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puzzlingmagic · 4 months ago

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Chapter Five: You Did

Summary: Hermione speaks to some familiar faces

Words: 4.6K

Warnings: 18+, Thoughts of Suicide

A/N: HI! Chapter five is here!

~*~*~*~*~

Hermione was only able to get through four chapters before her mind started to wander. Her pointer finger was stuck between the pages as she looked out over the ocean. Would drowning feel the same as suffocating?

No. It was definitely different.

But it might be faster. To drown water would have to find space in her lungs, which was already taken up by this curse so there was less area to fill. It would only take a few minutes compared to the year or so that was her current hell. Blinking, she shook the thoughts from her mind. She came out here to stop thinking of her death.

Pulling her fingers from between the pages, not giving a single thought to the fact that she lost her spot, she dropped her book on the blanket and stood up. As she stepped closer and closer to the edge the wind seemed to push her back as if it knew what she had been thinking, the cliff was just a few steps away now. Looking down over the edge she held her breath as a gust of wind pushed her hair from her shoulders. At the bottom of the cliff sat the beach, waves pushing and pulling along the sand, also on said beach sat a bunch of rocks that could do a lot of damage if she hit them. Turns out she wouldn’t in fact be drowning just bleeding internally… and externally. Definitely not how she wanted to go out. The potion was certainly the safer bet.

“Please don’t tell me you’re going to jump.” A voice called out startling her.

With a gasp she took a few steps back from the edge before she turned around to look at the new person. He looked familiar, like the girl in the shop the other day.. He wasn’t from around here of that she was sure.. But.. where had she seen him before?

“Don’t get me wrong, I know CPR but it won’t do much good if you land on the rocks.” The man just smiled at her, his hands held up in front of him to show he meant no harm before he slowly slipped them into his pockets and kept them there. “I’m sorry. I didn't mean to scare you.”

The more Hermione looked at him with slightly narrowed eyes the more familiar he got. Then like a light switch was flipped, a flash of Slytherin green and a rogue smile in a quiet library. “Theodore Nott?”

“Guilty. But just Theo please,” He smiled. That same roguish smile. “Hello Granger.”

“What are you doing here?” She asked as she looked around the empty area. There wasn't a soul around but the two of them.

“Here?” He said pointing at the ground between the two of them. “I'm talking to you. If you're adding about here?” He gestured to all around them. “What are any of us really doing here in the grand scheme of things? But if you're talking about Luccombe.. I live here.”

“But it's a muggle village!?” She couldn't keep the shock of of her voice.

“I know.” He laughed leaning forward a little as he slipped his hands back into his pockets. “There's a few of us Slytherins that live here actually. I'm just curious about what brings you to our little town?”

Hermione blinked at him in shock. Slytherins. In a muggle village. Shaking her head she pushed her hair out of her face as a breeze blew her curls into her eyes. “I… Uh… My parents. They have a cottage on the edge of town and I’m staying here for a little while.”

“Alone?” He curiously asked, his head cocking slightly to the side. “Or is the rest of the Golden Trio hiding around here somewhere?”

“No,” Hermione said, shaking her head before looking down at her bare feet. Her toes curled into the blades of grass, slowly she looked back up at him. Her chest hurt as she thought about her friends. The ones she will be leaving behind soon. “It’s.. It's just me.”

The two of them stood there, just watching each other for a few quiet moments. Theo looked like he was studying her and Hermione rubbed her sternum awkwardly, giving out a little cough before she looked away again. “I should really get back home.”

“Allow me to walk you.” Theo said, taking a step towards her. “I may have hated my family but I was raised to be a gentleman.”

“Oh no, no,” Hermione said, shaking her head as she moved towards her blanket to slip on her sandals, grab her book, and house keys that she shoved into her front pocket. “It’s fine. I’ll be okay, it's just up the road.”

Grabbing the blanket before she could, Theo rolled it up holding it in his arms before she could attempt to take it from him. “I insist.”

Hermione looked like she wanted to argue for a moment before she decided against it and together the two of them started to walk away from the picturesque cliff. They moved in silence for a few steps before she looked up at him. “So what brought you to Luccombe?”

“Hmm?” Theo asked, blinking down at her before he ran his empty hand through his brown curls. “Life after the war was hard... Even though I wasn’t really part of the debacle my family name is still associated with Ole No Nose. There wasn’t a place in wizarding London we could go without being harassed in some form of another, so we left. Found a home on the other side of town and we’ve been here for a few years now. We like it here, it's peaceful. Easy. Just what we needed. I’m actually the town doctor. For both magic and muggle. Though it’s mostly just the village elders I tend to.”

“How did you manage to learn two different forms of healing in such little time? It would take years to finish both!”

“Professor McGonagall put in a good word for me with the Ministry when she learned what I wanted to do. She thought that since I was still just a student at Hogwarts when everything went down it wouldn’t be a problem and she somehow got them to allow me to use a Time Turner. So I studied both at once, lost a lot of sleep, and almost lost my sanity but I got there. I’m sure you are familiar with that?” He smirked down at her with a little chuckle.

Laughing a little back, Hermione looked at the path ahead of her. She had been asked a few times over the years about her third year with the time turner but she never gave anyone a straight answer. Leaving it to their imaginations. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Mhm.” He chuckled.

After that a moment of silence fell over the duo as they walked. She thought back on what he had said earlier in their conversation. Theo had mentioned that some of their schoolmates were here as well. The last thing she needed was a bunch of Slytherins making her life harder when she's close to the end. “You kept saying we and you mentioned earlier there were a few Slytherins here. If you don’t mind me asking…”

Theo looked at her out of the side of his eye before he answered. Almost like he was debating with himself. “Well, there’s me, my fiancé Astoria, and Pansy. She owns the café in town, The Morning Magic café, I'm sure you've seen it. Tori works there too. Blaise and Daphne visit frequently, though they live in Italy at one of the Zabini vineyards. And… Draco is here as well.”

“Malfoy?!” She exclaimed, coming to a stop in the middle of the road, coughing to keep her voice from going to an unreasonably high pitch. “Malfoy’s here? In Luccombe?”

Theo stopped a few paces in front of her and turned to look back at her. “He needed to leave London more than any of us did. He barely left the Manor after his year of probation and when he did it wasn’t pretty. No one cared that he was just a child who was taken advantage of by the adults around him. We all were in a way, even you, but he’s changed a lot. He doesn't believe in all that blood purity shit anymore. Draco grew up, Hermione, and for the better. He’s a good man.”

Hermione looked away from Theo after a moment. She just couldn’t believe someone like Draco Malfoy had changed that drastically. Hate that deep didn’t just vanish. Rubbing her sternum again to try and brush away the pain she bit her lip a little. “Wait… You’re engaged to Astoria Greengrass? I thought she was engaged to Malfoy? That’s what the Prophet said a few years ago anyway.”

Theo just shrugged and gestured for her to start walking again with a lean of his head down the path. “They were, but they broke off the engagement after we moved out here. Astoria and him had a long talk and when he found out that we loved each other he couldn’t go through with it and he told their parents that he broke the engagement. He took the fall so she wouldn’t be dragged through the mud. You know how purebloods are, the gossip would have ruined Tori.”

Hermione made a noncommittal noise as she fell into step with him. Theo had given her a lot of information to think about. Draco Malfoy, her class's number one prat, was kind enough to end an engagement and take the heat for it so his fiancée could be with someone else. Has he really changed enough that he no longer believes in the purist bull he spewed at her? He was the first person to ever call her a Mudblood and at the time she tried to act like his words hadn’t bothered her, that she was above it, but there was no hiding later how it had affected her.

She remembered how he stood there and watched as his insane Aunt hit her with Cruciatus after Cruciatus before she got bored and started to carve into her arm. Her fingers brushed over the currently unglamored scar on her arm subconsciously. She knew logically that he wouldn’t have been able to help her even if he had wanted to. There was no telling what Bellatrix could have done or Voldemort for that matter if he had found out. Hermione had heard of all the torture that he and his family had gone through at the hands of that psycho at both his and his mothers trial.

Theo caught her movements but was polite enough not to say anything. Glancing down at her he cocked his head to the side deciding a change of subject was needed, “So what brings you all the way out here?”

Hermione bit the inside of her cheek before she finally started to talk, keeping away from the truth as much as possible. It’s not like he’s going to know if she lied. “It’s not as interesting a story as one would hope. Just been having a rough patch recently. Ronald and I broke up and I just needed to get away for a while. The home was just sitting there so I thought why not?”

“You and Weasley were together a long time,” Theo gave her a small frown. “I’m sorry to hear that, it must be hard to be single after all this time.”

‘More than you know,’ She thought, this was not how she thought her life would go.

“Your parents don't come out anymore?”

Her chest gave a pulse of pain as she thought about her parents, their smiling faces, and how disappointed they would be in her. “They live in Australia now. Don’t come home much.”

“Oh.”

The two moved along quietly after that. The path under their feet crunched and she knew that the cottage would be coming into view soon and she has been more thankful for it.

“Well… this is me.” She said pointing at the home as they rounded the corner and her home came into view. As she brought them both to a stop in front of the small walkway that led up to her door she looked back over at him holding out her hands for the blanket Theo held in his arms. She pulled it to her chest as he handed it to her, careful not to ruin the book already in her hands. Her chest really hurt and now so did her head, a pain potion was in her future as soon as she could get away from the man.

Theo looked at the white two story house, it was simple and modest, very much like Granger herself. It seemed to be the perfect fit for her and her family. “Your home is lovely.”

“Thank you.” She glanced over her shoulder at it before looking over at him again. “And thank you for walking me… It really wasn’t necessary.”

“It was a pleasure honestly,” Theo shrugged as he watched her for a few moments. “I know we didn’t really have much interaction at school, but it was nice to catch up a little.”

“It was. I guess I’ll see you later then…” She muttered quietly with a small nod. Slowly she started to back away, still feeling the man's eyes on her as she reached into her pocket and pulled the keys from her shorts, using them to open the door. With one foot in the door she looked back over at him as he started to move from the small walkway. “Theo?”

“Hmm?” He hummed and looked over at her again.

“You said that Malfoy had changed. That he had grown up. To be honest I’m having a hard time believing that. But I have to ask… what changed him?” She questioned.

“You did.” He answered before he gave a small wave and started to move again, calling over his shoulder to her. “Have a good night, Granger.”

Out of all the things that he could have said that was not at all what she expected. How could she have changed Draco Malfoy? The two of them haven't seen each other since his trial and they didn’t even talk then. She watched Theo walk out of sight and she had more questions than answers. “Me?”

~*~*~*~*~

After her talk with Theo, Hermione didn’t step one foot out of her house for the next two days. The last thing she wanted was to run into the other Slytherins, she had no idea what she would even say to them. Especially Malfoy. Dropping the book she was attempting to read, for the fourth time, on the coffee table she pulled her legs up onto the cushion and leaned back against the arm rest. There was far too much happening in her brain at the moment to even try to comprehend the words that were written on those pages.

Has he really changed that much? Theo seemed to think so, they were living in a muggle village after all and not once had Harry mentioned anything about Aurors coming out here to take care of anything. But surely Malfoy wasn’t stupid enough to harm a muggle after he was let go with only house arrest after the war. Maybe he just stayed away from them? Or perhaps he- NO!

Shaking her head she groaned and leaned back farther against the armrest, her hands covering her face in frustration. Why did she care so much about Draco sodding Malfoy? She needed to do something, anything, to get her mind off this current path. Looking around she tried to find something to do that would occupy her mind and body. Her eyes caught on her fathers old stereo that sat on the long end table under the front window. Music! Music would help!

Pushing herself up and off the couch she moved around the living room to the stereo, pressing the top she let the lid of the CD area float open until she was able to see what was inside. A smile pulled on to her lips as she saw that ABBA was inside. Her father loved them, Waterloo was his favorite, he would dance around the house singing at the top of his lungs. Never failed to make her or her mother laugh.

Closing the lid she hit play and waited a few beats before the music pulse through the speakers, a small smile gracing her lips as ABBA started singing, her hips swaying a little as she looked around the room deciding fresh air sounded lovely before she pushed open the front windows. The music poured out into the street as she turned it up.

More.

She needed more.

She could unpack the bookshelves! Get the house ready for when she was gone just like the London house! Things for her to do and less for everyone else!

Searching around the home she grabbed her wand from the bun she had wrapped on the top of her head and grabbed a handful of napkins from the kitchen. Concentrating hard and with a flick of her wrist she was able to transfigure the napkins into a bunch of boxes. Well only five. But it was a start. Pain bloomed in her chest either from the use of her magic or her manic excitement she didn't know but she downed A pain potion from her beaded bag nonetheless and got to work.

She was halfway through the second row of books when she turned around to find Pansy Parkinson standing in the doorway with her and crossed looking terribly unimpressed. Hermione couldn't help but jump, almost dropping the large books in her hands as she gave a gasped curse. Placing the books on her coffee table she quickly moved to the stereo and turned down the music before glaring at the girl. Crossing her arms she frowned at her. “What the hell, Parkinson? Do you make a habit of just walking into people's homes?”

“I did knock but you couldn't hear me over that trash you call music.” She said pointing at the stereo with a sneer on her lips, her nose scrunched up in distaste. “What the hell was that anyway? Sounded like a bunch of screaming cats.”

“It was ABBA if you must know,” Hermione sniped. She was very defensive of things that reminded her of her parents. “They’re a very famous muggle ban- you know what? Nevermind. Why are you here?”

“I came to ask you that.” She said, raising a perfectly sculpted brow at her. The tone in her voice was very demanding.

“This is my parents' summer home. I live here…. Currently.”

“If you're here to cause trouble I won't hesitate to hex you.” Pansy huffed her hands moving to her hips. “We have a good thing going here. Draco’s finally happy again. I won't have you ruin that.”

“Oh for Merlin's sake. I didn't even know any of you were here until around… What? Three days ago? How could I possibly be here to make anyone miserable? Unless you haven't noticed I've barely left this house.” Hermione snapped, throwing her arms out in a gesture that clearly said ‘look at the place’. Books and potion bottles sat on the coffee table, the furniture sheets were still laying in the same kitchen corner waiting to be washed, clothes and blankets were strewn about the living room for when she got too cold, and as much as she hated to admit it there were at least three full bin bags sitting in the sun room needing to go out. Plus she didn’t even want to talk about the empty wine bottles on the kitchen counter.

Hermione Granger did not have her shit together. That much was obvious.

“Oh I can tell.” The Slytherin hissed as she looked around the home before her green eyes swiped Hermione up and down. “You look like shit.”

Hermione looked down at her comfy pj shorts and the large jumper she stole from Harry years ago before glaring at Pansy again. “Thanks…”

“Have you ever heard of foundation Granger? Mascara perhaps?”

“If you're just coming here to threaten and insult me you can leave.” She said pointing to the open door. Her chest was starting to hurt again and she was in no mood to deal with Pansy sodding Parkinson.

“Shit…No, no, you're right. I'm…. Sorry.” Pansy sighed as she pushed some of her hair behind her ears with nimble fingers before placing them back on her hips. “Trying to be a better person but old habits die hard I guess. I just worry about everything now. Draco mostly. He's in a good place right now, we all are and I don't want him to fall back into his old self. He’s come so far.”

“Parkinson,” Hermione said with a sigh as she crossed her arms over her chest trying to ignore the twinges of pain. “I'm not here to ruin anything or start anything with anyone. I'm just here to… say goodbye, I guess. Anyway, I won't be staying long.”

For the first time Pansy noticed the boxes on the floor and the empty shelves. “Moving out?”

“Something like that.” Hermione shrugged, looking away from the girl to the books on the coffee table.

Pansy looked at Hermione then, really looked at her, she looked tired and maybe a little more than sad. Sighing, she blew the fringe from her forehead. “I own the café in town.”

“Theo told me.” Hermione nodded her head. The abrupt change of subject made her blink and shake her head slightly to clear her thoughts.

“You should stop by. Before you leave, that is.” Pansy said, looking out the open front door. It was almost like she was embarrassed about the invitation that she just gave her.

“I was planning on it already before I knew you owned it. But I'll make sure I come round.” She nodded her hands also falling to her hips to match Pansy’s stance.

“Well good. It would do you good to get out of the house. You look like a ghost.” Clearing her throat Pansy glanced back over towards Hermione. “I’ll see you later then Granger.”

“Mhm,” She nodded her head watching as Pansy left her home, the door closing behind her. She watched out her front window as the witch walked down the small walkway and onto the street before she disappeared around the corner. Blinking in shock, Hermione turned the stereo back on at a lower volume this time before she picked up the books from the coffee table and placed them in the box by the shelves. Well that was the weirdest encounter she probably ever had.

~*~*~*~*~

Draco sat at his usual table in the café, his usual second mug of tea in his grip as he looked over his morning crossword. There was always one that gave him trouble. He only glanced up from the book as Tori placed a muffin fresh from the oven and a fork in front of him. Quirking up an eyebrow in question his gaze fell to the plate. “This a new flavor?”

The muffin had a distinct scent of bergamot and there was a glaze drizzled on top with a small pinch of what he can only assume was a zest of lemon by how yellow it was.

“Pansy’s trying something new.” Astoria said with a shrug. “Lemon Earl Grey muffins. Since Theo’s not here you get to be the guinea pig.”

Draco looked up at her before looking back down at the treat with an almost skeptical look in his eye. “Well at least it smells good.”

Astoria watched as he pulled the liner from the muffin before picking up the fork and taking a decent bite. She laughed a little as he looked confused at the taste for a moment before finally settling on being pleasantly surprised. “Well you haven’t spit it into a napkin yet so I’m assuming it’s good.”

Nodding he swallowed his bite before going in for another one. “This one is really good.”

“Damn right it is!” Pansy called from the doorway of the kitchen before heading back in to tray up the rest. “It’s going on the menu!”

��Tori dear, can I possibly get another pot please?” Mrs. Payton smiled over at her. “And one of those new muffins when they're ready. They smell wonderful!”

“Of course!” Astoria called back leaving Draco to his muffin so she could refill the pot for the older woman. Taking it gently from her hands as she got to her Astoria smiled at the woman, “Pansy should have them out momentarily and I’ll grab you one.”

“Thank you dear!” She called back as Astoria walked away.

Pansy brought the new tray of muffins out, slipping them into the display case as Astoria started to fill the pot with hot water, pulling a tin down from the cabinet to grab a few bags of Mrs. Payton's preferred tea and dropping those inside too steep.

The two witches worked in harmony as Pansy plated the muffin and left it on the counter for the other to grab before heading back into the kitchen as Astoria finished filling the pot. Carefully she grabbed the handle firmly in one hand and the plate in the other so she could bring it to the table.

It's as she was placing the items on the table that the door opened, the bell attached chiming with the new arrival.

“Welcome i-” Astoria called as she looked up, her breath catching in her throat with an audible squeak. The sound of a fork hitting a plate was heard in the background.

Hermione felt odd walking in the café and the fact that two Slytherins were staring at her didn't help. Was this a bad idea? It's only been two days since Pansy barged into her home. Taking a step into the café she let the door close behind her as she looked around, catching Pansy nodding at her from the kitchen door, having heard the bell and Astoria's reaction had made her curious about who it was. Clearing her throat Hermione smiled awkwardly.

Taking a breath Astoria wiped her palms on her apron before she stole a glance at Draco who was just staring at Hermione like she would curse him any second. Having enough of this awkwardness Astoria moved forward, clearing her own throat to start again. “Welcome to The Morning Magic Café. Will you be sitting in or taking it to go?”

“Um… in please.” Hermione smiled as Astoria gestured to her to follow her to the counter. Glancing over at Draco she gave him a small nod in greeting that he gave back and took off after the younger witch. Her eyes once more falling to Pansy in the kitchen door, “This is lovely Parkinson.”

“I know.” She said with confidence as she leaned on the door frame. “But thank you.”

“What would you like?” Astoria asked once she was behind the counter.

Looking up at the menu Hermione felt overwhelmed by all the options and pulled her cardigan tighter around her for comfort. Looking back down at Astoria she smiled at the witch. “What would you recommend?”

Draco watched the interaction from his table, his heart beating wildly in his chest. She was so close and she seemed so different, gone was the brilliant confident swot he knew in school. Granger seemed dulled. She was thin, tired, and pale. Something was off with her and he was going to find out what.

~*~*~*~*~

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#Harrypotter #hermioneanddraco #hermionegranger #dracomalfoy #dracoandhermione #potionmaster!draco #Dying!Hermione #dramionefanfic #dramionefanfiction #harrypotterfanfiction

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teko-mythmaster · 8 months ago

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Decided to check out that Wuthering Waves thing Mihoyo is so angry about. Here's my first impressions, written as I'm playing.

Woke up to two attractive (and possibly crazy) white woman who immediately decided my name was Rover. This is totally someone's kink.

Phones are gourds. I have no explanation for this.

Voice acting is kinda garbage, I actually thought they cheeped out and AI voiced the whole thing at first. (that may have just been an audio issue on my end though)

Relatedly, they didn't bother changing any of the Chinese names and no-one can seem to decide if they're going to pronounce them like a normal English speaker, or over-pronounce it massively complete with the correct tonal inflection. I'm not entirely convinced they didn't sloppily edit in the correct pronunciation into some of these lines.

No controller support, but at least this time it's just the devs messing with me and not Apple. Hopefully that will change soon, but my devices button to screen binding should be enough to muddle me through. It's enough for Genshin at least.

The UI is trying so hard to look exactly like the Genshin UI it almost hurts. Some screens are mostly original, but they tend to be for screens that won't show up in the Store page screenshots, tellingly enough.

To my surprise the combat's actually pretty original. Characters have special attacks they preform after being switched in (after charging a special bar), and it has an actual focus on dodging and parries over elemental whatevers (which seems to be totally absent) and generally favors a skill challenge more inline with a Souls-like in that way while still feeling like over the top action. Honestly I much prefer this to Genshin's combat so far, feels more like I'm engaging with the enemy rather than endlessly repeating the same sequence of elemental attacks on whatever healthbar is in-front of me.

The game thinks my device has a lot less horsepower than it does, took some settings tweaks and like two restarts to get it to not be in potato-vision. I could smell the pixels.

Stamina doesn't get used by the standard sprint, you can run indefinitely! Thank god!

Combat just got cooler, instead of torturing me with random equip drops to boost my stats we have a Castlevania Aria/Dawn of Sorrow style monster soul thing going on complete with monster specific special abilities/attacks. Seems like I can only have one of those special abilities at once while other soul equips are just stat upgrades, but this is so much cooler than what Genshin does.

I take it back about there being no Elemental stuff. Looks like special attacks and enemies have elemental types and damage, but they've yet to indicate there's any kind of mixing system like Genshin, just seems to be standard RPG weakness triangle stuff.

No piles of loot dropping on the ground, any loot you find has the decency to just drop into your inventory rather than make you mash the screen 20 times to pick it up.

Found another Genshin thing. The "following the glowing thing to treasure" is here.

I guess there's also pillars that you can activate to use as teleport waypoints, but I'm not giving Genshin credit for that idea.

There is parkour. It's just a basic "Assassin's Creed-esq" hit button to auto climb thing, so no skill challenge to be found there, but it makes traversal over vertical areas and mild level geometry problems so much more fun and easy.

I take it back, the voice acting isn't that bad, it's just Yangyang. I wouldn't call the rest of it fantastic mind, but Yangyang just isn't good and she's the main person you talk to for most of the intro. I don't think it's entirely the actresses fault, but the fact she seems to sharply drop straight into proper a proper Chinese accent/pronunciation whenever a Chinese name appears in the script isn't helping.

I haven't unlocked the gatcha yet, so I have no idea how bad that is. That also means I don't know what most of the characters look like, but I can't say I'm a huge fan of any of the designs I have seen. A whole lot of fairly generic "faintly realistic anime sci-fi" vibes and no real defining identity of it's own.

I think I've basically finish the tutorial now, the omnipresent grappling hook thing is a nice bonus. All I can hope now is that Yangyang isn't this game's Paimon, because she's only left me (from a story perspective) once so far. That said she's also playable, so maybe I'll be lucky and their isn't any Paimon sub.

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tomyo · 1 year ago

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I know I suddenly posted a lot of backlog adventure stuff back to back haha but just a little lore building here. I felt some energy to actually try games after the rush of playing KH3. At the same time, games are hard alone bleh.

Next week though, I'm briefly staying with a friend who I might try to play through with on Sonic Riders and Nights. Last year when I visited him, I brought my Dreamcast down and we went through Jet Set Radio on it so this is the next playthrough together I guess hahaha.

I would of liked to play more Dreamcast games soon, however a lot of mine don't actually work at the moment. Shenmue and Sonic adventure need to be polished which is big oof anxiety and to a much less extent, Cooking Mama cook off. Might even trade that one in to be real. I think it'd probably be the most fun for us to one day attempt a Dream Cast Binge together. Shenmue will certainly be....a heavy meal of a game and other games like Time Stalkers and Space Channel 5 would just be fun with friends. I might even bring the 360 at some point so I can force him to do Free Riders with me too hahaha.

In general since basically buying every Harvest Moon game out there (as I write this I may or may not be getting grand bazaar and hero of leaf valley 💀) my attention jumped to my Sonic collection. Basically my biggest gap is with Wii era games surprisingly. When I was in elementary to early high school I was pretty big on the games and bought a lot of them for the sub $15 the GameCube ones cost at that time. There is a distinct pain over the fact the copy of Adventure XD I had I had to return for being to scratched given the prices now and for personal reasons, there's someone who I've wanted to be the one to give me their old copy of even though it won't ever happened hahaha. My biggest desires right now are to get my hands on Black Knight but I've also wanted a 360 copy of Unleashed, Generations, Zero Gravity, and Shadow the Hedgehog. Rush adventure and Shuffle also catch my eye but my wallet hurts enough as is. I really need to stop getting into game collecting.

Part of the reason to bring Sonic up is also because I'll probably be playing a replay of Sonic 06 with the friend who leant me his PS4. He apparently never played it but wants to and I love just... Backseat gaming rather than actually playing. Hahahah. Games can be magical but art takes up too much time in my life now. The switch has been helpful for my more on the go lifestyle these days but I often still run short on free time. Even now Ive been wasting work hours to do KH3 this past weekend.

I guess my final little ramble is back to my HM collection. God it's kinda scary how many games I had suddenly bought at once. I keep meaning to play but I know they're the kinda games I have to secretly dedicate a lot of time towards. If I do end up getting the two aforementioned with my recent impulse gets, I've pretty much achieved most major versions of the game. My biggest other missing ones probs come down to the Og Story of Seasons, A version of Back to Nature, and the FoMT remake. Another wonderful life is on there but I'm starting to question my need for that one when I hate all the bachelors which I'm required to marry. Overall though I've reached what feels like a pretty doable conclusion from all of those.

Playing them however.....is a separate case hahaha. I had briefly started a AWLSE run which I might try to pick up, I want to return to Animal Parade as well over the winter, and a Save the Homeland run should??? Be quick??? I just started a my little shop attempt which is a pretty pick up and put down game so I will likely do that daily with Animal Parade when I play that. Overall I think my biggest scare is the handheld games. They should be easier but they feel harder. I want to do A New beginning the most but the game mechanics are daunting. The DS cute Skye playthrough might end up being the better choice from those right now. Which leads me to question how long will I take to go through all those games since I haven't been playing them over the years like they were meant for.

I think if I do go through end of the year as I intend to, recovering from surgery, I will try to go through a bunch of them.

#tomyo's backlog adventure

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lapetitechatonne · 2 years ago

Text

Day Three: Eldritch Entity

i literally can’t believe it’s day three already!!! okay, but this story idea has been bouncing around in my brain for a while and i’m so happy to get an excuse to write it. i’m thinking about turning this one into a series, so if you’re interested let me know!!!

ao3 link!

Kate’s Masterlist here!

Trust Only the Dark - 2.2k words

Dani clutched her stomach as she stumbled down the dark cave system, the only light the greenish glow of the blood dripping between her clenched fingers.

Vlad’s stupid bounty hunters finally got a lucky shot after months of stalking. One she didn’t know if she’d survive.

She stumbled over a rock, her knees hitting the ground hard. The pain in her knees magnified by the ache everywhere else. It hurt. Everything hurt.

She blinked away tears as she watched her blood drip onto the ground.

That’s when she saw it.

The shadows crept around her, moving and stretching around the jagged rocks. A shiver ran down her spine as they started collecting in the dips of the cavern walls, thickening into swirling shapes. It reminded her of Johnny’s shadow or Vlad’s shades.

The pools of darkness slowly slithered together, into a large mass in front of her. She watched in fascination as it began to form a humanoid-like shape, sharp at the edges like static but drifting in and out of view like fog.

At its center, two glowing circles formed. They were pure white balls of gas against the darkness, which made them all the more intimidating.

The creature moved its long spider-like limbs skulking towards her like she was a wounded animal. Logically, she knew she should be afraid, that she should run away as far as she could and never look back.

But as she stared into the burning eyes of the creature, she couldn’t bring herself to run. There was something too. . . familiar.

“What,” its voice was a sound somewhere between tv static and shattering glass, the words barely recognizable, “you?”

It stretched out a long, knifelike finger, pointing at her.

Before she could think any better of it, she reached out too. As she neared its out-stretched extremity it screeched, slicing her hand and pulling back into itself.

She gasped, pulling her hand back into her. The scratch on her hand was deep, deep enough that she could see bone, and the sting was amplified by the pain already pulsing through her body. She hissed as she switched which hand was pressing down on her stomach wound so that way her uninjured one could also press down on this wound.

Soon she was gonna run out of hands.

She looked up at the creature as it shifted uneasily back into the crevices like it was waiting for her to attack it.

“I’m sorry,” her voice was barely more than a whisper, but the shadow tilted its head like it understood, “I didn’t mean to—ahh,” she groaned in pain as her head spun. She panted, taking deep breaths until it subsided a bit. She was losing a lot of blood.

And fast.

When she looked back up, the creature had inched forward a bit, its glowing white eyes almost curious.

“What you?” it asked again, this time keeping its distance.

“I’m. . . I’m nothing,” She bowed her head, tears pricking her eyes, “I’m something that’s not supposed to exist. Something no one cares about.” The words were thick in her throat but they were the truth. "I'm just a phantom," she laughed bitterly.

No one cared about her, whether she lived or died. Not really. Not because they actually cared about her or would miss her. They just because they didn’t like death, even less so when they played a passive part. She understood that after all her travels.

The difference between people caring about you and just not wanting to see you die.

The silhouette shifted, getting closer. This time she stayed still, not wanting to frighten it again. She knew what it was like to lash out because you were scared and you were used to people hurting you, she’d seen it so many times—hell she'd done it before.

“Hurt?” it reached out its finger again, this time slower. It dipped the sharp edge in her blood that was pooling on the ground.

She watched as it examined the slightly glowing substance. It looked curious and cautious, but no longer afraid.

“Yeah,” she laughed humorlessly, “he got a lucky shot in. Real lucky.” She smiled grimly up at the thing. Surely it knew she wasn’t going to make it out of this.

It continued to study her. Circling her. She watched the shadows bend and swirl around her like it was trying to engulf her. She continued to stay still, she was dying here anyways. There wasn’t any point in fighting.

Once it finished. . . whatever it was doing, the shadows gathered in front of her again, this time in a much smaller, almost human-shaped form. This time when it held out its claw-like hand it wasn’t scared. It was sure.

“I help,” it said.

Dani looked from its outstretched hand to its white, glowing gaze. Whatever this thing was, it seemed to think she was worth helping. She didn’t quite understand, but she decided that maybe she didn’t have to.

She slowly reached out and took its hand. It felt more solid than she expected it to. It was cold—which was something coming from her—and clammy like fresh snow melting under her touch. It pulled her to her feet, giving her a moment to catch her balance.

It lead her down the long dark cavern, though it didn’t so much as walk, but glide around the bumps and spikes on the ground. It was oddly fascinating to watch, even as she felt her brain becoming more and more cloudy.

She lost a lot. More than even a halfa should. It wouldn’t be long before she collapsed, leaving only a puddle of goo on the rocky ground. At least she wouldn't be alone.

Maybe that's why she was following the creature. Despite everything, even though she knew this creature didn't care for her, she was too scared to truly die alone.

They took twists and turns Dani didn’t understand, moving from one cavern to the next. Just when she thought she didn’t have it in her to keep going, she saw a soft green light emanating from the entrance of a new cave system.

The creature lead her to the cavern, and Dani couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

There was a small pool of a viscous green liquid, swirling around and around in a familiar pattern.

It was ectoplasm.

Her whole body could feel its presence and it ached to consume it. She moved forward, unable to control the pure need in her core. As she got closer she could tell it wasn’t quite right.

It wasn’t like the ectoplasm she knew, it was. . . wrong. Tainted. It was some kind of darkness he couldn't identify, not beyond the surface level.

Still her body craved it. It needed it. If she didn’t consume it she’d die right here. Right now.

She stepped into the pool, feeling the ectoplasm surrounding her skin. It was like a cool balm on her burning muscles, quieting the persistent pain to a dull ache. With each step deeper, she could feel the foreign emotions flooding her system.

There was so much pain. So much fear. So many people had died in Gotham so suddenly, it made sense that it left a tangible mark on the city, a place where the leftover emotions lingered.

Still, she went deeper. Voices started whispering in her ears, distant and indistinguishable. It didn't matter. She continued until she could let herself fall back into the pit, letting the ectoplasm engulf her.

The ectoplasm rushed to her wounds, stitching the skin back together and mixing into her bloodstream.

The voices got louder. The cries and screams of the dead echoed in her ears, they were so lonely. So scared. They didn’t deserve this pain, all this pain—gods there was so much.

She sank deeper and deeper until her back hit the jagged ground.

There was still fear and pain and anger, but there was something else too. Something warmer. Happier.

There was love.

There was hope.

So many loved this city. Loved it so deeply that a part of them got left behind. Had so much faith in it that they never truly believed in anything else. Had so much hope for it that it continued to live on in the very concrete under their feet.

It was unlike anything Dani had ever felt.

It was tragic. It was kind. It was purpose.

Something she lacked. That's why she was falling apart to begin with—she was a ghost without an obsession. A human without a family. She had nothing. Was nothing.

But Gotham. It was so much. So much it hurt.

Dani pushed off the ground and rose to the surface, feeling the cold night air on her wet skin. She gasped filling her lungs and found that just breathing the Gotham air felt different. It felt sweeter. Tangier.

She tried to orient herself, letting the intense feelings fade to a dull roar in the back of her mind. She didn’t know if she’d ever be free of them after that. She wasn't sure she wanted to.

Here there was purpose. There was love.

How could she go back to a life without it?

She stared out at the cave, and almost missed the creature as it slunk back into the darkness.

“Wait,” she called out to it. The thick liquid swished around her as she tried to get out. “Thank you. For saving me.”

It tilted its head in acknowledgment and began to pull back again.

“Don’t go!” She struggled, trying to move even faster but thankfully it froze, seemingly unsure what to do. As she got closer she could see the marks across its dark form, like it’d been torn apart and stitched back together. She wondered if that's why it was so afraid at first.

She reached out but didn't touch it, “You’re hurt too.”

Her words were quiet, but they seemed so loud in the small space.

If she focused, really focused, she could feel the hurt radiating off the creature. But just like the ectoplasm, past the layers of darkness and anger, at its core there was love. Unbelievable, almost unbearable love. There was so much it hurt.

“I curse,” its form sagged in sadness.

“Curse?” she asked. She'd never known a curse to take form, and she'd certainly never seen one so attached to something.

It raised its finger and tapped the space between her eyes. As it did, her vision blurred and she was thrown into what she could only describe as a premonition.

As rows of women were lined up on the gallows, their broken voices calling out to the skies in harmony.

“Gotham will never know peace. Gotham will never know peace. Even after we're deceased, we will haunt your masterpiece, the blood will run in the streets. Gotham will never know peace.”

The promise cracked over their sobs as the men prepared to pull the boxes out from under them. The singing only faltered for a moment as the women dropped, the crack of their necks sickeningly audible in the moment of silence.

As the lifeless bodies swung in the wind the women behind them continued the haunting melody.

Dani gasped, bile rising into her throat. She wanted to cry, to scream and collapse. Those people, all those poor innocent people—gods.

She looked up into the sad eyes of the creature, the puzzle pieces slowly falling into place.

“You’re Gotham?”

Gotham made a noise she interpreted as agreement and moved back from her again, trying to hide in the dips of the cave. It was. . . ashamed of what it was. Dani could relate.

“It’s not fair,” she smiled at it sadly but didn’t move any closer, “that you got caught in the crossfire. I don’t blame you. Sometimes it’s hard to be anything but what people make you. I’d know.”

She looked down at her hands. She was nothing without Vlad, yet she was nothing with him.

She could feel the voices of Gotham’s people deep inside her wrapping her in warmth like they were comforting her. Huh.

She looked up at Gotham, its cautious white eyes staring back at her.

Gotham saved her. It embraced her. It loved her, and not because it had to, but because it saw something in her worth loving. Worth fighting for.

Dani held her hand out to Gotham, a single thought solidifying in her mind, “Let me help you. We can share the burden.”

She smiled as the Curse crept forward on uneasy limbs, examining her from all angles.

It reached out and wrapped its thick hand around hers, cautious of its claws.

Dani felt a surge of cold power rush through her, like the ocean breeze on a hot day. It settled underneath her skin, pulling at her core until it completely wrapped around it.

She could feel the streets of Gotham carve themselves into her bones. The hopes of its people settle in her chest. It’s pain in her muscles. She could see and feel everything all at once.

Dani opened her eyes, the Curse still stared back at her but it was different. Smaller. Lighter.

The sound of a baby's first laugh rang distantly in her ears as she felt an old woman take her last breath. Her core sang in harmony with the distant church bells.

The Curse smiled back. It took their joint hands and lead her down the cavers into the very heart of the city.

Exactly where they should be.

#Eldritch Gotham #gotham city personified #and it's a bit creepy but that's okay #dani phantom #dpxdc #dp/dc week 2022 #dani becomes part of the city

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shotorozu · 4 years ago

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Hi! Before anything I wanted to lyk I've read through some of your work and you've easily become one of my favorite writers :) I was wondering if you could do a bit of a comfort post? If not that's totally okay! If so, could it be hcs for Bakugo, Shinso, and maybe Aizawa (but not in like a relationship kinda way for him, like a student opening up to their teacher) telling them about being gender fluid? What would be their reactions? How would they adjust to the name change and using different pronouns? I recently told my bf and he didn't seem too up for it, eventually I told him to use my given name and she/her, kinda bummed lmao. I totally understand if you don't want to write for this, tysm either way! Have a great night/day :) (I'm so sorry this is so lengthy lmaooo)

reader coming out as gender fluid

character(s) : bakugou katsuki, shinsou hitoshi, aizawa shouta (bnha)

legend : [Y/N = your name, D/N = deadname] gender neutral, quirk not specific

headcanon type : hurt-comfort, fluff (x reader; platonic)

note(s) : first of all, i’m sorry about what happened with your boyfriend, if he cares about you, then he should’ve been supportive. it’s disheartening knowing that you decided to have him address you by your birth name, and by she/her. it should never be that way, especially when you felt comfortable coming out to HIM as gender fluid.

anon, i really hope this post gives you comfort, and if you want to talk— my dms are open!

»»————-　♡　————-««

bakugou katsuki

he wasn’t so sure on why you were acting all skittish all of a sudden, and he just wished you told him what was up

as much as he doesn’t want to admit it, katsuki really hates seeing you this down— and if only he could ‘kill those pesky emotions!!’

after a long day at school, katsuki decided to demand an immediate answer, on WHY you were acting like this

you express your concern, and even though katsuki’s rough words say otherwise— he’s willing to help (as much as he could)

but he wasn’t expecting you to come out as genderfluid

the entire pronoun thing had him confused, and it wasn’t in the “huh?? why would you want that?” type of confusion

it was rather like the “i thought they/them were plural pronouns?” confusion, but don’t be misguided! a quick google search fixed it up, and now he gets it.

with the name thing,, it took him two tries for him to get it right— but he’ll treat you like royalty if he accidentally slips up. he doesn’t mean to disrespect you

out of everyone here— he would be the most confused at first, since he hasn’t had anyone come out to him in like,, ever

katsuki feels so honored to have you feel comfortable enough to come out to him.

everyone is so intimidated by his short-tempered demeanor, to the point that no one has shared such an important, and personal detail to him

he’ll pull you in for a hug, large warm hands rubbing your back— and he’s trying to be gentle, okay?

“you really thought i was gonna say some bullshit about this, huh?” was what he first said to break the silence “i could care less about what you fucking identify with, you’re still you.”

and he means it

if anyone disrespects you, he’s blowing them up into space— enraged that anyone would try to disrespect you.

katsuki’s also very quick to correct someone if they ever deadname you “IT’S Y/N, NOT D/N!”

rip to them

shinsou hitoshi

as soon as he notices that something’s wrong, his eyes will be on you— and only you.

he wishes he had some sort of mind reading quirk— he wants to know what’s on your mind, just so he could help you

hitoshi doesn’t want to be pushy, so he can only wait for you to come to him— but he will leave subtle hints that you could tell him anything that was on your mind.

so that’s when you decide to tell him your worries, and everything— feeling that you’re ready to come out to him as gender fluid

a small genuine smile will grace his face, pulling you into a loose embrace— “thank you for feeling comfortable enough to tell me.”

the next thing he does is ask you if you want to go by anything else— just in case you do want to be addressed differently.

you’ll still be his kitty anyway, so it’s not like this change would negatively affect him.

you’ll never catch him slipping up

i’m sure he’s probably familiar with different types of identities— so gender fluidity isn’t a stranger topic to him

so because of this, he adapts pretty easily— cooperating with the new revelations with ease

rip to anyone that has the audacity to deadname or misgender you, it’s not something he takes very lightly similar to bakugou and aizawa

he’ll understand if it’s a innocent mistake, but he still won’t be pleased with the offender— that’s strike one for him

i swear— his glare will make anyone shart their pants in a second. it’s ruthless

hitoshi won’t hesitate on using his quirk on anyone that purposely disrespects you— and for once, he doesn’t care about what others will say about him.

they shouldn’t have disrespected you 🤷‍♀️ just saying

if you wanted to buy clothes that were a lot more gender neutral, he’s perfectly fine with that too!

hitoshi doesn’t care if you strip him of every single penny and dime that was in his wallet for hoodies and sweatpants.

he just wants your happiness to be at it’s highest at all times— because a happy Y/N makes a happy hitoshi <3

aizawa shouta

even though he has to take care and supervise 23 growing teenagers, he still manages to notice if something’s wrong with one of them it’s impressive!

of course— aizawa’s a busy man, and he’s constantly tired. but, it would make him feel a lot better if all of his students were content with themselves

so seeing you down was something he noticed since the moment you came in

it’s not like he could FORCE you to tell him what was wrong, that’s not the approach he’s looking for

and besides, if you told him that everything was fine, then he couldn’t really push it. his concern didn’t really die down though

a few days later, aizawa decides to talk to you again— basically consenting you to come talk to him when the time’s right

but he didn’t see this coming

so that’s when you decide to come out to him first, spilling out your concerns, and the worries that plagued your mind— worried that people wouldn’t accept your new identity as a gender fluid person

now, aizawa has met a lot of people in his life. from different ages, people with different quirks, and of course— different identities

he asks you why you decided to tell him first, and you told him that it’s because you felt comfortable knowing he knew first

“thank you for telling me, Y/N” he thanks you calmly with a comforting hand on your shoulder “i’m proud of you.”

he asks you if you want to go by a different name, and he’ll make sure to start calling you by that name (even though he calls all of his students by their last name)

oh, and he immediately switches pronouns! i know that should be expected but,, it’s so natural wow

of course, he won’t out you to anyone if you’re not ready to come out to the rest

and because of how natural the pronouns switch is, no one notices it when aizawa started addressing you with they/them

but if you’re ready to come out, he’ll be there— silently making sure that everyone accepts you.

okay but he’ll get so defensive if anyone misgenders you or dead names you— his capture tape will start floating, and his eyes will shine red

which is weird because.. who has the guts to dead name/misgender AIZAWA SHOUTA’s student?? anyone that does that in front of him is INSANE

in short, he’s very supportive— he won’t blow it out of proportion, because he knows how uncomfortable that’d feel if he did

but he’s glad to know that you decided to share such a important detail to him— aizawa might be always tired, but he wouldn’t dare to forget such detail

you’re his student after all, he cares about you lots— if you’re content with yourself, then that’d bring him inner peace

»»————-　♡　————-««

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading!

i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei, i only own the writing and i do not profit off of my hobby

do not plagiarize, reupload, translate, or use my works for audio readings without permission

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slade-neko · 3 years ago

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Saw this video game tag thing pop up on my dash a few days ago. Wanted to do it.

1. First game you played obsessively? Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time, I believe I was 5yo. Still waiting on that FF7 Remake treatment.

2. A game that has influenced you creatively? Writing, drawing, etc. Well if I play a game and like it, then I'll create sims of it. Does that count?

3. Who did you play with as a kid? My brother from the day I was born.

4. Who do you play with now? My brother FROM THE DAY I WAS BORN.

5. Ever use cheat codes? I wasn't lying when I made this post. {link}

6. Ever buy strategy guides? Yes! Mainly to look at the artwork though. (Don't need no guide!)

7. Any games you have multiple copies of? Lots of games, most being Left 4 Dead with 6 copies (3 Xbox 360, 1 PC case, 2 PC digitally.) What can I say, its a GOOD GAME!

8. Rarest/Most expensive game in your collection? Gold cartridge Legend of Zelda Ocarina of Time (maybe that's rare?)

9. Most regrettable purchase? I don't regret my purchases, but I have received games I have never played like Cubix (PS2) no clue where that game came from, but I have it somehow. Madagascar (Xbox 360) came with my Xbox 360, never opened it from its case. And Monsters Inc. Scream Arena (Gamecube) or something... it was a gift.

10. Ever go to a midnight game release or stand in line for hours? No, because then I'd have to interact with people.

11. Have you ever made new friends from playing video games? I'm only friends with people BECAUSE of video games, so yes.

12. Ever get picked on for liking games? No, that'd be ridiculous.

13. A game you’ve never played that everyone else has? Probably a lot, I'd say Call of Duty, but I technically played CoD 1, 2, and 4. The campaign mode was alright, but I don't really care for CoD games at ALL.

14. Favorite game music? Koji Kondo and Grant Kirkhope are two BIG ones.

15. If it was a requirement to get a game related tattoo, what would you pick? Triforce is the most basic option, but I'd rather not get a tattoo.

16. Favorite game to play with your friends IRL? Super Smash Bros. Brawl with hacks, but that was over a decade ago.

17. Ever lose a friend over a game? No, that'd be ridiculous.

18. Would you date someone that hates gaming? No, that'd be RIDICULOUS.

19. Favorite handheld console? PSP. 3DS is great, but PSP Monster Hunter has ALL of my portable gaming memories. Like playing in school after End of Grade tests with my friend.

20. Game that you know like the back of your hand? Sims 4 I like to think I know everything about Left 4 Dead. Quite a bit about Monster Hunter, more so of a series though than a specific game.

21. Game that you didn’t like or understand as a kid but love now? I'd say Star Wars Knights of the Old Republic. I loved it as a kid, but had a lot of complex pen & paper RPG mechanics that I never understood. I understand a lot more of it now, but its still complex as all heck. I just know you hit things, they die.

22. Do you wear game related clothing/accessories? That's the only thing I wear.

23. The game that you’ve logged the most hours into? Not sure so I'll list a few. Sims 4, Smash Bros. Brawl, Monster Hunter (its a series though), or Left 4 Dead

24. First Pokemon game? Leaf Green

25. Were you ever an arcade game player? No, don't like paying to play.

26. Ever form any gaming rivalries? No.

27. Game that makes you rage? I don't get mad at games, but I had a custom modded Hard Eight mutation in Left 4 Dead that is absolute bullsh*t!

28. Ever play in a tournament? No, because then I'd have to interact with people.

29. What is your gaming set up? A giant wall of video game consoles spanning from NES to Switch, 4 TVs, but I sit at a desk with a PC.

30. How many consoles do you own? "I own every console that's ever existed." - I Don't Play Games When I Play Games (My STRENTH) original song by Smooth McGroove BUT no seriously I own 32 consoles including handhelds.

31. Does the 3DS and/or Virtual Boy hurt your eyes or give you headaches? Yes. 3DS gave me headaches though I only really played with the 3D feature in Ocarina of Time 3D. I think my eyes broke because I couldn't get my 3D to work very well after.

32. Did you ever play a game based on your favorite show/cartoon/movie/comic? Sure I play games based on a lot of things. Literally any anime game. If I had to pick Dragon Ball Xenoverse is kinda like a dream Dragon Ball game. Oh, Attack on Titan 2 is pretty neat too!

33. Did you ever have any bootleg games or plug-n-play games? Some SEGA plug-n-play thing once. Played it like once and now its lost to time (or my closet.)

34. Do either of your parents play video games? Yes. Mom and Dad played NES Super Mario Bros. My Dad went HARD at that game until he saved the Princess. Then he quit forever.

35. Ever work in a game store? Or do you have a favorite game shop? "Hi. Welcome to Gamestop!"I never want to hear that again, but it was my main store until I went full digital/ online orders.

36. Have you ever shed actual blood, sweat or tears over a game? No, I don't tend to get upset or emotional, but Bill dying in Left 4 Dead made me pretty pissed.

37. Have you played E.T. for the Atari 2600? Do you think that’s the worst game ever, or do you have another nomination? Never played it. I don't really play "bad" games, but maybe Sims 4.

38. A game you’re ashamed to admit that you like? The Sims 4

39. A sequel that you would die for them to make? Dragon's Dogma 2 WHICH I think is actually in development, so I'd have to say Fallout New Vegas 2. C'mon Bethesda you cowards, hand the keys back over to Obsidian so they can make another good Fallout game!

40. What to you think of virtual reality headsets or motion controls? Two part question, two answers. VR Headset to immerse in world, yes. Motion Controls, no.

41. A genre that you just can’t get into? MOBAs and MMOs. I don't like paying to keep playing.

42. Maybe it wasn’t your first game, but what was the game that started you on your path to nerdiness? Nintendo 64 opened me up to what video games could be as a kid. Sad to say my parents' NES didn't really do that for me. And years later Fallout 3 was a big game changer for me too.

43. Ever play games when you really should have been concentrating on something else? Every day of my LIFE.

44. Arcade machine that has consumed the most of your quarters? None. I'd rather emulate.

45. How are you at Mario Kart? Pretty dang good. 3-STARS MARIO KART WII, BABY!

46. Do you like relaxing games like Animal Crossing or Harvest Moon? Yes, both of those. I preferred when Animal Crossing had more character to it. New Horizons looks so pretty, but feels so bland compared to classic AC.

47. Do you like competitive games? No. Not really. Usually amongst friends or if I can get competitive against AI Bots. I love my machine bot friends cause they don't cry like 10 year olds when they lose.

48. How long does it take your to customize your player character? Too long. I've seriously restarted games because I wasn't happy with my character's appearance.

49. In games where you can pick your class, do you always tend to go for the same type of character? Yes, I am always the magic man, my brother is always brute warrior, and my friend is the ranger.

50. If you were a game designer, what masterpiece would you create? I don't really know. Honestly, I'd rather mod already good games to make them better than create something completely new.

51. Have you ever played a game for so long that you forgot to eat or sleep? No, that'd be ridiculous. But I've had a friend fall asleep playing games at my house 3 different times and currently dozes off during our Minecraft sessions. So, maybe that's not a completely ridiculous thing after all.

52. A game that you begged your parents for as a kid? Kirby 64 apparently. My brother tells me we had to count out pennies to buy it. I must've been too young with no recollection, but I believe it.

53. What’s your opinion on DLC these days? It's good if its not in the game's files from the beginning and is actually developed AFTER launch... and pre-order bonuses should be standard DLC a month or two later. Some games have content lost to time because of that pre-order bullsh*t.

54. Do you give in to Steam sales? Of course. If you want a game and its on sale then why not? I typically wait just for Steam sales to get games.

55. Did you ever make someone you hated in the Sims and did mean stuff to them? No? I typically make people and characters I like in Sims. I've made villains like Dio, but he's an anime villain and I don't really HATE him despite the horrible things he's done.

56. Did you ever play Roller Coaster Tycoon and kill off your guests? No. Never played that game.

57. Did you ever play a game to 100% or get all of the achievements? I try to for all the games I really like.

58. If you can only play 3 games for the rest of your life, which ones do you pick? The Sims 4, Skyrim, & Fallout: New Vegas. Mods make them live forever. Left 4 Dead and Monster Hunter are good choices too.

59. Do you play any cell phone games? Those aren't games.

60. Do you know the Konami Code? No? But I'll take a guess. Is it make an IP and forget it exists?

61. Do you trade in your games or keep them forever? Keep forever... even the bad ones.

62. Ever buy a console specifically to play one game? PS4 Pro for Monster Hunter World. It was basically for early access since the PC version was being developed and releasing after PS4, but I don't like waiting.

63. Ever go to a gaming convention or tournament? Sort of. Been to anime cons and walked into the gaming tournament rooms only to walk out less than 10 minutes later.

64. Ever make a TV or monitor purchase based on what would be best for gaming? No, but I'm going to be doing that soon, hopefully.

65. Ever have a Game Genie, Game Shark or Action Replay? Did it ever mess up your game’s save file? GameShark for N64, PS2, Gameboy, and Action Replay for Gamecube, DS, 3DS. And no not really, I would cheat responsibly... but there was this one time at school my friend and I borrowed another friend's Gameboy game, loaded it up with my Gameshark, tried playing, it crashed, loaded it back up, save file corrupted... we just stared at each other jaws dropped, "Here's your game back, dude. Make sure you don't play it til you get back home!"

66. Did you ever have have an old Nokia with Snake on it? No, but I remember seeing them on billboards in the game DRIV3R on PS2.

67. Do you have a happy gaming-related childhood memory you want to share? Every game I play is filled with happy memories (mostly.)

68. Ever save up a ton of tickets in an arcade to get something cool? These tiger plushes. My brother got white and I got orange. They were the coolest. Got a butt load of tickets from some jackpot spinning light game thing as I was good at the timing with repeated jackpot hits.

69. In your opinion, best game ever made? I've played quite a few masterpiece games, but to pick one, I'd say Fallout: New Vegas

70. Very first game you ever beat? Super Mario 64. I was a mere child on a Sunday morning and ate celebratory pancakes made by my Dad.

Wow, that was long... I get the feeling this was supposed to be a "send me ask with numbers" thing, but answering all at once is more fun.

#personal #video games

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utilitycaster · 3 years ago

Note

how do you choose which new spells to learn? do you confer with your fellow players? I kinda want to play a bard soon but coming from druid + cleric, I am a bit stressed out at not being able to swap and adjust to the situation.

Hi anon! For the most part I don't confer with my other players, but I do need to warn you that I'm playing with an unearthed arcana rule that does let me swap out one spell per day. I specifically will coordinate with the druid player on that, and that also means I'm a little less locked in than most bard players.

I think beyond the basics (take one of the core healing spells, dissonant whispers*, and vicious mockery) it really comes down to essentially what I've been saying: what sort of game are you generally playing, what is your general role in the party/what gaps exist, and what do you want to do with the character?

It's also worth keeping in mind: the expectations for bard are not the same as cleric, usually. You are a full caster; you do have very powerful magic; you also are going to be talking or lying your way out of a lot of problems. So, I think it's helpful to remember that it's okay if you're not perfectly built for the situation (and, to be honest, even a cleric or druid can get caught by surprise). There's a core bard feature called jack of all trades and that is fundamentally the flavor of the class. You want to have a healing spell, some damage spells, probably some standard arcane utility although if you're in a caster-heavy party, you can forgo this, and a lot of buffs. No one expects you to be tailored to any specific situation. They expect you to have something that kind of works regardless of the situation.

That said: I think a lot of people do not take advantage of the fact that bards (and other classes/subclasses who know rather than prepare spells) can swap out known spells each time they level up in that class. If you have a spell that's not working? switch it out!

I realize this is more general advice than what I do but this is roughly what I do. I have healing word, most of the high utility spells like detect magic, identify, dispel magic, leomund's tiny hut, and sending, a few damage spells that are less likely to do terrible things to our paladin and monk/barbarian, and some combat utility with bane, polymorph, and dimension door. Much of my damage prior to taking scorching ray with magical secrets was either vicious mockery, dissonant whispers, or weapon damage. As a bard, unless you're swords or valor? You are here to make the assist. You are unlikely to strike the final blow on the dragon. You are very likely to be the reason why the rest of your party is still standing so that they can strike the final blow on the dragon.

*dissonant whispers is one of the few bard damage spells that can have a single target. The bard list doesn't really have attack spells, you will notice, so a lot of your damage is AOE, and if you have melee party members, that can get rough. Dissonant whispers is a saving throw that does half damage on a save, it won't hurt your allies, AND if the enemy fails they have to run from you which provokes opportunity attacks from your melee allies. It's GREAT and every bard should take it.

#d&d mechanics #hilariously to play a bard well is an exercise in humility #or at least forgoing personal glory

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winter-turtle · 3 years ago

Text

House Of Wolves - Chapter 3 - Winterturtle - Multifandom [Archive of Our Own]

Chapter 3: Hope Is Fatal

(posting now because I'm a dumbass and I forgot to post it here after I put it on AO3)

Bound to a chair, he couldn’t move around too much. He was in pain.

“You need to learn how to be still.”

No, stop.

“The pain won’t be as bad once you stop squirming.”

He tried, but he couldn’t stifle the scream completely.

“Do you think someone else will give you a breather?”

It hurts.

“It’s for your own good.”

Peter’s eyes flew open with sharp intake of breath. He wouldn’t scream. He couldn’t. He’d learned long ago not to do it as it would show his enemies that he was weak.

And Peter wasn’t weak.

His hammering heart started to slow down to a more reasonable pace as his eyes adjusted to the dark, scanning his surroundings. The memory (nightmare?) began to fade into the back of his mind upon taking in the familiar shapes of his room.

When did he stopped thinking about it as a cell?

He was safe. Nobody could touch him here.

But… he didn’t fall asleep here. He didn’t remember walking back here either, so that only meant that someone had to carry him.

Again, he suspected who.

When one spends most of the time in confinement, it was only natural that they had a lot of time to think about things. That’s exactly how Peter was doing. He thought. He wondered. He went over every single interaction he’s had with the heroes in hopes of figuring out the reason why they were… trying.

More precisely why Stark was trying. Yes, the man might be persistent and his stubbornness seemed to turn everything into a disaster as the trip to the gym had proven, but Peter just couldn’t sense any hostile intent.

None of this made any sense. Why would people like the Avengers show any care to him?

“Hurting their own children is not something normal parents do.”

Peter shook his head. Those stupid words refused his mind since they left Stark’s mouth. “Normal parents…” he said softly under his breath, as if testing how the words felt. Normal. How normal parents behaved? How would his life turn out to be if he had normal life?

Then again, he never was normal, was he?

Deciding that the constant swirling of his thoughts won’t let him fall back asleep, Peter slipped from underneath the covers and walked towards the door. Moving around always helped. He stood there for a moment before placing his hand on the handle. What were the chances of it opening?

“Here goes nothing.”

He pushed and to his surprise, the door opened. “Huh.” Okay, so he wasn’t locked, but there was no doubt that the AI was watching his every move. Well, don’t look gifted horse in the mouth, he thought as he walked.

Turn the corner, first window, second window, third window…

Peter stopped before the fourth window. He didn’t get past this point the last time. “Okay,” he whispered to himself, raising his hand, “okay.” Ever so slowly and with bated breath, his hand inched towards the invisible barrier. His heartbeat picked up as he expected the stabbing pain any second.

But no pain came. No stabbing of needles, no sudden lightheadedness and no sudden loss of consciousness. Peter only released the breath when his hand was fully outstretched in front of him.

Peter put his other hand in front of him and took a step forward. Then another one. Then another one and then, when he realized that nothing was about to happed, lowered his hands so he wouldn’t look like a total weirdo that was pretending to walk like a zombie.

Stark kept his word.

Another speck of doubt fell on what once used to be carefully balanced scales, tilting it even more.

More or less, Peter found his way to the gym by following his nose. The room was dark, only illuminated by the moonlight streaming in through the windows under the tall ceiling. The light fell on various machines which in turn threw long shadows all around the room. When Peter was little, he’d been terrified of shadows like these. He’d felt like they would turn into a monster that would drag him away.

And then he’d spent five days in almost complete dark all on his own.

“See? That wasn’t so bad,” his mother smiled sweetly after he was let out, tired and with dried tear tracks on his cheeks. “The only monsters in the world are those people who call themselves heroes.”

Okay, no. He was getting side-tracked. A nice workout session was bound to clear his head.

Soon, Peter fell into a familiar routine. Warm-up, push-ups, sit-ups, some gymnastics… it did wonders to his mind. For the first time in four weeks, he felt himself truly relax.

Still, a tiny part of him remained on edge. Maybe it was the childish part of him that somehow remained in him despite the countless attempts to beat it out of him, but he could swear he saw the shadows shift every once in a while. Yet every time he looked, there was nothing amiss – just the same equipment sitting on the same spot.

Peter dropped down from the rings with almost inaudible thump. His eyes closed.

“A bit late for a workout.”

Peter whipped around, pinpointing the source of voice. Black Widow sat on a nearby bench, almost shrouded by the shadows, her gaze trained on the dumbbell in her hand.

So he wasn’t paranoid; it was most likely her who caused the occasional shift of the shadows. But that left one question.

Why didn’t his spidey-sense alert him to her presence?

“I must say, that was quite impressive set of moves.”

“What are you doing here?” Peter asked instead.

She switched arms. “I live here. Can’t I come for a late-night workout session too?”

Peter opted to remain silent. The woman continued through her set before standing up and putting the dumbbell to its original spot. “Care to give me a hand?” she asked as she lied down on a bench and grabbed ahold of a barbell.

Not a single of her footsteps could be heard, even with his super hearing. Peter found it impressive.

He didn’t know why, but he followed. He got ahold of the metal bar, securing it in case Romanov’s arms would buckle.

“You know,” she began, her voice slightly strained, “I always come here too when sleep seems impossible. Those night when something is keeping you up…”

Silence.

“So, what kept you up? You looked pretty tired at the movies.”

Peter huffed. “What kept you up?”

She shrugged. For a while, Peter thought that was the end of the conversation, but the universe loved to prove him wrong.

“It’s confusing, isn’t it? When two worlds clash and suddenly you are left to question everything.”

Peter didn’t like the direction the conversation was headed. “What do you know?”

“A lot.”

Okay, even if Peter was vaguely aware of Romanov’s background, the answer wasn’t helpful at all. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Despite the warning, despite me saying what I did… you know I could just let go of this barbell and let it crush your throat. Nobody would be able to do anything to stop me.”

“Then by all means do. Feel free. You have a perfect opportunity,” she said, perfectly unfazed.

Peter stared at her as if she was a particularly difficult piece of puzzle.

She wasn’t afraid of him.

Why wasn’t she afraid of him?

The weight gave a sudden jerk down. Peter instinctively gripped it, preventing it from dipping further. His slightly widened brown eyes locked with Romanov’s green, trying to read them, although unsuccessfully. But whatever the woman was looking for in his, she must have found it.

With a final grunt, Romanov put the weight back and stood up. She gave Peter a onceover before nodding to herself and then headed to the door, dabbing her sweat away with the towel.

“Why did you come here?” he asked in lowly before she crossed the threshold.

She shrugged. “Just a late-night workout. Same as you. And with that out of the way, I believe the sleep will come easier. You should head to bed too. Growing boys need their rest so they can get big and strong.”

Peter stared at the spot until he was sure he was alone. His mind was whirling.

Was this some kind of test? It certainly felt like it. But if it was, it brought on a question of whether he passed or not. He didn’t know which option he preferred.

A glint coming from underneath one of the bicycles caught his eye. Peter, pretending to tie his shoelace, picked up the object. A smile slowly spreading across his face at the sight of the forgotten black bobby pin. The hair stuck to it was long, too long, so that ruled out Black Widow as the owner. Peter doubted she would be careless enough to leave this lying here.

Finally something he could use.

He resumed the “tying” of the shoelaces when in reality, he slipped the pin into his shoe. He stood up and left.

Getting the bracelets open took him longer than he would like to admit, but prying small panels off with nothing but a bobby pin wasn’t the easiest task. But here he was, sitting on a bathroom floor, staring at the exposed mechanism. If he was correct, these parts were responsible for dampening his powers.

Peter positioned his wrists so they would be in line with the ends of the bobby pin. He had to do it correctly if he wanted to succeed. He didn’t even want to think about what would happen if he messed up.

It could shock him unconscious, release a lethal dose of the sedatives… the list went on.

Taking a steadying breath, he curled his hands into fists, and narrowed his eyes in concentration.

“Three, two… one.”

He brough his wrists together in one swift motion, stabbing the exposed areas at the same time. The bracelets let out a single spark of light each and thin trail of smoke.

“Well, that probably short-circuited something else too,” Peter muttered as he closed the exposed areas. You could spot the faint scratches on the sleek silver surface only if you looked for them. After he removed the pin from the soap and tucked it where, hopefully, nobody would find it, he returned to the living area. Had had mapped the field the camera could see, which allowed him to pick the blind spot big enough to test the results.

He placed his palms on the wall. “Here goes nothing,” he said and jumped.

He didn’t fall.

He didn’t fall!

Grin threatened to split his face in two. “Yes! Yes!” he quietly cheered. Wasting no more time, Peter climbed the rest of the way up and nestled himself into the corner. The familiar feeling was soothing him instantly. Well, it looked like he was about to get first full night of good sleep since he ended up at this place.

That was his last thought before he fell asleep, the corners of his lips quirked upwards.

“Friday, is the kid awake yet?” Tony asked from where he was pouring himself a cup of coffee. When Natasha came to him earlier and told him her night encounter, it actually put him in a good mood.

“I am unable to get my eyes on Peter.”

Tony’s smile froze. “Is he in a bathroom?” The kid didn’t get sick again, did he?

“Negative, Boss. He left the bathroom in early morning hours and then I lost sight of him.”

“Bracelets?”

“I am unable to detect the location from those.”

Tony’s heart skipped a beat at that. “Comb through the footage.” With heavy heart, he abandoned the coffee and headed to the kid’s room.

Kid, for both of our sake, but mostly for yours, I hope you didn’t run.

Peter woke up to a sound that sounded suspiciously like a wheeze. He let out disgruntles sigh and turned his head to look over his shoulder. To his surprise, he found Stark below him, his arms awkwardly in front of him.

“Why do you look like you’re about to have a heart attack?” he mumbled sleepily.

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because you’re stuck to a ceiling?!”

The brief flash of confusion turned into understanding once he realized where he was. “Oh. Right.”

“Oh? Right?! That’s all you’re going to say about it?! You could’ve fallen!”

“Don’t worry, Mr. Stark.” Mr. Stark, huh? Now when did that happen? “I won’t fall.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I know,” Peter said, rolling his eyes. “My powers, remember?”

Wait-

Oh shit, his powers! Mr. Stark knew caught him. “I, uh…”

Smart, Parker. Really smart.

“Right,” Mr. Stark said slowly, “how about you come down?”

Shit, shit, shit- Peter did his best not to outwardly show his panic. He messed up big time. And when there was a mess-up, a punishment usually followed. What a pity. He went so long without one.

Peter could’ve jumped, but he wanted to savor those precious seconds before the pain came, so he started climbing down. Well, the least he could do was to face it like a champ. Like always.

No place for weaknesses.

“Hey, is everything all—"

New voice.

Peter froze still stuck to the wall. Mr. Stark whipped around. It seemed like the time in the room stopped as Wilson and Barnes’ eyes slid from Mr. Stark’s form to him.

Maybe if I don’t move, they won’t see me, Peter thought.

“I’m pretty sure he’s not supposed to do that,” Wilson said warily and to be fair, Peter couldn’t blame him. He did attack the man before.

Peter soundlessly lowered himself to the ground, the slight shift of the two newcomers’ bodies making Peter’s own tense in response. He will defend himself should he be attacked.

Mr. Stark stepped in front of him, shielding Peter from the view. “Everything’s fine,” he said. “Leave us. We’ll join you shortly.”

Wilson leaned to the side to catch a glimpse of Peter. The boy didn’t need to be a telepath to know what was going through the man’s head. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Go.”

The man looked like he wanted to protest, but Barnes’ hand on his shoulder stopped him. The former Hydra assassin nodded towards the door. Wilson, though reluctantly, relented. “Okay.”

Once the two were out of the sight, Mr. Stark turned to face Peter and took a step towards him. Here it comes. Peter lifted his head, his jaw clenched as he waited for the blow to land. Will it be a slap or punch? Will it be just his face that gets struck or his torso too? Will he get kicked once he’s on his knees?

Two arms sneaked around his body, one around his arms and one burying itself in his hair, made Peter turn into a statue. But no pain came. The touch was… gentle, actually. The hand in his hair began to cradle through his curls. It felt like someone pulled the plug and all of Peter’s tension went down the drain.

“I’m not mad,” Mr. Stark murmured into his hair, startling Peter and making him free himself from the hold before he could sink into it fully.

“What was that?”

Mr. Stark quirked one eyebrow. “Me saying I’m not mad or the hug?” When Peter didn’t reply, the curiosity turned into a small frown. “Did you ever get hugged?”

“Uh, yeah, yeah, plenty. All-all the time,” Peter rushed out, but the lie sounded fake to his own ears.

“Right, as I was saying, I’m not mad, but I have to ask – how did you disable it?”

Peter decided to take the risk and merely shrugged. He fully expected Mr. Stark to press further for the answers, but the man only nodded and said, “Okay. Now come on, breakfast is on the table.”

Peter could only blink after the man. Mr. Stark didn’t strike him. Mr. Stark didn’t strike him! Peter messed up, did something he shouldn’t have done… yet there was no beating. Not even after he refused to say how he disabled the bracelets. All those things would get him pretty beaten up back home, what the hell?

Safe, his mind whispered.

Peter mulled over the word. Safe. Yes, he was safe, wasn’t he? Mr. Stark stepped in front of him, shielding him with his own body. Mr. Stark hugged him.

Nobody could touch him if he was near Mr. Stark. Mr. Stark meant safety. Safety felt nice.

Peter decided he liked Mr. Stark.

The day was spent by the kid glued to the TV, watching one sci-fi movie after another. The rest of Star Wars saga, Alien, Back to the Future, Jurassic Park – it didn’t matter. It was like he tuned out the rest of the world, only acknowledging when someone joined him on the couch with brief glance. Tony couldn’t help the tiny smile at the sight of childish wonder in Peter’s eyes. With all of the training his parents had put him through, there was no doubt that the boy had any time to just… be a kid.

Tony decided not to do anything about the bracelets. That was another point he wanted to bring up – trust. And besides, if the kid wanted to run, he would have done that the moment he disabled the power dampener.

He made a note to clean and basically child-and-villain-proof his workshop. He wanted to see on what level the kid was despite never attending school. He had to have some knowledge if he was able to disable them.

The whole confrontation refused to leave his mind. Peter looked like a deer caught in a headlight once he realized he was sticking to the ceiling. Like he was expecting him to lash out.

The addition of Mr. and Miss in front of their names came as a pleasant shock. Well, except Steve. Steve was still called Call-Me-Steve. And to Steve’s annoyance, the rest of the team took on the nickname as well. Still, it helped to ease the atmosphere between Peter and the group.

The efforts seemed to start paying off, because the kid basically imprinted on Tony like a duckling, checking from time to time if Tony was nearby.

When Tony found Peter sleeping in the same corner the next day, he had a comfy hammock installed there. Though he thought the kid would appreciate it, it was also mostly for peace of Tony’s own mind.

And as it turned out, he was right. Peter’s whole face lit up once he spotted the little nest.

Tony’s heart flooded with warmth.

Tony craned his neck up. “You sure like that book, huh?”

Peter, sitting on a ceiling, glanced over the top before returning his gaze to the pages. “It’s alright.”

Over the days of interacting with their little charge, Tony believed he became fluent in the teen. He never expressed outward joy and Tony for some reason suspected that it was because of the kid’s fear of having the object of his joy taken away. That, or he didn’t know how to properly express what he was feeling, which Tony found relatable.

Another round of laughter came from the group huddled near the TV. The team had taken up watching the aforementioned PSAs, making their local fossil cover his face in embarrassment. Clint was bent over, holding his sides. “Aw, man, these are hilarious.”

“Play the one about reproduction. You can see Call-Me-Steve’s soul leave his body in that one,” Peter said without looking away from the page. Eventually, he looked, but not at the group. He looked at Bucky, who was only half-attempting to hide his staring. “Why are you staring at me so much?”

“I’m sorry,” he said softly.

Peter’s eyebrows knitted together. “Uh, okay? For what exactly?”

“For trying to kill you.”

“Do you have any idea how little that narrows it down? Many people tried to kill me. As you can see, they didn’t succeed.”

Bucky shifted, bowing his head slightly. “I tried… as a Winter Soldier, I was given the order to kill you shortly after you got your powers. I’m sorry.”

Aside from the rowdy group going crazy over the videos, everything was quiet in their little corner.

“Eh, it’s no big deal,” the kid said, making both men turn to him. “I don’t remember it at all, you obviously failed as I’m right here, so… no hard feelings on my side.”

“But I—”

“If you want to hear ‘I forgive you’ from me, then fine. I forgive you. You can cross my name off some list if you have one, but I literally couldn’t care less.”

Tony watched as Barnes’ shoulders fell in acceptance and mentally added him on a list of people that Peter started to slowly warm up to. First it was Natasha, then Rhodey and then Clint being, well, Clint, got jealous and practically started to buy the kid with chocolate. He puffed like a peacock when Peter told him ‘you’re not so bad’.

But Tony knew he was still number one and nobody could take it away from him.

His idle scrolling through SI documents that Pepper labeled as “important” got interrupted by an alert lighting up on his watch. Peter’s vitals were all over the place for the past five minutes.

Peter hadn’t moved from his spot on the ceiling, but it didn’t escape Tony how hunched over the book the kid was, wide eyes furiously going over the page and lips slightly parted. “Pete?” Nothing. “Kid?” Still no response. “Must be hell of a book,” he muttered under his breath.

A broom in the corner caught his attention. Shrugging, he grabbed it and then poked Peter’s side. The effect was instant. The kid yelped and if it wasn’t for his stickiness and quick reflexes, he would’ve fallen. “What the hell, Mr. Stark?” he cried out as he slightly swinged from side to side.

“Breathe!” Tony said, exasperated. “Or you’ll faceplant on the floor when you pass out.”

“You almost made me fall!”

Tony poked the kid’s ribs with the broom handle. “Well, what was I supposed to do? You didn’t react to anything else!”

“Well, maybe I acknowledged you with a hum but your old man ears didn’t catch that.”

Tony let out dramatic gasp. “You sassy little shit,” he said, flipped the broom over and began to playfully whack the boy with it. Peter giggled – actually giggled – and moved out of the broom’s reach. Tony gave chase, eliciting more giggles from the kid. “I’ll let you know that I’m not that old!”

“Whatever makes you feel better, old man,” the kid replied cheekily.

Tony huffed and shook his head. “Kids these days have no respect,” he grumbled. “Just breathe next time.” He went back to the documents, aware that Peter was following him to stay close.

And just when Tony thought that everything went well, of course it had to go to shit.

Tony heard the kid draw in shuddering breath, noticing that he made it through the book. But that wasn’t all that caught his attention. No, he tried and failed to decipher the emotions that rapidly flashed across Peter’s features. In one flash, Tony could’ve sworn that the kid was about to cry.

Just as fast as it appeared, it disappeared, Peter closed the book shut, jumped down, threw the book on the table and stormed from the room. Tony grabbed the book in hopes to find what had upset the kid since he enjoyed it so much. He flipped to the last page and he immediately understood.

“What was that about?” Rhodey asked.

“I’m going to get that girl from that bookstore fired,” he muttered angrily, passing the book to Sam’s waiting hands. Hope was apparently one of the themes; that was the reason Tony got it in the first place. “No wonder he’s upset with an ending like that!”

Sam passed the book to Natasha. “Well, it is a trilogy. If you wanted cliché happy ending, you should've gotten some standalone. Or different author.”

“Tony,” Steve said, “don’t—”

“What, Steve?” he snapped. “Don’t bother trying? Is that what you’re trying to say?”

“No.”

Tony stopped.

“I wanted to say that whatever went wrong this time, you’ll be able to fix it. You always do.” Tony stared, dumbfounded. Steve continued. “I had my doubts before, but after seeing you two earlier… I was wrong. Whatever you need, we’ll help.”

“Huh. Never would have thought that we would see eye to eye, but… thanks, Cap. I appreciate it,” Tony said, and he meant it. But now onto more pressing matter. “Okay, I’m gonna go talk to him, make sure the kid’s okay.”

“Wait!” Clint called out, making Tony stop. “A bit of advice from seasoned dad to a new dad – if you push a teenager to talk when he doesn’t want to, you’ll do more harm than good. You have to let him blow some steam off first. And until then,” he opened a vent hatch and pulled out a chocolate tablet from now not-so-secret stash, “here.”

Tony accepted the sweet treat. Clint must really want to help if he was willing to pass up on an opportunity to bribe the kid into liking him. “Thanks, Clint.”

He was almost out of the room when he turned around so fast it almost gave everyone a whiplash.

“Hold on… what do you mean a new dad?”

In the darkness of his room and in the comfort of his hammock, Peter made up his mind. He was running away. He didn’t know where exactly he would go since his parents most likely changed the locations, but he could go to some of their old hiding spots. Those places still had running water and provided safe cover from the weather. Food will be a trouble, but he could figure that part out once it came to that.

He glanced at the chocolate in his lap that Mr. Stark brought him earlier and then threw it into the hammock because he couldn’t reach that high up and Peter refused to come down. He set it aside and jumped down.

He’ll miss the taste.

He’ll miss the comfort of the hammock.

He’ll miss Mr. Sta-

Peter firmly cut himself off. No. He had to stop this before he got in far too deep. Because if he dared to hope that things could be better, it would simply get taken away from him anyway. Hope was fatal. Better to spare himself the pain.

Assuming that all doors were locked for the nigh, Peter found a stairwell and bean to climb up in a search for the roof. Then he could scale down the wall and leave all of this behind.

He found the door at last. With a sense of finality pooling in his stomach, he gripped the handle and pulled the door open.

Peter looked up and stopped.

It was a good thing that Tony wasn’t asleep when Friday alerted him that the kid was on the roof. He put on one of his old zip-up hoodies and headed to his destination, not knowing what to expect. Aside from the time in the gym, Peter never wandered the Compound at night.

He opened the door and whatever he was expecting, it definitely wasn’t a pair of feet hanging in front of his face. Ducking underneath them, it didn’t take long to find the rest of the teen. Peter was sprawled on his back above the door. “A bit late to be outside.”

“There are so many,” the kid whispered, pure awe in his voice.

Tony looked up at the inky sky littered with millions of tiny bright dots. “There sure are. Not a cloud in sight. Perfect time for stargazing,” he said as he leaned on the wall next to Peter’s legs. “You’ve… never seen the stars?”

“I never really left the city. You can’t see this there with all that light pollution. Plus, when we were doing night missions outside of the city, it was always on cloudy night for maximum cover.”

Yeah, that would make sense. Though Tony couldn’t help but feel queasy at the memories of being up there. It was enough to make his skin prickle.

“You’ve been to space, right? During the battle of New York.”

Dang, the kid had to bring it up. But he was talking with Tony willingly, so he wouldn’t let the chance go to waste. “Yeah. I was.”

“How was it?”

Terrifying. Traumatizing. Nightmare and panic attack inducing. “It was… big. Vast and dark.”

“I would like to see it one day.”

Tony huffed. “Let’s hope it will be under better circumstances.”

“Thank you for closing that portal. I don’t know what I would’ve done otherwise.”

“Wait, you were there?”

“Of course. Like every person in New York.” The kid paused, seemingly contemplating to elaborate. “I was outside when the invasion happened. I wasn’t fast enough to hide in the safehouse and those things cornered me. I fought but more and more kept coming… and then they all fell. The portal closed.”

Tony found himself sitting next to Peter. He pushed the memories away in order to focus on his young charge. “Wait, that was you?”

Peter glanced at him. “Huh?”

“There was a part of the city where we weren’t fighting, but we found a bunch of Chitauri that were incapacitated before the mothership was destroyed. That was you, wasn’t it?” But none of them were killed. That planted some serious doubt about Peter’s claims that he killed someone. Sure, he was way younger then, but child soldiers killed since very young age. Plus… “There were several civilians claiming that some enhanced human had saved them.”

The kid averted his gaze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I just protected myself.”

Lies. Tony never thought he would be grateful for those. “Well then,” he said with small smile, “whoever saved those people is a hero.”

“I didn’t save anyone.”

“I didn’t say that.”

More silence. About half a minute passed before Peter sat up, still looking up at the sky. “Do you really think that I can change? Despite everything I’ve done?”

The vulnerability in those words made Tony’s heart ache. “You just have to have a little bit of hope.”

“Hope is fatal.”

“Is it though?”

Peter shrugged, then shivered.

“Are you cold?” Tony asked.

Peter wrapped his hands around himself and shook his head in amusement. “The spider part of me doesn’t exactly like the cold.”

Oh. Right. Spiders can’t thermoregulate. Tony immediately shrugged off his hoodie. “Here,” he said as he wrapped it around Peter’s shoulders.

With wide eyes, Peter pulled the hoodie tighter around himself. “I- I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this… or understand.”

“But you’ll learn.”

A brief hesitation. “But I’ll learn,” Peter repeated. “Thank you.”

Tony’s heart leaped with joy. A grin threatened to betray how he truly felt, but thankfully, he got saved by the kid’s stomach rumbling loudly. He laughed. “Hungry?”

“A little bit,” Peter muttered, his cheeks dusting pink. Another loud rumble could be heard. “Traitor,” he muttered, looking down pointedly.

Tony ruffled Peter’s hair. “Let’s get some food into you then. Nothing is better than the good old midnight raid of the fridge.”

They tinkered in comfortable silence in Mr. Stark’s workshop. If Peter counted correctly, tomorrow should be five-week anniversary of his capture. When he compared his current-self with his past-self, it was almost unbelievable how much has his attitude towards the heroes changed.

Where there used to be struggles and attacks and rude words, now there were group meals and playful banter. Peter still struggled with that one, but as Mr. Stark had said, he’ll learn.

And oh how Peter was willing to learn, especially in Mr. Stark’s workshop. So much technology in one place. It was a dream come true! Yes, he had restrictions because of his villain status, but he still made the most of what he was allowed.

Peter dared to say that he was… happy.

A sound of muffled explosion made his head snap up and not a second later an alarm started to blare. “What’s going on?”

Mr. Stark brought up a footage Peter couldn’t see. “We’re under attack. Don’t worry, just… stay here, okay?” he said, and with that, he was gone.

The tightness on Mr. Stark’s face, along with the churning of his stomach, gave Peter a pretty good tip on who was attacking. More explosions could be heard over the alarm. They were louder. Closer. Like they were on…

The roof.

Peter was torn. Why now? His own words echoed in his head.

“They’re just waiting for the right moment to strike.”

Dammit.

Mr. Stark told him to stay put. And he wanted to obey, he really did, but… the sound of the battle went on for too long.

Peter knew what he had to do.

With his features set with determination, he headed out of the lab, but not before slipping a metallic disc into his shoe. He willed his hand to stop shaking as he pushed the pulled the door to the roof open. Unsurprisingly, he was met with the sight of a battlefield. There were dents in the roof. Charred spots from where the explosion went off. Even some bloodstains.

“Peter?” he heard Mr. Stark say. “What are you doing here? I told you to stay put!”

Peter didn’t get the chance to reply. “Spider!” He knew that voice. That was his mother’s voice. “What are you waiting for? Come on!” Peter spotted her on something that resembled a helicopter. His father was piloting, but still shot small rockets at the heroes on the roof.

“Peter, don’t,” Mr. Stark pleaded, shooting from his wrist gauntlet.

Peter squeezed his eyes shut and gulped. Then he began to sprint across the roof towards his parents. Someone tackled him.

“Pete, kid, listen,” Mr. Stark said, “you don’t have to go with them. Remember what we were talking about? You can be better! Don’t throw everything away. Please,” he choked the last word out.

But he knew what he had to do. So, flipping the man easily off of his body, he took off running once again. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, not sure if it could be heard through the lump in his throat. Peter came to the edge of the roof and jumped. His hand clasped around his mother’s extended one.

“Now!” his mother yelled at the same time as their hands connected.

An electric blast went through the tower, rendering all electronic on the roof useless. Peter heard the clang of Rhodey’s metal suit as it hit the ground. Peter risked the glance over his shoulder at the people he left behind.

“Nice one, Richard!”

“You were great too, hun!”

As always, no praise for Peter. A sudden stabbing pain came from around his wrists. Peter set his lips into thin like. “I forgot about these,” he muttered.

Well, he guessed he deserved it.

Darkness swallowed him.

#marvel fanfiction #tony stark #peter parker #villain peter parker #irondad #spiderson

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pink-peony-princess · 4 years ago

Text

Knight to Remember

"Remember when we met?" I murmured, picking at Shawn's scrubs as I lay on his chest. I hadn't been feeling well all day with my monthly cycle so when Shawn had come home he'd sweetly offered to order dinner in and have a movie night, despite having things he probably really needed to do.

"Mmhhh," he responded, hand playing with my hair, massaging my scalp, as he watched the film we'd put on. "I was your knight in shining armour." I could head the playful teasing behind it,but it was true, if he hadn't been there that night,I don't know what would have happened to me.

I could feel the tears welling in my eyes,overflowing and rolling down my cheeks landing on the light blue material attached to Shawn's body.

"Why are you crying baby?" Shawn asked,sitting up. I could see the worry etched into his face as he looked at me.

I shrugged,I didn't know why I was crying. Was it because if my period, was it because I didn't feel well or was it because I would never be able to repay Shawn for what he did for me that night.

...

1 year ago

When I came to, I didn't know where I was, or how long I had been there. What I did know was that I was freezing, and in more pain than I had ever been before. I lay there for what must have been at least a few more minutes before finally building up the courage to open my eyes. When I did, I found myself crumpled at the back of a dark stone alley, but I couldn't remember where exactly I was, or even how I had come to be there.

More than the pain that was now beginning to radiate from every part of my body- my legs, my chest, my head, even my eyes... how can my eyes be hurting? I wondered... I was concerned about the obvious gaps in my memory. Putting this thought aside I tried to take inventory of how bad my injuries were. I tried to wiggle my toes, and was immediately rewarded with a sharp shot of pain that ran straight up my leg, and into my lower back. At least I could feel my legs I thought, mentally sighing.

It was then that it began to rain, blood running from an unknown source into my mouth. I couldn't help but panic at the thought that there was a very real possibility that I may not be found. But how was I going to get someone, anyone for that matter to notice me?

This thought was interrupted by voices, male voices.

"So how was your shift? Mine was crazy, broken bones, crying kids, one of my residents even got bitten by a kid today," one of the men laughed.

"Mine was pretty chilled actually, but I'm not going to lie, I'll be glad to get these scrubs off and switch off 'doctor mode' for a few hours," the other one replied.

Somewhere between the haze of the pain and cold my brain comprehended the fact that this person had just said 'doctor', something which I knew, even with my limited knowledge of medicine- most of which was thanks to Grey's Anatomy- was something I needed right now.

Before I could think, I found myself screaming out for help, granted it was less of a scream and more of a horse grunt, but it got their attention and the two men were soon kneeling beside me. One tall and brunette,with curls the other shorter, but more built with wavy blonde hair.

"Hi honey, my name is Shawn, the brunette one said, and this is Connor, we're doctors at the hospital, we're going to help you okay, but I need you to tell me where it hurts okay" he asked, gently resting a hand on my arm, pulling a bag off his shoulder which I had not noticed.

As Shawn was rummaging around in his bag, Connor, came over to take my hand. "Hi sweetheart, I'm just going to take your pulse, can you remember anything that happened? Where you are or even your name?" he questioned, before going quiet. "Pulse is fast, but irregular, I'm going to go call for an ambulance, and let the guys know we'll be needing their help. We need to get her warmed up too, she's freezing," he spoke, rubbing my arm, before standing and making a call. Probably calling whoever 'the guys' were.

"I'm just going to test a few things before we get you to hospital and I need you to tell me if anything is painful okay?" The man- Shawn asked with a soft smile. I went to nod, but he reached for my head, stopping the action. "Just keep nice and still for us, we don't know what damage you've done, and we don't want to make anything worse. How about thumbs up for yes and thumbs down for no?" he suggested. I went to nod again, but caught myself, and gave him thumbs up instead.

"Okay, so I'm going to shine this light in your eyes," he explained, holding up what I recognised as a pen light from all the medical dramas I watched. "It might be a little bit uncomfortable, but it's important that we check this stuff out, so we know what we're working with," he finished, smiling sympathetically again, in the half light of the dim alley. "Just follow the light, but remember, don't move your head."

I did so, and he was right, it was uncomfortable, but I put up with it.

"The guys said they'll be here in five minutes, and they've put in a trauma call for an eta of twenty minutes." I couldn't help but jump at the voice that was suddenly right next to me. "Sorry darling, didn't mean to startle you," Connor apologised, reaching for my hand, and giving it a squeeze.

"Awesome," Shawn replied, clearly eager to get me to the hospital. "The sooner we can get her in the E.R.,the better, her pupils are uneven and slightly slower than I'd like."

"While we're waiting we may as well do the rest of her vitals. Have you got the rest of your kit? Normally I leave mine in my locker, but I guess it was somewhat of a happy accident I took it with me," Connor smiled down at me, before grabbing a stethoscope out of a bag which I had not noticed he had either. "Before I check your airways, can you remember your name yet? How old you are?"

I thought for a moment, which was much harder work then it should have been. "Grace..." I started, a little unsure.

"Great, well it's lovely to meet you Grace, can you tell me how old you are?"

"Twenty."

"Perfect," he praised. "Well that's a start." he nodded to himself, before moving to put the metal of his stethoscope to my chest. "Sorry hon," he apologised when I shivered from the cold of it.

They were both quiet for a moment, Connor listening to my chest, and Shawn doing something down by my legs. "Her breathing is shallow and uneven, sounds to me like there could be a collapsed lung, but we won't know for sure until we get x-rays," Connor told Shawn, pulling the metal away from my body.

"Grace," Shawn called, "Can you feel this?" he asked. I could feel him running his finger along the bottom of my foot, though I didn't know where my shoe had gone.

"Um, yeah."

"And this?" he continued up my leg, to a point I felt no pain, and then I was in the most pain I had ever been in.

"Ow! Ow! Stop, stop, please!" I begged, tears flooding down my face, as I tried desperately to pull away.

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry, I'm all done." he reassured me, moving back to my head, and wiping away the tears that were beginning to soak my clothing with gloved hands. "Connor, she's got a compound fracture to the fibula on her left side. Grace if you had to rate your pain, one being nothing, and ten being unbearable what would you say?" he asked.

"Ten," I whispered, trying to compose myself, before anyone else saw me crying.

"We'll get Brian to check it out when they get here, I can hear them now." Shawn was right, I could hear a faint siren in the distance which rose to an incessant blaring as an ambulance pulled up.

"Hi guys, what have we got?" I heard a new voice ask. They sounded cheerful, and oddly calm. Basically, everything that I wasn't at that moment.

"This is Grace, she's twenty, we found her here, she has no memory of what happened. She's got a slight concussion, with a suspected partially collapsed lung, compound fracture to the fibula- left leg and possible broken ribs. Possible internal bleeding as well, pain rating ten out of ten." Shawn recalled quickly.

"Hi Grace, my name's Brian," the man spoke appearing above my head. "And this guy here is Dave," he added, pointing to another person with tan skin, several tattoos and dark hair. "We're doctors at the hospital and we work with these two guys that you already know." As Brian explained, Dave got up, only to appear seconds later with a massive bag, and a board.

It was at this point that I was starting to become drowsy, which Shawn quickly noticed, tapping my face lightly to get a response. "Grace, we need you to stay awake okay, I know it's hard, but it's important you try. Dave has the spinal board so what we're going to do is splint this leg and then get you onto the board."

I didn't' respond, tiredness sweeping over me like a thick fog. From then on everything was hazy. I could hear the odd thing, but it was like I was under water.

...

When I woke, it was to bright lights and a painful swaying motion. I tried to shift, to alleviate some of my discomfort, but was meet with a hard, cold surface under me.

"Welcome back, we were starting to get worried there, we'll be about five minutes, and then hopefully we'll be able to get you slightly more comfortable." Shawn spoke from a seat at head of the bed I was laying on.

"Let's run some pain meds," I heard someone request, Dave I thought.

"On it," Brian spoke, from where he sat next to me. "Grace, I'm going to put an I.V. in okay, it'll just be a sharp scratch and then it's over,yeah?" he tried to appease me. I wasn't aware of it immediately, but I must have started to hyperventilate, because I found myself getting dizzy, and suddenly Connor was taking a mask off that one of them must have put on me while I was out.

"Just take deep breaths, Brian's a pro okay?" he smiled, taking my hand in a silent act of comfort.

Connor was right,Brian was a pro and soon enough I found some of the pain drifting away.

...

When we got to the hospital, I was metwith more bright lights, and lots of noise. No one ever tells you how loud a hospital emergency department is, and at that point in time, all I wanted to do was sleep!

After several random people, nurses I think had finished hooking me up to monitors, and had changed me into a gown- an embarrassing process in which I'm sure I managed to flash all four of the doctors, Connor insisted on getting x-rays and an MRI and CT scan, to look at the break in my leg. I hadn't seen it, but twenty minutes after the scans had come back declaring I had no life-threatening brain damage, Shawn came to inform me that it would indeed need surgery, which only caused more tears.

He was quick to assure me that he would be there throughout the whole process, something which I found mildly panic relieving, but it didn't change the fact that I was still having to go into surgery. Why was medicine so much less glamourous and fun in real life than on T.V? I wondered as he started attaching me to electrodes,"For an ECG," he explained when I looked at him questioningly from my stagnant position on the bed.

I did find a small ray of hope in the deluge of bad news, in that I didn't have any spinal damage, which meant I could have the stupid collar taken off, and be removed from the back board.

"Do you want the good news or the bad news first?" Dave asked, coming to stand next to the bed after Shawn and Connor had managed to get me back onto the normal bed, somehow doing so without causing me additional pain.

"Ummm?" I started, before laughing meaning that I dissolved into a fit of coughing, resulting in an intense burning throughout my chest.

"Just take a few breaths, no rush," Brian spoke, picking up my hand, taking my pulse again, as Shawn listened to my breathing again.

"Okay, there's definitely some damage, but it should repair itself in time. The important thing will be rest."

"Grace are you feeling light-headed at all?" Brian asked, a slight frown on his face, as he dropped my hand and turned to look at the monitor.

"No,why?" I asked.

"Because your pulse is fast, and your blood-pressure is high, nothing to worry about, probably just the stress of the situation, but we need to keep an eye on it is all."

"Oh okay,"

"So back to what we were saying before," Connor started. "Good news is, there's no signs of internal bleeding on any of the scans, but your leg on the other hand is a little more complicated, you'll probably need plates, and physio for sure."

"How long will it take to heal?" I asked, feeling dread bubbling up to the surface of my thinking.

"It really depends, on a couple of things. How bad it is, what your pain levels are like with the physio, and so on. But roughly, at least six months." He broke to me slowly, looking at me with sympathy in his eyes.

After that it was all a bit of a blur, the stress of the event finally starting to catch up with me. I woke up some time after the surgery, in a cast and traction, something which I was not happy with... especially when I realised that it meant that I would be relying on bed pans and sponge baths for the foreseeable future.

The coming days were easier, except for a particularly bad reaction to a pain killer Shawn gave me on the second night, which caused nasty bed spins, with vomiting thrown in. Luckily for me, he was a pro at dealing with things like this, and it was nothing out of the ordinary for a normal shift as an Intensive Care physician he reassured me, as my face burned in embarrassment when the nurse had to change my gown, due to sick getting on it. It was the absolute last thing I would have wanted to happen in front of someone like Shawn. When I'd first come in,I hadn't realised just how good looking he was, but oh my god, was he gorgeous, tall and muscular with curls that seemed to fall perfectly- a few resting on his forehead despite him constantly pushing them back. He was sweet too, always going out of his way to make sure I was okay, that I was as comfortable as I could be.

---

They pieced together when I was in surgery, that I had definitely been involved in a hit and run, something which they had concluded in my initial assessment unbeknownst to me when they found a series of tyre marks across my abdomen. They were sure to tell me just how lucky I was to get away with the injuries I did. I wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry at this, and so ended up doing some of both.

Each day was easier than the last, and my mood was raised when my parents arrived, from arrived in Toronto all the way from Sydney, my home, which I had remembered after the concussion had subsided.

Eventually I could start rehabilitation, having to relearn how to use my leg, something which wasn't always easy, but they guys were always there to support me, and would supple a constant stream on bad jokes to keep my mind off the pain.

When it came to leaving day, as excited as I was I was also sad, I had formed bonds with these guys, especially Shawn, and they had literally given me my life back, something which I would also be grateful for. Little did I know that just over a year later I'd be laying on Shawn's chest as comfortable as could be, having been dating for a bit over nine months.

...

Present day

"Why are you crying Gracie?" he asked again, wiping away a tear with the pad of his thumb.

"I'm just so tired," I sniffled,hugging him more, craving the comfort and warmth he provided.

"How about a bath and an early night?" he suggested.

"Will you join?" I pleaded with my best puppy dog eyes.

He sighed, he hated baths and I knew it, but I needed him with me tonight, I was feeling emotional and vulnerable and he was the only one that could make it better.

"Only because it's you Princess," he smiled, shaking his head, before bending down and attaching his lips to mine in a long tender kiss.

"Love you," I smiled as he wrapped his arms around me again, creating the cacoon of warmth that I loved so much.

"Love you more."

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes imagines #shawn peter raul mendes #shawn mendes blurb #doctor!shawn #mendes triplets #werewolf!shawn #peter mendes #raul mendes

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pinkpeonyprincessblog · 4 years ago

Text

A Knight to Remember

I could feel the tears welling in my eyes,overflowing and rolling down my cheeks landing on the light blue material attached to Shawn's body.

"Why are you crying baby?" Shawn asked,sitting up. I could see the worry etched into his face as he looked at me.

I shrugged,I didn't know why I was crying. Was it because if my period, was it because I didn't feel well or was it because I would never be able to repay Shawn for what he did for me that night.

...

1 year ago

This thought was interrupted by voices, male voices.

"So how was your shift? Mine was crazy, broken bones, crying kids, one of my residents even got bitten by a kid today," one of the men laughed.

"Mine was pretty chilled actually, but I'm not going to lie, I'll be glad to get these scrubs off and switch off 'doctor mode' for a few hours," the other one replied.

I did so, and he was right, it was uncomfortable, but I put up with it.

"Awesome," Shawn replied, clearly eager to get me to the hospital. "The sooner we can get her in the E.R.,the better, her pupils are uneven and slightly slower than I'd like."

I thought for a moment, which was much harder work then it should have been. "Grace..." I started, a little unsure.

"Great, well it's lovely to meet you Grace, can you tell me how old you are?"

"Twenty."

"Perfect," he praised. "Well that's a start." he nodded to himself, before moving to put the metal of his stethoscope to my chest. "Sorry hon," he apologised when I shivered from the cold of it.

"Grace," Shawn called, "Can you feel this?" he asked. I could feel him running his finger along the bottom of my foot, though I didn't know where my shoe had gone.

"Um, yeah."

"And this?" he continued up my leg, to a point I felt no pain, and then I was in the most pain I had ever been in.

"Ow! Ow! Stop, stop, please!" I begged, tears flooding down my face, as I tried desperately to pull away.

"Ten," I whispered, trying to compose myself, before anyone else saw me crying.

"We'll get Brian to check it out when they get here, I can hear them now." Shawn was right, I could hear a faint siren in the distance which rose to an incessant blaring as an ambulance pulled up.

"Hi guys, what have we got?" I heard a new voice ask. They sounded cheerful, and oddly calm. Basically, everything that I wasn't at that moment.

I didn't' respond, tiredness sweeping over me like a thick fog. From then on everything was hazy. I could hear the odd thing, but it was like I was under water.

...

When I woke, it was to bright lights and a painful swaying motion. I tried to shift, to alleviate some of my discomfort, but was meet with a hard, cold surface under me.

"Let's run some pain meds," I heard someone request, Dave I thought.

"Just take deep breaths, Brian's a pro okay?" he smiled, taking my hand in a silent act of comfort.

Connor was right,Brian was a pro and soon enough I found some of the pain drifting away.

...

I did find a small ray of hope in the deluge of bad news, in that I didn't have any spinal damage, which meant I could have the stupid collar taken off, and be removed from the back board.

"Ummm?" I started, before laughing meaning that I dissolved into a fit of coughing, resulting in an intense burning throughout my chest.

"Just take a few breaths, no rush," Brian spoke, picking up my hand, taking my pulse again, as Shawn listened to my breathing again.

"Okay, there's definitely some damage, but it should repair itself in time. The important thing will be rest."

"Grace are you feeling light-headed at all?" Brian asked, a slight frown on his face, as he dropped my hand and turned to look at the monitor.

"No,why?" I asked.

"Because your pulse is fast, and your blood-pressure is high, nothing to worry about, probably just the stress of the situation, but we need to keep an eye on it is all."

"Oh okay,"

"How long will it take to heal?" I asked, feeling dread bubbling up to the surface of my thinking.

---

Each day was easier than the last, and my mood was raised when my parents arrived, from arrived in Toronto all the way from Sydney, my home, which I had remembered after the concussion had subsided.

...

Present day

"Why are you crying Gracie?" he asked again, wiping away a tear with the pad of his thumb.

"I'm just so tired," I sniffled,hugging him more, craving the comfort and warmth he provided.

"How about a bath and an early night?" he suggested.

"Will you join?" I pleaded with my best puppy dog eyes.

He sighed, he hated baths and I knew it, but I needed him with me tonight, I was feeling emotional and vulnerable and he was the only one that could make it better.

"Only because it's you Princess," he smiled, shaking his head, before bending down and attaching his lips to mine in a long tender kiss.

"Love you," I smiled as he wrapped his arms around me again, creating the cacoon of warmth that I loved so much.

"Love you more."

#shawn mendes #Shawn #shawnmendes imagine #shawn mendes blurb #shawn peter raul mendes #peter mendes #raul mendes #mendes triplets #werewolf!shawn #doctor!shawn #pinkpeonyprincessblog masterlist #pinkpeonyprincessblog #Aknighttoremember

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fuckinuchihas · 4 years ago

Note

Omg, I didn't think I'd actually get it! You're welcome for putting you out of your misery! I sent in a guess the first time and didn't get it but I'm Poppy, 25, and I like Bokuto! Thank You!

- 🦄

Alright Poppy! I finally finished it.

Honestly if it feels like this is not who you are or completely and totally out of character that’s okay just tell me I can absolutely do it again. Or if it just sucks...which it might cause like...I’m hella fucking sick, but my anxiety won’t let me not be productive so here we go.

PLEASE FEEL FREE TO CALL A DO-OVER!!! ILYSM THANKS FOR PLAYING WITH ME AND SORRY IT’S SO LATE!!

BOKUTO X READER VALENTINES DAY FLUFF

You’ve been with Bokuto long enough to have mildly convinced him that you don’t really care about the extravagance of Valentines day. You don’t want a huge box of chocolates, to which half of them you don’t even like, or a bunch of flowers that will be dead in a week.

It’s not that you don’t appreciate them, you absolutely do...but it doesn’t feel necessary anymore.

He makes you feel loved each and every single day.

You don’t need cheesy red and pink decorations hung up in the living room or an expensive dinner at a restaurant where you feel out of place.

It just feels like way too much when you’ve already got everything you want and need by simply having him in your life.

It’s more than enough already.

Bokuto looks down at the last page of his ‘special love coupon book’ and grins to himself.

He’s old enough now to know that it’s kind of ridiculous but he’s given one to you for every single holiday or special occasion you’ve spent together and though you sometimes roll your eyes at what he believes are quite frankly generous rates on the slips, you never fail to smile when you see it.

And..you’ve even cashed a few in, though after the first time he made you promise not to actually tear them out again, they were in fact, unlimited.

He’s satisfied with it when he’s done with the design, this year he’s beefing it up a bit and having it actually printed out so he wanted to make sure the colors weren’t overwhelming or anything.

Once that’s complete, and submitted to the print shop...he’s kind of at a loss.

He knows you don’t want anything big. You’ve more than made that clear, though he’s been given contradictory advice by a couple of his teammates.

Still...he knows that he knows you better than anyone and that you wouldn’t be secretly expecting more.

The issue then becomes that he still wants to celebrate the day with you, even if it’s a lowkey thing with just the two of you.

He makes up his mind that he’s going to get some of your favorite food and drinks and a hardback copy of that book you’ve been wanting and he can still feel like he’s celebrating the love he has for you, and that you feel it too...without overwhelming you.

Yeah, that sounds good…

He texts your best friend three days in advance, after setting many, many reminders on his phone and asks if they’ll take you out to coffee or a movie on him, a secret between the two of them. They of course love him and how affectionate he is with you so they agree quickly and he sends the money over before he forgets.

The morning of, you have a nice lazy morning in bed before you bring up the friend date, he makes a big act of begging you not to go but just before you change your mind and cancel, he gets flustered and says he should probably get his workout in early so the two of you can spend the evening together.

You find it a little suspicious given the fact that Bokuto is about as subtle as a sledge hammer and a terrible terrible liar, but you trust that he won’t ask for too much and you put it behind you and go on with your day.

As soon as you’re out of the house he grabs every pillow and comforter he can find and texts someone he knows isn’t busy today and grins when he answers on the first ring.

“It’s just a fort, man. What’s so hard about that. You tie a couple sheets to your ceiling fan and throw up some fairy lights and bam, you’re done and everyone is happy.” Kuroo answers after Bokuto explains why he wants him over.

Sure, building a for looks easy, but ‘ol Bo has learned his lesson and he doesn’t do any kind of large scale (or small scale) project without supervision anymore.

“Just get over here man. I don’t have a lot of time...and what are fairy lights? Y’know what just stop and get those or whatever you think we’re gonna need and I’ll pay you back.”

“No...no what’s the real reason you’re asking for help. Besides the fact that you’re decoratively challenged?”

“I AM NOT! SOMEONE TOLD ME I COULD BE A MODEL LAST WEEK!” he calls out before he realizes he does still need Kuroo’s help.

He ignores Kuroo’s response and continues on. “Anyway, uh,” he rubs his neck, not wanting to admit the truth but Kuroo is kind of like an evil genius sometimes. “I may or may not have sworn an oath that I wouldn’t do any umm projects without help.”

Kuroo immediately starts barking laughter against his ear.

“Stop being such a jerk and get over here dude, I’ve only got a couple hours!”

“Wh-what’s the-” Kuroo is still slightly wheezing from laughter. “What’s the penalty.”

‘Oh no, not telling. I’m hanging up. Be over here in less than 25 minutes or I’ll tell Kenma you broke his lucky switch, bought a used one on a street corner and then filed the edges down to make it look ‘authentic’.”

“Fuck. Ugh fine.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Bokuto hangs up the phone with a smirk splayed on his lips.

He makes a resolute promise to himself to never let Kuroo find out the consequences of not keeping his promise is that he can’t have kisses or cuddles for a full twenty four hours.

What can he say, he’s weak..okay. He’s weak for you.

Kuroo gets there after he’s scheduled the takeout delivery and sloppily wrapped both your coupon book and the one you were itching to read.

He defends his blanket choices with his life but Kuroo insists on using these plain white ones he bought because it would ‘look more romantic’. He rolls his eyes but lets him do what he wants because if it’s one thing he does trust, it’s Kuroo’s eye for design.

“Ooh I forgot you had these ceilings...this is going to look awesome, dude.”

“Good, now what do you want me to do…”

“Nothing, I got this part.”

“Nooo, I want to do it myself,” he says, resisting the urge to stomp his foot. “It won’t mean as much if you just do it all for me.”

“Y’know you might not be the brightest but you’re a good man, Bokuto.”

“Eh?” he says, because Kuroo rarely ever compliments him sincerely.

“Nothin’ man, just get the clothespins.”

They work together and in less than an hour it looks, well...it looks fucking amazing he thinks.

He’ll give up just this once and say Kuroo was right, the white sheets look pretty cool and the little lights they strung up are pretty neat too.

It looks super romantic so he hopes you like it.

He kicks Kuroo out before he can invite himself over, Kenma has a special v-day stream going on and he wants to crash it from a different ip, whatever that means. Well either way he turns him down and swears the secrets he has will yet again, stay between the two of them.

Now he just needs to wait for you to get home.

When your friend texts that they’re about to drop you off, his heart starts beating out of his chest and he gets super excited.

He waits for you at the door, stepping outside when he sees their car pull in and softly closes it behind him.

“He yells out a greeting that could probably shake the ground if it was another decibel louder but you love how excited he gets so it doesn’t bother you.

You make your way over to him with a skeptical look on your face as he starts nervously rubbing at his neck.

“Why are you outside?” you ask and there’s a pink tinge to his cheeks that you’re pretty sure isn’t from the cool weather.

“Umm Happy Valentines Day?” he says, an awkward chuckle quickly following the words.

“Kotaro...what did you do? Why are you standing outside?” you ask, immediately concerned about the state of your home.

“I swear it’s not bad. I just wanted to surprise you so...please?” he asks, a hopefulness in his eyes that you can’t bring yourself to squelch no matter how worried you feel.

“I mean I said I didn’t want anything big but I guess if you want-” you stop mid sentence, breath stuck in your throat when you see your transformed living room.

He’s moved all the furniture except for the couch and the tv stand and it’s gorgeous. The lights twinkle a little in the darkness and you feel the irresistible urge to kiss his face.

So you do.

He never objects to kisses.

“This is really nice… I mean it. I’m sorry I almost ruined your plan or if I made you feel like you couldn’t do anything. I don’t ever want it to be that way. I just also don’t need you to make a big fuss,” you say, trying to be a little logical about it, but your heart is definitely thumping in that cheesy romantic way.

“How about a little fuss…”

“A little fuss feels nice.”

You lay back on the couch, you read to him from your book and share music playlists that quietly add to the ambiance of your conversation. He coaxes you into some weird verbal games that he’s played with Akaashi over the years, because it was something he needed to bring him out of his shell a little and you end up laughing until your belly hurts.

The takeout arrives on time and you enjoy the food and Bo loves to feed you small bites of your favorite stuff, so you let him.

He tells you to unwrap your gift and you feel fondness and warmth rush over you when you see the handmade coupons, this time even more beautifully drawn out.

It’s really easy to see why you’re so in love with him.

Even in the in between moments.

He’s always thinking of you and always wanting to be the best version of himself for you.

I wrote like an extra 600 words cause a lot of it was bokuto and kuroo interaction lol my bad but I hope you enjoyed it!

#not naruto #not knb #haikyuu!!#my stuffl #lucky duck game #lucky duck winner #bokuto loves you and so do i #bokuto kotaro x yn #bokuto x you

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rixxy8173571m3w1p3 · 5 years ago

Text

Sweater Weather

I enjoy the headcanon of Doofus Rick having a variety of sweaters. And after looking at stock photos, I was inspired to write this fic. Hope you guys like it.

In this fic Ricks sweater causes some conflict.

____________

In the great vastness of space, one could learn the true meaning of loneliness. For miles upon miles, floating upon nothing, you could say it was like sailing across the sea. Yet, unlike the salt or crashing waves of the ocean, you two would navigate across star systems or avoid asteroid fields, while at the same time enjoy the peace which comes from being somewhere uncongested. However, as fascinating as it was to go on intergalactic, space adventures, one of the things you didn't enjoy was the extreme temperature changes; most of the time, you'd stay in the ship or stay home if a planet's climate was too cold for your taste, but on this occasion, Rick needed an extra pair of hands when you two stopped on Mars after spending most of the day at the Jerryboree.

After Zeta-7 had traded a few items of his own to obtain what he came for at a reduced price, you two ran as fast as you could back towards the ship, but by the time the ship was out of the Martian orbit, you were chilled to the bone. Rubbing your arms, you shivered. "I wonder if I'll ever get used to this."

Your breath came out like a cloud of smoke and the cold that had seemed mild at first had numbed your face and extremities. Rick turned up the heat, as well as turned on the seat warmers and offered you a freeze-dried Phytonian branch worm, but you passed on the offer. You knew it would have warned you up straight away, but the last time you tried one of those things, you had a stomach ache for three days. Concerned, he placed the ship on autopilot and did his best to search around in the back seat for anything you could use to warm up, but then as though it struck him on the head he groaned. "Darn it, I-I forgot that I removed the spare blanket to wash it."

"Where is it now?"

"I-I left it in the dryer."

You thought of telling him that it wasn't his fault he forgot it since you had distracted him this morning with a video about ninja cats, but it wouldn't have helped the situation. "Ricky," you tried to ease him with a weak smile but your teeth chattered. "it's not a big deal. Besides, we're not that far from home."

However, he wasn't convinced. You weren't as experienced when it came to space travel, but you knew well enough of the possible dangers associated with extreme body temperature shifts. The chill you had spread deep into your bones until you thought you'd rattle if shaken; a lick of fear traveling down your spine but otherwise you didn't feel too bad. Nonetheless, Rick was concerned for your well-being, and knowing you two were hundreds of thousands of miles away from your dimension's version of Earth, he made a decisive decision and started removing articles of his own clothing. "Whoa, what are you doing?"

With a blush, he handed you not only his knitted Jerry sweater but also his labcoat; leaving him in a thin t-shirt which had a snoopy patch on the right shoulder; how cute. "I hope it'll s-suffice until we get home."

"But what about you? What are you going to wear?"

Flashing you a stern look which left little room for argument, you slipped on his sweater and lab coat, and was delighted to feel a little more like yourself and relaxed by its scent; it was his essence; that of vanilla, of his home, and something you couldn't quite think of; chemicals perhaps. "Hmm, your clothes are a lot more comfortable than I expected them to be. How um…..how do I look?"

Turning down the lights and switching back to manual, he nodded. "It suits you m-mi corazón."

You admired its softness and passed your hand over the tight, twisted knit. It was a lovely shade of light sage green, and had a picture of a smiling Jerry holding a titanic ship model; you thought it was sweet that it was a picture of his friend. So many things this man-made or owned had a purpose or a story; this piece was most likely made to brighten up the day that the Jerrys in his care were having. Your Rick really was a good man; better yet because he saw the value in regular folk who probably didn't see it in themselves. "I like your clothes, Rick," you commented; your heart warmed by his goodness. "they seem to carry bits of you in them."

"Th-that could be said about any piece of clothing that's been worn. They carry bits of our DNA." he stated matter of factly.

"Eh….that's... I mean I get that, but that's not where I was going with this. I meant that they're soft and warm like you Ricky. You enjoy dressing comfortably, don't you? You own a variety of sweaters."

"Wh-who doesn't? I've sort of been dressing th-the same way for the last twenty or so years but when I met you, I had more opportunities to dress up. However, the older I get, the more often I'm in need of something a-a bit warmer and gentler on my skin. Actually, some of my clothes are locked to my particular genetic signature so that they'll or adjust according to the weather or climate. That way, I'll have less t-to carry on certain excursions."

"Incredible, that'll certainly come in handy, but can I ask you something?"

"Y-yes?"

"I know you're focused on driving," you started, wondering if your assumptions were correct. "but is there a reason why you haven't looked me in the eyes since we left Mars, or am I just thinking too much?"

He visibly stiffened, but he still didn't face you. Rick seemed troubled, for he tightened his grip on the wheel. Maybe this hadn't been the best time to ask, but what else could you have done? If you didn't ask, how else would you have known? Still, if you had waited, you would've noticed the red light blinking on the control panel sooner. It was a caution light, but you weren't so concerned, but you should've been.

Rick had opened his mouth to answer, with a faraway look in his eyes, but in the blink of an eye he made a sharp left turn around some space junk; jostling you two as well as the cargo. That was another thing you hated about space was Earth's contribution to its pollution. Unknowingly, you two had deviated from the usual course by a few miles, leading you two into a dangerous situation. Whether it was the fault of his navigation equipment or his lack of focus you didn't know, but it took a couple of minutes of evading space junk before you two could breathe a sigh of relief. And at the first opportunity, he switched the ship back to autopilot. "I'm s-sorry about that. I'm usually a better driver." he started, scratching the back of his neck as he glanced out the window in search of an answer in the emptiness of space. You couldn't see anything except for a few stars and the Earth straight ahead, but you had a feeling that where he was looking was somewhere you couldn't see. When he was ready, he turned around in his seat to glance at you, but then quickly turned back to face the steering wheel. How odd. "T-t-to answer your question," he stammered. "y-you're not thinking too much. I've just been distracted."

"Oh, okay."

"Are y-you alright? Nothing hurts does it?"

"I mean, other than feeling wide awake now, no harm was done I guess, but what happened? It isn't like you to let your mind wander while we're out here. Rick, would you like me to take over the wheel so you can straighten out your thoughts?"

"No, it's not - I can do it. I got this."

"Are you sure?"

"Mhm, as long as I-I focus on the wheel."

He hadn't really answered your original question, but since you guys nearly avoided death, it probably wasn't a good time.

________

He parked the ship in his garage, and since it wasn't that late, you two walked over to your home. Rick hadn't said much since earlier, but you figured he'd let you know what was bothering him later. As soon as you crossed the threshold of your home, you started a pot of coffee for Rick to drink when it was ready. Then, you got a blanket from the closet and offered it to him just in case he was cold, but he didn't care for one. He was still in a mood, and you wondered if the reason you'd upset him was that you were still wearing his sweater. "You probably want this back right?"

Slipping out of his sweater and labcoat, you felt the temperature difference immediately and took up the blanket you had taken out and wrapped it around yourself. "Thanks for letting me borrow them. I'll be sure to pack something with me next time."

"I'm n-not sure if that's such a-a good idea." he said with seriousness.

"What do you mean?"

The lines around his eyes deepened, as well as the creases of his forehead, and there was a pensive cloudiness of his usually electric blues. Frustrated, he bit down on his lip almost hard enough to make it bleed. "B-because it's distracting."

"What?"

He continued. "I-I should've brought you home first or gotten the parts a different time."

"But I thought you wanted help." you sniffled.

"Y-you don't understand."

"What's there to understand?" you retorted; sinking into the couch as tears stung the back of your eyes, and threatened to come out. "You...you don't want me to help you anymore? I thought we were a team."

Your saddened state shifted his sour mood, and he apologized. "Gosh, please don't cry mi corazón, I-I didn't mean it."

"But you sai-"

"I'm not upset at you," he reassured you. "I'm disappointed in myself for allowing this to happen. I've become complacent and I-I should've been prepared. You could've gotten sick, hurt, or worse just because I got distracted. Next time I'll bring you your own sweater and snacks or whatever you want."

"Is it because you don't want me wearing yours? Did I ruin it or something?"

"No, it's because," he swallowed, unsure how to broach the subject. "cuando lo usas, es… es apretado."

What? You understood the part where he said you used it, but not the rest. Pulling out your phone from your pocket, you asked Google what all of that just meant, but the answer you got didn't help. "Rick, should I be offended?"

"I-I hope not. I promise it's not what you're thinking."

"Then what is it? I'm not getting any clear answers here."

"I um - I'm sorry if I offended you. It's not what I intended to do. I know what I'm about t-to tell you sounds silly since I had hoped I'd outgrow this, but I still feel shy around you."

This much you did know. He was overly conscious of himself, his actions, and how he might disappoint or be lacking, but most of all was hateful of his own inadequacies. Yet, for where he found fault, you found virtue and you would remind him of that, but in this case, you simply needed to listen. "That's okay, I already knew that."

"I don't feel like that all the time, but today I got embarrassed all of a sudden. I-I don't know what happened. Y-you were wearing my clothes and I saw your silhouette in the starlight and I got nervous."

Huh? That's what was bothering him?

"Why?"

"It um - it made me wonder what it'd be like if we lived together and…oh, it's embarrassing."

The hand which he had resting on the couch gripped the fabric tightly, and he was mortified because he had been distracted by you; which under normal circumstances he'd be able to remain calm. Covering his hand with yours, you gave him a squeeze."No, I would like to hear what you were thinking about very much."

Lacing his fingers with yours, you two sat there for a matter of minutes as he gathered his thoughts together. When he calmed a little, he confessed. "I thought about what it'd be like t-to wake up right next t-to you and not be alone anymore. I-I think about it a lot."

"Oh." That hadn't been what you expected. However, was it really so strange? He had intended to propose months ago, but ever since the moment had been spoiled he hadn't attempted to try again; if it had gone well, you two might've been married by now. Though, who was to say he didn't dream of it? Of what he'd always wanted, of a family or of the life in which he needed? Perhaps gentle encouragement wouldn't hurt.

"You know," you responded with a serious, but gentle candor. "you're not the only one who thinks about us living together. I'm very happy here and I love what we do together. And although we've had times where we respected one another's space, I don't mind if that changes. However, there are things that aren't so simple. For example, if I would've known that I could borrow your clothes whenever I liked I would've done so more often. Though, only if you hadn't been concerned about me getting accidentally poisoned by chemicals or radiation. Remember that time you literally fought with the laundry?"

"I do remember," he answered wistfully. "it's what prompted me t-to teach you how to use the freeze ray and laser gun correctly."

"I think the longer we're together, the more our lives will intertwine. Meaning, the more we move forward, the more training I'm going to need to fit into this lifestyle of ours. I think I'm going to need a portable scanner that'll allow me to check your clothes before I think of putting them on."

With serious, but tender eyes, he studied you. Then, he picked up his sweater which sat between you two and wondered. "Y-you want to wear my clothes? A great deal of them have seen better days. Are y-you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure," you brightened. "because I love the way your clothes smell. If you were away, it'd make me think of you and it...I don't know, makes us seem more domestic. Is that along the lines of what you were thinking?"

"Y-yeah."

"Cool. Glad to know we're on the same page."

Relieved, he pressed a kiss to your temple and seemed ready for that cup of coffee. And as you stood, ready to head to the kitchen to prepare it for him, you mentioned. "And by the way, I gotta tell you something important."

"Gee, what is that?"

Striking a pose, you made him chuckle; that was a good sign. "That it's totally cool to be into me and check me out. I don't mind, and it makes me happy that I know what it takes to catch your eye. However, there's an exception: when we're driving around in space, where anything could kill us, we gotta keep our eyes on the space around us unless on autopilot. Only then," you winked. "might it be okay to be a little distracted."

Fin

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sunnytumbies · 5 years ago

Note

I'm somewhat confident that Amy's stress baking enables one or more of the other characters to then Stress Eat the baking, which could lead to Tummy Fic (tell me if I'm right and also you don't have anon asks turned on. c; might get more asks if you hit that switch!)

Whoops! Anons, you are now free to enter–sorry bout that!

So, funny story: Tiny, you are right–you are so right, in fact, that I decided to write a lil fill for this! I had like 500 words written and then accidentally closed the tab :’), and for whatever reason my response was even more determined writing to finish it. Long story short, it’s now a /4391 word monster/ that I’m not even all that proud of, but I’m posting it anyway! It’s gonna be confusing & maybe a headache for me later because this is happening later in the story than the first “major story event” fic I’ll be posting but...here we are.

Content warning: this fic involves dysphoria, mentions of menstruation, self-loathing, and binge eating as a response to stress. Please be mindful should you choose to read!

___________________________________________________________

Amy hums lightly to herself, dusting the last of the madeleines with powdered sugar, breathing in the comforting aromas, honey and lemon mingling with cinnamon and apple, almond and vanilla, chocolate and bread. She can’t pretend that this was a good decision, can’t act like she would not have possibly benefit more from a day of studying than a day of baking, but the knots in her chest have finally started to loosen, and it’s hard to take that as anything but a win. She plates the madeleines and slides them into the last remaining patch of free space on the L-shaped countertop, clutching the notebook that belonged to her mother close to her chest.

It’s not that Amy only ever bakes French desserts. She adores the challenge of baklava with its stubborn phyllo dough, loves the thrill and the spectacle of a good Baked Alaska; it’s just that sometimes, she needs to hear her mother’s voice in the only way she knows how–baking the way Maman taught her, dutifully reading the advice scrawled in the margins of her recipe notebook in eccentric cursive, cleaning as she cooks (”Mieux vaut prévenir que guérir, Amelie,” she’ll find herself muttering at times in a poor imitation of her mother. It translates to “It is better to prevent than to heal,” which she thinks is sort of intense as far as wisdom about cleanliness goes, but then, she’s never forgotten it). Professors will likely always butcher her last name, flattening the syllables into something harsh and ugly; classmates will continue to express their envy at the ease with which they assume she sails through her foreign language requirement, oblivious to the unique heartache of struggling to write in a language that flows from her lips with more ease than English sometimes; but no one can take this from her, her mother’s recipes in her mother’s own words, the familiar tastes and smells of home.

It started with the croissants, shaping the dough she’d prepped earlier this week in preparation to make pains au chocolat--she can’t stop her lips from quirking up in a small, proud smile, now, looking at how perfectly they rose, how flaky the croissants are, how tantalizingly the smell of chocolate and freshly-baked bread is wafting off of them, how they glisten with brushed-on butter. But when her eyes glanced over the mostly-full bottle of fruity olive oil in the pantry, how could she resist whipping up a lemon curd tart, with its buttery almond crust and rich lemon custard filling? And it would have simply been silly to waste the lemon zest she had leftover from the tart--not when she could make the madeleines, tiny delicious cakes sweetened with honey and brown sugar, the tang of the lemon zest cutting through the sweetness in the most delicious way, complimented by the dusting of powdered sugar. Then, she thought, that was an awful lot of citrus--she simply had to offset it with a quick apple mille-feuille, the autumnal scent of roasted apples, maple syrup, and apple brandy making her wistful for October. But wait--no mille-feuille was complete without the bourbon whipped cream on top, and shouldn’t poor lactose intolerant Cal have plenty of options too? Besides, a simple spiced bread wouldn’t take too long, and the mixture of star anise, ginger, and cinnamon, sweetened with honey and rife with dried apricots and plums, would be sure to make a delicious sweet toast for breakfast.

Even still, it wasn’t truly over until she noticed that several cartons of eggs--which she, for obvious reasons, tended to buy in bulk--were set to expire soon, and it would certainly be foolish to waste so much money--really, she hardly had a choice! She made chocolate macarons with orange ganache, a cherry buttermilk clafoutis; she made kouign-amann, with its buttery dough and sugary crust, and, in a desperate bid to eat through the eggs, another batch of macarons, this time with raspberry-rose buttercream. Struck with a flash of inspiration, she used the egg yolks she’d set aside while whipping the whites into stiff peaks fit for a meringue to make toasted-flour sablé, a sort of moist little sugar cookie, and while she was at it threw in a batch of snickerdoodles--cookies were easy to both make and get rid of in bulk, and besides, they were Cal’s favorite. Lastly, she decided to tackle a chocolate pound cake--quatre-quarts au chocolat de juliette, her mother’s handwriting rebuked her, along with an all-caps reminder to bake it in a bain-marie, PAS au four!!!!!. It made Amy laugh a little, but she couldn’t deny that the water-bath made for a much richer, much more moist final product than the oven.

She feels a brief rush of shame, looking over it all--it’s truly an improbable amount of baking she’s done, here--but her heart is full, her back aching in a satisfying, productive way. If nothing else, she’s made the house smell like home and has ensured that anyone who enters can leave full and satisfied. Finally, she removes her apron and checks her watch--perfect. She has about half an hour to get to work for her 8pm-midnight shift, a fairly non-intensive desk position at one of the campus libraries, and she’ll more likely than not have enough free time to look over her chemistry notes. As for the baked goods, she opts to leave them out, but takes a few moments to write out sticky notes (“dairy free! Come right in, Cal!”; “full of dairy! Cals beware!”), and smiles gently as she thinks of Cal coming home to a warm kitchen and plenty to eat. “That boy is too damn skinny,” she mumbles to herself fondly, and flicks off the kitchen light, leaving the one above the oven on to bathe the kitchen in a warm, welcoming glow.

Cal is not having a good day.

He shivers as another gust of wind blows what feels like through him, making his teeth chatter as he attempts to sink even lower into his hoodie. The slumping motion does not agree with his cramping lower belly, and he groans, straightening back up with an arm looped around his stomach.

Any day at this time of month for him is a difficult one. He knows for a fact that he “passes,” but he still feels uncomfortably seen, feels like he has to hide himself from view as much as possible. It certainly doesn’t help that his skin hurts, that his belly bloats and his bound chest becomes sore, that despite the fact that he no longer bleeds, he gets all the associated symptoms, yeah, thanks for that, genetics. Even so, Cal isn’t new to this, exactly, and he can deal with the cramping, can even handle the accompanying dysphoria like a champ, but today has been extraordinarily awful. He couldn’t sleep last night, feeling in turns too hot and too cold, and barely made it to his bio class this morning; all the coffee machines were down in the dining hall, meaning his eyes were burning with exhaustion by the time he was halfway through bio, let alone his other two classes of the day; perhaps most damning at all, the paper he’s been counting on being due next week is actually due this week, causing him to spend an extra few hours in the library after class, barely awake, forcing himself to get something, anything onto the page; and, the cherry on top of it all, he missed the last bus home, hence tramping home now in the dark and the rain. More than one car has splashed him as it’s passed, and his jeans are practically soaked through.

He’s cold, he’s exhausted, he barely even made a dent in the paper, and his fucking stomach hurts, the cramps now joined by an anxious knot; as much as he wants to take comfort from the fact that he can see the apartment complex getting steadily closer, he also knows that he’s going to be home alone, and something about that just does not sit well with him at the moment that Cal doesn’t want to analyze, thank you very much.

He shivers his way up the stairs leading to the apartment, down the exceedingly long corridor, through the front door, and is almost immediately assailed by both a rush of welcome warmth and a rush of smells so delicious and overpowering that he knows immediately that today was a stress-baking day for Amy. Something drains out of Cal then, equal parts tension and restraint, the anxious buzzing of his thoughts thrown off by the sheer number of baked goods spread across the counter top. He lets his backpack fall to the floor with a thud. His stomach rumbles--he ate today, but not well--and he sort of knows he’s doomed when he catches the scent of chocolate, as well as when his eyes land on a plate of snickerdoodles (which very much does not make a lump rise in his throat, okay, it’s whatever, it doesn’t matter, Amy made his favorite cookie for him in the middle of her own stress-fueled baking marathon, it’s whatever). Amy will be home soon. Quincy, too, at some point. He’ll be fine. He just needs to do what he can until then, and there’s no shortage of snacks to keep him busy while he waits.

Shocking no one less than him, Cal has many, many regrets, and at least half of them are baked goods he has put into his body over the last hour. He whimpers a little, oh-so-gently palming his belly, which has distressingly little give even when he ventures to apply a little more pressure with his fingertips. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this bloated, heavy with food and swollen with almond milk, and he’d be lying if he said he’s not fighting tears, beyond ashamed to be in this state: slumped sitting on the floor, back supported by the side of the counter, shirt riding up to expose the pink flesh of his belly. He has to swallow thickly a few times, imagining the sugary sludge that’s surely squelching through his insides right now, trying to force back a dangerous burp that squeezes out anyway and leaves the taste of honey and cinnamon in the back of his mouth. He tried to be good, and that’s maybe what sucks the most. He started with a few snickerdoodles, ostensibly the only dessert on the counter that had been made for him, unable to hold back a little groan of pleasure at the taste, buttery and comforting and complemented perfectly by the crunch of cinnamon and sugar. He had four before pouring himself a tall glass of almond milk, chasing a few more cookies with it before deciding to investigate the irresistible scent of chocolate wafting from the plate of croissants. The chocolate might be a bit much for his lactose intolerance, he decided, and opted for two thick slices of the spiced bread instead, toasted and slathered with ghee. He swore they tasted like fall, like tramping through leaves and Halloween costumes when he was young. Something about filling his stomach after being so hungry and uncomfortable all day, recklessly, indulgently, eased the tightness of his chest, until he could scarcely even feel the chill from his still-damp jeans.

He had already begun to feel rather full, but his interest was still piqued by the croissants, and he hadn’t even tried the little sugary-looking roll things, or the macaroons, or the cake--Cal squeezes his eyes shut, now, swallowing hard, struggling to even think about how much he’s eaten, but unable to completely erase the contrast from his mind between the overflowing countertop when he first arrived and the countertop now, an alarmingly high number of the cluttered plates more empty than not. All that really matters, he guesses, is that at some point filling his tummy began to hurt more than help, and he kept doing it anyway, and now his cramps have merely been replaced with sickly twinges and upset burbles.

He tries to take a deep breath, which hitches as an ominous gurgle bubbles from the top to the bottom of his packed belly, and the tears he’s been clamping down on start to roll down his cheeks. He can’t do this, not alone, at least, and Amy’s shift still has 3 hours to go--they must have just barely missed each other. Part of him knows that he will probably feel worlds better if he simply allows himself to throw up, but he can’t handle that, not right now. He cradles his aching stomach for a moment, one trembling hand cupped under his lower belly, bloated and hot, and one resting on the hard little bloat of his tummy, even that feather-light touch ushering up a series of strained burps. After another moment of feeling his stomach contents swirl and slosh uncomfortably inside him, the nausea and misery outweigh his pride, and he hesitantly lets go of his aching stomach, swiping at his tears and pulling out his phone.

I...fucked up, he texts her, and sends it before he can think twice about it. She replies almost instantly, one of his favorite things about Amy: ?????????????And a moment later, while he’s still figuring out where to begin: everything okay, honey?

The fragile control Cal has over his emotions abruptly slips at that, and he lets out a choked sob, swallowing hard when the motion upsets his tummy further. It hurts so fucking much, but Amy, Amy who bakes his favorites even in the middle of her own mini-crisis, Amy who takes the time to write adorable little sticky notes oriented around Cal’s dietary restrictions, Amy who calls everyone in the world honey because she cares about everyone in the goddamn world, Amy the literal human ball of sunshine--just, fucking Amy, okay?

Yeah. I mean. I’m safe, but I’m not okay. I… Cal doubles over as a cramp twists deep in his belly, panting a little. Maybe it would be easier to just let himself be sick. You baked...a lot. I had a bad day.

:((((( did u see my notes???? what’s going on??????

Cal has to blink hard against the tears at that, a new layer of guilt joining the anxiety and the shame of all he’s eaten. Stress-baking or not, this all had to have taken Amy a few hours, and he’d eaten right through a fair amount of almost everything.

I’m sorry. I did see your notes. It’s not lactose, I just ate a /lot/ and I feel sick and I don’t know what to do

A moment later, his phone buzzes with a call. It’s Amy, of course.

“H-hey,” he manages, sniffing, and then hiccups just before a deep burp gurgles up from his churning belly, clamping a hand over his mouth for a moment as his gorge rises with it.

“Cal, honey,” Amy says, sounding so fucking sad for him. It’s not like she’s never seen the fallout of his stress-binging before. “How much did you eat?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Cal says hoarsely, his throat burning from stubbornly swallowing back stomach acid. “I’m just nauseous and sick and--and—” He falters, feeling like a child. “And I just really had a bad day, like a really bad day, Amy, and I know your day wasn’t so good either or you wouldn’t be stress-baking but I just, I’m so fucking tired, and my paper is due and—” He gags, suddenly, and has to take a moment to collect himself, hyper-aware of Amy’s concerned silence on the other end of the line-- “and I can’t do this alone,” he finally manages, voice cracking, and it is only the knowledge that openly weeping would send him over the edge right now that keeps him from dissolving into exhausted tears.

“I’m so sorry, Cal. I wish I could be there,” Amy murmurs soothingly, and it’s almost, almost like she’s there. “If I could leave work I’d do it in a heartbeat, but I’m going to call Quincy for you, okay?”

Cal’s heart squeezes at that, half-anxiety, half-hope, and maybe something else, too, a deep sense of being known--Amy knows that Cal knows that she can’t leave work. Amy knows that there’s only one other person that he’d want. Amy knows that he can’t--because of anxiety, because of what he sees as a low stakes problem relative to Quincy’s very high-stakes life, because, because, because--reach out to him himself when he’s like this. “Okay,” he whispers, and hope she hears the gratitude in it.

“Of course,” she says, so warmly that it makes Cal’s heart ache a little. “Hang in there, okay? Try to stay calm for me. I’ll let you know when he’s coming.”

“Love you,” he mumbles, and lets his phone clatter to the floor as soon as he hears the beep that means she’s hung up, clutching at his belly, feeling his stomach lurch and rumble. He’s so fucking full. He’s such a fucking idiot.

Some time later, Quincy comes for him.

Cal startles when the door creaks open, then whimpers a little at the resulting complaints of his stomach. There’s just so much pressure, his stomach tight and hot as though nothing is moving at all, though with all that he feels burbling against his palm, that can’t possibly be true. Quincy looks a little frantic in the doorway before his eyes come to rest on Cal, still curled up pitifully on the floor, both hands pressed gently against his bloated stomach.

“Oh—” Quincy breathes, shutting the door behind him, crossing the space between them in an instant and crouching in front of Cal. “God, Cal, Amy scared me half to death. Are you alright?”

“I’m—” Cal has to stop and breathe, composing himself as a wave of nausea crashes over him, his stomach squelching unpleasantly. All at once, he realizes that he’s no longer alone, that perhaps even if he should keep suppressing everything, he no longer wants to, and he no longer cares if he’s sick, he just wants to feel better, wants to be in his bed, wants to be warm and comfortable and safe--all at once, he’s doubling over his own lap, sobbing his heart out, barely even registering the flicker of amusement he’d ordinarily feel at Quincy’s eyes going comically round behind his glasses. His stomach aches, pain ringing throughout his abdomen at the movement, and before he can process much more than that a warm palm folds itself over his distended stomach, firmly enough to quiet the cramping there, but lightly enough to keep from exacerbating the nausea.

“Cal,” Quincy says, in that low, soothing voice of his, “I am so sorry that you’re hurting, and I’m going to make that go away, but to get you feeling better, I have to get you off the floor. I can’t imagine that you are ready to move just now?”

“No,” Cal breathes, his usual shyness dominated by hours of physical discomfort. “Please, just—” Tears dribble down his cheeks, his lack of sleep and general exhaustion beginning to catch up with him.

Quincy seems to hear him anyway. “Okay, hey, heyheyhey, okay, that is perfectly fine. I’m here, alright? I’m here to help you feel better.”

Ever so gently, Quincy eases himself behind Cal, so that his back is supported by Quincy’s chest rather than the hard base of the kitchen counter. Equally gently, his arms wind around Cal’s waist, both hands coming to rest on his abused stomach. He applies pressure to the bloated space between Cal’s navel and his ribs, rubbing in broad, gentle strokes, almost immediately ushering up a deep belch that has Cal going slack with the smallest but most welcome measure of relief. Quincy is so damn warm, and his rough palm is heaven where it rests on his lower belly, supporting the bloat from below to take the strain off of his overfull stomach. His other hand moves from that space in the middle of his abdomen to his stomach, the noticeable overfull bulge where the organ ought to be, rubbing in gentle circles. The pressure is almost too much and Cal shifts to tell him so, succeeding only in ushering up several more rumbling belches, one right after the other, left gasping with the relief of it. He is still painfully aware of how full he is, packed utterly to the brim with food, but the release of trapped air is so needed and so lovely.

Quincy holds him like this for a while, coaxing up the occasional belch, paying extra attention to the twinges that make Cal groan with nausea. Cal finds his eyes watering again, this time with sheer gratitude for his dearest friends, for their kindness, for the quiet lack of judgement Quincy exhibits as he rubs his aching tummy. Eventually, Cal feels like he might be able to move without throwing up, and Quincy supports his weight with an arm around his waist as they make their way to Cal’s bedroom.

“I’ll be right back,” Quincy says after depositing Cal on the bed gently. “Amy said you’d want a hoodie and some shorts. How did she do?”

Cal smiles a little sadly, having trouble finding his voice, and Quincy barely misses a beat, busying himself retrieving one of Cal’s biggest hoodies and a soft pair of pajama shorts. “Either way, let’s give it a try. You should probably take your binder off--all that squeezing can’t be helping, and no wonder you’re shivering in those wet jeans!” He ducks into Cal’s bathroom for a moment, filling up the cup next to the sink with cold water from the tap, and offers it to Cal, making sure his shaking hands don’t cause a spill before he lets go. “Try to take some sips of that, okay? Trust me. We need to break up all that sugar.”

Cal can’t argue with that, nodding, and waits until Quincy lets the door swing mostly-shut behind him, taking the deepest breath he can manage. His stomach twinges as he bends over to put the water on his nightstand and lifts his arms to pull off his shirt. wriggling out of his binder, and he pants for a moment as the sudden release of pressure on his stomach causes the nausea to flare before it thankfully passes again. He puts on the hoodie, immediately comforted by the billowing fabric, and wriggles out of his jeans and into the pajama shorts as quickly as he can manage, forcing himself to take a measured sip of water. His stomach tightens around it, and he swallows hard.

“Hey,” Quincy says softly, knocking twice on the slightly-ajar door before pushing it completely open with his elbow. His hands are occupied with a tv tray, carrying a heating pad and a steaming mug of tea. “Don’t force it. You’re still very full.”

“Y-yeah,” Cal manages, finding his voice. “Tummy really hurts.”

“I know,” Quincy murmurs apologetically, offering Cal the heating pad. Cal practically melts when the heat makes contact with his sore belly, instantly beginning to soothe his cramping muscles, even working its magic on the fullness, just a little. “I’m sorry you’re hurting, Cal. I know you’re very full, but when you can, you should try to drink some water and this tea. It’s peppermint, so it should help with the nausea.”

Flicking off the overheard light in lieu of Cal’s carefully-hung string lights, Quincy leaves the mug of tea on the bedside table closest to Cal, spreading the quilt at the foot of the bed over him, and Cal instinctively lets his head drop onto Quincy’s shoulder when he climbs onto the bed beside him.

Cal nearly weeps again when Quincy reaches for his bloated tummy without being asked, resuming a soothing pattern, rubbing wide, sweeping circles over his abdomen, applying pressure to the bloated place beneath his ribs, to his tense sides, to the hard knot of his stomach. Each instance of carefully-applied pressure coaxes up a series of rumbling belches that Cal didn’t realize he was holding in, eventually freeing up enough room for him to sip at the tea.

“Amy will be home soon,” Quincy says after several moments. “How are you feeling?”

“Like an idiot who stuffed my face with sweets all afternoon,” Cal mumbles, still wrestling with guilt, and Quincy frowns as his belly emits an audible squelch, smoothing a hand over it in slow arcs. Cal drinks a bit more deeply at the tea, unable to withhold a sigh of relief as it begins to fill the burbly places in his tummy, blissfully soothing the ache.

“You aren’t an idiot, Cal,” Quincy says sincerely. “Amy says this sometimes happens when you get overwhelmed. You’re overwhelmed.”

Something about the sincerity in his voice makes something big and terrifying shift in Cal’s chest, and he abruptly puts down the mug of tea in favor of hiding his face in Quincy’s chest, narrow frame wracked with tired sobs. He dimly registers that at least his stomach doesn’t react poorly to the movement. “I am,” he manages eventually, as Quincy gently shushes him, stroking his belly as though to keep it calm. “I am so exhausted, Quince.”

“So rest,” Quincy says simply, “at least for now. And when Amy gets here, we’ll talk about what we’re going to do next. Okay?”

Cal sniffs, nodding, still hiding his face, and Quincy lets him, simply bringing his arms around him, smoothing his hands over Cal’s back. Against all odds, particularly the still-overpowering sense of fullness, Cal feels his eyelids drooping. All of a sudden, everything has caught up with him, and he can barely form a coherent thought. It has been a day, his belly is now more warm than upset, and Quincy is a very, very comfortable pillow.

“I’m gonna take that as a yes,” Quincy says, and Cal feels the rumble of his chest as he gives a low chuckle, too far gone at this point to respond. He’s going to have a lot to explain when he wakes up, but for now…

For now, Cal lays with his head on Quincy’s shoulder, arms looped around his neck, and Quincy pulls the quilt up around them. “I’ve got you,” Quincy murmurs, and the next thing Cal knows is blessed sleep.

#tiny-tum #perhaps it's for the better since i s2g that entire 500 words was the first sequence describing what amy baked but #i think they were like. better words!#i digress this is what we've got #Amy #Cal #Quincy #stuffing #stress eating #stress baking #belly rubs #dysphoria #side fic #answered #i think the reason im so unhappy with this is that i want quincy to be somewhat mysterious until the major fics are released but also i just #cant imagine anyone being super invested until they know more about these ppl #which is fair #but...yeah! hope ppl enjoy!#why am i so anxious about this

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