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whumping-valentine · 7 months ago

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🦌 Fawn and Hunter - Part 11 🦌

"Fear and Fangs"

Content: Rival Cults, Vampires, Blood Rivers

2,000 words

Hey it's time for part 11! So sorry this took 10,000 years 😭 I hate writing. I don't think this is my best work, but I say that about literally everything I ever write, ever, so it doesn't really mean much. It's admittedly choppy and fast paced but I'll be honest I don't care lol.

This is where the plot really starts kicking off and it turns from just another whump story into something that actually has direction.

But yeah, hope you guys like it, you're all awesome!! 😁

“Where the Hell are you taking me?” Fawn demanded, glaring at Hunter in discontent as they pulled them through the woods.

“Can’t you go just one moment without the attitude? You can at least pretend to like me, you know.”

“Absolutely fucking not. I’m not insane, unlike you.”

Hunter rolled their eyes, “Well, for your information, I want to go and check something out, and you’re coming with me.”

“Oh, whoopee.” Fawn cheered, tone dead and monotone. “Sounds so fun.”

"Just shhh." Hunter shushed.

"Well maybe I don't wanna shhhhh. I want to know where the Hell we're going! What's so important you're dragging me along to come see?"

"I was kidnapped by a cult last week and I wanna know what's going on."

Fawn stopped in their tracks, bewildered, "You were fucking what?!"

"You heard me."

"Oh, no, no, no. I wanna know! How did that happen? And why the hell are we trying to go and find a kidnapping cult? And how did you get out? What happened?"

"I told you to shush. You ask too many questions."

"Uh, I think asking questions is perfectly acceptable in this scenario! Hey!”

Hunter ignored Fawn as they kept walking, picking up the pace as Fawn kept trying to get their attention, stumbling through the snow behind them. They made it to a small unkempt road, but you couldn’t tell through all the white layers that coated the ground, as well as the vehicle that was left there.

Hunter opened the passenger door, making a simple command, "Get in the truck."

"Wha— where the hell did you get a truck?"

"Stop asking questions and get inside."

“Oh, yeah, sure. Nothing more trustful and less suspicious than when your captor tells you to get inside a fucking car.” Fawn said, though still obliged, folding their arms in the passenger seat. “Especially when they’re apparently on the search for some fucking cult. Am I some sacrificial lamb, huh? Is that what this is? You made a deal with them to let you go and that’s why you’re being all secretive. Oh, I’ve got you down to a T!”

Hunter rolled their eyes, climbing into the driver’s seat. “Yeah, definitely. A sacrificial fawn to appease the gods, or whatever.”

“Sounds so fun. I bet they’re a bunch of cannibals too, they’ll eat my innards and wear my bones like jewelry.”

“You have such a morbid mind.” Hunter started the truck.

“Says the murderer. Jesus, this thing is loud, good luck sneaking up on people with this hunk of junk. I know you don’t want me to ask questions but I just gotta know where you found this.”

“I found it near a road when I ran away from the cult. I would’ve froze to death without it.”

“Darn, what a shame.”

“You say that until you’re left stranded in the middle of the woods. You couldn’t survive without me, don’t deny that.”

“I ain’t. I’ll give you that one.”

Hunter slowly drove down the snow-covered back roads, bumping up and down, sliding, and finding it difficult to control.

“You drive like fucking shit.” Fawn said.

“I never got my license.”

“That sounds like a you problem.”

Hunter sped up, then slammed on the breaks, causing Fawn to fling forward. “Oh wow, looks like you weren’t wearing a seatbelt! Sounds like a you problem, doesn’t it?”

“Ow! Fuck, okay, fine, I’ll take the fucking point.” They grumbled, sitting back in their seat, buckling, “I’ll shut up.”

“Took you long enough.” Hunter continued driving. Fawn bit their lip and kept their gaze out the window, folding their arms again. “Besides, the road isn’t in good condition. It’s not my fault.”

After a few silent minutes, Hunter stopped the truck, and turned it off. The roaring engine quieted, and they were left in silence. “Time to get out.”

“What? You want to leave the car? The one thing shielding us from danger and cold? You want to leave it?”

“You said it yourself, it’s too loud to sneak around. We have to go on foot. This was the general area I found them in if I remember correctly. Let’s go.”

Fawn hopped out of the truck and followed behind Hunter as they stalked off into the woods.

“You know, I can’t believe you’ve survived so long in the woods on your own.” Fawn whispered, “Sneaking through the woods in the middle of winter, looking for a whole cult with nothing but a shotgun? You’re genuinely insane.”

“Wow, took you this long to figure that out, did it?”

“No, you just find new ways to impress me in the worst ways possible.”

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"Of course, I'd expect nothing less." They rolled their eyes. Though now that the conversation stopped, they were forced to confront their anxiety.

Fawn tried their best to stay composed and act nonchalant, but it was hard when they were so jittery. This was crazy, and Hunter was crazy, and everything wasn't right and they just wanted to go home to their own bed and sleep and never leave the house again.

They were incredibly alert and on edge, so they were easily the one to spot something unusual.

“There!” Fawn suddenly exclaimed in a whisper, grabbing onto the sleeve of Hunter’s coat as they pointed, huddling to hide behind them. Hunter pulled them both behind a tree, staring off into the distance. Among the white of snow, figures moved in the distance, walking across the horizon.

Hunter narrowed their eyes, "No, those guys are different."

"What do you mean? They're clearly a fucking cult. I didn't think they'd look so spot on. That's every single stereotypical movie cult I've ever seen."

"Yeah, but it's not the same one I saw last week. The one I saw last week wore wolf masks. These guys are plague doctors."

"Are you suggesting there's some kind of rival cult thing going on?"

"No, but you are."

“Well that’s the only thing that makes sense if you insist they’re different. Either they’re the same, or there’s two of them. What other answer is there?”

"Would you please stop asking me questions that I don't know the fucking answer to? God, I'm just as clueless as you are. I don't fucking know. Let's keep looking." They said, and began to walk the direction they were coming from.

Hunter's eyes were fixated on the horizon, making sure they were staying out of sight, hidden. Fawn, while following, ventured slightly off the path in the other direction. Hunter didn't notice they left until they frantically tugged on their coat.

"Shit, Fawn." They were startled, "What is it?"

"Dude. There's a fucking blood river." Fawn said, voice incredulous.

"A blood river? And you're calling me insane?"

"Come look at this. Right now. I'm serious."

Hunter could hear the fear and amazement in their voice. Fawn grabbed the sleeve of their coat and pulled them off through the trees. “Look!” They said, pointing to the river.

It wasn’t a small creek, though also not too big. It ran along the outskirts of the woods and an open clearing. The water ws indeed dark red. The two crouched down in the snow next to it.

“Well, it certainly looks like blood.” Hunter said. Fawn reached out to touch it, before Hunter quickly reached out and grabbed their wrist, “Don’t! You don’t know what this shit is or why it’s red.”

Fawn twisted their wrist from their grip, “I’m not a fucking child, I can make my own decisions.” Fawn again reached down towards the still river, dripping the tips of their fingers into it. The top layer was thick, and despite the cold of winter, it was warm.

Fawn pulled their fingers from the river, eyes wide, “Hunter, it’s warm.”

“What? Don’t fuck with me.”

“I’m not!”

Hunter, now immensely curious and fearful themself, reluctantly stuck their fingers into the river, only to immediately pull out at the warm feeling, hand shaking. They wiped their fingers in the snow before standing up, slowly backing away. “That’s fucked.”

"Yeah, I told you!"

"Fawn, I— I have a confession to make. You remember when I took you out hunting, and it was all foggy?"

"Uh, yeah?"

"Well, I don't know if I was crazy or what, but— but I saw a massive deer skeleton. And I'm talking huge. I'd— I'd never seen anything like it, that's why I was so shaken up. I'm really starting to think it was real. I— I thought it was some kind of statue."

"So… what? You're saying something paranormal is going on here?"

"Well it certainly isn't fucking normal, I'll tell you that."

"Yeah, obviously. Some giant skeleton, two cults in the woods, a fucking blood river and your stupid haunted house. That's not just another Tuesday. Are— are you sure this isn't something we're reading too much into?"

"There's a fucking blood river, Rudolph, of course I'm fucking sure!"

"Yeah, yeah, okay. And don't call me that."

"You used to be so mad at the nickname, is there anything that'll make you happy?"

"I'd be very happy if you weren't some creepy bitch who kidnapped me."

"I didn't kidnap you, I just took you into my home and didn't let you leave. It's called being held captive, not kidnapping."

"Oh, that's such a big difference. Please, enlighten me with more of your knowledge."

Hunter was about to bite back, when an unexpected voice caused the both of them to jump.

"What's going on here?" A feminine voice asked. One of the masked plague doctors stood behind them, her arms crossed. Hunter instinctively pointed their gun at her.

“Woah there, mate, put the gun dow— wait—” She peeked under the mask, "Rudy?"

"Anaira?" Fawn was incredulous.

Anaira fully removed her mask, “What— I—" She looked at Hunter and pointed, “I saw you at work last week!”

"Oh, yeah, I found ‘em!" Hunter said, putting an arm around their shoulders.

"They didn't find me, they're the one who kidnapped me!" Fawn shoved them off.

"Held you captive." Hunter corrected. Fawn kicked them in the shin, then ran to hug Anaira.

"Oh, thank fuck! Get me away from this psychopath!"

"Oh, okay, so you'll trust the cult lady with the plague doctor mask over me." Hunter said, and asked Anaira. "What the hell is with that, by the way?"

"Why do I need to answer? You're the one who's apparently been holding Rudy captive."

Fawn looked up at Anira, and it was the first time they had seen her without a facemask on. They took notice of one tiny detail, “Wait, do you have fangs?”

She ignored them, “Look, both of you follow me, and I’ll explain everything.”

She didn't give either of them any time to respond as she quickly took off, forcing them to either stay behind or follow.

She led them through the snowy woods, though it felt like a race to keep up with her. Her cloak blew through the wind as she effortlessly climbed up icy hills, darted through the trees, and jumped through the snow.

"Can you please tell us what the hell is going on?" Fawn asked as they tried to keep up, “Why are you out in the middle of the woods wearing plague costumes?”

"It's not easy out here for anyone, Rudolph." She said, "Not humans, not us. I'm trying to get us out of wolf territory. It wouldn't be good to get caught on their turf, especially not by—"

"Well, well, well, look who decided to come crawlin' in the wrong neck of the woods." A new voice entered the room, the tone and cadence of an older woman.

Anaira finished her sentence, "—Ethel."

Ethel chuckled, “Long time no see, Anaira.”

Taglist: @parasitebunny @whumpy-wyrms @fruitypinapple00 @otterfrost

Fawn and Hunter's bickering this chapter reminds me so much of me and my little brother lol. I'm Hunter and he is Fawn. He won't go a single day without insulting me lol

Sorry about the pacing this part.

Lmk in the comments if you want added or removed !

Thanks for reading !! 💕🦌

#whump #whump blog #whump community #whumpblr #my writing #whump things #whump writing #fawn and hunter #whump series

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fictionalafvsmybeloved · 1 year ago

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How about Titanfall / Apex's Paladin Tank?

I played Titanfall so I'm gonna go with that version.

I think this double-barreled hunk of junk pretty much confirms that the engineers of the Titanfall/Apex universe can't design an actually functional Armored Fighting Vehicle.

This one likely draws is inspiration from multiple real-life vehicles, the T-72 for the lower profile hull and running gear, and the German VT1 series of prototype vehicles.

A bit more on the chassis, those road wells are spaced out pretty far. Which means this is either a lightweight tank, or a badly designed one (it's the later). There is also,

A BIG HOLE WHERE MOST OF THE ENGINE SHOULD BE. Even IF this is a light tank is mobility is going to be terrible with whatever tiny engine they squeezed in there.

I have no info on the thickness or composition of the armor, so I'm gonna talk about it's layout (which is bad). First, the big flat spots on the front, they are big ol' weakspots that should be sloped. Next, the front of the turret, It has what I think is a large optic in the middle of the turret face, right in front of what I'm assuming is the gunner's position, another probable weakspot. And finally, the turret profile in general leaves the turret ring vulnerable.

Oh, hey! Another abject failure of this ugly pile of garbage, the guns. Like on the VT series of prototypes, they are so far off the center line of the turret you'd need to turn the turret to get the other gun on target. They also seem to be housed in pods that rotate on the side of the turret to elevate the guns. The biggest issue (or one of them at least) Is that when you fire one of the guns, it's gonna wrench the turret to that side with it's recoil. That will at minimum throw your aim way off, and potentially damage the turret drive/ring. I have no clue what caliber these guns are, 120mm maybe?

In addition to the main gunner's optic there are..... I'm not actually sure if there are any other optics. There's a periscope looking thing above the optic, but it has the exact same model as the headlights! There's another potential set mounted on both sides of the turret, but it already has a gunner's sight! Does it do the VT1 thing of swinging the guns back and forth until the computer sees its on target and fires?

This thing is so bad that the single hatch on the turret might ACTUALLY mean that it has a crew of one.

The one, tiny good thing about about this dumpster fire is that it has a realistic array of hatches, handles, and headlights. It also has ammo loading/blow-out panels in the back of the turret.

I can tell that some research and thought went into this tank. Unfortunately for anyone that has to crew, service, or even witness this heinous machine; EVERY THOUGH THAT WENT INTO IT WAS A BAD ONE.

FINAL SCORES

Credibility: 2/10 - Just Stupid

Coolness: 2/10 - Ghana’s Latest Prototype

BONUS

I'll come back later and do Apex's version

(and even do that post on why Twin-Cannons are a bad idea)

#noncredibledefense #ncd #noncredible defense #tank ratings #tanks #Titanfall

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youcantdateosmosisjones · 2 years ago

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You’re five years old, and you’re living in the most backwashed piece of shit town in your state- according to the papers- but it’s all you’ve ever known. It’s not perfect, sure, but it’s enough.

Why don’t they understand that?

Your brother is only a few years older than you. Nobody would guess that you’re related just by looking at you, but there’s only so many people that look like you guys here. You don’t really understand it then, but you see the way his friends look at your family at times. They’re nice, you say. They’ve been kind to you, it’s probably nothing. they haven’t wronged you.

You’re 12 years old, and your mom just came back from the hospital with something so new and ugly looking- but it’s still family, she reminds you. But you know how much your father hates it here. It grows every day. You can see the fear in his eyes when he sees you with your siblings, laughing and playing without a care in the world. You didn’t know it then, but people didn’t like him. Too temperamental, they said... but so were the fathers of your brothers friends. They worked in offices, behind desks in a musky building with a half-working fan in the corner. They worked at the supermarket ringing you up when you walked there barefoot at 10pm because you’re dad was too tired to go buy cigarettes himself. But at least he let you buy some soda to share with your brother. They are able to be whatever they want to be here. Your father works at the scrapyard. The one that your brother’s friends go to and throw homemade explosives at the piles of junk- the ones he has to clean up after. The one that the other dads, your friends parents, think he’s a lowlife for. Neither of you mention that fact to your father.

You know he hates it here. You know he doesn’t hate you, but something inside you hopes that you’re enough to keep him here. You share a face, a life, a family... why wouldn’t that be enough?

He stopped coming home for dinner weeks ago.

In the morning you wake to the sound of muffled crying- and not from the baby- and the rumbling of an engine. The engine of the one car that you owned. Your fathers. Your mom is in her bed with her back turned to you, curled up facing the wall. It’s dark, and she won’t say anything. Your brother’s still asleep, and you’re still in your pajamas. Barefoot, cold, with wild unkempt hair coated in grease and drool. In your mother’s room again, the drawers have been pulled out, scavenged and emptied. You almost wish you hadn’t spent all this time trying to figure out what was happening instead of taking action, but how could you have known?

...only you did. You just didn’t want to believe it until after the fact.

As it turns out, even chasing at screaming after a moving vehicle proved useless at that point. He just drove faster. At the final turn, you stop, unblinking, watching a hunk of metal he promised to teach you how to drive just- disappear. Not even an hour later did anything you had of him leave your life forever.

You’re 15 years old, and you’ve been swiping cigarettes from your brother for what has to be- what, 3 weeks now? It’s a new habit of his. At a Christmas diner some years ago he showed up with a girl from his class, one who seemed nice enough, but the dinner was silent in their presence. I had never really thought my own brother was out there living his own life outside of our family before then, but now here he was, heavily pregnant teenage fling in tow, refusing to make eye contact with anyone.

I saw it then, a look that I had almost drove myself insane over trying to forget it. He was scared, and he hated it here.

I never met that girl again after that, but the baby looks almost exactly as I remembered her. I like to think that birds of a feather flock together, because she was just like my father- and my brother, as I would soon find out. She was gone, with no binds to our family or her responsibilities, and I know now that my brother wished he had that privilege. I don’t think he wanted her necessarily, he just wanted to be rid of us.

You’re 15, it’s the month after your birthday, and since he hasn’t come home you’re stuck with his daughter for the night. It’s become more common lately, so you don’t bother to be annoyed with him anymore. He’s a good guy, you know that, and he hasn’t wronged you. It wouldn’t be fair to blame it on him, even after everything.

You could very well go to sleep right now and save you energy for the morning, but it’s a Saturday night, your mom’s been taking overnight shifts at the hospital, and the late night program is on TV. Why not be lazy for once? You deserve a little break from everything.

It’s 3 in the morning, and she didn’t expect you to be up still. She’s sobbing again. It’s the first time you’ve seen her do that in years. You have a vague memory of lights in the background coming in through the blinds, some shade of red, and hushed conversations just outside the door. She’s still sobbing, and she’s hugging you now. You don’t understand a word that’s coming out of her mouth.

He died. At first you didn’t know how or why, only that he was gone. One moment, you think of him like he’s just out there... somewhere else. But now you have to remind yourself that he’s inside the box in front of you.

Nobody who knew him could look at his face, not even your mother or his closest friends.

Weeks later, you’d find out that he had killed himself under a bridge. A bridge of all places- one that you were vaguely aware of the existence of, but one has to wonder if he planned to do it there, or if it was just convenient that night. People shouldn’t think this way of their dead relatives, but fuck that.

Did he even plan on telling anyone? Did he try to? Were you just not listening? Is it reasonable to hate him right now- is that allowed? How many times has he tried before? Why didn’t he tell us? He couldn’t have left a fucking note? Was something else going on?

I want to hate him. I really do. It isn’t even justified, he didn’t even do anything wrong that I can think of. He was young, and he made mistakes, but he was a good person while it lasted. He was a good dad. I don’t even have the strength to lie about that.

He reminds me a lot of dad. I was always more like him that he was, but he was always his son. Our sister doesn’t even remember him. And maybe that's for the best... Maybe neither of them wanted to fuck up what they made, so they left. Taking away everything that I loved about them with them in a matter of minutes, and only leaving behind their mess.

Is this how my mom felt?

I hate this feeling.

I hate them for leaving.

I hate them for leaving me.

I hate them for leaving this shitty town.

I hate living in this shitty town.

I hate pretending like this is enough.

I hate living off of scraps.

I hate my mom for working for the bare minimum.

I hate her for knowing exactly what I know.

I hate my sister and my niece for not knowing this.

I hate those two for not knowing the pain.

I hate them for being cowards.

I hate them for having the balls to do what I wish I could.

I hate being stuck with their messes and responsibilities and attachments and sentiments- the shit they didn’t want anymore. I never wanted these. My dad didn’t want this, my niece's mother didn’t want this, my brother didn’t want this, and so by some twisted turn of fate I’m the one who gets stuck with it.

I hate living with the idea that the people around me, although they've watched and witnessed, and fought with the same exact thing as me, they can still keep on living without them like they didn’t just take all the parts that made them human, and left the shit. If I wasn’t here right now, having to push pennies together to care for what little family I have left, I probably would’ve done the same thing. I fucking hate that fact.

I think it’s a genetic trait. I hope so. Maybe then it wouldn’t be my fault for wanting to do the same shit they did.

#jackie #oc #short story #poem? idk #oc story #tw: sucide #made this for me

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yuzukult · 4 years ago

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from home 05 || jjk & reader

title: from home pairing: jungkook x reader genre: richkid!jk, baker!reader, fakedating!au, fluff, angst, e2l, smut in later chapters word count: 7.5k+ prompt: jungkook is the youngest of five boys, the last in line to truly inherit any his parents’ money. but what if his mom suddenly cuts him off due to his current poor behavior and he’s forced to learn how it feels like to be part of the working class? a/n: i was really excited to write this chapter and i still couldn’t get myself to make it longer... :( i suck...

please let me know if you’re interested in being tagged! but also let me know if you want to be removed! taglist: @scalubera @strugglingartistno16-2 @taestannie @teresaisla @drumsofheaven @vampgguk @christiandosworld @madjammil @jungkookieyoongs @bananagguknim @shuttheelleup @yobroitsjayden

← previous chapter || next chapter →

Stating that Jungkook was 'on edge' is an understatement.

His palms and armpits were sweaty from the moment he arrived at your apartment to grab you before going to meet your parents, despite the amount of layers of deodorant he has on. He's never had a real relationship before, let alone met any girl's parents, and he can't help but feel something churning in his gut. "Good to go?" You ask, and he merely nods, suddenly bashful because he feels like he is definitely not ‘good to go.’ "Alright, let's head out."

The ride on the bus to your family home is only 30 minutes away, and truthfully, he has never ridden on one before. Walking to yours, Hoseok, and his home were less than 15 minutes, the thought of taking the bus being the absolute last thing on his mind.

Jungkook isn't exactly sure how he feels about the bus. The constant starting and stopping makes him nauseous; then the unsteadiness of having to hold the bars and handles throughout the vehicle all around seems unsafe. When there's an available seat, you sense his fear, nudging him cautiously, gesturing him to take the seat. "Sit," and granting he wants to offer it to you instead, Jungkook complies to the demand because he swears he's going to vomit.

After getting off the public transportation that he vows to never take again, you guide Jungkook through a narrow road, he notices the neighborhood here was more concentrated than the ones in Busan; tightly knitted with homes that stacked on top of one another, side to side, and back to back. People hung their clothes on lines that stretch from apartment to apartment, piles of boxes stored on balconies, and plants resting on the borders with owners sitting idle on their porches, fixated on their hobby of people watching.

Jungkook is known to be popular to the public, from magazines, gossip TV channels, social media posts, and the types continue on to the point that you couldn’t name them all on your own ten fingers. People don't often recognize him on the streets anymore because he's unrecognizable in regular everyday clothes but today, he learns that you're the celebrity.

The people in their homes say their greetings, making comments here and there as you entertain them with a response back, laughter dispersing in the air. There's an old lady that lounges on the steps of her home, a smile stretched so wide that her eyes disappear, all with a blanket laying across her lap, knitting away. "I haven't seen you around, I assume your mother is having a dinner party for the kids? I see you brought a friend!"

"Something along those lines," you retort indirectly, nose snug into your scarf. "You're not staying indoors? It's cold out."

"My husband keeps the heater on the home too high, I sweat like I'm going through menopause like I’m forty all over again, so I much rather be outside here. Anyways, I don't want to hold you up too long, but please come by for Christmas, I do have a sweater I knitted for you as well!"

Then there's a grandfather, another grandmother, and a couple who seems just a bit older than the two of you, and the list just goes on. Despite the whisper exchanges at the supermarket mentioning that you're intimidating, mean, and scary, it's obvious that you aren't or else you wouldn't be swooning the hearts of these strangers.

But there will always be an exception. Especially when the two of you run into a girl who looks close in age, hair dyed blonde with her lips painted fusion red. He could tell how curvy she was with how tight the winter coat hugs her frame, swaying her hips toward your direction as she eyes you both suspicious. "I see our town loser brought a friend."

"Mm," You nod, attempting your best not to amuse her, or else you’d be pouncing on her back by now. "Jungkook, this is Somin. A classmate of mine when I was in grade school." He bows in politeness, zipping up his jacket further while stepping closer to you. "Nice to meet you, Somin."

"Oh, no!" She gasps, a hand on her chest in exaggeration, completely flabbergasted by something he said. "Don't call me that. I go by Bella, since... you know, I am an American now. Being an American deserves the right name."

"You got your citizenship there?"

"No, but, I spent enough time there to know." She grins, shrugging her shoulders. Spent enough time there—you want to call out on her bullshit yet again, knowing she barely spent a month there before dropping out of school and coming back, but it'd be humiliating to mention that with Jungkook standing by, a stranger that she had only met a mere few seconds ago. "You said Jungkook... Are you perhaps, Jeon Jungkook of the Jeon Corporation?"

You furrow your brows. "How do you even know that?"

"Well, daddy invests in their stocks, of course." Fluttering her lashes, she manages to make her presence known to Jungkook as she moves in his direction. "And I saw his pretty little face in a magazine and couldn't help but admire."

Possessively, your hand slips into his pocket, intertwining your fingers together, causing warmth to creep up his neck and into his cheeks. "Well, great to see you, Somin. Jungkook and I have dinner plans with my parents."

"Whoa, wait, dinner plans?" Somin nearly exclaims, shifting aside to block your way. "Also, it's Bella, get that straight, will you? And why is Jeon Jungkook with you anyway?"

"We're dating," Jungkook interjects, clearing his throat. The words are still unfamiliar on his tongue yet he loves to flaunt them anyway. "I'm her boyfriend." He adds, tightening the grip on your hand as if Somin could see it. Her mouth drops open, unable to grasp onto the fact that you were able to land on a hunk like him. If only she knew how much knowledge of basic life skills he didn't have... actually, she might still have the same perspective. "There's no way. This is fake, right? You realize how rude she is, don't you?"

"No, it’s not fake, and well, kind of," Jungkook admits, scrunching up his nose at the thought. "But it's endearing. Wouldn't be as exciting if she wasn't always trying to banter with me, so I don't think I'd have it any other way. People mistake it for her honesty. I love a woman who can be true to herself and genuine with her words."

Just then, your mother peeks out of the front door of your childhood home, waving her arm eagerly, calling out your name. "Well, that's our cue. Thanks, Somin, for congratulating us on our new relationship. Hope you find someone yourself soon!"

"What—" Somin barely finishes her sentence before you're zooming past her, tugging Jungkook along.

"I didn't know you had so many enemies," Jungkook says jokingly, a playful smile upon his lips. You roll your eyes before squinting them at him, squeezing his hand hard as he winces. "Now you know how little I care for them, watch out because you might become one."

Upon entering the home, Jungkook observes too many things at once. Your mother is in the kitchen, frantically maneuvering through the junk that your family has hoarded over the years, searching for whatever it is she needs for the task at hand. Your father sits comfortably on the couch, feet on the coffee table with a controller in hand, dozing off with a combination of quiet and loud snores escaping from him. As a family home, Jungkook believes it's small considering that you had mentioned previously that you had two other siblings. To think that your parents are still living in the same home they grew up in is amazing to him, knowing that his parents moved at least five times within his youth while you only stayed in one home.

"Uh, hello," He greets your mom, bowing as she places her hands onto his shoulders, shaking him in excitement. She looks almost like a replica of you, except older and much brighter. "You must be Jungkook! It's so great to meet you, I'm so happy that my daughter found someone. She's known to be a bit... cold, so knowing that you were able to warm her up means that you're definitely special!"

"You make me sound like a bad guy." You hiss before your little sister walks in, in the midst of tying her hair up into a ponytail. She resembled your mother than you did, a delighted expression that matched exactly the one your mother had on. "That's because you are, and any guy who dates you seem to run away once they find out." She halts in her steps when she notices Jungkook's face. "Oh my god, you're that model."

"Model?" Your mother reiterates, glancing back at Jungkook and then your sister. "Yeah, yeah, that model in the new edition of Elle. He was in it—he's listed as one of the 10 most desirable men under 30. No flipping way, how'd you even get him to even date you?" She pauses before pointing at Jungkook with a suspicious look on her face as his eyes widened. "Unless... you need her for something. What's she offering? It can't be her body, she's not sexy... is it her brains? You heard about her—"

"Miyoung." Your mother says sternly, interrupting your sister. "Just because Jungkook is a model, it doesn't mean that your sister is incapable of being loved by a man like that."

"Actually—"

"Oh, hey. You must be the boyfriend." A taller male enters the room, his hair messy and lids hooded from waking up barely minutes before. He's still in his pajamas, a loose grey shirt and red checkered pants, but from the outline of his shirt, Jungkook could tell this guy was built. "I'm Daehyun, also known as their big brother. It's nice to meet you." Jungkook is in awe, hand extending to shake with Daehyun's. He knows he's straight, but even as a straight guy he knows a pretty man when he sees one.

Jungkook was starting to pick up as to why your exterior was so tough. With a younger sister who didn't have a filter to an incredibly handsome older brother, of course as the middle child you had to protect yourself. "Uh, yeah. And that's my little sister, Miyoung, who basically just attacked me for all of my insecurities within a minute. Thanks, kiddo."

"No problem, Unnie." She grins cheekily, seated on the high stool. "Did mom tell you I was back home from college for the weekend? That's why you're here?"

"Something like that," you respond ominously, hanging up your jacket along with Jungkook’s. Despite her preceding interrogation, she’s chewing on her bottom lip skittishly. "More like she forced me to come. Well, she didn't say anything yet but I felt a guilt trip coming so I just decided that I would come instead."

"Typical," Daehyun scoffs, leaning against the wall beside Miyoung. He sneaks a glimpse into the kitchen where your mother secretly runs back into, resuming in her work. "She's been desperate to get us all back together since the two of you moved out. Remind me again why I'm the only one stuck here?"

"Because you can't find a job." Miyoung and you remind him in unison and he frowns. The interaction between the three of you is crystal clear evidence that you guys are related. "Well, geez, hurt a guy, why don't you? See what I have to deal with, Jungkook?"

With some time left until dinner, the four of you crowd at your small dining table, conversing away about updates in your lives. Miyoung is in University an hour away from home, residing there for an easier commute, and Daehyun stays at home with an ambition to find a job that fits his degree. Daehyun still dates from time to time but he admits that he can’t tend to his needs because well, his mother is a room away, and oddly enough, albeit Miyoung babbles on about other things, she’s silent about her love life. Neither Miyoung and Daehyun are able to hold a steady job, he observes, and he’s starting to pick up as to why you’re so adamant about keeping both of yours. Jungkook learns that everything seems to gravitate toward one of the two phrases from your siblings when it comes to finances and they are: “Mom can handle it,” or “I’m going to let Dad do it so I don’t have to.”

From what Jungkook can gather, your siblings seemed to have different outlooks on life compared to you—they still depended on their parents whilst you were already hunting for opportunities of your own before Miyoung’s age so you didn’t have to ask for money.

“Are you still upset with me about what happened a year ago?” Miyoung finally asks you, chewing on her nails nervously. It seems to be something she’s been holding back from you, Jungkook takes a note of the way her eyes were filled with worry. “Of course,” You reply nonchalantly, leaning back against your seat with your arms crossed. “How could I not be? But you’re my sister, so I can’t actually be mad at you.”

Miyoung begins to tear up— glassy gaze with her bottom lip quivering, in spite of the previous aggressiveness she presented when you first entered the house. Before Miyoung could get another word in, your mom comes in with a guilty expression on her face. She calls your name faintly, a pout upon her lips. “Can you and Jungkook go out and grab me a couple things before dinner?”

Jungkook can’t get the question that Miyoung brings up out of his mind. In the middle of an aisle at another one of his mother’s grocery stores, your lips are pursed in thought at which brand of soy sauce would your mom like more.

“What was Miyoung going on about?” He eventually asks, but he holds his breath in case you decide to sock him for querying you about something so personal. Strangely enough, you open up. “Miyoung fell in love with my ex. He told me they didn’t do anything but he was in love with her, so we broke up. I thought I was going to settle with him but— guess not.”

Jungkook’s eyes expand like a deer in headlights. “Your little sister is dating your ex-boyfriend? And they were in love with each other during your relationship? I would’ve given her an uppercut if I were you— are you seriously still buying the banana milk she asked for?” He’s trailing behind you as you lead him toward the drinks; your face brightening from the lights from the fridges. How could someone who lost their boyfriend to their little sister seem so put together in the first place? Was this was Hoseok was talking about that your men streak was horrendous?

“Because she’s my little sister. At the end of the day, I want her to be happy.” Throwing a pack into the cart, Jungkook continues to push it while following you, mind still foggy and angry about the situation. Here you were, with a guy who you’d fallen in love with to the point of considering settling down, then finding out he’s been in love with your sister... he feels like this is all a fever dream and isn’t an ounce real. “You’re fucking with me right?”

You look at him with perplexity. “What do you mean?”

“This sounds crazy. You’re serious? Miyoung stole a guy from you and you’re just going to be the bigger person here and not do anything about it?”

“What am I supposed to do? Throw a tantrum? Get in the way of their relationship that is obviously blossoming in a good way?”

Jungkook pauses. Was this what it was like in another family? Or at least yours?

In comparison, he perceives that within his family, outbursts were everything. Getting attention and being recognized for any wrongdoing was immensely important— he knew that if he stole a girl away from one of his brothers, he wouldn’t make it out of the house alive. His mother, including father, would never forget it. The chattering would be heard through the grapevine amongst the housemaids, drivers, and employees of the company. Even news media outlets would dabble a bit into the family drama, adding fuel to the fire. He could never react the way you did, at least, he hopes he would, but realistically speaking, he knew he wouldn’t be able to do it.

Yet, with you, it seemed simple enough. Sure, your heart was broken, but how were you going to be with someone who didn’t love you back?

“If you love someone, you let them go.” You say calmly when Jungkook doesn’t respond back. “Keeping them around for your benefit doesn’t solve anything. If he wasn’t truly happy with me, I want him to be happier with someone else. And if that person so happens to be with Miyoung, what am I supposed to do?”

“But... you’re not happy.” Jungkook declares with no hesitation. He recalls the time where you felt bad for him for not having the best upbringing, and he’s starting to understand the emotion that ran through you. “I’m happier now,” You concede, placing the last ingredient your mom has on the list for you to purchase, turning your back at Jungkook. “Now that I met you.”

His heart flutters at the comments, and he’s desirous about bringing up the topic of the kiss again. Jungkook resists the urge to because he could tell from the way your silhouette begins to quicken its pace toward the checkout line that you really didn’t want to talk about it.

When the two of you arrive back at your house, your father is jolted awake. Jungkook greets himself to the elder man who only grins brighter than the sun—something Jungkook is trying to grasp where your grumpiness comes from— and instantaneously directs him to the dinner table where your mom has a ton of side dishes laid out with six place settings for you all.

During the meal, there was nothing but exchanging stories, laughter, and elation that swarms the room. If this was what family meant, Jungkook wanted it. And the more he thinks about it, the more he wants it to be with you.

Nothing is working out for Jungkook.

This week, the pipe in his apartment burst. Something about— it’s winter and when it’s cold, the water freezes within the pipe and it expands the material, causing the pipe itself to burst, he doesn’t quite understand how the whole plumbing system works, but he knows that he can’t use the water in his apartment and has to go to yours and Hoseok’s for the week for a shower until the landlord can get it fixed.

Then, one of the deli guys called off because he apparently had the runs which meant that there was a shift change— Jungkook having to cover since whomever was working that day didn’t have the skills to do it.

Skills? Jungkook curses underneath his breath when he recites that word in his head repeatedly because he cuts his finger on the meat slicer as he winces, calling out your name. Coming to his side, you pull out the first aid kit and force him to sit down on one of the stools, tying elastic on a higher point of his finger to stop the blood from gushing out. “You alright?”

“Yeah, I just... I didn’t need to be put here, right? Someone else could’ve done this, I have no idea how to use a slicer.”

“I know,” You coo, wiping some of the antiseptic on the wound as he whimpers at the sudden sting. “The new shift manager panicked, she wasn’t sure what to do since the guy with the actual food preparation license is going to be here a bit late so she put you here. Not exactly the best plan.” After bandaging him up, you wash your hands underneath the faucet as Jungkook slouches in the seat.

Nothing really was going his way.

It doesn’t even stop there. Unexpectedly, his mother calls for dinner but you’re on shift, therefore you wouldn’t be able to attend. He’s tempted to down a glass of whiskey on ice, his signature drink, but when he opens the cabinet in his kitchen, he falters at the image of your face. Would you be disappointed if you saw what he was doing? And Hoseok? What would he say?

Retracting his hand back, he immediately slams the door shut at the thought of the consequences.

Dinner is the usual at the Jeon residence. Father sits at the end of the dining table, the typical beige cloth napkin spread across on his lap while in his usual work attire, glasses rested on the tip of his nose as he’s ready to dive in with a fork and spoon in hand. Mother is settled beside him, pretty as ever and calm in comparison to the hell that’s going to let loose in a couple minutes. The unknown? Who is going to blow up this time and who will they be comparing themselves to?

The answer? Jongseok and Jungkook.

Jongseok is upset to the point that he articulates every word with spit nearly projecting from his mouth to the opposite side of the room. The vein on his temple is stressed to the point that all Jungkook can think about is when it’s going to pop. “Why are you guys always babying Jungkook? You realize the kid is fucking working at a grocery store right? And not just any grocery store, either, but it’s mother’s chain.”

“Okay?” Father retorts, forehead wrinkling in puzzlement. “Isn’t he trying to prove himself worthwhile? Didn’t he find that job himself, despite it being your mother’s chain? He’s paying for his mistakes, learning basic life skills along the way, and even landed himself a serious girlfriend who can hold his hand through these tough times, since, after all, you’re the one who suggested we cut him off. If I’m being honest, I think we should give him access to our funds again.”

A scoff of incredulity comes from Jongseok. He’s a ticking time bomb in this moment; jaw twitching in frustration with the tips of his ears heated red. Even though he’s the target yet again, Jungkook is sober now, mind clear of the fog and the ability to defend himself for once. “I don’t get it. Why are you even mad at me? I’m trying here, right? You’re the one who wanted me to get cut off so desperately— and congrats, by the way, because I did. I had to find a job myself, one I’m not a fan of, and I’m barely making it by. I lost water in my apartment this week, cut my hand on one of those deli slicers, sprained my ankle on my way to work— and that’s only a portion of my bad week. Yet here I am, sitting at the dinner table with people who claim that they love me when you’re here flipping shit at father. What do you want from me?”

“For your name to be completely off the will.” Jongseok finally says what he has been actually feeling unperturbedly, not an ounce of affection in his tone with a gaze that could pierce through Jungkook. “You have nothing to offer to this family. Why we keep you around— I don’t know. Why should you have any portion of our estate and company assets when all you’re doing right now is working at the supermarket. Tell me, Jungkook, why do you deserve to be part of any of this?”

Jungkook hates how childish he’s being, but he feels like he has the right to. The flickering colorful lights and music booming through the speakers of the club are tuning out the words his brother exclaims at his parents, and the amount of alcohol passing through his lips are numbing the pain that tears through his chest. Your face pops up in his head; your laugh, your smile, and the comfort in the underlying messages through your tough love— he wishes that all of that was enough to heal the sting in his heart and fill the hollowness that his family left.

He doesn’t remember any of these people sitting at this table with him, even though they’re hollering in excitement that “Jungkook is back again!” The girl placing a hand on his chest with his arm around her shoulder isn’t you, but he knows that if it was, you’d be so displeased at how wasted he is. Honestly, this feels wrong. Nothing sits right in his stomach and when another pretty gal with her dress hiked up to the point he could see her thong from where he’s on the couch, he’s not even attracted to her. All he could think about was you, and that scowl on your face when he tells you about this night. He could hide it from you but he’s not going to lie to himself— if he wanted to improve for the better, it meant being straightforward and authentic. Jungkook came here to let loose because the events that occurred at the estate tonight was something he wants to forget.

Turning to the girl beside him, his eyes are hooded and vision is blurry when he asks, “What’s your name again?”

When her rosy plump lips open, she says her name but the voice that comes out of it is deep and oddly familiar. “Hyeri?” Why does she say it like a question, and why is her voice so low? Just then, a hand clenches the fabric of his shirt, pulling him up and he meets the proprietor of the response. Hoseok.

Hoseok drags Jungkook’s weak and frail frame out into the alleyway behind the club, fuming to the point that smoke could’ve been whistling out of his ears. “What the fuck are you doing here? And with Hyeri, of all people! I thought I told you to stop fucking around, dude! I-I thought you knew how much she means to me. Out of the people I’ve partied with— you were my actual friend.” He clenches his jaw before Jungkook could even answer, a fist tightening in his hand. “You’re such a fuck up, Jungkook. So much for a friend.”

Then everything blacks out.

His entire body hurts. His head is pounding, he can barely open one of his eyes, and his legs are so sore he can hardly shift on the bed— on a bed? He doesn’t have a bed. He has a futon but not a bed. Startled, he attempts to sit up against the bed frame, the other eye opening to skim through the room.

He’s never been in your bedroom before, but the pictures of you graduating college hanging on the corkboard above your desk, concert tickets, Polaroids, and holiday cards thumbtacked beside them is all the evidence he needs to know it’s yours. Jungkook wants a closer look at them, he can scarcely make out the cute little smile on your face with your family in attendance in the picture, but when he puts weight onto his arms, he groans. Seconds later, you’re bursting through the door, out of breath and worry in your eyes. “Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” Voice hoarse, he realizes how dry his throat is and you lean over to the bedside table to hand him the glass of water you had there originally. “Don’t move, idiot. You’re actually really torn up if you didn’t feel it with all that alcohol in your system.” Inviting yourself onto the foot of the bed, Jungkook frowns after he finishes the entire glass, much more dehydrated than he initially thought. “Trust me, it’s gone now. I feel every ounce of pain. What happened? I blacked out.”

“No shit,” you retort harshly, rolling your eyes at him. “You were drunk as hell, but you didn’t black out from that. Hoseok saw you getting all cozy with Hyeri and knocked the shit out of you. What happened, Jungkook? Why were you there in the first place? Did something happen?”

Reading the expression on your face, he fears for the worse but he doesn’t see any hint of dissatisfaction anywhere. There’s no anger, no resentment, no frustration— none of that. Just curiosity smeared across, genuinely worried about his well-being. “Are you upset that you found out I was there?”

“I was mad that Hoseok called me to come grab you, at first, so kind of, yeah. But if you’re trying to figure out if I’m disappointed in you, then no, I’m not. Old habits are hard to kill, so I understand that you’re trying to cope with something. I just want to know why you were there in the first place and why were you getting all lovey dovey with Hyeri—“

“I wasn’t getting lovey-dovey with Hyeri,” Jungkook exasperates, head falling back against the headboard, closing his eyes shut, interrupting before you lead the conversation into a lecture. “She was just some girl that sat down and claimed a spot next to me. I didn’t even know she was Hoseok’s girl.” There’s a pregnant pause in his explanation, and you don’t break off his train of thought. “I... I went because Jongseok called me useless tonight, yet again. It didn’t bother me as much as it did before, you know, before I met you, and it’s probably because I wasn’t intoxicated or the fact that I’m actually trying now and he still thinks I’m useless. He wants me out of the will.”

“He’s jealous that he’s the problematic child now, not you.” Making your way up the bed, you’re seated on top of the covers, settled adjacent to Jungkook. “If it makes you feel any better, I think you’re way more useful than you had been initially. I usually do the dishes at my parents’ house, mostly because I’m the middle child, but you did it for me instead. I consider that a huge accomplishment from who you were before.”

As much as he hates to admit how warm and fuzzy he feels inside just from that small achievement, it’s a resemblance of the time when he was younger and won an award for being most creative in his kindergarten class. How are you able to lift up his mood so easily by just saying a few words?

“I… is Hoseok really pissed?”

“A bit,” you reply sincerely and apologetically, even though none of this had been your fault. “He’s been in love with her even before I met him. She was all he could talk about, and I guess she finally gave him a shot, only to drop him a month later. I don’t know much about her, but I know she’s a gold digger from the stories he shared.”

Jungkooks face drops when his gaze meets yours. “Have you ever told him that?” You laugh—the melody that practically heals his wounds on the spot. “No, are you crazy? He’s blinded by love, Jeon, and any interference with that, I’m done for, probably cut out entirely from his life. Have you never been in love before?”

He wants to say that he hasn’t, not until he met you, but you continue without expecting a response from him anyway. “Well, that’s just how he is. You could tell him a billion times that this girl isn’t for him but he’s never going to care about what I say until something actually happens.”

“I really care about Hoseok, though, and I want the best for him.” His doe-brown eyes are glossy, full of cherish for his friend. “And he cares for you too, Jeon. Just give him some time.” Quickly, Jungkook twists away, gaze avoiding yours as he clears his throat a couple times.

“Are you... okay?”

“Y-Yeah,” He says, choking up on his own words. “Hurts a little. Hoseok is strong.”

You furrow your brows. “Hey, look at me.” He doesn’t react. “Jeon,”

“Can... you give me some space?”

Pulling your lips into a straight line, you contemplate whether or not to listen to his words or go against him. He’s been living in a home full of people yet still feeling alone, with no one to listen to his perspective on things. Maybe it’s time you change that.

Abruptly, you swing your leg over his thighs, hands cupping his cheeks just like you did that fateful night. He swore his heart stopped beating. “What are you—” There’s tears brimming in his eyes, you realize, with some escaping, trailing down his cheek. He sniffles. “You’re crying?” You’re stating the obvious, yet somehow it comes out as a question. “Don’t cry. Why are you crying?”

“I’ve never had a friend love me before, a friend who actually liked me for me and only wanted to spend time with me because of who I was, not who my family was. Did I really fuck up with Hoseok?” You frown, thumb rubbing against his cheek to wipe away his tears. Truthfully, you never really knew how to react when someone fell apart like this, but with Jungkook, it felt natural, the comforting. It might’ve been the sunlight peering through the windows of your room that made everything toasty, thawing out your cold heart, or it was just Jungkook. “Maybe. But I doubt he wouldn’t give you a chance to explain yourself though. I mean, yeah, you’re bruised all over because he really beat you up... but, I’m sure this evens things out. Plus, I’m your friend and I love you too.”

He sighs, shoulders plunging with his hands creeping up to your waist unconsciously, tenderly steering you to sit on his thighs. Swallowing at the feeling of his body flattened against yours, you’re attempting to shake your head from the dirty thoughts. Jungkook feels at ease, detecting the words come from your mouth, yet he wants more. He craves for more, especially since that night in Busan and he isn’t sure he can hold himself back anymore.

“I... What happened that night in Busan?” Lifting your weight off him, he only stops you by putting down more pressure to stop your escape. Despite being in an awful lot of pain, he still manages to overpower you in strength. “Please don’t avoid this. If Jongseok didn’t come to our door that night, it would’ve led to something more. I want to know, please, what does it mean?” Cheeks burning, you stare at the wooden headboard behind him, except Jungkook knows your next steps before you do because his finger is already on your chin, guiding your view back onto him. He doesn’t need to say anything because the look he gives you says it all, tell me.

“Okay, okay,” You cringe, the idea of talking about this makes your stomach feel queasy and want to recoil in dread. “White flag. I’ll talk.”

“Enough of this white flag nonsense, just tell me.”

Belatedly gathering enough courage, you spill. Although your heart feels like it’s jumping through hoops from suspense, you realize that you can’t hold yourself back any longer anyway. “I’m... attracted to you, alright? I mean, I’m not sure how I feel about you 100% emotionally, because I still feel like we’re on different pages here, but I feel like I kind of like you? If this goes any further, I wouldn’t necessarily be opposed to it.”

That’s... it? Admittedly so, Jungkook was hoping for more of a confession, something along the lines of, ‘I really like you, Jungkook’ but he’d have to settle for this. This was definitely a step closer to where he wants to be. “So... you’d date me, that is. There’s still an opening somewhere.”

“I-I mean, I guess so... why?”

“Because well, I can’t stop thinking about that night, and I know that for sure that I like you.” He discloses. “And if there’s even a bit of an opening, I want a shot at it.”

You scoff. “With me? You want an actual shot with me? After spending time with my family, you want to still try to swoon me?” There’s a smile tugging on Jungkook’s lips; there’s a blackish-bluish bruise underneath his eye, the side of his lips red and blotchy and the entirety of his body is either swollen or bruised, and yet, he still endures the pain to be beaming brighter than the stars. “Of course, you met my family, right? Yours is nothing complicated in comparison... well, maybe your sister. But for once, I feel like I belong here, with you, I feel like I’m home. So, will you give me a chance to win you over?”

“Don’t you think you’re rushing this whole thing? This... you thinking you like me kind of thing.”

“Are you going to keep wasting your time?” He blurts, a hint of annoyance in his tone. “You wasted how long with some guy only for him to ditch you for your sister. What about your happiness, and what you want? None of this is fair to you. What if I could possibly give that to you, that happiness? Would you actually give me a chance?”

Sincerely, you didn’t know what the relationship with Jungkook held and what it would mean in the future. But what he asserts is right with the things he repeats in Busan about being selfish for once replays in your head again, and you finally decide to take a shot at it.

Was it the high of saying ‘yes, okay’ to Jungkook or the painkillers he took earlier because when your lips meet with his, he feels like he’s floating in mid-air. Your tongue is wet and soft when it fights with his, and when his hands on your waist pull you in closer, the bulge in his pants isn’t discreet, raging for attention, twitching against your thigh while your fingers knots through his hair tightens in response to your bottom lip suddenly tucked in between his teeth. The room feels steaming hot, especially when your hips start to move against his, emitting a groan from him as hand trails down to your ass to give it a harsh squeeze in consequence. His jeans from last night are still on and they’re straining in his crotch uncomfortably.

This is escalating so fast—just as quickly as his heart is beating in his chest, almost popping out of his chest cavity. Your natural scent is intoxicating, clouding up his mind to the point that he doesn’t think he needs the alcohol to forget the pain his family has caused him anymore, because you’re mending the pieces of him together. Your hands trail down to his neck, tugging him closer before they wander down to his biceps, giving him a gentle squeeze that releases a wince from him.

Just as abrupt as the kiss, you pull away with a concerned and panic expression, with your mouth open in aghast. “Oh my god— I forgot you were still injured—” As you’re trying to move back, you stumble on his legs and collapse onto the floor.

“What— hey, are you okay?” He says, breathless as he leans over to check on you sprawled on the floor. Swiftly hopping back on your feet, he observes you clearly with your hair disheveled, cheeks tinted pink, and swollen lips. There’s a look of achievement on his face from the sight of a disoriented you. “Uh, um, yeah. I-I’m good,” Flustered, you push a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’m... I’m going to get dinner ready for the both of us, uh, I’m going to leave you to it,” you’re awkwardly gesturing his crotch before rushing out the room and slamming the door shut.

He can only laugh at your reaction. At least his week wasn’t that bad after that kiss, right?

Jungkook stirs awake from the sound of chatter in the living room, voices familiar that he can associate them as yours and Hoseok’s. Unexpectedly, he sounds melancholic, the muffled sounds from your walls, almost to the point of whimpering mixed with your soft assuring words. He figures he should get a closer perspective of this, maybe enough where he can make out what the two of you are conversing about.

He’s not far off from shrieking when he angles his leg too far, but he bites his bottom lip in prevention of any sound, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the torment. Careful, he reiterates like a mantra in his head, chanting it until it’s engraved in his brain. When he reaches the door, he opens it slowly and just barely, to peek out and see the scene unfold before him.

“She told me that they didn’t do anything,” Hoseok exclaims, face in his hands as his elbows are resting on his knees. “That she chose to be there, and Jungkook was just lounging on the couch. That if anything, she wanted him to fuck her. Isn’t that ridiculous? How could she say that?”

You’re seated on the armrest of the loveseat, hand rubbing against Hoseok’s back soothingly. “I know, Hobi, I know. You might’ve been the right one for her, but at the end, she wasn’t the right one for you.”

“I could’ve changed,” He emphasizes, spinning his gaze to meet yours. His eyes are crimson and swollen from his tears, restlessness fills in those orbs. “I love her so much.”

“Well, and you love Jungkook. He’s in the other room, beat up and crying because he thought he lost you. He didn’t do anything wrong and you tore him to shreds! Earlier when we were making—“ You pause, clearing your throat when you realize where you were leading the conversation, Hoseok raising a brow in confusion at the action. “Earlier, I mean, I went to check on him and he was whining in pain. You really hurt him, Hoseok, and not just physically either. He’s both hurt emotionally and physically.”

He frowns. “I mean, I guess... I guess it wasn’t his fault.”

“There’s no guessing, idiot. It wasn’t. He was honestly too wasted to even realize that she was sitting beside him. Poor kid reeked of alcohol that I almost made him sleep on the porch. But he would’ve gotten robbed so... I let him stay in my room and I slept on the couch.” Jungkook glowers at the thought of you struggling to find comfort on the small sofa, wishing you would’ve chosen to sleep by him instead.

“Can I... talk to him?” Hoseok finally asks, looking down at his hands in embarrassment. His knuckles were red, contused from the one-sided fight he had with Jungkook the night before. “I fucked up, and I’m sure he thinks that he really fucked up.”

You hum for a moment before an idea pops into mind. “How about... you go out and get takeout? I’ll check on him, prep him for your appearance, and then you guys can hash it out?”

You don’t take no for an answer, pushing Hoseok out the door shortly, and a soft smile tugs on the edges of Jungkook’s lips before he lightly shuts the door and tip toes back into bed, pretending to be deep in slumber.

When you come into the room afterwards with a wet rag in hand and a bucket of warm water, his heart swells. Patting the towel against his wounds while seated at the edge of the bed, he hastily has a hand wrapped around your wrist, shocking you in the midst of your activity. “Oh— you’re awake?” He gingerly kisses the palm of your hand, heat clogging your face . “Yeah. And, thank you. For everything. I owe you a lot.”

“I—uh, maybe you’ll reciprocate this for me as well, one day?” You respond dubiously. “But... you also might not know how to do it so—“

“Are you still trying to make jabs at me after I made such a sweet comment?”

“Well, I’m just being honest, do you even know how to take care of another person?” You shoot back. “You couldn’t even get yourself back home, I had to be called and drag you back here myself, and my god, you’re heavy—“ He hauls your arm closer, dragging you along with it until your nose is inches away from his. “Can I kiss you again? I miss the way your lips feel with mine.” Even when he says the words in a volume that’s barely a whisper, his breath fans against your skin harshly, causing goosebumps to crawl up your spine.

The door pounds shut and before you can tear away from Jungkook’s hold, Hoseok is already standing in the threshold of the bedroom, mouth wide open in shock before it immediately fades into a mischievous grin. “What did I tell you, Kook? Which one was it first? You or her?”

#jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook smut #bts #bts smut #jungkook x reader #gyukult fics

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deans-baby-momma · 5 years ago

Text

AFFLICTED-Part 8

A/N: Here it is....the last part to Afflicted. Enjoy!

The first day of Dean’s ‘vacation’ he busies himself with changing the oil in Baby and replacing the brake pads and fluids in my car, a 2015 Dodge Charger. He had told me they were both overdue on maintenance. So while he is in the garage I do a couple loads of laundry and take care of our daughter.

When I had become pregnant with Mavelin, Dean had insisted we get rid of the car I had been driving, an old hunk of junk Honda Civic hatchback, and get a more dependable vehicle. At the time, the Civic was all I could afford. That was way before I’d even heard of the Winchsters. To say I wouldn’t miss my car was a bold and inaccurate statement. That car held many memories for me but I had to agree with my husband, it wasn’t the safest option.

I am just hanging the last of his never-ending abundance of flannels when he walks into our bedroom, grease covered and dirty. Dean Winchester with grease splatters and stains is a sight that I can’t help but squeeze my thighs together at. The man is always sex on bowed-legs but with specks of oil and grime makes him even sensual.

“Hey baby,” he says as he spots me walking out of the closet. “How about after I take a shower and we have lunch we take Mav over to that park on 9th? Let her watch all the wildlife.”

“Yea, that sounds good,” I answer with a smile. “Do you need help getting those hard to reach areas?”

“Fuck yea! Is she asleep?”

I nod and follow Dean into the bathroom, where we quickly strip and step into the shower stall. Dean immediately steps under the stream, grabbing the soap and lathering it up to wash his hair.

After a couple of minutes he rinses by running his hands up over his face and hair and turns toward me. As sexy and lustful he is when he is dirty, Dean Winchester wet and naked is downright titillating! He is standing there, the water hitting his head and shoulders and rolling down his body.

“Like what you see?” he asks with a smirk when he catches me watching the water slide down his body.

“Duh.” I answer and he pulls me into his arms, hugging me close to his body and allowing the water to cascade over both of us. I can feel his cock grow against my hip. His head lowers until his lips meet mine and I instantly open for him.

The water runs frigid by the time we exit it and wrap ourselves in towels. Dean used to complain that shower sex was complicated but over time he and I have figured out the logistics of it and have used needing a shower as an excuse to get some quality alone time with one another. Especially when the Bunker was overrun by the people he and Sam had saved from the apocalypse world.

Sam and Mary return three days later, with tales of how the ghost almost got the upperhand by jumping from location to location until they realized that the great-granddaughter of the woman was carrying around a broach that she was linked to.

The next few weeks, it is quiet. No one calling for help with cases, the supernatural seems to be taking Dean’s lead and enjoying a vacation themselves. Life in the Bunker is mundane and normal. It is eerily comforting, not having to worry about where the next threat is going to come from and just being a normal-well as normal as the Winchesters could be-family.

But as with all things, the good times must end too. Dean is into his fifth week of his break when the call comes in. Donna Hanscum, sheriff in Stillwater, Minnesota calls early one morning, profusely apologizing for interrupting but in major urgency for some help. After both Sam and Dean speak to her on the phone, you find Dean in your bedroom packing a duffel.

“So,” I begin as I sit on the edge of the bed. “Guess vacation is over huh?”

“Yea, sounds like Donna has sometthing on her hands,” he explains as he rolls up the dress shirt to his suit and places it in the bag. “Are you okay with this? I know you weren’t feeling the best this morning.”

I look up at him, confused. “I heard you in the bathroom. Sounded like you were hacking up a lung. I can send Mom and Sam if you think I need to stay back and take care of you; if you’re coming down with something.”

“No I’m fine,” I assure him. “It’s probably just something I ate or maybe too many whiskeys. I think you were trying to get me wasted last night so you could take advantage.” I finish, smiling up at him.

“Nah, I don’t need you wasted to do that,” he jokes and he cups my cheek in his palm. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Dean, I’ll be fine. We’ll be fine. It was just an upset stomach. I am allowed to not feel well all the time you know?” I tell him, laughing at his mother hen tendencies that he denies.

He goes back to packing and within an hour, the three oldest Winchesters pull out of the garage in Baby, headed to Minnesota. Adam stands beside me while we wave them off.

“Why didn’t you go?” I ask as the Impala disappears.

“Dean asked me to stay back and keep an eye on you. Said you weren’t feeling well,” Adam says. “Are you alright?”

“God, that man! Yes, Adam I am fine. Got a little drunk last night and it didn’t settle on my stomach well so I woke up nauseous.”

I stalk back toward the entrance of our home, leaving him standing there.

I am not about to tell my brother-in-law or anyone else that this has been going on for almost a week; waking up nauseated and rushing to the bathroom to puke up whatever is in my system. There could only be one reason for that and I do not want to even consider it.

As I’m going to bed that night, my phone vibrates and lights up on the nightstand. It’s a text from Dean.

D: Hey babe. We made it. Got to catch up with Donna and introduce her to Mom. This case has really taken a toll on her though.

Y/N: Hey. I’m glad you got there in one piece. I had no doubt you would. What does your mom think of our lovely sheriff friend? Her and Donna hit it off? And why do you think that?

D: That’s because I’m an awesome driver. :) Mom is like Sammy and me. Even though she just met the woman, she says Donna is acting strange.

Y/N: Really? Strange how? I mean Donna is kind of strange anyway. So it’s more than usual?

D: Like she was surprised when we walked into the station. I mean she covered it well, but I saw a brief look of shock. I don’t know maybe it’s just been too long and I can’t get a good read on her.

D: So what are you wearing?

The next morning I am met with the same queasiness that has been tormenting all week. Before I could even tend to Mavelin, I was bent over the toilet puking my guts up until I was dry heaving. Knowing that what I have been worried about is more than likely happening, I decide to find out for sure during Mav’s morning nap.

I brush my teeth and rinse my face off before heading toward her room. When I get to the door, I hear Adam talking to her. I push the door open to see my brother-in-law with my daughter on the changing table and he was changing her diaper.

“Who’s a good girl? You’re a good girl. Just like your Mother.”

Mavelin coos and Adam laughs. “Yea your mom likes being called a good girl too.”

I finally make my presence known by walking into the room and standing beside him, pretending not to have heard what he said.

“Good morning, sweet face,” I sing to Mavelin. “Is uncle Adam changing you? Yea, then you’re almost ready for breakfast aren’t you.”

I turn and head toward the rocking chair. Once I am seated I pull the flap of the nursing bra down and reach for Adam to hand her to me.

He turns with her in his arms and stops in his tracks.

“Uh….”

“Oh come on Adam. It’s a boob,” I tell him as I take the baby from him. “It’s not like you haven’t seen them before.”

I help Mavelin latch on and look back up to see that my brother-in-law has left the room. I shrug it off and continue feeding her.

That afternoon while Mavelin is finally down for a nap-she fought her morning siesta- I head to the bathroom where I know the extra pregnancy test is.

The wait for the timer on my phone to go off seems excruciatingly lengthy. When the buzzer finally rings, I take a breath and turn the stick over. Two blue lines. I’m pregnant again! There is a human growing inside me and I am not 100% sure who the father is.

My heart is pounding in my chest as I get rid of the evidence and walk out of the bathroom. So many emotions are running through me; so many thoughts in my head. Mavelin is only 4 months old and is already going to be a big sister. I always knew I wanted more kids, Dean and I had discussed that when I was pregnant with her and he was on board to have one or two more.

But now that it’s actually happening, I can’t be happy; I can’t be excited to be adding another member to our family. Because it might not even be his.

I sit on the end of our bed and contemplate everything. How will I tell him? Do I tell him? Do I just pretend that there is no other possibility that he isn’t the father? That would destroy him, destroy us.

I stand and take a breath before I head out into the hallway and into the kitchen.

Adam is sitting at the table, reading a lore book.

“Adam,” I say to get his attention. “Can we talk?”

A/N2: Did you really think this story was going to be over? SIKE! Ha! Watch for an announcement on Tumblr today at 3PM EDT. <wink wink>

@lostinaseaoffictionalbliss @squirrelnotsam @sandlee44 @internationalmusicteacher @kricketc29 @natura1phenomenon @blacktithe7 @spnbaby-67 @travelingriversideblues-x @keymology @tftumblin @markofdean79 @thevelvetseries @deanwanddamons @winchester-fantasies @akshi8278 @michellethetvaddict @larajadeschmidt13 @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid @hoboal87 @atc74 @maddiepants

#AFFLICTED #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #adam milligan #castiel angel of the lord #mary winchester #reader insert #accident #paralysis #cheating #smut #smidge of fluff #angst #unplanned pregnancy #oops

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kariachi · 5 years ago

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We are finishing! Season! 3!! Today is Roundabout day. Season finale, I’m finally gonna be something approaching up-to-date, at least with regards to Kevin, who is the only thing that matters

I’m just going to preemptively say Fuck the Forever Knight sideways with a pineapple

That house looks like something out Dexter’s Lab, if Dexter had been into shoddy constructionwork.

Goddamnit! Think of your neighbors before you build shit that fails that explosively in your garage!

Billings. I should’ve fucking guessed. Your constructionwork sucks and you suck.

Did that man just take a break to build a lightsaber? Stay on track, Billings!

Ben vanished and Max and Gwen had to turn to Phil, those poor two, they don’t deserve this.

(btw is case you haven’t picked up on it, I still don’t trust Phil further than I could throw him. He spent four series being a sack of shit and now suddenly he’s a good guy? I think not.)

Don’t go in there, that machinery looks like it could collapse at any moment!

Max acknowledges the ‘hunk of junk’, does not acknowledge that it’s a danger to everyone and thing within 60 ft of the damn house. We had a pumphouse in better shape that wasn’t half the size and we had it torn down as a safety hazard

“Sure brings back memories though, right Max?“ I’m with Gwen, wtf does that mean?

Max is hiding shit, of course he is. Is it Plumber shit? Immortal shit? He and Phil used to be supervillains shit? Who the fuck knows

“Ever since Ben fought Vilgax, I’ve been tracking the Omnitrix to further study it’s abilities.“ Because that’s not suspicious at all. Especially given who else has been tracking the Omnitrix and it’s bearer for a good while now

(am I saying Phil has ties to the FN? No, I’m just not not saying it)

Yes Phil, many machines work like that, most with any sort’ve radio or wifi whatever do, which we already knew the Omnitrix had by the time Ben fought Vilgax because that’s how the fucker tracked it down. You didn’t find out shit, you’re just taking credit for information that was handed to you on a plate.

Okay, this map on this show is a disaster, but I’m going to estimate Ben is in the Germany/Austria/Switzerland region. But anything could be true given this is the least accurate to real life Europe map I’ve ever seen as far as landmasses

Okay, Phil says Switzerland, I say we head to Austria.

Max he’s already grounded.

Also who the fuck is calling? And why does Phil ‘I’m tracking the Omnitrix’ Billings still have a landline? You’re in the suburbs, man, are you even legally allowed a landline?

Oh look, we cut to the FN, or at least one of his stupid jets. More openly evil than Bezos

Oh my gods that is the smallest round table I’ve ever seen! And if way too big a space that’s clearly not even set up for it! FN you fucking loser!

Okay though, okay, backing up, entering ‘pick at details mode’. The table looks like it’s set to seat eight and it already has at least six. Counting out the FN we have, going clockwise- Kevin, then Vin, then Charmcaster, Billy, and what is probably Simon though if it is I will have to slowly kill a bitch. So, I gotta say, smart move putting Vin between Kevin and Charm, because if those two were next to or across from each other it would probably be unsafe for everybody. Having Vin in particular in that spot is smart because 1) he’s managed some sort’ve management of Kevin before (which is better than FN has managed even if it didn’t last) and 2) he’s bigger than both of them put together so Kevin would have to go through or around him to get at Charm’s throat.

But, on Vin in particular- what the fuck dude?! You get into the evilest looking vehicle in the show so far, owned and run by a creepy adult corporate nasty, see a bunch of kids are involved, why the fuck are you and the children still here? This better get touched on because if you’re actually okay with this set-up you are not half the man I thought you were

If Kwarrel were here the FN already would’ve had his gear wrecked and been thrown out the jet, woulda happened as soon as he saw even one of the children “Why are there kids here?“ “They’re your coworkers“ and out the jet he’d go

Charmcaster, unimpressed

Seats to either side of the FN are empty

And because there is no adult in existence with any of the skills the children have, apparently.

Kevin, also unimpressed and glaring off in the direction of Vin and Charm, presumably at Charm specifically

Oh gods, Vin’s special skill is ‘loyalty’ what the fuck is he a digidestined?! Although I guess when you’ve specifically gone out and gathered up the children least likely to do a single thing you say the way you want it done...

Charmcaster’s spells, if she can manage to cast any decent ones without a copy of Shel Silverstein involved

Billy’s skill is money. Bitch you own three major franchises you do not need the 10-yo for his money. The most dumbass golddigging attempt I’ve ever seen, and I watched OV!

Also nobody is impressed so far. Nobody.

Okay 1) they gave Simon a helmet and he is adorable. 2) I am going to kill every adult in that room. Painfully.

Kwarrel wouldn’t stand for this!

oh my gods Simon is too damn precious how did I not like him in his premiere?

Oh look, it’s a Ben. Welcome to the cesspit, Tennyson

Kevin, not fucking having it

Simon is happy though

“What are you thinking?! He’s obviously gonna betray us the first chance he gets!“ Kevin talking sense. He watches tv, he knows how this goes.

Honestly even without the betrayal risk, you wouldn’t be able to blame Kevin for not wanting Ben involved here. They’ve got the same skill set, as far as FN is concerned, and Kev already very clearly has issues about being seen as the lesser option, which FN has previously played into.

Vin trying to talk sense, it’s not working especially because I’m still angry with you

Kevin demanding Ben’s reasons for being here.

Ben’s reasons being ‘because my family thinks I’m the boy who cried FN’

“Why should we trust you?“ “Because Grandpa and Gwen don’t.“ “What? What does that even mean?!“ Kevin looks about this close to throwing in the towel and quitting right here and now. ‘Fuckit, I’m leaving and replacing you all with a rat’

FN stopping shit before it gets too out of hand

And we cut back to the Tennysons with still no sign from Vin that he has any problem with kids being involved in this mess

“We’ve been tracking the Forever Knight’s movements over the last few months“ “Who is ‘we’?“ “Best to just focus on the task at hand, Gwen“ Max pls

‘We came to the conclusion he was recruiting some sort’ve team’ what was your first clue?

Phil made Gwen a magical girl armor transformation.

Gwen is Pleased. Also dangerous.

The fuck sorta ugly-ass building is that? Did they hire a weaverbird to build it, what the hell?

Kevin, continuing to be a little shit, as per the norm

I’ll admit, I appreciate the transformation sequences if just because they’re nothing special enough for me to note and so it takes seconds off the time I have to liveblog. It adds up when you’re stopping to type every few seconds.

Ben pls

Ben- runs in to intimidate researchers into giving them access to whatever Billy- already got his father to pay the people to let them in

Again, may I say, the FN has money. He doesn’t need Billy’s! He has his own! He’s just cheap!

Kevin is just gonna spend the whole of part I giving Ben shit

The fuck we looking at

It is becoming more and more blatant that the FN got Simon here by inviting him to a fake birthday party and have I mentioned I want this man to smolder down to ash?

Time portal. We’re constructing a time portal. If this is Paradox’s premiere I’m cancelling this damn series. We can try again when people learn to fuck off on the time travel plots (they’ve been done well three times and all of them were in Pern books)

He is having Kevin and Ben construct a time portal. Together. Kevin does not look impressed by his coworker.

1) Ben you’ve been the dweeb forever. 2) Finally somebody on this show acknowledges Kevin’s mullet. 3) I’m with Kevin on the ‘let’s see if he can keep up’ thing, given one of them built an Omnitrix and the other I’d be surprised to see set the time on a vcr

“You’re the one with a mullet!“ “Yep.“ Oh gods! Oh damn! The fact he just looks so damn smug as he says it, like ‘you can’t get under my skin about things I’m actually cool with’, this little disaster! And Ben just looks like he’s gonna punch him. Are we sure they didn’t swap bodies prior to this or something?

FN starts pulling the ‘you will do as I say’ and that’s when Kevin starts getting prickly. Of course it is. Again, this is why I keep giving him rankers, do you really wanna see how long a Weyr would last if he was on a chromatic?

These boys today. Ben is just itching for a fight and Kevin is... The change between Kevin before the FN threatens to start putting them in their positions his own damn self and after is very pronounced. One he’s being a little shit and enjoying it, the other he’s very... I’m really not sure how to word it, distanced maybe? Like he emotionally stepped back from the situation

Simon you precious little bean, put a happy birthday sign and some balloons on a piece of machinery. And a little party hat.

Billy was not prepared for Simon. He doesn’t deserve Simon.

Well, Gwen is infiltrating shit at the fucking 6 minute mark, which is a shame because I was hoping to have more of her and the adults doing their thing so we could get some more interactions between the child antagonists.

This child

And of course she ends up in the vent right above the lab the others are working in, it’s not like we’ve got another episode and a half to fill.

Seriously, I love her, but I was really looking forward to seeing more of the dynamic between the characters that are already present in the lab and adding her changes the odds there. If they’d waited another fur minutes with her I’d have been good, but this feels too early and is setting my hackles up that they’re going to throw a load of Gwevin into what was shaping up to be a full marks episode so far

1) Yes Gwen, wtf are they doing, 2) I see everyone but Kevin and Ben so wtf is going on there?

Well, she seems to be leaving to regroup with the adults, so there’s hope there

“Watch wearers“ I’m gonna throw that man off something tall

Ooo, Ben’s been promoted to ‘Loser-son’ and also might be losing his nerve? Either that or the just ran out of ways to shoot back at Kevin verbally.

Rush and XLR8

Boys both going at 456 mph through a fucking tube

‘You boys are gonna have to hit 888 miles an hour’ Vin, have you considered fucking right the hell off? Has the FN? I’m with the boys that’s fucking insane

They pass each other in the tube and Kevin finds the energy to still joke on Ben, because some things just matter

SImon and Billy get distracted from doing their jobs by Simon drawing a picture of them and Ben in which Billy is taller than Ben. Billy is pleased. Simon is precious.

Ya kniw what I need? I need a fic where this time/space portal opens up and UAF/OV Kevin tumbles out, judges the shoddy construction, and then fucking handles this mess. I don’t know what FN wants, but I’m fairly certain a bigger, meaner, stronger, more violent Kevin is not it. And so it would please me.

When there is enough speed and lasers going around to cause earthquakes

Gwen has successfully let the rest of her team into the Weaverbird Nest

Gwen that is not a shortcut that is a vent. A vertical vent.

Charmcaster magicking up a portal, for extra specialness

So she stabilized the rift and also made FN a fuckign space/time cuff.

Simon got to her, she’s in a party hat

This child really needs to stop talking like she’s the fairy that blesses/curses the king in a 90s fantasy film

“I will only require on of you to accompany me into the rift. It’s your time, Ben.“ Fucking welp.

Everyone except Ben, Kevin, and the FN has a party hat

Kevin, baby, this is not safe or fun let somebody else go do not let your well-battered pride and your issues get your hurt or worse

“I’m sick of him getting everything when I’m obviously better!” My son. My dearest son. My precious child.

“Are you questioning me?“ Said in the most intimidating voice FN can manage and all I can think is, dude, how long have you been working with this child? Did you not actually meet him in all that time? Was he dealing with a body double. Did you think opening a rift in space and time would somehow change the fundamental aspects of his being that resonate throughout every Kevin that has ever been?

“The grease child is right!“ Okay, it’s official, somebody needs to find Kevin a shower and some soap

Kevin and Billy all for kicking Ben’s ass

And then Charm joins in the fun, because why not

“All this pettiness proves that Ben is worth more than all of you combined“ I’m gonna kill ‘im.

Charmcaster just looks defeated at that line. Like, honest to fuck, stick a fork in her, she’s done.

Kevin, on the other hand, doesn’t, not even a bit. He is straight up trembling with his anger. Or hurt? Both most likely, though I think the anger is in the lead.

Billy, meanwhile, looks shocked and angry at being called out like this.

And Simon looks just straight shocked.

And no response shown from Vin.

Ben, no, this is a very bad idea.

And we cut to the old folk and Gwen.

Welp, looks like everyone is all together

The ‘good’ news is half the children really wanna hit something right now. Especially Kevin.

‘Take out the Tennysons to prove your worth’ Welp

And there our hero goes with our Big Bad

I think we’ve hit part II and it only took like 3.5 hours. I’m gonna be a while longer I think.

Ancient Egyptians telling ancient Egyptian bad jokes

Gotta give the show one thing- at least it’s Egyptians are black

Also too drunk to be impressed by two weirdos stepping out a glowing purple portal. I can’t even roll my eyes because somebody needed to laugh at the FN

Ben: Unimpressed by FN’s taste in vacation spots

FN is using Ben to track alien attempts to contact Earth. The first of which was here, apparently.

Also this adds a whole new level of jackass to his behavior towards the other kids, given he could’ve very easily and truthfully pointed out that he needs a feature on the Omnitrix that Kevin’s watch presumably doesn’t have, but instead used the whole thing as an opportunity to tear the other kids down further. tl;dr: I cannot wait to see him become reboot!Kev’s first kill

We want to prevent the alien contact. Why? Who the fuck knows. Who the fuck cares. I want to stop him just out of spite.

And so we learn that he wants to get rid of all Omnitrixs so that he can take over Earth. Wonder how that would play out with regards to Kevin’s watch though. Because his didn’t come from space, to my knowledge we don’t know where it came from. Fuck, it could be contact from another dimension that lead to it (I mean, you saw OG!Kevin, whose to say Reboot!Kevin doesn’t also have some serious weirdness going on there that, combined with the fact his house has two radio towers in the backyard, that could lead to him getting messages from other dimensions like that). tl;dr: If FN succeeded, would that just lead to him having to worry about a Kevin he can’t use Ben against, rather than Ben himself?

‘Forever Nut’ that’s a good one, nice job Ben!

‘Forever Losers’ Ben’s on a roll

Ben out to kick this man’s ass

“I’m too powerful“ I really wanna drop OG!Kevin on this dude, I really do. Or fuck, can you picture him vs Kevin 11k? He’d be drawn and quartered, possibly eaten, within a minute and a half.

Well, there goes the Sphinx

Timed out and still raring to go

FN comes all the way out to ancient Egypt to stop aliens making contact, turns out they didn’t even do it

Kidnapping the child

Back to the present day, in the lab, with the fighting about to begin

Charmcaster and Kevin v Gwen. Charmcaster is already smug. Kevin, meanwhile, is offering her the chance to back down and not get hurt. Which, for Kevin, is pretty nice.

Billy and Simon v Phil. Is certainly a thing, but nothing interesting

Vin v Max. Both using the concept of ‘family’ against each other. Forklift v forklift. I wish I was surprised.

FN and Ben are in renaissance Italy now. Florence specifically.

Ben: I will stop you! FN: Kid I already kicked your ass. Ben: Well you’re gonna have to do it again!

Oh look, it’s the descendants of those two guys from ancient Egypt. It’s nice to see that their friendship has carried down through the ages.

“Serve your leader” has that worked on any of the people you nabbed? Besides maybe Vin? Because I’m fairly certain if you called yourself Kevin or Billy’s ‘leader’ to their faces they’d come at you harder than Ben is

FN, so far you have gone to two places and times, neither of which was where aliens made contact. Have you considered, quite possibly, that the problem is you?

You know Kevin is in a foul mood when he’s down to destroy Gwen.

Gwen, trying to give the ‘FN is a using pos’ realization to at least Kevin

Charmcaster interrupting her and also do you really think you of all people are the one who should be trying to bolster Kevin’s confidence? I mean, your history with him is enslavement and reading his private poetry to a crowd. You should be glad he’s not going after you.

Vin v Max, moved on to segway racing. And slapfights.

...small Phil and Max. By which I mean like, late teens. Apparently this is the third ‘alien contact’ option. Also Phil built that deathtrap as a teenager and he’s living in his parents’ old place. That is an old-ass suburbs given we don’t know how the fuck old these two are

Oh for fuck’s sake, have you considered getting a fucking hobby Forever Bitch? Take up scrapbooking or something, get into Minecraft

We’ve still got 7 minutes btw. We’re going faster in this half, but we’ve still got a third of the episode to go

Ben Shockrocking it up

Vin vs Max take 3- racing matchbox cars

Max decides to have a conversation with Vin, find out why he’s working with FN despite the latter being about as pleasant as a rabid zombie skunk in your pillow.

...1) Vin has a child. 2) That child is grown. 3) That child is a lawyer (congratulations Mr. Vin’s Kid) 4) Between said lawyer child moving on with their life and LaMoron being a dick Vin was lonely so he joined up.

“This is the closest thing to a family I have now“ One would think the fact you have a child would say otherwise, but if the fact that you seem to be totally fine with a bunch of kids being drug into this mess, including a 6-yo, says anything about your parenting then I’m not really surprised.

Max offers to let him become a Tennyson, which, if the family reunion episode is anything to go by, he may already be

Max and Vin are friends now. Phil is still being pursued by children. And Charm and Kev are still trying to take Gwen out.

“Once I finish you off, Forever Knight will easily choose me over Tennyson“ Oh Billy no... Have I mentioned I really wanna kill hat man? Painfully?

Simon is about to obliterate a man for the chance at being best friends with Billy. I would be even more concerned if he wasn’t FUCKING SIX-YEARS-OLD, VIN

Phil is going to survive via appealing to Simon’s inner and outer juice-loving six-yo

Welp. Sorry Billy.

Ooo, Gwen almost blasted Charm before Kevin deflected it, good job son!

“Kevin finish her off“ Bitch you finish her off

“Why? All we were supposed to do is keep everyone away from the portal.“ My son talking sense and also notably sticking only to orders. Out of spite, because he wants to, because the last time he tried to bend orders the FN nearly killed him? (and do any of the others know that that’s a risk I wonder, that if the FN doesn’t feel you’re doing your job ‘right’ he’ll decide to just off you)

“You’re soft“ You’re the one that wanted him to do the dirty part, Charm

Charm tries to kill Gwen and Kevin just fucking, shatters her amulet in retaliation.

Charmcaster: This is why you’ll never be Forever Knight’s right hand! Kevin: I handle things my way.

I love my child.

Kevin literally just used his last second before timing out to vine Charmcaster to the ceiling

That moment when you have a crush but hate that you have it, I recognize the look. Been there.

“Well yeah, I’m not a monster.“ On the topic of saving Gwen. My precious child

Gwen: *heading for portal to figure out what’s going on* Kevin: *heading for the portal because he’s got revenge to take*

Somebody needs to kick FN’s ass. And then eat him. Slowly. Painfully.

FN damn near killed Ben before Kevin fucking saved his life! Literally, man was gonna strike Ben down!

“I’m here for that ungrateful tin can!“ Yesss!!! My son!! Kick his ass!

Gwen is helping!

“You wanna know why I didn’t choose you? It’s because you’re just a cheap Tennyson knock-off.“ .....

.....

......

........

..........this motherfucker gotta go

Ben joins the fray!

“Cheap knock-off, huh?“ I, for one, am proud to be here for my son’s first kill

FD does not get to stop alien contact because he’s being dogpiled by a bunch of pissed-off preteens. Good.

The children got a hold of FD’s portal control. Gwen is gonna be working portals, Kevin is on ‘keep the FD from killing Ben’ duty. This was his decision. Which says a lot about how he feels about the FD

Kevin, looking for some sort’ve explanation for the fact FD is a dick and will always be a dick, because this is what abused children do

“I was the best fighter you had.“ “You were only a useless pawn.“ “I’m nobody’s pawn!“ My son

Battle in the rift

FD demands Kevin hand over the Tennysons “and make yourself for once“. Gwen is concerned he may do it when I believe anyone who can read facial expressions and/or a room knows who he’s growling at

“Kevin, think about this, you’re not a bad guy!“ “See, that’s where you’re wrong“ At which point Kevin lets go of the Tennysons and fucking dives at Forever Dipshit

Kevin sacrifices himself to take out FD and what’s Ben’s reaction? “Kevin, no! I’m the cool one!“

These fucking children.

“And Kevin steals the spotlight again“ “You really wanna be trapped in the past?“ “Alright, I’ll let him have this one“

Glad to see Ben recalling the tale. Glad to see he’s still grounded. Gwen is Good. Fuck off Vin.

1) the portal is still open 2) FD’s helmet came through it. Whether that’s because Kevin threw it through it as he beat the living hell out of him remains to be seen

And season 3 is over.

11/11, because my son fucking deserves it no matter what else goes on

#achi liveblogs #ben 10 2.os #this took me five hours #it's a 20 minute episode

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thunderbirdthree · 5 years ago

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Skyfall Part One

This is one of two fics I have planned this week. It will have two, possibly three parts, which have all been written I’m just not setteled on whether to split the rest of it or not. I’m good at fluff pieces, and this is my first attempt at something even remotely “angsty”, also my first time writing something with so many POV shifts, so it’s very uhh…. experimental, but I hope you kind of like it. The rest will be out either later this evening or tomorrow, I just have to do some final edits.

Summary: It had been a freak accident, but nonetheless Thunderbird Three was hurtling towards the Earth nothing more than a fireball with Alan inside her.

Cameras happened to be rolling, the news that an International Rescue Thunderbird was in perilous danger was global news, especially since the only rescue vehicle even capable of saving the crippled ship was the very ship tumbling through Earth’s atmosphere, nothing more than a ball of flame, and thanks to a luckily placed news ship out recording a segment about marine life, the world had an up close and personal view of her descent.

The world watched as Thunderbird Three appeared on their screens ripping through the atmosphere, nothing more than a shiny red piece of scrap metal, hurtling towards the ocean below. If there was one thing to be grateful for, was that the maximum number of lives that could be taken was one. They watched as the hunk of metal hit the ocean, making a splash that seemed to travel for miles. They watched as the ship sank below the waves, no sign of the young operative who had been on board. They watched as not a minute later Thunderbird One and the colossal Thunderbird Two arrived, not even waiting for the cargo hold to hit the water before shooting Thunderbird Four into the water. They watched with bated breath as the cameras rolled, focussing on the water under the green giant, the pieces of debris that remained gleaming red until the midday sun. They waited for any sign that whoever it was who had been flying the ship had somehow made it out alive.

—-

Alan had been on a simple mission. A cargo ship had broken down, he needed to help the crew get their systems, especially their vital life support systems back online. It had been simple, in, out, and the cargo ship was on its way home to Earth for a full system check. Alan had bid his farewells and was halfway back towards Earth himself when it had happened. It had all been so quick, two large ships had shifted slightly in their lanes, if it had been one or the other, what happened next could have been avoided. The ships bumped into each other, a mere fender bender for two ships that large, but the larger of the two tore a piece off the smaller which had gone careening outwards, Alan didn’t even have a chance to react, the piece, easily half the size of Three, smashed into the side of the ship. The impact knocked Alan out momentarily and when he came too, Three was in an uncontrolled spiral, all systems malfunctioning, with her cargo hold all but torn off. Alan had just enough composure to get his helmet on, but before he could even think about trying to control the spin, he felt his ship jerk sharply again, his head knocking on the control panel and his world went dark once more.

—-

“Thunderbird Five to Thunderbird Three. Alan what just happened? Are you ok?” John’s voice came through the comms, panicked. Scott, Virgil and Gordon looked up at each other as John’s voice came through their ears, momentarily distracted from the rescue they were wrapping up.

“ALAN!” They had never heard John sound scared before.

“John, what’s going on?” Scott asked, an edge to his voice.

“Thunderbird Three. Can you hear me? Alan, report!” The three earthbound Tracy’s shared a panicked look, and after bidding a hasty farewell to the local law enforcement they were sprinting to their ships.”

“John if you don’t tell me what’s going on, so help me I’m gonna…” Scott started before he was cut off.

“I.. I don’t know. One moment he’s fine, the next all of Three’s systems go haywire, I don’t have a visual on him, I can’t reach him on the comms.”

“We’re on our way back towards the island, keep us updated when you make contact.” Scott ordered, and with that the two ships took off.

—-

“FAB Scott.” John responded, trying to keep the shaking out of his voice. What was going on? Three had disappeared completely from his tracker, he had no idea what was happening to Alan, but he had a horrible feeling in his stomach.

“International Rescue, this is the captain of the Oliviera.” Of course! Why hadn’t John thought of asking the ship Alan had been helping if they had any idea what had happened.

“This is International Rescue, please tell me you can see Thunderbird Three.” John couldn’t keep the desperation out of his voice.

“Yes sir, that’s what I was calling about I… I’m not sure what happened exactly, but as Thunderbird Three was pulling away from our ship, something huge smashed into him. We can still see him, it looks as though he’s in some sort of uncontrolled descent back towards Earth. We can’t reach him on our comms and well….” the captain took a deep breathe “Thunderbird Three doesn’t look much like she did when she arrived here.” John’s heart dropped out of his body, tumbling to the Earth far below, but he tried to keep the panic out of his voice.

“I’ve completely lost him from my comms and I can’t track Three, you didn’t possibly get your vid cams working again?” The captain of the Oliviera quickly confirmed that the cams were indeed working, and within 15 seconds John had eyes on his brother’s ‘Bird. Or what was left of Alan’s ‘Bird.

“My god.” He gasped as he saw what looked like nothing more than a piece of space junk hurtling towards Earth, her distinctive red and the ‘THUND’ painted on her side giving away her identity.

“We’ve warned all traffic to avoid the area.” The captain said, “The GDF have been called in as well.” John couldn’t find words as he watched the scene in front of him.

There was no way Alan could survive this. No way.

He didn’t even try to contain his scream as Thunderbird Three slammed into a group of satellites, sending her spiraling even more and breaking off her nose cone.

—-

Alan’s eyes blinked open. Where was he? What was going on? Why was he so hot? He vaguely recognized his surroundings as his beloved Three. Was that fire? And why did he feel so heavy?

—-

Scott’s grip tightened around his controls as John shakily explained what had happened. He felt sick, his head reeling, but he was a rescue professional first and foremost, and as the oldest and the leader of International Rescue it was his job to make sure they did everything they could to get Alan home.

“ EOS, can you use the video to get us an approximate of where Thunderbird Three will re- enter Earth’s atmosphere.” He ordered.

“Certainly Scott Tracy. At their current rate of descent, assuming what remains of Thunderbird Three survives re- entry, she will crash in the Eastern Pacific Ocean, I’ve taken the liberty to upload to coordinates to Thunderbird One and Two’s navigation systems.” Scott and Virgil had adjusted their courses before EOS was done speaking.

“What are the chances of Three surviving re-entry?” Gordon asked in a tone that suggested he wasn’t really sure he wanted to know the answer.

“Without knowing exactly what damage was obtained I can only guess, but my closest estimate would be 32%.” EOS chirped. Scott pressed the controls a little harder. 32% was slim, but it wasn’t nothing. Virgil seemed to have the same thought asking,

“How long do we have?”

“Assuming Thunderbird Three survives re- entry she will crash into the ocean in about 7 minutes.” Scott checked his ETA. 6 minutes 50 seconds.

“Thunderbird Two, what’s your ETA?”

“7 minutes 15 seconds. Is there anything we can do to stop Three from burning up or hitting the water?” Virgil asked.

“No.” John responded over the comms. “The only one of our ships potentially capable of stopping a hunk of metal from burning through the atmosphere is Thunderbird Three, and at her current velocity, trying to slow her down when she re- enters the atmosphere would only pull a rescue ship down with her.”

Scott tried to ignore the tear that had slipped down his cheek.

“The second Three hits the water I want Four down there.” He ordered.

“FAB.” Came Gordon’s voice, “I’m ready to go.”

“John do you have any reading from Alan’s suit?” Virgil asked.

“Negative, all reading went off line the same time Three was hit.”

5 Minutes

“I’m reporter Joseph Embry live from the USS Calypso. Reports are coming in that Thunderbird Three has taken on heavy damage and is currently falling in an uncontrolled descent towards Earth. Spacecraft are reporting that they can see the ship falling towards this part of the Pacific Ocean.

4 Minutes

“Thunderbird Three has entered the upper atmosphere.” EOS reported.

3 Minutes

“Thunderbird Four is locked, loaded and ready to launch.” Gordon reported.

“Approaching crash site.” Virgil added.

“FAB.” Finished John.

2 Minutes

“Thunderbird Three has re- entered the Earth’s atmosphere without burning up.” EOS supplied.

John felt the tightening in his chest release slightly. A little bit of hope was alive.

1 Minute

Alan’s eyes blinked open once more. The fire was still surrounding him, he could see what looked like blood trickling down his visor. He couldn’t tell where he was, or what was happening, and if he didn’t feel so heavy, maybe he would have the strength to panic. He caught sight of something glimmering below him. Water? Was that the ocean? He didn’t have time to think, before his ship crashed into… whatever it was, and he felt himself smashed upwards, everything going black again.

#Thunderbirds are go #tag skyfall #Thunderbirds are go fanfic

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dammitadolfnomorecake · 6 years ago

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Caramel Skin Under A Vanilla Sky prt 2

Lance plagued his dreams, his name on Keith's lips as he woke momentarily disoriented before realising just why he'd woken. Clumsily stumbling off his thin cot, he yawned widely as he moved to the cockpit deal with the ringing noise emanating from the area. Dropping down heavily into the pilot's seat, he pulled up the call that had been chiming for his attention "Keith?" Using a hand to wipe at his eyes, he had no idea why his mother was interrupting his sleep "Hey, mum. What's going on?" "I hadn't heard from you and was just checking in" "I was sleeping. It's a long flight" "You left 8 vargas ago, I thought you would have checked in once you were close" 8 vargas? It felt like he'd only just closed his eyes "Yeah. Sorry. Everything's ok here..." Dragging the call to one side, he opened up the ship's navigation "... and we're still about a varga out" "Good. As long as you're ok" "I'm fine. You don't need to worry so much" "We have an operative missing from the same coordinates we've sent you to, I think I have a right to worry" Rolling his eyes at his mother, Lance came back to the front of his mind. Tapping on the navigation screen he pulled up Erathus on the screen, the planet only a hop skip and a jump away from the Ghazex quadrant... maybe he could... "Keith?" "I'm here. I'm just looking at the planets surrounding those quadrants. Erathus seems to be the closest with the biggest trading centre" "There were no signs that Guile made it to Erathus" "There were no signs of him making it anywhere" Keith regretted the words the moment they slipped from his mouth "I mean, I'm just thinking here, but it does seem to be the main trade hub for its quadrant" "It's also highly populated with those less than desirable. I doubt he would have landed there, not unless it was a dire emergency" Erathus was that bad? Then what the hell was Lance doing there? It didn't sound like the kind of place he should be "What if they seller moved the meeting place?" Now he was simply manipulating facts to suit his curiosity. Lance obviously didn't wish to see him, so why was he deviating from his original mission and slightly praying that his mother would agree that he should in fact head to Erathus? "He would have notified us" "Not if he wanted to keep a low profile... You said the rebel camps had received no word from him..." "Keith..." "Look. I'm approaching the coordinates. I'll scan for any traces of his signature, but it could potentially be a lead. You mentioned this quadrant had seen a lot of activity, is it possible a new faction has arisen?" "From the intel we have, it is possible. A number of ships have been attacked or simply gone missing..." "Is there a salvage moon near here?" "On Thatus. It's two quadrants over. With Erathus being marketed as a tourist planet, the main source of income comes from the tourists making it there alive and in one piece" It sounded like a fucked up rich playground. The perfect place for less than legal things. So again, why the quiznak was Lance there? "Keith, something is obviously on your mind. What is it?" Biting the inside of his cheek uncharacteristically, he knew there was no escaping his mother's prying "I called Hunk earlier. Lance's family on Earth are worried about him" "You're thinking about Lance?" His mother knew something had transpired between the two of them, but not the details. She seemed to like Lance well enough, but they had barely interacted before she decided to return to the Blades rather than to Earth "Hunk said Lance is on Erathus" "Oh..." "Yeah" "Keith..." "I know. The mission comes first, but he..." "He's your friend" "Yeah. Don't worry, the mission comes first" "I trust you'll get it done. I also trust you'll make use of all the resources available to you" Wait. What? "Mum..." "Erathus is a tough place to make a life. It's not suited to long term living and draws in all kind of transients. If you think he can help, or if he can shed light on what's been happening in the area... We don't currently have any operatives in the area who can provide fresh intel on Erathus, so you'll be going in blind" Kolivan must not have been in the room. He'd damn near have a heart attack if he heard Krolia giving Keith permission to deviate on his original mission plan "I... I don't even know if he'll speak to me. He didn't even tell me he was in space. I thought he was still back on Earth spreading Allura's message" His mother's face softened "I can't tell you what to do. I trust you'll complete your mission, but I also know how much you miss your old team. If your scans come up with nothing, then... Lance may be able to help. I'll leave it your discretion" "Kolivan's going to be pissed" "Leave him to me" Feeling a smile tug on his lips, it was interrupted by another yawn. Shaking himself in attempt to wake up, he pushed the smile to his lips "I always do" "Be safe" "You too, mum" Signing off the conversation meant having to get ready for action. Showering and dressing left him feeling somewhat human as he pulled his hair back into his usual ponytail. Did he really want to see Lance? That was a no brainier. He missed fighting along side him. The constant attempts to one up each other, and knowing Lance had his back completely. But would Lance even see him. Placing a hand on Kosmo's head, he ruffled his fur affectionately "What am I supposed to do? Maybe I should have brought Axca along after all? But if Lance is working on finding himself again, then should I really be interrupting him out of nowhere?" Kosmo looked at him like he was an idiot. His wolf forced to sit through many a long night of self angsting over how things had played out "Ok. We'll scan the area, check in with the rebels, then hit up Thatus. Then... He didn't want to take my call, but he can't turn me away if I show up... right?" His wolf definitely thought him an idiot. He was acting enough of an idiot for to be justified... "I'm the freakin' Black Paladin of Voltron. It's just Lance. Why am I making such a big deal about this? I'm just checking to make sure he's alright. That's all..." Kosmo huffed, not convinced. Done with his wolf, he turned his attention back to his mission. Guile needed to come before his laughable love life. * Thatus was a complete bust. The junk moon negative for any residual radiation signature left by Guile's ship. None of the rebel camps had any new information for him, nor did several smaller planets he stopped by during his investigation, though they had also been affected by whatever was happening in the sector of space. Calling this through to his mother, he was given the lecture of watching his back on Erathus, and to notify her if anything at all should happen, which she felt likely it would given his status as the Black Paladin and his human appearance. Forced to leave his ship at the docking station, setting foot on Erathus was a trip and a half. It was just like the images of Earth from before the Third World War. The architecture right out of one of the Garrisons boring history books, while the vehicles were even modelled to match the era with a touch of space in the fact that they all hovered. Making his way into the city past the station, Kosmo started pulling against his hold, his wolf clearly excited by all the noise and colour, but none of it was close to what he'd seen in those few snippets of phone call with Lance. Wracking his memory, he could vaguely remember catching what seemed to be the letters "GE", which meant nothing. After spending so long in space, having English brandied everywhere was like a slap in the face. Even time seemed to be measured by Earth standards. Keeping his hand firmly on Kosmo, he pulled up how communicator's browser, trying to think of how to search for what he wanted before realising he was making things far more complicated than he needed. He was looking for a club on Erathus that ended with "GE". The device taking a fraction of moment before loading the results. Swapping to image view, he had more success. The thousands of results dropping down to more manageable number. Only a few ticks later, he was looking at the same "GE" he was sure he'd seen glowing in the background. "The Guilded Cage". Listed as a club, it fitted the bill, and wasn't as far from the station as he'd expected. Bringing up the directions, he steeled himself as he started moving with the ever steady flow of tourists. Reaching the club, Keith had had to avoid more people than he'd like to have. While each store was set up individually, it didn't mean that they didn't have all sorts of employees out the front trying to peddle business, or stopping him for an autograph. Unfortunately wearing his Blade hood would have only served to draw more attention to himself, leaving him to grin and bear it all. Lance would have howled with laughter had he been there to witness Keith's failure with his people skills, and now he'd come this far, his hand shook as he pushed on the golden door handle and entered the club. Being early in the morning, he'd thought trade would have died down as patrons nursed their hangovers from the night before. Instead he was submerged into the thick of the club where the music was deadened by a shimmering forcefield that allowed the ongoing lightshow above the dance floor to cast its glow over what seemed to be some kind of entrance. With no real idea were to move next, he walked over to what he took to be the reception, manned by a rather annoyed looking alien who sat before a wall of keys. The description only listed the club as a club, yet the keys led him to believe that the place may also double as a hotel. If it was a hotel, it would explain why Lance had opted to stay here rather than finding himself an apartment or such... though, if he was working, shouldn't his employer have provided accomodation? "Can I help you?" Clearing his throat, Keith really hoped he could "I hope so. I'm looking for a friend" Sighing, the alien lowered his dataslate "Does this friend have a name? Or am I supposed to guess" "His name's La..." No. One of the people he was with called him "Leandro", not "Lance" "His name's Leandro" Picking the dataslate back up, the alien lent back in his chair "Leandro isn't taking customers at the moment" Customers?! Why would Lance be taking customers? "I'm not a customer, I'm his friend" "Look, if I let everyone in claiming to be his friend, it'd never end" Anger prickled under Keith's skin, the man clearly implying more than Keith was comfortable with "Just what are you trying to say?" "That he's a popular guy. Real heartbreaker" "I'm his friend from Earth. I just want to talk to him" "In that case give him a call. Until then, why don't do you what every other broken heart does and drink your sorrows" This couldn't be right. Lance wasn't that kind of guy. He was a ridiculous flirt, but faithful to a fault. Biting down an annoyed growl, he looked towards the bar doors. When the alien failed to say anything else, he figured he might as well check the club out in hopes of finding Lance inside, however slim the chance. Kosmo wasn't a fan of the music, and Keith wasn't a fan of the scene. Suspended in cages just above the dance floor, dancers of all races bared almost everything they had. Ordering the first drink off the list, Keith skulked his way over to the corner of the room, spying a staircase that seemed to lead to an upper level. The only problem was the two huge bouncers at the foot of it... and the fact he didn't know if Lance was actually up there. Having come this far, the logical thing to do would be to call Lance, but the thought of being rejected again cut a little too close to home "Can you get me up there?" Looking to the stairs, Keith wasn't quite ready when his wolf decided to teleport right off the bat. The second level of the club was like stepping into another world with its plush red carpeting and black walls. The doors almost hidden along the hall and by the lack of light "Ok... let's see if Pidge's hacking program works here" Moving into the shadows with Kosmo, Keith pulled up the program, letting it run its course as it sought out the clubs security system. He had intended to run the program downstairs while blending in, but Kosmo's enthusiasm at seeing Lance again had ruined the mission before it'd even begun. Softly urging the loading green bar to hurry up, there was a soft ding as it completed and his device was filled with the clubs information. Nothing beat Pidge. Even on the otherside of the universe she was still just as formidable as if she'd been by his side. He totally owed her big time for this. Scrolling through the excess of information, he found a room booked under the letters "Lea" which had to be Lance. Room 727... looking for a number on the closest door, he realised it was bare. His small victory not quite as victorious as he'd hoped, leaving him to rely on Kosmo again "Can you track Lance down? No teleporting you big doof" Kosmo led him to the very end of the hall before sitting in front of another annoyingly plain door. Raising his hand to knock, panic once again struck. They hadn't left things on the greatest of terms. Phone calls were one thing, but it was nothing like speaking face to face... and god his sad pining arse wanted to. Whether responding to his presence outside the door, or a sensor he couldn't see, Lance's door slid open silently. Maybe there was no need for security with the two bouncers looking like they could easily snap a mere human in two without breaking a sweat "Lance?" Cautiously entering the space, he knew he had the right room when he sighted the photo of Allura on the rooms small kitchenette counter. The whole place had a pay as you go kind of vibe, yet still held traces that this wasn't that kind of space for Lance "Lance? Are you here?" Receiving no answer, Keith wasn't sure what to do next. If Lance was working, it could be vargas before he returned... "Lance, its Keith..." With a whoosh, a door opened to the left of him, Keith nearly jumping out of his skin as Lance walked out what appeared to be a bathroom and promptly froze mid ruffle of his wet hair "Keith?!" Almost shrieking his name, it was nice to know he wasn't the only one shocked "Hey, man" "Wha... how... wha... How did you get here?" Spluttering, Lance was just as handsome as he remembered him... then it hit him... his friends marks were absent from his face. The marks that Keith hadn't been able to look at intially now gone, leaving behind Lance's beautiful face "I was in the area and thought I'd drop by" "But... what... why? How did you even know where to find me?" This wasn't quite the reunion he'd planned in his head, even though he hadn't actually planned out what he'd say or do. Lance seemed annoyed by his presence "I called you the other night, and happened to see this place in the background" Facepalming, Lance groaned "That's right. Look, I'm sorry I hung up on you. You called in the middle of work. I'm actually on my way to my job..." Was Lance politely trying to throw him out? After all he'd gone through to find him "I actually need your help. I'm looking for someone, and thought you might know them. I mean, you have been here for the last 5 phoebs" His tone held far too much accusation to be comfortable. Lance looking pretty damned uncomfortable as he draped his towel over his shoulders "Keith..." "A Blade member has gone missing. He was supposed to meet with an arms dealer so we could trace the source, but he failed to check in" "Man, I'd really like to help you, but work..." Was Lance hurt? The light in his eyes seemed to have dimmed "Can you just take a quick look?" Closing his eyes, the Cuban took a deep breath before exhaling as he opened them "Keith, I'm sorry you came all this way, but I really need to get to work. Why don't you send me the files and I'll take a look for you" "Or you could look now" Walking further into the space, Lance walked right past him and over to what seemed to be a walk in robe, the wall sliding away with another soft hiss "I can't" "Lance" "Keith" "Drop the bullshit. What are you doing here? Here in space? And why didn't you tell me you were here? Your family's been calling Veronica nonstop. Hunk says not to worry, then I find you in a what? A strip club? Where you're not taking clients? What's going on? This isn't like you" Turning on him, Lance glared "Isn't like me? What do you even know?" "I know..." "What?! We haven't spoken in months. Phoebs! Now you show up asking for a favour. No. I have to get to work" "Lance" "Don't even bother Keith. I'm sorry your friend is missing, and I hope you find him. But you need to leave" Where was all this coming from? The Lance he knew would talk it out before leaping to anger. Snatching a jacket out his walk in robe, Lance went about getting ready in front of him "Lance, I came here because I missed my friend" "Right. Sure you did" "You didn't even tell me you'd left Earth! I would have..." "You would have what? Dropped everything to come visit me?" "I thought you were with your family on Earth. You made it pretty clear you intended to stay there" Giving a dry laugh, Lance picked his communicator up and moved towards the door "Lance..." "Earth... Earth isn't home anymore. It's not the same planet we left. When we left, no one knew about all the races out there. And now... it's changed too much. Don't get me wrong, I'm happy all those people are safe, but Earth isn't the same. Besides. The Holt's have already started training the next generation of Paladins. They're even working on their own versions of the Lions. Coran and Romelle are happy on Altea. Hunk is always travelling across the universe with Shay. Shiro's retired to find his happy ever with Curtis. You're running Daibazol with your mum, and Kolivan... All I had left was Earth, but it's not home anymore. I don't recognise the streets. The beaches. The people. Nothing can ever be like it was before. In the castle, all I had were my dreams of going home... and now I have nothing. So thanks for stopping by, but you need to go" Grabbing him by the sleeve, Lance forced him over to the door, opening it than pushing him forcibly into the hall. Whether by accident or not, his friend's communicator slipped from Lance's hand as he withdrew his grip "I haven't seen your friend. Go home Keith. I know what I'm doing" Kosmo teleported out just as the door was closing, the pair of them left standing in the hall shocked at what had transpired. This wasn't the Lance he knew... but did he even really know him anymore?

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codylabs · 6 years ago

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Chapter 18: She Cheated

Links: P 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17

When you’re flying in a normal human rocket, it can be rather painful. The vehicle’s engines push the ship forward with their own force, while the rest of the vehicle’s frame has to hold together under the stress of keeping up. Passengers feel as if pressed backwards into their seats, since the rocket is trying to accelerate forward, but every molecule in their bodies just wants to stay at rest. By all accounts, it’s an uncomfortable, squashing sort of feeling. Not exactly a perk of space travel.

But that’s only the case for human rockets.

Alien spaceships are a little different. Their engines directly manipulate the gravitational field, essentially making the ship fall in whatever direction it’s told to. The passengers don’t feel the acceleration or the force at all, since the entire ship: engines, frame, passengers, fuel, is all falling together with the exact same speed and acceleration. A rather floaty sort of experience; much easier on both person and machine.

But that’s only the case for new alien spaceships.

The situation is rather worse for old, beaten, battered, ancient ships, who’ve been half-buried in the hard ground for millennia while their fuel decays and their seals rot and their alloys rust. Their gravity field might be more intense here but less intense there; half the pilot’s body might be pulled too strongly in the direction of travel, while the other half feels left behind. As the direction of thrust changes, waves of stress and strain swirl and shift through the cabin.

Long, stiff bits like bones feel it the worst. It’s a stretching, pummeling sort of feeling, that makes the blood begin to boil and the head begin to hurt and the joints begin to ache and the occasional hapless teenage passengers begin to wonder: Why in Paul Bunyan’s name did we ever think this was a good idea?

Wendy finally couldn’t force herself to hold onto the joysticks any longer, and let go. Her hands came away shaking, and the grips were moist. Soon as she released them, the noise from the reactors died off, and the ship went back into true free-fall, drifting upwards on its momentum, while air resistance and the Earth’s natural gravity slowly decelerated them back down.

“Oh, ugh, Geez…” Her voice didn’t carry far above the wind, but Dipper heard her.

“Yeah… Woah… Ha ha…” He glanced at her in a bewildered way, and began to laugh as he sorely rubbed his temples. “Ha ha… Ow… HA HA HA HA!”

“Ha ha!” She tried to massage her arms, squinted her eyes shut, and began to laugh too. “HA HA OH GEEZ HA HA HA… Wooooooah this is a bit worse than I thought…”

“Ha… HA HA… What, is pain hilarious now…?” Truth be told, they weren’t laughing at the pain, but at the unexpectedness of it. They’d just departed a rather perilous situation, and hadn’t expected a clean getaway to be quite so achey.

Dipper’s eyes drifted back out the dome-shaped window above them, and he saw the horizon spinning lazily. The ground was about 10,000 feet away, and getting gradually closer. Perhaps they weren’t all that safe… “Ha ha… Uh… Oh man, just get us on the ground, how ‘bout. Ha ha… Ha ha…”

“Sure thing Cap’n… Aww man, okay… Oooooh, this is not quite the way I imagined it…”

She grabbed the joysticks again, and twisted and pulled. The ship flipped over to something vaguely like right-side-up, and began something vaguely like a controlled descent.

It was absurdly hard to keep it going in a straight line, and the smallest mistake sent it tumbling or drifting in one direction or another. Nevertheless, she thought she was getting the hang of it, as she pulled up and leveled out over the ground.

Dipper gripped the armrests for stability, and turned his gaze out the window, looking for landmarks.

There was some kind of high peak in the distance, jutting hard and stony above the surrounding trees… That must be the Multi-bear’s lair. And that means the town must be somewhere West of here… Which way was West? Wendy slipped up for a moment and the ship tipped up on its side, which coincidentally let Dipper find the sun as a reference. It was mid-afternoon in Summer, so West should be… That way! “Uh… Go tha… Turn Starboard! T-t-two-o’-clock!” He squealed, and raised a hand to point.

“Yep! Yeah, I got you, fam…!” She grunted, as she spun the ship.

“No no! Too far!”

“It’s touchy, it’s touchy… Oooookay! Yeah, here we go. There!”

“Waitwaitwait now pull up! PULL UP!”

“I’m pulling up, and… Oh man I can’t see the ground!” She gave the sticks another twist.

“Wendy! Now we’re upside-down!”

“Yeah, well, now I can see the ground! …See? Look! You can just look right up and see how far you are from crashing!”

“You’re gonna hit the trees!”

“…Why would the put they dome on the top anyway? Like, you never really need to look up…”

“You’re gonna hit the trees!”

“Are not.”

“Are too!”

“Are not.”

“ARE TOO!”

They didn’t.

“…But it was too close!” Dipper said.

“Hey, who’s the one with the driver’s license here?”

“You have a learner’s permit for CARS!”

“I think you like it!”

“I…! Huh? Nooooo…”

Wendy gave the next ridge a little more room, and now they were high enough to see across the valley. There were the hanging cliffs! They were looking a little upside-down at the moment, but still clearly recognizable. The town should be a mile or so in front of them.

Dipper saw the church steeple first, then the barrel and crate factory, and now he could see the town in its entirety. Hey everyone! Check it out! We’re in a UFO! Cool, right?

As the town square sped by below, he caught a glimpse of confused, upturned faces from the street. Wendy slowed down slightly at this point, searching for the next reference to get them headed for their final landing site: The Mystery Shack’s lawn.

She found the water tower out of the corner of her eye, swung the ship around, and punched the throttle, this time almost enjoying the rush of acceleration, even with the vibrating gravity fields. I’m actually getting the hang of this! She though. Once you get the hunk of junk off the ground, it actually handles pretty well. This isn’t actually so hard!

“I gotta say dude…!” She hollered over the wind. “You sure know how to show a girl a good—”

But then something happened that wasn’t supposed to happen.

An explosion rocked the ship.

Something on the Port-side ‘wing’, just outside their view from the dome, had just blasted to pieces for some reason. Part of the vehicle’s glass hull paneling shattered away entirely, throwing off the vehicle’s aerodynamics and sending them spinning for the ground. Smoke filled the cabin before the wind whipped it away. Blue flames roared in their periphery. Sparse debris could be seen floating in the air around them. All the lights on Wendy’s console turned either off or turned red.

And there were no ejection seats.

As for Wendy, the whiplash of the blast had swung her head, hard, into the seat’s lousy excuse of a headrest. She was wearing a football helmet, but still, it logically must have done some damage… Right? I might have a concussion… But I’m still the one with the controls! I’m still the pilot! I remember my old Wrestling Coach said you don’t often notice concussions right away… Which means I have a couple seconds of control left at least! I can still land it! So she locked her eyes on the horizon out the window, and fought to level the vehicle.

It was slow and clumsy to respond this time. The gravity field was even more uneven, and the ship rolled left as she pulled up; as if the entire Port side was just dead weight. They plowed through several trees before she got it a little higher.

Dipper yelled something about cancelling out the lost torque by using the pedals. She didn’t really get the gist.

Past the fire and the smoke and a rapidly evolving headache, she made out a familiar shape: the Mystery Shack, coming up fast. They were almost there!

She tried to aim for the green, and pulled back to decrease their speed as much as possible. But the ship malfunctioned one last time; went into one last tumble off-course.

The impact was sharp and severe. Wendy’s head whipped hard into the back of her seat, and unconsciousness was a welcome reprieve.

Stan woke up from a most peculiar nightmare.

Minutes previous, the van door opened and Mabel slid down off Robbie’s lap, landing on the Mystery Shack’s driveway. Waddles squeezed through behind the driver seat, and plopped to the ground next to her.

“Hey, thanks for letting me drive, Robbie!” Mabel smiled. “That was pretty fun!”

“Yeah, no problem… No problem…” Robbie nodded, and twiddled his fingers in his lap while he thought.

“And uh… Thanks for everything, Robbie.” She added. “Thanks for helping me with the thing, and thanks for being nice to Waddles, and… And for keeping me safe and stuff… I mean…” She snapped a sudden salute. “Future robobotanists of the world applaud your brave efforts, soldier!”

“Yeah, it’s… It’s no problem…” Robbie shrugged. “I guess… Uh… Say, your brother and Wendy wanted to be picked up, right? When was that?”

“Uh… I think they said 4:00…?” Mabel frowned, and glanced at her watch. “And it’s like 3:00 now, so…”

“Yeah… Ugh… Kay…” Robbie sighed and pulled out his phone, to scroll through his recent messages. There were several messages about a concert tonight. “I got a concert tonight too…” He sighed. One of the messages mentioned the town of Boring. “All the way in… Boring…” Another message was a threat from the drummer about ditching again. Another one was Tambry saying something similar. “I bet they’ll kill me if I’m not there for practice, and Tambry will kill me too if I’m not there beforehand to hang out with her… So… Aww man, and it’s like a 2 hour drive…”

“So when do you need to leave?” Mabel scratched her head.

He did the math. “’Bout… A half hour ago…”

“Ha ha! Wooooowww…!” Mabel giggled, feeling sorry for him but feeling like mocking him at the same time. “Why did you ever agree to pick up Dipstick and Wendoid?”

“I’m not sure… I forget.”

“Weeeell… Oh, you know what??” She smiled. “I can just ask me Grunkles to come pick them up!” She pointed towards their RV. “They’ll understand.”

“…You sure?” Robbie frowned.

“Oh yeaaaah we got this! You go! Go! You go to that concert, and you shred some mad guitar, and you blow their MIIIIINDS! I believe in you!”

“Uh… But you’re sure you can pick them up?” Robbie asked. “I’m okay and stuff?”

“Oh yeah! It’s all good!”

“Okay…”

“Well, we also got some cold pizza in the fridge! Do you wanna come in and chow down for a couple minutes before you go? It’s got glitter on it…!”

He gave her a weird look (the same look everybody seemed to give when offered food and glitter in the same sentence.) “NO.” He explained.

“Welp! See you around then, champ!” She punched him in the arm. “May the magical happiness spirits guide you on your path to bedazzlement!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah…” He growled, and pushed her hand away. His eyes landed on the steering wheel for no obvious reason, and he stared long and hard, thinking. Mabel watched him, wondering what he was going through his head. “Look…” He finally turned back to her, and sighed. “Could we talk serious for a minute, Girl Dipper?”

“Ha ha! It’s ‘Mabel’! Ah-duuuurrrrr!”

“Yeah, yeah, ‘Mabel’. Whatever. But… Really, could we talk serious for a minute? Without… Glitter, and cute animals and nonsense, okay?”

“Uh…” Mabel didn’t like the way the conversation was heading one bit, but Robbie made it sound important. “Okay…”

“Look.” He repeated. “I’m not your boyfriend. You pretended like that was the way it was, to… To trick your brother or whatever? Yeah, good going with that… But… But it’s not true. I don’t…” He sighed. “You’re a nice girl. Really. You’re, like, a really sweet, innocent person, and you try to be super nice and everything, even to killer robots, even to killer aliens, even when it’s dumb to be nice… And you’re my friend… But… I don’t like you. At all. I don’t like hanging around with you, I don’t like speaking with you, I don’t really like helping, and… I wish you didn’t bring me along today.”

His words stung. “…Oh…” Mabel’s smile deflated slowly, and something small, deep inside her, turned from sweet to sour.

“And…” Robbie scratched his head. “I know you hate growing older. And I know you hate what your brother and Wendy are doing: destroying the robo-aliens. I know you’ve got a vision of some happy little… Some dainty little animal paradise once this is through, that you’ll become some ultra hippy scientist god who forces adorable goodness down everybody’s throats every day of every year… You want to believe that it can all be sweetness and sparkles and crap forever… Look, I can’t pretend to know what’s going through your head, so I won’t. But Mabel… It. Won’t. Work.”

Mabel’s frown deepened.

“This world is hard and cruel.” He explained. “The harsh, contested domain of wicked men. And the sweetest person in the world can’t fix it. And the sweetest person in the world can’t stay sweet for long. The robots are going to die, or be contained, quarantined, and weaponized, and there’s nothing you or anybody can do to make it happy. If you keep opening your heart up to people and things, and seeing the good in everyone… If you keep living that lie, your heart’s GONNA be broken… Your spirit will break… And you’ll turn hateful inside.”

Her eyes fell to the ground.

“And frankly.” He pressed on. “Pigs don’t live very long. Your ‘Waddles’ is gonna end up in somebody’s stomach in a couple years at best. Same with everything and anyone else you’ve ever loved. Things die. Things end. Your parents will die. Your uncles will die. Your brother will die. All your friends will die, and finally, you will die. And those who outlive you will remember you for your selfishness and your many tragic mistakes and NOT for your sweetness… You need to grow up, Mabel. You need to learn to think… You need…”

Robbie scowled deeply, a grim and evil look that fit him well. The sincerest, most honest look he could have given. “Learn to think dark thoughts, my girl.” He concluded.

And then he closed the door, put his van in gear, and rolled off down the road, leaving her brain and heart a confused and injured mess.

The ground in front of her feet wasn’t very interesting, but it held her attention anyway.

Waddles came up next to her and nuzzled her knee with his cute little pig nose.

She glanced over at him, and their eyes met.

“That’s not the real Robbie.” Waddles said.

“Oink grunt snort.” Was the actual noise that came out.

“I still love you.” Were the words Mabel heard.

She bent down and hugged him, and a single grim, dark tear rolled down her cheek. “I wanna do the right thing…” She whispered. “Can’t I do the right thing…? Can’t I… Can’t… There’s a happy ending here, isn’t there?”

“I feel deeply and profoundly afraid.” Waddles said. “Give me some food.”

“Grunt snoik grunt.” Was the actual noise. “Oink grunt.”

Mabel sniffled. “Yeah… Ha ha… Yeah… I guess you’re right… It’s just one of life’s great mysteries, isn’t it…?” She hugged him just a little tighter. “Thanks for believing in me though… Say, are you hungry?”

He’d already said that he was.

So Mabel stood up, brushed a strand of hair from her eyes, and continued toward the Shack.

Soos met her at the door, dressed in his suit and fez. “Hey, S’up dude!” He smiled, offering her his fist. “How’s it hangin’ today, my dopest dawg?”

Mabel chuckled lowly, not much in the mood for humor. “Now who in the world could this be…?” She faked puzzlement as she punched his fist anyway. “It looks just like Mr. Mystery, but it sounds just like Soos…?”

“OOH! Oh yeah! Right! Sorry dude! Right!” Soos hurried to lower his eyepatch, and give his 8-ball cane a clever little twirl. “Greetings…” He recited, in a mysterious voice. “Welcome back, dear child, to the deep and miry domain of Bewilderment and Befuddlement that is the world-renowned Mystery Shack…!” He twirled his free hand, to reveal an ice cream sandwich which must have been hidden up his sleeve for some mysterious reason. “Would you dare be entreated to one of our mysteeeeeriously magic mystery snacks?”

She chuckled lightly, and gave him a half-hearted punch in the gut. “No… That would break my diet.” She explained sadly. “My doctor said I shouldn’t have anything but shame, pouting, and dread for the rest of the day…”

“Oh…” Soos frowned in understanding, then sat down on the floor. He didn’t take a knee or squat or bend over, he just sat, with his legs straight ahead of him; low enough to look her straight in the eye. “That’s a sucky diet, dude.” He nodded wisely.

“Yeah…”

“Hmm…” Soos stroked his chin. “I’ve got an idea, dawg. Why don’t we make an exception? Just for right now? You break your diet and I’ll break mine, just for one crazy, bonkers, kooky snack.”

“Heh…” Mabel tried to chuckle. “Wait… You’re on a diet…?”

“Of course!” Soos nodded. “A diet of food! So how about it? You break your diet of sadness and eat an ice cream sandwich, and I’ll break my diet of food and eat some grass. Even-steven, dawg. Whaddaya say?”

Mabel laughed for real this time, though not as powerfully as normal. “Okay… We can do that.”

“Great! Anything to shorten up that face of yours!”

“Shorten my face…?”

“Yeah! You know how everybody always says, like, ‘why the long face’, or whatever? Well I just thought, like, why isn’t ‘why the short face’ a thing for when you cheer up? Ha ha… Right?”

“Woah, that’s so wise…” Mabel admitted, reaching for the ice cream. “Okay, you win. Let’s-”

A faint explosion echoed across the valley and in through the front door. They both froze.

“Duuuuuude the 4th of July isn’t for 3 more weeks. That means somebody’s gone totally insane… I don’t like it, duuuude…”

“That didn’t sound like a firework…”

They both rushed out onto the porch, their eyes searching for the source of the noise. Mabel found it: a disturbance in the distant air; a trailing plume of smoke somewhere above the town. It was thick and dark, almost greenish, surely no firework.

But that wasn’t all. There was something else just beneath the cloud; something hard and solid, spinning and falling out of sight, trailing more smoke behind it.

“Duuuuuude…” Soos commentated.

“What was…?” Mabel frowned.

The shape reappeared, this time bigger and nearer, speeding toward them through the trees. ‘Through’ the trees in the most literal sense; the trunks and branches were cut and smashed aside before it. Now it seemed to realize its fault, and increased in altitude, silhouetting briefly but clearly against the crisp blue sky.

Was that an alien spaceship?

It was a bit bigger than your average fighter jet, all dirty and encrusted in roots, vines, and plants, as if a giant had used a house-sized shovel to scoop up a mound of dirt, and there just happened to be a flying saucer buried in there.

“Duuuuuuuuuude!” Soos elaborated.

Mabel wasn’t really sure what to do. It was coming right for them, and, (judging by what it did to the trees,) it would probably level the house when it hit in just a few seconds… But Stan and Ford and Melody were in the house! She had to warn them!

Soos turned and rushed back into the house to do just that. “DUUUUUUUUUUUUUUDE!” He blared.

But Mabel’s brain had, unbidden, produced a single dark thought. If they’re inside, they will die. I only have time to save myself… So instead of crying out or ducking indoors, she dived for Waddles, snatched him up in both arms during her summersault, and came up running.

You monster. She told herself. Saving yourself when you should have saved them… How dare you?

Fortunately for the family and her conscience, the incoming ship didn’t hit the house. By now it had swerved rightwards and upwards; no longer aiming for them. Now it was headed for the yard. Now it wobbled and changed course again; not even aiming for the yard. Now it was going to pass by the property entirely, and land in the forest…

Mabel’s eyes followed it as it passed directly overhead. She saw the smoke billowing from its side. She saw the cracks spreading through its weakened hull. She felt the field of force rippling from its intact engines, she felt the heat radiating from its wrecked engines. She would have felt the intense and deadly ionizing radiation spilling from its burst reactor, but humans can’t feel such things.

Half a second later, the tip of its wing clipped the question mark off the weathervane.

Two seconds later, it passed out of sight into the trees.

A second after that, the ear-splitting sound of impact.

Mabel heard it bounce and tumble and smash, end-over-end and destructively, in much the same manner as a square wheel. Above the point where it had disappeared, she saw the tops of tall trees sway, topple, and shake.

In moments the landscape was silent again, and Mabel was left staring in awe at the damaged tree line, wondering what exactly she’d just witnessed.

What? Where? Why? Who?

ALIENS?

Waddles struggled in her arms, so she let him down, and began to feel through her pockets for tools. She didn’t really have any proper rescue equipment… Just some ribbons and a curiously pencil-shaped twig. If the aliens were trapped inside or in need of medical attention, she wouldn’t really be able to help them…

But were they beyond helping? She wondered (another unwelcome dark thought). That ship hit pretty hard, and it was more likely than not that everything and everyone inside was killed. Smashed or burned alive.

Maybe…

NO! NO! They can’t be dead! ROBBIE’S WRONG! THEY CAN’T!

She turned and began to sprint back for the house. Whatever was in there, it would have to wait 5 minutes, just 5 more minutes… Long enough for her to get proper help…

She opened the Shack’s door to enter, just as Soos and the Stans opened it to exit.

“What’s going on?” Stan stammered, almost tripping over Mabel. “What was that noise, some of us need our sleep!”

“It’s 3:00 in the afternoon, Stan!” Ford frowned.

“DUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUE!” Soos explained.

“Guys!” Mabel pointed toward the trees. “It’saspaceshiporsomething andtheremightbepeopleinside andwe’vegottahelpthem andwelcomethemtoourworld andtakethemtoourleader andgivethemchocolatemilk!”

“Oh… OH!” Ford followed her pointing finger. He saw nothing in the trees, but was nonetheless fascinated. “Fascinating.” He assessed. “Are you sure it’s aliens…?”

“Well it was a big flying-saucer-shaped flying saucer!” Mabel explained. “So I think it was a flying saucer!”

“Well… Yes of course… But… But what did it look like?” Ford interrogated her. “Was it circular? Triangular? Teardrop-shaped? Manned or unmanned? Damaged…? How big was it?”

“Uh… Like, a house-sized circle? And it was all dirty…? I don’t know! But it was all on fire and stuff! We’ve gotta go!” She grabbed Ford by his second pinkie and began to drag him toward the trees. “It crashed and stuff and you’ve gotta come help!”

“Wait, fire…? Hold on! Hold on!” Ford pulled Mabel to a stop, and put out a hand to halt Stan as well. Then he reached way down deep into his trench coat, and pulled out a Geiger counter. “If my experience is any indication, then the vehicle could be nuclear, so we’ve got to be incredibly careful while approaching…” Ford pointed the counter toward the trees, whereupon it began clicking loudly and wildly. He glanced at the readout. “It could be… HOLY MOSES, WHAT THE HECK?!? Okay, stay back! EVERYBODY STAY BACK! Okay… Oh my I don’t even… I don’t… Okay. Think. Think Ford! Think…” He rubbed his temples. “Uh… Uh… Okay. Okay I’ve got it. Soos!” He turned to the larger man, and pressed a few coins of Aztec gold into his fat fist. “I need you to take Melody, Mabel, the pig, heck the goat, and everyone else on the property, load them up in our RV, and take them back down to town. Get them all set up, get a room at the motel or something, take them out for pancakes, I don’t care, but don’t. Bring. Them. Back. Here. Okay?”

Soos nodded solemnly. “I. Am. That. Hero.”

“WHAT? Great Uncle Ford!” Mabel gasped incredulously. “Why can’t I—”

“This entire area is soaking up Gamma rays!” Ford shushed her. “If you get much closer than this, I don’t want to be liable for your cells getting ionized from the inside out! Nobody’s getting closer than this, and everybody non-essential is getting much farther!”

“But—”

“No buts! Stan!” He turned to his brother. “I need you to call the Mayor’s office, and get him to cordon off the road to town. Nobody up here, especially not tourists, until we do something about the radiation. Then call Daniel Corduroy, and have him get his logging crew up here with excavators. We need to find this thing, get it buried, and QUICKLY. Call McGucket too, and tell him it’s the ‘N-word’; he’ll know what to do. Then call the Northwests, and mooch a favor out of them somehow. Get them to bribe somebody in the FBI to…”

“Yeah, uh…” Stan shook his head. “That’s a lot of points to remember, and a lot of phone numbers I don’t know.”

Ford bit his tongue. “Right.” He thought for a moment more. “Okay then, I’ll make the calls. You go down into my old lab, grab the hazmat suits, shovels, a crowbar, my magnet gun, and a plasma cutter, in case there’s anything alive inside we have to get out. Also two semi-automatic ray guns in case they’re better left inside. Also see if you can find the hitch and tow cables for Soos’ truck… And… And some worklights for tonight… And… Oh dear, what else…? We’ll need decontamination showers…”

“Sheesh, slow down Poindexter. That’s enough for the old noggin’ to remember at one time…” Stan nodded, already on his way.

“Okay… Okay…” Ford turned back to the wreck, and began to mutter out loud. “Okay. It’s gonna be alright. Depending on how fast we get it buried, the house can probably be sterilized and safe for human habitation within a few weeks… That area of forest will be a different matter. Once I get the phone calls out, nobody will dare get nearby except gnomes, and there’s nothing I can do about them… Can only pray it doesn’t get into the groundwater… Everybody’s getting mobilized, I just have to make a few calls… Just a few calls… What am I forgetting? What am I forgetting?!?”

Aliens, aliens… Why would there be aliens? The whole world to land in, why our YARD? No activity for thousands of years, why NOW? He savagely interrogated his memory. Mabel described a ship a lot like one of the shuttles from Crash Site Omega. And did she say ‘dirty’? So it must have come from on-planet, instead of from outer space… But everything at CSO is dead, so who on Earth could have-

Something clicked.

“MASON!” He suddenly cried, and began to sprint across the yard in the direction of the trees. “DEAR GOD IN HEAVEN AND ALL THE SAINTS! WENDY! MASON! KIDS, CAN YOU HEAR ME?!?”

Mabel had another dark thought.

As many people have been so kind as to point out over the years, Dipper wasn’t a particularly strong individual. To his memory, he’d never won a physical contest in his life, nor lifted more than about 40 pounds, nor grown more than 5 chest hairs.

At this particular moment, he was feeling that weakness more than ever. His head pounded and his inner ears sloshed and the smoke stung his eyes and lungs and he felt as if baked alive in his armor as the eerie blue flames poured from the ship’s wreckage. His arms and legs still ached from the flight, and the multitude of cuts, scrapes, bruises and injures from throughout the week were beginning to cry out, rubbing and cracking in the heat and demanding his attention. He could barely breathe, he could scarcely see, and his ears were no help either. In this state, walking forward in full armor was chore enough.

But he also had another person, half again his size and also fully armored, draped across his shoulders. One arm was hooked around her arm, the other around her leg.

Say what you may about his body, but his will was still his own.

His will forgot all else, and it ordered his leg ‘step’, and it stepped. And it told his other leg ‘step’ and it stepped. So did he move forward, boot-print by crooked boot-print, and he closed his eyes and he focused and somehow it worked. Slowly and dogmatically he came out from underneath the curved hull, up out of the trench and down the other side of the berm. About then he bumped into a tree with his eyes closed, which event he took as a sign that he’d escaped the worst of it.

But he could still feel the heat, smell the smoke, and hear the flames, so he forced his legs to keep on moving. Subconsciously he turned them about to point downhill, and he increased his snail’s pace just slightly.

Minutes later, perhaps longer, perhaps shorter, he stumbled, and managed to catch himself. If he hadn’t, he didn’t believe he would have been able to stand up again.

Minutes later, perhaps longer, perhaps shorter, his feet began to feel strangely cold and slippery. He finally dared to open his eyes, and a welcome sight partially emerged from the blur: that of a slow stream winding through the forest. Water… His brain equated it with safety.

He set Wendy down as gently as he could on the bank. It wasn’t very gently, and the motion tipped him over entirely. He crawled out from underneath her, and sat up… Good. Now he could actually help. He pushed his glove up between her helmet and her shoulder pads, and put a finger on her throat. Faintly through the material, he could feel a steady heartbeat.

Yes!

Now he pressed his gauntlet up to her face in front of her mouth. Very faintly, he could see mist forming on the smooth surface.

She was breathing!

Yes!

YES!

They were both alive… They were both safe!

Relived, he began to rack his brain for how to treat unconscious people. You were supposed to get their legs up higher than their heart… Right? Yeah, that’s it; their heads need more blood… He grabbed her ankle in one hand, her wrist in the other, and turned her around on the bank to get her head pointed downhill. Now… He thought he remembered you were supposed to remove any clothing or stuff that could restrict breathing… Right?

He began to unbuckle her armor, piece by piece. The helmet squeezed past her ears. The chainsaw chaps unbuckled and fell aside. The shoulder pads came undone and were removed. The gauntlets slipped off like gloves. The arm guards followed the gauntlets and the leggings followed the boots. Everything went into the stream; too shallow and slow to carry them away. The flannel jacket he left in place; seemed only decent.

What now?

Since she was breathing, that means she’d be fine in a little bit, and you didn’t need CPR… Right?

Well, it couldn’t hurt.

He knelt down by her head, and began to pump on her chest. It might be doing something, or it might not, or maybe the stimulus would wake her from whatever matter of horrid slumber this was.

The seconds ticked by as he pumped, and he wondered how fast you were supposed to do it. Does it even matter how fast you do it? Why would it matter? How does CPR even work? When am I supposed to kiss her? Wait, no, I mean breath in her mouth. Wait, no, I mean… Whatever it’s called. No, I ain’t gonna kiss her.

The seconds kept ticking by, and Wendy’s condition wasn’t changing.

But Dipper didn’t keep pumping forever, because a noise distracted him from behind.

Splash.

He glanced over his shoulder, and jumped. He tried to stand up as fast as he could, but was still a little tired and dizzy from the crash, and so ended up just staggering a little as he levered himself upright. “Ugh…!” He mumbled, weary, grim despair. “You again…”

Of course they weren’t safe.

Why would they be safe? How could that have ever been an expectation? So much had happened today: the argument with Robbie, the deer-bots, the swarming bugs, the drilling worms, the alien ghosts, the rocket birds, the heart-racing chase, the ship’s takeoff, the ship’s crash… So much, so long… Of course it wasn’t over now… How could it be over?

Dipper wished he had the magnet gun, but he’d left it back in the ship, so he couldn’t leave Wendy to go back for it now… But Wendy’s axe was lying in the stream where he’d tossed it. He knelt to pick it up, and whispered in her direction. “Sorry. Just gotta borrow this for a minute…”

With this utterly insufficient weapon in hand, he stood between Wendy and the enemy, and took the best fighting stance he could muster.

But the giant robotic cat just stood there, about 5 meters upstream, and looked at him.

She didn’t attack, she didn’t charge. She didn’t even seem interested in fighting.

In fact, she was looking even worse than Dipper felt. Her right front leg was bent unnaturally and held against her chest, while the tank tread on her left rear foot was dented and refused to spin. Her mouth was scared and blackened terribly, with several saws crooked and one missing entirely. A piece of splintered wood (of all things) was wedged into a joint her steel shoulder, evidently having been pounded into place during the crash. And her entire underbelly was blackened, bent, and flickering with blue flames.

“Uhh…” Dipper said. “Listen… I know you can’t hear me, seeing as how you don’t have ears… But I’ll give you a minute if you’ll give me a minute… Just a little respite…”

Keeping a careful eye on the creature, he took a knee in the water.

The robot lion seemed to agree, as she more or less collapsed into the liquid. Steam rose and hissed all around her burning plates. A sheen of leaked oil flowed around the rocks and past Dipper’s knees.

He blinked and nodded. “Yeah… Feel ya.”

Now he knelt further down, and let the water clean him too. It soaked past his armor and his clothes, it cleaned his injuries and quenched his burns. It hurt, but this was the good kind of hurt. The kind that felt like it could heal… He cupped some in his hands and splashed his face. It ran off grey with ash.

So they both sat there for a minute or so, letting the water ebb and flow around them, trying to find a peace in the calm before the coming storm.

Finally, Dipper fancied his head was completely clear of the headache from the crash, and a few deep breaths prepared his system for what was next to come. From his kneeling pose, he looked back up at the robot lion, and she looked back at him.

He took note of the serious damage all around her mouth and saws, then glanced back up the hill and saw the ship in the distance, still smoldering and smoking. And he remembered the explosion in the port-side wing. “It was you.” He broke the silence. “You clung to the ship, through all that flight… And all the while you were drilling into the engines… The crash was all you… Wasn’t it?”

She didn’t reply, of course.

“Well.” Dipper sighed. “I… I guess I respect that. That’s… Grit. I guess. You did good. You brought us down. Heck… You even took out Wendy… Right now she must look pretty dead to you… Meaning you must think you’ve half-won. But she’ll be fine… She’ll be fine.”

The robot still just stared, in that soulless, empty way that animals always do.

“You… You know what?” Dipper asserted, after a brief silence. “I… I GET it. I GET it. I mean that, I get it. I get why you do what you do. I get why it means so much to you, and I know why you’ll never stop until we’re dead.

“And I’m SORRY. There, I said it: I’m sorry. I’m sorry we accidentally stole your son. I’m sorry we stuck you with that tracking device when you tried to come back for him. And I’m SORRY we attacked you, and I’m SORRY we shot you. I’m SORRY we invaded your territory, and tricked you time and time again. And I’m SORRY we killed your entire pack when we took off in that ship… I…”

She still stared.

“And I wish I could say we never meant you any harm, but that would be a lie because we ALL knew it would end like this: end in xenocide. Before we even started out, we agreed to destroy you if you turned out dangerous. And now that day is here, and we’ve got the Power Control Coupling for the big ship. We’re gonna use it to fire up its reactor, and smash your entire little world, with all you beasts inside it.

“It… It was inevitable; it was even responsible! Because if not us, then who? Most likely somebody who’d kill you anyway. Or maybe somebody who’d weaponize you? Captivate you, domesticate you, plug you into machines that turn you into living factories? With… With your kind among our kind, both of us would suffer…

“It… It was! IT WAS US OR YOU! And you’re not people, you’re just animals, which means it’s not murder, it’s not cruel, it isn’t even wrong! It was the right thing to do, and for that I’m SORRY! I’m SORRY your extinction was the order we gave… The order we followed… I’m sorry.”

The aperture over her eye blinked at him.

“…I never once hated you.” He said. “I’ve hated enemies before… But I never hated you. Because I get it.”

It seemed to understand.

“Now, I don’t know if you hate me, or if we just… If we just know we have to kill each other. But if you get my body language here, could you PLEASE just leave it be today? We’re both tired and hurt. Just turn around and walk away. I don’t want to kill you, but… But a girl’s laying behind me, and it just wouldn’t be fair for you to get the drop on us when she’s helpless…

“And… And she’s my very best friend in all the world, and… She means more to me than you could ever understand, and… And we’ve had a really long day and we were so happy that we’d finally won… That we’d escaped… And… Everything was going so good… And next time she’s awake, I think I’m gonna ask her on a date… And… And it’ll be my very first good date…

“So… So because of all that, I won’t let you get even one step closer to her. Save yourself by coming back another day… Please. I’ll have to kill you, and I don’t want to.”

It seemed almost like she considered the offer for a minute. And then her back shuddered, and with a groan of stressed metal and worn gears, she struggled back to her feet. Her antennae retracted and her head lowered as she took a battle stance.

Dipper sighed. “You know what? I still get it.” His voice lowered. “I totally get it. I… I guess I woulda done the same thing…” Using Wendy’s axe like an old man would a walking Stick, Dipper hoisted himself back upright. With his other hand, he unbuckled the chainsaw chaps from his arms, and held them like some kind of whip.

So prepared with the very best of the very little he had on hand, he turned to face the beast.

Her one red eye stared back into his, and her saws slowly extended.

“We don’t have to do this.” Dipper offered one last time. “Go home. Lick your wounds, take a nap, do whatever it is robots do when you’re looking like crap. Just escape… Just like we were trying to do with that ship. Forget us…”

She limped a step towards him.

Not to be outdone, Dipper took a step forward as well, keeping himself directly between the machine and Wendy’s prone form. “That… That was the last one!” He commanded her, and he felt his voice rising to the challenge. “That was the very last! If you take one more step, you dumb and heartless animal, just one more…! I swear that I will murder you dead where you stand!”

She understood.

And her will told her foot ‘step’, and it stepped.

Minutes later, perhaps more, perhaps less, a bright flash of blue light woke Wendy up.

As her eyes fluttered open, the first thing that drew her attention was the pain in her head. It screamed at her as she moved, throbbing and pounding with her heartbeat. She sat up and rolled over sorely, allowing her eyes to land on a narrow, shallow creek. Oh good, water… She felt thirsty… And sick… Really sick. The motion of rolling over caused her head to spin, and her stomach couldn’t take anymore. Before she could take a drink, she keeled over and puked in the stream.

Ugh…

Gross…

Wait, why does my puke have blood in it? That’s not a good sign.

Wait…

It wasn’t the puke. The creek itself had blood in it. And a spreading slick of thick, black oil mixed with the red.

Her eyes followed the flow upstream, and there they landed on an enormous, dark shape. The body of a robot lion. She was lying just about a few meters from where Wendy had been sleeping.

And she was utterly dead.

Wendy shakily stood to her feet, and took a step toward the machine. And that was when she noticed another, much smaller shape, reclining in the water against the beast’s metal belly.

“She cheated…” Dipper’s tiny voice whispered.

Now Wendy could see her friend’s entire body, and she froze, shocked. In an instant, she took in everything: The blood at the bottom of a crater in his helmet. The slashes in his belly beneath the shreds of his armor. The punctures in his chest. His broken leg. His missing arm.

“DUDE!” She rushed up to him and he fell into her arms. Trying to keep him still, she stripped off her jacket and undershirt, and began to tear both into strips. Which bleeding to plug first? There was too much… Maybe his stomach? That seemed reasonable, right? “Dude, hang in there man, I… You’re not gonna…!” She realized she was lying. “You CAN’T die! You can’t!”

“…Wendy…” He wheezed.

“Come on, man! Come on! Stay with me!” She slapped him on the cheek.

“I… I love you…”

“YEAH, NO KIDDING, REALLY?!? Come on! You’ve gotta…! Dipper! Dipper, are you listening?!? You gotta pull through! Listen to me! I love you too! You gotta fight!”

Fight he did, this one last time. Down to the furthest reaches of his mind, he struggled and raged at the encroaching darkness. Trying to force back at its overbearing advance, trying to strike at it, screaming at it, pleading with it, telling it a tale of everything he’d ever wanted to do but hadn’t done. The things he’d wanted to apologize for, the promises he’d wanted to keep, the mysteries he would have solved, the good he would have done, the lives he would have saved, the family he would have made, the adventures he would have lived…

He had had such dreams!

The darkness carelessly shrugged aside his protests. All the hope he once had cherished, he saw crushed and strangled before it, torn asunder and scattered like dust in the wind.

In the final dying light, he thought he heard Wendy’s voice calling out.

“Hang in there man!” She was telling him. “You’re gonna pull through one way or another! I know it! I PROMISE YOU LIFE!”

But her words were just words.

And death does not wait for words.

#The Forest Of Daggers #wendip #wendy x dipper #gravity falls #scifi #wendy corduroy #dipper pines #shapeshifter #see you next summer #fanfiction #fanart #alien #robot #ghost #wendipweek

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trolloled · 3 years ago

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“Fucking kill m# now.”

With a tribal instead of a car in tow, Gaveyo is forced to make the awful decision to continue his journey. Fortunately, it should only take a full day and night of walking! Isn’t that just swell?

Mercifully, nothing attacks our intrepid Chosen One on his four day journey to The Den. Sulik was forced to endure a lot of complaining, however, and frequent requests to be carried since Gaveyo was too important to be left behind.

The Den, a hive of scum of villainy. Also, unfortunate drug addicts. Gaveyo is forced to beat one to death after the addict hallucinates the man as a demon, rather than the coming God of Arroyo, the Ratpuncher, the Dicksmasher himself.

Also, the little shits next to the doors keep trying to pick his pockets, and everyone gives him mean looks if he tries to backhand them for it. He’ll have to figure out a more clever solution to this...

In the meantime, pushing pickpockets aside, Gaveyo heads inside Becky’s to ask where the hell Vic is. He surely better be here, because Gaveyo’s legs are killing him for walking for four days straight.

Becky says Vic is being held by the local slaver chief, Metzger. Mouthing obscenities to himself, Gaveyo asks if Becky has any work to do so he can at least make a buck while he’s here. She gives him the task of collecting some money from Fred.

Fred, not being too hard to find, takes only a little persuasion from Gaveyo before he coughs up some of the money. Unfortunately, Fred is a drug addict.

As you can see, Fred (whichever one you decide is Fred) has fallen on hard times. He’s not only gone bald, but he’s lost his shoes and gained a clone that keeps stalking him. He requests Gaveyo first cover half what he owes, then three full quarters! That would leave Gaveyo with $50 to cover a $200 debt!

Now, normally Gaveyo would just beat Fred’s nose in, but his gut is tingling. Fred says he has a plan, see, he just needs the money for a little while. Gaveyo, still flush with cash from selling all the junk he’s been collecting, can easily cover the debt. If Fred’s “plan” works, Gaveyo might be able to recoup this debt with interest...

Gaveyo decides not to trust Fred, but his gut, and his gut says ‘why not, there’s infinitely more money to be made by robbing idiots that live here.’

Taking the money back to Becky, she hands Gaveyo $100 back out of surprise that he managed to “collect” from Fred. Gaveyo, now only down $100, asks for more work. She wants him to get a book back from another deadbeat for a measly $80.

Gaveyo leaves the bar, half-heartedly mumbling something about getting it or whatever.

‘Book r#tri#val? Coll#cting d#bts from addicts and d#adb#ats? I’m th# CHOS#N ON# damn it! I should b# g#tting a car, bab#s and hunks on #ach arm, tons of cash, and #ndl#ss adoration! This is GRUNTWORK!”

In a foul mood, he wanders into a random house nearby, which ends up belonging to a local gang. They graciously do not gut Gaveyo for trespassing, and instead ask him to do something:

“$200! Holy shit! H#ll y#ah I’ll do it!”

Truly, money solves all of life’s problems. With an actually decently paying gig in the wings, Gaveyo leaves the house after only taking everything that wasn’t bolted down. He spies a junkyard nearby, and...

“Oh my god... it’s in on# pi#c#... words.... th#y should hav# s#nt a po#t... for m# to b#at up until h# finish#d fixing th# #ngin#!”

It doesn’t take a mechanic to immediately tell this Highwayman wasn’t in working condition either. Something about the ignition being ripped out, the engine being empty of fuel, and several dubious looking empty spots in the engine block with frayed wires coming out of it tell him the vehicle isn’t moving anytime soon.

Frantically, Gaveyo grabs the owner the junkyard and asks what’s up with the car.

Crestfallen, Gaveyo examines his pockets and notes a disturbing lack of cash in the great vault of Deyloc. Not only that, he certainly doesn’t have a fuel cell controller. He even offers the weird part he scavenged earlier, hoping it might be what’s needed, but alas!

It’s just a fuel cell regulator! It improves the fuel economy of the Highwayman’s engine! That’s fucking worthless!

At the very least, the friendly mechanic offers to install it for free on top of the controller if Gaveyo can find the necessary parts, and cash. Gaveyo’s resolved is hardened. Now, more than ever, he has a goal:

“To stop having to walk god damn #v#rywh#r# in this barr#n fuckawful wast#land, and b#tt#r y#t, to g#t to driv# with AIR CONDITIONING!”

His goal declared to the sky, and Sulik moderately amused, Gaveyo knows what he must do: all the gruntwork possible, no matter how boring and dull, until he has enough money to afford never having to walk again.

Oh, and he should probably do something about Vic being in captivity at some point. Anyway, off to explore The Den!

“Wow, shitty carnival attractions in a d#n of addicts. How could I r#sist?”

“Pass.”

A strange man in metal armor that knows Gaveyo’s name warns him that he’s making a name for himself, but he’s only a small fish.

“Y#ah, alright you w#irdo. At l#ast now I know I’m famous. I got my own stalk#r! Wait, no, that’s just gross. Don’t #v#r talk to m# again or I’ll f##d you your own t##th.”

“Mom’s din#r? Wow, that puts a n#w m#aning to t#lling m# my moth#r r#ally got around.”

Gaveyo makes the mistake of talking to a drunkard in the diner who regales him with a tale of being attacked by spooky glowing monsters in the night at his farm. He wails about his friends and neighbors not believing him, and concludes by explaining how he ran away to the Den before collapsing into a puddle of tears.

Gaveyo nervously backs away from the dangerously unstable man. Nothing scares him, except for emotions being expressed so openly.

Gaveyo holds a quick discussion with “Mom”, the proprietor, who mentions there being a Vault City somewhere in the wasteland when asked about Vault 13 (the supposed site of that infernal farming kit). She also asks him to deliver a meal to Smitty, the mechanic who owns the Highwayman, for a quick buck.

Gaveyo, sorely tempted to eat the entire meal, resists the urge in the name of air conditioning, and soldiers on. However, Smitty ‘merely’ rewards Gaveyo with a stimpack (a medical device which recovers health) instead of money.

“CH#APSKAT#S! How’s a man suppos#d to buy a pr#-war v#hicl# with off#rings this slim!? This is cru#lty! Pur# malic#!”

Perhaps fortunately, there’s not too much of the Den left to explore. Gaveyo quickly finds both the church the earlier gang asked him to look into, as well as Metzger’s hideout. It’s a simple matter of just asking the church guards what they’re guarding to get the information wanted by the other gang, but Metzger and Vic...

“Hm. G#tting Vic out of h#r# might b# a bit hard#r than I thought it’d b#. Any id#as, Sulik? Mayb# try running up to M#tzg#r with a liv# gr#nad# in your hand?”

#gaveyo's fallout adventure #ooc as lard

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fujxnarchive · 6 years ago

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⇢ ❝ @prideanddiscipline. from here.

He’d been bent over the engine of the utility jeep he’d been given by his employers, a beat-up old clunker that only worked about half the time, the rest spent giving him hell; just another enthusiastic fuck you from the system, he supposed. His face was contorted in frustration as he struggled to wrench a rusted bolt free, his grip slipping and pinching his knuckle hard enough to make him yelp.

He stepped back from the car, knocking the hood arm out of the way and dropping the metal cover with a loud clang, not satisfied that the sound had carried enough finality with it, apparently, for he threw the wrench against the trunk of the nearby tree he’d towed into for shade from the oppressive Summer heat.

“Sonova-… useless piece of shit-… break into Galbadia-… drop a flaming satellite on this hunk of junk — send me back to D-District, see if I care that this shithole has one more smoking crater-…” came the stream of vitriol muttered only barely under his breath as he inspected his hand, a line of crimson starting to gather on the surface where he’d scraped the skin off his joint.

He’d turned around to find the slight-framed woman standing just behind him, no doubt having heard the commotion, gazing at him with a discerning look. His brows cinched, head jutting expectantly on his neck, “—what?” But he’d never receive an answer — not a verbal one anyway. Before he had a chance to tell her to piss off, he wasn’t in the mood for a lecture on his temper, she had drawn up to him, raising like a rushing tide against his chest and dragging him down by his neck until her lips pressed his own.

He was struck at first by how warm and soft her lips were — not that most lips weren’t, but Fujin had always been the cold to his hot, the hard steel to his mercurial nature. Chills ran down his spine, but the sort brought on by water so hot it confused the senses, like liquid fire running through his veins.

Whatever he had been upset about moments before had completely slipped his mind upon contact, replaced by the knowledge that his mouth had been open just enough when she caught his lips that he could taste her, and that she tasted both sweet and salty, like late lunch and horrible life choices — god how he was a sucker for horrible life choices… his expression would wane from startled surprise to the look of a man who was about to fall off the sobriety bandwagon and couldn’t figure out whether to be shameless or apologetic for it.

He exhaled hotly through his nostrils as his bloodied hand lifted to cup her face, pressing forward against her, though not for the simple act of bringing himself deeper into the kiss, no. That was merely a side-effect of locomoting them both forward (or backward) against the front of the broken-down jeep, pinning her against the hood with hands at either side of her, the weight of their bodies causing the vehicle to creak and the steel cover to warble haphazardly.

He broke the kiss with an almost painful suddenness, skin peeling from one another with a tactile reluctance as he gazed at her silently for a moment, jaw slackened.

“—What are you doing?” he asked at last, brows bouncing high on his forehead. Hyne, what was he doing?

She had initially left him to his angry murmurings, his disjointed irritation over the transportation vehicle. It was an area where she had not collected sufficient knowledge to be anything but a nuisance to him; thus, she stands watch, listening to the rise and fall of his words, observing the area that surrounded their isolation with caution, facing away from him. The cacophony of banging metal that erupts from his frustration is one that does not shock her--it was an eruption waiting to occur, with every moment he spent agonizing.

It is with the noise that she turns, a vaguely scathing remark on her tongue for letting anger overtake him again, till she sees HIM. He stands, broad shouldered and golden hair framing his features. He stands, living && breathing, the survivor of the manipulation of a WITCH. He stands, there, and she knows that lecturing him would produce no advantageous results--Seifer had never been one to take such criticism without comment. All she wants is to replace the burning rage that spills from his lips, replace it with something worthwhile--what use would her doing the same act of reproach over && over cause, except insanity? Insanity. His lips.

For some reason, his lips catch her eye again. Somehow, a curiosity occurs to her, a hypothesis that needed to be tested--her approach is rapid, letting not hesitation take hold of her, fingers reaching and tugging at his collar, pulling him closer till their lips collide.

It is nothing like what she would expect, not this sensory explosion. It is the exchange of breaths, the taste of something wholly him lingering on her tongue, the feeling of relief that the warmth of his lips bring. For once, it is not anger that falls from his lips, only silence. The air in her lung trembles, finding herself unable to draw herself away from this physical connection, the feeling of running her fingers through his hair, the feeling of his hand on her cheek. She lets him push her, allowing herself to be pushed back against the cold surface of the vehicle, slowly eliminating the space between them. She does not know how to stop, how to breathe--- -- -

Until he breathes for her.

Finally, the air struggles not to reach her lips, an entrance forming from the break between their lips. There is no shame to be seen on her features, only conviction, a hypothesis with evidence backing it. Her tongue wets her lips carefully before she attempts to explain.

“OUTLET.” It was a solution that had not yet been explored--to divert his attention from his temper. Clearly, it had worked.

#prideanddiscipline #( i didn't think i'd write this much???? )#( like...... HOW ?? )#⇢ �� ʀᴇᴘᴏʀᴛɪɴɢ ... [ convos. ]#⇢ ❝ ᴘᴏssᴇ ʀᴇᴍᴀɪɴs ! [ after ffviii. ]#long post

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unixcommerce · 5 years ago

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Top Junk Removal Franchises for 2020

They say one man’s trash is another man’s treasure. Whatever you call it, Americans have a lot of junk, and more and more people are looking to get rid of it. The result is a junk removal industry that is growing. And junk removal franchises are an opportunity to take advantage of this growth.

According to EPA.gov, Americans generate 4.51 pounds of trash per person per day! With all this waste, you can see the potential for entrepreneurs looking at junk removal franchises as a business. Research from Global Markets Insights shows a market value of $1 trillion annually worldwide for the waste management industry. ResearchandMarkets.com projects an $80.7 billion market in the U.S. alone by 2023.

So, what do junk removal companies haul as part of the service they provide? This depends on the junk removal franchise. Old furniture, refrigerators, stoves, washing machines, carpeting, and televisions are on the list for nearly all companies. Some companies do commercial hauling of computers and printers. Most franchises will not haul away hazardous waste, however.

Many trash hauling businesses are local independent companies. Often they double as moving companies. After all, people take the opportunity when moving to cull down their possessions. Besides, both types of businesses need similar skills and equipment. So there’s a natural connection between a moving service and hauling.

But aspiring entrepreneurs today may want to take advantage of the branding and professional marketing that junk removal franchises provide. The franchising benefits help them stand out from the competition to achieve success.

7 Junk Removal Franchises

Below are our picks for the top junk removal franchises.

1. Two Men and a Truck

When two of Mary Ellen Sheets’ sons went to college in 1985 and left their small moving business, she decided to take over. By 1989 she began to sell franchises and today the company has more than 300 franchises worldwide.

Two Men and a Truck has over 3,000 trucks and says it has a 96% referral rate. This is a great number if you are starting out as a new franchisee. However, the company is more than a junk removal franchise. It is now a full-service business offering storage, boxes and supplies, long-distance moving and packing services.

The initial investment for a franchise has two options. The mini-market start-up costs run between $100,000 and $192,000 and standard market start-up costs run between $179,000 and $585,000. There is also an ongoing royalty fee of 6% and 1% for the ad royalty fee.

2. 1-800-GOT-JUNK?

Since 1989, 1-800-GOT-JUNK? has been hauling unwanted items. The founder of 1-800-GOT-JUNK, Brian Scudamore, started the company when he was 19 years old. The goal of his business was to find a way to pay for his college tuition.

The $700 he spent on a used pick-up truck has now grown to a multi-million-dollar company with three different brands. In 1998 the company started making franchises available. And it now has around 160 franchises in the U.S., Canada, and Australia. Although 1-800-GOT-JUNK? says it is the largest junk hauling service in the world, it has limited franchises available for sale.

The company provides its franchise owners with training in the classroom and the field to ensure owners understand the business. Additionally, it offers ongoing operational and marketing support. Add in propriety software, email marketing, SEO and co-op advertising to the support list.

Another essential support is a centralized call center. This center handles all sales, services and dispatch by customers looking for junk haulers. For new entrepreneurs, this removes a lot of the costs associated with junk removing services.

The initial investment is around $210,000, with royalty fees of 8% of gross revenue. There are also other fees associated with support and operations including Customer Relationship Management (CRM) fee, marketing fund, and a renewal fee.

3. Junk King

Junk King was founded in 2005 by Michael Andreacchi and Brian Reardon. Today the company has 105 franchises in the United States and Canada.

With bigger trucks, larger territories and recycling up to 60% of the junk they haul, the company says in 2014 it was the highest-ranked customer service organization in North America.

For those looking to buy into a franchise, Junk King provides multiple revenue streams including consumer and residential income; a commercial and industrial business; government contracts; and recycling. Junk King says each channel builds a network with a community presence in its territory. The goal is to make a diversified income stream from services — one that is recession-resistant with stable month-to-month revenue.

Junk King is also one of the few junk removal franchises offering a national 800 number and call center support. This goes along with extensive marketing support for business owners. Local marketing with direct mail, couponing, and target offers along with local PPC ( e.g., Google Ads) and national SEO are some of the marketing tools franchisees get.

The total franchise cost for a market of 450,000 – 650,000 people is $89,850 to $175,440?. The amount will depend on costs such as vehicles, travel costs for training, inventory, office and warehouse lease, signage and more.

4. J Dog Junk Removal

By providing franchise opportunities exclusively for veterans, J Dog Junk Removal has carved out a niche for itself. The company was founded by Jerry Flanagan, an Army veteran and entrepreneur, in 2011.

The business started out with a two-person team in a Home Depot parking lot in 2011. There are now 200 franchises across 31 states. The only thing JDog Junk Removal doesn’t haul away is hazardous waste. So, everything from appliances to yard waste, furniture, tires, scrap metal and more is fair game for this junk removal franchise.

The service this company provides to its franchises includes 13 hours of on the job training along with 27 hours of classroom training. The marketing support includes leads from the company’s website.

The leadership team supports new franchise business owners by being available and mentoring them through their journey as the owners learn. The company further supports veterans through its J Dog Foundation by donating funds to organizations dedicated to improving the everyday lives of veterans.

The franchise is offered exclusively to veterans, active-duty military, and their families. And with that in mind, the startup cost is lower than other franchises. The initial investment for a franchise is $29,850 – $110,070 with an ongoing franchise fee of $400 -$2,000 per month.

5. Junkluggers

Josh Cohen borrowed his mom’s SUV to start Junkluggers in 2004. By 2012 he had franchises available for sale. Today there 24 franchises providing hauling services including addressing the needs of hoarders.

The company has a solid training program that includes 18 hours of on the job training and more than 30 hours of classroom training. It can take 8 – 12 weeks before franchises can get going with their new business.

As junk removal franchises go, this is a company fully dedicated to providing environmentally friendly services. By 2025 it wants to keep all hauled items out of landfills by reusing, donating, recycling, and upcycling.

The initial investment for a Junkluggers franchise can cost between $105,435 – $222,210. The ongoing royalty fee is 5 % – 7% along with an ad royalty fee of 2%. The company also requires a net worth of $300,000 and liquid cash of $85,000.

If you happen to be a veteran with an honorable discharge you can get a $5,000 discount off the initial franchise fee.

6. Bin There Dump That

Bin There Dump That takes a different approach to getting rid of your things. The company provides dumpsters so customers can take their time throwing away their stuff. There are now more than 110 franchises across the U.S. providing the services.

Customers can rent and use dumpsters of different sizes for up to seven days, on their own property. The company then comes to pick up the dumpster from customer locations.

Bin There Dump That franchises give the ability to increase revenue with additional services. Although it provides residential friendly dumpsters, the company says half of its customers are contractors. For franchisees, this means another source of income from a different industry segment.

The investment for franchises has a startup cost of $75,000 to $128,250. This includes an initial franchise fee of $38,000 to $42,000 along with an ongoing royalty fee. For the first two years, the operations royalties are discounted. This the company says is to give the new franchise operators time to build their customer base and establish a market presence.

Year 1 royalty = $6,000 per year, per truck ($500/month), year 2 royalty = $9,000 per year, per truck ($750/month) and year 3+ royalty = $12,000 per year, per truck ($1000/month).

7. College Hunks Hauling Junk

In 2003 a group of friends in college borrowed a cargo van and started hauling unwanted items. By 2007 they were selling franchises. College Hunks now has more than 100 franchisees in 250 territories nationwide.

College Hunks Hauling Junk donates or recycles 70% of the items it hauls. This includes attic and storm clean-outs along with trash, tires, and yard waste in addition to the regular items.

The support options include 55 hours of on the job training and 53 hours of classroom training as well as marketing, social media, website development and more.

The average revenue of franchises grew 113% in the past 7 years and jumped by $121,000 in 2019 with average sales per unit of $1.25 million.

Starting a franchise requires at least $50,000 in liquid capital and a net worth of $200,000. The overall amount in the initial investment is $95,700 to $231,200. This includes at least $40,000 to $60,000 for the initial franchise fee. There is a 7% ongoing royalty fee and 2% for ad royalty.

Attractiveness of Franchises

The junk removal industry has evolved into sophisticated businesses with tight systems and marketing. And that shows why franchises fit right in.

One of the benefits of franchises is they offer entrepreneurs a proven business model to get their new venture going. This is especially important for companies striving to be the best in their industry and location. You can always start your own junk hauling business from scratch. But if you would love a head start, you have solid options from successful franchises. Here are some franchise ideas to consider.

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This article, “Top Junk Removal Franchises for 2020” was first published on Small Business Trends

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businessreviewguidenow · 5 years ago

Text

Top Junk Removal Franchises for 2020

7 Junk Removal Franchises

Below are our picks for the top junk removal franchises.

1. Two Men and a Truck

2. 1-800-GOT-JUNK?

3. Junk King

Junk King was founded in 2005 by Michael Andreacchi and Brian Reardon. Today the company has 105 franchises in the United States and Canada.

With bigger trucks, larger territories and recycling up to 60% of the junk they haul, the company says in 2014 it was the highest-ranked customer service organization in North America.

4. J Dog Junk Removal

5. Junkluggers

If you happen to be a veteran with an honorable discharge you can get a $5,000 discount off the initial franchise fee.

6. Bin There Dump That

Customers can rent and use dumpsters of different sizes for up to seven days, on their own property. The company then comes to pick up the dumpster from customer locations.

Year 1 royalty = $6,000 per year, per truck ($500/month), year 2 royalty = $9,000 per year, per truck ($750/month) and year 3+ royalty = $12,000 per year, per truck ($1000/month).

7. College Hunks Hauling Junk

College Hunks Hauling Junk donates or recycles 70% of the items it hauls. This includes attic and storm clean-outs along with trash, tires, and yard waste in addition to the regular items.

The support options include 55 hours of on the job training and 53 hours of classroom training as well as marketing, social media, website development and more.

The average revenue of franchises grew 113% in the past 7 years and jumped by $121,000 in 2019 with average sales per unit of $1.25 million.

Attractiveness of Franchises

The junk removal industry has evolved into sophisticated businesses with tight systems and marketing. And that shows why franchises fit right in.

Image: Depositphotos.com

This article, “Top Junk Removal Franchises for 2020” was first published on Small Business Trends

source https://smallbiztrends.com/2020/06/junk-removal-franchises.html

from WordPress https://businessreviewguidenow.wordpress.com/2020/06/17/top-junk-removal-franchises-for-2020/ via IFTTT

#shoplocal #businessreview

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