#id have the worst egg head imaginable if i did that it would NOT be cute | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

utapri-hcs · 4 years ago

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The lads as dumb shit my friends have said

Welcome to an ongoing series of the lads as dumb shit because I have dumb friends including myself

Ai:How dare you pin me to my own bed Ren

Reiji:*spits out water* WHAT?!

*it was animal crossing*

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Natsuki:Oh yeah! My cousin owns a bear!

Syo:...what?

Natsuki:He is a Pomeranian!

Syo:...what?!

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*in saotome gakuen*

Ryuya:Ren?

*ren is laying his head on the desk*

Syo:He’s gone sir

Ren:....i... hope Masato dies...zzzzz

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Ranmaru:You are quite literally the worst sneaky ninja

*cuts to otoya running across the room to nab Tokiya’s honey*

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*during saotome gakuen*

Tokiya:Did you bring your student id so we can get the discount?

Syo:No..

Otoya:...can we use an arcade card instead?

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Reiji:So aiai found out you were trash talking him..

Ranmaru:SHIT HE FOUND OUT?! DAMN ROOMBA

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Cecil:Do you know who ticklemypickle is?? Please, It’s very urgent

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Camus:YOUR BANANA WIFE ISNT REAL

Ranmaru:SO IF YOUR SOCIAL LIFE;NON-EXIST. DOT DOT BITCH

Camus:SO ARE YOUR BRAINCELLS

Ranmaru:SO IS YOUR PERSONALITY

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*Reiji with a hat*:I really am alone

*Reiji without a hat*:Hah loser

*Reiji with a hat*:Have you seen yourself???

Ranmaru:Shut the fuck up

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Cecil:I’ve had satan for too long

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Tokiya:What do you need?

Ren:You~

Tokiya:Ask Masato next time

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Ai:You know when I am bored, I light matches for fun

Reiji:Ah, so Aiai is a pyromaniac.Neat. So uh-

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Otoya:Good luck!!

Syo:Wait for what???

Ai:War

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Reiji:Yes, they are very seductive colours

Syo:SINCE WHEN IS GREEN A SEDUCTIVE COLOUR

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Shion:Hey are we friends?

Nagi:What is love, baby don’t hurt me, don’t hurt me, no more-

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Syo:You can’t back out or else I get a free slap pass

Nagi:Can’t slap me if I slap you first

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Reiji:How much does breathing cost?

Otoya:It’s free!

Reiji:Aish, so expensive

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Ren:I only speak in gay and the truth, mostly the truth

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Masato:How many Easter eggs should we get?

Cecil:yes.

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Ai:You dare question me mortal?

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Otoya:How do you handshake a girl?

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Camus:Sounds like me but I’m better at lying

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Yamato:Nagi called you a grandmother

Van:Exfuckingcuse me

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Syo:Ren I swear to god, say goodbye to your kneecaps tmr

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Nagi:When do you sleep?

Reiji:Never

Nagi:Noctunal satan

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Ai:Oh no, you are now suffering from a brain tumour

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Van:SHE IS A LIZARD PERSON AND I KNOW IT

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Natsuki:Ren-kun, is tumour an anime character?

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Syo:I am a pacifist

Ren:Said no one

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Yamato:I was weak...

Nagi:I am weak

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Eiji:This inspires me!

Reiji:This just makes me depressed

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Nagi:Oh no Ai who will judge me on everything

Ai:Oh no Nagi who will never shut up about anything I do

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*Ren sitting the rest of Starish down*:Okay team meeting, I’m going to teach you how to play clash because I need that $20 from Aimi

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Eiji:I’ve been feeling sick since Saturday...

Van:oh no

Yamato:Oh No

Eiichi:OH NO

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Otoya:Rei channnnn

Ranmaru:I don’t think he’s alive

Reiji:Well dang I guess I’m not

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Tokiya:What do you even want?

*the rest of Starish*:The best for you

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Ai:Reiji I thought you don’t perform well under pressure

Reiji:I DONT, WELL I DO BUT I DONT

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Van:Batman noises

Nagi:...did you really just say Batman noises?

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Reiji:Hey Aine, are you away?

Aine:Nah just taking a coma thanks for asking

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Eiichi:So was it Nagi or was it Van?

Yamato:Yeah it was

Eiichi:I-??? That doesn’t answer my question?? I’ll..just go ask Kira

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Reiji:I’m going to scream, wait nvm I found it

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Natsuki:I love cooking!

Syo:NO NO NO NO WAIT STOP OH GOD-

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Ranmaru:You really fucking are the god damn CEO of fucking McDonald’s

Camus:And what are you going to do about it huh? Buy a happy meal?

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Camus:Kotobuki what makes you think I would play kahoot?

Reiji:Uh I have gummy bears?

Camus:I’m in, you should’ve said that first

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Otoya:It’s because they don’t have a lot..

Camus:Ah understandable, imagine being a peasant

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Van:Look at him pop off!

*shion sleeping in a corner*

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Ranmaru:GOD DAMN IT REIJI, YOURE THINKING TOO MUCH LIKE A REIJI AND NOT ENOUGH LIKE A RANMARU

*Reiji crying*

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Reiji:AH WAIT DONT HURT ME, I ALREADY HAVE ARTHRITIS

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Ai:Syo is a loveable loser

Natsuki:What about Van-kun?

Ai:He is just a loser

Natsuki:What about Rei-chan-senpai

Ai:He is just sad

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Ai:On my list on dumb friends, you are the highest

Syo:HELL YEAH- wait what?

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platypanthewriter · 3 years ago

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Guess Again

Day Four of Harringrove AUgust, Profession AU! Steve runs into a hot guy named Billy on his plane flight back to Indianapolis, and Billy lies about what he does for a living, then, laughing, admits he lied. The prize for this guessing game: an exchange of phone numbers.

Steve found his seat, in coach, because that was the only seat available on the overbooked flight into Indianapolis a week before Thanksgiving. He shoved his carry-on under the seat, and wedged himself in the limited leg room, opening his laptop to answer the emails that had been pinging his phone before the plane was ready to take off, and he—blessedly—had to go into airplane mode.

He barely even noticed the guy wedging himself in to sit by the window, and trying to get the damn table to stay up. Steve typed away as the busted table mechanism flapped onto the guy’s lap over and over. Finally, Steve grimaced, glancing over. “You can use my table,” he offered, registering only that the guy was tattooed, and kinda...hot. “I’ll put this away as soon as we taxi to the runway.”

“It’s fine,” the dude said, smacking the floppy table with a sigh. “Not like there’s a meal on this flight.”

“You can lean in and share my pretzels,” Steve told him, grinning over, and was met with big, long-lashed blue eyes, an annoying mustache, and curls that curved around an attractively firm jaw.

The guy nodded, and put the broken table away. “...kind of a workaholic?” he asked, probably because it was nearly ten o’clock at night, and Steve was glaring at his screen and typing emails like his survival depended on a high word count.

He snorted a laugh. “I left them all until now,” he said, grimacing. “They really don’t need my input, but if I replied earlier, they’d just ask me something else. Something they could google.” He narrowed his eyes at an email from a coworker who’d actually emailed to ask for exact details of what was allowed under the sexual harassment policy. Talk to HR, he sent back. Creep, he thought. He finished the last of the replies, hoping he wasn’t sending anything too weird in his distraction, and closed his laptop. “Um. Sorry. What do you do?”

“I sell life insurance,” the guy said immediately, with a toothy grin. “I’ll sell you so much insurance on this flight.”

“Uh,” Steve said, blinking at him. “Umm...oh.”

“That’s a lie,” was the dude’s followup, and Steve stared at him, starting to regret his offer to share a table, or catch the flight at all. “I don’t sell life insurance, I swear. I promise,” the guy said, laughing. “God, your face. I just...my job is...I started telling people I sell life insurance, so they wouldn’t talk to me.”

“I can just sit over here,” Steve offered, pretending to zip his lips.

“No, no, it’s, uh. Sorry I lied. Talk to me, it’s a long flight.”

“Why do you have to lie?” Steve had to ask, and the guy grimaced.

“My job’s kinda awkward,” he said, laughing.

“Are you a...porn star?” Steve asked, trying to figure out what kind of job would get the worst people to talk to you, and the dude cracked up.

“Jesus, no, but thanks for the ego boost,” he said, and Steve snorted a laugh.

“Um. What about…” Steve thought, opened his mouth, and then closed it. “Can I guess?” he asked, grinning, and the guy snickered.

“Sure. Give it your best shot. Just don’t tell me any horror stories.”

“Do you embalm bodies?” Steve tried, already holding back a tide of questions, like did you ever drop one and have to fix a broken nose.

“Nope!” said the guy, turning to lean more against the window, to face Steve. “How many tries do you want before I just tell you?”

“Oh, no, no, lemme guess,” Steve said, thinking as they came around asking for drink orders. “Horror stories...um. Are you a soldier?” he asked, wide-eyed, and the guy laughed again.

“No! No, nothing like that.” He leaned to see Steve’s ID as Steve pulled it out to order a beer, and Steve grinned.

“I’m Steve.”

“Billy,” said his mysteriously-employed seatmate, offering his hand, and Steve flipped it over investigatively.

“You don’t have those, like, love/hate knuckle tattoos,” he said, feeling like a detective. “So...maybe not a biker?”

“I’m not a biker,” Billy snickered. His hand was warm in Steve’s. “Is that even a job?”

“Oh! Oh!” Steve leaned forward, sure he had it this time, and Billy moved the armrest between them out of the way. “A writer?”

“What?!” Billy laughed, which probably meant Steve was wrong, but he argued his point.

“People tell you horror stories,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “So—so probably everybody tells you they have a great idea for your next novel—”

“No, uh. One clue,” Billy said, grimacing. “They’re true stories.”

“True stories,” Steve said, going to cross his arms in thought, and realizing Billy hadn’t taken his hand back. “Uh, what do I get if I guess right?” he asked, squeezing Billy’s hand, and Billy snorted a laugh, grinning like he couldn’t quite believe what was happening.

“I dunno, I feel like Rumpelstilzkin, you want like my firstborn or—”

“No, nope,” Steve made a face. “I got enough kids around, thanks. Oh—” he blinked, realizing how that sounded as Billy started to pull his hand back, and lean away, “—not, like, I’m not a dad, I don’t have a wife and kids or anything. I just have some little shitheads that come over all the time and eat all my popsicles and pizza.”

“Oh good,” Billy said dryly. “I’d feel terrible if holding my hand ruined your marriage.”

“No other knuckles can fulfill me, now,” Steve said soulfully, and then when Billy burst out laughing, Steve couldn’t hold a straight face.

“You know how fucking dirty that sounds, right,” Billy whispered, rubbing his face with the hand Steve wasn’t holding, and Steve snorted a laugh.

“Don’t worry, I’m not trying to get you to fist me on the plane,” he hissed back.

“Coward,” Billy shot back, and then they started giggling again, like they were ten.

“True horror stories,” Steve repeated, later, as they leaned together over the napkin on his tiny airplane table, where he was keeping track of the guesses he’d already made. “True horror stories. Are you a reporter?”

“God no,” Billy said, making a face. “Imagine this many tattoos in front of the news cameras? We’ve got a ways to go before they allow that.”

“Oh, true,” Steve nodded. “I mean, unless you worked for, like, a tabloid. Circling everyone’s stomach in pictures and writing ‘BABY BUMP?!’ on it.”

Billy jumped when Steve yelled ‘BABY BUMP’, and half the plane twitched and mumbled. “Fuck no!” he hissed, laughing. “Ssh!”

“Huh,” Steve said, studying the napkin. “Oh! Um,” he grimaced. “Police officer?”

“No,” Billy growled, and Steve nodded, writing that down and crossing it out, and sipping his third beer. “We never worked out what you got if you guessed,” Billy said, watching.

“Oh, yeah,” Steve agreed, nodding. “Uh, what about...dinner?”

“We’re gonna land at like six in the morning,” Billy pointed out, and Steve fingergunned him.

“Breakfast.”

Billy laughed. “I dunno if I’m willing to put out on our first plane trip together.”

“Lemme get you, like, bacon and eggs,” Steve said, leaning in and waggling his eyebrows, “—and my phone number.” He smirked as Billy cackled, leaning his head in the window.

“Yeah, okay. Gimme some breakfast sausage, Steve,” he said softly, the overhead reading light making his curls glow a little, like a halo.

“Now I haveta figure it out,” Steve said, frowning at his list, and Billy’s fingers twitched towards him. Steve grabbed his hand, lacing their fingers together, and accepted another beer from the flight attendant. “I wonder how many beers that is,” he said, prodding at the label with his thumbnail. “I think they’re like ten bucks a pop.”

“I bet the alcohol will really help you think,” Billy said dryly, and Steve made a face at him.

“Shut up, I got it. I got it this time,” he said, tipping his head back for a long, satisfying drink of beer, and wiping his mouth. Billy’s mouth hung a little open when he finished, and Steve licked his lips, grinning. “You—you’re a doctor. A—a doctor of butts. A butt-doctor.”

Billy started laughing so hard, silently, that Steve was starting to wonder whether he could breathe.

“I’m right, right?” Steve said, taking a triumphant swig, and Billy shook his head, wheezing for air.

“You mean a proctologist?!” he gasped.

“Yeah, and you understood fine,” Steve told him, annoyed.

“I’m not—I’m not a butt doctor,” Billy choked out, tears of laughter in his eyes. “I don’t have a doctorate in ass—”

“Your loss,” Steve muttered, glaring at the napkin with the list. “Man, my cousin is one, and he has some stories. Dude, that’s everything, that’s every damn job. Ever. Do zookeepers get told horror stories?! Oh!” He pointed the beer bottle at Billy. “Dentist!”

“No,” Billy giggled, his hair rising with static in the dry air of the plane, and sticking to the wall and window behind him. He looked ruffled and fond, and Steve squeezed his hand again, trying to think of what he’d missed, before the plane landed, and he’d spent the entire flight guessing jobs, and Billy hadn’t even given him a last name.

“Shit,” Steve said, then straightened again. “No, okay, this time,” he said, the beer making his words a little soft around the edges, “This time I really have it. You’re a Mickey Mouse person.”

“I’m a what now,” Billy said, still snickering.

“You know,” Steve said, his eyes narrowed. “You crawl up the ass of one of those suits and let kids think you’re a Disney princess.”

“No, Harrington,” Billy said, breathlessly, as he shook with laughter. “No, I do not. Do people tell mascots horror stories?! I don’t even want to know. Which princess? Just for scientific curiosity, Steve, which princess do I crawl up the ass of, in your brain?”

Steve tried to remember them all. “Not Jasmine,” he said with certainty. “Um. Wait, Peter Pan? Maybe?”

“Peter Pan’s not a princess,” Billy choked out, wiping his eyes as he tried to muffle his laughter.

“Hrm,” Steve said, accepting another beer and huffing a sigh, but Billy leaned in suddenly and just kissed him. His lips were warm and chapped, and Steve hummed happily against them. Their teeth bumped, a little, because Billy was giggling so hard, and Steve was grinning so wide his cheek muscles ached.

“I’m a drug and alcohol counselor,” Billy said with a grimace, and Steve glared at his beer, betrayed, "—so, um, horror stories. Yeah."

"I just have butt-doctor horror stories," Steve said quickly, trying to salvage the situation, and he shoved his beer behind him.

Billy laughed harder, shaking his head. "I’ll still take that number,” he whispered, kissing Steve again—and snickering, his cheeks flushed. “And breakfast?”

Here’s my other Harringrove stuff! Or check out the Harringrove AUgust collection on Ao3! Add something! =D

#Harringrove AUgust #Harringrove #Profession AU #Meet-cute #Fluff and banter

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perseusjackson-jasongrace · 4 years ago

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Empires on the Horizon XIV

Jason is a CEO: Part XIV

masterlist for other parts, more jercy, bad headcanons, and an abundance of crackships

SURPRISE!!! i finally got my laptop back and thankfully they didn’t have to wipe anything so i still had all my work! Between you and me i was more worried about all my fanfics than my uni work...... But I’ve learned my lesson. Do everything on google docs now!! Anyway this is a Percy POV and i hope you enjoy because i’ve missed this little universe more than you could possibly know and we’re finally (only fourteen chapters later) getting to the jercy part of this fic?! LOL it’s been wild.

i know i’m releasing a ton of fanfics at the moment so i hope you guys don’t feel overwhelmed. You know i adore your comments and thoughts but please don’t feel pressured to read all the fics i’m posting. I’ve just had a lot of time in the last weeks so it’s been easier to create. Please take care of yourself, i love you very much and i hope you have a magical holiday season!

Percy Jackson stretched his legs out in front of him and draped a blanket over them. There were few things he indulged in, but a good plane seat was one of them. He was spoilt for it but having the space to lay his unreasonably tall body down for eight hours seemed like a worthy investment. The announcements that continuously filtered through the crackly speakers were background noise as the bustle of people getting to their seats flowed throughout the cabins. He stared out his little window at the neon-jacketed guides and airport officials directing people to wherever they needed to be. He loved watching people just do things. There was something calming about knowing others weren’t interested in him in any way. That people got on with their lives despite the turmoil nobody knew about.

A flight attendant stopped next to him with a polite smile, “Champagne sir?”

“No thank you, a water please. Too early for alcohol.” He grimaced.

Mirth danced in her eyes as she glanced up at the rest of the passengers, some dangling flutes between their fingers. “Absolutely sir, anything else?”

He shook his head, before leaning back in his seat and closing his eyes. His pre-flight ritual, which consisted of him snuggling as comfortably as possible it his seat and trying to fall asleep, was already behind. The presence of a certain blonde-haired, blue-eyed CEO taking up the scattered pieces of his mind. It was crazy to think they had met almost a year ago, crazier still to think that about how much they had changed in that time. Percy at least felt like a completely different person to the one who had stepped off a plane from Hawaii all those months ago and attended his alma mater’s dinner. Although the university had surprised them with plaques honouring their contributions, it was seeing Jason Grace, learning about him that felt like the real reward. Hell, he was only half joking when he said he’d marry the guy the next Tuesday.

“Good morning ladies and gentlemen. Please take your seats and fasten your seatbelts. We will be taking off shortly. In the meantime please turn your attention to the screens in front of you for a video detailing the safety measures you will need to know while aboard this flight.”

He blinked back into the world and turned half his attention to the screen and the other half to locating the blonde he couldn’t seem to keep away from. He knew the safety briefings by heart, but he always felt bad for not paying attention. Someone worked hard to make those. He didn’t spot Jason in the two minutes the video played and then it was too late because the plane gave a low rumble and suddenly, they were lurching into motion. His heart climbed to his throat and he gripped his fingers underneath the blanket.

“Okay Percy,” He mouthed to himself, “You can do this. It’s at most fifteen minutes of instability and then you’ll be up in the air and you won’t even feel it.”

“Just fifteen minutes.” He kept repeating, taking deep shaky breaths. “Fifteen minutes.”

The plane jaggered down the runway, slow enough that he could still read the road signs indicating altitudes and compass directions and all sorts of fun information he didn’t care about. He felt the huge machine turn into the long stretch of tar that led them to the sky and his stomach clenched painfully. This was always the worst part. Take off. It felt like his entire body flew off with the plane while he stuck to the ground, superglue cementing him to the floor with no escape. He didn’t feel free. He felt torn.

The plane gave a horrible lurch and then it was screaming down the runway, grass and yellow lines blurring past them. They were going so fast he’s sure they’d break the sound barrier. He squeezed his eyes shut. Knuckles white as he twisted his hands together. The plan flew down the road and into the sky. His whole body felt suspended in space. He wanted to come down. He didn’t want to be here. Even with his eyes closed he could feel how high they were. He hated it.

Slowly, the plane started to level out until he felt his body realign: feet under him, hands beside him, head above him. He opened his eyes, spots dancing in his vision as they got used to the light once more. The seatbelt sign dinged above him, and a series of clicks followed. People got up to use the bathroom and grab things from the overhead compartments. He wasn’t going to get up until he was out of this plane. So he shoved his headphones over his ears and pressed play.

I will always love you how I do

Let go of a prayer for you

Just a sweet word

He gazed out the window, clouds close enough to whisper to, and his lips pulled up in a soft smile. The sky was beautiful. It just sucked that they had to get into a death trap to get to it. With his ocean eyes pinned to the balls of cotton hanging in the blue expanse his mind drifted. Reyna. He blinked. It was almost shameful how little he had thought of her since their breakup considering their year together. She had taught him tai quan do and baked him blueberry tarts. They had escaped to a little bubble in the forest and watched the leaves turn brown as they tumbled in bed. He knew she tapped her right foot when she was annoyed but her left fingers danced when she was excited. He knew she liked her eggs fried hard because she didn’t have time for sloppy yolk, but she liked them scrambled soft because it meant a richer croissant. But despite this she did not light his soul on fire. And he did not light hers either. They were merely striking matches without wood to burn. He heaved a sigh as he watched the threads of his relationship flutter before his eyes and fell asleep to them disappearing in gold strands leaking into the clouds. He succumbed to the bright sun and the soft warmth of memories and he didn’t wake until a loud announcement gave the signal that they were landing.

It was over so fast he didn’t have time to panic and he was grateful. Finally he was collecting his bags and walking out. A driver with his surname scribbled on a plaque stood front and center and with a quick flash of his ID and a hello they were piling into the car. He didn’t get a chance to see the blonde beauty, but the island was small and time was a plenty. They would find each other again.

“To the hotel sir?”

“Yes Luca, and then please stick around for half an hour. It’s just a quick freshen before I go to work. We have a lab meeting.”

The man nodded and then focused on the busy Italian streets they were navigating. He took in the colours and sounds as they whizzed by. It felt like a different universe. People were loud and excited and full of life and the little markets seemed to pull energy from the sun and direct it into joy. He wanted to tell Luca, to pull over, screw work, and take in the beauty of this little section of the world. But his phone buzzed in his pocket and he knew with a disappointed sinking in his chest that adventure would have to wait.

“Hello Percy,” Rachel Elizabeth Dare bubbled, ‘I assume you’ve arrived?”

“Yes Rach,” He sighed but amusement caught between his lips, “Have you got news for me?”

“No,” She sounded suspicious, “Why would I have news for you?”

“Because you only track my exact times when you want something but you’re too scared to ask me so you wait till I’m halfway across the country before asking.” He wanted to laugh as she made an indignant sound.

“Okay fine,’ She grumbled, “I wanted to know if I could close up the scuba for the weekend. I met a girl and i wanted to go out on Friday night with her.”

He couldn’t hold in his laugh any longer, “Of course you can Rachel. But I’m curious to know…” He trailed off.

“Ugh you are impossible.” He could imagine her eye roll so vividly. “It’s Clarisse. The principal from your old school.”

“Well, well, well,” He grinned, “I better be getting premium seats to the wedding.”

“Why does everything always end in weddings for you?” She groaned.

“Scuse me for wanting a happily ever after.” He scrunched his face, “Oh and guess who’s here?”

“Is this a good guess or a bad one?”

“Good.” He smiled, “Very good.”

She gasped, speaker crackling at his ear, “Tell me!”

“Jason Grace.”

“What?” She squealed, “Are you guys going to have hot rebound sex and then realise you like each other more than just casual fuck-buddies and end up getting married and adopting like six children?”

He burst with amusement, “Slow down there Rach. I know I throw around the marriage idea, but kids seem like a big commitment.”

“You right,” She said decidedly, “Kids are a lot of effort. Just get married then. But no eloping!” He pictured the crease in her freckled brows. “I want to be a bridesmaid.”

“Can’t promise anything,” He giggled.

“Perseus Jackson!” She scolded.

“Oof the full name.”

“I will tell your mother and she will kick your ass.”

“Okay, okay,” He laughed, “No eloping. I have to go. But remember to take the keys for the scuba with you. We do not need the fire department breaking the door again.”

She grumbled about hating him and then blew him a kiss and ended the call. With a smile still playing on his lips he thanked Luca and rushed into the hotel. Thankfully the check in was painless and fast and he was stumbling into his room in no time. He barely had time to appreciate the gorgeous floor-to-ceiling windows and the ocean view it laid out before him. He promised himself he would take the time when he got back.

Quickly he hopped into the shower cursing when he realised he’d forgotten to take his socks off. With a horrified shudder he peeled them off and chucked them into the laundry basket, thankful it gets emptied every day. The water beat against his back, fogging up the glass and calming the racing in his veins. He gave himself the luxury of one extra minute to just take a deep breath and screw his head back onto his shoulders and then he jumped out and shoved on a pair of black slacks and a white button down. He didn’t bother to do the top few buttons, figuring he’d have time in the car. Instead he fastened a watch to his wrists, rolled up the sleeves till they sat at his forearms– any attempt to bear the Italian heat– and then he slid his feet into a pair of sleek ankle boots and mussed his damp curls. With half a moments glance at the mirror to make sure his face didn’t have patches of sun-cream and his collar was straight he grabbed his briefcase and walked out.

Glancing at his watch distractedly he rounded the corner, only to bump right into a hard chest.

“Oh,” He frowned, stepping back into a door. “Jason.”

“Hey,” The blonde smiled, “What a coincidence?” He laughed.

“You’re staying here?” It was really starting to feel like the universe was trying to tell him something.

‘Yep,” He gave a shy smile, blue gaze bright. “Guess you’re going to see a lot more of me then you expected huh?”

“I think you may be at more of a disadvantage than me.”

Jason looked at him, eyes dragging from his face down his body and eventually dropping to his shoes. Percy gave an involuntary shiver as the blonde tracked the same slow pace back up. “I think this could be very advantageous.”

“If you don’t stop staring at me like that I’m going to be very late for my meeting.”

He laughed, the previous sultriness giving away to a sparkle and flashing white teeth, “See you around Jackson.” He started walking away.

“Wait!” Percy called, “Date? Tonight? We can explore the city together?”

Jason smiled as bright as diamonds, “Sounds fun. Meet you in the bar at?”

He realised their time depended on when his meeting finished and suddenly, he wanted to cancel the whole thing and start now. ‘Seven thirty?”

“See you there. And have a good meeting.”

The blonde walked away, and Percy felt this time like he was floating away while his body remained superglued to the floor. He wanted to live in this feeling. Because this did not feel like being torn apart. This felt like coming home.

The elevator dinged down the passage and he crashed back to reality. With a string of curse words he raced for it and jumped in just as the doors began to close.

The meeting and subsequent lab tour felt endless and he concentrated on little less than half of what was being said, his mind more interested on the things waiting for him at the hotel, the person. But eventually it was over and him and Luca were cruising towards the Casa de Vita.

“Anything else you need sir?” His driver looked at him from the rear-view mirror as they turned into the hotel road.

“Recommend any good places for a first date?”

“Already met a lady sir?” Luca’s dark eyebrows almost touched his hairline in surprise.

“A man actually.”

The Italian chuckled, nodding his head as if in on some invisible joke, “The Tesora. It is just down the path and near the ocean.”

“Thank you Luca, have a goodnight.”

“And you sir.” Luca winked before peeling out of the entrance and fading into the setting sun.

Percy strolled to his room with a smile on his face, lost in a world full of possibilities. It was unsurprising then that he didn’t see the extra bag against the wall, or the shoes neatly placed by the door that weren’t his.

He took off his watch and undid the few buttons on his shirt, head lost to the glimmer of the ocean. He let his shirt fall open as he slipped off his shoes and walked towards the windows. The view really was spectacular. No matter how much he travelled it always blew his mind the places that existed, that he had yet to learn of. It was irresistible. It was perfect. It didn’t fail to cross his mind that the ocean was the exact same colour as a certain pair of gorgeous blue eyes. He blinked the image away, turning around, and his gaze landed on that exact aquamarine gaze.

“Jason?” He gasped, clutching his chest in surprise. “What are you doing in my room?”

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

Tags (if you want to be added/taken off the tag list just let me know. All my channels of communication are open):

@lesbian-peanuts

@leydiangelo

@queen-of-demons-and-hell

@msdrpreist

@sparkythunderstorm

@nishlicious-01

@lucyisblue

@pjo-hp-things

#empires on the horizon #part 14 #jercy #jason is a ceo #jason grace #percy jackson #baby fanfic #baby fanfic series #pjssg fanfic #pjssg series #pjjg fanfic #pjjg series #jason #grace #percy #jackson

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oureuphoria · 5 years ago

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Worst of You - JJK 08

You meet him under horrible circumstances but everything feels perfect when you’re with him. Too bad you have a bitch of a best friend, anxiety and an inability to learn from your mistakes which cripples your chances to be with the man of your literal dreams. He, however, is a police officer with years worth of built-up turmoil and an inability to make attachments. Or “I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s wrong.” “Cool, I’ll let everyone know you’re moving in then.”

Genre: fluff, angst, comedy

Pairing: officer!jungkook X collegestudent!reader

Word count: 2,304

Note: Things get sad in this chapter and :(

| 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 |

Jungkook was confused. He was confused about how you had gotten in, who you were with and more importantly, why you were here when this seemed to be the last place you’d want to be. In spite of his confusion Jungkook knew that to his knowledge you were still 20 and definitely underage, so it was his legal obligation to check up on you. It was definitely not because he wanted to talk to you, just following procedure.

“What are you doing here?” You hadn’t noticed Jungkook sit next to you until he spoke but you refused to spare him a glance. You were worried that was all it would take, one look at his wide brown eyes that seemingly held the universe and you’d be putty in his hands. “None of your business.“ “When you’re underage it is.” “It’s my birthday, officer.” You threw your ID card to him which he checked meticulously. You snatched the card out of his hands after he’d had a good look and hopped off the stool.

“If you don’t mind, I have to go back to Jimin.” Just as you are about to walk away from him, Jungkook lightly grabs your hand. “Wait.” You turned back around to face him but expertly avoided his eyes. “I’m sorry.” It wasn’t much but it was all Jungkook could fathom and yet both of you knew, it wasn’t enough. You gave him a small smile before you replied, one that seemed more sad than polite. “Yeah, me too.” And with that, you walked away, shoving Jungkook and his ridiculously beautiful face to the back of your mind.

“Jimin!” You had finally found your friend who hadn’t been even half as happy to see you as you were him. “Y/N, I know it’s your birthday and I promised I’d be with you but the most gorgeous boy is here and I really need a hook-up. If you’re not okay with it I understand but-” “Go! At least one of us has to get lucky tonight.” You waved him off and he retaliated with a bone-crushing hug. “I love you so much. I promise I’ll make it up to you.” Whether that promise was empty or not, you were going to hold him to it because letting him abandon you in this club all alone is definitely a sizeable sacrifice.

You walked back to the bar where you were relieved to see that Jungkook had left. Against your better judgement, your eyes subconsciously scanned around for him and when you saw him, dancing and having the time of his life while you were there following in self-pity, you realised you definitely needed another drink.

Perhaps it was your lack of experience or your Jungkook-induced sadness or even your empty stomach but you were drunk. Only 2 drinks in and you had completely lost all sense of rationality. Unfortunately, the bartender was unaware of just how much of a lightweight you were and proceeded to provide you with the tequila shots you weren’t sure why you asked for.

They tasted horrible and after downing two, you realised you never wanted to drink one again but for the first time in a long time, you had felt entirely carefree. It was nice, for the blissful moment it lasted but when your eyes had landed on Jungkook again, this time sitting at a bar next to some girl who was definitely prettier than you, carefree had turned into careless and you were making your way over there before you could process it.

“Hi, I’m sorry but I really need to speak to him.” Giving the poor girl no time to reply, you had dragged Jungkook towards the end of the bar where there were far less people and the music was softer. “You, sir, are an asshole.” In between your words, you had made the honourable decision to jab Jungkook in the chest continuously. Drunk you believed you were emphasising your point, sober you would’ve cowered at the mere mention of such an action.

“Are you drunk, Y/N? Where’s your friend?” “He left me for someone prettier, everyone keeps doing that to me these days…” You pouted as you strayed completely off topic and tears began welling in your eyes. You were an emotional drunk, you found that out the hard way. “I’m taking you home.” “No! I still haven’t finished.” Jungkook sighed in frustration and motioned for you to continue, the girl at the bar was long forgotten and Jungkook didn’t even care.

“Why are you such a liar?” The waterworks had begun and while it was obvious you weren’t entirely competent, Jungkook felt the sting in his heart all the same. “Please, baby don’t cry.” “Don’t call me that. Stop making me think you care when you clearly don’t and next time grow the balls to say you don’t like me you jerk!” Your words were slurred and your delivery was a little off but Jungkook heard you loud and clear. He wanted to explain, he wanted to wipe your tears away and reassure you that he was enamoured by you, he adored you and wanted nothing more than to be by your side. But you were probably too drunk to remember and it was too late to try.

“I’m sorry, just stop crying, please.” You tried and you weren’t sure why. The pain in Jungkook’s voice had hurt you and even while drunk, you’d do anything to make that pain go away. So you stifled your tears to the best of your ability, the only thing left behind were tear stains and your quiet hiccups. “Good job, now let me take you home.”

Jungkook didn’t expect you to fall asleep in his car, but then again he also didn’t expect you to berate him at a club. “Y/N, baby, wake up.” You were a light sleeper, he knew that much, which was why he was shaking you softly. You fidgeted in his seat a little before opening your eyes ever so slightly. “I’m sleeping, go away.” Drunk, sleepy Y/N was a challenge Jungkook didn’t know how to face. He also didn’t know how he was going to get you inside or whether or not you had your keys and going through your bag felt like a violation of your privacy so Jungkook decided to take you to his apartment instead.

When you woke up the next morning, something felt off. Your bed was never silk and you never remembered it being this big. You flailed your hand around for your plushie and when you had opened your eyes, you jolted upright in shock. That action was instantly regretful because of the pounding headache you had suddenly gotten and your wincing had captured Jungkook’s attention.

He was dressed in grey sweatpants and a tight grey t-shirt that left scarcely anything to the imagination. If you weren’t dying from a migraine you might’ve appreciated the view but all you could think about was this numbing pain. “There’s aspirin on the table and a glass of water.” You nodded, reaching for your knight in shining armour as you consumed the medication.

“Do you remember anything?” You remembered everything but you wanted to spare yourself the shame so you kept silent. “I tried to take you to your apartment but you fell asleep so I-” “I understand. Thank you, I hope I didn’t cause too much of an inconvenience.” You had began wandering around the room, collecting your belongings so you could leave as quickly as possible but Jungkook didn’t want that. “Y/N, slow down. I’ll give you something to change into, that dress can’t be comfortable.” He was right, it wasn’t. But neither was this predicament and every second you spent there was a second spent remembering the night you’d rather forget. You never drinking, ever again.

Jungkook had come back from raiding his closet with a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. “You can change in the bathroom. Come down and eat breakfast and then I promise I’ll take you home.” “I don’t need to eat.” You shook your head, even tried rejecting the clothing but Jungkook had dropped it into your arms. “Unless you want to puke for 3 hours I suggest you get changed and come down to eat.” You rolled your eyes but complied nonetheless.

You looked up at your reflection and you were a mess, your makeup was inconsistent, you were assuming it was because of the tears. Luckily, you didn’t wear mascara and after washing your face and tying up your hair, you started to look like yourself again. Jungkook’s clothing, which seemed to engulf your figure, had smelt nice and felt soft. You didn’t want to get used to it so you pushed those thoughts to the back of your mind and left the room.

You could see the stairs clearly from where you were standing so finding the kitchen was straightforward enough. Jungkook was seated on the island, phone in hand with two plates of what looked like omelettes. Jungkook had looked up at the soft patter of your feet and smiled. “You look good in my clothes.” You mumbled a quiet thank you and hopped onto the high chair that was surprisingly comfortable. “You want coffee?” You shook your head and poked around your omelette, you were never a big fan of eggs but you’d never complain.

“Fuck Y/N, I can’t take this, please talk to me.” You wanted to but you’d already said all you wanted to say yesterday (rather harshly) and you didn’t feel like repeating yourself. “There’s nothing to talk about.” He sighed and got up to pour himself a cup of coffee, when he had returned, you had already eaten a third of your omelette. “Can we go now?” “Can you listen to my explanation first?” You nodded timidly, you wanted an explanation desperately but you were also scared of the truth. That he didn’t like you and never did.

“My first ever love was in high school. She was my senior, I was a year younger and infinitely less experienced, but that didn’t stop me.” You both laughed, knowing that Jungkook was stubborn when he wanted to be. “She was beautiful, the kind of beautiful that took time to truly process, she was smart, book smart at least and she was kind to everyone, even when they didn’t deserve it. We dated for just over a year, it was nearing my graduation when she passed away. Car accident, drunk driver. Instead of getting the justice she deserved, her parents who barely had a dollar to their name were forced to settle for the equivalent of a used Toyota. The girl who hit her was old money rich, her family had connections with the best defence attorneys in the world. The lawyers she hired, put a price on a person I loved, they tried to tell me how much her life was worth and it wasn’t generous.”

Jungkook wasn’t crying, but you were. You knew the world was cruel but growing up in a middle-income family in a peaceful neighbourhood truly shielded you from a lot of life’s challenging aspects and knowing this had happened to a girl, just like you, really shattered your heart. You felt even worse trying to imagine how Jungkook had felt and how horrible the situation was in general. “I pursued law enforcement for her. She’s the reason I’m where I am today. I’m not asking for your pity, or excusing my actions but I want you to understand. Every time I start falling in love with someone, I pull away because no matter how tough I look, I can’t deal with loss.”

“I thought pushing you away would protect myself and that was incredibly selfish, and I’m sorry. I thought that I could do this, that’s why I confessed but the moment I was alone with my thoughts again, I realised I couldn’t. But for you, I’m willing to try. I’ll put everything I have into this, all I ask is that you forgive me for the colossal asshole I’ve been lately.” Jungkook held your hands in his and you giggled through the tears after he’d insulted himself and Jungkook felt his heart swell at you.

“Alright but from now on, just give me the worst of you and we’ll deal with it together.” “Deal.” Jungkook inched closer to you, his hands cupped your face as he wiped the remnants of your tears. With your faces barely a centimetre apart, you could really see the pain in his eyes and all you wanted to do was kiss it away. So you did. Dragging his head down by his neck, you gave Jungkook a soft kiss on the lip that barely lasted a second but he needed more.

Jungkook had opted to rest one of his hands on the back of your stool, the other on your cheek as he kissed you deeper. “I’m sorry I ruined your birthday.” Jungkook whispered out in-between kisses. “Nap with me and I’ll forgive you.” Jungkook chuckled before placing one last peck on your lips. He wrapped your legs around his torso and lifted you up smoothly. You squealed in shock but Jungkook ignored it, his mind solely on getting you back in his bed. You really did nap, and you enjoyed it quite a bit, after all his arms were the comfiest pillow.

#jungkook #jungkook imagine #jungkook fic #jungkook smut #jungkook x you #bts #bts fic #bts reactions #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts smut

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suffering-and-happy-about-it · 5 years ago

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We'll Turn This City Upside Down (Sriracha, Part 19.)

Description: A problematic college student gets the worst summer job of the ‘83 - Jim Hopper, the Chief of police in your hometown will have you as his secretary since his old lady Flo has two months lasting holiday. It was agreed so Hopper could let you far away from all the trouble.

Part Summary: Since your family knew about Hopper and you were back in Hawkins again, there was no worry about denying it. You were his girl just as he was your man. And a fool for you.

A/N: Welcome to the Jim Hopper flexin’ on everyone with his girlfriend. You know he's a sweet goofball normally, but... You know... Jealousy’s a fucking bitch. (And Jim is one fucking bitch in this one as well, sksksk.) Inspired by The First Lie and The First I Love You by Kyle Dixon & Michael Stein.

Word count: 3.2 K

Tagging: @nemodoren @creedslove

Master list: H E R E

"Are you ready?" - Hopper asked when you sat into his police Blazer. It was the morning of the sixteenth of November and you finally took only a short break from making love in the trail. He took two days lasting holidays so he could spend the whole two days by your side. It started snowing one night and you were just tiptoeing to steal a kiss from his lips when the first snowflake fell on the tip of your nose. You both ran back inside, giggling like little kids and nothing on the whole world could make happier as you watched the snowflakes falling snuggled in the bed, drinking cocoa. As it turned out later, Hopper loved the snow and building snowmen, occasionally throwing a snowball at you.

"Can you even get ready for something like this?" - You asked back and finally felt as the Blazer under your ass moved forward. Hopper chuckled and looked away, making sure that there's not another car on the road. He had his blue coat on and Jesus, as soon as you spotted that thing on his shoulders you wanted to either steal it or make Hopper fuck you again. He was handsome as hell with his hat on, looking almost like an Alaskan cowboy.

It was here. The first time of showing the public that the Chief is, in fact, dating a college student. The funniest bit was that you were the nervous one. You were sweating and swearing under your breath since the time you woke up, unable to even eat something. Hopper had a shift on the station and he told you that he'll drive you to your university and picks you up from the job assignment you had later that day.

Jim repeated you many times that you don't have to find a job since you're doing just fine with his payment, but you insisted on finding one as soon as you could - and there was a free spot in a bistro in the downtown. You also had another dinner at your house planned later that week and Hopper, needless to say, was pretty nervous about it.

"Come on. We'll do just fine." - He rolled down the window, palming your whole knee at once. This felt somehow kinky, hot and extremely embarrassing at the same time. You let the hand there and watched the welcoming sign with horror. Well, there you go.

"Tell me the plan again?" - He asked you as the first houses started appearing. You slid further down on the seat, covering your reddening face.

"You'll drive me to school and kiss me so everyone knows what are we on." - You mumbled and watched his palm on your knee.

"That's right. And..?" - That motherfucker continued with a bigger grin than before, waving old Mrs. Smith who was just watering her garden. She almost fainted at the sight of you two together.

"And if I duck out of it, I'm folding all of your fuckin’ clothes for the entire week." - You mumbled and watched your former classmates turning after the Blazer. Jesus, this was a fucking dumb idea.

The first strange people were watching the police Blazer with unbelieving faces - Hopper was casually greeting every citizen you met and you just sat there and smiled with spasm in your face. You looked at Hopper with panic when he stopped the car in front of a bistro.

"Jim, what the fuck you think you're doing right now?" - You hissed when he started undoing the seatbelt. He pointed at a sign reading 'Serving breakfasts from 6 a.m. to 8 a.m.'.

"I'm takin' my lady to have somethin' to eat since she hasn't eaten at home?" - He guessed with a shit-eating grin. Why were you dating that jackass again? Oh, you loved him. That's right.

"Jim, this is highly uncomfortable and embarrassing. Will you, please, drive me to school?" - You mumbled, but it was too late. That jackass took his hat off and kissed you in front of a crowded bistro. And if it was only a normal kiss, just a peck, maybe it would cause everyone to turn at you - it was a full make-out session which ended by Hopper quietly humming into your lips. You just tasted even better than ever before in front of that many people. When he pulled back, you were furrowing and heavy breathing but decided not to duck out, forming the perfect plan to embarrass him as well the other day.

When you got out of the car, he was there to catch your hand, looking like a ray of fucking sunshine. No-one and nothing could ruin his mood at that moment. It was making you more happy than embarrassed, but you still felt the uneasy feeling in your chest. He was even humming You Don't Mess Around With Jim.

And Jesus, this man was just straightaway touchy-feely with you in the public. He ordered both of you some sandwiches, with bacon and eggs and a cup of coffee and just as he was looking at the waitress, his foot started to caress your leg under the table. He was unstoppable at that point.

To be honest, you were a hot topic in the whole of Hawkins. Every old lady spread the news immediately and each one of them knew when the evening came by. When you stopped in front of the university, you leaned him to give him a smooch before he drove off to the office. That meant you're safe and that you don't have to fold a single piece of his damn clothes - but your classmates stopped for a minute and watched you as you got off the car.

Julia, who was waiting for you with her notebooks in her arms, just opened up her mouth unbelievably as you walked to her.

“That guy was your summer hook-up? Because it surely must be more than that.” - She mouthed to you while you walked to the class. You felt the stares of each person you met on the way, but really, no-one was looking at you. You might have been a hot rumor to the old ladies and mothers of Hawkins, but you weren't such a hot topic for the younger people living in there. - “I thought you were making a case study out of him! When did you plan to tell me?”

“Things got a little out of hand and me and Jim,” - “You're calling Hopper Jim now? Shit, that's serious.” - She pushed you playfully and you finally smiled before continuing. - “We clicked after a while and a few bottles of Brandy. He was drunk as fuck that night.” - You said honestly, sitting down in the room.

“Is he good in bed?” - She asked immediately. You shook your head unbelievably and she just giggled. You smirk was more than straightaway telling her yes. - “Now it makes sense why he wrapped you around his finger. In every meaning of that phrase.”

“You nasty beast. He hasn't wrapped me around his finger.” - You shot a look back, watching one of the professors walking in. As the class proceeded, Julia told you about Steve from Biology in detail. You could perfectly imagine that guy's body and penis and you haven't even seen him in person at that point.

Your day was flying by you, since you were happy to sit in the class between people, feeling like a normal human being once again. Julia told you about the whole Will Byers incident from an outsider perspective and boy, didn't that sound crazy? She also gave you a ride to Melvald’s general store in the downtown where you needed to shop some things for your revenge plan.

You almost forgot about Joyce working there until she appeared right next to you, as you were comparing two cans of strawberries.

“I would take these bad boys.” - She pointed her finger at cans on the left. You gave her a short look and nodding. - “They're sweeter and more hardened than these canned ones.”

“Thanks for your help, Mrs. Byers. It's amazing how well do clerks know their groceries.” - You giggled and walked to the whipped cream, telling Joyce to follow you with a short look.

“I didn't know you stayed here, your mom told me you're leaving for Indianapolis.” - She said unbelievably while you took the whipped cream with the highest percentage. You nodded and your lips curled up into a smile.

“Yeah. Sometimes you change your plans for a man, you know?” - You tested the waters. Jim and Joyce talked a lot in the last days, they spent quite a lot of time together. Did she know about you? You weren't jealous at all, Joyce went through a lot and she needed someone to talk to just as Will needed a manly figure in his life at the moment.

“Really? I always thought that you'll leave Hawkins for some rich businessman. You always seemed to be ambitious.” - She said excitedly and walked with you to sugar. While making small talk, you walked her back to the cash register. And you noticed that painting still being hung up there. It was old and the colors weren't as bright as they used to be, but it was Wills spaceship. Somehow, you managed to dodge everything that could remember her about the incident and you haven't even told her about Jim.

But that changed with one last order.

“And two packs of unfiltered Camels, please.” - You smiled shyly, and she shot a look at you from packing your groceries. - “I can show you my ID if you want.” - You took out your purse, opening it up.

“You said you stayed here because of a man?” - She asked with wonder, handing you the cigarettes. You nodded, looking her in the eyes. - “Because the only one who buys unfiltered Camels in Melvald...” - “Is Jim.” - You finished for her.

She was surprised, giggling excitedly. You adored that woman as mother and as a human being - she was the one person always smiling and her arms were always opened for the people in need.

“Call me Joyce, then. Jim hasn't told me that he’s seeing someone and... Wow, he still has hir charm.” - She said proudly, offering you a handshake. You laughed as well, accepting it. - “Call me Y/N. Jim is talking to you and about you a lot. It seems that you're great friends.”

“Yeah, we were classmates back in the day. He is that one friend who stayed and never left. He's helping us a lot now. You found yourself a great man, sweetie.” - She held your arm and took the money from you.

“Keep the exchange. Take Will something sweet and tell him I say hi. He probably doesn't even know that I exist, but whatever. I hope he gets better soon.” - You smiled at her and she exhaled slowly, closing her eyes a bit.

“You're a sweetheart, you know that?” - She smiled and you could really tell that she means it and that your wish made her happy and soft. - “Come back soon. Or come to have dinner at our place with Jim, how does that sound?”

“I'll try to talk him down, but you know what Jim’s like. See you!” - You waved at her with a big smile on your lips. You made a new friend that day and nothing felt better than that. Your new job interview went just great - to say that old Mr. Davison was thrilled about you taking a job at his bistro was an understatement. In his opinion, you were a great candidate to get the position of the waitress - you were nice, sweet, nice to look that and overall a pleasant person to be around in his opinion.

You knew that Jim will be bitching about you being half a day at the job and half a day at college, but he could honestly go fuck himself with that kind of bullshit. You needed to make some money as well. Jim really was already waiting for you outside the door, his ass leaned into the trunk of his Blazer, and as soon as you rose up your palm holding the signed up contract, Hopper almost gulped his cigarette down.

“I got the job.” - You rose your eyebrows, looking around the dark street you were sanding at, making yourself sure that its empty before you put your arms around his sides to snuggle a bit closer. It was freezing, again, and it sure as hell was about to snow. - “I'm afraid that I will freeze to death today. You might have to warm me up.”

“Great. Now you'll be comin’ home late and tired. Can't wait for that.” - He mumbled as a response and smoothed your back.

“What's your deal? You should be happy that I am such a responsible adult.” - You let him go and sat on your seat in the Blazer, preparing for your great revenge plan.

“A long day in the office, what should I tell you? We finally found some of Mr. Henderson’s gnomes he was missin’ since summer.” - Hopper climbed there as well, taking a long breath in.

“Another reason to celebrate. Today is such a good day!” - You said excitedly, feeling the Blazer under you moving.

“Really, a great one. Where’s my date with Bo Derek?” - He asked back, looking at you. Your Jim was finally back after three weeks of putting it to ice. - “You think she's hot? Are you serious?” - You asked unbelievably, laughing as you imagined him on the date.

“She definitely is.” - Jim nodded and turned on the radio, letting the Romantics playing in the car as you both got quiet. That man was out of the world. And he also was really excited about the cake you baked in the evening. Your first shift at Marty’s was supposed to start on Saturday, so you had a whole Friday to execute the plan.

What was the plan again? Oh, yeah - visit him on the station tomorrow, since the only ones who brought cakes there were Callhan’s hookups, Powell's wife and Florence herself. You were about to burn Hopper where it could hurt him the most.

“Who’s that for? You haven't baked in weeks.” - Jim mumbled, trying to get his nose somewhere it wasn't supposed to at all. You smacked his fingers when he tried to mess up the whipped cream on your master-piece angrily watching him.

“You know, this is for my other lover David. We haven't seen each other in days.” - You muttered out ironically and started to finish your masterpiece with chocolate topping and strawberries. Joyce was right - these ones were nicely sweet, but still hard when you took a bite. Hopper rose his eyebrows while holding your waist.

“Oh, David. He's a great guy.” - He nodded nonchalantly. - “Tell him I say hi when you'll be meetin’ him again, will you?” - Jim kissed the back of your head and you nodded, humming a song stuck in your head.

On Friday, you both left in your cars, since your classes started way after the time Hopper had to leave for office. You left the cake home, first going to college and then coming back for it, so you could visit Hopper at the station. Everyone was surprised to see you walk in a tight black coat and reddened cheeks, as you held the sweet treat in front of your face.

Powell let you at least put it down before he went for a hug. - “Jesus, you're cold as ice!” - The man cried out as soon as you pressed onto him. Callahan held you a bit longer before he let Florence gave you a small hug as well.

“I just wanted to see how you're holding, guys, we haven't seen each other in months.” - You told the boys before cutting the first piece of the cake and giving it to Powell. He always got the cake first here.

“We? Were good, as always. You know us, Y/N, we never do anything too exciting because that old fool is terrified for his dear ass.” - He said nodding at Hopper who just got out. You could see that Jim had a sassy answer on his tongue, but his gaze got stuck at you. - “But we've heard that you were up to something really exciting in the last two months.” - Powell rose his eyebrows, taking a fair piece of the cake.

“What are... You doin’ here?” - Jim asked and tried to seem normal, pouring himself some coffee.

“David wasn't home, so I told myself that you can have a piece of it as well.” - You said innocently, looking at him from Powell’s crosswords which you stole from the man. You were a Devil and Hopper was sure of that. So that was why you were so calm when he came to pick you up after the interview.

“Oh, poor David doesn't know what he's missin’.” - He mumbled and took a sip, looking at the trio of police employees watching you. Weren't you claimed to be missing two months in a row? Why were both of you acting so casually? Florence could immediately say that something between the two of you is off. The energy was different. - “I told you she was found just three weeks ago, boys. She was fine the whole time.” - Hopper pointed the knife at you as he cut a piece of the cake for himself.

“Why did you disappeared?” - Callahan asked and moved himself a bit closer. That lover boy still obviously wanted to date you. That thing was publically known since he thirsted after you a lot during the summer.

“Actually, fuck David, I'm here to tell you something.” - You got up, running away from Callahan, earning a chuckle from Powell. Callahan was completely confused about why you basically jumped off the chair as soon as he smoothly leaned in. It was as if you could caught rabies from him.

Jim's gaze was asking you not to do it. People neither of you knew were something way different than colleagues he was supposed to see every fucking day. But you held his uniform in your palm anyway, leaning him down for a kiss. You could hear the exact moment when the whole office stopped and watched the two of you making out. Before you finished the kiss, people stopped staring at you, except Callahan, who couldn't look away.

“Buy some pasta on the way home, I'll be cooking tomato sauce today.” - You mumbled, seeing him smirking down on you. You both were crazy and that was the best thing on that whole relationship.

#jim hopper #jim hopper imagine #jim hopper x reader #james jim hopper #stranger things #jim hopper stranger things #stranger things hopper #stranger things netflix

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ranger-report · 4 years ago

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Thoughts On: Heretic

Earlier this year, just before the beginning of quarantine, I played a little game called AMID EVIL, something I would not have done were it not for the enchanting video skills of YouTuber Civvie 11. In his video, Civvie demonstrated the awesomeness of the retro shooter, both in graphics and gameplay, and since I was jonesing for something a little more dark fantasy than I was used to, I decided to give it a try. The game is a thrilling rush, and worthy of its own post here, but that game was a segue into me finally picking up and playing a game series that I had been intrigued by for nearly twenty some odd years: the Heretic and Hexen games.

AMID EVIL owes a lot to these games; in fact, it's not much of a leap to say that it owes everything to these games. It's even less of a leap to say that most first person shooters, whether dark fantasy or no, owe a lot to these games. Raven Software introduced a monster of a franchise when they dropped Heretic in December of 1994, working in collaboration with id Software as Raven was creating their games using the DOOM engine (or, as I think we're calling it now, “id tech 1”). John Romero helped in-house, giving advice on how to work with the engine, which was instrumental for Raven to push id tech 1 to its limits. They made changes to the engine which eventually became staples in other FPS games: an inventory system, translucent objects, pushable objects, the ability to look up and down, and the ability to fly. While the game itself was objectively a reskinned version of DOOM, it was stylish and engaging and reworked the most popular game engine at the time. In short, it won accolades in no small amount, and sealed itself in history as a high watermark for boomer shooters, hell, for PC gaming in general. So when we're looking backwards into the foggy past of our ancestors, is Heretic a game that we, in the Year of Our Lord Gaben 2020, should consider playing, either for the first time or as a throwback? Roll up your sleeves, party people, we've got a deep one to dive into today. Because we can't simply look at Heretic alone; oh, no. We're going to have to look at the whole franchise.

Heretic is not a complicated game per se, but it has a lot of tricks up its sleeve. We have the standard issue Run-Gun-Have-Some-Fun gameplay that Wolfenstein and DOOM brought to the table. There's three keys of different colors – yellow, green, and blue – there's a variety of weapons that almost line up point-for-point with DOOM's stack of damage inducers, and there's a horde of enemies that are around every corner waiting for you to come out magic blazing. But where DOOM has a mostly straightforward path from point A to point B, Heretic is a trickster which can and will give cause to tear one's hair out. Secret doors, invisible walls, fake walls, and hidden switches are everywhere, which means that nine times out of ten you'll either be consulting your map to figure out where the fake walls are, or you'll be pressing the space bar on every surface to see if it will open or activate something useful. Raven did a bit of a whammy on the game, setting up the simplistic stuff to lure you in, as though promising a hot night out with the kind of experience you think that you're used to, but then they strap you in for the kinky stuff that you always imagined you'd be into, but now that we're here you're not so sure. Make no mistake, I did consult a walkthrough at least once, maybe twice if I'm remembering right, during my playthrough. And the game is punishing the deeper you get: enemies lie in wait immediately behind doors, around corners, hidden out of sight or just above you since some of them can fly, and as your limited ammunition dwindles down into the red, you'll be forced into running risk-and-reward of melee weapons and inventory items to keep moving. Fortunately, each weapon has its own ammo stock, and some enemies are more susceptible to different weapon types. Adding to the bonus in the player's favor are inventory items that boost weapon damage, specifically the Tome of Power which magnifies the current weapon's attack power into a secondary fire that more often than not is absolutely brutal. But, unlike future entries in this series, the motto of the day is: Keep Moving, Keep Shooting, Don't Stop Moving, Don't Stop Shooting. It's Fun, Fast, and Furious in an entertaining way that only occasionally leaves you pondering why you even booted up the game this morning.

However you may feel about the gameplay itself, it can't be denied that the visual aesthetics and gamefeel are dripping with atmosphere. Everything from top to bottom feels like the best of cheesy 80's style fantasy art, from the front cover to final screen. Gloomy castles, underwater domes, craggy hellscapes. Weapons impress with over-the-top magical properties. The default staff acts like the DOOM pistol, lobbing nearly harmless yellow energy, while the Etheral Crossbow shoots multiple energy arrows at once, like a magic shotgun, easily the most versatile weapon in the game. Besides that one, my other favorite weapons are the Hellstaff (which blasts rapid-fire red energy, and causes acid rain to fall when Tomed up) and the Phoenix Rod (basically a magic rocket launcher that belches fire when overpowered). Depending on what you're facing, proper usage of these weapons (all finely drawn sprites, natch) can either chew through a mob with ease or leave you scrambling to get back. Stun lock Disciples with the Dragon Claw while obliterating Golems with the Crossbow; save the Phoenix Rod for big bads. And enemy creatures run the gamut from the simplistically annoying Gargoyles (red bat-winged creatures who also shoot fireballs) to the sturdy Golems (which come in a secondary variety which throw flaming skulls at you) to the Disciples of D'Sparil (faceless hooded monks who fly, chant, and shoot fireballs at you, on theme). Usually these damage sponges come at you in packs, rarely doing so in solo numbers because otherwise the game wouldn't be a DOOM clone. What really gets challenging is when boss creatures start popping up like regular enemies – in packs. Take the Iron Lich for example, a massive floating skull wearing a spiked helmet that throws walls of fire and tornadoes that do continual damage, they appear as a boss at the end of the final level of the first episode, then appear later on in groups. They take incredible amounts of damage and return fire constantly, which leads to a tense game of bobbing and weaving and staying as far away from them as possible. But the absolute worst is the Maulotaur. Basically, a minotaur that stands head and shoulders taller than the Iron Lich, carries a huge mace, and shoots waves of fire at you which can one-shot you if you're not paying attention. Staying away from them is key, but they can charge forward fast in order to close distance and take a few swings at you with the mace. These assholes also start as a final bosses, then appear as regular enemies surrounded by waves of other mobs. Maulotaurs are the dealbreakers of the game; they require ridiculous amounts of ammo to kill, and will force you through most of your inventory items if you're not already powered up. Thankfully, your inventory can hold quite a few helpful items, such as quartz flasks for health, the aforementioned Tomes of Power to boost weapon damage, invisibility spheres and wings of flight, and even motherfucking time bombs. But amongst all these, the most ridiculous and yet satisfying item is the Morph Ovum. Shaped like an egg, when used it gets thrown outward and whatever it hits is transformed into an easily killable chicken. Got a wave of monsters crowding too close and you need to thin the herd fast? Turn them into chickens, then turn them into fried chickens.

What gets me is that this game doesn't feel nearly as highly regarded as its indirect sequel, Hexen, and that's probably because for the most part this is a full-on DOOM clone. There were a lot of them back in the day, too many to count, and I think that if wasn't for the legacy of Raven and Hexen, this might have fallen through the cracks of history. Is it uninspired? No, not in the slightest. The quality of the spritework and animations are top notch, the production values are stellar, putting it just above the quality of the average obvious Doom clone. The amount of innovation, with the aforementioned inventory system and modifications to the engine, mesh well with the ambitious world/story crafted in the background of a single warrior trudging across worlds to defeat an evil tyrant who has taken over his people's lands. The current version on Steam is actually the second version released; initially, the game launched in 1994 with three episodes, the first one being the shareware version, and then later on in 1996 had a second physical release which added on two new episodes. It was like an expansion pack folded into the main game, and considering that Hexen was released in 1995, it makes sense that the two new episodes of Heretic feel so much more brutal in difficulty by comparison. And thematically it makes sense for them to have a higher base difficulty, since it’s about escaping the dark world you had to break into, and now you're crawling your way back out of it. Kind of a neat trick, having the hero beat the bad guy halfway through the story, then showing his journey to get back home. Hell, even the name of the main character is awesome. A later game in the series will reveal that his name is Corvus, but originally the character was simply referred to as The Heretic, and in a gaming landscape featuring such characters as Doomguy, the Quake Ranger, and the Doomslayer, the Heretic ought to stand right up there with the rest of them.

So is the game worth playing today? Absolutely. Any fan of boomer shooters or retro gaming in general should absolutely play this game. Utilizing DOSBOX (which the Steam release uses) is fine, but doesn't allow for the best playing experience currently. A quick download of GZDOOM to launch the game will give better controls, easier mouse compatibility, and smoother graphics. There's a method to tie GZDOOM into your Steam page so you can even track how long you've been playing it (for those who this is important for). And it's super cheap, meaning there's little to no excuse to not play it. So why then is this game sitting in the background, kind of like the little engine that could? You know, I'm doing my best to get into the meat and potatoes of this game, to be more descriptive of it and really entice you, the reader, into wanting to play this game. The powerups are fun, there are segments where you absolutely get to go apeshit on monsters and laugh hysterically while you do so, there are moments where the ��AHA” is so enlighting that the relief is palpable. Some of the bosses are so memorable that to find them around the corner later in the game as minibosses – in multiple! – is downright frightening and adds to the risk/reward, since they're usually guarding something good that you want to pick up. Long story short, if you like DOOM, you'll like Heretic, which feels like selling the experience short. But the real reason I think Heretic is overlooked is because it is overshadowed by the more complex, more engaging, and more brutal Hexen.

If it hasn't become obvious yet, this is going to be a multi-part Thoughts On post. You've read Heretic, which is a fine game that does what it does and is memorable and fun and fine. But next, we're going to dive into the second course of this delicious fantasy meal, Hexen, and talk about how the second game in this series is the one that got everyone to sit up and take notice of what Raven Software was doing.

#heretic #hexen #ck burch #rubyranger #thoughts on #boomer shooters #doom #quake #raven software #id software #amid evil #new blood #ranger report

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letstalksymphogear · 5 years ago

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Symphogear, Ep. 6 (Cont.)

Hibiki, having seen a horror upon horrors, immediately asks Tsubasa if she’s okay. Tsubasa points out she’s a hospital patient, why would you ask this question, you insensitive prick. Hibiki points to the following scene:

Now, you may be asking yourself. “How does a formerly comatose person who is now bedridden on an IV drip manage to do this much damage?” Simply put, Tsubasa has a very chaotic aura. She doesn’t even have to take stuff out of her room; the places she goes to just naturally wind up like this. It’s a metaphor for how much of an absolute mess this person is simply by existing.

“l-look i just- its hard to organize things and- im more of a visual person and-”

“BITCH YOU LIVE LIKE THIS?”

Hibiki unwittingly gets her revenge on Tsubasa. She doesn’t realize it, but her lecturing Tsubasa on what an absolute mess every facet of her life is could possibly be heralded as her lowest point in the entire series.

No, wait. Thinking about it now, this is her second lowest. We won’t see her lowest until GX comes along.

“hibiki, every single bone in my body is broken, you dont have to break my pride too”

Hibiki, being an absolute darling, actually picks up Tsubasa’s mess. This is more than she can say about her own messes.

“haha, miku usually does this for me! wait- wait a minute.”

“i dont get it. i tried to kill you. i tormented and ignored you. i refused to help you for months. i failed to train you on any facet of combat as your senior. i nearly let you get kidnapped and, failing that, nearly killed myself while making you watch, which ALSO didnt help you not get kidnapped aside from scaring the shit out of that weird lady. why are you... helping me?”

“because either we’re going to be very good friends or im going to toss you out the window personally!”

“oh god, that aggression screams kanade. i cant not like her.”

Absolutely annihilated. Just kick her while she’s down in her Taco Bell spiral of humiliation and self-discovery, Hibiki.

“it’s okay, tsubasa! you may be a terminal dumbass, but im sure if we all work together, we can share our braincells and become collectively smarter, for each other!”

“interesting theory. how many ya got?”

“ZERO!”

They trade the kind of banter two people with 0 brain cells would have and then Tsubasa points out Hibiki is doing a great job in her place.

“hey hey HEY HOLD THE PHONE IVE LEARNED MY LESSON IM NOT TRYING TO REPLACE YOU OKAY IM NOT YOU, IM JUST HIBIKI, DOING HER JOB, ALRIGHT”

Meanwhile, in the library, Miku is looking at books, as she does what she says she’s gonna do, unlike a certain other person cavorting with cute idols.

“The Gay Way: How to Get Your Same Sex Relationship Back On Track, by Dr. Lesbe Honest. wow, this one is right up my alley.”

Okay, I’m gonna be honest with you. I literally forgot they show you the title in this. Imagine my face when I made up that title on the spot only to be hit with this little number. Holy shit, Symphogear. There’s this thing called subtlety. I’m begging you. We get it.

OH, AND IT GETS BETTER, BECAUSE

THE AUTHOR OF THE BOOK IS THE WRITER OF THE SHOW

IT’S LITERALLY GOT HIS NAME ON IT

THIS IS THE EQUIVALENT OF WRITING A STORY AND THEN INSERTING A BOOK CALLED “LEARN THE PLOT” WRITTEN BY YOU, IN UNIVERSE

KANEKO STOP THIS BALONEY, PLEASE

AND LIKE FUCKING CLOCKWORK SHE JUST- SHE TURNS HER HEAD AWAY FROM THE BOOK TITLED “THIS IS THE PLOT MOTIF” BY “AUTHOR” AND THEN FUCKING

SHE CONVENIENTLY LOOKS OVER TO THE DISTANCE

AND SHE SEES HIBIKI WITH THE HOT IDOL MIKU WAS INTO, THAT THEY WERE BOTH A FAN ON, AND SHE’S JUST CHILLING THERE AND MIKU WAS TOLD HIBIKI’S ON SERIOUS BUSINESS

AND THE HOSPITAL QUARTERS ARE SOMEHOW CONVENIENTLY CONNECTED TO THE FUCKING LIBRARY ON FULL DISPLAY BECAUSE GOD KNOWS EVERYONE IN A LIBRARY HAS TO WATCH SICK PEOPLE DIE IN REAL TIME

AND NOW MIKU IS THINKING “OH MY FUCKING GOD IM BEING CHEATED ON” AND HER FEELINGS ARE HURT FOR THIS TOTALLY CONTRIVED FUCKING COINCIDENCE

AND SHE’S ALL “BOO HOO HOO I’VE BEEN NTR’D! THIS WAS A CUCKING PLOT THIS WHOLE TIME! WOE IS ME!” FUCK YOU. THIS IS THE WORST. THIS IS ABSOLUTE GARBAGE WHY WOULD YOU- WHY DO YOU EVEN NEED TO SET THIS UP? THERE’S SO MANY BETTER WAYS TO DO THIS!

AND SHE’S JUST STARING BACK AT THE BOOK WRITTEN BY THE SAME ASSHOLE WHO WROTE THIS ENTIRE DAMN SCENARIO IN THE FIRST PLACE, AN EVIL GOD MOCKING HIS SUBJECTS IN THE FACE OF SCRUTINY FOR DRAMA WITH THE MOST CLICHE LOVE NOTES IN A GODDAMNED SOAP OPERA

AND HIBIKI IS NONE

THE

FUCKING

WISER

SYMPHOGEAR SURE IS GREAT, HUH? I SURE DO LOVE SYMPHOGEAR WITH ALLLLLL MY HEART. WHAT A WELL WRITTEN MASTERPIECE! FUCKING BELONGS IN THE FUCKING MOMA!!!!!

Okay. Okay. Let’s get that out of our system. The worst is over. This is the, uh, crescendo of the bad side plot as it inevitably sets itself on the road to resolution. I’m not going to have an aneurysm. My brain is not going to split itself in half. We’re good. I swear, we’re good.

Tsubasa, meanwhile, wants to understand why Hibiki fights, wrestling with the Da Vinci code that is her own emotions. She points out the fight against the Noise isn’t a game, and it ain’t no comic book bullshit either. It’s real, it’s out there, and it’s not pretty yet easily marketable as cute mascots. And what does our protagonist say? No making it up, she literally says:

“i dunno”

Not a damn brain cell in her body, but props for keeping it real. I’d likely say the same thing.

This is the face of someone currently sucking air through their teeth at the raw frustration that someone would be dumb enough to risk their life for the sake of only helping others.

“listen. im gonna keep it real here. i suck at literally everything. math. social studies. writing. helping people is all i have, because its not a competition. you just... you do it. you dont get better at helping people, you just help. like, thats it. i dunno what else to tell you.”

Then Hibiki points out that she feels it all started with Kanade saving her, and the speech implies its a ‘pay it forward’ sort of affair. She was saved, and so she should save others. Unfortunately, it comes off more as a guilt complex. “I lived, and I feel bad about that, so I gotta save everyone else” kind of stuff.

“its my coping mechanism for my countless traumas!”

“i get it now. you’re just as much of a mess as i am. you just dont show it as much. that kinda thinking’s gonna get you killed.”

Tsubasa then correctly points out that it is a kind of survivor’s guilt, where she wants to be released from the pain of old wounds, completely unaware of the irony of her statement.

“yeah. i get ya. we’re both wrecks. but... we can be wrecks working together.”

This would be the part where she says I’M SORRY but apparently we just don’t fucking do apologies in Symphogear, huh? Too good for ‘em, eh?! God.

Then they go outside and talk more about stuff and Durandal. The summation:

“do you have the capacity to live a life forever kicking ass?”

“yeah”

Hibiki, coming to terms with how she wants to deal with shit, manages to sharpen (haw) her resolve as to who she is and how she uses her abilities.

Meanwhile...

youtube

“i cant believe hibiki is having an affair with an attractive idol popstar. especially my favorite one from their old band. not only is she cheating on me, but she’s cheating on me from one of the five people on my lists id immediately get with if i had the chance. it feels like a double betrayal. a real life one, and a fantasy one... why do i find this weirdly hot...?”

“HEY NEWCOMER WELCOME TO THE CUCK AND BUCK WHERE WE SELL FRESHLY FRIED CUCKS FOR ONE BUCK, REAL EASY, REAL CHEAP, GOOD OL’ FASHIONED JAPANESE SOULFOOD”

“ive come to take my throne. i’ll take the ‘one flew over the cuckoo’s nest” and have the three eggs over easy with the ‘easy sleazy pancakes’”

“make it an extra lonely helping. this is gonna be a long afternoon.”

“ahhh. a freshly cucked newcomer coming to the cuck and buck to duck amongst their bad luck run amok, huh?”

“listen dont sass me about my busy girlfriend with your dr. seuss antics just gimmie the food and lets get this over with”

“no problem! sorry, they just come easy. it’s hard to buck at the cuck and buck when rhymes you huck make you wanna fu-”

“FOOD. NOW.”

Miku then ponders about how her feelings may have spiraled from a process of over thinking, or possibly hunger. Maybe both. Maybe Hibiki isn’t cheating on her. Maybe the reasons are more complicated than she knows. She briefly contemplates communication; a futile gesture when it is Hibiki safeguarding a secret she is forced to keep for incredibly stupid reasons.

“thanks for the food, miss. it really helped sort my feelings out.”

“no probs, kid. here at the cuck and buck, the only thing we cuck here is... our hearts.”

Meanwhile, Hibiki is still hanging with Tsubasa. Hey, if you’re gonna hang out with a critically acclaimed popstar, might as well squeeze every minute out of it, right?

“so... taco bell, huh? im surprised you actually like taco bell now. maybe you just like fast food styled psuedo-mexican restraunts? have you tried chipotle?”

“i... maybe you’re right, actually. i’ve grown to love taco bell, but... maybe i should expand my horizons. kanade did say... singing makes you hungry. maybe thats what she meant. i should take to new life experiences...”

“yeah! i can take you to all the good fast food places i know!”

“dont you have a girlfriend?”

“she can join us! she’s a big fan of you after all!”

“hey- hey wait! m- more friends? more... more friends... more friends.....”

“more friends...”

Meanwhile, a crisis develops.

Chris, having heard the f-word (friendship), is heading immediately to do the exact opposite of this.

She’s taken some pointers from Tsubasa, t-posing to assert dominance.

“how the fuck is she even flying”

“i cant wait to tell hibiki how much i love and appreciate her despite the weird NTR aura surrounding this whole situation”

“yeah, that’s right! i’m meeting the Gremlin in the park for an asskicking, don’t worry!”

“oh, speak of the devil! hibiki! i love and appreciate you despite the weird ntr auras!”

“miku- wait. oh no. i saw this happen in sam reimi’s spiderman 3. im fucked.”

“YOU GUESSED CORRECTLY, PIDGEON BANGS”

I know I’ve joked about homewrecking, but this is ridiculous.

Chris realizes there’s someone else around she may have potentially hurt. This is surprising, given murder is not something she has shyed away from, but she’s slowly climbing that ladder of morality, so cut her some slack for taking it one rung at a time.

“im losing my girl. losing my grip. now im about to lose my life. this NTR business truly is the worst.”

Chris has accidentally employed the Dio Brando style of disposing of people, which consists of throwing a vehicle and smashing them until dead.

“you’ve taken one step too close to my heartstrings, Gremlin, and for that you’re about to understand the full definition of an ass kicking.”

Hibiki fucking punches the car. Everything is forgiven in this episode for now.

“i... hibiki... are you... a street fighter character? holy shit. oh my god. hibiki oh my god you’re a street fighter character. thats been the true problem here. you’re a street fighter character now. oh my god. cheating? how could i have thought cheating was involved? you were literally just becoming a straight up superhero! oh my god. the abs! the washboard abs! the signs were all around me! the only thing you went to do behind my back was kick ass!”

“i’m sorry. i need to go kick ass now.”

The good news is all that tension just got evaporated. Miku sorta gets the truth now: her girlfriend hasn’t been cheating on her, she’s just been trying to save the local tri-county area from the grips of inter-dimensional alien eldritch entities controlled by a Gremlin and her Mistress. It’s a lot to take in, though.

These two are about to fight head to head. Last time, Hibiki was but the pupil. Now, she is the Master.

“can’t touch me, goldie locks. lemme do you a favor and CRACK THAT WHIP!”

“oh my god hibiki’s gonna fight that weird looking person”

“naruto running deeper into the woods isn’t gonna stop me from beating your ass senseless, fists for brains”

“thats because i wanna talk, asshole”

“wait. wait, what? you... you want to talk? to me?”

Hibiki proceeds to aggressively describe herself to her. Name, identity, blood type, age, the works. This is because she’s trying to befriend her, because Hibiki feels fighting people is bad, and that talking is more useful than fighting. This is a recipe for suicide, normally, but in this instance...

“what in the goddamn hell... i... um... nice.. to meet you...?”

Hibiki deploys a counter-T-Pose to show kinship, feeling that they don’t have to fight like this since they’re not Noise.

“talk may be cheap but it’ll make kicking your ass all the more easier, nerd”

Chris learns this, in fact, does not make the ass kicking all the more easier. Hibiki’s fresh new moves manage to dodge whip after whip of Chris’s attacks, and it’s really starting to annoy her a lot.

“pain in the ass. so you learned how to fight, huh? fine. you’ll tire out eventually.”

“let’s just talk, seriously! or maybe we can bond over board games-”

“i FUCKING hate board games. the fuck are you, a grandma? just fight already! people cant understand each other anyway!”

“JUST DIE ALREADY!”

“i was told to kidnap you. but im exerting a loophole today; no one told me to do it alive”

“the only kidnapping going down is me, sleeping in on a thursday afternoon forgetting class exists, you neon porcupine. so come at me. can’t kick me ass if you dont come any closer, right?”

“WITH PLEASURE!”

“ive watched the entirety of dragonball z, i know exactly how this fight’s gonna go down”

“finally. looks like i got y- hey, wait, what?”

“ARE YOU ABSOLUTELY JANKING MY LEG? THIS BITCH IS LITERALLY GOKU? PULLING KAMEHAMEHAS AND SHIT? WHY? god. its me. yukine chris. why do you hate me. why do you drag me through all this shit only to be hit in the head with some real anime baloney. why. please. have some mercy.”

“i dont know what a goku is but sure, yeah, why not”

“im going to kill her. oh my god. she doesnt even know who goku is.”

“get that tentacle shit away from me. im not fucking around anymore. we’re going to have a heart to heart whether you like it or not!”

“oh shit she found my weakness. really close melee combat.”

“MADE A FRIENDSHIP GIFT FOR YA. IT’S A FRESHLY MADE KNUCKLE SANDWICH, STRAIGHT FROM THE DELI”

“OH GOD, PLEASE, NOT MY FACE”

“REQUEST ACCEPTED, PAL”

Hibiki punched her so hard that she physically destroyed the entire armor Chris was wearing in a single blow.

“she... she doesnt punch ME like that... i mean, probably because she loves me, but..”

“did... did she just kill that person...? hibiki...? you, uh... you alright...?”

#symphogear #recap #comedy #anime #a lot of cuck was said here

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junionigiri · 6 years ago

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Ruby Red and Caramel Ch 7: Bacon and Eggs

Chapter Summary: The one where Katsuki finally tells Momo his pro-hero name.

Relationship(s): Bakugou Katsuki/Yaoyorozu Momo; really minor Shinsou Hitoshi/Monoma Neito

Rating: T

Warnings/Notes: I’m sorry I’m late!!! This was such a struggle to write haha. I hope you like it!!! Also, will add an omake to this chapter soon. If i could hehehe

The memories are hazy because it’s been so long, but Momo remembers odd bits and pieces of that late afternoon: her lying down on her stomach over the plush carpet of her room, notebooks and reference sprawled around her, the perfect image of diligence. However, her eyes are focused on the television set and nothing else. It explains the sour look on Mother’s face as she and a maid comes in with tea and crumpets.

“Momo, dear,” her mother says in a tone that’s as gentle and sharp as a scalpel through anaesthesised skin, “What is this shameless vulgar display they’re broadcasting so early in the afternoon?”

She sits up straight and arranges herself in a more ladylike posture. “They’re highlights from UA’s Annual Sports Festival, already edited and screened by CNN Japan. It is not meant to be vulgar, Mother.”

The reporter describes an unexpected student’s explosive debut, figuratively and literally. She clearly remembers Mother’s scowl, how she can almost taste the disgust in her own mouth. “You are right, Momo. Vulgar isn’t the term. Barbaric is more apt. Watching this, I simply cannot understand your obsession with heroics. I am relieved I talked you out of enrolling for the heroes course, and UA.”

Trying hard not to be too ashamed, Momo argues, weakly: “I… do not think it is barbaric, Mother. I think it’s… fascinating.” Another beat of silence, to regain her courage. “And I think I could have done as well as the other students. Do you know that this year, not one, not two, but three general studies students were able to--”

Mother’s mouth twists bitterly. “Oh, really? So if your father and I had the poor judgment to allow you to accept UA’s Hero Course Scholarship, do you think you would have stood in the same stage as either of those… those ruffians on the screen?”

She looks up. On the screen, a boy with an explosion quirk faces Endeavor’s son at the final one-on-one battle. “I don’t know mother, but I’m sure I would have done well enough to be in the one-on-one tournament...”

She laughs bitterly, making Momo wince. “Really.” A look of disbelief. “I suppose the Todoroki boy is all right. If you want, Father and I can arrange for you two to meet under more… civilised circumstances.”

She shakes her head immediately at that. She hasn’t enjoyed any of the arrangements that her parents have made for her so far. Somehow she feels that if things were different, she and this Todoroki-san could be friends. But definitely not in that context.

Mother takes note of her disagreement and says nothing more about Todoroki. But as to the other UA student: “But can you imagine you and that vulgar blonde boy getting along? Would you be able to trust a person like that with your life? Hero or not?”

Momo shifts her gaze to the television--the boy screams bloody murder at Endeavor’s son to use his fire, using the worst words in the Japanese vocabulary that she knows, and then some.

She keeps silent.

Mother takes this as her cue to reach for the remote and switch the TV off. The room is thrust into heavy silence, one Momo uses to stare down at her hands until her mother lifts her face in her hands.

“Listen, darling,” she says with a cloying smile. “I understand you, I really do. This desire of yours to help others and to dedicate your life to a life of service is surely a reflection of a noble heart…”

She feels a smile growing on her lips.

“... and a naiveté that comes with these… temporary teenage whims.” Mother slaps her cheeks lightly and lets her go, as if to sober her up. She spends a few moments in stunned silence, simmering in her disbelief.

“Mother, it’s not just a phase. I truly want to help people,” Momo reasons, knowing full well that her arguments are null and invalid, because she isn’t in UA’s uniform, she’s in Shiketsu’s, with a General Studies ID around her neck.

“You’ll understand when you get older,” is all Mother says, as she always has. “Leave heroism and altruism for people who can afford to throw their lives away. Momo… you are much too important for that. Much too intelligent, beautiful, valuable-- ”

The girl says nothing, allows her mother to ramble on about their perceived value, how Momo will go on to change the world and how it’s other people who should serve, not the other way around. She reaches out for her tea and wills the words to go in one ear and out the other.

“... and truly, your father and I have big expectations for you,” Mother finishes, looking right into her eyes. “If you were to inherit our corporation, Momo, and our ideals for a beautiful, industrial world, then in a way, you’d be helping more people than you can imagine.”

She smiles politely and nods, because there’s no other acceptable answer in this case.

Mother smiles at her good, obedient girl and nods. She places her science textbook on her daughter’s lap and looks at her meaningfully and leaves. Things are as they should be.

Years later, All Might isn’t getting any better, and villainy is at an all-time high. More and more people get hurt. Less and less highschoolers enroll for hero courses. And her parents get richer and richer and more and more unaffected. There’s actual burning fervor in her chest, so strong it hurts.

You can’t help what your heart wants.

She’ll never be a pro-hero, but she’ll still be someone who helps people. That’s what she tells herself as she opens Shiketsu University’s Website, looks through the accelerated Medicine courses, and fills out the application forms, behind Mother’s back…

As life-changing as they are, Momo never expects to see those clips again for whatever reason, and especially not in these odd circumstances: exhausted and mildly confused on Shinsou Hitoshi’s apartment floor. With Awase Yosetsu sprawled next to her, Midoriya Izuku calming himself down out on the balcony, and Monoma Neito eyeing everything with fox-like eyes, loaded with equal portions of interest and caution.

Shinsou is obviously the most reluctant one about the whole set-up, and not only because of Monoma’s brief tantrum regarding their need to resolve other people’s issues from more than a decade ago, on their rare date night of all nights. Still, the tired man tries his best for all of them. “You wanted to know how we knew each other. This is it.”

The videos from Youtube are thirteen years old, each viewed more than five million times over that period. He showed them all he could about that sports festival--the first race, which Midoriya won without any use of quirks. The Cavalry battle, where they form the team with the highest valued bandanna--a young Kirishima Eijirou at the front, Midoriya and Shinsou at the back, and Katsuki above them, easily dodging and stealing all they could despite the hero course students going after them with all they’ve got. When they draw lots for the final tournament, how the quirkless Midoriya is forced to back out from the one-on-one battles. How easily it seems for Katsuki to overpower the rest of them, making it to the finals to fight to almost win against a young Todoroki Shouto, who refuses to use his fire for whatever reason, until the last moment…

That year is memorable. Three General Studies students beating the hero course students, getting their valuable spots in the tournaments to show off their skills to the whole world. Strangely none of them being transferred to the hero course, despite the clamor from the hero community. The noise and outrage that followed.

It was a big deal for the other General Studies students not only in UA, but also Shiketsu High. And maybe the other schools too. Momo remembers the twinge of hope in her heart, how close she felt to the brash boy on television who showed everyone that there are people who can be heroes outside of the hero courses. That if a wild one like that has come so close, there might be a chance for someone like her who has nothing to step on but her pedestal.

Would you be able to trust a person like that with your life? Hero or not? Mother’s voice sounds from the back of her head, with the same bitterness.

“So… Bakugou was that GS kid who fought Todoroki,” comments Yosetsu, barely able to hide the awe in his voice. “I remember that, too. A lot of us in our high school seriously thought of shifting into a hero course after that. ‘Course, after we heard that none of you made it in the end, a lot of us gave up on that.”

“Yup. Well, not like UA didn’t try to get that bastard to the hero course after that. There were other reasons probably, but Bakugou himself didn’t want to change courses.” Shinsou sighs, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “You have no idea how much I wanted to kick his ass back then.”

Monoma makes a sound of interest. “Now that’s odd. So he acted like a rabid animal in the competition not because he wants to be a hero, but just because he wanted to show off.” His thin mouth curls into a sardonic smile. “That’s… not very heroic, you have to admit.”

“You’re wrong.”

They all look up cautiously as Midoriya comes in from outside. The chill of the night air tickles Momo’s skin as the glass door slides open and shut. When he comes closer, she sees pale, tired skin and slightly reddened eyes. His breath is shaky as he falls next to her--she feels the cold, lonesome and real, emerging around his aura.

Still, the weakened green-haired man looks at Monoma with determination in his eyes. “Kacchan didn’t do all he did because he didn’t want to be a hero… even though it’s what he wanted from the start, it’s because he knew he couldn’t be, and--”

“Midoriya,” Shinsou says, voice cutting through his ramble like a warning.

Midoriya inhales, closes his eyes for some semblance of control. “It’s… okay, Shinsou-kun. I won’t.”

They stare at him carefully, as carefully as one stares at a pile of bricks on the verge of collapse. Momo reaches out, touches him on the shoulder, for whatever good it does. She meets green eyes.

“It’s okay. I’m okay,” he manages, after a worrisome beat of silence. “I owe you guys a lot of apologies and explanations huh? I’m sorry,” he says bashfully, giving an awkward laugh that’s meant to reassure them, but obviously does the opposite for his cautious audience.

“You sure, dude?” Yosetsu says carefully. “I mean we’re here ‘cause we’re worried about you and we can listen if you want to talk, but you really don’t owe us anything, y’know?”

Yes, because the story between him and Katsuki doesn’t seem like a short one, or a simple one. Even if he doesn’t say a word, Momo has a good guess of the turmoil in the pit of his stomach, based on the anxious glimmer of his eyes--the pain, the fear. The guilt. She doesn’t know why there would be guilt there, but she’s sure it’s there like a rusty bullet wedged in his heart for the past decade.

“Thank you, Awase-kun,” Midoriya says with a sniffle. He shifts his gaze at Momo then, opens his mouth slowly and hesitantly before he speaks. “You and Kacchan… I mean, I’m sorry if I’m wrong, but I just had that feeling earlier…”

The only one who dares to do anything else but to remain in awkward silence is Monoma, who appears both carefully cunning and disinterested when he breaks it after a moment. “Better not go there, Midoriya-kun. One awful sob story at a time.”

That earns him a glare from Yosetsu. Momo isn’t offended, though, because he’s right.

Midoriya makes a sound of understanding, and doesn’t ask any further questions. Instead, he tells her, “I feel like… there’s lots of things you don’t understand about Kacchan. And maybe among all of us here, you’re the one who needs to know about what happened to him the most. And that’s why...”

Another beat of silence. Midoriya inhales again, and it still comes out as a shaky breath.

“... that’s why, I should apologize.” Out of nowhere, he bows his head low, much to everyone’s surprise.

“Why?” Momo asks, after a stunned silence. Her hand reaches out to touch him again in a show of reassurance.

“Because… it hurts too much.” He doesn’t immediately look up, making her wonder if he bowed his head to avoid meeting her eyes any more. When he does, he’s struggling to keep his eyes dry again, so much so that Monoma stands up and leaves, presumably to find tissues. “I thought about it a lot, and… I’m not ready to tell you guys what happened. I thought I would be by this time--it’s stupid, isn’t it, it’s been fourteen years, but I’m scared… scared that you guys will hate me, and--”

“Midoriya,” Shinsou repeats quietly, more gently this time. “It’s okay. Don’t force it.”

“Yeah. If you’re not ready, you’re not ready.” Yosetsu says, although it’s obvious that he’s a little down for not being able to learn anything new.

He wipes his eyes against the back of his hand and looks meaningfully at Momo. “I’m… really sorry, Yaoyorozu-san.”

Something at the back of Momo’s mind itches and spasms and bleeds as she wonders what could have happened to those two, for this amount of guilt and pain from memories that should be gathering dust to still hang over their heads and not heal properly for the past fourteen years. Still, she understands as much. It may be a story she needs to hear, but it isn’t Midoriya’s story to tell.

She nods at him quietly and stands up, much to the surprise of everyone else in the room. “It’s all right, Midoriya-san. After all, Awase-san is correct. You don’t owe us anything.”

Yosetsu scrambles to his feet, intending to follow her out of the apartment, but she holds a hand up, stopping him in his tracks.

Everyone else looks at her face in awe, surprised maybe at how different it may have appeared then. She doesn’t know. She doesn’t feel that different. Just… oddly empty, maybe, because despite seeing all those videos of their childhood and listening to Shinsou’s drawl and Midoriya’s apologies, at the end of the day… she still doesn’t know Katsuki.

Not in the way that she needs to, at least. And the answers will never be found here.

She thanks everyone with a deep bow, and leaves Shinsou’s small apartment. The only sound she hears as she leaves is a confused inhale, and the curious mewl of the old tabby cat who has been lounging about the entryway.

Later, she finds herself staring at the ceiling of her condominium unit. But instead of the unbearable jumble of irrational thoughts that plagued her for the days past, she returns to the most rational ones of them, and attempts to form a solid, concrete answer:

What can she do for Bakugou Katsuki?

The days go on as they ought to, divided into neat eight-hour segments when he needs to drink his meds. Irritatingly quiet on the outside, a chaotic mess inside.

He still isn’t sleeping well. Those anger issues aren’t going anywhere, and are louder when he’s by himself and more fucked up than usual. If he allowed himself to drink or to fuck himself up further with drugs, he supposes that he’d always be on the verge of shutting down his brain and the rest of his body. Still, he doesn’t have enough of a will to do even that, and instead struggles with himself and his endless cycle of self-blame until it’s 5 AM and it’s time to run again.

Another morning, not that different from any other morning. Nothing but empty streets and diminishing darkness and cold air for company. Until, of course, the sun rises, and they inevitably run into each other again.

It’s not everyday that it happens, but when it does, he finds himself crossing paths with Yaoyorozu Momo. And the past few mornings, she regards him coldly, dark eyes sharp and focused. As she ought to, he supposes. If he were in her shoes, apart from giving in to the urge of kicking his ass, he won’t even give a fuck.

But she does anyway--give a fuck, that is--and it’s baffling. Whether she’s alone, or with someone else, like that skull guy, that chick with big hands. That shitty glasses guy who went to UA too, back in the day. That fucker with the headband, and he swears he could have beaten his head in if he didn’t have to act so fuckin’ apathetic. (Good thing it was just that one fuckin’ time, because that guy seems to be holding himself back too).

She’d say “good morning,” and he’d grumble it back. They’d run for a few quiet meters in awkward silence, and without missing a beat, she’d declare with that uncharacteristic strong voice of hers:

“Let’s race, Bakugou-san.”

He doesn’t know why he lets her goad him into it. Maybe it’s as simple as him feeling bored, or maybe because having something else to focus on other than his self-hate actually might be doing him good. Still, he hates that it’s as simple as insinuating that he’s too afraid to lose, for her (or anyone else, for that matter), to get him to indulge her and her weird-ass whims.

The race tracks are different each time--sometimes it’s around the quiet, sleeping neighborhood, or the almost empty park, or the empty shopping mall parking lots. The conditions are always the same, though: whoever loses has to do whatever the winner wants.

And it’s fucking stupid as shit because by all accounts, Katsuki should win, dammit. He’s stronger and faster and angrier than anyone else no matter how early in the day it is, meaning he deserves the shallow victories, as meaningless as they may be. After his first loss that fateful morning, he figured that there’s no way he’d lose this time because he knows how to use his quirk to fly from point A to point B.

But to his surprise, Momo has learned to play dirty . There could be a sidestreet or some shortcut that Katsuki didn’t know about, so that she’d be at the finish line with a smug smile on her face as he explodes and curses his way to her. There could be officers nearby who’d catch anyone using their quirks. (Momo’s is subtle, and Katsuki’s and the other extras’ is not, and it’s obvious that they’d arrest an exploding man first before they do a girl on a hoverboard.) One time, she made and threw weights-- fuckin’ 10 kg weights!!!-- at him and Glasses, who both catch them with surprised yelps and just barely manage not fuckin’ die from almost being hit on the head.

Needless to say, despite all the protests of her ‘unsportsmanlike-conduct’, as Glasses so often berates her, Yaoyorozu Momo is the undisputed, slightly thinner victor for the past consecutive mornings. And because of that, she’d always have free breakfast care of her bitchass friends if they’re there, and she’d corner him, staring him down with those searing hot sharp raven eyes of hers.

Everytime she asks, she pauses and takes a deep breath and he feels like dying a little.

“Where did you grow up?”

“What did you take for pre-med? Which university?”

“What are your parents’ names? Do you have any brothers and sisters?”

“Where did you learn how to cook?”

Katsuki, predictably sore from all the losing he does (because honestly, each time he does she’s the one who looks like she’s about to die from exhaustion, so how the fuck does she keep winning?!), gives her clipped answers through grit teeth: Shizuoka. Biology. UA Medical University. The old hag is Mitsuki, and the old man’s Masaru. I’m a fuckin’ only child, do I look like I could be anythin’ else.

I just learned, it’s not that hard.

She nods each time, with a cold and clinical gaze in those raven eyes like she’s interviewing a patient before she puts them to sleep and cuts them open. Difference being, she gives clipped answers of her own, as if he asks her the same inane questions too: I grew up in Nagoya. I took an accelerated course in medicine in Shiketsu University. My parents are named Ichiro and Sara. I don’t have any siblings either.

And yes, cooking is hard. I can’t cook anything.

Katsuki smirks at that, but keeps his rude comments to himself. They aren’t that rude, but they aren’t close enough that he can poke fun at her anymore. Even though they’re playing this stupid twenty questions shit at the risk of Momo’s life.

Instead, he says, “You can learn a lot just from watching other people fuck around. That’s what I did. My old man may be lame, but he knows his shit when it comes to the kitchen.”

Not exactly the most earth-shattering of discoveries about him, but it makes Momo widen her eyes and step back a little. “Oh. So you learned from Masaru-san,” she says, after a stunned silence.

Ah. He didn’t need to say that, did he? He… didn’t want to just volunteer free info about him, not now that Momo wants to work her ass to the bone for each tidbit and at this point he just wants to see how far she’s willing to go.

He plays it off like it’s nothing, though, and shrugs. “Yeah, what about it?”

A small, pretty smile on her lips, as she says: “You two must be close.”

His mouth goes tch as she continues to look amused. He looks away, controls the twitch of his stupid hands wanting more. So it is possible to miss someone, even though they’re standing next to you.

Stupid as fuck. He pushes those sappy thoughts to the back of his mind. As always, she takes the next moment of silence to take her leave politely, with nothing but a wave of her hand and the swish of her ponytail that he watches until it disappears in the distance.

After every encounter, he gives in to an aggravated sigh, wonders why he bothers, and why the weight feels less… heavy, each time. He then goes home as the sun rises behind him.

In the relative, but annoying-as-fuck quiet that comes after each encounter, Katsuki finds himself thinking of Momo even more than before, and under an entirely different light. Never mind that he was already thinking of her more than what he thought was humanly possible, everyday, since the day he caught her gaping at him like a fish outside of his cafe.

Besides her raven eyes and pale skin glowing with the early morning sun, her words and glare and that challenging upturn of her mouth, one that he’s never seen before, pushes into his thoughts without his consent. He’s going insane figuring out what the hell she’s thinking. She really isn’t allowed to smile like that in front of him again, but she does almost every fuckin morning. He can’t say that he’s sick of it, but it can’t be that healthy if his mind keeps attempting to whir itself out of his head every time.

Despite the intrusive thoughts, Katsuki slogs through the days, goes through the same angry motions--goes to the cafe, opens it up. Says his daily expletives to Ears, and then Pikachu when the blonde arrives five minutes late than he should have. Fills out order forms and does accounting shit and makes coffee and pasta and tries not to glare too much at all the dead-inside customers coming and going, gaping at the displays in interest. He is surprised that he’s able to do it at all, given how intrusive his thoughts have been.

“Baku-boss. Something happen?” asks Jirou after the fourth or fifth encounter. Discerning triangle eyes are on him as she makes a cappuccino with practiced hands, barely needing to look at what she’s doing.

He doesn’t answer, just glares at her like her nosy ass deserves.

Jirou gives him a look that’s disinterested enough to reassure him that yes, she understands that it’s none of her business. But the way those ear-jack things are floating in the air tells him otherwise. “Just wondering. You’re a lot less angry today. But kinda fucked-up in a different way. Kinda hard to explain.”

It’s not that fuckin’ hard to explain. He’s always fuckin’ angry and always kinda fucked-up. Just ask his so-called friends, except that shitty fuckin’ ass Deku--no scratch that, that stupid green perm-head isn’t a friend anymore, if Katsuki, even in his years of tolerating him through high school and college and med school and residency, ever considered him as one. (And that’s a big if.)

Being distracted by a certain neurosurgeon’s stupid stunts is entirely different. But Fuckin’ Ears doesn’t need to know that. He goes about arranging the pastries on display as angrily as he can, gives her a glare only threatening enough to stop any other stupid insinuations from forming in her mouth.

That forced, bored look on her face not leaving, she goes back to work. Katsuki doesn’t miss the little knowing smirk ghosting over her mouth though. Like she’s reading his mind and sees nothing but raven hair and that goddamned smirk and the gajillion anger management issues shoved to the sidelines, suddenly and jarringly muted.

If she did, she doesn’t say anything about it. “Meds,” is the only thing she says to him on that shift, dumping a tablet into his palm, matching his glare with one of her own. God, she and everyone else are too much like the fuckin’ old hag when it comes to his medicines. Fuckin’ annoying.

He growls, but obliges more easily than he has the past few days. Jirou is mildly surprised, but takes this development with a small, relieved raise of the eyebrows.

The days go on.

It’s a quiet and early Sunday morning when Momo blearily opens her eyes and sees the light shimmering through the trees above her, and feels grass and soil under her fingernails and her bareback. Her head throbs. Her arm is just strong enough to reach out to hold on to it.

“The fuck, Momo. You wanna die, or something?”

The familiar gruff comes from a warm source next to her. She turns her head slowly and looks up to meet burning red eyes, quietly waiting for her to come to.

When she speaks, her voice is wobbly and she knows she’s pushed herself to the limits of a quirk that she doesn’t challenge enough. “What happened?”

“You fuckin’ passed out, is what. After tryin’ to make a fuckin’ mountain bike out of your skinny ass. Jesus, and I thought I was reckless.”

He’s leaning against the tree, one arm resting on a flexed knee, bare skin steaming under the shade. His body radiates warmth and sweetness and musk--a sudden but not unwelcome assault on Momo’s just-awakening senses, one that makes her struggle with her memories of a few moments ago.

“Did I win?”

He snorts. “‘Course not. If you think you can, with that piece of shit you made over there, I’d like to see you try.”

He gestures to the monstrosity, which is only half a mountain bike. The handlebars and the front wheel came out fine, but the rest of it is soft and rapidly dissipating, made of raw fat dripping on the pavement. Momo winces.

“All right,” she concedes, rolling over to her side to try to face him. She can’t lift her head, though, and when she speaks it’s facing the soft grass. “You win this time.”

“This fuckin’ chick almost dies and talks as if she just let me win. The hell.” He scowls, but a wheezy chuckle escapes from him. “You really are somethin’ else, Momo.”

“Mm.” The sunlight hits her eyes. She shifts her head into the shade, closer to his side, tries to form a coherent or rational thought. She blankly thinks of why she did this, why she thought it was a good idea to challenge him over and over, just for the crumbs of his true identity to be given to her out of his own accord. How she came to the conclusion that all Katsuki will respond to is a good fight. The lengths she has to go through, to prove that she’s strong and he’s strong and that she wants to know him beyond his wounds and weaknesses and how she wants him to know her beyond the pathetic side she’s shown so far.

She can’t, though. Not when again, she’s shown her pathetic side to him. Still, she’s too weak to feel ashamed. All she wants now is to sleep next to his warmth. She’s dizzy. It’s been so long since she had a warm morning like this...

She hears him sigh above her head. One of those searing hot hands make its way to her cheek, slapping it awake. “You need to get up and go home and eat something. Or else you’ll actually die.”

He’s right, because the weakness and dizziness in her body might be from the beginnings of hypoglycemia and dehydration from overusing her quirk, but she doesn’t move. Her eyes don’t want to stay open, and all she manages is a whine.

“Fuckin’ hell. Ain’t a request, doc. It’s an order. Since you lost.” She feels his absence from her side when she stands up, and then the ground’s absence as she feels herself lifted to her feet.

Strong, solid arms go above her and round her shoulder as he dresses her in his discarded hoodie. The shift in position and the sudden proximity wakes her up enough to stand with some support. She looks at his side, and he looks back, one eyebrow raised and mouth in a scowl, quietly asking her if she’s ready.

She nods, and together they shuffle out of the kind shade of the tree, out of the park, and back into the empty city streets.

The walk to her condominium unit usually takes ten minutes, but Momo feels the moments stretch and shrink and dwindle, so that she isn’t sure if they’re too long or too short. It’s been so long since she feels his touch on her, so close, too close, and she isn’t sure if it’s the right that she feels it now, when she feels that she hasn’t done enough, known enough.

Still, her cheeks redden and her chest trembles and her heart beats in anticipation. She curses her body for responding to his proximity so shamelessly.

Eventually, they make it to her unit. Katsuki brings her across the threshold of her own home without hesitation, carefully lets her collapse onto the couch. He gives her a bottle of juice, which she quietly accepts. She’s grateful for the comfort and softness, but immediately wanting of warmth as he leaves her to disappear in the kitchen.

She wonders if it’s improper to remain so quiet to not say a word since their departure from the park. The whole situation took a turn that she hasn’t prepared for. So she shyly listens to the sounds he makes--the whoosh of the flame of her unused stove, cracking eggshells, the crackle and pop of oil on the pan.

He works fast. In minutes, he comes back with a meal that’s simpler than the ones he’d made for her before, but no less appetizing--bacon, eggs, and leftover rice fried in garlic, presented neatly in a Hermes bowl with a pair of chopsticks.

“Eat,” he says, in that demanding tone she hasn’t heard for a long while, making something in her chest flutter. She shakily and carefully takes the bowl and mumbles her thanks.

“What about you?”

He raises an eyebrow at her. “Your kitchen’s fuckin’ empty, Momo. Even if I wanted to eat, ain’t much I can do with a half-eaten croissant and instant noodles. Fuckin’ nasty stuff. I thought you of all people would be above eatin’ that shit.”

She bought those noodles from Don Quixote one evening when she felt especially suffocated. It was more of an experiment than anything. She doesn’t have the strength to explain those trivial things to him, though, and focuses on eating her food instead.

As expected, breakfast is lovely. The bacon is crispy, but not burnt. The eggs are fried perfectly. She didn’t expect that leftover rice in garlic would taste so appetizing, with unexpected crystals of rock salt in the furikake making her want to eat more and more. The words form at the tip of her tongue as she chews.

But as much as she wants to gush about his food, like she does with confidence before, the overwhelming shyness prevails. “This is very good, Katsuki. Thank you,” she says, as she is halfway done.

“‘Course it is,” he grumbles, as it always does. But today the usual pride in his voice is markedly absent.

“Of course,” she repeats, with a quiet smile.

She continues picking at the rice grain by grain, listening to the sound of birds and traffic outside. Sunshine leaks through the windows, casting everything in its too-bright warmth. Dust dances and settles in between the loaded silence, as he watches her in an oddly loaded silence.

And then, as she places a mangled strip of eggwhite in her mouth: “King Explosion Murder.”

She freezes mid-chew and stares at him with more bafflement than anything else. He has his arms crossed in front of him, shoulders leaning forward, red eyes on her and nothing else, pressuring her to understand.

She gives him a look that tells him plainly that she doesn’t, and it’s odd of him to say gibberish out of nowhere when he’s usually so blunt and direct to the point. This amuses him greatly, but he continues: “You asked before. That would have been my hero name, if I had gone pro. I thought of it when I was in middle school.”

She blinks and swallows her food hastily. Before she can go oh, he keeps on talking.

“I was going to be the first one from our middle school to get into UA Heroics. I had the quirk, the money, the paperworks, the glowing recommendations, everything.” He exhales, as if he just held his breath pulling a splinter from his side. “I… wanted to be better than All Might. Do you remember him?”

“Everyone does,” Momo answers softly. It would be hard to forget a hero, no… a man like him. All the sacrifices he made, up until that day when…

Katsuki nods, and this time the look in his eyes is different. His eyebrows crease, his hands shake, his breaths become a little unsteady.

The silence that follows stretches for far too long, and Momo feels the need to place the bowl down and to come closer to him. She embraces him, because he lets her. And she suspect he lets her so that she won’t be able to see his face, as he struggles to continue.

“It was me,” he says, when his strong shoulders shake precariously, and she starts stroking his back. “On that day, when that fucking monster attacked, I died, and then he…”

She closes her eyes and remembers that story: All Might, the then-symbol of peace, saves a child from a villain with a quirk that makes his flesh turn to parasitic sludge, by using his limited strength reserves and then letting himself be the villain’s host, defeating it from the inside out. The unnamed child, who gave in from the prolonged asphyxiation that came with the delayed rescue, had to be given CPR by his friend before he was revived.

Along with All Might, they were sent to a nearby hospital and treated aggressively. But modern medicine and limited manpower can only do so much. The child recovered, although had permanent damage. The same cannot be said for the Symbol of Peace, who has regressed to a weakened skeleton, only having the strength to call out to his successor before he succumbed to a coma that lasted for years…

The harrowing incident shook the country. Many pro-heroes realized that the danger they’re facing is bigger than they’ve ever imagined, and many resigned. So did a lot of kids in the hero courses. Years after, the number of hopeful children in hero courses dwindled, and only revived recently with the rise of Endeavor.

Is this the burden that he’s been carrying all along? Momo had hoped that everything would make sense for her one day, but she never imagined that the truth would be so heavy and painful to hear. She immediately understands why he’s been so afraid, all this time: just hearing this made Momo’s entire soul heavy. She’s sure that he doesn’t want that burden on anyone else.

But somehow… here he is, deciding that maybe… maybe, she can handle the truth. Not because he wants her pity. Not because he pities her. But because things are what they are, and maybe it’s the right time and place to admit these uncomfortable truths to themselves.

So Momo accepts his words. Accepts him--the angry boy on TV, the complicated man in her arms. She thinks she always had, in a way.

“It’s all right. I’m here,” she whispers when Katsuki is unable to say another word.

On another morning, no different from any other morning, Momo crosses paths with Katsuki again.

She’s alone. As is he, but it’s pointless to say so because he always runs alone. It’s been a week since they last saw each other. It may have been entirely an accident that they’ve waited that long to see each other’s faces again. She finds it a relief, then, that his carries the same mild irritation that it always has.

She regards him quietly with a nod and a polite smile, and continues her jog. He falls in next to her quite naturally, the thudding of his feet going along with her rhythm, the heavy sound of it echoing lightly along the dim streets.

Three minutes of this comfortable silence pass before she hears his gruff voice beside her: “Race me.”

She turns to him curiously. In between rapid breaths, she asks, “The same as usual?”

“No.” He turns to the direction of a main boulevard, three kilometers up an incline in a straight line. Security cameras and other early morning joggers pollute the side, as do the sparse early morning traffic. “No quirks, no tricks. Just you and me and the street.”

She isn’t going to win this because there’s no way to outsmart him under such conditions. Still, she might as well try.

They start the race, and as expected Katsuki becomes a blonde-and-black blur, zooming forward like a stray bullet. Momo runs as fast as she can, fast enough that her chest and her heart feels like exploding and all her muscles are cursing her for this exercise in futility.

When she sees the end of the road, she sees him slow down to a half-jog, turning around to finally face her with a victorious grin on her face.

She feels like fainting herself, but she manages to run to him and return his smile, in between gasps for air. “Congratulations, Katsuki. You finally won.”

“Fuck yeah I won, Princess. Time to pay up,” he replies. It’s unfair that he doesn’t appear as exhausted as she feels. But she supposes, after all the hard work she put him through for the past week or so, he’s earned this one.

“All right,” she says, willing her heart and breathing to slow down. Even though it’s really hard to do so, given the way he’s stepping into her space, big and heavy and fierce with all his heat emanating off his skin. He doesn’t touch her, but she feels the steam and the burn from where she stands.

He hasn’t been this close in a while. She’d almost forgotten how it feels to have those eyes so close to hers, how she has to fight the urge to relinquish her control and to give in to whatever he desires.

She hates how it’s her body that remembers first, though. Goosebumps rise and shivers go up and down her spine when he reaches out and lets his hand hover over shoulder, down her collar bone, along the side of her neck, before settling on her chin. She has to close her eyes, and barely keeps herself from shuddering when she feels his thumb rub against the suddenly sensitive skin there, making it tingle with nitroglycerin.

“Momo… stop this shit,” he murmurs. His breath is warm against her ear when he leans forward and continues. “I’m sorry for fucking up. For everything. You don’t have to do this anymore. Whatever you want to know, I...”

He’s never sounded so tender before. There’s really no other appropriate response to his apology, but to accept it.

Momo opens her eyes, and smiles. Wordlessly, she takes his hand into hers and puts it in between them, fingers entwining easily and naturally. She nods.

He smiles at her, and nods back.

After that, they walk the familiar streets of Hosu, hand-in-hand, quiet and comfortable and calm. The sun has just begun to rise behind the sleepy buildings of a Sunday morning when they reach Momo’s condominium. So this is where we say goodbye , she wants to say, when she turns from her open door to face him.

But she doesn’t get a chance to get a word out. Her breath stops when she feels his lips on hers and his burning grip on her arms.

He isn’t forceful at all with this kiss, and that surprises her more than the action itself. Momo doesn’t think that he’s capable of gentle movements like this. But his grip on her borders between patience and impatience, of control and pure impulse.

It lasts for a few seconds, but when he pulls back and makes her aware of the growing space between them, she feels that it’s both a moment too long and short.

“Katsuki,” she whispers.

He stares at her as if he’s surprised of what he did, too. But he clearly doesn’t regret it, not by the upturn of his mouth. “Been a while,” is all he says, as he steps back.

She doesn’t let him.

Gripping her hands in the front of his shirt, she pulls him in for another kiss, a hungry and more desperate one, one that tells him clearly just how long ‘a while’ has truly been without him. And as he returns it with the same fervor, he finds himself out of the hallway and past the threshold of her home.

He closes and locks the door behind them.

#ruby red and caramel #bakumomo #bakugou katsuki #yaoyorozu momo #deku midoriya #shinsou #monoma neito #awase yosetsu #really minor monoshin #cafe/hospital au #gosh this chapter made me lose a lotta hair

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cupidmarwani-archive · 6 years ago

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Leaving Our Home (1/10)

Summary: Mike and Peter, two gifted teenagers, decide to run away before they can have their powers exploited. But they know they can't do it alone, and soon start looking for more people like them.

Word Count: 1330

“You’re thinking weird.”

When Peter was about six years old, it started. He thought he was sick, although he frequently got shots and saw a doctor, but neglected to tell anyone. At the time, Pam was already in treatment for the things she heard in her own head, he remembers. Endless medications, constant appointments with psychologists and psychiatrists and other -ists he was always overwhelmed by. He remembers how frightening it had been to hear the things Pam did. To have to deal with it all the time, he can’t imagine. So he told no one about how he could hear others’ thoughts.

“That’s not unusual for me.”

Mostly those of the shy boy who lived next door, Michael Dodds. While all minds vary in clutter and readability, he has always been so easy to understand. Whereas most minds are like Jello, easy to get into with a little bit of attention and desire, Mike is like water, free flowing and almost impossible not to touch. Inside, however, he is extremely disorganized. Wild with emotions, mostly pain and fear, but plenty of guilt. Especially guilt. It all comes along with memories of the sort of things his father put him through on a day to day basis. At times, it’s overwhelming, more so than the other people he slowly begins to hear as well.

“And that’s not what I meant. You’re hiding something from me.”

Mike was the very first person Peter told the truth to about the things he hears. In their teen years, they spent so much time together, talking through the windows of their brownstones and playing “I Spy” while Mike playfully accused him of cheating by reading his mind. It was always true because Peter didn’t know how not to. He had so little control. Not that he has much now, he thinks, but he’s getting better at controlling how much he sees. Today, however, he’s giving more effort into reading Mike than he ever has without pushing too deep, and everything is incredibly stiff and forced. There’s a barrier. He’s hiding something.

“I’m not.”

When they were eight, Mike showed him his powers. The two of them were biking around the block when Peter hit a divot in the road and fell. Like eight year olds do, Peter burst into tears and laid there on the hot asphalt, burning his skin more on accident and crying harder. Then Mike was pulling him out of the street and sitting with him on the sidewalk with a hand on the back of Peter’s neck. His skin was cold. Slowly, the pain faded, and the scrapes knit back together. Just like that, he was listening to Mike’s thoughts and learned about how he had powers too. He wasn’t alone.

“I’m not kidding.”

There’s no answer to Peter’s prodding. Mike just focuses on pouring milk into a measuring cup. It’s his seventeenth birthday, and it’s long since been a tradition of theirs to bake him a cake. His father would never allow it if he knew, and that’s exactly why they always do it. Sometimes, he just deserves good things.

“Do you ever think about running away?”

“You say that all the time,” Peter says, “but you never mean it. You’re underage and your father is literally the chief of police. And mine is a DA. At best, you get a slap on the wrist for running away. I don’t wanna think about worst case scenario.”

Normally, this is where Mike starts whisking in the milk while Peter cracks in the eggs, but instead he turns around and lights the burner. “No, no, I’m serious. I’ve got a bunch of money saved up that I’ve been taking from my dad’s wallet when he’s asleep. And- and- I used some connections to get us fakes.”

“Us, Mikey? And what’re you doing with the stove?”

In Mike’s thoughts, it’s mostly blank. All that remains is an image of Mike’s father towering over him, slamming a door on him. That, and a heavy intention that Peter tastes in the back of his throat like pennies. For the first time, he’s afraid of what Mike might do. He’s seen enough horror films to know how easy a stove stop can hurt someone, especially someone whose face is pressed against it by someone much stronger. And the fear is there, really there, while Peter watches Mike with wide eyes.

“I want you to come with me, is all. I’d miss you. And you have every reason to run away too.”

He finishes his details in his head, and Peter can only stand still in shock. Mike’s been listening in to conversations between their parents. When they’re out of school and no one will miss them, how they can be used to interrogate people. Mike can hurt them, Peter can read their minds. They wouldn’t be people anymore, they’d be tools. And they’d never truly get to live, as if their childhoods haven’t been taken from them already.

With how distracted he is, Peter doesn’t notice why Mike turned the stove on until the thoughts flare with pain and he pays attention in the real world to see Mike holding his fingertips to the burner. The air turns acrid. By the time he’s able to react, he feels like throwing up as he drags Mike away from the stove top and watches the burns heal into bumpy scars. Suddenly he realizes how serious Mike must actually be, because he burned his fingertips. No prints.

“You’re leaving with or without me, aren’t you?” he asks, staring down at the healed burns. “You wanna get as far away from here as possible.”

As much as Peter wants Mike to be safe and happy, this is extreme and he’s terrified of what could happen next. If they fail to escape, the repercussions could be severe. They don’t know how to make it on their own, anyway. And they’re still in high school. But he also understands how Mike can’t wait a day longer in this place. That all said, he can’t handle the idea of sending Mike out on his own. He’s naive, and sweet, and not experienced with what real people are like. It would be reckless. He pulls Mike into his arms and holds him close. All he can hear from Mike’s thoughts is hope for the first time in his life.

“Okay. Do you have everything on you that you need?” Peter asks. It may not be safe to let him back into that house. “All your money? The IDs? I have clothes if we need them.”

Mike nods. “I have for about a month. And my backpack has other stuff we might need. One of those foil blankets, and matches, and a refillable water bottle. I didn’t do anything in class today and I know that my Dad is gonna kill me when he gets home.”

Just like that, Mike’s thoughts turn to immediate plans. The first solid image Peter reads is his own hands on the burner, losing his prints. It would be much easier, he has to admit, but he’s still scared. Pain has never been something he handles with ease. Any last objections, he needs to raise now, before it’s too late. The cake ingredients are sitting on the counter, unmixed. Peter can stay here, and say he knew nothing, hide all clues about Mike from their families’ heads.

He can’t. And he nudges Mike’s thoughts with an okay. Smiles when Mike still looks up at him for permission. Every ounce of his willpower goes to not resisting when his hands are guided to the heat. He doesn’t feel it because Mike takes the pain for him, heals him, which is somehow worse. When they’re out on the streets, Peter will have to feel pain and Mike can’t always protect him from it.

“We’ll be okay,” Mike says, tilting Peter’s hand a little to make sure the full prints are gone.

#stodds #FOH #mine #loh

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eightmakar · 6 years ago

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Fingers Crossed / Two

Teaser // One // Two // Three

Summary: Peter return and explains himself

Word Count: 2.1k

(A/n: this is was way longer!! CONTAINS INFINITY WAR SPOILERS AND MY IDEAS OF POST-INFINITY WAR. Message me to be tagged! xx)

Gods. Aliens. Robots. Guys in suits. Magicians. Tony Stark. Each day the news covered something new about whatever was going on. That Tony was missing, but nothing about Peter.

Even though every Midtown student lived for this type of thing, school was cancelled due to the terror of people disappearing. There were reports all over that people randomly dissolved; luckily, none of your immediate family had. Your mom told you a few other family members you had very little connection to dissolved, and Ned said he knew a bunch of people that did, but you and May were fine. You were just praying that Peter wasn’t one of the ones who had dissolved.

Pepper still hadn’t heard anything from Tony. The two of you were keeping your fingers crossed that they would come back whole. When a week had passed and they were still missing, she came to visit May.

She brought dinner, the nicest dinner you and May had had in a while. Steak, seafood, anything you could imagine. It seemed normal to you; Pepper Potts, the CEO of Stark Industries, was casually having dinner in the Parker’s kitchen.

In the midst of your meal, her phone rang. She looked at the caller ID, then shot out of her chair.

“It’s Tony!” She cried.

You crossed your fingers, hoping that Mr. Tony Stark would have an answer for you and May.

“Tony?” Pepper answered her phone. “Tony? Where the hell are you?”

You could hear his voice, but not make out the words. You looked at May anxiously, your hands shaking, a wave of nausea running over you. It felt like Pepper and Tony’s conversation went on forever before she asked him what you were dying to hear: “Is the kid with you?”

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, waiting.

“If he’s with you put him on the damn phone right now, Tony! I’m with his aunt and girlfriend and they have been in shambles. Put him on the phone right now.”

Your heart jumped. Pepper turned her phone on speaker phone, and you and May simultaneously cried Peter’s name.

“Hey hey hey, there’s no need to yell now.”

You burst into tears. He’s there. He’s alive, and alive enough to be talking to you. You jumped up and grabbed Pepper’s phone.

“Peter Benjamin Parker I’m going to beat the sh—“

“Baby, I know, I’ll explain everything later. I love you.”

“Where are you?”

“We’re at the facility upstate. The one I told you about.”

Tony took over the phone. “He’s safe here. Pepper—“

“Safe?” You echoed. “I’m sorry, since when has Peter been safe with you Mr. Stark?”

“Hey, honey....” Pepper tried to stop you. You didn’t care.

“Listen,” Tony said, calculated. “I know you’re mad, so please give me the chance to explain.”

“Mad is an understatement.” The voice in the back of your head was screaming at you. Why were you talking to one of the world’s richest and smartest men like that?

“Pepper? Are you there?”

“I’m here,” Pepper replied, stepping closer to you.

“Just bring them upstate.”

“I will. See you soon.”

“Bye.”

Pepper took the phone from you and ended the call. She immediately dialed another number, and said “Happy, it’s me. I’m coming down right now with May and (Y/N), and you need to take us to the Upstate Facility right away. Tony finally called. Great, be there in a second.” She turned to you and May. “Follow me, we’re going upstate.”

The car ride felt endless. You were itching to hold Peter in your arms, to kiss his face, to see that he’s okay. To actually see, not just hear his voice.

You couldn’t believe your eyes when you pulled into the Avenger’s Facility. It was enormous, just like Peter had told you. You were ushered inside by Happy and Pepper and you didn’t have time to look around because Peter was waiting in the lobby for you and May to arrive.

You froze when you saw him. There he was, in the flesh, standing just a few feet from you. May took advantage of your hesitation and ran to Peter, hugging him tighter than you’d ever seen. She whispered things to him like “are you okay?” and “I missed you so much” and “please don’t do that to us ever again.”

When May was finished greeting him, you finally processed that he was back, your best friend was back, your love was back. She had barely gotten out of the way when you barreled into Peter.

You began sobbing into his chest the moment you touched him. He was here, with you, and you were with him, hugging him, smelling him, feeling him. You held him as tight as you could, knowing you couldn’t hurt him no matter how hard you squeezed. Your Peter was back.

You pulled back from the hug. Peter leaned down to kiss you, and instead of accepting his kiss you punched his arm over and over. “Where did you go, Peter? You had us worried to death!”

“Hey hey hey baby stop stop!” He put his arms up in front of his face to protect it. “Let me explain. But first, this is Mr. Stark.”

You didn’t even realize Pepper and Tony Stark were having their own reunion next to you. It was much quieter than yours and Peter’s; you supposed they’d done this many more times than you, plus you and Peter were just 17.

You pursed your lips looking at Tony. He greeted May, complimenting her on her looks, and turned to you. “You must be the girlfriend who yelled at me on the phone,” he said calmly.

“You bet your ass I was. Where did you drag Peter and why did you drag him into this?”

“Baby,” Peter interjected. “It wasn’t Mr. Stark’s fault. I snuck on the spaceship. He tried to send me away. He tried to parachute me away and I snuck on. It’s not his fault.”

You turned your glare to Peter. “PETER.”

“Why don’t we have a seat?” Pepper suggested, obviously trying to calm the situation down.

“That would be great,” you agreed. Pepper and Tony led the way to a comfortable seating area, where you sat protectively next to Peter, holding his hand tightly. Pepper and Tony sat across from you both, with May on the corner, perpendicular to you both.

“Alright,” Tony began. “You saw the spaceship, correct?”

“Yeah. At school, on the news,” you replied haughtily.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Listen sassy girlfriend, I did my absolute best to protect Peter and I feel like I failed. So if you could just, like, give me a break, that would be great.”

You looked stunned, but nodded. Tony continued, “So that ship had a couple of ugly, Squidward-looking aliens that were asking about a stone that controls time that was locked in a wizard’s necklace so their genocidal father could control the universe. Apparently there are these things called Infinity Stones, each that control a different aspect of life: reality, soul, mind, time, space, and power. If you can harness the power of all six, you can essentially eliminate half of the universe with a snap of your fingers.

“The wizard with the Time Stone called himself Dr. strange, and got kidnapped by Squidward. I got onto the ship AFTER I activated Peter’s parachute and sent him back to Earth, because I had just SAVED him from choking to death from lack of oxygen because he was on the outside of the ship without protection. I had made an iron spider suit for him, and activated it to save him. By the time I realized he was on the ship, we were in the middle of space and I couldn’t do anything.”

“Sweetheart, I promise he didn’t make me go,” Peter piped in. “I went because I wanted to help.”

You shot Peter daggers through your glare. “Peter, if Mr. stark kept trying to send you away, then why did you go back?”

Peter shrugged. “I thought they might need my help,” he said a little sheepishly.

You turned to Mr. Stark. “Mr. Stark,” you began.

“Please call me Tony. When I hear Mr. Stark I look for my grandfather.”

“Got it. Tony, I apologize for blaming you. It appears that this is all Peter’s doing and I shouldn’t have blamed you.”

“Apology accepted. Can I finish?”

“Of course.”

Tony continued. “We arrived on this weird planet and met these other guys who were also looking for the genocidal alien, who apparently is named Thanos.”

“Babe,” Peter interrupted, “an alien tried to lay its eggs in me. Just like that old movie Alien!”

You sighed. “Peter, quit interrupting. Unless you’re going to finish his story.”

“Well, I mean, Thanos was this big really ugly guy that had the weirdest chin I’ve ever seen. We were on an alien planet and we fought him and it was so awesome!”

“Kid,” Tony said. “It was not awesome. You died.”

You were silenced, shocked beyond belief. May had to speak for you. “What... what do you mean, Peter died?”

“Died. Disintegrated. Disappeared. Along with the wizard, and almost every other alien with us.” You gaped at Peter.

May explained that many other people had dissolved and it had caused a mass panic. You were stunned. How was Peter one of the ones who dissolved?

“I don’t know where I was,” Peter explained. “But wherever I went, the process of going there was the worst thing I’ve ever felt. I can’t explain it.”

“He dissolved in my arms,” Tony said. You swore you could hear him choking up. “There was nothing I could do.”

“Well, obviously he’s not dissolved anymore so what happened after that?” May demanded.

“That’s all on Mr. Stark,” Peter said, turning to look at him. You felt him squeeze your hand three times; it was something you two had come up with a long time ago. Three squeezes meant “I love you.” You squeezes back four times, saying “I love you too.” All you wanted to do was hold onto Peter, especially hearing he dissolved like so many other people. You lifted up your entertained hands and kissed the back of Peter’s.

“Well, Nick Fury seemed to have called in some backup. Long story short, Cap, Banner, Clint, Natasha, Thor, and I teamed up with this Air Force Pilot-turned superhero, plus some aliens and some Wakandans and Rhodey, and we were able to undo whatever it was Thanos the Angry Grape did. The wizard, Strange, seems to think they were all trapped inside the Soul Stone, in some kind of world created for taking souls. I don’t know, I just shoot where I’m told.” Tony finished his story, leaned back, and propped his feet up on the coffee table that separated you and Peter from him and Pepper.

It stayed quiet for several minutes. You, May, and Pepper were just taking everything in. Peter had died? But also not really? It was a lot to process in a short time. You simply laid your head on Peter’s shoulder.

Pepper finally broke the silence. “You got on an alien ship ALONE without a plan or backup or any idea where it was going? Tony, what the hell were you thinking?”

“Listen, honey, I—.”

“No, you listen to me. Before you flew off to fight aliens, you suggested we have a baby, but how can we take care of a child together when you’re running off every ten minutes to try and save the world? AND you hung up on me?”

“Pepper, honey, I didn’t hang up on you, I lost signal in space, but—.”

“No sir, no more ‘buts’. You need to think about how that affected me, okay?”

“Can we take this somewhere more private? I hate to have the kid see mom and dad fight,” Tony suggested, motioning at Peter.

“Mr. Stark, c’mon now....”

“Happy, can you take these folks back to Queens?”

“You got it boss. Let’s go, Queens folks.”

You all stood up. You inched over to Pepper and gave her a huge hug. “Thank you for everything, Pepper. We owe you.”

“I know how it feels to be on your end. Call me any time.” She smiled at you.

You thanked her and moved to shake Tony’s hand. “Thanks for doing your best to keep him safe,” you said. “I know he can be a pain in the ass sometimes.”

“He’s a good kid, and having someone like you who fights for him is great. Keep it up. Maybe one day you’ll get a Stark Internship too.”

You laughed. “Maybe.”

With that, you reconnected your hand with Peter’s, followed Happy to the car, and rode back to Queens. Your crossed fingers had worked.

Tags: @upsidedownparker @justbetomholland @spiderlingss @bi-writes @loserparker @tomhollandwritings @scarlettxspider @im-a-witchy-author @tomsfireheart @holland-ish @beautiful-holland @freckledskittles @jellalyrancher

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featluke5sos · 7 years ago

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Safe Place - Luke Hemmings/(Y/N) series - Part Ten

Part One // Part Two // Part Three // Part Four // Part Five // Part Six // Part Seven // Part Eight // Part Nine

(Y/N)’s POV

I watch as Luke walks out the door and then I turn to sit on the couch. Michael sits beside me. It’s a little bit awkward for a few minutes because neither of us are very good at making conversation.

The silence is finally broken when Mikey looks at me and asks, “You hungry?”

I nod, my stomach growling in agreement. After everything that happened with Jonah, we never did get around to eating lunch.

He laughs and hops off the couch to go raid the fridge. He’s just reached it when I remember that we have no food here. I’d meant to go shopping, but groceries just haven’t seemed important lately.

“Okay, well you guys have an egg, two slices of swiss cheese, and some moldy bread,” Michael announces once he’s scanned over the contents of our fridge.

I laugh slightly. “Yeah, I kind of forgot that I haven’t been to the store lately.”

He walks back into the living room and shrugs. “No big deal. We can go get something. I saw this little Mexican place on my way over here,” he says as a smile spreads across his face.

Mexican isn’t really my favorite, but he seems really excited about it so I smile and nod.

“Great! Let’s go, I’m starving.”

He opens the door and I walk out first, trying to calm myself as I look at the spot where I stood while Jonah hit me last night. A shutter runs through me, but Michael takes no notice as he locks the door behind us. We walk down the two flights of stairs to the ground floor and soon we’re standing outside. Michael guides me toward the restaurant, all the while talking about things that he and Luke did while they were away.

I try to seem interested and listen, but all I can think about is how exposed I feel. I don’t even feel safe in my own apartment, so being out here in the open is a million times worse. I inch myself closer to Michael as we walk, but I don’t want to smother him like I would if it were Luke. I try to act cool, but it’s not working.

It doesn’t take long for Michael to pick up on my nervous energy and after walking for a few minutes, he stops and looks at me.

“Are you okay? Do you want to go back? I mean, we can just order pizza or something if that would be better. It was a stupid idea to come out here-.”

“No,” I interrupt him. “I’m fine. I just would feel a lot better if I knew where Jonah was right now.”

He nods understandingly. “I promised Luke that I’d keep you safe, and I don’t intend on breaking that promise.”

I smile at his words and he wraps an arm around my shoulder. “Thank you, Michael. You’re a really great friend.”

We continue walking, Michael’s arm still slung around my shoulder. It makes me feel better to have him so close. Mikey is not a fighter, but I feel safe with him nonetheless.

After a few more minutes of walking, we finally reach the restaurant that Michael mentioned. But, as we get closer we see that the sign says that they don’t open until dinner time. I check my phone and it’s barely past two o’clock. Michael sighs and pulls out his phone.

“Well,” he says, “so much for that place. I’ll be damned if I’m going to wait more than an hour to eat. How does IHOP sound?”

I smile. “IHOP sounds great.”

We turn back in the direction we’ve just come from and begin walking back toward an IHOP that we’d passed along the way. Thankfully, we live in a relatively small town so almost anything important is within walking distance. That’s a very good thing because even though I’m nineteen years old, I never bothered to get my driver’s license. Luke has his, but neither of us own a car so it’s basically useless. It’s not that Luke doesn’t have the money for a car, because he obviously does, but he’s just never really been into cars. He’s more of a vintage guitar kind of guy.

Much to Michael’s pleasure, we’re seated as soon as we step inside the restaurant. He already knows what he wants, of course, but I take a few minutes to scan the menu. I haven’t been to this place in a really long time. When the waiter returns to take our orders, I’ve finally decided what I want.

Our food doesn’t take long to be prepared and soon Michael is all but inhaling his omelette while I take my time eating my pancakes. I steal a few glances at him while he devours his food and I can’t help but smile at how enthusiastic he is about eating.

Before either of us can finish our meals, Michael’s phone starts ringing. He pulls it out of his pocket and looks at the caller ID before answering with his mouth full of food.

“Hey, what’s up?” He says.

I don’t want to seem intrusive, so I look down at my plate and continue eating my pancakes.

There’s a pause before he continues talking. “We’re at IHOP because we were hungry. Why? What’s wrong?”

I look up as I realize that he must be talking to Luke.

“No way,” Mikey says, his face shocked. “Did he get into the apartment?”

He seems to calm down slightly as Luke’s voice buzzes through the phone.

He nods even though Luke can’t see him. “Okay, we’re on our way right now. See you in just a few minutes.”

He hangs up and pulls out his wallet, searching through it to find money for the bill.

“What’s going on?” I ask, noticing his frantic state.

He glances up at me and then continues sifting through the bills in his wallet.

“Luke needs us back at the apartment. Hey, you wouldn’t happen to have any cash on you would you? All I have is American money.”

I nod and reach into my pocket and pull out enough to pay for our meals.

“Thanks,” he says, standing up. “I’ll pay you back later.”

I shrug. “Don’t worry about it. So why does Luke need us home?”

“I don’t really know. He said he got home and there was a package addressed to you sitting outside the door. It should’ve been left at the front desk, but whoever left it clearly already knows where you live…” he lets his voice trail off as we hurry back toward the apartment.

“Jonah? What was in the package?”

He shrugs. “Luke didn’t open it. He wanted to let you do it.”

I can barely think as a million possibilities race through my mind as to what it could be. Immediately I start to imagine the worst possible scenarios: a bomb, poison, a severed finger…

I try to rationalize with myself. Jonah is not that crazy. He may be a little bit irrational sometimes when he lets his anger get the best of him, but he would never seriously try to kill me.

My mind has run through a hundred more scenarios by the time we finally reach the apartment. I reach into my pocket to pull out my key before realizing that I didn’t bring it with me. I knock on the door, knowing Luke is here.

“Luke!” I say, my voice trembling slightly. “It’s us. I left my key.”

The door opens a few seconds later and Michael and I walk inside. Luke wordlessly points to a box that’s sitting on the table in the kitchen. I mentally analyze the size and shape and wonder if it could be something deadly.

“I didn’t want to do anything without you here,” Luke says softly. “One of us can open it for you if you want.”

I shake my head and walk over to the table. I look at my name and address that are written on the box and I immediately recognize Jonah’s handwriting. I swallow the lump that’s beginning to form in my throat and I rub my hands together as sweat begins to form on them.

I reach out and rip the box open, being careful not to damage whatever is inside. There’s a rose along with a smaller box and a note. I open the box and a beautiful diamond ring greets me, making the uneasy feeling in my stomach grow.

I pick up the note and read over it carefully.

Till death do us part.

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strawberryspeachy · 5 years ago

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So let me just share what happened ALL AT ONCE a week ago

The teacher i worked with and wrote about liking SEEMED to warm up to being coworker friends with me. He was looking out for me, deliberately waiting to walk with me to and from classes. Smiling and laughing and ENGAGING in conversation with me. And ok

I’ve talked to quite a few other teachers in my school and they ALL KNOW how to cut off a conversation. They do the lean away (i gotta go make it quick) they burry their nose into their work (ahh so busy cant listen) they SAY theyre busy. They dont ask follow up questions. They dont elaborate on answers. Im not that fucking stupid. I am stupid. But not that stupid

This boy started basically laying his head on my shoulder when we talked. Hed look up stuff I was telling him about on the spot not - oh write that down and ill check it out - no. Immediate. It i didnt ask him follow up questions to something he said hed talk more as if I did and leave them on a ‘ask me about that’ note like hint hint. I wanna keep talking. Not to mention how hed reach across me to get stuff. Touch my hand whenever possible (mind you none of my other teachers ever touched my hand with giving me stuff) just all in all gave the i like talking and were close here vibe. Hed complain to me and tell me “secrets”

I was just sad he didnt like me as more. But i was content being like this as coworkers.

Well. I fucked up and said (while laughing. Not an intense way) youve called me your friend twice now, does that mean were friends. I fully fully expected him to say yea yea were friends.

No it didnt go down that way

Instead thag led straight into him telling that he never wanted to hang out with me. He just said that. He doesnt like me. He doesnt like talking to me or texting me. And basically im just super fucking annoying.

So ok. Thats bad enough right. The only person in this country I thought was even close to something of a friend. Actually dislikes me

But wait. Dislike might be too weak.

Because it didnt end there.

He not only reported all the non school related conversations we had to get me in trouble. He also lied about things I said and did. Going so far as to accuse me of harassing and stalking him.

K maybe go back up and read how he was waiting for me to walk to class and almost leaning on me and - oh yea. Responded to every message i sent. Real responces. Not ‘ya’ or ‘ok’ and emojis and stickers and stuff... like that didnt read as “stop messaging me”

But my school was like yea - get her the fuck out.

So i got kicked out of my school.

But wait there’s more

My company was like - why arent you a mind reader. We got reports over a month ago that youd caused problems. But we decided not to tell you. We take no blame and youre fired. (Thats putting all the bs they said shortly. Havent even gone into how they didnt look into it. They didnt care about my side. They didnt talk yo one another and taunted me while fireing me)

So so far.

Guy i liked and thought was my work friend: hates me

School whose students i loved working with and made me want to skip weekends so i could return: fired

Company that provides me income: fired

But thats not allll

My company rented my apartment for me. So not only was I fired. Im also getting evicted. On christmas! Merry fucking christmas

And the reason i didnt wanna move out of here before is because i have to pay an early leaving fee, pay a AT MINIMUM 500 dollar cleaning fee!!, and ya know pay fucking movers to move or shippers to come get my stuff to be shipped becauseeee

As i felt. Everyone i met through my company are not my friends. I have no friends here. I am all alone in another country. No income. No place to live

Ive been applying to other jobs like crazy and apartments.

Actually actually here. Let me give you the two taunts my boss made while firing.

Right after he told me how i should have been able to read between the lines. Pretty sure he muted me whenever i talked about why it seemed my coworker enjoyed my company. Yeah immediately after he told me that several times. He said “teachers here often end up marrying other teachers because they work together and have the same hours and understand each other” um? Anyone know why hed throw that in there while telling me i should have known that my coworker didnt want anything more than a strict colleage relationship. Cause thats really counteractive fucktard who (my ex boss) left his wife for his coworker.

And. In Japan. Any person from another country who works here has 100% heard of gaijinpot. Thats how most people get here. Everyone knows that website. My ex boss said. (After telling me im unemployable now) “i know a place where you can find alot of english teaching jobs” AND WROTE DOWN FUCKING GAIJINPOT AS HE LEFT

MOTHERFUCKER

And thats it. Thats my life now. I asked someone who said if i ever need help to help me and really didnt wanna. And i shouldnt have because he said “youre for move is to find a job and a new place to live” gosh damnit i sure am a fucktard arent i. That hadnt occured me. Not like i didnt literally write that in my message above asking if youd take my futton for a short while.

I mean just this year a friend... friend. No. Person i knew since first grade who had a house and who i asked if i coild pay rent while i find a place to go if my family impulsively throws me on the streets was like - ehhhhh i really just wanna have sex in my house so no.

So i really shouldnt have even hoped someone here would help me.

Oh. And a wolf spider appeared in my room the day my coworker told me off.

And i saw an express train going all fast at the one station. And really really have been trying to convince myself that if i jump in front of it wont just slam into me creating the worst pain of my life as time slows down for me and i tumble downword to the track below the train where the wheels will rip me apart like scrambled eggs Completely aware of whats happening.

I just cant seem to imagine that going any other way except maybe that im thrown off the train and survive but never walk again.

So...

Not wanting to return to a place where my family will scream and make fun of me for being a fuck up again. While being forced to work a shitty service job and never see my friends cause theyre always busy. And never have anywhere to go.

Im trying to find another english job id like.... its not going well

Moving into a sharehouse.... i really dont want a roommate but i have no other choice cause im not even gonna be able to afford that with the fact that i only have a couple 1000 dollars and my rent alone will eat that meaning. Cant go do anything. So im aiming to be in the middle of tokyo. Living that city life i always wondered about.

Btw. The week before this happened id just accepted to myself that the city has too many people and i liked my little town with all the cheap stuff and my bike that kept me in shape. And that i coild see mount fuji on a clear day. This is why i dont approciate things. The second i have the thought its gone

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republicstandard · 6 years ago

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Gammon: Elitist Snobbery Against Working Class Britons

In the caste system of the United Kingdom, a cracking new wheeze has emerged from the chattering classes. As any person of good sense knows,the only people who voted for Brexit were belligerent racist oiks from council estates who are probably in the EDL and parochial men with strange moustaches from the countryside, who have definitely at some point shot a fox while pissed as newts on scrumpy.

But what connects the two? What possible strain of mankind could be at the root of this union between two groups who in normal circumstances would never meet, and if they did would pass on opposite sides of the street? The answer of course, is in the peculiar hue of the British skin. The metropolitan elites and the wannabe IT middle managers and call-center drones who just know that we are all really Europeans at heart have made a meme. Long live Gammon-Man.

When people ask what's the definition of gammon. +10,000 pic.twitter.com/kW6oEQMnbk

— Gammon Points (@TheGammon) June 5, 2018

We Britons are a funny sort. When we get flustered, or drink too much, or eat too much salted red meat (all of which we regularly do) we have the tendency to become a little pink in the face. Exposure to direct sunlight can have the same effect, which usually happens for a couple of days in May and again at some point in July. And so, to counter the clear over use of snowflake we have dubbed our pink-hued fellows who are somehow inferior to us as Gammon. For the uninitiated, gammon is is the hind leg of pork after it has been cured by dry-salting or brining. It is often eaten with chips (fries), a fried egg, or a pineapple ring if you are feeling particularly continental. It is a staple of the classic pub grub menu which has resisted all attempts at modernization, gentrification, or being re-launched to appeal to the clientele at the gastro-pub that replaced the local boozer our dads liked.

For once, the left has accurately reduced their opponents to a single word. Gammon. Those of us who are gammon play fruit machines.

State of this. #Brexit #FreeTommyRobinson #Gammon #GammonPoints pic.twitter.com/NyCeqkX2cd

— Mr Jeff (@JosThatIsGinger) June 8, 2018

Gammons like sports. Gammons even do slightly annoying things like forming bands and following around the national team. Imagine being so stripped of any vestige of self-worth or identity that your cultural touchstone is blowing a trumpet at a football match. These Gammons should really be thankful the manufacturing industries are dead and their daughters have decided to abdicate from the gene pool to prevent the planet over-populating. Why, if these men had meaning in their lives, they would have no time to practice, and thus not provide us with an opportunity to mock them.

The gammon soundtrack. +7500. Each. https://t.co/0isCfugNLt

— Gammon Points (@TheGammon) June 8, 2018

In effect, the term gammon is used to sneer at those Englishmen who are looking for leadership that has not been provided by the government, not by the EU, and certainly not by the very same people who are doing the sneering. Tommy Robinson is a gammon, and so is everyone who supports him. People who vote for UKIP of For Britain are gammon, as are the Football Lad's Alliance, THe Countryside Alliance, Brexit voters, policemen, people who are not socialists and, of course, anyone from the North. There appears to be quite a lot of Gammon about. It is almost as if the majority of the nation, for better or worse, is made of gammon. What I contend is that gammon is more a signifier of the quality of those who use it as a pejorative. It is an attempt at shaming those who are beneath you, less clever, less well off, just less than you. Inferior people who have never eaten an avocado and don't want to.

You probably don't need a t-shirt to let people know you're a proud #Gammon, all those Katie Hopkins retweets and punctuation-free Facebook statuses do that just fine. https://t.co/seeWffvuyU

— House of Hun (@Houseofhun) June 8, 2018

And yet of course we cannot ignore that this is a derogatory term for people based on their skin color. Now that the posh folk have shedded their ethnic identities, no longer Whites at all, now an ascended, Pro-Bruxellois transparent-fleshed super-being that is somehow separate from the woes of the plebians, the self-describing elites have decided that yes; categorizing people by skin tone is acceptable. This is the empathy trap which ensares the gleeful distributors of hashtag-gammon. It leads you to racism against your perceived enemies, who are just another version of yourself that you seek to deny! Further, though the metropolitans have attained a post-racial identity themselves, gammon-men are a distinct ethnicity. Gammons are a ruddy pink, a color. People, of color. Truly, a bizarre premise on which to to base a new caste system, in the current year.

I just don't understand why people hate other people just because they're different to themselves. Weird tbh imo.

— Gammon Points (@TheGammon) June 6, 2018

A sociopathic system produces sociopaths and victims. You can avoid the worst effects of the abuse by allying with your abuser- this is language that the intersectional left understands very well. We have seen this behavior before from black activists who decried Kanye West as a coconut, white on the inside. The empathy trap ensnares the mind, making you believe that you are superior merely for your concern for the minority, the environment, the animals, the ocean, the gays, whatever cause you like. Again, we see this in the power struggles in the intersectionalists, who must endlessly eat themselves in a battle over who is the least privileged and therefore the most deserving of resources. Compassion is currency. If you are perceived as having no compassion for the other, this means you are gammon. This means you are a racist.

Gammon must realize that the past is exactly that, and there is no going back to those times. We have to be forward-thinking, and favour intelligence and compassion over pig-headed ignorance and bigotry.

— Thomas H. (@THemingford) June 5, 2018

Yes, gammon is a catch all word for all the things the progressives see and deride in us, and fear about themselves. They too are without identity, they too are lost. At least the gammons don't pretend to be something they are not. Are the gammons ignorant bigots? Well, as we know from our learned masters, it is wrong to stereotype. Hashtag Not All Gammons. The framing of gammon as a short-cut for bigotry, stupidity, low culture, football watching and common-ness is a heinous attack on the working classes that the intelligentsia claim to represent. It is so that these people, Labour voters all, can happily chant "for the many, not the few" in tribute to Jeremy Corbyn while at the same time denouncing the many in England who disagree entirely with this brand of Neo-Marxist foolishness.

The many are not Gammons. The many are the people with whom the Gammons are to be replaced. The Gammons are the hated past, the times of patriotism and industry. The progressive darlings who are tossing around this word have made an error in judgment, however. In the 1970's and up until this very day there has been a football team by the name of Millwall that has been near-permanently associated with violence. They have a song.

No one likes us, no one likes us No one likes us, we don't care! We are Millwall, super Millwall We are Millwall from The Den!

Gammon fits the tune also. The British elites have always demonized the working classes; it never works. The working classes don't care; demonization just forces them to unite against you, often with violence. You cannot shame the Gammon into silence, but you sure can piss them off.

Keep it up, snowflakes. Make the gammon hate you.

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pnwtrailrunner · 7 years ago

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Sunday April 22, 2018 Skyline 25K

You know something crazy is going on when I consciously make the decision to get up at 4:45 in the morning on a Sunday. It’s my first race of the year and I’m a bit nervous. The Yakima Skyline Rim 25K was my dream race last year but I had to drop out due to a calf injury that continued to nag me for the better part of 2017. Today I’m feeling healthy and super excited to get out there and finally run this thing. There’s no exaggeration when I say that this race looks gorgeous! I have a bunch of time to kill so I get dressed and head over to the Starbucks before the family wakes up.

We arrived in Ellensburg yesterday and had dinner with our niece Christy who attends college here. I was trying my best to stick to my normal diet and the best thing I could find on the menu was a brat and some Cheddar Beer soup. Sticking to my low carb diet was important because I didn't want to throw any of my routines off. During dinner, I stepped away for a few minutes to have a phone chat with my coach. I am kind of new to running, so being able to go over a game plan with a coach is invaluable. I’ve only been with him for a month but I already feel like I know so much more than last year. He reminded me to be consistent with my pacing and use this race as a way to learn for my next several races. After dinner, we drove out to the race site to make sure we knew where we were going. The last thing I needed in the morning was to get lost and be late to the race. We were only a few hours outside of Seattle but the short drive out to the race site was like being in a different state. We saw giant rolling hills, rocky cliffs, a beautiful winding river and almost zero trees. It’s a complete 180 from forests of the side of the mountain we are from. This place looks like it’s right out of an old western movie. I could imagine herds of Buffalo or wild horses running through here at one time. It’s really beautiful.

The sun is coming up and it's time to get ready for the day. Starbucks was great but I’m going to hit up the Red Lion’s breakfast buffet and have few eggs and bacon before leaving for the race. Bib pickup is 7:30-8:50 so I have some time. I check back in with the family after breakfast and they're ready to go. We leave the hotel a little later than I wanted and arrive at the race location around 8:15. I have my 32oz of required water and my photo ID ready to go so that I can pick up my bib. I look at my watch and see that I only have around 20 minutes until the pre-race briefing at 8:50. I hurry back to the car to pack my vest and get dressed. I'm feeling a bit rushed now but I make it to the briefing with a few minutes to spare. James gives us the lowdown of the race with an unsettling warning about rattlesnakes. What?!?! There were snake sightings on Friday but they were gone by the Saturday Race. He let us know that if we do get bit, it is important to not to get your heart rate up. Knowing what I know now about the terrain, there is no way that would have been possible. This is one of the most remote locations I have ever been. If you got bit and were somehow able to get cell service, they would have to airlift you out.

There are close to 200 runners in the small starting area and James starts us off at 9 am on the dot. We run through the parking lot and circle around to the suspension bridge that goes over the river. We cross over in a single file line to keep it from bouncing and swinging, but it doesn't help. The river below was moving pretty fast and it would suck to fall in I thought. I start moving through the winding single track trail trying to avoid rolling an ankle on the rocks. I'm going a bit slower than I had planned but I remind myself not to go out too strong. I want to conserve a much energy as possible. At about a mile in I start to regret wearing a jacket and gloves. So much for overpreparation. Careful not to stop and hold up the group, I take off my extra layers while continuing to climb. I shove them in my pack and keep moving. The trail finally opened up to the several miles of uphill climbing that lay ahead. It looked very difficult and from where I was standing I couldn't even see the worst part.

I keep a pretty steady/slow pace for the first mile. But the course was so open that I could see all the runners a mile ahead of me and it made me want to move faster. I increased my speed a little bit and passed a few people. None of us were going very fast up this thing but It gave me the opportunity to test the calf muscle. It had been giving me problems leading up to the race and this seemed like as good a time as any to test it out. It felt great! I passed when I could and kept moving. As I reached the top of this massive climb I could finally see flat trails.

The next few miles were spent on an old rocky dirt road that ran along the top of the hills. It gave us a 360-degree view of the beautiful landscape and a view of Mt Rainier that most people will never see. It was amazing. I had my iPhone out snapping photos for pretty much this entire section. We moved through a couple of small uphill and downhill sections but nothing major. I was starting to get my legs back after the after the long uphill and started to pick up the pace bit. Careful to not roll an ankle on a giant lava rock I pushed on. As I arrived at Doug McKeever's middle of nowhere aid station, I was feeling good. So far I had only gone through half a vile of olive oil and half a bottle of water. I said hi to Doug, used the restroom(the front of his truck) and refilled my water bottle. As I started down the trail Doug said that we were 1.8 steep miles from the full aid station/turnaround. He wasn’t joking! From where I was standing I could see where the aid station would be and had no idea how I was going to make it back up. At this point, all the elite runners were heading back up the single track trail. It became a game of chicken with the other runners coming up the hill. One of the other runners coming up the hill looked like he had fallen and cut his face and neck up on something. I was going to do my best to not have that happen to me.

It was getting a little warmer out now and my body was starting to fatigue. I hadn’t run more than 8 miles in a training run this year and I was just now reaching that point. I was chitchatting with another runner who had run this race before which helped the time pass and take my mind off the pain. He seemed to know every runner that was coming up the hill towards us which was pretty awesome. We were coming to the last downhill before the turnaround and it looked treacherous. I’m guessing it was close to a 65-70% grade. If I were the only runner out here it wouldn’t be that big of a deal. But with the people coming up the hill and the people behind me going down the hill at crazy speed, it was a bit scary. Pretty much everyone slowed down to a walking pace or used their hands to make it down this thing safely.

I arrived at the Rosa Creek aid station a few minutes later proud of the fact that I didn’t roll down that last hill. I hung out there for a few minutes admiring how awesome the volunteers were. Their excitement somehow got me pumped up to get back out on the course and take on that uphill climb. I grabbed a pickle, refilled my water bottles and headed back to kick the hill’s butt. After my first step, the aid station excitement was gone and I was moving at like zero miles an hour. Lol! I tried my best to not look up at what was ahead of me. Every person I talked to kept saying one foot in front of the other and keep moving. So that’s what I did. My legs were exhausted but felt strong. The calf pain I was having leading up to the race hadn’t been a problem all day long so I decided to push a little harder. I increased my pace a bit and moved past a few people. I saw Glen again and tried to put on a good face for my photo. I’m pretty sure I looked like death though. I figured I only had another mile until Doug’s aid station but it felt like it might as well have been 20 miles. Why does this 25K feel harder than the 50K I did last year? Just as my mind started to go to dark places I could finally see the aid station. Sure, it was up a hill but at least I could see it. I eventually reached the aid station and refilled my water. I brought my own food so I was quickly on my way. I downed a few pieces of salami and a handful of macadamia nuts as I headed up the next climb. The salami had become a bit to warm so I decided to stick to the nuts and olive oil until the end of the race. I only had around 5 miles to go until I'd be on the line for pizza anyway.

Everyone was pretty spread out now and not as chatty. I ran with a woman for a while but we didn’t say a word to each other. I'm not sure where she found the energy, but at one point she decided to take off and leave me in her dust. I was by myself again. Now would have been a good time for some upbeat music or a good podcast. But because of the Rattlesnake threat, I left my AirPods in the car. I could hardly move at this point. I was happy they weren’t cramping like they did in my last race, but my quads were finished. With no music and quads that were already done with the race and ready for a pizza break, I was ready to sit down and take a break. Then I saw them. Spectators! These people hiked all the way up that hill to cheer us on and it was exactly what I needed. The motivation of shame:) If I sat down in front of spectators I would look like a weirdo. So I kept moving and finished the last few feet of the climb. I was at the final section of the race now. I looked down and saw the almost 2-2.5mile downhill to the finish that lay ahead of me and it looked difficult! I wondered if my legs could even handle it. I stopped, regained my thoughts, snapped a picture and started down the hill.

I’ve never felt the fear of losing a toenail until this downhill. My toes were being pushed so far into the front of my shoe that I thought the front of my shoes were going to explode open. I tried running down the hill with my feet landing sideways on the trail but it didn't help. It just made my quads hurt more. At one point I lost my concentration and started moving a bit too fast and almost lost my balance. At the last second, I caught myself before tumbling down and rolling over a bunch of hikers. At this point, I decided it would be safer to walk the rest of the steep section and shoot for running the last mile and a half. If nothing else, I wanted to walk away injury free from this thing. With about a mile left in the course, I was back in the canyon running the narrow and rocky trails. I could feel hotspots forming on the arches of my feet and every step I took felt more painful than the last. I could hear another running coming up behind me so I pulled off to the side and let him pass. It gave me chance to take a breather and adjust my shoes. I was also happy to have another runner to pace myself off of. As we got to the bottom of the canyon we met up with two other runners that were in front of us. We all went under the overpass together and then crossed the suspension bridge. The bridge was even more difficult to cross without all the other runners on it. Maybe it was just my tired legs. It felt like trying to walk across a bouncy castle with a bunch of kids jumping on it after I had just finished doing 200 squats. After crossing over we were back in the parking lot with what was probably less than a half mile to go.

I had almost nothing in my tank. I could smell the pizza but it might as well have been 5 miles away. I looked at my watch and it said 3:41 pm. I figured a finish time of 3:45 sounded like a good number to shoot for. So with what little energy I had left, I started to run. I passed the guy who a few minutes earlier ran by me in the canyon and then moved by other two guys that were ahead of us. I didn’t care what place I ended up in, I was just using these runners as a friendly competition to stay upright and keep moving. I wanted to see my daughter. I wanted to see my wife. I wanted pizza in my mouth! I could see the finish line just up and over a small hill ahead of me. I managed to stay upright, cross the finish line and shake the Race Director’s hand. I did it! It wasn’t the perfect performance but I did what I needed to do. I found my family and gave them some love before getting in line for some pizza.

The Yakima Skyline Rim 25K was a very difficult race but I am so happy I was able to run it this year. It was beautiful and challenging. It's basically everything you want in a trail race. The people that operate Rainshadow Running are very cool and put on amazing events. If you ever decide to run a trail race or have already run a bunch of them, check out Rainshadow. You’ll be happy you did.

Not sure what’s up next. Either the Red Devil 50K in June or The Volcanic 50K in August.

#race #trailrace #Rainshadowrunning #yakimaskylinerim25K

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