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mysticalsoot · 1 year

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peer pressure and canned beer

oh? yet, another fic of my self-indulgent boarding school au

A/N; lilly and I came up with this idea when we were sad so it's very angsty and I'm still very set on it so- do not do what wilbur does, maybe don't pick a fight with a drunk guy, and please for the love of god DO NOT KISS YOUR EX ESPECIALLY WHEN YOU'RE IN A RELATIONSHIP okay that's my disclaimer (also maybe communicate w your partner-) ooooh also!! there will be a part 2!! i just have to write it! also a quiet lil ty to everyone that helped me describe canned beer, yall are lifesavers<33

summary; wilbur gets convinced to hang out with some kids on another team. he gets peer pressured a bit, gets drunk, makes a mistake and when he sees you back in the dorm building, he makes a few more

tw// swearing, underage drinking, peer pressure, kissing, undertones of cheating, may is a bitch, some homophobia if you read between the lines

words; 3k

pairings; cc!wilbur x gn!reader

pronouns; none!

masterlist

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Wilbur rarely ever found himself in situations where he would be pressured by his peers into anything. He was a wanderer who enjoyed his quiet time on the edge of situations, a watcher. A hawk--or at least you called him a hawk. He liked to observe, note everyone's behavior. From their body language, to the tone of voice they would use, to how they use words--he noticed it all, and he noted it all as well.

But when it came to people's intentions, he was alot worse at being as aware as he is with other things. It wouldn't be the first time he'd get peer pressured into something without realizing he was being pressured in the first place. He wouldn't be able to tell someone had malicious intent, especially if they held a smile, like most shit people do.

So all in all, when Wilbur told you a group of boys from another team had asked him to hang out with them, you were a smidge worried. Wilbur didn't clarify who these boys were, but he seemed excited when he told you so you smiled and uttered a small "That's awesome, bee!" and told him to go have fun.

This wasn't fun.

Well, it wouldn't be for you.

But for Wilbur? He was being accepted into another group, he was more a part of his peer group, of his school--or this is what he felt. He wasn't sure.

"Come on, William! Loosen up!" One of the boys, by the name of Dan, smirks as he lifts the beer up and towards Wil's direction. He tries to hide the grimace building up on his face as he looks at the beer and decides to take it in his hand. He pops the tab and takes a sip, groaning after he swallows it. Its disgusting, that's what conclusion Wilbur has come to. He can't tell if it tastes like nasty rust water or stale piss. Either way, it's fucking disgusting.

"That's- god, that's gross," Wilbur shakes his head as he grimaces, nearly gagging at the aftertaste and memory of it.

"Cheap bear is gross," Another student in this group speaks, a girl this time. The one Wilbur noticed you always had a distaste for, the one that made you insecure. He feels like he remembers hearing something about this girl, May. Maybe about her liking him? He wasn't sure what but what he was sure of? This girl couldn't like him. Not a chance.

"That's a fucking understatement," Wilbur giggles slightly before hiccuping.

"So, William-"

"You can just call me Wil, that's fine."

"Okay, Wil- how's it in the loser group?" Yet another student, there's only about five besides Wilbur, but too many for Wilbur's tipsy mind to make note of at once. The boy's name he seems to remember being Sammy, which he feels doesn't fit him. Chad or Brian would fit the bill and he has to hold back giggles at that thought.

"Loser group?" Wilbur asks almost incredulously, eyebrows knitted in a confused expression.

"Yeah, what's it called- Team Andromeda?" The one with the teacher's pets, those gay kids- everyone knows Andromeda is where the weirdos get placed, y'know?" Something about Sammy's voice started to grind his gears, but his mind was so muddled he couldn't get very angry, so he sighed.

When Sammy mentioned the "gay" kids, it really rattled him. It made his blood boil, he wanted to yell and punch and scream at this kid. But he had to restrain himself, these other guys weren't so bad.

"I don't think they're that bad, I'm on Andromeda." Wilbur shrugs, looking down at the can he holds, trying to keep himself composed and for the most part--it works.

"Well, you aren't one of them. You don't fit there." May pipes in, a sickeningly sweet smile on her face. If it wasn't for how.. icky the conversation made Wilbur felt, the smile would be soft and sweet in his eyes. But his nauseated stomach at the words that cross his ears, skews his view of the word with green tinted glasses.

"Come on, let's not dwell on those kids-- just drink, have fun! Let loose!" Another kid, Dean, speaks up. He feels a lot less.. venomous. He seems kinder and as if he doesn't hold the same hurtful opinions as the others do.

"Why don't we do truth or dare?" Sammy smirks from behind his beer can, eyes glistening with mischief and the mere look makes Wilbur want to projectile vomit, but maybe that's because he's nearly finished off his own beer. Stale piss water.

Wilbur shrugged as various confirmations of agreements are muttered, a few 'sure's and a couple 'alright's were scattered between.

"How about…" Sammy eyes the group and when his attention lands on Wilbur, he smirks, "You, Wil- truth or dare?"

Something sunk into Wilbur's stomach, it felt like all of his internal organs--but it was probably just his heart. This didn't sit right with him, maybe he was being targeted? But his mind was so fogged and swimmy from the alcohol--his beer can was empty and he'd started on a new one. His logic flew out the window long ago.

"Uhm…" Wilbur takes a moment to think or rather, he pauses and looks down, his mind a blank slate without a scratch written. He lifts his head, tilting it to the side for a moment before he slurs confidently, "Dare."

Sammy nods as he eyes Wilbur up and down before he speaks again, much clearer than any words Wilbur could possibly dream to muster, "I dare you…" He trails off as his eyes glance over at May, who was sitting beside Wilbur, "To kiss May."

Wilbur knew it was coming before the words had even been spoken. God, he wished he could erase the entirety of eighth grade from history right about now. He then turned to face May, her cheeks flush pink as she tugs on his sleeve. Everything in his heart was screaming for him to stop, to run away and get as far from this situation that he could. To find you and wrap you in his arms and kiss all over your face and apologize for everything he could've possibly ever done--but his logic is out the window and god-- his body feels like quicksand and he can barely move.

It happens so quickly he doesn't know how it even starts, or who initiated what. But now his lips are on hers and they're kissing and it's much too deep for his liking. He should be kissing you, under lamplight in the dorm, sighs and giggles muffled between lips and mouths. Hands exploring each other innocently and with that sweet spark of love.

Yet instead, here he is with his hand behind May's head, his lips intertwined with hers and her tongue in his mouth. This is horrible, he's decided. He's vowed to never drink again, and never touch lips with anyone but you. But he doesn't stop, he doesn't pull away. He's enticed, he's enraptured by it. Its new, but old. He's kissed her before, not like this of course. But he has kissed May, years ago. This now feels foreign and exciting and new.

That guilt crawls up him, makes him sick and he finally pulls away. His lips curled in a grimace, when May's curl into a smile. His face has a green tint, and hers has a pink sheet of color. They mirror each other in completely opposite ways. She kissed him because she wanted to.

He kissed her because he felt trapped.

It wasn't more than an hour longer that he hung out with them, it got late and there were enough sightings of leadership staff to scare all of them back to the dorms. Which by enough, was two. And they were leaving work. Either way, Wilbur found his way to the side door of the dorm building. The front is always open but Wilbur felt that it was too obvious and he was much too drunk to risk getting caught so he walked over to the side door, hunkered down and texted you.

wilb<3 2:45am // by sidef dooorr, pls get me

you 2:46am // wtf are u doing there??

you 2:46am // be down in a sec, hang tight

He shut his phone off and tucked it in his pocket after smiling at his messages. He leaned against the outer wall and slunk down to the ground. His mind felt like sludge, his body felt like bags of rocks were weighing him down and the way his eyelids kept slipping shut wasn't helping either.

A moment later and his shoulder was being shook by you, eyes shooting open only to glance at your worried expression. Concern plastered on your face and all your eyes saw was a mess of the boy you loved. Face tinted green with splotches of red, eyes glazed over and somehow-- lip gloss on his lips? Its messy and it looks like--

Your heart sinks. He kissed her. Or maybe, she kissed him, he couldn't hurt you like that. Even drunk, he had a heart and logical thinking.

Words weren't spoken as you help him to his feet, practically dragging him to the elevator that no one actually uses but comes in handy now. Your boyfriend's arm slung over your shoulders and his lips messily kissing the side of your hair as his words slur.

"Love you sooo much, baby-" It hurts to hear it, to hear the promises of love as he's so desperately drunk. The elevator is slow so as you hold him beside you, you keep yourself from snapping. Maybe a little prying won't hurt, will it?

"So, what happened?" Your voice is low and soft, a mere whisper as the elevator dings, signifying being on the second floor. Another two to go.

"Mm- Nothin' jus' truth or dare-" He slurs, leaning against you.

"So you didn't kiss May, then?"

Something flips in him, some sort of mild regulator switch flips and he clears his throat. Now leaning away from you as he looks around the elevator, somehow a bit more sober as he speaks, "And if I did?"

"I'd worry about you. I am worried about you."

Ding, third floor. Almost there.

"Its not like it matters, so what if I kissed a girl?" He snips, tone sharp and quick as he fully leans off you, standing on his own almost as if he hadn't a drop of alcohol. You knew that wasn't true, and you hoped he was shit faced drunk when it happened. You knew it happened.

"You'd be cheating if you had. It isn't right, okay?" Your voice is so even, clear and regulated. You keep your composure and his only cracks more.

"Just forget about it, nothing happened. Just leave it the fuck alone." He huffs slightly as the elevator dings and the doors slide open, you both step out and you lead him over to the bathroom to help him clean up just a bit.

It didn't last long when he pulled out of your grasp, "Why don't you just leave me alone and stop prying? Jesus- May was right." He mutters the last part as he stares daggers into you, and you move to walk beside him as he finds his way by your dorm room.

"Can you just tell me what the fuck is wrong?" You're breaking, cracking at the seams more and more as every word of his slips past his lips. Enraging you with every syllable.

And now, with his snarl and angered stare, you felt like an afterthought at that moment, and you wondered if that was his goal. Snapping at you, disregarding your concerns and feelings you were bringing to him. Suits you to argue with a drunk guy.

"You're too fucking obsessed with me anyways-- You're always hanging off me like some desperate lost puppy. I swear- It'd be better if you just left me alone." He rolls his eyes as he stumbles into the dorm, despite his louder than proper reaction, no one stirs or makes any noticeable action.

"I'm obsessed with you and she's not?" Your eyebrows knit in confusion as your lips curl into a frown, frustration boiling up inside you, soon to turn to anger.

He leans against the doorframe, rolling his eyes in a dramatic and drunk way as he huffs, "Yes, yes you are. At least she respects my boundaries," He shrugs as he steps back into the dorm and you feel tears prick at your eyes, frozen in place and boiling with anger, the frustration completely gone. Now you're just hurt.

"She manipulated you and forced you to go out with her and her asshole friends! You want to know something? Those guys you just spent two hours with and had so much fucking fun with? Fucking bullied me since middle school!" You step back, so close to walking away but you need this last word, just something to make him realize, "But you wouldn't know that, would you? You're too in your head to know anything about me!" It seems unrelated, and to him it was. But to you, his words were the last straw. You were done.

"Bullied you? I never took you for the delusional kind."

If it was possible, your jaw would be dislocated and on the floor, but instead you drew your lips into a thin line and let the tears ricochet.

"Fine- Y'know what? Go date May instead- get back with her, see what happens, huh?" Your blood boils as you speak through hot tears and you feel regret surging through you as you shut the door for him, turning on your heel and down the hall. It's a night to sneak into your dad's dorm.

He doesn't wake as you carefully creak the door open, tiptoeing in and finding a spot in the chair in the corner. Not caring or bothering with pillows or blankets, it isn't like you'll be getting much sleep.

Your eyes locked on the walls of the dark room, your mind replaying the last ten minutes like a broken record. You couldn't escape it, the guilt, the fear, the hurt. Your tears were silent but they had no plan of stopping as they fell down your face in clumps of salty water. Your throat felt like it was going to shut, sore and aching as you held back sobs. Your heart felt the same, yet instead of being shut off, it ached like it had been ripped into and at this point, it might as well have been.

Maybe he was right, maybe you were too clingy and 'obsessed' with him. Maybe you did spend too much time around him or too much of your breath speaking about him. All of the maybes ran through your mind like a pack of ants fleeing from the rain. It wouldn't be long until you were full on sobbing and so you did your best to hide your whimpers and breaths of heartache with the sleeves of your sweater--Wilbur's sweater.

You heard a creaking of a bunk, one of the three levels that were in the dorm, you weren't sure which but you still froze in place as a response. You hoped someone was just readjusting but as the lamp beside the bottom bunk clicked on, you realized someone was awake. You knew it was Andy even before you lifted your head to see him. Out of him, your dad and Evan, he was the lightest sleeper. So he'd most likely have been awake since the fight, you knew this but you only hoped that he would turn the other way and ignore it, let you wallow in your heartache.

"Kiddo?" He spoke softly, voice cracking with sleep as he patted the spot beside him on the edge of the bed. You simply eyed his hand, making no move to sit beside him, to get up out of the hole you've fallen into.

He gave you that look, that look only a dad would give you. The one that says "Tell me what's hurting, kid, please?" It's so unspoken, no words being muttered but every meaning and intention still finding it's way into the air and floating around like dust particles--unseen in darkness but when light shines, it's clear as day.

"Wilbur." You mutter it out, voice breaking at the end as another silent sob breaks through and he moves to stand, walking over to you and kneeling in front of you, hands on either side of your legs.

"What did he do?" Andy tilts his head to the side as he looks up at you with worry and concern splattered all over his face.

"He got drunk with those- with May and her friends," You paused as you sucked in a shallow breath, doing your best to calm yourself.

"And?" He prys, but you don't mind. He's just trying to scrape at the layers you've wrapped around your heart and mind, the layers that hide the truth beneath. He's doing a damn good job too.

"He yelled at me, I know he kissed May and- he's so mad at me, Andy. So mad." You know you sound like a broken child, a kid left behind on the playground. You can't help it, it's how you feel. You love Wilbur, you loved him. You gave him your heart and he discarded it in a ditch.

"I heard- I'll set up the trundle, you sleep in my bed, okay? Tomorrow is Saturday so I want you to take some breaths-" He starts instructing you to breathe in deeply and to let it out. He does this with you for a few more seconds until all the tears you have left have dried and you feel a tingling feeling of peace. As much as you can muster. And he smiles, patting your knee and turning around to do as he said he would, setting up the trundle, and then he ushers you over and you settle into the bottom bunk.

"We'll deal with this tomorrow, okay? We'll talk with your dad and Evan, and Cati too. Just rest now, kiddo." He smiles softly before settling into the trundle below and you let your eyes slip shut, welcoming sleep with open arms.

Your last thought before you drifted off, was hope you didn’t have to see Wilbur the next day.

taglist; @ella-fella-bo-bella @sleepyburs @lillylvjy

#wilbur soot #wilbur soot x reader #cc!wilbur #wilbur #cc!wilbur x reader #wilbur gold #wilbur x reader #wilbur soot imagine #wilbur soot x gn!reader #wilburfromlvjy #dsmp wilbur #wilbur soot x y/n #hurt/comfort #angst #wilbur fanfiction #wilbur imagine #bs au

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ethics-snom · 6 months

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My name is Walter Hartwell White. I live at 308 Negra Arroyo Lane, Albuquerque, New Mexico, 87104. This is my confession. If you're watching this tape, I'm probably dead, murdered by my brother-in-law Hank Schrader. Hank has been building a meth empire for over a year now and using me as his chemist. Shortly after my 50th birthday, Hank came to me with a rather, shocking proposition. He asked that I use my chemistry knowledge to cook methamphetamine, which he would then sell using his connections in the drug world. Connections that he made through his career with the DEA. I was... astounded, I... I always thought that Hank was a very moral man and I was... thrown, confused, but I was also particularly vulnerable at the time, something he knew and took advantage of. I was reeling from a cancer diagnosis that was poised to bankrupt my family. Hank took me on a ride along, and showed me just how much money even a small meth operation could make. And I was weak. I didn't want my family to go into financial ruin so I agreed. Every day, I think back at that moment with regret. I quickly realized that I was in way over my head, and Hank had a partner, a man named Gustavo Fring, a businessman. Hank essentially sold me into servitude to this man, and when I tried to quit, Fring threatened my family. I didn't know where to turn. Eventually, Hank and Fring had a falling out. From what I can gather, Hank was always pushing for a greater share of the business, to which Fring flatly refused to give him, and things escalated. Fring was able to arrange, uh I guess I guess you call it a "hit" on my brother-in-law, and failed, but Hank was seriously injured, and I wound up paying his medical bills which amounted to a little over $177,000. Upon recovery, Hank was bent on revenge, working with a man named Hector Salamanca, he plotted to kill Fring, and did so. In fact, the bomb that he used was built by me, and he gave me no option in it. I have often contemplated suicide, but I'm a coward. I wanted to go to the police, but I was frightened. Hank had risen in the ranks to become the head of the Albuquerque DEA, and about that time, to keep me in line, he took my children from me. For 3 months he kept them. My wife, who up until that point, had no idea of my criminal activities, was horrified to learn what I had done, why Hank had taken our children. We were scared. I was in Hell, I hated myself for what I had brought upon my family. Recently, I tried once again to quit, to end this nightmare, and in response, he gave me this. I can't take this anymore. I live in fear every day that Hank will kill me, or worse, hurt my family. I... All I could think to do was to make this video in hope that the world will finally see this man, for what he really is.

cc ō)📝) …

cc Ò)) AYO WHAT THE FUC-

#snom #snomblr #ethisnom #ethics snom #what

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evil-snom · 6 months

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cc . )___\ My name is Evil Snom. I am a bugs

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cryptic-kisses · 3 years

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Hallo , Cryptic ^^

I Wanted To Request Something If ' Yer Don't Mind -

What About Male Reader , Who Says Shit Before Thinking , ' N Like This Happens A Lot , But After They Get Really Flustered -

With Tommy , Ranboo , Tubbo , ' N Billzo !

Take ' Yer Time , Yeah ?

' N , Don't ' Yer Dare Over-Work ' Yerself , Understood ?

- A-RRadio .

What did you say?

cc! Tommy, Tubbo, Billzo, Ranboo x Male!reader (PLATONIC)

summary: you do some fake tattooing and it definitely came out great

warnings: Cursing

authors note: I was watching compilations of unusannus clips so that's what inspired this also Im just realizing I didn't really put in the request that much I am so sorry 😭

All sitting around a table you start giggling as your hands hit the table.

"This is such a dumb idea." You manage to get out of your mouth without completely breaking down in a fit of laughter. You, Bill, Tommy, Tubbo, and Ranboo were completely blindfolded.

With the great idea of doing random things without seeing, one of the challenges was tattooing which made you end up with a bag of henna ink in your hands.

You feel your stomach hit the edge of the table as you lean over making you giggle again.

"Okay okay, who am I gonna tattoo?" Nobody answers you so you take initiative into your own hands, quite literally

You take your hand and bring it over to your right side looking for an arm until eventually you feel the sleeve of a shirt. "Whose this?" You take their arm and 'gently' slam it on the table.

"[y/n] you're gonna break my arm before you tattoo it–" you smile.

"Aha! Billzo is my first victim!" Some of the boys giggle at you as they vaguely look in your direction.

"He is definitely going to draw a dick on your arm." Tommy half shouts out and you roll your eyes despite them not being visible.

Patting the area to try and find Bill's arm you get the henna only praying that whatever you do is at least in the center.

"I'm not going to do that, instead I'm gonna draw a sick ass skull." You hear Bill say something along the lines of 'on brand' while you start the fake tattoo.

It's a little bit of chatting and while you do it you feel completely focused. You can't see anything so you know whatever the outcome will be wonky but In the end, why shouldn't you try?

After feeling like you were finished you attempt to pat Bill on the shoulder. "Billzo, you have been the worst client I think I've ever had."

"Ohh I really hope you didn't put something bad," you shrug and then attempt to try and find someone else with your hands.

"Ooh [y/n] you should do Tubbo!" You hear Tommy say from across from you. The sound of a chair squeaking can be heard.

"[y/n] i'm sorry I do not trust you one bit."

Frowning you take your hand and bring it over to your left side this time and just... feel a head of hair.

"That is very much my head," you grin at him.

"Ranboo."

"[y/n]"

You move to take his arm and put it on the table already prepared to put on the henna. Ranboo cringes and braces himself for whatever you're going to do.

"Ranboo don't worry man," you start as you put on the ink on his skin. "I'm gonna make a really cool piranha." You start giggling at that.

"Tough guy Ranboo eh?" Tommy says, making you start giggling even more. You swear while not audible you can imagine him saying a mumble of prayers hoping you don't put anything shitty on his arm.

"So Ranboo, have you ever gotten a tattoo before man?"

"No– and I think this will be my last." You can hear Tubbo laugh at him and you frown.

"Well I promise sir that this is going to be a very badass tattoo." After finishing the first thing you do is lift up the blindfold.

You start laughing very hard staring at the 'tattoo' that you gave Ranboo

"That is very much... Not a dick." You blurt out feeling your self flush up which makes you laugh even more slamming your head into the table.

The other boys also take off their blindfold and start laughing along with you.

"Ranboo man you are so done for-"

"Hey! Mine doesn't look that bad!"

Ranboo takes off his blindfold and looks at the fake tattoo before shoving his head into his hands.

You pat his back.

"You, you see? I didn't lie, it's a badass tattoo."

#dream smp x male reader #dream smp x reader #mcyt x reader #mcyt x male reader #TommyInnit x male reader #ranboo x male reader #tubbo x male reader #billzo x male reader #mcyt x platonic reader #dream smp x platonic reader

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thnxforknowingme · 3 years

Text

The Feeling's Plain to Me (4/14)

Summary: Ficlets set in the same ‘verse as It’s Who I’m With. What did Kurt and Blaine get up to in between Christmas and St. Patrick’s Day? (for the Klaine/CC Valentine's Challenge 2022)

Rating: T

Notes: Silly me, I wrote even more for this prompt. Anyway, I'm pleased with how I incorporated this song - it includes a character asking an authority figure for permission to have a relationship; I was literally never going to get a more fitting song for Kurt breaking the news to Mr. Lowe (which was a scene I had planned on including already). And then I threw in a couple other elements to match other parts of the song. Also, just sort of tangential - Blaine’s apartment that I described on day 2 (Can I Get It) was based entirely on the tiny apartment in Harlem where my friend lived for a couple years (We'll get a little place in Harlem and we'll figure it out).

Read previous parts | Read on AO3

4: Helpless - Hamilton

January 3

It wasn’t until Kurt was getting ready to go pick Francie up from school on her first day back from vacation that he was struck with a sudden realization.

He immediately called Blaine, only remembering once the phone was ringing that he was probably working.

“Hey, you,” Blaine answered.

“Hey, are you busy?”

“No, I have a minute,” Blaine assured him. “What’s up?”

Kurt chewed his lip. “We’re kind of coworkers.”

“Uh, yeah?” Blaine said. “In a sort of roundabout way?”

Kurt began to pace his room, floorboards creaking beneath his boots. “But we’re dating. Is that allowed?”

Kurt could hear the smile in Blaine’s voice as he responded. “I don’t know. I’m not planning on ravishing you during a piano lesson, I promise.”

Kurt couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m serious, Blaine.”

Blaine paused, and Kurt could hear the sound of a piano playing somewhere in the distant background. “Okay, well, what do you want to do?” Blaine asked, the teasing tone gone. “Do you want to keep this a secret from him?”

Kurt considered this - acting as though he and Blaine were simply professional acquaintances, hiding this from Francie and Mr. Lowe. But for all his acting skills, Kurt wasn’t sure that he could even pull that off - as soon as he met Blaine’s eyes he’d be given away, drowning in Blaine’s affectionate gaze. And besides, he didn’t want to lie to the Lowes - just the idea made him uneasy. “No,” he decided. “I think that’s a bad idea. But if he doesn’t like it - I mean, I don’t want you to have to stop giving Francie lessons.”

“Kurt,” Blaine said, and Kurt loved the way his name sounded in Blaine’s mouth. “If that’s what it comes to - don’t worry about it. I love working with Francie, and it does pay well - I mean, you know, he pays you - but it’s only two hours a week. It was just a supplemental thing. My actual job pays the bills just fine.”

“Are you sure?” Kurt asked, his voice high with anxiety.

“Positive,” Blaine replied. “Do you want me to be there when you tell him?”

“No, no,” Kurt said. Blaine wasn’t scheduled to return to giving lessons until later in the week. “I can handle it. I’ll let you know how it goes.”

“All right. I’ve gotta go, but I’ll talk to you later.”

Blaine’s goodbye was accompanied by an overdramatic mwah sound, and Kurt laughed before responding in kind. He hung up the phone and stared at his reflection, smoothing down his jacket.

This would go okay, he told himself. Whatever the outcome - it was worth it, for Blaine.

Francie was excited to see Kurt, and their afternoon was filled with her chattering endlessly about everything she’d done in the two weeks since they’d seen each other. It was just after seven when Mr. Lowe arrived home, hanging his coat up with a sigh and coming into the kitchen to grab a bottle of Pellegrino from the fridge. He asked about Francie’s day, and made small talk about his work and their vacation. Then, when Kurt normally would have started to gather his things and head out, he said, “there’s something I need to talk to you about.”

Mr. Lowe raised an eyebrow and gave a brisk nod.

“You know Blaine Anderson, Francie’s piano teacher.”

“I do,” Mr. Lowe said.

Kurt tried to make sure that his posture was impeccable, that there didn’t seem to be anything suspect about his demeanor. “Well, last month he and I started meeting outside of work, and - we’re dating, now. I promise we’ve always been purely professional when with Francie, and both of us are committed to continue maintaining our responsibilities without our personal relationship interfering at all.”

Mr. Lowe’s face was frustratingly unreadable. He took a sip of the sparkling water. “You know, Kurt,” he said, his tone casual, “I like you.”

Kurt blinked. “Thank you.”

“You’re good with Francie,” Mr. Lowe went on. “You’re very responsible, but she also has fun with you. You’re able to balance those things well, which is a challenge. I think you’d make a good parent, if that’s something you’re ever interested in.”

This was not at all how Kurt had expected this conversation to go. “That’s very kind of you, sir.”

Mr. Lowe shrugged. “I don’t give unwarranted compliments.” He tapped his finger thoughtfully on his water bottle. “I appreciate you being open about this. I trust you with my daughter. I don’t know Mr. Anderson so well, but you generally seem to have good taste.”

Kurt tried resolutely not to let his cheeks color at that statement. Mr. Lowe turned away from him and opened the fridge, taking a moment to eye over its contents.

“I’ll take some time to consider this,” he said without turning around, “but I suspect that nothing has to change, so long as Francie is in good hands.”

Kurt let out the breath he’d been holding. “Thank you, Mr. Lowe.”

“Mm-hmm,” he hummed mildly. “If there’s nothing else you need to discuss, we’ll see you tomorrow.”

With that dismissal, Kurt took his bag and headed for the door. He maintained his composure until he was in the elevator, where he stared at his giddy smile in the reflective doors.

He texted Blaine as he waited on the subway platform. Things went great. He says he’ll think about it but most likely we’re both still employed!

I knew your charm and persuasiveness would win out, Blaine replied.

Kurt felt light and alive, marveling at how a single text could so thoroughly affect him, how even these tiny correspondences from Blaine could make him so happy. He sent one last text as his train was pulling up - Guess I’ll see you at work, then!

#klaineccvalentines2022 #klaine fic #klaine fanfiction #my fic #fic: the feeling's plain to me

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missjanjie · 3 years

Note

Cc parent jankie! Cc parent jankie! Please? 🥺

“Are you ready to go see Daddy’s show?” Jackie prompted as he helped Bernadette out of the subway car.

Bernadette nodded with bright, eager eyes. “Yeah!”

It wasn’t the first time she had seen either of her dads in drag – they started taking her to drag brunches when she was still a toddler. But this was the first show she would be going to at a venue, something the preschooler was eagerly anticipating.

Once there, they were escorted to their table right in front of the stage. Jackie made sure Bernadette’s protective headphones were securely on, offering a thumbs up once they were ready. He pulled her chair closer so they could take a selfie to send to Jan, who was backstage.

“Aww, girls come look!” Jan happily showed off the photo to the local queens – his friends – once he was ready. They had a good few minutes to coo over how cute his little family was before they had to get ready.

Jan was all but vibrating with enthusiasm when it was his time to go on, going right into his performance. But when he noticed a tiny hand waving a dollar bill at him, he all but broke character, resisting the urge to scoop his daughter into his arms. Instead, he took the bill and pressed a kiss to her head, then sent Jackie a wink before getting right back into the flow of his mix.

“Now,” he said after the first mix, “I usually pick from my repertoire for my live singing, but I’ve got my daughter in the audience, so I’m gonna sing her favorite song instead.”

The crowd ‘aww’d and cheered, and by the end, they were all singing Let It Go. It was moments like that where he realized he had the best of both worlds now.

#jankie #chjackie #chjan #shjankie

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xnever-fade-awayx · 3 years

Text

A Few of my OCs

These are a few of my random OCs, some have backstories, some don’t. Haven’t really decided what to do with a few of the outside of CC. But I wanted to share them!

ALL OCs UNDER THE CUT

LEVI

Levi currently doesn’t have a backstory, just a name. I believe he was going to be an ex-corpo? I don’t know. I made him and fell in love with this design, a lot. I hope to remake him soon and actually find clothes that fit his style and figure out his life more!

NAME TO BE DETERMINED

This is my nomad/ex-nomad. I’m stuck between the names Vera, Viktoria and Valera. She grew up in the nomad life but ran away as a teen wanting a different life. She hated constantly travelling. Whenever she loved a place, the clan had to leave. She escaped to Night City while they stayed in the Badlands there and made a name and life for her there.

When she’s paired with Panam with a gig by the Almighty Rogue, she realizes how much she missed having people that loved and cared for her, seeing how Mitch, Scorpion and even Saul worried and cared for Panam.

The story of her scar is undeveloped but it was from a fight. Not sure what yet! Also, I plaaaaaan to possibly have her paired with Saul... I don’t know why. Just because.

IRIS

Iris is a corpo, working up high within Arasaka with Yorinobu. She acts as a personal bodyguard when they go out and have also had some... relations, if you know what I mean. I personally pair her with Goro Takemura, and they meet prior to the beginning of CP77. When Saburo is killed, Yorinobu convinces her that Takemura had involvement in it, and completely cuts all ties and contact with him.

When V and Takemura need help and Oda wasn’t willing to listen, Takemura hopes that Iris will help... but things don’t originially go as planned...

THALIA

This is Thalia, my current obsession. She was born to wealthy parents, growing up in Westbrook, around Charter Hill. She was destined to become like her parents and follow in their footsteps and Thalia didn’t want that life, so she ran away. She ended up at El Coyote Cojo, meeting Jackie and Mama Welles and becoming apart of their family.

Thalia, after she turned 18, began selling her body to pay bills. She started on Jig-Jig Street, moving to work at Lizzie’s for a few months, making a few BDs and then back to the streets. Thalia became a very, very well known JoyToy and made her prices higher and higher once she got better implants.

Jackie and Mama Welles never knew about what Thalia did as a job until she showed up at the Coyote with a busted lip, a black eyes and sobbing. She was used to clients being rough, and paying more for that, but this was farther than she ever went.

Jackie and Mama Welles tried to help her get a job that didn’t involve selling her body, but it was all she’s known for the last ten years of her life. The last straw for them was when the same client followed Thalia into the Coyote after she denied him service and she left his apartment. Mama Welles threatened him, chased him out of her bar... and Jackie later that evening paid him an unexpected visit to his apartment...

#cyberpunk 2077 #cp 2077 #cyberpunk oc #my oc #my ocs

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stereksecretsanta · 4 years

Text

Merry Christmas, kevaaronday!

For @kevaaronday. I tried to use all the tropes you liked, though I played a bit with the coffee shop!AU request. It ended up being pretty long, but I hope it pleases. Enjoy and Merry Christmas!

Read On AO3

*****

Food, Drinks, and Pings

Stiles just wanted to clear things up—he did not work for Hale Corp, and he certainly did not work for said company’s inhouse café, The Family Bean. He was a writer, who just so happened to have been roped into the gig because he was best friends with the soulmate-fiancée of the best friend of one of the sons of the company’s owners.

See, one of Stiles’ best friends from high school was Erica Reyes, blonde, vivacious, and both crazy and powerful enough to castrate someone with her fingernails. She might look like she just stepped off the catwalk, with her hourglass figure, fluffy hair, and red lips, but she had a knack for business that led to a scholarship at a reputable business school. Stiles, on the other hand, took to writing like a duck to water, thanks to his overactive imagination and ability to turn a phrase. He could write anything and so he did—news pieces, articles, blogs, reviews, as well as a modestly famous soulmate series published under a pseudonym.

Erica’s soon-to-be husband and soulmate was Vernon Boyd III, a tall, dark, and delicious drink of chocolate, who was so fit he could bench press a baby elephant without breaking a sweat. He was the perfect picture of seriousness and silence, that Stiles used to wonder how he functioned as Hale Corp’s Director of Operations. After getting to know him better, he realized just how smart and charismatic Boyd really was.

Boyd’s best friend from childhood was Derek Hale, one of the sons from the famous and powerful Hale Family, owners and leaders of the mass media company, Hale Corp.

Stiles knew of the Hale Family, and who didn’t? You’d be hard-pressed to find someone who didn’t know the famous family of business tycoons and titans, a family so rich they could buy a person’s soul even. Nor would someone fail to hear about one of the most powerful love stories that rocked the world.

Talia Hale was the eldest child of the main branch of the Hale family and was poised to take over the world. Desmond Fitzgerald, in contrast, was the only child of elderly parents, and they lived at a shabby, squat house with no electricity, scraping by each and every day.

Talia’s father, the late and great Everett Hale, had visited the local community college as part of their charity program. Talia had tagged along, nineteen and already learning the ropes, and had tripped over the custodian who had been on his hands and knees straightening the welcome carpet.

Take a guess who the janitor was.

An accidental brush of skin, the burning of a Mark, and that was it.

Talia and Desmond turned out to be soulmates, and their Marks, her howling wolf and his crescent moon, had become one of the most romantic symbols of their time.

Now, where did Stiles and The Family Bean came in, you ask?

Aside from writing, Stiles knew his way around a kitchen. His mother had passed away when he was seven, and he had grown up with a Sheriff father who only knew the basics. Stiles had to learn how to cook a meal or risk them subsisting on fried everything and endless takeout orders.

So yes, Stiles knew how a kitchen worked. The thing was, Erica didn’t, and had spent high school eating Stiles’ meals and hanging around his kitchen. Nothing soothed her viciousness and temper like one of his desserts.

So whenever Erica was close to breaking someone’s jaw and risking a lawsuit, she’d invite Stiles over and he would come and work his magic at The Family Bean. It wasn’t like it was such a hardship. The place had a gorgeous kitchen, a full pantry, and a really comfy setup with cozy booths and colorful tables and chairs.

It wasn’t only Erica who benefited. Stiles often found inspiration at the tail end of a whisk or in between beating a dough into submission while listening to Erica’s gossip. He had come to depend on her brand of sass whenever he was suffering from writer’s block, or dealing with annoying clients, or avoiding his editor, Danny Mahealani.

It got to the point that Erica had HR make him a permanent guest entry pass—written down for Stiles S, Food Guy—and everyone knew him by name, the security, the delivery boys, the café’s actual employees, and some of Hale Corp’s employees.

That was what he meant by his original statement: He did not work for Hale Corp or The Family Bean. He was just Erica’s food guy and personal chef. Just another title to add to personal punching bag, platonic soulmate, best friend, and partner-in-crime, among others.

Boyd was surprisingly calm about the guy constantly hanging around his soulmate. Then again, no one would choose Stiles’ skinny ass for Boyd’s lusciousness, so Stiles could understand that he wasn’t much of a threat. Erica said that Boyd knew they were a package deal, and it helped that Boyd had been won over by Stiles’ banana bread. Either way, Boyd was cool and didn’t punch Stiles in the face for his and Erica’s weird platonic love affair.

So, in the end, that was Stiles’ life—work, his Dad, Erica, and his other friends.

Then the Hales happened.

It all started on a fine Monday morning with Kira Yukimura. She was pretty and petite, and the goddess who was actually the one in charge of The Family Bean’s kitchen. She wore floral dresses with studded combat boots, and held katana wielding lessons on Saturdays and a kids’ kitchen workshop on Sundays. Stiles adored her.

So when he walked in that day—after spending the entirety of the weekend not writing, because his protagonists, Peter and Wade, were being idiots—only to hear Kira’s cries for help, he was more than happy to tag in.

“I’m not crying.” She glared at him from where she was assembling sandwich orders, her gaze as sharp as her swords.

“But you still need help,” Stiles said. He put his laptop bag in one of the employee lockers, rolled up the sleeves of his red sweater, and put on an apron. “Erica wants to do lunch, but I decided to come in early.”

Kira nodded towards the window. “All right, because I got a purple ticket for you.”

Stiles jumped up. “Ooh, cool! I’ve never handled a purple ticket before!”

Kira gave him a relieved smile. “Well, today’s your lucky day. One of my employees called in sick, another is late, and I’ve got five packed tickets from different departments, three of them being rush orders, not to mention today’s purple ticket is a little too vague. I’m both swamped and stumped.”

“I’ve got your back, K.” Stiles gave her a salute and bounced over to the ticket tacked up on the holder.

Purple tickets were orders sent straight from the Wolf’s Den. It was the codename for the top floors occupied by the Hale Family and their closest associates. Boyd and Erica’s office were there, too. Stiles had only ever seen it through photos. There was a lot of security posted there, as if guarding the gates of heaven.

Anyway, purple tickets meant VVVVIP orders, note the number of ‘very’s. Kira usually handled those, but she obviously needed help now.

“Now, what do the Lords and Ladies want?” Stiles murmured to himself.

The Family Bean:

MH: hot chocolate

CC: pancakes

SHB: waffles

VHB: dirty chai

LH: anything

“You know who’s who?” Kira called out.

“Yep, I got it,” Stiles replied. He learned about this from Erica.

MH was Matthew Hale, the firstborn son and heir to the kingdom. CC was his seven-year-old daughter, who everyone called by her nickname. SHB was five-year-old Spencer, and VHB was his mother Valerie Hale-Barone, the firstborn daughter, second eldest, and the lawyer of the family. LH was Laura Hale, the third eldest and the maverick of the family. She was the only one not directly working for Hale Corp, and was more involved their side projects.

“Purple tickets are usually like that,” Kira said, looking at him with amusement. Stiles realized he had been frowning in confusion. “Despite being insanely rich people, they’re surprisingly not very picky about what they eat. Laura, in particular, will eat anything. It’s just difficult to give them variety or find a balance between upscale and too simple.”

“And now you want me to take a crack at it?” Stiles asked.

“Sure. It’ll be in my name anyway, and I don’t mind if you go wild,” Kira said encouragingly. It made Stiles grin. Most would be horrified at handing over their precious menu to someone who wasn’t a baker, much less someone who wasn’t a legitimate employee. But Kira had always been a rebel.

Under Kira’s guidance, Stiles filled up a purple delivery bag for the Hales. The dirty chai latte was pretty straightforward, though he didn’t know how Kira usually made it, so he went with his own style. He also made a raspberry hot chocolate, strawberry cheesecake pancakes, mixed berry waffles, and, for the anything portion of the ticket, a berry breakfast parfait made of yoghurt and fruits and graham crackers.

“Tastes awesome and looks pretty as a picture too,” Kira said, nibbling on her own waffle as she sat atop the counter, swinging her legs to and fro. Stiles could see a hint of her soulmate Mark under her dress just on the outside of her thigh. “I still believe you should have been a baker rather than a writer.”

Stiles grinned as he hung up his apron. “I’m both, but one pays the bills and the other’s a hobby. It’s surprising how most people would think one’s the other.”

“Kira?” a voice called out.

Kira perked up and immediately slid off the counter. She straightened her skirt and stepped out the door of the kitchen.

“Good morning, Derek,” she greeted.

Stiles peeked out unashamedly through the service window.

Tall, dark, and incredibly handsome, DH or Derek Hale was the middle child of the family. He was the Chief Financial Officer, and was said to be shyer and quieter compared to his more unruly and flashy siblings. It made sense why he was childhood friends with Boyd. The two seemed to share a calm, quiet demeanor.

Stiles had always thought that Derek was quite handsome in an already attractive family, and every once in a while, he would get front row seats—or the view through the service window—to the man in the three-piece suit with the godly shoulder to waist to ass ratio. It was quite inspiring.

“I heard Val and the others had a purple ticket sent down,” Derek was saying to Kira. “I’m on my way up and I thought I’d bring it along and save you a trip.”

“Oh, thanks, Derek. I’ll get it from the back,” Kira replied. “How about you? Do you want anything?”

Derek thought about it. “Just a drink. Anything you want to make me.”

“So long as it’s sweet?” Kira teased, which made the man chuckle.

It was like a bulb lit up in Stiles’ head.

He met Kira at the door when she walked back in, and it said so much about how awesome she was because she immediately said, “Yes, Stiles, you can make whatever you want. I mean, you’ve already tried your hard at the purple ticket. Might as well go all the way.”

“Thanks, K. You’re a goddess.” Stiles bounced off to the machines. He had always liked a challenge.

In the end, Stiles added his specially made ‘very merry berry frappe’ into the bag. He made sure to put it in a cup cozy to hide the purple color. He wasn’t sure if Derek would mind, but it just wouldn’t do for one of the bosses to be seen with a colorful drink. He let Kira whisk the bag away and they watched Derek exit The Family Bean.

“I hate to see you go, but I love to watch you leave,” Stiles murmured, eyeing the man’s backside.

“I’ll drink to that.” Kira giggled, clinking her extra glass of frappe against his. “And you’re teaching me the recipe by the way.”

“Not on your life.”

It took eight days before Stiles could once again visit The Family Bean. He had had a burst of inspiration following his last visit and had locked himself up in his apartment. His Dad John and his editor Danny were used to these binges, so they had taken turns visiting him to make sure he was alive and eating actual food rather than inhaling takeout, junk food, and soda.

He had sent off the first few chapters to Danny yesterday and had then slept for about eighteen hours, before Erica had barged in to make sure he hadn’t died. She had been pissed at him last week, annoyed that she hadn’t sampled Stiles’ berry-filled menu, but she’d gotten over it and had even brought groceries before dragging Stiles to The Family Bean for some fresh air and free lunch.

And if that wasn’t enough to perk Stiles up, she and Kira proceeded to tell him how well-received his menu was.

“The kids absolutely loved it, and Laura practically licked her parfait cup clean,” Kira said as they sat around the table for lunch. She had prepared honey sesame chicken, egg rolls, and sweet potato salad. She definitely had Stiles beat when it came to savory meals.

“Valerie was surprised that her dirty chai tasted great. She wasn’t biting people’s heads off more than usual,” Erica shared. She was running her fingers idly over her soulmate Mark, the three claw marks that spanned across her forearm.

Stiles felt pleased at the compliment, but he couldn’t help sending Kira an apologetic look. He didn’t want to usurp her clients and her kitchen.

Kira just laughed. “It’s fine. I know it’s due to your magic fingers and secret recipes. Just teach me how you do Valerie’s dirty chai and we’re good.”

“Sure thing, but it’s nothing special” Stiles said. “I did bring dessert, as thanks for letting me play around last time.”

Kira bounced on her seat. “Tomato pie?”

“With extra bacon and jalapeños, just how you like it.” Stiles grinned and showed her the pie, making Kira squeal.

“You gals eat up. I’ll mix us up some lattes, if you want anything,” he offered.

Stiles went to the kitchen to fix up Erica’s usual iced cinnamon honey latte and Kira’s vanilla almond. He was in the middle of finishing them up when he heard voices out at the main area. He recognized Boyd’s low voice and decided to make him a cup of blond roast with soy milk. He paused when he heard unfamiliar voices and took a peek out the service window. He instantly recognized the small group that had joined Kira and Erica.

There was Boyd, who immediately sat down beside Erica and kissed her cheek. His soulmate Mark was obvious, a rose on the back of his left hand. Stiles liked their marks, very beauty and the beast.

Having come in with Boyd was Derek, who looked just as handsome as he always did in a fetching dark blue suit. With him were his younger siblings, twins Cora and Cameron Hale, the artists of the family, who made music and art, played a bevy of instruments, and also drew and painted. Stiles was only two years older than the twins, but they had more talent in their pinkies than Stiles had in his whole body.

The twins’ Marks were one of the most popular, not just because the two were celebrities, but also because they were incredibly visible. Even from a distance, Stiles could see the compass between Cora’s collarbones and the lighthouse that popped up over Cameron’s collar at the left side of his neck.

Suddenly feeling shy, Stiles stayed in the kitchen and watched and listened.

“Nice spread, Kira. Is that for us?” Cameron asked.

“No, you Hales have your own food upstairs,” Kira said. “I heard Wild Flour Italian sent lunch over.”

Cora rolled her eyes. “Jennifer Blake owns that joint. She’s been trying to get us to come over. No doubt she’ll just use it as some sort of advertisement. I’d rather take a bite of this.” She pointed at their table.

“That pie looks good,” Cameron said. “Can I have a bite?”

Stiles saw the gleam in Erica’s eye.

“Go on,” she said. “They’re good.”

Stiles watched as Erica and Kira offered the Hales a slice each. For some reason, he felt anxious to hear about how his food will be received. It had been nice to hear the rave reviews from Kira and Erica, but it was different seeing their reactions in person.

Cora let out yum-yum noises, which buoyed Stiles’ spirit.

“Okay, that’s pretty tasty. I love the caramelized bacon.”

“Wait, is this tomato in pie? Like a tomato pie?” Cameron asked, inspecting his plate. He took a large bite.

Kira bounced on her seat in excitement. “Yes, isn’t it good?”

“Who made this?” Derek asked. He didn’t look displeased, but he didn’t look happy either. He had a really good poker face. It might be good for business, but it was hard for Stiles to interpret. Stiles noted that he kept on eating the pie though.

“My Food Guy,” Erica said with a smug grin.

“Her Food Guy’s the one who made the berry-eautiful purple ticket that received quite the sensational reviews,” Kira added. She glanced at the service window and Stiles knew she saw him hiding there.

“The one who made my drink, too?” Derek asked.

Kira nodded. “The same one.”

“Spence went gaga for those waffles,” Cameron said. “And Mattie couldn’t believe someone got CC to eat fruit.”

A loud ring cut through their conversation and everyone started pulling out phones to check. It was Derek’s.

“Mom’s calling. Time to go,” he said, standing up.

In reply, Cameron started shoving the rest of the pie in his mouth and also popped in a couple of egg rolls.

“Where’s the Food Guy, though?” Cora asked, head turning to the kitchen. Stiles ducked down behind the counter. “If he makes stuff like this, I wanna meet him.”

“You can order a purple ticket if you want, but he’s not here all the time,” Erica said, and Stiles glared at her in his mind.

“He works part-time?” Derek asked.

“Not quite,” Kira said. “He’s—”

They were interrupted once more by a ringing phone, and this time Boyd spoke.

“Talia wants you all upstairs. Now.”

Stiles peeked out again. Cameron attempted to bring the entire pie tin, but settled for polishing his slice off. He then joined Cora in writing up a purple ticket order. After a moment, Derek put an order in too. The Hales left in a hurry and Stiles leaned right out of the service window just as Kira came bouncing towards it.

“There’s the man of the hour,” Boyd said, with a smirk.

Kira giggled. “Order up, Food Guy. You got a purple ticket.”

“I’m so proud.” Erica mockingly wiped a tear away. “Stiles, my Food Guy, charming the Hales off through the power of food.”

“Oh, fuck you all.” Stiles glared, ducking back into the kitchen.

At the last minute, he reached out and grabbed the purple ticket from Kira, ignoring the others’ laughter.

Over the next three weeks, Stiles prepared four more purple tickets. According to Kira, his drinks and desserts had become quite attractive to the Hales, both because of the taste and the mystery.

“At this point, they don’t even want me handling the tickets. They always ask if The Food Guy is around before they send their orders down,” Kira said. This time, she was the one helping Stiles prepare and pack.

The Wolf’s Den was going to be holding meetings nonstop, so Stiles had to prepare a variety of drinks and snacks. It would have been easy if they had simple requests, but the Hales were a mix of eclectic and frustrating.

“I’m glad you’re cool about this, but the Hales are bound to find out that the one making all their desserts isn’t even an employee,” Stiles said, as he added an extra shot of syrup in Laura’s honey and milk iced coffee. Just like her usual orders, she had asked for ‘any drink that’s sweet’ which was such a large ballpark that Stiles wanted to clock someone over the head, maybe her.

“I’m more surprised that you keep making these for free,” Kira said.

Stiles shrugged. “It’s a challenge, and I like challenges.”

“Really, just for the challenge?” Kira asked. “Stiles, Valerie fell in love with your version of her dirty chai. I did it the exact same way you did, but she insists that it tastes different. Same with Cameron’s favorite spiced coconut coffee. Same with all the desserts you made for the kids…”

Her face turned serious. “Don’t you think there’s more to this? Don’t you think it’s a ping—”

“It’s just for fun, Kira. It’s nothing,” Stiles said, heart rabbiting in his chest. He pushed it down firmly. “Plus, it’s surprisingly inspiring for my stories. Right now, I’m writing a new story for my spy series and I’m trying to solve this thing going on between James and Quentin.”

Kira’s face fell but she smiled, if a bit awkwardly. “Ah, well. Whatever you say, Food Guy. I’m just happy I get free labor out of it.”

“So you’re the Food Guy?”

The two of them jumped up in surprise and they turned around to see that someone had come in through the kitchen doors.

“Nathan, hello!” Kira greeted. “We didn’t hear you come in.”

Nathaniel Hale was the youngest of the brood at nineteen, and with his dark hair and piercing blue eyes, he was quite the heartthrob in an already beautiful family. If that wasn’t enough, he was an athlete and a rising star in soccer.

Stiles didn’t really care at the moment, too busy wondering if the kid had heard what Kira had been saying.

Nathan leaned against the counter. “Everyone was arguing over who was going to pick up the ticket this time. I walked out while Laura was arm wrestling with Cam.”

Kira laughed while Stiles looked away, suddenly awkward.

“Uh, that’s cool and all, but I’m not remotely interesting enough to warrant an arm wrestle.”

Nathan shrugged. “Your stuff tastes amazing.” He smiled at Kira. “No offense, Kira. You’re still queen. But you… you’re interesting.” He gave Stiles a look. “You know, I’ve been ordering the same caramel vanilla iced coffee from The Family Bean for years now. You made it once and now everything else tastes different.”

Stiles couldn’t help flinching. Oh yeah. Nathan had definitely heard Kira.

But Nathan turned to Kira, breaking the stare. “Anyway, is the ticket ready? Can I take it up?”

Kira smiled and handed over the bag. “You just want to lord your victory over the others.”

“Of course. That’s what having siblings is all about.” Nathan scoffed, but grinned. “Anyway, thanks.”

Kira smiled. “Enjoy your meal.”

Stiles watched Nathan leave and rubbed his left shoulder. He had a weird feeling about all this.

A single touch was all it took to find someone’s soulmate. However, people couldn’t just go around touching one another. Some did, but there were laws against touching people without their consent. So Nature, in all its wisdom, gave people the capability to locate their soulmates by following a trail.

The best trail was through family members. Take for example one other famous Hale love story, that of Valerie. Her husband, the Italian magnate Piero Barone, was from a family of vintners. During Talia and Desmond’s trip to Italy, they met Piero at a wine tasting event and immediately felt what Mark experts called a ‘ping,’ a connection between them that hinted at the identity of Piero’s soulmate. Piero followed the Hales to America, met the family—all of which gave off similar pings—was finally allowed a Touch Test with Valerie, and the rest was history.

There were other kinds of trails, like what happened between Boyd and Erica. They both attended the same university, though Boyd had graduated several years earlier. However, even without knowing Boyd, Erica inadvertently joined the same groups and organizations that he had, and even lived at the same apartment that he had rented when he had been a student. Then after Erica graduated, she decided to take a year off to travel. Months later, when Boyd went on sabbatical, he ended up following almost the exact same itinerary. They finally met by chance during an alumni event and got to talking, which revealed all of the things they had in common. Before the event was even halfway through, they had done a Touch Test and found their match.

Stiles’ favorite trail story was of his parents’. John and Claudia met when they were children. Having no siblings, they didn’t have the benefit of a family trail, and being young meant there weren’t a lot of experiences that could link them. However, they had always known there was something special about one another. They grew up together, grew apart, and met later on in life. They still didn’t have the same life experiences—she was a librarian, he was a deputy—but the moment they saw one another again, they just knew.

Sometimes people just knew.

“Well, well, well. I didn’t know we were serving twink in the menu.”

Ordinarily, that comment would have had Stiles lashing out with his sharp tongue, but upon looking up, he hesitated. First of all, the other person was clearly drunk and it was only, Stiles checked his watch, three-forty-seven in the afternoon. Second, the other person was none other than the infamous Peter Hale, Talia’s younger brother.

The eternal bachelor, he was called, well known for his many dalliances and relationships. He was also the Hale with the most well-known Mark, not because it was at a visible spot, but mostly because he tended to flaunt the large image of a bird in flight that was across his chest via his tendency of wearing unbuttoned shirts.

In Stiles’ opinion, Peter reminded him of one of his book characters—the rich and powerful Anthony, who, underneath all the bravado, was desperately looking for his soulmate, only to find it in the fair-haired, gentle-hearted Steven, who wouldn’t take his crap. He wondered who Peter’s soulmate was.

“Oh, for god’s sake. Uncle, come back here!”

Stiles looked up to see Derek jogging over to them, looking both pissed and worried at the man leaning against The Family Bean’s pristine counter.

Peter ignored him. “Oh, lay off, Derek. I want a drink, and this twink is going to make me one.”

Derek turned to Stiles. “Peter, do not call—” He paused, dark eyes widening.

Stiles felt his heart jerk in his chest and his left shoulder burn. He felt like he had been hit in the head, so did Derek going by his gaping.

Peter suddenly tilted sideways, interrupting their stare down. Neither Stiles nor Derek were able to catch the man before he ended up sprawled across the counter. The sight of him had Stiles dredging up some semblance of control. He sighed.

“You are very rude, and also very drunk, but because I feel sorry for you, Mr. Hale, I’ll make you a free drink.”

Derek let out a gurgle and then a cough, obviously holding back laughter. Peter propped himself up on wobbly elbows.

“You feel sorry for me? Don’t you know who I am, kid?”

Stiles was both annoyed by Peter and buoyed by Derek’s reaction. It was probably what sharpened his tongue.

“You’re Talia Hale’s younger brother, but between the supposed—ahh, what was it—Big Bad Wolf of Media and this so-called twink, I’m not the one nursing a hangover at this time of the afternoon.”

Stiles shook his head and walked off, ignoring Peter’s angry, garbled words and the sudden chuckle from Derek. The latter made Stiles’ shoulder ache.

Stiles ignored that and prepared a quick takeout bag. He could hear Peter and Derek arguing out on the main area. It was the work of minutes to prepare a quick smoothie and throw in some crackers and fruits. He walked back out and handed the bag to Derek, but then quickly tucked his hands to himself. The other man’s piercing stare was making him sweat.

Peter grabbed his drink and took a gulp of the smoothie, before asking, “What’s your name, kid?”

Stiles rolled his eyes. Not even a thank you. How rude.

“Not a kid, and there’s no need to know my name since you’re just going to forget it.”

Peter smirked lasciviously. “Oh, that mouth on you.”

“I’m also not into geriatrics,” Stiles was quick to bite back.

Peter’s jaw dropped. “Geria—”

Derek suddenly burst into laughter and the sound of it seemed to fill Stiles’ heart and mind, making his face flush and his body warm. Derek smiled at him and Stiles felt warmth bloom in his chest.

Stiles cleared his throat, trying to will the blush away. He rubbed his shoulder. “Well, anyway, I’m happy to help. I’ll tell Kira you guys dropped by. See you around.” He glanced at Peter. “Not you. Drop dead.” He stepped back.

“Wait!” Derek lurched forward, startling Stiles and also Peter, who, true to Stiles’ words, slid off the counter to the floor. They ignored him.

Derek leaned forward over the counter. “I’m sorry if I’m forward, but are you—”

Stiles shook his head vigorously. “I’m sorry. I have to go.”

He ducked back into the kitchen, ignoring Derek’s calls and Peter’s drunken warbling. He leaned against the door and slid down until he could curl up into a ball. He placed a hand over his burning shoulder.

Sometimes people just knew.

Stiles was tempted to stay away from The Family Bean after that. He really wanted to. But it was hard to stay away.

Even harder to stay away from a ping.

Stiles wasn’t stupid enough to let that slip away.

Still, it was hard to face up to it and admit that he had a soulmate.

So for the next two weeks, Stiles stayed away from the front of house, always hiding in the safety of the kitchen. He kept on making purple tickets whenever they came, but he avoided coming out for any reason, especially after Derek started coming by nearly every day. Sometimes he even brought his work over just so that he could stay as long as possible.

It confused Kira and Erica, but they assumed Derek just liked the food. The other Hales also started coming by and many times, Stiles could hear them asking Derek why he was hanging around The Family Bean instead of working in his office. Always, Derek kept mum.

Because as it turned out, Derek hadn’t told anyone about the ping.

In fact, Stiles had a feeling that the only person in the Hale family who knew was Nathan. Maybe because he had already been suspicious of it. Out of all the Hales, he was the only one who didn’t ask Derek about why he kept hanging around the café.

The other one who knew was Boyd.

Derek had been called to a meeting one day, so Stiles had felt it safe to come out and work at one of the booths. He had already fallen so far behind on his writing commitments. After a few minutes, Boyd had dropped by and had joined him. Stiles knew he was typing gibberish on his laptop, but he kept on as an excuse not to look at Boyd, who was looking at him intently.

Finally, he spoke, “Looking back, I guess it wasn’t just your banana bread that won me over.”

Stiles jerked, sending a series of characters across the screen.

Boyd kept on. “I always had a good feeling about you from Erica’s stories, but when we met, that was definitely a ping.”

Stiles bit his lip. “Does Erica know?”

Boyd shook his head. “I love her, but Erica would have thrown a party if she knew.”

Stiles sighed, both in relief and in trepidation for the moment Erica find out.

Boyd studied him. “Derek’s a good guy, you know.”

“I know I got that impression from all the stories you and Erica had of him,” Stiles said. “I always thought it was surprising considering he could afford not to be a nice guy.”

Boyd studied him, making Stiles shift in his seat. “Is that the reason you won’t meet with him? Or do a Touch Test? Because he’s a Hale?”

Stiles almost protested, but he deflated. “…I don’t know.”

Boyd hummed under his breath. “Well, you’ve always played your cards close to the chest when it comes to soulmates, but I know you’ll figure it out.” He stood up. “But you better make it soon. Erica and the rest of the Hales are bound to figure it out.”

Stiles groaned and sank down on his seat.

“Noted.”

The day after that, a still-conflicted Stiles was once again at The Family Bean. Kira had gone up to the Wolf’s Den to deliver the latest purple ticket, so he had to stay and man the counter.

The door let out a little tinkle, and Stiles froze the moment he saw the woman entering the café.

He’d know Talia Hale anywhere.

Stiles almost panicked, but then he remembered that she didn’t know who he was. He took a deep breath.

“Um, good afternoon, Mrs. Hale. What can I get you?”

The woman smiled, quite warm and friendly despite her fierce reputation. “Just some tea, please. And are there any new desserts?”

It had been a moment of weakness, but Stiles had actually brought over some peanut butter stuffed cookies and added it to the purple ticket in the hopes that a certain Hale would like them. He still had a few cookies left, but he wasn’t sure if he should offer them to her.

“I smell cookies,” Talia said pointedly. “I’ll have some of those.”

Stiles gulped. “Ah, we have some peanut butter stuffed cookies. Let me get those for you.”

He swallowed his nerves and served the woman, who took a sip of tea and a bite of the cookie right there on the counter.

She smiled, studying the cookies. “Very tasty.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Stiles smiled politely. He turned away to leave and maybe gather his strength in the privacy of the kitchen.

“When we started hearing about The Food Guy, I admit I was quite intrigued. It’s very rare for someone to grab the attention of my entire family.”

Stiles paused and turned to her.

He should have known.

Stiles nodded stiffly. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.”

Talia smiled, sharp and knowing. “And you, Food Guy.”

“Any reason for the visit?” Stiles asked, shifting on his feet.

“I wanted to meet you,” Talia said, taking another bite of her cookie.

Stiles frowned. “That’s all?”

“Were you expecting anything else?”

“Uh, well, I…”

Talia shrugged and sipped his tea. “I don’t blame you for any misgivings you might have should you prove to be soulmates with my son. I’m well aware of the reputation of my family. My late father, Everett, embodied the might of the Hale name better than anyone. You should have seen him back in the days.”

Stiles held up his hands. He couldn’t help the feeling that he had to explain.

“It’s not that there’s a problem with Derek or your family. Being a Hale isn’t the problem… not entirely…” he hesitated, but then plunged on, urged by the ping he could feel inside him and the desire to make someone understand. “My mom passed away when I was seven. She was soulmates with my father. He was—I was—we were never the same after.”

A heavy silence fell, and Stiles was both nervous and intrigued. Talia’s face changed. Something in her eyes darkened and she pursed her lips.

“Forgive my sudden melancholy, but I was just reminded of something.” She sipped her tea. “I was reminded of my youth. My father, Peter, and I had never been the same after mother walked away.”

“Walked away?” Stiles was taken aback. It was rare to hear any mention of Talia’s mother, but everyone had chalked it up to grief at her passing. “But you all said she died—”

Talia interrupted him delicately. “People think of Marks as the be all and end all where the only answer is yes. But even soulmates are a choice…”

“Desmond grew up without a penny to his name, so he rejected me as he could only see himself as an embarrassment to the Hale family. My opinionated father had, unfortunately, been a contributing factor to that line of thinking. I grew up with a rather jaded view of Marks and pings, and I had seen his rejection as a challenge and not a privilege. Desmond and I, our story had been tempestuous, quite unlike the romanticizing people had done.”

She finished the last of her tea. “If I may be allowed to request one thing, all I ask is that you make a choice so that Derek can do the same. No one in this family will certainly blame you for it.”

Talia pushed her empty cup and plate towards Stiles, and smiled. “Have a good day, Food Guy.”

Stiles watched Talia walk away.

He had some thinking to do.

Stiles took a deep breath and tried not to crush the boxes in his hands. He was nervous and his left shoulder was throbbing.

“Ready?” Kira asked him. She was carrying the other delivery boxes.

“As I’ll ever be,” Stiles replied.

Kira smiled, both encouraging and proud, and nodded to the guard on duty. The man held open the double doors for them, and Stiles was instantly met with a wall of sound.

“Purple ticket delivery,” Kira called out, leading Stiles inside.

The office was spacious, as it should be if it was going to accommodate all of the Hales, and all of them were there. There was a long table at one end where Talia, Matthew, and Boyd were talking and laughing. Desmond was on one couch, talking to Piero and Erica. Laura and Cora were seated on armchairs and were arguing loudly about something. Peter was egging them on. CC and Spencer, were seated in front of a television at a kids’ play area set up in the corner. Cameron was with them, all of them singing along to whatever cartoon was playing. Derek, Valerie, and Nathan were huddled around a table, looking at blueprints.

“Oh, yes! The food’s here!” Cameron cheered, which sent the children shouting as well.

Kira navigated the area like a champ, while Stiles slowly shuffled after. “You guys ordered a lot. I had to ask for help. This is Stiles.”

Stiles didn’t miss the way Derek’s head suddenly jolted in his direction, nor Talia’s proud smile, nor Erica’s sudden screech of “Stiles!” which had everyone else turning their way. Stiles winced. He was going to get his ass kicked later for not telling Erica about this.

“Well, well…” Peter grinned. “Hello there, twink.”

Stiles shuddered. “Still not into creepy old geezers.”

“Oh, wait, wait! Is he the guy who called you a geriatric?” Laura asked, before shrieking in laughter.

“And the one who said Peter should drop dead,” Cora added, cackling.

Laughter rang around over Peter’s protests, and it made Stiles’ heart stutter. He felt warm all over, like the pings going off in his head were doubly delighted at the Hales. He glanced at Derek, who was smiling warmly.

Stiles winced when he caught Erica’s gaze though. She looked between him and Derek and her eyes widened. But Boyd was suddenly there, hand over her mouth and whispering to her.

Stiles helped Kira take out all of the food and the ravenous Hales were quickly upon them.

“Food Guy’s stuff tastes awesome,” Nathan said, licking his cupcake’s icing. He waggled knowing eyebrows at Stiles, who bit back a grin. Cheeky kid.

“Please pass our compliments to the chef, Kira,” Desmond said, reaching for his drink.

Kira giggled. “You can thank him yourself.” She waved at Stiles with a flourish.

Stiles felt a little like a deer in headlights when all their gazes alighted on him.

“You’re Food Guy?” and other iterations of the exclamation rang around the room.

Stiles flushed. “I’m glad to hear you all like what I’ve been making.”

“Oh, wow! How wonderful!” Piero piped up. “I haven’t felt a ping in such a long time. How nostalgic, don’t you think, dear?” He turned to Valerie.

“That’s a ping?” Matthew asked, confused, before his face cleared and he rubbed his chest. “Oh, hell, this is a ping.”

“Is that the tingly feeling here, Uncle Mattie?” Spencer asked, pointing at his tummy.

Erica finally managed to get out from under Boyd. “Stiles, did you ping with Derek? Is that why you’ve both been hanging around The Family Bean? You’ve both been pining over each other!”

Stiles groaned, while gasps and shouts suddenly rang around the room.

Kira sighed. “Way to ruin it, Erica.”

“You mean I was pinged through a tomato pie?” Cameron was asking, wide-eyed.

Cora started laughing. “Oh my god! Uncle Peter flirted with Derek’s soulmate!”

“That’s Uncle Derek’s soulmate?” CC asked.

“Yes, he is.” Nathan looked like he was immensely enjoying all this, and Stiles was starting to realize that he was a little shit.

Derek stepped towards Stiles. His face was a little red, but he was smiling and Stiles thought he was the handsomest man he had ever seen.

“My family’s a mess. Please ignore them,” Derek said, ignoring the protests from his siblings.

Stiles chuckled. “At least they keep things interesting. It’s just me, my Dad, and her.” He jerked a thumb at Erica.

“Oh, fu—dge you!” Erica said, glancing at the kids. She turned to Boyd. “And I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!”

Boyd rolled his eyes. “I was giving him space to process things.”

Stiles ignored them and turned to Derek. He only had one chance to do this.

“Ah, sorry, it took a while. I was figuring stuff out, but I thought we should get to know one another first.”

“Of course,” Derek said immediately. He reached out a hand. “I’m looking forward to getting to know you, Stiles.”

Stiles glanced at Talia, who was whispering to her husband. She winked at Stiles.

“Soulmates are a choice.”

Stiles smiled at Derek. He could feel his Mark tingling in anticipation.

“Me too, Derek.”

He reached out and took his hand.

#kevaaronday #stereksanta20 #*fic20 #*gifts20

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encyclopika · 4 years

Text

Animal Crossing Fish - Explained 69

Brought to you by a marine biologist who knows there’s a dirty joke in there somewhere...

CLICK HERE FOR THE AC FISH EXPLAINED MASTERPOST!

W’re gonna cover morphology today because when it comes to these animals in Animal Crossing that don’t have a specific name, it comes down to the amazing graphics, and therefore, morphology, to figure it out. For those times when AC says “Squid” and it could be one of 1000′s of species, I, like most every scientist, look to previous data for clues. Those clues often come from various AC Wikis that have already tried taking a crack at finding the species these animals are based. However, I’m not about to take their word on it, especially for today’s animal - the squid.

You’ve most likely caught this thing already no matter what island you’re on. They aren’t rare under those medium-sized shadows. Anyway, for today’s animal, the AC Wiki was so wrong I had to dedicate an explained post to it. But then I realized that maybe it wasn’t so wrong and of course, I will explain.

Squid are pretty awesome animals in their own right (and they’re delicious and often have very sustainable fisheries). They are Mollusks, just like the Sea Butterfly, Manila Clam, Gigas Giant Clam, and other such friends we have covered already. These animals don’t look like they’re related, but trust me, the Mollusks are diverse and wonderful. They all share a very special body part called the “mantle” which is used for all sorts of things, such as egg storage, waste storage, respiration, etc, sometimes all at once. Squid are further classified away from things like snails and clams into Class: Cephalopoda, which it shares with the Vampire Squid, which we’ve covered. Getting even more specific, true Squids (for which the vampire is not a part), belong into Superorder Decapodiformes. You see the prefix “deca” in there? It means “10″, and squids do indeed have 10 tentacles (not to be confised with the Octopus’s arms - there’s a difference!!!)

Okay, now that I got that out of my system, let’s talk the morphology. Squids have a basic body plan - a thin body with a mantle, fins on the side, ten tentacles, an internal skeleton called a gladius or pen, and, some pretty big, advanced eyes. After that, though, the size and shape of these features differs between different genera, as we can expect. Don’t think the fact that the ACNH squid’s fins extend the length of the body is arbitrary - it’s not! Yes, these days we use DNA to untangle species and yes, morphology isn’t as helpful as DNA in that right. BUT! Morphology is simply the expression of genes, and if two animals don’t look exactly the same, well then their DNA certainly isn’t the same either! (How different and where we draw the line is a rant I had on another occasion).

The AC Wiki says that the Squid is based off the the Japanese Flying Squid, Todarodes pacificus, which looks like this:

CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=5078649

You don’t even need to take a close look to realize this isn’t adding up. The fins are too short, the body is too thin, and T. pacificus has two tentacles that are longer than the rest (as many squid do). ACNH’s squid looks nothing like this. Now, at first, I was like, “how could they think this?” And then I saw the reason: the squid in every past iteration of Animal Crossing looks like this:

Oh, yeah! That’s accurate. So, apparently, AC changed which species they drew inspiration from for ACNH. So, I knew I needed a more “cuttlefish”-looking squid, and I thought of one (because this animal is also in Endless Ocean) that I believe fits the bill for ACNH’s new squid - the Bigfin Reef Squid (Sepioteuthis lessoniana):

Bigfin reef squid, 2018 California Academy of Sciences, CC-BY-NC-SA

-Fins extend the length of the body. CHECK -All short tentacles. CHECK -Fatter body. CHECK -Native to Japanese waters. CHECK -Look at the body patterning! CHECK!

I think this is our guy. But, if you think I’m wrong, let’s discuss!

And there you have it. Fascinating stuff, no?

#squid #cephalopods #marine biology #animal crossing #animal crossing new horizons #science in video games #endless ocean #animal crossing fish explained

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jj-lynn21 · 4 years

Text

Roman & Princess: You and Me and...

Notes: Spreading a little positive about Dialysis in this one. I was on dialysis 10 years before my current kidney transplant that has been working fine 23 years. I am lucky. But I also want to share that Dialysis is not a death sentence like Hollywood movies and tv shows make it out to be, That annoys me so bad. I was patient coordinating while I was on dialysis 3 day a week for four to six hours. The biggest issue I had was my blood pressure would drop real low. I still went out dancing after sometimes. A strict one cup a day/ 1000 ccs fluid restriction had to be followed and low potassium and low protein diet. So basically I ate pasta( LOL) I didn’t diabetes so I think that made it easier for me. I went through high school and two semesters of college while still on dialysis. I don’t think I could have held a full time job since it did make me get tired easier than most but everyone is different. I also told people if you follow your kidney diet you shouldn’t have a problem. And way there is a dash about dialysis in this one so I wanted readers to know I was coming from a place of knowledge. No real warnings. Just lots of blood but you just expect that from a Roman fanfic.

__ _____________________________________________________________

The door slams shut as Roman tosses his brief across the table. Skin is paler than ever. He feels nauseated at the smallest sips from the blood bag in the refrigerator. As his stomach turns, he throws water on his face and that is when he hears the sounds of his girl lurching and dry heaving upstairs. He rushes up.

Throwing the door open Roman sees the blood splatter on the toilet and floor as she is on her knees crying as she lurches again. “Oh, Hell, Princess.”

“Roman?” She looked up at him. Her eye lids heavy as she started to sway. “I don't feel so good.”

He grabbed her up right before she was passing out. Roman laid her gently on the bed. “Call Dr. Pryce.” He screamed at his phone that he laid on the bedside table. He grabbed her some clean cloths as the phone rang.

“Hello Roman I was just about to call you about your test results.” His lack of really caring was evident in his voice.

“I don’t fucking care about me right now,” Roman snapped. “My girl was puking blood when I came home. She passed out. I am bringing her to the white tower.”

“As you wish Roman,” Dr. Pryce’s voice had no reaction. “She is probably having a different reaction to the same enzyme I found in you. You both need dialysis treatments is my guess. See you when you get here.” He hung up abruptly before Roman could scream at him more.

Roman finished dressing his Princess in under garments and a dark blue t-shirt dress. Then he swooped her, his phone and the car keys up to head to the white tower. He drove erratically. His eyes blurry, head heavy. He veered into the parking area hitting the wall before coming to a stop. He dented the front end of his new red Lexus SUV.

Five men and women came out in white coats. Doctors Pryce and his assistance Dr. Galina followed them.

“Roman you look like Hell,” Dr, Pryce commented nonchalantly. “Come with me. Dr. Galina will help your Princess.” He rolls his eyes thinking how ridiculous it is to give her a royal moniker.

“I’m fucking living in Hell,” Roman picks up his girl. “I’ll bring her inside.”

“Nonsense,” Dr. Galina snapped. “Take the girl to my lab so I can run some tests. If she is the same as Roman, we will give her the same treatment promptly.”

“Don’t you dare hurt her or I will kill you all.” Roman threatened as the orderlies and nurses took her from his arms.

“Noted,” Dr. Galina said glibly. “You can come see her after your treatment.”

Roman followed them until the area split where she was taken one way and he was taken another.

“Sit please.” Dr. Pryce pointed his hand to a chair at the end of the room with a machine near it with tubing running through it. “I explained on the phone you have some foreign enzyme in your blood so we will be cleaning your blood. It may take more than one, four-hour treatment.”

Bright light pierces her eyes as they flutter open. Dr. Galina leans over her with a clipboard in her hand. “Good you’re awake.” She checks the flow of the bag of blood hanging. “You gave Roman quite a scare. I didn’t realize he had such emotions. How do you feel?”

“A little better,” Roman’s girl said. “where? What happened?”

“You have that same enzyme in your system Roman does.” Dr, Galina explained. “It prevented you from seeking nourishment like you should. I am cleaning your blood on this dialysis machine. And giving you blood. You may drink some when you think you can. But don’t worry, your baby will be fine. Would you like to sit up a little?”

“What?” Eyes wide as she looked at how she was attached to the machine.

“Would you like to sit up?” Dr. Galina asked again. “You have about an hour left in this treatment. You can rest more if you like. A female upir in your condition needs her rest. And you need to drink more. Adding more beef or steak tartar might be a good idea also.”

She blinks a few times, “Are you serious? I’m pregnant?”

“Yes,” The Doctor answered her.

“Does Roman know?” His Princess pondered the reactions he might have from being angry to elated.

“No,” Dr. Galina set up the head of her bed. Moved the pill up. “would you like me to go do that dear?” This was not done out of kindness. She was curious of Roman’s reaction also.

“I’ll do it.” Her lips felt dry and she was getting a desire to rip into the Dr. She looked away from the vein pulsing in the Doctor’s neck. “Can I have a drink? Something fresh if you can.”

“I’ll do my best.” Dr. Galina walked out. She told a lab tech, “Go watch over her. But I wouldn’t get to close if I were you.”

The tech walked in the room. He smiled. “How are you doing, Princess.”

“I’m feeling better.” She smiled innocently as she heard the blood rushing through his body. “I could use the pillow behind me scooched up a little.”

The tech walked towards her slowly.

“Is something wrong?” She tilted her head eyes big and bright. Face of an angel to the tech. “Fix my pillow please?”

“Everything is fine, I guess” He fluffed her pillow. “Anything else?”

“Yes.” She grinned before grabbing him down with one arm. Her mouth opens, teeth bite down on his shoulder to drink. He is paralyzed in fear.

In minutes Dr. Galina walks in with a glass full of nutrients. She audibly gasped. “What are you doing?”

Princess drops the lifeless body. “I thought you sent him in so I could have a fresh drink. You didn’t?” Her voice was calm and innocent as she licked at what got on her fingers.

Dr. Galina shakes her head, “I’ll clean you up before Roman comes to see you.’

She gets everything cleaned up. Princess stands still hooked to the dialysis machine. A chair with a blanket was put in the place of the bed. A clean white gown was put on her before she sat down. Other than being slightly tired, she felt much better than when she got there.

Roman walked in as she was getting the 17-gauge needles pulled from the shunt the Doctor had put in her arm for the dialysis treatments. He pulled up a chair to rest beside her. ‘How are you feel, my Princess?”

“Much better.” She looked down biting her bottom lip nervously as Dr. Galina held pressure on the needle marks so they would stop bleeding.

“The dialysis treatment wasn’t painful.” Roman lifted her chin up to look at him. “Just the needle sticks sting for a moment. So, tell me what’s wrong? Are you hungry? Is your stomach still upset?”

“I’m not sure how, I mean I know how but Roman...” She stammered not sure how to tell him the news.

Roman took her hand. “Just tell me what the problem is, and I will fix it, I promise.”

She took a deep breath, “Roman, I’m, we’re, pregnant.”

The look on Roman’s face is a mix of worry and excitement. “Oh, fuck, serious? Of course, your serious. Hell, I am so happy. It is scary as Hell but I’m happy. I’m sorry, Princess. How do you feel about this?

“The same,” Princess beamed.

Dr. Galina stays quiet as she put band aids on the needle marks. Princess threw her arms around Roman as soon as she could. “You are seriously happy about this?”

“Yeah, your tits are going be huge.” Roman grinned. “Not that they are not perfect now.” He puts his hand on her lower tummy. “when? How far along are you?”

“Three months,” The Doctor said. “She is ravenous. You must keep her nourished.”

“That won’t happen again, I promise.” She started crying. “I thought you sent him for me, I swear.”

“It’s okay baby.” Roman held her close. “What happened?”

“She killed Bill.” Dr. Galina explained. “I shouldn’t have sent him in here. But I did warn the idiot.”

“See baby.” Roman comforted his girl. “It wasn’t your fault at all. You had to drink something.” His hand patted her bag lightly. “Do you feel up to shopping? There is so much we need for our kid.”

“I would love to go shopping,” There is a new giddiness in her voice.

“It’s just you, me and baby makes three, Princess.” Roman and her both laughed.

Over the next few months, they go through there treatments side by side until there blood is cleansed completely. She goes through extra testing to check the baby’s progress. Roman cares for her and buys her things to let her know how sexy she still is to him as the baby grows. He brings her home a new gift basket every day.

#Roman godfrey #au Hemlock grove fanfic #roman and princess #bill skarsgard #x reader #dialysis

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somekindoftuber · 5 years

Text

vld youtuber AU (klance, part 3)

part one | part two

(I don’t think I clarified it in parts one and two but Lance and Pidge are roommates. Lance finished college two years ago)

After spending the weekend with Shiro and Keith, everything seems a little brighter.

Lance has an extra spring in his step that annoys the hell out of Pidge. He plays Overwatch with Keith at least twice a week, and they make a devastating team when they’re playing to win. Keith plays with a fiery, single-minded focus that would probably be scary if Lance wasn’t already crushing on him. So instead it’s just insanely attractive, the way Keith sounds when he’s barking out orders to the team. He’s a natural leader and Lance is stupidly eager to follow.

It’s time for Lance to make a trip home to Cuba to see his parents and he’s so excited, he only gets to go home every few months. It’s only for a week, but Pidge will take care of his cats. He mentions to Keith that he’ll be out of town and won’t be available to play for a bit.

Lance makes some vlogs while he’s home, and does them in Spanish because why not? He bets a lot of his followers don’t even realize he’s Cuban and this is his chance to show off his home. It takes a whole night to add the English subtitles because he doesn’t trust YouTube’s auto CC feature not to garble his words, but it’s worth it when he sees the outpouring of comments on the video, a lot of them in Spanish. He gets one from Shiro complimenting him left and right and it makes Lance blush and flail a little.

He spends every other minute with his family, teaching his nephew how to play the ukulele and cooking with his mom and he’s so happy to be home, he cries a little when it’s time to catch his flight back to the states.

He gets in an Overwatch game with Keith the night he gets back, and he tries not to be annoying but it’s hard not to gush about his trip over the mic. He’s halfway through telling Keith about some sea turtles he saw on the beach when he’s interrupted.

“I know, Lance. I saw the photos on twitter.”

Lance blinks. “Uh. You did?”

Keith seems unfazed and triggers his ultimate, taking out half the enemy team. “Yeah? I follow you.”

And oh my god, Keith follows him on twitter. Keith follows him on twitter. He’s suddenly freaking out that he might have tweeted about Keith?? But no, his account is public and he knows better. “Oh, uh.” Lance almost gets taken out by a Sombra. “Your account is set to private, so it didn’t tell me you were.”

“Oh.”

Lance is panicking a little because he wants to ask if he can follow Keith on twitter but is that too much? What if he keeps his account locked for a reason? What if that’s too forward? What they have is cool and he doesn’t want to fuck it up--

“You can follow me,” Keith says, quiet. “All I ever post is bikes and photos of Kosmo, though.”

Lance hopes the sound of his chair squeaking as he bounces in it doesn’t come through the mic. “I could always use more dogs on my timeline,” he says, trying his best to sound nonchalant. They play for another hour and then Keith yawns, saying he has to work early tomorrow. Lance bids him goodnight, then manages to wait until he’s brushed his teeth and gotten ready for bed before hitting the “follow” button on Keith’s twitter, @k_redlion. He then opens discord on his phone and goes to the chat with Hunk.

LanceyLance: HUNK HE SAID I COULD FOLLOW HIS LOCKED TWITTER LanceyLance: HUNK LanceyLance: SEND HELP

When Lance wakes up, all he’s gotten from Hunk is a few party popper emojis. He checks to see if Keith accepted his request and he totally did. Lance spends a half hour just scrolling through the mysterious secret twitter, and Keith wasn’t lying. It’s just photos of motorcycles in progress, his dog, occasionally Keith taking an adorable selfie with Kosmo. Sometimes a photo of a sunrise. He checks Keith’s profile and sees his birthday is in late October and Lance has to laugh. Of course he’s a Scorpio. Of course. Keith has less than 40 followers and Lance sort of feels blessed.

He manages to stop himself from liking a five month old tweet where Keith is smiling up at the camera with Kosmo out cold on his lap. Just barely.

July finally hits and it’s disgustingly hot, but it’s always Lance’s favorite month for several reasons:

More excuses to get ice cream,

More excuses to hit the beach,

It’s his birthday month,

It’s the month of Harborville Pride.

Pride comes first and Pidge is excited too, because the college town of Harborville might not have much to offer other than the university, but it definitely knows how to put on Pride. The city park becomes crammed with people for days, food trucks lining the streets with picnickers and grills and ultimate frisbee (which Lance is no slouch at). The marina becomes packed with boats. Most importantly, it means Hunk is coming into town for the weekend, so Lance will get to hang out with his two best friends like they used to - stay up late, watch movies, stuff themselves on junk food and Hunk’s homemade cookies.

The day of the parade (the first one, anyway) is a Saturday morning. Lance and Pidge wake up Hunk from where he’s camping on the sofa and they all get dressed, Lance in his blue, pink, and purple sleeveless shirt, Pidge in her black, white and purple hoodie, Hunk in his pink, yellow, and blue tee. Pockets stuffed with small cash bills for funnel cakes and hot dogs, they set off for the town center.

The parade is amazing this year and they have a blast. Lance convinces Pidge and Hunk to be in a selfie with him that he posts to twitter with the caption, “Having a blast at Harborville Pride!!” Lance then puts his phone away and doesn’t really check it for the rest of the day, having too much fun with Pidge and Hunk and all his other friends.

He’s exhausted when he comes home, collapsing into bed. He manages to open twitter and check it one last time before he passes out. His notifications blew up, of course, but one sticks out.

@k_redlion liked your photo

He kicks his feet a little. So it’s out there, Keith’s saw the colors he wore. Was it too forward? Did Lance unintentionally broadcast his crush on twitter? Maybe. Who knows how Keith would take that information. Lance passes out with his phone in his hand.

He’s in a queue for a game in Overwatch with Keith when it comes up again. Lance was casually talking about a band he saw at Pride.

“Sounds like fun,” Keith comments. “Pride sucks here. One tiny parade and then everyone just goes home.”

There’s a record scratch in Lance’s brain. Does that mean…?

“You should come here next year,” Lance says as evenly as he can. “Harborville knows how to party.”

He hears Keith huff a laugh. “Maybe.”

Lance sucks so bad after that, missing all his shots and dying more times than ever. He’s too distracted. Keith goes to Pride. What did that mean? It could mean so many things. He shouldn’t get his hopes up, he really, really shouldn’t.

“You okay?” Keith’s voice comes through his headphones. “You’re sort of sucking tonight.”

Lance feels a wave of hot embarrassment wash over him. “Ugh, yeah, sorry. Guess I’m just tired.”

He stops playing after that, saying goodnight to Keith and resisting the urge to scream at Hunk over discord about it.

Pidge is taking one of her high level classes over the summer so she can graduate in December, so she has little time to hang out with Lance. So he’s bored. A lot. Work at the cafe has slowed down, the only customers he gets are dying for cold brew coffee. He makes a lot of videos, records a lot of comedy Overwatch material, sings some covers of love songs for his channel. He goes to the beach a lot and posts selfies on twitter, making sure to showcase himself while also trying to remember that he has a few thousand followers and he should be careful what he posts. Lance starts playing some free games from Game Jolt for his channel and it gets a good response. His birthday is right around the corner, and though it’s on a Tuesday, Pidge promises to take the night off to celebrate with him. Hunk is going to make the drive in too.

He’s scrolling through twitter on a rainy night when Pidge kicked him out of the living room to spread out her study materials. There’s a photo of Keith smiling softly with Kosmo on his feed and Lance takes a minute to appreciate it, the warm lighting complimenting Keith’s ridiculously attractive cheekbones, Kosmo with his giant tongue hanging out as Keith hugs him. It’s adorable and Lance hits the like button immediately. He’s about to keep scrolling when something catches his eye. Lance sits up and taps the photo, using his fingers to zoom in.

There’s a rainbow bracelet on Keith’s wrist.

It’s almost hidden under Kosmo’s neck fluff but it is absolutely a rainbow, exactly the kind you’d get at Pride and Lance is about to hit the ceiling. It couldn’t be a coincidence. Could it? They’d talked about Pride like three days ago and Keith liked a photo of Lance in his bi shirt and holy shit. Was this a hint? Lance already liked the photo. He could take it back, but he didn’t want to?

Lance rolls around on his bed clutching his phone to his chest for the next ten minutes before opening discord to gush at Hunk yet again. Hunk, apparently, is getting fed up.

Hunk: omg just talk to him!! LanceyLance: i cANT Hunk: Lance you know I love you but this is painful to watch, just ask him out already. please. for me?

But Lance is scared. What if he’s reading too much into this? What if he’s only seeing a connection because he wants there to be one? It wouldn’t be the first time he’s made that blunder, cringing as he remembers Nyma and the huge falling out that resulted from Lance charging in head first. He couldn’t even repair their friendship after that.

He didn’t want to risk losing Keith, too.

July is winding down and it’s almost time for his favorite birthday tradition: an all-day charity livestream. This will be the third year he’s done them, and he’s expecting the response to be even better this year. It takes him a while to decide on a charity - he’s done a children’s hospital, first responders, local charities. Lance spends days trying to decide when it hits him. The next day, he makes the announcement tweet:

Lance! @LancyLance • 2m Hey guys!! Doing a birthday charity livestream on Saturday 7/25, 10am-10pm to benefit Disabled Veterans National Foundation! Will be playing Overwatch, Risk of Rain, Apex Legends and more!!

He goes about his day, feeling pleased. Later he checks twitter and sees that Shiro has retweeted his announcement with a comment, “Make sure to check out my buddy’s livestream next week! This charity means a lot to me.”

And wow does that make his day.

For the next week it’s business as usual. Work at the cafe (his latte art is getting better, but Lance keeps photos of that work sequestered on Instagram), recording videos, singing in Overwatch, playing games with Keith and Hunk. Lance can tell that Hunk is trying to push him to make a move on Keith, but he’s still reluctant. Keith hasn’t really indicated that he’s interested in Lance at all. Sure, they’re casual with each other, but there hasn’t been anything he could classify as “flirting.” Even though he’s opened up, Keith is still stoic as hell and Lance hasn’t figured out how to crack him.

It’s the Saturday of his livestream and Lance is loaded up with snacks, drinks, and everything he needs. He’s set up his room to have a fun backdrop and did his full skincare routine to make sure he looks good for the webcam, he even borrowed some fancy diffuser lights from a friend.

The stream starts and he gets about 30 viewers in the first hour, which is a good start. By noon he’s up to 400 which is insane, and the donation counter keeps going up. He set his goal to a thousand, and it’s looking like he’ll reach it before dinner. Lance takes song requests from viewers and has more than one laughing fit. When he gets into an Overwatch game, he’s thrilled to see Keith there, and shoots him a quick text to make sure it’s cool for Lance to point him out.

Keith (2:18): yeah it’s cool

So Lance introduces Keith and his chat goes nuts. Apparently Keith is crazy popular and Lance can’t help but notice how many declarations of “omg Keith is so hot” are scrolling past. They play a few serious rounds where Keith dominates everyone, then Lance creates a custom server with no cool down time on abilities and zero gravity. He uses it as an opportunity to do more comedy songs. Lance takes a short break, and when he comes back, Keith has signed off. There’s a text on his phone from Keith reading “gotta work on some stuff.”

He’s in voice chat later when some girls come on with mics and they know his channel. They’re thrilled to be in a game with Lance.

“Lance! I love your videos!”

“Sing a song for me, Lance!”

“Lance, I love you! Marry me!”

He laughs at the last one, playing his guitar. It’s not the first time he’s gotten a mock marriage proposal in a game. “Sorry, ladies,” he answers, strumming on his guitar. “I’m afraid my heart is spoken for.” He’s talking about his massive crush on Keith, of course, but no one needs to know that.

There’s some “aww” and “boos” but they don’t actually sound hurt, so Lance keeps going. He switches to Apex Legends which he’s spectacularly bad at, but he still has fun. By seven that evening, they’ve met their goal of one thousand dollars, but Lance encourages people to keep donating.

He’s exhausted by the end of it, but at 9:50pm Lance does his exit speech, thanking everyone who donated, thanking his friends who played with him, and taking a second to thank Keith by name. He hopes Keith is still watching.

Lance falls into his bed and sends a quick text to Keith to thank him. He doesn’t get a response.

CONTINUED IN PART 4

#youtuber AU #klance #text

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reckoningss · 5 years

Text

Mercy Springs - Two

Summary: Mercy Booker holds these truths to be self-evident: that animals are significantly more relatable than people, and that working as a veterinary tech in a sleepy, little town is about as exciting as her life is going to get. When a strange man shows up after hours with an injured dog, she has a decision to make - go on living the quiet life she’s come to know, or open the door to the exhilarating unknown.

Pairing: Pete Castiglione/Frank Castle x OC (Mercy Booker)

Warnings: Allusions to violence, Mild descriptions of blood

Wordcount: 1.5k

A/N:

“I need help.”

Mercy blinked, somewhat surprised that she could hear anything above the blood rushing in her ears and the rain pounding the roof and windows. The man on the other side of the door shuffled to balance the dog in one arm and banged a palm against the glass again. She flinched.

“Please. He needs help.”

He was at least six feet tall and - if Mercy had to guess - lean and muscled beneath the layers of his cold weather clothing. His hair was black, clumps of it mussed and matted from the rain. Blood dappled his face and dripped from a wound over his left eyebrow. He had dark features, she noticed, a strong angular face. One that looks like it can take a beating, she thought. It wouldn’t be difficult for him to overpower her.

Against her own will, Mercy’s eyes flickered down to the dog. Its side rose and fell weakly, breathing labored. Its mouth hung open, pink tongue lolling out, long and dry. Its short, grey fur sported intricate patterns of dried blood but she could see more - fresh blood - dripping down onto the man’s shoes. Her heart twinged. Only a truly sick person would hurt a dog this badly to get at her, but she couldn’t discount the possibility. Either way, she wouldn’t just let an innocent animal suffer.

Not taking her eyes off of them, Mercy crouched down to retrieve the dropped keyring. She carefully fitted several keys between her fingers so they splayed menacingly below her knuckles. Then she unlocked the door. Before he could push his way in, she wedged one sneakered foot against its base only allowing an inch of space between the door and the jam. The man stopped in his tracks, eyeing Mercy impatiently.

“If you try anything,” she spat, “I’ll slit your throat and feed you to the dogs.”

For a second, the man looked kind of appalled. It didn’t last long. He shrugged and shouldered past her into the lobby, dripping blood across the newly mopped floor. “Fair enough.”

“Through there.” Mercy followed the stranger into a dark exam room and flipped the light switch. The fluorescents overhead hummed to vivid life, and Mercy had to take a moment for her eyes to adjust.

The man turned toward her, the dog still cradled in his arms, his eyes wide with alarm, blood and water pattering quietly on the floor.

“Lay him on the table.” He did as she instructed, gently transferring the dog to the pristine exam table. then whirling toward her, palms blood-stained and upturned. “Don’t come any closer!” Mercy brandished her makeshift brass knuckles in warning. “Go over there and wash your hands then go into the second drawer and soak three rags with warm water.”

As he washed up, Mercy crammed the keys back into her pockets and pulled on a pair of latex gloves. She approached the dog and offered a stretch of her forearm for it to sniff weakly before she began looking for wounds.

The stranger slapped a pile of wet rags down onto the edge of the table. Mercy picked one up and started wiping blood from the dog’s fur.

“We need to talk, Mister...”

“Pete.” He bit the name out, refusing to offer more. Mercy took it in stride.

“Ok, Pete, I need to know what happened. Where’s he hurt?”

Pete’s fingers flexed uneasily against the metal of the table. “He was stabbed. Somewhere around the shoulder, I think.”

A feeble growl indicated to Mercy that she’d found it. The dog’s lip curled back from his teeth and he rumbled low. She pointed to a nearby cabinet without looking. “Go into the top drawer and grab an irrigation bottle. It’ll say ‘Saline Wound Solution’.”

He placed it down beside her elbow and she picked it up, fitting a nozzle top onto the lid quickly. Mercy squirted solution into the wound to clear away some of the blood.

“I can’t put him under, Pete, we keep meticulous inventory logs. My boss will notice if we lose that kind of juice.”

Pete shook his head violently. “No. No drugs. He doesn’t need to go under.”

Mercy nodded. “I can give him a little something for the pain. Anything I should know about? Kidney disease, liver disease, low blood sugar?”

“No.”

“Good.”

Reaching over into a rollaway cabinet, Mercy retrieved an amber bottle of liquid and a new syringe. She unsheathed the syringe with her teeth then plunged it into the top of the bottle and extracted several CCs of liquid.

“This is a localized anesthetic. It’ll cause numbness to this area only.”

Pete nodded in understanding and Mercy stabbed the needle into the dog’s shoulder and pushed down the plunger.

“What’s his name?”

“Hm?”

“His name, Pete, what’s he go by?”

“Uhh, Max.”

Mercy turned her attention back to the dog and stroked his damp fur. “Ok, Max, this isn’t going to be super great, but we’re going to get through it.”

Max’s hazel eyes flicked up to her at the sound of his name. His tail thumped the table once. The memory of a smile flickered across Mercy’s face. “Ok.”

Mercy was very proud of her sutures; she always had been. Not that there were many chances for her to practice them in her current position, being a vet tech she didn’t get many opportunities for precision procedures. She almost wished she could take a picture to show to Dr. Leibowitz as she tied off her last stitch and cut the synthetic thread.

She sighed, leaning back against the counter behind her and throwing the remaining thread and needle into the trash. “All done.” If she’d thought she was tired before, she was practically catatonic now.

Pete whistled a low, appreciative note and sauntered over to the table. He ran a large hand over Max’s side. “Look at that, buddy, like brand new.”

Mercy felt a thrill of pride at that. The sutures followed one, clean line through the center of an expertly shaved patch of grey skin. Mercy stripped off her gloves and crossed over to the back of the exam room.

“He’s gonna want to nip at those when he’s feeling better so you’re going to need to keep this on him for a few weeks at least.” Her voice decreased in volume as she stepped into the back hallway and ambled down to the storage room. She selected an appropriately sized cone from a shelf. Returning to the exam room, she pantomimed putting the cone together for Pete who was doing his best to look unimpressed. “And I’ll spot you a few tablets of meloxicam for the pain. But only a few and follow the instructions to a T. Follow me this way.”

Pete trailed her into the front hallway this time and down to the small pharmacy room where Mercy selected the stubby key to the medicine cabinet.

“Look, Dr., you don’t have to do this. He doesn’t need the pills,” Pete muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Mercy ignored the way he scuffed his feet against the linoleum, leaving black rubber streaks behind, and shook four tablets out of a bottle and placed them in a small baggie. She took a small folded instruction pamphlet from the door and slipped it into the back before zipping it up. The bag was promptly (and forcefully) shoved into Pete’s hoodie pocket, an act that seemed to catch him off guard for a moment.

Mercy grinned sheepishly at his incredulous expression. She got that look a lot. “My dog had an accident a few months back, but I never refilled her prescription. I’ll take care of it.”

The two made their way back to the operating room in silence - shuffling sneaker tread and the plastic crinkle of the baggie their only accompaniment. Max was half up on the table when they made it back, strong neck craned to look for his owner. Mercy was relieved to see some excitement back in his eyes. Pete slid the folded cone beneath his arm and then, seemed to have a thought. He dug back into his pocket and pulled out a wad of crumpled bills.

Mercy shook her head before he could separate them. “Forget it. It’s after hours.”

“You su-”

“Yeah. I would’ve helped him anyway.”

Frank nodded. Something in his expression saying, I respect that. Carefully, he scooped Max up from the table. Mercy followed him to the door, her mind whirling all the while. She would have to check the tapes and try to erase any trace of Pete and Max. Maybe she could say the storm interfered with the CCTV. A new scrip would need to be written up to account for the missing pain meds. Frank turned back toward her beneath the little awning over the doorway; the rain hadn’t stopped, but it had softened a bit.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Only after Pete loaded Max and himself into a beat-up box van and rolled out of the parking lot did Mercy lock the door and press her weary back to it. And only then did she realize that the entire clinic would need to be cleaned again. She groaned.

It was going to be a long night.

#Frank Castle #The Punisher #Frank Castle x Reader #THe Punisher x Reader #Frank Castle Angst #Frank Castle Fic #Frank Castle imagine #Frank Castle x OC #MCU #Marvel Fic #Defenders #Punisher Angst #Avengers fic #Defenders fic #My Writing #SFW

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prorevenge · 6 years

Text

Psycho Ex gets my egoless revenge with a side of heavy-duty karma.

The following story occurred over the course of 13-8 years ago, and I apologize preemptively for the length, because it is a bit involved.

I was in a relationship for 9 years with a girl I met in college. We broke up on the cusp of my 29th birthday. While breakups and divorce are never trauma-free, this one was as close to that as I believe is humanly possible to get, there were no fights and minimal drama, and I moved to a new city to get a fresh start and be nearer my dad/stepmom/half sisters, as I'm close to them and it was nice to have family during this. Get an apartment, start over, everything's good. Then I meet "her."

Things with her seemed good at first. She was the polar opposite of my ex. She's quiet yet nice, had her life relatively together (my first wife was very unfocused and horrible with money), physically a complete contrast, wild in the bedroom--I thought I had hit the jackpot.

Anyhoo, I fall for her hard. We have a whirlwind romance, move in shortly, and we have this glamorous life where we make good money (she was a corporate accountant, I had a decent small business, we're pulling in 150K+ combined), renting a luxury apartment, one car paid and the other brand new, no kids. Things are great, except that we drink too much together and some other underlying issues I'm blind to at the time. We get soused one night and drive to Vegas, and get married on the strip after 6 months of dating and 9 of knowing each other. The ink is barely dry on my divorce papers from version 1.0, but no matter, I'm in love. My family likes her overall. Her family loves me. We adopt cats. We talk about trying to have a kid.

We upgrade our life and take on more debt, just as the housing bubble bursts and the economy tanks, she loses a couple jobs due to her inability to show up on Mondays, and I start losing clients as the ones I have start cutting their advertising budget (my field). Things start to get pinched, and she first starts complaining, then gets petulant, because now we can't spend the way we used to, the quarterly mini-vacations dry up, plus we're cooking at home instead of going out to eat 4x a week. We basically stop having sex a little more than a year into the relationship (didn't realize it then, because I was dumb and love-blind, but she cheated on me during this period).seRealizing what we're up against with our normal bills plus our credit cards, I go out and get a job bartending at a posh resort, the only other real skill I have at the time that's marketable. I get two other part time gigs to help make ends meet. She still complains, and throws me an ultimatum before I even start getting paychecks, laying the blame at my feet. I say fine, screw this then. Had we stuck it out even a few more months, things would have started to turn a financial corner. Instead, she goes full two-faced, mean-spirited bitch on me. The night we first fight, she "attempts suicide" by scratching her wrist with a leatherman, then calls 911, gets admitted to the hospital (I arrive home to cops telling me this), and has the security guard toss me when I show up to see if she's okay because she doesn't want to talk to me. I use the quotes because there was a small collection of firearms nearby I bought for her target shooting hobby which were untouched, so it was obviously just a ploy for attention.

We basically fight for the next week, I give her everything she wants, which includes leaving the house, signing over my new truck to her, and only taking stuff I brought into the relationship, basically enough to fill a small storage space. She's financially pinched so I sell my office furniture for cash and don't even touch the bank account, just take my biz money and one CC I got separate from her. I go to the Bay Area for a few months, financially struggle, don't get the job I was sure was on lock. During this time, I have this revelation one evening--I drink too much and that it's caused a load of problems in my life, so I quit, and I haven't touched a drop since.

Broke and realizing nothing I try is working, I come back to town, live with my dad for a month, find a roommate, then a shit retail job (my business has dropped from 7-8K per month at its height to now around 500/mo), I bike everywhere bc I can't afford a car, and my credit is toast partially due to her love of spending on plastic, so I'm facing bankruptcy. I'm 31, and this is really humbling, but whatever, I'm alive, have dealt with hardship before, this won't last forever. She has kept her house, declared personal BK on her debts, keeps her car, and has been dating a series of men starting a couple weeks after we split. While I never asked the details, apparently she's also reached out to a few of my friends and badmouthed me a bit. This would be mildly annoying, but add in two factors--she's dragging her feet on the divorce due to not having money to file, keeps up contact on the pretense of us needing to talk, but plays emotionally manipulative head games during the whole sequence ("I've realized I still love you, that's why you can make me cry so easily," and other bullshit Hallmark movie lines like this). Also, we live in a suburb that's smaller and tightly knit, so multiple places I go to like my church, the bookstore I frequent, and the coffee shop right by my place, she talks endless shit to people. Says I was a cheater and physically/emotionally abusive (complete crap, but whatever), I'm stalking her, I supposedly stole tens of thousands of dollars from her, the whole nine. Some people actually believe her, I even get threatened by a wannabe biker one night that's literally twice my age with violence, itself a funny story but not the point.

Finally, after some more bullshit and back and forth, she leaves town (more falsehoods around this, including her borrowing a bit of money she didn't end up paying back, and sticking me with a massive overage on our cell bill right before we split the account). My dumb, trusting heart hurts but I'm mostly relieved to see the last of her, realizing she's only nice to me when she wants something. She goes to NY to shack up with another guy, gets pregnant 15 minutes later. Finally sends me divorce paperwork. I sign it and send back quickly, all notarized docs, everything organized and flagged. She attempts to be "friends" and I want no part of this BS. I'm businesslike, she gets upset. She screws up filing, blames me. I say "whatever," straighten out the court issues. One week after the divorce is finalized, the kid is born. No word from her after that for two years, thank god. I get a new career, start advancing in it, and start dating a new woman that I'm still with 10 years later. Weirdly enough, they knew each other, and she didn't like her, partially because one of my ex's infidelity partners was her ex-husband, during a time they were exploring patching things up for the kids' sake (though there were multiple reasons for her distrust, apparently she always gave my wife an icky intuitive feeling).

So flash forward two years. I get a call from my current squeeze. She's just talked to a friend who was also a very brief roomie of "her" after our split. She's breaking up with the baby daddy. There's a custody fight. He's saying he doesn't know if it's his. Will I help her? Well, it's the right thing to do, so even though I don't trust or particularly like her, I say yes. I get the call, and a sob story. Most of it doesn't add up--he took the kid, but thinks it's actually mine, to prove paternity I'd need to come to NY and take a paternity test at one of their facilities, also he hit her, put a GPS tracker on her car, brother is a Russian mobster who threatened her, all very far-fetched. Needless to say, even without this fanciful tale, I generally assume if this woman is talking, it's a lie, so I'm suspicious. Her lawyer calls me, and seems like a clueless shmuck. I get a letter from him, very unprofessional and not even on a letterhead (every other legal doc I've seen has "from the law offices of blah blah" on it, but this is literally just off a laser printer), and says, verbatim "I, M___ K___, am the ex-husband of J___ K___, and was married to her from 6/07-8/09. I have no legal interest in the child." Super shady.

Not wanting to end up in a situation where I've allowed myself to be legally fucked over, I make my own lawyer consultation appointment. Before I can even go, the baby daddy finds me on Facebook and sends me a message. Between calls with him, his lawyer, and the impartial lawyer NY state appoints for the child's welfare, I get a very different story. He knows it's his, he had a paternity test done on the sly at birth because she had been promiscuous before they got together, and she was pregnant so quickly he was concerned. They broke up because she was drinking too much, he busted her with a bottle of vodka as she was driving with the kid in the car. She stood up in court, claimed I was actually the father, and she had no idea where to find me (he found me in 10 seconds online, I'm a tech guy with massive social media presence, a tech blog, multiple writing credits on publications, my frigging name as a domain, plus I've had the same cell phone number for 14 years). Also the other BS was just that, he's an IT guy for a university and his brother works for a carpet cleaning chain, plus just like in our relationship, he never hit or stalked her, etc.

So she, not knowing what I know, starts sending me text messages. I say "Filled out and on its way back to your lawyer," and toss it in the trash. I'm so tempted to send her some poetic message about how the truth is coming back to haunt her, but I resist, because I'm not doing this for her, but rather for the sake of their son and his father, so let's keep my ego out of it. I provide legal statements to all in the court. Tell them I know it's not possibly mine because I hadn't been with her since April 15 of '08, kid's birthday is in Sept of '09 (I remember the date because, due to taxes, I got fucked twice that day). Explain when she was in NY, which is the likely dates of conception, prove I was thousands of miles away on the west coast. Tell them to look through her social media, where she meticulously tagged herself and took tons of pictures of even their mundane locations. Provide a blood sample to a local lab. Tell them salacious details about her drinking and occasional drug use, including her abused prescriptions and a previous hospitalization where she was held for psych eval due to taking way too many pills.

Court comes, and she gets blindsided. Stack of depositions and a collection of statements from me were what sealed the deal, apparently, and the incredibly stupid game she was running is fully exposed. Gets no custody, no support, supervised visitation once a week. I run into her ex-roomie, upset, but instead of giving her attitude, I just calmly tell her the scam J__ was running, then let her "pull out of me" the truth about our split. She's flabbergasted, but also a horrible gossip, so it gets around town like wildfire. People I barely know, including the aforementioned biker, all come up to me and apologize for misjudging me. I'm years past the stage of having any morbid curiosity to check her social media, but every few months she pops up as a "suggested friend," and I notice bemusedly the number of mutual friends plummets from triple digits to eventually 3. Baby's father sends me a massive Amex gift card for Christmas, as much as I make in a week at the time. I call and tell him I don't know if I can accept it, I don't want him or anyone to think I did this for a reward. He virtually begs, saying "you helped save my family. This is nothing in comparison. Thank you." We break down crying on the phone, and eventually form an odd, distant friendship based on mutual respect for each other. I even had dinner with him a couple times when I had to go to NY for biz over the years, and I always buy, because the poor guy has done enough and gone through enough having to coparent with this train wreck.

To this day, she's apparently struggling to stay sober (alcohol and other substances), and has minimal involvement in her child's life due to her inability to show up when expected. Baby daddy tells me she's been in legal trouble, financial issues up the ass, and a string of boyfriends that never last more than a few months. I'm doing well, got married again three years ago, raised step-children, am reasonably financially successful, and rather like my life. Granted, a large part of this story is just karma in action, but I feel like I did the right thing, wasn't petty, and what I did do hit her where it hurts.

TL;DR: Ex-wife fucks my life, destroys me financially, tries to trash my reputation, then tries to use me as a scheme in her custody battle years later. I talk to the court directly, work with the baby daddy's lawyers, and get her exposed for the psycho, lying wench she is. She loses custody, struggles, and the good people live mostly happily ever after.

(source) (story by heymomo7)

#prorevenge #by heymomo7 #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #revenge story #last10

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