#i miss my placement i miss my lab i miss making a difference and feeling like my work is worth something

[smokszyvverstar]

I want to draw my silly little ocs but i have to study plus nobody on here cares.

Yous don't know about Esmé and Marina and I want to tell the world but i have to study

[coldgoldlazarus]

Something else I've come back to while thinking about my theoretical Metroid II re-remake, is another interesting thematic element of the descent.

I commented in a previous post several weeks back, that it's kinda interesting how for the most part Samus Returns and AM2R are pretty similar in how they interpreted most of the areas, with the distinct exception of The Tower. But on looking back at fully-detailed stitched map for Return Of Samus, it actually makes a lot of sense, and I was somewhat underselling the strength of its design before. The fact that the remakes mostly match up on what's a temple, what's a factory, and so on, stems in no small part from the tilework in the original game.

(Even the divergence between interpretations of The Tower comes from emphasizing different aspects; AM2R focuses more on the interior with all the beams, and the lake of acid/lava at the bottom, to make it a weapons facility and geothermal plant, while Samus Returns instead focuses on the twisting vines and thorns climbing up from the surrounding caves, to make it into a marshy jungle.)

---

But taking a step back to look at the big picture, there's a very very interesting progression as you delve deeper. The first section you visit seems to be a temple or a place of residence. Some weapons in the basement, and expansions out the wazoo, but the actual area is pretty innocious.

Second area, some sort of water processing facility given the pipes and the lake out back, which AM2R stuck close to, while Samus Returns reenvisioned it as more of a big dam structure. I actually like that slight modification a lot and will be incorporating that, partially because it fits slightly better with the following thematic progression IMO.

The third and fourth areas are sorta thematically linked with two sides of manufacturing; the factory, and the mines supplying it with raw materials. Here we see a more heavily industrious side to the Chozo, something AM2R in particular picked up on and emphasized further in a lot of ways.

Then there's The Tower. Has one of every beam, sits atop a lake of lava, thorny vines growing up the sides of the cavern it resides in. Setting aside both of the remakes' more colorful interpretations, there's something just very grandiose and dark about it, and one area where MII's level of screen crunch is kind of a detriment to fully appreciating. And I think, even in the absence of the need for redundant beams, AM2R had the right idea in labeling this a weapons facility.

(Following this is where AM2R inserts the Distribution Center. I love it, and it is a great extension of the industry idea, but in hindsight the placement after the Tower feels a little bit awkward.)

Long long tunnel, classic Metroid bubble area and Omega gauntlet. This all seems to be nature, so less relevant to this discussion, though the bit in the middle where the first Omega is introduced is something I wanna shine a spotlight on in a later post. Anyway, it's a long remote trek away from all the other places of civilization, ending with ascending a huge abyss to the final facility built above it.

And that final location, where the Queen resides, is a lab. Even before it was ever explicitly stated anywhere that the Chozo created the Metroids, I have zero doubt that the implications here were intended when the game was originally made. But it's an especially interesting thing when you look at the sequence it is the capstone to.

It's easy to miss otherwise, but looking at them all in context to each other, you wind up with a clear progression in the roles each facility plays. Simple hallmarks of civilization, to mild use of nature for that civilization, to heavier industry, to war. And beyond that, genetic engineering and extinction.

The Ice Beam is available again in the laboratory, behind a shattered statue. A gameplay convenience, but also a key piece of storytelling.

[jebewonmorelike]

Dark Blue On You

wc: 7k (HAHAHA WHAT) pronouns: none used; n/a warnings: swearing, angsty with a happy ending but its funny/fluffy too, mentions of others drinking, mentions of hooking up; think pg-13 for this one; also taerae in that suit should be a warning in and of itself warnings for spicy cut scene: MINORS DNI!!!-- mature/suggestive/smut themes-- MINORS SKIP THIS CUT SCENE AND CONTINUE READING BELOW IT!!! (fic makes perfect sense without it) linked here and linked in fic for correct placement in story summary: bestfriend!reader is so excited when the star of the soccer team finally asks them to prom. but when losercore!taerae asks his lab partner to prom out of the blue, reader's sudden jealousy takes them by surprise... basically the prom-themed best friends to lovers of your dreams, okay? okay :) ~masterlist~ ♡ ~kofi (no pressure at all)~ GUYS! HI! it's been so long. i missed you! this was 7,000 words (plus the cut scene) so i'm sorry but that's why it took so long. was also feeling a bit rundown in terms of writing so i really needed to pace myself. but i saw those pictures of taerae in that suit and i swear to god i'm a different person now, so this is the fic you get from that brainrot. also not sure if the suit was actually blue, but that's how it looked in the pics so i ran with it. SO many fun things happening in the zb1 world in the past few days! let me know what you think of this one :) love you sm

“If you steal one more of my sweet potato fries (Y/N), I swear I’m gonna--.”

You pop the orange-colored french fry into your mouth, grinning at Taerae smugly. “You��re gonna what?”

Eyes narrowed at you through dorky, wire-framed glasses, your best friend pouts annoyedly. “One day you’ll fear my wrath.”

“Wouldn’t count on it,” you respond with a giggle. Despite his angry demeanor, Taerae turns his lunch tray so that the sweet potato fries are now facing you-- giving you easier access to one of your favorite snacks.

“You could just go back up and get your own, you know,” he persists with his performance even as he squeezes more ketchup onto his tray for you to dip the fries in. “What would you do without me?”

“Sarcastic answer: finally achieve a peaceful existence,” you joke, popping another fry into your mouth. “Serious answer... I’d be lost without you.”

You watch as Taerae’s glasses fog up a bit; the way they always did when he received a compliment or you were being a bit too sincere with him. He takes them off quickly, clearing his throat as he wipes the lenses with the hem of his polo shirt.

A pile of books slam down onto your lunch table as your friend Dohyun plops onto the bench beside you. “(Y/N)! Just the person I wanted to talk to.”

“Do you ever talk to anyone else?” You quip, earning a glare from the skinny boy.

“I talk to Taerae hyung, too,” he mumbles. You glance at your best friend, noticing how quiet he’s gotten all of a sudden. “And I like him better than you anyway.”

You shrug. “That makes two of us.”

“What I was going to ask you is,” Dohyun starts; pulling out his lunchbox from his backpack and opening it up. “Has Ryan asked you to prom yet?”

Taerae audibly gulps from across the table. You frown at him, wondering why he’s acting so weird.

“No,” you answer softly. “He hasn’t. And I definitely don’t think he’s going to anymore.”

“I don’t know what you saw in Ryan anyway,” Dohyun says, shaking his head disapprovingly. “He only wanted one thing from you.”

Taerae chokes on his apple juice suddenly and you take the carton from his hand-- placing it back on the table pointedly as he coughs into his elbow. 

“That’s enough, Dohyun,” you scold. “And for the record, I’m as pure as the day you met me.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” the younger boy laughs. “So… Are you gonna go to prom alone, or?”

“I don’t know,” you sigh. “I already bought my outfit. I had it altered to fit perfectly, so I don’t really think I can return it at this point.”

“I’m sorry, (Y/N),” Taerae says finally. “I know you were really looking forward to going with Ryan. He’s gonna regret not asking you. But um...”

Your brow furrows as you wait for Taerae to continue his sentence. He’s looking at you kind of funny now-- eyes wide and anxious.

“Well, if you already have an outfit and stuff, I was thinking that... Um...” You watch curiously as he bends over to his side and begins shuffling through his backpack. “Fuck, where is it?”

“Hey, (Y/N)!” Someone suddenly calls behind you. Your head whips around to find Ryan walking towards your lunch table, his signature charming smirk on his lips. He’s carrying a duffel bag over his shoulder for soccer practice as he lands in front of you.

“Hi Ryan,” you greet sweetly, brain turning to mush. You’d first met the star of the soccer team officially when your Math teacher assigned you to tutor him a few months ago. He’d been in serious jeopardy of being kicked off the team for his failing grades, but with an hour of tutoring every other day, you’d helped him climb back up to a solid C+. The afternoon he received his first unit test grade since you’d started tutoring him, he had been thrilled to see B- circled in red at the top of the page... 

So thrilled, in fact, that he’d kissed you at your back corner table in the library.

And he’d kept kissing you. For the rest of that tutoring session... And then the one after that... And the one after that... And the one after that until your meetings had become more of a hybrid tutoring-and-make-out session.

That had been the extent of your “relationship” though. He was always busy with soccer and his meathead friends and ogling popular girls at the library tables next to you when your faces weren’t connected.

But he was the first boy to ever pay attention to you like this-- and he was so handsome to boot. The attention and the fantasy muddied every intelligent and rational thought in your brain. Even if you were being used, you weren’t really ready for it to stop.

One day as you were approaching the library, you stopped in your tracks as you heard Ryan’s voice around the corner. He was talking to one of his jock friends and you held your breath as you attempted to hear their conversation.

“All of the cheerleaders already have dates, dude,” Ryan’s friend relays. “Why did you wait so long?”

Ryan was silent for a moment before responding, “Even Steph?”

“Even Steph,” his friend confirmed. “Injun asked her yesterday.”

“Damnit.”

“Well, you’ve gotta go with somebody,” his friend urged. “Tyler’s parents are letting us use their lake house for the after party, so... Who’re you gonna ask!?”

“I’ll... I’ll find somebody,” Ryan responded and you heard the door to the library begin to squeak open.

“Hopefully somebody that’s gonna put out,” his friend joked and Ryan laughed along.

It was from that moment that you’d gotten it in your head that there was a chance that Ryan might ask you to prom. You’d gone shopping with your mom to pick out the perfect outfit, booked an appointment to get your hair styled for the occasion, and called a florist to purchase a boutonniere to pin on Ryan’s suit that matched your outfit.

As you’d doodled your name next to Ryan’s in your journal and decorated it with hearts one evening last week, your best friend Taerae laid on your bed-- legs dangling off the side as he strummed his guitar.

“(Y/N)...” He sang suddenly in an improvised melody. “Put down your pen... It’s getting annoying... So please tell me when...”

You turned around and glared at him, but he continued.

“You’ll stop your obsession... With that asshole named Ryan... He hasn’t even asked you to prom yet, what if he doesn’t ask you, your heart is gonna break and I’m gonna have to pick up the pieces and glue them all together again and--.”

“None of that rhymed.”

“Lyrics don’t have to rhyme for them to hold meaning,” Taerae responded, arms flopping onto the bed in a T-position dramatically. “I’m worried about you. I think this guy might be taking advantage of you.”

“At least someone wants to,” you joked, but the levity didn’t quite reach your voice. Taerae sat up abruptly; eyes fixing on you for a long moment. Finally, he sighed and pulled his guitar strap over his head-- placing the instrument beside him. 

“A lot of people want to take advantage of you, (Y/N).”

Your jaw dropped as you watched Taerae realize what he just said. He’d already begun shaking his head and waving his arms about profusely by the time a smile crept onto your face.

“NOT WHAT I MEANT!” He shouted frantically and the sheer panic on his face was enough to make you burst out laughing. At the sound of your laughter, Taerae couldn’t help but grin and the appearance of his deep dimples was admittedly comforting to you. “You already knew that’s not what I meant but... I’m just trying to tell you he’s not the only guy that likes you.”

Your brow furrowed curiously. “Who else likes me?”

“Oh, uh,” Taerae stuttered nervously, averting your gaze. “Lots of guys. Other guys. Girls, too, probably. And nonbinary folk, I’m sure.”

You nodded, unconvinced. “Well all of those other people are gonna have to fight Ryan for my attention, I guess.”

Taerae gulped. “Right.”

“Now shut up, loser,” you said, spinning back around in your desk chair. “I’m trying to name me and Ryan’s fourth child.”

Now as Ryan stands in front of you, he glances at your only two friends that are also sitting at your lunch table. “Hey nerds.”

Taerae mumbles something under his breath but you aren’t paying him any attention. 

“I’ll pick you up at 7, yeah?” Ryan asks suddenly, nodding at you.

Your lips part slightly in confusion. “What?”

“Tomorrow,��� he responds brusquely. “Prom.”

“You--... We--... Us? Prom?” You know that gibberish is falling out of your mouth, but your ability to form a coherent sentence has flown out the window.

Ryan gives you an impatient smile. Of course he has every right to be impatient, you think. I can’t even speak well enough to answer his question. “Yeah. Text me your address.”

“We were actually gonna take photos at (Y/N)’s house beforehand,” Dohyun interjects.

Ryan frowns. “Oh. Yeah, okay. I can do that.”

“Really? That’s so nice of you; you don’t have to if you don’t want to!” You say quickly, grinning up at the tall boy.

“Nah, that’s cool. I’ll be there. See you then,” Ryan says with a smile before taking off towards the other end of the cafeteria. His smile is enough to burst your heart-- but lucky for you (and your poor friends), you’re able to muster up enough strength to keep living.

Instead, you merely scream; keeping your mouth closed to muffle the sound. When you finally return to the world around you, you suddenly notice how silent your friends are. 

“What?” You ask, frowning at Dohyun. “Why aren’t you guys excited?”

You turn to Taerae, who is holding a large piece of folded up paper in his hands. “What’s that?”

Snatching it from his hands, Taerae immediately lunges across the table in a panic to grab it back from you. Dohyun also swoops in to steal the paper, but both of their efforts are in vain as you swivel around to face the opposite direction and open what appears to be a poster.

🌸🌺🌸 Will you go to prom with me? 🌸🌺🌸

“OH MY GOD!” You squeal, whipping back around to face your best friend. He rips the poster from your hands and begins folding it back up, cheeks turning red. “You’re asking someone to prom!? WHO!?”

“Oh thank god: you’re an idiot,” Dohyun mumbles, sinking back into his seat.

Your brow furrows confusedly. “Huh?”

“Nothing,” Taerae answers quickly. “No one said anything.”

“Taerae, if you don’t tell me who you’re asking to prom right now, I swear I’m gonna--.”

“MOLLY!” He shouts suddenly, eyes wide as he stares over your shoulder. You turn around to follow his gaze, spotting Taerae’s lab partner, Molly, a few tables behind you. She smiles when she hears Taerae call her name, getting up from her seat and walking over to your table.

“Hi Taerae,” she greets cheerfully, curly short hair bouncing with every step. The very smart, but sometimes obnoxious girl is blinking at your best friend nervously... Holy shit. Had Molly had a crush on Taerae this whole time and you hadn’t noticed?

More importantly... Had Taerae had a crush on her?

“Hi Molly, um... I was wondering,” he starts; his delivery of this promposal a little unprepared. That’s weird, you think. If Taerae was gonna ask someone out, I’m sure he would’ve rehearsed it in the mirror until he lost his voice…

“Dude,” Dohyun interrupts suddenly, eyes wide as he looks at Taerae.

Taerae just ignores him, clearing his throat and starting again; unfolding his poster onto the table once more. “I was wondering, actually, if you’d maybe like to possibly-- and no pressure or anything, maybe someone’s already asked you, but...”

“OH MY GOD! Of course I’ll go to prom with you,” Molly exclaims, throwing her arms around Taerae. You watch as he freezes, never one for accepting public affection from anyone he didn’t know well...

From anyone except you.

You frown at the bizarrely jealous thought. Taerae obviously liked this girl. Just last week, he’d been complaining about her chewing too loud in the computer lab, but maybe he was just trying to cover up his real feelings. Taerae deserved to be happy. 

Any boy that would make a whole poster just to ask someone to prom deserved to be happy. You sigh as you study the poster in front of you. I wish Ryan had made me a poster...

As Taerae starts to fold it back up, you notice some surrounding doodles that you had been too distracted to see before. All around the border of the poster are what appear to be light pink Royal Azaleas.

Your favorite flower. 

Had Taerae really used your favorite flower to decorate his promposal for someone else? How could he?

“Stop it!” You say out loud, earning a weird look from all three of the people surrounding you. You smile awkwardly, trying to laugh off your unintentional angry outburst at your own thoughts. “I mean... Stop being so cute you guys!”

Molly grins. “Text me where to meet you tomorrow! I can’t wait.”

Taerae nods quickly as Molly skips back to her own lunch table. As soon as she’s gone, he lets out a huge sigh and you hear the clamoring of his glasses as his head falls to the table.

“But this is amazing, Tae,” you say, staring at the top of Taerae’s head as his forehead rests on the surface of the lunch table. He lifts up for a second, folding his arms and laying his right cheek back down on top of them. His hair falls messily in his eyes, unkempt and fluffy as it usually is. But the sudden urge to brush it out of his face takes you by surprise. “I didn’t know you were going to ask Molly to prom today.”

Dohyun snorts from beside you, now totally engrossed in the game he’s playing on his phone:

“Neither did he.”

~~~

“(Y/N), come down here! We need to take pictures before you leave,” your mother calls from downstairs. “We’re gonna head outside so please hurry up and join us!”

You’re staring at yourself in the mirror, anxiety building. Nearly everything about your appearance for tonight is perfect-- your hair, your skin, your outfit; even your shoes. Your friends and family are in your front yard waiting for you.

But all you can think about is how Ryan hasn’t shown up yet.

You’d texted him your address. Told him what time to come over. And now he’s already thirty minutes late. You’d have to leave soon to get to the school on time. 

“Where is he?” You whisper to yourself, grabbing your phone from your bed and checking your notifications again. Nothing.

“(Y/N), if you don’t get your ass down here right now!” The voice that’s calling you now is Taerae’s. His threat is angry enough that it makes you move-- opening the door to your room and walking to the top of the stairs. 

Taerae is furiously typing on his phone as you make your way down the stairs, his back turned to you. He’s wearing a dark blue suit-- slim-fitting and tailored to him perfectly. When you reach the second to last step, you clear your throat.

Your best friend looks up at you now, eyes wide as he takes in your appearance. His hair is pushed back, still fluffy but out of his face. You’re surprised to find yourself thinking that he looks very handsome. You blink away the thought as you continue to study Taerae-- eventually realizing that something is missing.

“No glasses?” You ask, waiting for him to respond. When he doesn’t, you prompt him again. “Taerae?”

“Oh, uh,” he begins to reply finally, shaking his head as if to clear his mind. “Yeah, just for tonight. My mom... thought it would look nice.”

“Your mom is right,” you say, smiling softly at him. “She usually is though.”

“You’re perfect,” Taerae says suddenly; eyebrows shooting up when he realizes what he just said. “I mean, you look perfectly ready to go and take pictures! And then go to prom. And stuff. You know? Like, you look perfect. Well--... You--... Um--...”

He’s rambling now and you don’t blame him. Your whole lives, you and Taerae had maintained a friendship without most pleasantries a normal friendship might have. Your affection towards each other usually came in the form of play-fighting, insults, sharing sweet potato fries at lunch, and other subtle acts of service. Only when one of you was having a particularly hard day would the other offer a hug or hand to hold or words of affirmation. You and Taerae were so close that normal affection usually seemed pretty arbitrary. 

So this compliment from Taerae, even if it was unintentional is... different.

You swallow hard, averting your best friend’s gaze. “So do you.”

Brushing past him, you open the front door and step out onto your porch-- Taerae following behind you after a moment. You check your phone again for any texts from Ryan.

“He’s a prick, (Y/N),” Taerae says softly, as you continue to stare at your phone screen-- willing your eyes not to water. “Don’t let him ruin this for you. This was all your idea. You wanted to go to prom. You wanted to take pictures beforehand. Why are you letting this guy totally fuck up your night?”

Your eyes meet Taerae’s. He’s right and you know it. Ryan couldn’t care less about you and it was evident in the way he’d asked you (or rather, told you that you were going with him) to prom-- and the way he hadn’t shown up on time to your house. In fact, the whole day you’d been consumed by two feelings: the first being obsession over whether or not Ryan would like your outfit, your hair, your parents, your house...

The second being that deep down, in the pit of your stomach, you were filled with regret about your fixation these past couple of months on the soccer star. Even Taerae had made a nice poster for Molly. Not that he’d even bothered to tell you that he was asking her. And not that you cared what Taerae did or didn’t do for people he liked.

Right?

“Tae, I--.”

“Taerae!” A chipper voice calls from around the corner. Molly appears at the bottom of the porch steps, motioning for your best friend to come down. “Come take pictures! You too, (Y/N). Just because your prom date’s a bust, doesn’t mean you can steal mine!”

Your jaw drops slightly in shock. “I wasn’t--... That’s not--...”

“Chop, chop!” Molly says, walking back over to where all of your parents are standing-- Dohyun in the middle of them, talking their ears off. 

Not wanting any more accusations being hurled at you on your own property, you give Taerae a quick shrug before following her out onto the lawn.

~

You’re sitting in the passenger seat of Ryan’s red sports car now as he parks in the school lot. He’d finally shown up two minutes before you were about to have to hop into Taerae’s car and ride in the backseat behind him and his date. Your mom, who was making no attempt to hide her displeasure, was able to snap a quick few photos of you before you left.

Ryan turns off the car, stuffing his keys in his right pocket before leaning back again into his seat. He’s staring at you and you’re not really sure how to respond. You reach for the door latch, but you feel his hand touch your left arm before you can open it.

You identify the look in his eyes right away-- he wants to kiss you. Come to think of it, you hadn’t kissed Ryan in over a week. You’d been busy with an essay and had to cancel your “tutoring sessions”. Usually, the idea would excite you. But tonight, it almost made your stomach turn.

A knock on your window startles you and you look over to find Taerae smiling at you-- more than a hint of annoyance in his eyes.

Ryan rolls down your window. “Dude, what are you--?”

“(Y/N) really wants to go to prom with you,” he replies, opening your door for you. You hop out immediately, grateful for the interference. “So you can save whatever you’re gonna do for later.”

You don’t look back at Ryan, walking as quickly as you can towards the front doors of the school. Eventually, Ryan, Taerae and Molly all catch up to you as you walk through the entranceway.

A beautiful balloon arch greets you as you enter the gym, fairy lights and vintage streamers lining every inch of the walls. It’s exactly as you’d imagined-- the prom of your dreams.

“JORDAN!” Ryan shouts suddenly from behind you, almost knocking you down as he runs to greet one of his stupid jock friends. 

You start to fall, but a pair of hands are already on your shoulders to keep you upright. “Thanks,” you mumble as Taerae pushes you through the balloon arch and towards the open floor.

“Where do you wanna sit, Taerae?” Molly asks, smiling at him expectantly. “I’m sure (Y/N) is gonna go sit with Ryan.”

You glance back to where Ryan had run off to, finding him completely surrounded by his many popular friends. You turn back to Molly and Taerae, forcing yourself to nod. 

“You should sit with us,” Taerae says, the pity in his eyes growing more embarrassing every minute. You aren’t going to ruin his night with Molly. You just couldn’t do that to your best friend.

Shaking your head, you try to smile reassuringly. “I’ll be fine.”

“(Y/N)...”

“You guys have fun! I’ll see you in a bit,” you call, wandering off to a table in the opposite corner. Once you take your seat, it’s as if you’ve been glued to it permanently.

You watch all of your peers rush to the dance floor, laugh together, embrace each other... Not once does Ryan ever come find you. But you know deep down that you sort of deserve it. How had you been so obsessed with one boy asking you to prom and ended up being the only person here having such a miserable time?

You should never have come. Or you should have come alone. Or with Taerae.

Taerae...

Your eyes rest on your best friend, who is sitting with Molly at their table. He’s leaning back comfortably in his chair; navy blue suit contrasting perfectly with his light olive skin. His smile is bright and pretty-- why the hell does he look so pretty tonight? 

Is he having fun with Molly? Is he thinking about me?

Almost as if he’s heard your thought, Taerae’s eyes meet yours. The smile on his face instantly fades to an expression of concern and you hate it. You want him to smile at you like he was just smiling at Molly. 

But why would he smile at you like that? He likes Molly.

Not you.

Your phone buzzes in your hand and you look at the screen to find a message from Taerae.

Are you okay??

You look back up at him, deciding to nod and give him a thumbs up-- hoping for that dimpled smile to return to his face. It doesn’t.

(Y/N), please just come over here You’re breaking my heart

Learning that you sitting alone in a corner is ruining Taerae’s prom experience is not what you needed to hear. Pressing your lips together awkwardly, you nod slowly at him; starting to stand up from your chair to go talk to him for a bit.

But you stop in your tracks when you watch Molly grab Taerae’s hand and pull him up out of his chair. She’s trying to tug him towards the dance floor-- his eyes widening in panic as they remain locked on you.

You wave him on, trying your best to smile at him. You feel your lip quiver and you hope he doesn’t notice from the other end of the gym. Taerae reluctantly stops resisting Molly and joins her on the dance floor after giving you another regretful look.

“Heyyyy (Y/N),” a voice slurs in your ear now, an arm wrapping around you from behind. You look up to find Ryan, smiling goofily back at you. He’s piss drunk, of course.

“Hi,” you say shortly, attempting to wiggle out of his hold but the alcohol hasn’t lessened his strength. “Can you let go, please?”

“Why would I do that?” He asks rhetorically, tequila coating his breath. “You’re my date.”

“Am I?” You spit, finally breaking free of his grip. “I couldn’t tell.”

He frowns. “What do you want? Do you want to dance or something? We can dance.”

“I want to go home,” you respond, glaring at him. “I don’t want to be here anymore.”

With that, you’re walking past Ryan and through the balloon arch out of the gym. It’s not until you’re standing in the hallway that you hear a set of footsteps following you.

You turn around to find Ryan standing behind you, a small silver flask in hand. “What are you doing?”

“Taking you home,” he answers, unscrewing the top off the flask and taking a sip. “You said you wanted to go home.”

“Are you kidding me?” You ask, eyes wide with shock. “You’re drunk. You’re not getting behind the wheel like this.”

He shrugs. “I’m really good at it! I do it all the time.”

“Holy shit,” you whisper, shaking your head at him in awe. “You fucking suck, you know that?”

His brow furrows in confusion. “What? What do you mean?”

“I mean,” you start, jaw setting in anger. “You’ve ignored me all night. You didn’t show up at my house on time to take pictures. You tried to skip prom to makeout with me in your car. Not to mention, you didn’t even ask me to prom. You told me yesterday that you would pick me up tonight. And now you want to drive me home and you can’t even stand up straight!?

Ryan stares at you for a long moment before the corner of his mouth turns up in a smirk. “Are you playing hard to get?”

You sigh exasperatedly. “You already got me! I was literally eating out of your palm for two whole months. I can’t believe I let myself be so stupid... Now I never want to see you ever again!”

He frowns. “It’s because of that Taeri kid, isn’t it?”

“What? No, no--...” It’s at that moment that you look back into the gym, spotting your best friend dancing with his date. He looks so stupid; he might even be the worst dancer you’ve ever met. So why does the sight of him make your heart swell? “His name’s Taerae. And he’s my best friend. That apparently likes someone else and never told me.”

You turn back to Ryan to find him staring back at you, wide-eyed. “Damn,” he says, shaking his head. “You’re in love with your weird friend.”

“I am not!” You protest, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “And he’s not weird, he’s just... Okay, yeah he’s weird. But the good kind of weird.”

“Wow. Denial much?” He says, laughing.

Your brow furrows curiously. “Why are you so okay with this? Weren’t you just asking me if I was playing hard to get?”

“It’s cool. You guys would probably make a better match anyway,” he responds with a shrug. “Plus I already hooked up with Steph in the bathroom, so I’m all set for the night if I have to be.”

You sigh, shaking your head in awe of the absolute dickhead standing in front of you. Turning on your heel and walking towards the exit doors, you mumble, “Goodnight, Ryan.”

“Goodnight, (Y/N),” he calls after you, far too cheerily. “Tell him! Or that girl’s gonna snatch him right up. Have you seen the way she’s been looking at him all night?”

Yeah. I have.

~

It had been a decent night for Taerae. Molly had turned out to be a good enough prom date. They talked about their science project most of the night, but he hadn’t really known what else to say. Besides, he was far too distracted to have any sort of real conversation when he’d been keeping at least one eye on you the whole night.

The pain he felt watching you sit alone at an empty table-- scrolling through your phone, tears rolling down your cheek periodically when you thought no one was watching you.

But Taerae was watching you. How could he not be when the most beautiful person in the room was his best friend?

Of course the one time he’d taken his eyes off you, you’d gone missing.

So far, he’d checked the buffet table, the photobooth, the hallway... He’d even knocked on the bathroom door (and received a very annoyed response from whoever was inside). But you were nowhere to be found.

That’s when he spots Ryan. The star of the soccer team is sitting down at the end of the bathroom hallway, back leaned against a locker. Taerae runs up to him frantically, smelling the liquor on his breath from six feet away.

“Where’s (Y/N)!?” Taerae shouts, shaking Ryan’s shoulders when he doesn’t answer.

The tall boy groans. “How should I know?”

“Because (Y/N)’s your date?  Don’t you have any idea where your fucking date is!?”

“Jesus, chill out. This is why I said you were weird,” Ryan mumbles, slurring his words. “(Y/N) went home already.”

“What?” Taerae asks, mind racing. “Did you say something? Did you do something? Did you put your hands on--?”

“Probably, yeah. I don’t remember,” he responds, pointing up at Taerae. “But I thought (Y/N) was gonna tell you. I said to tell you so that that girl... doesn’t...”

Before he can finish his entirely incoherent sentence, Ryan has slumped over onto his side and fallen asleep. 

“Tell me what?” Taerae asks; attempting to shake him awake. But it’s no use. “For christ’s sake...”

He turns around, about to run back towards the gym, but instead he comes face to face with his own prom date.

“Oh, Molly, I--,” he starts, but the girl in front of him cuts him off quickly.

“Go,” she says simply, the knowing smile on her face confirming to Taerae that she’s well aware of what’s going on. “Go get (Y/N).”

Taerae sighs. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. This is not cool of me at all.”

“No, it’s not,” Molly says with a laugh. “But I knew you liked (Y/N) the whole time. Once Dohyun opens his mouth, it’s hard to get him to shut it.”

Taerae smiles. “I always knew Dohyun would spill all my secrets one day.”

Molly shrugs. “It’s okay actually. Because tonight made me realize I kind of like Dohyun way more than you anyway. He’s more my type. He actually laughs at my chemistry jokes.”

“Oh, uh,” Taerae falters, eyebrows raising in shock. Dohyun? More her type? Taerae didn’t know that Dohyun was anyone’s type. Not that Taerae thought he was anyone’s type either. “Yeah, I guess I’m more of a biology guy.”

Molly hums. “Do you think you could put in a good word for me then?”

“Yeah,” he agrees, nodding absentmindedly. “Yeah, sure.”

“No hard feelings, then?” Molly asks, smiling up at him.

“No, none at all, I guess,” Taerae agrees-- though the entirely absurd thought of someone using him to get to Dohyun is still eating away at the back of his brain. “You’re okay if I leave now? Do you have a ride home?”

Molly nods happily. “I’ll see you on Monday! Don’t forget the Chapter 13 exam,” she says, walking back down the hallway towards the gym.

 “And tell me how it goes with (Y/N)!”

~

You’re face down on your bed, having flopped there in a puddle of tears as soon as you’d gotten home and changed into your pajamas. Your dad had picked you up and you’d driven home in uncomfortable silence apart from your quiet sniffling. You’re currently subsisting on an entirely separate plane of existence-- one with excessive tears and nothing else.

But a rattling at your window startles you, causing you to jump up to see what’s making the sound. You’re even more startled when you realize that the sound is actually that of Taerae fiddling with the latch on your window frame.

You run to the window, unlocking the latch and pushing it open. You whisper-shout at your idiotic best friend, “What the fuck are you doing!?”

“Remember when I used to do this when I lived next door? Before we moved?” He replies, completely out of breath and barely managing to hang onto the vines of ivy running down the side of your house. 

“Taerae, you moved when we were ten years old! You weighed at least 30 kilograms less than you do now. Are you crazy!?” Grabbing onto his arms and pulling him through the window, he lands with an ungracious thud on your bedroom floor.

“Huh,” he says, panting to catch his breath as he lies flat out on his back on your beige carpet. “I used to be in really good shape then. Maybe I should start working out.”

You sit down next to him, your back leaning against the side of your bed. You look at the right leg of his suit pants, finding a wet spot on the knee. He must’ve fallen before he successfully climbed up to your window.

He looks just as pretty lying here like this as he had all night-- only now, he looks a bit more like the Taerae you were used to. His hair had fallen into his eyes a bit more and he must’ve switched out his contact lenses for his glasses on his way here. Maybe your best friend had always been this beautiful... Maybe you’d just never taken the time to notice before.

Your eyes widen suddenly. “Taerae, what are you doing here? Where’s Molly?”

He sighs annoyedly. “Ask Dohyun.”

“What?” You ask, brow furrowing in confusion. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Never mind,” he says, rolling his eyes. “It’s a long story.”

You frown. “Prom isn’t even over yet. Why did you leave?”

“Because Ryan told me you left,” he answers, finally sitting up to look at you. “I needed to make sure you were okay.”

“Well, you could’ve texted me,” you respond, looking around you for your phone.

Taerae points to your desk and you turn to see your phone sitting on the corner of it. “You weren’t answering.”

“Oh,” you say softly, eyes falling to your lap. “I guess I wasn’t.”

“Look at me,” Taerae requests suddenly and you reluctantly oblige. You know you must look absolutely insane. Hair out of place, eyes red and puffy and face blotchy from crying. He smiles at you sadly again, just like he had been the whole night. “I know you’re not okay. You can be upset. You know I won’t judge you.”

His words are all you need for the tears to start flowing again. In less than a second, Taerae’s arms have wrapped around you; holding you tightly in his embrace. It’s comforting, but at the same time it’s not. Not if he knew the real reason you’d been crying so much.

“He doesn’t deserve you, (Y/N),” he says, hand finding its way to the back of your head to pet your hair. “I’m so, so sorry that he treated you this way. He was never worth your time.”

You swallow back your tears, before pulling away from Taerae. Your arms still tangled up with his, you say finally, “I know.”

He stares at you for a moment before that sad smile returns. “You should know. I’m glad that you know. He doesn’t deserve any of your tears.”

“They’re not for him.” The truth falls from your lips before you can chicken out. You brace for the instant regret that should come with saying these words, but it doesn’t come. Instead, you feel the beginnings of relief.

Taerae’s head tilts to the side questioningly. “What--... What do you mean?”

Your bottom lip tucks between your teeth and you bite it hard to dissolve the anxiety in your chest. “I wasn’t crying over him.”

“Oh...” He says softly, utter confusion written all over his face. “So... You... Okay, no, I don’t get it.”

Of course Taerae didn’t get it. He had a wonderful night with the girl he likes. And the person who’d ruined it for him was you.

“Oh, I just remembered that Ryan said you wanted to tell me something?” Taerae says, brow furrowed curiously. “Or that he told you to tell me something? I dunno. He wasn’t making much sense right before he passed out.”

“I like someone else,” you blurt; the rush of adrenaline causing you to stand up and find something to busy yourself with before your nails dig holes into your palms. You walk over to your record player, turning it on and dropping the needle on whatever album is already loaded. When the sound flows from the speakers, you realize it’s an R&B album you picked up from a vintage thrift shop across town last week. 

Taerae stands up, too-- recognizing the tension in your voice. “You do?”

You nod, avoiding his gaze. “Mmhmm.”

“That’s... That’s great, (Y/N),” he encourages, but there’s a hint of reluctance in his voice. “I just hope whoever it is, they’re much nicer to you.”

“He’s really nice to me, actually,” you confirm, finally turning around to look at Taerae again. You catch a glimpse of sadness in his eyes before he shifts his focus  down to the floor.

It’s now or never.

“Even when I steal his sweet potato fries.”

There’s a lag in his response. It takes a full ten seconds for Taerae to look up at you and, when he does, his eyes are wide and his lips are parted in shock. He’s so silent that you’re suddenly sure you’ve made a terrible mistake.

You clear your throat awkwardly. “I’m really sorry; maybe I shouldn’t’ve said that. I know you like Molly and I’m sorry you left prom early to check on me and I know I’ve been so annoying these past couple months and maybe it’s not fair of me to say any of this but when you made that poster for her and it had those Royal Azaleas on it-- that’s my favorite flower, how could you do that, you insensitive piece of--.”

For the last couple moments of your insane rambling, Taerae had been stepping towards you-- closing the gap between you and him quickly before finally cupping your face in his hands and connecting your lips in a particularly unskilled kiss.

When he pulls back, he’s blinking at you with innocent eyes; a blush heating his cheeks.

“Was that your first kiss?” You ask, a small smile turning up the corners of your lips. Taerae’s bottom lip has found its way between his teeth and he’s biting it hard to alleviate his nervous energy; hands dropping to his sides. He just nods in response.

Your right hand raises to his jaw now; left hand resting on his shoulder. Pulling him in to kiss you again, you say softly, “Just follow me for a second.”

When your lips are on Taerae’s again, you squeeze his shoulder gently to get him to relax. He responds to this, letting you lead until he feels confident enough to match you. And once he does...

You’re ready to kick yourself for not falling for him sooner.

“It was for you,” he says softly in between kisses. “I made it for you.”

You pull back to look at him. “What?”

“The poster. The promposal,” Taerae clarifies. “It had your favorite flowers on it, because it was for you.”

Your eyebrows raise as the truth sinks in. Taerae had been trying to ask you to prom yesterday; that’s why he was acting so weird. And Dohyun had obviously been enlisted to help.

“You wanted to go so badly,” he explains. “I know not with me, but I just wanted to try and make you happy anyway.”

A sad laugh escapes you. “Tell me honestly: why are you letting me confess to you right now? Do I really deserve it after all I must’ve put you through?”

Taerae shakes his head. “You definitely don’t,” he affirms before grinning at you. Finally those perfect dimples are on display just for you. “But I’m such a sucker for you. Those sweet potato fries only cost a dollar, you know?”

“I know,” you whisper, grabbing the collar of his navy suit jacket and pulling him in once more. You kiss him sweetly and his arms snake their way around your waist in response. “They just taste better coming from your tray.”

“I don’t even like them,” he says, kissing you again; a smirk on his lips. “I just get them so you’ll steal them from me.”

~

*** 🌶️ INSERT SPICY CUT SCENE HERE -- MINORS DNI -- CONTINUE READING BELOW FOR ENDING (and read below after finishing cut scene) 🌶️ ***

~

“(Y/N)?”

Your mother calling you from the other side of your door jolts you, sending you and Taerae scrambling off each other on your bed-- where you haven’t really let each other breathe for the past twenty minutes.

“If Taerae’s sleeping over, can you tell him to turn his headlights off, please?” That’s all your mom says before her footsteps travel back down the stairs; a hint of a smirk in her voice.

Taerae’s eyes widen, his hands searching his pockets for his keys. When he doesn’t find them, he smiles at you sheepishly. “Oops.”

“So stealthy of you,” you tease, hitting his chest lightly as you attempt to catch your breath. He grabs your hand, pulling you back into him and reattaching your lips. Before your mind goes blank again, you pull back. “Go turn your car off!”

“Fine,” he sighs, annoyedly. Pushing himself up off the bed with his hands, he finally stands up and walks towards the window. “Here I go. Just like you asked.”

You walk over to him, grabbing his shoulders from behind and turning him towards your bedroom door. “No more scaling buildings for tonight, King Kong.”

“Really? King Kong? Couldn’t have said something sexier like Spiderman or?”

Before he reaches for the doorknob, you turn him back to face you. Raising up on your toes cutely, you press one more kiss to his lips. “I just don’t really like spiders.”

“That’s right,” he says, palm cupping your cheek. “Giant gorilla it is, then.”

“Now go turn your car off so we can get back to what we were doing...”

Taerae’s hand flies to the doorknob; throwing the door open and running to the stairs as fast as he possibly can. 

Just before he disappears down the stairs, he turns back to you-- pounding his chest with his fists lightly like the cutest, lamest gorilla to ever exist.

“This idiot,” you whisper, shaking your head.

I must really love him.

[explosionshark]

i am about to go spend 4 mandatory days with my family so i went back through to make sure i didn't miss your book recommendation post. it looks like you haven't made it yet and NO RUSH and also NO PRESSURE but i AM looking forward to it and invested. thank u for your time

Expediting this list FOR YOU, SHANNON ❤️

These are unranked btw. A single tier that is "this was good so you should read it"

Even Though I Knew the End by CL Polk - this novella feels almost like it was cooked up in a lab specifically to appeal to me. I love 40s noir, I love urban fantasy, I love sapphic romance. This book delivers on all fronts. It follows a freelance magician as she investigates a series of brutal supernatural murders that have been plaguing Chicago. If she can find out who's behind the killings she can save lives - including her own. Aside from the great noir detective angle and the fun magic system, there's a beautiful romance at the core. If you read this and you like it, you should definitely also check out P Djeli Clark's Dead Djinn series of books for more stories in a similar vein.

Elder Race by Adrian Tchaikovsky - another novella! This one's not gay, but it's got a great science fantasy premise. At what point is technology indistinguishable from magic? How much difference does it make? This story is a dual narrative - half of it follows the daughter of a royal so low down the succession chain that she's functionally useless embarking on a half mad quest to track down the ancient wizard of folk legends and secure his help in protecting her family's lands against attacks by monsters. The other half follows an anthropologist, the lone survivor of a research team dispatched to a backwater planet centuries ago, struggling to find a sense of purpose in his lonely existence, while the terms of his placement on the planet forbid him from engaging in the lives of the civilization he was sent to observe. Very fun and a brisk read.

Our Wives Under the Sea by Julia Armfield - this one's quite different in tone. It's a quiet, contemplative romantic drama about a married couple who planned to spend their whole lives together, slipping away from each other after a traumatic event. It's also a cosmic horror novel about the ocean - its secrets, its power, its ability to transform. Beautifully written but slow paced - if reading about the minutae of the relationship between two British lesbians and also Lovecraftian body horror both hold equal appeal to you as subject matter, it's a book you'll adore.

Echo by Thomas Olde Heuvelt - speaking of relationship issues! This one's gay and haunted in the other direction. It follows a couple after one of them suffers a horrible accident while mountain climbing and comes back different. I'm not sure how much you like scary books, Shannon - I'd say this one is scarier than Our Wives, but not like super terrifying. It's got some amazing ideas though - genuinely the most original haunting/possession story I've read in years.

The Blacktongue Thief by Christopher Buehlman - this was SO much fun. I've struggled reading fantasy this year - I keep starting books and not finishing them. This is the title that finally broke my fantasy slump. It's easy to read, fast paced and not overly dense, with an interesting world and lore that's constantly fleshed out throughout the whole run of the book. Also, god, it was so refreshing to read a sword and sorcery fantasy book with wizards and goblins and shit and just have it be full of women? And the author isn't weird about it? It's narrated by a male character in the vein of the classic Irish trickster hero, but the supporting cast are mostly women. A scrappy apprentice witch, a stoic raven knight with magic tattoos, a magic assassin, a witch queen in exile who has to be restored to the thrown that was stolen from her - it's all happening! Honestly adored this book. Can't wait for the next entries in the series.

Mistakes Were Made by Meryl Wilsner - okay this is not gonna be for everyone. It's also the only straight up romance on the list - in my defense, I haven't read many this year. This is a book about what if you were a college senior moping about on your school's family weekend and you hook up with a hot older chick about it and then the next morning you find out your one night stand is actually your best friend's mom. No wait, keep reading! I actually found this book to have way less of the conflict you'd expect - there was some of the obvious friction, the conflict of interest, the secrecy demanded by the premise but the romance itself was very kind, sweet, generous, once it got going. This one is also very smutty. If a romance sounds appealing but this premise is a no-go, you might want to check out Meryl Wilsner's other book Something To Talk About! I'm very picky with romance, but they're two for two with me.

Good luck! Happy reading!

[imbonewary]

Shifting Sans Chapter 9 "Sharing is Char-ing"

~

Chapter 1 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 10

~

Their persona had shifted again, back to that more playful energy. The seriousness was still there, though, just, detached from them? I shook my head, thoughts for another time. I turned back to the dishes I’d abandoned, half turned back to show that I was still paying attention.

“that reminds me, frisk,” Sans said, taking over the conversation for me. “we’ve been so busy this past week i never really got a chance to ask you about what your life was like on the surface.”

“It’s not all that interesting,” I couldn’t see them with my back turned but their words were tinged with bitterness. “My dad was gone before I was born and my mom was a flake that got into drugs so I was carted around to different family members until I got here. I don’t wanna go back to that but I guess I should tell them I’m still alive and found a new home.”

“You said you’d been here for like a week,” I noted. “Whoever is supposed to be looking after you is probably freaking out that they lost you, if for no other reason than fear of legal repercussions.”

“Yeah, I guess,” they agreed. I could feel a twinge of guilt. From two sources? “Merri wasn’t so bad. Comparatively.”

One source was more directly behind me, where Frisk was, but the other was a few feet to their left. What the hell?

“that’s actually what I was originally going to the capitol for today,” sans admitted. “to see if I’d have to fight to keep you, frisk. I know finding the human families of those that fell is part of the peace talks.”

“I doubt they’d put up much of a fight, none of them really wanted me around,” Frisk tried to sound nonchalant but I could feel their hurt disappointment. And regret from the second source. Despite everything, it triggered my protective Big Brother Instincts. “My cousin Merri was kind of my last shot before going into foster care for real. She was nice enough but I know I was only a burden to her. She just felt obligated to take me in, even though she’s young and doesn’t want kids. And you’re right, she is probably freaking out.”

“i’ll see how far along they are in the process,” Sans nodded. “i might need your help finding where she lives; we'll need to have a chat at some point but probably not today. i also need to start serif’s paperwork; luckily with all of the other monsters from the Labs, there’s a ready-made process for that. i’ll take care of what i can today, serif, but you’ll have to do a fair bit of it yourself.”

“I can do that,” I said. I can figure out what's up with the human later, when Sans is gone. “Paperwork isn’t that hard.”

“it’s more than just paperwork,” Sans countered. “there’s a small battery of assessments we’ll need to make appointments for too; mental health evaluation, medical screening, magic function, job placement for vocational training-”

“Alright, alright, I get it!” I said with a nervous laugh. This was not going to be fun.

“Does everybody have to go through that or is it just monsters from the Labs?” Frisk asked.

"mostly just monsters from the labs," Sans continued, going into teacher mode. "a lot of it is to make up for an entire childhood of missing information, to make up for lost time, so to speak. fallen humans have to go through a similar process but, being a child yourself, you only would've needed a single interview to knock those out, so i’m not exactly surprised if you don’t remember. i’m sure that time is a bit of a blur for you now.”

“Y-yeah, I… went through a lot. In the past… week.”

That was a mildly suspicious answer. Filing that away for later thought too.

Sans was suddenly nervous.

“would you two really be alright if i left you alone for a few hours while i find out about surface families and get serif’s paperwork going?”

I handed the last dish to Sans and he caught my eye, holding my gaze as he scrutinized me. I’d had two panic attacks in the few hours I’d been awake this morning and I’m sure he was worried about leaving me alone with a veritable stranger. Not to mention the kid was just that; a kid. I gave him a reassuring smile and a thumbs up.

“Despite all evidence to the contrary, I’m usually pretty stable,” I said and Frisk huffed a laugh, hiding it behind a cleared throat. “I’ve just been through the wringer in the last 24 hours or so and it’s kinda catching up to me.”

That “or so” was doing a lot of heavy lifting there.

“frisk?”

“I can take care of myself,” they assured.

“in that case, i guess i should be going soon, now that breakfast is over,” Sans sighed, I could still feel his apprehension as he hesitated. “who knows how long it will take. frisk, you still have that phone I gave you, right?” Frisk nodded. “serif, we’ll have to get you a phone as well, and some new clothes; but until then, please stay together, you two, preferably near the house. we’re pretty close to the Deep and i don’t want either of you getting into a fight. maybe i should call papyrus to come babysit or something-”

“You’re fretting, bro.”

“i know i’m fretting, serif,” Sans nearly snapped, frustrated. “and it’ll be a long and boring process so i know you’ll not want to come with me, i’m just nervous about leaving you two alone…”

“I may be new around here but I am an adult,” I tried to sooth. “Me and the kid’ll be fine. We’ll just stick around here, play some games, and get to know each other better. We’ll be best friends by the time you get back.”

Sans was shifting his weight back and forth, hemming and hawing nervously.

“What if we went over to Pap’s for lunch?” Frisk offered. Their energy changed again, back to serious. The playful was still there, though, sort of. Disconnected, like the serious had been earlier, a few feet away. That couldn’t just be my imagination, there was definitely something going on. “We’ll call you when we get there and you can update us all on your progress. You can even drop in if you have time; I’m sure Pap won’t mind seeing you.”

“that… is a good point…” Sans seemed to be swayed. Still nervous but sure enough that he could leave us be. “alright, I’ll call papyrus with the plan, and i expect you to call me at noon. if it get’s to 12:30 and i haven’t heard from you, i’m going to start worrying, alright?”

“Sounds like a plan,” I said with another thumbs up.

“You can count on us!” Frisk saluted. While happier, the serious energy was still with them while what I'd labeled the "playful energy" was still detached from them. 

I cannot wait to dissect what the hell is going on with them.

Sans went upstairs to change clothes, came out almost identical to what he’d been wearing yesterday, purple pants and shirt with a long black tunic on top, and then it took another half hour of assurances to get him out the door. I was finally alone with the kid.

“Alright, Frisk,” I locked the door. “Let’s not beat around the bush.”

I turned to them, dark eyes narrowed, and their anxiety suddenly spiked. Good, be afraid. Be very afraid.

“How long until you reset again?”

They froze. My gaze didn’t waver.

“W-what-” they wheezed, like the air had been knocked out of them. They tried to recollect themselves but they’d already given away too much.

“Whadya mean?” they said too fast. “Reset? I dunno what-”

“Don’t play dumb with me, kid,” I tried to not growl. They flinched. “Your reaction just now is all the proof I need. All cards on the table or you are gonna have a bad time.”

They stared, stunned. Then they narrowed their own eyes at me.

“So, your cards go on the table too?”

I stiffened. I hate talking about me.

But if that’s what it takes.

“Yeah, my cards, too.”

We stared at each other for a long time. I can’t speak for Frisk but I was sizing them up, trying to read micro-expressions, emotion feeling dialed up to the max, all to try to parse what they were thinking. I lost track of the serious and playful energies as their emotions went nuts, expression showing how they were debating in their head. Suddenly a second child walked out from behind them.

“Greetings, I am Chara.”

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Metallo!Lena AU Pt 13

Slowly, Lena's life begins to settle into a new groove. She hesitates to call it a path, as she doesn't know where it's heading, but it starts to take on a shape she enjoys.

The outcome of the sparring match makes Lena realize she knows little about her new condition, and so instead of waiting for the discoveries to hit her like a roundhouse kick to the chest-- which she can attest now is not pleasant-- she sets about studying the kryptonite and her new anatomy.

Director Danvers helps, granting Lena access to her personal lab-- which soon becomes Lena's in all but name only (which too, eventually becomes Lena's). Kara is allowed nowhere near her when Lena peels back her soft lead breastplate, to take readings and samples.

Researching the kryptonite consumes her, until one day she pages Director Danvers to her lab. When the director arrives Lena is pacing, her features drawn with worry.

"What's wrong?" Danvers asks.

"I've been studying the kryptonite," Lena declares.

Danvers puts her hands on her hips, but is careful to keep her expression one of patience. "Which is a secret to no one," she reminds Lena.

"Yes, but--" Lena wrings her hands, clearly anxious. "I think I can make more."

That gives Danvers pause. Her hands come off her hips and she steps closer to Lena as though someone might overhear them.

"Is yours...?"

"Synthesized? No. Thank god." The thought that Lillian may have already cracked Lena's same research already has crossed her mind, but for now, it seems, Cadmus is limited to whatever natural resources they can get their hands on. "But if I can do it, it may not be long before others can as well."

"Don't sell yourself short, Luthor," Director Danvers warns. "You've made more progress in three months than the cumulative fifteen years the DEO has studied kryptonite."

"That's the other thing," Lena continues. "I'm hesitant to continue."

"But generating more kryptonite, potentially more stable kryptonite, for use, will only be of benefit to you."

"But not to Kara. I'm not entirely comfortable generating kryptonite that could be used against her if one day the president decides he doesnt like aliens." Lena looks to the director for guidance. "What would you do?"

Director Danvers hesitates. "I can't answer that for you," she says finally. "You just have to do what you think is right. But whatever you do decide, I've got your back."

Lena offers a frustrated, but grateful smile. "Thank you, Director."

"Between us, it's Alex." Alex heads for the door, shooting Lena a glance over her shoulder. "And until you decide? We never had this conversation."

----

No matter how Lena tries to justify it, she can't bring herself to commit to synthesizing more kryptonite. Not when she can already spot how her formulas could be tweaked to pack more destructive power into each crystal matrix. So instead, her research takes an expected turn towards her existing kryptonite.

Namely, isolating the energy that powers her internal systems from the radiation that's so poisonous to Kara.

It takes her months of trials and countless errors. Then, one day, she pages Supergirl to the lab. To Kara's surprise, she finds the door locked when she arrives.

"Lena?" she calls.

Lena turns to face her, features grave with apprehension.

"I need your help with an experiment," Lena tells her.

"Okay..."

"I have a new form of kryptonite. I need-- I need to know how it makes you feel. So when I open the door, I need you to tell me if it hurts. Or makes you nauseous, or--"

"Kills me?" Kara jokes. Lena goes pale. Kara quickly scrambles. "I'm kidding, Lena. I trust you. Let me in."

When they open, the doors only slide apart by an inch, nothing more. Kara waits. "Well?"

"You don't feel anything?"

"Should I?"

The doors open the rest of the way, but before Kara can set a foot inside Lena's barking at her to stop. Kara obeys. When Lena gestures to the ground, Kara lowers her gaze to spot taped marks at set intervals leading to Lena's workstation.

"Five minutes at each marker. Wait for my signal before you move to the next."

"You should have warned me to bring my e-reader," Kara drawls, but she gamely steps up to the first mark at Lena's signal. As she waits, she fills Lena in on the goings on around the DEO and the greater world beyond.

"You know Vasquez is going on vacation next month? Well so is Addams, and when I asked them, both said they were going to Ibiza. What are the chances--?"

"No reaction at three meters. Next."

Kara steps forward to the next mark, and continues her conversation without missing a beat. Lena hums and uh huhs appropriately, barely listening as she continues to monitor her machines and Kara's status. Before Kara moves forward again, Lena interrupts to ask her questions.

"Any shortness of breath?"

"Nope."

"Nausea?"

"No."

"Heartburn? Indigestion?"

Kara smiles, but keeps her ill timed joke to herself. "Nuh uh."

She issues no's to vertigo, tinnitis, and fatigue as well.

"Please proceed to the next mark."

Kara obeys, and picks up her conversation where she left off. The process repeats three, four times, until Kara steps inside the final line joining Lena at the table.

One final round of questions later, and Kara flaps her arms against her sides. "So, did I pass?"

Lena blinks at her readings, looking for any hint of a reason to doubt them. But after a long moment, she finds she can't.

"This was a prank, wasn't it?" Kara drawls. She nudges Lena playfully, grinning. "You just wanted to see me."

Turning towards her, Lena's face is anything but teasing.

"Oh-kay, so no prank," Kara surmises. "But that's good, right? You did it!" She looks around excitedly. "So, where is it?"

Slowly, Lena unbuttons her shirt. "Right here."

The protective lead brace she's worn since her rescue is gone. The kryptonite nested against Lena's sternum glows as brightly as ever, but the searing pain doesn't come, for either of them. Kara blinks, stunned.

"Oh my... Rao," she breathes. She stares at it, studying it closely before looking back up at Lena in concern. "How do you feel? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Lena says. "All systems are operating on par by every metric we know of. If anything, it's more stable."

"But the radioactivity--"

"Different isotopes," Lena offers.

Kara stares and stares, until Lena can't stand the silence any longer. "Please say something--"

"Can I hug you?"

The question comes plaintive and soft, timid in its hope. Lena starts, then breaks into a relieved smile.

"Yeah."

In an instant, Lena is enveloped in warm, solid arms. Everything about it is perfect: the pressure, the placement, the way it seems to last forever. Lena tucks her chin against Kara's neck, burrowing her nose into blonde hair.

"Hi," she murmurs.

Kara grins against her shoulder. "Hi."

Neither of them make any move to pull away.

previous / next

[lackingspace]

Vindictive (Ghostface x Reader)

Rated: Explicit 

Word Count: 4.8k

Summary: Danny is jealous and that’s your fault. 

Warnings: Rough oral sex, degradation, humiliation, dirty talk, cum swallowing, light daddy kink, Danny just being Danny.

A/N: Had a request for a Jealous Danny. Here it is! I hope you like it. Sorry its taken so long!  ･ﾟﾟ･(>д<)･ﾟﾟ ･

When you were first dropped in this place you’d been confused, scared, and a little more than annoyed because what the fuck had you done to land yourself here? After the first few freak outs of death and despair, being sacrificed, and the general malaise of being here became your new normal. Falling into a routine became easy after that- trial, struggle, escape if you were lucky, die if you weren’t, and repeat. 

Quite frankly, things were getting boring. The others trapped with you made it better, talking, joking around on occasion- friends forged in unfortunate circumstances. It was a tiny slice of normality that you were grateful for because who knows how long you’d been here or would be here. Time didn’t mean anything when there was really no way to measure it. You just knew that it was far longer than you’d have liked. Long enough to become numb to the killers and their brutal treatment. To find them not so threatening and more of an inconvenience. 

You missed the real world. Missed the simple things in life- a walk in the park, meeting up with friends, food- God did you miss food. But what you missed the most was an intimate connection. And sex. You definitely missed sex. Relieving tension and having something to distract you from this monotonous existence would have been a blessing. 

None of the others trapped with you really appealed to you. Sure Jake was cute, and Yui had that badass look, even Ash had the daddy thing going for him...but none of them really set your nerves on fire. At least not even enough to try it out and spend eternity awkwardly if it didn’t fly. But damn did you need release. so with no options for a partner, you settled on sneaking away into the woods to take care of yourself. 

And that’s how he found you. One hand down your pants and the other up your shirt, eyes closed, head tossed back, and softly moaning. He’d leaned against the tree directly in front of you and waited quietly until you opened your eyes. You’d almost had a heart attack when you opened them to see Ghostface casually leaning there while staring you down. It was altogether embarrassing but still had your senses buzzing.

All he did was firmly tell you to keep going. That he was enjoying the show. And something about it, his voice? The command? It just worked for you. Maybe it was the combination of him being dangerous, a killer- someone familiar, but not, an unknown that made your senses tingle mixed with his nonchalant attitude and that damned voice that made your toes curl. So you’d done what he’d asked and kept going. 

That marked the start of whatever it was you had going on with Ghostface. At first, it was just hooking up- sneaking away when you saw him lurking and wandering back with a few new pleasurable aches, pains, and bruises. You were sure some of your friends noticed- you knew for a fact Bill, Ace, and David did. The raised brows they’d give you on occasion told you that you were found out. That they knew a clandestine meet up just took place. As long as they knew what you were up to, just not with who, you didn't care. For all they knew it could be another survivor who hadn't wandered back from a trial yet because who would be fucking a killer?

You were content with ignoring them and they seemed fine with not questioning. Besides, it wasn't their business and you have no plans on stopping because it was something you enjoyed- it unquestionably helped deal with the mental stress of repeatedly dying. After a while though, and you really couldn’t pinpoint when, it turned into something a little more. At least for you. 

Made you unnecessarily giddy when he was the killer in your trials. Both of you more playful in chases, he had a habit of drawing those out with you, grabbing your ass before letting you run away only for him to ambush you, down you, and then run his hands up all over you before picking you up. 

If he caught you jumping through a window? You better expect a few well-placed slaps while he teased all sorts of dirty things he'd do to you once he had you alone. 

You didn’t want to admit it, but feelings had reared their ugly head in you for this sarcastic bastard. You caught yourself being soft for him when you really shouldn’t have. Honestly, you felt a little bad because you weren’t the best teammate if he was the killer of the trial. You should have been focusing on gen rushing, saves, or even trying to distract him- which you were more than capable of doing. 

But instead, you found yourself being distracted by him. You'd be there staring, sighing while watching him sneak around. Giggle to yourself about how much of a sadistic bastard he was when in a chase. And if he found you? And God did you want him to- you were even more useless. You weren’t fooling anyone with your pseudo-chase. You didn’t really try to escape but that was ok, both of you liked it that way. You always blamed it as an off match when questioned why you’d done so poorly. No one seemed to notice it was only during a trial with him, and you were totally fine with that. 

So that was how your existence was for now. Honestly, you weren’t mad about it either. His attention in and out of trials gave you back a spark that had been dulled after one too many sacrifices. This trial was no different, you found yourself relaxed, good-spirited, and snickering at a comment Zarina just made. When the gen popped you looked over to see Jane shaking a hand with a mumbled apology. A second later she let out a shriek and started running away. 

You knew what that meant and so you tried to gauge if you should sneak away as well, but you hadn’t seen what she had. Would've been nice if she’d have at least said the killer before sprinting off, but you understood sometimes they just caught you off guard and fight or flight took over. 

Cautiously looking around you decided it was best just to move on, Zarina had the moment Jane ran. You probably waited around too long and would get caught, but at least you'd be prepared after you got off the hook. The fact that you hadn’t heard any footsteps or seen anyone usually meant it was someone stealthy too. You really didn’t want the shape. He was always terrible to play against in this underground lab. Harder to outmaneuver him within the space. Hope welled inside you that it was your...boyfriend? well, whatever he was, you wanted Ghostface. Trying to quietly sneak away seemed like it was going fine until you were suddenly stopped.

Something had gripped the back of your shit and yanked. You stumbled and then felt yourself being dragged around a corner only to have your face pressed against a wall. You were pretty sure you knew who it was, but shit why was he being so rough? 

“So that’s the game you want to play, huh?” Your wish came true, it was your sarcastic boo, Ghostface- you had no idea what he was talking about though, “What the hell do you mean? What’s th-” he cut you off as he pressed in against your back while placing a hand in front of your smashed face, “Don’t give me that. You know damn well what I’m talking about.” He said it with so much venom dripping in his voice, you’d never actually heard him like that before. 

He was usually snide, sarcastic, kinda dark, sometimes angry, but this? He sounded well beyond any of that. And it was all aimed at you….shit.

“Dude, I really” He pressed a forearm to the twisted side of your neck and gripped your shoulder. You winced at the pressure, “Really have no idea what you’re talking about. What game?” There was silence as you felt cold sweat run down your spine. In that same vicious tone, he answered as his grip tightened on your shoulder, “I saw you and that bastard.” 

You wracked your brain trying to figure out what he meant. It had to have been something in this trial, he wasn’t upset when you’d seen him be-- oh god it hit you just like that. You’d slipped and would have had a nasty face-first fall into some crates, barrels, and a pallet, but Ace had grabbed you. Unfortunately, it’d been by the hips and as soon as he got you up he’d apologized for the placement while patting a shoulder. 

He must have seen that. It had to be what he was talking about….But did that mean....was he jealous? His knife suddenly stabbed into the wall next to your face, ohhh, even if he denied it you could tell, he was. There was no question with the growl in his voice, the tight grip he had- which you’d like to point out was only getting tighter, and now the knife threateningly in your face? This wasn’t his normal rational ‘let me weasel my way in, tease, and manipulate to my advantage’, this screamed irritated topped with irrational. 

And even though your brain screamed it was an awfully bad idea, you were going to have fun with it. 

“Not even going to deny it? You little fucking whore.” The rage in his voice felt like someone had submerged you in acid. It really did make your skin crawl that he thought you’d do something like that. After everything the two of you got up to he should have realized how much his dick did it for you. And only his dick. That aside, you weren’t going to just lay down and take his attitude. Nope, not at all. If he was going to be a jealous prick then you were going to be a coy bitch. It might land you in hot water, but you were hoping it was the kind you liked with him, “Oh, but Ghostface, I thought you liked it when I was bent over?” 

The arm still pinning across the back of your neck lifted off quicker than lightning only to move into your hair and rip your head back with a snarl, “Only when your bent in front of me you little cunt!” You moaned at the pain in your scalp but still enjoyed the feeling. It sent some nice jolting tingles straight to your nipples, “But I was in front of you.” The grip in your hair was impossibly tight as the knife scraped against the wall as it moved from next to your face to press against your newly exposed throat. Ignoring that you pressed on, “You’re just pissed that it wasn’t your hands on me.” 

Even with his knife millimeters away from cutting into you and the very real possibility that he was beyond reasoning, would just slit your throat and throw you up to hang- there was still an overwhelming feeling of bravado and the need to tease just as much as his anger was crushing down on you. 

With that feeling overflowing, you took the chance before he responded to push just a little more, “In fact, I bet you’re mad because you couldn't make me stay like that.” Wiggling under his tight grip had your hair pulling and the knife pressing harder into your throat- a wet trickle down the side told you skin broke, “Bet you would have fucked me right there too. Let my friends see who's been giving it to me.” The hiss he let out had a smirk clawing its way onto your lips. That feeling of getting under his skin made it impossible to keep your next thought locked inside, “Too bad it was just Ace...His rough hands grabbing me, having him pressing against me, he could have pushed me however he’d wanted...too bad it wasn’t you.”

Growling out, “You little bitch.” he quickly pulled his knife away as he pressed his hips into yours- he must have liked what you'd said because he was half-hard already. Pulling your hair harder had you moaning out at both the rough treatment of your scalp and the hard length now pressed against your ass. A hot flush circulated your system as relief filled you- The fact that he hadn’t plunged the knife in was a good sign. It seemed like your gamble had paid off.

You moved your hips against his as he leaned in to hiss in your ear, “You’re fucking right I would have fucked you right there. Would have shown that prick exactly who you belong to.”

His knife hand grabbed your hip in a bruising grip and directed you how he liked, “I should just throw you up on a fucking hook with your tits out and my name carved across your chest for everyone to see.” Another wave of heat flushed through you at that, Would he? That’d be embarrassing as hell and you really did not want to explain that to your friends, at least not yet. But it sent heat through you all the same. "Show them how nasty you really are." On second thought explaining wouldn't be that big of an issue. Your squirming gave away how much you liked the thought, which he pointed out, “Of course a dirty girl like you gets off on that. I shouldn't even let you come. Should just use you and make you wait until you're really fucking sorry. ” 

Ignoring that last part to focus on his phrasing. He had said should, which implied that he was questioning it, so you asked in a shaky voice, “But?” Between his hands and his hips, you couldn’t hold back the moan at the pleasurable drag of him against your ass- he was only getting harder, “But nothing, I might just fucking do that...either way, they're going to talk. ” The hand in your hair released and reached around to hold your cheeks in a harsh grip, “I’m going to teach you a fucking lesson because it seems like my mouthy whore needs to be reminded of who she belongs to and what that means. They get free tickets to the show...Lucky them.”

The venom was still there, but instead of the pure angry tone from before, it was colored by an undercurrent of something darker- something hotter. Something that told you on an instinctual level you wouldn’t be walking the same if the entity didn’t have pity and heal whatever he was about to punish you with. Fuck, you wanted it though. Wanted all the pleasurable pain he was about to dish out to you. “You’re going to regret letting that bastard anywhere near you.”

Your brain wasn’t functioning not when he’d just declared he wanted everyone to hear him fucking you. See the evidence of it. Threatening it like he’d done about carving up your tits was a hot possibility, but he was actually serious about this. You weren’t sure what it was he was going to do to you, but you could tell you most certainly weren’t going to be quiet about it.

Ghostface could get rough sometimes, but it wasn’t the usual. Demanding? Yes. Controlling? Definitely. Explicit? Absolutely. But being rough just to be rough was generally only when he was especially frustrated, and that wasn’t often. Maybe only a handful of times since you’d been together and at this point, you weren’t even sure how long that was, all you knew was that it’d been a while. 

Which boasted to how much this affected him. How jealous he was seeing something that really, really hadn’t been anything at all. It should have turned you off, sent you running by how possessive he was, but you ignored that in favor of knowing he got you wetter than anyone else had ever done before. There was no way he’d admit to being jealous though, not outright, but you knew that’s what this was all about and fuck did that work for you. Having him teach you a lesson? All you could do was moan at the prospect. 

“Such an eager slut for it even after knowing your friends are gonna see. So pathetic.” You whined, whether in protest or confirmation it wasn’t clear, “You think it’s ok to let someone else put their hands on what’s mine? That’s not going to work, kitten.” at the pet name you knew this was going to be fun- but you couldn’t let him know that though, would have to turn up the waterworks, “We’re going to show them just what a disgusting whore you really are for me. Let them see you taking my cock and how you beg for it.” 

He shoved you down to your knees. The impact against the hard concrete making you wince, “Good, feel the sting. Better get used to it because your throat is about to feel it too.” he was going to fuck your face? God. You loved when he made you choke on it and you could tell with how aggressive he was you really were going to choke. 

The thumb on the hand on your face swiped across your bottom lip, dipping in to press down on your tongue causing some drool to slip down before regripping your face with the now wet appendage, “You’re going to open wide and let Daddy use this pretty mouth of yours while we let all your little fucking friends know whos been sending you back to that fucking fire pit covered in bruises.” Goddamn that set your nerves ablaze and if your panties hadn’t already been drenched that was added insurance. He was usually subtly possessive but this was flat out plain as day possessive and it had you crying for it. 

You didn't care anymore. You didn't give a single fuck if you had to explain why they'd caught you with a mouth full of Ghostface's cock- and maybe more. if this meant him declaring to everyone that you were his you’d happily tell them to fuck off if they had any issues. 

You were going to beg him for it, but the hand gripping your face prevented anything escaping outside of mumbled strained moans. He answered for you though because he forcefully made you nod up and down. In a mocking falsetto, he voiced for you, “Yes, sir. I’ll open up like a good girl and apologize with my filthy mouth. I'll show you how sorry I am for letting some asshole put their hands on me.” 

Yes, fuck yes! is wanted to say, but all that came out was a garbled moan through your closed mouth. At the sound, his grip tightened, “Such a fucking slut. Would you have moaned for that fuck too?” At your muffled outrage his grip forced your gaze up, “At least you fucking know better on that.”

You thought he would release you to undo his pants, but after a second of silence and you quietly looking at him, he said, "well? Get to apologizing with that pretty mouth before I decide to gut you instead." Ah, he wanted you to do it. That was fine by you, didn't really want him to let go of your hair anyways. You opened his pants with ease, already intimately familiar with the clasps and he squeezed your cheeks forcing your mouth open before he finally released the grip as you took him in. 

He was hard and pulsing when you pulled him out, precome just slightly swelling at the tip. He would have shoved into your still open mouth if it hadn’t been for the entranced look you were giving him. The affectionate desperation you wore while staring helped quell the rage clawing through him. He decided he'd let you play for a second, seeing you so willing to drool for him tore against the need to roughly shove down your throat.

Unabashedly licking a hand before wrapping it tightly around his base to give him a rough tug. Staring up at his mask again you pleaded with him, "I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t do it on purpose." Teasing his tip against your lips before you kissed the head, "I don't want him. Or any of them. Wanted it to be you" Licking the underside followed by a few gentle nibbles to the base made his breath catch, "Always you, daddy." 

His cock twitched against your tongue as he hissed, "And I like that they'll know. I want them to hear what you're about to do to me." He retightened his fist in your hair to pull your head back slightly. He took himself from your hands to slap his cock across your cheeks, "Yeah? You're gonna get off on them hearing your mouth full of killer cock? Filthy thing." You whined desperately trying to nod against his grip, "Then open fucking wide." You dropped your mouth quicker than he finished speaking and you were rewarded with another slap across your cheek before you felt him rest heavy against your tongue. 

It was hard not to close around him and start working on the shaft, but you could tell he wasn't going to let you warm up to it. He wanted you wrecked- a gagging crying used looking mess. And the heat that sent through you had your clit pulsing in want and made you squirm around for some type of relief. But you'd be a good girl and take it for him. 

"Keep your fucking eyes on me and don't you dare try to keep quiet. You better make as much noise as you fucking can." Before you could answer he was shoving to the back of your throat and down. The choked sob you made was just what he wanted as you gagged around him. Sliding down your throat, he mockingly cooed, “Aw, is that too much? Don’t lie, I know you can take it, kitten. Just relax and swallow like my good girl. Impress all your survivor friends.” 

You gagged hard and sputtered around him while he kept thrusting using the grip in your hair to hold you in place, “Don’t even try to deny it. You’re always gagging for it regularly. I bet those little boys wish they were here in this tight wet heat instead.” His voice was strained and you could hear him holding back his own moans. 

Gripping his thighs tightly while trying to relax like he'd suggested, but the burning stretch of your throat was hard to ignore, “But that's why we started this, huh?” his thrusts had been rapid and shallow, but were turning slower while he held in your throat longer, “None of their cocks would do it for you.” Swallowing around him only made him hold deeper, “ For as much of a dirty slut you are, none of them could get you going like I can.” 

Tears were freely falling- leaving tracks down your cheeks, drool was constantly spilling out, your throat ached at the persistent gagging, and the obscene noises you were making with each thrust was driving the both of you wild. “None of them. None...of...those...pricks!” He punctuated each word with a deep thrust, “No one can fuck you like I do.” You moaned sloppily around his cock in agreement, “ They’re not going to throat fuck you like this. And they not going to bend you over and make you fucking take it like daddy.” crying out around him just as much as you were gagging- near constantly and God did you love it.

You’d be begging for him to fuck you if you didn’t have a mouthful at the moment. So instead you were squirming, tightly gripping his thighs, tears continued to spill down, and taking anything he gave you. He knew you well enough to know what your pathetic looks and sounds meant, but he wasn’t folding, “Aw, do you want something?” all that came out were some choked sobs, “What's that? I can’t really understand you.” He shoved completely down your throat and held your head there causing you to swallow and make some disgusting throat sounds, “You should really learn not to talk with your mouth full, kitten.” He tutted at you while you sobbed harder, “ But I can’t expect any manners on such a dirty girl.”

His hand tightening and his voice gaining a shakiness betrayed how close he was even if he looked like the picture of control, “You’re not meant for them.” His pace quickened, “Your place is right fucking here.” He was using both hands to direct your head now, “On your goddamn knees for me.” He pulled out as he ripped your head back, “Gone on, tell them who fucking owns this you!” It only took you a second to catch your breath before you were rasping out his name, “Ghostface! I’m yours, just yours!” Movement in your peripheral caused your eyes to widen, someone was definitely watching. Maybe they all were, but you wouldn’t fuck this up by looking over to them. Who knows what he’d do then. 

You could hear how smug he was when he whispered, “Yeah they’re fucking watching. Saw you choking on it like a professional. Now show them how much of a cumslut you are for me and beg for it. If you do it good enough, maybe I’ll be nice and let you cum before the end of the trial.” Denying him wasn’t even a question, you’d said you wanted them to hear and now they had. The satisfaction that at least one of them knew was sending a burning hot pulse through you. 

So you started begging with your raw voice, “Please, I need it Ghostface! I want it so bad! Need your cum! I wanna taste it so bad. Please! Please, daddy, can I have it?!” He was still pumping his cock in front of your face while you continued to say his name like a prayer, “Open that pretty mouth for me, Babe.” You did as you were told and opened wide while staring up at his mask. The hand not working himself gripped your chin, sliding his thumb inside before moving back up into your hair to yank your head where he wanted. Keeping your mouth open as far as you could you moaned for it.

You could see more movement to the side, but you ignored it when you felt the first spurt of his cum splash against your cheek. He covered your face before giving you the last on your waiting tongue. “Keep your mouth open.” You heard the telltale clicks of his camera and embarrassment flushed through you just as a new wave of arousal settled low in your stomach. “You can swallow it now.” You made a show of savoring the taste for him, and anyone watching. 

Slowly opening your eyes you could feel your lashes heavy with his cum. You moved to wipe some of it away, but he caught your wrist, “You’re going to leave that right where it is.” You gave him a questioning look that he answered with, “I’m going to hang you up on that hook and you're going to run around the rest of this trial with it on your face.” Your jaw dropped as your face burned. That was so fucking embarrassing. You’d think that wouldn’t bother you since you let everyone watch you be thoroughly face fucked but having to talk to them with cum on you went to the next level. But you wouldn't try to stop him- didn’t want to. It sent a nasty pulse of perverse heat through you, “If you keep it like a good girl, I’ll fuck you in front of them before the trials up.” You were begging before you even realized.  

He chuckled while brushing some of your hair back from your face, “Well, let's get you up there on the hook then.” He lifted you with ease and surprisingly gently compared to his treatment just a second ago. You felt the familiar feel of the hook entering you, heard yourself scream, and then you were hanging there and he was patting a cheek of your ass, “Remember, no wiping it off until I say.” and then he was walking off. 

You hung there for a few minutes before you saw Jane silently walking towards you. You tried to look away, but she was already lifting you off of it. Settling on your feet had you unconsciously looking up to her. She was taking you in with a raised brow and a slight smirk, “Ghostface, huh?” Hearing her say it was about enough to kill you from embarrassment. 

[aellynera]

The Best Years of Your Life (Reeves x Reader)

THE BEST YEARS OF YOUR LIFE

(hey hey, this is my other submission for @wasicskosgirl and her 800 follower celebration! and yes, you read that right - it’s REEVES. i had a lot of fun writing it and i hope you enjoy reading it! CONGRATS Amanda!!)

Word Count: um like 6200ish oops it was supposed to be a blurb

Summary: They say the best years of your life happen in high school, but what do they know?

Warnings: Some language. Female reader implied but no pronouns/description. Teenage angst. Adult wistfulness. Mostly fluffy tho. No promises about proofreading. Frog murder. 

with the prompt - “Like what you see?”

It all started back in high school. Sometimes you wonder how often people say that, and if it’s really true or they’re just falsely remembering how things happened because high school is supposed to be the best four years of your life.

But in this case, it’s true. Because high school is when you met Reeves.

Sophomore Year. High School. A Friday. 

It was the third day of sophomore year, fourth period on a Friday morning, your last before the lunch break. Biology class was maybe the one you were least looking forward to, not exclusively because of the required frog dissection, but pretty damn close. Gross. And you never understood why the school year didn’t just start on a Monday, but you were new here in San Diego. Maybe they just did things differently.

It was bad enough being the new kid. It was worse when you walked into class halfway through the lecture, even if it wasn’t your fault. The timing of the move was weird, and you’d spent most of the first two days, and this morning, doing placement tests and talking to your counselor. 

And now you were being called out in front of the entire class.

“Ah, there you are,” your teacher announced as you walked in the door. “Everyone, this is our new student, please make them feel welcome. You can sit over there.”

Your eyes followed as she motioned to the empty seat at the lab table in the back of the room. Suddenly you weren’t sure if your face felt hot because of embarrassment or because of the boy in the other chair.

Dark, curly hair cut close on the sides but longer on the top. Deep brown eyes framed by long, long lashes. Full, plush lips curling up into his cheek on one side. A nose that, okay, maybe might be a bit oversized but for some reason worked on his handsome face and--

Well, shit. Definitely not the embarrassment.

You shuffled your way to your seat and slid into it with your head down. A few students watched you curiously but soon turned their attention back to the lesson. You tried your best to focus on what was going on, to not look to your left at the distraction next to you.

You weren’t very successful.

By now you thought you’d sneaked enough covert glances to know that we was wearing a leather jacket, had a small diamond stud earring in his left ear, a bunch of silver-studded brown suede wrap bracelets around both wrists, a silver ring on his right index finger, and oddly precise handwriting as he took notes. In between relevant facts the teacher was sharing, he was doodling tiny music notes in the margins of his notebook.

And he totally caught you looking.

“Like what you see?” he leaned over and whispered.

Your mouth felt drier than the Sahara but also somehow so moist you were afraid you might have actually drooled on yourself. You should have opened your mouth to respond but your brain refused to make the connection. Probably for the best.

At least, at first. When it finally caught up to you, the only response your brain could provide was, “Maybe?”

Now would be the perfect time for the floor to swallow you whole.

He just winked at you and his attention went back to the doodles around his notes.

You shifted your gaze back to your own notebook, but you don’t know if anything else of importance was said, and don’t remember writing anything down. The bell ringing sharply pulled you back to reality and you hastily shoved your books in your backpack, ready to escape.

Just as you were about to leave, a voice called out. “Hey, sorry about earlier. If I freaked you out or anything.”

You looked up. He was smiling at you, a little shyly. You bit your lip, your brain and mouth still refusing to connect.

He stuck his hand out. “I’m Reeves. You’re new here?”

“Um…” you smacked yourself internally. This was ridiculous, you weren’t really shy, you knew how to have a conversation, he was just introducing himself. You were going to have a serious conversation with your brain later about proper communication techniques.

It felt like hours had passed, but you finally pulled yourself together enough to respond. “Yeah. My- my dad got transferred for work, we moved here like a week ago. He literally dragged the family across the country. I’m originally from New York City.”

His eyes lit up. “Oh, cool! I always wanted to go to New York City!”

You found yourself smiling back.

“Do you...wanna sit with me at lunch?” he asked, tilting his head to the side. “Maybe you could tell me a little about the city? And...about you, since we’re gonna have to commit heinous acts of violence on an amphibian together? I’d like to know who’s wielding a scalpel next to me.”

The giggle that escaped your throat could not be contained. This boy - Reeves - was adorable. “Oh. Okay, yeah. I’d really like that.”

The Present.

Poor Lenny the Frog never stood a chance. Then again, neither did you.

To be fair, Lenny was already dead when you and Reeves got your hands on him. Well, when you got your hands on him, because for the full first half of that specific class period, Reeves refused to touch him and nearly turned as green as Lenny once was. That’s when he insisted on naming your cadaver, because somehow giving it a name made it easier to deal with.

You were pretty sure Reeves was nuts.

By the middle of sophomore year, you were dead too, but not for the same reasons.

By the middle of sophomore year, you weren’t sure how you were still alive, because every time he looked over at you and gave you a sly smile during class, gave you that look, you felt your heart go taut and you forgot how to breathe and certainly, rightfully, should have been dead.

Your friend Alexis stuck her head into your bathroom. “Hey, we’re just waiting on Vanessa, and then we’re good to go. Drinks first? The show doesn’t start until 8 so we have time.”

You glanced up from your makeup and nodded. “Yeah, that sounds good. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

Alexis grinned. “Aaaaaah I’m so glad you agreed to go out tonight! It’s gonna be so much fun!”

“Oh, it’s gonna be something,” you muttered, going back to your eyeliner.

Alexis had been the first one to see the concert announcement about a week ago. A benefit show at one of the clubs down in Greenwich Village, some punk revival thing (for charity) with a bunch of different singers and musicians. Not normally your scene, but Alexis scanned through the names and suddenly remembered you’d known Reeves in high school. You said yes, he was in your class, and you’d been lab partners once. Vanessa squealed in excitement and Alexis announced you were going to the show. There was never any actual agreement.

Because of course Reeves was going to be there. And of course, you had to be too.

Junior Year. The Parking Lot. A Tuesday.

“I’m just saying, it was a ridiculous foul, and it should never have been called,” Reeves groused as you walked out of the gym.

“We also should have made like twenty more of our own foul shots,” you pointed out.

The Lake Howell Silverhawks had fallen to their arch-rivals in a somewhat glorious fashion. You didn’t even like basketball that much. But that didn’t really matter. The games were just an excuse to go out for burgers before and hang out with your friends during.

It was definitely an excuse to hang out with Reeves.

Junior year, you were both disappointed to find you didn’t have any classes together, but you still almost always ate lunch together. He’d come over to your house to study during the week and sometimes just to chill out on the weekends. Over the past year, he’d shown you all around the city and taken you to his favorite places. You told him all about New York, how you missed it and one day you’d go back, and all the famous sites and which ones were tourist traps that he was only allowed to visit the very first time and then never again.

You spent so much time together, even your mother liked to tease you about why he wasn’t your boyfriend.

It took a while for you to find the words to tell her it was because he was someone else’s.

As much as you liked to pretend she didn’t change anything, Randie Rustenberg changed everything. It was gradual, like a creeping vine of ivy, and she slowly took him over. There was no malice; it was just one of those things that happened. Reeves spent less time with you, his best friend, and more time with Randie, his girlfriend.

The girlfriend you desperately wished was you, because ever since that first biology class you’d had the biggest, stupidest crush on him.

Eventually you had a boyfriend of your own. Theo was a nice guy, he really was. Polite, friendly, had a good sense of humor, liked your family. And your family loved him. Your mother was so happy that you had a boyfriend, she seemed to forget to ask how Reeves was and if you’d seen him lately.

Of course you saw him. You saw him every day, in the cafeteria, at his locker, passing by in the halls. Sometimes you could find him playing the grand piano on the stage in the empty auditorium. Yes, if your mother bothered to ask, you saw Reeves all the time. Now it was just always with her.

Except this week. It was a break of sorts, no classes, just some sports and other school activities. Randie was on some trip with her parents for some kind of church function, and Theo was fishing with his dad on some lake up north. He’d told you where, but you honestly couldn’t be bothered to recall. So when a bunch of your friends and a bunch of his friends all said everyone was going to the basketball game, there was no debate.

As if there was any way you’d say no.

Sometime during the game, your friends wandered off to the snack bar and never ventured back. His friends started a game of hacky-sack under the bleachers. And you found yourself pretending to understand all the finer points about hoops strategy, cheering and yelling along with Reeves and having a great time, just like you used to.

“Where’d you park?” he asked as you left the gym and headed out into the sea of cars. You vaguely pointed in the direction of yours and he grinned. “Oh, good, I’m that way too. Come on, I’ll walk you.”

The faint glow emitted by the lampposts in the parking lot bounced off his curls and his eyes, when you could catch a glimpse, were bright beneath them.

As if there was any way you’d say no.

The walk wasn’t very far, but it felt like it was over in a second. You hadn’t said anything on the way, just soaked in the comfort of walking next to him as he kept commenting on the game.

He was waving his hands everywhere, looking at them as he talked as if his hand motions would make things make any more sense to you, in the middle of saying something about your center and how they needed to get better about blocking out when you finally spoke.

“Oh, shit.”

Reeves looked up at you. “What, you don’t agree?”

You dropped your bag on the ground and rolled your eyes. “No, my car is locked and I left my keys inside.” You pointed to the passenger seat. Your keys stared back at you derisively.

You both stared back at them for a moment, then he grinned. “Hang on, I got you.” He held up one finger and trotted off to his car, coming back a minute later with something in his hand. “This should take care of it.”

You took a step back. “Reeves? Um. Okay, why do you have a coat hanger in your car.”

He rolled his eyes back at you. “For emergencies, duh.” He quickly twisted the hanger into a hook shape and went to your passenger side window.

“And why do you know how to break into a car with said coat hanger?”

“Like I told you,” his tongue poked out between his teeth as he worked, “for emergencies. You think I haven’t locked my own keys in my car once or six times?”

“Did Randie teach you how to do this?” The words were out of your mouth before you could think. She probably had. She might have been churchy when required, but she was also responsible for about half of Reeves’s stints in detention (the other half just being him making the wrong joke at the wrong time and pissing a teacher off.)

Thank god he didn’t seem to hear you as he kept working at the lock. Finally you heard a *click* and he pumped a fist into the air with a little “yessss!”

And then you’re not really sure what happened. You bent down to pick up your bag and then you were standing up and Reeves’s face was literally about three inches away from yours and for the eight thousandth time since you’d know him, you forgot how to breathe.

Neither of you said anything for what felt like days. You just stared at each other under the dim halo of the parking lot lights.

“Here you go.” He took your hand and dropped your keys into it.

“Thanks,” you whispered.

“Like what you see?” the corners of his mouth quirked up, just the slightest little bit.

“...Maybe.”

And the staring recommenced. Were you two getting closer? Physically closer, you meant, of course you were close, you’d always been close. Well, at one time you were really close but then Randie Restenberg happened and it wasn’t fair that she got to know what those lips felt like and did he always smell this good or--

“Yo, Reeves!” A pickup truck full of guys skidded to a stop behind your car and one of his friends - Jake? Jack? you barely remembered your own name right now - stuck his head out the window. “Fight to the death ping pong tourney at Matt’s house! You in?”

Reeves bit his lip and closed his eyes for a second before he pulled back with a soft “I’m sorry” before turning to his friends. “Um, yeah, sure. Sounds brutal. I’ll meet you there.” 

The pickup sped off, tires screeching out of the parking lot. Reeves turned back to you, but you’d already gotten into your now unlocked car and started the engine.

You rolled down the window a fraction and gave him a weak smile. “Hey, um. Thanks for saving my butt. Now go kick theirs at ping pong, yeah?” Your face felt so hot, and for once you were grateful for the dim lights in the lot.

“You could, um, come along if- if you want.”

“Nah, I’m...I’m tired, I’m just gonna...um, head home. But I’ll see you tomorrow maybe?”

Reeves looked like he was about to say something else, but he didn’t. He just stepped onto the curb in front of your car, smiled, and raised his hand in a little wave as he watched you drive off.

The Present.

A series of shrieks and the slamming of the door told you Vanessa had finally arrived. It sounded like they were jumping up and down on the tile just inside your front door, which was ridiculous since you’d all just seen each other the day before. But typical.

You smoothed a pinkie under your eye, checked your makeup one final time, and went into the living room.

“Oh, you look hot,” Vanessa gushed. She grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and plopped down on your couch. “Who are you trying to impress tonight?”

“Reeves, of course,” Alexis laughed, leaning on the kitchen counter. She sorted anything she might need from her big purse into a little evening bag as she talked. “You know we go to all his shows. And you know they went to high school together.”

You snorted. “That was a long time ago. I’m not even sure he’d remember me.”

Vanessa waggled her eyebrows. “You’re probably right, No offense, honey, but no one was that hot back in high school.”

He was, your brain supplied. Very helpful. You smiled wanly.

Vanessa continued. “But you were friends, right? You’ve never really talked about it. God, it must be so cool now to think that you were friends with Reeves back when he was an awkward high school teenager.”

“Reeves was never awkward,” you laugh. “It was kind of unfair.”

“But you totally had a crush on him,” Alexis offered.

Had? What do you mean, had? Oh my god, shut up, brain.

A pillow flew in your direction and you ducked as Vanessa giggled and Alexis rolled her eyes. “Come on, tell us something about him,” Vanessa goaded. “Wait. Was he, like, your prom date? That’s your secret! You totally went to prom with Reeves and you never told us!”

Senior Year. Prom. A Saturday.

The night was not supposed to go this way.

It was supposed to be limousines and corsages and dinner with dates and friends. It was supposed to be endless pictures while your mother told you how gorgeous you looked and how handsome he was and your father gave a thinly-veiled shovel talk about how he knew what happens on prom night and what would really happen if that actually happened. It was supposed to be punch and cookies and balloons. It was supposed to be dancing closer than the chaperones were comfortable with and kissing with tongue when they weren’t looking.

It was supposed to be the best night of your life. It was supposed to be fun.

Nowhere in your weeks of dreaming of this night did it involve sitting on a bench in the girls’ locker room, knees pulled up to your chest, while the party carried on in the gym just beyond.

It definitely didn’t involve crying.

The bass beats of the deejay and the harmony of laughter temporarily got louder as the locker room door opened, and then faded back into a muted thumping as the door closed again a second later. You could hear footsteps headed in your direction but before you could unfold yourself and wipe your tears away, a familiar voice called out.

“Hey, there you are!”

Being able to find the words to describe how he looked in his tux, his curls slightly tamed by some gel, the blue rose (of course it would be an off color, why would he pick something standard?) pinned to his lapel, his lopsided grin… Finding the words was nearly impossible.

Of course he would show up now. Because your night wasn’t already crappy enough and half the reason you were sitting there weeping instead of out there dancing was standing right in front of you.

You realized that wasn’t fair. It was probably more like, twenty-five percent of the reason, and it wasn’t his fault. But that didn’t make it any better.

“Why are you in the girls’ locker room, Reeves?” you sniffled.

He furrowed his eyebrows and his nose scrunched up in concern as he took in your mascara-streaked cheeks and puffy red eyes. “One of your friends said you came in here like half an hour ago and nobody’s seen you since. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m fine.”

“Clearly not.” He sat down next to you. “Wanna talk about it?”

A deep, shaky sign left your chest. You didn’t really want to talk about how, earlier in the evening, you’d excused yourself to use the restroom and come back to the gym to find Theo dancing with...you didn’t remember her name, nor did you care. You didn’t mind that he was dancing with another girl, in theory, but it was another matter entirely when his hands were on her ass and she was sucking a deep purple mark into his neck. And he was laughing. 

A short, vicious argument ensued in the coat room after you’d cut in and dragged him off by the elbow. And it turned out that he’d been seeing whats-her-name for months, somehow, behind your back while pretending that everything was perfect with you. When he was supposedly visiting his grandparents? He was with her. When he had to work an extra shift? He was with her. When he got off the phone with you, saying he needed to get to bed early? He was calling her.

Prom wasn’t supposed to involve a very public break-up.

And things didn’t get any better when, deciding you needed something to drink, you went back into the gym and immediately saw Reeves and Randie, dancing cheek to cheek, arms snugly wrapped around each other as a soft, romantic song wafted through the air. Because of course he was with her. She was his girlfriend and Reeves wasn’t a detestable cheating asshole.

There was always another her.

You couldn’t handle it.

So you took off to somewhere almost guaranteed to be empty. You figured the locker room wasn’t really the kind of place kids would want to make out, and you were right. It was blessedly empty. Until now.

But you couldn’t tell him the second part, so you just went with the first. His eyes got wide as you blubbered through the sordid details of Theo being a complete and utter twat. Another quivery sob half-burst from you and Reeves got up. He grabbed a few paper towels from the dispenser and handed them to you as he sat back down.

“Thanks,” you hiccuped.

“I never liked him,” Reeves announced.

You found yourself choking on a huff of air. “What? Yes you did! Everybody loved him. That’s what makes it extra shitty.”

“Did you?”

“What?”

Reeves cocked his head and looked at you with an expression you couldn’t quite place. “Did you love him?”

Your mouth opened and closed but nothing came out. Why did you always seem to forget how to make words when Reeves asked you questions?

“What?”

He shrugged. “Everyone else loved him. Did you?”

You used every last ounce of willpower you had to not jump up on that bench and shout that of course you didn’t love Theo, you idiot, because I love you.

That would not make this night any easier.

The next thing you knew, Reeves put an arm around your shoulders and pulled you into his chest, hugging you soundly. He rested his cheek on the top of your head. “Doesn’t matter. You’re better off without him.”

You dabbed at your eyes. Nope, still couldn’t make words.

Minutes, hours, days. You had no idea how long you stayed like that, pressed to him and feeling him breathe beneath you. You no longer had any idea how long it had even been since everything crashed around you and he’d come to try and help you pick up the pieces. You just listened to his heartbeat, strong and steady, as the muffled music and joyful shouts of classmates went on past the closed door.

Finally he spoke again. “Hey, you wanna get one of those complimentary pictures?”

“What?” Oh, great. You were finally able to answer his question but you could still only come up with that one word? Stupid brain.

“Well, I…” he sat up straight and, after the briefest look into your eyes, he glanced away. Was he blushing? You weren’t sure. “I always kind of...I kind of thought we’d have a prom picture together. I mean, I just figured, y’know, we’d go with a bunch of friends, but I always hoped I’d get a picture with my best friend.”

The sniffles were back in an instant. Damn him. “Reeves, I...you really want to get a picture now? I look horrible, I can’t get a picture taken like this!”

He took the paper towel from your hand and gently dabbed at your cheeks. “You couldn’t look horrible if you tried. Come on, it’ll be fun. And just think how excited your mom will be when she gets a copy of it.”

Despite your best efforts, you had to laugh. “Okay.”

You headed to the photo area after you washed your face, Reeves helped you wipe off the stray streaks of mascara, and you reapplied just a bit of makeup to make yourself feel better. You were never sure what Reeves said to the photographer before the shots, but he seemed quite happy to take multiples. Reeves stayed pressed against your back with his arms down around your waist, hands clasped together in front of you, for each and every one.

At some point between the second and third shot, he leaned just a little closer into you and you suddenly felt his breath against your ear. “Like what you see?”

For maybe the first time that entire night, your face broke into a genuine smile. “Maybe.”

For a few minutes, your night was absolutely perfect.

The Present.

It was the greatest date that never was.

“No, Reeves was not my prom date,” you told your friends with a shake of your head.

You left out most of the other details, partly because you didn’t want to answer eight hundred questions from Vanessa and partly because, well, you just wanted those moments for yourself.

After the pictures, Reeves had asked if you would like to dance. Until then you didn’t realize it was possible for eyebrows to shoot that far up a person’s forehead, but yours were up for the challenge. You’d mumbled something about if Randie would mind, because you were sure she absolutely would, but he brushed it off. Randie had gone off with her friends when he came to find you, and he really wanted to dance with you, just one dance with his frog murder accomplice. And he said that with a straight face and a twinkle in his eye and there was no way you could refuse.

As if there was any way you’d say no.

One dance turned into two, and then several, until the girlfriend in question finally did show back up and Reeves was pulled away, leaving you with a soft smile and a mouthed “sorry”.

Definitely the greatest never-date.

After prom, life returned to what vaguely resembled normal. Your love life sucked and Reeves still had a girlfriend that wasn’t you, and you didn’t see him much. To be fair, the end of senior year and graduation did creep up pretty fast so there wasn’t a lot of time anyway. Graduation was there before you knew it; he cheered for you and you cheered for him as you each walked across the stage. You made brief appearances at each others’ graduation parties and talked a bit and then, once again before you knew what happened next, it was time to leave for college.

You went back to New York. Reeves stayed on the west coast.

And over the years, like so many other people before you and after you, you just fell out of touch.

“And anyway,” you asserted, “we were just kind of friends. Yeah, like I told Alexis before, we were lab partners sophomore year, and we hung out sometimes, but that was it. Really.”

Alexis snorted and Vanessa narrowed her eyes. “Mmmhmm.”

You threw the pillow back at her. “Mmmhmm.”

“All right, you two,” Alexis chided. “Come on, let’s get going.”

Somehow, you managed to get down to Greenwich Village without further interrogation and minimal shenanigans.

The Present. One Hour Later. Another Saturday Night.

The bar inside the club was pretty packed. Granted, it was a Saturday night down in The Village, so it wasn’t too uncommon, but you were honestly surprised that this many people showed up for a punk retrospective.

There were a few other relatively big-name acts you recognized on the bill, and a fair number of people were wearing t-shirts with Reeves’s most recent album cover on the front. There were even a few that had shirts with his face on it, which was frankly kind of weird.

“Looks like you’re not his only number one fan,” Vanessa smirked.

“I just enjoy his music,” you said off-handedly as you tried to flag down a bartender. “But anyway, tonight isn’t even about him. We’re just here to support charity, right?”

Alexis pretended to agree with you. “Right.”

You glared at both of them before turning your attention back to the bar. Yes, you came to every one of his shows in the area. When you had time. When you could take the night off. When you could rearrange your schedule and switch shifts at the last minute and promise favors to be able to attend them. When you maybe once or twice just called out sick because nothing else worked. So what.

They were really starting to get on your nerves. 

The bartender finally noticed you and took your order, and you looked around the club again while you waited.

Lots of people, ranging from just-allowed-to-buy-booze to mid-sixties businessmen. A few folks that looked to currently be in their golden years but were clearly once punks in their prime. Many people in black and chains and mohawks and neon hair and piercings, to the point where you honestly couldn’t tell who was a performer and who was a patron.

The one person you were looking for was the one that you couldn’t pick out of the crowd.

“He’s gotta be here somewhere!” Vanessa’s voice shouted from somewhere behind your shoulder.

“Vanessa, you’re getting a little weird about this,” you called back as you grabbed your drink and turned around.

“Like what you see?”

Eyes wide and mouth slightly hanging open, you almost dropped your full glass.

Vaguely, nearby, you heard the sound of glass shattering and shot a glance to your left. Alexis really had dropped her drink, and Vanessa was clutching onto her arm for dear life. She was holding her glass at a slightly odd angle and the contents were dripping onto one of her shoes.

The crowd silently pulsed backwards as one, clearing out around the four of you for a respectable distance. Several people watched curiously; surprisingly, they just stood back and stared instead of trying to get involved.

Reason Number One why you really couldn’t blame them: Reeves stood there, right in front of you. Literally less than two feet away, looking right at you. His mouth pulled up into his familiar lopsided grin, his hair still dark but shot through with strands of silver, curly on the top and shorter on the sides. His nose with the little dent, perfect on his face under those dark, luminous brown eyes and...holy shit, was he wearing eyeliner? He was wearing eyeliner.

Reason Number Two why you really couldn’t blame them: Leather pants. Under his old, faded t-shirt and black leather jacket (you were used to seeing him in brown, but you had to admit the black looked good) he was wearing leather pants.

Reason Number Three why you really couldn’t blame them: Quite simply, Reeves was standing in the middle of a bar in New York City and he was talking to you.

You blinked once, then twice. You may have blinked more times but all you could think about was the fact that, after all these years, your brain still couldn’t make words when Reeves asked you a question.

That same old question.

Suddenly you were grinning back, completely ignoring your friends and their dumbfounded squawking and sputtering next to you. You were smiling because even though your brain couldn’t make full sentences of words, it could pull one particular word out of the void and let it come out past your lips.

“Maybe.”

Reeves grinned fully now, his eyes lighting up and the crinkles at the corners deepening.

Someone - maybe Vanessa, maybe a total stranger, you couldn’t be sure - might have swooned from the sidelines.

“Always told you I wanted to come to New York,” he said.

“Always told you I’d go back.”

And the next thing you knew, the next thing that made any sense anywhere in your mind, was that Reeves had stepped forward, wrapped his arms around you, and placed the softest, sweetest, most heart-achingly gentle kiss on your lips.

You pulled away in a daze, felt the heat rising in your cheeks, as you heard a muffled choking sound halfway behind you. Definitely Vanessa.

Alexis and Vanessa’s eyes, already bugging out of their faces, nearly fell out of their sockets when Reeves turned to address them.

“Hey, ladies. I’ll come talk to you after the show, but for now, I just need to borrow your friend for a few minutes, okay?”

There were somehow still more bizarre, mostly inhuman noises that came out of your friends and even later, when they’d deny ever acting like that in front of a famous rock star (and rolled their eyes at you when you corrected them that he was a musician, not a rock star), it wouldn’t matter because you weren’t paying a single bit of attention to them them anyway.

You only had eyes for one person.

He took your hand and pulled you past the bar, into a little room in the back; the office, presumably. The second you were both inside, he wrapped his arms around your waist and looked you in the eyes. He just stared for a few minutes, or maybe hours, you weren’t sure.

It really didn’t matter.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to do that?” he whispered.

“Third day of school, fourth period biology class, sophomore year?”

Reeves smiled softly. “The second you walked in that door.”

“Why didn’t you?” you tilted your head to look at him. Okay, to gaze into his eyes. You tilted your head to gaze into his eyes and your subconscious hoped to any gods that would listen that you did not have actual hearts or stars in your pupils.

Not that it really mattered.

His arms never left you but he gave a little shrug. “Never seemed to be the right time. And then I had a girlfriend.”

“Yeah,” you laughed. “And I ended up with that lame excuse for a boyfriend. But do you know how long I’ve wanted you to do that?”

“When you couldn’t stop staring at me when you sat down at the lab table next to me?”

“Hmmm, maybe. But definitely when you told the teacher we had to have a funeral for Lenny.”

“Hey, Lenny was a fuckin’ hero,” Reeves batted his eyes at you innocently. “He performed a brave and great service to his country.”

“I am oddly happy you’re still an idiot,” you giggled.

“I’m ecstatic that you kept coming to all my shows in the city.”

You pulled back slightly and looked at the ceiling. “You noticed?”

Reeves gave you that look. That look he always gave you, when you were teenagers, when you said something either completely ridiculous or completely profound. That look he gave you when he thought you might not be looking, even though you were always looking. That look that said he always had your back and you were his best friend. That look that you thought you’d be lucky to see one more time but probably never would.

That look.

“Of course I noticed. I thought about having security make you stay back, but that’s just...no. You always looked happy, and I don’t know...I just didn’t want to intrude, I guess? Just always wondered why you never stuck around after the shows, never stayed to talk to me, never came knocking on the dressing room door.”

You thought about that for a minute. You really did try, but you couldn’t come up with a decent answer. You were happy. Just seeing him was enough, you told yourself. Just hearing him sing was enough, just being in the same room with him, just being near. Just like it was back in high school.

Only it wasn’t high school anymore, and now that he’d finally, finally - after years of would’ve and should’ve and maybes - kissed you, you knew enough wasn’t going to be, well, enough.

So that’s what you told him.

And Reeves pulled you close, leaned in closer, and kissed you again.

You pulled apart, breathless again, and rested your foreheads together.

After minutes, or maybe days, or maybe hours, and definitely years - it didn’t really matter - Reeves was there. You were there. And for once, you were really there together.

“Like what you see?”

“...definitely.”

The Future. Any Day. Every Day.

You always thought, and your friends always said, that the best years of your life happened in high school. And to a certain extent, that was true and you believed in that notion for a very long time.

But ever since that night, that one glorious night in a Manhattan bar, you realized you were wrong.

The best years of your life were still happening.

~end~

Taglist:  @anetteaneta @autumnleaves1991-blog @be-the-spark-flyboy @deeandbobbymcgee @huxdameron @itspdameronthings @jitterbugs927 @nathan-bateman @poedjarin @rosemarysbaby13 @sergeantkane @spider-starry @woakiees @writefightandflightclub @veuliee2 @yourbucky084 @waatermelon-sugaar​

>>Join my taglist here<<

[showrunnerihardlyknowher]

today i astral project giant, curious merboy w/ frightened researcher into your mind. tomorrow? who knows

Tomorrow is when you get your request filled you babey boi

--

“E-easy now, l-let’s ju-woah! Hey!”

It was too late for Stella’s squirming to do her any good as long, clammy fingers tightened themselves around her already battered body to lift her much higher than she would have appreciated. She couldn’t help a small wince when she felt her arms be uncomfortably squeezed against her ribs, the left side of which was undoubtably bruised from her topple earlier. The grip only pressed more at her pathetic struggles, forcing out her exhale much rougher than intended.

“Pl-lease,” she gasped, practically immobile in the creature’s hold which seemed to be the desired affect, “y-you’re hur-hurting me...!”

And just like that, the pressure that had once been constricting her disappeared. Even more wonderfully, solid ground seemed to return under her shaky legs which she was grateful to collapse. Or so she thought. A couple inhales sucked in to clear the splotches that pulsed in the corner of her vision revealed she had merely been traded from one hand to the other, trapped high above in an open palm as opposed to a clenched fist. Best not to look a gift horse in the mouth, she supposed.

Or fish, she supposed again.

With a shaky sigh, Stella forced her eyes up (and up and up) until they met with  wide ones, blinking down at its tiny capture. She couldn’t keep up the staring contest very long, however, not with how unnerving those black scleras were. Instead, she found her gaze shifting towards its mouth that could certainly fit her inside in one bite, perhaps even a rowboat if it tried. At that moment, it chirped at her, something loud and grating and immediately making her cover her ears for protection, but not without getting a glimpse of those jagged fangs.

From a scientific standpoint, this was one of the most stunning discoveries in her career, hell, in anyone’s career in the history of marine biology. A genuine mermaid...er, man, if she were to assume based purely on physical observation. A dozen questions ran through her mind focused on understand how on earth each component of his body functioned. Respiratory, circulatory, vision, hearing, homeostasis, smell, bone structure and density, muscle to fat ratio, everything and more!

Unfortunately, she doubted those inquiries would be answered anytime soon, if ever. 

The monster chittered again much more quietly, practically a rumble in his throat as his other hand hovered closer. Try as she might to flinch away, there was really no where else to go besides down into the icy waters below. She watched the thick claws adorning each finger inch closer, bracing for the sensation of being flayed like some sort of sick vengeance for all his seafood brethren she had ever eaten. Actually, given his size and muscular build alone, there was no way this thing was a vegetarian, so there better not be any judgement on that front!

Surprisingly enough, the claws just missed nicking any part of her skin in favor for the pad of his finger to rub against the top of her head, slowly, hesitantly even. Stella grimaced at the action but let it be, holding still as best her trembling form was able to while his petting built up more confidence, now sliding from her crown to where the coils ended at her shoulders. She let out a yip when he yanked her hair in an attempt to rub the foreign texture between his thumb and forefinger, immediately releasing the frizzy locks at the sound of her distress. 

His curiosity didn’t stop there, however. She was well aware of the irony of the situation--the researcher being studied by the subject and all that (at least, she hoped that’s what he was doing rather than sizing her up for a meal). Considering this was her first time ever encountering a merperson during one of her weekend escapades along the coastline, it wouldn’t be too hard to imagine this was his first time meeting a strangely sized hybrid species as well. Maybe those local legends about sea monsters and sirens held a little bit of truth after all, he was certainly as destructive as the stories foretold of these deadly creatures.

And, the scientist side of her couldn’t help but reason with the merman. She was, after all, encroaching on his natural territory in a foreign vessel, was it truly so unexpected for it to attack? ‘Attack’ was perhaps too strong of a word. Investigate was more like it, the way it grabbed and shook her tiny boat in an effort to see what was inside this weird, floating habitat until she came tumbling out on deck. On the bright side, at least Lorelei coming down with strep the night before saved her research partner from meeting the same fate as her right now. On the downside, she was going to meet said fate alone, her true ending forever a mystery outside of these waters.

The question was: what the hell was her fate meant to be? The way his fingers and touches roamed her body continued to reassure her that she probably wasn’t going to be a menu speciality for another few moments, but beyond eating her, what other uses could he have for her? He pinched her legs and arms to bend at the joints, especially fascinated at how articulate her lower half was in comparison to his own. It was almost like he was looking for a tail where one should obviously be, trying to piece together how these two split fins could work together as one. His fingers brushed against her waist and trailing up to her neck. Gill placement, maybe? From just how close his nails were coming to her jugular, Stella feared she might just get a few extra breathing slits if she so much as hiccuped.

It was all well and good until the fingers glided back down over her chest, pushing past the soaked lapels of her coat to the swell of her cleavage, his claw eagerly slipping under the buttons of her blouse to pop a few off. Stella turned bright red, her body heating up so much that she was sure he could feel it against the cool flesh of his palm where she sat. With an indignant shriek, she slapped the digit away from her body, quickly covering herself with her lab coat as best she could.

“No, thank you!” She scolded, leveling a glare with the creature. “Don’t do that!”

She didn’t even have time to register what consequences might befall her actions of threat displaying a massive sea predator, not with how his ear fins flattened against his head and he jerked his hand away as if she had burned him with her touch. In his defense, he did look rather guilty, rumbling again in his throat like he was offering an apology. He tilted his head at her, repeating the noise and it was then she realized he probably didn’t actually know what was wrong, rather he was asking why it was wrong. Oh, yeah. Different species, different cultures, different takes on reproductive accessories.

“You just, y-you don’t touch people like that, okay?” He grumbled something at her and though she didn’t understand it, she knew that tone well enough to roll her eyes. “Because I said so. Why d-”

Stella froze. The monster was still pouting at her reply, but her lengthy pause paired with her suddenly shocked expression made him chirp again in question. She searched his eyes, now well aware of the deep blue iris hidden within the inky abyss around it. 

“You...c-can you understand me...?”

He furrowed his eyebrows before giving a single nod. Uh, yeah, duh? I’ve been responding to you this entire time, haven’t I? is what the expression conveyed.

“Holy shit...” she whispered. A smile was quick to tug at her cheeks, looking back at him with twinkling brown eyes. “Holy shit! You can understand me! Y-you’re...you’re intelligent!”

The creature narrowed his gaze and she quickly held up her hands in a placating motion. “I-I mean, obviously, you were always intelligent, just i-in terms of, like...you know, whatever, let’s just start over, um...” She ran a hand through her newly tangled mess of curls, shaking her head in disbelief. “Oh my god, I don’t even know where to begin!”

A quick look down at her capsized boat had her reconsider. Stella wondered how much of her research and equipment inside was totally trashed as a result of being broken or waterlogged. Oh well. Literally none of that mattered right now, not when filters could be replaced and notes reprinted and one of the greatest specimens of her lifetime was three inches in front of her.

Biting her lip, she glanced between the boat and the merman. “Actually, do you, um, think m-maybe you could fix...that? And maybe put m-me down while you’re at it...?”

For a moment, he only blinked at her, silently debating her request. It was long enough to make her start to shift nervously, wondering if she had managed to misread the entire situation and was foolish to make such demands when she was still considered a food source. Thankfully, he complied and righted her boat with ease, gently depositing her on the slick deck. The rocking of the sea still caused her to slip and fall ass first on the ground, though it mattered little to her with the way her legs still felt like jelly.

A shadow engulfed her, trilling ringing in her ears from above which made her groan. “I’m fine, just...give me a minute here.” Slowly, Stella sat back up and pulled her legs towards herself until she could sit criss-cross, digging her (thankfully) waterproof handheld from her pocket to pop out the stylus, tapping and scribbling on the screen. The creature lowered himself deeper into the water until only his shoulders and above were visible, swimming around to the edge of the boat to try and see what she was doing on the tiny device. He braced his hands on the side of the hull, nearly capsizing it again, which was probably what he did the first time when she had been down in the cabin, and only letting go when Stella cried out at being toppled for the umpteenth time.

When the boat ceased most of its swaying, she fixed another sharp glare at the creature who hunched a little further into the salty waters. “Okay, rule number one, no more touching this boat. Got it?” She was half tempted to add or me in there, but...well, they could cross that bridge if something came up about that later. Regardless, he nodded at her and she sighed, repositioning herself to lean against the cabin door for a little extra stability.

“So, ever play twenty questions?”

[patchesthegothictramp]

Feather Seeker and the Okinawa Jail

So anyone who’s been talking to me knows Feather Seeker is a game that’s perked my interest from the get-go, and I’ve been thinking of talking about it for a while. Now that I’ve been able to replay Royal and play Strikers, some other things have come out in the meantime and I’ve been paying more attention to additional media, I want to make a meta post about Feather Seeker, the Okinawa jail from Strikers and it’s connection to Akechi specifically. Be warned, this ended up being a very long post.

Let’s start with just getting a few questions out of the way:

Isn’t it just a mini game made to raise your stats?

Yes, absolutely, it’s optional and honestly if you don’t care for playing the video games it’s easy to miss. I don’t think it was honestly intended to be some massive breakthrough on a character’s backstory but rather an Easter egg that gets you to think about it.

It’s just about Neo-Featherman, there’s references to it in all persona games, so why is this one different?

It’s not different. There’s been plenty of times when Easter eggs have led to something bigger in this game, even specifically featherman ones. There’s an episode of Featherman that describes exactly what happens in the 3rd semester, where a character loves another so strongly it brings them back to life. Now whether you want to apply that to Futaba and her mum, Ren and Akechi or whoever it still fits- there’s an entire semester where at least one character loves another one and wishes them back to life through Maruki’s power. So having another piece of media, like the Feather Seeker game, be another allusion to something else isn’t entirely unjustified.

Feather Seeker is just detailed cos it’s about Featherman, why are you comparing it to other games?

See, here’s the thing and why I needed a second playthrough to make sure I was right about it. Feather Seeker is the odd one out. All of the games have some kind of plot or something going on (except for Golf sim but y’know... it’s a golf sim), but they’re all very, very basic things. Train of Life is just board game with very simple characters, the Goemon game has you just walking through hell but doesn’t really go more in depth with characterisation. Whereas you find out so much about what’s going on with Gray Pigeon and Osagiri in Feather Seeker that it feels a little… weird to simply ignore it. Do I think that the simplest answer, that they just wanted some plot in there for fun, is the right answer? Honestly I think that’s highly likely. But it’s the boring explanation too, it’s easy enough to just write any kind of intrigue like that, so whether what I’m writing about was intentional or not, I still want to discuss Feather Seeker and see people’s own thoughts on the possibility that it could be more than just a basic game.

So with that out of the way… let’s get into it.

First, there’s establishing who’s who. I can pretty confidently say that Gray Pigeon is Akechi in this entire metaphor. This one is the most obvious for multiple reasons, first of which being that it’s the exact same costume Akechi gets in the featherman outfits DLC so there’s the direct correlation there. Beyond that, Gray Pigeon is a character who awakens to a new power and wants to become a hero of justice, just like the feathermen, the hero’s he’s heard about before. Ring any bells?

Also the final revelation of Feather Seeker is that actually the Feathermen see Gray Pigeon as their enemy, who ends up sacrificing himself so they can keep fighting.

Which brings me to discussing who Osagiri and the Feathermen are. Given the timeline presented, I don’t think it’s possible for them to be one specific character or even group of characters. I think these aren’t supposed to be characters, but rather the major influences in Akechi’s life. Osagiri is a scientist (possibly Wakaba, I’ll get into that later), but also the one who pushes him to do bad things. Osagiri starts by training Gray Pigeon to become one of the Feathermen, the good guys, but eventually ends up manipulating Gray Pigeon into trying to kill them. Osaigir at the bare minimum has to be two people- the cognitive scientists who were able to uncover more thanks to Akechi’s escapades in the metaverse and the people who pushed him to commit crimes- the conspiracy.

The Feathermen, at the end of the game, have to be the Phantom Thieves- they’re the ones Gray Pigeon/Akechi ends up sacrificing himself to save but… that can’t be possible. Gray Pigeon’s journey starts with him gaining a new power and wanting to use it for good like the Feathermen do and of course the Phantom Thieves weren’t an inspiration for Akechi to do what he did. I think then the Feathermen are what Akechi aspired to be- the heroes of justice who fought the bad guys.

I can’t lead myself to believe that at 15, Akechi thought of this overly convoluted plan where he would help Shido to become prime minister only to then ruin him, there’s way too many factors in this that could change. I think originally Akechi wanted to avenge what happened to him and his mother, make sure that the man who wronged him would face justice. That’s what the Feathermen would do, right? They fight bad guys. Translating it from Feather Seeker, Akechi was angry, furious even and that rebellion woke hm up to Robin Hood, the embodiment of justice for him.

There’s plenty things that point to Robin Hood being first, his placement when Akechi awakens to Hereward on 2/2 being in the same spot as everyone else’s, the fact that for all of the other Thieves their third tier personas are different versions of their initials personas and that applies to Hereward/Robin Hood and that the trend of initial/second awakening personas is that the first is a fictional who was considered a criminal (Robin Hood) and the second is described in game as a ‘mythological trickster’ (Loki).

Here is where I want to get to the Okinawa jail and why I didn’t post this theory/metapost sooner.

I mentioned earlier that Osagiri could have been in some part Wakaba, Futaba’s mother, and when I initially wrote this I didn’t have all that much to go off of. There’s concept art in the original p5 artbook of Wakaba experimenting on someone. There’s no context given and it’s sort of the odd-one-out. Of course, human subjects would have been necessary to study the cognitive world but this research is so under wraps it seems it’s almost impossible to get. There’s no military connotations anywhere so why is it such a secret? Well, illegal human experimentation would certainly be a good reason to keep this away from the public. They must have figured out somehow that killing a shadow can cause a lot of damage, even death, to a person, we know that from the research notes, but Wakaba was a scientist, working in a lab, she must’ve done experiments that weren’t entirely legal.

Here I wasn’t sure because accusing Wakaba or anyone of illegal human experimentation was a pretty big reach but the Okinawa jail in Strikers shows us that illegal human experimentation is something that was used for cognitive research. I don’t think that Akechi was experimented on there or that was where Wakaba worked, there’s no indication of it but… Konoe and Owada seemed to build on the work that Shido and his scientists began. That being said, I think the Okinawa lab is a continuation of that human experimentation, with whatever lab Wakaba worked in being its predecessor before Shido probably shut it down to prevent it from ever being discovered. Which is also why he had Wakaba killed- the research was only meant for him and no one else.

Beyond what we see in Feather Seeker of Osagiri/sometimes Wakaba experimenting on Gray Pigeon/Akechi, we’re also told (albeit this is of course biased information), that he only targeted people he deemed deserved it but… Wakaba is the odd one out here for the most part. Okumura was hardly a good person and the principal decided covered for a sexual abuser, most of the others were survivors except for accidents which are mostly uncontrollable and unpredictable. Wakaba however, like Kobayakawa and Okumura, were targets that were supposed to die, Akechi intended to kill them. How then was Wakaba a bad person? Illegal human experimentation would explain that, especially if it was done on Akechi himself.

So then, Akechi was experimented on by Wakaba. I don’t think he was fully informed about what he was doing either. Gray Pigeon certainly wasn’t. Akechi was still trying to be a good person, using his power for his own vengeance yeah but I don’t think murdering random people was part of his initial plan at all. I think that Feather Seeker also emphasises just how little he knew about what his actions were doing. How would he know what his effects of shadows are on the real world? He could only know that from the scientists, from Shido. Of course he did find out, eventually, and that rage he must have felt about being used and lied to gave him the power to awaken to Loki, as Futaba puts it, the representation of his anger. It’s only then that he forms his plan, to get back at Shido for all of this, not just him abandoning him and his mother but for using him for his own means as well.

And we know how the rest of the story goes.

The overall story presented in Feather Seeker, as I see it, is this: Akechi awakens to Robin Hood, and realises that his anger is no longer a hopeless endeavour, he can use it, show that he’s useful and get acknowledged by his father. Shido sees this, sees that he can use this power and subjects him to experimentation, as someone who can actually survive the cognitive world and even have an impact on it. Wakaba sees what he can do, tests him but he’s never told what he’s done. He’s manipulated through praise and lack of information. One day he does find out, he realises this wasn’t getting him any closer to vengeance or getting acknowledged by Shido, he’s just another test subject being used by them. He’s angry, he awakens to Loki and now with the unique power of psychotic breakdowns, Shido recognises him and hires him as his assassin.

Granted this is all just my own theory, I think there is a lot pointing us to at least something similar but of course I also think this is wishful thinking as well. At this moment, my biggest wish is that Atlus makes a game that actually delves into what happened to Akechi. All the explicit information we have is given to us from biased sources, ie. Akechi himself, and it’s really the only question I have left for persona 5’s continuity.

[punksarahreese]

Gloves | 4 mg Ativan

Nosdecember day 14 | @neworleansspecial

Anxious!Ava; Ava’s sensory issues get in the way of a surgery

CW: hospital trauma gore, panic attacks, sensory overload, self injury stims

***

“Ava!” Connor’s voice was barely audible over the chaos of the emergency department. It didn’t help that Ava was majorly overwhelmed, trying her hardest to focus on the task at hand so she didn’t have time to panic. It took a gentle nudge from April’s elbow meeting her ribcage before she was able to look up from the central line she had been doing.

“Go help him,” April ushered her out of the treatment room, “I can get a student to do this.”

Ava nodded, too much going on for her to be comfortable to respond. She slipped out of the crowded treatment room, pulling off the pair of gloves that had been making her increasingly uncomfortable. The ED was packed, chaos unfolding as Maggie tried to get the disaster protocol in place. A train accident had all hospitals in the area absolutely swamped with patients and Gaffney was getting the brunt of it due to its proximity. Ava and Connor had been called down to help with the traumas and assess any cases that would need surgical intervention. Connor was pleased; well, as pleased as a trauma surgeon is in such a morbid situation. He enjoyed the chaotic, fast-paced environment of the emergency department when it was experiencing a mass trauma. Ava, however, disliked that exact environment completely. She preferred the predictable, familiar OR where she was in charge and the only thing she had to worry about was finishing the procedure she could often do completely from muscle memory.

To say Ava was uncomfortable was an understatement. She hadn’t seen Sarah in a few hours, since the psychiatrist was jumping between the ED, the waiting room, and upstairs. Connor and her hadn’t been on great terms since their altercation in the CT lounge, especially after Ava had emerged from the room with makeup streaked down her red cheeks and other evident signs of a major panic attack. He didn’t apologize for making her meltdown and she didn’t ask for it; they just fell into some kind of silent cold war. No conversations had come up between them unless it involved work or faux-pleasantries to avoid confusing Latham. Since then, Ava had been increasingly more uncomfortable in Connor’s presence, so the last thing she wanted to do was go help him with a trauma. This meant she didn’t have a single person in her general vicinity to give her some semblance of security, which only worsened her anxiety.

“Finally,” Connor didn’t look up when Ava walked into Baghdad, which meant he missed the death glare she halfheartedly directed at him. He motioned for her to come closer, making her realize how much of a predicament this patient was in.

A large metal rebar was protruding from the upper chest of a teenage boy, whose clothing was bloodied and the rest of his body didn’t look much better. This was unfortunately something Ava had seen more than once since moving to Chicago. From the placement of the bar it looked like it would be a tricky surgery, though not one that Connor couldn’t do with the help of a resident. She wasn’t needed, not really, so why did he call her in here?

“Rebar to the anterior chest cavity, not through and through, pretty sure the bar snagged the left subclavian.”

“Where do you need me?” She tried her best to settle into her surgical mindset, ignoring the way the erratic beeping of the heart monitors was getting to her.

“I don’t think he can make it upstairs,” he was saying as he looked over the labs that Monique handed him, “You’ll need to go to the hybrid OR.”

“That doesn’t answer my question, Connor,” Ava gently lifted the gauze packed around the bar to check the wound, “You don’t need me, not for this. I could be helping with the other surgical candidates.”

“You’re going to do this, Ava,” Connor looked at her for the first time, “I have other patients already prepped upstairs.”

Ava’s heart sank. Not only was he forcing her to operate in an unfamiliar OR, he wouldn’t even be there for it. Usually Ava hated sharing her surgeries, especially with Connor, but today was just not a day for that. She hated traumas, was uncharacteristically unsure of things like this, so the thought of doing it without a trauma surgery assist sounded like a bad idea.

“Connor, no.”

“Ava, you’ll be fine,” he was already taking off his gloves and heading to leave the room, “The team’s already prepping, just get the bar out and repair the artery.”

“Connor!” He was already halfway past the nurse’s station by the time she had tried to stop him. Ava was painfully aware of the amount of eyes on her, the staff around her looking to the surgeon for clarification. She tried to take a deep breath but her lungs felt like they were in a vice, panic slowly setting in. She shouldn’t be this nervous, she tried to reason with herself, it was just another surgery. Everything was too much though; this was too much change at once.

“Doctor Bekker?”

“Right, uh,” Ava blinked rapidly as she looked over at the nurse, “Get him to the hybrid OR then. I’ll go scrub.”

She could do this.

She had to.

Five minutes later, she was scrubbing in. She didn’t like this at all, the OR in the emergency department was so different. It was new, yes, and very nice but it wasn’t her ORs. The huge glass windows looking into the ED only worsened it for Ava. She felt like a changed animal being watched at a zoo, except she couldn’t even pace to make herself feel better. She was on display and could see the chaos outside too, it was too much.

“Ready, Doctor Bekker?” some resident whose name she suddenly forgot asked from beside her. The young woman didn’t like Ava very much, probably because she thought she got in her way of Connor, but Ava could not care less. Residents were the least of her worries, especially now.

“Uh, yeah. Give me a second.”

She left the scrub area, going to get her gown and leaving Ava in silence. She got distracted by staring out the window, eyes tracking Natalie as she ran across the ED when a code blue sounded over the speakers. Ava didn’t realize how hard she had been scrubbing her hands until she looked down and saw how red her skin had become. Her anxiety was getting the better of her, making her revert to old compulsions in an attempt to soothe herself. She hadn’t been so obsessive about cleaning since med school, but she found herself washing her hands for a second time because something just felt off.

By the time Ava nudged the door to the OR open with her hip, her adrenaline was so high she wanted to run. Somehow it felt like her heart was going to jump from her chest, as anatomically incorrect as that might be. She was focusing on deep breaths while the scrub nurse helped her into her gown, but when she held open the first glove Ava knew this would be a problem.

Nitrile gloves were a sensory nightmare when she was anxious, as ironic as that was. Yes she was a surgeon and yes surgical gloves and the consistent beeping of heart monitors could trigger sensory meltdowns. Ava didn’t know for sure why and she had spent years forcing herself to ignore the anxiety that ate away at her stomach whenever she felt those gloves touch her skin.

Today was different though.

The second she had both gloves on she wanted to scream, the feeling of the material tight against her hands more uncomfortable than ever. She couldn’t stop herself from immediately reaching to touch her collarbone, a self-soothing stim she had since she could remember, subsequently breaking her sterile field when her hand brushed her neck. Cursing under her breath, Ava apologized and explained to the staff that she would need to go rescrub.

She ran to the sinks without thought, ripping the gloves and gown off her body the second she was out of the operating area. Her mind was a jumble of thoughts, heart rate probably above 160 if she had to guess. Everything was too much and even after tossing the offending gloves into the waste bin she felt like they were still there. The awful feeling of bugs crawling along her wrists and the powdery residue left behind from the nitrile made her want to gag.

Before she could stop herself, Ava clapped her hands over her ears. The yelling from the ED, the hum of the air conditioning, and the constant beeping of different machines was finally getting to her. The gloves had been her last straw though, bile rising to her throat at the thought of having to put them back on. Even when she scrubbed at her hands roughly with the harsh anti-microbial soap again she still felt them, the sensation making frustrated tears pop up without consent.

The next thing Ava knew she was on the floor. She couldn’t handle it anymore; everything was so much. She was crying, she knew it, but she couldn’t hear herself or anything else over the flood of thoughts that suddenly hit her. The rough texture of her scrubs was at the forefront of her mind, a constant reminder that she couldn’t exist without one thing touching her. Every tactile sensation was too much in that moment and a harsh sob left her throat.

All she could think about was what Connor said in the lounge that day. All of the intrusive, hateful thoughts that morphed themselves out of his words erupting in her head. Even though most of them weren’t ones Connor had actually said out loud, Ava’s anxiety took his anger poorly and had a hayday with the self-deprecation fuel.

All you do is get in the way, Ava.

Were you even thinking about the patient?

You’re so selfish.

This is so childish.

You’re not cut out to be a surgeon.

Ava was so far in her head she didn’t hear the nurses yelling, trying to get her attention. She didn’t hear Connor’s voice as he was asking her what the hell she was doing and what was wrong. All she could do was sob, short nails digging into her biceps with as much force as she could muster. She was so overwhelmed and everything was too much. She was hyperventilating, the room starting to spin, she was supposed to be doing a surgery. Why wasn’t she in surgery?

The next thing Ava knew she was waking up, disoriented because she didn’t remember falling asleep. It took her a few minutes of confused staring at the white ceiling before she realized she was in a patient room. Panic set in almost immediately, concern for the patient flooding her more than any concern for herself. She felt an immense wave of guilt; what had she done?

The rapid beeping of a heart monitor signaled her increasing tachycardia and that immediately caught someone’s attention. Sarah was there in seconds, hands landing cautiously on Ava’s cheeks to soothe her. Ava didn’t resist because she knew immediately that it was Sarah, relaxing into the touch but unable to make eye contact. She was still overwhelmed, despite the amount of sedatives undoubtedly circulating her system. The mental toll was just as bad as the physical and all she wanted to do was melt into Sarah’s arms and weep.

“Avey,” the pitying look that her girlfriend gave her sent guilt gnawing away at Ava’s stomach again, “Why did you push yourself this far?”

[nights-legacy]

Another...Sea Turtle?-TMNT

Requested by @moonlightprime​

+The boys reacting to another mutant, sea turtle that is female.

2014/16 Turtles

     The Sea Turtle girls were mutated by some escaped mutagen that got onto the beach. The girl as a baby sea turtle wandered into the mutagen and was found by a kindly human that raised them as their own.(The pics of sea turtles are how the girls shells look.)

Leo: Curiosity and Concern

It was on a mission down by the docks that brothers and i met Y/N. There had been reports of strange activity by the dock workers. They said they kept seeing a humanoid figure creeping around and swimming in the waters. The strange part was that the figure seemed to have something big on its back. We split up and i was investigating the water front under the docks when I saw it or more like her. I froze with my katanas at the ready, not sure of what I was seeing.

“Please, I don’t want trouble.” The girl whimpered and backed up into a support beam. I looked her over, taking her in. Long red hair, glowing green eyes, and a turtle shell adorning her figure?

“You’re a turtle.” i stated the obvious. She nodded but then shook her head.

“A sea turtle actually.” She whispered. I stepped forward and she pushed farther back, eyes locked on my katanas. I quickly put them away, having a feeling she wouldn’t attack, and knelt in front of her. She looked at him and he gave her a soft smile.

“Are you alright? Are you alone?” Leo asked. She nodded and looked off in the distance. I looked her over again, seeing scars and dirt scattering her skin. But this didn’t cover up the beauty she held.

“My mother didn’t wake up. She took care of me until then.” She explained. I connected that her mother was dead. “I have been hanging around her because I don’t know where else to go but the men here are mean. They throw things at me while I’m swimming.”

“I’m sorry. People just don’t understand people like us.” I held out my hand. She looked between my eyes and my hand. Shaking, she reached forward and grabbed my hand. I pulled her to her feet. “I’m leo. What’s your name?”

“Y-Y/N.” She said before her stomach growled. I looked at her with concern coursing through me.

“It’s nice to meet you, Y/N. How long has it been since you’ve…”

“Yo Fearless! Find anything? Woah.” I heard Raph come up as well as the other two. I turned and looked at them. They all had surprised looks on their faces.

“Guys, this is Y/N.” I looked back at her. “Y/N these are my brothers and if it’s alright with you, I think we need to take you to our home to make sure you’re okay?” She nodded after a minute. I smiled and placed a hand on her shoulder. “You can trust us.”

Raph: Abrasive but Intrigued

Damn Mikey and his fluffy nature. Damn Leo and his high & mighty ego. Sending me off to do the patrol around the water front all because of one little cut on Mikey’s head. I never thought that this patrol would lead to a discovery Donnie would be kicking himself for missing.

“Damn you Fearless.” I growled as I jumped from rooftop to rooftop. Out of nowhere, a loud commotion caught my attention. I skidded to a stop and listened. Once I caught the direction of the sound I ran for it. I looked over the edge and saw a group of men surrounding a crouching figure. I couldn’t make out what they were yelling but jumped down and interrupted. “Can I join the party?”

“Another one!” I furrowed my brow ridges at the statement but fought them off til they were running.

“Another one?” I turned to the figure and finally saw them clearly. My eyes widen when I saw a redish turtle shell acomponied by blonde hair that nearly hit the ground and dark eyes. “Who the hell are ya?” I said roughly.

“Some hero you are. Help drive those guys off then yell at me.”

“What do you expect? It’s not every day I stumble upon another turtle mutant!” I snarled while pointing a sais at her. She rolled her eyes but flinched and clutched her side.

“I’m a sea turtle mutant. Get it right.” I took a big breath and looked her over. How was this possible? Another mutant? “Why are you staring at me like I have two heads?”

“Just trying to figure out how there are more mutants running around.” I said truthfully. She shook her head and looked down. I saw her pull away her hand from her thigh and saw blood. “I should probably get you to my brother. He can fix that up quick.”

“Quick? So you can throw me out again to get another tomorrow?” I chuckled at her defensiveness.

“I may be an asshole but I’m not heartless. My brothers, father, and I know what it’s like to be on the outside. We won’t let someone we can help live the same way.”

Donnie: Inquisitive yet Mystified

I was out in the sewers checking the perimeters and security systems. Lately, every now and again, an anomaly was showing up on the scanners but it was there and gone so quick, it was barely picked up on. I made to the area and started the check on the system.

“Nothing wrong on the placement, nothing on the clarity, nothing…” A crunch behind me cut me off. I reached for my bo slowly and listened for more. Quiet footsteps walked toward me and a shadow appeared from behind me. I grabbed my bo entirely and whipped around knocking the person off their feet.

“Ahh!” A female voice caught me off guard. The next thing that threw me off was the person that laid before me had a shell. A Sea Turtle shell to be specific. I squinted my eyes and cocked my head in confusion. The female whipped around and looked up at me frantically. “Please, I…”

“Are you a mutant? Wait dumb question, of course you are.” I shook my head. I returned my bo to its place and moved my goggles down to analyze her. “Are you alright? I didn’t hurt you did I?”

“No. Just spooked me.” I heard her stifle a giggle. Her shoulder length brown hair bounced as she did. I lifted my goggles and looked at her eyes and saw they were bright blue.

“How did you become this way?” I asked as I was entranced by her eyes.

“My father said he found me next a puddle of green goo on the beach when I was a baby. He took care of me even though I was different. That is until he died some months ago,”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I nearly lost my father once and couldn’t imagine it actually happening. I don’t think my brothers could either.” I helped her up. “How did you end up down here?”

“A storm. Where I was staying flooded and washed me down here. It’s a maze down here and I got lost easily.” She looked around in fright. My heart leapt with something I didn’t recognize. But I did recognize the bruises and abrasions that littered her skin.

“Let me take you to lab and take a look at you wounds. Then I can get you some hot food and some water. You’re not lost anymore and there’s no reason to be afraid anymore. You’re safe with us.”

Mikey: Excited and Scared

I loved the sound of wheels on the concrete. Skateboard wheels to be exact. I was taking my normal skate through the sewers and listened to the echoes of my board. It was a small cry that came one of the openings that turned the echoes turned to crashes.

“What?” I mumbled as I rubbed my head. I looked back at the tunnel and slowly got up. I picked up my board and went closer. I peeked around the corner and looked over the dark area. I didn’t see anything at first. I walked in and got a closer look. “Anyone there?”

“Yes. No. Um…” My eyes darted to a pitch black corner where the small voice came from. I saw movement. I tensed. I set my board on my back and grabbed my chucks.

“Who’s there?” I called out. I didn’t like that someone was this close to the lair. I moved forward and my eyes adjusted to the dark. A figure was huddled into the small alcove. “How did you get down here?”

“I fell.” The voice sounded feminine. All of a sudden, a set of purple eyes peaked out, I gasped and took a small step back but I could see intense fear in theirs.

“Hey I’m not gonna hurt ya.” I placed my nun chucks away. They were still for a second before they crawled out. I was taken back by seeing another turtle, but not just that but a girl turtle with short black hair. “Yo! You’re a chick and a mutant. But you don’t look like be but you’re a turtle. What gives?”

“Haha.” She giggled through the tears I just noticed. “I am a sea turtle, mister. I’m Y/N.”

“Mister? Haha. The names Michelangelo. But my family calls me Mikey.” She smiled. “I like your name. This is so cool another good guy mutant!” I fist bumped but stopped short. “You are a good guy right?”

“I think so. I haven’t done anything wrong before. I’ve been hiding most of my life with my mother. I don’t want to be called a monster again.” She looked down. I sympathized with her.

“I get it. I really do.” I set my hand on her shoulder. “But you found yourself a safe place. Me and my brothers and my dad are all mutants like you.” She gave me hopeful eyes before shivering. “Come on with me back to the lair where it’s warm and we can get you some food. Do you like pizza?” Her eyes lite up.

“Of course!” I whooped and helped her up. I started to show her the way as a thought came to mind. How many other mutants are out there?

[etherealwaifgoddess]

One In A Million - Chpt.2

Summary: Rose navigates her first few hours in 1941 and makes an unexpected discovery in an alley way.

Word Count: 3.6k

Author’s Note: Hello lovelies! We’re back in 1941 now and the plot set up is rolling! I did a lot of research on the 1940′s when I was writing this fic because I wanted it to be as authentic as possible. So I hope that comes through as the fic progresses. Also, can anyone guess who Rose stumbles across in an alley? Hehe... I just can’t image who... XOXO - Ash

Chapter Two

Your eyes struggle to adjust in darkness after the blinding light and you hope for a minute that you didn’t blow the electricity in the lab. The faint smell of dampness and dust gives you hope though. You take a tentative step forward and collide with a piece of furniture, a desk you realize as you run your hands along it. You fumble around finding a lamp and switching it on, thankful for the gentle illumination. The basement is filled with shelves of boxes and two desks. The manila envelope on the desk bears the SSR logo and you realize you’ve actually done it. You check the watch in your pocket and mark down the time on your notepad, subtracting ten seconds for your fumbling around. The devices to set up are barely visible tacks which you quickly place in spots not easily seen. Now you just need the date and to find Agent Wilson. 

The first floor of the SSR office is buzzing with people. It’s four thirty and everyone is scrambling to finish their work before the office closes at five. The late day sun shines through the large glass windows that line the far side of the room and you feel like you’ve stepped onto a movie set. The room around you feels surreal, even as it dawns on you that you’ve done it. You actually time traveled. 

“Can I help you, ma’am?” a young man in a pale blue suit asks you. 

“Yes, have you seen Agent Wilson around?” you ask, hoping your search for him doesn’t take too long. You have a few bills in your pocket just in case you don’t find him right away but not enough to get by for more than a week on. 

The man nods and points back to a closed wooden office door, “He just got back this morning, should still be in his office.” 

You thank the man and weave your way through the room to the office. Knocking twice firmly, you wait until a gruff voice calls out, “Come in.”  You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding and open the door. 

Agent Wilson is a tall older gentleman with salt and pepper hair and a lithe build accentuated by his neatly tailored suit. He’s hunched behind his desk, squinting at a file and only looks up once you’re right in front of his desk. “How can I help you, Ms….?”

You extend your hand politely but shake your head, “I was told to give you this.” you tell him and hand over the card. 

Wilson appraises you for a moment with a quirked brow, “I haven’t had any Sparrows show up here in quite some time.” 

You nod but don’t give him any further information.

“We’ll get you set up then. I’m assuming you need a permanent placement?” 

You nod again, “Yes, please.”

“Give me a few minutes and I’ll be right back.” 

“Thank you.” you call after him. The heavy door swings shut and you’re left sitting in the quiet office. 

True to his word, Wilson returns less than five minutes later with a file in hand. It had been just enough time for you to locate his day calendar and write down the date, November 6th, 1941. You’ll have to make a few adjustments to narrow down the window of time for jumps when you get back. You’re about eighteen months off of the intended target date. “You’re all set Miss Miller.” 

You look down to the file and see your new name for the first time. “Please, Agent Wilson, call me Rose.” 

Wilson chuckles and returns your cheeky smile. “Your apartment is four blocks from here. You’ll have all weekend to settle in and then you’re due in at 8am on Monday for work. I trust you have some skills that we can utilize here at SSR?” 

“I’m great with data entry.” you offer, knowing a lifetime of using computers will put you at a distinct advantage. 

“Excellent. Talk to Marge when you get in and we’ll find something for you.” 

“Thank you.” you say earnestly, so grateful that the plans you laid in place are going smoothly.

“Of course, Rose.”  He gives you a kind, sympathetic smile, “We’ll see you Monday.”

You nod and bid him goodbye, leaving the SSR office and heading out into the brisk November air. The streets are busy with people heading home for the weekend and you find it easy to lose yourself in the crowd. The accents around you sound thicker, more authentically Brooklyn if that’s possible, and the clothes people are wearing in varying pastels and neutrals are fascinating in how different they are from what you expected. You’ll have to go shopping over the weekend and get a few things. First things first though, you need a winter coat and to find your bank to withdraw some money. 

You trade a dime for a cup of hot coffee and a Hershey’s bar from a news stand and realize the twenty dollars in your pocket will go a bit further than you had expected. You’re strolling down a block of shops looking in the windows trying to find one that sells coats when you hear a scuffle coming from an alleyway. You hurry over to see a broad shouldered man looming over what looks like a boy, pummeling him and tearing at the worn leather bag he’s clinging to. You know you should keep moving, it’s not a lady’s place in this time and you don’t want to risk causing a scene or getting yourself seriously injured. But you never did follow rules very well. “Hey!” you yell down the alley as you stalk towards the man with more confidence than you feel. “Knock it off you asshole!”

The man whips around, fury plain on his face, “You got quite a mouth on you, girlie.” 

“Yeah and I got quite a fist too. You wanna stop beating up kids and try your luck with a woman instead?” you glare, challenging him.

“How about I teach you some manners instead?” The man comes towards you with a slow predatory gait and you breathe through the fear rising up in your throat, remembering your self defense training. The man’s hand reaches out to grab your hair and you use your speed and momentum to twist his hand back sharply and force him down to his knees, howling in pain. 

“What the fuck lady?” the man screams, clutching his wrist. He stares at you for a moment before hurrying out of the alley, still holding his injured hand close. 

“You okay?” you ask, turning around to check on the boy who was being attacked. He pushes his flop of golden blonde hair back from his face and you realize he’s not a boy at all. “Oh shit.” you murmur. 

“I had him on the ropes.” Steve Rogers tells you as he pulls himself up from the dirty asphalt. 

“Well, I apologize for intervening then. I’ll just leave you be.” 

He’s bleeding and unsteady on his feet and you want to help him but you can’t risk altering timelines. Of all the alleys in Brooklyn, you had to stumble across Steve freaking Rogers himself. You curse yourself mentally as you go to leave, stopping only when you hear Steve call out “Wait!” 

You turn back, unable to refuse the plea in his deep, smooth voice. 

“I should be the one apologizing, not you. I appreciate you stopping. No one else ever does.” he tells you while wiping the blood off his hand onto his threadbare jacket. He extends the cleaned hand towards you, “Steve Rogers.” 

“Rose Miller.” you tell him and shake his hand briefly. 

“Thank you, Rose. That was quite the trick you pulled on Jimmy.”

“Oh it was nothing, really. I should be going.” you force yourself to turn away from those piercing blue eyes and head towards the opening of the alley. You’re less than a dozen steps away from freedom when a dark haired man comes barreling into the alley almost knocking you over. He looks terrified and runs over to Steve, assessing his cuts and bruises while tutting like a mother hen. “Jesus, Stevie. I saw Jimmy going past and I thought he’d finally done you in. He was furious.” 

“I’m fine, Buck.” Steve says pushing him off, “There was an angel nearby who intervened.” 

Bucky looks over at you, studying you for the first time and you’re frozen in place. You should be running away as fast as your legs can carry you, going back to following through on your mission and not making any more waves in the past than you already have. But Bucky gives you the most charming smile you’ve ever been on the receiving end of and you know you’re a goner. 

“I didn’t know we had any angels left in Brooklyn.” he says smoothly, taking a few steps forward to shake your hand. “James Barnes, but you can call me Bucky.” he winks at the last bit and you are pretty sure your ovaries have exploded. You had seen footage of the illustrious super soldiers before but nothing could ever compare to being on the receiving end of Bucky Barnes’ flirtations. 

“Rose Miller” you tell him, shaking his hand firmly. The new name flows with ease the more you use it and you find you actually like it. 

“Thanks for saving my buddy here. He forgets he’s all bark and no bite sometimes.” 

Steve huffs and shoves at Bucky, “I’ll bite you, jerk.” 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m real afraid.” Bucky shoves him back but then tucks him under his arm affectionately. They share a long look and you wonder for a second if there really was any truth to the speculation that the pair were more than just best friends. “So what can I do to thank you for saving my friend?” Bucky asks you.

You shake your head, you need to stop this before it gets out of hand. “Nothing, really. I’ll just be on my way.” your shiver despite yourself and both men pick up on it immediately. 

“Well least I can do is lend you a warm coat.” Bucky shucks off his dark wool coat and drapes it over your shoulders. It smells like man and sea, an oddly exhilarating mix. “Now, what do you say to dinner? Our place is only a block over and I’m sure Stevie has something delicious planned.” 

“I put ham, potatoes, and green beans on the stove this morning to simmer. It should be done about now.” Steve tells you quietly. 

“What do you say, doll? That’s one of Steve’s specialties; best dinner in the city by a mile.” 

They both look so hopeful it tugs on your heart strings. You are a modern, twenty first century woman, you remind yourself. You have a masters degree and are halfway to a doctorate. You don’t fawn over men like a teenage girl. You have more self restraint than this.  “Sounds great.” you find yourself saying. 

Both men break into blindingly bright smiles and Bucky throws his free arm around your shoulders, leading you down the street with them. So much for self restraint. 

Bucky and Steve’s home is a quaint two bedroom apartment over top of a garage. It’s chilly but Bucky is quick to throw on the heat once you’re inside. “Make yourself at home.” he tells you and Steve retreats quietly to the kitchen to check on dinner. Bucky reemerges a few minutes later having changed out of his worn work clothes into a simple button up shirt and slacks. His hair is shiny and slicked back and you’re once again stunned by how much more attractive he is in person. You set down the sketch you were looking at, a little embarrassed to have been caught looking around. “This is beautiful.” you say, motioning to the rough outline of a city skyline. 

Bucky crosses the room to see what you were looking at, “Oh yeah, Stevie did this one last week. He’s talented, that’s for sure.” 

“Talking about me?” Steve asks, poking his head out of the kitchen.

“Rose here was just admiring one of your drawings. I was telling her how you’re gonna be a famous artist pretty soon and we’ll be living all the way uptown and going to fancy parties at the MET.” 

Steve rolls his eyes and retreats back into the kitchen. 

“He really is brilliant.” Bucky insists, “He just needs to catch a break instead of a cold for once.” 

“You’re a good friend.” you say with a warm smile. It’s hard not to get swept up in his charm. 

Steve pokes his head out again announcing it’s time for dinner and Bucky leads you to their table which is sitting at the far end of the kitchen with two chairs and a stack of crates around it. “We don’t have company much.” Steve explains motioning at the stack of crates. 

“It’s okay.” you assure him, “Dinner smells wonderful.” 

“You two take a chair. I’m fine on the crates and I can serve.” Bucky busies himself dishing out the food and setting tall thin glasses of water by each place. 

You settle into your seat facing Steve across the table and take a moment to really study him. He’s all angles and pale skin with bright blue eyes shining out from beneath his mop of blonde hair. You knew he was short before the serum and had seen the pictures, but seeing him up close he isn’t quite as frail as they made him out to be. Sure, he looks like a strong wind could knock him over, but there is a quiet strength beneath his exterior. It’s no wonder that Erskine chose him for Project Rebirth. 

“Rose?” Steve prompts, breaking you from your thoughts.

You realize you’ve been caught staring, Steve is looking at you curiously while Bucky just smirks from his makeshift seat.

“Sorry, don’t know where my mind went for a minute.” you demure. 

Bucky huffs a suppressed chuckle and moves on, asking Steve how his day was. 

You learn Steve has been looking for work as an illustrator at various papers and magazines around the city. He works a few days a week at the neighborhood grocery store stocking shelves but they just don’t have enough hours for him anymore. He’d been out for a month with the flu last spring and the owner had hired more help to cover while he was sick. They let him come back but with half the hours he had before. Bucky caught a lucky break down at the docks around that time and picked up extra shifts, eventually earning himself a promotion over the summer. He wants Steve to pursue his art more and is willing to work 24/7 to make that happen if need be. His fierce devotion to Steve pursuing his dream is sweet but he brushes it off as nothing when you call him on. You give the guys vague details about your life when they ask. You try to stick to as much truth as you can but it’s difficult. You share that your parents died shortly after your eighteenth birthday and that you’re new to the city. You tell them you have a new apartment nearby and that you are starting a job on Monday at the SSR as a typist. 

The night wears on and you move from the dining room to the living room so you can listen to the radio with Steve. Bucky insists on cleaning up after dinner since Steve had cooked, brushing off his kindness as “only fair” when you compliment him. It’s blissfully easy spending time with the guys. They are obviously close but make an effort to make you feel included in whatever they’re talking about. There are also little signs that you would have missed if you hadn’t been studying them so intently. A shared knowing smile, the “accidental” brush of a hand, the way they orbit around each other closer than most people would be comfortable with. When you wander down the hall looking for the bathroom you notice only one of the bedrooms looks lived in and it doesn’t surprise you in the least. Oh, what the historians would say if they knew.

You’re headed back down the hall when you hear fierce whispering. You pause a few feet from the end of the hall, wanting to give them their privacy. The apartment is small though and you can hear everything.

“Ask her out, Stevie.” Bucky demands in a hushed voice.

“She’s more your speed, Buck. She’s stunning.” Steve whispers back.

“And she’s been makin’ eyes at you all night.”

“Come on, you know I don’t need anybody but you.”

“I know but one day you’re gonna have to settle down with somebody. Somebody you can take out to a movie without getting arrested. Do the whole wife, kids, and a desk job thing. You deserve a good life, Stevie.” 

“I have a good life now. And what about you, huh? What happens when I go off and settle down?”

“Then I’ll settle down too. Probably with one of your wife’s friends. We’ll still spend all the holidays together, get houses next door, vacation with each other every summer at the beach, our kids will grow up together.” Bucky says this with all the confidence he can muster. In reality, he thinks, Steve will go settle down with some wonderful woman and pop out a brood of perfect little blonde babies to whom he will be Uncle Bucky; eternally single and hanging around on holidays because he’s got nowhere else to go. Steve Rogers is it for him, he’s known that since he was fourteen and he doubts anything will ever change it. 

“You paint a nice picture, Buck. You left out a few things though.”

“Oh yeah, what’s that?” 

“How I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night without the sound of you snoring away next to me. How it would never really feel like Christmas without getting to watch you unwrap presents in your stupid ratty robe. How vacations would be unbearable having to do all the cheesy romantic tourist things with someone that isn’t you.” 

Bucky swallows past the lump in his throat. “You always were a maudlin little punk.” 

Steve knows he’s won and gives Bucky’s hand a quick squeeze. It’s an old argument but it doesn’t stop them from rehashing it from time to time. They both just want what’s best for each other.

You take that moment to rejoin them in the living room, making sure your clicking heels on the hardwood announces your arrival. The tips of Steve’s ears are tinged pink and both his and Bucky’s hands are stuffed into their pockets. They had jolted apart quickly when they heard you coming. 

“Well boys,” you tell them, “You sure know how to show a girl a good time but I’ve got to get going.” 

“We appreciate you joining us. Maybe you can stop by another time if you’re free?” Steve asks.

You know it’s a bad idea but your mouth is saying yes before your brain catches up.

Steve smiles broadly at your agreement, “Great. I know you’re close but it’s late. Let Bucky walk you home, okay?” 

Bucky nods, on board with the suggestion. “I can get my coat back once you’re home then. You don’t want my work coat stinkin’ up your nice apartment.” 

“Alright, thank you Bucky.” you agree, knowing it’s only proper in this time period. 

Bucky collects his coat and wraps it around your shoulders with practiced ease. 

Steve takes your hand for a moment before thinking better of it and dropping it. “Thank you.” he says softly, “For stopping today.” 

“I’m glad I could help.” you shoot him a small smile. 

Bucky motions to the door and you follow him out into the early November chill. 

You give Bucky your address and he leads the way. You’re thankful to not have to pretend to be familiar with the area. You’re only one block down and one block over from their place but the cold night air has you shivering even under Bucky’s coat. You mentally add a hat, gloves, and a scarf to the list of things you’ll need. “Thank you for walking me home.” you say from your apartment stoop. 

“Any time, doll. I’m real glad you helped Steve out today.” he drawls.  

“Of course. I couldn’t just walk past and do nothing.” 

“Most people do. You share that with him though.” 

“Share what?” you asked, confused.

“Not being able to stay out of it when you see something wrong going on.” he explains.

You smile at him, blushing a little despite yourself. “Guilty as charged.” you admit. 

“Come over and see us again sometime, okay doll? I know Stevie would appreciate the company. He’s a great guy and I think you two would really get along.”

It’s blatant what he’s trying to do and your heart melts a little at the devotion he has for his friend, even at his own expense. “I’ll come over again soon.” you assure him. 

You shrug off Bucky’s jacket, handing it back to him, and he bids you a goodnight as you close the apartment door behind you. Resting on the inside of the door for a moment you can’t decide if you want your words to him to be the truth or a lie. One thing is certain though; whether or not you go see them again you’re never going to forget those sweet Brooklyn boys.

[malereader-inserts]

Signing My Love

Fandom: Avengers Pairing: Peter Parker x Male!Reader Summary: Peter will going beyond to show you his love for you Word Count: 1,913 Request: “hi there! would it be possible for you to write something with either sweet pea or peter parker where they're dating a boy who's hard of hearing/deaf (reader) and they're working really hard to learn sign language so they can communicate with the reader better, and then they surprise him one day? <3″

“Um, Clint?”

Clint turns his attention to see a nervous teenage boy standing at the end of the sofa, wrings his hands as he nervously shifts his balance between his feet. Clint smiles seeing Peter around the Avengers Compound.

He definitely thinks the teenager is too young to be in this madness but it wasn’t like it was his choice, the kid gets bitten by a spider, and the responsibility is thrust into his hands. The archer smiles and pats the empty seat next to him.

“What can I do for you, buddy?” 

Peter, had bit his lip before making direct eye contact, “Do you know sign language?”

Clint was taken aback, sometimes the boy would come to him if he could babysit his kids or even challenge him on the game console, but this was entirely different. Clint looked at him with furrowed eyebrows and tilted head, what could this boy be up to?

“My boyfriend is deaf like you, and erm, whenever we’re in school or in large crowds which is like all the time since we live in New York, but erm, he can’t lipread that well but he can understand sign language, he’s too busy to teach me it so I figured you can teach me because you’re deaf too...?”

Clint’s heart could melt, damn Parker when he thought that this kid couldn’t get any more adorable and sweet, and then he does this. Clint turns to look at Peter with an easy smile.

“Yeah, you’re in luck kid, I can do sign language, learnt it a few years back, it wasn’t easy but Nat did it with me,” Clint had boasted, a proud smirk on his face, “Why not ask Nat too? She can teach you.”

“She scares me.”

“Doesn’t she?” Clint laughs, despite being Nat’s best friend, sometimes she was just terrifying, “Alright, I’ll teach you, when are you here? You know my schedule.”

Peter knows his schedule, Clint is around the compound when school is on as he can’t hang out with his kids or wife, leaves the compound around five to get back home to his family. Clint hangs around later on Fridays, pushing it to eight. However, weekends are strictly family time and only call Clint if there is an emergency and so far there hasn’t been. - Luckily for Clint.

Peter comes over Tuesday, Wednesday, Friday and the weekends. In which Fridays and over the weekend he sleeps over. Monday and Thursday are spent with Aunt May, but since she’s working more often in night shift - he feels less lonely at the compound. Tuesday and Wednesday are purely to hang around with the team, and luckily for the two of them that gives them at least eleven hours in total if they were to use the time left fully.

“But, if you want to learn quick, and let me remind you that sign language is hard, Nat will have to keep up with the lessons over the weekend,” Clint advised, giving Peter a pointed look as Peter sends him a small smile.

“What’s going on here?” Tony and Steve enter the room, noticing there was no loud music or competitive races going on about.

Clint beams at his friends and pats the spider on the knee, “Kid is gonna be learning sign language from me and Nat to impress his boyfriend,” He whistles as he looks at Peter before standing up to stretch, “We start next week, buckle up dude.”

“Never say buckle up ever,” Peter cringes, his nose scrunched up, “Dude.”

The archer happily walks out of the room to find his best friend to tell her the plan. Steve and Tony share a look before looking at Peter, who was left sitting on the sofa confused and alone.

“So, boyfriend?” Tony looked mischievous, “When will we meet said boyfriend?”

“Tony,” Steve warns, before giving Peter a smile, “I think you should invite him for dinner.”

“No, no, not yet,” Peter jumps up, shaking his head, “you guys are...”

“Wonderful?”

“Great?”

“Weird,” Peter spoke after Tony and Steve’s suggestion, “You guys can be a little full on and I haven’t even told (Y/n) that I’m Spider-Man.”

“So, that’s his name?” Tony teases, as Peter reddens, “Come on, Underroos, heart to heart at the lab, you can gush about your boyfriend and hope you won’t get murdered by either assassin in the forthcoming weeks of you learning sign language.”

Peter worked as hard as he could, and like Clint had said sign language is hard. He’s been through everything the two assassins have to offer. Clint was a patience guy, he’s dealt with his own kids who have tested his patience from their birth, so teaching Peter was easy enough.

Peter was eager to learn, but he got easily frustrated and would start to give up when stuff started to get mixed up. Clint was good with these interactions, he was a father after all.

“Alright, bud, your fingers are too stiff, relax a little or it’ll look awkward.”

Clint was good at motivating Peter. Natasha on the other hand, whilst loving her spider son, she could feel Peter’s frustration all too well. She was a good teacher, slightly stricter, but she got the point across. She would make sure that Peter would watch her fingers, even making him watch it time after time because finger placement was funny, hand placement, hell even facial expression was important and Natasha reminds him he looks like he is struggling 24/7.

Tuesdays when he comes from school the first thing they did after three weeks of learning was a surprise test to make sure he was practising in his spare time.

Peter was making progress, the team enjoyed watching the three of them sitting around, sometimes on the floor in the living room crossed legged as they would teach the teenager in sign language. 

Two months into the learning, Peter has 17 hours per week of learning and lessons. In total, he’s had, give or take, 136 hours of learning. Five surprise tests and he wasn’t going to give up.

“I want to be fluent, not learn conventional phrases for him,” Peter emphasised, “I’m willing to put the time and effort.”

Nat chuckles as she scruffs up his hair, “Don’t worry Parker, we all know you would which is why we like you so much.”

“He’s lucky to have you,” Clint bumps his shoulders with Peter, “You’re a real catch.”

Peter shakes his head, “Nah, I don’t think so, I’m really lucky to have him.”

Peter had become fluent in some areas, there were parts he was still tripping over but he had two great teachers that were committed to this cause as he was. He kisses your cheek as he greets you at your locker.

You smile, tilt your head and gaze at upon your boyfriend, “What’s up babe?”

“Nothing much,” Peter sighs, leaning his back against the locker next to you as you grab your books from your locker, “What do you have first? Chemistry?”

You nodded, whilst your boyfriend sounded a little faded you could hear him when he was closer to you but the look on your face Peter turns to face you so you could read his lips if you were having troubles, “Yup, and you?”

“Physics,” Peter replied as you grinned at him, “Flash is being a dick again, I can say that.”

“Bummer, Parker, hey are you free tonight? I found this cool restaurant near the park and we should check it out.” You planned as you shut your locker, spinning the coded lock as you leaned against the metal compartment.

“Yeah, it’s Monday right?” Peter questions, he had to make sure he had time for you, “I’m free every Monday, so what’s this place?”

“Oh, you know it’s mostly desserts but-”

“You do love desserts, do they have-”

The bell had rung and suddenly everyone was getting louder and louder, drowning out Peter. You looked at him with a soft smile.

“I got to go,” You kiss him on the cheek.

You had seen Peter’s lips move, his voice is very distant and your brain wasn’t able to process what he was saying. Knitting your eyebrows together in confusion as you slightly tilt your head to the side. Peter looked nervous at first as he lifts his hands causing you to look even more confused. Before you had seen the familiar finger movements.

You’ve seen your parents, your siblings, your close family sign it out for you. It’s integrated into your mind and watching Peter do it made you feel so excited. Your heart was racing as you looked at him with shining eyes.

I love you.

You were almost jumping in your spot, despite the phrase being very simple you couldn’t help feel so blessed. You could tell that Peter was learning, you didn’t know who or where from but you weren’t complaining as Peter’s signing was pretty slick.

You started to get excited when he continues to sigh, it was slow but his movements were graceful.

I’ll see you during break, my love.

There was no shiner thing than your smile going to be impossible to remove from your face. You were excited to see him during break just to test his ability as you lifted your hands to sign back to him before placing one last kiss on him before moving quickly to your first lesson. Peter almost missed his first lesson, but he enters his class with his chest puffed out and pride in his heart.

Flash couldn’t even dampen his mood. He has a little memory to keep and store, and to repeat in his head. Something he’ll have to savour for forever. Your hands lifting up on view signing four words.

I love you too.

[danganronpasurvivoraskblog]

The Meeting: Part 2

You want us...to join the Future Foundation?

That’s insane! What are you thinking!?

Of course, it’s just my opinion. But if anyone has any objections, then please speak freely.

However, think about it from this perspective. Even though they’re talents that were inserted into them prior to their placement in the killing game, they are still Ultimate Students just like us.

Himiko is a magician, which means in the entertainment industry she’ll be able to spread happiness and hopes with her magic tricks.

For the record, I’m a mage, and I perform real magic, not tricks...But yeah, I perform magic for the sake of making people smile and cheerful.

Maki is an assassin, which means from a military or combative perspective, she’d help out massively. Right?

I’ve never done bodyguard work, but I know a thing or two about weapon maintenance and stuff...

And Shuichi’s a detective, and it never hurts to have more people in the police department.

I mean...I’d be honored.

My point is, if we were to accept them into our foundation, it would be the best possible scenario. We can provide for them all the things they need to live the rest of their lives in full, and in return, they can be a really useful asset to the world as a whole.

Hm...He does have a point...

But we DON’T KNOW them! You can’t just take in someone that you’ve only known for a day! Like I said, we have no idea who these people are or where they’ve came from other than their own accounts!

As weird as it sounds, I agree with him. You don’t know us. How can you trust us so easily?

...Maybe this sounds silly to you. To all of you...but...

I don’t have any reason other than that I want to believe in you guys...I don’t need a reason other than that!

!!!

...

Maki?

I-If that’s the case...

I promise...I won’t let you down.

This is madness! You’re really saying you’d accept them into this foundation based on a random hunch you get!?

And what’s wrong with that!?

Settle down! This discussion is getting too intense.

Putting it to a majority vote.

Huh?

Depending on how many people here there are who accept the idea, compared to how many are not accepting of it, depends on what we should do.

I agree with that!

Those who think it is an acceptable idea to allow the three of them into the foundation, please raise your hand.

*Everyone except for Byakuya and Kyoko raise their hands.

And now...those who-

Ugh...Don’t bother...

But Branch Chief...I can’t help but notice you didn’t raise your hand...

Ultimately, the final decision goes to me, so I would rather not vote. However...

At the end of the day, while most of us here will accept the help of our three newcomers, it’s entirely up to them what direction they go in.

You promise I can make people smile with my magic? Because if so, I’m on board!

Same here. It’d be an honor to put my detective skills to use.

Like I already said...I promise not to let you down...

Makoto...you...

Hm?

You were able to survive your own killing game...Yet you don’t always think with your head...

You also think with your heart...I appreciate that.

No worries...Just doing what I felt was right...

Byakuya, it’s pretty clear that most of us here support Makoto’s idea over yours. Do you have any further objections?

...I’d like to say yes, but honestly...I don’t have much else to say...

However, I do request one proposition to the Branch Chief...

And what’s that?

In the very least, I demand that the three of them be placed in different branches.

Not in a way that would prevent them from interacting or seeing each other entirely, but in a way that would make it hard for them to get a moment alone together...

At least...until we can fully trust them and accept them as our own...

...

Very well...I agree to this proposition.

Fine by me...but then, what branches will we place them in.

I’d like that to be a topic we discuss at a later time...but I have already been made certain of one thing.

I believe Shuichi should work with me in Branch 1.

Huh!?

Because he’s a detective?

That’s one of my primary reasons, yes, but there’s more to it. I won’t go into full detail though.

What about you Impostor? Doesn’t this go against your own thoughts and feelings on the matter?

Like Fuyuhiko said, this decision could potentially affect the foundation as a whole.

But if the foundation as a whole accepts the three into our ranks...then no, I have no further objections.

In that case, is that all?

Um...wait, just one more thing...

What is it Sonia?

This isn’t related to the current situation in regards to Shuichi, Himiko and Maki, but...

It’s something I thought I’d bring up. It’s very important...

What is it?

*Sonia reaches under the desk and produces the laptop that Kuripa gave her that morning. She turns it on and Alter Ego’s face lights up on the screen.

Hello everyone.

Ah! master, it’s you!

Hello Alter Ego...Did you get that mission completed for Sonia?

Y-Yes I did...but...

That is what I wish to present to everyone...Alter Ego? Kindly show them.

*Alter Ego’s computer screen lights up with a bunch of computer files laid out in a row. There is a considerably noticeable gap in a particular area.

What’s with that?

These are some important, close to the chest, files that are shared between Branch 6 and Branch 2. This morning, I worried there had been a breach in security, so I contacted Chihiro to see if he could overview it.

I was busy with certain procedures this morning, so I couldn’t make it. Instead, I requested Kuripa from Makoto’s Branch to deliever Alter Ego to the office to investigate the files.

(And thanks to that I almost walked in on Sonia and Gundham doing...stuff...)

And what we found...was more concerning than I thought...

What?

I think...the files have been hacked...and certain pieces of data had been stolen.

I want to be surprised, but I also saw that coming. Do you know what files were stolen?

More importantly, why were Future Foundation files stolen? And who the hell would do something like that?

I wouldn’t be too surprised. The foundation definitely has some enemies. Most of whom remain in the shadows.

There are millions of people in this country, and at least a few hundred were actually supportive of Junko Enoshima and the tragedy. It’s not a nice thing to think about, but it is true.

What files in particular were stolen?

All I can tell is that they were files taken from Branch 2′s lab department. The actual information is missing.

The lab department!?

Um...y-yes...!

Let me see that!

*Byakuya alarmingly rushes up to the laptop and starts investigating the files...

D-Dammit! It’s just as I thought!

Wh-What is it!?

The files that were extracted...they’re directly tied to the coding for the resurrection/cloning machines...

The machines that brought everyone back?

You mean someone took information on those? What for!?

...

You don’t think they’re trying to bring the Ultimate Despair back to life do you...

...

*Silence

S-Sorry...let’s not be too hasty...Maybe I’m being paranoid...

Being paranoid would do you good if there’s a pretty probable chance that it could happen...I don’t know how these files were taken, but they contain information that is too important to be released into the world.

It might be my fault they were taken. At an early public press conference I told everyone the truth about the ressurection program. I just couldn’t lie to them, it would make things worse if I did...

You didn’t do anything wrong Makoto. Stop blaming yourself for this.

S-Sorry regardless...

Hm...There’s no use worrying about it now...but we do need to take care of this issue ASAP.

Is there anything else uncovered Alter Ego?

No Ms Kirigiri.

In that case...Meeting adjourned.

I can’t help but feel like we really became unimportant near the end there...

Hey, whatever works. Right now we’re not the big issue the Future Foundation has to deal with.

I gotta say, the whole issue with our situation got cleared up pretty quickly.

But in the very least, I’ve got you two with me. It’ll be hard to ignore what we once were, but like it or not, we ARE Ultimate's now. Helping these people fix the world is the only thing we can do that’s right right now...

I agree...

Yep, same!

Ah, you guys are here...

Ms...Kabuya, right?

Yoruko is fine, and I’ve been asked to tell you your branch numbers and locations, and I’ll give you a quick rundown on the details too.

Ms Kirigiri seemed insistent for you to be in Branch 1 Shuichi, so that’s where you’ll be placed.

I-I see...

Maki, you’re in Branch 2.

You mean the branch with that man with the glasses is in charge of?

Mr Togami wanted to keep a personal close eye on you in particular. He’s the type who holds a grudge, you see?

I can see...

and Himiko will be in Branch 4.

Ok! Thank you for this!

[autisticpeterparkerheadcanons]

They say if you can’t find content for something, then make it yourself, so here’s autistic!Peter Parker headcanons that literally no one asked for. I’ve seen some, but they all seem to be very similar, and I need MORE and also I have a different take on it, SO. (My brain that needs Categories for Things doesn’t know what to do with this exactly because it seems that a lot of people think the common labels are too ableist and I don’t disagree, so I’m calling this stealth!autism because it’s Not Obvious And Undiagnosed But Still Relevant, AKA me, lol.)

Under a cut because this monster weighs in at just over 2k words. Oops.

Also, ya know, a little bit AU because I hate that Tony sold the Tower. :P

Tony was the first to realize anything was different about the kid, after he started spending more time actively mentoring him after the Vulture fiasco.

It was small things at first. He didn’t think much about it. The first couple of months, most sarcasm went completely over the kid’s head (which, okay, Tony’s brand of humor isn’t really mainstream anymore, he thinks -- he doesn’t speak meme -- and maybe that was the problem because the kid does slowly catch on to it, and fewer and fewer awkward moments ensue as time passes). He stuttered and didn’t often make eye contact, but he wrote that off as more nerves than anything. He rambled about one topic non-stop sometimes, but he wrote it off as anxiety -- a need to fill the silence. His hands were always busy, if not with anything productive, then a constant fidgeting. Once again, probably just nerves.

But as time passed and Peter became decidedly more comfortable around him, none of those things disappeared. Maybe he stutters a little less, but nothing about his mannerisms changed. And the longer he knows Peter, the more little things come to his attention.

Peter has a hard time taking verbal instructions. It’s not that he’s not listening or focusing. It’s more like he just doesn’t...comprehend? process? It just doesn’t always stick. And that’s okay. Tony can work with that. He makes Peter repeat instructions to make sure he’s got it, or he writes it down if he can’t just show the kid himself. Everybody learns differently, after all. (Tony would know.)

Peter often stayed for dinner when he came to the Tower, and Tony noticed the things he liked to eat and the things he wouldn’t. “You don’t like mushrooms? Uncultured!” -- A shrug. “I don’t mind the taste, but I can’t stand the texture. Same goes for shrimp.”

(He files that information away for safe keeping. Do Not Make Shrimp.)

And, really that was just the start. The seemingly ‘little things’ piled up.

One night, after Peter had left, Tony was puzzling everything over. Trying to figure this oddly eccentric kid out. Pepper offered a listening ear.

“It sounds like he could be on the spectrum? It’s a lot of little things, but they add up. It fits.”

And, oh. That made sense actually. But... “Why would he not tell me that?”

“You’re still his hero. He probably doesn’t want you to think any differently of him.”

So Tony doesn’t say anything. There’s no tactful way to ask something like that, after all. Peter will tell him when he’s ready to -- if he ever is -- Tony figures. But until then, he’ll just keep adjusting. Life is probably hard enough to navigate, no need to make the workshop that way, too.

Peter doesn’t know. He’s always been aware that he’s different, sure, but he has Ned and -- more recently -- MJ as friends and (most of) the Decathlon team, so it’s okay. He doesn’t mind, not really.

(He didn’t present in the ‘normal’ ways when he was little, so, just like Tony, all the adults in his life wrote off the ‘little things’ as something else.)

And then everything happens and suddenly he’s spending a lot of time with the Tony Stark and getting to work in his lab with him, and if the Tony Stark does’t mind that he’s kind of weird and awkward, then he must not be that weird or awkward. Tony doesn’t interrupt his rambles or look annoyed by them. He doesn’t comment on the fidgeting or stuttering. Peter doesn’t know when the hero worship ended, but he thinks it probably had something to do with the sheer amount of patience the man has for him and his oddities.

(And, don’t get him wrong, Tony is still his hero, but it’s different now.)

Besides his aunt and Ned, he thinks Tony might just be the most comfortable person to be around.

Second semester starts, and he finds out he needs to take an elective instead of a free period in order to stay on track to graduate. Unfortunately there’s only one class that’ll fit in his schedule as is and he doesn’t really want to mess around with the placements of his other classes, so he ends up taking some sort of health class, but not the fun home-ec ones where you get to cook and eat the stuff you make. He’s not exactly dreading it, but he’s not looking forward to it either.

Instead of having an exam for midterms, they have a project, the topics assigned at random, things like depression and anxiety and ADHD. Peter’s topic is Autism Spectrum Disorder. Like most people his age, he has a vague idea of what that is, but he thinks it’ll be interesting to learn more about, so he’s at least not dreading doing research.

He starts with the basics, what it is and how it works and the ‘markers’ of how you can tell if someone is. Which leaves him vaguely confused. Because some of these things sound like him? But he’s not, so.

He ends up in forums, because he knows that the strictly medical side of things often doesn’t actually do it justice with how it is to actually live with something. On every forum he slogs though there’s always at least one thread about not being formally diagnosed at all or not until adulthood. And he always reads those because how could something like that get missed? But he quickly finds out it’s really pretty common (or, at least, more common than he thinks it should be).

He goes to blogs, too. Between the two, he finds a million and one things that people on the spectrum deal with that ‘official’ sites don’t tell you. Actual people relate what it’s actually like, and suddenly there’s this seed planted in his mind because holy crap does he identify with this and suddenly a lot of things make more sense.

He’s not sure how he gets there, but he ends up on an online AQ test and he takes it. He doesn’t technically score high enough, but he’s borderline (and the higher end of that, even, barely missing the lowest number, and if he’s honest, a couple questions he wasn’t entirely sure how to answer and that may have made a difference), and the site itself says, “89% of those who fall in the borderline category are diagnosed” and...

He doesn’t really know what to do with this information. He’s almost 16 and he’s old enough to understand this kind of stuff so surely if May knew she would have told him. But how the heck do you even ask about something like this? “Hey, May, am I autistic?” just wasn’t going to cut it. And if she didn’t know, that would be even more awkward. So he doesn’t. He buries the thought and ignores it the best he can.

But Tony notices because of course he does. He asks if Peter is alright and spends an awful lot of time staring at him with that expression no matter how many times he says he’s fine. Eventually, Tony does drop it with a quick “I’m always here to listen if you need to talk -- no judgment” and Peter appreciates that more than he’d like to admit, but just like with May, how the heck do you start a conversation like this one? So he still doesn’t.

For a while after, everything is fine. He turns in his project, gets an A on it, and he puts it out of his mind.

Finals pass, and summer vacation starts, which means he has more time to swing around Queens and more time to spend with Tony in the lab. This is going to be the best summer ever he’s pretty darn sure.

It’s late June, and Peter is staying the weekend because May is out of town and any excuse is a good one. AC/DC is playing over the lab’s speakers, just like normal, and he’s rambling about something when he suddenly becomes very aware that that’s what he’s doing, that he’s actually info-dumping, and -- he cuts off mid-sentence. Because he hasn’t thought about this in months, but it’s back again. What if...?

He zones out, he’s not sure for how long, but the music clicks off and suddenly Tony is sitting directly in front him, obviously concerned. Very concerned, because he’s not even trying to hide it. “Peter? What’s wrong?” No nickname? Tony is definitely on to him, and he’s not going to get away with saying ‘nothing’ this time. He stares down at his hands, and he can’t help but rub his fingers together (he doesn’t really have anything else to fidget with at the current moment so).

He’s very aware of the silence and that Tony is still waiting for an answer. But he doesn’t know what to say, so he doesn’t say anything.

(To Tony’s credit, he doesn’t so much as shift or sigh. He just...sits and waits. He’s not usually such a patient man, but Peter is different. He can be endlessly patient with Peter. Pepper says it’s because Peter is practically his kid, and he’s not so sure about that, but whatever.)

The silence is uncomfortable and he can feel himself starting to panic, but he forces himself to breathe and try to unscramble his thoughts. Because whatever he says, he’s determined to not say it bluntly. There has to be a subtle way of asking...maybe...right? He’s determined to try, anyway.

In the end, he settles on a mumbled, “Mr Stark? Do you think I’m... different?”

(And Tony has to steel himself because he’s known for more than six months at this point and he’s just been waiting for this conversation so you’d better not mess this up, Stark.) “Maybe. But that’s not a bad thing. Normal people don’t accomplish things worth remembering.”

“You don’t think I’m...weird? or awkward?”

“You’re a teenager. ‘Weird’ and ‘awkward’ are kinda part of the job description.”

Peter almost smiles. He knows Tony is joking with him, but... “No, I mean....” He cuts off. He doesn’t know what he means, really, and trying to figure it out is exhausting. “I don’t know. Never mind. It’s not important.”

“If something is bothering you, that makes it important to me.”

Peter isn’t sure what to think of that, and silence drags on again.

For a hot minute, Tony thinks he blew it. But then Peter speaks up again, and when he finally starts, he rambles it all out and doesn’t even try to sort it out. He just...wants it out. “I just... I don’t fit in, Mr Stark, and I’ve always known that and I’ve been okay with that because I’m just me, ya know? And if other people don’t like me, that’s on them not me, or at least that’s what I’ve always been taught and everything, it’s just I’m weird and I know it, and I’m just...” There’s a pause, and he’s not sure Tony even hears what he ends with, “I think there’s something wrong with me.”

(At this point, Tony realizes that Peter probably didn’t have any idea until a couple of months ago. Oh. Well.)

When Tony replies, it’s not how Peter thinks he will. “Does this have something to do with that mid-term project you had to do?” He finally meets Tony’s gaze again, and Tony adds with a smile, “You were acting kinda like this then, too, kid.”

He looks back down at his hands and mumbles. “Autism. That’s what my project was on.”

“And you think you are?”

Peter can’t even find it in him to nod. He just...keeps staring at his hands and waits for the other shoe to drop because surely this is it, this’ll be the thing that’s too much on top of everything else, and Tony will boot him out because he doesn’t want to deal with it.

It’s only quiet for a moment before Tony says casually, “You wanna know who else is on the spectrum? Einstein. Or, I guess I should say was, but that’s irrelevant.”

Peter is looking at him again, because What???

Tony smiles at the look on Peter’s face. “I’m serious. People who know far more about it than I do say he probably was.” He shrugs. “So your brain works a little differently. So what? It just means that you’ll see answers no one else will. So the way I see it, that just means you’re gonna change the world, kid.”

Peter decides maybe he can live with this after all.

(They go back to work, the music clicks back on, and it’s a solid ten minutes before it dawns on Peter. His head snaps up and over to where Tony is working a few feet away, and says, “You already knew, didn’t you?”

Tony just laughs and says, “Pep guessed before I did really, but I guess you could say that. I’ve had a hunch since around Christmastime.”

And that puts him more at ease than anything yet. Tony knew and still treated him exactly the same as before. He decides maybe this is okay.)

(Not a week later, when Peter shows up at the Tower to work on stuff, he finds a box on his workbench. Inside are various fidget toys. All he can do is stare as Tony comes up beside him.

“Try ‘em out. Let me know what you like. That way I can have a stash because God knows you lose things like no one I’ve ever known.” It’s all said with a fond smile, and Peter knows it’s true -- he does lose things like crazy.

Peter decides he likes the cubes, and Tony is true to his word. “This one stays here, on your table. Here’s another one that stays on your desk at home. This one is a spare for your backpack, and this one is to carry around wherever. I also have three more in the drawer over there for when you inevitably lose one.”

They’re all superhero-themed, and he’s pretty sure Tony commissioned the designs especially for him, though he can’t prove it.

At some point a weighted blanket appears in his room in the Tower after a movie night where Tony pulls out his and Peter comments how AMAZING it is. He gets another one for home for his birthday. Both are also custom-made superhero-themed colors.)