#something about the yellow rubber gloves look is just right

[hazmatmaid]

Spamton's mother + bonus kidton

For some reason I imagine his parents to be very machine-like in behavior, but because they're based on older, outdated technology, they malfunction a lot.

[chernabogs]

A Rainy Wandering

Inc: Reader/Malleus (99% platonic but we had to sneak those subtle feelings in there at the end. Love me some two oblivious clowns) Second person POV Warnings: None WC: 1.8k Summary: Er so that new Malleus card, yeah? (Or: hey your bff scheduled in a 4 hour gargoyle tour, are you coming, orrrr...?) Also s.o to Alexandra with her literal Field Guide to Gargoyles and founding of the Gargoyle Appreciation Society. My hero rn for this hope they are thriving.

The campus is shrouded in grey as the rain falls at a steady rate around you. You grip your umbrella with both hands to combat against the gentle tug of the wind as you stand at the end of your dorms long walkway, shifting from side to side on occasion to look at both ends of the road. Behind you, the orange glow of Ramshackles cozy inside beckons to you, promising an escape from the rain in the form of wool blankets and terrible reality television. You’re half tempted to go back, but you staunchly remind yourself that you had made a promise, and you were not someone to fall back on your word.

That being said, your friend is about five minutes late, but you can forgive him. He’s never been good at keeping track of time. 

You shift on your heels again as you tilt the umbrella back to look at the grey sky. You last all of two seconds before too many raindrops fall on your face and you look back down, blinking the water out of your eye. The motion lets you take note of a pair of boots standing to your right. 

“Oh!” You splutter, moving your umbrella again to look at to whom those boots belong. Malleus stands in a very casual, unassuming manner, his own umbrella in hand and his brow quirked in amusement. “How long have you been standing here for?” 

You know the answer to that already—probably just seconds—but Malleus’ lips curl into a secretive smile as he shrugs a shoulder. “Long enough to observe you taking a makeshift wash.” 

A sour look is what he gets in turn, although yours always lack venom when it comes to him. A quick glance over his form shows you that he’s come prepared for the weather as well. In addition to his umbrella (which is decorated with gargoyles, to your amusement), he wears a black and purple raincoat, gloves, and has tied his hair back in a looped knot you think you've never seen him wear before. Compared to your yellow rubber boots and yellow raincoat, he looks like he stepped out of a high-fashion shoot. 

To serve and observe, apparently, is the agenda for today. You missed that memo. 

“I need to tie a bell to your wrist so I know when you’re coming.” You grumble as he steps back to the road, leaving you to fall in line with him. His warm laughter fills the air as you begin the first few legs of the tour he’s been talking about for ages.

“Now, I do think I recall you saying that once before,” he muses, tapping his fingers against the metal gargoyle at his umbrella's base. “You have yet to follow through.” 

 “I think your students would mob my dorm if I were to try and tie anything to you. Maybe I should just put an alarm on your phone instead—as long as you don’t break it again.” 

Often this would earn you a look of mock hurt, but Malleus seems far too jubilant at the moment to care about the subtle read you’re giving him. He’s smiling away, as happy as can be as he walks by your side. He even has a little bounce in his step. It almost makes you want to laugh at the sight; how can anyone call him intimidating when he’s looking like a child about to get a present? 

“Ah, yes, yes. I have been diligent in keeping my devices in check. Shroud has been of much help in that.” His gaze darts around the campus until he loops his arm with yours and pulls you swiftly to the right. You’re pliant to his guidance, only sighing in response as you let him pull you wherever he sees fit. This is something you’ve come to realize about the nature of your relationship with the prince. Malleus is a chronic wanderer, tending to just go off wherever he wishes, but he’s also mildly codependent. Since you two had firmly established that you are friends—hell, you gave the man a friendsgiving card—everywhere Malleus drifts off to, he takes you like a tether.

“Ah! Our first stop on our tour,” he begins, still brimming with energy. He tries to move his umbrella, only to have it collide with yours in the process. “Actually, before we begin, would you be so kind as to close your umbrella? We can use mine.”

You lean back to look up at your friend incredulously. At well over 6 feet, horns excluded, you doubt that you will remain dry for long should Malleus shield you both with his umbrella. He stares back both unwavering and with expectation in his look. You purse your lips. He raises an eyebrow. You lean back a bit, he replicates the action, his gaze looking you up and down. Daring you.

Oh, girl.

After a second of silent staring with a dash of attitude that the man rarely shows anyone else, you huff a sigh and close your umbrella, scooting closer to him once you do. His expression lights up as you roll your eyes, and he resumes his tangent. 

“Thank you, my dear friend. Now, as I was saying, our first stop on our tour! If you direct your attention upwards you will see what is aptly called a screamer gargoyle. The positioning of its body—with hands behind its head and its mouth agape—is meant to remind those who witness it that torment lay ahead if they fail to fulfill a particular purpose. You may see these on the cathedrals in numerous nations, as they were quite popular to evoke terror in worshippers.”

 You scoot forward to look past the edge of the umbrella at the gargoyle in particular. True to Malleus’ word, the carved figure looks as though it’s screaming in agony, its eyes directed upwards, and its body bent at an angle. You smirk a little. 

“Kind of looks like Ace and Deuce during exams.” 

Malleus hums thoughtfully. “Perhaps that is why they put one on a school ground. To remind students of the torment they will endure should they neglect studying and strike deals for grades instead.”

“So mean,” you chastise, even though you were the one to start this train of thought. The two of you continue your trail along the main road. Malleus keeps your arms firmly linked together as he chatters on, stopping on occasion to point out a particularly significant gargoyle, or a grotesque lined against the wall. You reckon this is the most your friend has talked in a while, considering his need to stop and clear his throat with an apology. 

You also consider that this is probably one of few times that he’s managed to rope someone into a walk with him like this. Out of the joy his joy seems to bring you, you prompt him with several questions as you tour about, doing your best to remember the info dumping you’re being subjected to. A slip up of calling a grotesque a gargoyle by mistake, which earned you a verbal berating in the gentlest of manners, was enough to make you pay closer attention.

As the rain begins to lighten and the sun valiantly fights to break free, the two of you come to a stop in one of the courtyard areas of the main building. You fish out a granola bar from your pocket as Malleus holds the umbrella, offering him half of it before you look around at the building. There aren’t as many gargoyles here as the other areas, save for one impressive dragon carving looming over the courtyard entrance. You gesture to it in silence, your mouth too full of chocolate and granola to speak. Fortunately, Malleus has become more then attuned to your gestures to know what you’re saying—another reward of your friendship. 

“That is one of the older gargoyles present on the campus. Considering that the courtyard we are standing in served as part of the original residence, I would wager that the initial owner of the lands commissioned this.” Malleus taps the base of the umbrella again as he tilts it back to look upwards. A few stray raindrops hit his cheek, making his brow furrow as he inspects the moss-covered structure. He’s looking at the gargoyle, while you’re looking at the expressions he’s pulling. “Most people surmise that the selection of a dragon was done to evoke fear in opponents who may try to take these lands, but I’m of the mindset that it was done to symbolize the wisdom and guardianship the owners held over their subjects. Dragons are, after all, quite wise.”

“So the dragon says.” You reply teasingly as you look at the statue. He’s right to guess that it’s certainly the oldest one you’ve seen. The stone is aged and slightly cracked along the edges. You know that Malleus has a habit of carving statues himself, and you wonder if he’s ever considered trying to repair it. Given his love for all things crumbling and ancient, however, you also wager that the thought of rebuilding something that time has claimed is well against his personal morals. 

“My assessment is free of bias, Prefect.” He counters with a mockingly scolding tone to his voice. You know it to be in jest by the way his eyes remain alight with joy. He really is infectious when he’s in a good mood, dangerously so, and a part of you wishes he could stay this way consistently instead of sliding back to the quiet, brooding form he can be when he’s feeling temperamental. 

You scrunch up the granola wrapper before shoving it in your pocket with a shake of your head. “Oh yes, definitely no projecting going on here.”

“I will leave you out in this rain.” He warns, tilting the umbrella so that you’re out of its cover. You yelp in protest and duck back underneath, practically squishing yourself against him to keep from doing that again. 

“You like me too much to do that!” You argue back as you grip the umbrella handle yourself. He breaks his facade of sternness to laugh as his arm comes around you to rest on your back. The act feels far too natural for the first time he’s ever done it, yet you acquiesce regardless. “Besides, who else will finish this loop with you? Silver is training with Sebek and Lilia is off… well. Doing whatever he pleases.”

Another thoughtful hum vibrates in Malleus’ chest, which you can feel considering the proximity of your bodies in this moment. A sudden awareness strikes you that makes you feel a bit awkward about it all. Out of reflex you nudge his waist with your arm, prompting him to give you some more space.

“I suppose you have me there,” he notes, granting you a half smile as he looks down to your irate expression. He offers you the crook of his arm, and you silently oblige by linking it with yours. He tugs you a bit closer this time around as he beckons to the courtyard exit. “Let us continue, then. I would say we have another hour at least. Oh, I do hope you’re as excited as I am for what’s to come.”

[ty-bayonet-betteridge]

your transfem friend recommended a clinic to get your bottom surgery done at. she says its cheap, not gatekeepery, and the results are good, even if the doctors a little skeevy. youre at the address she gave you and are wondering how exactly your murder will go down. the door is on a third floor landing accessible only from a fire escape out of a back alley in the worst part of town youve ever seen. you knock three times and the door is answered by a ratty-looking woman with a severe slouch smoking something that doesnt smell like nicotine and doesnt smell like marijuana. her wavy blonde hair is unkempt. shes wearing an oversized grey hoodie that hasnt been washed in some time. you can identify blood on the left sleeve and vomit across much of her side, as well as other, more mysterious stains. you cant tell if shes wearing anything underneath the hoodie. the inside of the apartment - because it is, very clearly, her apartment - has a smell that you cant place but, if pressed, would probably call sweat, though you know that description is lacking something.

dr davis, you ask. she smiles wide, and her teeth are shockingly good for the state the rest of her is in. just call me riley, she says. never did get a degree.

she ushers you inside and sits you down on a sofa almost as stained as her hoodie. can i get you a drink she asks. a drink, you repeat, dazed. she says yeah. she says she has diet coke, beer, vodka, and coffee. says she used to keep tea around for a friend of a friend but she hasnt come by in a few years and the leaves are probably losing flavor by now. you say just waters fine. she shrugs and says your funeral. she comes back from the kitchen and sweeps some stuff off the coffee table. you see a stray scalpel, a roll of gauze bandages, a soda cup from taco bell, and various crumpled papers amongst the rubbish that she knocks aside before setting down your glass of water. she has a beer in her own hand and pops the cap off with her teeth, though the motion isnt quite how youre used to seeing people do it. she takes a big gulp before she keeps talking.

so what do you want your pussy to look like, she asks. you splutter a bit. she says you are the one who needed their bits redone right. you flush and say yeah thats me. she nods and says right so what do you want. you struggle to give a good answer and she starts asking questions. depth? width? color? clit size? you give your answers falteringly. she starts asking about labia. oh, you dont want dentata, do you, she says. that costs extra. you say you dont know what that means. she says dont worry about it. hey do you wanna get pregnant? you splutter again. not now she clarifies. well i can get you pregnant now too if you want that. doesnt even have to be human i think i have some horse sperm around here if you want. i just meant like ever in the future. you say you dont know. she says okay shell leave it out for now but come back if you ever want her to put the womb in. youre too stunned to reply.

she says oh do you want to keep your dick, i can do that. you say you thought they needed the tissue from the penis in order to make the vaginal lining. she laughs and takes another gulp from her beer. she says so is that a no. you say you guess you hadnt thought about it. she says she can reschedule if you need to think, no rush. you say no i guess i dont want it anymore. she nods and says come back if you change your mind.

she says ok, i think i can start operating now if youre ready. you say okay and she tells you to lie on your back and strip naked. you follow her instructions. youre still not sure if youre going to die today or not. she pulls on a big pair of rubber gloves. not latex medical gloves, they're yellow dishwashing gloves. she grabs a small jar of what looks like petroleum jelly off a shelf nearby. you cant help but notice that theres also lube, condoms, saran wrap, and a bottle of honey on the same shelf. you dont ask. she starts vigorously rubbing the jelly into your skin from the belly button down. everywhere it touches you instantly go numb. she keeps talking while she works. a lot of it is her telling stories about "her amy." you cant tell if amy is a sister, wife, or pet. she might be all three.

she reaches up to grab an empty syringe off the top shelf. when she stretches you notice shes naked under the hoodie. you look away bashfully. she doesnt seem to notice.

she fills the syringe with liquid from a bucket in the closet. the liquid is neon green. she injects it into your inner upper thigh. you are now certain you're going to die today, but you cannot make a break for it with your legs numbed, so you wait.

she says okay this is the part where a lot of people get squeamish so look away if you think you might get sick. she pulls out a set of knives. some of them look like dentistry tools, some of them are medical scalpels, and some of them are kitchen knives. you look away. she starts humming to herself while she works. the tune is pop goes the weasel.

hey, she calls out to you from between your legs, how many nerves do you want in your clit? you say uh i dont know, whats a normal amount. she says about ten thousand give or take two thousand in either direction. you say ten thousand sounds fine. she doesnt respond, just goes back to humming. its a different tune. shes humming old macdonald now.

she gets up a couple times to grab new drinks. you say should you be drinking during an operation? she says dont worry i know what im doing. besides i never took the hippocratic oath. she laughs at that, the sound somewhere between a giggle and a cackle. you don't think its that funny. she resumes her work.

this time shes humming the alphabet song. you ask how old are you anyway? she says somewhere between 12 and 47. then she laughs again. you decide to stop asking questions.

four beers, two diet cokes, three unidentifiable cigarettes, and five hours later, she stands up and announces shes done. she wipes her brow without taking the glove off, smearing unidentifiable bodily fluids across her forehead. she jabs another syringe into your other thigh and the feeling returns to your lower body. you're a little sore but other than that you feel great. she wheels over a full length mirror and tells you to take a look. its perfect. youre everything youve ever dreamed you would be. you cant describe how euphoric it feels to see a vagina, your vagina, between your legs. you thank her tearfully. she smiles awkwardly. of course, shes saying.

how much do i owe you you ask. she shrugs. iunno, a hundred bucks? im not in it for the money. you pay her the hundred bucks and leave quickly. you barely remember to get dressed again before heading out. you have never seen Riley again.

[ladykailitha]

The Caged Bird Still Sings Part 14

Hey guys! Welcome back! So this chapter is getting a little heavy on the angsty side, so just a heads up.

Things have been going great for all the stories especially the Christmas one.

This will be the story that keeps its usual schedule next week. Every other posting day will be finishing up the Olympic Swimmer one. So be on the look out for that.

Also super long chapter!

Steve tries out some hobbies, Joyce pushes, and Steve gets depressed.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

~

Steve would like to say he got right on the job search the next day, but he really didn’t. He woke up refreshed and feeling good about himself. After a run on the treadmill and big breakfast he had already talked himself out needing to.

But instead he decided that he wanted to learn new hobbies. He had the money and pretty much unlimited time so why not?

The first thing he tried felting. Yeah, he had a lot of money, but he wanted to start with something cheap in case he got bored with it.

Taking the kit out of the box, he already ran into a problem. The leather finger gloves were much too small. Like he didn’t have fat fingers or anything but they were much too tight to fit on even his pinkie fingers he turned them inside out to see if he could make them bigger somehow.

He only succeeded in ruining the finger gloves. He tried rubber thimbles as replacements but still the sharp tool would pierce even the tough rubber.

The kit sat abandoned in a corner of his hotel room until one of the porters saw it and asked if he could have it. His sister did the felting all the time and she was having trouble finding colors she liked.

So Steve let him have it. Three days later the porter came back with a bright yellow canary and a female robin. He proudly displayed them on his nightstand next to the phone and alarm clock.

Robin loved them, but refused to take the robin. She said they shouldn’t be separated at any price.

Steve loved her a little bit more when she said that.

The next thing he tried was painting.

That lasted all of six hours before they got handed off to Will. It was a beautiful oil, acrylic, and water color set, with all the paint brushes and pallet and metal wood-handled pallet knives.

It lasted that long was because that was the time it took for Steve to set everything up, including an old sheet Rosa let him have, start painting and promptly knock everything over. The water, the paints, the easel. Everything. He broke the easel, knocked a hole in the canvas, and smeared paint all over the apron he had bought just for the occasion.

Will was happy to receive the paints, but in turn he gave Steve a simple notepad and pencil and taught him how to draw.

Steve liked that.

It was just for doodling and making silly pictures so it didn’t make him feel like a failure. He went to the bookstore and bought a bunch of books on how to draw certain things. Animals, the human figure. He even found this great reference book on clothes sorted based on the English monarch who was in power at the time the were wore.

Which was all well and good, but it wasn’t exactly what he wanted.

One day while he was over at Will’s talking art and whether or not kneaded erasers were worth the pain they caused if you dropped, Ellie introduced him to a new hobby. Will was against the things, Steve was for.

Jonathan huffed, “That’s probably a class issue as Steve here can afford to replace them and Will can’t.”

Steve and Will stared at each other in complete shock, but had to admit that Jonathan was probably right.

“Yeah, okay,” Steve huffed, “that’s fair. I guess I really didn’t think about it because it’s not my money I’m spending.”

“Have you tried looking for a job?” Joyce asked. She didn’t like that someone was paying to keep Steve safe. As nice as it was, in her experience the well tended to dry up when you least expected it to.

Steve rolled his eyes. “Yes, Mrs. Byers.” Which he had. Yes, he had been focused on trying to learn things that would keep his mind from atrophying, he had also been looking. “If they seen me coming they take down the sign or if they don’t get to it in time, they say it’s an old sign and that they forgot to take it down.”

Joyce’s shoulders slumped in sympathy. The rumor around town is that because Mr. Harrington was the landlord for a lot of the properties that the businesses were on, he had threatened to raise their rent if they gave Steve a job.

Something that all the adults promised not to tell Steve so that he wouldn’t get so discouraged as to not try at all.

But surely Clint Harrington didn’t own every business in Hawkins and she told Steve so.

“No,” Steve huffed. “But he’s friends with ones that he doesn’t. I’m going to try the mall next. Most of the them are franchises and have their main bosses outside of Hawkins.”

She let out a little sigh of relief. It showed that Steve was trying and actively thinking of these types of pitfalls.

Steve shifted uncomfortably. “What have you got there, Ellie?” he asked trying to shift the focus off of him for a moment.

Joyce was watching Ellie while Hopper was at work.

The young girl held up long satin strings of embroidery thread. She had three shades of pink, a white, and a red. She tied the ends to a safety pin that was pinned her leg.

“I’m making friendship bracelets for me and Max,” Ellie said proudly. “The pink is for me, and then I have these colors for her!” She held up blues and purples.

“That’s way cool!” Steve said scooting over to sit next to her.

Jonathan and Will shared a smile. Steve was lost to the shiny allure of friendship bracelets.

“I could teach you if you like,” she said with a smile. “I also have boondoggle!” She held up shiny plastic strips. “I make key chains and other things that need to last a lot longer than the thread.”

Steve really lit up, but then frowned when he saw out intricate it all was. “I’ll never be do anything that fancy.”

Ellie sat closer and pulled out a little paper that she had in her caboodle. “I couldn’t at first either, so I went to the library and took out a book on all the different ways you could plait and how to do boondoggle. Then I copied a couple of the pages I wanted to try.”

She handed it to him and pointed to the easiest. “That’s the one I started with and it will probably take a little bit to get the spacing right.”

Steve tilted his head. “Is this like braiding hair?”

“Yes!” Ellie said excitedly. “That’s right. I forgot you braid Max’s hair all the time. So then it will be easy for you.”

Soon they were off in their own little world.

Joyce watched with her arms crossed and a concerned expression. Jonathan spotted her and shook his head. He stood up and went to stand next to her.

“You’ve got to let it go, Mom,” he said gently. “You aren’t his mom and even if you were, he’s still an adult. As near as anyone of can tell, whoever is footing this bill isn’t in it to exploit Steve, just making sure he’s taken care of.”

Joyce breathed out through her nose as she tried not to snap at her son. She didn’t know that as a fact and Hopper’s reassurances weren’t enough. She hated having to take his word that whoever this was wouldn’t harm Steve. And that galled.

“It’s all the expensive gifts,” she tried to explain. “The car, the unlimited credit card, cash drops weekly, the gold necklace, the hotel. It’s just not right, it’s not decent.”

Jonathan shook his head. “What about all the non-expensive gifts? Things this benefactor thought Steve would like or get a kick out of? Like that little canary with top hat that he keeps on his dashboard? Or all the music tapes they send, thinking Steve might want to try something different. Hell, according to Steve until they left the country, they talked once or twice a day. That doesn’t sound like someone out to hurt him.”

She let out a shuddering sigh. Because Jonathan was right, that didn’t sound like someone trying to use Steve. “I know.”

Jonathan patted on her shoulder and then went into his room, probably to call Nancy. Another person like his mom who worried Steve was being taken advantage of. But even if he was, that was a lesson he was going to have to learn the hard way.

On his own.

Will had long since left to go hang out with Mike while Ellie and Steve made friendship bracelets. He made four. A black, red, and dark grey one for Eddie, a red, a brown, and a light grey one for Robin and two yellow, white, and black ones. So he could one each to Eddie and Robin.

“Those are really pretty, Steve,” Ellie congratulated him. “Those are some interesting color choices.” Spoken as though she was silently judging, but too polite to say so.

He blushed and held up the first one. “This is for my special friend, they are his favorite colors.” Then he held up the second. “And this is for Robin. The colors remind me of a female robin and the last two represent who I am now.”

Ellie blinked for a moment as she took in the information. “I can see that now. Thank you for explaining it to me.”

“I get my thread at Melvand’s,” she said serenely, “if you wanted to continue to make more, that’s where you would go to get your own.”

Steve kissed the top of her head. “Thank you, Ellie.”

He didn’t stay much longer than that, now that both of the other boys were gone, Joyce was keeping too close an eye on him with Ellie. He knew it wasn’t the gay thing as she didn’t mind Will being around her. And it wasn’t being a barely legal adult considering she would gladly leave Jonathan to look over her.

Nope.

It was entirely because she didn’t know who Steve’s mysterious benefactor was. And the thought of this unknown, probably male, person might hear about Ellie later? Yeah, that’s where she drew her invisible line.

Which was bullshit, like with Robin’s mom, Eddie wasn’t going to prey on little girls. He was freaking out about Steve might be underage when they met in the club. But it wasn’t like he could tell Joyce that. She might revoke his time with Will and Ellie if she learned he had been underaged drinking that night. The night Eddie saved him.

Steve went up to his hotel room and flopped face first into his bed. He was tired. Tired of all the questions about finding a job and getting out from under Eddie’s thumb. Like Eddie was financially abusing him or whatever.

He just wanted to bring people to his hotel room and show them all the little things Eddie sent him just because he walked into a gas station and saw something cute he thought he would like. The keychain from Kansas City with his name on it. The bright yellow shirt that said “I don’t take no shit” and had the Iowan state bird of the American goldfinch. That one came with a little note explaining that it was a canary, but the black on the wings reminded Eddie of the deliciously tight black leather pants.

Steve blushed for hours after that one.

He wiggled onto the bed and crawled under the covers without having taken off any of his clothes. Maybe he could hibernate until Eddie got back in America.

~

Steve managed to bury himself under the covers before the porter with the felting sister ripped the blanket off from over his head.

He stared blearily up at the porter. “Martin?” He struggled to sit up, but flopped back down on the pillow in distress. “Just leave me alone.”

“It’s Marty actually,” the porter huffed. “The only people that call me Martin are my boss and my mom. You’re not either.”

“Marty, I just want to go back to sleep.”

Marty pulled the rest of the blankets and yanked Steve off the bed. He went with a startled yelp. He leapt to his feet to fight him, but he saw that Bob and Rosa were standing by his bed with looks of concern on their faces.

“I have the shower running,” Bob said, “you will get in there and at least clean off the sweat you reek of. Then Rosa will change the sheets. Marty will bring up some food while you are showering, then the three of us are staging an intervention, because this isn’t like you!”

Steve opened his mouth to refute that statement, probably something about how no one called the whole time he as sulking.

Bob pulled out a stack of messages. “I have thirteen messages, and that’s only because the answering machine is full.”

Steve looked behind him and sure enough the machine was blinking complete with a full tape.

“Oh.”

He meekly went and did as he was told. He was only going to do a perfunctory wipe down because they were waiting for him, but once he got under the water it felt so good that he began to thoroughly scrub himself down. Normally going without a shower for a couple of days really didn’t do much, but because he had barely moved to pee, he was covered in thin layer of sweat.

He washed his hair and got out of the shower. He dried himself off and put on the long robe Eddie had gotten him. He opened the door and was instantly hit with enticing aroma of chicken noodle soup. He moved out of the bathroom to the main room, lured by the scent of real food.

The sofa was full of the hotel employees so he grabbed his bowl of soup and spoon and sat down on the armchair curled up as small as he could make himself.

“You frightened us, mi corazón,” Rosa huffed. “You weren’t answering your phone, you weren’t ordering food. The only way we could tell you moved at all is that occasionally the cup in the bathroom would be wet or you would be on the other side of the bed.”

Bob nodded. “We were told to look after you, money was no object. That’s what we were told, but you turned out to be kind and generous and frankly better than ninety percent of the patrons here. You treat us like we’re human, so it became our pleasure to serve you. So when you weren’t opening your door to anyone or answering your calls, we knew something was wrong.”

“Sorry,” Steve muttered into his bowl. “I just got so tired of everyone trying to find out who is bankrolling my life style and telling me to get a job that I just didn’t want to deal with it anymore.”

“It’s none of their business,” Rosa huffed. “They’re just jealous that they don’t have this life. I know your papa wants to hurt and all this for you protection, but it seems to me your friends just see the money you...” she snapped her fingers. “What’s the word?”

“I’d use ‘splash around’,” Steve said with a shrug.

“Ehhh,” she knew it wasn’t the word she was looking for but it would have to do. “They see the good. Not the bad. They see new car, but they weren’t there to see you give up your old car. They see the fancy hobbies, but they don’t see your big room and no one to fill it with.”

“She’s right,” Marty said. “I don’t think even the girl that comes with your gifts from Eddie Munson quite understands the crippling loneliness and isolation you have to be feeling right now.”

Steve sniffled into his soup. “Thanks, guys. I don’t know how to impress upon them how dangerous this all is for me. Like the only ones that remotely understand are the Hendersons and that’s because my dad showed up on their doorstep. But even then I don’t think Dustin quite grasps the enormity of it all, but then he’s thirteen so...”

“The only reason your father hasn’t penetrated hotel security,” Bob said with a grimace, “is that the owner, Dr. Sam Owens hates business men like your father. Otherwise, his hold over this town would have extended to here, no doubt about that.”

“So this is what’s going to happen,” Marty said, “if you need to sneak out and just go for a drive to get out of your head, call Bob and he’ll arrange it. If you need someone to talk to ring up Rose or myself. We’re here for you. We understand that Mr. Munson is out of the country right now and it makes it harder, but we’ve got you, okay?”

Steve nodded and said weakly, “Okay!”

~

Part 15 Part 16 Part 17

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @beelze-the-bubkiss @blondie1006

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @sticknpokelightningbolt

9- @scoops-aboy86 @kurofuckingshi16 @watermelonmite @eyehartart @dreamercec

10- @little-birch-boy @yearningagain @micheledawn1975 @sadisticaltarts

[crazyunsexycool]

A Love as Sweet as Honey

Chapter 2

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

word count: 3.4K

Warning: mentions of blood, migraine, little bit of fluff I guess, a little bit of Charlotte, Also a new character is added... 👀

A/N: Well look who decided to finish writing chapter 2 of ALASAH. This is just a filler chapter. It's kind of to show how Steve and Honey kind of look out for each other. Also this is kind of self-indulgent since I've been getting a bunch of migraines lately... lol Anyways, the next chapter is where it's at.

Series Masterlist

You stood by as the jet landed. The bright sunlight had you squinting as you finished getting your gear on. To your right is Mrs. B with a few more people that worked in the medbay. She was supposed to be on maternity leave but the mission had been harder than the team had imagined and they would need all hands on deck. 

“You call me if you need anything.” She says as she moves to stand by you. She was always looking out for you. At first you thought it was just because you were friends with Steve but it was more than that. Maybe she could sense that you didn’t really have anyone you could count on. And although you weren’t sure how to show her you appreciated it you hoped she knew you did.

“I’ll be fine.” 

“I know you will but if you need anything, call me.”

“I will, mom.” You rolled your eyes playfully but Mrs. B smiled proudly. 

The rear cargo door opens and some agents are moving stretchers down the ramp. Mrs. B and her team rush over and begin to work. You give them a few minutes before grabbing your bag and heading into the jet to do your part. At the ramp Sam exits and he stops in front of you.

“Steve’s still in there.” He informs you.

“Is something wrong?” 

“Some civilians and agents were hurt pretty badly. The mission failed and he’s beating himself up over it. You might want to give him a minute before going in there to get that case Doc.”

“Thanks for the heads up.” 

Sam gives you a quick nod before heading into the compound. You take a deep breath and look back at the jet. While you were very understanding of needing space and time away from people, you didn’t think that this was good for Steve. So after another minute of thinking through how you would approach him, you decided to just go in and do your job. 

The overhead lights are dimmed. The floor is littered with gauze, packaging and ripped uniforms. There’s caked up dirt and blood too. You try to ignore it and step over it as best as you can until you’re closer to the front of the jet. A lone figure sat in the dark. All slumped shoulders and head hanging low. Even as you sat next to him, Steve didn’t move. 

“I heard about the mission I-“ 

“Please don’t say that it wasn’t my fault or that it was out of my control.” He murmurs. He’s completely defeated. 

“I was going to say that I can’t imagine what you must be feeling. I think that you did your best.” 

“People got hurt.” He replies with a clenched jaw.

“But they didn’t die.”

“But they could have.” 

“And you got them to the people that could save their lives. Do you feel like you could have done more?” You tilt your head to look at him better.

“I could have done things differently.” 

“I said more.” 

Steve sighs as he runs a hand over his face and then shakes his head. “I don’t know that I could have.” 

“Then you did your best. Sometimes your best isn’t good enough but you can’t blame yourself for it. You’ll kick ass next time.” 

Steve nods but you can tell he doesn’t believe it.

You get up and head toward the chamber where hazardous materials are stored to grab the briefcase you came for. The whole reason for the mission in the first place. There’s some shuffling behind you and then laughter from Steve so you turn to find out what’s so funny. 

“What?” 

“You look like a rubber duck with that thing on.” 

You looked down at your yellow hazmat suit. There was a hood you had covering your hair, gloves, a face mask and disposable shoe covers.

“I’m going to remember you called me a duck.” You smile as Steve huffs another laugh. 

“Charlotte calls you a duck all the time.” 

“That’s between us girls.” You say before turning back to the job at hand.

Before you can remove the briefcase you have to check for any leaks so you grab a few things out of the bag you had with you. After doing a few preliminary tests you deem it safe to move so you put everything back and grab the briefcase. 

“C’mon, let’s get out of here.” You tell Steve. 

“I’ll be out in a minute.” 

“Nope. You’re leaving now. You can mope in your apartment but I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to stay here.” 

“I promise I’ll be out in a few minutes.” 

You shake your head. “Just go to your apartment. I’ll call Mrs. B.” 

“She doesn’t scare me.” 

“Fine, I'll bring in the big guns. I’ll call Charlotte and Henry.” 

“You wouldn’t.” Steve gasps.

“Try me.” You raise your brows. “Now grab your shit and let's go. I have samples to run.”

“Fine.” Steve grabs his shield and bag and follows you out of the jet. 

You walk in silence together until you get to the elevators. 

“I’ll see you later ok?” 

“You got something new to work on, I don’t think I’ll see you for at least three days.” Steve smirks. 

“I’ll check in with you at some point. You really did your best.” 

Steve nods but looks a bit dejected. 

“Go get some rest.” You say as you enter the elevator and Steve heads down the hall to the living quarters. 

The pain started slowly. At first you thought it was just stiffness in your neck from being in the same position for so long. But then the sounds of the lab and the conversations were too loud. The light was too bright. You were blinking slowly as you tried to focus on something around you. It wasn’t until the nausea hit that you knew you had a few minutes to clean up your station and save all the information you had before you needed to leave. You excused yourself with Bruce, who was looking at you with concern. He was kind enough to escort you to your apartment just to make sure you actually got there.

“Are you sure you’ll be ok?” He asks as you stop in front of your door.

“I’ll be fine.” 

“I can get someone from the medbay come up here.” 

“No, I'm good. I’m sure with some sleep this migraine will go away.” You say quietly.  

“Well you don’t have to come in tomorrow. Rest up and let me know if you need anything.” 

“Thanks Bruce.” You say before heading inside. 

****

Steve is just closing the door to his apartment when Mrs. B turns the corner. She has her medic bag with her and instinctively Steve looks to your door.

“Mags, what's going on?” 

“Y/N asked me to come up. Said something about a headache.” She says while stopping in front of your door.

“Oh.” 

“I’ll let her know that you’re right here if she needs anything. I’m gonna go check on her.” 

“Ok.” 

****

After taking a nap and waking up feeling worse you did the only thing you could think of, called Mrs. B. If it weren’t because you were in such a weakened state you would’ve found more medicine for your headache. But you could barely get out of bed. 

“Y/N, it’s me. May I come in?” You heard Mrs. B call out softly. 

She was right outside your bedroom door so you just groaned in response. The door opens and the light from the living room fills the dark space you had created for yourself. You groan again and she closes the door. 

“Can you tell me what’s wrong?” She whispers as she sits at the edge of your bed. 

“Mi-migraine. Vomit. So bad.” You say with slurred speech. 

“Do you get a lot of migraines?” 

“Mhm.” 

“Ok. I’m going to step out and check our records and I’ll be right back to help you. Are you allergic to any medication?” 

There was complete silence for a moment and you felt Mrs. B’s cool hands on your forehead and you sighed. It was so hard for you to think straight so it took you a minute to come up with an answer. 

“No.” 

“Ok, I’ll be right back.” There was some shuffling around and the sound annoyed you but then you felt something cool on your head. “It’s an ice pack, maybe it could soothe you a bit.” She whispered and got up. 

It felt like hours had passed as you laid there waiting for Mrs. B to come back. Really it was just a few minutes but the pain you were feeling was so overwhelming that you couldn’t keep track of anything. 

“Y/N, I’m going to give you something for the pain ok.” 

“Mhm.” Is the only acknowledgement you could give. 

She moved quickly and quietly next to you in order to give you something to ease this pain. After she was done, Mrs. B sat beside you and pushed your hair away from your face. A motherly gesture that at a different time would have startled you but you welcomed it at the moment. She stayed for a few more minutes before grabbing her things. 

“Y/N?” She calls your name softly.

“Mm?” 

“Steve is out in the hallway. He wanted to know if it would be ok if he came in to check on you.” 

This was so new to you. No one ever really worried about your well-being. Now there were two people that were looking after you. It was nice but also hard for you to accept the help and attention. You only called Mrs. B because you knew that as a medical professional she wouldn’t deny helping you and out of everyone in the medbay you only felt comfortable with her coming into your apartment. Steve was something else entirely. Yes you lived across from him and you even had him over for a movie night but you hadn’t really unpacked then. If he came in now it would be like he could really see all of you. But at the moment you also needed help or the reassurance that someone would come in to see if you were still alive.

“Ok.” You barely manage to say.

“Alright I’ll let him know but you can still have Friday call me if you need me.”

“Thanks.” You say while turning away from her and closing your eyes again. 

****

“Y/N? Hey, can you hear me?” The words were rushed and panicked. “C’mon open your eyes. Y/N open your eyes.” 

You groaned in response. The pain you felt was horrible. You were nauseous too. A nice cool feeling comes over your forehead and you lean into it. 

“Y/N, can you hear me?” 

It was Steve. A panicked, worried Steve was talking to you but you felt like you were underwater so you only hummed. 

“I’m going to take you to the medbay.” He whispers as you’re lifted up in his strong arms. You lean into his chest and fall back into unconsciousness.

You were groggy and confused when you finally woke up. Your body ached and you still felt that dull pounding in your head from the overpowering migraine. The more alert you became the more you realized you weren’t in your room or your apartment. 

“Y/N?” Asked a sleepy voice from beside you. 

“Steve?” You rasp out. 

“Hey, how are you feeling?”

“Like my head got hit with a sledgehammer.” You groan. “Where am I?”

“I had to bring you to the medbay, I came in to check in on you and found you passed out on your bathroom floor.” 

You just stared at Steve for a moment. “I-I don’t remember getting out of bed.”

“It’s ok. You were really out of it. The doctors said your migraine was really bad.”

“I haven’t had one this bad in a long time.” 

Steve cups your cheek, running his thumb back and forth. You lean into the touch and close your eyes, completely missing the worry in Steve’s eyes. Physical contact wasn’t something either of you did normally but it was nice to feel his warmth. Truth be told you craved being closer to Steve all the time.

“You know Charlotte and Henry came by to see you.” He says after a moment making you open your eyes. “They left their teddy bears because it would make you feel better. Henry even picked some flowers for you.” 

You look down to find pink and orange bears holding paws laying on your lap. A small bouquet of wildflowers is in a cup full of water. It makes you smile. “They’re sweet.” 

“They were very worried about you, so we’re a few other people. But let me call the nurse and then I’ll let them know you’re ok.” 

A nurse walks in a few minutes later. She checks your vitals, asks a few questions and leaves again. The small interaction drains you again. Steve takes a seat again as you watch him through hooded eyes. 

“You know you don’t have to stay right?” You whisper. 

“I know. I want to.” He replies softly with a smile. “Get some rest and I’ll be right here if you need anything.” 

It had been a few days since you had woken up in the medbay. Since then Steve and Mrs. B had both been checking up on you regularly. Mrs. B making sure you were taking enough breaks and drinking plenty of water. It still felt odd to you, to have people that genuinely cared for you. There was no motive behind them coming to see you. 

You’d been around them for almost two years already and you still felt like an outsider. Their concern was genuine but you didn’t know how to react to it. You wanted to do something nice for Mrs. B and then something for Steve. 

“Hey.” Bruce startled you out of your thoughts. “I’m about to head down, walk with me?” 

“Sure.” You grab your tablet and head out with Bruce. 

He was going on a mission, a rare thing these days, and wanted to go over a few projects. This is what you were hired to do. So all the way from your office down to the jet he rattled off what he needed done and you made notes and asked questions. Bruce said a quick goodbye before walking towards the jet. 

“Hey,” you walk up to Steve who was looking at his own tablet. “Ready for your mission?” 

“I hope so.” 

“You’ll be fine. Remember you can only do your best. Don’t be reckless, I need you here.” 

Steve smiles, his cheeks flushing a little. 

At the other end of the hangar Bucky is giving his family kisses. Next to him is a blonde woman. When she sees Steve she starts walking his way, a smile on her lips. 

“Steve, how have you been?” 

“Good. How have you been Sharon?” Steve nods at her. 

“Good. Glad to finally have a more permanent residence.” Sharon says while crossing her arms over her chest. “This mission is going to be a hard one.” 

“You’re going on this mission?” 

“Yeah, didn’t Fury tell you? I’m starting here today. I’m the official liaison between the Avengers and the CIA.” 

You silently listen and look between them, unsure if something is happening. It feels like it is and you don’t like it at all. 

“This is doctor Y/N Y/L/N. She works with Bruce, Y/N this is Sharon Carter.” Steve introduces you. 

“So you’re the one who stole my apartment across from this one.” Sharon lightly smacks Steve’s chest. “If you didn’t want to be my neighbor again you could’ve just said that, Steve.” She chuckles. 

You’re annoyed by her instantly and you can’t hide the expression that says as much. It’s like she was trying too hard. Maybe you just didn’t want to share Steve’s attention. This friendship between Steve and Sharon didn’t feel like his friendship with Mrs. B. There was some underlying tension between the two people in front of you. 

“Yeah well, last time I thought you were a nurse. A CIA agent sounds more dangerous to have as a neighbor. Besides, Y/N here keeps me on my toes.” 

“Oh well,” Sharon looks between the two of you, trying to decipher what kind of relationship you have. “If you want a fun neighbor, let me know.” 

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, getting the attention of both of them. While Steve seemed to have been caught off guard by Sharon’s comment overall, she seemed taken aback at your small reaction. 

“Have a safe mission.” You mutter before turning and heading back inside. 

“Duckie!” Lottie yelled across the hangar. “Wait for me.” She ran and stopped beside Steve to give him a hug and say a quick goodbye. 

“Don’t I get a goodbye?” 

Lottie who had been halfway to you turned, scowled in Sharon’s direction and shook her head. “No.” 

“Charlotte.” Mrs. B called out. “That’s not nice. Don’t be rude to Sharon.” 

“Bye.” Lottie says, the one word dripping with annoyance, and turns to run to you. “Can I be your ‘ssistant today?” She asks sweetly. You tried not to laugh at the quick shift in her mood.

“Sure, I could use all the help I can get.” 

“Ok. I’ll be the best ‘ssistant.” Lottie takes your hand and pulls you towards the entrance of the building. 

“Did I do something to piss her off?” 

Mrs. B joins Steve and Sharon and shakes her head. 

“At least not yet.” Steve quips, causing both women to look at him. “Her visions.” He reminds them both. 

“Still, I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t worry about it.” Sharon waves off the concern. “We should get going though, right?” 

“Yeah. I’ll see you later Mags. Bye Peanut.” 

“Be safe.” Mrs. B calls out as Sharon and Steve head to the yet. 

You were about to close the door of your apartment behind you when the sound of tired footsteps echoed in the hallway. Pulling the door open just a bit you see Steve making his way towards his own apartment. He’s so tired he doesn’t even notice you stepping out of your apartment. 

“Hey.” You greet him.

He turns and gives you a tired smile.

“How did it go?” 

“The mission was a success. I did my best.” 

“That’s all that matters.” You smile. “I won’t keep you, you must be exhausted.” 

“I think I could sleep for days.” Steve blinks owlishly at you.

“Well fortunately your neighbor is boring and won’t keep you up.” 

Steve grimaced at the memory of Sharon’s comment a few days prior. He didn’t think you were boring at all. In all honesty he was glad you were living across the hall from him. Steve found some sort of comfort in having you close. 

“I don’t think you’re boring. I’m glad you’re my neighbor.” 

“Maybe I’ll make you regret it.” You quip making Steve huff a laugh. “Anyways, go get some rest.”

“Yes ma’am.” 

Steve turns and starts opening the door before you call him.

“Would it be ok if I check in on you?” 

He gives you a tired smile but nods. “See, you’re the best neighbor.” 

You watch him disappear into his apartment before closing the door behind you. Now you get to repay Steve for having been so caring when you got sick. No one had ever cared about you as much as he had in that moment. Even when he was busy with reports and training he always made sure to check in on you. 

So you make sure he does in fact sleep as much as he needs. Although you don’t cook you’ve learned what he likes and make sure his fridge is stocked. When Sharon inevitably shows up knocking on his door you’re more than happy to send her away without her getting to flirt with Steve. The thought alone makes you irrationally angry because you know that Steve can be with whoever he wants to. When Sharon turns back around to see if you’re still standing in the hallway you send her the fakest smile you can muster. 

It was nice, having someone take care of you and you being able to return the favor. You felt like something was shifting in your friendship with Steve. And even though you weren’t sure what it was you would welcome it with open arms. Because being around Steve made you feel safe and cared for and you’d dare to say even loved. 

Ch. 3

Permanent taglist:

@rebekahdawkins

@cjand10 

@nalny5 

@Sturchling 

@angywritesstuff 

@seitmai

@writing-for-marvel

@goldylions 

@almosttoopizza 

@littleseasiren 

@pono-pura-vida

@talesofadragon

@midnightramyeoncravings

@bunnygirlwriter876

@pandaxnieenke

@kandis-mom

@hisredheadedgoddess28

@braveclementine

@otterlycanadian

Series taglist:

@ozwriterchick

@nekoannie-chan

@5upersoldiers1xt

@buckystevelove

@pumpkin-babydoll

@haruvalentine4321

@rebeccapineapple

@ilovetaquitosmmmm

@capswife

@spikeluv84

@vicmc624

[gattnk]

Oh, the mysteries of the Universe! Even with eternity at their disposal, there will always be something new for Cimentus and Putzo to discover and teach.

Here we go! My second-to-last pair of teachers :D I've had way too much fun working on the Golden School staff, I'm almost sad to see them finished.

Cimentus and Putzo are among the many cut characters that didn't make it into the show, which is a shame: other than Arkan and Temptel, I'd argue they're among the best adult characters, their role as comedic relief is impeccable. Here's my usual notes on my work process:

I love working on comedic characters, they give so much room for goofy and eccentric shapes and proportions! I focused on the already exaggerated physical traits present in the source material and brought up as many key features as I could to the forefront.

The comic established both characters' classes as scientific in nature. To represent this, Cimentus and Putzo dress like the archetypical good and evil scientist, respectively: perfect for their new role as Academic Deans of the Cosmic Biophysics faculty. Their eccentric and exaggerated features are meant to combat the misconception that STEM classes are boring: class can't be boring when the teacher looks like that, you know?

The good scientist archetype is easily to distinguish: thick glasses, disorderly hair and, most importantly, a white lab coat. Cimentus already fit the first two criteria, so donning the white lab coat came very naturally to the design. It's also easy to infer his work is associated with a safe class environment: you can tell a lot about a professional's work environment by the type of protective gear they're required to wear in their field. Just needing a cotton lab coat says a lot about angel students as a whole.

The same can be said about Putzo and the evil scientist archetype: rubber boots and the classic Howie lab coat were already present in his original design; my inclusion of rubber gloves and tinted protective glasses simply reinforces the idea that Putzo works with hazardous materials on the regular... probably the devil students themselves. Fun fact: he's the only devil sporting round glasses.

I really loved Cimentus' colors in the comic: blue, white, lavender and cheddar yellow. While I tweaked around the hue and saturation, it remained largely the same. I brought purple to the forefront since it was my darkest color and it contrasted much better against his bright yellow pants. Unspoken rule of funny characters: bright-colored pants are your best friend, make them pop!

Putzo's colors were challenging. I wanted to keep his original palette of reds and greens and tweak it so it would evoke "sickness": finding the right balance between the hues so it conveyed this "air of disease" I was looking for, but also were appealing enough to look at in a cartoon character, was very difficult. He risked looking like a Christmas tree one too many times in the process :V

These two are the only two teachers with a significant age gap between them. Putzo is old enough to have wrinkles and graying hair in addition to his clawed wings and a tail, but it's nothing compared to his counterpart. Cimentus is decidedly the oldest professor in the entire school, which is apparent thanks to his three pairs of wings and his carved halo worn "the old-fashioned way" (the shape was inspired by a protractor).

Small adendum: don't worry about the rat, it's sleeping I swear. I put it there as a joke in my initial sketch and I just had to keep it lol.

I'll Fly With You (rewrite fic) Art masterpost

[hhbluedynamite]

TADC AU: Superstars!

Yep. I do have fanfics cooking up, plus some drawing, and I did think of an AU of my own.

First, summary:

Nothing seems to want to go right for Monica Brightwen today. Depression was hitting her hard like a freight train, but she somehow was able to push through to go to work, which was a challenge in itself. Her car breaks down, she gets soaked to the bone by some reckless driver, she loses a taxi to some busy woman, and she was nearly late for work…which was apparently fine because her boss was planning to lay her off anyway to free a position for someone else. No biggy…It’s not like Monica actually liked being an accountant… Annnd just to make her day even worse, her apartment building was apparently getting condemned due to the presence of black mold that the landlord failed to tell his tenants about, effectively making Monica homeless… …Great. Just [%$!#]king great! What was the point of anything? Why continue this miserable existence? She didn’t expect the answer to be from a job posting for a gaming complex called the Amazing Digital Circus Arcade Center. The ADCA Center is owned by an extremely eccentric billionaire who has provided lodgings to his employees in exchange for working at his arcade. Well…Monica had nothing else to lose at this point. Besides, it's just a regular arcade center… Right?

If you want to learn more (i.e spoil yourself), keep reading.

(WARNING: It's long)

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

Premise:

Obvy, this is a TADC human AU, but with a twist. Through means that I'm still trying to come up with, anyone who works at the arcade center can turn from matter to data so they can transform into their avatars...including Caine, as he's human in this AU. Think Digimon (and, in a sense, Digimon Frontier). While the original purpose of this is unknown to most, the gang uses this ability to save the populace from rampaging entities called the Abstracted.

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

AU Name:

It took a while for me to come up with a name for the AU, mainly because I wanted something catchy and circus-y. Popular AUs Freakshow and Carnival came to mind. I did think of Festival or even Showstoppers, but I remembered canon Caine calling the players 'superstars' and that wound up sticking. And it was fitting as the groups' avatars are the mascots of the arcade, having sections dedicated to them and has gained fanbases in-universe of the AU.

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

Characters:

Pomni

‘Real’ Name: Monica Brightwen

Pronouns: She/Her

Age: 25

Fractal Color(s): Red, Blue, and Gold

Human Facts: Appearance wise, human Pomni looks -- as some would put it -- plain. She is short (5 feet tall to be exact), wears large round glasses, short and unkept dark hair, and usually wears her dress shirt, trousers, and tie as day wear (and work).

Avatar Facts: Nothing has changed much except that her jester outfit is in a slightly darker shade and the yellow accents are more golden in color. The balls on her person also become golden sleigh bells. She also gets extra bells on her gloves and footwear.

Special Abilities: She would eventually learn that she can detach the bells on her person and manipulate their sizes. She can use these bells to either contain the target or as bombs depending on intended use. The bells regenerate after use. Her limbs can also mimic the whole rubber hose animation thing.

Caine

‘Real’ Name: Caine Adams

Pronouns: He/Him

Age: Unknown (late 40s or early 50s)

Fractal Color(s): Red, Orange-Yellow

Human Facts: He is also short (5'5) with olive skin and slicked back red brown hair with a grey streak and is generally fit. He does have heterochromia.

Avatar Facts: Not a lot has changed in his overall design, except for some golden accents, like around his tophat and cufflinks.

Special Abilities: He can create projections either as hard light or visual illusions.

Ragatha

‘Real’ Name: Agatha Weaver

Pronouns: She/Her

Age: 30

Fractal Color(s): Orange

Human Facts: A plump woman with fair skin and freckles. Her red hair is usually seen in a messy bun.

Avatar Facts: Her outfit has a more Victorian steampunk style.

Special Abilities: Her main weapon(s) are a large assortment of knives that she can manifest, having an affinity for bladed weapons. She also has the ability to heal via a needle and thread. She doesn't feel pain while in her Avatar form.

Kinger

‘Real’ Name: Axel Callahan

Pronouns: He/Him

Age: 48

Fractal Color(s): Purple, Gold

Human Facts: The tallest human in the group, just passes 6 feet. Kinda lanky and scruffy looking with a stubble, his dirty blonde hair just reaches his shoulders. He wears triangular framed glasses.

Avatar Facts: He wears a royal military uniform instead of his robe, which is more of a long, elaborate cloak with a hood. Wearing the hood helps him focus. And instead of regular gloves, he wears gauntlets.

Special Abilities: He's a marksman, specialty in long range weapons, having great proficiency with firearms and deadly accuracy. His main weapon of choice is a double barrel shotgun, though he also carries a repeating rifle and two flintlock pistols.

Kaufmo

‘Real’ Name: Isaac Kaufmman

Pronouns: He/Him

Age: 35*

Fractal Color(s): Yellow

Human Facts: A large man with a greying beard. (I guess think Jack Black)

Avatar Facts: Not a lot has changed.

Special Abilities: He mostly uses himself as a distraction, sort of like rodeo clowns. He can also throw his voice.

Gangle

‘Real’ Name: Ayaka Kagami

Pronouns: She/Her

Age: 26

Fractal Color(s): Rose-red, Spring Green

Human Facts: The second tallest member, clocking at 5'10. She is well-endowed and dresses modestly. She has really long black hair that she usually keeps in a neat ponytail. She wears small oval shaped glasses.

Avatar Facts: Her ribbons make up most of her body and outfit. Her limbs are tightly coiled for thickness and her 'outfit' resembles that of a ballerina okay more like a magical girl. Can’t think of which right now. Her head consists of both her masks, one facing forward and one facing back. They can switch around depending on her mood.

Special Abilities: She's the fastest of the group, very acrobatic, and hits with precise strikes and can use her ribbons to entangle targets.

Zooble

‘Real’ Name: Ashe Pace

Pronouns: They/Them

Age: 22½ 

Fractal Color(s): Hot Pink, Deep Purple

Human Facts: Androgynous in appearance with dark skin and light patches. They have medium length hair with one side cut and dyed dark magenta. They have piercings on their lip, nose, eyebrow, and ears. They walk with a limp, aided with a cane. They have a sleeve tattoo on their left arm.

Avatar Facts: Nothing has changed, except for two slots in their back.

Special Abilities: They can change their detachable limbs into any usable tool. The two slots are usually reserved for wings.

Jax

‘Real’ Name: Jack Pratt

Pronouns: He/Him

Age: 22

Fractal Color(s): Golden yellow

Human Facts: Tanned skin and dark cropped hair with blonde highlights.

Avatar Facts: Does look noticeably buffer than canon and broader shoulders. Wears a muscle shirt, a leather-looking jacket, baggie pants, two belts, and wrappings around his hands and feet.

Special Abilities: The physically strongest. His main use of weaponry are usually giant hammers, but he would use bats, and knuckledusters. He specializes more in blunt weapons.

(Note: Human names are just for the AU. Their canon real names are unknown)

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

That's it for now until I can think of other stuff. Feel free to ask questions over in the ask box.

[wifelivvyx]

Fire Against Fire

(Hello, this is a love story I made myself that also has a true story to it - The Great Fire Of London. I'd really enjoy if someone could give me comments or tips in order to make this story better, thank you!)

Her heart ignited after the fire did. 

(July 13th, 1666.)

Amelia Whitley’s hands had grown numb from the repetitive motion of scrubbing the floor. Each stroke with the brush seemed to drive the stiffness deeper into her muscles, and the friction was causing blisters to form on her palms. The yellow rubber gloves she wore squeaked audibly with each swipe, a high-pitched sound that grated on her already frazzled nerves. Her back ached from bending over, and the constant movement made her shoulders stiff. She finally allowed herself to stop, feeling a wave of relief as she set the brush aside and peeled off the damp gloves. She shuffled towards the door, her hands throbbing with each step. The floor gleamed under the harsh fluorescent lights, a testament to her hard work. As she approached the entrance, the persistent tapping at the door grew louder, breaking the rhythmic silence of the bakery. Amelia’s tired eyes found the source of the noise: a boy standing on the other side of the glass door. His hair clung to his forehead, plastered down by the pouring rain outside. The downpour was relentless, and the streetlights cast a dim, flickering light on the wet pavement. Amelia hesitated, taking in the boy's disheveled appearance—his clothes were soaked, and he shivered visibly from the cold with a weary sigh, she unlatched the door and peered out cautiously. The cold air that rushed in made her shiver despite her warm surroundings. "Sorry, we’re closed," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. It was just past seven, but the darkness of the evening had already claimed the sky, casting a gloomy pall over everything. The boy looked around nervously, his eyes darting left and right as if he was searching for someone—or something—he desperately wanted to avoid. His anxious demeanor struck Amelia as unusual, especially given the miserable weather. "I apologize dearly for my behavior," he said, his voice cracking slightly. "But I just need somewhere to stay for a little while—not even an hour." Amelia hesitated. She had no reason to trust this stranger, especially not someone who looked so disheveled and desperate. However, he couldn’t be more than a year or two older than she was, and his plight tugged at her sense of compassion. She took a deep breath, steeling herself, and nudged the door open wider. The bitter air surged into the bakery, mingling with the warm, yeasty scent of the baked goods. Without waiting for her approval, the boy hurried inside, his body trembling from the cold. Amelia watched as he stood just inside the door, his wet clothes leaving puddles on the clean floor.  

Amelia’s voice cut through the stillness of the bakery, breaking the heavy silence that had settled around them. "What are you doing out so late?" she asked, her tone tinged with concern and curiosity. The boy, now inside and out of the rain, let out a series of shuddering breaths. Each exhale was visible in the chilly air that followed him in. His eyes, wide and glassy with a mix of fear and exhaustion, met Amelia’s. For a moment, he looked vulnerable, his usual composure stripped away by the night’s harshness and the gravity of his situation. "I got into trouble with a few people," he whispered, his voice barely more than a strained murmur. Though this would probably worry any other person, she felt calm around this stranger, almost comfortable. His gaze darted around the bakery, as if he feared being overheard or discovered even in this brief sanctuary. His fingers trembled slightly, and he wrapped his arms around himself in a futile attempt to ward off the chill that had seeped into his bones. 

Amelia, sensing the boy's distress of his situation, decided to set aside her questions about his troubles for the moment. She didn’t want to press him further and risk reopening wounds he wasn’t ready to discuss. Instead, she chose to focus on something more neutral, a small gesture of kindness in the midst of his evident distress. 

"What's your name?" she asked gently, her voice softening as she spoke. She hoped that by engaging him in a simple, personal question, she might offer him a brief respite from his anxiety and create a small, safe space for him to breathe. 

The boy looked up at her, his eyes still reflecting the fatigue of the night, but also showing a flicker of relief at the change of subject. "Stiles," he replied quietly. His voice was barely audible, a faint whisper. The name hung in the air between them.

Amelia offered a small, reassuring smile as she nodded in acknowledgment. Her eyes softened with relief at having made some headway in their brief interaction. “I’m Amelia,” she said, her voice gentle and steady. She extended her hand towards Stiles, palm open in a welcoming gesture. She maintained eye contact, trying to show him reassurance and openness through her expression, as if to say that, despite the circumstances, he was now in a safe space. 

Stiles hesitated for a moment, his eyes flickering between Amelia’s outstretched hand and her earnest expression. The vulnerability in his eyes began to soften, replaced by a glimmer of cautious hope. Slowly, he lifted his own hand, which was still damp from the rain, and reached out to meet hers. 

Their hands clasped in a firm, yet gentle handshake. Amelia could feel the slight tremor in his grip, a telltale sign of the cold and his lingering apprehension. She gave a reassuring squeeze, trying to offer as much warmth and comfort as she could through the simple gesture. 

“Thank you,” Stiles murmured, his voice still soft but carrying a note of gratitude. As he withdrew his hand, he took a deep breath, visibly relaxing a bit as if the act of connecting with someone had eased some of the tension he was carrying. 

Amelia gestured towards a nearby stool, inviting him to sit. “You must be freezing. Why don’t you take a seat and warm up a bit? I can make you something hot to drink.” 

Stiles nodded appreciatively and sank onto the stool, his shoulders hunching slightly as he tried to rid himself of the chill. Amelia moved quickly to the counter, her movements purposeful and efficient. She grabbed a mug and filled it with steaming hot cocoa, the rich scent of chocolate mingling with the comforting aroma of the bakery. 

As she prepared the drink, she cast occasional glances back at Stiles, noting the way he huddled into himself. Her gaze lingered for a few moments, before darting away when he had eventually caught her. She could see the exhaustion etched into his features, and it made her heart ache. The bakery was quiet now, the only sound being the gentle clinking of the mug against the counter and the soft hiss of the steam rising from the cocoa. 

After a few moments, Amelia returned with the mug and set it in front of Stiles. “Here you go,” she said. “This should help you warm up.” 

Stiles wrapped his cold fingers around the mug, savoring the heat that radiated from it. He took a cautious sip, his eyes closing momentarily as the warmth spread through him.  

Amelia's gaze remained fixed on Stiles, her eyes following his every movement with an almost mesmerized intensity. It was as if she were observing a delicate work of art, each gesture and expression carefully etched into the canvas of the moment.  There was something captivating in the way he seemed to savor the warmth, his features momentarily relaxing into a look of serene contentment. 

She found herself struck by his presence, a sense of awe washing over her. To Amelia, Stiles seemed almost otherworldly, a striking contrast to the familiar faces she was used to seeing in her small town. His features, though not extraordinary in themselves, carried a quality that felt... fresh. There was a certain elegance in his demeanor, a kind of understated majesty that made him stand out in a way she had never encountered before. 

His appearance suggested he was not from around here—perhaps a traveler or someone who had recently arrived. His clothes, though drenched and clinging uncomfortably, hinted at a style that was subtly different from the typical attire she saw daily. His mannerisms, too, had an unfamiliar grace, an unspoken charm that set him apart from the local boys she had known all her life. 

Amelia couldn’t quite place it, but there was an undeniable sense that Stiles carried with him a story, a history that was foreign to her yet intriguing. The way he carried himself, even in his disheveled state, spoke of experiences and places beyond her immediate world. She felt an inexplicable pull to understand more about him, to unravel the mystery that seemed to envelop him like a gentle fog. 

In that quiet moment, as she continued to observe him with a mix of curiosity and admiration. 

Amelia’s curiosity about Stiles grew as she settled into the seat directly across from him, her posture relaxed. The chair creaked slightly under her weight, a soft sound that punctuated the quiet between them. She leaned forward slightly, her elbows resting on the table, showing she was indeed listening to what he had to say. “Where are you from?” she asked, her voice gentle but edged with curiosity. She watched intently as Stiles’s eyes flickered toward hers, a subtle shift that spoke volumes. The vulnerability in his gaze seemed to soften as he made eye contact with her, revealing a quiet comfort that he had not previously shown. Stiles took a sip of his cocoa, the rich warmth visibly easing some of the tension from his shoulders.  He looked around the cozy interior of the bakery, perhaps reflecting on how different it was from wherever he had come from. “I’ve lived here my whole life,” he began, his voice steady but tinged with a trace of reluctance. He seemed to choose his words carefully, as if weighing the implications of each one. “Just rarely went out of the house...” His voice trailed off; the sentence left hanging in the air. It was clear that he had more to say, but something—perhaps an old habit or a protective instinct—caused him to pause. 

He looked at Amelia, his expression a mixture of contemplation and hesitation. The silence that followed was filled with the soft hum of the bakery’s appliances and the distant patter of rain against the windows. Amelia could sense that Stiles was grappling with something deeper, a thought or emotion he wasn’t yet ready to share. His eyes, though more relaxed, still held a hint of guardedness. As she observed him, Amelia felt a pang of sympathy. She understood that some stories were difficult to tell, that not everyone was ready to open up right away. She offered a small, encouraging smile, hoping it would provide him with a sense of security. Stiles took a deep breath, visibly weighing whether to divulge more of his story. The cozy warmth of the bakery contrasted starkly with the turbulent emotions he seemed to be navigating. Amelia’s gentle demeanor and the comforting environment were clearly having an effect, even if he wasn’t quite ready to open up completely. After a moment of introspective silence, Stiles finally spoke again, his voice softer and tinged with a hint of vulnerability. “I guess I’ve always been a bit ... lonely,” he admitted, his eyes meeting Amelia’s with a mixture of reluctance and quiet honesty. “My family... they kept to themselves. We had our reasons, I suppose. It’s just been easier to stay out of sight, you know?” Amelia nodded, her expression one of empathetic understanding. She could sense that there were layers to his words, fragments of a larger narrative that he was still piecing together. She didn’t press him further, allowing the conversation to flow naturally and giving him the space to share what he was comfortable with. 

As Stiles continued to sip his cocoa, his shoulders seemed to relax a bit more with each sip, the warmth of the drink gradually melting away some of the cold that had seeped into his bones. The soft light of the bakery’s fixtures created a serene atmosphere, their gentle glow casting a calming effect over the room.

A brief silence followed, filled with the quiet sounds of the bakery—a gentle hum from the refrigerator, the soft clatter of Amelia’s movements. Amelia wanted to continue the conversation, but she was mindful of giving Stiles' space. “Do you want to talk about what happened? Only if you’re comfortable, of course,” she offered, her tone sincere. 

Stiles hesitated, his gaze dropping to the mug in his hands. He seemed to be weighing whether or not to delve into the details of his situation. Finally, he looked up at Amelia, his eyes reflecting a mix of gratitude and apprehension. “Maybe... not just yet. I appreciate the offer, though.” 

Amelia nodded. “That’s okay. Whenever you’re ready.” She offered him a warm smile. She felt as if she had known this man for years.

[pecanwriter]

Hired Help (WG story) part 2

Themes: near-immobility, non-sexual weight mentions

Words: 1750

Part: 2/?

“Morning.” Marty smiled as Donovan’s sweaty, doughy face appeared in the door crack. After he’d slept on it, Marty felt even more guilty about the way he judged Donovan. He had no idea what happened to him and why. If he couldn’t find it in himself to be nice, he decided to at least be civil. “Hi,” the man rasped, already beginning his painful shuffle in the tiny corridor to let Marty in.

In silence, disturbed only by Donovan’s heavy breathing and grunting, they went straight to the bathroom. Once again, Marty looked at the scrapes and bruises on Donovan’s stomach caused by him squeezing his enormous body through the door. He couldn’t even imagine how it would feel to be so enormous you couldn’t fit through the door. Marty wanted to believe he’d simply stop eating when he reached that point, but then again, if you were that massive it was probably impossible to stop eating, wasn’t it?

“Is the water okay?” Marty asked, once again adorned in his yellow rubber gloves. He ran the soapy sponge across one of the massive expanses of Donovan’s stomach.

“Fine��” Donovan panted, still not being able to catch his breath after walking across the flat.

“Alrighty then” Marty started soaping up the enormous folds of flesh, paying even more attention to how heavy each fat fold and flab was than he did the day before. His arms were getting tired just from moving the fat around, he couldn’t imagine carrying all that weight. To walk with all that fat pressing on him? Marty hated to admit it, but he’d probably be bedbound if he got that fat, he didn’t believe he had enough determination in him to attempt to move if he got so massive. He’d put on sixty pounds since high school and was already so embarrassingly lazy now that he suspected he’d just get fused with the couch if he got any bigger.

He lifted one of Donovan’s fleshy breasts to wash the crevice underneath. Marty mind was wandering and as he washed he accidentally came face to face with a pair of blood-shot, surprisingly blue eyes. There was already a certain level of awkwardness while washing clients, but that didn’t even compare to the embarrassment you experienced when making eye contact with an enormously obese man sitting naked in front of you as you held his massive tit up with a gloved hand. Flustered, Marty let go and the pale flesh flopped down with a resounding slap.

Marty muttered a nearly indecipherable apology and Donovan responded with one of a kind. The next few minutes of soaping up went by in silence until Marty came to wash Donovan in between his legs.

“I’m gonna try to hold it up longer this time…” Donovan said, leaning down as much as he could to grab his gut, but Marty still had to push it up for him to be able to grab the bottom flap.

Marty went to work, but soaping up someone’s genitals when you just made eye contact with them turned out to be nearly unbearable. In his hurry to finish, Marty accidentally pinched that which preferably should never be pinched. As improbable as that was, that little incident seemed to trigger something in the universe and it all began to unravel. Donovan swore in pain, dropping his gut, which fell right on Marty, knocking him onto his ass right in the puddle of water that inevitably formed while he was washing Donovan. In that same moment the building, without any warning, began to shake. Marty grabbed onto the sink, thinking it was only a minor earthquake, but the shaking didn’t subside, instead grew in intensity.

Once again, he locked eyes with Donovan, this time on purpose. Marty couldn’t remember the last time they had an earthquake this strong and he discovered he actually couldn’t remember what to do in this scenario. Everything in the cluttered bathroom shook, plastic bottles toppling over and popping open, glass bottles falling and shattering… And amidst it all Marty in his wet clothes and his client completely naked, his enormous body shaking with the movements of the building.

“Watch out!” A chubby hand yanked on his shirt and he found himself pressed against a soaped-up gut.

Before he could see what was going on an almost violently loud crush exploded in the bathroom as the cabinet with a mirror fell, glass shattering and spraying shards right in the spot where Marty sat on the floor a second ago.

Donovan’s enormous arms held him tightly and didn’t let go until the earthquake died down.

“I fucking hate California…” Marty groaned, standing up stiffly “Are you okay?”

Donovan nodded, his blue eyes once again plastered to Marty’s.

“I, uh… Thanks.” Marty said, gesturing to the cabinet.

“No problem…” Donovan muttered, suddenly seeming to remember he was naked and averting his gaze.

“I’m gonna clean up this glass before you get up. Where’s the broom?”

“Kitchen, but…”

“I’ll be right back,” Marty said, tip-toeing around the mess on the floor.

The kitchen was not exactly a disaster, but it was enough to make Marty’s resolution about being nice to Donovan that much harder to keep. The trash can was overflowing with food delivery boxes, frozen pizza packages and kitchen bones stripped of every last piece of meat. There was another plastic bag next to the trash can overflowing with candy wrappers. Just candy wrappers. Oreos, peanut butter cups, chocolate, cookies, bars… The sight in itself was gross, but to know how the man’s body looked after stuffing all of that in it? That was what made this truly terrifying. He found the mop and fled the kitchen.

“Thanks…” Donovan rasped when Marty started scooping up the glass, but all he could manage in return was a tight smile. He was dripping wet and against his best attempts, already annoyed by Donovan again. Sure, he saved Marty from death by a million shards of glass, but if he hadn’t eaten himself into near-immobility Marty wouldn’t have to be there in the first place!

They continued with the rest of the routine in complete silence, disturbed only by the distant sounds of sirens as the first responders started to deal with the aftermath of the earthquake.

“Alright, that’s it for today, please sign here.” He handed Donovan the tablet.

“Thanks for today,” Donovan said and Marty could feel Donovan’s eyes burrowing holes into him, but refused to look at him.

Once again, all Marty could muster was a tight smile. He walked to the door and… The door would not open. He turned the lock. Nothing. Turned it the other way, in case he somehow got it wrong. Still, nothing. He shook the doorknob. Nothing.

“Everything okay?” Donovan called from the living room.

Defeated, Marty walked back in there.

“Is there some kind of automatic lock on your door? I can’t open it.”

“No, just a normal lock… Let me see…” Donovan started rocking himself to build up momentum and Marty wasn’t sure if he was more embarrassed or horrified. It took Donovan three attempts to heave himself up and when he finally did he looked like he was ready to topple over, his face red and sweaty, his chest heaving.

Marty watched Donovan perform the same set of motions he had just gone through, but unfortunately, the door remained firmly shut.

“It must’ve gotten jammed during the earthquake…”

“Oh fuck…” Marty rubbed his face.

“I’m gonna call the fire department, you can have a sit in the living room, if you want. Sorry about this.” Donovan waddled to the bedroom, supposedly to get his phone.

For a moment Marty just stood there. He gave the door one last jerk before giving up and going to find a place to sit in the living room. Marty called his manager, explaining the problem and making arrangements for his next client.

The creaking of the floor indicated Donovan was on his way back and sure enough, in a minute he shuffled back into the living room. He flopped down onto the couch with an oof.

“They have a lot of calls all over the city, they’re gonna come but it might take a while…” Donovan shrugged, his face apologetic “I’m sorry, you’re stuck here for now.”

“Did they say how long…?”

“Uh, it could take up to five hours…”

“Five hours?!” Marty almost screamed. “Sorry. Fuck.” He rubbed his face.

“I’m sorry…”

“No, it’s not your fault.” Marty slumped lower into the armchair and his stomach chose that moment to rumble obnoxiously loudly. “Oh, not this too…”

Donovan chuckled.

“I have a frozen lasagna, we could share?”

“It’s okay, I don’t wanna be any trouble…”

“You’re gonna starve if they’re gonna take five hours. And I could also eat, not gonna lie.”

Marty tried very hard not to say anything mean to that. The guy was being nice, and all he could do was judge him for being fat.

“Alright, thanks.”

“Great, let me just pop it in the oven…” Donovan started rocking himself back and forth again, but Marty just couldn’t watch him struggle any more.

“I’ll get it, it’s fine.”

“Oh thank you, it’s in the freezer.”

Marty really didn’t want to be doing this, but he wanted to do it even less on an empty stomach, and so he put the frozen lasagna in the oven and tried very hard to ignore the heaping pile of trash in the corner.

“Alright, should be ready in fifty-five minutes.” Marty flopped back down in the armchair.

“Wanna watch something?” Donovan turned on the massive TV Marty didn’t even realise was there until that very moment.

“Sure…” He was way too anxious about being trapped, but he’d much rather watch TV than talk to Donovan.

They watched some random Netflix documentary until the beeper on the oven went off and Marty nearly flew off to the kitchen. For the past forty-seven minutes he’d done nothing but check his watch and he was ready for a fresh distraction.

“How much do you want?” He asked, coming back into the room with a knife in hand.

“Just take as much as you want for yourself and I’ll have all that’s left.”

“This thing serves eight people.”

“I know.”

Marty stared at the enormous man for a moment too long before giving a silent nod and retreating into the kitchen, feeling a headache coming in. How did he end up in this situation?

[backstage-if]

«Do you think I’m a good person?» with Neil 🥸

Oh my GOD, I love this prompt with MC.

When you're feeling way too much and the friend who doesn't quite have faith in anyone is the only one around.

1.109 words under the cut:

Tomorrow, when you wake up with one of the (possibly) worst headaches of your life, you’re gonna regret listening to Joy when she backed up your decision of buying the cheapest red wine the market down the street had to offer – but, again, it’s a thing for tomorrow only. Right now, you’re simply feeling tipsy, lightheaded. 

Maybe slightly… sad. 

No, definitely. 

You are standing in Neil’s kitchen, with your elbows on the counter as you watch him cleaning your early mess. It wasn’t a special occasion or anything, just another day that one of you started talking about how much you deserved a rest, another one pointed out it is a friday and Neil miraculously offered his apartment for a “quick reunion”, then one thing led to another. Before you noticed, you and Spencer were unpacking groceries, while Joy and Cass argued on which playlist to put on and your host tried hard to act like he didn’t regret inviting you in. Apart from you, he is the only one who stays on his feet, the rest of your friends already asleep either on the couch or in a guest room. 

Most days, it works. This little thing you all do. 

The group – half of it, at least – was quick to include you in their hangouts, and for these few hours where you’re laughing and singing and existing with them, you even dare to forget what a horrible person you actually are. 

You’re sure none of them would look in your direction again if they only knew what you did, what you’re so dedicatedly hiding from them day after day. Before, alcohol never made you quite this feeling, never made it seem like each one of your deepest emotions was made bare in front of you – but you suppose your never had something quite like… that happening before, not like-

“Hey, get here,” Neil says to you, looking over his shoulder. “At least help me clean up this mess, will you?”

You fix a careful smile at him, trying not to think much about how easily you’ve been able to put up a front these past months. 

“What, and risk breaking any of your fancy stuff? No, thank you.”

He scoffs, turning away from you and back on throwing empty cans in the trash. Ha, it just keeps getting easier to fuss with him as time goes by. Smiling, you finish the glass of water he put in front of you a few minutes ago and leave your chair by the counter, taking a second to deal with the dizziness as your feet hit the floor, and then go to the opposite side of the kitchen, satisfied to see that most of what still needs to be dealt with are wine glasses and someone’s shoes. 

You take the glasses where it belongs, to be cleaned, and leave the shoes in an empty space near the door.  

When you return to the kitchen, Neil is already washing whatever is in the sink, wearing his yellow rubber gloves. 

The apartment is silent, nightly quiet, and, for a second there, you think about how easy it would be to simply tell him. His back is turned to you, so you wouldn’t even have to stare him in the face as you did it. You wouldn’t have to watch his eyes as he grasped the weight of your confession, nor see his expression turning to something else. You can almost never tell with Neil, and having no idea what his next step would be is equally what makes you want to tell him as it’s what’s holding you back. 

Most days, it works. Telling yourself that, even after everything, you’re not as bad as you think. Everyone makes mistakes, right? 

But not everyone makes the same kind of mistake that you did and… you think you would believe it. You would believe if it was Neil to say you’re not a good person and it terrifies you. 

You don’t want him to hate you. 

Still, maybe it’s exactly what you need. To finally come clean. 

“Neil,” you call, almost too quietly to be heard, but he answers it with a muttered ‘Yes?’. “If I asked you something now, would you tell me the truth?”

You catch him freezing for a moment, but it could be your own high nerves making you see things. 

“Why?”

I need it. 

“Does it matter? I’m just asking you to be honest with me here.”

For a few seconds, you come close to believing he is going to ignore your words, because Neil throws his head backwards and doesn’t say anything, but then he lets go of the dishes, takes off the gloves and turns, now facing you, and it’s the worst thing he could’ve done at this moment, because you can’t help but lock eyes with him. The opposite of what you wanted. 

“Hit me,” he says, tense as if you were pointing a knife at him. 

If anything, you’re the one accepting their fate here. 

“Do you-” the words get caught on your throat, you take a deep breath before trying again. “Neil, do you think I am a good person?” 

It’s like an invisible weight almost instantly lifts from his shoulders. 

“Who? You?" He smiles, but something in his expression changes when noticing you don’t. "Yes."

He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

You must look as hopeless as you’re feeling, because Neil takes a few steps closer to where you stand, more serious than before as if to assure you of his words. “I think you’re a good person.”

“Why?”

“Does it matter?” 

“Come on, don’t use my words against me now. I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

You close your eyes, knowing he won’t be backing down from that mad idea that you’re not horrible inside. It’s your fault, after all. You’ve fooled them into believing it. When you go back to looking at Neil, you can see little signs of worry in his expression – but you know he won’t ask what has gotten into you. 

“You know what is great to deal with post-alcohol self-doubt?”

You sigh. “Enlighten me.”

“First, help your friend finish cleaning up his home,” he takes a quick look at his watch. “Then, if it’s not too late, I could fix you up something to eat that is not…”

“From a market’s platter?”

“Yeah, that.”

Tomorrow, you’re gonna regret allowing yourself to enjoy any of their company – but today you still take hold of this act of selfishness. At least you tried to change it. 

You smile at him, hoping your guilt doesn’t show.

 “I would like it.”

[undertheknightwing]

Whoa, look at this! I wrote a Dick and Gar fic after who knows how long! It's mainly fluff but there's a little feels,,

Also this little fic was very much inspired by the wonderful @not-so-mundane-after-all 's fic Acrida (if you haven't read it, I suggest you do because it's amazing 💜)

I don't wanna spoil her fic so I won't say much about what struck my inspired chord but it was a piece of dialogue from the last chapter. I hope she doesn't mind 😅

“Mom! Mom! Look!”

Dick gasps, stopping dead in his tracks to avoid colliding into the young boy who ran past him. A soft laugh escapes through the man's lips, heart growing significantly larger in his chest, watching the boy zoom to his mother’s side. With a sheet of paper in one hand, he raises the other to excitedly grab onto the sleeve of Marie’s lab coat and tugs on it to get her attention.

Funny how things never really change. Even in the present Dick finds himself leaping to the side just to get out of Gar’s way when the teenager is in, what Rachel calls: “zoomie mode”, and runs around the tower at random times. Hopping onto and off surfaces and chasing after a nonexistent object, like the cats in those videos the kids are always sending in the - what’s supposed to be a mission focused only - group chat.

“Mom!”

“Garfield, please.” The scientist sighed, pulling a yellow rubber glove over one of her hands with a loud snap.

Gar continued to tug on the sleeve of her coat, the toothy smile on his face dropping into a frown. Energetic tone to his voice quickly changing into desperation laced with sadness, begging for her to look away from the desk cluttered with papers and give him a second of her time.

“Mom, I wanna show you something!”

With a faint smile on her lips, the woman casts a quick glance down to her son, then focuses on the vial of something she picked up and held carefully between her fingers. 

“I’ll see whatever it is later, I promise. But this needs my full attention right now.”

After using her free hand to give Garfield’s hair a lazy ruffle, she steps away and disappears down another hall, one that's protected by a door with a code and sign telling anyone not authorized to stay out. Leaving the boy alone, standing in the middle of the room, his shoulders deflating in disappointment and grip on the paper begins to loosen, threatening to let the piece of art drop to the floor.

A deep frown appeared on Dick’s face. He’s only been in this time period for a few hours and from what he’s seen of Gar’s parents, he doesn’t doubt they love their son, but it also seems like they might love their work and keeping their title of “world famous scientists” just a bit more.

“Hey, Gar.”

The young boy spun around in reaction to his name being spoken, posture perking up a bit as he greets with a cheery: “Hi, Mr. Grayson!”

Walking into the room, Dick dove his hands into his jacket pockets, then nodded his head to the side, gesturing to the door Marie went through.

“Your mom’s pretty busy, huh?”

“Yeah.” Gar frowned once more, kicking at the floor. “She’s always busy.”

Dick huffs, half-smile on his lips. “My dad is too.” 

Then with a soft groan, he crouches to be on Garfield’s level and points at the colorful paper in the boy’s hand. 

“I’d like to see what you drew, if that’s okay with you.”

Eyes losing their twinkle, Gar lifts the paper up to look over whatever he had drawn, then shakes his head and mumbles quietly.

“It’s not important.”

A deep crack formed in the man’s heart when those words left a younger Gar’s lips, as well. Their familiarity strikes him like a stray bolt of lightning and is just as painful, just in an emotional kind of way. It’s a response he hears coming from present Gar a lot and now it makes sense.

He remembers staring in awe when he saw Garfield shapeshift into a grizzly bear for the first time during training. His son had been attempting to turn into something other than a tiger for a while and been struggling to pull it off, so seeing a huge green bear where a tiger usually would be made Dick’s chest burst with a mixture of pride and joy.

Pride that became something sadder after he asked Gar why he didn’t tell anyone he learned to shapeshift into a bear when he’s been working so hard to do so and Gar shrugged nonchalantly, telling the team leader that “it wasn’t important” before moving on to do something else.

Dick smiles warmly. “Well, I think it is.”

Which earns a head tilt from Gar.

He nods. “You made it, so it’s very important.”

The young boy hesitated, seeming genuinely confused for a brief moment.

Once Gar accepts, handing the drawing to Dick, the man's eyes sparkle and widen at the childish doodles of a few colorful cheetahs.

“Wow, this is amazing, buddy!”

“Really?”

“Yeah!” Dick reaches forward, giving the boy an affectionate hair ruffle rather than a lazy one. “You got talent, kid. Mind if I keep it to put on my fridge at home?”

“You can have it!” Gar pipes loudly, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Thank you.” Folding the drawing as carefully as possible, he slips it into his coat's inner pocket. “My wife will think it’s adorable, I’ll tell her all about you.”

Kory's gonna think it's more than adorable and she sure isn't gonna let Dick put it on the fridge, she's gonna frame it and place it on their bedside table so she can always see the cute stick figure cheetahs drawn by their son years before their path intertwined with his.

If present Gar allows her to frame it, that is. There's always a chance he'll find it embarrassing.

A smile so bright you'd think could melt the biggest of icebergs stretches across Garfield’s face.

“Do you wanna come check on the birds with me?”

“I’d love to, Gar.”

Once stood up straight, the boy grabs his hand and begins to pull the man in the direction he came, casting a glance sparkling with pride back over his shoulder and up at Dick.

“I know lots about the birds and animals here!”

Dick’s smile twitches. The weight of the words weighed heavily onto him like a bag of bricks. The way they were said so innocently, so carefree, lacking knowledge of the storm on the horizon rolling in to turn this sweet boy's life upside down. A harsh punishment for something he didn't do, something he had no control over. Leave him feeling cursed and forgotten, unloved and unwanted by the people around him.

Eyes darkening with sympathy, Dick breathes a quiet sigh.

“I bet you do.”

[jellostories]

AJ the Very Whimsical, Ch. 20: Little Lightning Girl

After lots of time, patience, and taking out the trash, AJ had finally, FINALLY, saved enough money to buy a GamePortal2, the “newest and greatest game system in the world”! At least, that's what the commercials said.

The second she and her mother got home from Shop-a-Lot, AJ zipped over to the TV and ripped open the GamePortal box with a butter knife.

“Wowzers!” she exclaimed in awe as she pulled out her new game console.

The GamePortal2 was cube-shaped, with two controller slots in front, the disc drive and memory card slot on top, and the power and A/V sockets in the back. AJ's eyes sparkled with excitement, and a wide grin spread across her face.

“It's so beautiful! I have to plug it in!”

The little girl pulled the A/V and power cords out of the box just as her mother walked through the door.

“Try not to electrocute yourself, cher,” Blaze said, ruffling AJ’s hair as she passed by on her way to the kitchen. AJ giggled at the feel of her mother’s hand on her head.

“Ok, Mommy!” the younger Arquette said, saluting Blaze as she walked through the kitchen door. “I promise you I won’t become a French fry!”

Once the kitchen door swung closed, AJ held up her game system’s A/V cords and frowned with confusion.

“Yellow, white, red?” she thought, eyeing the plugs that were supposed to go into the TV. “What does that mean? And why are they all tied up with rubber bands?”

AJ tried to pull the rubber band off of the A/V cord and ended up thwacking herself right in the forehead.

“Ouch!” she cried, rubbing her throbbing bruise. "What the heck, rubber band!? Why are you hitting me? Is it because I used your cousin as the waistband of my homemade skirt last week? It's not my fault I’m poor—it's the government's fault! They must hate me ‘cause I’m blonde or something!”

AJ chuckled at her own joke before her face went blank. “What was I doing again? Oh, right!”

The little girl tried to plug the A/V adapter into her GamePortal when suddenly, the cords sprang to life and began wrapping themselves around her small body.

“Hey!” AJ yelled in shock as the cords lifted her up in the air. “You dumb, meanie cords! Didn’t your mommy ever tell you not to���mmf!”

AJ was cut off by the cords ripping one of her socks off and shoving it in her mouth. She gasped and mumbled frantically into the sock.

Ignoring her childish insults, the cords turned AJ upside down, raised her several inches higher into the air, and started shaking her like a doll. All at once, AJ’s eyes became visible; her face turned green; her hat fell off; and her shirt, skirt, and necklace flew up, exposing her thin belly and her blue leggings. She felt embarrassed and terrified at the same time. She didn’t like heights very much, and having her thin belly and leggings exposed didn’t help. Also, why did she wear socks over her leggings again? Oh well, it didn’t matter right now. What really mattered, she decided in a split second as she spat out her now-dampened sock, was that she re-enacted Plan E, a bedtime story her mother often read to her about a girl who was trapped in licorice but managed to get out through…rather bizarre means.

AJ licked her lips, ready to get even more bizarre than usual…

~~~~

A minute and a half later…

The kitchen door creaked open, and Blaze peeked in. “AJ?” she called out. “Dinner’s rea— Sacrebleu!”

AJ was sitting behind her new GamePortal with a dazed look on her face. Every few seconds, she’d hiccup, and a jolt of electricity would zap over her entire body, making her skeleton flash into view.

Blaze rushed into the TV room, her eyes wide with shock. She covered her gaping mouth with a gloved hand.

“B—hic!—Bonjour, Mommy,” AJ slurred, sounding like she’d had one too many root beers. Her head was swaying back and forth. “Is that—hic!—a new tank top you’re—hic!—wearing? It looks—hic!—really super fabulous! Hic! Can I add it to my—hic!—fashion line when I’m older? S'il vous—hic!—plait? Oh, and I ate a—hic!—cord, by the way. Hic!”

Tears streamed down Blaze’s cheeks. I am a failure as a mother! she thought with anguish and self-disgust. My bébé ate an A/V cord when I wasn’t looking! I should’ve taught her that shock value is bad!

Sniffling, Blaze grabbed the tongs from the fireplace and used them to carefully lift AJ and place her in front of the grandfather clock by the entryway, away from the GamePortal.

“Oh, AJ,” she sighed, shaking her head as she picked up the phone by the loveseat and dialed the number for the Bizarre Accidents Treatment Station (B.A.T.S.). “What am I going to do with you?”

“Use me to power the house?” AJ suggested.

[goldenplaceholder]

SwapFell Crystalized

•World lore- SFC is a swapfell au where crystals are all over the underground and are commonly used by monsters as currency, and symbols of status.

The way they’re used for currency is the more common a crystal the less buying power it has. The way they’re used for status is the fact that some crystals contain magic, and can store/make it, most monsters get crystals embedded into them when they join the royal guard or pay for it to happen to them.

•Character appearances-

Chara: imagine swapfell chara combined with the tiredness of underfella’s frisk. Also darker colors.

Temmie: so it’s swapfell temmie, but the plush has more wear and tear.

Hapstablook: they mainly look like swapfell hapstablook with a few changes. The bottom part of them is sharper and more worn and torn looking, while their eyes are sharper with slight bags under them, and they usually carry an annoyed look.

Asgore: wears a black cloak with the royal insignia, shadows cover his face when he has the hood up, though in fights his eyes shoot a piercing glare at the opponent (aka eyes are slightly visible in fights). In his right arm a Taaffeite is embedded with a crack running along it and some magic trailing out like smoke.

Papyrus: wears a jacket with an amethyst color and sweat pants. He only has a right eye socket and an amethyst is embedded where his left eye socket would be, his skull slightly cracked from the crystal’s embedded area. He is always slightly sweating and looks nervous almost all the time (Whenever he’s face to face with someone or talking with them he always sweats a lot more heavily) (in geno routes he is heavily sweating and has slight tears, though his facial expression is a shaky intimidation).

Sans: he’s literally 4’2 he wears a white shirt, green suspenders, green pinstriped pants, and his clothes usually have dirt stains on them. He also has his sleeves rolled up about half way, also an emerald is embedded in each of his palms.

Alphys: looks more on the side of underswap alphys with a few changes. Larger head spikes and claws, the scar on her left eye is worse, her armor is lighter/less. A topaz is embedded on their chest.

Undyne: her hair is loose (aka not in a bun or something of the sort). They wear googles covering their eyes both lens being cracked a bit. She wears a lab coat that’s open and torn and tattered at the bottom, rubber gloves, and brass knuckles on he right hand. She also has a peridot embedded in her right shoulder.

WDG: a bit taller than Undyne. He wears an open lab coat, a tie that’s barely even tied together, a black turtleneck shirt, black slacks, black shoes, he wears a black rubber glove on his left hand and a obsidian is embedded through his right hand.

Napstaton: he has 2 arms floating at his left and right and 2 extra arms attached to his back that can extend. He has no legs but there is a large sapphire at his base keeping him afloat. He wears an open vest which is dark blue in color, with a black top hat with the same dark blue as a stripe a set of a slightly lighter blue headphones are forced through the top hat.

Toriel: she wears a dark yellow cloak (no hood) with dark purple trims. Some scars on her face and worn out armor. A Taaffeite is embedded in her left arm.

•Character lore-

Chara: Chara ran away from the town they lived in after a few years of working in a factory, they planned to just hide away in the mountains for a few days but after hearing some explosions they tripped into the underground. Chara prefers not fighting though will fight if nothing else works.

Temmie: They had awoken one day in new home as a temmie plush. After a while Toriel found them and cared for them for a bit, though Toriel occasionally punished temmie for stuff she thought they did, which caused temmie to run away and into the ruins. They usually avoid asgore seeing how aggressive he usually is.

Hapstablook: tbh in this au they’re angry at the world since they’re usually left alone, but want people to be with them even if they try and push them away.

Asgore: After Toriel killed frisk asgore took their body and fled to the ruins. While living in the ruins asgore was attacked by many monsters an attack hitting the crystal in his right arm, causing it to crack and have magic float out from it like smoke. Because of this he is a lot more aggressive to others, and usually only talks when someone is unable to fight, or shows to threat.

Papyrus: papyrus at a young age was born with any their right eye socket and strangely no magic. So their guardian at the time wdg, the royal scientist, decided to test a new crystal and embedded it where a left eye socket should’ve been. The procedure almost failed causing papyrus’s skull to crack a bit, but it succeeded and gave papyrus a new kind of magic which wdg simply called crystal magic. After a while papyrus moved to snowdin with his brother sans, and due to the incident above he barely trusts anyone and is constantly sweating from what they could do if he fully lets his guard down, the people he’s a bit more calm around are sans and the person behind the entrance to the ruins. Because of his constant nervousness he isn’t the judge, but instead a sentry.

Sans: at a surprisingly young age of 8 sans fought alphys (who was 25 at the time) for the position of guard captain, and sans succeeded beating alphys and becoming the guard captain.After his victory he got 2 crystals embedded in his palms to symbolize his strength over others. Sans actually doesn’t care for many monsters except royalty and family, with very few exceptions. Usually when sans isn’t busy with royal guard duties he tends to his garden, the ‘prison’ being a greenhouse in this au, where sans usually grows either cooking ingredients to make his famous pizza or some flowers for decorating.

Alphys: Alphys at the age of 18 took charge of the royal guard after beating former leader gaster. Alphys tried about 20 times before finally beating gaster, during her first try she was 15 and suffered a serious injury across her eye from gaster (who hoped it would deter her). Once sans had beaten her she respected him, especially since he did it first try.

Undyne: since she was young she was always bored, so to pass the time she messed around building random stuff. Eventually she started making robots but most of them didn’t work, then she met napstablook and they struck a deal. After a while she got the idea of joining the and becoming the royal scientist, though she became the assistant to the current one. But she plots on taking the position through almost any means, but she isn’t desperate enough to kill… yet.

WDG: after losing his position as guard captain he decided to become the royal scientist. After a few years he became the royal scientist, he mainly focused on researching crystals and what they are and how they store new types of magic. He started testing them by embedding a new and highly rare crystal in papyrus who had no magic, the test succeeding he started a new test of how many crystals can a monster handle. Gaster took random monster volunteers of many ages and began the tests (he didn’t exactly say what the tests were). None of the 6 volunteers could handle anymore than 23 crystals before they lost their minds. Though this didn’t stop him, he had an idea that a higher ranking monster would be able to handle more, so he kidnapped river person who was the old royal scientist and began embedding many crystals into them, after embedding about 30 crystals in river became unresponsive, and after 50 they were more crystal then monster, though weirdly enough everytime gaster tried removing a crystal the crystal grew back.

Napstaton: he was originally a ghost who lived with their cousin hapstaton. Though after bargaining with Undyne they struck a deal. He left without even saying anything to hapsta. After a day Undyne made the robotic body for napsta and then napstaton was made. His music is the only kind in the underground the only other ones being from the dump, but those don’t even work.

Toriel: after losing the war against the humans and being sealed away, she grew annoyed at the situation with growing distain towards humans. Once frisk had fallen down she pretended to be caring, but one day she slipped some cyanide into frisk’s food in an attempt to eventually steal their soul, but mk took frisk’s soul before Toriel could and ran above ground where they were promptly shot and they fled back into the underground dying. Toriel seeing the failure die, finally publicly declared war on humans using the death to seem sympathetic and have better control over the populous.

•characters powers-

Chara: … none of course

Temmie: they use the stuffing from themself to either form around themself to look a bit different, or concentrate to make it hurt or heal (the stuffing has to be replaced when it’s used to heal or harm).

Hapstablook: they can make ghostly hands to be able to interact with stuff or attack. These hands last indefinitely, unless they are attacked or sustain even a small scratch.

Asgore: he mainly uses fire magic. But the magic that trails from his crystal can be used as a whip or rope.

Papyrus: he can summon crystals out of thin air to attack, being able to block heavy attacks or even absorb magic. Though these crystals only last a few seconds. (In the gen routes papyrus collects the crystals of all those who’ve died and uses their crystals to attack too)

Sans: he can use bones and blaster along side blue magic (him being able to toss it around like ut sans). His crystals let him conjure healing magic and fake healing magic (fake healing magic looking the same as healing magic but it hurts instead of heals).

Alphys: She wields a large dual sided axe with a spear like tip in between both axe heads. She also uses electricity, while her crystal lets her shoot the electricity.

Undyne: She usually uses the brass knuckles, though if she’s low or being conscious she commands some of her robots to attack. Her crystal lets her increase her or someone else’s speed (only once at a time and then only for 10 seconds in total before she has to wait 20 seconds to use again. Also she controls how much faster from 1.1x faster all the way up to 2x faster).

WDG: he can summon bones and has a decent control over blue magic (takes a bit more effort to move the soul around like ut sans). His crystal lets him create copies of himself (the copies are physical and can deal dmg and use magic, but they die in one hit).

Napstaton: they can change their hands between blasts or shots (blasts being like blasters and shots being like yellow soul shots). They usually carry a shotgun around in their chest. Their crystal lets them float (from 1ft off the ground to 6ft, though the higher they go the more magic it costs).

Toriel: Her weapon is a gray mace that can change into a flail, she usually makes the mace double sided as well. She also uses fire magic, while her crystal slowly heals her whenever she is damaged.

This au mainly came around due to the idea of how many swapfell aus there are that are based off of gems and such

[kellybynitewhatevs]

A little more about my silly little fetishes...

I'll now do GLOVES...

Much like boots, I feel they suggest a kind of confidence, a can-do attitude, etc. (Refer to my previous post for more on that, lol)

When I see a hot person in gloves, something just *clicks* in my brain. Especially if the arms are bare...

I'll do those long kitchen/household gloves first.

Usually made of latex or some kind of rubber. Like rubber boots, how they just fwap and fwop around one's arms... Ohhhh-

Hot when they're doing what the gloves are intended for... Well, most things. I stop at something like, say, cleaning toilets. Turn-on goes out the window immediately... But also hot when not being used for their intended use. I'd like to think Dexter's mother, *always* in her yellow gloves, did something to my mind when I was a kid lol.

There's something kind of femme and sexy about the kitchen gloves, too. Probably because to me, they're synonymous with the Playtex "Living Gloves" pictured above. I know that's likely some patriarchal conditioning, the whole wife/homemaker/dishwasher thing... But I find it so attractive... But also trans women, enbies, crossdressers, etc., they too can pull that off! Without having to clean the counters or wash the dishes. Honestly, those kinds of gloves should be a fashion statement lol. Maybe in another universe, they are.

But outside of dishwashing and chore-stuffs, how about like, heavy-duty rubber gloves meant for really rough stuff? That's HOT.

I know that's a wax sculpture, but you get the idea, right?

As for leather/fake-leather gloves... Sort of the same deal. Sometimes with a side of elegance, importance even. I know that's a person with a specific kind of energy right there-

Anyways, hope that's explanatory enough lol.

(Also, I want that specific 1996-era pair of Playtex Living Gloves. I particularly like the logos and textures on them. The Living Gloves now don't look like that, haven't looked like that since the late 2000s. Bummer.)

[uhdrienne]

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

02. on a whim

🌼 warnings: squids, slight cursing, mentions of a horrible ex

🌼 word count: 2.1k

"Never should've come here," you mutter angrily to yourself as you stride back down the rocky path. "You have great luck, huh? No cash, and ran into a crazy woman and a crazy man together. Great."

You decide to go around and try finding an ATM. It can't be that hard, there must be a bank around here or something.

But after twenty minutes, your side of the small, idyllic town comes up empty.

Now you're panicking. You're virtually cut off from everything in the town. As backward as it is, you can't go about without money. And you really don't have the energy to go back and face Ms Hwang and Wonwoo.

Shit.

"Need a bit of help?"

You whirl around and there stands Wonwoo, who looks amused. He's holding your Marc Jacobs, which you grab from him in palpable relief.

You can see why he seems humoured by you. You probably do look insane, standing near the beach looking so frazzled, a stark opposite from every peaceful passersby. But you don't have the patience to talk to the man right about now.

"Look, if this is about the coffee-" He begins.

"It's not!"

"I've calmed Ms Hwang down. She knows you didn't mean it like that."

You roll your eyes and turn away. "Thanks," You say sarcastically.

"You didn't, right?" He adds, ignoring your jab.

"So what if I did?" You snipe back in annoyance.

"Then that would be a waste, offending someone who can help you."

You narrow your eyes at him suspiciously. "You?"

He shrugs (for maybe the third time since meeting you) nonchalantly. "Don't need it? Alright then."

"Wait-" You mentally kick yourself at how desperate you sound. "I'm not usually like this. I'm not a disorganised person."

"Uh-huh," he says. The word alone, and you know he doesn't believe you.

You groan in frustration, raking your hands through your hair. "What now? I can't find an ATM."

"Yeah, the town council just started setting it up, so even if you go to the bank now, you can't use it yet."

"Bank...? You know what, never mind. How do I get money?"

He smirks, and seemingly without a care in the world, replies, "You earn it and show her, I guess."

"No. Absolutely not."

"I couldn't get another job for you at short notice. Get in there."

"No!"

"Do you want to pay Ms Hwang back and settle the situation or not?"

"..."

You unwillingly take the bright yellow rubber gloves he has outstretched to you.

"What am I supposed to do?" You cringe as you pull the gloves on, trying to avoid the spray of seawater that comes soaring toward you as the first fish boat docks.

"Simple. You pull in the squid nets and help detangle them. And then you pour them into buckets and bring it over there." Wonwoo points, while shielding his eyes from the sun, to a group of chattering elderly women on the other side of the dock.

You visibly cringe again as you catch sight of flopping fish in the nets, and his eyes narrow at you. "Don't look like that. It's an honest job. How most of us earn a living around here."

"I-I've just never done this before -- oh that is disgusting!" You yelp and shrink back as a fisherman hauls a soaking net of fish, reeking of seaweed, over his shoulder, greeting Wonwoo cheerfully as he passes you. You wonder if Wonwoo really does know everyone in this town.

Wonwoo sighs and tiredly motions for you to get on the dock. "I'll get going after I settle you in. Don't make trouble for the fishermen."

Uncertainly, you climb into the wooden platform, and a fisherman offers you his hand. You take one look at his hand, rough with toil and wrinkled from the water, and decline. Wonwoo stares at you.

“How much am I earning?” You call out as you struggle to step away from the dirty fish nets.

“Minimum wage, of course,” Wonwoo calls back, arms folded as he scans your current position.

You stop in your tracks and look up. Your quick calculation shows that’s slightly less than ten minutes’ worth of fees for your consultation in the clinic. You open your mouth to argue about the proportion of your hard work to the meager results, but he hefts his bag and starts striding away.

“Wait! Where are you going?”

“You want me to stay here and boss you around?”

Never mind. “Forget it. Leave me alone.”

He rolls his eyes. “I wasn’t planning to stay even if you wanted me to. I’ll come over later.”

The fisherman beckons you towards the docks, and with a shudder, you walk towards him.

Wonwoo can’t believe himself.

It’s been almost three hours after he left you at the docks, and he’s on his way, as promised, to give you your pay.

He’s half expecting you to be kicking up a fuss with the poor fishermen and the chatty grandmas who handle the squid, and making everyone’s life miserable, but to his surprise…you’re not.

Sure, the grandmas don’t seem to like you as much as they like him, but they seem to tolerate you enough to let you sit with them and learn how to remove the insides of a squid.

And you’re not shying away anymore. Not cringing and making stupid remarks about how gross it is. You’re sitting there, eyes trained in concentration as a grandma directs you.

Wonwoo smiles slightly before he knows it.

“Your pay,” the man himself gives you a small stack of cash.

You take it from him and sigh at how small it is. “Got it. I’m going back to the cafe.”

“Just give it to me. I’ll pass it to Ms Hwang for you, don’t think she wants to see you right now.”

You eye him suspiciously and his eyes widen comically.

“I’m not stealing your money!” He says exasperatedly.

You give in and hand him the stack. He counts out a few notes, presumably the cost of the coffee you didn't even get, and passes the rest back to you.

You shrug as you put the cash in your wallet. “Anything else?" Your voice isn't the most polite, but you're tired, so, so exhausted, and all you want to do is go home and crash.

“Going home already?”

“I’ve spent enough time here.”

He raises his eyebrows. “I see.”

He doesn’t say anything as he watches you leave.

“What?” You haven’t left the town. You’re standing next to your car, furiously talking into the phone.

“Right?! It’s insane! Of all the things in the world…” It’s your friend, Delia, a pediatric nurse, on the other end.

“You have to be kidding me. There is no way I can work on the same floor as him.”

‘Him’ being your ex. By far the ugliest breakup you had, in which the fights seemed never-ending, the slamming of doors a normal occurrence ever since his cheating. No more date nights, or any occasion that had you feeling breathless like when you met him. Stinging words had been exchanged, till the one that had gone too far: "You have a lot of gall saying all that when your parents are gone because of you."

And you had gotten out. No one should have used that against you.

Your professions had been a common denominator that drew you to each other, and it seemed that would be what reunited you.

"I'm not doing this," you snap into the phone. "I'm not starting a five-year contract with that man across the hall."

Your friend agrees before you end the call. You send a hurried email to the hospital, requesting extra discussion about your placement, before tugging at your hair in frustration. Tears burn in your eyes at the thought of your ex.

"Weren't you leaving?" You turn only to see Wonwoo standing there, hands in his pockets, his haversack slung over one shoulder in a casual, boyish fashion.

You hastily wipe your tears, as if he hadn't already seen them. His eyes change a fraction in concern.

"Yes. I was."

"What's wrong?"

"None of your business."

He shakes his head at you. "You really need to work on that sharp tongue of yours." Raising a hand in goodbye, he says, "Then I'll get going. A kid in the neighbourhood needs me."

"What for?" The words come out before you can stop them.

He looks back to you, bemused. "What?"

You swallow. "I'm a pediatrician. If a child is hurt or something, I can deal with it."

He tilts his head. "Well...yeah, the kid is running a high fever or something. Might be the flu, we get that a lot around here."

"Okay," you say, typing something in your phone. "Lead the way."

"You're serious?"

"Is there a hospital or clinic you can get them to?" You ask, eyes still on your phone as you note things down, as you do for occasional house calls.

"The nearest hospital is a 45-minute drive away since the only clinic here closed some time back. We usually just go to the town pharmacy when we need anything," Wonwoo prattles as if he's said it a thousand times.

You frown at him in disapproval. "Why wouldn't you have a clinic here? It's a whole town full of people."

"This isn't the city, miss," Wonwoo repeats. "You can't really expect everything you have in the city to be here too."

"Don't you think that's such a lame excuse? You can't even handle any health problems," you counter, and he goes quiet, raising his brows inquisitively. "And my name is Y/N. Don't waste my time. Let's go."

"38.7 degrees," you say out loud, sitting on the floor of the family's humble home with Wonwoo next to you. The young mother clutches her shivering son to her a little tighter, looking panicked. "Oh, what should I do? He couldn't eat anything and he got dizzy, and-"

You look up from the small pile of supplies you got from the small pharmacy, and reply, "Don't worry. It should just be a slightly more severe cold than usual. He's pushing a fever because his body is fighting an infection, and the body's response is why he can't eat anything right now. But I'll get him to swallow a bit of water with paracetamol, and sponge his forehead. It should break the fever. For the dizziness, it's because his immune system is affected by the cold. Let him sleep through it, and once the fever breaks, he'll be just fine."

The mother seems concerned still, and so you continue to placate her. "We're closer to the sea here, so colds like these are common because of the cooler weather. And he's still young. Kids tend to be more susceptible to sickness. This is still perfectly normal, so don't worry too much. I promise he'll be okay."

The mother seems less panicky and begins tending to her son after a brief thank-you. Wonwoo turns to look at you, your eyes still fixated on the duo. You just spoke so much, so gently, to a mother and child you didn't even know.

"So, you're a doctor, huh?" It's after everything has settled. You and Wonwoo are walking down the narrow path together.

"Pediatrician. I can do family medicine in general too, I just specialise in pediatrics."

"The town could do with a doctor like you," he muses. "Better than the villagers having to travel so far all the time."

"I was thinking about that."

"What?"

You shrug. "It's not right that there's no doctor here at all."

"Mhm. I've been nagging the town council for a small clinic at least, but they haven't been able to find a doctor who can stay long-term over here." Wonwoo kicks a small pebble with his well-worn boots, and it skittles off the path into the grass.

"I have a few months before I have to head back for my job."

"Uh-huh..."

You breathe deeply. The next sentence seems so daunting. "I can do a short attachment here. Clinic appointments or something."

He raises his eyebrows. "I thought you hated it here."

"I do." You reply with no hesitation. "I...I just don't like the idea of kids not having a doctor around. Especially with the dirt and sea air and germs around here and all that."

"Whatever you say, Miss Doctor." He's smiling slightly as you ramble.

"It's Y/N."

"Got it, Miss Doctor. And I'm Wonwoo. Jeon Wonwoo. People around here just call me Chief Jeon." He holds his hand out to shake yours.

"Okay, Chief Jeon." You turn to face him, ignoring his offered hand. He retracts it, looking even more amused. "I'll do this three-month arrangement. In return, I need a favour."

"Name it."

"Fix the card machines."

He lets out a chuckle at your firm order. "You drive a hard deal. Consider it done."

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

🌼 summary: going back to the countryside where you grew up was at the bottom of your list. unexpectedly, your life changes course, and you eventually find your home in weekly village cleaning, the sound of the waves, and with the local jack-of-all-trades, jeon wonwoo.

🌼 pairing: wonwoo x reader fic (fluff, angst, hometown chachacha!inspired)

🌼 genre(s): fluff, mild angst, yn can be mean sometimes at the start (this is inspired by the kdrama hometown cha-cha-cha, so some parts of the plot and characters are similar), wonwoo is an overall sweetheart

ch.02: on a whim

prev. masterlist. next.

🌼taglist: @gaslysainz

writer's note: yayayay you're staying! thanks for reading ✌️

[rbbrbikerthorp]

“Mate, Can You Lend Me a Hand?”

My company had recently relocated to a new office development. Although much of the building work on the complex was complete, the two remaining buildings were still under construction. I’d often look out of my third floor office window and stare at the work crews. They would be decked out in their dirty yellow or orange hi-viz work gear, battered boots or wellies. I’d gawp down at them, their arms enveloped in tattoos, their shaved heads and most, at sometime or other, with cigarettes hanging out of their mouths. I’d long had this internal conflict; on one hand I’d be glad that I was a married office worker living in ‘suburban bliss’. but on the other hand there was this burning desire to be a workie, getting my hands dirty, collaborating with my co-workers (however they needed support).

I liked to leave the house first thing in the morning, saying goodbye to my wife and giving an estimate of what time I’d be home. Once I’d parked my car it was a ten minute walk across the concourse to my office. I was usually there at such an early hour that I would rarely encounter anyone else. Generally I would also be too early to see anyone working at the new buildings. However, this morning was different.

“Oi mate, can you give us a hand?” Was he talking to me? There was no one else on the path, so I looked around to see one of the workmen on the ground calling at me from the other side of the safety fence. He was kitted out in a full workers hi-viz uniform, work boots, maybe wellies, it was hard to tell. He wore a yellow hard hat and black gloves that looked like they were made of rubber. I remember thinking just how amazing he looked in his protective gear.

I didn’t know what to do. He appeared to be in trouble, but I worked at a desk, what could I do? I looked around me but there wasn’t anyone else in sight. Instinctively I dropped my bag and looked for a way to get through the site safety fence to help this poor fella who was struggling on the ground. I managed to find a gap in the fence and forced my way through.

“Are you alright? Is there anything I can do?”

“Thanks mate, I thought I could do this on my own but as you can see I’m not having much luck. See this? I just need someone to control the flow, which you do using that value there.”

“Really? Look surely you’re better waiting for one of your workmates to help. I work in an office over there” (pointing upwards and to my right).

“Nah, you can do it, but I’ll need to get you something to wear so you don’t get as filthy as me. C’mon! I’m Dave by the way.”

“James, it’s good to meet you.

I followed this hi-viz stranger. We quickly arrived at one of those portable buildings they have on building sites. 

“Right in here.”

“In there? Really?” I questioned.

“Yes, come on. We need to be quick. Let’s get you kitted out, we’ll get the job done and you can go about your business...”

Dave looked desperate. I knew he was in some sort of trouble, so the inner good samaritan stepped up to the plate. I reluctantly climbed up the stairs and into building. As I walked through the door a strong smell hit me straight away. It not only made my head spin and but bizarrely my cock began to jump to attention. Something I’m pretty sure Dave took note of. The air in the room must’ve been a stale mix of cigarette smoke, B.O, foot odour and even possibly urine from the toilets. I just wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible and get some fresh air in my lungs.

I saw Dave light up a cigarette, he offered one to me.

“No thanks, I don’t smoke. I didn’t think you were allowed to smoke inside buildings.” I asked

“The gaffer turns a blind eye. He’s happy to let things like that go so long as the job gets done. Sure you won’t have one?”

I shook my head from side to side.

“Maybe later then?” Dave took a long drag and exhaled a plume of smoke into the room. No wonder everything stank of smoke.

On a bench was a pile of work gear: Orange and yellow hi-viz overalls and boiler suits, tops that were similar to the polo shirt I’d wear on weekends, trousers and a couple of pairs of boots.

Dave grabbed some items, “here take these.”

“What you want me to wear that mucky gear?”

“You will if don’t want to ruin your expensive suit.”

“Well...”

“I’ll make it up to you, but just get a move on. Take your socks and underwear off too.”

“Are you serious?”

“Those socks are no good for boots.. I’ve got no underwear but you can go commando. You’ve got showers in your office building so you can always use one later. Now put these on.”

Dave handed me a pair of ’not that dirty, but not that clean’ socks. I put them to one side while I slipped out of my jacket, removed shirt off and dropped my trousers. 

“Here, give me those and I’ll put them in my locker,” with that he disappeared around a corner taking my shirt, jacket and trousers. I remember wondering why I’d not heard a locker door slam shut.

I’d just finished putting on my workie gear when he came back. He went over to a rack and selected a hard hat for me. 

“Dave, my bag. I left my bag by the fence. I need to get it. I need it it’s got“

He interrupted me, “you’ll need to put on one of these,” and he placed it on my head

"My b...” all of a sudden I stopped. i couldn’t form any words. I remember Dave looking at me, saying one word. “Perfect. Now let’s go follow me Jimmy.”

I was about to say something about my name but felt compelled to follow Dave. As I was about to walk out of the building, but I couldn’t help but take a quick glance in a mirror. I saw Dave turn around, he was definitely smirking. I sensed an arousal in my groin too.

“Yeah,” Dave continued, “you’ll be a good builder’s labourer. Follow me.”

The smell of the workie gear I’d been given was infiltrating your nose - some combination of cigs, B.O., piss and something else. Strangely, I also remember being continually aroused by the stink. I’m not sure whether it was just the awful smell or something else. But since I’d put the hard hat on my mind felt a bit hazy. I couldn’t quite work out what I was doing and why I was here.

“C’mon Jimmy, we need to get this done in the next 15 minutes, or it won’t be ready when the concrete arrives.” 

As I walked, I realised my cock was now rubbing against the trousers. Even outside, I kept inhaling the strange musk from the clothes - that mix of sweat, B.O., Piss and was there also the smell of cum? We quickly reached the spot where I’d first found Dave. Just for a moment I thought there was something I needed to look for. Dave noticed me looking around and quickly walked over to me. He lit up a cigarette, inhaled and blew the smoke in my face. As I was coughing and spluttering, I felt him rub my cock through my hi-viz trousers.

“Yeah that’ll do nicely my lad” he said, inhaling and once gain blowing the smoke in my direction. “Sure you don’t fancy a cig, I’ve got plenty?”

Anyway, even with my hazy mind I shook my head as if to say no. In no time at all, together Dave and I had finished what he couldn’t do alone. A good job too, because just then we heard the ‘beeps’ from reversing of the concrete truck. A guy I’d not seen before who was talking on a phone joined; he looked like he was in charge or something like that. I was having trouble thinking straight.

“Ah Dave, Is this the new one we talked about. How’s he getting on?” 

“Hey Paul, yeah this is Jimmy. He’s a bit slow,” replied Dave, “but once everything is processed, I think I’ve got a keeper. Jimmy this is Paul our Foreman.” 

I was pretty sure Dave was giving me the sort of smile you give someone you fancy. Paul interrupted my thoughts. 

“Good,” turning to me, he tapped me several times on the shoulder, “welcome to the team.” He moved in closer to Dave, and said something I couldn’t hear. I’m sure I heard Dave say something about a bag or case to which Paul pointed to a large skip covered in rubble. Paul turned back to me and smiled. “Right, Dave will sort out your processing Jimmy and you’ll get your assignment.”

Just then Dave nudged me, “Right, let’s get you changed, come on.”

With that we walked back to where the portable cabins we sited. This time instead of going in the one where my clothes were, we went into an adjoining one. 

“My clothes are in the other one.”

“Yeah, but the sinks and showers are in this one. I thought you might want to get cleaned up before you put your fancy suit back on.”

I didn’t question Dave, he knew what to do, so I followed him through the door. The room was already quite smokey. There was another guy in the cabin, who looked like he was getting undressed. 

“Hi Tom”

“Dave. Who’s this?

“James, but he’s going to be Jimmy, aren’t you?”

“What are you talking about? I just want to get back into my clothes and get on with my day.” I was becoming annoyed.

“Nah, that’s not going to happen Jimmy.” Dave nodded towards Tom, “I think I might need some help.”

“No problem Dave.”

Tom walked over to me, with his nose ring, he looked quite intimidating. “You know Jimmy I was like you once. Working 70-80 hours a week, freaking out about spreadsheets, worrying about numbers. Then I went through the process and life became much simpler. Got a job on the site here and now have the best life ever. A wonderful boyfriend, and so will you too.”

I started struggling, “Nooooo, I’m married.”

Just then Dave returned carrying what looked like a pair of headphones, “hold him steady Tom.”

“He’s not going anywhere Dave”, Tom responded. 

“Right,” Dave said, “See these? These are specially adapted ear defenders that will complete your processing.” 

The fact that my head had been hazy all the time I’d been wearing the workie gear meant I didn’t have much fight in me anyway. But I wasn’t giving up that easily. I clenched my fists - I don’t know what for because I’d never punched anyone in my life. I tried pulling away from Tom. But, in that instant Dave pressed a red button, he stepped forward and dropped the ear defenders over my skull. At which point Tom let go of me. 

Dave and Tom watched as my struggles almost immediately diminished and I felt my jaw become slack, and my fists unclenched. I could hear something playing in the headphones. By now my arms felt limp, and my body was relaxed. 

Dave noticed the change, “that’s much better, isn’t it Jimmy?” Dave pushed me down onto a bench, "Much better to just relax and listen to the voice. Just listen to the voice and we’ll be back."

The voice started whispering to me, “It feels good to be a labourer, it feels good to work with your hands, you like to wear your hi-viz uniform, it feels good to be a builder, forget your old life, to let go of all that responsibility, it feels good to be a tradesman. Say goodbye to all the stress, no more reports, no more documents, the company will look after you, you’re one of the team, you love being one of the team. You’re gay, you have no interest in women, only men interest you now. You know why? Because you’re a good workie. They help one another out, only men know how to relieve other men, You love being one of the team, you love to follow orders, you love the smell of hard work, you love the smell of real men, you love your uniform, you will obey all commands. Over an over it repeated, but as time went on new sentences appeared. “...you like to wear your hi-viz uniform, forget your old life, to let go of all that responsibility, you’re a gay man, Dave is your partner, you love Dave, Dave makes you happy, Dave will teach you how to satisfy other men. Your old life is over, you’re no longer interested in women, you’re only interested in hard men. Your head will be shaved. company regulations require shaved heads on all workies. Over and over the words kept coming at me. 

I don’t know how long I was in that room, but day had turned to night because I was suddenly aware of the lights going on. I felt the headphones, which I learnt are ear defenders being removed. I remained seated.

There was a voice, “What are you?”

“I’m a good workie,” I replied looking up at my boyfriend Dave.

“Who will look after you Jimmy lad?”

“The company will”, I replied.

“Do you like women?”

“No”, I responded sternly.

“Who makes you happy?”

“You do, I’m gay.” I replied looking upwards longingly.

Dave smiled, he knew the processing was successful. “Right, the first thing you need to do now is send two text messages. One to your boss to say you’ve quit with immediate effect to take a better more rewarding job.”

“Yes, sure. Who’s the other one for?”

“The other one needs to be sent to Kate to say you’re leaving her and she can have the house and everything else. Tell her you’ve realised you’re gay, you’re moving on and there’s no point her contacting you.” 

Dave handed me my phone and I did as instructed. I looked up at him and said, “Done.”  

“Give the phone back to me.”

I passed it to him and watched him pick up a hammer and smash it into pieces.

"No going back. Now, let’s get your head shaved, you can’t be a good workie with that rats nest on your head.” With that he took my hand and led me over to a chair. There were some clippers already placed on a table. 

Dave made quick work of my hair. Very soon I had a zero crop.

“There, done!” Dave rubbed my head, and was seemingly pleased with the outcome. Right stand up, I’ve been wanting to do this since the first time I saw you.” And with that Dave leaned in and started snogging me. 

I opened my mouth to reciprocate and could taste his smokey breath. He reached down and felt my growing erection. I just moaned into the ongoing assault on my mouth.

Dave pulled away, “you like that Jimmy boi?”

I could only nod in response.

“Yeah, gonna get you smoking too. Every workie smokes like a trooper, and you’ll be no different.” He got out his cigarette packet and took two out giving me one and taking one for himself. He held a lighter to mine as I inhaled. I coughed a bit, but I actually enjoyed smoking my first cigarette.

“You enjoyed that?” Dave asked. I just nodded in affirmation. “We’ll pay a visit to the tattooists this weekend because I wanna get your full-sleeve tattoos started. If you like you can also get some metal, maybe a septum ring like Tom has.”

We came together again in a passionate embrace.

Again Dave pulled away. “Right let’s get you home. I wanna take this up to the bedroom.”

That night Dave spent many, many hours finalising my processing in every way imaginable. I recall falling asleep in his arms dreaming about workies, tattoos, being fucked, getting pierced, boots, real men with shaved heads.

In just a few hours I’d gone from married office worker to doing a proper job as a gay workie with a wonderful boyfriend and I couldn’t be happier.

If you see two chain-smoking workies with tatts on their arms, rings in their ears and nose, full hi-viz clobber it might be Dave and me. Come over and say “hi”. You never know the gaffer might have an opening for you.