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kenananamin · 1 year ago

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Beside Each Other

Chapter 2: The Pizza and the Tooth Fairy

[masterlist]

Summary: The replacement finally comes in and Nanami keeps his promise to help you replace the sink trap. Yunn meets Nanami for the first time and sticks to him through pizza and the tooth fairy.

fluff, nanami kento x fem!reader

~4.2k words

♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡

As Nanami had said, the office sent the replacement rather quickly. You were calling Nanami by the following Tuesday afternoon to ask if he had time that week to help you replace the sink trap. Nanami did not recognize the number and he'd be lying if he said he didn't hope any unknown number would be you calling. He was quick to tell you that he was available that afternoon and asked if it was okay to go up at around 5:30pm after he logged out for work. You happily confirm, happy to finally stop the leaking sink, and continue working while you wait for Yunnuen to get out of school.

Once you’re walking away from the pick-up line with Yunn and after waving goodbye to Jessie, you tell Yunn that your neighbor will be coming up to help with something that afternoon. Yunn finds the pebble on the sidewalk more interesting than the conversation and gives a quick okay while kicking the pebble away.

At exactly 5:30pm, Nanami shows up to your apartment in a light… and tight t-shirt. You kept your apartment a bit cooler than you usually would and hoped it would be alright for Nanami, not wanting to repeat that day where the poor man was helping you in an oven-like apartment.

“Hi,” you greet him as you step aside to let him in. He’s carrying his own toolbox this time and exchanges the usual kind pleasantries with you. Yunn watches from afar but you call her over once Nanami has fully stepped inside.

You rub your daughter’s shoulders and have her stand right beside you to greet Nanami, “Nanami, this is my daughter Yunnuen. Yunn, he’s Nanami, our neighbor who’s gonna help me fix the sink, can you say hi?”

Yunn giggles and asks the towering man, “Nanimi, your name is Nanimi?”

He laughs and sticks his right hand out, “Hi Yunnuen, I’m Nanami. I live downstairs.”

Yunn takes his hand and he chuckles at the tiny hand only covering a fraction of his. You correct your daughter that it’s Nanami, not Nanimi, but he waves off the mistake and tells you it’s alright. It’s kind of cute, Nanami thinks.

You walk Nanami to the kitchen while Yunn goes back to the couch and the scattered toys on its surface. You tried to get the things ready for Nanami by placing the new sink trap, your toolbox and a cloth to wipe anything that might come out next to the opened cupboard.

Nanami crouches down and places his toolbox next to yours. Even though he had everything he would need in his own, he looks through yours to at least use some of the things you prepared for him. You ask if there’s anything you can do to help and he answers no with a smile, but you slide down to the floor next to the open cupboard to keep him company anyways.

“So…” you pick at the skin next to your fingernail, “how was work?”

Nanami looks back at you and chuckles at your attempt to start a conversation while he replaces your sink trap. If it was anyone else in any other situation, he might have ended it with a quick and simple ‘fine’, but he knew you were trying to be nice and keep him company in exchange for helping you... and he kind of liked it. “It was good, busy but good. My team is managing a few projects so it keeps us busy and it makes the day go by fast.”

You nod beside him, “That’s cool, what kind of projects does your team manage? Or are they top secret?”

Nanami laughs but continues to tell you about the projects and company as a whole. The conversation gets easier with each sentence said and Nanami sees you smiling through the gap between the cupboard door and the counter edge. You have a pretty smile, Nanami wonders if you knew that…

Your phone starts ringing and you hear Yunn yell out that Ms. Jessie was calling. You excuse yourself to answer your call and Nanami nods and grabs the new sink trap. He’s almost done replacing it and he wishes it could take just a little longer to ask you a bit more about yourself.

Just as you get up to answer your phone, Nanami feels another presence beside him. There's light steps shuffling closer to him and a small plop on the floor. He shifts back to get out from under the sink and sees a small girl sitting criss-cross right next to him. She smiles at Nanami and waves. Nanami looks around the kitchen for you and does not see you, but hears you somewhere in the living room talking on the phone. He waves back at Yunn and shifts back under the sink to continue replacing the sink trap.

Nanami hears more slight shuffling and looks back to see Yunnuen peeking her head in to see inside the cupboard, the top of her head poking Nanami’s side. He laughs at the sight of the curious child but continues his job. He finishes rather quickly and reaches for the cloth you had readied for him to clean the bottom of the cupboard from the splattered things from inside the sink trap. Yunn pokes her head a bit further in and asks, “Are you going to fix the light too?”

You hear Yunn’s question from the living room and call for your daughter, “Yunn.”

“What light?” Nanami fully gets out from under the sink to look at the little girl still sitting criss-cross right next to him, only much closer than before.

“The light in the bathroom. It won’t turn on and momma can’t reach.”

“Yunnuen,” you call for your daughter again, a stern hint to stop.

Nanami looks up at you as you lightly pull Yunn back and quietly remind her to go pick up her toys in the living room. He stands and asks, “Which light is it?”

You start to shake your head and wave your hands in front of you, “No, no it’s ok! I just need to take a chair in there and do it. You’ve done a lot today, Nanami, thank you so much!”

Nanami wipes his hands on the small towel he brought in his toolbox, “I don’t mind, I'm already here.” He smiles at you, “Where’s the bulb? Which light is it?”

You pick at your fingernails and look into his eyes to check if he’s sure. He puts his hands on his hips and looks at you with complete certainty, waiting for you to lead the way to the bathroom. You finally nod with a tight-lipped smile and walk towards the hallway closet to get the new bulb. Nanami follows closely behind to get the bulb and goes into the restroom. You lean down to get a stool for Nanami to reach up easier and Nanami laughs at the light blue stool decorated with flowers and tiaras.

You stand back up and point to the stool, “Yunnuen can’t reach the sink too well so she has a stool.”

Nanami nods with a smile and thanks you before slowly stepping on the stool to make sure it wouldn’t collapse under his weight. You both hear toys clanking from the living room and you excuse yourself, “I’m gonna go check Yunn actually picked up her toys.”

Nanami hears your steps drift further from the restroom and into the living room when Yunn walks into the restroom and looks up at Nanami. She’s watching him replace the bulb and patiently waits for the man to finish.

As soon as Nanami puts his arms down from replacing the bulb and the new light flashes bright, the small girl reaches up to give Nanami what she’s holding, “Here, for you!”

Nanami looks down and sees a small lilac teacup and the tiniest plate he’s ever seen under a small plastic slice of pizza. He can’t help but lightly laugh at the little girl on her tiptoes reaching to give him her meal.

“Yunnuen?” Nanami hears you looking for her and lets you know she’s in the bathroom with him.

Nanami crouches down to sit on the stool to be at eye-level with the young girl, “It’s my meal?”

She nods and hands him the pizza and teacup, “It’s a thank you for my sink and light.”

You reach the bathroom when Yunn is handing Nanami the pizza and Nanami holds the plastic toys in his palms, unsure of what to do next. He looks up at your figure at the doorway and you bring your hands up to your mouth and pretend to eat. Nanami follows suit and brings the pizza closer to his mouth, “Om nom nom nom.” He pretends to drink from the teacup and even turns it around to show Yunnuen he finished the drink.

Yunn laughs and she takes the cup to pretend to fill it again. You laugh at the scene in front of you — your daughter giving your neighbor fake food as thanks and your big neighbor trying to make himself small on the stool and pretending to eat your daughter’s plastic pizza.

Nanami looks up at the giggling little girl wanting to fill him up with her fake drinks and her mother leaning on the doorway and laughing. What peaceful sounds, Nanami thinks as he drinks his third cup of whatever Yunn is serving him now.

———

Because of the different schedules, Nanami didn’t see you and Yunn often, and when he did it was only for a few minutes at a time. He knew you left at around three o’clock for pick up and came back 20ish minutes later with a giggling little girl. He’d go pick up his mail/packages around the time you’d come back to walk back up with you both. He liked hearing the young girl’s stories from kindergarten and he liked seeing your shoulders relax a bit more every time you saw each other. Nanami wanted to find more excuses to talk to you but he was happy with the small conversations he got in the meantime. You’d always be in a rush to go somewhere or do something and Nanami hoped to catch you on a day when you could talk for a little longer.

Nanami is filling out one of his daily forms when he hears a series of small knocks. He pauses to listen, unsure if the knock was on his door or above his apartment. He hears your voice faintly calling Yunnuen and the young girl calling out for him from the hallway.

Nanami smiles and gets up from his desk to open his front door.

———

You’re holding Yunn’s hand as she jumps up the stairs and rambles about her class and classmates. This was the routine every day and listening to her really was one of your favorite parts of the day. You’re about to turn for the next flight of stairs when you look towards Nanami’s door. You couldn’t help but wonder about the man every time you passed by the second floor. Even without passing by the second floor, you’d catch yourself thinking about him as you washed dishes, folded clothes, walked to the pick-up line… he found a way to sneak into your thoughts often.

Just as you’re stepping on the first step, Yunn releases your hand and runs to Nanami’s door.

“Yunnuen!” You try to reach for her but she runs before you can catch her.

“Nanimi! Are you home?” She knocks as hard as her little fist lets her. You reach her right outside Nanami’s door and tell her he’s busy and can’t answer. You’re about to take her towards the staircase again when the door opens to a grinning man.

Nanami looks at the girls on his doorstep, you look embarrassed that he actually opened and Yunn is standing next to you with a wide smile, now with a gap.

You start to apologize as soon as he looks back at you, “I’m sorry, I know you’re working, I tried to grab her but she just booked it and—”

Yunn interrupts and opens her hand for Nanami to show him what’s in her palm, “Nanimi, I wanted to show you my toof.” She’s holding a small white tooth on one hand and uses the other to pull her lower lip down to show Nanami where the tooth used to be.

Nanami laughs and gets on one knee to look at Yunn’s tooth. ��Oh my! That’s the biggest tooth I’ve ever seen!” the little girl laughs, “Did you cry?”

She lets go of her lip before answering, “I cried because Jacob’s head hit my here,” she points to the space between her chin and mouth, “and I got scared but my teacher hug me and I was ok!”

You’re standing behind Yunn, not sure whether to pull her away now and apologize again or let her finish her story.

“My mami told me we can have pizza for dinner because I was so brave today!” Yunn jumped more as she spoke, “Nanimi do you want pizza today?”

Nanami can’t help but laugh at anything the little girl does and says and you start to reach for your daughter, “Yunn, he might be busy baby, you can’t—”

Nanami interjects, “I would love to join you guys for pizza tonight. If you don’t mind of course,” Nanami is still kneeling in front of you and Yunn but is looking at you. You try to push the image of him on one knee in front of you faaaar back in your brain. Not a time to be delusional, not a time to be delusional…

You wanted to talk to him a bit more and maybe there was a part of you that hoped something would break in your apartment to give you a reason to call him. A couple things were faulty but they weren’t big enough to call him and ask for his help. Maybe Yunn was giving you the perfect chance…

“Our favorite pizza place has really good breadsticks so we always get that. Is delivery okay? Do you prefer a certain pizza?”

Nanami smiles and widens his eyes at the little girl showing him her tooth again. He stands and nods, “I’ll have anything you’re having. I’m not picky,” he ruffles Yunn’s hair and she holds her head while giggling, “At what time should I be over?”

Yunnuen starts to jump more while yelling ‘Yay yay yay yay!’ and you try to quiet her down while talking, “Well we usually have dinner some time between 6:30ish and 7 since this one,” you point down to the jumping child, “needs to be in bed by 8:30, 9 at the latest.”

Nanami laughs and tells you he’d be over a little after 6:30 to celebrate Yunn’s big milestone. You nod and excuse yourself to take your excited child upstairs and Nanami sees you drag Yunn up the stairs and keeps hearing her little jumps from downstairs. Nanami goes back to his office and sits on his chair while releasing a heavy sigh. Would it be too much if I changed? She already saw what I was wearing… Nanami looks down at his clothes, simple dark slacks and a grey pullover.

He hasn’t smiled so much since moving into that damned building, he was glad to finally have someone his age he could talk to and be close with. Well… start getting close with. Do I want to be close to her — to them? She’s a single mom, she’s in a different stage of life than I am… Can I be close to them? Nanami is pulled out of his thoughts when his work phone rings.

He sits up straight and answers the phone, “Schneider Electric, this is Nanami.”

Nanami checks the time on the corner of his desktop. It’s 3:34pm, three more hours to go.

———

Nanami gets to your door as the food is being delivered. He thanks the young deliveryman as he leaves and stops you before entering your apartment, “Wait wait,” he whispers and peeks inside to check Yunn is not listening, “Question, does Yunnuen believe in the tooth fairy?”

You laugh at the tall man asking about the tooth fairy, "I had mentioned it before and that was part of why she was so excited about her tooth falling out. I think she told Jessie about it too. How come?”

Nanami smiles, “Just checking.” He raises his voice to a normal volume before continuing, “Here, let me help you,” he grabs the boxes from your arms but waits for you to welcome him into your home before coming in.

You welcome him in and call for Yunn, “Yunn! Can you come out now please? And get what's on the counter.”

Yunn comes running from her room in a Rapunzel costume and pigtails, “Ok mommy!”

Yunn grabs the few napkins and plates you had previously put on the counter and starts a hybrid of a walk and skip to the living room center table. She waves to Nanami then waves for him to follow her. Nanami starts to follow the young girl before you can even protest and redirect them to the small dining table in the opposite direction. You give up on the battle you'd most likely lose against your five year old and follow them to sit next to Yunn on the carpet, across from Nanami.

“Hey Yunn, guess who came to visit me today?”

Two sets of ears perk up, you wonder who visited Nanami and how that visitor ties in to you and your daughter enough to bring them up. Yunn patiently sits with a smile, her shoulders barely peeking over the table when she sits directly on the floor.

“She said she’s been waiting to meet you,” Nanami takes something out from his back pocket, “but the tooth fairy said she saw you being very brave and wanted me to give you something.”

Nanami sits on his knees to give Yunn a ten dollar bill. Yunn excitedly stands and goes over to Nanami’s side to get the bill, ignoring you and not looking back at all. Your brain catches up with what he’s doing and you sit up straighter to try to stop Nanami.

“The tooth fairy said she’d come back later, but you have to be asleep first, ok?”

Yunn carefully grabs the bill, “Nanimi, is the toof fairy pretty?”

Nanami looks over at your shocked expression as you sit across from them with an arm stretched out.

“She’s a really pretty fairy,” he smiles at you before looking back at Yunn whose smile is still growing.

There’s a flush creeping onto your cheeks… technically— very technically speaking, you were the fairy. He looked at you when he said it… was that him saying you were…?

“Nanimi, can I buy a happy meal with this?”

Yunn is looking at Nanami with glowing eyes and Nanami hangs his head to laugh.

“I think so, you might even have a little left over after a happy meal,” Nanami pokes Yunn’s tummy and smiles.

"Yay!" Yunnuen jumps and her pigtails jump with her, "I'm gonna put this in my piggy!" She turns to run to her room but abruptly stops and turns back to Nanami, "Nanimi, do you want to see Pinky?"

Nanami turns to look at you, wondering what the hell a pinky even is. You run your fingers through your hair and lean on the table, looking between the giddy child and confused neighbor looking for an answer on your face. You nod and Nanami mirrors the action for Yunn. She wastes no time and runs to her room.

Nanami shifts from being on his knees to sitting criss-cross in his spot. He smiles and rubs his palms on his pants when you break the silence.

"Nanami, you — listen, you really don't- didn't have to do that," you sigh, "I haven't even paid you back for helping me fix our sink."

He smiles and points to the boxes between you, "This is it. This is how I want to be payed back."

Nanami notices your usual tight-lipped grin and continues, "I wanted to do that. I remember what it was like to be a kid and be excited about things like that. Please do not think you have to pay me back. I'm happy I get to do this and make a kid that happy."

You both hear Yunn throwing things around in her room and Nanami breaks into a wide smile and laugh. It's weird... he seemed so stoic when you first met him by the mailboxes, but now he's sitting in front of you, smiling about your girl making a mess in her room. Without realizing, you start smiling too. It's nice to smile so easily...

Yunn starts walking back to the living room and all Nanami sees is a pink dinosaur plush that's bigger than the little girl carrying it. He can only see her pigtails besides the dinosaurs neck and her small feet dragging her back towards the table. She sits the pink plush besides Nanami and goes behind him to put a tiara on his head.

You facepalm, "Oh god, Yunn—"

She rounds the table and puts another small tiara on your head before taking her seat beside you again. She nonchalantly starts opening the box of breadsticks and says, "Nanimi, this is my Pinky. I'm wearing my dress, I don't need my crown. Momma and Nanimi need a crown. Nanimi, was the toof fairy wearing a crown?"

Nanami is adjusting his crown while responding, "She was wearing a crown but had a jacket on to hide her crown and outfit, she said she didn't want to recognized."

Yunn is staring at Nanami in complete astonishment, nodding along as if it made sense for the tooth fairy to hide underneath her jacket.

You're putting a pizza and breadstick on Yunn's plate as you look at Nanami and laugh. You half-apologize for your daughters' actions but look back at your little girl knowing that you would never seriously apologize for a child's innocence. Everything she did was breathtakingly amazing to you and you really did not know how you got so lucky with a child like her.

You and Nanami start pilling up your plates while you listen to Yunn ramble about how she's sleeping fast tonight to get more money from the tooth fairy so she could buy happy meals for the group's next meal.

The simple fact that Nanami was included in Yunn's statement warms his heart and he can't deny looking forward to eating from the small red box with a yellow smile.

———

The week after the pizza dinner, Yunn fulfilled her promise on the happy meals. Or more like you did, you let Yunn's $10 stay in her pocket and all she had to do was invite Nanami to McDonalds. It felt weird to let your five year old knock on Nanami's door and invite him out again, but you were relieved when he happily (and swiftly) said yes and offered to drive the group there. Yunnuen left her handprint on the window as she was getting out and Nanami did not have the heart to wipe it off. Nor did he want to.

After leaving the golden arches, Nanami invited you both for a dessert and hot chocolate. Yunn asked if you could take the hot chocolate to the park a block away so she could show 'Nanimi' how fast she could run through the playground. Nanami asked the barista to have the drinks to go instead and for one drink to be slightly cooler. It was cold outside but Nanami promised to play on the playground with you both... he found out the slide was too damn small for a man his size and the swing painfully digs into his hips and thighs.

A few days after the park, you invited Nanami to a local sandwich shop for lunch after bumping into him on the staircase. Nanami walked to his front door since you could see it from the stairs but ran once inside his apartment to gather his coat, gloves and scarf. He was back by the staircase in record time. Yunn was at school during the sandwich outing and although he missed the giggling and the small hand occasionally reaching out to hold his finger, he did like the way you spoke slowly, uninterrupted and without a rush.

While listening to you speak and watching you take off the tomatoes on your sandwich, Nanami realized that he could do this every day. He could have lunch and dinner with the duo every day if he could.

Oh no… I've got it bad...

But even with that realization, Nanami did not flinch. Nanami’s heart beat a bit faster while sitting around the living room table with you and Yunn. His cheeks had never ached so much as they did after chasing Yunn around the park and playing freeze tag. He's never felt so enamored by the way someone removed tomato from their food while they continued their conversation.

He’s never felt like an outsider, like he didn’t belong, but strangely— he felt like this was the first time he could really belong somewhere, it was a good place to be, where he should be. Sitting across from a giggling little girl picking out her pepperoni to eat first during dinner and across a smiling woman retelling a story for lunch… he felt like he belonged. What a scary thought — it wouldn’t be easy to fit into your puzzle. But maybe I could?

"Kento."

You stop talking and look up at Nanami.

Nanami smiles and repeats himself as he slides a napkin closer to you, "Call me Kento, or Ken, whichever you prefer. My first name."

You look down at the removed tomatoes on your plate then back at the man holding his own sandwich, "Okay," you nod while trying to contain your smile to a small grin instead of the wide smile the butterflies in your stomach have been dying to release. "Well Kento, would you like my tomatoes?"

It's Nanami's turn to try to contain his smile. He bites his lower lip and tries to not think too deeply about how nice his name sounds coming from your mouth.

Nanami puts his sandwich down on his plate and leans to yours to pull the red pieces off your plate, "Thank you, y/n."

Your grin loses its battle against the wide smile, "You're very welcome, Kento."

♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡

Chapter 3: Fahrenheit or Celsius

(a/n: i will link the next chapter when it is posted 😚)

(tags: @phoenix666stuff , @emzalot , @julia23sblog)

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penvisions · 6 months ago

Text

the melting point {chapter 19}

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Baker! Reader (ex EMT! Reader)

Summary: Time passes and heals a lot of things, while others are discussed as the wedding gets closer. Frankie sees the stress weighing down on you amid it all and plans something special…

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: hurt and comfort, fluff, light angst, reader has trauma similar to the triple frontier guys, reader is described as having tattoos for plot points, reader is partially handicapped, reader has mobility issues, adult content, adult content, smut, p in v smut, oral (m recieving), the whole gang is here, plus oc inserts, serious conversations, alcohol consumption, alcohol, mentions of past trauma, ptsd, nightmares. that seems to be it, but let me know if i've missed anything!

A/N: as we see this penultimate chapter, i just wanted to take a moment and thank everyone who read, liked, commented, and shared this fic that holds a special place in my heart ♡♡

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

“We’re going on a trip. Cleared it with your doctors and ensured them we would keep up with your stretches and daily mobility exercises. Does…does that sound okay?” Frankie is making dinner, busy at the stove as he stirs the contents of one pot and keeps an eye on the other. Simple, today, after you had gone to work a shift at the bakery, and he had been in the air since before the sun rose. Lex was in the living room doing her homework, the tv on but muted to allow her to work easier.

You were at the table, having set it up for the meal and now on your laptop answering emails. You look at him over the top of the screen, about to question him when Lex trots in and all but shoves herself into your lap and puts a piece of paper down across your keyboard.

“Mama Pastel, I don’t understand this.”

“Is this your way of asking for help?”

“Alexia, manners, please. Did you ask Pastel if you could sit in her lap, her legs are still very tender sometimes.”

“Yes, papa.” She barely resists the urge to roll the very same eyes peering over at her. She turns to you with a smile so sweet your heart melts. You wrap an arm around her, holding her in place as you shift your legs to hold her weight more evenly. “Mama Pastel, can you please help me with this, it’s fractions. Also, your legs can hold me, right? I…I feel like I need to be close to someone right now.”

“Of course, mija, my legs are always strong enough to hold you. Fractions are no fun, huh?” You smile over at her father, something he catches before he turns back to finish dinner as you lean down to rest your chin over her little shoulder. The soft murmuring of you helping her with the page fills the room, and it’s enough to make you yearn for everyday to be this easy.

But just last week, Frankie had had a rather alarming nightmare, his mind replaying the events of his hearing. He had woken up in a sweat, frantically wiping at his face to rid himself of the white powder he had been indulging in right in front of the judge. You hadn’t been in bed, which further spiked his overwhelming panic. Searching through the whole house to find you sat behind the wheel of your truck, hands tight on the steering wheel as you bowed you head and sobbed. You had a nightmare of your own, dreaming of driving and loosing the feeling in your legs and crashing. You hadn’t said anything other than that, but Frankie read between the lines. You were afraid of hurting them, of causing them injury with the potential for your limbs to suddenly be numb to your control.

“What are we having for desert?” Lex asks as Frankie announces dinner is ready, turning off the stove tops.

“Little Pastel, that’s what you’re turning into.” Frankie pins her with a raised eyebrow, his eyes meeting yours behind her as he settles the pots in the middle of the table on trivets.

His lips are twitching as he tries to tame a fond smile in order to chastely parent. Though you can see right through him, worry and love for his daughter outshining the reminder to be kind and respectful because he knows it’s a reminder that she’s comfortable around you enough to push into your space and seek you out in the ways that she has been. It’s been a little better since she returned to school, feeling more like herself and doing better in crowds. She had even asked to go on the winter fieldtrip, a weeklong thing at a conservation center down South toward the coastline. You had both agreed it would be good for her, even more so since she seemed so excited. But needed her therapist to sign off in the idea before a decision was made.

“Better than little Catfish!” She fired back loudly with giggles that only increased in volume as you tickled her sides and asked her what was so wrong with being like her daddy.

“He’s so good to us, we should both wanna be more like him, I think.” She squeals as she fidgets in your hold, trying not to lose her balance still in your lap. But you don’t let her fall, you wouldn’t dare. You look up at him and offer him a bright smile he can’t help but reflect back before he says to dig in before the food gets cold.

“Thank you,” You wound your arms around his neck, pulling yourself closer to him as his hands helped to guide you into a comfortable position against him. Nestled in between his outstretched legs, you pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth. You moved to do so to the other side, but he dipped down and captured your lips fully with his own. You had been doting over wedding plans when he had found you in bed, papers and brochures and an open laptop scattered all around you.

“No need to thank me, sweet girl. Want you to be comfortable. You okay with this, not too much pressure on your hips?” His hands were light on you, helping to support you as you stood on your knees over him. But you didn’t answer him with words, instead you planted yourself right over his lap, grinding down on him. The deep groan he graced you with was swallowed by your willing mouth, tongue lapping at his lips to catch the lingering taste of something sweet he had eaten.

“Q-querida, we- you sure this is okay?” Despite his cock stirring in his boxer briefs, his worry for you softened your heart further and you felt adoration for the man beneath you fill your chest with a jittery feeling. You had been lingering, staying up late to greet him after his double, triple flight tour day. It had been marked on the communal whiteboard in the kitchen for weeks now, a reminder that he was still the only one working.

“Frankie, I need you. It’s been so long.” You’re suddenly desperate, having been alone all day. Caring for and totting Lex to and from school, making dinner with her, getting her bathed and settled into bed with a fluffy blanket fresh from the dryer and a bedtime story. You longed for the days to feel just like that, the shadow of Frankie all around the house, in her smile, her laugh, her sparkling brown eyes. Her love for you as strong as the love you had for him and for her in return. The ease of domesticity stirring something in you, making you feel like your skin was too tight and Frankie was the only one who could help abate it.

“I-I want to…”

“Just, let me sit on it. Please, carino, I need to feel you inside me.” You can’t help the whine of your voice, the scent of him fresh from the shower and dressed only in his underwear laid across the bed too much of a temptation.

“Fuck, you can have anything you want, just want you to be comfortable.”

“I will be, once your cock is nestled as deep as it can go, filling me up, stretching me. God, Fransisco, your cock is so beautiful, so thick and hard, and perfect. You’re perfect to me, for me. I love you, mi amor. I love you so much.” You panted against his lips, kisses smothering the words into his skin, his lips, his scruff, the column of his neck. Hands trailing down and releasing him from the fabric.

“Dios mio, mija, you’ve got a mouth on you, don’t you?”

“Let me show you what kinda mouth I’ve got.” You push down further to rest over his shins, hips hinged as you lean down and press an open-mouthed kiss to the head of his weeping head. His hips stutter up, chasing the feeling of your warm breath as you pull back to relieve yourself of his large shirt you had stolen before settling in bed to wait for him.

It’s slow, despite your desperation for the man you loved, the way you take him fully into your mouth and lave at the velvet hardness of his cock with your tongue. Taking him as deep as you could before bobbing your head at a savoring pace. His thick fingers tangle into your hair, gathering it into a mockery of a ponytail to better see your face.

Hallowing your cheeks, you look up at him through your lashes and groan around him at the wreckage you’ve caused. His mouth is hanging open, plush lips wetted by his tongue and puffy from your barrage of kisses. Beautiful eyes blown wide as he takes in the image you create between his legs, blush high on his cheeks as he feels the slight scrape of your teeth along his length. He’s still so warm from his shower, smelling of his woodsy and homey soap. But he chokes on his next breath as you dive down, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat and you close your eyes to revel in the feeling of him thick and hard in your mouth.

“Get up here,” He moans out, hands letting your hair fall from its loose hold. You readily pull your mouth from him, making sure to lick a firm strike up from his heavy balls to the sensitive tip before moving up to straddle his waist. He shimmies from his underwear completely, shucking them to crumple at the end of the bed along with all the paperwork you had hastily piled together.

His cock nudges against your inner thighs and you take him in a gentle hand to line him up properly while he latches a mouth around your breasts, free from the flimsy camisole you had on just seconds ago. He bites down on the hardened peak as you sink down, slick arousal making it easy for him to stretch you. A wonton moan at the feel of him after so long catches as he grazes that soft, spongy spot at the perfect angle and your hips rock forward suddenly. His hands wrap around your ribs, grounding you, keeping you upright even as you arch at finally sitting flush, hips to hips after what had been nearly six months of being cautious and careful. Nearly six months of waiting and pleasuring each other in other ways.

“I’ve got ya, sweet girl. Just take your time, we’ve got all the time in the world for you to feel good.” He rumbles, voice gravel as he presses kisses all along your neck and chest, nipping at the soft weight of your chest, your lips, your cheeks. Everywhere he could to sooth you while you adjusted to feeling so full once again. “Gonna make you feel good for the rest of our lives, yeah?”

“Y-yeah.” You stutter out, lifting up slightly before sliding back down his length with an obscenely wet sound. His lips capture yours and you hook your arms around his neck, beginning to move against him to spark pleasure across both your bodies.

It was winter, the new year just having passed, Alexia sent off on her fieldtrip, leaving you and Frankie to each other for the entire week.

Open road is stretched in front of you, the tires below you moving quickly and devouring it as quickly as Frankie would allow. You were busy in the passenger seat, one of his hands on firmly on the wheel while the other moved the piece of paper in your hand to get a better glimpse at it over his dark aviators.

“I think we should keep it small, even if the city has rallied to help us.”

“Yeah, I don’t want a huge thing, its already going to be in the paper. An article in the magazine.”

“We can ask them to not do that, if you really want.” He smoothly drifts into the fast lane to pass a slower work truck laden down with a trailer full of yard work machinery, shifting back into the slow lane as soon as he’s passed them and had enough room to safely do so before he glances at you out of the corner of his eye. The flowers, the venue, the caterers, the photographer, everyone one of the local businesses had offered to either donate their services or severely discount you for the event. Wanting to make sure you both had everything you needed or wanted for the momentous day.

It had honestly shocked you, when you discovered just how much the people around the city appreciated your efforts during that fateful last day of the farmer’s market. Offering your shop to those seeking shelter in the chaos, the people you had stopped to help if they were bleeding or limping from the rushing crowds as you searched for your own people amidst it all.

“No, I think…I think it’s nice to have some good publicity for the bakery.”

“Did…did you pick out a date you wanted?” You paused, looking out the window as you felt your heartrate pick up and your nerves spark to life. It was beyond sappy, you realized, but the particular date you had in mind seemed to work out perfectly with all the vendors, with family needing to fly in or travel, with a break for there to be coverage at the bakery and Lex’s school out for the summer…

“I wanted to pick one that meant something to both of us so…I was wondering if the date we first met was okay with you?”

“Sweet girl, that’s…that’s perfect. I was thinking it but didn’t want to influence the decision if you already had your heart set on something.” His hand curled tighter over your thigh, dull fingernails making light marks in your skin.

He helps you out of the truck at the next gas stop. His hands strong around your waist as he makes sure you have both feet on the ground and your cane in hand before he dips to kiss you cheek and lets you loose to make your way into the building. The giggle bursting from your lips and the slight float to the skirt of your dress has him feeling warmth bloom in his chest as he makes sure you have no trouble along the small distance. Someone is exiting just as you approach the door and they do a double take at the sight of your tattoos on display and the flattering form of the dress over your skin, holding the door open for you and saying something you seem to reciprocate.

Frankie busies himself with hooking the gas pump into the tank’s opening and looks up to watch you amble through the store through the wide windows, the guy who held the door open doing on the other side of the pump. You’re slow in your movements around the few aisles, taking in all of the sweet and savory options. But you make sure to grab a dr. pepper and a cherry coke. Mini powdered donuts make their way into your hand holding the drinks to your chest before you approach the checkout.

“She’s a looker, man, good on you.” Comes from the other side of the pump before a vehicle takes off.

“Frankie! I got snackies!” You hold up a plastic bag the second you’re back out the door, shaking it slightly before grimacing and halting the movement, realizing it would make the drinks fizz up. “Oops, my bad.”

“Sweet girl, what did you get us to munch on? We’re only about half an hour out at this point.”

“And where is it we’re going again?”

“Nice try, querida, but it’s a secret. I think you’ll really like it.” He pressed the tip of his index finger to your nose as you enter his orbit. Hand moving to take the cane from you and place it in the truck exactly where you preferred it. It was a beautiful thing, sleek carved wood stained a dark, espresso brown. The hand coated in silver cast to look like blooming flowers to ensure your grip is secure and travel down a few inches. The tip of it capped with rigged silver as well to help with steadying your uneven right side.

He takes the bag from you next, setting it down in the middle of the bench seat, the center console pushed up to create more room for you to cross your legs while you went over stuff. It wasn’t the best position for you to be sitting in for long hours, but you argued it was one of the few ways that brought relief sometimes so he let you do what you thought was best. He had put his foot down and gotten stern with you though, saying that if he noticed it was doing more harm than good that he was going to ask you to try and sit another way.

Truth be told, Frankie would carry you for the rest of your live if you would allow him to. Should you need to be off your feet altogether. A custom wheelchair having been ordered to replace the generic one the insurance company had covered for immediate use after your surgeries. It had been a long conversation, one in which both of you had shed tears during. But the agreement was that it would be stored in the downstairs closet and brought out for longer trips, hospital visits that would take more than a quick pop in and out to ensure no uncomfortable and hard waiting room chairs caused harm, and days where the errands piled up.

While you were recovered from the surgeries and dealing with the trauma of what happened, your legs worked as well as they could. Though the already replaced right one tended to go numb at random intervals the doctors could only explain as part of a degenerative disease that had probably been undiagnosed before the first shooting. The left often got a tingling sensation, sciatic nerve sensitive on both sides making it hard for you to get out and about some days.

Working full time had been another conversation, safety rails installed with the help of the guys all around the house should you be home alone. The showers in the two bathrooms you used were set to be remodeled with ledges for you to set on should you want to, the tubs to be replaced with shower stalls and a fancy tub of your choosing to be put in the master one attached to yours and Frankie’s room.

He worried about the stairs, something that took a longer conversation in which you admitted to feeling like you were flipping his whole life upside down and ruining the home he had carefully curated for him and his daughter. His solution had been as simple as breathing, as loving you: turn the guest room and laundry room into a new downstairs master, expand the kitchen to accommodate the laundry room equipment. The money it would take had caused you to break down, even if Frankie hadn’t batted an eye at the arguably large sum it would require.

Will and Benny had argued that two cousins of theirs that resided in Texas was more than willing to make the trip to oversee the project. They had readily agreed to absolve the labor and graciously discount the materials as long as their flights were covered, and they had a place to stay as for the duration.

You had briefly talked with Joel about it, equal parts meek and steadfast on certain aspects of the project. Insistent that they would be able to stay in the apartment above the bakery. You had promised you didn’t want to be difficult, but the man’s deep twangy voice had assured you that you had every right to be since it was for your comfort.

Trees got thicker on either side of the winding road as the elevation hiked up. Deep in a forest of some part of the northern portion of the state. Somewhere you had no idea of, the GPS on the truck shut off and Frankie leading the vehicle with just the inner workings of his mind. The truck was moved into second gear and the engine rumbled loudly as Frankie continued to drive. He had shut off the radio to concentrate, something you did often as you drove to new places for the first time. A pleased smile pulling at your lips as you discovered things about him that you shared.

Turning off the paved road, the tires crunched over a gravel one as he continued on. You were leaning out of your seat to try and better see the glimpse of bright blue off aways between the trees.

“Almost there, sweet girl.”

“Frankie, what in the world did you plan?”

He just chuckled, jostling your thigh in his grip before removing it. You were about to turn to him when you heard the hum of conversation and laughter through the open window. The gentle splash of water trickling in the background as he rounded one last curve and began to pull up the drive of an impressive looking cabin. It was all dark tones with neutral accents in the form of a large patio that shifted into a deck, stretching out onto a decent sized lake. The water sparkling in the sunshine and temporarily stunning you.

“About time, Fish! Mante, watch this!” Benny hollered as he ran down the length of the deck that jutted out into the water and leapt from the edge of it. Balling up, he made a spectacular splash into the pristine water, causing it to splatter all over the girls lounging on the bank. Morgan and Luciana only laughed as Benny bobbed up to the surface, wiping the water from their skin and turning to wave at you from their spots. Will and Santiago were over by the grill, trading laden down plates with of cooked and raw items from a long wooden picnic table set up right in the middle of the covered part of the deck that doubled as a large patio off the side of the cabin.

“Figured the water would feel good on your hip. Got you a set of trekking poles if you want to hike, but there’s also plenty for us to do around the cabin if you don’t feel like it. Whatever you wanna do, sweet girl.”

“Don’t be hoggin’ the woman, primo.” Santiago sidles up to the passenger door, leaving Will to handle the grill on his own. His sunglasses pushed up into his hair as he reached through the open window to brush an errant wave of hair away from your face and behind your ear. You feel warmth blossom in your chest at the endearing move, grateful for the man that he was and the part he had become in your life even if it had been more than bumpy since meeting him. “Let’s get the week started! C’mon, Fish can unload the truck. I’ve got your favorite beer in the cooler waiting for you, hermosa.”

Before you move through the door Santiago opens for you, you lean over and take Frankie’s face in both your hands to kiss him deeply. Your hands trail down the thickness of his neck to rest atop his shoulders as you scoot across the long bench of the front seat, the center console pushed up. You hook your arms around them to scoot closer to him, pressed your chest flush with his. Tongue licking into his mouth, you sneak your hands into the back of his shirt dip them below his belt and grope at skin beneath. Hoots and hollers rang around the open space hidden in the trees, making your heart soar to be around so many friends, around Frankie.

He seems a little star stuck as you scoot out and walk arm in arm with his best friend toward the hub and bub of the deck, taking a moment before he pushes himself from his won seat behind the wheel and follows suit with a shining grin.

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karahalloway · 3 months ago

Text

Morally Grey - Part IV: Covert Affairs

Fandom: TRR x Mission: Impossible II

Pairing: Drake Walker x F!OC (Harper Gale)

Series: Morally Grey

Synopsis: Drake meets his handler...and realises that he is in deeper than he thought...

Word count: 4,200

Rating/Warnings: E (swearing, lemony-ness, references to death and carnage)

Chapter theme song:

A/N1: I know this is not necessarily what people were hoping that I have been working on (poor Intentions keeps getting sidelined...! 😫) but this is where my brain has been for the past month.

A/N2: Associated clips from the movie for this chapter are below:

youtube

I jerk awake with a start.

The russet light of the late afternoon sun pools into the room, smearing the sheets tangled 'round my legs in a warm crimson.

My brows draw together. How and when did I end up in bed?

Running a hand down my face, my mind tracks somewhat groggily back to the events of this morning...

...to land bodily on me fucking Gale right there on the kitchen counter.

I shake my head. No, that can't be—

The rustle of the sheets draws my attention, and my gaze collides with the mess of honey-gold curls spread across the pillows...

...and the bare shoulder poking out from beneath the covers.

My eyes clench shut. "Shit..."

I shouldn't've touched her. That's what set this whole thing off. I should've just kept my hands to myself, or offered her a damn serviette. But I hadn't been thinking, and I'd let the heat of the moment carry me across the very clearly marked line that I've been told never to fucking cross.

Because a kiss — or two — is one thing. Not sanctioned by any official means, and definitely not one you'll find allowance for in any kind of training manual. But the rules are one thing, and real life is another. And if push comes to shove, a kiss can double as a well-timed distraction, or even as a potent lure. And Christ knows it's saved my ass more times than I want to count...

But locking lips with Gale had been different. It'd felt different. There'd been no thought, no planning, nothing even close to resembling a rational choice... Just a wild shot cracked off into the night with no target in sight.

And while I can BS myself 'round the circumstances that led to the first instance — the adrenaline, the cortisol, the heated argument — I sure as hell can't acquit myself regarding the second...

...except by virtue of the fact that I'd wanted to do it.

I'd wanted to taste her again, to hear her gasp against my mouth as her nails scraped down my skin. I'd wanted to leave her breathless, to make her forget her name, and scream out mine instead.

Because as good as she'd looked in that lace dress, that get-up had been a mere smokescreen. A calculated camouflage designed to achieve her objective back at the manor.

And it wasn't until she let her hair down that the mask slipped off... and I caught a taste of who she really was.

As beneath the firecracker façade and the biting wisecracks lay an almost naked authenticity that I thought had been wiped from this world... or at least from the world that I now inhabit. There was no bullshitting this girl, and she wasn't gonna hold back, neither. And honestly? That was like the taste of a damp breeze after an endless summer of drought.

Cracking my eyes open, I sneak a glance over at her. She's still asleep, eyes closed and mouth slightly parted, her features verging almost on innocent...

...except there'd been nothing innocent about the way she'd fucked me right back.

A low groan escapes me as I'm hit with the memory of her legs slung over my shoulders, her hands gripping the marble above her head as she slammed back against me with each violent stroke.

Sweet Jesus, she'd felt good...

As if to reaffirm that assessment, my dick twitches against the constraints of the sheets.

And even though I know it's a bad idea to pursue this liaison even a fraction of an inch further — you don't mix business with pleasure, period, let alone in this line of work, where emotional entanglements will literally get you killed — the only thing I want is to lose myself in her all over again, consequences be fucked.

Which is why — against my better judgement, and against every goddamn protocol — I find myself reaching across to run a fingertip across her delicate skin.

Because let's face it... I'm already up shit creek. So, I may as well ditch the paddle.

Her nose scrunches into a brief mou of disapproval, before she grabs the top of the covers to twist away from me...

...presenting the bareness of her backside in the process.

My gaze dives south like a fish on a lure to trace down the smooth expanse of her back, before settling on the dark cleft nestled between her cheeks... and the promise of its final destination.

Because if that's not a blatant fuckin' invitation, I don't know what is.

Kicking whatever reservations I may have left to the curb — which, if I'm being honest with myself, ain't a whole damn lot to begin with — I slip a hand 'neath the sheets.

Finding the warmth of her skin, my palm tracks briefly upwards to round her hip, before sliding down towards the coveted V between her legs.

She stirs briefly in response to my explorations, but doesn't quite come to...

...which makes me wonder just how far I can push my luck before she catches me out.

Shifting my weight slightly, I prop myself up onto an elbow, gaze trained on her face as my fingers seek their target.

Coasting over the soft flesh of her mons, I hear a low moan rush out of her as she moves against my hand.

My dick bucks against the small of her back like an over-eager hound on a leash, impatient to be let loose. But I keep myself in check, letting the anticipation build one hair's breadth at a time.

Because it's sure as hell gonna be worth it.

Slipping a finger into the heat of her folds, I seek her clit... and groan out loud when I come into contact with the veritable wellspring hidden within.

Because to say that she's wet is an understatement. Every inch of her is still coated in the aftermath of our combined climaxes and my fingers come out soaked.

Damn, that shit should be 'gainst the law...

But as much as a part of me wants to skip the foreplay and just yank her backwards onto my raging hard on, I force myself to take a steadying breath.

Because we erupted outta the gate once already today like a pair of wild broncos, jumping each other before our clothes had fully hit the deck.

And even though that'd been exactly what we'd needed after last night, this time I want to dial it back a gear... to feel her out... to make it last.

As who knows what kind of shit IMF is planning to throw our way when I finally pull my renitent ass outta bed? We could be going deep undercover... Behind enemy lines... Or even off-grid...

So, I'd rather steal the moment now, when I know I have it, than kick myself down the line when neither of us'll be able to avail ourselves of each other.

Because let's face it — Constantine yanked me off of my overdue vacation. So, as far as I'm concerned, he owes me a fuck-ton of time in lieu. And I'm planning to claim it. With interest.

"Mmm..." she moans, vindicating my decision as I start to tease her slick bud.

She twists against me and I drop my head to feather a kiss on her shoulder, drinking in her unguarded reactions as I pull her steadily towards the precipice of consciousness.

Her mouth parts with a more audible gasp as I find her sweet spot. "Drake..."

The sound of my name cascading off her lips like a breathless prayer causes my teeth to sink into her skin.

Fuck, that's hot...

"You awake yet?" I growl, tacitly pressing the issue with the addition of another finger.

"What if...I say... no...?" she mumbles, arcing against me half in protest, half in unabated need.

"I'd say you're a dirty liar," I counter, trailing my tongue up towards her neck.

She scoffs breathlessly, fighting the inevitable. "Yeah, you'd know all about that, wouldn't you, Walker?"

"Perks of the job," I smirk, nipping her ear.

She snorts back at me. "Not sure I'd call that a perk...!"

"Trust me," I grit, snapping her to me. "It's a definite perk."

She yelps as I roll her on top of me in one quick motion, leaving her spread-eagled with her back pressed against my chest.

Wedging her legs apart before she can think to argue, I shove my fingers deep inside her.

"Drake!" she cries, nearly lifting off of me at the sudden intensity.

"Case in point," I smirk, snapping a strategic hand over her breast to pin her back down against me.

She arcs into my hand. "You're such an ass..."

"You sayin' you'd rather wait a decent interval?"

She lifts her arm to tangle her fingers into my hair. "Who wants to be decent?"

"That's what I thought..." I drawl, circling her nipple with a lazy thumb while curling my fingers inside of her.

"You treat..." she gasps, even as her body strains for more, "...all your accomplices like this?"

"You mean, like this?"

"I— Ah...!" she gasps, free hand slapping onto my wrist in desperation as I add a third finger.

"I can stop any time..." I say, sliding in and out of her with deliberate slowness.

She snaps a hold 'round my dick. "Liar."

I swallow a groan with some difficulty. "Got me there, girl..."

She bursts into a laugh above me. "Guess we're just as bad as each other, aren't we?"

"Baby..." I grin, gliding my hand up to her neck. "There ain't enough time in the world for any of this to be bad."

"You say that now, cowboy..." she purrs, teasing me just as relentlessly as I'm teasing her. "But you're a spy in bed with a thief."

"Your point?"

"Right and wrong got left at the door."

I scoff dryly. "D'you wanna go find it?"

"It's a bit late for that..."

I frown. "Thought thieves weren't supposed to have a conscience..."

"Everyone picks up bad habits..." she admits with a rueful exhale.

Something in her tone gives me pause.

Slipping my fingers out of her, I tip her face towards mine...

...to find her hazel gaze welling with uncharacteristic vulnerability.

"Hey," I say, brushing my thumb across the underside of her jaw. "If you're having second thoughts—"

She shakes her head. "It's not that."

"Then?"

"Can I really trust you?" she whispers, almost too quiet for me to hear.

"To the grave," I affirm, holding her gaze.

She snorts softly. "Why do I believe you?"

"'Cause it's the truth," I say simply, rolling her beneath me. "I meant everything I said on that bridge."

"That's what I was worried about..."

"Why?"

"Because," she sighs, wrapping her arms 'round my neck, "this whole thing would be a lot less complicated if you were just another regular two-faced jerk..."

I shake my head with another scoff. "Think that's the first time anyone's called out honesty as a personality flaw."

"I've been disappointed one too many times..." she admits with a rueful roll of her eyes.

"Any chance of setting the record straight?"

"You can try," she shrugs coyly. "But it won't be easy."

"Good," I drawl, closing the distance between us. "I like a challenge."

Her lips tilt up to meet mine, and as I sink back into her, a realisation hits me like a freight train.

I'd do anything for this girl...

It's pitch black by the time I step out onto the street.

But that doesn't mean the city is asleep. The exact opposite, in fact.

The warm sea breeze catches my still-damp hair, bringing with it the shouts and laughter of the locals and tourists thronging the city for the annual Lantern Festival.

And — to be fair to them — it really is a sight to see. Thousands of hand-made lanterns are cast aloft to drift lazily across the city, carrying the hopes and dreams of their makers skywards.

Which is great.

But wishes ain't gonna save the world. So, I still got a job to do.

Adjusting the lapels of the hastily thrown-on leather jacket, I cast one last glance back at the building — and the lone glow of light emanating from the upstairs window — before plunging into the crowd.

I hadn't planned to run the clock down so much. But Gale was apparently a more potent distraction than initially advertised. And by the time I'd even thought to come up for air, it was already well past sundown.

Not that I strictly give a damn.

What I do on my own time is my business — no one else's. And I'd chosen to do Gale. Three more times, in fact. Plus, once more in the shower.

But, unfortunately, I'm now running behind schedule and I need to step to it if I'm gonna make the meet before the end of the 48-hour deadline.

Weaving through the throngs of tourists and locals crowding the narrow streets, I head east towards the city's old quarter.

Hawkers thrust flowers, lanterns, and light-up pinwheels at me, but I brush them off, intent on my destination.

Turning a corner, I arrive at an unassuming gap between two buildings. Slipping into the alleyway, I come upon a faded, wooden door. Locating the intercom, I quickly tap in my unique agent identifier to activate the obligatory retinal scan.

One quick database check, and the lock clicks back.

"Welcome, Agent Walker," chirps the automated voice as the door swings open.

Stepping over the threshold, I find myself in a brightly lit foyer that is in stark contrast to the dilapidated exterior of the building.

Modern minimalist pendant lights illuminate the space, making the spotless Carrara marble that decks the floor shine as if it were wet.

"He is expecting you," advises the receptionist from behind her desk. "Upstairs, first floor."

"Thanks," I nod, turning towards the elevator.

Pressing the call button, the doors ping immediately open and I hit the request for the first floor. One short ride later, I'm stepping out onto industrial carpet.

"Right this way, Agent Walker," indicates a suited Joe sporting a buzzcut and an earpiece.

I shake my head as I fall in behind the guard. The White House wishes it had this kind of security...

Arriving at the pair of double doors, the guard swipes a keycard to let me through.

Constantine is standing on the far side of the room, hands tucked into the pockets of his immaculately tailored suit, gazing out the window.

"Festival's a pain in the ass," he declares, watching the revelry at street level. "You have to wonder how the city manages to avoid setting itself on fire... Please, sit."

I pull out a leather-backed chair from beneath the large tempered glass table and park myself in it.

"I presume things went to plan with Miss Gale?" he asks, back still to me.

"More or less," I admit.

"Good," he nods. "At least that's one thing that hasn't blown up in our face..." Turning to face me, he adds, "I'm sorry I barged in on your vacation."

I shrug. "Sorry I didn't let you know where I was."

"Wouldn't be much of a vacation if you did..." he counters. "We all need time off every once in a while."

"Yeah, well," I say dismissively. "Best laid plans and all that..."

"Quite," he chuckles, spreading his hands over the top of the table. "We'd both be out of the job if nothing ever went awry."

"True," I agree. "But you're sorry and I'm sorry. So—"

"Why did you phrase it like that?"

I frown. "Like what?"

"You're sorry," he repeats, eyeing me intently. "And I'm sorry."

A scoff slides out of me. "You've got to be shitting me..."

"I am very much afraid not," he murmurs, sliding a tablet towards me.

I catch the device on instinct, eyes still on my handler. But whatever he knows, he's not willing to reveal. At least not yet.

Swiping my thumb across the screen to unlock it, I am confronted with a video file.

My finger hovers for a split second above the play icon, wondering what the hell this is all about, before I tap down onto the glass.

Here comes the rabbit hole...

As expected, the familiar face of Dr. Balen Arion fills the screen, albeit older and more haggard than when I last saw him close to a decade ago.

"Do you remember, Draven, when we first met?" the recording asks. "You convinced me that there was a chance of a better world... if each of us made better choices. Well, old friend, I am sorry to say that I failed... As in my zealous pursuit of our hero Bellerophon, I stumbled instead upon... a Chimera."

Balan reaches up to rub his eyes painedly beneath his glasses.

"History will be the final arbiter of my legacy, but in the meantime, I beg you, Draven, come to New York and accompany me to Geneva, immediately. But, however we travel, I must arrive at my destination, within 20 hours of the time-stamp of this message. I fear I can entrust this to no one but you. As we say, 'I'm sorry and you're sorry'..."

The video cuts out.

"Do you have any idea what in the blazes he's on about?" asks Constantine.

"An idea?" I mutter, still staring at the screen. "Yeah."

"Which is?"

"That it's a good idea to pick him up in a hurry. And a bad idea to fly him on a commercial carrier." I flip the tablet back to the end of the table. "So, let's get to it. Is he still in New York?"

"Dr. Balen Arion is dead," Constantine declares. "So is his colleague Damien Dan. But that happened earlier."

My head snaps up. "How?"

"The American Airlines flight he was on went down over the Atlantic. The search for survivors is still ongoing, but at this point, all 467 souls onboard are lost, presumed dead."

Something doesn't compute. "How the hell did you convince him to get on that plane without me?"

A ghost of a smile flicks across the old man's lips. "Oh, you were there..."

My guts hit the floor. Oh, fuck.

"Arion gave us a tight deadline," Constantine explains, opening up another file on the tablet and shunting it back to me, "So, when we couldn't find you, we had to replace you. Christian Rhys was the obvious choice."

The device skids to a stop in front of me and I watch with growing aggravation as a physiognomic algorithm maps out my features before transposing them onto Chris' to create a virtual mock-up of a full-face mask.

Of all the damn—

"Agent Rhys doubled you, what...?" The old man's voice cuts through my thoughts. "Two, three times?"

"Twice," I grunt, tossing the tablet back at him again.

Constantine catches the device with one hand. "What did you think of him?"

"We're not exactly compatible," I bite out acerbically. "Isn't it a little late in the damn day to be asking me that?

"Not necessarily..."

"Jesus fucking—"

The tablet slides into my eyeline again.

"Official AA records list a Captain James T. Arnolds as the pilot for the ill-fated flight," Constantine advises, as a slideshow of photos plays. "And as far as the media and all governmental agencies are concerned, Captain Arnolds met the same watery fate as the rest of his crew."

Images of what the rescue effort could salvage of the wreckage spin past on the screen.

My jaw tightens. Damn, that's a shit way to go...

"However, that is not quite what happened," my handler reveals. "It appears that the poor captain ran into a spot of bother with ground control. Something about lost and unclaimed luggage..."

A gruesome photo of a beat-up body spilling out of a duffle bag in ways that should not be physically possible flashes up before me.

"So, we're dealing with a hijacking," I surmise tightly.

"It would appear so, yes," Constantine nods. "Whoever downed that flight was skilfull enough to cover their tracks and make it look like an accident. Well... Almost an accident. Captain Arnolds' body turning up unexpectedly at Heathrow certainly raises some awkward questions."

I flick the tablet away. "As does an IMF agent gone rogue."

Constantine meets my eye from across the table. "So, you think it was Rhys."

I scoff. "Arian was a world-renowned microbiologist who specialised in DNA-RNA recombination. Whatever he was in such a hurry to get to the WHO in Geneva was obviously valuable enough for Chris to bring an entire plane down over."

"With a name like Chimera, I presume it's safe to assume that we're dealing with some novel form of virus?" my handler muses. "One that has the potential to be turned into a bio-weapon?"

"Given that Arion started his career in a Drakovian basement trying to weaponise the common cold?" I ask sardonically. "Yeah... That's a definite possibility."

Constantine nods. "In that case, you've got to recover this so-called Chimera and bring it to us."

"No shit," I agree. "We just need to figure out who he plans on selling this thing to."

"That is where Miss Gale comes in."

"How?" I snark. "By getting her to pose as the buyer? No way. Even with her skills as a thief, it's—"

"That isn't quite what I meant, Drake..."

I frown. "Then...?"

"Miss Gale and Agent Rhys had a relationship," Constantine advises evenly. "One that he took very seriously. She walked away, and he's been wanting her back ever since. I have been assured that she is our surest and quickest way of flushing him out."

"So, let me get this straight..." I bite out with more difficulty than I'd've thought possible, given that I only just met this girl. "You want to use her as some kind of swallow to set up a honey trap op?"

"If you want to put such a crude label on it," comes the dispassionate response. "The goal is for him to confide in her — the identity of the buyer, the details of the meet, anything that may be useful — and report back to you. If sex is required to fulfill that objective, then she is well within her rights to resort to it. No one's going to judge her for her actions. She is a civilian, after all."

"You made it sound like I was recruiting her for her skills as a thief," I accuse, my voice dripping with acridity.

"Well, then I mislead you," Constantine admits, spreading his palms. "Or you made the wrong assumption. Either way, we're merely asking her to resume a prior relationship, not do anything she hasn't already done."

My lips pull back to reveal teeth. "She's got no training for this kind of thing..."

"You mean, to go to bed with a man and lie to him?" Constantine smirks. "She's a woman. She's got all the training she needs."

I shoot up from the chair, fists clenched.

Constantine meets my eye calmly.

I turn away, jaw tight. "I don't think I can get her to do it."

"You mean it will be difficult?"

"You haven't met her," I tell him dryly.

"Well, Agent Walker," declares the old man from behind me. "This is not Mission: Difficult. This is Mission: Impossible. Difficult should be a walk in the park for you."

I run my hand through my hair with an acerbic scoff.

Saddling and riding a damn croc would be easier...

"But it is not my job to tell you how to do yours," Constantine continues conversationally. "So, if you can think of a faster, more... palatable way to get to Agent Rhys, you are welcome to try. Just be mindful that time is not our ally. Since the plane crash, there has been a marked uptick in bio-weapons-related chatter amongst the denizens of the dark web. Our guess is that whatever Rhys is planning with Chimera, it is imminent."

"Noted," I grunt, still trying to figure out how the fuck I'm gonna break the news to Gale without her castrating me... Or worse — stealing the keys to the Porsche and vanishing into the night.

"If you feel that some... leverage may be helpful, feel free to show her the images on that device," Constantine instructs, sliding the tablet back to me once more. "A picture is worth a thousand words, after all..."

"You want me to appeal to her conscience?" I snort, turning around.

"The fact that she agreed to come with you indicates that she has some measure of compunction."

"Yeah," I snark, snatching the tablet up. "Damn sure she'll be regretting that decision by the end of the night."

Christ, this is gonna be a shit show…

Permatags

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Picture credits:

Drake - Bed - Harper - Dossier

#harper gale #drake walker #the royal romance #morally grey #mission: impossible #mashup #Spotify #Youtube

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im-not-buying-it-ether · 18 days ago

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First meetings between the Chief and the Drake

Tim honesty doesn’t know why he has to work with The Chief (or whatever the hell he’s called back in good ol’ Fawcett)

Why does an entire pseudo family of magic users even have a tech guy??

“They have useful information on the group were dealing with Tim,” rang-out Oracle’s heavily disguised voice. Ready for further hide her identity behind the screen to his left for when the expected Marvel finds his way to the Bat-cave. “With all the magic issues we already have to power through without outside assistance I think its nice we have more to rely on than just Zatanna or Jason whenever they’re in town.”

Tim fidgeted in the Bat-chair, swishing the tea Alfred made for him earlier in his mug. “I know but the whole family is a deck of wild cards, how do six people capable of taking on Superman on an off day just pop out of the woodwork with no history other than ancient the kind Babs?” Tim took another once over of the cave security cams and aerial footage of the manor’s surroundings, “We only found out about the rest of the family two weeks ago because of that shitty Luthor-Sivanna team up, Cap has a whole team hidden away in his city or that Rock place he mentions once in a blue moon and he never mentioned there being more of him.” Tim flew his empty hand up in the air, “and now Bruce is pulling his hair out trying to research what his now a minor pantheon of ‘heroes that are probably weird ass new gods’ and is going grey-er than normal finding nothing!”

At the end of that mini rant Tim could feel the disinterested, patient look from behind Barbra’s monitor, “Got the bats out of the cave now?”

“Is that some kind of family saying?” Questioned a voice from the nearby medical platform, The Chief had bypassed cave security at some point unknown to Tim.

Good god Bruce needs some anti magic runes or something…

“Oh!” The man startled when Tim head snapped to his direction, hovering in front of the door of a containment room or when they need to hold someone infected with anything from new fear gas to a zombie virus.

Why is he just floating there? Shouldn’t he be by the elevator or the Zetta tube if he just got here?

“Sorry, I’m uh- heh,” he hovered down closer to the Bat-computer, one hand rubbing his neck nervously and the other in mock surrender. “Cap said I needed to pop by to pass on what we know on Dionysian cult practices and what the stuff you guys found exactly does?”

There was a tense moment, one normally shared between vaguely Batman like heroes and vaguely Superman like heroes. Where one looks the other over studying for the slightest hint of evidence to their theories in everything about them, their form, the choice in costume design, the body language, to even the slightest hair out of place. All done in a fraction of a second to not force the subject of the inspection into trying to hide anything after the fact, all while the other acts so painfully normal and human that it throws every speculation out the window. Too nervous in the face of a mortal man to be anything approximating an immortal being or god, but proven to be far too strong to be anything but.

His proclaimed older brother wiped the floor with a Superman infected by red kryptonite. He broke the man of steels arm and bruised multiple ribs subduing him so that he wouldn’t knock down another building. The Captain had been able to catch up to and outrun Wally when a bomb got strapped to his wrist and disarmed it while still flying faster than the man could run. None of the Marvels have documented limits in all the battles they’ve joined the league on, short of the minor annoyance of a magical attack. One of them is the dictator of a small country. They pop in and out of existence for superhero duties on a whim. Good god Bruce why did you have to rub this specific paranoia onto me?

“I’m going to hazard a guess and say our magic friend has arrived?” Oracles distorted voice snapped him from staring the lanky hero down, just now noticing the outstretched hand waiting to shake his. Turning back to the monitor Tim replied a curt, “He’s here.” Ignoring the childishly dejected look of the possibly thousands years old or freshly spawned being of magic to his right.

“So,” the hero in grey clapped his hands, “I can just upload the data we’ve got on them to the Bat-Computer here and just head out for you guys to do your, uh, Bat…thing?”

“That would be be-”

“Do you have the files physically on hand, on a drive, or on another device we’ll have to link to the computer?” Oracle interjected, startling both men.

“Oh, uh, well…” he began flexing and un-flexing his fingers, “I can literally kinda just, well I can basically upload everything I know in my head to what you’ve got here?” Probably realizing how odd even that sounded he rushed to clarify, “I-I’m basically like a magic technopath or whatever it's called, I can talk to machines and control them to a degree. Not like flinging keyboards with my mind or talking politics with a toaster levels of talk but I can just y’know,” he gestured between his head and the many screens, “Take what's up here that you need and put it in here?”

The man gave a unsure and lopsided grin, as if hearing how near absurd it sounded to have the ability to mix two polar systems together so seamlessly to be as simple as a data transfer between a computer and a human maybe human mind with magic. A force that has famously never worked well with modern machines or technology without major repercussions or those machines fusing with the person trying to mix them, the closest they’ve gotten that doesn’t instantly mutate the user or straight up explode is when Cyborg connects to New Gods Tech and even then its a gamble of if he can do anything with it or if it will infect him with some kind of virus.

He’s nervous mentioning it but he has an air of confidence like hes done this before, but also as if its common knowledge for him but something to withhold from Red Robin. Tim wonders if this is a universal power for his “family” but replays how he phrased it in his mind, he only said “I” and not “we”, it’s most likely a power specific to him or only he’s been able to master.

#From the time before Bat-swap #Draft posting #Always wanted to do the marvel/bats crossover fics. Just my kinda vibe #definitly not finished but its been way too long to go the og route on this #whatever that was #old tags ->#the kids are really nervous around the bats #understandable because this is a seasoned crime fighter you have action figures of and probably went as for Halloween #and you still have recess everyday an munch on fruit snacks for lunch #probably worse when theres also horror stories from other heroes and villians (one being your brother) preaching abt their paranoia #the contingency plans are known of #and the marvels are shooketh

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radiatorchains · 10 months ago

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It was the hour before proper sundown, the sky still holding onto the last few pink threads of the day and scattered the hue onto the snow choked surroundings in a wash of orange and violet. A moment of calm between the slow but mechanical work of the day and the quicker and more chaotic tasks that came with the waking of the master of the land.

Jain leaned against a half-felled tree, dead but propped up against another living brother as support. He listened to Wojtek as the other prattled on about his previous life, of college studies and the various insects and bugs he had managed to find despite the choking grasp of winter having wiped out most of them, of his interest in the coming spring. Casually the deformed ghoul would drop some heart sinking reminder of his current situation, and the desperate grasp at hope and light despite it. Jain had listened in pensive silence as he usually did for Wojtek- part of him doubted the kid had many he could talk at who could understand him.

There was a moment of silence that hung in the dying light between them, Wojtek having lamented of his previous hunting 'excursion', of the guilt that came with killing despite it being necessary, good even. Why was there guilt with it? Did it ever get easy? Jain let the silence linger for a moment like the cigarette smoke that billowed from his nose and mingled with warm breath that clouded in the cold. He took another drag of his rolled cigarette before his deep, accented voice broke across them.

"I was nineteen I guess- eighteen, nineteen?- working on the patch crew for the highway department, patchin' holes in the road. We'd get up early in the morning, go up the gravel plant and haul a truckload of coal mix which wasn't worth a shit anyway, guess it was cheaper on them to recycle it, I guess. One good rain comes along and washes it right out and we'd be out there again fixin' it," he spoke slowly as he propped the sole of his boot up behind him on the tree he leaned on.

"We were out on 69, saw a couple good gouges out there on the side of the road. We stopped, got our shovels and started piling up the ol' coal mix in the holes. Rakin' it, tampin' it down. Tampin' it down, rakin' it. And I...heard somethin'- kinda moanin', kinda howlin'. Kinda moanin'- an' I looked there right there off the side of the road right off 69 a shepherd-collie mix it looked like to me. The ol' thing was crushed- whole back half of it was crushed bad. It was...pullin' itself by it's front paws, tryna get itself across the road and jus'...moanin'," he made a slight swimming motion with the hand that held the nearly finished cigarette, looking off to the tree line before bringing the cigarette back to his lips to take a drag.

"Well I had my gloves on me, so I went over and got it by the front legs to pull it over and it jus' started screaming- now 'course a wounded animal'll bite you so it bit me a couple times but I got the gloves on, but even then it nipped me a couple times on the arm. I pulled it on into the ditch, and the other boys they were kinda standin' back starin' wide-eyed at me. One of 'em spoke up sayin' shit like 'we gotta get that thing to a vet or somethin'" an' I told them boys the dog is dead, it's already dead. They said 'no it ain't' I said Yes, the dog's dead, the dog's dead already,"

"Well I got my shovel, raised it up in the air. Jus' before I struck the first blow it looked up at me- kind of a 'thank you' and 'fuck you' all at the same time. See, it knew what I was gonna do and it knew why, the dog knew why...." Jain's tone softenened only a moment, brow furrowed for a fraction of a fraction of a second before his expression and tone returned to neutrality.

"So I hit it,"

He took another drag.

"Then the other boys started shoutin' and yellin' 'Whatchyu do that for?!'. Well I said the dog was dead, guys, the dog was already dead you understand me??" There was a brief hint of recalled agitation from the memory, a shade of it in his eyes and tone, though was soon replaced with a far newer emotion.

"You just- can't explain things to some people. It ain't like I don't think about it...."

"It ain't like I wanted to..."

Jain grew quiet again, taking the last drag of his cigarette. The orange embers starting to become the last light that was available to them in the cold, quiet forest, made heavy by the new silence between them. Jain once again was the one to break it, pushing himself off the tree and started to walk back towards the old house with the sound of his boots crunching the snow underfoot.

"C'mon, showtime."

#drabbles #//if you get it you get it//#animal death mention tw

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5point1--blog · 6 months ago

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what doesn't kill me gives me exp

introductory writing sample — cw: blood, violence

"Kafka, it's almost day reset. If I don't get my dailies done in the next ten minutes, I won't be able to claim the rewards." There was a whiny undertone to the young woman's complaint. The Stellaron Hunters had been out on a mission all morning and afternoon, and it was now system time 16:48:21. Part of being a hacker and a gamer was having a good memory; a certain amount of bandwidth in Silver Wolf's head was taken up to memorize the times associated with reward resets in her games. System time 17:00:00 was rapidly approaching, with not a second to waste. Surely, Elio's script could accommodate a measly few minutes to speedrun daily commissions?

Of course, nothing was stopping Silver Wolf from spending lavishly on ingame currency to make up for whatever she might have missed, were the day to roll over. However, to her, it was about the principle of things: keeping up her daily gaming streak to get the max amount of rewards, and feeling like you actually earned your gacha pulls. What's the fun of tossing exorbitant amounts of money at a game she would eventually beat in totality and grow bored of immediately? It's the challenge and the effort that matters. Funnily enough, this line of thinking also aligned to her view of life as a whole. Life to her was a game, and she'd long since maxed her level on Punklorde before Elio found her. Now, being able to traverse countless worlds and meet millions of NPCs and likeminded gamers meant she was living the dream.

System time now read 16:49:51. Silver Wolf did not even wait to consider Kafka's response, nor did her eyes peek up at the chaos ensuing before her (though she did wish Sam and Blade would pipe down a bit; her wireless earbuds were out of charge and all the combat noises in real life were drowning out the OST to her game). It's not like she could have exactly helped with the brute force work anyways - that was not Silver Wolf's expertise. Her deft fingers rapidly tapped across the screen of her phone, equipped with state-of-the-art processor to make switching between games and running multiple games within the screen easy. AFK daily rewards, collected; MMORPG commissions, completed; FPS battle pass rewards, claimed. Silver Wolf tabbed in and out from game to game. This was but a fraction of her true skill - support through technological means, even though it was now used for something that the rest of the Stellaron Hunters would consider "meaningless." Not to worry, she wasn't dead weight - the next time a security system needed to be bypassed, there truly would be nobody better for the job (as long as you don't mention Screwllum's name).

System time read 17:00:04. She was able to complete all of her game dailies except one. Really, by now she should have known to step away from the action so blood wouldn't get on her screen and murk up the display - that was precious time wasted to wipe it off and continue her missions. "Sam! Come on, I was on my last NPC dialogue!"

That was the last thing that poor fellow that now lay lifeless on the ground heard. It was almost a pity her "only" contributions to this mission were all the intricacies of getting the team from point A to point B, including intel collection and manipulating basically anything electronic in the vicinity for the benefit of the end goal. Still, a 5.1 billion credit bounty doesn't get put on your head without you doing something serious to warrant it. Criminal? Maybe so. Look at it from a different perspective - she just chose the villain class on this save of the game since it had the most story paths, that's all.

#NEW POST: what doesn't kill me gives me exp #[ me when i'm in a competition to choose the most unserious post title and my opponent is tumblr user @5point1 #➔ @5point1: advance dialogue

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apsupmix · 1 year ago

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Tiny gameruining bits

There are games that are fine, good even, smooth experiences 99% of the time, but then they have just few bits that sour the whole game on me. Usually it’s difficulty thing, but not just things getting hard, but game asking for level of understanding of mechanics that nothing before prepared me for. Often it’s just me begin bad, getting hit with sudden challenge wall doesn’t feel good, though sometimes it’s on the game being bit of shit in some small way. But still it’s just few bits, insignificant amount of a game that ends up being main thing I think when I look back to that game.

One of the games I’ve thought like this for longest time is Mirror’s Edge. It was first person parkour game, all about fast smooth movement and momentum. And most of the time, that game felt so good to play, fast and fun. But when I recall the game, what I remember the most are bits where the momentum stopped, because I missed the route ahead or some other issue hindered me. Or that one bit with horizontal bars, swinging and jumping from one to another and missing time and time and time again. Rest could have been player issue, but for that I blame the game for.

This is also how I tend to think about Tales of -games. Most of the time I’m having good time, mashing out combos and moves without too much thought and it works. And then comes bit where the game seems to ask more than that, and I’m completely unprepared. Tales of Vesperia in my mind is defined by the final boss of Act 2, scrambling, running, trying to survive seemingly random party-wiping Mystic Artes. Again most of the rest of the game was good. But when I think about it, I think how I felt like an idiot, not understanding battle system I had played with for tens of hours.

And one more, but this time with some contrast. I hate Sekiro. I loathe it. Thinking about it makes me little bit angry. And that comes from tiny fraction of the game, few annoying bosses and enemies. Most of it comes from me hitting my head against the final boss for couple play sessions, trying, pleading, crying, hoping, praying, for the pain to end. And once it did I was 100% done with the game. But interestingly same doesn’t apply to Dark Souls. There are definitely Dark Souls bosses that have stopped me and made me angry and frustrated, some that I just think are bad and shit and should not be in the games. And same goes for Bloodborne and Elden Ring. The frustrations in those games never color the whole game in the way that happened with Sekiro. If I were to guess I could say there is something in the way Sekiro is very focused, asking for one thing, where rest of Fromsoftware’s catalog gives more options for player to pick their approach and playstyle. That matters, helps at least.

I do feel that my relationship with fighting games is also related to this issue, but I don’t want to go there now. I’ve done enough complaining for the day. It’s not that I just wanted to complain, I think this whole thing is fascinating. Curious how my brain can latch on small things and paint over large wholes with it. Also if I ever say that game is “good but” the ‘but’ might be loud, but small.

#videogames #apsup rambling

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whentherewerebicycles · 2 years ago

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okay sigh I slept on the job despair and feel a little better this morning. I think my despair has to do with feeling like I was misled a little bit in the interview process… or maybe I wanted to hear certain things and wasn’t listening closely enough to other things. my impression was that stuff like preparing briefings was going to be a very small fraction of my job, and that the bulk of my time would be spent on instructional work: planning and facilitating workshops, coaching staff one-on-one, and helping design & implement a comprehensive new professional development program. I love working with people and I love that big-picture strategic thinking curriculum design work, so I think I’d be reasonably happy in this role if it was the one described to me in my interviews. but the reality of this job is that I work alone 97% of the time—and most of that time is spent either on clerical tasks I could’ve handled in high school or on things I have no skillset for or interest in (like graphic design work). and while I get along much better with my team lead now and like her a lot as a person, I still feel really frustrated by the way she prioritizes tasks for our team and by the way she manages my workload even when I’m practically begging her to let me take on more (meaningful) work, like planning a writing workshop or developing a cohort-based leadership training series. I feel like she doesn’t want to take on extra projects as a team, which fine, but I’ve literally said to her multiple times that I don’t have enough to do and I don’t feel like the work I am doing is utilizing the skills I was ostensibly hired for. I don’t know how else to communicate that I’m desperate for purposeful work and would gladly take on those projects even if she wants to be minimally involved. and then as I’ve said before in my journaling about this job… I just hate the way that giving 10% of what I’m capable of makes me feel. I hate feeling like a person who’s content with just skating by, doing the bare minimum, not applying myself with any kind of focus or energy. it makes me feel Bad about myself and just lowkey demoralized all the time. blahhhh.

but okay. I’m not powerless here. I set up some new job alerts and am going to start updating my materials over the next couple weeks just in case anything comes up. there’s one job I’m looking at that would come with a pretty hefty pay cut, but I should be able to close that gap a bit if I start tutoring again and/or teach a couple classes a year. I’ve reached out about a couple of volunteer positions and will submit a few more applications this weekend. I might also apply for a tutoring job so I can start socking away some extra savings as a cushion if needed. I did a bunch of calculations last night to try to figure out what I need to cover rent, childcare expenses, etc. I think I can make do just fine on a lower salary—it’ll make things a little bit tighter with less margin for error (or unexpected disaster), but it should be possible.

anyway enough of that. it’s the weekend and I have three whole days off!!! my sister’s coming over tonight for a NYE sleepover… we’re going to watch glass onion and cook a delicious feast (aloo gobi, chickpea curry, homemade naan). today is supposed to be cool and cloudy with no rain. I would like to do the following things today:

HOME TASKS: empty & reload dishwasher, wipe down shelves and counters, clean out fridge, vacuum kitchen rug, take out recycling, give dogs their flea/tick meds

ERRANDS: get gas, drop off UPS packages, drop off USPS packages, do home goods return & look at pans, drop by target to grab groceries and a pan if home goods doesn’t have any good ones

EXERCISE: take dogs to a new neighborhood trail on my list and go for a short run after. or I’ve kind of been itching to rollerblade again… maybe I’ll try this paved trail near my house?

CREATIVE: read 30 pages of book, write at least 500 words

#blah blah blah #i have a tag on my period tracker app that’s like #‘tired of the sound of my own voice’#and that’s the mood lately lol

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ablinkntime · 2 months ago

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@snkts // from here

When you were one of very few teleporters available for the X-Men to call upon, it was only logical that they would, given the need, pull your name once in a while. For a mission in which something as loud and obvious as a jet (even a highly advanced one) could blow the whole thing. This was Clarice's bread and butter -- get in, do the work, get everybody home again as whole as possible. It was what she was trained for.

Didn't mean the occasional spanner didn't get lodged in the works. There were still wrinkles in the whole dynamic since she'd gotten unceremoniously wedged into this family structure, and it meant everybody was off their game, even if it was just by a fractional degree. She was used to taking charge. That wasn't her place now.

The mission was simple. Nest of mutant-haters with a stockpile of guns and a database they shouldn't have. Get in, steal or destroy the database, clear out the weapons, get back home. Only hitch might be that their funding seemed a little too stable to be homegrown. The good news is they were able to get the info off the database relatively intact before they blew it up.

The bad news is the residents of the base kept throwing themselves at Logan's claws. Clarice was good about sticking behind him, only picking off the ones who got too close and didn't seem to have the crosshairs of the Wolverine on them -- but she did take a few grazes in spite of that. Botched a teleport trying to get out of range of a pistol shot -- it grazed her shoulder, nicked one of the rondels on her uniform so it was cracked in half. Blood oozed down her skin, staining the suit, but it didn't slow her down.

Nothing did, until the job was done.

Only when she was absolutely sure, when the denizens of this nest of fools had either fled or bled out, did she let her guard down -- only to be suddenly hauled against Logan's chest, and she only stiffened for a moment before she relaxed, let the hard mask fall off her face as her head thumped against his shoulder. Breathe a sigh as the tension eased off, her own arms winding around his middle to return the gentle pressure.

"Learned from the best," she murmured, wiping at something on her face -- a smear of blood and debris, but if it had been there already or been transferred from Logan's suit she neither knew nor cared. She winced; moving her arm had aggravated her shoulder, re-opening the wound. "Ah -- crap." She pulled back, pulled her hair to one side -- she couldn't see -- "One of 'em got a lucky shot, how's it look...?"

#ic ⧫ yeah. that's me. miss marvel #snkts #v: daddies don't let your babies grow up to be x-men

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goddamnwebcomics · 8 months ago

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*Draconia Chronicles

*Since someone did Slightly Damned, I’m doing this.

It’s a fantasy, somewhat soft-pornographic webcomic by Danny Valentini (AKA RazorFox).

Since the distant past, tigers and dragons have been in a never-ending war with each other for centuries. While the reason for the conflict has been lost, the unending hunger for vengeance on either side has been fueling these creatures into genocidal lust over the other until one race is wiped off the planet. The eternal war has also brought internal troubles for both races. Fractions and disagreements have been growing stronger within the ranks of both races, and a few have started to become disillusioned with the lost cause of the war entirely. What makes this even worse for both tigers and dragons is the presence of other animal races working against both of the warring groups to possibly bring them both down unless the two races work together to survive.

The comic’s quality is both hard for me to say and yet not too hard to explain. The most positive thing I can say is that the art is the least horrendous thing about it, ignoring the sometimes oddly shaped body types of each of the cast members that are shared by both races. Personally, for me, the writing makes the comic pretty dull to read and shockingly slow in how the story progresses. It mainly attempts to be a serious story with its tackling of war, how said war has caused a lot of generational trauma and tragedy on both sides, the growing split within both of the race’s societies due to the failings each side deals with in the war, and other supposedly gray morality subjects that the author could possibly write in. It, however, has to also try to balance all of that out with the comedy and fanservice aspect of the comic, which, unsurprisingly since this comic was originally just a series of calendars, can throw off the tone and one’s reading engagement for the majority of the time. I swear, so many of these characters fall into the category of being both overly whiny, unforgiving, and melodramatic, all at the same time, that whatever humor or semi-serious tone in a given scene just falters. You are not going to remember many of these guys outside of maybe four or so characters interchangeably, not like it’s an easy task to begin with anyway. And yes, the fanservice can also pull you out of the whole story, with everyone practically being naked all of the time and/or horny so frequently—the tigers in both cases especially. Oh, and if you’re wondering where the males are in either race, they’re there. They’re just usually gone, are feral (quadrapedic), unlike the anthropomorphic tiger and dragon women, and don’t take part in the war at all. They’re just breeding stocks, if I’m being honest. I’m not even sure why only the feral dragons can talk at all.

As I’ve said before, the comic did originally start as a series of calendars, so there’s already some pre-story elements in them that lead into, I believe, chapters one or two and onward. You don’t really need to read it, as the comic itself and its about page sum it up, but if you want to punish yourself more, you’re free to read it here.

This is so goddamn weird. All this time I thought Draconia Chronicles was just Las Lindas with dragons but apparently not.

I am not saying comics with a lot of fanservice couldn’t have serious stories but this is ridiculous. The artstyle alone clashes so much with the actual themes of the comic.

#bad webcomic #weird webcomic #furry webcomic #not exactly safe for work #submission

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jessblogs · 10 months ago

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This is 2024. This is 22.

Lunar New Year is a time when family comes together to wish better for the next year. We wish good health on the elderly and good education upon the young. This year Lunar New Year is on Saturday, which ironically is the only day my family is together every week. While that sounds great in theory, it sucks.

This is 2024. This is 22. This year has secretly sucked as an aftermath of last year.

My parents losing their job was so surreal. They've worked their almost my whole life. It was a norm to see my mom be home by 2:44pm everyday and my dad to get home by 6:00pm. It was a norm for us to eat family dinners together by 6:30pm. It was a norm for everyone to be on the couch by 7:30pm, watching whatever vlog my dad was playing on Youtube and listening to my mom watch her Youtube videos and my dad speaking to my uncle while my brother was on his phone or the game and I was on my own device. There were times when I stayed late at school or went out during these hours, but for the most part that was the norm. I took these norms for granted.

After my mom initially lost her job, the turnaround for her new job was so rapid that I felt like she never began a new job. But little by little I would feel the emptiness. My mom may have never been one to speak a lot during dinner as she is a slow eater, but her presence was always missing. My dad sort of take part of her role; do the dishes, wipe the table and though my mom would never let us cook our own meal even when she wasn't there, it just never felt the same. I would hear her come home at 2:30am when she doesn't know I'm awake, but never see her. It was the only way I knew she was okay, at least physically. As abnormal as this was, at least we still had Friday, Saturday, and Sundays. I would come home on Fridays knowing I would see my family whole again. I would hear her talk to my dad about how much she hates her new coworkers and how hard adjusting to this new job was. This was probably when the guilt started to seep in unknowingly.

A few weeks later, my dad lost his job. Every Sunday became File for Unemployment Day. It was unfortunate, he had too much time on his hands and not enough to do. He spent time trying to fix things, once even falling on a chair and hurting his leg, but at least my family would be all together every evening — it was a fraction of what it used to be, but it was still there.

As weeks went by, he was becoming uneasy and needed a job. Initially my parents planned to work at the same company again, but it just didn't work out. The funds were slowly draining and even though they'd never admit it, it was worrisome to provide for two children with one being in college and the other being a teenage boy who needs all he can get. Right before the holidays, he did find a job. I thought he would be working second shift — the same/similar hours to my mom if not earlier — so things would not shift at once. Boy, was I wrong. His shifts became night shifts, I would never see him. He slept as I woke and woke as I slept. I saw him for 2 hours at most before he left and that was if I was lucky enough to be home on time. He may not have worked Fridays, but my Fridays were still booked. We would have the short hours of Saturday as a family and by Sunday it was back to the weekly routine. I felt like I didn't have my parents anymore. I took our dinners together, their excessive noise in the living from their respective activities, the rants and bickering — I took it all for granted. Now who knows when things will be whole again.

This is when the guilt took its turn. My friends were graduating and getting real jobs. I may have taken an extra year for myself and though not a waste based on the experience I've gained, sure felt like it. I've grown, matured, learned from my mistakes, but at what cost? I had to figure out what the hell I was doing with my life. Because while my parents went to work everyday aiming to provide for their beloved children, little do they know that I spent the first three years of my college career compensating for all the classes I failed, withdrew from, mistakes I made. I was no longer pre-med, barely pre-pa, and switching to a field I never considered in my life. I hated my major, I made mistakes, I inevitably needed more school. But I had to decide. I could no longer bare to see my parents getting older, but still being on the move. It broke my heart to see the dark circles form under my dad's eyes as he made his coffee for the night. I could no longer bare to look at the stress in my mom's eyes when she talked about how she was yelled at the night before at work. I can longer bare to tolerate the bickering as my parents yelled at each other from frustration because they were tired. Time has become torture. I say I need just two, maybe three more years, but what if it isn't enough? I can't hope for longer, the clock is ticking. I need to retire my parents and get my brother through college for them. I had to help pay for that future house in Georgia and their first Lexus. I had to be the solution to all their problems — their one and only daughter, their golden child. I had to do it for them. They are my why, my how, my what, my when.

They've always said that everything they've done is for me. For me to succeed, survive, live, be better. I needed to be better. I needed to succeed and be survive, live, but not just for myself. For them. I need to do everything I can, so they can finally stop moving. I am so tired of watching them move. This is 2024. This is 22.

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