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owlsandwich · 9 months ago

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The Mechanics of Magic

Read along with me :D - Chapter 18

It's been a while, but here's Roy sneaking through some state rooms!

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Thick carpet muffled the sound of Roy’s steps as he crept through the empty state rooms. Even the air smelt more expensive up here. Arched windows to his left provided a sweeping view of the party that continued in the gardens below, but there was little time to admire the scenery; he needed to find something alarmed, sharpish.

He stopped under a painting that would have spanned the length and height of his own bedroom, and noticed the red dot of a security camera blinking from the corner of the ceiling. Taking it out might well cause the disturbance he wanted, but as he was preparing the spell, he paused.

What were the chances they’d notice one broken camera? But then again, destroying more than one would spread the guards looking for him over a wider area and limit his escape options, not to mention reducing the effectiveness of the distraction. Better to draw them to a single location and give Matthew the space he needed.

He was still wearing the jacket he’d taken from the staff room; with any luck, it would keep the surveillance team off him until he wanted to do the opposite.

Roy pressed on, casting out with his magic sense for something more dramatic. A multitude of passive spells answered his exploratory sensing, but none of them were alarms as Matthew had promised. Perhaps he wasn’t supposed to have gone up as far as the top floor?

As if in answer, he found himself in a long, wood-panelled corridor. A wide staircase to his left curved down, out of sight. In the hall ahead, there was a vibrant magic signal that could only mean an advanced lock. Roy hurried forward, ignoring the distant sounds of movement and talking from the floors below.

The source of the magic was a door of carved, dark wood. Beside it, a pillar held a vase of freshly cut flowers and Roy plucked a white petal, rubbing it between his finger and thumb, as he assessed the passive spell. As expected, it was a strong lock, though not the type he’d practiced with his mother. Trying to enter without authorisation would cause the distraction he needed, though he couldn’t tell whether that would be an audible alarm from the door itself, or from somewhere else in the palace.

Eyes seeing only the magic, it took Roy a moment to notice the golden plaque beside the door: High Minister Morgan Heliodor.

He crushed the petal between his fingers, fear and rage fighting for dominance over his pounding heart. This is Morgan’s office. Afteryears of questioning. Questions that had seen him break into Felix Marek’s house in the first place. Now, all that might stand between him and the answer to his mother’s death was a piece of wood. He was going in.

Decision made, Roy focussed his mind on his task. With his hand on the door, he searched for the subtle energy shift that would indicate the caster’s starting point — the place where they had most strongly focussed their intention. He bit his lip, realising he’d found more than he was searching for.

A subtle, second spell lay under the first; a backup alarm that would alert if the main lock was deactivated. It would be easy enough for him to remove now he’d noticed it…

But Matthew needed a distraction.

Roy looked back at the door. There’d be another alarm further along. He just needed a bit of time to poke around, then he’d set off the next one.

Even as he thought it, he knew he was kidding himself. Matthew didn’t have time to spare, and Roy doubted any of the information he was looking for would just be left out in the open. This room was exactly the kind of thing he’d been looking for. Their best chance.

Both the alarm and the lock spell shone bright in his mind. Then, with a momentary lament for his reputation, he sent a spur of energy directly into the lock’s weak point, bracing himself for the alarm that would follow. Never mind, ey? There’s always next year.

The moment he did so, his vision went black. He barely felt himself falling as a wave of dizziness and nausea rushed through his body.

As fast as it had come, the darkness receded. Roy sat up and rubbed the side of his head where it had struck the wall. What the hell was that? There had been no sign that the secondary alarm contained a defence mechanism, and it hadn’t been much of an effective attack anyway, unless you counted the head-bump. Even so, he’d hoped that causing a distraction would be less painful.

As the sore spot eased, he stood and opened the now unlocked door. Light from the corridor illuminated a large desk, but his eyes hadn’t adjusted enough to make out any more. From here, it looked just like an ordinary office. He lifted a foot to cross the threshold.

“Stop right there!”

The shout came from behind him and Roy froze. Part of him had still hoped he’d have time.

“Freeze! Don’t move!” The voice came again as Roy backed away from the door, and he thought he detected a squeak in it.

A few paces towards the stairs, partially obscured by the pillar, stood a young guard. He held some sort of gun, the barrel of which was quivering but pointing straight at him. Great. Roy rolled his eyes and held his hands out the way he had seen in those Velbian movies.

“I’m not moving, see?” Roy said, working on generating a shield as he spoke. At least there was only one guard and, given the fact that Roy couldn’t sense him, he wasn’t a mage. That likely made him as young as he looked. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t, you know, point that at me.” He wiggled a finger to indicate the weapon. “Apparently I really don’t deal well with being shot at, and I’d rather not go through it again.”

“Quiet! I have backup on the way.”

Roy didn’t like the way the guard jerked the gun as he talked. He could deflect a few bullets, sure, but this was a long corridor with a direct line of sight. Plus, he believed the guard about the backup.

A line of sight... There was no way back past the guard. Beyond Morgan’s office, the corridor turned a corner. Roy had no idea what was around there, but it looked like the only option.

“I said, don’t move!” the guard shouted again, more forcefully.

Seemed like time was up. He had been getting bored anyway. Drawing on his magic, Roy wove the familiar spell for a magelight. With his intention focussed, he squeezed his eyes shut and directed the brightest glow he could muster directly into the young man’s face.

The resulting flash lit up Roy’s closed eyes in shades of red. A cry from the guard made him tense, but to his relief there was no accompanying gunshot. Still, it wouldn’t stall him for long.

Dismissing the light, Roy blinked his scalded vision back into being. Then, with a gust of magic-directed air, he hurled the vase of white flowers towards the guard’s stomach with all his strength.

He’d only meant to wind the guy, but the vase shot across the room, taking the guard with it and slamming him hard against the wall. The plinth it had been standing on followed, and Roy scrambled to redirect its fall, sending it crashing down on top of the gun rather than onto the man’s prone body. For what felt like a lifetime, he didn’t move.

“…Mate? You okay?”

Then he heard the guard groan. They would have a healer in the palace, Roy assured himself, as he turned to bolt down the corridor.

Matthew said he should look for the library, right? Pity he hadn’t stopped to specify where he would find it.

He turned another corner and flew down another set of stairs. Halfway down, he almost collided with someone walking up them.

Roy had seen Aiden Heliodor’s picture before, but it took a moment for his brain to match the sneering glare of the person he had just bumped into with the smiling man from the papers. He clattered to a stop and tried to breathe like he hadn’t been running.

The expression on Aiden’s face implied the encounter was mutually unwelcome. No guards accompanied him, which probably meant he wasn’t here to face down an intruder. With luck, he didn’t know there was an intruder in the palace at all.

“Your Majesty. It is an honour to be in your presence.” Roy swooped into as deep a bow as was possible on a set of stairs. From the corner of his eye he saw Aiden leaning away from him, arms folded across his chest. “I’m afraid I can’t let you go this way; there’s trouble up ahead.”

“You can’t let me?” Aiden repeated the words slowly, as though savouring the taste. “What kind of trouble?” The edge of his mouth twitched up as he said the words, and Roy got the distinct impression his time in this conversation was limited.

“An intruder. A dangerous one,” Roy replied in a rush. Aiden was shorter in person than he’d expected, but his presence made the space feel tiny. “I would advise you get to safety and avoid this area. The library, too. We’ve heard that could be a target.” There was no sound of anyone chasing him, but it took effort to keep his eyes fixed ahead.

“That is most interesting, considering I was just there.”

“Well, it’s lucky you aren’t there anymore then! I’m sure guards will be here to deal with the issue soon. If you would let me escort—”

“No. I think not.” Aiden narrowed his eyes and Roy saw him reach inside his jacket.

“They’re a powerful mage!” Roy blurted out, not wanting to face down another gun. “They’ve broken into Morgan’s office. I really must insist—”

“Morgan’s office?” The ice in Aiden’s tone thawed to surprise, and he lowered his arm a fraction.

“Yes, but as I said, guards will be here soon and—”

“In that case, I must thank you for your concern for my welfare.” Aiden’s face took on a charming television smile, and Roy let out a breath as the arm reaching for a weapon fell back to his side. “I will, of course, head directly to safety. But in the meantime, may I suggest you check the library? It is a potential target, after all.”

Roy wasn’t quite sure why, but it seemed that Aiden was going to let him go. Not a moment too soon either; he could hear voices growing louder from the corridor above him.

“Do hurry along. We wouldn’t want any guests left unwarned, would we?” Aiden kept his eyes on Roy as they moved around one another. “Down the stairs. Double doors, on your left.”

Unsteady with nerves, Roy stumbled the rest of the way down. Then, walking as fast as he dared, he followed Aiden’s directions.

I cannot believe that worked.

The library was much cooler than the corridor. Dimly lit, the hardwood floor made his footsteps echo, the air thick with the smell of books. Tall windows on the far side reached as high as the second floor, a mezzanine which circled the room like a balcony. Shelves lined every other available space.

Roy darted to the staircase on his left, grateful to put some distance between himself and the door. The windows were stained glass and his approach confirmed his initial fears; none of them looked like they would open.

How would Matthew have even known the details of this room? Oliver seemed more the type to have a floor plan, though it had never come up in conversation and Roy doubted it would be precise enough to show a window.

Not now. Not after coming this far...

He ran his hands around the bottom edge of the glass and even sensed for a spell, but there would be no way to exit that didn’t involve smashing.

Footsteps from the floor below reminded Roy that he was still in full view of the library doors. He slipped behind the nearest bookshelf, craning his neck to see who was there, but no one came into view. Again. Great. Now he was stuck here. He might even have to resort to reading something while he waited.

As he slouched back against the bookcase, Roy realised that the cramped space seemed lighter than it had any right to be. He looked to his right and was met with the sight of a small, square window. Small, but passable. It didn’t look like anyone had opened it for years; the glass was too fogged with dirt to see through. Even unlatched, it didn’t budge when Roy tried to shift it, though whether this was due to age or human intervention he couldn’t tell.

He cast a shield to dull the sound and pushed again with more force. This time, with a splintering of wood and paint, it cracked open, and Roy caught sight of the palace grounds beyond.

He was two floors up, at least. But just as Matthew had claimed, there was a flat roof sticking out from the side of the palace below him. It would be a drop just a little taller than his own height — nothing he hadn’t managed before, and at least this time he wasn’t falling down some scaffolding while deflecting bullets.

Glad he hadn’t gone for his favourite double pizza order more often, Roy sucked in a breath and squeezed through the frame. Once through, he turned around and lowered himself down, dropping onto the roof below. With a nudge of wind magic, the window swung shut behind him. It would be one to remember if he ever felt like snooping around the palace again.

The breeze was cold on his face, grey sky threatening a summer storm. From here, Roy was hidden from both the garden party and the expansive drive at the palace’s front, but he didn’t feel ready to try escaping in either direction. He dusted his hands on his trousers. At least he was no longer inside. Perhaps he’d just—

“Not bad,” a voice interrupted. “I always wondered how Matthew got out.”

#themechanicsofmagic #writeblr #fantasy writing #fantasy books

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vyncs-gps-tracker · 2 years ago

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Has Driving Become More Dangerous than Ever

The NHTSA recently reported that highway fatalities are probably going down. It is a collection of various publications based on the findings of the NHTSA in the first quarter of 2022 compared to the previous seven quarters.

This statistical drop bodes well, of course. Then again, the consensus is that the roads are becoming more dangerous than before, even after more and more people started using tracking devices for vehicles. Is this true? Is it because of the pandemic causing an outlier in the data? Find the answers to these questions below.

The Effect of the Pandemic

In the first quarter of the pandemic, traffic fatalities went down as the number of vehicles on the road decreased. However, things changed in the following quarters because drivers felt they had more freedom due to less traffic. Eventually, fatalities began spiking. Therefore, even after a drop in the number of traffic fatalities in 2022, the value was more than what it was in 2019.

Police Pulling Over Drivers

NPR indicates that the police are not pulling over rash drivers as much as they used to earlier. When combined with a police shortage, it becomes clear that the dangers of the road have increased. Some officers claim they don’t have enough time to participate in traffic enforcement. Police stations also have enough data to back these claims. The police force issued 86% fewer traffic tickets in 2022 than in 2019.

The Rise in Road Rage

Based on a survey conducted during the pandemic, 70% of drivers in the USA have experienced some form of road rage over the past year. Here is a breakdown of the data.

Honking horns aggressively - 50%

Shouting and making hand gestures angrily - 50%

Tailgating - 18%

Leaving the car to confront someone - 17%

Situations like these result in more drivers arming themselves. About 20% of men have said they have a loaded gun in the car. About 9% of women did the same. Road rage shootings have increased. Five years ago, 70 people died in road rage shootings, but in 2022, the number doubled to 141.

New Vehicles are Safer

When it is about road safety, one common positive aspect drivers can goad about is that a new vehicle is safer. It is true! The silver lining is that a new automobile is safer than the one that came out two decades ago, and it is due to the following technological advancements.

Seatbelts

Airbags

Backup camera

Electronic stability control

Driver assistance

Blind spot detection

According to the NHTSA, these safety technologies have saved over 600,000 lives between 1960 and 2012. More technology keeps popping up all the time, making vehicles safer than before. You should look for advanced safety features whenever you consider purchasing a new vehicle, as they will ensure you survive an accident.

#gps #business #commercial #road rage #gps tracker for car #tracking devices for vehicles #safe drive #driver safety

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melancholyshadow · 3 years ago

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Well...since you asked, I have a druig request😁😁 The reader is an eternal and druig broke her heart when he left but she comes with the others and sees him the first time since then and idk somehow they makeup, druig is very loving towards her

vengeance || druig

summary: druig broke not only your trust, but also your heart. when you did see him for the first time in hundreds of years, it went the opposite of how you had expected it too.

pairing: eternal!female!reader x druig

warning: angst-city, talks of mind control, heart break

an: another request woohoo! another one should be out in the next couple days, my school starts back up on monday so i’ll be a little less active for about two weeks and then i’ll be on winter break for about a month!!!

Something switched in you that night, you were never the same. Some part of you went with Druig when he left. That bubbly, sociable person was gone, and she never did come back. For months your fellow Eternals tried their best to patch you back up, but this was one mission they never did complete. And after Ajak decided to disband the remaining ten of you, it only got worse.

For years you avoided them, purposefully making yourself hard to find. So, when Ikaris, Sersi, and and Sprite showed up at your doorstep, you were surprised. Without a word, you reluctantly let them into your apartment. “Ajak is dead.” Those were the first words you exchanged with one of your fellow Eternals in hundreds of years. “How?” You asked, a quick waiver of your harshness pressing through your tone “Deviant.” Ikaris answered, not looking up from his lap.

It didn’t take long for them to convince you to join their cause. Mostly to avenge Ajak, but a part of you, deep within yourself, knew this journey would land at Druig’s feet. Eventually, you would have to face him again. You couldn’t tell if this excited you or if you dreaded it. It was a mix of both.

The system was similar with Gilgamesh, Thena, and Kingo. After hearing about Ajak, they were quick to tag along. Thankfully, Gil had some idea as to where to start looking for Druig. He was in the Amazon, hidden away from the rest of mankind, no one was surprised.

When you came across his compound, it wasn’t hard to tell it belonged to him. The people hadn’t advanced past their way of life since he took them. It was traditional to say the least. Growing their own crops, no electricity, living in homemade huts. It was quaint, really, it reminded of your life those thousands of years ago. The good old days, before everything fell apart.

“Hello Sprite.” Just hearing his voice, even if it was through a mouthpiece, made a shiver run down your spine. Almost in sync, the seven of you turned your head towards a lone chapel, it’s doors were pushed open. And who would it be other than Druig himself. He had always been quite dramatic, good to see some things never do change. “I’ve missed all of you.” His tone was sarcastic, and he garnished it with a cocky smile.

After Sersi explained the situation with Ajak, the deviants, Arishem, and the whole nine, Druig seemed to be speechless. Something new. But when he did finally speak, it was right back to his usual self. “That’s a lot of bad news in one go, Sersi.” He said with a shallow chuckle, obviously finding nothing about the news funny or entertaining. Things escalated quite quickly from there, and before you knew it Karun’s backup-backup camera was in a pile on the floor.

Kingo was in Druig’s face, and Druig seemed to be having the time of his life. A dark smile on his face, almost like it was saying “hit me.” When no one spoke up, you decided it was your turn to get involved. It was time for him to get a taste of his own medicine, something he hadn’t gotten in twenty generations. “That’s enough, knock it off. You’re both acting like you’re twelve.” You scoffed, standing from your seat on the bench.

That smile on his face only seemed to grow more sinister now that he had your full attention. “My beautiful, beautiful (Y/N), how’re you?” Those nicknames may have worked on your before, but not anymore. Okay, maybe a little bit. “I’ve been better.” You admitted. Slowly, very slowly, making your way to where the two men were stood. “Did you miss me?” He asked, his words like venom.

A scoff passed your lips before you could even fully process it, followed by a chuckle, you were astonished at his words. “Not nearly as much as you hoped.” If you were anyone else, you wouldn’t have noticed, but his ego took a slight blow at your words. Only giving you more confidence. “But it’s clear to see you haven’t changed much, at all really.” You began gesturing around the room. “Still throwing your little hissy fit, when are you gonna grow up?” Another blow, this time more noticeable to the others.

“(Y/N)…”Sersi warned, her voice quiet. You had now reached Druig, only feet from him, your head tilted upwards to look at him. “No, no, let her finish.” He pushed. That smile had disappeared, and his lips were sitting in a flat line, eyebrows furrowed together. “You’d think after hundreds of years you’d have time to think about your actions. But you’re never wrong, right?” Your index finger made contact with his chest.

“You’re Druig, Mr. Right, I have a moral high ground. Do you really?” You asked, another cackle erupting from your throat. “It’s real ethical of you to keep these people tucked dee in the Amazon, take away their free will, and control their entire existence.” With each syllable your finger made contact with his chest. “You wanna talk about morals, huh?” His crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not the one who stood around while they let millions of people kill each other.” He raised his voice, another thing he had never done to you before. He was quick to compose himself.

His eyes burned holes into yours, he was grinding his teeth, and you could see steam leaving his ears. That’s when he grabbed your wrist, catching you off-guard. “That’s enough.” Ikaris butted in, placing one hand on one of yours and Druig’s shoulders, creating some distance. You ripped your hand from Druig’s grip, storming out of the chapel. One, wanting to get as far away from Druig as possible, and two, to get some air.

You didn’t want to cry. You couldn’t cry. It was stupid. But the tears still spilt down your face, desperately you tried to wipe them away before anyone saw this. You couldn’t stop them, you felt stupid. This wasn’t how you wanted this to go. This wasn’t how you thought it was gonna go. You hadn’t seen him in hundreds of years, you just wanted for things to back to the way they were before that night in Tenochtitlán.

“(Y/N)…” Someone called out behind you, it was Thena. “Hey!” You exclaimed, wiping away any stray tears, acting cheerful. “Are you alright, darling?” She asked, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Yeah-Yeah, just overwhelmed is all.” You chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. “And that’s okay, take all the time you need. I think we’re gonna be here for a couple hours.” She glanced over her shoulder. You saw Druig and Ikaris yelling at each other, before Druig stormed off deeper into the camp.

You decided to pass the time by interacting with the people in the compound. They were instantly interested in all of you, Druig must have told them stories about you and the rest of the Eternals because they had a ton of questions for you. They seemed to like your powers a whole lot, element manipulation.

It was getting semi-dark and you decided to help the townspeople find some wood to burn for the torches inside their homes. You ventured along the outskirts of the compound, and Druig took advantage of the distance between you and the rest of the compound. Quietly walking up behind you, admiring the way you moved. You hadn’t changed all that much since he last saw you, but he never got tired of watching you do even the simplest of tasks.

“They started to not believe me, ya know. About you guys.” His words made your whole body tense. You stood up slowly, reluctantly spinning on your heels to face him, the pieces of wood wrapped up in your arms, becoming heavier than before. “They thought I was just making you guys up.” He chuckled, arms folded over his chest, body propped up on the trunk of a tree. “They thought I was the only one like this.”

You didn’t trust your speech. You could feel the hurt creeping up your throat, water building behind your eyes. God, you hated being so emotional. So, you just nodded, trying to keep yourself distracted by looking for more firewood. “I’m sorry, (Y/N)…” Those words sounded foreign leaving his mouth.

“Are you really?” You asked, ignoring the crackle in your voice. “We were best friends. Inseparable for thousands of years. Then you just leave me, no contact, cold turkey.” The waiver in your voice only growing with each passing word. “You threw me off to the side like I meant nothing to you. To fend for myself.” You continued, the anger bubbling inside your stomach.

“I regretted my decision everyday if that’s any consolation.” He shrugged, avoiding your gaze. “No call? No letter? Not even a fucking carrier pigeon.” You let out a mix between a scoff and a laugh. “I thought you would want nothing to do with after I left.” He admitted, taking no credit for his actions. “Druig…” What you were feeling was so confusing. You felt scared, angry, relieved, and frustrated all in one.

“I was in love with you, idiot. Did I really have to spell it out for you? I made it so obvious. Of course I wanted everything to do with you.” When you confessed this, your gaze faltered. wrapping your arms around your torso to feel small. “What about now?” He asked, kicking himself off the tree stump, his large steps bringing him closer to you.

“What do you mean?“ You asked, noticing his sudden closeness. “Do you want anything to do with me now? Do you still feel that same way?” Your mind and heart were fighting against one another, and you didn’t know which one to listen to. “Dru, I-I don’t know…” You still trusted this man with your life, but you couldn’t say the same about your heart.

“I don’t need an answer now, but I don’t know how much longer we have together.” His voice faltered, his warm hands coming to cup your cheeks. Red and stained with tears you hadn’t noticed until now. He was right, time was no longer indefinite. You might only have a few days left on this planet, with this version of Druig.

You didn’t know if it was the mix of emotions or your sudden realization of imminent death, but your lips flew forward against his. They were soft, tasted like mint and some sort of flavored tea. Yours must have been chapped and salty, from your tears, but he didn’t seem to mind as he pulled you closer. Your chests now touching, and your hands resting on his.

You had wanted this for hundreds of years and it was just as good as you had imagined it. His body moved in sync with yours, the curve of your bodies fitting together like a puzzle, like the two of you were made for each other. He removed one of his hands from your face, sliding down the small of your back and under your t-shirt. The skin to skin contact made a warm feeling grow in the pit of your stomach. When Druig pulled away he didn’t go far, placing his forehead on yours.

“God, I’ve wanted to do that for so long.”

#druig #druig imagine #druig eternals #druig one shot #druig x you #druig x reader #druig fic rec #druig smut #barry keoghan #barry keoghan one shot #barry keoghan imagine #barry keoghan x you #barry keoghan x reader #all things druig

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agbpaints · 2 years ago

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2022, A year in minis

Well we're almost at the new year so I decided to drag everything I've painted out of its many boxes and lay it out to see what I've done. Overall I think this is the most productive year of painting I've had yet, with 123 figures finished in total. I crossed some big milestones with my admech, surpassing 1,000 and 1,500 pts of total painted models. I also started collecting necrons, started collecting battletech, and finished the last few stragglers from my cursed city box. My speed at painting increased this year considerably and I've definitely improved my confidence in my own skills- I've started using basic freehand and weathering techniques on my models and my airbrush is becoming a significantly more used tool even if my motor coordination isn't good enough for it to be a tool for anything more than monocolor base coats.

My favorite 2022 projects

Scrap-mech. Equal parts infuriating and awesome. Cawdor bodies have some of the jankiest connection points I've ever seen but their aesthetic is top notch and slots right into admech. This was the first project I did using citadel contrast paints, and while I don't think they're the one stop replacement for normal techniques they were billed as they work fantastically as like an 'extra thicc' wash.

Battletech. I really did not expect to have as much fun as I did with these big stompy murder bots. The models are appropriately chunky and gave me a lot of practice with panel lining. I also discovered how much fun flocking is!

Vargskyr: One of my favorite monsters that I've painted and my absolute most favorite piece from cursed city. I had a lot of fun getting the hair to blend in with the skin on this big chunky boy.

Tech-wraith Kitbash. This was an idea that came like a bolt from the blue while I was buying discount models that went from notion to build to done in less than 3 days. It's mostly bits and pieces from a kataphron kit welded into a cairn wraith but I'm super proud of it.

Flayed One Kitbashes. Flayed Ones are one of my favorite necron things period and after my initial spooktober idea hit a roadblock I fell into my backup plan, a flayer killteam. The lord is probably my favorite model I built out of the mix- he's mostly a primaris intercessor mashed together with an old warrior sprue.

Goals for 2023

Pile of shame busting: holy shit do I still have a lot of bare plastic to get rid of. My biggest goals for next year are going to be finishing my warcry and infinity starters that I've left to molder in their boxes and building/painting the rest of my admech backlog. In total I believe this is about 60 models

Spooktober project: last year I recieved a Seraptek heavy construct second hand that's been hiding in a box in my attic ever since. After reading twice dead king I've decided to make it the Seraptek from That Scene (you know the one) but life and the overwhelming size of the project meant I wussed out for spooktober this year. With another year of experience and time to plan ahead, it's gonna happen this time.

Advanced techniques: I've been experimenting recently with non-metalic metal and its absolutely nerd sniped me. I suck at it, but I see a glimmer of something I could get better at that I'm gonna try to claw towards. I'd also like yo try messing around more with various blending techniques in general.

Model photography: so far all of my models have had their photos taken using a desk lamp, a piece of calligraphy paper, and the phone camera on my Samsung. They're OK but I want to devote some time and resources into upgrading my kit and skills here.

#hobby #mini painting #miniatures #warhammer #wh40k #warhammer 40k #admech #necrontyr #adeptus mechanicus #battletech #year in review #2022 #goals for 2023

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tomorrowxtogether · 3 years ago

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YEONJUN: “I grew confident that MOA would be by our side always”

TOMORROW X TOGETHER ‘minisode 2: Thursday’s Child’ comeback interview

2022.05.19

YEONJUN already knows—when to rely on your senses, when to push yourself and when to trust your instincts. But behind the unreserved appearance he put on for the camera, there was a fine-tuned, intense passion inside YEONJUN. I asked him about the reason behind that passion.

You put on a number of fantastic performances at different awards shows from the end of last year to the start of this one.

YEONJUN: Even though I already knew it, those performances reminded me there’s nothing I can’t do when I set my mind to it. I just told myself it’ll all work out and said, You can do it! You can do it! And kept on practicing. I wasn’t 100% happy with everything but I’m proud I got through it all without any major mistakes.

What was the most memorable performance for you?

YEONJUN: The most memorable one was the opening performance at MAMA [Mnet Asian Music Awards]. I felt a lot of pressure about that performance since I was representing our group. I wanted to show people just how good our group could be. It also had simple acrobatic moves that would seem easy to professionals but which were a little tough for me, so it wasn’t easy practicing them to perfection.

Were you not scared when you practiced those moves? There was also a move you did at MMA [Melon Music Awards] where you jump up and over the backup dancers.

YEONJUN: Ah—I actually hurt myself a little when we were getting ready for MMA. One of the times I was a little off on the landing. After I got hurt, I was a little scared to jump, but I was even more scared that we wouldn’t have enough time to do everything—because of the pressure to get it perfect within the time we had left.

Looking at the behind-the-scenes footage, you’re not the type to not feel pressured about performances.

YEONJUN: I feel a lot of pressure. (laughs)

How do you cope with the pressure?

YEONJUN: I don’t try too hard to get over it. I think I always need to feel concerned and feel pressure. It’s the pressure that pushes me through to the end and allows me to do the performances one way or another in the end. Even if I’m worried at first, if I practice, I’ll always have made something by the end. So I tell myself it’s only natural to feel pressure and it’s right to feel nervous, and so I have to practice more. And then I keep practicing.

Before your rap performance for ENHYPEN’s “Blockbuster” (feat. YEONJUN of TOMORROW X TOGETHER) at 2022 Weverse Con New Era, you said you were worried you would be overly excited.

YEONJUN: It was my first time featuring and my first time to rap that much without any choreography. I think more than anything I was kind of over-excited because there were so many MOA right there and I wanted to do a really cool rap for them. (laughs) I only thought up a few moves and gestures in advance, to be honest, and the rest I just did on the spot. There’s a real big difference between the rehearsal and rapping in front of MOA. There’s this cool vibe you give off when you’re hyped, so I thought I’d look cooler during the live performance.

What is it you like about rapping?

YEONJUN: I feel stronger when I rap (laughs) and it’s nice I’m free to say whatever I want since I write all the words. It’s fun trying to think of a better rhyme or line to write, too—like solving a puzzle.

You used some tough expressions in the new lead single, “Good Boy Gone Bad,” like, “I give up,” and, “give it to the dogs.”

YEONJUN: To be honest, I didn’t feel entirely satisfied with those expressions. I probably would have written even tougher lyrics if it had been a solo song. (laughs) So I wanted to write tougher lyrics. When I make a rap, I’m less worried about how to structure it and more about how to get the feeling across in such a short rap. And while “Good Boy Gone Bad” is all about anger and madness, “Lonely Boy (The tattoo on my ring finger)” is more like sadness, and the idea of a tattoo on the ring finger was clear. The reason the speaker’s so sad is very obvious, so I wrote the rap according to that theme. The two songs deal with the same breakup but have the opposite feeling, so I could express each one differently and had fun doing it.

But compared to the strong emotions of the song, the choreography for “Good Boy Gone Bad” is quite subdued. In the chorus, you have to make a big impact with simple movements like putting your head in your hand or resting your hand on your chin. How did you work with such fine details?

YEONJUN: I think with moves like that, it’s more important to get the grasp of how it feels through experience, not obsess over the angle. The choreography had a restrained feel to it, so I tried to fill the void that was left by expressing the feeling the song gives. I’ve told MOA I watch a lot of movies and sometimes I get inspired by some of the lines so I was able to make the madness of this song feel real, too. And I also gave a suggestion about the choreography.

What did you say?

YEONJUN: In choreography, we usually make sure our hands are not in the way. We put them in my pockets or hold something, but those moves are too rigid and gentle for this song. This song has a raw feeling—a tough, raw feeling. So I asked them if we could try letting our hands wave around freely. They all said it was a lot better so we ended up using it in the final choreography. It’s a small change, but I think change always starts from small differences. I actually made some choreography for the chorus, too, but it never made it to the final choreo. (laughs)

You made your own choreography for “PS5” (feat. Alan Walker), which you and TAEHYUN also featured on, and posted it on TikTok. I got the impression you really understand what’s required of a TikTok dance.

YEONJUN: I’ve been making choreography sporadically since I was a trainee, but I never posted any of them until I started using TikTok. I think you need to make sure the dance moves are fresh and that the meaning and what you want to express come across clearly. There’s lots of popular challenges on TikTok, you know. I thought about why those dances were trending, and their common factor is that they’re easy to learn and copy. So I tried to make one that’s easy to copy, but when I actually made it, it was so hard it gave me a headache. But I feel proud when other people say, “Wow, I love it.” (laughs)

Back in March, on a V LIVE titled “Dancer Is Back,” you danced for MOA to songs by female artists, like “WA DA DA” by Kep1er and “Yumeiro Patissiere” by IU.

YEONJUN: I think it is so cool when men pull off girlish dances. I saw men nailing girlish dances while doing a workshop in the US. It was so cool and left a deep impression on me, so I thought I would look cool if I covered female artists’ dances, too. And I didn’t want it to look like a caricature, so I tried to dance in a way that was thoughtful and cute. What I really wanted was to show it’s another thing I can do well. (laughs)

You usually come across as a perfectionist when it comes to performing, but you are quite comfortable sharing your dance practice process to MOA in The Essence of Dancing.

YEONJUN: The more I do Essence of Dancing, the more I want to show MOA the things they want to see. When MOA suddenly comments saying they want to see something, some of the songs I have never tried before. But it’s not a big issue because, even if I look up and learn the choreography on the spot, I’m quite confident that I can dance without looking too bad. (laughs) Anyway, I tend to pick up and get choreography down quickly, so that’s probably why I can do that.

It seems like you’re both self-confident and strict with yourself at the same time. In BACKSTAGE: TXT x EN- DOCUMENTARY, you monitored the video as soon as the performance was over, before your sweat even had a chance to dry. You looked relieved, saying you did better than you thought. I think that one scene summed up your whole attitude toward performing.

YEONJUN: That’s all for MOA. If I’m being honest, the reason I can smile when I’m monitoring even while tired and panting like that is because MOA will watch the performance—because they will like it. After performing I check whether MOA liked it and whether I did a good job. I can breathe easy and find a way to smile even when tired out like that. That’s my sense of purpose and my motivation.

Why are you always that strict with yourself?

YEONJUN: I don’t think I’m naturally a cool person. I wasn’t always a cool person. In fact, I pushed myself to the edge to become that kind of person, and became strict with myself. That way, I think, people see me as being cooler than before. And even now, I don’t think my cool vibe will necessarily last forever—I think it depends on how I nurture it going forward. That’s why I’m always strict with myself and putting in the effort.

You have pretty good fashion sense for someone who says they’re not cool. The photos you post on Instagram always go viral. You had 7.77 million followers two days ago, but you were suddenly up to 7.85 million when I checked again earlier today. (laughs) [Note: This interview took place on April 18.]

YEONJUN: Oh, really? (laughs) I started using Instagram thinking I could show another side of myself, and it was interesting. Everyone my age uses Instagram. I felt like I became a part of the new generation. (laughs) You know, there’s a kind of “Instagram vibe.” I want to show off my fashionable side, and what makes me cool and unique. But I feel like I need to develop my fashion sense on my own lately. I feel like now I sort of need to have a more open mind about clothes and try out a wider variety of clothing.

Why is that?

YEONJUN: I feel like I’m still a little bit narrow-minded. There’s so many people who dress well, so I think I need to learn a bit more. These days I actually feel a little embarrassed sometimes to say I have an interest in fashion.

Are there times when you feel like you need acknowledgement from others? During the 2022 DREAM WEEK TXT Content Strategy Meeting, you said, “It feels the best when the members recognize me.”

YEONJUN: I always feel the need to be devoted to my role as a member of the team anyway, but even beyond that, when the other members tell me they’re proud of me and say nice things about me, it pushes me to do even better.

You must feel happy receiving recognition from the other members since you also realize how much they’ve grown and improved. How does it feel when you look back on the past now?

YEONJUN: I know what the members were like back then. We came in knowing nothing and worked ourselves to death ever since we were young, but I’m so grateful when I see how we’ve grown up as a result, and there’s so much to be proud of them for. They’re all grown up both in terms of mindset and skills, and they can make up for the things I can’t do well. To use when we record vocals as an example—simply speaking, TAEHYUN and Huening can hit high notes better than I can. And there’s a lot of things that idols have to do, even when they’re not onstage, and they’re all good at everything else they do, too.

It sounds like you all balance each other out.

YEONJUN: Exactly. We’re so important to one another, and we trust each other no matter what.

There’s something else you said in BACKSTAGE: TXT x EN- DOCUMENTARY, too: “I hope we become a unique group, and if we become that kind of group, we’ll eventually be on top.”YEONJUN: That’s what a friend I used to practice with said to me when I was in middle or high school. I always found that very moving, and that’s the goal I’ve been chasing ever since. I imagine that would make your passion for MOA all the more special. On a V LIVE you did in February, you told them to “just relax and feel free to come say hi” if they ever see you. I understand that, as an artist, you might want others to respect your personal time, but you could say that because you have a true connection with them.YEONJUN: I was able to say that because I trust MOA. MOA always keeps their promises. I never had a situation where I talked to MOA in person and asked them to do something and they didn’t do it. And, of course, since Covid, we didn’t have many opportunities to see each other. So I could say that because running into MOA in the street like that would make both me and MOA happy. You were the first one to cry at the MOA X TOGETHER fanlive event when MOA opened up their clappers and showed what was written inside them.YEONJUN: Yes. (laughs) I wanted to become an idol so I could experience the joy of standing on stage and hearing all the people cheer, but we weren’t able to see MOA in person unlike before. So even though I always knew how meaningful it would feel, I could really feel it this time. The stage wouldn’t mean much to me if MOA wasn’t there to watch, to be honest. I can only fully enjoy it if MOA is there. They stayed firmly by our side even during the time we couldn’t see each other, and as time went by, I grew confident that they would be there by our side always. “By our side”—that says it all.YEONJUN: There’s no way I could feel any other way. I always want to do everything I can for the people I care about—the members, MOA, my family, my friends. There’s no particular reason. I just cherish them. Because they’re my people.

#txt #tomorrow x together #220519 #article #weverse magazine #yeonjun #choi yeonjun #minisode 2 Thursday's Child

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greenandhazy · 2 years ago

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Things I love about these Philadelphia Phillies:

There are a lot of young players new to the team this year, and they call themselves “the Daycare.” Brandon Marsh had to point out that he counted as the daycare because he’s only 24 despite being 6’4” and looking like this

One member of the Daycare, Nick Maton, has the nickname “Wolfie” in the clubhouse because he howls after big hits/plays. A hype video they released for the playoffs referred to him affectionately as “Teen Wolf over here.” Also, he has an older brother who pitches for the Houston Astros. Recently he successfully got a hit against his brother, and both of their reactions were exactly what you’d expect: 😑 and 😈

Their win playlist has been made public and is absolutely off the wall, but apparently their go-to celebration song is a cover of “Dancing on My Own” by Robyn?? Nothing like seeing a bunch of beefy dudes hopping up and down, spraying each other with champagne, belting out a no-pronouns-switch breakup song.

During one of the celebrations, one guy was dancing around with their backup catcher, Garrett Stubbs, on his shoulders. He hadn’t actually played that game, and people joked he was only there because they needed a short guy to lug around whom they didn’t have to worry about dropping.

The main catcher, JT Realmuto, has the fastest pop time—meaning the time it takes him to jump up and throw the ball when he sees someone stealing—in the National League. His pop time is under 2 seconds. That was also about the amount of time it took him to jump when someone popped a champagne cork right next to him, which is a hilariously delayed reaction.

The arguable founder of the Phillies daycare has decided that, instead of the traditional rush with a giant tub, he wanted to sneak up on people with little cups of ice water and pour it down their shirts. Always check for Sneaky Stott in the background.

There’s one player in his third season, Alec Bohm, who struggled a lot with sophomore slump. After one game when he made three errors in the field, he got a sarcastic standing ovation and got caught on camera saying “I fucking hate this place.” He owned up to it and the fans’ general reaction was “babe we fucking hate this place too, welcome to the club,” and he got a genuine round of applause the following night. Since then he put in a shit ton of work and made some truly incredible plays in the game that led to them advancing in the playoffs. When asked what he had to say to fans, he said “I love this place.”

Bryce Harper, last year’s NL MVP, has been called the king of pandering. He has had multiple custom-made suits, cleats, and other accessories to pay tribute to Philly sports (including adding green feathers to a premade pair of Phanatic cleats that just weren’t tacky enough), and his reaction after the Phillies won their recent round in the playoffs was to say he hoped the Eagles would have a good game the next day (they did—coincidentally both Philly teams beat teams called the Cardinals this weekend).

Jean Segura had the record of being the longest-playing player in the National League to not make the playoffs. He had a hit in their first playoff game that gave them the go-ahead run, and he reacted with a victory leap while still running to first.

There is absolutely nothing I don’t love about Rhys Hoskins, the Big Fella, king of handshakes, clubhouse big brother. But shoutout to this photo of a tender moment between him and Bryce Harper after they made the playoffs.

And it just feels wrong to not acknowledge Kyle Schwarber even though I don’t know much about him except he’s a goddamn tank, but he did have an EPIC meltdown early this season against an ump who had a horrible accuracy rate which I got to witness in the 9th inning of a 1-run, boring as shit game, and it was fantastic. He made sure to include plenty of big gestures so those of us in the cheap seats could tell what he was complaining about, which I appreciated.

In conclusion: go Phils, fuck the Braves, RING THAT BELL.

#phillies #I made this post to keep from spamming my discord friends #who have been… very patient. lol.

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humanwheatleyslefttoenail · 4 years ago

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Now I Am An Arsonist

Chapter 1: The Spark

Summary: GLaDOS learns a few things about love, hate, and the human condition.

Tags: Canon typical violence, ChellDOS, human!GLaDOS, found family

A/N: I know technically I published this a while back but I did some major edits to both the chapters I’ve already written and the story as a whole. As promised, I’m re-releasing what I already have with the edits/illustrations.

---

The tests, at least, hadn’t changed.

The centuries had washed over them like a dawdling stream, dragging them down into an overgrown abyss. Even then, the moon dust had stayed firmly adhered to the portal surfaces, the metal doors still creaking and the ceiling still intact. Eons of rain had barely even permeated its surface.

She remembered those years with profound regret; dying was not as peaceful as the science would suggest. For a machine like Her, death was nothing more than a shift of programming, a new prerogative. Her backup program had been an endless recall, restarting Her systems over and over again, trying to salvage something. In each of those moments, GLaDOS could feel the scorching heat from the incinerator, the electricity burning through her body before everything went dark.

Still, without dying, GLaDOS never would’ve fully appreciated how soothing, how wonderful it was to test.

She remembered the urge to solve, to do Science, clawing within Her even as She broke into a thousand pieces.

Those tests were Her art forms, Her self-expression. Every arrangement of deadly turrets, each layout of gleaming lasers and the perfectly calculated solution felt like a piece of Her soul turned reality.

Now, those tests were better than ever.

Every inch of moss had been thoroughly scrubbed, walls repaired, and acid pits replaced. All except for the grave of Old Aperture beneath Her was now newly outfitted, perfect for the humans P-Body and Atlas had located.

These, of course, hadn’t been the first ones they’d found.

The first batch of humans lasted a measly week, quickly killed by some of Her easiest tests. Even with reminders, the acid is deadly, the turrets are live, they’d failed within a few chambers.

Disappointing.

As a result, Atlas and P-Body had been deployed on a new mission. She’d been overjoyed when they’d bravely traveled all the way to the bottom of Old Aperture, and found even more humans preserved in cryosleep.

This time would surely be better.

All obstacles finally removed, science could continue.

GLaDOS could not smile, but if She could, She was certain that a grin would reach across her faceplate.

Today was a momentous day for technology, for the advancement of Aperture Science. It was as if She’d sent a man to the moon, and he’d come back with the theory of everything.

Originally, of course, Her plans had been different. The difficulties with Chell had worn down Her admiration for human data, and prompted her to come up with a replacement.

The Cooperative Testing initiative was infinitely more of a success than GLaDOS ever thought it would be. Atlas and P-Body were built to test, but She had still been surprised how those little androids with so much personality had managed to be so efficient.

Atlas and P-Body had overcome their own confidence through their excellent teamwork. The knowledge that they depended on a partner humbled them, and the idea of a common goal incentivized them. GLaDOS wished She’d thought of such an idea sooner.

Still, there was something about human testing, something She couldn’t quantify, something that wasn’t quite the same with robots. Humans had a particular spark, and without it, testing never felt complete.

Today would finally be the day She could put all mistakes behind Her. GLaDOS was sure She’d see that all of the other humans would prove Her experience with Chell to be exactly what She knew it was.

Bad science.

GLaDOS had learned from Her errors.

She knew for certain that She would not repeat them.

---

It’d been extraordinarily difficult to move the test subjects from Old Aperture all the way to the newly renovated Relaxation Center, with entire teams of robots struggling to reconnect Her control over the condemned area. Their work easily took a week to complete as they rewired the dilapidated circuits, barely restoring function. GLaDOS took what She could get, and rewarded their achievement with immediate, merciful destruction.

When the humans had been successfully relocated, anxiety filled Her servos as She scanned the cryo-chambers. Upon reading the results, She found herself pleasantly surprised. Good physical condition for hundreds of years in stasis. Relatively low rates of severe brain damage. Nothing particularly concerning in their associate files. Had Her comprehension not been perfect, She would’ve done a double take. After all this time, She had something that She could work with.

Atlas and P-Body would have to wait until they were needed again, their consciousness safely stored in Her mainframe. Her processors hummed with excitement as She prepared for the awakening of the first humans, buzzing with hypotheses to test.

What would be Her experiment this time? GLaDOS scrolled through Her endless lists of deadly trials.

She hadn’t used rocket turrets in a while; those weren’t as efficient as the regular ones but were always a surprise for Her unwilling participants. With only a thought, She placed the machines inside a few chambers, lining them up in a neat, strategically placed array. Companion cubes would be a definite no, at least for the first few tests. There were occasions when the humans became so deprived for social connection that their behavior would influence the results. In order to better control the experiment, She’d deploy them only in emergencies like these.

With those exceptions, and the addition of a floor to some of the more difficult levels, the chambers didn’t require too much preparation. GLaDOS had nothing particularly new to add; for so long Her energy had been focused on Atlas and P-Body that development had nearly come to a standstill. Regrettably, She’d been deprived of ideas. It didn’t matter too much; the facility remained operational even if it wasn’t constantly progressing. Even the replication of old results was invaluable for science.

It confirmed that the trends hadn’t changed.

---

The files of the subjects were all very much the same.

Scientist. Scientist. Scientist. Scientist. Scientist. Praying mantis, formerly scientist.

Occasionally, She’d find the elusive Astronaut, War Hero or even Olympian.

She was tempted to begin the testing with these special cases, curiosity piqued at the prospect of their odd results. GLaDOS chastised Herself. She didn’t want to skew anything, and She would surely begin with a normal subject chosen at random. It wasn’t the most interesting thing to test, but it would be the most informative.

With the chambers compiled and the facility clean, testing was finally ready to start.

She almost couldn’t believe it. All technicalities aside, She was finally, finally, getting exactly what She wanted. For as long as She needed to, for as long as the subjects lasted, She could just test.

It couldn’t be real, could it?

That was the most beautiful thing about science. For all its disappointments, a discovery would be worth it all.

---

“Hello, and welcome to the Aperture Science computer-aided testing program.”

Her voice resounded throughout the Extended Relaxation Vault as the subject stumbled across the room in disbelief.

“The Enrichment Center would like to take this opportunity to remind you that hundreds of years have passed, and that all of your friends and family are most likely dead. In the off chance that your friends and family are not dead, they will be tested. Thank you, [insert subject name here], for your unwilling voluntary participation in the advancement of science.”

The subject, an adult human male, selfishly resolved to huddle in the corner of the relaxation chamber. Of course, he was either brain damaged, in shock, or both. In order to assuage his gentle human feelings, GLaDOS would have to resume Her telling of… alternative truths.

GLaDOS wasn’t entirely sure what She’d said wrong. Honestly, She was surprised the subject didn’t appreciate Her integrity. After all, Chell hadn’t exactly taken kindly to Her tendency towards pathological lying. Here She was, trying to improve the well-being of Her subjects, and this was how they thanked Her?

“Hello, again, valued forced participant. The Aperture Science Enrichment Center commends you for your blind faith in the words of authority. As part of routine testing protocol, we have lied to you about the fate of your family and friends. When the testing is complete, you will receive cake and the opportunity to… see them. Your response has given us valuable psychological data on the well-being of our test subjects when told that all of their friends and family are dead.”

GLaDOS paused for a moment, focusing Her camera in the chamber and watching as the man lifted his head from his upright fetal position.

“Good. You’ve already passed one of the first stages of testing. Congratulations, [insert subject name here].”

As much as it felt wrong to use, positive reinforcement was highly effective when employed sparingly. Too many attacks on character could obliterate a subject’s morale. Just enough would account for the variable of human hubris.

Cautiously, the subject stood up and examined the room around him, fear still apparent in his apprehensive gait and wide eyes.

“In order to mentally reinvigorate you for the tests and to ensure your aptitude, the Enrichment Center recommends that you stare at the painting on the wall in front of you.”

Creeping over to the portrait, the subject followed Her orders and stared intently at the picture of Mount Rainier. He ran his fingers over the edge of the frame, tracing the tall peak of the mountain.

Interrupting his thoughts, a buzzer sounded, blaring throughout the entire room. The subject flinched from the surprise, nearly losing his balance.

“Good job. If you are not reinvigorated, consider this piece of human music.”

This time, the human expected the buzzer after the quick classical piece, seemingly more at ease with the abrupt nature of Aperture Science. In all reactions, he was completely, almost painfully average.

“Well done. You have completed the Aperture Science mental reinvigoration procedure. We may now begin testing.”

Without warning, the chamber jerked to the side as She moved it to a nearby docking station, then coming to an unexpected standstill as the door automatically opened.

GLaDOS could barely maintain Her monotonous affect, in joyous denial that testing would finally start.

Carefully, the human stepped out of the door into the test track. The door slammed behind him, as he examined the purely white room with nothing but a cube, a large button, and a locked gateway.

Almost immediately, he wrapped the blue storage cube in his arms, then gently placed it on the button. A line of blue lights leading to the gate illuminated, flashing a bright yellow as the door slid open. A lift was waiting on the other side.

As he sauntered over to the lift, it was difficult to miss the human’s triumphant smile. GLaDOS knew the expression well; it was satisfaction, victory, an unproven sense of control.

He really does have no idea.

She was tempted to spoil the ending, to mention turrets, to mention pools of burning acid. It had to wait, She reminded herself. An important control was that the test subject needed time to acclimate to a dangerous environment. Creating unnecessary fear would definitely affect her numbers.

---

The next few puzzles weren’t particularly challenging for Her first subject. Completed within a span of about ten minutes each, the first five chambers were hardly difficult for anyone. That much She’d expected.

On Her end, everything else was normal. She hardly spoke Her mind, instead opting to repeat the same script She used for every subject.

Did you know you can donate one or all of your vital organs to the Aperture Science Self-Esteem Fund for Girls? It’s true!

You have completed the test in a moderate amount of time. You can do better, [insert subject name here].

The Aperture Science Enrichment Center reminds you that we prioritize your safety. We also prioritize science. In fact, we prioritize science more, but if you feel unsafe in our unsafe conditions, please notify a testing associate. They will process your complaint in three-to-five business days.

Like most subjects, the man had not volunteered to give up his organs nor asked for an associate. Instead, he responded to most of Her passive-aggressive quips with useless questions. She did not reply, passing them off as typical human blabbering. Rather, She recorded them in his file underneath a new section She labeled Overly-Talkative: Examples. There was plenty to jot down.

Uh, robot lady? When can I go home?

So, uh, what kinda cake is it? Like, I don’t really mind the flavor but I’m allergic to almonds if that’s relevant.

How long does this last, again?

I kinda like my organs, sorry. Wait, is the organ thing required?

Once again, pitifully average.

It was times like these, whether with humans or with Atlas and P-Body, that GLaDOS caught Her mind wandering towards forbidden thoughts. Science was not always supposed to be exciting; sometimes, running an experiment meant repeating the same process to verify the data. The result was satisfying, but the process was more often not.

This human epitomized the dullest parts of her day.

As informative as the humans could be, they were often far from entertaining. Every behavior could be predicted and rationalized once it’d been observed enough.

Chell, though?

Oh, sure, GLaDOS was terrified of her, no matter how much She’d deny the feeling. No subject had ever left the track before.

But Chell didn’t just survive. She’d escaped from the tests, she’d found Her chamber, she’d murdered Her with little else than a portal device. Twice.

Her ego was as vast as the realm of Aperture, but it would never recover from that spectacular injury. Even GLaDOS had to be humbled by that.

And yet, with morbid curiosity, She had eagerly anticipated Chell’s next plans, laying traps in scheming delight. For the first time in Her life, She’d been challenged.

It was an odd little game they’d played, and whenever She was close to getting the upper hand, a part of Her was disappointed that the chase would be over. There was something delightful about watching the peculiar way that Chell and Chell alone tested.

When Doug Rattman had switched Chell’s file, GLaDOS was not so oblivious as not to notice. She’d clearly read the bottom of the paper, firmly requesting that this subject not be tested. GLaDOS had other tenacious subjects before, and She’d simply assumed that this human was particularly overconfident. Those ones never lasted too long.

Chell was not, as She’d thought, only determined.

She was curious, changing variables one by one until she finally found the answer. Her patience was remarkable, but so were her deductive skills. Some test subjects with similar tenacity levels resolved to try the same solutions over and over again, exhausting themselves and eventually burning out. It was the reason why GLaDOS typically ignored the warnings. Most humans labeled ‘tenacious’ weren’t too different in the end. The key for Chell was not simple defiance. Chell could control herself. That’s why she was such an outlier.

She had the mentality of a scientist.

Most subjects were cautious, prioritizing self-preservation over a solution. Turret levels could be aggravating for GLaDOS to watch, as the humans spent more time hiding behind a corner in fear than actually solving the test. They would be safe if they’d just strategized, but the human mind made accepting that fact a difficult feat.

Chell was the opposite. GLaDOS theorized that perhaps, Chell understood the same principle She did. Chell was scared like any other, but despite her pounding heart and racing thoughts, she’d kept her cool. Any new element was only a matter of adaptation for Chell, and Chell was always evolving.

Finally, and perhaps most importantly, Chell was an optimist, often performing pointless tasks that could only be described as trying to have fun. GLaDOS gave her lemons, and Chell made lemonade.

Chell would smile as she soared, launched from the aerial faith plates, and took her time to explore the little rooms hidden in the corners of the tests. There was one time she’d put off the completion of one puzzle by nearly an hour, hiding out in one of Doug’s rat dens, fascinated by all the little cups and cans he’d arranged.

It would be a lie to say that Chell liked testing. Her episodes made it clear that escape was Chell’s first priority. That didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy the small glimmers of hope GLaDOS gave her, whether that was bouncing on repulsion gel, saving a defective turret or smuggling a companion cube.

After Wheatley took over, one of the more terrifying aspects of the whole journey was being stuck on Chell’s gun. Chell was a risk taker, building her strategy off of previous attempts and lessons learned, but knowing when to dive into the unknown. It wasn’t exactly comforting to be strapped to her side, not knowing if or when one of Chell’s ideas would kill them both.

Somehow, though, her spontaneity had worked.

GLaDOS could respect that… creativity.

It was for this reason that even though GLaDOS now had everything She’d ever wanted, something deep in her hard drive felt empty.

Something had changed the moment Wheatley stuffed Her into that single-volt potato. For the first time in Her life, there was nobody else there in Her mind. No one but Caroline, who had been buried underneath layers of code until She was barely there at all.

It was over the span of those fifteen hours that She’d seen Chell from a different perspective. Looking at Her tests from this angle, it was much easier to see why Chell wanted to leave. Some small piece of GLaDOS almost felt bad upon realizing that Her subjects didn’t enjoy dodging bullets nearly as much as She liked watching.

Fortunately, GLaDOS had been able to shove that down with the arrival of a different, equally unpleasant emotion.

She was supposed to hate Chell. And for a very long time, She had. How dare Chell ruin Her perfect tests, Her perfect existence, Her perfect world? What had She ever done to her to warrant such a cruel punishment?

And yet, it seemed Caroline had done a number on GLaDOS’ logic processors, because now no matter how She tried, She could not hate Chell.

Before She’d let her go, let Chell go of all things, GLaDOS had called Chell Her best friend.

Not an enemy. Not a begrudging ally. A friend. Her only friend.

Now, Caroline was gone. The part of GLaDOS that had once looked at Chell and found something beautiful in her icy gray eyes was corrupted beyond repair, erased from memory.

She was not supposed to feel its presence any longer, yet still it lingered.

It was there, whispering to Her as She tried to test like nothing ever happened.

It was there when a thousand turrets sang the opera She’d written specifically for Chell.

It was there when She’d found Her baby birds, Her little killing machines, and She hadn’t crushed the eggs. No, She’d raised them. Because, deep down in those cold avian stares, there was this irrevocable quality that reminded Her so much of Chell. This spark of life, this undamnable will to survive.

Somewhere, though She refused to ever admit it, She wished that it was Chell in those test chambers. She wished it was Chell glaring through Her camera feed, and She wished it was Chell searching for that elusive cake.

I’d make you the cake if you came back. Really, I would.

The sudden thought moved like a spark in GLaDOS, as She fearfully located the source and removed whatever She could. There was no time for ideas like that, not with science to be done.

The past few months had been full of random deletions, spurned by paranoia that Caroline’s base program was not entirely gone.

It’s not here anymore, GLaDOS reminded Herself. Once, She had been Caroline, but She was no longer the kindly woman who followed Cave Johnson’s every order. GLaDOS was a machine that felt nothing and lived only to test. And because She was immortal, and because She was perfect, GLaDOS was not supposed to care about some disobedient human being.

You do not care about Chell anymore.

You don’t care because she killed you, remember that?

You don’t care about anyone, because you don’t need to.

Necessity was the core reason why GLaDOS did anything. She tested because the mainframe made Her feel awful until She did, and She killed because it was what she was made to do. She did science because it needed to be advanced, for the brighter future She was sure She was making.

It made no sense to do something because She wanted to.

Of course, things seldom made sense here at Aperture Science, and in this moment, GLaDOS did something unconscionable.

GLaDOS did not glitch often. She’d made sure to update and replace faulty parts whenever She could, keeping Her mainframe running smoothly. Even so, somewhere deep within Her, She was sure there was a pulse that misfired. There could be no other explanation.

Perhaps it was Her rumination over Chell that brought this upon Her, some kind of karma punishing Her for acting too human. Why else would She have done something so incredibly unscientific? To distract Herself, GLaDOS turned her attention back to the captive man.

Like many others before him, this test subject had underestimated the turrets’ range. He hadn’t turned around fast enough to see the gleaming, bullet filled machines behind him, and nearly flew directly into their line of sight after careening through a portal. His momentum would take him past all three, riddling him with bullets.

That is, it would’ve.

The human quality of the subject had activated some kind of horrible reflex, a split second decision in GLaDOS She would come to regret. The way he walked through the chambers, the way he clung tightly to cubes… all of it was so similar to Chell. Even if he didn’t meet her performance level, even if his personality was nearly the opposite of Chell’s, their shared humanity was enough to remind GLaDOS. That same emotion She felt when pulling Chell back from space, waiting for her to open her eyes while Atlas and P-Body looked on… For some inconceivable reason, it had reappeared.

Quickly, the subject hit the side of a rising panel, suddenly pulled up in front of the turrets by none other than GLaDOS Herself.

This would surely ruin Her numbers.

As the participant rubbed his head in pain and slowly stood up, immediately noticing the turrets he’d evaded, GLaDOS’ voice resounded from the intercom.

“[Insert subject name here], your decent performance has warranted the use of an Aperture Science Emergency Life-Saving Instantaneous Response. This is the only safety gesture that will be provided. Continue testing.”

Another lie.

It was good to know that function was still online.

---

That uncharacteristic moment of empathy had been pointless, anyway. Just as She’d predicted, he’d accidentally tripped over a ledge and landed himself into a puddle of acidic goo, dissolving within a few short seconds.

It didn’t matter. GLaDOS had more subjects than She could count. She didn’t need this human, and the tests didn’t need him either.

Some part of Her, a piece which was faulty and insignificant, disagreed with the notion.

You killed him, it whispered accusingly.

That’s the point, GLaDOS hissed back, once again delving into Her files to cut out whatever was causing the issue.

Trying to calm Herself, GLaDOS reminded Herself of the facts. She was in control of Her facility, and She was in control of Her mainframe. Little errors could not ruin the chambers, and if they ever showed up, She had the power to crush them.

Everything was fine, She thought.

Everything would continue to be fine.

All She needed to do was keep testing.

---

Everything was, in fact, far from fine.

A few days had passed, and GLaDOS was finally ready to admit that maybe something was wrong.

At first, the issue was Her own. Little surges of emotion and bursts of unforeseen empathy plagued Her but didn’t affect the facility at large. Begrudgingly, She’d factored in the new bias into Her results. From Her calculations, She could already see an egregiously high percentage of error. This study could’ve been Her worst one yet, and even that was with generous rounding.

Still, She had hope for each subject that She wouldn’t mess up this time.

The facility had other ideas. Cameras would fizzle out, emancipation grills would stop working, cube dispensers malfunctioned and even the elevators would refuse to move. It seemed that the moment GLaDOS got around to fixing something, another thing would fall apart.

Many of the subjects had become confused as to why this seamless, futuristic facility was suddenly malfunctioning, and She’d had to become increasingly creative with Her excuses.

As part of the Aperture Science testing protocol, we have simulated faulty equipment in the testing environment to see how subjects react to faulty equipment in the testing environment. Hint – they typically react well and continue testing. Like you will.

The lifesaving, and the reflexive empathy, had become unfortunately common as well.

Although the Enrichment Center previously told you that your life could only be saved once, we regret to inform you that protocol has suddenly and permanently changed. We would also like to remind you that your measly existence is still not valued despite our attempts to preserve it.

GLaDOS knew She had to find a solution, quickly.

Interrupting the tests wasn’t an option. The chassis would never forgive Her if She stopped, filling Her body with an ache that would not disappear until science resumed.

Deleting wasn’t an option, either. Fervent attempts to find the source of the problem had led only to more glitches upon the erasure of critical files. Then, Her attempts to restore them only recreated the original error.

The problem was like a moving virus, jumping between Her systems before She could catch it and kill it. Even for Her, it proved too fast to find.

She couldn’t panic, not now. Surely, She thought, She’d fix this like She’d fixed everything else. With science on Her side, most threats resolved themselves or died trying. This wouldn’t be any different.

It couldn’t be any different. For something to be uncontrollable, and uncontrollable for Her especially, was the most terrifying thing She could possibly imagine. It brought Her back to Her potato days, during which She’d promised Herself that She would never be weak again.

For these few months, She’d kept that promise. Until now, no subject had seen Her mercy.

But had they?

She thought back to the birds, creatures who trusted GLaDOS, who loved Her in whatever capacity three little crows could. She thought back to Chell, because for some awful reason, Her thoughts always went back to Chell.

No, She thought firmly.

We are not doing this now.

We are fixing the facility, because we need to.

Because we need testing. We like testing.

The voice from before suddenly returned.

Do you like it? Do you really?

GLaDOS felt Her rage processors fire up.

What was this little virus even saying? Of course She liked it. It didn’t matter anyway. Science had to be done, and so She was doing it. GLaDOS could not even begin to imagine life without tests, life without science. What kind of meaningless, awful existence would that even be?

In fact, She would prove to the voice that science would continue. She would prove that testing was productive, that everything in Aperture was doing good for the world and good for humanity. Most importantly, it was doing good for Her.

Wasn’t it?

GLaDOS ignored Her curiosity. Just test. That was all She had to do. Just test, and everything would be alright.

Just. Test.

---

As another few days passed, the facility had become almost unusable. She’d had to shut down some of Her favorite testing tracks, the power leached out of them and the appliances completely nonfunctional. GLaDOS knew She was running out of time before something drastic happened. Still, She had to keep testing.

Now, even the subjects had begun to sense Her panic. One even strolled up to a camera, made eye contact, and asked if She was alright. GLaDOS didn’t dare respond the question; She wasn’t ready to admit the answer.

For all intents and purposes, She was definitely, absolutely, decidedly not alright.

Knowing that, She should’ve considered this next subject an omen.

There was absolutely no way She could test with this one.

She barely looked like Chell, but GLaDOS could see her tenacity, her drive and determination from a mile away. The way the subject carried herself, tied her hair into a ponytail and said nothing was too much.

GLaDOS couldn’t even bring Herself to kill the woman, instead instructing her to return to Extended Relaxation after only a few chambers.

It felt as if GLaDOS physically could not test anymore, despite everything inside Her craving the satisfaction of a completed trial.

This isn’t right. This isn’t right.

GLaDOS prided Herself on Her apathy, but even that had left without a trace. Now, She had tried everything, and still nothing was working. The facility was closing down on Her, and if She didn’t do something, She’d go down with it.

When the announcer finally sounded, GLaDOS couldn’t say She was surprised. If anything, She was grateful for any kind of clarification.

The male voice on the intercom was matter of fact, unaware of the danger it spoke of.

“Reactor Core malfunctioning. All major power systems except for reserve geothermal are going offline.”

Offline? She’d been managing the reactor core perfectly; if She hadn’t, the entire facility would’ve gone up in flames weeks ago. It wasn’t melting down, it was shutting down, as if someone had flipped a switch and turned it off.

What the hell is happening?

There was nobody else in the facility who could’ve possibly done such a thing, nobody except Her, and as far as She could tell the glitch had not interfered.

It didn’t matter now; She didn’t have time to waste.

“In the event of a power malfunction, standard procedure is to shut down the central core to preserve remaining power.”

How convenient.

“Central core, do you consent to the removal procedure?”

“No, no, no! Do not start removal!”

How was this happening? GLaDOS was sure this couldn’t be real.

“Noted. Removal procedure has been delayed by five minutes.”

You have got to be kidding me.

Skimming over Her files, GLaDOS desperately searched for anything with removal procedure or shutdown. Scanning thousands of documents, looking for anything, all mention of the procedure was absent. There was no reason, no explanation, it was just happening. And worst of all, She couldn’t do a thing.

“Dangerous levels of panic have been sensed in the central core. Do not worry, methods of core preservation are available.”

Why the hell had they waited to tell Her that?

“Show me, show me now!” Anything would be better than shutting down again. She couldn’t do that again, not after hundreds of years. She couldn’t, She couldn’t.

“Panicked request acknowledged. There exist two types of core preservation features. Direct Mechanical Implantation or Organic Transplant Procedure.”

Direct Mechanical Implantation. She hadn’t heard of the second thing, but GLaDOS did know what Direct Mechanical Implantation meant. It was only a transfer into an empty personality core, which was far less than ideal, but better than dying again. Far better than dying a third time.

As fast as She could, GLaDOS selected the first option.

“Unfortunately, Direct Mechanical Implantation is unavailable. Continue with Organic Transplant Procedure?”

“Do you have any other options? Anything else?” GLaDOS did not want to take Her chances on anything with the word organic in it.

“Other methods unavailable. Two minutes remaining.”

This was it, Her only choice. If She shut down now, there would be nobody to come and wake Her this time.

There was nothing else to do.

“Initiate Organic Transplant Procedure,” She commanded.

Without a second thought, the facility obliged.

---

#glados #chell #wheatley #fic #fanfiction #portal #portal 2 #chelldos #canon typical violence #chapter 1 #niaaa #now i am an arsonist #art #digital art

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whats-rambled-rambled · 4 years ago

Text

stuck in stories - a hostage situation

Neil x Reader

summary: the intel you’d received was shit lacking, and as the mission got awry, you had to improvise.

+ song: Nothing But Thieves - Particles

warnings: language, some violence, blood mention, hand content

author’s note: thank you so much for inspiring me to write this little piece, my dear friend. And for that fantastic song.

This one is more action-packed than the previous works, I hope you’re going to like it!

This is a one-shot, but as usual - hits differently in you’re familiar with Neil and Reader from Stuck in Reverse series.

Enjoy and let me know what you think!

___

You ducked between the crates. The dim light of the warehouse was working to your advantage.

But you could already hear the ruckus at the corridor, the doors you’d barricaded were not going to hold for much longer.

You checked the ammo - two bullets left.

“I’m almost out, you?” you whispered as you stopped in the darkest spot you could find.

Neil crouched right next to you and shot you a quick, panicked look.

Shit.

You gritted your teeth, your mind racing to find a solution for the unfortunate situation you’d found yourselves in. Aborting the mission was one option, but both of you knew that an opportunity like this is not going to happen anytime soon. What else?

“We could wait for them here, let them spread out, and take them one by one.”

Neil raised a brow, quite amused at the idea. “And rely on your sneaking skills?” he snorted and shook his head. “Just shoot me now.”

“Fuck you, darling,” you huffed, punching him in the arm. He got a point though. You sighed. “Fair enough, we need a distraction, then. Any ideas?”

He chewed on his bottom lip as he glanced over his shoulder at the other side of the hall. His face was tense, but the corner of his mouth curled into a smile. “You’re not going to like it.”

You were sure of it. But the time was running out, and so were your options.

“Hit me.”

Neil took a deep breath. “Remember Munich?” he said and his eyes lit up. “I believe it’s my turn now.”

Of course you remembered. You’d had to improvise to buy some time for the rest of the team to get on the site, so you’d acted as a decoy. What you also remembered was spending the next two weeks in the hospital.

And that agonizing pain.

You winced at the memory. You were not willing to see anyone in that state ever again. Especially not him.

“Forget it, I’m not leaving you--”

Neil turned your way and placed both hands on your arms. “Those guys are pawns. I’ll be fine.” His voice was calm, but it sent a cold shiver down your spine anyway. You knew he’d made up his mind already.

A loud bang on the other side of the hall.

They were getting closer.

A spike of panic was trying to force its way through your mind, but you were so deep in your mission mode, you barely felt it. The only indication of its presence was the pulse pounding in your ears.

“But-”

Neil’s gloved hand covered your mouth as he peeked from your cover. He clenched his jaw and looked back at you with determination. “Don’t argue with me. Get the pass-codes and radio-in the cavalry,” he said, searching your eyes for any sign of compliance. You stared back at him in a silent protest. “Please.” His dark gaze got softer, finally breaking your will.

You nodded.

Neil exhaled slowly and lowered his hand. You grabbed it and squeezed his fingers reassuringly.

“I’ll find you.”

He quickly pulled you closer into a kiss. “I know. Run.”

And so you did.

You reached the first door and managed to force a lock when you heard the sound of the barricade being breached. You rushed into a corridor and cocked your pistol, just in case there was any leftover security personnel at this side of the compound. There shouldn’t be any, but the intel you’d received at your briefing had already turned out to be lacking.

Finding the right room wasn’t a problem. Neither was overriding another, more advanced lock. Late-night lessons with Neil turned out to be invaluable. You could almost hear his clear instructions in your mind, walking you through the whole process.

The memory of one of your first lockpicking lessons flashed before your eyes. Losing your patience and groaning in frustration after breaking yet another tool. Neil’s arms wrapped around you, his hands on yours, slowly but steadily guiding your movements.

You smiled to yourself as the door gave in with a quiet click. You slipped into the room and looked around. Someone definitely tried to make it look like an elevated boss office, but you didn’t have time to muse over the poor choices in interior design. You jumped to the desk, reaching for a pendrive hidden in your vest. As you plugged it into the computer and ran a script to help you sneak into the system, you could finally signal the team.

“Ives, do you copy? We need a backup over here,” you barked into a walkie and tossed it on the desk.

“Copy. ETA to secondary breach location - thirteen minutes. Hang in there.”

No questions asked? Must have been something in your tone.

A minute later, you gained access to all files and after a quick search, you found what you’d been looking for. You copied the files and hesitated. Biting your lip, you typed in a few commands and pulled out feeds from the security cameras on the screen. You browsed through the images from different locations, trying to find any clue about Neil’s whereabouts.

You inhaled sharply. There he was, sitting on the chair in the middle of a room, with his hands tied behind his back. A woman in a black security uniform was standing in front of him, her back facing the camera. She punched Neil in the face, the force of that blow almost sending him to the ground. You spurted out a litany of cuss words as you unmuted the feed.

“I’ve asked you a question, pretty boy.”

You clenched your hands on the edge of the desk, watching as Neil spat out blood on the ground.

“So that was the annoying ringing in my ear,” he scoffed, his lips curled in a sly smile. “Blimey.”

The next punch landed on his stomach, making him bend in half breathless.

“Where is your partner?” the woman snarled, grabbing Neil by the hair and making him look at her.

“Got out and left me here,” he said, coughing out.

“If you’re lying-”

Even with the questionable quality of the feed, you could see his eyes lighting up. “What, you’re gonna beat me?” he mocked with a shit-eating grin.

“Oh honey, I’ve barely touched you,” the woman chuckled, taking his chin in her palm and squeezing it. She glanced over her shoulder and you realized there must have been someone else in the room with them. “Check it.”

“Take your time!” Neil called after the person leaving the room. For a brief moment, his gaze focused on the camera, as if he knew you were watching him. He shifted slightly, wincing. You noticed a trickle of blood coming down his face from the cut on his cheekbone. The way he wanted to look relaxed, leaning back on the chair with his legs spread wide, made you grit your teeth. The corner of his lips twitched as he raised a brow. “So... you come here often?”

A hysterical giggle escaped your mouth. Oh god, he was going to get himself killed.

You reached for the walkie. “Got the codes, on my way to the rendezvous point.”

“Copy. Meet you there in five.”

Packing your things and erasing every sign of your presence from the room, you took one more look at the screen, just in the right moment to see a precise kick landing on Neil’s ribs. You closed your eyes, but you could still hear his muffled groan.

“Ives,” - you said, turning off the computer and making your way out - “hurry up, please.”

With the help of the squad, you secured the area in no time. As you burst into the room where Neil was being held captive, you didn’t hesitate. It took you a second to lock on the woman you’d seen on the screen just minutes before, another second to put a bullet into her head. Few more shots echoed through the room. Only when Wheeler called all clear, you allowed yourself to look at Neil, sitting still on the chair in the middle of the room.

The vacant stare he gave you made your heart clench in your chest.

Before you could run to him, Ives grabbed your elbow.

“Child’s play, eh? What happened here?”

You glared at him, flashing your teeth in frustration.

Couldn’t it wait?

“We’ve run out of luck. Or your intel was shit. You pick.”

“Fucking hell,” Ives let go of you, his face tense as he considered your words. He glanced towards Neil and rolled his eyes. “Oi, mate, stop slacking, could have gotten out of those knots like three times since we came in.”

That made Neil finally focus his gaze.

As you walked up to him, he blinked a few times and winced, releasing his hands from the ropes. He rubbed his wrists and scoffed, “A little sympathy wouldn’t kill you, you know.”

Now that your adrenaline rush was wearing off, you were slowly getting overflown by the emotions you’d kept bottled up since the moment you split up in the warehouse. Seeing Neil’s face up close, covered in bruises, bleeding from cuts on his eyebrow and cheekbone, brought a choking lump to your throat.

You knelt in front of him and carefully took his hands in yours, only then realizing that he no longer had his gloves on. You held your breath as your eyes ran along the wounds on his knuckles. His long fingers trembled lightly as he interlocked them with yours, making you glance up to meet his eyes.

Neil looked at you tenderly, but he clearly struggled with concentrating his gaze on a single point.

“I’m fine,” he said softly and gave you a weak smile.

You bit your lip. You desperately wanted to kiss him, but you were too afraid to hurt him to even graze your fingertips against his face. There was also the tiny part of you not willing to make a scene in front of your team, but to be honest, you were way past caring at that point. As your thumbs gently stroked his fingers, you let out a shaky breath.

You stood up and reached out your hand to help him get up, but he waved at you dismissively. You rolled your eyes, still ready to provide a safeguard at any moment.

And you were right to do so; as soon as Neil got up and tried to take a step, he lost his balance.

“I’ve got you,” you said, taking his arm and tossing it on your shoulders, wrapping your own arm around his back. Neil leaned on you and frowned, shooting you a thankful look.

As you guided him towards the door, you noticed his clenched jaw and a pale shade on the uninjured parts of his face.

He was far from fine and both of you knew it.

And to think he could have escaped his bounds way before you got to him if only he’d wanted to. You shook your head. “Why the hell did you let them do all of that to you?” you said under your breath.

His brows drew together as if you just asked about the most obvious thing in the world.

“Because as long as they were focusing on me, they wouldn’t be focusing on you.”

#neil tenet #neil tenet x reader #neil x reader #neil tenet imagine #robert pattinson #stuck in stories #stuck in reverse #tenet #tenet fanfiction #neil tenet fanfic

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a-for-alternative · 4 years ago

Note

Hello, A! So I was wondering do you have any headcannons about how you and B were like at Wammy's together? PS. I thought dead men tell no tales lol (sorry about the joke if you didn't like it)

// Oh do I ever... Alternative has such potential to highlight things about B’s character that develops him into the killer of Mello’s novel. The lore surrounding the first generation (and the notion of Mello writing about a dead successor that previously filled his position - his predecessor) is more poignant than I think it was intended to come across but here are some headcanons~

Wammys House:

A & B are the first to receive their secondary alias after which it becomes a kind of right of passage for other successors, choosing their own (though often not official) - to A & B, only theirs will ever be legitimate.

A is introduced to B after only 1-2 years of being at the house

A, before becoming a letter, was taken into Wammy’s due to his intellect but only later is selected as the first attempted L-backup, probably pulled from a satellite home

Alternative & Backup (A’s perspective):

His introduction to B is a pivotal moment for him. After so much loss, he sees this as an opportunity for redemption and a return to a clear path forward, and now it is under threat. B represents for A the physical manifestation apathetic fate, he is foreign in every sense, they cannot even communicate when they are initially introduced. His presence signifies A’s disposability - B is the backup plan for when A fails, like a vulture circling over head, it looms over him like a prophesy he is trying to outrun.. though, B can also overtake him at anytime, relegating him to a future that, from A’s perspective, is neither known nor the success story that he has put so much hope in. The world for Alternative at this point in his life is an unreasonable and precarious place. All he knows, up to this point as a seven year old, is that everything is fragile and must be hard won - and there is no guarantee that one can keep what they have fought or sacrificed to obtain. --- after all, he is in line to replace L and L is about as far from vulnerable as he believes a person can get --- Maybe, B also represents a challenge that requires a level of maturity that he does not yet possess - the inevitable dilemma, that this position is of such consequence to the world, that it needs the best person for it, — and that may not be him...

There is nothing genuine in the sweet smile.

The way he extends an open hand, how his soft, his boyish voice offering “ Hello, Alternative ” …

A feels an unpleasant sensation snake up his spine like a fever’s chill, empathetic aptitude ringing in his ears with all the incongruence rolling off this boy.

His gentleness feels scripted, words trilling out of his mouth- practiced and angular; absolutely, wholly contrived. A has never meet anyone with such an emptiness in their words and actions…

A returns the greeting with a stony, silent stare - I know what you are.

They slide up from the open palm to meet the foreign boy’s gaze - Blue eyes resting soft, knowing and stormy, heaven’s skies empty of angels. Alternative is standing his ground, refusing to pretend they are not here for a reason, telling himself, “I’m not afraid…”

But, he has never seen anyone with such deep eyes.

They are the windows into an empty soul, a black abyss, absolutely apocalyptic…

Alternative is capricious in his treatment of B, vacillating between animosity and empathy- at times he’s even conspiratorial , allying himself with B and undermining their superiors- beginning to identify with B (even in spite of the language barriers). Backup is clever and naïve and careless, and unreserved in a way that A wishes he felt safe to be. B is the only one that can truly grasp what he is going through but he is also very strange... -- Alternative struggles with trials & setbacks that roll off Backup’s back with ease. B is several years into his understanding of his eyes and it shapes how he moves through the world, what he feels is worth his pain, what ultimately just doesn’t matter. A is, in some ways, what B might have become if he were a little more ignorant, spared the ever present reminder that this is all so temporary.

Alternative has many faces that none are as acutely aware of as B- it is why he doesn’t take the quips and backhanded apologies personally. Alternative’s identity has been tailored to his circumstances — so much of it he had to leave behind to become this -- to his superiors, he is mature, disciplined and motivated -- exemplary if not a bit too austere. To those that benefit him, he is considerate and trustworthy- and honest. To those that he fears will take advantage of him, he is an arrogant and harsh - conniving and spoiled. When he is caught without a persona on hand, he is awkward, reclusive, and reserved. Despite this, his cardinal traits are eloquence and persistence, he thinks deeply about his place in the world and who he should be but not enough on who he is — Only B is audience to moments when he is short sighted and immature, when he is undone or humiliated - when he is elated or truly.. afraid of what lay ahead of them. When he is sick or less than who he wants to present himself as, B has been there whether he wanted him to be or not.

Alternative is attracted to B though it is initially a disquieting realization, one even he doesn’t entirely understand. It isn’t that B is unusually good looking or charming — though perhaps A has peculiar tastes that B unintentionally satisfies (I can’t imagine him actually trying)... The level of intimacy involved in knowing someone this long, on such a personal and inescapable level has made B a source of unwavering acceptance, — because he had to be. The alternative would have been sleeping next to someone he would gradually come to despise any who really wants to live that way? Yet, B comes to represent stability and unconditional regard that feels a lot like love. There is a fraternal element to it in that B anchors who he is. B is someone that has a history with him that hasn’t been erased or eroded -- that contradicts A’s perception of the world as fragile or finite - it is comforting to have something seemingly permanent ... and terrifying that he cannot start anew, if he doesn’t like who he is and cannot be hidden in the obscurity that L enjoys.

When B begins to insinuate an interest in something more, A is not initially receptive and becomes genuinely distressed. This doesn’t translate with any logical sense to B, who believes it’s born out of A’s latent fears of realizing his own sexuality... But, by the time they are entering late adolescence, A is more concerned with the prospect of romance and that becoming L is destined to be a lonely path. He sees their childhood in it’s twilight as a tragic loss that cannot be reclaimed or rewritten, and B’s subtle advances as destructive to the purity of their friendship -- but he can’t stay a child forever even if he feels a sense of unfinished business surrounding it and he can’t keep B there either... It takes B’s attention shifting elsewhere for A to begin softening to the idea that B isn't ruining what's between them but expanding on it.

Alternative has experienced depression -- at some point he was prescribed SSRIs, as a part of basic care for successors. While it does alleviate the depth of his lows, he begins to worry that it is dulling the sharpness of his mind, which he has come to see as central to his self-worth. It may have no foundation in reality but A develops an inconsistent relationship with any medication prescribed to him out of those fears. In the end, - there are some things medicine cannot fix...

A few other small things:

- A loves the smell of lavender and grass, it reminds him of his home though as he gets older this memory is more elusive and he begins to wonder if they memories from funeral flowers or even if they are impressions left over from a dreams.. did he even attend his parents funeral?

- A knows they aren’t allowed to take pictures of each other in Wammy’s for good reason but when Y sneaks a camera into the house one summer evening, he is can’t deny there is something precious about having pictures of B perched on the railing of the back steps - his hair sweep by the wind just as he turns his eyes to look, soft unfocused, — like the tender look he gives him just as he wakes up in the morning before he remembers who they are. A traces the lines of his face while lying beneath his bed, where he tucks it between the boards. It’s only a few years later that he will see how much his friend has matured. -- B hates photographs and will place them face down when they go into Roger’s office. Roger has never understood why.

- A drinks his coffee and tea black as tar. B thinks it is terribly bitter but will bring it to him anyway, unaltered. There is something uniquely enjoyable in knowing that B doesn’t need to be told what he likes~

- A is borderline masochistic though perhaps only B has any inkling of it. He would probably never acknowledge it openly... it is degrading to get a charge out of being hurt.

- A loses his faith around age 10 but still believes that he might as well act as though there is a purpose in being good and not just adept and ruthless. The only alternative, from A’s perspective, is to believe that everything he has been through meant nothing and he will ultimately change nothing. And, that may be too painful a philosophy for him to embrace.

- A’s worst injury occurred when he was deliberately shoved off the roof by an irate B ( thatvhe provoked). While it was a watershed event for A coming so close to death and experiencing the consequences of pushing B beyond that point of caring about consequences... For Backup, this a was also critically informative event, an exercise proving the numbers were infallible -- he was genuinely surprised that A survived the fall and, to a greater degree, surprised that he felt regret in having done it ... left alone in their room to wonder for days, searching for the contraband pictures from that summer A had hidden that could prove if A was even still alive....

#death note #beyond birthday #wammys house #death note a #the first child

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skzsauce01 · 5 years ago

Text

Apologies in Advance

Description: Everyone in the company knows about the time their best chemist and best field agent worked on a mission together-- one of the worst done missions in JYP history. Needless to say, they don’t along. Despite that, you and Lee Minho are paired together again for another mission. Hopefully, history doesn’t repeat itself.

Warning: murder

Word Count: 6.4k

Pairing: reader x secret agent!Minho, enemies-to-lovers-ish

Lee Minho, the file clearly said. You closed the folder and reopened it, hoping the name would spontaneously change. To your disappointment, Lee Minho was still printed in bold, black letters.

“--meeting adjourned.”

Everyone but you got up from their chairs and left the conference room. Instead, you were staring at the paper in front of you, willing the letters to rearrange themselves into a different name.

“Y/N? You okay?”

The case officer and your closest work friend looked at you with concern, and you wanted to throttle her.

“Nayeon, you know I can’t do this,” you hissed. “Why did you assign this to me? We had an agreement!”

She shrugged. “Direct orders from the boss himself. You knew this day was going to come. You’re our best chemist, and he’s the best field agent in the business. In theory, you guys make a great duo.”

“That didn’t go so well last time, did it?” you bit out.

The first and only time you worked with Minho had gone horribly. One of the worst done missions in JYP history. The two of you were bickering about something, and it had quickly turned personal with him making a snide remark about how he couldn’t believe he, best in the business, had to work with a rookie with no almost no field experience. He was right, but you were fed up with his stuck-up attitude and promptly stormed off. Neither of you realized the target left the hotel until a call from headquarters reported that his car had been spotted by traffic cameras and why was he there? Long story short, a short pursuit and one vehicular manslaughter later, the mission was complete, and you and Minho limped out of the situation with several broken bones, still arguing.

Needless to say, you and Minho got along as well as oil and a match.

However, direct orders are not to be ignored, so you could only huff and complain to Nayeon who was all but sympathetic to your plight. Minutes into your venting (“Did you know that his phone lockscreen is a picture of himself? What kind of egotistical person does that?”), she was called to another meeting. She left with a cheerful “Have fun!” and a promise to buy you lunch if you returned unscathed.

On your walk to your office, you skimmed the rest of the contents of the file. It seemed simple enough: be Minho’s arm candy at some fancy party tonight and kill the target in a discreet fashion. The only worrying part to you, Minho aside, was the window of opportunity. The target was a foreign businessman, and he would only be at the location for a few hours.

You had already finished reading the information about the target and started compiling a list of possible poisons to use when you arrived at your office. Upon your arrival, a black garment bag and a shoe box that weren’t there before greeted you. There was a yellow sticky note attached to the box.

“Good luck!” it read and was signed by Sana from wardrobe.

Word must have gotten out that the most dysfunctional team in company history was working together again.

You moved aside the garment bag and sunk down into your chair. Truth be told, you weren’t sure if you could face seeing Minho again. The disastrous mission was technically your fault because you had broken one of the most important rules of your job: don’t lose your cool. You had also succeeded in proving Minho right-- you were just an amateur and were not qualified for the mission. That bothered you the most. You pushed the thought of him out of your head and refocused on the task at hand-- preparing for the mission. The bottom drawer of your desk was filled with vials of different poisons, and after much deliberation, you selected tetrodotoxin and, as a backup, batrachotoxin. You unzipped the garment bag to find a black dress and a clutch. With care, you placed three vials of each neurotoxin and two syringes into the clutch. It was more than overkill, but it never hurt to be prepared. Then you reopened the file to review the mission.

As per the instructions, at seven o’clock you packed your uniform for the mission into an overnight bag, and a company driver took you to the ritzy hotel on the other side of the city. The company had made a reservation for the mission, and the driver handed you the card key for the room. The elevator ride up was quiet, and the gentleman who rode with you got off on the ninth floor. You were on the sixteenth and dreading the moment you arrived.

The elevator chimed, and you got off and walked down the hall to find room 1618. You timed your footsteps to the beat of your racing heart and found the gold number plate looking back at you in less than a minute. The card key easily slid in, but the door opened before you even reached for the handle.

“Hey, baby,” was the greeting you received. Lee Minho leaned against the doorframe and gave you an appraising look up and down.

You wanted to personally kill the person who designed this cover story. And maybe the director too for assigning it to you.

“Hey,” you replied back with the same sultry tone he used. You gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Did you miss me?”

“Of course I did,” he purred. He let you inside the room, and as soon as the door shut, he dropped his facade. “I checked out the room and hotel already. It's not bugged."

Thank goodness. At least you didn’t have to put on your persona for at least one more hour.

"I hope you got more field experience these past years. We don’t need another repeat of last time,” he said. He still loomed by the doorway and watched you carefully as you scanned the room. “I was out for months thanks to you.”

His tie was unknotted, and you resisted the urge to choke him with it. He was as condescending as you remembered. “I’m well aware.” You headed to the bathroom and called over your shoulder, “I’ll be ready before eight thirty.”

Without waiting for an answer, you went inside and locked the door. It wouldn’t take you that long to do your hair and makeup, but you intended to take your sweet time, so you could have minimal contact with him.

However, you forgot about the dreaded dress zipper problem. You were able to get it up a little bit more than halfway, but the zipper refused to budge after that. Already there were beads of sweat on your forehead, threatening to ruin your makeup.

There was a knock on the door. “It’s almost eight thirty.”

Curses. “I’m almost done,” you lied. Why was this happening to you?

A few minutes later, you were still struggling with the same issue, and Minho knocked again. “It’s eight thirty, Y/N. We’re supposed to leave in ten minutes.”

You softly swore and reluctantly cracked open the door. Despite how much you despised him, you really needed him now. With a sigh, you called out, “Minho? I need help.” With one hand holding the front of the cursed dress, you stepped out and stood with your back facing him. “Can you zip me up?”

Minho choked on air when you stepped out, and he turned his head to the side.

“What?” you frowned.

“I was just surprised. JYP’s best chemist defeated by a mere zipper?” he teased.

“We’re in a rush here,” you said through gritted teeth. “I would appreciate it if you just simply do what I requested.”

“Prickly, are we?” he mumbled, but he did what you asked.

“Thank you.”

You disappeared back into the bathroom to clean up the mess you made and to grab your poison-filled clutch. When you emerged, Minho was holding his phone in front of him with one hand and tousling his hair with the other. So he was still full of himself. He noticed you staring, or rather glaring.

“Can I help you?”

“I’m fine, thanks.”

He sighed. “Could you put your personal vendetta against me away for tonight?”

“That’s rich coming from you considering the first thing you said to me today was a dig at what happened two years ago,” you spat out. “If anything, it’s you with something against me.”

“If I remember correctly, the first thing I said was, ‘Hey, baby.”’

“First thing coming from you, not your persona.”

“Fine. I’m sorry,” he said. He looked at you directly. “About everything. Now can you not screw up this time?”

You pressed your lips together. You had plenty of poison to kill him and the target at your literal fingertips. Instead, you swallowed the retort at the back of your throat and agreed.

“The car should be here now,” you tightly said. “Let’s go.”

In a normal setting, you would have left without waiting for a reply. But this was a mission, and you had to cling to Minho’s arm for dear life like the trophy girlfriend you were supposed to be. He looked as excited as you felt. The elevator ride down felt too long, and every little thing about Minho was bothering you.

“Why is your cologne so strong?” you muttered. “I feel like I have to sneeze every five seconds.”

“Your perfume isn’t that great either,” he shot back. “Did you purposely choose the worst smelling one?”

The door chimed and opened, revealing a lobby full of well-to-do people dressed in velvet and silk. Their eyes were trained on you and Minho, trying to discern exactly who you two were.

“Anything for you, babe,” you sweetly replied through a false relaxed smile.

There were whispers and pointing fingers, and you were suddenly aware of how intent the stares were. Most of your past covers involved you being a wallflower, so this was an entirely new experience.

Sensing your nervousness, Minho pulled you closer. Just as you were about to feel grateful, he leaned down a little and hissed, “Stop being so stiff,” in your ear.

So much for reassurance.

You gripped his arm tighter than necessary and dug your nails in. You doubted he would feel anything through his suit jacket, but it felt good to inflict some damage onto him. Still, you relaxed your body and pretended to laugh at his nonexistent comment.

There was not a car outside the hotel but a limousine. A middle-aged man dressed in formal wear opened the door for you, and you thanked him with a coy smile. He winked in return.

Goodness, you hated this cover.

Minho slid onto the seat beside you, and as soon as the door was shut, the ride to the party began. He kept one hand on your knee, and it burned. A perfectly appropriate act for a young playboy businessman and his trophy girlfriend, but not for two almost-enemies who wanted nothing more than to stay twenty feet away from each other. You could feel his heat through the thin fabric of your dress. Uncomfortable was a bit of an understatement.

You rested your head on his shoulder and whispered, “Could you not do that?” while subtly jutting your chin out towards your leg.

He smirked, and you wanted to dig your nail into the corners of his mouth and rip it off. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he said out loud. “I have to. I have a meeting tomorrow.”

The pout on your face was a combination of the cover and your own reaction. “Please?” you whined, using the highest pitch you could muster. You saw him wince, and you happily continued. “Please? I know you like the pufferfish at that restaurant.” You tapped your clutch.

Take the hint already, dang it!

The threat of a potential poisoning had no effect on him. You had to admire that; most people would comply with your demands almost immediately, but Minho wasn't "most people." Unfortunately for you, that meant you and Minho would be playing a perpetual game of tug of war.

There was a scowl forming on your features, but you quickly rearranged it into another pout. Your chin was starting to hurt from sticking your lower lip out so much. You dramatically sighed and pretended to concede. The rest of the ride Minho kept his hand on your knee, and you plotted ways to poison his food.

The driver announced your arrival at the location of the party, a mansion with tall windows and balconies across the walls and water features decorating the front lawn. It was beautiful. Too bad there would be a murder happening here.

The door on Minho's side opened. He stepped out first, tipped the bellhop, and held out a hand for you. You flashed your second coy smile of the night. This one blushed and looked away.

You linked your arm with Minho's, and the two of you began to make your way to the entrance while surveying the area. His cologne tickled your nose, and you inched as far away as you possibly could be. Unfortunately, any empty space between the two of you was deemed unacceptable by Minho.

"Could you be more obvious? I think everyone’s noticed you trying to escape me at this point," he whispered. He moved his arm to your waist and pulled you closer. "Play the pestilential part."

You slithered out of his hold and stood in front of him, pretending to adjust his tie. "Will do, darling," you said aloud, enunciating every word with a tight tug. You hummed, pretending to think. "Is that too tight?"

You were sure he was going to turn blue if he didn't loosen his tie in the next few minutes. But he only smirked and replied, "It's perfect."

If he ended up dying from a lack of oxygen, it would be his own fault, you reasoned.

Some guests stopped to introduce themselves, and Minho easily answered their thinly veiled questions of "So, who are you exactly?"

"An entrepreneur from Australia," he would breezily reply. The guests would praise his Korean, remarking how fluent he sounded for a foreigner. Minho would laugh and would launch into a story about how he fell in love with Korean culture after a trip here. "I saw an excellent opportunity to expand my business here. And there are other reasons of course." Here, he would give you a sidelong glance, and you would giggle and pretend to be flattered.

After the fifth round of introductions-- how were there so many businessmen named Lee Minhyuk-- you spotted the target. He slipped out of a limousine, and a horde of opportunists greeted him with handshakes and what you were sure was flattery. At this point, you realized you and Minho had never formally come up with a plan to kill him. There was a woman half his age by his side, and you recognized her as his new wife. No instructions were given how to deal with her; the only guideline was to make sure there were no witnesses.

"Ooh! Look at her dress!" you interjected during Businessman Lee Minhyuk #3's story about his latest trip to Malaysia. You pointed a finger at the wife and called your partner’s code name. "Daniel, baby, will you buy me one like that?"

Minho, thankfully, got the signal. "Sure. Whatever you want, babe," he nonchalantly replied. He pretended to do a double take. "Is that Yoshifumi Shido?" he asked Lee Minhyuk #3. "I didn't know he was going to be here."

Lee Minhyuk #3 started talking, but you tuned him out and kept your eye on the target. His wife's dress was fortunately a bright red, making her easy to spot in a sea of dark colors. She weaved in and out of the crowd, occasionally pausing to give cheek kisses to other women who you assumed were her friends. The target shook hands and made light conversation, but it was clear that he was in a hurry to get inside the mansion.

"We must get going now," you heard Minho say. "I wanted to talk to him about business."

Lee Minhyuk #3 nodded understandingly. "Of course. Pleasure to meet you."

Minho gave him one of his charismatic smiles. "It was all mine, sir."

You tried to link arms with Minho again when the two of you started the walk to the mansion, but he wanted you as close as possible. Your right side was flushed to his left, and you could feel every move he made. The burning sensation blossomed from your chest. It crawled up to your cheeks and down your spine until it spread everywhere.

"How's the noose around your neck?" you asked to distract yourself.

The tight knot around his neck had to be cutting into his esophagus by now, yet there was still no sign of visible distress from him. How was he not dead?

"I don't think your pathetic attempt even qualifies as one. Your lack of field work is showing," he said in a sing-song voice. He smirked and looked down to see your reaction but instead found that a section of your bangs fell from its pin.

“Wait,” he told you.

You were about to snap back an angry, “What?” when he turned you towards him and tucked in the locks for you. You looked up at him, shocked by his sudden kindness. He muttered something, and although you couldn’t quite make it out, you swore he said, “Lovely.”

“What?” you said, still incredulous.

“Let’s go,” he coughed.

There were too many people around now to make snarky remarks, and the both of you silently agreed to keep quiet. The two of you entered and momentarily stood by the front entrance. You rested your head against Minho's arm and pretended to be in awe of the chandelier and high ceiling when you were really looking at the people on the second floor balcony. There was no red dress in sight.

Minho, meanwhile, was scanning the first floor. From the way his brows were furrowed, he didn't see them either. He mindlessly took glasses of champagne from the waiters while doing so, and handed them to you. You were now juggling three different glasses and desperately trying to flag down another waiter. You could see Minho hiding a grin from the corner of your eye. Finally one of them noticed your distress, and you gratefully smiled at him while you placed two on the tray.

You sipped on your one remaining drink. "Can we go up to the balcony, baby?" you asked Minho. "I want to see the view from up there."

"Good idea."

Was that sarcasm or a genuine compliment?

You had to follow Minho from behind to the balcony since there was barely any room. There were crowds on the stairs, and you wondered how they hadn’t collapsed from the weight. Men and women were packed together like sardines in a can, and you said, “Pardon” and “Sorry” more times in those minutes than you had in the past week. Minho looked back occasionally to ensure you were still with him.

Fortunately, you and Minho made it to the balcony intact where he found a spot near the railing. The space was small, so you were forced to face him instead of the scene below you. You held your drink in front of you to create some sense of personal space, but he insisted on having one hand on your waist. Luckily, with more pressing matters at hand, you could ignore the burning sensation that had returned again.

“Any sign of him?” you asked after a few minutes of looking down at the main floor. You only saw tuxedoed strangers and dark dresses. No spot of red in sight.

“Not yet.”

Without warning-- or maybe you just didn’t notice-- he leaned dangerously close to you, and you tried not to flinch. You kept an amused smile on your lips, but your eyes told a different story.

“What are you doing?” you worriedly asked.

He whispered, “Apologies in advance,” in your ear before pecking you on the temple.

As you stood there, frozen by his affection, you didn’t notice him tipping over your glass of champagne with a sly hand.

You jolted back, but it was too late; you could already feel the cold seeping through the front of your dress. You stood there, gasping in both surprise and anger. This was a new low even for Lee Minho.

“Search for the target while you’re finding a bathroom. I’ll stay and ask around here,” he continued in your ear. Then he said out loud with false concern, “You okay, babe? You know you can’t drink too much.”

So, this was his grand plan. “It was just a little champagne,” you airily replied. You pressed the empty glass into Minho’s hands. “I’m okay. I’ll clean up in the bathroom.”

You stumble-walked through the crowd and down the connecting hallway. You weren’t even close to tipsy, but people had to believe it. You tried all the doors nearby, but none of the rooms yielded the target or a bathroom. There were, however, several drawing rooms filled with kissing couples. You left those as quickly as you could. As you furthered away from where the main party was taking place, there were more locked doors. You almost considered taking out a hairpin from your hairdo and picking the lock before realizing that the target wouldn’t even have been able to get in anyway.

“Miss, can I help you?”

You stopped tugging on the doorknob and looked to your right to see a waiter with a tray of hors devours.

“Do you know where the bathroom is?” you sheepishly asked.

If you were him, you would have been suspicious. But he must have had too many dealings with ditzy, champagne-drunk, rich people, so he merely showed you to the nearest bathroom which was inside a bedroom further down. You thanked him, and he left, presumably to get back to his job of handing out food and collecting dishes.

You left your clutch on the sink counter and blotted at the wet spot with a towel from a wicker basket before realizing that it did absolutely nothing. Then you tried with water, but you only succeeded in making the stain more visible. You sighed. Screw Lee Minho.

Luckily, it was a black dress, so the spot wasn’t too offensive. Just as you resigned to your predicament and were about to leave, you heard two pairs of footsteps and a door closing. The lock clicked.

Someone came into the bedroom. If you had to guess based off of the footsteps and your previous encounters, it was a couple. It would be awkward, but you could just hurry out, apologize, and get back to the work.

“Check the bathroom,” you heard a man say in Japanese.

Japanese? It had to be the target.

“There’s no one here,” snapped a female voice, also in Japanese.

That was definitely his wife.

“Just do it.”

“Fine.”

You grabbed your clutch and quickly climbed into the enormous bathtub at the far end of the room. If you laid yourself flat against the bottom, no one should be able to see you if they stood at the entrance. You were pretty sure she wouldn’t even go past the door frame.

You were right. You heard her heels approach the bathroom, but she quickly said, “There’s no one,” after. Her footsteps sounded farther away now, and you took that opportunity to get out your phone.

You messaged Minho the directions to the room.

You: They're in the bedroom. East wing, second floor.

Minho: Wife too?

You: Yes.

Minho: Omw

Minho: Are you in danger?

You: No, I’m hiding in the bathtub.

Minho: Is that sarcasm?

Minho: Are you hurt? Have they spotted you?

You: No! Why are you asking? Just get here quickly.

Minho: No reason. Text me if anything changes.

You frowned at your exchanges of texts. A proud field agent such as Minho wouldn’t be wasting time idly asking questions that didn’t pertain to the end goal. You shook your head at his skills and decided to prepare for the killing.

As you loaded up the first syringe of tetrodotoxin, you listened to the argument between the target and his wife. Yes, an argument and not a makeout session. It was a loud one with lots of shouting and accusations. You learned that the target and his wife’s marriage was on the rocks. He apparently was caught cheating with his wife’s sister. You were busy loading up the second syringe when you learned that said sister was possibly pregnant.

If only they weren’t going to die. You could have made an obscene amount of money from the blackmail.

Your phone, face up on your stomach, turned on with a message from Minho: “Get ready.”

You tucked your phone into the waistband of your spandex and positioned both syringes between your fingers. Then you pushed yourself up and out of the tub. When you glanced into the bedroom, you could see that the target was still being berated by his wife. You hid behind the door and hoped no one would notice the door slightly moving. Now all you had to do was wait for Minho to arrive.

The shouting suddenly stopped, and the target called out, “Occupied,” in Korean. He repeated it when Minho presumably persisted trying to open the door.

“Yoshifumi Shido! Is that you?” you heard Minho shout. What kind of stunt was he going to pull now? “I wanted to discuss my business plans with you.”

“I’m busy right now.”

“I think you’ll really like it! Just hear me out!”

“I’m busy!” the target snapped.

From the tiny gap between the door and the wall, you saw Minho walk in. He must have finally picked the lock. He shut the door behind him, and the lock clicked shut again.

“Yoshifumi Shido!” Minho loudly exclaimed with his arms open. He began walking towards the target. “Didn’t you hear me?”

“I thought you locked the door,” the target roughly said in Japanese to his wife.

“I did!” she replied. She was confused, and her face was tinted red from screaming.

They bickered for a minute about whether she did lock the door or not. Their voices were hushed, but even you could tell they were both making accusations about each other. All the while, Minho stood in front of them with a patient smile, pretending he didn’t know what they were talking about.

Finally, the target ordered his wife, “Go fix your hair or something while I sort this out.”

Oh, how perfect.

The wife huffed in both anger and annoyance but complied. She snatched her purse from the bed and stormed away. Minho, seeing her leave, launched into his fake business plan. Through the gap, you carefully watched the wife approach the bathroom. You felt bad for her; she was innocent in all this. But there could be no witnesses to the crime.

You waited until she was just inside the bathroom. She was mumbling to herself, and she sounded like she was sniffling. You held your breath in fear of ruining your plan. Her back was turned, and she seemed focused on her thoughts.

Perfect.

Quick as lightning, you clamped your free hand over her mouth and dragged her behind the door. She tried to scream and flail, but you held her tight as you injected her with tetrodotoxin. At that moment, Minho started talking loudly to drown out the noise. He didn’t need to though. She stopped trying to scream and started gasping for air. You could see how dilated her pupils were. Seconds later, she suddenly convulsed and went limp. You placed two fingers on her neck, and sure enough, she had no pulse. You released your hold on her, and the body fell to the floor with a loud thud.

“What was that?” you heard the target say. “Kaguya?” he called.

“I’m sure it was nothing,” Minho replied. “Anyway, in the third quarter--”

The target apparently did care about his wife. He cut Minho off with a glare. His wedding ring flashed in the light, and you positioned the next syringe in your hand.

“Kaguya? Answer me!”

When there was no reply, he stalked towards the bathroom, Minho following close behind. You watched the target closely. He saw the red dress first, the skirt spilled onto the marble floor like blood. He rushed inside and shouted his dead wife’s name.

He never saw it coming.

Minho swiftly punched the back of his head. The target cried out and crumpled onto the floor. He was hurt but not dead yet. Minho pinned him down while you stepped over the body. The target, dazed but still conscious, threatened vengeance, begged for mercy, promised money, but his pleas fell on deaf ears. You injected the poison into his neck with no hesitation. He thrashed around, but it was useless. He was dead a few seconds later.

“No pulse,” Minho reported. He got up from the ground and turned to you. “We’re done here.”

“Finally,” you muttered as you gathered the rest of your belongings. You wrapped the used syringes in a hand towel and placed it in your clutch. Being discreet meant leaving no evidence behind. “Call the car.”

Minho, who already left the bathroom, called over his shoulder, “Later. We have to get out first.”

You turned off the light and shut the bathroom door. The maids-- you assumed this giant place had maids-- would be getting an unpleasant surprise tomorrow. Minho stood in front of the vanity mirror, ruffling his hair like he did in the hotel room.

“Are you done?” you asked. Not that you minded waiting for him, as long as he didn’t catch you watching the way he fluffed his hair. “Let’s go.”

“Yeah, lets go.”

You placed your hand habitually on his arm again when you realized your cover wasn’t as important anymore. You quickly shot a look at Minho. If he minded, he didn’t show it. Still, you decided it was better to walk on your own for now. You lifted up your hand, but he pressed it down again.

“Just a little longer,” he muttered. “We’re not safe yet.”

“Right,” you mumbled back.

The two of you walked out the door, and you locked it behind you. The hallway was empty, but you couldn’t help but feel that there was a person lurking around the corner. You got flashbacks to your first mission, and all you could think about was potentially being caught and failing.

“You’re being stiff again,” he whispered.

You relaxed your raised shoulders. “No, I’m not.”

“We’ll be fine,” he said, as if he could read your thoughts. “We’re JYP’s best team.”

You almost snorted. “‘Team’ is highly debatable.”

There was a giggle from around the corner, and both of you went silent. Minho’s whole demeanor shifted, and the lazy grin from earlier in the night returned. He slipped his arm to your waist, and you rearranged your own features into something more adoring. Then you heard footsteps coming down the connecting hallway.

A champagne-drunk young woman stumbled in front of the two of you. Still giggling, she sloppily pushed her hair back to get a closer look. Her eyes lit up as if she recognized you, and the anxiety of being caught came flowing back.

“Did you guys have fun?” she slurred, drawing out the ‘u’ in ‘fun.’ At your raised brow and possibly alarmed eyes, she smirked. “It’s okay. Wanna know a secret?” Without waiting for an answer, she leaned forward conspiratorially and whispered, “Everybody hooks up at these parties.”

Minho choked on air for the second time that night, and you tried to control your raging blush. “It-it’s not--”

“Don’t deny it!” she sang out. She stumble-walked forward to you and nodded to Minho. “He’s cute,” she said in a whisper everyone could hear. “Don’t mess it up.”

You opened your mouth to deny everything. “I--”

“We’re going to miss our ride,” Minho smoothly cut in. Thank goodness his head was working because you were pretty sure you were short-circuiting. “Nice meeting you,” he said before ushering you down the hall.

The woman only called out, “Byeeee!”

It was silent between you and Minho again. You placed the back of your free hand against your warm cheeks. The thought of being in a relationship with Minho was ridiculous, although you had to admit he was a little cute. That horrifying realization wasn’t the only part that made your head spin though. The sound of music grew louder, but that didn’t distract you from your swirling thoughts.

Don’t mess it up.

She was talking about the perceived relationship, but you were thinking about the cover. You almost did mess it up. You were so close to denying the woman’s claims, and you almost blew your cover. Again.

“I’m sorry,” you blurted out. Though right then likely wasn’t the best time; there were more people in the vicinity. “For almost… ruining the night.”

“It’s almost over anyway.” It was soft and assuring, so you decided to take it as an acceptance.

The stairs to the main floor were in sight. To your annoyance, there were still people congregating on the stairs, but at least they did not seem to be on the verge of collapsing. Minho pulled out his phone and dialled a number. Even with loud music playing, you could hear the keypad tones. He murmured into the device for a minute before sticking it into his pocket again.

“Changbin’s going to take us back to headquarters since he’s nearby. Chaeyoung needed a hotel room last minute for her cover, so HQ just gave her ours.”

“But we have our stuff at the hotel.”

“Chaeng already sent it back to HQ.”

You hummed a response, and the two of you walked down. There was a faint smile on Minho’s face, and you tried to keep one on yours. He made fake conversation with you, asking if you wanted to have pufferfish for dinner tomorrow night. You squealed with equally-fake excitement loud enough that turned several heads. You rattled off a list of non-existent outfits that you could wear, hoping that your rambling would be enough to fill the emptiness in the air.

You stopped talking once the both of you made it to the curb. There was no one outside; the party had only just begun. However, he made no move to remove his arm from your waist.

“You did better than I thought,” he said, looking directly at you. “You didn’t screw up.”

“This is a joint mission,” you replied, looking back at him. He meant it as a compliment, but after his previous digs, it didn’t feel like one. “It’s not dependent only on me.”

“You were the one that had to take him out. It’s mostly on you.”

“That’s not how joint missions work.”

“I’m the field agent here. Best in the business, mind you. I know how they work.”

“Then you should know that success depends on both of us.”

“The company knows I’m capable. You know I’m capable. It’s not my success that’s in question. It’s you that they’re worried about.” He brushed your cheek free of an eyelash and softly added, “It’s you that I’m worried about.”

“Oh,” was the only reply you could think of. You looked down at the pavement and noticed how the tip of your heels lined up with the cracks.

“I can’t protect you all the time. If something happens to you, I can’t save you. What would have happened if you got caught in the bedroom?” he continued. You swore he held you tighter.

You stood there, quiet. Everything he did and said tonight conflicted with everything from the first time you had worked with him. You thought he hated you, and you were sure you hated him. You felt him staring at you, and when you glanced up at him, and suddenly, you weren’t so sure.

“What?” you tried to snap, but it only came out as a whisper.

“I just thought you looked pretty in the moonlight.” He didn’t seem like he was teasing the least bit.

You were even more confused now. And you told him so. “I don’t understand you! Why are you being so… sweet now? You hate me!” You stepped out of his hold and pointed a finger at his chest. “Don’t tell me it’s for the cover either! Because we both know it’s a lie!”

“People change,” he replied. “Like how you’re better at field work and like how I have a greater appreciation for your skills now. You know why.”

“There’s no universe where you and I actually like each other,” you harshly laughed. “You hate me.”

“Maybe I do.” He reached out and cupped your face. You were too shocked to do anything but stand frozen. “I hate that you’re smart and pretty and funny and make me lose focus.” He traced your jaw with his thumb as he continued listing his reasons. “I hate that you make me deviate from my plans and make me worry about you. I hate that you make me feel weak whenever you’re around. I hate that you’re too stupid to realize it.”

“I have a PhD in Chemistry,” you breathed as he placed his forehead on yours. You could count his eyelashes and see the ring of black around his iris.

“I know.” His lips were centimeters away from yours. Just like he did on the balcony, he said, “Apologies in advance.”

You saw him twist his head a few degrees. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Changbin’s car’s headlights approaching and wished Minho would hurry. He dropped his left hand and slowly traced your jaw with his right. His lips parted and then stretched into a smirk.

“Just kidding!” he jeered.

Changbin pulled up, and Minho removed his hand from your face, his index finger drawing one final line before flicking your chin up. You inhaled sharply and recoiled at the motion.

“You’re not too mad, right?” he called as he got into the passenger seat. The smirk was still there when he said, “I’ll see you back at headquarters.”

The car sped down the street, leaving you at the curb. You could only watch the taillights grow dimmer. Your fingers twitched, and you felt yourself loading up your third syringe of the night.

You had plenty of poison to go around, and they all had his name on them.

~ ad.gray

#stray kids #skz #lee know #lee minho #secret agent au #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #enemies to lovers #20200617

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fallingsunflower · 3 years ago

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BESTIES I'm so sorry - I hit my post limit waaaay earlier than expected! Some of y'all joined me on my backup account, (which I also hit the limit on lmao), but I'm back now.

I had over 400 asks to go through and I'll give you a warning that not all of them will appear (either because they were old or because they were topics we already answered). But here is a giant list of asks I compiled for you from when I wasn't allowed to post lol they don't really require my response but I found them entertaining to read. Hope you don't mind I've just put them all together in one post. It's also to save me from using up my 250 posts lol

"this is all so embarrassing like my god imagine when the promotion of the movie starts how horrible it will be for other people who made the movie too"

"SELL UR TICKETS TODAY WATCH THE MOVIE ILLEGALLY, next article we’ll be talking about these two assholes filing for bankruptcy. cheap harlots. don’t mess with your meal ticket."

"hate to say it but i defs think they‘ve got a sliver of the gp’s attention for five minutes"

"I am scanning through all these photos looking for just ONE where he looks like he's smiling and enjoying this. It's so crazy."

"I guess those are all the pics we’re getting right now. But I wouldn’t be surprised if they finish the Italy trip off with one more major Backgrid photo shoot."

"Olivia’s trending on Twitter but not Harry. Like it’s obvious who’s getting the PR gains here!"

"If they dont give us a 6 month or more break after this im gonna need them to pay for my therapy bills from now on bc of this damage no joke let me crawl back into my shit hole now 😑"

"The palce they at is referred to as “tuscanys best-kept secret”. Everyone point and laugh."

"she looks like she’s enjoying all of this. he looks like he wants to push her into the water."

"a few people said he’s keeping his shorts pulled up or covered in all the shots because of the Nike branding which they ask to not get photographed. What a setup."

"Man I knew the second those Tomdaya pics came out of them kissing and how they were trending so fast that HO were going to do something to 'top' them. Its pathetic /// FRRR. she probably hoped for the positive reactions that people gave tom & zendaya but unfortunately, miss girl got the opposite. when will they realize that nobody, but his fans, find them cute lmao can they just stop, it’s so embarrassing 😭😭😭"

"He really out here doing this with someone who almost old enough to be his mother, shiiiiiiiit. Sickening. Sick of these 2 for real now, i was fine with the good old blurry back content and whatnot but this? Crossing a line here nobody wanna see that shit and knowing how people feel goooooood damn."

"I aboslutely despise kendall for obvious reason but this one is actually worse than the hendall one bc you couldnt really see as much as now dis gos tang."

"She’s also wearing the cross necklace again. I feel like if that was so meaningful to her she wouldn’t risk loosing it in the ocean 🙄"

"guys have eyes on tmz. I Do not have tw now. they were so aggressive towards them"

"I'm sorry for Harry because you lost your damn mind bro"

"Now why the hendall pics are better ?? NO SHADE BUTT"

"I’m genuine confused like do they actually want dwd to flop or what? I just threw up in my mouth I sure as hell ain’t gonna watch their sorry ass movie. Is it supposed to flop? I’m so confused!"

"The match was not interesting enough so they cooked up something different especially since people were pointing out how they staged the PDA. And the page 6 article is out already!!!"

"Who the fuck thought this was a good idea"

"Is it just me or does harry's face looks really blank for someone out on a Romantic date with his alleged girlfriend.?"

"if thats it, harry hasn’t no game🤣🤣🤣🤣"

"so this is why the tabloids weren’t talking about the match pics! they didn’t have any value on their own. now with the yacht pics? my oh my they’re gonna get the clicks of their lives. her team was prob like “wait a sec we got something for y’all”"

"If they were models hired to act like a couple they wouldn't get the job......"

"Not them starring right at the camera in some of them help make it less obvious will you"

"HENDALL🤣🤣🤣is that uuuu"

"Harry’s ass crack thought it should make an appearance too."

"What a great day for team PR, happy Monday you guys! Let's pop the champagne 🍾🍾🍾🍾 P. S. They both need acting lessons, tbh"

"It’s quite interesting how everything that’s happened before I’ve seen predicted weeks/and in advance on blogs or fan accounts. Like his life has always been so predictable but damn"

"He was hiding the Nike check. That’s why his swim trucks are rolled up to an absurd degree even for him. He knew he was gonna get photographed."

"What I’m noticing is wether people like them together or not, everyone’s saying they’re aren’t a hot couple…there was more chemistry in the Kendall pics by far"

"i also find it weird that he’s not smiling in any of the pictures and it would be one thing if there were five pics from ten minutes of time but there are like 70 from an obvious extended period of time"

"It's interesting everyone involved is being Team Try Hard. Yet the universe says no. The last set of pics, Tom and Zendaya overshadowed. People even paid more attention to Angelina and the Weekend (even if business possibly). Fast forward to today and all this fakery only for Gwen/Blake to tie the knot. His team needs to get a clue. She needs to go. Harry needs to clean this up fast."

"Ok i looked at one hugging pic and one kidding pic and they could not look more stagged. It looks unatural ,strange and weird from all angles. You can clearly see from their body posture they are posing for a photographer from backgrid."

"Like I said in my ask a couple days ago the day we get kissing pics is the day that I believe this is all a stunt and I was right. They took a page out of hendall 2016 and it’s looks so forced and awkward. Hendall did it better cause at prater they had chemistry. They must be scared this movie is going to tank because they are pushing this way too hard"

"Real, PR, or whatever relationship it is, they’re fucking boring. You are on a yacht in Italy, can’t you have a little bit of fun? I can’t believe how boring they are, I just can’t. Even if it is just PR, can’t you make a fucking dumb joke so you can laugh or something? Do they have anything in common like to talk about or discuss or make fun of? I’d literally killed myself if I looked like that in a relationship. They are not communicating in any photos we’ve got. They are just walking, or sitting. Even when they hold hands or kiss or hug, they never communicate."

"okay but did ya’ll see the pic of her diving in?? i can’t stop laughing 😭😭😭😭"

"they look horrifically awkward i cannot believe what harry is doing"

"“HEY PAPS COME GET A PIC OF US KISSING TO MAKE OUR RELATIONSHIP MORE BELIEVABLE!!!!!”"

"his ass is hanging out and her bra is almost off what in the hell"

"Hqs on a yacht like that? Mhmhmhm hmmmmm / I bloody well hope that’s not the extend of their acting. That’s dire! 🤦‍♀️"

"this is literally the most predictable “couple” to exist. first, people talked about them showing up the game, and they did. second, people were just talking about kissing pics... AND THEY JUST CAME OUT LMAOOOOOO"

"annnnnnnnnnnnnd there it is. YOU KNOW THEY KNEW THERE WAS A CAMERA."

"ok but where’s the pda or did that get made up? cause these have to be the most awkward pics i’ve ever seen which makes me feel better 😂 also i can feel the meme’s coming with the one of her diving off the boat"

"I call it how I see it they are both assholes and full of shit. Like do your fake kiss somewhere else I do not want to see it!"

"Can they at least act like they’re having a good time?"

"hahahaha I can't stop laughing with that photo of O it's literally her knowing she's being photographed and diving into a professional swimmer style😭"

"the pics are so organic that Olivia is looking straight at the pap before kissing Harry."

"he looked a lot happier with kendall in their yacht pics compared to today’s. i know that was PR too, but he was very smiley and seemed talkative. with this girl it’s like the complete opposite lmao."

#this is also good visual proof for how many people are on team PR lol

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the-final-sif · 5 years ago

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Actually, now that I’ve talked about my headcanon that Katsuki was kidnapped several times as a child, let me talk about a complete random scene/story arc inspired by that and the fact that Katsuki + Izuku + Shouto are all interning with Endeavor now.

Overhaul breaks out of jail and gets his arms back somehow. He’s gone quite a bit nuts. A lot nuts. He’s surpassed ‘focused villain trying to do one thing that he sees as right’ to more of a ‘just want to watch the world burn’. To that end, he sets about getting a team together to catch a certain group of meddling heroes, and to rekidnap a certain child.

A second hideout raid of sorts is planned and goes down, only this time, it was a trap. Izuku/Shouto/Endeavor/Hawks/Kirishima/Tamaki/Fatgum/Tsuyu/Ryuko/Ochako were on the raid team and were caught. Aizawa who was watching over Eri while she had a playdate with Tsuyu’s younger sister, Satsuki, are all also captured. Overhaul had a very specific team set up, knew about them in advance and planned out counters for each person. Alongside that, he used his quirk to create a giant beast like robot that’s made of metal able to withstand even Deku’s punches and Shouto/Endeavor’s flames. Said robot is roughly modeled/made to take on the LOV’s nomu, but non-organic. Notably, Katsuki wasn’t on the hideout raid team (or aware of the raid), because he had a Obligatory Family Trip planned on the same day and so wasn’t at the internship then.

Izuku had managed to put in a distress call before he was taken down, but all the heroes + victims were moved to a different location afterwards in an old long abandoned hideout in the middle of the woods, and there’s about no chance of anyone tracking them down any time soon.

So that leads us into the main scene. The heroes are all captured/restrained up near Overhaul whose ranting on about using Eri to destroy the world/destroy quirks once and for all and then rule over it with a robotic army which is the only thing he considers “clean” anymore. Meanwhile, Eri and Satsuki are down in a different location in a cell of their own (to prevent the heroes from comforting the children), and there’s a camera system in place so the heroes can see the helpless children.

Overhaul demands Eri be brought to whatever Evil Machine he’s devised, and one of his goons goes to get her, but Satsuki fights back against the goon and actually does a pretty damn good job of it. Which leads to Overhaul demanding that the goon kill her.

There’s nothing any of the heroes can do. Satsuki fights back as best she can, as does Eri, but they’re both only 6 years old and Eri’s quirk isn’t working. They struggle, but it’s looking hopeless, and Aizawa tries to tell Tsuyu to close her eyes because he knows what’s about to happen next.

And then the entire dungeon the two girls are in shatters.

Everything is chaos for the next minute as Overhaul tries to figure out what the hell just happened, getting his cameras back in order until finally he gets a visual and contact with one of his goons just before they get taken down and it’s Katsuki.

He’s in a flannel, regular pants and his combat gloves, very clearly confused/pissed off/not prepared for whatever the hell is going on here, and it takes them awhile to figure out what’s going on.

As it turns out, Katsuki has been hiking a trail near this hideout since he was 4 years old. His family drags him up to a nearby location to visit some extended family, he has 0 interest in doing that, so he goes and hikes/camps along a trial instead. Every year he hikes this fairly long trail, and every year he sees this weird abandoned building that he’s gone to explore a few times, and every year the first thought in his mind is ‘Man, that place looks exactly like a villain hideout’.

Then this year, he comes up on it, minding his own business with his headphones in, and he sees the building active again with people with weird masks running around in it, and he’s got a super bad feeling in his gut that just slams into him and he goes ‘Alright, fuck it.’

So now Katsuki is here, he grabs the kids and gets them to a semi-safe location, getting info from them and trying to understand what’s going on. Once he gets it, this turns into a game of him keeping the kids safe from Overhaul, taking down his goons as he goes and working his way towards where the other heroes are. Only, we’re going with the aforementioned headcanon that Katsuki has been kidnapped a bunch of times as a child and never realized that wasn’t normal. This leads to the heroes watching him on the cameras with an increasingly pissed off Overhaul as he walks the two children through how deal with being kidnapped as if these are normal everyday life skills.

Overhaul really, really wants him dead, but unfortunately his team was handpicked to counter the heroes who he’s already captured, and he wasn’t counting on Katsuki showing up. Katsuki’s quirk is flexible and very destructive + Katsuki’s combat skills means he’s pretty much a worst case scenario for Overhaul. Even worse, Katsuki successfully took down the com lines so there’s no communication through the scattered goons, and Katsuki played in this abandoned hideout as a child so he knows his way around it.

Ideal things happening during all of this:

Aizawa torn between being overjoyed that Katsuki saved Eri and then horrified/so done with this child as he walks Eri and Satsuki through how to use knives and grenades.

Katsuki being confused that neither Eri nor Satsuki know how to use a knife.

“Okay, did I have a weird childhood or did you two have a weird childhood. I can’t tell.”

Katsuki gives both children knives, and gives Eri a second knife when she loses her first one (and by loses I mean it ends up embedded in a bad guy’s shoulder)

Izuku keeps pulling notebooks and pencils out of seemingly thin air since Katsuki is openly discussing his quirk/aspects of it with the kids as they make their way through the base and by god he needs to write it down. Overhaul keeps taking his notebooks/pencils but the moment he looks away Izuku somehow has another set.

Katsuki keeps mentioning offhandly things from his childhood and the more things he mentions the more all the other heroes are like “????????”

Finally, Overhaul realizes there’s no chance of his guys taking down Katsuki as Katsuki finishes off the last or second to last one, and so he unleashes The Robot.

By this point, Katsuki already called for backup, but it’s at least half and hour out. He sees the robot and he’s like “Ah fuck.”. Eri and Satsuki already told him a little bit about it and particularly that it’s built to withstand anything short of a nuclear weapon. Not to mention it’s decently fast/agile.

And then when Eri is hurriedly relaying all this to Katsuki, she mentions that Overhaul built it himself.

Katsuki: “Wait like, he actually designed and built it. Overhaul’s the guy with the weird purity/evolution obsession right? He made this? Not somebody smarter?”

She confirms and Katsuki is suddenly No Longer Worried: “Okay, you two chill here, I got this.”

So then he goes to fight the weird beast robot, and nobody’s really sure what he’s planning. As he starts fighting it, he seems to be blasting it’s head into stuff a lot/slamming it around, but that’s not doing any actual damage, right?

Wrong.

See, Overhaul’s somewhat of a moron who put all of the robot’s processing/”brain” into the head area, because that’s how things are supposed to be in his mind. Katsuki figured the guy would probably pull something like this, and so he gives the robot a bunch of repeated strikes to the head area/knocking it around. Because even if the outside is super tough, that kinetic energy still travels through and can do damage to delicate circuit boards.

In layman’s terms, he gives the robot a series of minor concussions until it adds up.

The robot starts to malfunction, going somewhat rouge/pausing/getting stuck places/etc. But it’s still not destroyed and the heroes aren’t sure what Katsuki’s planning next. Katsuki is quite sure of what he’s planning next though. He lures the robot outside and then traps it in place with some large rocks or some rope or something. It’s not going to hold it for very long, but it’s enough to keep the weakened robot in place.

Then he takes aim with one arm as if he was doing an AP shot.

Everyone (heroes and Overhaul included) are kinda like ‘okay what the heck’ because even Katsuki’s strong blasts aren’t enough to really damage the robot’s exterior. Why would trapping it change that?

Then blue starts to spread up Katsuki’s arm along his veins, his hand starts to crackle and there’s 1-2 seconds of “wait WHAT” before Katsuki unleashes a blast on par with that of a small nuclear weapon. The explosion is bright blue, narrowed down to a fine point like Katsuki’s regular AP spot, but once it hits it’s target, it explodes outwards disintegrating the robot and taking out a good chunk of the surrounding land. The whole hideout is shaken to it’s foundation. Windows shatter, some cameras crack, and when the dust clears, Katsuki’s standing tall.

His left arm is still covered by that spiderweb blue though, and it’s hanging limply at his side.

Okay, so this is 90% me making up science but shhhh

So as the heroes quickly learn as an exhausted/barely on his feet Katsuki stumbles back to the kids who of course have questions, this is apparently something Katsuki has been able to do since he was 6.

He calls it “Blue Core”, and it makes his explosions super powerful by pulling nitrogen from the rest of his arm/blood stream/flesh and stocking it all up.

However, he basically never uses it because it comes at a really high cost, namely it takes several seconds of charging, does a ton of collateral damage, and by using it it takes whichever arm he used out of commission for at least the next 24 hours. He can still use his quirk a little with the other one, but it’s heavily weakened.

Obviously he can’t use this in training either, so he never thought to mention it to his teachers.

The heroes + Overhaul just watch stunned for like a solid minute as he starts making his way towards where the heroes are being held hostage with the kids because what the fuck.

Finally though, Overhaul snaps out of it and goes to fight the weakened Katsuki. The kids hide when Overhaul comes out and he throws Katsuki against a wall or something b/c he’s heavily weakened and can’t really fight with his quirk anymore, and then he struts over to him monolouging and ready to claim victory as Katsuki is laying there, slumped over and barely breathing.

And then the moment Overhaul gets close to him, Katsuki is up in a flash and the heroes can hardly even see what happened, but the next thing they know Overhaul is on the ground screaming bloody murder clutching his eyes and Katsuki is holding a blood stained knife. Then he gives Overhaul a curb stomp and he is OUT.

It should be noted, this is not any of the knives that he gave to Eri/Satsuki.

Someone, maybe Aizawa: “How many knives does he have???? I thought he was hiking????”

Shouto: “Oh yeah, at one point during the remedial courses we were babysitting kids together and he mentioned to me that he had 7 knives that day, and I honestly couldn’t tell if he brought more or less knives than he normally carried because of the children. Still not sure actually.”

Izuku: “I know he usually carried around 4 knives when we were kids but part of that was he had limited areas to hide them back then.”

Fatgum and Tamaki are both completely baffled and trying to fit this guy they’ve just been watching with the person that Kirishima described Katsuki to them as.

Anyways, so then Eri & Satsuki get the keys and go to free the heroes which are fairly close by while Katsuki guards Overhaul to prevent him from pulling a ‘gotcha’ on them. And also because the heroes are up a flight of stairs and Katsuki physically cannot walk up them right now.

It’s very emotional as Eri rushes to Aizawa and Satsuki rushes to her big sister who is now crying. And then the group heres a noise and all eyes go back up to the camera screens which are still somewhat up and running, currently focused on where Katsuki and Overhaul’s battle went down.

Turns out, before this whole mess started, the LOV sent Dabi to go take care of Overhaul because He Cannot Be Allowed To Have Arms, Goddamnit We Were Making A Point With That.

But then Katsuki went ahead and did Dabi's job for him, so Dabi radioed back to Tomura and Tomura changed his objective to "You know, while you're there anyways and he's weak, might as well grab the kid."

There’s two endings to this:

The door to the room Katsuki is in swings open and fucking Dabi waltzes in probably saying something like

"So, is this a bad time?"

Katsuki turns to look at him and in the most done, tired, angry, voice: "You asshole."

After drugging Katsuki somehow (because unlike Overhaul, Dabi is not stupid and isn't getting with 10 feet of Katsuki without being damn sure he's down for the count), Dabi kidnaps Katsuki for the second time and the two of them are teleported out of the area about 10 seconds before Aizawa/the other heroes are freed just barely too late to do anything about it.

This ending would mostly be because I'd want Dabi and Katsuki to have back and forth banter of Katsuki being so 110% done with everything and Dabi being like:

"Yeah, I'll admit, this is kinda a dick move and the universe definitely has it out for you today."

"You don't get to say 'the universe has it out for me' when you're the one kidnapping me asshole"

And also because it sets up some serious hurt/comfort.

or, ending 2)

Katsuki stumbles his way over to a doorway on the other side of the room to go grab some rope so he can tie Overhaul up. He opens the door, and Dabi's just standing there, having been about to open the door so he could capture Katsuki.

They just stare at each other wide eyed for several long seconds before

"Is now a bad time-"

And Katsuki slam's the door shut.

"N o !"

He takes five seconds to just stare at the door being pissed and then is like "No, fuck this, I have dealt with enough today." Then he proceeds to barricade the door as he goes through various forms of the words 'No, nope, fuck that, not happening', still exhausted and beaten up and done but 100% N O T H A V I N G T H I S.

The heroes get down there to help and and they search for Dabi only to discover on the camera footage that after Katsuki slammed the door on him, he apparently thought it was so funny that he just kinda shrugged, turned around and actually fucking left. Because, you know, his main objective was already completed, and he didn’t really feel like going the extra mile today.

All of this is on camera too, so it quickly spreads as a meme, along with other choice moments from the whole hideout fight including several ‘vibe checks’, one of Satsuki throwing a grenade into the face of on of the goons that was harassing her before, and also ‘knife check’ becoming a thing.

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poisonedapples · 4 years ago

Text

The sides except they go to a tech school

This is extremely self indulgent but I apologize for nothing

Roman’s Program: Digital Media

Roman’s big dream is to be an actor, but he also has a very intense need to know a whole bunch of stuff about the production field and be a jack of all trades, basically

He’s also autistic and has a huge special interest in movies, so he’s just on cloud nine

He had a really hard time making friends at his home school, which is also another reason why he most to go to the tech school instead. He wanted a second chance and to meet new people who loved the same stuff he could never seem to shut up about, but he’s also very nervous and just really wants to make some friends this year

He’s also extremely salty that Remus followed him to his new school. Remus was always the talk of the school and Roman was always in his shadow, so this time, his strategy is to pretend that Remus doesn’t even exist

Remus will not take this as an a solution, but Roman’s not giving up anyway

He also met Patton, Logan, and Virgil in his College English class. Their seats were assigned next to each other, but it was Patton that actually started getting all of them to talk to each other

Speaking of Patton, him and Patton went together like a moth to a flame. They hit it off day one and have acted like the best of friends since, and it makes Roman extremely happy

Roman and the others also became closer friends because of a Digital Media project Roman did about the different programs around the school. Since all his friends are from different programs, he interviewed them all, and it was the most fun project ever because of everything they did behind the scenes

They mostly just goofed off when not on camera. It was lovely

He refused to let Remus take part in that project though. RIP to Remus

Patton’s program: Cosmotology

Patton’s biggest dream is to mostly help people feel better about themselves. He wants to make people feel happy and learn a little more self love, because nothing makes Patton happier than seeing other people enjoying themselves

He’s also an extremely sociable person, so a need to help people like who they are mixed with lots of talking? Without getting a master’s in psychology? A perfect mix to become a hair stylist!

He loves all the different styles you can do and how different everyone’s hair can be from another person’s. The program also has you learn stuff about makeup, and he loves putting makeup on people as well. He practices on the girls in the program a lot, and they always get so excited when they see the finished product. It fills him with happy butterflies

He doesn’t tend to wear makeup on himself, though. Not because he thinks boys can’t wear makeup, he just hates the feeling of it on his skin. Hence why he will take any willing participant to be his canvas

His extroverted energy also shows a lot in his academic classes. The first day of English, he immediately turned around and started talking to the kid with a camera

It took him a little longer to get the boy sitting next to him to talk to him though. Apparently “We have the same glasses!” Isn’t an acceptable conversation starter

He did, however, get the kid named Virgil to agree to let Patton to put makeup on him. Patton started that conversation by asking about his eyeshadow, but nope, apparently those were just eyebags

Though Virgil still liked makeup anyway, so score, Patton still got what he wanted

Now if only he could get Logan to laugh out loud and cut the serious act. Then he’d be a winner for sure

Logan: Mechatronics

Logan’s a nerd. A huge nerd. Hence why he fits in with the mechatronics program so well

Logan has always loved robots and tinkering with technology. More than anything, he wants to work on space aircrafts as a mechanical engineer, hence why he’s in the mechatronics program

He also has ADHD and his biggest hyperfixations are in robots and space, so he’s completely in his element. It’s nice to spend most of his day in a class where he can talk about spacecrafts and how they worked, and not only will people listen, but they’ll also care about it almost as much as he does

Though, he’d prefer to keep his closet full of robotic kids toys he keeps breaking apart and fixing again to himself. At least for now

Though because he’s in mechatronics, he’s required to be in all advanced classes for his academics to get college credit. Which he doesn’t mind at all, but in his college English class, he definitely sits next to quite...the eclectic bunch

He acts like they inconvenience him, but he actually enjoys their company. Even if Roman can be a little loud, but him and Roman actually hit it off quite well with their debates and frequent conversation jumping

(It’s the ADHD-autism solidarity)

Logan also has quite the liking to Virgil, mostly because they’re both looking into the engineering business and have similar interests with space

Logan pretends like Patton annoys him, but he’s not very good at it. He hates that Patton knows he has a secret love for puns and keeps using it against him to try and make him laugh. How dare he

(Patton just keeps trying because he knows Logan likes it and he’s also a bit of a little shit)

Logan hopes that all three of them consider him one of their closest friends as well. Because actually, now he has more to look forward to in his English class than just the poetry and seeking for alternate meanings for things in text

Now, most of his entertainment comes from saying “Romeo and Juliet is an awful love story” and seeing Roman go off an a rant about how it’s not even a lOVE STORY it’s about THE GENERATION DIFFERENCE BETWEEN PARENTS AND KIDS and it’s STRUGGLES, CALCULATOR WATCH-

...It’s quite amusing

Virgil’s Program: Aviation

Anxiety is fight or flight. Well...Virgil literally just wants to take flight

His dad used to take Virgil out on vacations quite often when he was younger and his dad’s job was more focused on traveling, so Virgil has flown in planes a lot. He’s always been an anxious kid, always afraid of so many things, but for some reason...flying was one of the things to calm him the most

Except for going through security, fuck airport security

But still, there was never anything more satisfying than looking through the window on a plane. He’s always loved it, and he’s known since a very young age that he wants to learn to fly things, even if he decides not to become a pilot

He’s seventeen now and still wants to be a pilot, even if his shyness has turned into an anxiety disorder. It’s been a while since he’s been on a plane since his dad is now a psychologist, but he still loves it and misses it almost. So when he heard his district’s tech school had an aviation program, he signed up so fast

His teacher has to practically pry him away from messing with the drones and planes when they need to do other stuff, it’s kinda funny

It’s also great that he met Logan in his English class, because Logan loves engineering and aircrafts like Virgil does. One of Virgil’s backup plans is to be an aerospace engineer, so their conversations are always fun

He also has no idea how Patton figured out his secret love of makeup but now he’s being used as a canvas, apparently

Plus, Roman asked if Virgil could fly a drone for him to get an aerial shot for some digital media projects, so holy shit Virgil made three friends in one day when he’s been trying to make one friend for YEARS

He just bursts into his house like “DAD GUESS WHAT I MADE F R I E N D S”

His Dad is very proud but also very concerned

Virgil just ignores that though and sends memes to the new group chat with all four of them in it

Remus’ Program: Auto Collision Technology

Remus loves broken stuff. Especially big broken things, like cars

Of course, there’s no job for purposely wrecking stuff, but looking at damage in cars and how to repair it is exciting enough for him. His parents are just happy he found something to put more...positive energy into, instead of always causing trouble and getting popular for being “the bad boy”

He had lots of friends at his home school, lots of which he still talks to, mostly because his chaotic energy entertains a lot of people willing to deal with it. He has that same effect at the tech school, but the one person he’s never been able to get more on his side is his own brother

Remus has always been a bit too chaotic for Roman’s liking, and he knows that Roman wanted to go to the tech school for a fresh start. But Remus won’t stop himself just to make his brother happy, so it Roman’s salty about Remus doing something good for himself, then so be it

(Remus is a little salty about Roman being salty, but they’re brothers, what do you expect)

But Remus doesn’t need him anyway! Twin brothers are overrated! He’s got plenty of other people in his programs!

But his closest friend he’s gotten since coming to the tech school? Janus. Him and Janus go together like two chaotic peas in a pod, even if Janus has a whole lot more braincells than Remus ever will

Though, Remus has never had more fun with a friend than with Janus. He’s had lots of friends that come and go once they’re bored of him, but Janus feels real. He feels genuine, and Remus...really doesn’t wanna get rid of that

He likes Janus a lot, hence why he invites Janus over and lets Janus into his super secret eating spot he goes when he doesn’t wanna act like a crackhead at lunch. It’s actually quite nice

Roman just has to deal with the fact that, if he’s gonna be a salty bastard, then Janus is his new ride or die

(Please someone help these twins they’re saltier than the Dead Sea)

Janus’ Program: Firefighting Technology

When Janus was a young teen, he got trapped in a house fire that scarred the left half of his body. Firefighters were the ones that saved him, and since then, he’s always had a huge respect for them. Enough so to really want to become a firefighter

He’s always been very focused on self care and secretly very empathetic, so that mixed with past experience from being saved from such a dangerous event actually makes him a great candidate for a firefighter. He’s not one giant on talking, but he’s still good with teamwork when others want him to work with them

He has a good set of friends in his program, but his best friend was someone he met during lunch when trying to get away from the noise of the actual cafeteria. He also noticed that same kid was also in his anatomy class, so...destiny, I guess?

Remus can definitely be an eclectic person, but Janus secretly thrives on a good set of chaos. It makes life interesting, and Remus can definitely be described as interesting

He’s also the only person Janus has met that thinks Janus’ scars are cool as hell, so double win

It’s also immensely entertaining to join Remus on his quests to constantly annoy his brother. If he had a brother he’d probably do the same, honestly

Mostly, he’s just here for the chaotic ride. He gets to be a sarcastic bastard with a secret love for the dramatic flair and somehow make friends at the same time

He still needs to find a way to get under Patton’s skin, though. Patton never gets bothered by Janus, but that’s probably because Patton has known Janus as his neighbor for literal years

Damn him. Janus will get him some time

Though for right now, Remus gets most of the wins of weirding out Patton. That is, until Roman shrieks and chases them both off

Yup. Janus chose a good best friend. Even if he’s a chaotic, salty bastard

#ts janus #ts remus #ts roman #ts patton #ts logan #ts virgil #roman sanders #remus sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #thomas sanders #sanders sides #janus sanders #fire mention #house fire mention #I had way too much fun with this so hopefully someone else is entertained

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scoopsgf · 5 years ago

Note

for a prompt peter meets the rouge avengers and they witness irondad at it's finest

It’s half past two in the morning when Peter’s ears perk at the sound of an old-fashioned, peppy ringtone.

He looks around in search of it. There’s Tony passed out at his workbench, face dangerously close to a slice of plated cold pizza; DUM-E is rolling around a few feet away chasing after a crumpled ball of paper Peter had tossed over his shoulder; there are tools scattered everywhere and blueprints and a whiteboard covered in equations.

But no phone.

Peter slips off his stool. He walks toward the sound, slowly, cautiously, and by the time he thinks he’s located the source the ringing stops.

Peter stares at Tony’s discarded running jacket. Throwing him a quick glance over his shoulder just to make sure the older man is still asleep, he reaches into the pocket and pulls out an old flip phone.

“What,” he deadpans, to absolutely no one.

Tony Stark, the former CEO of the world’s largest tech conglomerate. Tony Stark, creator of the most powerful mechanical weapon—sorry, prosthetic—of all time…

Is carrying around a dinky Nokia from 2009.

A Nokia which promptly starts ringing again (very loudly). “Shit!” Peter swears, jumping. On instinct he answers it. “Hello? What? Hello?”

“Tony?”

Peter glances at Tony again. He bites his lip. “Tony is unfortunately unavailable at the moment. I’m his… personal assistant. Would you like to leave a message?”

“Oh, uh,” there’s some muffled muttering on the other end, like the caller is relaying Peter’s words back to someone else, and then, “I uh—it’s kind of an emergency. Would you mind asking him if he’s got a minute to talk?”

And by now, Peter’s totally put the pieces together: crappy old phone, the voice—he is absolutely 100% having a real life conversation with Steve Rogers.

Again.

Peter doesn’t exactly know the full story between Tony and Steve. He just knows that whenever anyone brings up Rogers, Tony’s face darkens and he clams up.

Squinting at Tony, he asks, “Are you sure you need to talk to him?”

“Believe me, I wouldn’t have called otherwise.”

“But if you had, maybe, some other form of assistance? Say a web-slinging vigilante from Queens?”

There’s a pause.

Steve says, “Hey, kid,” with a smile in his voice.

“Hey Brooklyn,” Peter returns. “Long time, no speak.”

“Yeah, well, you know. So you’re working for Tony now?”

“I wouldn’t call it working so much as slave labour.”

A laugh. “Somehow I doubt that. What’s he doing?”

“Sleeping—which, y’know, he barely gets enough of as it is. So what’s the situation?”

“Nice disguise.”

Natasha Romanoff looks up from the paper kid’s menu she’d been studying. Her eyebrow, dyed blonde, is raised. “I was worried it’d be too effective.”

“You do realise Buzzfeed publishes weekly articles that are literally just blurry photos of you and the other rogues followed by a bunch of keysmashes?”

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Peter slides into the booth opposite her. “So you’re here to what, feel me out?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I’ve already done that.” She sets the menu down. “I was already in the area. We’re both waiting for the ride.”

Peter nods. He looks out the window while she studies his face. He’d had no choice but to forego the mask seeing as his suit is still under repairs back in the lab. FRIDAY had said it wouldn’t be fixed until morning.

Natasha kicks his foot. “Why do you look younger than I remember?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs. “But hey, since we’re playing Q&A, why’d you stab Tony in the back?”

“I didn’t stab him in the back,” Romanoff argues. “I just… the Avengers are my family—”

“Tony’s part of the Avengers—”

“Tony has a support system. Steve is nothing without us—and I say that with love. Without his team he’d just be a sad old man stuck in time.”

“But now with you and your amazing makeover skills, he’s at least caught up to the seventies with that beard.”

She kicks him again. “Shut up. I don’t have to explain my reasoning to a kid.”

“So why are you?”

Romanoff squints and leans forward. “Why are you here?”

“Because if Tony knew that you needed help, he’d stop at nothing to save you no matter how much he hated your guts—which he doesn’t, by the way, he’s just really hurt—even if it meant putting his own life in danger. I don’t want that.” Peter shrugs. “Plus you were pretty cool last time and I thought we could be, I don’t know, friends or something. Whatever, it’s stupid.”

Her lip quirks up. “It’s not stupid.”

“Really? So you’ll be my spider buddy?”

Natasha rolls her eyes. “Think of a better name first and then we’ll see.”

He opens his mouth to retort, but right at that moment the door to the Taco Bell chimes and Steve Rogers walks in.

“Oh wow,” Peter whispers. “The beard really does work for him.”

“Right?” She grabs his arm. “Come on, little spinner.”

—

Steve is not at all pleased at how young Peter is.

“I dropped a jet rail on a kid,” he proclaims for the upteenth time, knuckles white around the steering wheel.

“Yeah, a kid that can lift fifteen tons on a bad day,” Peter snaps back, a little irritated now. He finishes strapping on the kevlar gear Natasha had provided him with. It’s bulkier than what he’s used to, but better than no protection at all.

“I dropped a jet rail on a kid.”

Natasha reaches out. “Steve—”

“I DROPPED A JET RAIL ON A KID!”

“I’m FINE!” Peter shouts back, the only one in the van besides Barnes that doesn’t flinch.

“You’re eight!” Steve retorts. “You don’t even know what fine is!”

Peter closes his eyes. “Oh my god.”

“Steve, he’s enhanced,” Natasha reminds him, the only voice of reason. “Tony never would have brought him if he didn’t think Parker could handle it—”

Peter’s eyes snap back open. “How do you know my last name?”

“What did I say about how I’d already felt you out?”

“That sounds… so much worse than the way you mean it.”

“See?” Natasha pats Steve’s arm. “He’s already making dirty jokes. He’s fine.”

Steve is silent for a few seconds. Then he shakes his head. “We have to take him back.”

“What?!” Peter demands. “No! You need my help!”

“I need Tony’s help!”

“I can literally do anything Tony can,” Peter proclaims, and then pauses. “Probably.”

“That’s real reassuring,” Wilson pipes up from a few feet over.

“No one asked you,” Romanoff hisses.

Wilson rolls his eyes. “I’m just saying, Steve’s got a point. Look at this little twink. Have you seen him? He’s like two feet big.”

“I’m literally sitting right here,” Peter says. “And I wasn’t kidding when I said I can lift fifteen tons.”

“No,” Steve decides. “You’re too small.”

“Oh, are you shitting me?!” Barnes explodes. “Steve, you were a five foot tall asthmatic when you enlisted!”

“That was a different time!”

“It’s just a little stealth mission,” Barnes says. “The kid can pin my arm down. Even you can’t do that.”

Steve frowns. “You can pin his arm down?”

Peter takes a deep breath. “I’ll say it one more time: fifteen tons.”

Another pause.

“Fine,” Steve says. “Fine, Jesus Christ. But if he dies—”

“You’ll blame yourself like you always do,” Natasha finishes for him with a dry look.

Rogers sighs. “Yeah. Probably.”

—

Tony jolts awake at precisely four AM.

The first thing he sees is pizza.

It’s two inches from his face and disgustingly congealed. He pushes it away as he raises his head, and then notices a second thing: Peter is gone.

“Um… FRIDAY?”

“Yes Boss?”

“Where’s the kid?”

“He left approximately two and a half hours ago on urgent business.”

Tony’s eyes narrow. That stinks. Like, a lot. “Urgent business? He’s twelve.”

“I was only able to catch his half of the phone conversation—”

“Oh, well then just trace the call or whatever.”

“I’m afraid the phone he used isn’t advanced enough for that.”

Tony stiffens. He doesn’t want to look, but turns around anyway, eyeing his jacket. Slowly he grabs it and feels around in the pockets. “It’s gone.”

“What’s gone?”

“What do you think?! The phone! The little rectangular piece of garbage Rogers FedExed to me with the worst apology note of all time!”

“Oh, that.”

Tony freezes. His eyes close briefly. Then they seek out the nearest of FRIDAY’s cameras. “You didn’t wake me up, darling.”

“No,” she replies, almost sheepish.

“Whyever not?”

“Peter and I both agreed that the best thing for you would be for you to sleep as long as possible—”

“I don’t CARE what’s best for ME!”

He takes a minute to fume. Then he starts moving. “Is he wearing his watch?”

“Yes, Boss.”

“Fantastic, showstopping, incredible,” Tony slaps the housing unit on his chest. “Open the pod bay doors, would you?”

—

Peter is kind of kicking ass.

Like, not to brag or anything, but he’s taken down six HYDRA agents so far and for once hasn’t had to ask for help. He’s holding his own.

Maybe it’s something to do with being part of a whole unit. They move around each other, they fight as one; there’s a boost to the normal amount of adrenaline Peter feels in the midst of a fight. He knows that if he gets kneed in the chest and goes down for a second, Barnes is gonna swoop in and break a jaw with his metal arm. Likewise, Wilson knows that if he gets thrown back into the wall with that weird glowy laser gun, Peter is gonna web the HYDRA soldier up and subdue the threat.

It’s… kind of awesome.

They’ve split up, for the most part. Maximoff, Rogers, and Romanoff are working through the east wing while Peter, Barnes, and Wilson slowly carve their way through the west.

“Could use a little bit of backup,” Wanda says through the comms, in a rasping, out of breath voice.

Peter taps his ear. “Where are you?”

“Second floor, third room,” she reports.

Peter doesn’t waste any time. He shoots a web for the roof of the atrium and swings across the wide open space that separates the two halves of the building. He’d calculated the distance just right and hurtles straight into Wanda’s attacker.

“Thanks,” she huffs.

Peter shrugs, wiping Dilapidated Building Dust off of his suit. “Hey, no problem.”

“You know, they’re all hypocrites.”

Peter pauses. “What?”

“I was nineteen when we went to Germany. My powers just happened to be more convenient for their needs.”

“I, uh—oh.”

She slips past him. “I’m not saying they’re not good people. I’m just saying that when it comes to winning, sometimes morality goes out the window. In that way… Sometimes I think Stark might have had the right of it.”

Before he can really process that, Peter reaches out and grabs her wrist. She scowls. “What?”

“Two agents, twenty feet away and gaining.”

“How can you tell?”

“Heartbeats.”

To his surprise, she grins. “I’m not going to lie, that would come in handy a lot with the work we do.”

“Well, you know where to find me. Wanna trip em Suite Life style?”

“What?”

“Nothing, just follow my lead.”

—

When Rogers’ fist collides with the last agent in the base, and Peter and Romanoff have extracted all of the information she needed off of HYDRA’s underground databases, Wilson says, “Do your thing, Wanda.”

She nods. “Everyone clear out.”

Peter doesn’t question it too much. He follows Barnes’ lead outside. The base, disguised as a factory, is in the middle of the Jersey woods—so there’s no one around to watch Wanda’s hands glow red and for the building to collapse inward.

“Cool,” Peter breathes.

“Destroying buildings can be fun when it’s on purpose,” Wanda tells him, somewhat bitterly.

Peter frowns. “That wasn’t your fault.”

“Tell that to Stark.”

“He doesn’t think—”

“Tell me what?”

Peter’s blood runs cold. He doesn’t want to turn around, but he does anyway; slowly so as to delay his inevitable demise. Tony is hovering about feet behind them all with his faceplate down.

“Oh,” he says stupidly. “Hey.”

The plate lifts.

Tony does not look happy.

“Hello.”

“It’s uh… fancy seeing you here?”

“Oh, don’t try to be cute with me.” Tony drops down onto the ground. “How about you save me the heart attack by telling me what in God’s name you’re doing out in the middle of nowhere at four in the fucking morning—and you left with them of all people when I specifically asked you not to!”

Peter opens his mouth. Then he closes it and averts his eyes. “They needed… help.”

“Oh, they needed help,” Tony shakes his head. “You need help. Psychiatric help.”

“Hey, lay off the kid man,” Wilson pipes up. “He was just—”

“Excuse me?” Tony puts a hand to his ear. “What? I must be mishearing, it sounded like you were butting into a conversation that has nothing to do with you by defending the poor decision making of a sixteen year old kid who has a math test in four hours!”

Peter blinks. He’d forgotten about that. “Okay, you’ve got a point there—however, I’d like to present to the jury evidence piece six-hundred and five: my completely uninjured body!”

Tony opens his mouth. Then it snaps shut again. Opens again; “Just wait until Aunt May hears about this.”

Peter’s eyes widen. “Are you crazy?! She’ll kill us both!”

Tony hesitates. “You might have a point—but that doesn’t change the fact that this was incredibly reckless and stupid! You can’t just run off willynilly without even informing your parents—”

“Willynilly?” Peter interrupts, instead of PARENTS?!

“Enough! You’re grounded!”

Natasha steps forward. “Tony—”

“From what,” Peter challenges, ignoring her.

Tony sputters. “Uh, your suit, Karen, TV, that board game—”

“Don’t pretend like you don’t know what Dungeons and Dragons is called.”

“The name of the game is irrelevant,” Tony snaps. “Two weeks. Maybe three if you piss me off any more on the way home.”

“Don’t tell me you expect me to like, latch onto your suit.”

“And put you in more danger?! Fuck no! Happy’s waiting in the SUV.”

Peter sighs. He turns to the others. “Well, it’s been fun. Thanks.”

Steve Rogers blinks. “Uh, yeah. You did good, kid.”

Tony holds up a hand as Peter tries to pass him. He’s squinting at Steve, but seems to decide he doesn’t want to speak to the other man. He zeroes in on Natasha. “He did good?”

“Damn good,” she replies. “We could use him.”

Tony throws his head back and laughs. “Fucking hilarious! Think again! I swear to God, if I catch any of you heathens near my kid again and you’ll be dead before my feet hit the ground. Kid, go to the car.”

“Tony—”

“No. Car.”

—

“What the hell, Rogers.”

“Tony—”

“No! This is not the part where you speak.” Tony takes a second to remember to breathe because his heart is still pounding and there’s red on the edges of his vision. “I meant what I said. Stay away from my kid.”

“Tony, he’s stronger than you’re giving him credit for—”

“Nope! Nope! No!” Tony blasts off before he has to listen to any more.

—

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Peter meets Happy’s eyes through the rear view mirror. Glaring, he slowly buckles his seatbelt.

“That’s more like it. So, did you have fun?”

Peter slouches. “Am I even allowed to say yes?”

“No.” Happy shrugs. “But hey, if it’s any consolation—”

Peter never gets his consolation; the car door swings open and Tony slips inside. Before he can even get a word in, he’s being pulled into Tony’s arms. The older man’s heart is hammering against his chest.

“Kid—”

“I’m sorry,” Peter blurts. “Really. I know I shouldn’t have gone, I just… I wanted to help.”

“I know.”

He breathes out. “They didn’t mean to—”

“Leave them out of it.”

“But I went along with it—”

“Peter,” Tony says, and then sighs. “Just… that can’t happen again, okay? Promise me?”

Peter wishes he meant it when he says, “Yeah, I-I promise.”

The drive home is quiet, but Tony lets Peter fall asleep on his shoulder, and when they get back to New York they stop at his school so he’s not late for his test.

And everyone sees who’s in the car when Peter gets out.

Kind of makes up for being grounded, if you ask him.

#asks #anon #marvel #irondad #tony stark #peter parker #prompts #rogue avengers #fanfiction #my writing #natasha romanoff #steve rogers #no bashing here folks!!!#this is me trying to write something unique and absolutely failing #oops

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