#so it's nice to like. get some of that creativity flowing again. even though it's on like 10% brain power | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

trianglegoddess · 3 months ago

Text

New Ink, Old Scars

Tattoo artist meet-cute au bbyyyyy

Part 2 of my meet cute series, also on AO3!

-----

Eddie is setting up his station when his new client walks in. He had made the appointment online so Eddie hadn’t actually met him, and well, he’s certainly not complaining.

His new client is absolute eye candy. He’s wearing a pair of basketball shorts and an older looking t-shirt, soft and well-worn and well-loved. They had texted a bit back and forth on social media, just so Eddie could have his design ready by the time of the appointment, and he had clearly followed Eddie’s advice to dress comfortably.

It was a pretty sick design, too, not something that would really seem to be up this particular client’s alley. He looks like your typical Good American Boy, with his tanned skin and freckles and moles and perfect floopy hair that makes Eddie want to eat drywall.

Once he’s done setting up, he walks over to the counter, greets him with a, “Hey, Steve, right? I’m Eddie,” and internally high-fives himself for how chill he was able to be.

“Nice to meet you, man,” Steve says.

They chat as Steve hands over his I.D. for the paperwork he then fills out once Eddie makes a copy of it. And it’s kind of…Immediate, Eddie thinks. Sometimes he really has to work to get along with some of his clients, or they don’t really speak at all, but this guy, he’s a fucking riot. He’s witty, and a little bitchy in a mean-girl sorta way that makes Eddie want to write Mr. Eddie Harrington in his nonexistent diary over and over.

The conversation steers towards music, and Eddie’s old pipeline dream of making it big while they size the design up. Steve is getting it on the back of his forearm from his wrist to his elbow, and he gave Eddie complete creative freedom. Once he gets the stencil made, he takes Steve back to sanitize the skin and stick the stencil on.

All the while they talk and talk and talk, and Eddie only interrupts the flow of the conversation to instruct Steve to hold his arm a certain way, and to lay down on his stomach so he can tattoo the back of his arm comfortably.

Usually Eddie gets lost in the work, absorbed in the way he pulls a line to make it perfect, focusing on just how far the needles are going when he gets to the shading so he doesn’t cut Steve. Now, though, he just lets himself go on autopilot. Steve is going on about how his nickname was “The Hair” in highschool, talks about how Eddie’s curls are really nice, talks about how Eddie should do certain treatments that can protect them even more, and Eddie’s never been interested in hair care, never been interested in any of this stuff, but he’s pretty sure he’d be over the moon about golf if Steve was the one explaining it to him.

When they’re done Steve waits patiently while Eddie goes through the process of taking photos and videos for his socials (and if he takes a little longer than he should nobody but he will ever know), before throwing some second skin on him and a piece of paper with the aftercare instructions on it.

There’s a sort of ache when Steve leaves, like he’s suddenly missing something, missing a part of him.

He ignores the feeling, and instead gets ready for his next client.

The next morning after he’s posted the photo of the nail bat Steve got, he sees a multitude of comments. Some are from the ones who comment regularly on his art, some are bots, and some are…Children?

Eddie can’t help but pull a piece of hair in front of his mouth, twirled around his finger as he reads through them. Steve is arguing with some kids named ‘EatMyDust’ and ‘MadMax,’ and it’s dumb and endearing and-and he kind of feels like a teenage girl, twirling his hair and kicking his feet like he is, unable to help the grin that spreads across his face.

Later that night he receives an apology from Steve about his battle with the children (which he lost, MadMax was brutal). He also gets a question about his availability for next week.

It’s how he ends up tattooing Steve again. Steve had requested a robin on his chest, right above his heart.

The design itself is pretty simple, but it’s still a more tender area for most, which he informs Steve of as he’s getting the design ready.

“I think I can handle it,” Steve says easily, and then.

And then the motherfucker winks at him.

Eddie is going to spontaneously combust on the spot.

He tries not to let it affect his speech too much as he instructs Steve to take his shirt off for the stencil. And, even though Steve was being coy about it, Eddie understands immediately that Steve is going to be just fine with this tattoo.

On his abdomen there are mottled scars, ugly and raised and almost matching Eddie’s in a way that’s uncanny. He doesn’t ask though. For one, it’s just rude, but also he’s a professional. It’s not the first time he’s seen bad scar tissue. He’s tattooed burn victims and people who want to cover up their self harm scars and all sorts of other people, all sorts of other reasons for these kinds of markings. He spars a glance at Steve’s abdomen, and that’s it.

Steve, for the most part, seems relatively unshy about the whole ordeal. He had talked about being into sports pretty much his entire life, and he’s sure that that has something to do with it. Being in those locker rooms for all of the important parts of his youth probably desensitized him to this sort of thing long ago.

Still, when they’re letting the stencil dry, Eddie can’t help but run a hand over his own stomach, over his own scars.

“You can ask, you know,” Steve says. “If you want.”

“Only if you wanna talk about ‘em, man.”

“You know Hawkins? Small little backwater town that had that earthquake a few years back?” Steve asks him. Eddie nods. He had been in that backwater town, had been in that earthquake, and once the dust had settled he had gotten the fuck outta dodge. That town had never done much for him anyway, and the earthquake had been as good a reason as any to leave. “I got stuck in all of it,” Steve continues. “Most of it is from the debris and what not; I had been walking downtown where a fault line split the ground up.”

“No shit,” Eddie says. He had been on the fault line, had a very similar experience to Steve in that sense. It had split his trailer in half, and he and Wayne had had to figure their shit out pretty quick afterwards.

Eddie lifts up his own shirt then, shows Steve his own scars. His are a lot deeper, travel a lot farther, all the way up to his neck but they match, and that’s gotta mean something, right?

He hears Steve’s breath catch as he looks down at Eddie’s own torso as Eddie explains his own experiences in that very same earthquake.

After that, the tattoo feels weirdly intimate, with this sort of charged energy between them. They talk, just as much as last time, but this time their voices are softer, gentler, as they talk about their own traumas surrounding the event.

“Sometimes I feel bad, though,” Steve tells him. “I had pushed the kids out of the way, you know, I mean-I didn’t even think about it, I just did it. But then when all that shit fell on me, and when the earthquake didn’t immediately stop, I think-I know I scared them. And I think sometimes they think I’m just gonna disappear. And I feel bad for being the one to make them go through that-that uncertainty. It’s scary, especially around their age.”

“How old were they?”

“Fourteen, except Lucas’ little sister, she was eleven. And now they’re all graduating in a month, and I wanna be there for them but-”

“But it’s hard,” Eddie finishes. “I’ll go with you, if you want.”

Eddie knows exactly what compels him to offer. It’s his big, stupid, fat crush on this actual literal life saver. He’d brave his shitty backwater hometown for Steve. Hell, right now with how strong this crush is he’d probably do anything for him.

“Really?” Steve asks.

“Really,” Eddie says.

After that, Eddie finishes the tattoo pretty quickly. It’s a beautiful robin with irises and snapdragons framing it, all bright colors and an almost sort of impressionistic feeling to it. Then it’s the aftercare and a promise to coordinate their trip to Hawkins at a later date.

Eddie doesn’t expect Steve to take him up on the offer, not really. He seems like the lone wolf-protector kind of guy, someone who thinks they need to face their traumas by themselves to avoid being a burden to those around them. Steve doesn’t text him, outside of thanking him for the pictures of the tattoo Eddie sends his way.

It’s why he’s a little surprised when Steve comes in the next night, too late for there to be any time to actually tattoo him. He looks flushed and almost uncertain as he changes his weight from foot to foot while he waits for Eddie to greet him at the counter, carefully angling his body to hide whatever he’s got behind his back.

“Stevie!” He greets, unable to help the smile that splits his face in two. “To what do I owe the pleasure? Does your bandage need to be changed out?”

“Wha-no, uh, no. The bandage is fine, no leaking or anything. I just-um. Well.”

Without saying anything else, Steve pulls out a bouquet of flowers from behind his back. They’re marigolds and daisies, and they smell fucking amazing. Eddie gently takes them, wide-eyed and dumbstruck as he looks between the flowers and Steve and back again and back again.

“I, uh-would you. Are you busy?” Steve asks. His face is beat red, and he’s running a hand through his hair and he can’t meet Eddie’s eyes for more than a second before he looks away again.

“Uh-No. I mean-not after I’m done closing up, I mean. I just have to mop and then I’m all yours.”

“Really?” Steve asks, and it’s so fucking hopeful, so fucking endearing, and Eddie practically melts.

Eddie nods, hiding his smile behind the flowers. “Really,” he says. Steve just grins back at him.

“Do you want to go to dinner with me?”

“I’ll go with you,” Eddie says. “If you want.”

Steve softens all around. His shoulders relax, and the nervous tension he had been holding himself with dissipates as he takes a confident step forward.

“I would like that very much, Eds.”

A month later, Eddie gets to meet the kids that Steve goes on and on about, and he meets the Queen of Steve’s Heart, Platonic Soulmate with a Capital ‘P,’ and she gives him a knowing look and a wink and it’s-

It’s good. Great, even.

It’s great.

#bisexual steve harrington #steve harrington #eddie munson #modern au #tattoo artist!Eddie munson #meet cute #steddie #stranger things

163 notes · View notes

lovemybluebully · 11 months ago

Text

Over My Dead Body

Got writer's block on the fic I mentioned with X23 so I wrote this to keep my creative juices flowing. 😁 Hope you guys don't mind. lol I swear this was just going to be a little drabble, buuuuuuut I got carried away. It was just like, I have an idea! Oooh I have another idea! And then it just spiraled. 🤣 I suck at writing short fics. lol

Probably not my best work, but just a little silliness between these two guys. Another fic where Wade discovers Logan is ticklish and goes all out on him. I very much enjoy tickle origin fics. 🥰

Again some somewhat movie spoilers, but if you haven't seen the biggest movie in the world by now then that's your fault. lol Then of course the typical foul language and Deadpool's dirty mouth.

"Deadpool and Wolverine"-verse

ler!Wade/Deadpool x lee!Logan/Wolverine

M/M Tickle Fic

Word Count: 5,139

"Fucking give me that remote, Wilson!" Logan let out a teeth-bared snarl while chasing Wade comically around and around the couch like in a Scooby Doo cartoon.

"But baby cakes, I want to watch 'Touched By An Angel'! Wade snickered, managing to stay just one step ahead.

"Fuck that shit! This is the final round for the Flames in the Stanley Cup, and I am NOT missing it!" He finally caught up to Wade and took him down with a flying tackle of heavy adamantium as they both crashed to the floor and the tv remote went sailing out of reach.

Logan quickly scrambled to his feet as he made a break for it, but Wade successfully grabbed his leg to trip him as he hit the floor again with the merc now up and giggling as he ran to claim the prize.

"Yessss! Home run! And the crowd goes wild!" Wade mimicked the sounds of a cheering stadium while triumphantly holding the remote over his head. However, this was instantaneously followed by a loud growl from Logan as he charged his roommate like a bull and slammed into him harder than a Mack truck.

Wade didn't have time to yelp as his body went flying across the room though the remote had been knocked from his grasp and dropped to the ground, exploding the case open as the batteries all popped out. Logan reached down to pick it all up, shaking his head in annoyance as he walked back over towards the couch and tried to jam the batteries back in properly.

"Motherfucking idiot. Just sit your stupid ass down and take the L. I'm putting on the hockey game and that's that."

But Wade wasn't through yet. He was having too much fun with this! He was always trying to get Logan to roughhouse and play with him, but with the X-man being such a stiff it was hard to get him to let loose. Alcohol usually played a big factor in getting Logan to loosen his inhibitions and engage, but at the current moment he was sober as a judge.

Pissing him off was the next best thing, and Wade loved a good chase and the physical contact, even if it was of the more painful variety. They had a rule about not spilling any blood inside the apartment, but he knew Logan could be pushed too far sometimes and forget about that so Wade would usually back off before he reached that point.

Though at this present time he had only antagonized him a little bit so he knew Logan would be able to tolerate him just a smidge more.

Logan's hypersensitive ears easily picked up the sound of the energetic man coming at him again as he turned around just as Wade plowed all of his weight into him to tackle him onto the couch. Wade quickly took the position to straddle the man's thighs and started making grabs for the remote as growling curses were hurled at him.

"Goddammit! You juvenile fucking moron! Just back off! The only way you're getting this is over my dead body!"

"Bet," Deadpool nodded and kept up in his efforts.

As they played slap-hands fighting to get a hold of the controller it slipped from their grip, hitting Logan in the face on its way down before sliding inside his collar down into his button-up overshirt.

"Nice going, captain loser. Don't worry, I'll get it!" Wade immediately went after it as he haphazardly began squeezing and poking around Logan's midsection as he tried to find the location of the remote hidden beneath the fabric.

As irritated as he was Logan now found that he had a new problem as his body started involuntarily reacting to the way Wade was grabbing at him. It was making his skin crawl. Shivers running up his spine as he began to writhe underneath the other man, trying to avoid the touches.

"Stop squirming, would you? You're making this way harder than it has to be. And I can't find the remote either," Wade teased, always managing to slip in inappropriate innuendos, but Logan was too occupied to make a sarcastic retort as he frantically tried to grab and get control of Wade's busy hands.

"Q-Quit it, shithead!" Logan gritted through his teeth as Wade just clucked his tongue and shook his head.

"Oh c'mon! Stop fighting it and just give it up!" Wade's words held a double meaning in this situation as his hands moved lower, giving the grump a particularly firm squeeze around his hips as Logan couldn't hold it in anymore.

His back arched off the couch accompanied by a loud snort; his nose scrunched as a soft string of giggles tumbled their way out.

Upon hearing that Wade immediately stopped what he was doing; practically frozen in shock as he stared down at the bigger male below him. After a few long, tense moments a slow grin of realization started to spread over his face and Logan was suddenly overcome with a feeling of immense dread at what was about to transpire.

"Did...Did you just giggle?"

"....No," was all Logan could say lamely; his uneasy mind not allowing him to come up with anything else as Wade only smiled more.

"Now here's the plot twist that I never would have expected. You wanna tell me what that was all about? Forgive me if I'm finding it difficult to believe that a hardened tough guy like you could possibly be, dare I say it.....ticklish."

Logan's eyes betrayed him as they widened in pure terror; his brain frantically trying to figure out a solution to get him out of this mess, but his silence told more than enough.

"Ohohoho, you are, aren't you? Well this just made things a lot more sexy...I mean, interesting," Wade stroked his own chin, pondering the situation while Logan finally regained his wit and was now on the rebound to try to deny it.

"What? Are you kidding? Tch! I am not ticklish. Where the fuck do you come up with such stupid ideas?" He made his best attempt to sound convincing, but Wade could easily see right through his bullshit.

"I gotta tell you that all sounds exactly like something a ticklish person would say. A pitiful performance like that isn't going to win you any Oscars," Wade smirked before his eyes then drifted back down to Logan's torso, "Oh dear. It looks like the remote has fallen inside your shirt. Whatever shall we do?"

Wade was gently tugging at the front of his shirt as Logan narrowed his eyes.

"Just get offa me and I'll get it myself. Quit looking for excuses to grope me, ya fucking pervert," Logan growled deeply with his characteristic hard-as-nails Wolverine glare, trying to be as off-putting as possible to hopefully get Wade to lose the notion.

"But it's so confusing when your mouth says 'no', but your eyes say 'yes'," Wade grinned, giving a light tickle to Logan's sides that made him flinch, "By the way, what do you want your safe word to be?"

"Touch me and I will cut your useless motherfucking head off, Wilson."

Wade laughed chaotically and shook his head.

"Now that's kind of a mouthful to say. You should pick something easier like 'umbrella' or 'avocado' or 'supercalifragilisticexpialidocious'-"

Logan realized he was running out of time for stalling and was now struggling to push Wade off of him before he could actually carry out this heinous act, but the merc simply shoved his arms aside and launched his attack, tickling wildly along his ribcage.

"Oh I get it! You don't want a safe word! Very kinky! I like your style! Well you did say the only way I was getting the remote was over your dead body. Who knew it was going to be death by tickling?"

Logan made a strained grunting noise as he steeled himself and began writhing about, still fighting to force Wade off despite the fingers running along his ribs. He in no way wanted to give Wade the satisfaction of making him laugh and would hold it in for as long as he could.

"Looks like we've got a tough guy, ladies and gentlemen," Wade grinned, momentarily looking out at the camera then turning back to his victim, "You know in all the fanfics I've read it's always the toughest guys that are the most ticklish of all. Look at you doing everything in your power not to laugh. How cute. Too bad you're not going to be able to keep that up. I pretty much wrote the book on 'lerring."

Wolverine had no idea what that meant but could hardly fathom the idea that he was going to have to listen to Wade's annoying jabbering and teases without being able to give him a piece of his mind. Because if he even dared to open his mouth it was game over and he was going to fucking lose it.

"So are you like one of those guys who are only ticklish around here...," Wade squeezed and massaged into his sides as an involuntary grin stretched across Logan's face while keeping his jaw clenched, "Or are you one of those head-to-toe ticklish kinda guys? I'm betting the latter."

While still keeping one hand digging into his side Deadpool now reached up to teasingly trace his fingers with a feather-light touch over Logan's ear and down his neck as the man wrenched his head away and scrunched up his shoulder to try to cover up that side of his head.

"Ooooh so sensitive. Am I going to have some fun with you. All we're missing is the sweet sound of your laughter. C'moooooooon just let it out already. You're not embarrassed of your laugh, are you? I'm sure it's wonderful. Don't be shy now, it's just the two of us here."

Every word that came out of Wade's mouth was slowly eating away at Logan's resolve along with his mental capacity to resist the laughter building up inside of him. Giving into Wade's demands was not high on his list of favorable activities, but he knew it was about to happen whether he wanted it to or not.

"You are one hard nut to crack, I'll give you that. But that's okay, it's just going to make breaking you even sweeter. Heheh, look how red your face is. You look like you're about to explode. I just need to find the right spot to poke that bubble and free you of your burden. Hmmm, I think I know where....," Wade smirked big time as he changed tactics to thrust his hands underneath Logan's arms and furiously tickle into his armpits.

The battle was finally over. Logan had fought for as long as he possibly could, but he just couldn't take it anymore. With Wade having honed in on one of his most sensitive areas he felt his lips make one last valiant effort to stay sealed as they trembled right before releasing his loud, pent-up outburst.

"HAHAHaahaha! AhahahahaStop! Stahahahap ihihhit!" Logan hollered as he managed to shove Wade's hands out of his pits, though they immediately latched onto his waist and dug right in. Wade was beyond pleased with this turn of events.

"Ahhhh there it is. And it's just as adorable as I imagined. See? Nothing to be embarrassed about," Wade's grin encompassed his whole face as he didn't let up and kept kneading his thumbs right above Logan's hips.

"I wahahahasn't embahahaharrassed, ya dehehehense fuhuhuhucking prihihihiiick! Gahahahahaa! Just didhihihidn't wahahahaha-wahant to gihihihive you the sss-satisfahahahaction!" Logan struggled to speak clearly through his laughter as he twisted and squirmed, trying to wriggle out from under the other man.

"Well mission failed, my little stud muffin. I can't believe you've been hiding your ticklishness from me all this time. Think of all the fun we're going to have together now!" Wade exclaimed with pure glee as he moved back up to the ribs now that he was receiving the reactions he wanted, making Logan cackle uncontrollably.

"Fuhuhuhuhuuuuck!! Okaahahahay! You gohohohohot meheheee! I'm tihihihicklish! Now fuhuhuhuhuhuck ohhohohoff!" Logan's hysterical proclamation was accompanied by a series of hard snorts, making Wade's face light up even more.

"You're a snorter?! Oh that's just so precious! How can you expect me to fuck off after hearing that?! Nononono, I think I will keep fucking on, thank you very much! Besides if I stop now then this will be the shortest tickle fic ever written!" He increased his speed, probing between every rib bone as he played his friend's sides like a ticklish piano.

Logan surprisingly laughed even harder, wheezing for air as he continued letting out a snort every few seconds with his burly arms pitifully clamped as tight as he could against his sides. Nothing was stopping the devilishly dexterous fingers of his hyper roommate though.

"Wihihihilsonaaahahahahah.......sssstooooohahahahahahooooop! I'll....I'll gihihihihive you ohohone lahahahast chaaa-EEEHEEHEEHeheheheheheeh!" Logan literally squealed much to his chagrin as he broke into high-pitched giggles with Wade switching spots to now claw mercilessly at his stomach and waist.

"Oh I've never heard a Wolverine squeal before. It's just the gift that keeps on giving. Definitely going to need that as my new ringtone. But hmmm, I think this could be better...," Wade mused as his fingers kept scratching over the buttons going down Logan's flannel shirt, no doubt hindering his tickling efforts if only a little.

In the next second he grabbed Logan's overshirt and pulled hard in opposite directions to pop all the buttons as the remote was finally freed and clattered to the floor. The mercenary smirked as he saw that Logan wasn't wearing anything underneath as his hairy, heavy-muscled torso was now on full display.

Logan was grateful that it had all stopped and the remote was now nowhere near him as he leaned his head back and tried to catch his breath.

"........Fuck......Okay.....You win you win. Just take the fucking thing.....and go ahead and watch your stupid ass shoHOHohOhOHOhoW! NAAAAHOHOHOHOOOOO!!"

Logan had thought it was over, but his momentary sparkle of hope vanished instantly as Wade paid the controller no mind and lunged for him again.

"Ahh yes, that's much better! Now I can really get my hands in here!" Wade smirked in delight with his fingers currently buried and wriggling into Logan's armpits while the feral man roared with deep belly laughs before fizzling into helpless wheezes.

"Ohoho you're very tickly here, aren't you? Bet you wish you would've chosen a safe word now, huh? Or not. Maybe you're enjoying this. Is that it? Don't lie to me now."

"I'm gohohohohonna fffffff-aaahahahhahahah.....fuhuhuhucking k-kihihihill yooooou!" Logan wheezed out as he weakly smacked at Wade's arms and haphazardly kicked his legs around.

"Awww don't be mean, Peanut. I just can't get enough of the sound of your laugh. That's not a crime, is it?"

Logan couldn't remember having ever been tickled like this. It had been so long since he'd been this close to anybody, and his memory of such things was pretty fuzzy of anything that happened before his regrettable incident. After those events he'd become even more withdrawn and had fallen deep into depression from the unbearable guilt he felt, confident that he never deserved to be happy again.

And then this annoying little fucker appeared at that bar one day and dragged him on the wildest, most fucked up adventure he could ever recall being on. If at the beginning of all that someone had told him that Wade and he were going to become great friends then he would have laughed right in their face.

But it did happen, and Logan was taken-aback to finally be around someone again who actually cared about his well-being. Someone who wanted the best for him and to make sure that he knew that he mattered. Someone who wanted nothing more than for him to be happy.

And Deadpool was always trying to make him laugh. The look of genuine happiness on Wade's face was unmatched whenever one of his jokes managed to land and make Logan chuckle. The X-man seemed to smile a lot more these days, but laughing was still a rare occurrence for him, which is why Logan was so defensive against the tickling that was currently causing him to do so.

But could he say with complete honesty that he truly hated all this? The answer irked him a little bit because it was no, he didn't hate it, but he was conflicted because he still didn't think he should be allowed to feel pure joy again.

He felt that guilt come up again when he admitted to himself that laughing like this actually felt good. He didn't deserve to feel good. Ever. But obviously Wade had a difference of opinion on that. Wanting him to smile. Wanting him to laugh. Wanting him to let go of his guilt and be happy in this universe that undoubtedly wouldn't be here without him.

"Don't think I forgot about this little sweet spot!"

Wade brought him out of these thoughts rather quickly once he began scribbling all ten fingers over his taut, bare stomach as the Wolverine tossed his head back in howling laughter with his eyes squeezed shut and tears forming in the corners of them.

"Coochie coochie coo! Awwww wittle Wolvie is so ticklish! Yes, he is! Yes, he is!" The merc cooed playfully, knowing all these teases were key to breaking down Logan's mental barriers. And it was working as Logan finally stopped feeling sorry for himself and just gave into it all.

"W-Waaade nooooo! Aahahahahahaah! Cuhuhuhut it ohohhohout! Pleeheheheheeease!"

The merc cocked his head in amusement, having never heard Logan even come close to begging for anything before.

"Oooooh this really is a killer spot, isn't it? Is this rock-hard belly of yours the most ticklish of all? How ironic," Wade mused while absentmindedly squirming a finger down into his navel, making Logan buck strongly and shriek with unrestrained giggles.

"Shihihihiiiiit! Aaaheehehehehehee! Noohohohooot in thehehehere! Fohohor fuhuhuhucks saahaahaakeheehehehehehahahah-st-stoohahahahop tihihihickling! You're kihihhihillin' meheeheehee!"

Wade's stomach did a little somersault at how vulnerable Logan was now being with him. It was all he ever wanted was to see his friend let go of all his anger and self-loathing of the past and surrender himself to the present day.

Logan was laughing freely now. He wasn't grinding his teeth and trying to hold anything in anymore and he even stopped really fighting to get Wade off of him. His face and chest were flushed, tears running down his cheeks as he just laid there in a squirming heap with his wide-open mouth releasing endless peals of laughter and pleas for mercy.

In all honesty Wade didn't want to stop just so he could keep Logan in this state for as long as possible where he was freed from the prison of his own mind, though he knew that he'd have to let him go eventually. Still not quite this second.

"Stop? But I couldn't possibly! Look how happy it's making you! I'd be an asshole to rob you of that! Lucky for you I'm such a good friend, huh?! Tickletickletickletickle! Laugh it up, buddy!" He kept ruthlessly tickling his heaving belly while his other hand slid up to creep back into his armpit, rendering Logan into a powerless wheezing wreck.

"Nohohohooot fahahahaaair! Baahahhhahahaha! Wahahade pleeeease! I cahahahaa-cahahaan't tahahake anymohohohore! Uhuhuhuhuncle!"

Between Wade's unrelenting yapping and Logan's loud fits of laughter they both failed to hear the sound of the front doorknob rattling right before it opened and in walked Dopinder with several plastic bags of take-out in his hands.

"Hello? Your UberEats order is here, Mr. Logan. I've got your hot wings and your pizza rolls and your-AAAH!!" Dopinder let out a scream as he rounded the corner to find Wade straddling and feeling up a howling, red-faced and bare-chested Wolverine.

Upon hearing the terrified cry Wade immediately paused what he was doing as he looked back over his shoulder like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"Uhh heeeey Dopinder. Ummm.....This isn't what it looks like.....," he had a guilty look on his face, but quickly revealed his facade as he broke into a devious grin, "Just fucking with you! It's totally what it looks like!"

"And-And what exactly does it look like?" The younger man dared to ask despite his better judgement.

"Well you see Dopinder when two men start living together they begin to develop these feelings; feelings that cause them to get these strong urges that they just can't ignore and-," Wade's tirade of nonsense was cut off as Logan took the opportunity to give him a hard shove and flip him over the back of the couch between pants for air

"Fucking idiot. Don't...freak out, kid. The asshole....was just ticklin' me...is all," Logan breathlessly grunted while moving to take a normal seated position on the couch as Wade then popped his head up from the back.

"That's what he wants to call it. Wanna get in on this action, Dopinder?"

"Oh uhh hehe, n-no thank you. I actually have some more deliveries to get finished. Ermm, next time perhaps," he stuttered nervously as he gingerly placed the food down onto the coffee table in front of them and began to make his exit from the apartment.

"Don't think I'm not holding you to that," Wade teased, making his former cab driver blush and dart out through the door as Wade chuckled and nudged Logan in the shoulder, "Hehehe, did you see how flustered he got? I'll bet he's even more ticklish than you are."

"Leave the kid alone, Wilson. You'd probably kill him. He doesn't have a healing factor like I do," Logan snorted, bunching up his shoulders as Wade lightly ran a finger across the back of his neck.

"Ohh I can be gentle if I want. But I'm pretty sure you're the kind of guy who likes it rough," Wade teased as he moved around to the front of the couch to sit next to the other man, surprised to hear Logan let out a low chuckle.

"Was that a laugh? Nice to see you finally start to appreciate my elite level of humor. Maybe I won't have to start with the daily tickle sessions after all."

Logan made a face at that and lifted his brow.

"Daily? Yeah fuck no, that ain't happening. Once in a while......fine. But I don't think I could take it every day," he mentally shivered thinking about what Wade just put him through.

"Tell you what, you start laughing a little more at my jokes and I'll consider it. But no fake laughing! Because I can tell the difference! Especially now that I know what your real laugh sounds like and let me tell you it's going to be hard for me to get enough of it," Wade experimentally grabbed his knee, giving it a firm squeeze and digging his fingers in around the kneecap as Logan instantly wheezed out a laugh and quickly wrenched the hand off of him.

"Alrihight! I get it! Promise I'll try!"

"I guess that's all I can ask of you. Of course I'm still making it my mission to find everywhere else you're ticklish, and what other really bad spots you have.....unless you just want to tell me," Wade suggested with a grin as Logan just smirked right back.

"Now where'd be the fun in that?"

"You know, you are so right, you smug little honey badger. I gotta say though I'm liking this mood you're in now."

"Well it's your fault. Ya tickled me so bad I couldn't even think straight. Seems like you pushed all the negative thoughts right outta my mind," Logan confessed as Wade began to reconsider his earlier promise.

"Is that so? Hmmm maybe those daily tickle sessions are a good idea after all...," Wade teased just to watch Logan squirm at the thought again.

"I don't think so, bub. Besides, look what ya did," he gestured to his wide-open shirt, pointing at all the areas missing buttons, "You ruined my favorite fucking shirt, dickhead."

"Hardly. You've got like twenty of the exact same one. That's all you ever wear," Wade was quick to point out as Logan just shrugged with a smile.

"So? What's your point?"

"My point is you're a walking fashion disaster. But okay, I'll try not to be so rough next time. We can do the gentle stuff if you prefer. So for research purposes can you tell me how you feel about feathers, hm?" He grinned as he saw Logan shift uneasily in his seat.

"You're gettin' a little crazy now, Wilson."

"Oh c'moooon, just imagine a nice, fluffy feather teasing that big ol' neck of yours.....circling your little tummy button....stroking the backs of your knees.....threading between all your toes....I can't imagine that your feet were spared of your adorable weakness."

"Wade...."

"Oooh! What about raspberries?! Those are fun! Bet it would drive you insane if I blew them on your belly. How about we test that out really quick?" Wade took a deep breath and started leaning towards him with his eyes locked onto his stomach.

"Alright cut it out!" Logan's hand caught him by the face and shoved him kind of hard, though couldn't stop himself from chuckling as he shook his head, "Fuckin' hell, you've seriously got a career in how to mentally torture a guy."

"At your service," Wade tipped an invisible hat as he then surveyed all the bags of food on the table in front of them, "So what did you order all of this for?"

"I told ya I was gonna watch the hockey game. Can't watch it without some proper snacks now," he reached into one of the bags and pulled out a tall can of beer as he popped the pull ring and took a long drink out of it while the other man began removing the take-out boxes.

"Chimichangas? Since when do you eat chimichangas?" Wade looked over at him questionably upon opening one of the containers as Logan gave him a half-smile.

"I got those for you, dumbass. Thought maybe you'd wanna hang out and watch the game with me."

Wade was left momentarily speechless, truly touched by Logan's unexpected gesture.

"Well.....yeah of course. I'd love to. But how come you didn't ask me earlier?"

"Didn't get a chance to because you started bein' an idiot and going off about some other stupid show....'Touched By An Asshole' or something. What kinda pervy ass show is that anywaahaahaays?" Logan giggled, rubbing at his ribs where Wade had now just indignantly poked him.

"It's 'Touched By An Angel', you disrespectful twat. And it's a national treasure. But besides the fact that I've seen every episode, I didn't really want to watch it. I was just trying to get a rise out of you. You seemed tense," Wade admitted as Logan only shrugged and sipped from his beer can.

"When am I not?"

"Umm...Right now. Honestly I haven't you seen this relaxed in.....ever. Even when you're drunk sometimes you're still pretty moody," Wade pointed out as Logan took it in and knew he was right. He'd literally been forced into laughing off all of the burdens that he had carried for many years. His mind currently free from all the adverse feelings and troubles that he'd been endlessly plagued.

The effects were likely not permanent but at least for the time being he felt good. Having to suffer through a vicious tickle attack to achieve that was more than worth it he decided.

"Hmph. Yeah. I guess you're right," a smile broke across Logan's face as he punched Wade in the shoulder, "Thanks asshole."

"Any time. And if you ever change your mind about the daily ticklings then I'm your guy," Wade was glowing from the actual genuine appreciation he'd just received from the normally cantankerous Wolverine.

"Heh. We'll see," Logan smirked as he bent over to pick up the remote off of the floor and turned on the television ahead of them, switching channels until he found the right one, "So do ya even like hockey?"

Wade nodded enthusiastically.

"Love it so much that I've never watched a game in my entire life," he said matter-of-factly before clapping his hands in excitement when he saw Dogpool trot into the room, patting the spot on the couch next to him as she jumped up.

Logan sighed as he handed his roommate a beer, realizing that the next few hours were going to be filled with Wade obnoxiously asking questions about every little thing that happened in the game. Though he couldn't help but smile as he watched the man-child start happily eating the chimichangas while simultaneously feeding little bits of them to his unusual looking dog.

Truth be told they all were an unusual bunch. Not just the three of them, but Blind Al, Peter, and Dopinder, to name a few. All these people that Wade had brought into his life and openly shared with him. Not to mention without Wade's intervention he never would have met Laura; someone he found he made a fast connection with and was now someone he cared deeply about.

Really Wade had rescued him that day. Rescued him from himself and gave him another reason to keep on living for. He felt his heart warm as he looked over at one of the side tables where Wade kept a framed photo of all of their friends; only now it was a new picture that included Logan, Laura and Mary Puppins in it.

Logan's smile grew as he reached over to pat the dog on the head before Wade made a whimpering noise and leaned his own head towards him to receive the same affection. He chuckled and obliged for a few moments before getting a wicked grin on his face as he snatched the hair piece off of Wade's head, prompting a momentary yelp of pain from the scarred man.

As the merc rubbed at his head while glaring over at him Logan found it impossible not to start laughing while jokingly dangling the toupee up in his hand. Wade then promptly broke into a smirk that told him he was dead, though even with that warning Logan made no attempt to escape.

Wade easily knocked him onto his back again to mercilessly tickle his sides while at the same time making the Wolverine shriek by blowing those promised raspberries into his stomach. And they tickled just as badly as Wade had said.

Yes, they were an unusual bunch, but they were his whole world now. And Logan was never going to let them down. Over his dead body.

#ticklish!wolverine #ticklish!logan #lee!wolverine #lee!logan #ler!deadpool #ler!wade #deadpool tickle #wolverine tickle #tickle fic

300 notes · View notes

wirewitchviolet · 2 years ago

Text

How a Computer Works - Part 1 (Components)

I am about to teach you on a real fundamental, connecting up electronic components level, how a computer actually works. Before I get into the meat of this though (you can just skip down below the fold if you don't care), here's the reasons I'm sitting doing so in this format:

Like a decade or two ago, companies Facebook pushed this whole "pivot to video" idea on the whole internet with some completely faked data, convincing everyone that everything had to be a video, and we need to start pushing back against that. Especially for stuff like complex explanations of things or instructions, it's much more efficient to just explain things clearly in text, maybe with some visual aids, so people can easily search, scan, and skip around between sections. It's also a hell of a lot easier to host things long term, and you can even print out a text based explainer and not need a computer to read it, keep it on a desk, highlight it, etc.

People are so clueless about how computers actually work that they start really thinking like it's all magical. Even programmers. Aside from how proper knowledge lets you get more out of them, this leads to people spouting off total nonsense about "teaching sand to think" or "everything is just 1s and 0s" or "this 'AI' a con artist who was trying to sell me NFTs a month ago probably really is an amazing creative thinking machine that can do everything he says!"

We used to have this cultural value going where it was expected that if you owned something and used it day to day, you'd have enough basic knowledge of how it worked that if it stopped working you could open it up, see what was wrong, and maybe fix it on your own, or maybe even put one together again from scratch, and that's obviously worth bringing back.

I'm personally working on a totally bonkers DIY project and I'd like to hype up like-minded people for when it gets farther along.

So all that said, have a standard reminder that I am completely reliant on Patreon donations to survive, keep updating this blog, and ideally start getting some PCBs and chips and a nice oscilloscope to get that mystery project off the ground.

Electricity probably doesn't work like how you were taught (and my explanation shouldn't be trusted too far either).

I remember, growing up, hearing all sorts of things about electricity having this sort of magical ability to always find the shortest possible path to where it needs to get, flowing like water, and a bunch of other things that are kind of useful for explaining how a Faraday cage or a lightning rod works, and not conflicting with how simple electronics will have a battery and then a single line of wire going through like a switch and a light bulb or whatever back to the other end of the battery.

If you had this idea drilled into your head hard enough, you might end up thinking that if we have a wire hooked to the negative end of a battery stretching off to the east, and another wire stretching off to the east from the positive end, and we bridge between the two in several places with an LED or something soldered to both ends, only the westernmost one is going to light up, because hey, the shortest path is the one that turns off as quickly as possible to connect to the other side, right? Well turns out no, all three are going to light up, because that "shortest path" thing is a total misunderstanding.

Here's how it actually works, roughly. If you took basic high school chemistry, you learned about how the periodic table is set up, right? A given atom, normally, has whatever number of protons in the core, and the same number of electrons, whipping all over around it, being attracted to those protons but repelled by each other, and there's particular counts of electrons which are super chill with that arrangement so we put those elements in the same column as each other, and then as you count up from those, you get the elements between those either have some electrons that don't fit all tight packed in the tight orbit and just kinda hang out all wide and lonely and "want to" buddy up with another atom that has more room, up to the half full column that can kinda go either way, then as we approach the next happy number they "want to" have a little more company to get right to that cozy tight packed number, and when you have "extra" electrons and "missing" electrons other atoms kinda cozy up and share so they hit those good noble gas counts.

I'm sure real experts want to scream at me for both that and this, but this is basically how electricity works. You have a big pile of something at the "positive" end that's "missing electrons" (for the above reason or maybe actually ionized so they really aren't there), and a "negative" end that's got spares. Then you make wires out of stuff from those middle of the road elements that have awkward electron counts and don't mind buddying up (and also high melting points and some other handy qualities) and you hook those in there. And the electron clouds on all the atoms in the wire get kinda pulled towards the positive side because there's more room over there, but if they full on leave their nucleus needs more electron pals, so yeah neighbors get pulled over, and the whole wire connected to the positive bit ends up with a positive charge to it, and the whole wire on the negative bit is negatively charged, and so yeah, anywhere you bridge the gap between the two, the electrons are pretty stoked about balancing out these two big awkward compromises and they'll start conga lining over to balance things out, and while they're at it they'll light up lights or shake speakers or spin motors or activate electromagnets or whatever other rad things you've worked out how to make happen with a live electric current.

Insulators, Resistors, Waves, and Capacitors

Oh and we typically surround these wires made of things that are super happy about sharing electrons around with materials that are very much "I'm good, thanks," but this isn't an all or nothing system and there's stuff you can connect between the positive and negative ends of things that still pass the current along, but only so much so fast. We use those to make resistors, and those are handy because sometimes you don't want to put all the juice you have through something because it would damage it, and having a resistor anywhere along a path you're putting current through puts a cap on that flow, and also sometimes you might want a wire connected to positive or negative with a really strong resistor so it'll have SOME sort of default charge, but if we get a free(r) flowing connection attached to that wire somewhere else that opens sometimes, screw that little trickle going one way, we're leaning everyone the other way for now.

The other thing with electricity is is that the flow here isn't a basic yes/no thing. How enthusiastically those electrons are getting pulled depends on the difference in charge at the positive and negative ends, and also if you're running super long wires then even if they conduct real good, having all that space to spread along is going to kinda slow things to a trickle, AND the whole thing is kinda going to have some inherent bounciness to it both because we're dealing with electrons whipping and spinning all over and because, since it's a property that's actually useful for a lot of things we do with electricity, the power coming out of the wall has this intentional wobbly nature because we've actually got this ridiculous spinny thing going on that's constantly flip flopping which prong of the socket is positive and which is negative and point is we get these sine waves of strength by default, and they kinda flop over if we're going really far.

Of course there's also a lot of times when you really want to not have your current flow flickering on and off all the time, but hey fortunately one of the first neat little electronic components we ever worked out are capacitors... and look, I'm going to be straight with you. I don't really get capacitors, but the basic idea is you've got two wires that go to big wide plates, and between those you have something that doesn't conduct the electricity normally, but they're so close the electromagnetic fields are like vibing, and then if you disconnect them from the flow they were almost conducting and/or they get charged to their limit, they just can't deal with being so charged up and they'll bridge their own gap and let it out. So basically you give them electricity to hold onto for a bit then pass along, and various sizes of them are super handy if you want to have a delay between throwing a switch and having things start doing their thing, or keeping stuff going after you break a connection, or you make a little branching path where one branch connects all regular and the other goes through a capacitor, and the electricity which is coming in in little pulses effectively comes out as a relatively steady stream because every time it'd cut out the capacity lets its charge go.

We don't just have switches, we have potentiometers.

OK, so... all of the above is just sort of about having a current and maybe worrying about how strong it is, but other than explaining how you can just kinda have main power rails running all over, and just hook stuff across them all willy-nilly rather than being forced to put everything in one big line, but still, all you can do with that is turn the whole thing on and off by breaking the circuit. Incidentally, switches, buttons, keys, and anything else you use to control the behavior of any electronic device really are just physically touching loose wires together or pulling them apart... well wait no, not all, this is a good bit to know.

None of this is actually pass/fail, really, there's wave amplitudes and how big a difference we have between the all. So when you have like, a volume knob, that's a potentiometer, which is a simple little thing where you've got your wire, it's going through a resistor, and then we have another wire we're scraping back and forth along the resistor, using a knob, usually, and the idea is the current only has to go through X percent of the resistor to get to the wire you're moving, which proportionately reduces the resistance. So you have like a 20 volt current, you've got a resistor that'll drop that down to 5 or so, but then you move this other wire down along and you've got this whole dynamic range and you can fine tune it to 15 or 10 or whatever coming down that wire. And what's nice about this again, what's actually coming down the wire is this wobbily wave of current, it's not really just "on" or "off, and as you add resistance, the wobble stays the same, it's just the peaks and valleys get closer to being just flat. Which is great if you're making, say, a knob to control volume, or brightness, or anything you want variable intensity in really.

Hey hey, it's a relay!

Again, a lot of the earliest stuff people did with electronics was really dependent on that analog wobbly waveform angle. Particularly for reproducing sound, and particularly the signals of a telegraph. Those had to travel down wires for absurd distances, and as previously stated, when you do that the signal is going to eventually decay to nothing. But then someone came up with this really basic idea where every so often along those super long wires, you set something up that takes the old signal and uses it to start a new one. They called them relays, because you know, it's like a relay race.

If you know how an electromagnet works (something about the field generated when you coil a bunch of copper wire around an iron core and run an electric current through it), a relay is super simple. You've got an electromagnet in the first circuit you're running, presumably right by where it's going to hit the big charged endpoint, and that magnetically pulls a tab of metal that's acting as a switch on a new circuit. As long as you've got enough juice left to activate the magnet, you slam that switch and voom you've got all the voltage you can generate on the new line.

Relays don't get used too much in other stuff, being unpopular at the time for not being all analog and wobbily (slamming that switch back and forth IS going to be a very binary on or off sorta thing), and they make this loud clacking noise that's actually just super cool to hear in devices that do use them (pinball machines are one of the main surviving use cases I believe) but could be annoying in some cases. What's also neat is that they're a logical AND gate. That is, if you have current flowing into the magnet, AND you have current flowing into the new wire up to the switch, you have it flowing out through the far side of the switch, but if either of those isn't true, nothing happens. Logic gates, to get ahead of myself a bit, are kinda the whole thing with computers, but we still need the rest of them. So for these purposes, relays re only neat if it's the most power and space efficient AND gate you have access to.

Oh and come to think of it, there's no reason we need to have that magnet closing the circuit when it's doing its thing. We could have it closed by default and yank it open by the magnet. Hey, now we're inverting whatever we're getting on the first wire! Neat!

Relay computers clack too loud! Gimme vacuum tubes!

So... let's take a look at the other main thing people used electricity for before coming up with the whole computer thing, our old friend the light bulb! Now I already touched a bit on the whole wacky alternating current thing, and I think this is actually one of the cases that eventually lead to it being adopted so widely, but the earliest light bulbs tended to just use normal direct current, where again, you've got the positive end and the negative end, and we just take a little filament of whatever we have handy that glows when you run enough of a current through it, and we put that in a big glass bulb and pump out all the air we can, because if we don't, the oxygen in there is probably going to change that from glowing a bit to straight up catching on fire and burning immediately.

But, we have a new weird little problem, because of the physics behind that glowing. Making something hot, on a molecular level, is just kinda adding energy to the system so everything jitters around more violently, and if you get something hot enough that it glows, you're getting it all twitchy enough for tinier particles to just fly the hell off it. Specifically photons, that's the light bit, but also hey, remember, electrons are just kinda free moving and whipping all over looking for their naked proton pals... and hey, inside this big glass bulb, we've got that other end of the wire with the more positive charge to it. Why bother wandering up this whole coily filament when we're in a vacuum and there's nothing to get in the way if we just leap straight over that gap? So... they do that, and they're coming in fast and on elliptical approaches and all, so a bunch of electrons overshoot and smack into the glass on the far side, and now one side of every light bulb is getting all gross and burnt from that and turning all brown and we can't have that.

So again, part of the fix is we switched to alternating current so it's at least splitting those wild jumps up to either side, but before that, someone tried to solve this by just... kinda putting a backboard in there. Stick a big metal plate on the end of another wire in the bulb connected to a positive charge, and now OK, all those maverick electrons smack into here and aren't messing up the glass, but also hey, this is a neat little thing. Those electrons are making that hop because they're all hot and bothered. If we're not heating up the plate they're jumping to, and there's no real reason we'd want to, then if we had a negative signal over on that side... nothing would happen. Electrons aren't getting all antsy and jumping back.

So now we have a diode! The name comes because we have two (di-) electrodes (-ode) we care about in the bulb (we're just kind of ignoring the negative one), and it's a one way street for our circuit. That's useful for a lot of stuff, like not having electricity flow backwards through complex systems and mess things up, converting AC to DC (when it flips, current won't flow through the diode so we lop off the bottom of the wave, and hey, we can do that thing with capacitors to release their current during those cutoffs, and if we're clever we can get a pretty steady high).

More electrodes! More electrodes!

So a bit after someone worked out this whole vacuum tube diode thing, someone went hey, what if it was a triode? So, let's stick another electrode in there, and this one just kinda curves around in the middle, just kinda making a grate or a mesh grid, between our hot always flowing filament and that catch plate we're keeping positively charged when it's doing stuff. Well this works in a neat way. If there's a negative charge on it, it's going to be pushing back on those electrons jumping over, and if there's a positive charge on it, it's going to help pull those electrons over (it's all thin, so they're going to shoot right past it, especially if there's way more of a positive charge over on the plate... and here's the super cool part- This is an analog thing. If we have a relatively big negative charge, it's going to repel everything, if it's a relatively big positive, it's going to pull a ton across, if it's right in the middle, it's like it wasn't even in there, and you can have tiny charges for all the gradients in between.

We don't need a huge charge for any of this though, because we're just helping or hindering the big jump from the high voltage stuff, and huh, weren't we doing this whole weak current controlling a strong current thing before with the relay? We were! And this is doing the same thing! Except now we're doing it all analog style, not slapping switch with a magnet, and we can make those wavy currents peak higher or lower and cool, now we can have phone lines boost over long distances too, and make volume knobs, and all that good stuff.

The relay version of this had that cool trick though where you could flip the output. Can we still flip the output? We sure can, we just need some other toys in the mix. See we keep talking about positive charges and negative charges at the ends of our circuits, but these are relative things. I mentioned way back when how you can use resistors to throttle how much of a current we've got, so you can run two wires to that grid in the triode. One connects to a negative charge and the other positive, with resistors on both those lines, and a switch that can break the connection on the positive end. If the positive is disconnected, we've got a negative charge on the grid, since it's all we've got, but if we connect it, and the resistor to the negative end really limits flow, we're positive in the section the grid's in. And over on the side with the collecting plate, we branch off with another resistor setup so the negative charge on that side is normally the only viable connection for a positive, but when we flip the grid to positive, we're jumping across the gap in the vacuum tube, and that's a big open flow so we'll just take those electrons instead of the ones that have to squeeze through a tight resistor to get there.

That explanation is probably a bit hard to follow because I'm over here trying to explain it based on how the electrons are actually getting pulled around. In the world of electronics everyone decided to just pretend the flow is going the other way because it makes stuff easier to follow. So pretend we have magical positrons that go the other way and if they have nothing better to do they go down the path where we have all the fun stuff further down the circuit lighting lights and all that even though it's a tight squeeze through a resistor, because there's a yucky double negative in the triode and that's worse, but we have the switch rigged up to make that a nice positive go signal to the resistance free promised land with a bonus booster to cut across, so we're just gonna go that way when the grid signal's connected.

Oh and you can make other sorts of logic circuits or double up on them in a single tube if you add more grids and such, which we did for a while, but not really relevant these days.

Cool history lesson but I know there's no relays or vacuum tubes in my computer.

Right, so the above things are how we used to make computers, but they were super bulky, and you'd have to deal with how relays are super loud and kinda slow, and vacuum tubes need a big power draw and get hot. What we use instead of either of those these days are transistors. See after spending a good number of years working out all this circuit flow stuff with vacuum tubes we eventually focused on how the real important thing in all of this is how with the right materials you can make a little juncture where current flows between a positive and negative charge if a third wire going in there is also positively charged, but if it's negatively charged we're pulling over. And turns out there is a WAY more efficient way of doing that if you take a chunk of good ol' middle of the electron road silicon, and just kinda lightly paint the side of it with just the tiniest amount of positive leaning and negative leaning elements on the sides.

Really transistors don't require understanding anything new past the large number of topics already covered here, they're just more compact about it. Positive leaning bit, negative leaning bit, wildcard in the middle, like a vacuum tube. Based on the concepts of pulling electrons around from chemistry, like a circuit in general. The control wire in the middle kinda works in just a pass-fail sort of way, like a relay. They're just really nice compared to the older alternatives because they don't make noise or have moving parts to wear down, you don't have to run enough current through them for metal to start glowing and the whole room to heat up, and you can make them small. Absurdly small. Like... need an electron microscope to see them small.

And of course you can also make an inverter super tiny like that, and a diode (while you're at it you can use special materials or phosphors to make them light emitting, go LEDs!) and resistors can get pretty damn small if you just use less of a more resistant material, capacitors I think have a limit to how tiny you can get, practically, but yeah, you now know enough of the basic fundamentals of how computers work to throw some logic gates together. We've covered how a relay, triode, or transistor function as an AND gate. An OR gate is super easy, you just stick diodes on two wires so you don't have messy backflow then connect them together and lead off there. If you can get your head around wiring up an inverter (AKA NOT), hey, stick one after an AND to get a NAND, or an OR to get a NOR. You can work out XOR and XNOR from there right? Just build 4 NANDs, pass input A into gates 1 and 2, B into 2 and 3, 2's output into 1 and 3, 1 and 3's output into 4 for a XOR, use NORs instead for a XNOR. That's all of them right? So now just build a ton of those and arrange them into a computer. It's all logic and math from there.

Oh right. It's... an absurd amount of logic and math, and I can only fit so many words in a blog post. So we'll have to go all...

CONTINUED IN PART 2!

Meanwhile, again, if you can spare some cash I'd really appreciate it.

#computers #computer science #history #electronics #education #relays #transistors #vacuum tubes

559 notes · View notes

deathofacupid · 1 year ago

Text

game (headcanon) | clay jensen

a/n: something. i had to post something. (i'm halfway through season three, any requests can only be made in the timeline of season one + two + three! please, no spoilers! (i'll cry.) i wanted to write something, literally anything, to get the creative wheels turning. this is kind of just a starting point for me. italics - clay; normal - ...anyone that isn't clay.

summary: how you and clay became you and clay.

warnings: mostly fluff, some depressive/suic!d@l thoughts (nature of clay), it's 13rw... let's face it, the show tackles some dark stuff.

pairing: fem!reader x clay jensen

word count: 0.79k+ words

-after hannah, clay wasn't great at putting himself out there, especially when it came to girls.

-the biggest thing he'd be worried about was girls. once hannah passed, the main reason he was having trouble was because he was trying to find another hannah.

-clay couldn't help but compare everyone to her.

-it was funny though, because the second he saw you, it was like; who's hannah? the world of "before hannah" and "after hannah" was gone.

-in that moment, when you'd first locked eyes, anything revolving the mere thought of hannah disappeared. he didn't have to think about her, and as selfish as it feels to him, it was refreshing. relieving.

-and you know what? he loved that feeling. he loved the feeling of cloud nine.

-sure, plently of times he'd considered asked you out. and then the thought would hit him like a brick; he's never even said a word to you. how's he going to ask you anything at all, if he can't even utter yet a simple "hi" to you?

-trust me, he tries. clay tries a whole lot. but he'll be inches away, and freeze up.

-part of him is afraid to love again, because what if everything ends up like hannah? like one big repeat? he's not sure if he can live through that again. it was hard enough the first time around.

-eventually, he gives up, choosing to admire you from afar.

-it's luck for him, however, when you're the one to break the ice.

-he remembers it clearly, how you lean over during english lit.

-"clay? do you have any idea what we're doing. because... yeah, i wasn't listening." / "huh? what? oh, uh, yeah- yeah, it's chapters 12-15, questions 1-10."

-he's panicking. you're talking to him.

the second time, you're complaining about your math grade to a friend. he's not even thinking when he blurts out:

-"i can help you. like, tutor you or whatever. i'm pretty good at it." / "wait, really? like, for real?" / "sure."

-clay's non-chalant on the outside, not so much on the inside.

-you seem happy, and instantly, he is too.

-the first thing he does is head into his room, kicking justin out.

-"yeah, okay, well, the adoption papers strongly disagree." / "please? y/n's coming over! i need this to go well." / "y/n? no shit?" / "no shit."

-justin gives in, he's clay's number hypeman anyways. justin lingers in the main house, and then finally wanders to find jessica. that's not clay's concern right now, though.

-it's his room. or more specifically, his shared room. he's freaking out, he hasn't been this nervous since the trial, as he shoves all - i mean all - of justin's crap into the closet, then cleaning up his own.

-he hesisitates over his akr comics, before shoving them in a drawer.

-clay showers, it won't hurt, and spritzes on some of justin's more... masculine colongne.

-half an hour later, there's a knock at the door. he's giddy as he answers it, yet nervous as well.

-"nice house-shed." / "thanks."

-he hopes it a compliment. you're nodding in approval, taking in his room. (shared room.) the little trinkets and trophies.

-and the one akr comic he left out.

-"oh, you read these?" / "y-yeah. i mean, yes. i do. wait- do you?" / no, but my little brother does."

-it's incredible how the conversation flows so smoothly after that.

-after a while, you and him got close. suddenly, it wasn't just study/tutoring sessions, it was hangouts at your place and his.

-everyone thought the two of you were dating, starting with justin.

-he would just be talking to his brother, and it would slip in.

-"how's it going between you and y/n?" / "what's going?" / "dude, you still haven't said anything?" / "there's nothing to say."

-or between his parents:

-"clay, honey, how's your girlfriend? you should bring her over for dinner!" / "we aren't dating, mom." / "really?"

-and more frequently, at school. everyone just assumed you and him were together, and at some point, you stopped correcting them.

-"hey, man, your girlfriend left her jacket in class." / "i'll give it to her."

-somewhere along the line, the difference between dating and not-dating blurred, to the point where you weren't even sure what was going on.

-"hi, not-boyfriend." / "hey, not-girlfriend."

-^became a regular occurence.

-"should we just date? y-you know, because everyone thinks we are... so... it's like-" / "sure." / "okay. wait, really?" / "yeah, why not? i'm suprised it took you this long. i'm literally always flirting with you." / "oh."

-like i said, clay isn't always the best with girls. it doesn't matter though, because you have enough game for the both of them.

#clay jensen x reader #13rw #13 reasons why #thirteen reasons why #clay jensen x y/n #clay jensen fanfic #clay jensen fluff #clay jensen self insert #13rw self insert

232 notes · View notes

girlgrouptrash101 · 2 years ago

Text

Karina (Aespa) as Your Girlfriend

Requests:

"aespa’s karina as your gf please?"

"Can you do Karina from aespa as a girlfriend please?"

"I would like to request Aespa Karina as your girlfriend 😍"

"hi!! i hope your having a great day and i hope your doing well, can i request aespa’s karina as your gf? thank you~"

"Hello! Can I please request Aespa’s Karina as your girlfriend? Thank you!"

A/N: cannot believe it has been over 2 years since I've written anything lol. so here's a lil something to try get the creative juices flowing again wOO 🤭

- C

when 99% of the relationship is you just staring at karina and wondering how someone can be that beautiful. as you SHOULD

idk why but i feel like karina is the perfect person for the trope where she would make a habit of going to the same coffee shop every day even though she hates coffee,, just because you were the cute barista that worked there

despite her cool and composed aura, she unfortunately had no idea how to talk to you outside of ordering a drink; her brain would just fizzle out whenever she tried to strike up further conversation 🥲

so you had to be the one to take the first step, which took a hot minute because perhaps. miss yoo jimin had a sliiiiiightly threatening aura at first (you quickly learned she was really just a cutie patootie behind that stoic face she tended to wear. teehee)

after gaining enough courage, you ended up asking her out for coffee because you thought hm,, she comes here every day for coffee she must love it!

safe to say it was a little surprising when she responded with a very embarrassed "...i don't even like coffee"

with the tips of her ears flushing red as she had to explain her reasoning behind coming in every day

you decided instead to take her to the carnival that came to town every summer

[insert cliche top of the ferris wheel kiss here]

and every summer since then you've always gone to the carnival together, the two of you running around to go on all the rides like little kids, never getting tired of it even though you do the same thing every time it comes

she's the kind of girl to be super head over heels for you but never admit it until those times where you lay side by side in bed at night, your eyes doing your best to see each other's silhouettes in the dark

her hand coming up to rest on your cheek, thumb gently caressing your face as she reminds you of how much you mean to her

but don't bring it up the morning after unless you wanna get hit with the "idek what you're talking about i would never be so sappy 🤨"

fit checks!!!

refuses to leave the house in said fit unless you send a paragraph in all caps hyping her tf up (it's just what she deserves!)

queen of soft launching your relationship on social media 🥹

like IG stories of flowers you gave her, or your hands intertwined, but nothing too much more than that

because it's her relationship and she doesn't need the world to know about every little thing you two get up to,, that's for her to know and her only

well......... her and the aespa girlies who can't help but smile every time their leader comes home and launches herself face first into her pillow, gushing over how much she likes you and how nice your date was

(which she will NEVER admit happens. she's no softie, okay? okay. yes she is hehehehe)

ningning stealing karina's phone at the dorm and blowing your phone up with memes n sending off guard pics of Karina lol <3

Loves going for walks in the park nearby, no matter the weather or time, especially if there's something on her mind and she just wants to get some fresh air and chat it out with you

lives in your hoodies whether you like it or not, you have no choice cuz girlie just treats your wardrobe as hers

never brings PJs when she's staying at yours as an excuse for you to lend her even more clothes

brings a film camera everywhere,, her favourite thing is when the film fills up and she gets the pictures developed so she can bring them back to you and you can look back over the memories shared together

scrapbooking together !!! will even spend hours in the stationary shop looking for the perfect pen/washi tape to use for it hehe.

Can't stand it but also loves it when you compliment her as often as you do

(but it hurts ur heart a little when you feel she doesn't believe what you say is true, you wish she could feel the same love she has for you for herself too :[ )

so you pledge to always be there to lift her up and be her #1 fan!! in both day to day life and as a My of course

which meanssss first row seats to all the aespa concerts, practice nights, just generally supporting her through thick and thin, and she will no doubt do the same for you!

and that one day you came to an aespa fansign to surprise her 🥹 she had to hold back all the affection she wanted to give you :((((

gaming nights 🤓 and by gaming i mean gardenscapes....... god she's such a lil nerd

anime nights 🤓 her getting all excited when her faves come on screen, smacking you on the leg repeatedly with joy while she explains what's going on (because as much as you enjoy sitting down to watch her favourite shows w her, you really didn't understand half of it LOL)

loooooves late night arcade dates

especially so she can win plushies in the claw machines,,, or rather, you can win them for her (so chivalrous 😁)

her love for claw machine plushies gets so bad that your bed now has a mountain of them stacked up that you have to throw off before bed everyyyyy night omg

not to change the subject but like. Karina's morning cuddles 🥹

or for the mornings where you wake up late, your eyes opening to the sound of her padding back into the bedroom to check on you, a smile creeping onto your face as you feel the bed sink where she sits by your side

and when she leans over to kiss your forehead, her gorgeous locks framing her face while her cute glasses slip down her nose 🥹🥹🥹 IM GONNA CRY

tldr; the softest girl that just wants to be loved the way she loves you 😔

409 notes · View notes

thepenandthepistol · 7 months ago

Text

Empty Page (Pearl x reader)

When hit with a creative block, you spend some time on the Hermitcraft server, Pearl's base being your last stop. An evening spent in her newly constructed ballroom changes your perspective, for better or for worse.

A/N: This was really fun to write, at first, it was going to be just some fluff but I can't help myself and I made it a bit sad- The next piece after this will probably be a bit longer, so here's something shorter and sweeter to keep us going in the meantime. Inspired by Empty Page from the Crane Wives. (1261 words)

Art by @/applestruda and dividers by @/cafekitsune

Summer has taken over the fields. Flapping in the wind, mills and turbines drone constantly into midday, as smaller, trilling bots harvest the countless crop circles dotted around a giant factory. Despite the sun’s place high atop the cloudless sky, your shadow casts long upon the walls of the workshop. With your easel in front of you, beside the vibrant green and blue of the land below, you are now more than ever terrified at the sight of the pure white canvas.

You’re a tourist, not a hermit, staying briefly to gather ideas for your work. Beautiful paintings lined your halls back home, scenery and portraits, all ten cent copies of better works. This excursion of yours is the longest you’ve been away from the house. Still, the fresh air that would usually jump start your creative muscles has done little to help get you out of your rut.

In your bag, you rifle through your sketch book. Assorted scenes line the pages, Gem’s antenna, Skizz’s pyramid, other smaller locations. None of them are interesting. Experimenting with composition has led to nowhere, which is how you know things have gotten dire.

After years of creating and creating, maybe you’ve just run out. Used up all your best ideas, some of them in the stupidest ways, and now you’re dry. The postcard you’d sketched when first arriving calls to you from out the other belongings. A nice sunset, easy. It looks decent, but something’s missing. This isn’t as good as it could be. It’s not yours.

“Hows the painting coming along?” Pearl pops out of her workroom and you almost send your bag rolling downhill.

“Uh, not smoothly?” You say, grimacing from the slight shame. You’ve been up here since dawn with nothing to show for it except a wad of folded paper in your pocket. “Here, thanks for letting me stay with you. I wanted to make you something better, but in the meantime, I hope this’ll suffice.”

She takes the sheet from you with a curious grin and gawks when she sees the charcoal image: her dogs in a variety of poses, one jumping at the camera, another snoozing under a tree, the others doing much of the same.

“This looks incredible.“ She points to one of the hounds, salivating on a piece of beef. “You got his face just right!” She grins and stares a little longer at the page, carefully folding it back up.

“It’s no use being a perfectionist.” She offers tentatively as you snicker and bring your knees to your chest.

“That’s rich coming from you.” You snort softly. “It’s not the issue, though.” The muscles around your throat close as you speak through gritted teeth.

“It’s alright if the juices aren’t flowing.” She wiggles her fingers at the word. “You’ll get them working, eventually.”

“You don’t get it Pearl. I’ve been at this for weeks now! It’s not a matter of inspiration or whatever.” You ball your fists into the grass with a sharp sigh.

“It’s like every brushstroke is a part of someone else’s vision. I can paint sure, but I can’t make the important stuff, the stuff that makes my art mine.” A second passes. You consider brushing her off, making a joke and pretending you aren’t as affected as you are.

You quietly yelp as Pearl pulls you into her soft embrace, a hand on your back and another in your hair. “You will eventually. Until then, there’s not much to do but try again.”

Her marred alabaster skin feels like a fever against your own, as if the sunburn scars dotting her shoulders could return the heat that caused them.

“If you weren’t hugging me right now, I would’ve called you a callous ass.”

“Hey!” She squeezes you and even in the face of that barren canvas, you laugh along with her.

The rest of the week goes by and once or twice you feel that maybe your spark will return, but it never does. Pearl is a constant, keeping you silent company as she works on a building just out of sight. It’s a massive construct of arches and polished stone, bricks placed one by one making up the roof.

On your last day, you ditch the oil paints, leaving the tubes scattered at your bedside, to watch the sunset. That scorching ball of light fades into the horizon as Pearl hops down from her project, finally finished, to watch it beside you.

“It looks really good, Pearl. The arches are so detailed.” You crane your head to look at the building, trying to see through the stained glass inside. Pearl grins beside you and turns to lean against the rock dividing the terrain into terraces.

“It’s gonna be a ballroom.�� She states, crossing her arms and puffing her chest. Her eyes narrow, as if she can see the future through them, all the things that could be.

“I’m a bit sad I won’t be around to see it.” Your departure has been a topic avoided even in the days leading up to this one. Your things are packed, all that’s left is the mess of paints and pallets.

“You can take a look at it now! Come on, I want to show you something.” She grabs your hand, dashing up the steps two at a time. Her hat almost falls as she looks back to the darkening orange sky.

“You really outdid yourself.” Your voice echos as you take a hesitant step inside, guided tenderly by Pearl. Her hand is calloused from hauling materials and spending all her time building. They’re kind not in spite of the roughness.

There’s something about her. Even now, her steps are passionate as she brings you to the center of that empty room. Her back and shoulders are sculpted, with skin that has seen days of work spilling slightly over an inky undershirt.

“Here, let’s give you one happy memory before you go.” She untangles your hands, letting one fall to your waist and the other sit comfortably on your shoulder. A figure bolts just out of sight, high up in the rafters, and music pours from a jukebox. You can’t help but chuckle in disbelief.

“You’ve given me tons of good memories.” Trying to ignore the outline of her fingertips on you, they readjust their grip as she takes the first steps of a waltz. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“I know, but you didn’t get what you came here for. Pretty disappointing trip, if you ask me.” She moves slowly, looking to you as your footing mirrors hers.

“I think I need to find what sets me apart.” Your grip on Pearl’s own waist firms, taking a silent breath and moving along to the music at its normal pace.

“You’ve helped with that.” The words come out of your mouth in a whisper as the music crescendos and with a palm to her back, you dip her. Dangerously close to the floor, but still safe in your hold. “So no, not disappointing at all.”

Her earnings reflect the fading crimson of the sky outside, peaking through the windows and casting your joint shadow on the wooden floor. Her hand reaches back towards your hair, fingers finding their perch on the nape of your neck, thumb ghosting the curve beside your lip.

“Come back whenever you like. I’ll be here.” Her brows knit as you pull her back up, keeping her close.

“I will, I promise. When I do, I’ll paint you and it’ll be the best thing I’ve ever made.”

#hermitcraft x reader #pearl x reader #pearlescentmoon x reader #mcyt x reader #x reader

70 notes · View notes

fluffystuffies · 2 months ago

Text

Songs of Joy and Laughter [Cookie Run]

Summary: Some time has passed since the rift incident and Greenbell Cookie is more than happy to spend some time with her best friend. Unfortunately, the event still effects her (and Whiteberry Cookie) to some degree. On the fortunate side of things, Whiteberry Cookie remembers a certain thing the two of them used to do, which is perfect for cheering up!

Words: 5913

hello hello! i started playing Tower of Adventures a little while ago and i absolutely LOVED the Greenbell Cookie event-aaand then I got this idea and had to write it out- still very new to Cookie Run so first tickle fic for this game time yay! (also the actual tickling part doesn't start until like 2k words in cause i like to take my time with these kdjgkdj and a little hurt/comfort in the beginning for the soul-)

anyways, enjoy! :D

--------

A cool breeze ran its way through the soft blades of grass adorning Windy Hill, swaying them so gently one would think the hill’s namesake itself was caressing them like a hand would over a drowsing bread cat. If one listened closely, perhaps they could hear a rhythm within the subtle taps of the grass blades towards one another.

Greenbell Cookie could faintly make out a basic rhythm within the breeze, her teal-green eyecing squinting as she attempted to visualize it onto a music sheet. It was a shaky image, as she was musically skilled, but her ability to actually compose her own music waned in comparison to bringing laid out music sheets to life (her best friend was more fitted for composing).

Even so, she found herself humming the notes she could see, eyecing closing contentedly as the breeze lightly lifted her light green hair.

“That’s a nice melody.”

Greenbell Cookie squeaked, her humming abruptly cutting itself off. “Ah-!” Jam rushed to her face as she remembered that she wasn’t alone.

There was a light chuckle from beside her, belonging to Whiteberry Cookie, her closest friend, soothing green eyecing squinted in amusement. “Startled you, did I?”

Greenbell Cookie’s face somehow became even redder. “Of course you did! You know you did!” she pouted, lightly pushing against her friend’s shoulder. It barely made him move.

Another light laugh left him. “Anyways…where did you hear that melody?” he inquired, still smiling. “It doesn’t sound like any of the songs we’ve done recently.”

“Ah! Um, well, I heard a rhythm in the breeze and I was, um, trying to hum it…” She felt a little silly explaining it like that, feeling her face warm even further and faintly wondering just how red it could truly become.

It wasn’t helped by the laughter that once again sprouted from Whiteberry Cookie, his shoulders shaking.

“Hey, don’t laugh! I thought it was a nice melody!” Greenbell Cookie protested, pout deepening.

“No no, I’m not laughing at you! I do the same thing. Why do you think this is my favorite place to write the songs you all play?” Whiteberry Cookie explained, hugging his ever-present book (turned folder by this point from how many music sheets he stuffed into it on a regular basis) to his chest.

“Oh!” Greenbell Cookie vocalized, embarrassment for a different reason blooming on her face. “Right.”

Whiteberry Cookie once again chuckled. “Your face is all red again,” he commented, nearly laughing again at the resulting squinted look on his friend’s face.

“Oh, shush!” Greenbell Cookie said with a small smile that she couldn’t stop from emerging. Her face finally cooled down as she hummed. “I only wish I could write it down like you can.”

“It takes some time to get a creative flow going for sure. But if you decided to take it up, I’m sure you’d get the hang of it in no time.” It was a statement said with all amounts of sincerity and an equally gentle smile.

“Maybe…” Greenbell Cookie mumbled, frowning in thought for a moment. “Though I guess for now, we leave the composing to you!” she finished with a smile.

“Happy to be here,” Whiteberry Cookie responded in kind with a small mock half-bow, drawing a small giggle out of his friend.

After a moment, his eyecing drifted to the sky and Greenbell Cookie watched as he settled down on the ground, adjusting his wings as he laid there, book still clutched in his arms.

Greenbell Cookie didn’t waste a second and followed his lead, the back of her head hitting the grass. She wiggled slightly to get comfortable with her wings then let her eyecing move in the same direction as his.

“It’s been a while since we’ve done this, huh?” the berry-infused cookie stated after a moment.

Greenbell Cookie hummed, “I suppose it has…” She paused. “I wonder if I can find a cloud that looks like a cake hound like that one time…”

“You mean the squashed Bear Jelly?” Whiteberry Cookie asked immediately with a mildly amused look in her direction.

“It looked like a cake hound when I was looking at it, I swear!” the flower-inspired cookie replied with faux-annoyance and another weak push to her friend’s shoulder.

Whiteberry Cookie just gave another light laugh, soon going back to watching the bright blue sky and the puffy white shapes that trudged their way through it.

Neither one of them spoke for a few minutes. The only sound that traveled through either of their ears was the soft breeze that continuously made its path across the hill that earned its name through it.

Greenbell Cookie found herself closing her eyecing after a while, sighing contentedly. It had been some time since she had allowed herself to relax as much as this. Even when she was having fun with her other bandmates, there was always a nagging in the back of her head that made her a little too watchful of her movements. Or made her self-conscious if she spoke or hummed too loud. Then she would start thinking about other cookies watching her and she would find herself red in the face and unable to speak above a whisper.

Here, she was within the comfort of her best friend and their mutual, yet quiet banter. It was nice.

Eyecing still closed, she reached out to her side for her friend.

Her hand met the grass and her fingers fumbled around for the cookie she was feeling for, face scrunching up until her eyecing shot open and she sat up with a panicked noise. “Whiteberry Cookie?!” she called out in a rush, looking from side to side.

She stopped when her eyecing landed on the cookie she was looking for, right where he had been prior, just having moved just out of her reach.

His book was on the ground beside him and in his right hand he held a small, yellow flower that looked freshly picked. His eyecing were widened slightly, probably at her reaction.

Greenbell Cookie felt jam rise to give her face a deeply flushed color. Oh. Right. She was–Whiteberry Cookie was–

Right. They were…out. He was there and so was she. They were out.

The flower-inspired cookie lowered her gaze to the grass, running a hand over it. The red gradually began to leave her face, disappearing just enough to give her a rosy complexion rather than a cherry one.

Admittedly, it hadn’t been long since they had both escaped the rift. Maybe two weeks at most. And while Greenbell Cookie had improved considerably from checking up on her friend every chance she got to make sure he wasn’t gone again, she still had moments.

She could still remember every route she had taken to find him. Every route that had led her to a moment of terror before the sparkle and shine of the star brought her back to the hills. She could remember the taunting of the illusions the labyrinth had conjured, never touching and only watching, pale imitations of the cookie she wanted to save. She could remember the falsity that had taken her friend’s dough, muttering her name like a mantra and hugging her close as though she would disappear if it didn’t. She could remember forgetting and the consequences of remembering as it sunk her down.

She had nightmares of those times. Even more so nightmares of Whiteberry Cookie forgetting her. Of the cookie she had known for years looking at her as though she were a complete stranger. Somehow, those were the worst ones.

“Greenbell Cookie? Are you alright?”

Said cookie jumped slightly, looking at her friend for a few seconds, then down at the ground once more. She considered explaining but from the way she felt her throat closing up and how her eyecing was growing misty, she had a feeling she wouldn’t be able to get the words out at the moment. At least not without a sob escaping her first.

And honestly…she just wanted to hug him. To make sure he was there. To make sure she hadn’t woken up to another loop.

She looked back up, her lips trembling as she held her arms out.

Whiteberry Cookie’s face grew concerned. Then his eyecing widened slightly as realization came over him. “Oh.” He frowned, immediately scooting over and wrapping his arms around her, allowing her to hold onto him.

Greenbell Cookie let a shaky sigh escape her as she sank into her friend, comforted just by the fact that she could do this. If she hadn’t found him…

She hugged him tighter. She had found him. He was here and so was she. The rift had closed and neither one of them were ever going near another one again.

“Are you okay?” Whiteberry Cookie asked after a moment, loosening the hug slightly but not letting go.

Greenbell Cookie swallowed, hesitating on speaking. “I…thought I had woken up and you were still…” she trailed off.

“I’m not anymore,” Whiteberry Cookie responded almost immediately, adjusting slightly. “You saved me, remember? I’m here now and I owe it all to you, Greenbell Cookie.”

“I remember…” And she was more appreciative now than ever that she did. Every memory she had ever had was one she held close to her being now, knowing the disorienting cloudiness that came with forgetting everything. “I-I should be braver now but…I’m still scared,” she admitted, breath hitching as her vision blurred.

“That’s alright. I don’t think anyone can just…get braver just like that. But you still went through all of that, and we’re both here now because you pushed through your fear,” Whiteberry Cookie said, leaning his head on hers. “If it…makes it any better, I was scared too.” Greenbell Cookie perked up in surprise at that, sniffling. “I had faith in you, but…I was scared when I forgot your name. Then I started to forget other things, like my favorite color, favorite food…and…I was scared that I was starting to fear less because of it,” he confessed.

“Oh…” was all Greenbell Cookie could say. She hugged him tighter as she tried to get more words out. “I forgot a lot while I was in there but…you were in there the whole time. I already know it was scary…”

“It still kind of is. I guess we’re both still trying to be brave,” Whiteberry Cookie said with a small chuckle. “...are you feeling any better?” he asked after a moment, concern evident in his tone.

Greenbell Cookie thought about letting her friend go, but the thought of him being just out of her reach once more just made tears well up in her eyecing again. “J-just…a little longer…” she responded, voice wavering.

Whiteberry Cookie leaned back into her with a soft exhale. “Okay.”

She felt a hand slowly rub up and down her back as she struggled to keep herself from outright crying. “I-I’m just really glad I found you…” she whispered, finding that was as loud as she could go.

“Me too,” Whiteberry Cookie replied softly.

There was silence for a couple minutes, save for Greenbell Cookie’s poorly-muffled sniffling. Then she reached up around Whiteberry Cookie’s arm to wipe at her eyecing, breathing shakily.

“O-okay, I think I’m okay…” she said, letting go and continuing to rub away her tears.

“You sure?” the berry-infused cookie asked, furrowing his brows. His arms were still slightly raised as though he were ready to supply another hug if needed.

Greenbell Cookie just nodded with a watery smile. “Y-yeah. I just want to enjoy the rest of the afternoon with you.” It would do her no good to think about possibilities that wouldn’t happen. At least not now. Not when she was trying to relax.

Whiteberry Cookie frowned for a moment, then relaxed his expression, smiling softly. “Do you want to lay back down? Maybe we can spot the squashed head of one of our bandmates,” he joked lightly.

The flower-inspired cookie gave a wet giggle, swiping at her eyecing once more. “Enough with the squashed comments! One is enough!”

“Never,” he responded simply and laid back down, his friend following suit.

Though with every poorly-hidden sniffle that escaped his friend, he couldn’t help his eyecing darting over in concern. While the statement of wanting to enjoy the afternoon wasn’t untrue, he wasn’t entirely convinced of how content she was. The last thing he wanted was for his best friend, the one who had gone through all that strife just to find him (she had spilled everything that she could remember to him the moment they had both had an afternoon of quiet. She had cried then too), was for her to be unhappy.

The first thing he thought of was to give her another song he wrote, but he didn’t have any current ideas and he briefly wondered if it was too soon after the last incident. He was…also worried that his determination to get his friend a gift would be the cause of another unfortunate accident.

Whiteberry Cookie hummed as he lightly ran his hand over the grass beneath him, flinching at the weird sensation before perking up with an idea. A small smile made its way onto his face before he dropped it into a neutral expression, looking over at his friend.

Greenbell Cookie felt…mostly calm now, though her eyecing still felt puffy and sore from the crying she had been unable to stop.

“Greenbell Cookie?”

Said cookie full-body flinched at the sudden address before she looked over at the cookie next to her. “Hm?” she wordlessly questioned with a hum.

“Could I…have another hug?” Whiteberry Cookie asked, almost timidly.

Greenbell Cookie’s eyecing widened slightly. Her friend was hardly ever timid asking for things like that. Moreso, it was rare for him to ask for affection in general. Not that he disliked it! He was just content with others coming to him rather than him taking the initiative.

Keeping all that in mind, how could she possibly refuse him?

“Of course,” Greenbell Cookie said as sat up with a small smile and held out her arms, watching her friend sit up with a similar expression. Then he moved closer and she wrapped her arms around him, feeling him do the same.

She smiled blissfully, resting her chin on his shoulder.

Then she felt his arms move to wrap themselves around her further and she furrowed her brows in mild confusion.

Before flinching violently when she felt his hands wiggle themselves against her sides. Her eyecing went wide as they both stilled. “Whiteberry Cookieee…” she uttered nervously, hands tightening their grip on his clothes.

Her friend hummed and she gave another full-body jolt as his hands moved again, this time only doing a light tapping where her sides met her belly. She felt him smile against her shoulder before the tapping became a miniature dance where his fingers moved in a set of wiggling circles.

“Whitebeheherry Cook-EEK!!” she squealed out as she began to lose control of her movements, lightly squirming in an attempt to get away from the tickly attacks that were happening from both sides. Still, her friend held her close and continued to climb his fingers up her sides to her ‘ribs’, beginning to move and press his fingers into her dough like he was playing a piano, wiggling them with each contact. She pressed her forehead into his shoulder as her own shook with laughter.

“It’s been a while since we’ve done this too, hasn’t it?” Whiteberry Cookie commented as though his friend hadn’t become an out-of-control Jelly Worm in his grasp.

“Buhuhut wahahahihiy nAHAHAOW?!” she questioned through a barrage of squeaky giggles. It barely sounded like a sentence at that point.

Whiteberry Cookie just chuckled lightly, keeping his grip on Greenbell Cookie tight but not too tight, holding on just enough to keep her from squirming completely out of his hug. Though he did not make it easy on himself as he continued to dance his fingers on his friend’s sides and ‘ribs’, occasionally pressing down and causing another jolt and bout of laughter to escape the one in his arms. “Do I need a reason to want to see my friend laughing and happy?” he asked, mostly rhetorical.

Greenbell Cookie just started wiggling more, flinching occasionally like she was being shocked with static every time she felt her friend’s fingers scribble into her dough. He had switched from prodding to a more gentle approach, making slow circles to the bottom of her ‘ribs’ that would occasionally speed up suddenly, and that just made it all the worse for her. “Buhuhut I was alrEHEHEADY HAHAHAPY!!” she managed to get out, inhaling with another squeak, having moved up just enough to grip her friend’s shoulders in some forgotten attempt at escape and throw her head back as laughter continued to pour out of her. “You dihihihidn’t NEHEHEH-EEEK!”

She let out another squeal when the berry-infused cookie suddenly started squeezing the dough around the center of her belly, letting up for only a split second before doing it again, sending her into another squirming fit. It was sudden, continuous, and it was still somehow unbearably gentle, like he was handling a newly bought instrument that he had yet to break in. “WHIHIHITE-EEK-BEHEHERRY COHOHOOKIEEE!”

“Mhm?” said cookie questioned with an acknowledging hum. “What is it?”

“WHIHIHIHIYYY?!” Greenbell Cookie squealed out again.

“I thought I already told you that,” Whiteberry Cookie stated with a smile and a raised brow. “I wanted to cheer you up a little and I remembered something we always used to do when we were younger.” Then he laughed. “And it would seem it still works. You’re still as squirmy and ticklish as ever!” He punctuated his statement with a wild clawing-squishing motion of his fingers onto her sides, making her laughter pick up even more and earning him a hand pressed into the side of his face. He was still smiling.

“ShuhuhUSH!” Greenbell Cookie protested, though any pouting she attempted was quickly squashed by her proceeding laughter. She had always been too sensitive for her own good, even the slightest playful poke enough to get her to squeak. Her best friend had taken advantage of this many times when they were younger and it had only recently petered out when he had begun composing the songs they would play.

Though it would seem that the action had never truly left their friendship.

“Oh!” Whiteberry Cookie suddenly perked up with an idea, soft smile becoming a rare grin. “I think I just had a burst of inspiration!” His fingers stopped their attack only momentarily.

Greenbell Cookie’s eyecing widened as much as they could while being squinted in uncontrollable laughter. That was never a good statement to come from her friend when he was like this. “Whihihitebeheherry Cohohohookie…” she giggled out, anticipation worming its way into her stomach and sending a flight of butterflies fluttering within her.

Whiteberry Cookie just smiled and readjusted his grip, loosening juuust enough for Greenbell Cookie to squirm more freely. Then he attacked again, this time much more frantic in his movements, going from prodding to poking to quick little scribbles on her sides, back, belly, and any other ticklish spot he could reach. One could akin it to plucking the strings of a guitar or a harp.

Greenbell Cookie found herself unable to keep still whatsoever, giggles equally as frantic as her friend’s movements pouring out of her. Her limbs flailed about, knocking into her friend several times (of which she could only barely manage a quick apology before her laughter and sudden squeaks of surprise overtook her vocals again). She felt fingers gently prod and then quickly scribble on the left of her ‘ribs’ and she nearly started thrashing.

Eventually, she found herself with her back facing her friend (with every amount of care taken to accommodate her wings, which had lowered downwards instinctively to make way for his arms) and she soon came to a stark realization of what he had been trying to do. Her giggling died down to only slight tittering, but it was clear even the slightest tracing would still be enough to send her into near-hysterics. She could barely see her friend’s face from this angle but she could only imagine the look he had and that sent a flash of nervous anticipation shooting through her.

Whiteberry Cookie’s smile widened, a mischievous glint appearing in his eyecing before he closed them, expression turning serene. “Now, I have a certain tune I want to create in mind, but I don’t think either of us have an instrument right now…so you’re going to have to help me out,” he stated calmly, peeking open an eyecing and allowing his smile to grow once more. Then he hovered his hands over his friend’s stomach, flexing his fingers.

“EEK!” Greenbell Cookie found herself squeaking out before he even started tickling her again.

Whiteberry Cookie let out a startled laugh, fingers stopping their movements momentarily. “I haven’t even touched you yet!” he exclaimed, teasing pausing for a second.

The flower-inspired cookie felt her face redden and she struggled slightly to get her hands mobile enough to press them to her face. “Yohou knohohow I can’t hAHAndle teheheasing…” she mumbled, embarrassment amplified by her own statement. She had to stop being so transparent with what worked on her!

“Then I’ll get right on with it, if that’s what you want!” Whiteberry Cookie responded simply before bringing his fingers down onto his target before she could wriggle away.

Greenbell Cookie let out a brief shriek when she felt rapid scribbling on her belly, the fingers moving so fast they might as well have been vibrating. “NAHAHO!! Hahaohow is thihihis heHEHELPING?! YoHOHOU’RE JUST TIHIHICKLING MEHEHEE!” she struggled out, a wide smile becoming a constant staple on her jam-red face for the time being. “YOHOHOU-NAOHOHOHO!” She cut herself off when the rapid tickling moved up and down her sides, accidentally elbowing her friend in the midst of her squirming (even so, he didn’t slow just yet).

“You’re helping plenty! Listen, even your laughter is in-tune! Perfect for what I want to write!” Whiteberry Cookie said, switching tactics once more. He slowed down his movements, crossing his arms over his friend and moving his wiggling fingers into her underarms. Due to how he positioned himself, the flower-inspired cookie’s arms had no choice but to move upward, giving him ample access to the new spot.

“Ihihit’s NAHAHAT-!!” Greenbell Cookie tried to say, sputtering out into a collection of riveting high notes in the form of pitched squealing.

“Maybe I’ll use a red pen so I can be reminded of how red your face is! It’ll be more vivid that way for sure!”

Greenbell Cookie tried to say anything of note in response, but the only thing she could manage was another, “SHUHUHUSH!!” before dissolving back into laughter as her friend targeted her underarms, using a single finger to circle into her pits and occasionally wiggle as though he were scritching the chin of a bread dog. At this point, it seemed like all she could do was laugh.

Her laughter, despite her protests, did seem to change tune as the berry-infused cookie began using different tactics in session, leaning his head down with his eyecing closed as though he were concentrating.

A quick scribble to her underarms rewarded him with frantic, high-pitched giggles and rapid leg kicks.

A switch over to the dough of her belly gave mild hiccups in place of each inhalation.

A swirling of his fingers on her sides made peals of squealing.

“Perfect! I think I almost have it down now!” Whiteberry Cookie commented with a small, satisfied nod.

Greenbell Cookie could only continue the cycle of laughter, eyecing squinted shut as her face became redder with each comment.

Yet even as she was being mercilessly tickled, she still was able to think about Whiteberry Cookie’s first comment. It had been a while since they had done this. She had, embarrassingly enough, quite enjoyed those moments, especially the occasions where she was able to get her friend back. Those always dissolved into a ticklish back-and-forth filled with so much laughter it had made tears appear in both their eyecing.

The warmth from both the memories and the affection from her friend brought a new sensation of playful butterfly wings brushing against the inside of her dough, giving Whiteberry Cookie an even bigger advantage over her sensitivity. She felt…content. Happy.

This new feeling made an impact on her laughter, turning the tune up a notch and resulting in even happier high-pitched giggles. She was still squirming (she had always been a wriggler) but there was less fight to it now. If she had less energetic movements while being tickled, she would have sunk into him contentedly.

Whiteberry Cookie noticed the slight change and his smile briefly dipped further into fondness, tiding the mischief for a few seconds. Before the mischief took back over and he moved his criss-crossed arms down ever so slightly, running his fingers over his friend’s ribs. They moved with a scribbling, tracing flow as though he were strumming a harp and his musical prowess showed itself very clearly despite the fact that he had not touched an instrument in a while.

“I’m nahahat an instruMEHEHEHENT!!” Greenbell Cookie sputtered out, head falling back into her friend’s chest.

“I don’t know, you’re sure singing like one!” Whiteberry Cookie replied. “Maybe I should pick up the Greenbell Cookie rather than the Bud Bell again!” It was such a silly statement that it made both of them laugh (though one obviously much more than the other).

“Yohohou’re sohohoHAHAHA-” she tried to say ‘silly’, but once again she was interrupted by a sudden onslaught of clawing motions where gentle harp-playing had once been. And once again, any response she had was lost to laughter.

His tickling attacks continued, switching both seamlessly and abruptly in tactic, keeping her guessing and frantic in her laughter and movements. Much like his tendency to work on multiple things at once, he never stayed in one routine.

And throughout it all, Greenbell Cookie let her giggling and borderline shrieking go freely, her legs deciding to be the most mobile part of her with how hard they were kicking by this point.

Eventually though, Whiteberry Cookie slowed down his movements once again, mainly because he was just a little concerned at how red his friend’s face had gotten. He didn’t quite stop completely though and kept one hand drumming against the flower-inspired cookie’s stomach, the other one wandering off to occasionally wiggle a finger into the dough on her side. “You okay, Greenbell Cookie?” he asked, smile turning completely fond by this point.

“Yeahahah…I-EEK!-hehehe…” Greenbell Cookie managed to drag out, ending on a squeak then a string of giggles.

It was then that Whiteberry Cookie completely let up, releasing her and letting her ragdoll onto the grass. “…are you feeling better?” he asked, looking down at her while still sitting up.

Greenbell Cookie exhaled another set of breathy laughter. “Yehehes…” she wheezed out, eyecing having slipped shut as she rode out the residual giggles. “I thihink…I needed that…”

Whiteberry Cookie tilted his head slightly as he laid down next to her. “Well then, it’s a good thing I remembered how ticklish you are. Not that it would be easy to forget,” he lightly teased with a move to poke her side again.

Greenbell Cookie somehow sensed the motion and quickly opened her eyecing, snapping her head over to him, startling a laugh out of him. Then she cracked a smile and giggled at her own reaction. “Hey, you can be just as ticklish as me, so don’t start!”

“A little bit late for that, don’t you think?” Whiteberry Cookie asked with faux-innocence, though the illusion was ruined by the mildly teasing grin.

Greenbell Cookie pouted.

He chuckled at her.

She pouted harder.

Then her own comment made her perk up slightly, flipping her pout into a small smile. Which slowly but surely grew into a soft grin of her own. “Hey Whiteberry Cookie, do you want to know what my favorite part always was before?” she asked vaguely.

Whiteberry Cookie, having noticed her sudden facial change but not quite clocking what it meant yet, raised a brow with his mouth back to its neutral form. “Hm?”

Then his eyecing widened when he felt a poke to his side, body curving away from the offending appendage. His eyecing darted between her hand and her face.

“Revengeee…” Greenbell Cookie whispered in her most sinister voice (which sounded more like a mouse trying to sneak its way into a collection of cheese wheels). She giggled in spite of herself.

Before Whiteberry Cookie could sit up and perhaps attempt an escape, she briefly flew upwards, then landed just next to the top of his head, looking down at him like he had done to her prior. His widened eyecing stared back up at her.

“Greenbell Cookie.”

“Whiteberry Cookie.”

“You don’t have to-”

“Ohhh no! You’re not getting out of this that easily!” she said before he could defend himself, darting her hands down to his neck and wiggling her fingers into the space below his chin.

Almost immediately, her hands got trapped as Whiteberry Cookie’s shoulders hiked up in an unsuccessful attempt to protect his neck. Of course, it hardly helped and she resorted to light scritching where she could mobilize her fingers. “Greenbehehell Cohohookie…”

“How the tables turn, hm?” the flower-inspired cookie stated with a determined (and slightly smug) expression. She continued her light tickling, not having to adjust herself nearly as much as her friend did with her. Whiteberry Cookie had never been a squirmer, more inclined to scrunch and squish himself away from the offending tickles, even though it never worked in his favor. As an almost compliment to it, Greenbell Cookie was always gentle, never seeming too calculated in her attacks and always feathery in her movements.

Luckily for her, gentle tickles seemed to work better with Whiteberry Cookie.

“I wahahas juhuhust cheheheering yohohou up!” the berry-infused cookie protested, curling up his entire body to lie on his side, getting only a mild reprieve as Greenbell Cookie slipped her fingers out from beneath his chin.

“Well, allow me to return the favor!” she replied, moving herself to accommodate his new position and half-draping herself over him to gently squish his sides. Which rewarded her with a rather undignified, squashed-sounding laugh in comparison to his usual soft laughter. “Now who’s squashed?” she teased.

“Stihihill your clahahaouds!” Whiteberry Cookie responded, lighter laughter returning (though it was soon interrupted once again by another moment of squished giggles).

Greenbell Cookie’s smile morphed into a pout. Then it wobbled into another grin when she couldn’t keep it on her face any longer. “Okay, that’s it,” she declared, lifting her hands.

The berry-infused cookie’s eyecing widened. “Waihihit, Greenbehehell Cookie-” he started, before letting out a bout of half-suppressed laughter that ended up sounding like a prolonged snort.

Greenbell Cookie had placed one hand on each side of his overturned body, moving her fingers as though she were opening the world’s least secured jar of peanut butter. They twisted around in a rough circle while the tips traced in a flurry of movements right on the center of his stomach and just where his wings met on his back. This left him with nowhere to curl to escape, resulting in a trapped, shaking Whiteberry Cookie.

“GreehehenbEHEHELL COOKIE! I’m sohOHOHOrry!! Plehehease!” he pleaded, trying unsuccessfully to curl his head into his arms before the tickling movements on his back forced him to arch back. Then curl inwards because of the fingers on his stomach. Trapped, indeed.

“No you’re not,” Greenbell Cookie stated matter-of-factly.

“Nohoho I’m nohohot…”

“Then more tickles for you!” she pronounced, speeding up her movements for a second. Then she had a thought and switched to a gentle squishing motion on his belly and an agonizingly light scritching motion on the spots just below his wings, her experienced fingers able to perform two acts at once.

“AHEHEHE-! I chAHAHAHANGED my MIHIHIND! I AHAHAM SOHOHORRY!” Whiteberry Cookie quickly amended, pressing his hands against his forehead. His softer chuckles were quickly devolving into a collection of various sounds, the most prominent being half-snorts that he managed to make by trying to stop the action from happening with little success.

“You’re just saying that now!” Greenbell Cookie accused, not stopping her movements for a second.

“Nohohoho?” he tried, suppressing another snort when his friend wordlessly ran a single, scritching finger down his ‘spine’, stopping her fingers on his belly momentarily.

Greenbell Cookie decided to put a stop to that newfound habit, moving the hand that had been on his stomach over to his hip area while simultaneously tracing her hand up to his shoulder blades. Then she attacked with mirrored movements, wiggling two fingers into the hip she could reach and doing the same with his shoulder blades.

Whiteberry Cookie jolted, eyecing squinting shut as he arched his back, laughter starting out in his usual, melodic tone before being interrupted by the snorts he was now failing to stifle. There were a few squashed laughs here and there, only further encouraged by the attacks on his back and hips. Even his legs were starting to twitch with the want to kick out, instead muffled into a light cycling motion.

Greenbell Cookie listened to him for a moment, finding her own laughter starting to kick up again just from the sound of the other alone. She remembered now why it was so easy for her friend to turn the tables back on her even once she got the upper hand: she couldn’t help but laugh along with him, leaving her movements clumsy enough for just the right amount of time.

Though this time, it seemed like luck was on her side with no signs of a fight from her friend or another attempt to get back at her.

Instead, he just laid there on his side with laughter pouring out that was getting less and less restrained the longer it went on. (Truth be told, he had…also missed this. Perhaps just as much as his friend had. And after the rift incident, they both needed a revisit from one of their old playful habits.)

Eventually, the one-sided laugh-fest turned into a mutual cluster of giggles and snorts, Whiteberry Cookie still being on the receiving end, but getting more than a little break with how Greenbell Cookie’s tickling motions were becoming clumsier and clumsier until all she could do was squeeze his sides in small intervals. It soon ended with Greenbell Cookie draped over Whiteberry Cookie, who had returned to laying on his back. Both of them were giggling for a while before it petered out to soft breathing.

Greenbell Cookie didn’t bother rolling off of her friend, knowing that she didn’t weigh nearly enough to strain him. She just closed her eyecing contentedly and judging from the increasingly slow breaths the cookie beneath her was taking, he had done the same.

The breezes running over Windy Hill continued their path, both cookies silently appreciating the company of the other. Silently appreciating the unfortunate event that was far behind them now.

“This is going to happen more often now, I hope you know.”

“And I hope you’re ready for me to fight back!”

A chuckle. “I don’t doubt it, Greenbell Cookie.”

#fluffy writes! :D #sfw tickle fic #sfw tickling community #cookie run tickles #cr tickles #cr:toa tickles #tower of adventures tickles #i don't even know if theres an actual TAG for that #which is criminal #lee!greenbell cookie #ler!whiteberry cookie #ler!greenbell cookie #lee!whiteberry cookie #switch!greenbell cookie #switch!whiteberry cookie #i have no idea if this is the first toa tkl fic but we NEED more content for this game-

29 notes · View notes

kurishiri · 8 months ago

Text

15.5 . . . “ the memory engraved in my body ”

꒰ ִ ֺ ⊹ @ notice ⊹ ֺ ִ ꒱ this translation may not be 100% accurate or contain creative liberties due to characterization or narrative flow purposes. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging, but don’t repost these or claim these as your own!

— 🍷 his side story, chapter 15. this is the one you need to reach alfons bond level 22+ with in order to purchase.

— cw: alcohol consumption.

Alfons: And to see you deceived just like that——I see you don’t really hold that thing called ‘love’ for me.

Kate: ...!!

I chose words that would purposely hurt.

Just like that, her eyes wavered, teary.

Kate: I... I really, truly—!

Alfons: Loved me? ...Or what, did you mean to say love?

I asked, a mocking tone in my voice, and her palms, which had pushed against my chest, gripped tightly at my shirt, causing it to wrinkle.

It would be nice were she to throw away these feelings she had toward me on her own volition, but——

(Reality just isn’t so nice, after all.)

Kate: Just why... would you do such a thing...?

K: Why do you have to reject me so much... just over me saying ‘I love you’?

Tears fell from her cheeks as she spoke from above.

They were very much like stars falling from the night — so pure, and so beautiful.

(——So much so, it’s like the moment I touched her, I would end up getting burned.)

Kate: Not once did I say we had to be official.

K: All I wanted was to like you, and be by your side… and yet…

Alfons: …Because I find it a nuisance.

A: The fact you had fallen for me, and the fact you like me even now... all of it.

I used those sharp words to deeply pierce through her heart.

Such words seemed like such a sin toward her straightforward feelings,

and, compared to her words, which so resembled pure stars, mine were akin to shattered glass sinking down the gutters of a back alley.

Alfons: All this was meant to be was an entertainment that lasts but a month, and then letting it end the same way.

Kate left the room, and when I descended the crumbling staircase,

The friend with a wound on his eye was standing at the entrance to the hidden, dilapidated room.

Man with a wound over his eye: To think you suddenly came in with a memo saying ‘Stay at the pub until I call you. If you come then, your drink’s on me’——

Man with a wound over his eye: I was wondering what in the world was going on.

Alfons: Hehe... thank you for your cooperation on that matter.

Man with a wound over his eye: If getting perfumed and greeting a lady when she woke up was all it took for some free booze, anyone would do it.

Man with a wound over his eye: So it was to get that ‘little robin’ to give up on you?

Man with a wound over his eye: You always up and run away, fading right out, so if she could make you go to this length, well what a lady she must be.

Alfons: Indeed, you can tell me that again.

I could dodge her at every turn, push her away, but she would still put her energy into her love without so much as getting discouraged,

so left with no other choice I threw away what little of a good heart I had left to break her to pieces.

(Unable to deceive herself into thinking this wasn’t love, but instead all a misunderstanding...)

(What a poor, darling little miss robin.)

Man with a wound over his eye: If you wanted me to make love to her for real, though, I would be fine with that too.

Alfons: Now that won’t do. I’ll have you know despite all appearances, I happen to be a gentleman who despises hurting women.

Man with a wound over his eye: ...I doubt that.

Alfons: Do you now?

Man with a wound over his eye: How would I know. Well, I’ll leave the payment to you.

My friend didn’t bother to seek the truth, instead leaving the conversation like that and disappeared into the night city while laughing.

——This pub was open 24 hours, so it was lively regardless of time.

Exchanging greetings with several acquaintances and taking a seat, the bar master lifted his brow, as though exasperated.

Bar master: And here I thought you wouldn’t come back til the morning. You’re back early, aren’t you?

Alfons: I so dearly missed seeing your face, you see.

Bar master: I’m anything but happy being missed by an arsehole. Pay up for that friend of yours.

Alfons: Goodness, so cold.

While making small talk, from the back of my mind, I remembered her, who had been sitting next to me just a few hours before.

—— Flashback ——

Kate: Alfons...

K: ...I won’t put the blame on you or anything else anymore...

K: So please, make love to me.

—— End flashback ——

—— Flashback ——

Kate: Just how bloody cruel can you get...!!

K: I don’t understand, why would you lie to me like this!? Help me understand...

—— End flashback ——

She did not say, ‘Why did you do such a cruel thing’——but rather, ‘Why did you say such a lie?’

From the start, she had seen through my lie that another man had made love to her.

(...Just where did I slip up?)

(I stayed silent... could it be body temperature? Or the shape of my body? The movements? Or smell?)

At the very least——even if she couldn’t see with her eyes, she was able to confirm that it was indeed me.

All that to say, there was no doubt that the memory of me had been engraved in her body.

Bar master: That’s a pretty long face.

Alfons: That it is, could I ask for your consolations?

Bar master: Of course, this is a shop to share such things. For a price, that is. What’ll it be?

Alfons: Quite stingy now, aren’t we... well then, I’ll have a sherry perhaps. Any type is fine.

Bar master: A sherry? Not every day you get that.

Alfons: ...Is that so?

Indeed, I felt that I normally didn’t drink sherry.

That said, I sought out the intoxication from the liquor, so I wasn’t so caught up on the type it was.

Yet the name had slipped so easily out of my mouth, I tilted my head as I took the glass filled with a dark mahogany color liquor.

The moment I took in that mellow, sweet scent though, I remembered.

(Ahh... this was the liquor that she had drunk this afternoon, isn’t it.)

—— Flashback ——

Kate: I... don’t like it... when others touch you...

K: ...Whatever, I know I’m... just like a kid t’you...

—— End flashback ——

(...Considering she was downing this sweet sherry, I would say her taste is like that of a kid’s.)

When my lips met with her, who was still blindfolded, her tongue did indeed have the sweet taste of the sherry.

But, for a reason beyond me, I felt that the kiss I shared with her was far sweeter than the liquor I was drinking now.

Alfons: ...Master, could you see if the carriage at the back of the shop is still there?

Bar master: What? Don’t go ordering the bar master around like that.

Alfons: I’ll get your mooost expensive liquor. In a bottle.

Bar master: ...How many?

Alfons: How does ten sound?

The bar master clicked his tongue and flipped a middle finger at me before leaving the back to the alleyway and coming back the next moment and shaking his head.

Bar master: It’s not here anymore.

Alfons: Is that so, then that’s a relief.

Bar master: Is it the lady who drank with you that went on the carriage?

Alfons: You’re quite in the know, aren’t you?

Bar master: Sending her back alone in the wee hours of evening, some sexyman you are.

Alfons: That’s just how it is.

Bar master: ...If you care about her enough to prepare a carriage, the least you could do is send her off.

Alfons: ‘Care,’ huh... I suppose.

A: I didn’t want to put her in any physical danger,

A: but I did need to instill so much shock in her that she would want to forget it all... so it was all a necessary measure.

Bar master: Not so sure what you’re getting at there, but what I do get is that you’re one hell of a shitty bastard.

Alfons: Ahha! I would expect nothing less from you, master, knowing me to the tee.

It took time for memories to fade.

That went for the memory of me engraved in her body... and the memory of her in mine.

But time seemed to have a knack for passing like it was melting away, unexpectedly so.

If she was going to go back to her uneventful, warm everyday life from long ago, then even more so.

Alfons: ...It would be great if you could find a man who can heal the wounds of a lost love and become happy.

Before I knew it, the glass in my hand was empty.

The sweet flavor of the sherry lingered on my tongue, staying there without fading away for eternity.

← back next →

masterlist🪞 ╱ ko-fi ☕️ ╱ comms 🤍

꒰ ִ ֺ ⊹ @ tags🏷️ ⊹ ֺ ִ ꒱ @drachonia @.comment, send an ask off anon, or dm to be added or removed!

59 notes · View notes

saintescuderia · 1 year ago

Text

pancakes (pt. 3)

AKA - the story of how the naive australian rookie befriended the gym junkie F1 hospitality worker with the shoe collection - and inadvertently broke the grid's most treasured and unspoken rule: you don't go for y/n.

series masterlist here :) // the pancakes recipe here :)

A/N: don't come for me. i love daniel. it's all for plot. (also, if the timeline seems odd it’s bc creative liberties have been taken 😌)

P3 - stairmaster endurance

As you walked down the steps to the Drivers Gala in your stunning red dress, you were unaware how one Ferrari driver couldn’t take his eyes off you. Looking at you smiling elegantly to one of the reps who greeted you, Charles realised just how much of a mistake he had made. Carlos was at his side, saying something that was back ground noise. All Charles could focus on was you. Your flowing hair, your eyes glinting in the light as you smiled your beautiful smile at whoever was talking to you. You always spoke with such passion. Charles always loved that about you. He would always love every little thing about you—

The alarm went off.

You blinked and stopped the timer notification that essentially shook you out of the deep rabbit hole of F1 fanfiction you had found yourself falling into. Closing the purple app, you wondered why you still remained on Tumblr even after the 2013 hype of it died and everyone shifted to Twitter. Let alone the fact that your Tumblr had become your closeted way to fangirl about the sport you had dedicated your life to.

Then again, what were you to expect? The algorithm clearly picked up on your interests. That or the government was listening in and knew that Formula 1 was your day-to-day. That would explain how, one day, you were simply scrolling through the random, niche memes and BAM! You were met with the completely random gif-set of Arthur Leclerc and Oscar Piastri sat in an interview for Prema.

It had caught you off guard, seeing that come up on your phone screen. It had also been a while since you had seen Arthur. For the whole duration of that single and endless moment, you didn't know how to react.

So your thumb double tapped the screen.

And maybe it was your fault for liking it, for encouraging the algorithm. But you could’t help but smile at the gif of Arthur confident and proud of his 18 hour screen time. That boy had no filter and never gave a fuck about the social norm. That and he often just didn’t read the room. Even after all these years, and his climb up the motorsport ladders, that youthful element about him had remained. It made you smile. You always liked that about him.

However, with that gif-set came more stuff. Innocent stuff. More F2 bits - you really missed those boys - and then everything else. Funny bits of Max at Red Bull. Carlos and Lando. All the Guenther Steiner moments. It was a little weird to be liking gifs of a team principal, you were well aware, but if anything it just made you feel proud of how far the German-Italian had come.

Back in the old Red Bull days, Guenther would always tell you about his dreams of directing his own team. It was nice to see him finally achieve that. It was also an endless source of amusement for you.

For example: the day Kevin had shattered the door.

When it happened, though, it was definitely not a laughing matter. You had been just finishing up the lunch service at the Haas motorhome - making sure to pack up some food for the drivers and mechanics who still were in a meeting - when you had heard the loud noise. Mack, the sous-chef, had stopped and looked at you with wide eyes.

You had both exited the kitchen to walk out to the main space of the motorhome and see other Haas employees equally as confused and whispering. Not getting a clear answer, you patted Mack on the shoulder and returned to the kitchen to finish plating up Kevin and Romain’s lunch for later.

Fifteen minutes later, however, and you had gotten your answer when Guenther stormed into the kitchen fuming. “He does not slam my fucking office door! What am I going to do? Call Gene and tell him his drivers are some fucking idiot babies?!”

You had simply stared at him, blinkingly.

Guenther had then spied a plate of food sitting on the bench. “That fucking driver doesn’t deserve any of your fucking food!” And he picked the plate and dumped plate with its contents in the bin.

“Guenther," you had began in a calm voice, "that was my lunch. Kevin’s plate is in the fridge.”

“Well eat his fucking food! Or—" Guenther reached into his pocket and pulled out a credit card and slammed it onto the table in front of you. “Go to a fucking five star hotel and have lunch there on that fucking idiot baby's pay.”

And the two of you had actually done so.

Even after he calmed down, Guenther had been adamant to take you to lunch which, admittedly, wasn't the most odd thing ever. Guenther was removed enough from all the driver drama and you had known him a for long time. You were the reason he had helped in the debut in 2016 anyway.

Still, no matter how Guenther Guenther was, Kevin was still a driver. You knew how it might look.

Said driver, however, had thankfully just dismissed it when you offered to pay him back. "Make me those mini pizzas next time you're with us and we're good."

And so when you clocked on this morning to see you were covering Haas, you immediately smiled and went to make good on your promise to K-Mag.

You always loved working in the Haas motorhome. If only half the stuff you saw Guenther did and said ended up in gif-sets on Tumblr.

Pushing yourself off the stool, you pocketed your phone and grabbed the oven mitts to pull out the mini pizzas. You had made extra for the engineers since there was an issue with Nico’s PU and knew they would be up late working on the engine. It wasn’t a secret that your pizzas were a coveted snack, being low-carb and high protein enough for even the drivers to consume. You were half expecting Fred Vasseur to pop in and steal some. He did love these pizzas. Any time you were stationed at Alfa Romeo, it was a guarantee you would be making them at his request.

Though, now Fred was moving to Ferrari. So you weren't sure if he was still going to be nice to you. Mattia Binotto had always treated you like the fucking plague.

"Ah, Y/N. For fuck's sake!" You heard the German accent and felt your mouth curve up into a smile as Guenther arrived on scene. He was dressed in the Haas gear for 2023, lanyard around his neck. "You still here running the coffee when you can beat any of these idiots in the car."

You gave him a fake two finger salute. "If I drove, no one would stand a chance."

"Well maybe you could help us score some fucking points." Guenther said. Immediately, he got down to business. "Harry Kane did well last night. Scored two fucking goals."

You snorted. One of the many reasons you and Guenther bonded so well was that you one of the few people amongst this Paddock that took football seriously. Almost as seriously as Formula 1. Almost.

"Didn't see it." You said, shaking your head. Bundesliga was lower on your list of priorities when it came to games. You only paid attention to the German league when it came to teams making it into Champions League. Besides, Guenther should’ve known what game you were watching last night. Still, you reminded him. "The Reds were playing."

He rolled his eyes, though unsurprised. "Of course you're going to watch English fucking football."

"Hey, only because of Salah.” You reminded him and hit your chest proudly, “I gotta represent."

"That much is fucking obvious." Guenther said. One of the many reasons you liked working in Haas so much was that it was by far the most relaxed garage out of them all. For example, you hadn't yet taken off the hoodie you wore which had, on top, the number 10 Liverpool jersey. It looked unprofessional, having a t-shirt over a jumper like that, especially mixed with the headscarf you had tied on your head like a durag, but Guenther couldn’t care less. If anything, he was probably just offended at your choice of EPL team.

“United is fucking Red.”

"Ah, Guenther. You know my heart really lies." You reminded him.

Your uncle, with his love for football, had brought you up following the iconic Real Madrid. He literally visited the hospital with a teddy bear and Bernabeu membership, adamant he would get his newborn niece into the sport. No matter what.

From the moment he found out your number one team, Guenther was salty. “Los Blancos.” He scoffed. “The fucking villains of football." He came round to see the circular pieces of bread covered with sauce and an array of different toppings. Guenther picked one up - and immediately dropped it. "Fuck!"

"It's hot." You said, dryly. You took out another tray and set it down. You closed the oven door and turned it off. You flipped the towel over your shoulder as you watched Guenther now at the sink, running water over his burnt fingers.

"You don't fucking say." Guenther blowing on his fingers.

“Stop being a baby.” You laughed, bringing up your hands to your head to fix your headscarf.

Guenther ignored that comment. "Fred fucking loves these things. Don't tell him you made them. I don't want him in here stealing them."

You said nothing and turned around to pretend to busy yourself with the trays of mini pizzas. It was best to just remain quiet sometimes. Bahrain testing had kept everyone occupied and at that start of the season F1 Hospitality were usually running around after Stefano Domenicali and the FIA Co. for last minute set up. It was only into the race calendar that Hospitality were eventually went around to the teams.

So, no. You hadn't seen Fred. You hadn't seen anyone. You were just grateful that your first race of 2023 was in the safety of Haas. Nico and Kevin were older and, therefore, a little more out of it when it came to driver drama. If they knew anything, they were old enough to be mature about it.

Though, that couldn't be the same of others from their generation. You were already losing sleep from the feelings that arose from seeing Daniel in Red Bull gear. It didn't help that the last time you two had spoken, things hadn't exactly been civil.

You were on the stair-master. The clock on the machine read 37:48. The sweat was dripping off you.

Your grey jumper had darkened in shades, wet from the sweat. You kept your hands on your head as you stepped and stepped and stepped and stepped. Angsty rap music blasted into your ears. Tinnitus was likely to worsen, but you would take that over the shit storm that was currently breaking all over the Paddock.

I understand that, without my agreement, Alpine F1 have put out a press statement late this afternoon that I am driving for them next year. This is wrong and I have not signed a contract for Alpine for 2023. I will not be driving for Alpine next year.

Oscar hadn’t even yet joined Formula 1 and he was already stirring trouble. That was a problem. For you. You were supposed to lay low. The whole point of this was to lay low and not drawing any attention to yourself. The agreement was that you could still be there if only in the role of Hospitality.

And the idiot had tweeted that and then, ten minutes later, decided to follow you.

How he even found your Twitter was surprising? It wasn’t very personal - your profile picture was solid black - so no fans would be able to recognise you. But the Paddock? The FIA and your bosses? They were raising confused eyebrows that Oscar Piastri would drop that bomb and then follow you.

You could already imagine what Otmar was going to say. God, the 2023 season hadn’t fully started and you were already dreading walking into the Alpine home. And then Jos Verstappen was rumoured to be attending more races this year and who could forget about Daniel coming back to Red Bull? The universe apparently needed to give you some character development, it seemed.

Your legs ached, begging to stop. Your mind thought about pressing the red emergency button, to just end it. But you knew better. You knew this was all a mind game. Pain is an allusion. Keep going. Shit hurts but you push through. Keep going. Keep going. Keep fucking going. It's what you always told yourself. It's how you got yourself through everything. It's how you'll get through all of this. If you can push through the pain of the stairmaster, then you can push through the pain of anything. You had learned that pain was temporary and it was just a mind-game. You could always go longer than you thought possible. You just had to keep reminding yourself of that fact. So, right now, it was just practice. Each step you took right now was practicing the endurance of pain from this stairmaster fucking filling your legs. If you could get through this, you would be able to handle any drama in the future.

Unfortunately, drama walked through the door before you could make it through the current pain of said stairmaster.

Daniel Ricciardo stormed into the Driver’s Only Gym, knowing all too well that this was where you would be. He had been the one to tell you about this fucking place in the first place. Before everything, you had always loved working out and exercise was part of the reason you two ended up as you did. Now, you didn’t have the luxury you did before. You didn’t have the lanyard.

So, now, you had to workout in the shadows.

That didn't mean Daniel didn't see you. Didn't hear you. Didn't know what you were doing every single day of every weekend the both of you avoided each other at the Paddock. He knew you still wore your sneakers according to the race location. He knew you still wore headscarves when in the Middle East and covered your tattoos when in Japan. He knew you still avoided Charles just he like he knew you still avoided him. He knew you.

So Daniel knew you woke up at 4am every day to work out. And after Zak Brown told him the news, he spent the night dealing with his spiralling career through a bottle of Jack Daniels. Then he had the idea to come out from the four walls of his hotel room and see you.

Because Daniel knew you had made your pancakes for the rookie, that fucking Oscar Piastri. And Daniel was one of the few people who knew, who fully understood just what that meant to you.

Drunk and emotional, Daniel planted himself right in front of the stair master. He stared at you, caught like a deer in headlights and got right to it.

“You must be fucking happy.”

It was the first time he had directly spoken to you in five years.

So it took you a second to process what was happening.

Daniel Ricciardo was right here, in front of you, at 4:50 in the morning as you sweated your body weight out through the repeated steps you took on the machine.

Suddenly you were aware that you had rolled yourself out of bed with a little less motivation than the norm. You had been extra tired, hitting snooze more than twice. You hadn’t washed your face and you wondered if Daniel would be able to spot the stain of egg yolk on your hoodie. It had been some time since he had been this close to you and you were in bike shorts and currently on a bulk. Suddenly, you wished you were on a cut. Why did the one time he came this close to you had to be so big and puffy?

"Excuse me?" You found yourself saying, shifting one headphone off your ear. “Can I help you?”

"Did you know?" Daniel asked. He didn't give you a chance to respond. "Of course you fucking did."

Without even thinking, you pulled the red plug your mind had obsessed over and jumped down. The pain was already here so there was no point going through any more than necessary. You looked up at Daniel, panting. He, too, was exhaling a little heavier than normal. Too angry and, judging by the smell of his breath, drunk to be stable.

There was no point lying to him. Aside from the fact that Daniel was emotionally charged (and drunk - and he got super passionate when he was drunk) you knew he would immediately pick up on it. You don't spend three years with someone and not know them like the back of your hand. And, unlike him, you can safely say that you hadn't really changed since 2018. If you lied, he would know.

"I signed a NDA, Daniel." You said simply, walking to your gym bag sat on the red bench. You picked up your bottle to take a sip, your throat dry. You tried to keep yourself calm and not shaky. Do my legs look too big? God, Please don’t let me smell like BO. Your thoughts were still running rampant. Despite the extensive cardio, your body was buzzing from the anxiety of having Daniel so close.

Daniel. To think you had once been so deeply in love with the man stood before you.

"Fuck off." He spat. You recoiled. "No one gives a shit about that."

"I do." You said, trying to keep your voice from growing small. "Sorry I care about my job."

Daniel let out a sardonic laugh. You braced yourself, knowing what was to come. You had experienced this many times before during your fights. "What? Making coffee and fucking washing the dishes? Yeah, great job you got there, babe."

"Don't call me babe." You spat back. "And can you not be a dick for two fucking seconds, Daniel."

You said it. His name. When was the last time you had said it? It made you both take a second to process what was happening, to acknowledge how long it had been since the two of you had actually spoken to one another, how long since you had addressed the other as a human being that actually existed.

In that moment, Daniel finally seemed to lose a bit of anger and, instead, show a glimmer of vulnerability. "I lost my seat. I don't know what I'm going to do."

You looked down at your shoes at show of helplessness. New Balance 350s. Red and yellow. They had been on sale. You liked them for stable LISS circuits but hated the colour way. Now, they were the most interesting thing to look at.

Everyone knew that Daniel Ricciardo was always all smiles and that, no matter what, he was optimistic. Happy. He never showed any weakness.

Except, you had seen him when the smiles fell away and the laughter died. In the safety of your private hotel rooms and Daniel could just be, you saw him vulnerable, you saw him hurt, you saw him stress, worry, cry, swear and be open to how he was really feeling. Like right now.

“Daniel I—“

"You didn’t even think to fucking tell me."

You looked up at the change of tone and how he was frowning-- no, sneering at you. This made you change and any remorse, any pity, you felt for the man in front of you immediately vanished. You weren’t in a hotel room. You were in the gym. And it had been five fucking years.

"Are you fucking blaming me right now?"You snapped back. "What the fuck do I owe you, exactly?"

"I’m the reason you’re here!"

By now, your heart was racing. And not from the exercise. This, this was it. You finally had your moment to say it.

"Yes, exactly, Daniel. You’re the reason that I am, as you said, making coffee and fucking washing the dishes! If it weren’t for you, we both know where I would be right now. But you got fucking scared of Max and blamed me for it!"

This hit a nerve. "I was not scared of Max! I outperformed Max!"

"Yes, on the weeks I fucking trained you!"

"Fuck me,” Daniel was shooting straight daggers at you despite the wry grin on his face, “do you really think that was all you?"

You put your hands on your hips and squared up to meet his eyes, narrowing your own. "Considering how your teammate took me on as a trainer and then became the number 1 driver, yes, I will take some fucking credit for that." Daniel's face dropped when you said it. And you knew it was a low blow, but you couldn't help the words before they tumbled out from your mouth. "The world’s fucking moved on from Monaco 2018. Maybe you should too."

"Fuck you!" He shouted.

"Fuck you!" You shouted back. You grabbed your phone and found yourself tapping onto a recent chat and speedily composing a text. You hated how your fingers shook. You also hated how you were texting for help.

"Well, clearly you haven’t moved on from Monaco if you’re bringing it up." Daniel said, no longer shouting, but his tone still as icily. "You’re going to be mad about that until the end of time?"

You closed your eyes and willed your eyes not to think of the image of him with her, the pain you felt walking in and seeing that. Instead, you opened your eyes and stared him dead in the eye and spoke as calmly as possible.

"Jos Verstappen will be coming to the races more often this year. That means I won't be able to work in the Red Bull garage. If I'm at AlphaTauri, do not fucking come."

Daniel ignored this, undeterred. Instead, he kept grinning down at you thinking he found something. "You seriously aren't over it, are you?"

"No, the memory of you putting your dick into another woman still keeps me up at night." You rolled your eyes despite how it still did admittedly hurt. You pretended it didn’t and hoped he believed it. "Please stop thinking so highly of yourself. Remind yourself of why you're here, right now, talking to me."

Daniel's eyes narrowed and he opened his mouth to say something but the sound of the doors opening had him closing it. You grabbed your gym bag and finally made a move to turn around and escape the gym.

Ignoring the looks of one very confused Carlos Sainz as you breezed past him.

"I have to go deal with idiots who can’t tell me what’s wrong with the engine." Guenther said. You had brought forth two plates and slide two pizzas onto each.

"Here. For you and Nico." You said, knowing Nico would join the meeting about his car. "I'll bring a tray in a little bit for the rest of the engineers."

"Make me and Nico some coffee, please." Guenther said, taking the plates. "And pour in some fucking whiskey." You laughed and watched him disappear down the hallway of the offices set up. Haas' lack of financial support meant their motorhome was mediocre at best. Still, you loved being here more than anywhere else. It was the safest, really.

Wiping your hands on the towel, you went outside to where the coffee cart was situated. Another example of Haas' lack of funding was needing a Formula One coffee cart and not having an in house machine like everyone else did. You went about preparing the coffees like how you knew Nico and Guenther liked - as well as making yourself one while you were at it.

"No Real Madrid today?"

You found yourself jumping at the familiar Spanish lilt of the other Ferrari driver. Carlos Sainz was someone you never really paid any close attention to. He wasn't close enough to either Daniel or Charles' circles to ever have been on your radar. He had left Red Bull before you did and since he was Ferrari associated, it meant you never really had much to do with him.

Still, he was pleasant and nice. He always had been. He was one of those drivers that if word had spread to him - and it was very likely that it had - he didn't show it. Or care enough about it. Any time Carlos saw you around the Paddock, it was with a warm smile and a quick small-talk question about your thoughts on Real Madrid's latest match. But that was really ever it.

Until that time he had walked in at 5am to see you and Daniel Ricciardo screaming at each other.

"Uh, no. Liverpool was playing yesterday." You said, wondering if he knew you also cared about the Scouse team. Admittedly, you didn’t have the same love for them as you did for the Spanish legends, but you couldn’t have Egyptian heritage and not care about Mo Salah.

"You're Egyptian, no?" He asked. You focused on frothing the milk, unable to really look him in the eyes so soon after this morning.

"Yes." It was there in the mix, yes, but you really weren't up for explaining the complicated heritage of your ethnicity this morning. Looking at the milk circling in the silver jug, you realised your face was heating up. You were slightly surprised he even knew you were Egyptian in the first place. Unlike with Guenther or the splattering of other football fans in the Paddock, you and Carlos only ever had brief snapshots of Real Madrid small talk.

Still, this wasn't an odd conversation, you had to remind yourself. You were talking about the one thing you and him ever talked about. But, again, this was after Carlos had walked in to see you, a Hospitality worker, arguing with a driver.

"Please don't tell anyone about me being in the gym." You finally said, turning off the frother to gently tap the metal jar against the bench and settle the bubbles in the milk. "I could get into a lot of trouble since it's only for drivers."

Carlos waved a dismissive hand and shook his head. When it was clear he wasn't going to, you breathed a small sigh of relief. But then he leaned against the cart and you felt yourself starting to get anxious again. There was a quiet moment for a second as your poured the latte for Nico. Carlos' eyes followed your hands.

"I will say something if Ricciardo upset you." He said in a quieter voice.

You immediately shook your head and finally looked him in the eye. "Please don't. There's enough complication with... everything." You finished lamely.

"So I've heard." Carlos said.

You looked away. He knew.

"So then you'll know I don't need anymore complications." You said through gritted teeth, hating very much the confirmation that word had spread about what had happened.

"You haven't done anything wrong, though."

This caught you by surprise. It was the first time anyone - or, at least, a driver - had said those words to you. At the start, everyone had immediately pointed fingers at you. You were shunned and blamed. Some saw your position with the Formula One Group as part of Hospitality too light a punishment for what had happened. For the longest time, it was the confusion as to why everyone had reacted that way that did that hurt you. You hadn’t thought you had done anything wrong. Not really. You struggled to understand why no one else saw it that way. Least of all any of the drivers that knew what had happened.

Hearing Carlos say that really threw you for a short second. Carlos even caught it. He said your name and you finally looked up at him when you heard him say your name.

"Sorry it’s just - uh, Carlos, man.” You laughed a dry laugh. “You're probably the only driver who thinks so."

"I'm not." Carlos crossed his arms. "I might be the only one who has said so, but if I've understood correctly... then I'm not."

You looked down at metal jug in your hand with the extra milk you had frothed for yourself. Suddenly, you didn't feel like any caffeine. Your anxiety was already through the roof.

"Do you want a coffee?" You asked, sounding, again, very lame as that was your response to Carlos' comment.

The Spaniard looked back down at the spoon and jug in your hands. He nodded. "Have you had one already?" You asked. He shook his head and so you went about pulling down another paper cup to make his piccolo.

"You remembered." He said, laughing slightly.

"First coffee is a piccolo. Second and third are black." You recalled his order. Carlos smiled at you as you poured the milk. "I know everyone's coffee orders."

You didn’t catch how his smile lessened slightly at that.

You looked back at him and tried to ignore the thought of whether his kindness was exaggerated for your sake. A pity thing or something. Carlos accepted the coffee and then he actually offered a thank you in Arabic. You found your lips turning up hearing the marhaba on his Spanish tongue. “Es un placer.” You came back with his own native language.

You don’t work in Formula 1 without picking up a few things here and there.

Hence how you could recognise the German swears that sounded from within the motorhome as Guenther suddenly appeared.

“Where is that Y/N? Liverpool fucking tops the league and thinks she can take her time with— ah, you Ferrari fuckers!” Both you and Carlos looked to where he had come up behind the driver and slapped a friendly pat on his back. “Tell Fred he can’t have any pizza.”

“Pizza?” Carlos asked and looked down at you. “You made your pizza?”

You didn’t get a chance to respond before some Haas engineers appeared behind Guenther and called for you and him. Carlos took this as his sign - he was technically on Haas territory - and nodded at you and Guenther, holding up his piccolo in salute. Guenther had already taken the coffees you’d made for him and Nico and disappeared behind the sliding doors. You made a move to follow when Carlos called out.

"I want to try some famous Y/N pizza!” He said, turning on his heel as he walked backwards and called out to you.

You smiled and shook your head, walking back into the Haas home. You went back to the oven and set about plating up the pizzas to be a little more presentable to them. You also made sure to put some aside especially for Kevin. This was supposed to be for him.

You thought idly of saving some for Carlos when some Haas engineers you vaguely recognised walked past.

"Oh nice!" One engineer said, coming up and immediately reaching for one to stick it in his mouth. You watched him do the same blunder that Guenther did.

The other engineer, a woman with a thick Irish accent? was staring at you. Smug. "Damn, who got you smiling like that, missy?"

"What?" You asked, eyes going wide. You hadn't realised the wide smile on your face that was likely the direct result of one Carlo Sainz. Your face became hot again and it took every ounce of will to not seem affected by her words. “No one.”

"Mmm. If you say so.” She said in a sing song voice. “Well and me Mr Cool over here,” she gestured to the the other engineer trying to breathe through the hot pizza, “are heading to the garage now to see Kevin. Can we take them?"

"Yeah." You nodded. "Go ahead."

"Not saving some for anyone?"

"No." You shook your head firmly. "Take them all."

< prev ch [2] | next ch [4] >

taglist:

@eugene-emt-roe @spookystitchery @vicurious28 @taytaylala12 @c-losur3

@hiireadstuff @samantha-chicago @fionaschicken @casperlikej

295 notes · View notes

pinklunarprincess · 4 months ago

Text

Councilor!Reader X Silco (Pt.3)

A/N: Heyyy y'alllll!! So I wasn't lying when I said I would get out the next part of the Councilor!Reader tonight LOLLLLL. Legit I was GRINDING on this. Like, creative juices flowing and they WERE. NOT. STOPPING. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Please leave comments or reblogs, they are SO appreciated :) Also just and fyi, I said I had changed the writing style for this part, so no more bullet points! This is truly written like a story! I have also changed it so that it is second person POV :) Also, this isn't really proof read so please be nice :) Anyway, enough of me yapping! I hope y'all enjoy this!

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: Yearning, Silco being possessive (are we shocked?), Use of pet names ("Dove"), kissing, explicit language, MDNI!!

"Fucking imbeciles, I mean I just can't believe them" You grumbles as you bound into Silco's office like you own the damn place. Silco just hums in agreement from where he is sitting, not having looked up from his papers yet.

"You know I think they all weren't taught a very important lesson in primary school, which is that respect is a two way street. There is no way in all of Runeterra I'm going to respect some fuck-wit who won't even let me finish a goddamn sentence." You keep word vomiting as you take your coat off and hang it up on the coat rack positioned right by the door. All of this is done like it's second nature. Which at this point, it is.

"You really do have quite the mouth on you” Silco finally pipes up, eyes still glued to the documents on his desk. “I don’t believe I have ever heard you cuss this much, it’s impressive.” At this point Silco has lifted his eyes off the documents and could finally take you in. The burgundy, black, and gold hugging your curves beautifully. His colors. You were wearing HIS COLORS. It drove him absolutely MAD. In some way this looked correct. The Piltover colors you were normally sporting looked boring and washed you out. But this? This color palette was made for you. You looked ALIVE. You looked beautiful. You looked like you were HIS. And oh Janna….. he was going to make you his like it was his life goal.

“What’s wrong, Silco? Choke on your whiskey?” You raised an eyebrow to him from your place on his plush velvet couch. Secretly though, you were sweating bullets. ‘Oh Janna he doesn’t like it. He thinks I’m disrespecting him. I’ve crossed a line I can’t believe-‘

“Did you just come from the council?” Silco interrupted your spiraling train of thought with his very monotone question.

“Uh, yeah, I did. Couldn’t stand being in the room with those idiots any longer…” you mutter out, trying to get a read on his reaction. You notice a slight up-tick of Silcos lips at your words. Then you see his eyes darken before he speaks again.

“So you wore this” he gestures to your outfit “all day in front of the other councilors.” More of a statement, but you answer like it’s a question.

“Correct.” You take a sharp inhale. You can’t decipher what is happening in his mind. A tense silence lands over the two of you, Silco has yet to take his eyes off of the outfit. After what feels like years of this grueling silence, you speak up.

“I wore it to send a message to the other councilors” You state, trying to explain such a fashion choice to the man. His teal and ruby red eye locks with yours.

“Send a message?” He questions you, not daring to break eye contact. Now this has become far more interesting. You squirm in your seat slightly at all the undivided attention you’re getting from him. Sure, you wanted his attention, but right now you can’t tell if this is good or bad. You gulp.

“I wanted to let them know where my loyalty truly lies.” You utter out to him. Your heart feels like it’s about to beat out of your chest, ugh, if only you could read minds. That would be amazing right now. Slowly but surely, a grin breaks out over Silcos face.

“And your loyalty lies with whom?” Silco has now taken this moment to rise from his desk and to walk over to where you are sitting on the couch. You can feel your face heating up just by the proximity. You take a shuddering breath in before your response.

“With you, Silco.” With those words finally out Silco breaks into a full blown grin. His eyes were dark and shining with so much pride.

“And why is that little dove?” His voice is like silk. So alluring and sweet. If anything you could mistake him for a siren. The use of the pet name makes your stomach swoop, and your brain short circuits.

“Because…” you have to get your bearings again “because you treat me like an equal Silco. You listen to me, you value me. In the council room….” You have to take a few deep breaths, resulting in you picking up Silcos scent. You get a whiff of his cologne. Something that smelled expensive for sure. Then, you can pick up traces of a cigar he had earlier. It’s all so intoxicating and derails every train of thought you had.

“They don’t treat you like a person do they? Rather just…. Air?” Silco finishes your thought for you, and you just nod dumbly. He is eating up this look you have. You, wearing his colors, staring up at him with these big bambi-like eyes in pure wonder and intoxication.

“So I wanted to wear this and tell them who I really support…. You, the people of Zaun…..” Your throat feels dry and your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest. “Because here, I’m treated like a person.. here my intelligence isn’t questioned, here I’m respected.” There is a fiery passion behind your words that Silco can’t get enough of. A beat passes before Silco speaks.

“Stand up.” He backs away as he regards you again. It takes you a second to realize he just commanded you to do something. So, tentatively, you stand. He hums in approval.

“Walk to the middle of the room” Silco says as he goes to lean against the front of his desk. With hesitance, you walk to the center of the room. It’s quite silly really, you just were going on about how Silco makes you feel seen and respected and now here he is commanding you to stand and to walk like you’re a dog or something. But unlike the councilors, this makes you feel hot under the collar. His gaze never lets up on you. Scanning up and down on your body as you move. You stand in the center of the room, nervously wiping your hands on the skirt of your burgundy dress. Silco was rather enjoying all the squirming you were doing under his gaze. It made him feel so powerful.

“Spin.” He commands yet again.

“Pardon me?” You stare at him with confusion. He holds the gaze right back.

“Spin.” He repeats in a more serious tone. You obey this time, and slowly rotate to show every part of the dress to Silco. The gold lining it and how it reflects in the green rays of his window. How your jewelry is all jet black, and how for the first time in a long time, you have let your hair down. As you move around yourself he also can’t help but notice the slit going up the left hand side of the dress, revealing one of your legs to him. You couldn’t get more perfect. You make a full rotation and stop when you are facing him.

“Beautiful” He mutters, so lowly that you don’t even hear it. It makes your heart stutter in your chest.

“ You like it?” You ask genuinely, hoping to get a concrete answer out of him. He takes a deep breath before responding.

“More than like it, dove.” His voice is dangerously low. It does something to you, and you don’t want it to stop. A smile breaks out on your face in relief.

“Oh thank JANNA! Because I really thought I had crossed a line " "I need you to get rid of any Piltover outfit you own” Silco interrupts you mid babel. Your brain short circuits over that.

“I- uh…. What?” You ask dumbly.

“I know you heard me the first time dove” Silco starts to stalk towards you as he says “Get rid of all your previous Piltover outfits, and get your measurements for me. I quite like this look on you.” As he speaks he brings his thumb and forefinger to your chin and raises your face so you can meet his eyes. “This look doesn’t wash you out, or make you look bland, it makes you what you are.” He leans in closer to whisper “Powerful”.

You don’t know what overcame you, but you lean forward and encapsulate your lips with his in an all encompassing kiss. Silco stills for a moment, but after the shock wears off he’s kissing you back with even more ferocity. Suddenly hands are moving up and down your body, feeling every single inch, while yours have migrated to the back of his neck and into his hair. Silco starts to lead you backwards to where the couch is. Blindly backing you up, not daring to break the kiss. Your wandering hands start to play with his hair and lightly tug on some strands.

The groan that Silco releases is nearly pornagraphic. That sends an exciting shiver down your spine as you continue to kiss him fiercely. Sadly, Silco pulls away and looks over your face. There is nothing but adoration and possessiveness in his eyes. His volcanic eye is pulsing and erupting with emotion and pride, as his teal one is nearly blacked out from how big his pupil has grown. He really was a gorgeous man. His chiseled cheeks, defined nose, salt and pepper hair, and those scares running down the side of his face only made him hotter.

“You know, staring is rude….” Silco chides playfully. You smile and tilt your head to the side.

“I know, let me be rude. You’re gorgeous.” You muse as you cup his face in your hands. Heat prickles under Silco's skin at the compliment. He just laughs at the comment in response. You two just stand there gazing at each other with hands mindlessly roaming. It’s perfect in this bubble. Nothing exists besides you two. No disrespectful councilors, no painfully tedious documents to skim through, no pressures from the outside world. Just you two in utter bliss.

#Silco #Silco arcane #I arcame #Silco x Councilor!Reader #Silco x Fem!Reader #silco x f!reader #Lunar writes!

25 notes · View notes