the bright blue false sky of the Presidium behind her. His consciousness felt light, untethered. Maybe he’d just nap until the paramedics arrived.

“You shouldn’t be out of bed yet,” she scolded him. “I’m starting to realise that.” He swayed on his feet, reaching for the wall. She caught his arm and pulled it over her shoulders, letting him lean on her. “Turians are the worst patients.” She sighed. “Come on, let’s get you back to your room.” She was much smaller than him and from this angle he could only see the top of her head. Beneath the strong antiseptic smell of the hospital, he caught a whiff of some kind of pleasant floral scent from her hair. He couldn’t put a name to it, but it reminded him of the flowers that grew near the Human Embassy on the Presidium.

💥 Is there a chapter, scene, or WIP you're most excited to write? Share a snippet or tell us about it!

I'm really looking forward to jumping into writing for Veilguard and specifically Lucanis/Rook. My favourite kind of stories to write are those "missing moments" in between what we see in canon and I think Veilguard (and especially Lucanis' romance) has a lot of potential in that regard. I have a bunch of ideas already, but here's a snippet from a WIP involving

Caution!!! Veilguard spoilers!!!

Caterina's reaction to Lucanis' romance with my Crow Rook!

“My grandmother asked to meet with you.” “Mmm.” Rook closed her eyes and tilted her head, smiling, as Lucanis pressed a kiss to her neck in greeting, his lips lingering over her skin. “Sorry, what?” “Caterina. She wishes to talk to you. About us.” Rook’s eyes snapped open and she turned to stare at him in shock. “You told your grandmother about us? Are you crazy?” He held his hands up in denial, shaking his head. “Not me. It was probably Teia, she and Caterina are close.” Rook groaned. “I had no idea Teia wanted me dead.” Lucanis chuckled and stroked her hair, tucking it behind her ear. “My grandmother isn’t going to kill you, Rook. She just wants to talk. She wishes to ‘meet with the woman who thinks she’s good enough for her grandson’.” “You don’t know that,” Rook countered. “She probably has a contract out on me already.”

🛏 Is there a new trope you'd like to write this year?

Do threesomes count? Haha. I have a bunch of poly ships/OT3s, but I've never actually written a threesome. I really want to write some Davrin/Lucanis/Rook though because I think the chemistry between the three of them is amazing!

Send me asks from this writer goal asks list if you want!

#answered #squigglysquidd #thanks for the asks! i had fun answering them :)#fiannan writes #rookanis #caius x kate #also i love that the emoji for the new trope question is a bed haha #cute!#just realised the rookanis snippet could be considered spoiler-y #oops sorry about that!#veilguard spoilers

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kanazawa-division · 3 months ago

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ARB Birthday Special: Joey Kurusu

~~ October 9th ~~

“The dead cannot cry out for justice. It is a duty of the living to do so for them.”

“Ow…ow….fuck, my back, I think I fucked up my spine even more after that crack, I didn’t think I was sitting here for that long, I could’ve sworn it was 10 PM when I first sat down, now it’s 8 AM and-”

“OH FUCK WHO ARE YOU-eh? A present? For me? Hold on…no fucking way, I sat here this long to miss the day shifting into my birthday?!”

Voice Lines:

“It doesn’t even feel like I’m 25 to be honest, aside from more goddamn back problems (is there a name for a condition like reverse scoliosis?? Where your back is too fucking straight?), my body randomly shutting down on me, and a new layer of existential dread, not much has changed for me which…I guess I should be grateful? Meh, I don’t know.”

“I feel kinda bad for taking the day off especially since I was in the middle of a case but everyone down at the station insisted I do so, I mean I had the hours so there was no worry there but I don’t know whether to feel flattered that my coworkers care about me that much or offended by how quick they wanted me out of the office.”

“Hehe, I can always count on my mom to make me some delicious homemade food, it’s actually rare that I get to eat Australian foods…it’s actually rare that I get to eat real food period, y-yeah I know I got the money and somewhat the skills to make myself an actual substantial meal but…instant ramen is goddamn delicious damnit and I will stand by that for as long as I live!”

“My dad…? What about him? Unless that piece of shit died or got arrested somehow then please refrain from bringing him up around me, he’s as dead to me as I probably am to him.”

"Another year, another birthday…ughhhh your big brother’s getting old, Shanny. You’d totally tease me if you saw me right now, yeah yeah, I can already hear you laughing it up, I’m over here slowly withering away while you get to be young and beautiful forever…I bet you’re super famous now, heaven’s most precious angel, real fitting for you, lil sis.”

“Yo ‘Taru! It’s good to see you ol’ buddy ol’ pal of mine, finally had enough of sitting in that old stuffy office? Yes, yes, I know, you’re always oh so serious especially when it comes to work, come on man, live a little! It’s my birthday so you have to! A-ah! Wait don’t throw my present away!”

“O-oh wooooooow! It’s…what I always wanted, man, you’re a real natural at gift giving, I think you might a have a talent here-yeah okay, I’ll stop…I mean it’s not terrible, honestly it’s about what I expected from you, which is a good thing! At least they’re colored.”

“Ky! Hey man, what’s up? How you’ve been? I know you had to go back to the states for something, ‘top secret’ huh? Yeeeeeeah, I don’t think that’s the case but I’ll leave it alone, for now, good to have you back though! Eh? A gift? Hell yeah, dude! Whatcha got?”

“Siiiiick! I’ve been meaning to get another one of these! My old one doesn’t work anymore, plus it’s all sticky and gross…NO NOT FROM THAT! It’s sticky and gross from all the times I’ve been eating over it! C’mon man, I’m not that much of a degen-…oh shut up and give me that.”

Wataru Lines:

“Happy birthday, Joey. Not even five minutes and I already want to leave, first of all, I take my job seriously and it would benefit you greatly to do the same and second, I am living just fine, I don’t need your assistance. If you’re going to behave like this then I’ll just take my leave and send this back. Good, here you go.”

“For someone so good at calling others on their BS, you sure are an awful liar, Kurusu, just say what you really mean and spare both of us the theatrics. Yes, well, I figured you could always use extra pens, god only knows how you run out of so many so quick so I took the liberty of getting you more, I would’ve gotten you more suitable ones like black, red, or blue but they were out unfortunately.”

Kyler Lines:

“Hey Joey, happy birthday, yeah sorry for leaving for a while but I talked it over with Wataru and he was cool with it. Hm? Sorry pal but that’s top secret information, whatever man, I’m still not telling you, anyways, I’m glad I made it on time, I got you a gift too, yeah, here.”

“Yeah I remember you kept complaining about how your old keyboard kept freezing up and not working on you so I got you a new one. Look, I’m not one to judge what a person does on their free time but maybe cut back on the mas-oh, well still, maybe don’t do that. C’mon man, I’ve seen your fyp, you are not fooling anyone with that bullshit.”

#hypmic oc #hypmic #hypnosis mic #hypnosis mic oc #hypnosis microphone #joey kurusu #wataru sasaki #kyler aaron #happy birthday joey 2024 #arb birthday special #alternative rap battle #arb

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memurfevur-archive · 1 year ago

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Telltale: Epilogue

Character(s): Avonis Llabel, Overseer Ribrel Masino, Shuska Tomson ( @askthehiddencaste ), Teagan Kajibi ( @stuckstucktrolls ), mentions of Phesos Amrida the Enhancer ( @contrastparadoxx )

About: Ribrel offers Avonis a way to a new life...

Word Count: 1,961

Author’s Note: The last chapter of Telltale is still in the works and is not officially out yet. However, I want Avonis out, so I’m posting this early. The final chapter will come out at a later time, or be mentioned as flash backs in asks and future drabbles.

=====================================

Avonis sat on the edge of his bed, heavy eyes staring directly at the wall in front of him. It's been weeks since the incident, weeks since he lost both of his sons, weeks since he had lost Mehrri. And though he should be relieved that it's over, that the cavern has once again opened its doors and no one else would die, he couldn't help but feel bitter about it. The gods truly were cruel, he surmised, and had cultivated within him a sense of dread and stillness. It was hard for him to move most days now, and harder than before to allow himself to eat. Kairos and the inspector had already left; there was no one to spur him to action and feel the joys and spite he had when Kairos was present.

Living seemed just as pointless as it ever was.

There came a knock at his door, and it opened to reveal the Overseer of the caverns. Ribrel Masino was another victim of the incident, though luckily her condition had been only temporary. Ribrel looked upon her childhood friend for a moment or two too long before inviting herself inside and sitting beside him. They shared an awkwardly comfortable silence, listening to the bustle of cavern life outside the bedroom. When he still didn't acknowledge her presence, she cleared her throat and slid onto his lap a yellow envelope.

This broke his intimate concentration on the wall, and he looked down at the envelope with intrigue quivering his brow, ”What is this?“

”A promise,“ Ribrel answered, her usual distant and firm tone now soft and patient. ”Open it.“

Avonis obeyed and picked the envelope up with weak hands. Undoing the fastening he reached inside tentatively, and pulled out sheets of paper detailing some records. With an encouraged gesture from Ribrel he read the documents over.

He poured over them, gleaning every spec of information he could with increasingly disbelieving eyes. His brows furrowed in confusion as he realized these documents were about him, giving an overly detailed overview of things that never happened. Then, he pulled the final document on top, and his breath caught in his throat. It was stamped with the Imperial insignia, and his name written in Ribrel's hand. ”This is to acknowledge the death of Avonis Jakkob Llabel,“ he read. ”Ribrel, you made me a death certificate?“

”It took longer for it to be processed than expected,“ she admitted, ”I'm sorry you could not leave with Kairos, but I hope this makes up for the wait.“

”I'm legally dead?”

“That is correct. You are no longer tied to these caverns. You may leave anytime without repercussion from cavern laws.“

Those words knocked the air out of his chest. After all this time, freedom was there at last at his fingertips, though he hadn't expected for it to be in the form of ink and paper. ”I didn't think it would actually happen,“ he breathed in painfully.

“Haven't I always kept my word?” Her tone held a hint of accusation, and Avonis had to remind himself that she was right. She never once, in all the sweeps he'd known her, gone back on her promises. The fact he wasn't hanging on a stake was proof of that, though his heart twisted when he thought about the family he had lost to the secrets and promises she kept. He looked down at the floor, collecting his thoughts, his shoulders sagging.

“What if I am caught?”

“You'd be caught nameless and signless, of course.”

“I'm on record. They could identify me. I'll be dead for certain, then.”

“Avonis, not to be rude, but you've never made it easy for anybody here. I doubt you'll suddenly fall to your knees if an officer sees you.” Amusement danced in Ribrel's bright green eyes as she placed a friendly hand on Avonis' shoulder, “Give them the entire thirteen Hells like you gave Aphida.” There was laughter in her voice.

He swallowed a lump in his throat, “But what—“

”Avonis,“ Ribrel's tone began to turn to her usual tone: firm, and authoritative. ”Too many lives have been lost as of late. At the very least, allow yourself to live after all of that! It would be saving a life.”

Avonis clutched the envelope to his chest. Anxiety plucked at his heartstrings; employed Jades weren't supposed to leave the caverns. The very concept of nothing being out there for them, that their purpose lies within else death was the punishment, had been drilled into many heads. Including his. If freedom was what he wanted all this time, why must fear root him in place? He hadn't realized he had been crying until a drop landed on his hand.

“Easy now, don't ruin the paperwork.”

“Y-yes, Ribrel.“ He sniffed, wiped at his eyes, then allowed himself to smile even if he didn't feel like doing it. ”How would I know you're not just getting rid of me so you can finally make heart-eyes at Phesos?“

”Oh please, I have better things to do with my time. Like running an entire brooding cavern, to be exact.”

Avonis quirked a brow, then leaned against Ribrel's arm. ”Can you let him take care of you, while I'm gone?”

Ribrel sniffed, “I don't need to be cared for, Llabel. I can handle myself, and I don't need a whore to satisfy me.”

“That's not what I meant. Can you share the workload with him fairly? Can you take breaks? Can you please look after yourself, and let him look after you? You made him second in command, at least let him do his job.”

She considered this for a moment, then gave a reluctant sigh of defeat, “I will try to be more open to the idea, for you.”

“Thank you.” Avonis closed his eyes, “I'm going to miss you. I don't know where I'd be without you.”

“Actually dead, for one thing,” Ribrel answered matter-of-factly, which made Avonis give a dry chuckle.

“Yes, yes I suppose you're right! I would have gotten that certificate much, much sooner.”

“And with none of the freedoms that come with it,” Ribrel smiled softly. “Come, I must show you something.” She gently hooked her fingers around Avonis' wrist and tugged him off the bed and out of the room. Avonis followed her quietly.

Luckily the corridors were not too crowded at this hour. What few faces he saw pass by never gave him a second glance, and a thought had occurred that, as improbable as it is, they were also a part of the secret. The notion made him inwardly giggle. The one thing the cavern had done for him was to see him dead.

A few twists and turns and Avonis could see where Ribrel was taking him. This was the direction of his work station, his now-old post where he would sit and record the names of children who would survive the cavern Trials. He remembered refusing the Auxiliator position, favoring a career as a Memorand simply because it allowed him to be alone— and to be as close to the outside as legally possible. Ribrel took him past his work desk, and closer still to one of the exits.

“That eager to flirt with Phesos without me around?“

Her ear flicked and she cast him a quick disapproving glance over his tease. ”Hush. Look outside.“

He shrugged and did what he was told, curiosity and excitement tickling his heart. He placed a shaky hand on the mouthway of the cave, and looked out into the dusky night. He could see two figures in the close and near distance, and once again he found it hard to keep his breath.

”Recognize them?” Ribrel prompted.

Of course he did. How many times must he hiss warnings and caution to Teagan as he invited him in to drink his blood? And how could he forget the beautiful librarian Shuska who would send secret letters to him in love and good faith? Once again, his eyes began to sting and the world began to blur with green.

“I've spoken with them already,” Ribrel murmured from behind him. “They were here for a surprise visit. If you were still working for the cavern, I would say you'd have a lot of explaining to do. Go with them. They seem to love you.“

”N-now?“

”Of course now! Send me a letter via worm when you find a place to live, and I will have Phesos bring you some of your belongings. I'm sure you can't live proper without all your journals.“

He turned to look at her then, an incredulous look on his face, soft and vulnerable. He couldn't hold back now, and he began to cling to Ribrel with sobs wracking his thin frame. Quietly, Ribrel stiffly reached up and patted him on the back, seeming quite uncomfortable with this interaction. ”Avonis, the longer you are here, the harder it is to fake your death.“

”Oh. Yes. Sorry.“ He let go of her and wiped tears off his face. Shame colored his cheeks. ”Would this be goodbye, then?“

”I'm afraid so.“

Such a bittersweet thought. To think that these two had grown up together and had once been matesprits. That Ribrel had always been unconditional and undying with her loyalty. That these two always had each others' backs, through thick and thin, despite the hurt and pain that their respective ancestors had given them. Despite the convoluted life being a cavern Jade was. The thought of leaving Ribrel felt as if he was going to be leaving a part of himself behind— but, perhaps, that was the point. He needed to leave everything, and everyone, behind. He needed to move on.

He needed to live.

He leaned in and gave Ribrel a soft kiss, reminiscent of old times sake. There may be no romantic love between these two any longer, but there certainly was a type of love still present between them. This was a thank you, this was grief and mourning, and this was both bravery and cowardice in the face of new adventures. He was surprised to see Ribrel feeling much the same way when he had pulled away, her own face dampened with small glittering emeralds.

”Be safe out there,“ she told him, ”Be ruthless. Be kind. Love the unknown as you have for all these sweeps. Don't let anyone take this away from you. Never again.“

”I'll do my best.“

Her smile was filled with wistful pain, ”I love you.”

“I love you too, Ribs.”

“Go,” she urged, “Go to them, before I change my mind about losing one of my hardest workers.”

With a chuckle and a nod, Avonis gave Ribrel back his death certificate and turned to fully face the outside world. Trepidation trapped his breath in his chest as he slowly took a step out onto the other side. Then another. And another. The moonlight bathed everything in a haze of pink and green, illuminating the path before him and his two friends up ahead. Another step. One more. And then his slow walk began to turn into a jog, and then a sprint, and before long he was gliding along the ground, moving so fast he barely touched it.

Teagan and Shuska turned when they noticed him, faces bright with smiles and relief. Avonis couldn't slow himself in time and collided into the two, almost sending them to the ground. He wrapped his arms around them both, pulling them into a desperate hug and nearly cried once more when he felt them squeeze him in return. His ears rang with Shuska's laugh, and he basked in Teagan's smirk.

If this is what death is like, then Avonis is glad to be alive.

#fevur writing #Telltale #Avonis Llabel #Ribrel Masino #Winged Lotus

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nokingsonlyfooles · 2 years ago

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Yo' Feets Too Big! and the Social Model of Disability

The social model of disability is a thing. Oh, fuck, that's a lot of words, though. And very abstract. That doesn't seem relevant to my interests. I'ma just scroll on by and look for a cute picture of a...

No, no, I mean a cute picture of a...

Damn it.

All right, look, although I can't help but use a lot of words, I promise I'll make this funny, and I'll give you one more cute animal at the end.

Let's imagine an alternate world where we all lost our goddamn minds sometime near the beginning of the Industrial Revolution and decided we were only going to manufacture the most popular sizes of shoe. The mediums. The "normals." So let's say 7/8 for the ladies and 9/10 for the men. Wow, ha-ha, that's so weird. I wonder what that would do to us?

It turns out a lot of people in this world have a disease they call Peets Syndrome, named after the man who discovered it in - oh, let's give them a little credit - 1916. Lord Rodney Covington Smythe Anal Fissure Peets happened to notice, during the Great War, that some of the boys were way more susceptible to trench foot than the others. Sometimes their feet just fell right the fuck off. A lot of these boys were cutting holes and slits in their boots for some silly reason. The Army told them to stop doing that and produced several educational films on the matter, but it just didn't seem to help. The boys complained that their feet hurt. A lot. Like, constantly. The only thing that helped was cutting holes or slits in the boots, or just not wearing them at all.

After much study and a few vivisections of brown people and dogs (Lord Peets was too wealthy to serve and had a lot of free time, and possibly late-stage syphilis), Lord Peets discovered some boys had a physical deformity that made them incapable of wearing shoes. Perhaps they were a lesser-evolved species of Man, or part-Irish, but I repeat myself. "Peets Syndrome" was added to a list of conditions that invalidated young men out of military service, society reevaluated its standards of what it meant to "look Irish" or otherwise ethnic, and Lord Peets went on to become quite a successful serial killer, but let's not get into that.

Peets Syndrome was eventually found to effect women too. In - oh, again, let's not make them too stupid - 1954. There was some indication beginning in the 40s, when women were allowed out of the kitchen and began doing industrial jobs that required shoes. At first it was dismissed as some form of hysteria, indicating women's feeble brains and delicate bodies were unsuited for the workforce. Treatments included aspirin, tranquilizers, patting them on the head and telling them "Your test results are normal, you are fine," and, in some cases, lobotomy and institutionalization. Oopsie! It turned out some women were too deformed for shoes too, and now it was starting to look like they had a serious problem. Perhaps even an epidemic.

You see, by 1954, the world was already designed by - and for - people who could wear shoes. If you can't wear shoes, there's a lot you just can't do. If the weather is bad or the terrain is rough, you may not even be able to get to the store to buy food. With the stigma coming from its original association with subhumans and the Irish, polite society insisted upon whole, unmodified shoes, even in situations that didn't require them, like desk jobs and public transportation.

Parents feared a Peets diagnosis for their children, most common in their teenage years. This dread disease would relegate them to low-status, menial labour, and make it near-impossible for them to earn a living. Certainly, there was no point in letting "Peetsies" continue their education, or wasting money sending them to college. As a preventative measure, many parents began bracing their children's feet in adolescence or earlier, availing themselves of "painless" surgeries to remove "pesky toes," and piling phone books on top of their little heads (Peets Syndrome did seem to show a strong correlation with tallness).

When "obesity" was discovered by Dr. O. M. G. Obese in 1969, its correlation with Peets was affirmed soon afterwards, and it became necessary to put the children on diets - first on high-sugar, low-fat ones, then (another oopsie!) low-sugar and high-fat, and then... God, nothing seemed to be working! Maybe they ought to eat essential oils? Or spider eggs? Let's feed people actual spiders, maybe that will help!

Already, there were whispers that vaccines administered in the early teen years caused "Peetsism." Anyway, tetanus and diphtheria weren't a big deal. Somebody had to do something about the mounting numbers of teenagers and "late-diagnosed" adults with Peets!

Then, in the 1980s, in an ecstatic state of conservatism under Reagan and Thatcher, the US and UK governments decided to stop making shoes in sizes 8 and 9. Austerity! Responsibility! Belt-tightening and efficiency! Humanity could be served perfectly well by one size of women's shoe, and one size of men's. And, oh-no, the Peets diagnoses exploded. Nobody had any idea what was causing this. Plastics? Teflon? New Coke? Low-quality spiders from China?

Not to be racist, but could it be - the Irish?

Also, what the heck, people were getting tetanus and diphtheria in numbers unheard of since the invention of the vaccine. Conservative politicians, of course, lamented the lax liberal immigrations policies (a dog-whistle understood to mean "allowing the Irish to live here and breed") and wept that, "When I was a child, nobody had even heard of Peets!" "Vaccine choice" became a popular talking point.

Meanwhile, trans people, with a resigned sigh, added "And get foot surgery, I guess?" to the long list of expensive hoops they needed to jump through to have their existence even a little bit affirmed.

Society was way more concerned with how expensive it was to cope with the Peetsies. Green walkways with short grass, elevated sidewalk crossings, and adaptive shoes would require a total redesign of infrastructure and industry. And allowing people to walk around in public with their creepy weird feet all naked and visible would require a total restructuring of social norms. Couldn't these goddamn freaks get their shit together, or at least stop existing so loudly? Normal people were getting awfully sick of hearing about Peets!

After the discovery of "Micro-Peets" - a new disorder that left teens and adults still able to wear shoes, but caused blisters and injuries because somehow the shoes were too big - many people just threw up their hands in abject frustration. Saturday Night Live produced a truly hilarious sketch in which Chris Kattan, as a bumbling physician, diagnosed the entire audience with various forms of Peets, including Micro, Macro, Macaroni (portrayed by guest star Tom Hanks, with manicotti on every toe), Quantum and "Invisipeets." The cure, of course, was more spiders.

All-in-all, by the time the 2019 pandemic rolled around, "covid toes" were considered a net positive, and the disproportionate number of Peets deaths seemed indicative of the fact that Peetsies were fundamentally broken. The growing "Peets Power" movement was dismissed as misguided at best, and a possibly a public health hazard. New York, California, British Columbia and Tumblr were considered hyper-liberal outliers. J. K Rowling, in her latest Twitter meltdown, called all of them "icky."

I know this bit is wearing thin, so let me just generate a few random headlines you might find if you searched for "peets news today" on the internet:

-Peets Increasingly Common in US Black and Hispanic Children

-Top 10 DIY Shoe Mods for Peetsie Adults!

-"Peets Friendly Education" Budget Cut Again, Ted Cruz Suggests "Bake Sales"

-Feel Good News: MIT Students Design "Size 11" Shoe That Allows Disadvantaged Black Teen to Play Basketball with His Peers!

-Pfizer Increases Prescription Shoe Cost Again, "Size 12" Now Costs $1,500 Per Shoe

-"Don't Say Peets" Bill Gaining Traction in Florida and Arizona

-Opinion: Ontario Woman Demands, "Why Did It Take 15 Years to Diagnose Me with Micro-Peets?"

-February Designated "Peets Awareness Month," Biden Says "Black people can share."

-"Adaptive Peets Therapy" Unsuccessful, Traumatic, "Life-Threatening" for Toddlers and Young Children

-Anti-Trans Group Demands "Shoe Locks" to Protect Women's Spaces

-Peets Diagnosis Associated with Depression, Anxiety for Some Reason

-Spider and Apple Cider Vinegar Smoothie Top New Health Drink!

OK. Have a little giggle, if you're inclined. Dry your eyes, blow your nose, and look around. Any of that seem familiar? Well, that's because disability is a function of society, not the individual. Got it? Cool.

Here's a picture of a baby duck.

#baby animals #kitty #puppy #duckies #society #disability #social issues #alternate universe #satire #metaphor #peets #the more you know

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kaspersky-offers · 11 months ago

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If I Share A Folder In Google Drive Can They See My Other Folders

Google Drive is a fantastic tool for collaborating and sharing files with others. But with great power comes great responsibility. If you're not careful about your sharing settings, you could accidentally expose more than you intended. In this epic 1910-word journey, we'll cover all the juicy details of what happens when you share a folder in Google Drive. Will your nosy co-workers be able to snoop through your private memes? Can your creepy ex see those embarrassing childhood photos? Read on to find out! (Just kidding, this is a family-friendly article about cloud storage best practices.) Can Users See My Other Folders When I Share One In Google Drive? users cannot see your other folders when you share a specific folder in Google Drive. When you share a folder, the recipient only has access to that particular folder and its contents. They will not be able to browse your entire Google Drive or view any folders you have not explicitly shared with them.

So the short answer to the question If I Share A Folder In Google Drive Can They See My Other Folders? is no. Sharing a folder only grants access to that folder, not your whole Google Drive account. Rest assured your privacy is maintained when using sharing features in Google Drive. What Exactly Happens When You Share A Folder? When you click that tempting "Share" button, Google Drive creates a unique link for accessing that folder. You can then send this link to specific people or copy/paste it wherever you please. Recipients will be able to view, download, and interact with any files within the folder as if it lived in their own Drive.

Much like the superhero origin stories, what you do with this power is up to you. You can make folders "View-only" so people can see but not edit files. Or live dangerously with full editing access enabled. Just try to aim for "friendly neighborhood Spider-Man" and avoid becoming "destroy the universe, Thanos". How To Fine-Tune Your Sharing Settings Google gives you tons of options to tweak who can access a shared folder and what they can do with it. Here are some highlights:

Access - Choose "Restricted" to share with only specific people or open it up to anyone with the link.

Link Sharing - Shorten lengthy URLs into cute lil' nubs and copy/paste with ease.

Expiration Dates - Set an end date for sharing access so you don't get haunted by randos.

Password Protection - Add an extra layer of security for those top secret meme stashes.

Notifications - Get pinged whenever someone opens or edits a shared folder.

Domain Restrictions - Limit sharing to only people with specific email domains (like your company).

Learning to navigate these settings ensures only the right eyes ever see your shared goods. So take some time to poke around the options - your privacy will thank you! The Risks Of Over-Sharing (Or Not Sharing Enough) On one end of the spectrum, you've got the shameless over-sharer. Their entire Google Drive is a mess of haphazardly shared folders full of mildly embarrassing content.We all know that friend. No judgment, randy randos of the internet already have your mint condition Beanie Baby collection.

But being too lockdown on sharing can also cause problems. Refusing to digitally collaborate can make you look like an uncooperative grump to your team (even if you just really value data privacy). The best solution is to take advantage of all those customization settings described above. That way, you share thoughtfully and avoid any extreme pitfalls. What If Someone Gains Access To Your Entire Drive? This is the online privacy nightmare scenario we all dread, but it's not the end of the world. Here's what you can do:

Remove their access ASAP. Deleting or revoking sharing permissions should cut them off right away. Reset your Google account password so they can't log in again. Enable two-factor authentication for extra protection. Check account activity for anything suspicious. See what they actually viewed or downloaded while snooping. Permanently delete sensitive files they may have nabbed so they can't spread further. Report the intrusion to Google and relevant authorities if you suspect malicious intent rather than an honest mistake. Taking swift action minimizes damage and restores your peace of mind. Even the worst data breaches can be overcome. Best Practices For Sharing Folders On Google Drive To summarize everything we've covered into six simple tips:

Avoid openly sharing everything with everyone. Be thoughtful about each shared folder. Utilize restrictive sharing options like View-only, expiry dates, and password protection. Share links instead of entire folders when possible to limit access. Encourage collaboration, but balance it with responsible data security. Review sharing permissions regularly and remove access that's no longer needed. Have a plan in place for quickly handling a worst-case sharing scenario. Follow these smart sharing best practices, and your Google Drive will be the envy of data privacy pros worldwide! Conclusion We've reached the end of our epic Google Drive sharing saga. Who knew 1910 words could cover so much? Now you're a certified expert on managing sharing permissions without compromising privacy.

Remember - sharing is caring, just do it responsibly. Your data has boundaries, and you get to control how much access you give away. With the proper settings in place, Google Drive makes secure collaboration a breeze. So go forth and…drive safely, I guess? Thanks for tuning in to this week's meditation on cloud storage etiquette. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a cute folder of dog gifs to privately enjoy. Namaste!

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decayandfanfics · 2 years ago

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April flowers

Sooo. . . It’s been a while. Uni has been kicking me on the floor, but i wrote this like 6 months ago when i was ovulating probably. Thanks to @t-tomuras for teaching me how to speak english properly kajsdkasj

Shigaraki x Fem!reader. Mentions of Pregnancy and childbirth. Nothing else.

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If you would have told him that he would be an amazing father, Tomura would probably have given you an undeserving sneer before some biting comment about you being crazier than he gives you credit for.

It doesn’t make it any less true though. Despite his visceral need for space and natural nonchalance, he couldn’t help feeling nervous about your newfound condition. It’s a lost battle between his own hesitance towards the life changing news and the immensity of his love for you, making him fidgety, gentle, moody, and paranoid all at the same time. Thank God by now you are filled and familiar with his general neurosis, so you leave him to his own imaginary torments because trying to fight them is a waste of time and you, swollen and tired and tied to him of all people, already have more than enough on your plate.

It doesn’t really surprise you that he turns out to be a very good dad, though. Regardless of his well known misandry never entirely out of his system and the aversion towards everything nice (like the little grinch he is) the moment curiosity calls him gently, nudging him to hold his brand-new baby, something flips inside him.

It overwhelms him immediately. The way his clammy hands manage to hold the little baby burrito, his face like a deer caught in headlights, looking between the tiny face, yours, and the nurse.

“It’s a girl.”

Then he’s smiling like a moron and you know he is in love.

And it’s funny because he fought the idea of sharing you with some brat during all the pregnancy, never really at peace with the fact that sooner or later you would love someone else more than him, a thought that truly tormented his dry little heart and filled him with dread.

Did it ever occur to him that “yeah, I may love my child like that too”? Well, not really.

Because for Tomura, something like that was nothing but laughable. How could he? If you invented kindness and peace and he needs you. There is nothing like the feeling of having you, wether it be holding his face gently or gasping under his weight. So, the idea of you being needed more than that, needed to survive, to live and grow was nothing but excruciating. And even when he, too, knew he loved his child already, it would never match what he felt for their mother.

Your baby would even eat from you, dammit! and fuck wasn’t he jealous of that.

But of course, you already imagined his whole inner tantrum monologue of envy without him speaking a word of it, completely aware he’s being irrational, and that was what made it so funny.

Because you knew out of you two, he’d be the one to fall the hardest, and despite the general sexism about men wanting for a boy to make a team, him having a girl is the cherry on top of the cake.

“I thought we could call her Hana.” A simple statement that forever changes his definition of love.

Imagine, him jealous of his own perfect baby daughter. What a ridiculous thought.

It makes sense then. If you had to choose between the baby and him, he’d gladly, gladly bite the bullet every time. And it’s not like you didn’t foresee this development of events, but it does surprises you when you see him angrily rubbing his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt to catch some insurgent tears of joy at the gift you just gave him (but you know better than to say anything about it, don’t you?).

“yeah…I’d like that.”

And boy does he like it.

Tomura has never been afraid of getting his hands dirty, but still it catches you off guard when you find him looking intently at the way you prepare the bottle. The methodical clean, boil, dry of the glass and the subsequent pour, fill, shake, test on the skin of your wrist.

So next time he tries it, carefully and quietly without asking you for help, getting familiar with the process until it is natural on his hands like the finger he keeps up at every moment. And even when he’s still weary of touching the baby directly and remains fairly annoyed at the antics of being a months old tiny human, he proves again to be an infallible guardian of her sleep, making you thankful of his bad habit of sleeping at ungodly hours for fucking once until eventually, he ends up rearranging things around the house.

“You like that one, don’t you?'' His voice comes accompanied by the rapid twfl twfl twfl of the buttons on his control over the game’s music. “Yeah, it’s not that powerful, but it’s really effective. Watch this.”

You pad quietly out of the shower into the room, where he has improvised a seat against the cradle in front of the tv, allowing the babe to stand by the bars of her crib right next to his head, both of them looking intently at the combo displayed on the screen in an explosion of colors and movement that makes the child scream and bounce in excitement that matches his.

Hana cheers in her own way, you suppose. A joyful screeching as she babbles something unintelligible between her drooling and some weird attempt for “otosan” that never quite lands, but you suspect he likes it even more because of it, even despite the fact that he’s wholeheartedly against being called some shorter westernization like “papa” because something something manners and something something respect. (And yes, that’s another irony that has you raising your eyebrows to your hairline in disbelief but he’s Kurogiri’s child after all, what else did you expect?)

“See? I told you. Hey, don’t eat my hair. Your mom likes it.”

And fatherhood may not make him less sharp nor slaps the edginess out of him, but it does bring out a more playful side of him, the part of him that’s eager to learn and teach, so you find him reading about butterflies just to tell her stories about how the caterpillar becomes a chrysalis before developing wings, and saying stuff like he cannot play if Hana is not there, because she’s the lucky charm and his secret to defeat all the bosses.

Time and time again shows you a new side of Tomura, and it dawns on you that the boy you loved all those years prior is no longer a teen but finally a man, and you cannot help but watch amazed at the growth that happens non stop in front of your own eyes.

And just as he became braver for you, he becomes wiser for her. His natural protectiveness making him stronger, truly stronger, a type of strength he would have never achieved under the shadow of his sensei, no matter the torture or deceits he would had lay to his ears.

Sweet baby kisses and unfathomable love that sounds like little steps following him around the house; a better reward than any promise of destruction, because he was made for love and compassion, despite what everyone else thinks. Despite what he himself thinks.

Yes, for Hana Shimura, Tomura will wholeheartedly be Tenko again.

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura #bnha fanfiction

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twjournals · 4 years ago

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The Right Place

This is the third and final part of the trilogy. I can not thank you enough for the endless support. I did not expect to even turn this into a three-parter, but you asked and you shall receive. You guys are amazing!

So Wrong It's Right

What's Wrong is Right

Warning: dark!Peter Parker x reader, dub-con, all characters are of age, pregnancy, abuse, mild non-con touching, violence

Word Count: 5.4k

Summary: You're an old troubled friend of May's. Your life consists of being a workaholic, a party animal, and bringing home the shittest of guys for a one-hit-wonder. Just when you get your life in order, you're knocked right back into your old habits. Peter has watched you suffer long enough. He can make it all better.

Taglist: @discoverwhattheworldhastooffer

Your world was in shambles and any move you made to try and fix it only seemed to make what was left crumble. You did not speak with anyone since you had found out you were pregnant, not even May. You did not know what you could even say to her or how you could explain what was going on. You knew she would find out sooner or later, but you had planned on later. You could not even stomach the thought of telling her. It would not be easy and you knew you would probably lose her friendship in the process.

You avoided Peter as much as you could. He always messaged to check up on you, but you would never reply. You were disappointed in yourself. If you had just been the biggest person and moved on, if you had not have gotten drunk, you would not be in this situation right now.

Peter never gave up on you. He had hoped you would come around. That you would understand why your life was going in the direction it was. You needed to get away from the toxicity you surrounded with, especially Chris. You were meant for bigger and better things. You were meant to be more than a housewife. You were to be a mother, a lover, a soulmate. You deserved the world and he wanted so bad to give you it plus more.

You continued to shut him out though. You did not answer his phone calls or his text messages no matter how many times he tried. He sat outside on your fire escape many nights, listening to you crying yourself to sleep. It broke his heart to see you in this situation, but he wishes you would look on the bright side of things. Maybe it was not the greatest timing to have a baby, but it didn't mean your lives were ruined. Sometimes what we want is not always what we need. Sometimes change is required for what we need in our life and you weren't necessarily open to it.

He honestly had tried to give you your space. He stuck to the rooftop above you where you could not see him when you would finally leave the house for work. You always looked so beautiful to him, even if he knew you had been crying all night. If you would just answer his messages, he would not have to go this far.

Peter watched you many mornings on your way to work. He followed your bus all the way to the place he prayed you would never go. He kneeled on top of the building, watching as you stared sadly at the front doors of the clinic. He wished you would turn around. To save him from having to web you down before you got in the building. You were picking at your sweater. No matter the number of times you found yourself standing outside the clinic, you never could bring yourself to even reach for the door.

You were at war with yourself. Peter could tell you fought against the changes, but your heart could not bring you to stop them from happening despite how unhappy you were. It always ended with a sigh and with you proceeding to walk the rest of the way to work. Peter seemed to hold his breath until you walked away.

Work was always a drag now. You had nothing to look forward to anymore but everything in the world to worry about. You stared at your phone as it lay against the computer screen. You rubbed your face tiredly.

You knew it was time to let go of your past. You sighed deeply, taking your phone in your hands and clicking on Chris's old messages. You began typing.

Are you able to come by later?

You noticed he read your message right away. You sat your phone down, still staring at the screen when he responded back.

Of course. Just tell me when, and I’ll be there.

You told him you would message him once you got home. You were sure what time you would get off when it came to your job. You wrote a company and spent the hours necessary to do what you needed to do.

By the time your workday had finally ended, you were having mixed feelings about inviting him over. Being pregnant did not help your feelings from being all over the place. Your thumbs hovered over the keypad on your screen. You were hesitant. Even if he had said he respected whatever you decided, you knew he could not entirely mean that. You quickly typed out that you were home and hit send before you could give yourself time to think almost about it. Maybe you should have thought about it a little longer.

Peter was stuck at school for one of his night classes. He dreaded his night classes now more than ever considering your condition. He had already skipping enough classes due to worrying so much about you. He could not afford to flunk out of school now after all the time and effort he had dedicated already. As much as he wanted to keep an eye on you, he tried to give you room to breathe, to think, and process.

You pushed his bags in the living room by the door, straightening your sweater to keep it off of your stomach. You were not big to others, but to you, you worried if people can tell. You did not want to chance it and certainly not with Chris. You wanted this to go as smoothly as possible.

Your heart almost leaped from your chest at the knock on your door. You slid the chain from the lock and pulled the door open to see his face light up as soon as he saw you.

"Hey there, beautiful."

"Hi." You leaned against the door slightly as you moved out of the way for him to enter.

"I'm so glad you're giving this a second-" He stepped into the apartment, noticing bags of his belongings to the side of him and he grew quiet. "You're not giving me a second chance." He pointed out and you frowned slightly, still standing by the door.

"I think it is what's best for the both of us." Your voice was quiet and calm, but in your mind, it was the hardest thing possible for you to say.

"Is it?" His voice seemed bitter and you looked down at your feet, nodding slowly. Even without looking at him, you could still feel his eyes on you. He turned to face you fully and you hesitated to make eye contact with him.

"It is. I still want the best for you."

"Do you not believe I can change? I don't understand. What can I do to change your mind?" He pressed.

"Please don't think I haven't given this a lot of thought. It consumes my mind to no end. I just need to focus on myself right now."

"Imagine that." It was silent in the room and you glanced at him, only to find him shaking his head with a snicker. "It's not what's best for the both of us. Not for me. This is what's best for you. Can't imagine how I even thought you could be anything but selfish."

"Chris, I just want to keep this civil."

"Good for you." He pulls the door from your grasp and slamming it shut, startling you. "That's all you've ever been, hm? You're gonna have to lose that mindset if you plan on marrying me."

"I don't-"

"You will." He corrected, moving so close you could feel his breath across your face. "I put too much time into this for you to walk away from me."

You swallowed hard. The man who stared back at you was far from familiar. You tried to step around him but he only pushed you back into your place between him and the wall.

"Goddamn it, just get your stuff and go!" You raised your voice and he slapped his hand hard across your cheek. It was strong enough to make you see stars in your eyes. You yelped at the impact and held your cheek as it stung in pain.

"You watch your fucking tone." He stared down at you. He had never hit you before in the years you had been together. He never raised a hand to you, but then again, he never raised one for you either.

You could not imagine how much worse this would get. You left sick to your stomach when he grabbed your chin, tilting your head upright to look at him, stroking his fingers across your stinging cheek as his eyes flickered over your face in thought.

"Truth to be told, I think it's you who needs to change. I put up with so much from you. You had me in the beginning. Thought I was getting this wild, sex-crazed wife, oh, the fun we use to have. The drunken nights." He stiffed a laugh as he let his free hand grab the end of your sweater. "You really had me fooled, didn't you sweetheart?"

You were scared to move. Scared that one wrong move and he would hit you again, maybe worse. You closed your eyes, hoping Peter would answer your prayers. You regretted how much you ever took advantage of his kindness. How long you acted like you never noticed. You had always noticed. You felt his hand push underneath your shirt, and his gaze grazed over your stomach.

You noticed the way his hand froze against the small curve of your rounded stomach and he instantly lifted your shirt to see the problem. Your vision was blurred from your tears as he stared at your stomach with wide eyes. You could tell he was getting pissed.

"Really looks like you've been focusing on yourself." He lets your sweater fall back down over your stomach. His grip was still firm on your jaw, giving you no choice but to look at him. "You have some nerve to leave me. I could bet money it's Parker's. It is, isn't it?"

You could not bring yourself to admit it, but you did not have to.

He shoved your face from his hand, causing you to hit your head hard against the wall as he let you go. "You fucking make me sick."

You tried to keep your sobs quiet, listening to his footsteps moving away from you, listening to him jerking his bags up. "Better it's his problem and not mine." He muttered before slamming the door shut behind him.

You pulled your knees to your chest as you sat up against the wall with a sob. You didn't realize how much you needed Peter until now. You were sure he would have been successful if Peter had not have stopped. You hugged your knees as you tried to catch your breath in an attempt to calm yourself down.

After a moment, you took a deep breath as you pushed yourself to your feet. You let out a whimper quiet, feeling mild cramps in your lower stomach. You frowned as you turned the lock to the door, pressing your forehead against it as you held your stomach from the pain. It only seemed to worsen the longer you stood there. You weren't sure what was going on, but you had a feeling whatever it was, it was not good. You stood like that hoping the cramps would ease, but they never did.

It was close to the end of class when Peter's phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out of his phone slightly to see who it was. He glanced up at the professor who had still proceeded with his lecture and Peter lowered his head to answer. He knew something had to be wrong if you were calling him after all this time of avoiding him.

"Y/n? Is everything okay?"

"I think something is wrong." You whimpered quietly and he raises an eyebrow slightly.

"What do you mean "wrong"? Is the baby okay?" He looked up at the teacher who was making eye contact with him now as he talked.

"I don't know." You answered honestly.

That was all it took to get Peter moving. He grabbed his books off of his desk and tossed them in his bag while he scrambled from the classroom.

"It hurts." You rubbed your lower stomach like you always did when you had cramps before. Cramps were normal, but with being pregnant, you could never be too sure what they really meant.

"I know, love. I'm so sorry. Hang tight. I'm on my way." He reassured you as he sprinted out of the building.

---

You lay back on the hospital bed, sighing as Peter ran his hand over your bump in gentle circles. For once, you let him. Your cramps had surprisingly lessened since Peter had shown up, but he did not want to take any chances. It was better to be safe than sorry. He was so worried about you and the baby.

Nurses had been in and out of the room, doing blood work, swabbing, anything necessary to get to the bottom of this. Peter was quiet as he sat on the side of the hospital bed, focused on the massage he was giving your stomach. This was the first time he had touched you since the night you found out you were pregnant.

You could not help back to smile slightly to yourself as his long gentle fingers worked over your skin. He must have sensed your stare because it was not long before his eyes glancing up to meet your stare.

He raised an eyebrow curiously. "Is this okay? I'm not making it worse, am I?"

You shook your head. "It's fine. I'm just watching."

He smiled at you while he continued his massage to your tummy. His eyes looked toward the door when a nurse came in, rolling some equipment over to the bedside.

"Miss. Y/l/n, your lab work should not be much longer. If you do not mind, I would like to do an ultrasound to check on the baby. Is that okay with you?"

You nodded and Peter took his hands back to let her work. She rolled over a chair, taking some gel and squirting some across your lower stomach. The nurse rolled the transducer over the gel and smearing it in as she applied some pleasure in search of a heartbeat. You watched her roam your stomach, biting your bottom lip. Your eyes widened slightly when the sound of the baby's beating heart filled the room. Once the nurse got a clear view, she turned the screen to show you and Peter what she was seeing.

You looked over at the monitor, your heart fluttered slightly at the first sight of your baby. That was your baby, even if it was only a little bean now. You could not stop the smile from forming on your lips. This little bean was life was growing inside of you. This brought a whole new light to your pregnancy. It was like a light had switched on. You did not know how to explain the overwhelming feeling. It felt more real after seeing him or her.

Peter was just as taken back as you. His grin never faded at the sight of your baby. It only made him 10x more eager to be a dad.

"Look at that. Already looks like me." Peter teased and you giggled, considering he or she was not much more than a heartbeat at the moment.

"I can definitely see it." You grinned as Peter rest his hand over yours, sliding his fingers between yours. He brought your hand to his lips before pressing a kiss to the back of it. You watched him kiss your hand and shivered slightly. You did not know what to think of everything at this point.

The nurse checked the baby's heartbeat before turning to the computer behind her and check your lab results with a quiet hum as she scrolled through your charts.

"Well, it seems like everything is just fine. Your baby is certainly healthy and has one of the strongest heartbeats I have ever heard." You looked over at Peter and he only grinned. You could thank Peter for that and all of his spidey senses.

"Your blood pressure was pretty high though and considering your history, your blood pressure has always been perfect. Have you been stressed out lately?" She looked back at you and you nodded slightly.

You were ashamed at how stressed you had let yourself get. "Well, I won't ask for details but if it is anything I can help you with, I would be happy to help. If not, I would stay to keep the stress to a minimum. Your baby does feel anything you feel, so some things can be too much and really take a toll on them." She explained. "Think of this as your baby reminding you to breathe."

You smiled, feeling Peter giving your hand a warm squeeze.

"If your blood pressure does continue to be high, we will see if we can do something to help." You nodded again as she made out some prints of your ultrasound and handing them to you. "If you don't have any questions, I'll let one of the other nurses know and they can keep your paperwork ready for you to go home." She took a paper towel and wiped your stomach clean before tossing it.

With that, she gathered up her equipment before rolling it out of the room with her. You pulled your sweater back down over your stomach.

"Hear that. Now do me a favor and leave all of the worrying up to me." He looked up at you as your eyes stayed glued to your ultrasound prints. His eyes flickered over your face, landing on the bruising mark on your cheek. He reached up, moving a piece of hair back of your face to get a better look. You flinched at the contact. Peter seemed taken back by your flinch.

"What happened? How'd you get that?" You kept your head down with a small frown.

"I invited Chris over to get his stuff. He thought I was taking him back. He didn't take it well." You explained and his eyes widened.

"He hit you?!" You reached Peter's hand as he started to jump up from the bed. "I'll kill him. I swear to you-"

"Peter, please. It's over with now." You assured him, tugging his hand to pull him back to the bed to sit down again. "He's not worth it."

Peter frowned, letting out a deep sigh before leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek. He did not want to stress you any more than you had already been. "I'm sorry he did that to you. I wish I could have been there."

"Honestly, I needed this. It made letting go of him a lot easier."

"Was that all he did?"

You grew quiet.

"Did he..."

"No, he didn't." You shook your head after he could finish his sentence. "He saw that I was pregnant and left."

Peter tried to keep his composure as his fist clenches out of your sight. He could not imagine how someone could lay a single finger on you with intentions to hurt you. He was quiet. He was trying to hold it together for your sake.

"He didn't say anything?"

You stayed quiet for a moment, rubbing your thumb across the print. "Just that he was glad it was your problem and not his." You shrugged your shoulders slightly. "Even though it's not a problem, I am glad it's you and not him. I can't imagine what it would be like to have a baby with someone that selfish."

His clenched fist loosened at your words and his eyes softened. He could not believe his ears. Were you really saying this?

His cheeks blushed a deep shade of red. "You mean that?"

You smiled at him with a nod. "I do. You're so selfless and care so much about what you can do for others. Even though I've been selfish, you still stuck by my side. I honestly couldn't ask for a better father for my baby."

His smile widened as he looked at you, resting his hand on your small bump. "Our baby."

You rested your hand on top of his with a smile, nodding your head. "Our baby." You agreed.

---

It was not long after that the nurse gave you the okay to leave. Peter had stopped to get you something to eat before he took you home. He wanted to make sure you had been fed. All of the little things like this had slowly pulled you closer Peter. You were not used to how observant and patient he was. As much as you knew how wrong your whole situation was, you could not help but to give in to it. Despite your age, Peter had treated you better than any other guy you had been with. Even better than the one you had been with for years. Peter was the blessing you never knew you needed. He was the blessing in disguise.

He held onto your hand, walking up the steps to your apartment and using the keys to unlock the door for you. He didn't expect you to let him stay. All he wanted was to make sure you were okay before he left you alone.

"Thank you for everything." You looked up at him as you both stood in front of your door.

He smiled down at you. "You don't have to thank me."

"You know I owe you."

He rolled his eyes playfully. "You don't owe me anything. You're having our baby. I consider that payment enough." He teases, his hands resting on your waist. He could not help but touch you. In every possible, he would if he could. Your cheeks blushed at his response, looking down but Peter let his finger hook underneath your chin to tilt your head back up. Your lips were barely an inch apart when the moment was quickly ruined.

"What the fuck is going on here?!" A familiar voice pulled you from your moment, making your heart sink to the pit of your stomach when the realization hit. You did not even have to look over to know it was May. Her face was red in anger when your eyes met hers. "You ignore me for weeks and when I come to check on you, you're smacking lips with my nephew?! What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Your lips parted to say something, but no words came out. You did not where to begin with explaining yourself to her. You knew this was all wrong, but it was all too late.

"I thought you were hurt, but obviously, you're perfectly fine." She was fuming.

You never wanted her to find out this way. You wished you had more time to think about it and figure out a better way, but this was it. This was the moment of truth and you were terrified to lose your best friend. You felt tears forming in your eyes and Peter frowned.

"Aunt May, stop."

"Stop?! I'm not going to stop! You're not going to use my nephew so you can get over your worthless ex-boyfriend."

"Aunt May!"

You fought to hold back your tears until you could not anymore. You felt the tears running down your face. As much of a low blow that was, you felt you deserved to hear it. "Peter, i-it's okay." You struggled to form your words. You were hurt, embarrassed, ashamed.

"No, it's not." He shook his head, pointing a finger at May as she stood only a few feet distance from the two of you by her car. "You've gone too far."

"I don't understand how you think this is okay, Y/n." She shook her head, ashamed at you.

"I didn't expect for it to be like this. I didn't mean for any of this to happen." You confessed.

"Just like you never meant for all those one-night stands to happen huh? I trusted you!" She yelled, making you flinch. You hung your head in defeat, glancing at Peter with sad eyes before going inside. You could not stomach the rest of the conversation without sobbing. You tried to calm yourself once you were inside.

"That's enough!" Peter yelled suddenly. "I am capable of making my own decisions. I don't need you to decide what is best for me, Aunt May. I'm not here against my will and neither is she."

"She's supposed to be my friend." She didn't know what to make of this.

"You're supposed to be my Aunt! You knew how hard I crushed over her. For years you knew."

"I thought it was just a crush."

He moved closer to her in the parking lot. It was never just a crush. He was head over heels for you. "I love her. I've always loved her. You're can either respect it or accept it, because it's either way, she's pregnant and nothing is going to change that." He stood by her car.

Her mouth fell open in shock. She did not know what to think. Never in a million years would have thought this would happen, but then again never would have you.

"Pregnant?" Her voice was quiet.

He nodded. "I'm gonna be a dad, Aunt May." He pulled his copy of the prints out of his wallet and showing them to her.

She was at a loss for words. He was right. There was nothing she could do about that. May stared at the prints for a moment, trying to process everything in the short time it had all happened.

"Peter... I don't understand..."

"She almost had a miscarriage today because she's been stressing herself out over Chris. You're not going to take this away from me." He looks down at her, taking the prints back from her." He looked down at her as she stared back with a small frown. "Go home, Aunt May before we both do something we'll regret. You can come back when you're ready to apologize for this." He held the car door open for her and she hesitated before slowly getting in the car.

She knew she was in the wrong for how she had handled things, but Peter did not give her the chance to even risk making things worse. Peter felt deep in his heart despite everything she would come around. She would realize how happy you made him and she would accept it, but for now, she needed to leave.

Peter walked back to your front door, knocking on the door with a sigh. After a few moments, you moved from your spot on the couch to answer the door. You opened it slightly to see Peter and you glanced behind him at May's car pulling out of the parking lot.

"How are you?" He frowned when he saw your red watery eyes.

"I feel awful."

He sighed when you finally let go of the door and he stepped inside of the apartment. He let the door close behind him. His arms wrapped around your body instantly, pulling you against mine as he hugged you, resting his head against yours and kissing the top of it. "I'm so sorry. I know it's hard to believe now, but she'll come around. Just give her some time."

"She was going to find out sooner or later. I expected that reaction. I just wasn't prepared for it right now." You pointed out as your head rested against his chest, letting him hold onto you.

You closed your eyes, listening to his heartbeat. You relaxed in his arms. Your eyes were burning from all the tears shed. Peter scooped your body up in his arms bridal style, carrying you down the hall to the bedroom. He laid you down on the bed, sliding into the bed with you as his arms naturally found their way around your waist. Your head fell to his chest as you got lost in your thoughts for a moment.

"I'm starting to think I can never make the right choices." You admitted, laughing slightly to yourself and Peter tilted your head up to look at him.

His lips pressed a kiss to your nose. "Sometimes, the wrong choices bring us to the right places." He assured you before leaning in to close the space between your lips and kissing your lips.

He was true to word. No matter how much you held yourself back, every wrong choice you had ever made in your life brought you to this moment with Peter. This opportunity with Peter to finally get your life right. It was your chance to allow yourself the happiness you knew you both deserved.

End Credits Scene

He was not sure how long he had been sitting with his wrists and ankles restrained to a chair in the middle of a dark room. Maybe hours. It even could have been days. He was not sure. His eyes blinked rapidly to adjust to the light that poured into the room when he finally heard a heavy door open.

"Oh good, you're awake." He was covered in sweat from fear and the heat of the closed-off room. He could make out bits of a red and blue suit. His eyes must have been playing tricks on him. When his eyes finally adjusted to the light, his eyes widened at the sight of Spiderman in front of him. He did not understand what was going on. Spiderman is supposed to save people.

His mouth was covered with solid webbing so he could not speak.

"I'm sure you're wondering why you're here." Peter moved closer to him as he spoke. He leaned down, ripping the webbing from Chris' mouth and making him cry out in pain from the grip it had on his skin. "You see Chris if there's one thing I hate, it's people who hurt the people I care about."

"W-What are you talking about? I haven't done anything."

"Don't play dumb." Peter gritted his teeth underneath his mask, backhanding Chris across the face before gripping his jaw. "You know exactly what you did, but that's okay because it won't happen again. You'll never touch Y/n again. I'll make sure of that."

Blood dripped from Chris's mouth from how hard Peter hit him. "I should fucking kill you for putting your hands on her." He smirked to himself when Chris starts squirming under his grip. "But I won't."

"I won't. I won't touch her again. I swear-"

"Oh, I know you won't." Peter let go of his jaw before backing up towards the door again.

"W-Where are you going? Aren't you going to let me go?" Chris started to panic as Peter pulled his mask off for Chris to see his face. He wanted this to be the last thing he saw if he died and the thing he would definitely remember if he lived.

"I didn't say I was going to let you go. I said I wasn't going to kill you." He smiled and Chris's mouth fell open slightly at the sight of Peter Parker standing before him. "I was thinking we could make a game out of this. I hear you like games. Let's see just how important you really are. I'm gonna leave you here and we're gonna see if your friends succeed with their search party if they even send one out. I can't imagine what they would care about scum like you for, but I guess we'll see. I give you about 48 hours before your body finishes you off itself. That should give you more than enough time to think about what I've said. That's if you do make it and I don't really have faith that's gonna happen, but I'll give you the benefit of the doubt. I expect you to get the hell out of New York. I promise to you if ever see you again, I'll kill you."

Chris swallowed hard as Peter stood in the doorway once more, the sun outlining his figure at the door. He was scared of the possibility of not being found. He was furious that a guy like Peter was capable of putting him in a situation like this.

"They'll find me and when they do, you're a dead man, Peter Parker." He pulled at the restraints on his arms with all of his might but he did not stand a chance against the webbing. Peter made it look so easy.

Peter grinned at Chris's promise. He loved the challenge. The possibility that even if someone did find him, he would have the pleasure of killing him himself. It amused Peter that Chris could even have the nerve to threaten him in the position he was in.

"Well, let the game begin." He gave a wave as he started to pull the door closed. Chris yelled to the top of his lungs until the heavy metal door ceased his screams.

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