#when i was younger and my food issues were less severe- GUESS WHAT?! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

monpalace · 1 year ago

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ships .. (ocarina of time/majora's mask) link/reader, (linked universe) time/reader.

content .. it's only natural you search for your nephew after he enters the lost woods on a dare. you can't have a problem with the hand dealt to you when the beast who gives you shelter is so kind.

warnings .. no beta, we die like the promise i made to finish this before the summer after my junior year ended (i started this in april, it's august). i didn't know where i was going with this after a certain point and i think that's obvious. reader uses she/her pronouns. large, legal age gap (reader is in her 30's - 40's, time is a few hundred years old). less of a fic and more snippets, but it's almost 7.5k+ words. i don't think i explicitly say which link it is, so i guess it's ambiguous? nephew is named because this would be a pain to write otherwise.

notes .. prompted (not inspired!!) by beauty and the beast, but also the batb fanfic i found after my friend showed my an nsfw ao3 tag account on twitter. beelzebub / lord of the flies from fear and hunger was a huge inspo for link / time's physical description but there is leeway for how he can be envisioned. he's still large as shit though lmao. the layout of the manor was this, only because i wouldn't be able to write this without knowing.

supposedly there's gonna be a second part. supposedly.

idk. i might hate this enough to just. not.

The Lost Woods wasn't as intimidating as everyone talked it up to be.

Yes, it felt like the trees moved when you turned your back to them, and, granted, there were a few mobs of monsters that could get the jump on you if you weren't paying attention, but you had managed to get away with a few scrapes the few times it had happened.

The only thing to keep you company was the howling winds that grew in intensity and your own thoughts that were sprawling into whatever corners they could reach, but that was fine. You'd gratefully take decades-old gossip from the next town over instead of the creeping paranoia of what was behind you.

Of course, you would willingly go through this, that, and whatever else one thousand times over if it meant finding your nephew— and to keep yourself from reprimanding yourself from reprimanding the teens that had dared him out into the woods, but that was another thing.

Along your investigation, you'd found a broken trail of breadcrumbs that led to nothing when you followed them. They were torn pieces of fabric from his clothes, just big enough to be noticeable but small enough to keep himself protected from the elements.

(You'll forever be thankful that a younger your drilled the idea into his head.)

You'd long since discovered calling his name was useless. The only thing you've managed to do was draw the attention of a few wandering stalfos dressed in clothes from centuries ago.

The ones that had managed to find weapons were always the most painful to deal with.

If your determination weren't so established, you would've lost your sanity within the first day.

Food and water were no issue, you were smart enough to pack more than a week's worth of both. There were non-perishable options and several choices for your nephew when you found him; he'd no doubt have his fair share of cravings after being lost for so long.

(Three days was an eternity to you.)

Just before the sun had reached its crest in the sky, you'd realized that there were more empty clearings than trees. Wildlife had become scarce as well.

Where deers and wolves previously ran abundant, birds and squirrels that ran from the smallest of noises replaced them.

The wind had calmed, at least. It no longer wanted to push and shove you in whatever direction it pleased or steal the bag full of items you brought along. You didn't have to hug your sweater to your chest in fear of it being ripped from your arms either.

Instead, it was still.

Admittedly, the clearing gives you more paranoia than anything else.

When your mind starts to wander to places you'd rather it not reach, you begin to hum a quiet tune to yourself— your nephew's favorite— and allow it to ground you.

You were here for a reason. You wouldn't leave until you found him. You'll be fine until you find him, and you'll find some way to live in the forest that refuses to let its inhabitants go peacefully.

It's hours later when you hear the first sound of life (or suspended death) that doesn't feel like a threat— though, in hindsight, you should've been smarter and more suspicious of it when you first heard it.

A high-pitched instrument repeats each croon you let out, eventually taking over and silencing you. You follow the tune without much of a thought. If it were some sort of elaborate trap to lure you in, you couldn't be mad at yourself if you fell for it.

Clusters of trees become less and less as you follow the instrument and its recreation of your nephew's song. You call his name and are met with nothing but the music (from an ocarina, you quickly recognize) growing louder as time passes.

To say you're shocked when a large and, admittedly, well-kept manor enters your field of view would be an understatement. It's covered in vines, invasive arrowroots, and spreading flowers, but looks lived in if the smoldering smoke slowly dissipating in the afternoon air was anything to go by.

You couldn't begin to imagine who lived inside before the woods took it over (or what lived in it now). The architecture says it predates the Hero split in four, but you doubted the inhabitants of the floating sky built something so elaborate when they returned to the surface.

Your eyes jump past the crumbling pillars and dilapidated statues to the half-glass double doors that seemed to open on their own.

The music was coming from inside the manor now.

Steeling your nerves and squaring your shoulders, your hand grips tight on the strap of your satchel as you walk up the stone stairs covered in moss. You have to hold onto the guardrail installed next to it just as tight. Looking down, you find the carvings of it sorely separating it from the older antiquity of the manor.

Taking in smaller details (for future escapes or weapons against whatever lived inside, you'd figure out later), you find that the small pools of water that came from the sides of the manor and ran and fell alongside the stairs you climbed held small clumps of straw-colored fur. Some caused the surrounding water to turn into a pink hue that reminded you of fairies you've seen in childrens' books.

(Your hand reaches into the satchel to make sure you brought all of your nephew's well-loved books as well as a novel or two for yourself.)

(You did, thankfully.)

There's a smell filled with musk that permeates the air the closer you get to the manor, thick with amber and ginger and it reminds you of the times you come across a pack of wolves during your childhood.

Upon entering the manor, you find it was strongest in the wing of the manor to your right. It took over almost the entirety of your senses, but it wasn't an unwelcome or overwhelming sensation. If you paid close enough attention, you could sense the homely feeling underneath the ferality of it.

You prayed you'd be able to tell when the beast returned; if it was gone in the first place.

You take close note of how the foyer wasn't truly a foyer with how it was filled with windows rather than walls that led to a courtyard and how the only way to enter the wings of the manor was the winded stairs that connected via the terrace.

You don't fail to notice how the wing coated in the musky scent is coated entirely in shadows despite all the sources of light.

You couldn't decide if you were thankful or filled with loathing at the idea of what roamed on that side of the manor.

It's a struggle to turn your eyes away from the darkened wing of the manor, but you do manage when the music picks up once more from the left wing. It's significantly brighter and doesn't fill you with a sense of dread as the right one does.

Trap be damned, your nephew was here, you knew it— you felt it.

Reaching the top of the stairs, you find that you're inside a parlor room that leads to three other pathways. One was a library, another was a dining room, and the last was a small hallway.

In any other situation, you'd explore some more. The supposed beast that possibly lived in the manor kept everything in better shape than what you'd expect— or hopefully it was the forest spirits that lived throughout the forest.

Hopefully, those same spirits kept your nephew safe.

You have to close your eyes to better determine where the music is coming from, the only thing you can hear beside it and your own breathing being the manor settling. Your ears guide you inside the hall and you find it branches into a corridor, a bathroom, and two bedrooms.

Common sense seems to leave you when you spot the back of your nephew's head. Your breath quickens as you watch him clap along with the ocarina, you force your eyes to keep their clarity when you hear him hum each note just as you remember.

"''ire," you call in a weaker voice than you intended or thought you had. The nickname he claimed he hated so much tumbled from your lips so easily as you rushed inside the room, one arm rushing to remove your satchel while the other reached out to almost check if he was real.

The Lost Woods were known for their tricks, after all.

When he turns to face you, he's scrambling over himself in the bed. You're able to see how he limps on his right ankle and knee, how the entirety of his limbs were wrapped in bandage wrap as though done by a child. There was no blood, so you hold off on checking him over.

(The bandages were stained, thankfully not with blood. It was mostly dust and grime.)

(You'd have to sanitize whatever was wrong.)

You meet him more than halfway when you catch the way he winces and hisses with each movement.

"Auntie— Auntie— Titi!" His voice is airy as he speaks, emotion causing his words to come out as chokes. His arms reciprocated the tight hug you had on him, forcibly keeping his arms from trembling due to either nerves or injuries. "Titi, Titi, Titi!"

The way he says the word makes him sound like some chittering bug. If you listened hard enough, you could tell how his teeth clattered together, but you couldn't decipher if it was from a chill or emotion.

All you wanted to do was keep his head against the crook of your shoulder and neck while you pressed kisses to the crown of his head and kept him as close to you as you could, but you knew better.

Pulling away, you reach back for the satchel that you previously discarded. "What's wrong? What happened?" You force your voice to even out when you speak, hands already reaching for his arms after you sit the bag against your hip.

He shakes his head, but you've known him long enough to know there was something wrong. "They're from when I first went in the forest," he answers, voice quivering. "It's all healed. I think."

He doesn't push your hands away or pull his arms back when you skillfully unravel the bandages, carefully pulling and prodding the scars that littered the skin, and he was telling the truth despite the coloring.

"Did you forage like I taught you? Why are most of them green?"

"The spirits."

"The spirits?"

"And the soldier." He looks over your shoulder as though searching for their figures. "I haven't seen him yet, though."

Your eyes squint as one of your hands rubs over the strange texture of the scar, the other reaching for the antiseptic and clean fabric in your bag. "Are these spirits children or small trees with masks?"

You'd heard of both in legend. No one's ever seen them.

You're not sure which you'd rather watch over your nephew.

His eyes drift to his side before peering back over your shoulder once again. His brows furrow as he thinks of how to answer, head tilting as his pupils dilate.

"Both," he answers, "and ones that look like scarecrows. I asked them to bring you."

You force your gaze to keep itself on your nephew. You wouldn't let it wander to spirits you couldn't even see. "The ocarina?" You instead ask another question jumping around your mind, sucking your tongue in appreciation when he nods. "Smart boy."

An airy laugh leaves him, his face lighting up with a smile. "Learned from the best," he snorts.

You risk pressing kisses to the apples of his cheeks and forehead at his flattery, hands cupping themselves on the nape of his neck to bring him closer.

A younger him would push you away without a second thought, whining on about how you were embarrassing him in front of his friends.

He lets you do so now regardless of the spirits that surround you both.

"What've you been eating?" Your hands drop to his biceps when you pull away. They weren't thin like you'd expect them to be after three days in the forest; they were fatter than they had been before he left. "Who's been feeding you?"

His answer of "the Soldier," is quicker than you would've liked. "He goes out and hunts. He always brings back meat. I think it's deer.. it tastes.. bland."

"He.. cooks it, right?"

Another laugh wracks through your nephew's body. He knows you're only being cautious, but he can't help it.

"All the way through," he hums, flexing his arms when they start feeling stiff. "I think I don't like it because it's not your cooking."

He knows what your response is going to be before he finishes speaking, years of having lived under your guidance making him attuned to the smallest of your movements.

When your expression shifts from being relieved to disappointment with a twitch of your eye, he can tell you're not pleased with his statement.

Dousing the fabric in the antiseptic, you take his arm in your hand and begin wiping it down. "Don't be rude." Your voice takes on a less-than-pleased rasp, speaking lowly as if you knew the Soldier was near; but you still apologize when the sting sets in. "Have you thanked him?"

(You're sure you would continue to speak quietly regardless of the context of the conversation. You didn't want to risk "the Soldier," doing anything unfavorable.)

(Your nephew's words of praise did little to ease your stressed heart.)

"I never know when he's here. He drops the food off while I'm asleep. He brings books and carvings too." He watches as you wrap his arm in another roll of (cleaner) bandages, undoing the old one on his other arm while you prepare another piece of fabric. "The Spirits say I'm the most excitement he's had in a while, so he doesn't mind."

His voice was beginning to grow hoarse from speaking so quietly. You tap his throat to tell him to relax.

"They say he's nice," he continues, doing as told. Tapping the fingers of his now free hand against your shin, he tries to recall what all they've told him.

"I think they said he used to live in another part of the woods when he was a kid?—" His eyes glance back over your shoulder, suddenly becoming sure of himself. "— Ah. They did. They said he left and came back when he was older."

You raise a brow but don't speak your question.

Your nephew takes hold of your retreating hands in both of his.

A clatter and snippy huff outside the bedroom door rouses you from your light sleep.

Nearing a week into your stay at the manor, you'd think you'd be more accustomed to the noise, but you aren't.

You carefully remove your nephew's head from your arm, using even more caution when trying to remove the conjoined weight of several spirits from your legs as you slip out of the bed.

It's hard, but you manage to do so without waking any of them— you hope.

(You still couldn't see any of the Spirits, but over time you could feel when they crowded around you and when the wind moved as they rushed past you.)

The floorboards creak beneath your feet.

You hear the sound of claws scratching against the floor on the other side of the door.

Pressing the crown of your head against the door, you tap your fingers along the handle to give the Soldier a warning and wait a few moments.

If you listened hard enough, you swear you could hear him scurrying into one of the other rooms before he shut the door behind him.

It reminded you of a dog.

Smiling to yourself, you're careful opening the door, keeping your head to it and your eyes on the floor. You turn to the other side of it to close it, waiting for the click of the lockset to speak.

"Are you decent?"

His confused "huh," sounds more akin to a gasp than any other noise.

You rap your fingers against the handle again. "Can I look up?"

"Oh—" he sounds choked. "Yeah— Yes. Yes. You can. Sorry."

"Thank you," you hum, leaning down to pick up the tray of food. It consisted of almost entirely meat with a few vegetables you figure are exclusive to the woods. "For both the food and taking care of my nephew."

There was a thumping noise behind the door, the frequency of it was like a tail beating excitedly.

The Soldier lets out a croaking noise and you know his mouth started moving before his mind was able to catch up. "No, I should thank you for looking for him— and for telling him not to use his name."

You let out an airy laugh. "It's common knowledge where I'm from. I wouldn't be a good parental figure if I didn't."

Another noise leaves the Soldier as you fix yourself to open the door. You can't discern what this one means. "I don't know when they started calling me the Soldier, but it's not— uhm.. A favorite.. of mine."

"Oh?"

"Soldier," he sounds more confident in himself and you don't have the heart to tell him you heard him the first time, "it's a nickname. I don't know where the kids got it, but I don't like it."

Readjusting the tray to rest against your hip and forearm rather than in both your hands, you hum curiously. "So what should we be calling you?"

He pauses longer than you'd think it'd take to remember your own name, but you wait.

"Link."

"Link?"

"Yes."

"Like in a chain?"

".. Yes."

You nod even though you're sure he can't see you. "I'll be sure to tell 'ire."

"Thank you." There's more thumping from behind the door.

"And thank you."

There's another noise from Link you struggle to understand, but you figure it's because he starves for conversation. "I heard what your nephew said about the food, too. I'll try to find something to flavor it with next time I'm out."

"Thank you," you repeat. Your eyes curve with your smile. "He'll greatly appreciate it."

Link raps his fingers against the door in response, but he doesn't say anything. You take that as your queue to reenter the bedroom.

"How come your side of the house is always dark?"

You gently pinch your nephew's elbow and he swats your hand away, leaning impossibly close to the door that separates him and Link.

There are a few moments of silence from the man that 'ire filled with bated breath. Link takes an audible, steadying breath before knocking what you think is his nail against the door.

"I wouldn't want to scare you both off."

It was an answer you expected, but you were disappointed nonetheless.

"Boo," your nephew groans. You're sure Link could hear the pout in his voice if the quiet chuckle he lets out was anything to go by. "You can't be worse than what I've seen out there."

There's genuine intrigue in the noise Link lets out. "Oh? What exactly have you seen then?"

Pure excitement fills your nephew's expression when he turns to look at you from over his shoulder. His fingers tap against the floor restlessly, tongue already listing off whatever monsters he's encountered (read: come up with) in his twelve years of life.

"— but their teeth are the worst! They're poisonous and there isn't a cure for it!"

You have no clue as to what creature he was talking of now. There were at least fifteen of them who injected poison through their teeth, eight of which had no cure.

(You don't have to strain as hard to see the Spirits as you did two weeks ago. The shadows and light shift around then as they move to sit around your nephew, seemingly hooked on your nephew's every word.)

(You remember when he would crowd himself around you similarly whenever you would tell him a story.)

You close the book that sat in your lap more for decoration than entertainment at that point and place a hand over your heart.

"I drew a lot of them too! My aunt brought them with her!" He pushes himself through the motions of standing up before immediately stopping and returning to his seat in front of the door. "I'll show them to you if you eat dinner with us!"

There are a few stammering noises from the other side of the door and yet you can't bring yourself to apologize for your nephew's bargaining.

Your own curiosity was quickly starting to get the better of you against your wishes.

The noise he had made several nights before makes itself heard again. His claws (you discovered those a few nights ago) scratch against the wooden flooring as he moves to sit against the other wall rather than the door, his voice moving with him.

"I don't want to— I wouldn't want— want to disturb you— either of you." His words are muffled by the door and his growing quietness, a regretful lilt stuck in his throat. "But thank you for the offer."

If he truly didn't want to join you and your nephew (and the spirits) for dinner, he was terrible at showing it.

"I know I wouldn't mind," you hum, standing to put away the book. A loud thumping makes the floor vibrate and 'ire has to stifle a laugh. "I wouldn't mind picking up a pot and pan again either."

"No!" Link quickly apologizes for his tone after realizing his outburst. "You don't have to. I wouldn't be a good host if I made you do that."

"Are you scared I'll poison you?"

Your nephew's voice drops to a whisper he swears you won't be able to hear. "She can't. She's the best cook ever."

You're not sure how the two correlate, but you'd take thew compliment.

"She won't?" Link's voice drops to entertain your nephew despite his earlier convictions. It takes on a playful direction, fur rubbing against the wood-tiled floors in excitement (based on prior interactions). "You've never gotten sick? Not once?"

'ire begins to shake his head but quickly stops. "Only from eating too much— which you will do, by the way. Best cook around," he reiterates.

Link chuckles, tapping his fingers against the floor restlessly. It takes him a moment to come up with something to say and neither of you push him to hurry.

You were both too hooked on his every word to do so anyway.

"I'll.." He's shy for all the attention. You wonder when the last time he got so much focus on him outside of the spirits. ".. I'll be sure to think about your offer. Why don't you tell me about a few of your monsters so I have more of an incentive?"

Your nephew jumps on the opportunity while you think over the plethora of recipes in your mind.

It wasn't rare for one of the imps to accompany you outside when you went foraging.

You never strayed too far from the manor— the last time you had been dragged outside of the area you had designated for yourself (and your nephew) by the children, Link had to come and rescue to lot of you before the sun had gotten too low.

Suffice to say, it was a rather humbling experience.

Kneeling, squatting, or sitting on the ground had never been easy on your knees or back, but the grass below you had felt as though it were a pillow hailing from the Heavens itself.

Your body works on picking herbs from the ground before placing them in your bag repurposed for your (new) everyday tasks while your mind wanders elsewhere.

You're humming to yourself when a twig snapping breaks your focus.

It was a nice reminder that the imps hadn't, in fact, accompanied you that day.

Your head lifts to survey the surrounding woods. Your entire body was still, mimicking a deer caught on a hunting trip.

There was nothing immediately in your line of sight that could be seen as a threat, but you had lived a long enough life to know that wasn't enough reason to let your guard down.

You're slow to rise to your feet and your ears are strained as you listen for whatever had made the noise.

"I'm sorry!"

You can feel your body relax when you hear Link's voice call out from behind a tree. You sink back to your knees without much thought, clutching the fabric of your top to calm your battering heart.

You weren't sure what you were going to do if it were an actual danger anyway.

"I didn't mean to scare you," he continues. His arms move and you can see one drop against the side of a tree while the other tightens around the corpse of an animal. "You were so still, I wasn't sure if you were okay."

A quiet, breathless noise leaves you. You're not sure if he could hear it, but you can see his shoulders relax when you do. "You're— You're fine! I just.. didn't know that you'd be out and about at this time."

When the hand not occupied with that week's dinner (barely) lifts to grab ahold of a tree branch, you're shocked to just now find out how tall he is.

"It's not your fault. I didn't know you were out here," he grunts while gently tugging at the branch. "Are you alone?"

Your eyes drop to the flora that surrounds you to not feel so invasive. Your fingers rub against the blades of grass idly when a restless feeling overtakes you. "A few of the kids said they'd join me later, but I'm not too sure when that's supposed to be." A short, genuine laugh leaves you. "I wouldn't be surprised if they forgot."

Link lets out his own, quiet laughter that you can only clue together when you see the entire tree shake in your peripheral. "I wouldn't take it to heart. They say they'll join me in hunting all the time but never do."

"Have you ever given them a stern talking to? I've heard that usually works with spirits."

"They barely listen to me as is. I think you'd have more luck than me."

"Is that an offer?"

"Are you headed home now?"

A strange vice tightens around your heart at his wording while you look through your bag. "Mhm," you hum, standing now that your legs aren't like that of a newborn. "You'll have to remind me of the way, though."

"I can guide you," he hums in reply. "You just can't look back."

Turning your back to him, you're surprised you don't jump when a sharp claw gives a ghostly touch to the center of your back.

You're shocked that you disregard the urge to check over your shoulder every step back to the manor.

You were no stranger to 'ire's night terrors.

They'd gotten better over the past few years as he aged, but all that progress had been undone during the near month you'd been in the forest.

Wiping away the tears that had managed to slip out, you ignore the prickly and uncomfortable feeling that comes with keeping your lulling head up so you can watch him.

You'd done it a thousand times before and would do it one thousand and one more if it meant he felt better.

You don't miss how his grip on your arm tightens when you start humming his favorite song. Your hand trails up to his hairline, nails (claws?) tracing the paint on his face that refused to fade.

You'd spent so long trying to scrub them and the green marks off, you hadn't even realized his skin had started to pale into a sickly grey in patches while darkening into (what looked like) a necrotic black in others.

You didn't even want to think about the changes that had started coming to your body.

You were, however, thankful you weren't thinning into a stalfos.

"You're not as sneaky as you'd like to think."

"How'd you know?"

"I have a young nephew. You learn quickly."

A brief laugh leaves Link from behind the cracked door. Though you didn't face him, you could see the way his eyes illuminated the wall in front of you, even managed to catch on some of 'ire's face.

It was a pretty blue color.

You don't comment on it.

"What's wrong?" Your voice has a deep rasp to it, your hand continuing to stroke your nephew's face even after he begins to calm down.

He'd slowly begun dropping more and more barriers (physical and mental) when it came to communicating with you both, having taken up shadows in their stead. He had gotten more confident in conversation as well, stammering and stuttering less the longer your nephew forced him to talk.

It makes you wonder how long it'd take for him to finally make true on those dinner plans.

"I heard him," Link hums just as quietly, the glow of his eyes moving to instead look over the sleeping spirits that crowded themselves around the space not occupied on the bed. "I was worried. Do you want help with them?"

A soft laugh leaves you when one of the imps buries their head onto your calf as though it were a pillow. "They've been like this since we first got here. 'ire," you press a kiss to his forehead when he rouses, waiting for him to settle before speaking again, "says they like to cling."

"You don't mind?"

"He's not too far off from them nowadays."

"Does he miss anything?"

Laying on your back, you being 'ire's head to rest against your shoulder. Your gaze is finally able to see how he'd take up all of the doorway (and then some) through the crack of the door.

You'd be shocked he hadn't flinched away if it hadn't been for the way his hand reached out to clasp it.

The tips of his fingers reached well past the frame of the door, his claws further, and you could only imagine just how much space he was taking up in the small hallway.

You were confident he could fit five or six of you in his hand without trying.

Your eyes jump back to the three (possibly four?) eyes before he can become self-conscious.

"Almost everything," you answer after pulling yourself from your thoughts. "His clothes, his dolls.. He could go without his friends, though."

His eyes jump from your face to the window as he huffs out a nervous laugh. It makes you wonder if he knows something you don't, but you don't push. "And you?"

"Hmm?"

"And yourself," he clarifies, "what do you miss?"

You're silent.

What exactly did you miss?

The feeling of your village's grass between your toes after the rain, the baker's treats that no other could replicate, being a part of such a tight-knit community, the sun after a particularly muggy morning—

There wasn't any need to be a sap.

"I'm not sure," you finally say after a long period of silence. You hadn't realized your eyes had left Link, yet when you force your gaze back to him, he holds it without issue. "I struggled with becoming attached to things unlike 'ire."

"Hm."

"What?"

"I can't remember the last time someone said something like that."

"You have visitors like us often?"

"More than you'd think."

"And what's become of them?"

The glow of his eyes drops to the sleeping spirits that litter before looking to the window again and you quickly understand.

The hum that leaves your throat is more lackluster than you intended it to be, but given how quickly the topic had changed, you give yourself the grace.

"Well," you start after clearing your throat, "what's something that you miss?"

The manor creaks when Link leans against a wall and his confidence in the movement tells you more than you'd expected.

You don't think you'd ever have the same amount of trust he held in it.

There's a playful tone in his voice when he speaks, one of his hands raised to scratch against his chin. "You'd have to promise not to be dramatic when I say."

"Is it my fault you use such outdated terms thousands of years behind my time?"

Link turns away to stifle his laughter, shrouding the room in darkness and forcing your eyes to strain with it.

"I can't say I've had the easiest experience understanding you or your nephew's sayings," he hums, drowning you in the light of his eye when he turns back, "the kids have to keep filling me in."

"Shame, and here I thought you'd been closer to my age. Have you been leading me on this entire time?"

Link's claws knock against the wall, his tail wagging against the floor while he huffs his amusement. "Have I? When I don't even know your name?"

If the weight of 'ire wasn't on your shoulder, you're sure you would've had a physical reaction of some sort.

"It'd do you good to not forget it," he hums, the movement of his tail slowing until it stops entirely. "Titi and Auntie, as much as I hate to say it, won't do much good."

Another lackluster noise leaves you as the arm trapped underneath your nephew lifts to rub your thumb during his forehead. "How fun."

"The kids are too attached to do anything now." The door slowly creaks open before stopping. It shuts so there's only a crack instead. "You'll be fine to share your name now."

"You never answered my question."

"Which one?"

"I haven't asked a lot," you huff before taking a softer tone, eyes rolling closed. "What is it that you miss?"

Link quietly snorts, muffling it by pressing his face to the door. He takes a steadying breath before saying a quiet, "a lot, I suppose. I can't name just a few things." A low noise leaves him, it's similar to a growl. "My friends? Playing music as well— my hands aren't good for much but skewering these days. My horse, Epona, too. She was the prettiest mare."

"Is she red with a white mane?"

"You saw the kids' drawings?"

"I've seen her before, I think— or maybe it was a hallucination?" The hand stroking 'ire's forehead stops as you scrounge your memories. "When I saw her outside the forest, I knew it was real. Another fated hero was mounting her."

You'd like to think yourself a master of figuring out what each noise he makes is meant to mean, but the one Link lets out once you finish speaking is short and of a higher pitch than normal.

When he begins to stammer over his words as he had when you first interacted with him, it feels like years' worth of progress has been undone.

"I— uhm— You— I don't— err— Thank—"

His tail thumps three times before he knocks his head against the door with a heavy groan. He lets out a quiet "Hylia, be damned," you couldn't help but think he hoped you wouldn't hear to go along with his frustration.

"It's been a long night," you finally prompt. "You'd best get some shut-eye before 'ire bombards you with more from his imagination, yeah?"

"Yeah," Link answers in a weak voice. "Yeah," he repeats to himself more than anything, "of course. Good night," he steps away from the door. "Sleep well."

"Same for you."

The night Link finally takes you and 'ire up on your offer for dinner, your nephew and the spirits had taken to floating around the east wing's dining room to prepare it for such a grand event.

"Titi, titi!" One of the Kokiri exclaims, tugging at the fabric of your skirt (that Link had made out of a spare bedsheet). Her voice had a strange echo to it— all of them, really— and had given you migraines up until you'd finally become accustomed to it. "'ire says that you'll make your world-famous pudding! Will you? Will you?"

You ignore her exaggeration in favor of forcing yourself to wrench your eyes away unless you wanted her puppy dog face to work on you. "Should I? I.. I can't say any of you have been acting well enough to deserve it.."

Even in your peripheral, it's not hard to miss the absolutely crushed look on her face. Her eyes were wide and her bottom lip wobbling like she was about to cry despite your joking tone.

"But why—y," she whines, dragging the last syllable on while hiccuping on her breath as she went on. You know the tears pooling in her eyes are just as fake as your rejection of her request— but you know just as well who'll win the battle at the end of the day.

"I—" hiccup. "Want—" hiccup. "Cake—" hiccup.

You raise a brow. "Pudding or cake, sweetheart? I can't make both."

The girl begins to climb your back while you return to sautéing the vegetables, arms wrapping around your neck so she can press her cheek against yours. "Cake! No, pudding! No! Cake! No—"

"I'll tell you what," you interrupt, taking the pan from over the open flame once the food is charred to your liking. Your skin thanks you when you step away and douse the fire, the arid air leaving through the open window. "Why don't you ask a few of the others which they want then we can try and get Link to bake it after dinner?"

The girl jumps off your back with stars practically filling her eyes. She cries out for several names while she runs off, hands clapping excitedly as she shouts out the change in plans.

You're left in peace until your nephew enters with his journals clutched between his arms, bouncing between his feet while he watches you finish plating each food item on dishes you could only dream of owning where you're from.

"D'you think he'll come?" 'ire's voice is low, almost as though scared Link will hear. You know he does if the night of his nightmares a few months ago were anything to go by— but he didn't need to know that.

"He'd better," you answer in an equally low tone. "I didn't spend so long slaving away at this just for him not to."

"Is that a threat?"

The plates in your hands aren't spared by the flinch that wracks through your body. Your reflexes are quick to catch them before any of the food can hit the floor.

'ire, on the other hand, has no issue with voicing his shock in the form of a scream, scurrying from the doorway while dropping his journals. He jumps behind you, hands clutching the fabric of your skirt while he hides himself behind your hip.

"Well?"

Placing a hand over your racing heart after putting the plates down, your other hand comes down to rest on 'ire's head. "It's rude to sneak up on people, you know."

The blond fur of his chest rustles with his laughter. It was difficult to see much else other than that, what with the way he hid himself behind the wall connecting the kitchen to the pantry.

You hadn't even heard his footsteps or creaking floorboards when he first approached. Had he been there the entire time and 'ire hadn't seen him, or had he only walked in after 'ire entered?

You wondered if he was naturally quiet or if he just learned which floorboards were loose.

"Is it sneaking when you were expecting me?" Link's voice is lighter than it usually is, a slight tremble could even be heard if you focused on it enough. He rocks on his feet and briefly leans forward, a less organic-looking side profile coming into view before leaving right after. "If I knew I would be this unwelcomed, I—"

"That's a joke, right?" 'ire stomps away from your side while he speaks, stepping over his discarded compilations of works to stare up at Link with wide eyes. Your nephew ignores the way Link's hands raise to cover his face and how he backs away as soon as he pivots in his foot to face him. "You're not actually gonna pansy out, right?"

Your feet lead you to the two before you can have much of a thought. "Zaire," you say in a terse voice, taking hold of his shoulder and bringing him against your front so you can stop him from interrogating the poor man. "Don't be rude."

Whatever argument he has dies on his tongue when he takes a good, long look at Link. His mouth gaped open like a fish, one of his fingers lifting so he could push it into the fur of his stomach, watching the skin beneath sink with the force of it as though it were the most interesting thing in the world.

"Woah."

If you had any less sense of dignity, you'd let yourself have the same reaction.

"Don't be rude," you reiterate, pushing Zaire's hand down until it finally reaches its rightful place at his side.

"No," Link breathes into his palms, clearing his voice to try and rid it of the anxiety (and, possibly, humiliation). "He's— he's fine. This wouldn't be the first time someone responded like that. I'd be more concerned if he did any other way."

Zaire shrugs your hands from your shoulders, stepping until he is toe-to-claw with Link. "Then why are you hiding your face? It can't be that bad," he says, tugging at the fur of Link's elbows, rubbing them between his fingers so he could better be accustomed to the texture.

Spreading his fingers enough so you both could see the four holes in the inorganic material, Link lets out another heavy breath. "I'm self-conscious," he can tell the answer doesn't please Zaire and continues speaking, "It's been.. too long.. since I've shown anyone either of my faces."

"A mask is.." Your voice falters off when you finally find the words to speak, losing them again when you fail to find a proper way to articulate your thoughts.

"It's mostly you and the kids, no?" You try again when you figure out a way to better word it. "Is a mask not.. Is it.. necessary?"

When the blue light that emits from his eyes lifts to look at you, an unidentifiable emotion shoots through you. He holds your gaze for a few, silent moments before turning his head and dropping his hands.

"It's like a second skin," he simply offers.

"Sad," Zaire sighs, backing away and turning until he stood in the center of the kitchen. "Can you still eat with it? Like I said, Auntie is the best cook in all the realms and you have to taste it to believe it."

Curse your nephew's skill of lightening a mood.

Rather than let his insecurities keep him from looking at either of you for the duration of the night, Link looks down at Zaire with a playful jolt of his shoulders. "It's not fused with my face."

Zaire's eyes curl into crescents while he grabs two of the plates from the counter. "Good!" His tail (a terrifying new addition when he first started changing) wraps around the third dish, walking himself past the two of you in the pantry so he could place each one on the dining table. "You'll love this then! Auntie," you don't miss the way he adds your name causally, "always makes this on a big day!"

Link repeats your name under his breath before doing the same with Zaire's. He lets out a thoughtful nod as each one rolls off his tongue, one pair of eyes looking at you while the other continues to follow your nephew.

He wrings his hands together when he catches the way you examined him oh-so-carefully, arms crossed with your head tilted.

"It's nice," he gulps as though every inch of nervousness had reentered his body. "It's a nice name. I like it. It suits you."

You don't know if you were teasing him prior, but you decide to do so now.

"I'd hope so." You pat a hand against his arm as you walk into the kitchen, ignoring the oily feel of his fur. You ignore the feeling of him watching and instead focus on searching through the cupboards for the drink you had foraged around to make just days before. "I could say the exact same for you, thankfully."

"Now, why don't you have a seat so I can play host this time?"

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definitely-not-a-wasp · 3 years ago

Note

I'm okay with a bunch of disorganized rambling honestly 😂. But if I had to narrow it down then I guess I want to know about main and side characters and how they compare to the original?

I know that tumblr is the Prime Site for disorganized rambling, but I have perfectionism issues. But that is a great question, nonnie, and I will be happy to ramble is a slightly less disorganized fashion.

When reading Maximum Ride as a somewhat-formed adult who discovered they enjoy English classes about 3.5 years ago, I noticed that JP, when writing, doesn't understand consistency. At all. Which means, in many ways, I have a free sandbox to work with.

Spoilers for my rewrite WIP, because I strongly believe that if a story would no longer be good if one had spoilers, then it wasn’t a good story in the first place.

I'm trying to keep the backstories the same, plus or minus the scientific method and a few characters (RIP my OCs. I want to bring you back so bad but it wouldn't fit with the thematic narrative). I've mostly kept their (starting) abilities the same, too. Without further ado, I'm going to introduce some WorldBuilding. (If I'm good at nothing else, I'm good at world building)

First off. Logically.

How are they getting Cable?

How are they getting internet?

How are they getting money to eat and stuff?

JP's answer: handwave it off. Sometimes you need to ignore logistics for the sake of plot. This is an answer I'd accept from an author that I like, such as Julie Kagawa, that makes amazing worlds, characters, and narratives that I will happily handwave a few things that wouldn't work in the real world. James Patterson, on the other hand, did not make any of that; he made a cool concept, some good rough-draft characters, and nothing else, and therefore this is an unforgivable sin.

Wasp's answer: They are not getting any of that.

Introducing Cottagecore.

The house is off the grid. Solar Panels and a wind turbine create electricity. They have their own well. They grow their own food, raise livestock for eggs, milk, and wool, and trap fish for meat. They get money through dumpster diving and pawning. They still have to steal half of the necessities they can’t make themselves. They do have a TV, but it can access about three channels on a clear day. Internet is only a thing when they go to the public library.

Giving the flock a background that��s heavy in farming and livestock rearing shores up the plot holes mentioned above, but in my opinion, ties the flock more tightly to the environment, thus giving them something tangible to lose when they have to leave the E-shaped house. Because they’re not just leaving a house and a safety net— they’re leaving their entire way of life with no promise of getting it back. It also gives them a tangible connection to the earth in case I want to actually pursue the global warming themes.

Main Characters

Maximum “Max” Ride (Birthname: nonexistent)

First off, I'm letting her be Latina, James Patterson.

In the original, Max was very much the headstrong, independent, action girl. Leaning into Strong Female Character (TM), but overall she had a strong, solid foundation and enough character consistency through the first three books for me to not have to just make an entire new character. However, I felt that she was, in some ways, a bit too Action-Girl and Strong and Capable. Yes, Max is incredible and competent, but she’s also fourteen. She’s a child.

In the rewrite, Max’s character is still headstrong, independent, capable, and sometimes not the best at listening to others. All of that’s the same. But she’s that way not because of girlboss energy, but because there’s no one else to do it. She doesn’t want to lead, necessarily. She wants to get some rest and let someone else handle the problems life keeps throwing at her. But she knows if she did that, the responsibility of leader would fall to Fang and Iggy, and she can’t ask that of them. She doesn’t want to place that burden on anyone else (Look, there’s a reason I chose Ayano’s Theory of Happiness as one of her signifier songs, okay?). Her narrative is very much centered around burden, and also around loss. She lost her cultural heritage when she was taken away from her birth family, she lost her childhood to being a leader, she lost a good deal of her friends to the school (RIP my OCs), she lost Jeb, and then she lost her stability. And she’s going to lose a lot more before the end of the story. So a lot of her character arc deals with learning that there are some things she can’t fix, some things that can’t be recovered. She can’t get the E-shaped house back. She can’t get her Little Baby Angel back, even after they rescue her. She can’t get her friends back from the school. And instead of working so hard to recover those or find something to replace them, she has to learn to live with that sense of loss and move on with her life without feeling guilty for leaving things behind. And she has to learn that asking for help and sharing her burden is selfish or weak.

Other changes I made that don’t necessarily fit into her narrative arc, but you asked for rambling so rambling you shall get:

Max hallucinates, because mental illness is also a prominent theme in the rewrite. She doesn’t have a psychotic disorder, but her C-PTSD causes visual/audio hallucinations, especially when she’s stressed or sleep deprived.

Max ends up having a Gender Discovery throughout the story and goes by He/She pronouns eventually. I don’t know when, but it will happen.

As far as genetic modifications/special quirks go, she can fly faster than the rest of the flock, but not 300 miles per hour. She averages about sixty mph with diving speeds of 240. She cannot breathe underwater or shut down her organs on command. She also has the Super Special Power to predict the weather, but that’s not because of genetics, it’s because she has chronic pain in her right arm that gets worse when weather fronts change.

Her favored weapon is her trusty rebar that she picked up from a condemned building. I think she’s going to name it eventually but I don’t know what yet.

Fang (Birth name: Gabriel Xue)

In canon, Fang is characterized in early books by being the “dark, strong, silent type”. He’s probably the most reserved member of the flock, to the point of falling into the Brooding Mystery Man trope in parts of the book. They care a lot, but they’re not the best at conveying that, especially with the younger members of the flock, and at times their high empathy leads them to making mistakes. Despite the high empathy, he’s often compared to a robot due to his lack of expression and external emotions.

Well, first change is that they’re not a man, so jot that down—

If Max’s narrative is centered around burden and loss, I would probably say that Fang’s is centered around humanity and moving on. None of the flock was treated as human while in the school, but Fang was more often than not treated like a wild animal due to “behavioral issues”, and therefore had and continues to have a difficult time considering themselves real and alive, let alone human. This manifests through a several different ways— where in canon Fang definitely had a ‘fight’ reaction, in the re-write they have a ‘freeze’ or ‘shut down’ instinct. They’re selectively mute for multiple reasons (including derealization, jaw pain, the fact that they didn’t learn how to speak until they were 10, and genuinely forgetting it’s something they’re capable of), a period of Cotard’s syndrome, and a tendancy towards self-loathing and self-sacrifice. In short, Fang is still halfway stuck in the mindset that most of the flock grew out of when they escaped in the school, and doesn’t know how to move past it.

Much of their character arc revolves around not necessarily seeing themselves as human, but learning to treat themselves as human even when they don’t feel like one (or even feel real), and knowing that just because they don’t feel human all the time doesn’t mean anyone else can treat them the same. They never start easily expressing their emotions, and they’re always going to be selectively mute, but they learn to accept that those aspects of themself aren’t character flaws or signs that they’re sub-human.

Other additions to Fang’s character include:

They don’t get their hair cut in New York. It stays long through the entire series. They have the longest hair in the flock by the end of the series, and they can wear it in so many styles.

Fang uses they/it pronouns because themes of reclaiming the weapons used against it and, more importantly, Gender.

They’re actually really good at spelling compared to the rest of the flock, because they and Iggy communicate with Print-On-Palm when they’re nonverbal, and they’re nonverbal for some pretty long stretches of time.

They and Max have... zero romantic tension. At all. There is none. The number of times Max calls them her sibling/little sibling in the first arc alone is staggering, and that will not change.

Igneous “Iggy” (Birthname: Jamsetta “Jamie” Griffiths)

I’ve talked about Iggy before. Canon doesn’t give us much to go off of, but from what’s shown, he’s smart, sarcastic, has sharper edges than Fang and Max, and also has a sizable ruthless streak. So that’s what I have to go off of.

The big difference between Iggy and Fang&Max is that Iggy has a much better memory of the School. Most of the flock have areas (months or years) that they don’t remember, or people that they’ve blocked from their mind, but Iggy... doesn’t. So he’s the one that remembers all of the other AVIAN test subjects that were old enough to have names and identities but died due to complications. Max might have the burden of leadership, but he has the burden of memory. And that has lead to both a massive fucking guilt complex, because why did he survive when they didn’t, and, as mentioned above, a ruthless streak that he doesn’t shy away from.

Which is to say, by the end of the story, Iggy has the highest kill count.

I love, love writing Iggy next to Max and Fang. I love writing Iggy next to Gazzy and Nudge. Because, I say this with all of the love of the world, but Iggy is not a good person. He is loyalty and love incarnate, and the world can burn down if he and his siblings are safe. Max and Fang will always try to save as many people as they can. They will wonder what’s wrong with them the first time they kill and don’t have a mental breakdown about it. They are good in a way that Iggy is not. He’s okay with killing Erasers. He’s okay with killing humans. He’s okay with killing people who might not necessarily deserve it, if they show themselves as a threat or are simply in the blast radius. He knows perfectly well that most of those Erasers he’s murdering are four and five and he is okay with that, because a lot of the AVIANs were that age when they died. (Yeah, in the rewrite it’s not Fang who has an issue with Ari; it’s Iggy who wants the 7-year-old wolf-boy dead.)

And this is, of course, juxtaposed with Iggy being really, really good with Nudge and Gazzy (especially in the beginning). Because, again, he actually remembers being a child. He remembers a lot of kids that died and is therefore fiercely protective of the kids that didn’t, as well as fiercely protective of the innocence that he never got. So he’s the one that cooks their favorite foods when they’re having a bad day, always makes time when they want to talk about something, and convinces Max to let them go to that toy store in New York because, yeah, he Max and Fang aren’t kids. They never were. But Nudge, Gazzy, and Angel can be. (And if he has to be a murderer to preserve that, then he’s perfectly okay with that.)

He and Angel don’t get along very well, though. The telepath doesn’t like hanging out with the person with the most clear memories of the school.

Other additions:

Iggy is trans and says trans rights

He also has paranoid episodes, because C-PTSD. Sometimes they’re very helpful. Sometimes they are not.

I actually decided that he’s one of the flock that doesn’t meet their parents. I know in canon he did, but I always found that very clunky because it didn’t add to his character. He was one of the characters who, until it was convenient for the plot, seemed to care the least about his family. I’d much rather give that to a character whose arc would benefit from it.

Iggy! Gets! Older Sibling Rights! Seriously, he’s two months younger than Fang, he is just as capable.

Iggy does not know braille because Jeb decided it wasn’t necessary for him to know. Iggy is also the best speller in the flock, because Print-on-Palm was the only way to talk to Fang for a solid year. Yes he mocks everyone over this.

Iggy is the only member of the flock that enjoys swimming and can take into the air from water. Everyone else in the flock is incredibly jealous.

Nudge (Birthname: Monique Robinson)

If Iggy is defined by his memories, Nudge is his polar opposite. She was seven when she left the School, but she has next to no memories of it. She is missing a lot of time in the first year she escaped. And that causes... a lot of things. It makes her feel disconnected from her older siblings, it gives her the ability to function in society in a way the other’s can’t, it lets her feel less grief over the ones that didn’t make it and she doesn’t remember, it makes her feel guilty that she doesn’t remember what she’s old enough to know.

Basically, in order for me to keep the character of Nudge as I saw her (more extroverted, not afraid of the world, fascinated with humans like her siblings aren’t, desiring to fit in instead of isolate), I had to put a little bit of distance between her and the flock. Of course, she loves them— that will in no way change— but she’s old enough that she should remember the school (and her dead friends) unlike Gazzy and Angel, but she can’t, and she very much fears forgetting the flock if anything happens to them. So she’s trying desperately to keep the flock close and wants desperately to experience the world at the same time, and doesn’t know what to do when she can’t have both. That’s her biggest character conflict throughout the series, along with that in-between area where she’s not quite where her older siblings are but understands so much more than Gazzy and Angel, and where she stands in that.

So yeah. Nudge’s journey is that in looking for belonging in the world, in her family, and in herself.

This is why she’s one of the ones that gets to find her parent, James Patterson.

Other additions include:

She never straightens her hair. Never. Her resources at the E-shaped house aren’t perfect, but she still has learned how to take care of her hair and has a few styles she cycles through.

She becomes the default person Max sics on people when the flock is trying to befriend them. Also their de-facto diplomat around strangers.

As in canon, she does take some time away from the flock to expirience ‘normal life’. This does not last long due to the stress of being separated from her siblings/not being able to help them and [REDACTED]

Nudge is... not the only person in her head. I’m not focusing on it much because she doesn’t actually know and neither does the flock (I don’t know if they ever figure it out during the series, either), but she has dissociative identity disorder. She’s not aware of her alter(s?). Her alter isn’t super aware of her, either.

The alter that I’ve developed is named Oxy and is not super aware of the outside world. In her eyes, she’s still seven and they’re still at the School. She would not recognize the body as her own if she looked in a mirror.

Nudge actually leaves the flock for a while to pursue her dream of living a normal life. She deserves it. She learns how to make muffins and the basics of software development. These things are unrelated.

Gasman (Birthname: No first name, surname “Falk”)

Honestly, writing Gazzy is kind of hard for me. Partially because I’m not great at writing kids, and partially because I feel like he’s a pretty surface-level character in-series that... isn’t super compelling in canon. But even if that’s the case, I try to treat all of my characters with respect, so here we go. In my rewrite, he escaped when he was four, which was half a lifetime ago for him, so his memories are ill-defined. Therefore, he managed to circumvent a lot of the trauma that the rest of the kids have, and not in the way Nudge did, which is by creating an elaborate blockage in her memories.

Which means Gazzy... really doesn’t know how to deal with all of this traumatic stuff happening. So much of his development turns out to be a coming-of-age narrative. Learning how to deal with the horrors of what his siblings grew up with. Learning the fears that they had the entire time. Losing his innocence when everyone around him never had it in the first place, and being so terribly alone because of it. Because, really, how can you explain such a deep loss to people who never had what he had? How can they help in a way that matters?

Also, relationship-wise, I’m slowly deteriorating the relationship between him and Iggy. Slowly. Or, changing it, at least. Gazzy hero-worships Iggy in-series, and for good reason, because Iggy is super cool, especially in the eyes of an eight-year-old, and especially when Iggy has taken care to cultivate parts of his behaviors to be child-friendly. Part of growing up is seeing the flaws in your heroes, and Gazzy has to learn how to deal with it. End of the series Gazzy is much less closer to Iggy than beginning of the series Gazzy, and neither of them are really okay with that, but they learn to live with it, because that’s really all they can do.

Notes:

I’m keeping the mimickry! It plays a bit of a bigger role because that’s how Gazzy learned to talk. I’m debating whether or not he has his own voice or if he just borrows the flock’s as he sees fit. He also uses it to scream really loudly and occaisonally burst the eardrums of Erasers.

At one point he cosplays as Jessica Jones. No you don’t get any more context than this.

He has a horrible sense of fashion.

I’m changing his name eventually because it sucks. He’s either going to change it to Gannet, Garrison, or Ivy Mike temporarily, and permanently to Zephyr. (I never said I was going to make his name GOOD, because he’s eight, but it’s changing. You’re welcome.)

Angel (Birthname: No first name, surname “Falk”)

It’s just... a completely different character, at this point. I’ve changed so many things about her in an attempt to make her consistent and act like a six-year-old and work in the whole “telepath before she has a solid sense of identity”, so it’s a different character. Also, I’m tired of writing coherently or in paragraphs, so have some interesting facts.

She has epilepsy! Super severe epilepsy! I think she might also develop juvenile MS in the future because her brain has so many scars from being a fucking six-year-old telepath. There’s no way she could get out of that unscathed.

She has more memories of the school than Gazzy, but only because she keeps accidentally reading the minds of Max, Fang, and Iggy. On a related note, she interacts with Iggy as little as possible.

The mind reading means that she has a hard time developing as a normal child with a normal sense of identity or reality. She can’t tell how much people are individual people and how much they’re just extensions of her. Conversely, she can’t tell how much of herself is actually her instead of the thoughts/opinions/identities of someone else. It’s... kinda fucked? But also super not-her-fault.

She’s albino because white wings. Also, because I thought it was cool. This also means that her vision sucks, though. Also she has the biggest straw sunhat and the most stylish sunglasses a six-year-old can have.

She’s responsible for Max shaving her hair off.

She has the highest swear count because I think it’s funny. She’s the only person allowed to say the fuck word in writing. Everyone else can only say ‘hell’ and the occasionally ‘damn’ but she can say whatever she wants for dramatic and comedic value.

She is NOT THE FUCKING VOICE, J*MES P*TTERSON.

Honorable Mentions

Jeb

I’m skipping Jeb because of how little I care about him. He’s a little bitch, next character.

Ari

STILL HASN’T BEEN REVEALED AS AN ERASER. I’ve been writing for 50,000 words and he’s over here saying ‘nope nope not yet, not dramatic enough’. He’s had speaking lines but has refused to make himself known to Max. I am so frustrated with this seven-year-old wolf-child that I’ve already considered how I would kill him, if I decide I want to kill yet another child in my writing.

So, my main thoughts for Ari is that he... really just drew the short end of the stick in every possible way. While Jeb didn’t sign him up for Eraser expirimentation, he didn’t do anything to stop it, and pretty much cut his losses when he realized this expiriment made a wreck of his ‘perfect, unflawed’ son, because Jeb doesn’t consider children of any species to actually be humans. So, Ari really hates his dad, which makes things complicated, because he also really loves his dad and really wants his approval.

Which means that he also really hates Max, because she’s the child that always got Jeb’s time and attention, even when Ari was human. I think, on some level, he knows that trying to tear Max down to a less-favored level isn’t actually going to help his situation— infighting for the love of an abusive parent won’t make them any less abusive— but he’s also seven, and his development is already severely stunted due to becoming an Eraser, and he doesn’t see ‘leaving ITEX’ as an option like the Flock does. ITEX is his everything. It’s all he’s ever known, and they tell him he’s doing the right thing, and he wants them to love him. He wants his father to love him. He knows that if he ever questions ITEX, his father will never love him. So it must be his older sister that’s ruining his life and being a horrible child, and once Ari drags her back down to his level, Jeb will realize who the best child is and love him properly again.

Ari, on an even deeper level, does care for Max quite a bit, because she’s his older sister and he wants that to mean something in a way that ‘Jeb being his father’ obviously doesn’t. He wants what she made for herself, and he hates the Flock because she loves them and obviously doesn’t love him.

Ari, if anything, is the product of neglect, and both loves and hates everyone who shows a chance of caring about him. And he’s seven, so he can’t notice these patterns, let alone break them.

So. Notes!

He doesn’t look like an adult. I thought that was gross and unnecessary. He’s seven, but he looks closer to thirteen or fourteen. Still young enough that he looks like every Eraser’s little brother, and the Erasers high-key treat him like it.

On a related note, he’s the only Eraser who can talk. The others don’t have the mental capacity or vocal structure to replicate human speech, but they can understand language (at about the level of a two or three year old) and are very good at nonverbal communication. This is why Ari managed to climb the ranks despite only having three years of “service” and also looking like a tween.

He doesn’t have an expiration date because that is SUCH a stupid plot point.

I’m giving him a chainsaw! I don’t know how, I don’t know when, but he deserves to have a chainsaw and GODDAMN I will give it to him.

Emergency and Gene

The OCs that I love and also killed pre-series. They don’t have any scenes, because they’re dead, but their deaths greatly effected Max, Fang, and Iggy, and they are very commonly referenced. Their voices are probably Max’s most common hallucination, to the point where she sometimes pretends they’re ghosts that she can talk to. They’re not ghosts. They’re dead.

Dr. Valencia Martinez

I’m actually keeping her pretty close to canon— loving, supportive, the type of person to take in a gsw victim with minimal questions. The difference is that rather than kindness fueling her actions, it’s incredible guilt. She has three goals surrounding Max: Give her as much support in any way she can, teach her as much about chicane culture as possible, and never let Max know that she’s her birth parent.

(She’s probably going to fail at AT LEAST two of those, but it’s the thought that counts.)

Notes:

She has a pet fox named Robin Hood that she rescued from an exotic animal salesman that got arrested.

I think I’m going to kill her. I don’t know yet, but it’s on the table.

Anne Walker

Y’know, the fake FBI Agent. Who’s not actually a fake in my story because I hated that plot point. She’s genuinely an FBI agent who put the Flock into pseudo-witness-protection in order to build a case against the Institute of Higher Living, accidentally got attached to her prime witnesses, raised them for a few months, realized a [SPOILER] and promptly had to let them get the hell out dodge.

I really like the Anne Walker that lives in my head. She is a VITAL part of the Flock’s development, their mental/emotional recovery, and adding to their safety net to fall back on. She serves them as their first adult role model, and is the first adult to show them what parent/child are supposed to look like from a healthy perspective. Though she has several fuck ups, she becomes someone that the Flock genuinely trusts and loves, which makes it all the more difficult for them to leave when [REDACTED].

Notes:

She and Max do butt heads initially, because Max is paranoid and also afraid of becoming uneeded. This ends up being incredibly important because Max needs to learn how to live and find meaning in life without being the designated Leader/Parent/Big Sister

Anne, at one point, sits the entire flock down to teach them about consent, which was something no one ever talked about with them before. She goes in talking specifically about consent in a romantic/sexual sense (because they’re fourteen and that’s something they need to know), but quickly turns into a full-fledged no, people are NOT allowed to do that to you, what the FUCK.

She’s responsible for giving the flock a laptop. It’s because Angel is online schooled (bc telepathy makes actually learning difficult) and was therefore provided with a computer.

Anne is also allowed to swear, but only when it’s funny.

Michael “Grey” Rivers

Aka Grey from the Sewers Aka GR3Y H47 Aka Mike from the Bronx Aka Gifted Child Syndrome Incarnate Aka Would-be-in-MIT-if-his-parents-weren’t-horrible. He’s my son, your honour.

Basically, his backstory boils down to him being a genius, getting into MIT at 14, his (horrible) parents wanting a perfect child who could “make it out” of the Bronx and represent his family/neighborhood/borough to the world. When he inevitably failed their expectations due to stress, a schizophrenic-spectrum disorder that completely alienated him from the rest of his support network, and refusing to take his psych meds because the side effects were horrible and they made it harder to think (and therefore pass his classes), they kicked him out. He fully intends to go back to MIT when he turns 18 and has control of his finances/scholarships/medication/therapy.

So that’s how the flock meets him.

Mike ends up in a very prominent support role for the flock both in technological persuits (helping them track their parents, helping them get information from ITEX, trying to disable Max’s chip and failing multiple times until it becomes a matter of personal honour��), in helping the older members of the flock figure out how to deal with hallucinations/delusions (because he’s actually been to therapy, unlike them), and in being one of the only people who talks to them and helps them without any ulterior motive. He’s not trying to build a case against ITEX/The Institute of Higher Learning, he’s not double crossing them, he’s not plagued with guilt. He just genuinely wants to help them, and they genuinely want to help him, and that’s their first introduction to a healthy, non-codependent relationship.

My many disorganized notes on Michael Rivers:

He’s from specifically Morris Heights, Bronx, NYC.

He would say that his last name is actually Rivera, but his grandparents changed it to Rivers so it would sound more English, and his family has been in America for so long that he doesn’t know much about any Latino heritage he may or may not have. He identifies as African American, not Afro-Latino. He’s just bitter that his family felt the need to change their surname to have better opportunities in New York.

Nudge aggressively befriends him pretty much the moment she meets him, bullies him into teaching her how to code, and he very quickly adopts her as his pseudo-little-sister.

His delusions in the book seemed to involve government conspiracies, but as that’s the one delusion that is proved correct in the book, I’ve decided it would be best if his delusions and reality intersected a bit less if I don’t want to write him having a manic/paranoid episode in the second scene he has screen time. So his delusions are more based on “none of this is real”, “someone is recording everything I do and setting me up to fail” and “my ill-wishes on people can and will come true if I dwell on them too long.”. Government conspiracies are one of things he is skeptical about because he thinks most conspiracies are either “CIA admitted to this twenty years ago” or “antisemitism”.

He’s taking online free college classes that don’t actually give him any college credit, but they have good information and help him feel like he’s working towards something. He plans to double major in computer sciences and electrical engineering, minor in marine biology. He’s wanted to join NOAA since he was twelve and he is nothing if not stubborn.

There you go. These are my characters, now. I have custody.

#maximum ride on main #Maximum Ride rewrite

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oveliagirlhaditright · 3 years ago

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The Mom Friend

Yeah… though Neku had certainly never signed up to be these four’s mom—and he still had no idea how that had happened—he now knew he wouldn’t change it for the world. Oneshot. Canon compliant. Mom friend Neku. Neo spoilers.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/33385999

At first, if you had asked Neku if he had become the mom friend of the Wicked Twisters, he would have laughed in your face.

Because while he would admit he loved the youngins’—and was very protective of them—some old habits of wanting to be cool, and being somewhat rough around the edges, died hard.

But it was with Nagi that Neku finally realized that this was the case.

The girl had decided to go vegetarian, but her body was rejecting not having a lot of protein and thus needed something like nuts this very instance? Who was it but Neku, who went out to buy her some, at near three o’clock in the morning (because he was a good friend and had expanded his horizons that much), since her parents had recently died in a car crash and they could no longer do it for her, the poor girl.

So, Neku crept into Nagi’s dorm window around one-forty-five-ish—which, looking back on it, probably hadn’t been a good idea and could have scared his friend. But, hey: Neku had gotten used to being in the Game. And the week that Coco brought him back before he ran into Beat, he’d been in hiding, and had maybe gotten used to the idea some; and Nagi didn’t seem spooked, so maybe her mind was still stuck on sneaking around in the Reapers’ Game, too—and Nagi took the food out of Neku’s hands like it was the easiest thing in the world before ruffling his hair.

“Much obliged, Lord Neku,” she said as she fixed her glasses in this dim lighting, so she could see him better. Or so Neku guessed. “Now, hopefully, I can feel better enough, that I can work on my essay about the Canterbury Tales. …No one knows such suffering as me,” Nagi moaned, before going back to her bed and starting on the cashews.

“No, problem,” Neku said then—feeling sort of awkward, as he went to mess with a pair of headphones that were no longer on his person anymore—“if you need help with it… I, uhh, guess I could try and lend a hand. I have university coming up soon, too. And I know they’ll have me doing some English stuff, so…”

“Unless you want to be bored to tears, I suggest that you not make such a promise, unless your heart knows little joy,” Nagi warned him.

And Neku didn’t have to be told twice. So, he did backout of helping her with that paper.

But he knew when he visited Shiki soon—and she asked him what he’d been up to—she would still tease him about being the mom friend, for going out and buying protein for Nagi in the wee hours of the morning.

…

And it continued on like that… and Neku was somewhat loath to admit it, because hey: he had an image to uphold here.

But then again… maybe not, because if this was him pushing out his borders as far as they would go—as Mr. H had instructed him to do three years ago—Neku knew he would gladly do so… even at the risk was being called a “mom”, and even an “old maid”, or something.

Right now, Rindo had severely hurt his ankle… and who was he holding onto as they hobbled away, with designs to get him to a hospital? Neku.

“This is the last time I ever try something from the 90’s again!” Rindo complained, as Neku was half-carrying him to his car now (and how nice it was, that Neku could drive now—from memories of another him that hadn’t lost such formative years—that Joshua had implanted into his head).

“Yeah, Rindo… scooters were cool and everything—yours truly had one—but even I don’t know why you decided to try and bring them back now of all times… Especially since they had a bad habit of spinning right back around and nailing you in the ankle… which you know all too well now,”

And godamnit. Neku really had become the mom friend, huh, if he was now telling his younger friend this venture had been dangerous from the get-go, and how he could have easily seen that if he’d tried to?

Neku pulled on one of his spikes, irritated with himself here, but tried not to show Rindo, lest he think he was mad at him.

“Well, I’d thought about getting a motor scooter,” Rindo explained, Neku loading his pal into his backseat now. “So, I think that’s what got scooters on my brain… But I was trying to be green, and still think of a faster way to catch things in FanGo than walking! And now look where it got me. Oy! …But I guess I shouldn’t be complaining. This should be the least of my problems, when just a few weeks ago I was fighting for you guys’ survival, huh?”

And Rindo paused in where he’d been about to put a hand over his eyes, to peek at Neku now who was currently getting into the driver’s seat—as if he was asking for the past Living Legend to remind the new one to have his priorities straight.

“For real,” Neku told Rindo, whilst he started to pull away now. “When I got out, I was mostly thinking about the Game… about what Joshua did, and how even then, I still trusted him but couldn’t forgive him. And I was so excited to finally meet up with my friends—to finally have some and care about that—be glad, Rindo, that you got out with your friends, and there’s so much trust between you. Like there is between Josh and I now.”

And Rindo set down his phone then—apparently like he had when he first met Shoka in the RG—like he was really listening to what Neku had to say, and he had to appreciate that.

And it might have been his imagination… but Neku could have sworn he saw a flash of blue nodding his head at Neku’s words, as it sat back there with the injured Rindo.

…

The next time Neku ended up being the “mom” for someone in the Wicked Twisters, after the Game, it was with Fret.

It was towards the end of his and Rindo’s sophomore year of high school…

Fret had been ecstatic to come back to life, Neku had known, and wasn’t wasting his second chance. He had really thrown himself into his studies, Rindo had told Neku in private (quite proudly, Neku might add).

If he could keep it up, he would probably even be able to graduate early. And talent scouts were looking at him, Neku had been told: towards a kid who hadn’t strived that hard in school, but now was and excelling because of it.

Naturally, Fret had decided that his calling was fashion—everyone who had been playing the Reapers’ Game with him would have gathered just how much he loved clothes—and apparently he had really thrown himself into designing towards the end of the year, and was trying to put a portfolio together for Jupiter of the Monkey to look at: who the school was suggesting he try and intern with, as they had some connections with (and damn, if Neku didn’t wish he’d gone to Fret and Rindo’s school now, being a huge J of the M fan himself).

Part of Neku wondered why Fret just didn’t try to intern with Shiki during his senior year, but perhaps it was because he was afraid Shiki would just give him the position because they were friends and not because she really thought he was talented.

Anyway… Fret hadn’t gotten the internship. J of the M had said the Fret should try to use less color (you know what? Maybe Neku didn’t like them very much anymore…).

And since then… Fret had seemed to give up on his dream of being a fashion designer, and was trying to be an actor.

And, look: Neku had no problem if him wanting to do both, if he thought he could do it and this was really what Fret wanted… though call him crazy, but he felt like something else was at work here: something that Neku and Shiki had both experienced before.

So, Neku had sat Fret down to talk about it at Ken Doi’s—away from the filmmakers who were currently trying to film in Dogenzaka, that Fret had just been a part of—and laid it all out on the table, “It’s okay… to get Imposter Syndrome. I’ve had it before with my art. Even Shiki has before. But if you want to be an artist, you’re going to fall down a few times… Fret, I feel like you don’t want to be an actor, so much as you don’t mind people dinging your acting, because that isn’t something you care about as much as your designing.”

And after Neku had spoken, Fret somehow looked both like Neku had made him had an epiphany he hadn’t quite realized, and like Neku had stumbled upon the horrible truth he hadn’t wanted anyone to figure out.

Neku took a bite of the yummy curry that Ken Doi had been kind enough to make just for him, after he’d brought Joshua around recently (he’d said he’d missed the two of them. Go figure), and let Fret get his bearings.

And now he was sighing, and running a hand through his hair, much like Neku often did. Neku smiled, finding it hard not to sympathize.

“Oh, man. I really do have to get back into fashion, huh?”

“You do,” Neku agreed, wondering what wonderful articles of clothing Fret might come up with for him to wear in the future. Shoka, too. Really, with those two and Shiki and Eri, Neku had it made in the clothes department, and he was not complaining. “And it’ll be hard sometimes. But most things in life worth gaining are.”

And when Fret smiled back at him, Neku knew he’d made some progress here—which was good—and then he did one thing that was decidedly not mom-like, and let Fret get the bill. Why? Because Neku was a starving college student at this point, and Fret still had parents who paid for stuff for him.

…

And then the last person who needed Neku’s help (…for now, he guessed. Because apparently this was a full-time gig. And at this point, Neku wasn’t complaining because he happily would have taken custody of all the Wicked Twisters long ago if he could’ve), was Shoka.

…Who was freaking out after Rindo having tried to give her a promise ring and wasn’t at all being her usual FanGo loving self, where Rindo was concerned.

And, yeah… Shoka could be a bit of a tsundere sometimes, but Neku felt like the issue ran much deeper.

Neku also happened to see Shoka looking into the mirror a lot lately… And at first, he wondered if she’d become self-conscious like Shiki had been.

But upon hearing the arrogant comments that Shoka still said about herself—that Neku’s surrogate little sister so deserved to say, he thought—he knew that wasn’t the case.

He tried to use a bit of his soul power on her… because it turned out that Neku was strong enough to use it in the RG some, but all that really told the ginger was that it was a deep-rooted issue with Shoka and not what said issue was.

Finally, Neku knew he had to just talk to her.

“Let me in, Shoka,” he urged her—after he’d caught her looking at wedding dresses in her apartment at a group hang-out (it was just the two of them at said hang-out right now; everyone else had gone to get food for everybody). “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

And it was pretty fitting, Neku would later think, that he used Shiki’s old words to him with Shoka here, since she made him think of Shiki some—what with her favorite Mr. Mew hoodie and all. Especially when they’d been in the Game.

And at his question, Shoka sighed—like opening her thoughts to Neku was the biggest burden in the world—and dropped the magazine like it had burned her.

“What?” she demanded, fiddling with the zipper at her neck. “About Rindo? I feel like him wanting to give me a promise ring is silly—and of a time gone by—so of course I told him ‘no’, and give him a hard time about it. Not all of us can be you and Shiki, you know…”

And with that, Shoka seemed content to ignore Neku, and to go boot up her PS5 so she could play the “Stranger of Paradise” demo.

And, hey: more power to her—Neku thought it looked sick, too—but no way was he letting her get off that easily. “That’s a lie, Shoka, and we both know it. So, what’s really going on here?”

Shoka was sighing once more now—as if the weight of the world was on her shoulders. And it probably was, with this tragic girl—but she shuffled on the couch closer to Neku, which he saw as a good sign. “Fine… I guess I should have known that I couldn’t lie to Mr. Soul-Reader… I just- I feel I look too much like them: Ayano and my little sister. And I know it’s dumb, but I worry about it.

“Will I be like Ayano and settle into one thing? Like, say I get really into being Rindo’s girlfriend here… but I force myself to marry him one day, because he really wants that: what if we end up living a loveless life because of that, I didn’t want to tie the knot but forced myself to just because it was what he desired? And since I look like Little Sis… If Rindo and I do end up together, what if I end up dying young like she did and leaving Rindo alone. It’s too much.”

And here Neku had to pull Shoka into a small hug and kiss the crown of her head, whilst he ran calming hands down her arms. Shoka had been through way too much trauma for someone so young. It wasn’t fair. But even with all of that… Neku had to make sure she was sure of one thing right now.

So, he got off the couch and kneeled in front of Shoka, so she was looking into his eyes, and wouldn’t miss how serious this was. “Shoka… you definitely have a lot of baggage there, that I do think you should talk to Rindo about. And I’m so sorry that you’ve lost so much family for someone so young… but know that your family isn’t you. Their lives aren’t yours, nor are the things that they did. The things you do are going to be totally different from them, and you have to make those decisions for yourself. Got it?”

“Okay, Neku,” Shoka allowed, while she helped to pull Neku back up now. And she seemed to be blushing a little… but that was okay, because so was he. Neku may have been the mom of this little group, but big declarations of the heart like that could still be hard for him.

“Thanks!” Shoka beamed, before throwing herself at Neku to give him a quick hug this time.

And Neku laughed slightly. “No problem. Now, what do you say we get super far in this awesome demo before our friends get back, for being losers in forgetting to take us with them to get the food?”

“I think that sounds like a pretty sweet deal!” Shoka agreed, already pulling away from Neku and going for the controller.

Yeah… though Neku had certainly never signed up to be these four’s mom—and he still had no idea how that had happened—he now knew he wouldn’t change it for the world.

Especially when the rest of his children came back happy—which was always a perfect sight to see—and Shoka did end up working things out with Rindo.

It was a wonderful world, indeed.

Author’s Note: Yeah, I’m headcanoning here that the last Dive that you do (not counting Rhyme) for the little ghost from Shinjuku was Shoka’s sister.

Hope you all enjoyed!

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luna-tiel · 4 years ago

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What Entrapdak Means to Me

On the eve of Entrapdak Positivity Month, I thought it was as good a time as any to share my rambling thoughts on a ship that’s affected me in a way I didn’t think was possible.

Entrapdak is the first ship I have ever been invested in. It’s such a new experience for me that it’s taken me the last few months to wrap my head around the whole thing. I may relate to the characters in a show, but when they form romantic attachments I view it with a degree of passive distance. I don’t understand what it’s like to have those sorts of feelings for someone (I am aromantic and ace as a brick), and, well, I’m honestly not curious enough to give the subject a thorough study. My mind tends to fixate on other things.

What does this have to do with Entrapdak, you ask? Long story short for people who don’t want to read my meandering essay -- I relate a lot to these characters, and the way they bonded together struck a deep chord in me that I can’t ignore.

Let’s start with the characters. I knew going in that Entrapta was neurodivergent-coded, but I took it with a grain of salt. When I actually watched the show, however, I found myself relating to her so deeply it shocked me. Never have I felt such a kinship with a fictional character! We don’t share every trait, but it was still like seeing my brain put to life on screen. I related to her enthusiasm over her special interests, her struggles to fit in, her desire to make friends who accept and understand her for who she is.

The fact Entrapta is completely herself is something I love about her. Over the years of growing up undiagnosed, I developed a lot of masking strategies. Human psychology is one of my special interests, and even with all that accumulated knowledge, masking isn’t easy. It’s extremely mentally taxing. Masking can certainly look easy -- I can, when I have the drive and energy, “pass” as neurotypical, and only people who know me extremely well can tell I’m dying inside. All that effort is taken for granted by a lot of NTs because that’s how people are “supposed to” act, and surely I can “do the bare minimum.” The accumulated stress of near constant masking has led me to the darkest moments I’ve had in my life.

Entrapta’s struggle with leaving Beast Island hit me hard. It threw me back to a time when my feelings of isolation and worthlessness got so bad that I lost the energy to do anything, even the creative pursuits that were the obsession of my life. I retreated so deeply into my inner world that I hardly interacted with anyone. That total apathy shocked my family into getting me professional help, which gave me my autism diagnosis, the coping skills to move forward, and a good start on the road to self-acceptance. It also opened a channel between my family and I, allowing me to feel heard and understood. (An important side note on mental health: if you or someone you love needs professional help, please seek it! Sometimes you have to try out several therapists -- it took me three to find a good fit -- but you are worth it!)

It took me longer to realize, but I also relate to Hordak in some ways. Mercifully I was not raised in an extremist cult environment. However, I know what it’s like to feel defective next to a sibling that seems perfect. I was constantly being compared to my younger brother, and in all areas but art, he was superior. He was smart, athletic, and above all, he fit in with everyone. I didn’t hate him for this -- I hated myself. Trying to measure up to his standard is what caused me to develop such strong masking strategies. Underneath it all, I felt the despair of knowing my peers would reject me as soon as the mask cracked. I also live with chronic joint pain, starting at around age seven. The jury is still out on what’s causing that (the worst of it was due to a previously unknown food allergy, but the pain still comes and goes, even though it’s a lot more manageable than it used to be). This cocktail of pain, stress, and sensory issues I had to deal with gave me a very short fuse at times.

As an aside, just because I sympathize with Hordak does not mean I am excusing his actions. He is still going to have to face the consequences of his choices, and work to adjust to life post-Prime. The series end gave him a new beginning, the opportunity to be redeemed, and I prefer this to a rushed redemption arc.

What I love most about Hordak and Entrapta’s relationship is how they accept each other as they are. Hordak gives Entrapta near free reign of his sanctum, he listens to her when she talks, and he respects her opinions. Even when he pushes her away, he still considers the logic of what she tells him, and sometimes ends up doing things her way despite his initial instincts. This is something I do in my own life; I am easily overwhelmed by new information, so my initial response to an idea/activity is almost always a firm (and sometimes rude) “no,” until I have time to properly process and think about it. Hordak is the first person in Entrapta’s life that truly listens to her. He still has things he needs to work on, but it’s a lot better than how most of the princesses are with Entrapta. The Alliance treats her as someone to be managed -- she is useful, but unreliable. Hordak, in contrast, trusts her to get things done in her own way.

On the other side, Entrapta is the first person in Hordak’s life to accept him without judgment. Hordak spends so much of his energy putting up a front of strength and intimidation, and Entrapta cuts right through that. She’s not frightened by his appearance, and even his outbursts have little effect on her until the two of them start to bond. Entrapta doesn’t come into their interactions with any preconceived ideas of what Hordak is like, or more importantly, what he should be like. This lack of expectation leaves her completely open to accepting whatever Hordak does and says, and it also relieves Hordak of the burden of needing to put on a front around her. When Entrapta sees him at his most vulnerable, she reaches out to him with compassion, something he has never felt before. Entrapta also does this in a way that doesn’t belittle Hordak. His imperfections are not something to pity, they are a valuable part of who he is.

I loved watching their friendship develop. Entrapta and Hordak’s shared time together evolved slowly into a bond that gave each of them a sense of belonging they had never experienced before with anyone else. It gave me the hope that, despite what an oddball mess I am, perhaps I could find someone who understands me too.

When a romance subplot inserts itself into a story, I tend to gloss over and ignore it (if I pick up on it at all). I’m even less interested in sex. Way back when I was first getting into fandom I was so excited to go online and meet fellow fans of the books and shows I liked, only to discover the spaces being dominated by arguments over character pairings. I was baffled. This is what people are most interested in? Oh well… back to the hermit cave I go!

I was late to the party with SPoP. I’d watched a few episodes, but the show didn’t really hook me. This was partially because all I ever heard people talk about online was Catradora, and if that was the main appeal of the show, I wasn’t sure I would enjoy it (sorry Catradora shippers, romance is not going to entice me to watch a show, even if it’s rep). Quarantine was the ultimate cause for me embracing my curiosity and diving headfirst into SPoP, binging the entire thing a few months before the release of season 5.

I vaguely knew about Entrapdak as a ship going into the show, and I admit, had I not been primed for it, I probably would have missed the romantic potential entirely. In no way did I expect to become invested. I was immediately intrigued by their dynamic, and as they got closer, I found myself thinking “oh, I see why people ship these two.” I didn’t understand this realization until months later. I was relating to the characters, and for the first time in my life, I was relating to their relationship.

I headcanon Entrapta and Hordak as an asexual couple. I’ll elaborate on this at a later time (asexuality is a spectrum with a lot of nuance, and this post is plenty long already), but at the core of it, I find joy in imagining these characters in a loving platonic relationship, something I hope to find myself one day. I hope this love comes across in my artwork and in my fanfictions <3

To those of you that read this far, wow, you must be patient! Have an imaginary cookie! I hope this ramble has provided a decent picture for why I, as an aro ace on the autism spectrum, have come to cherish Hordak and Entrapta’s relationship. It’s my first and only OTP… I’m still in shock thinking about that… I guess we’ll see where things go from here!

Take care of yourselves out there!

#entrapdak #entrapta/hordak #entrapta #hordak #autistic entrapta #autistic experiences #relatable characters #fandom ramblings #spop #spop headcanons #asexual headcanon

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toobusymakingmyownreality · 3 years ago

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Vent post plus a question for other autistic people

Question here if you don't wanna read the vent part: did y'all have to mask to being taken seriously with sickness?

So when I was younger I often lied about being sick not in the normal to get out of school but the not mentioning your sick to people.

I don't know why but I assume it was bc my mom constantly assumed we were faking illness. So 5-8 year old me was like just like Guess it's not a big deal.

Eventually I'd tell them and they'd believe bc I never told them I was sick. Although what we ended up finding out was I'm asymptomatic and I also have a high pain tolerance so it's hard for me to recognize when pain is like severe.

One time when I was in a depressive I faked illness no other times though.

Anyways then like highschool years she started pulling the your faking it card with me. Which annoyed the shit out of me because like why do I need to mask to be seen as sick like I'm tired and sick I don't have the energy to be in pain. I also don't complain regularly when I am in pain.

Anyways so know she hates when we get sick bc it meand we probably have to get tested for covid before going back to school. (Which it doesn't I have a friend who has stomach issues a lot and they don't need to be tested) so the first day of being sick she tells the school I missed the bus. I haven't been sick for more than a day in like 2 years at least not during school. But I was today bc my stomach has been constantly hurting and Ive been having waves of nausea. I normally can still force myself to eat or my impulsive control is little so I still eat bc it's good food. That being said I ate less than normal. I normally have seconds and big seversings for each. I ate a kind of regular size serving if lunch and a small portion for dinner. I also was in my room all when I love playing video games but I couldn't handle the lighting and didn't want to walk back and forth with nausea. Which ended up with her assuming I was taking a mental health day and pretending to be sick. So she got mad at me for assuming I'm not going to school feeling sick and also not wanting to risk it if I do have covid. Like it's not fault she assumed I was fine and didn't discuss with me. She expected me to talk her about which she always inciates that conversation. I didn't wanna assume I was going to school bc I didn't wanna get ready feeling nauseous.

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emilx311 · 4 years ago

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Life Update

Hey all, so I pretty much vanished off the internet for the past few months (whoops sorry about that) but things have been crazy irl! Here’s a bit of a summary for those who were wondering what happened to me:

So, for context sake a few fun facts about me. I work as a night auditor at a hotel and have done so since August 2019, I graduated Uni with a degree in Justice Studies in 2018, and I have several minor but chronic health issues that lead to me being very low energy-ie having less spoons than a normal person and needing more sleep.

Aside from the issues already inherent with 2020′s....everything we had several more personal issues at my (I say my because I work there) motel. Mainly around staffing, and especially around night audit staffing.

Since I was hired we’ve gone through 5 or 6 other night auditors (I think? maybe more). And they often.....quit with barely any notice. So, being our only consistent night auditor I’ve been called in last minute several times over the past year leading to 6 or even 7 day weeks. (Not Fun!)

Even when we have had another trained night auditor with us they often also do day shifts since we only need them for 2 nights a week. Turn over for day-shift people has been barely lower than turn over for night shift, which has led to them having to be called in last minute to cover day shifts when people left which means I also had to be called in last minute to cover the night shifts they were no longer able to do, leading to us all working 6 or even 7 day weeks (Super Not Fun!)

In summary: I’ve worked more overtime days than I have had vacation days in this last year. Heck, the last time I tried to go on vacation for like 5 days I got called in every other day and my boss (our regional manager) paid me double for the shifts I worked and refused to touch my vacation pay because even he acknowledged that was in no way a real vacation at that point (this was at the beginning of September btw...)

This was all compounded when our general manager (gm) left in late July. Her reason for leaving was super fair since she got a better job offer, similar pay to what she was making, less work since she would no longer have to do all the duties our boss should have been doing but was instead pushing off unto her. Super sad to see her go but wished her the best (still miss her) :(

This left our under manager (gsm) and me as the main people in the hotel (ie those who have been there the longest, only the gsm and housekeepers had been there longer than I had at that point-and I had not even reached my 1 year yet). Which, not super great, but the other people we had were okay so we would manage. So the gsm and I held things together and started basically running the hotel (shout out to the gsm here because I love her and she is actually like 5 years younger than me but has accomplished so much more, I am in constant awe of her tbh). Our boss (who is....kind of dumb sometimes) realized this. We became his golden girls (he plays favorites hard).

It is at that point that someone above our boss’s level in the company (he’s in charge locally, but we do belong to a large corporation, ah capitalism) hired disaster #1 as our first new gm. Disaster #1 was creepily cheerful and utterly dismayed to find out his job actually involved him doing work! Like working at the front desk during his shifts and doing manager stuff instead of it just being him sitting in the back looking important and giving us encouragement occasionally. He payed no attention to his training. He did very little of his basic work let alone the manager stuff. He took credit and praised “the team” whenever something went right and pushed blame off him unto everyone else as hard as he could when something went wrong (I once pointed out he forgot to do something and he legit said to me “can you prove it was me?” I said “yes” very firmly.)

Now, as the auditor my job is to spot, point out, and fix errors. He hated coming in to to work after me because I spotted and pointed out everything he missed or did incorrectly. At first just because I happened to notice them. Then it became personal, he cornered me one morning at shift change and told me that he dreaded coming in to work after me because I was always so critical, and he had so much to do during his shifts other than just front desk stuff (he did not, most of the “manager” stuff he was even trained in doing at this point he shoved off unto the gsm) he then disparaged the gsm. I was done, I was pissed (you do not say mean things about my gsm, nope, not okay, I will cut and slab you*) and kind of hurt (why are you taking my corrections as personal attacks? Why are you saying I’m mean for doing my job?) So, if he wanted to make it personal I decided to make it personal and made it my mission to find and point out everything he did wrong, no more overlooking small things as I had been. The pressure of actually having to work made him quit (shocking, not!).

It was also around this time that I signed up for an LSAT prep course. Because I hate myself and now that I’ve been working for a couple years and have some money saved up I want to follow through on my plan to get either a Law Degree or a Masters Degree and so am working on taking the LSAT and applying to law schools. No, studying has not been going well, time and energy have also been preventing that.

Fast forward a couple months and 2 of our best employees went on holiday (one they had scheduled months before). It’s the start of January, they will be gone for two months. In that time our boss had hired our next gm, idiot #2. Just as these two leave the other front desk person we’d been training quits with no notice. We are short staffed....again (yay more 6 and 7 day weeks, ack). To fill in this gap our boss brings in idiot #3 from one of the other 2 hotels in the area our company owns.

Idiot #2 is semi okay, he is not manager material, even months after he was hired to be gm he does not have the training and is basically just a front desk agent. He is bad about doing things himself unless you specifically direct him to with very clear instructions, but he can do the minimum (although he failed the coffee test. After idiot #1 I wrote out very, VERY specific instructions for how to clean our coffee station....he is not able to follow them. The gsm and I joked about the coffee test after I first wrote the instructions, that someone actually failed it....we despair). So, he does not think ahead, do any extra, or solve many problems but at least he rarely creates problems.

This brings us to idiot #3. I do not know what goes on in his head (very little likely) but man oh man. Some examples: the time he-after being asked like 4 times-actually sign off on the checklist after cleaning the laundry room (as everyone is supposed to once a shift) but did so in sharpie instead of one of the many dry-erase markers left around the front desk for no other reason than the clearly laminated sign off sheet. Or the time he decided on his own to give someone a satisfaction refund, far larger than it should have been (which only managers and those with special permission can do in any of the hotels, so he should know better but somehow....)

We have a book for front desk to write messages on about issues for the next people. Usually we have a note or two on any given day. Pretty much every day he worked it was full and even going onto the next page. Idk how, it’s like he touched something and issues sprung up. and Guess who got to be the one to fix all of them (woooo).

For the past few weeks I have had 2 days a week where the only people who worked were me and idiots #2 and #3. It’s been horrible. In addition, my days off were changed for these months so I haven’t been able to meet my one bubble inclusive friend to vent like we usually do once a week, because that time no longer fit in my schedule. I have been living in exhaustive hell for the past couple months, and even before that as I tried to lighten the gsm’s load as much as I could as she took on a lot of the gm stuff. My house is a mess, tbh my life is a mess because work has left me so tired and stressed that I basically get home, shower, collapse onto bed, read a bit, sleep, wake-up, find some sort of food, get ready for work, go to work, and repeat. Even on my days off I’m sleeping 75% of the time and resting to try and shore up my spoons (of which I already have fewer than most people) to get through the work week.

tl;dr Due to ridiculousness I ended up unofficially co-running a hotel and it’s sucked up so much of my energy that all my free time is pretty much spent sleeping just to ensure I’m able to get through my work weeks semi-functionally. Everything about my life has been a mess, to the point where I’m legit not sure how I’ve been keeping myself fed, clean, on meds and just generally....alive.

#personal #emi says #life update #about my 2020 and early 2021 #it's been hell #and not for the usual reasons #no #I'm not okay #but that's fine #that's pretty normal at this point tbh

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i-stan-nct-and-satan · 4 years ago

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Not Broken Part 12 (Jaehyun Mafia AU)

Not Broken Masterlist

Jaehyun X Reader

Trigger warning: mentions of abuse

I stayed in my room for several hours, just staring at the minimalistic digital clock Taeyong had set onto the vanity. It was 2:58, past the time Taeyong said lunch would be delivered to my room. In any other circumstance, I would have just gone to the kitchen and made something myself, but I really didn’t want to run into anybody from 127, especially not the pink-haired mobster himself. I hadn’t eaten at all that day, nor had I had anything to drink other than the tap from the bathroom. There were no cups to be found so I scooped the water into my mouth with my hands.

I wondered if they had forgotten about me or if there was a delay. Either way, the hunger was becoming too uncomfortable to ignore.

I glanced at the door, wondering who on earth could be on the other side. I was almost too afraid to find out. On one hand, it was very possible that they would turn out to be a staff member rather than an actual member of Nct given that Taeyong explained that they had a few staff members on hand that doubled as bodyguards. I couldn’t imagine that Nct 127 would waste any of their members’ time just to stand guard at my door, yet on the other hand, I couldn’t get rid of the sinking feeling that if I chose to find out I’d be confronted with someone like Doyoung whom I’m sure wouldn’t be so pleased with having to escort me around.

I decided to come up with an excuse to open the door, that way if it turned out to be someone I didn’t feel comfortable with, I could just ask them to clarify a rule for me or something. I supposed I could also tell them that I was hungry, but I didn’t think that Doyoung would want to be sent on an errand either.

After I made the decision to open the door, I suddenly became excited at the prospect of being able to leave the room I had just spent three hours in unable to do anything but stare at my bruises in the bathroom mirror, take nearly an hour-long shower, and look through the clothes in the closet. There definitely wasn’t anything I felt comfortable wearing in there and although I knew I shouldn’t feel any guilt asking for clothing more suited to my style, I didn’t have the guts the make the request.

I took a few deep breaths to calm my nerves before I knocked on the door.

Nothing.

Was there no one on the other side?

Knock knock.

I instantly became confused by the sudden knocking that came from the other side of the door. I knocked again only for them to knock again.

Wanting to know what was going on, I opened the door to see the blonde-haired boy I’ve come to know as Mark, fist still raised in the air.

“What are you doing?” I asked him, too puzzled by his actions to feel any relief that it was him and not Doyoung.

“Knocking,” He answered, matter of factly.

“Why?” I asked.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking that? It makes a lot more sense for someone outside of the room to knock on the door than someone inside of the room.”

“What? I mean, you’re not wrong but I just...”

Mark began to laugh softly at my perplexed state. Despite feeling even more confused by his reaction, I did feel less nervous than before.

“I’m just messing with you,” He revealed with a warm smile.

“What do you need?”

“Oh, um... I was just wondering if I could have something to eat.”

“Sure, no problem, let me just call the cook and have him bring something up,” He agreed, taking out his phone.

“W-wait.”

Mark paused.

“I was hoping I’d be able to leave my room at some point since there isn’t much to do.”

Mark stared at me as he processed my words and I worried that he would deny my request.

“Oh, I get it. Okay, sure,” He agreed.

“Yeah, I forgot that they didn’t really give you anything to do.”

“Yeah...” I confirmed, not wanting to sound like I was complaining.

“Well, did you want to go now?”

“Yes, if that is okay.”

Instead of responding, Mark just started laughing. I couldn’t understand why because I hadn’t said anything particularly funny, so I just started awkwardly laughing with him.

“Yeah, no problem. Let’s go.”

We walked down a long hallway, and down a long flight of stairs that looked like something the Queen of England would step down to treat her guests.

When we finally got to the kitchen, there were already several people inside, none of which I had ever seen before.

“Come on, Chenle. You need to eat.”

A man with blonde hair and a faded blue fringe whose out-of-the-blue hairstyle made it look like he had literally ran out of blue hair dye and made Doyoung’s blue highlights look normal in comparison, was sitting at small kitchen table with two boys who looked to be in their mid-teens. In another part of the kitchen was an athletic looking man who seemed too busy cooking to notice that we had come in. He had light sandy brown hair that looked like it had been shadow permed and was wearing a short-sleeved shirt under a salmon colored apron. He was peeling potatoes and I couldn’t help but stare at his developed arm muscles that were more defined than any of the 127 members I had seen thus far, with the exception of Jaehyun, himself. The apron did nothing to take away from his masculine features and anyone who thought it did would have to be extremely antagonistic towards the color salmon.

The older male at the table looked up at us. Apparently, my fascination with the other gentleman must have been obvious since my attention was immediately brought back to him as he cleared his throat.

“You must be Y/N,” He commented, getting up from the table.

“Hello,” I greeted.

“Ah, uh, yes. Hello. My name is Jaemin. I’m the nanny,” He wavered in his response.

The man offered his hand and I shook it.

“And these are Chenle and Jisung,” He gestured to the two boys still sitting at the table.

I glanced at them, not fully understanding who they were. One of them, I didn’t know which was which, had blonde hair that had a bit more yellow in it than most people would have preferred. It was strange but he almost looked scared of me. His features made it seem as though he were experiencing great discomfort. He avoided my gaze choosing instead to stare at the full plate of food that sat in front of him.

The other boy, whose plate was almost empty, had dark brown hair and an extremely small face. His expression reminded me of those mean girls in the movies when they were weirded out by someone less popular than them. He didn’t look mean though, just confused as to why I was there. The two of them didn’t resemble each other in the slightest so I assumed that they were unrelated.

“What happened to your face?” The second boy blurted out.

“Jisung!” Jaemin snapped before turning back to me.

“I’m so sorry about that,” He apologized.

“It’s alright, but who are they?” I whispered the last part.

“Oh, those are Jaehyun’s younger brothers,” Mark answered for him.

“Brothers?”

Guess I was wrong about them not being related.

“Yes, and don’t worry. They’ve been caught up on everything, including your lack of involvement in the... issue at hand.”

I hadn’t even thought of the possibility that they had even known about my existence let alone about the suspicion that I was involved in their sister’s death.

They really know everything that’s going on? At such a young age? No, it made sense. In this type of family, I’m sure that they are fully aware of their brother’s business and probably have been for quite some time. Maybe they’re even being trained to eventually become members.

“Have you put anything on... to... umm... treat that?” Jaemin asked as I continued to stare off into space.

“Oh, umm, no.”

“Hang on a second. I might have some vitamin K cream somewhere. Would you all keep an eye on the boys for a quick second?”

“Ah, I, umm,” I hesitated.

“I’ll handle it, Jaemin.”

I turned around to see the aproned man who had been busy cooking up to this point smile over at us.

“Awesome! Be right back,” Jaemin confirmed before hurrying out of the kitchen.

The man who had volunteered to watch the boys rinsed his hands and dried them on a spare cloth before making his way over.

“Hi, what can I do for you?” He asked in a pleasant tone.

“Hey Jeno, this is Y/N. We came to get her something to eat,” Mark took the lead in answering for you.

“Ah, yes. Miss Y/N. I was informed of your new status as a guest here just recently. I apologize for the delay. You can sit down at the table with Jisung and Chenle while I finish preparing your lunch.”

“Oh, so you’re the chef?” I asked, wanting to know more about the strangely attractive man, totally oblivious to my appearance.

“Hm? Oh, kind of. I’m actually-”

“The butler,” Mark interrupted.

I turned to Mark and gave him an expression I can only describe as “Dude, what the fuck?”

“Well yes, butler, director of the household. It’s all the same. Stand-in-chef while the other staff is away. I pretty much do whatever is required of me in order to keep the house from burning down.”

“Oh wow. That’s impressive, especially with a house as big as this,” I beamed.

I was surprised since someone of his stature seemed as though they would fit in perfectly as a gang member, but his kind eyes gave away his lack of involvement with the group’s more criminal activities.

“Not really, I have lots of great staff to help me. Anyways, have a seat and I’ll bring a plate over once everything’s prepared.”

Mark and I sat down at the table and it was... awkward.

Jisung and Chenle just stared at me as if I had three eyes... or maybe just two black ones.

“Did someone from 127 really do that to you?” Chenle asked looking noticeably sick.

Someone?

What I wanted to say was that their brother did this to me, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell two teenaged boys how much of a monster their brother really was. Even if he deserved it, they didn’t.

“Uh, umm...”

“I’m back!”

Jaemin’s timing couldn’t have been any more perfect.

“Did you miss me?” Jaemin cooed at the two boys, making an effort to pinch Jisung’s cheeks.

“Nana, stop!” He whined.

Jaemin frowned.

“This is why they said there’s no use in raising kids.”

His attention turned to me.

“Let’s get you taken care of, shall we?”

Jaemin asked me to sit on the counter in the kitchen so that we could “talk” without having to worry about the kids and asked Mark to watch them in the dining room. Apparently Jeno and Jaemin were also included in the list of staff who could watch over me.

“So how are things going for you?” He asked.

Jaemin’s face seemed to hold genuine concern so I had no reason to give him a snarky answer, but I wasn’t certain whether I could be honest with the two of them or not. They might not have been members of NCT, but they still worked for them.

“Everything is just so hard,” I broke down.

“Oh, honey,” Jaemin cooed sympathetically.

Jaemin took me into his arms as I started to quietly weep.

Jeno who had been busy cutting vegetables pushed them aside and joined us, patting my back as Jaemin continued to hug me.

After a few moments passed, I somehow managed to cease my crying.

Once Jaemin pulled away, Jeno gave me a cloth to wipe my tears. I winced when the fabric came in contact with my bruised eyes causing Jaemin and Jeno to give each other a concerned look.

“Let’s put some of this on,” Jaemin suggested.

“I just feel so angry at how little control I have here. I feel so weak and for some reason, I feel like I have no reason to complain either, like I somehow deserve this,” I ranted as Jaemin applied the vitamin k cream with a q-tip.

“You know you don’t though, right? I mean yeah, this whole this is fucked but you just have to get through it. Do whatever you need to do to survive, even if it means taking advantage of their accommodations.”

“What do you mean?”

“They told you that you could make requests, didn’t they? If I were you, I would take them for all they’re worth. I’d ask for expensive jewelry, clothes. You know, the works,” Jaemin continued.

“I just feel like if I ask for anything then I’ll be proving that pink-haired jackass right.”

“Hm?” Jaemin quirked.

I sighed.

“Jaehyun made me an offer and when I didn’t accept it, he told me that he didn’t expect a dancer like me to refuse that much money. Then he told me we could renegotiate later. He thought I was some floozy trying to get her next payday. I don’t even want the money. I refused because what he did can’t be fixed with money.”

“Wow,” The two men uttered in unison.

“What?”

“Y/ N, you’re kind of a badass,” Jeno complimented.

“What? No, that’s the thing. I couldn’t even stand up for myself and tell him that. This whole time, I’ve felt so powerless and weak and I just wish that I could fight back just one time and have an impact.”

We all went silent as Jaemin finished applying the cream to my bruises.

“How do you like the clothes the maids picked out? This dress is nice, right?”

“Honestly? I hate them. Everything is too fancy. I don’t feel like it’s exactly normal to wear Swarovski crystals when living in your kidnapper’s estate, not that there’s exactly a dress code for that.”

“Okay, no Swarovski crystals. What else?”

“Huh? Oh no, I didn’t mean. I’m fine, really.”

“Y/N.”

Jaemin grabbed my face as gently as he could to avoid causing any further harm to my already bruised face.

“It’s the least I can do given your situation, especially when I can’t do much else for you.”

His face was suddenly filled with noticeable anguish. He was trying so hard to relieve my sorrow, it made me want to relieve some of his.

“Okay then, I guess I do have a request or two.”

“Thatta girl!” He beamed, not a trace of sadness left in his features.

“What can I do for you?”

“Would it be possible to get my own clothes from my apartment?”

“I’m sure I could find some clothes to better suit your tastes.”

“No, they have to be mine. Is that okay?”

Jaemin spent a few seconds to ponder the request.

“I don’t see why we couldn’t ask, right Jeno?”

Jeno nodded.

“What else?”

“Could I start eating meals with you guys? I don’t want to spend all day trapped in that room and I could really use the companionship.”

Jeno and Jaemin smiled at each other and then back at me.

“Of course. Mealtimes are about the only time I ever get a break in this house. That’s when Jisung and Chenle get handed over to Momo, the other nanny. The only reason we were all in here earlier is because Chenle hasn’t been eating lately. The poor child. He’s only been like this once before when his sister died. I’m sure having everything come back up has been hard on both him and Jisung.”

I didn’t know whether I should have pried or if it was better to just change the subject, but Jaemin and Jeno seemed to be trustworthy so I decided to pry.

“Are they really his brothers?”

“Adopted brothers. The previous head of the household adopted all of his children,” Jaemin explained.

“Including-” I started.

“Yes, including him.”

“He couldn’t have children otherwise, so adoption was his only option,” Jeno added.

“Jaehyun and IU were blood related though. Sooman, the former head of NCT, had been searching for quite some time to find a son to eventually take his place as leader. He and his wife went to countless orphanages but apparently he was looking for something in particular which is why they never brought anyone home with them. He would ask each of the young boys a question, but none of their answers satisfied him.”

“What was the question?” I asked, enamored by the almost folksy tale.

“No one knows for sure, but I did hear from one of the older staff, who used to work as Sooman’s personal servant, that he’d ask them why they thought he should adopt them. Simple right?”

I nodded.

“Well supposedly, when he and his wife visited the orphanage the current young master was living at, one of the workers told Sooman that the boy hadn’t spoken a word to anybody other than his sister since they arrived. Instead of skipping the young boy, Sooman asked to speak with him anyway. He probably wasn’t expecting much of a response, yet he went through the motions anyway, telling him that he was a wealthy man who was capable of changing his life and things like that. When he asked the boy why he should adopt him. The young master actually responded.”

“What did he say? How did he convince him to adopt him?”

“That’s the thing. He didn’t. He told him that he shouldn’t adopt him, but that he should adopt his sister instead. Then, after having not spoken for such a long time, he went on to explain how much of a good person his sister was and how she would make a wonderful daughter. Sooman decided to adopt them both, that very day.”

I was speechless. That kind and caring young boy who was willing to give up on everything he could have wanted to help his sister seemed worlds apart from the horrible violent man I had the displeasure of meeting. The only similarities between them was how far they were willing to go for their sister.

“I guess Sooman wanted a son who valued loyalty,” Jaemin finished.

“What about the other two?”

“Oh, Jisung and Chenle? Their biological fathers both worked for Sooman, but died when they were a lot younger, so he adopted them as a service to them.”

“Umm, Jaemin?”

We all turned to look at the sudden voice.

Mark was covered in bits and pieces of food and a string of laughter escaped my lungs.

“Oh my god. Boys!” Jaemin ran out of the kitchen and into the dining room.

“Well, that was eventful. Anyways, food’s ready,” Jeno chuckled.

Jaemin had to go take care of the boys but he promised that he would be there tomorrow for breakfast.

Mark, Jeno and I sat down at the kitchen table. At first it felt a little awkward having Mark there since he was a member of 127, but I was relieved to see that he didn’t think so.

He told us how excited he was for another one of 127’s members to return after having been undercover for the last few months. He didn’t give me any specific details about the mission itself, but he did say the member’s name a lot. Apparently since he was so deep undercover, he was rarely able to interact with any of the members without the risk of blowing his cover.

Yuta came in at one point after hearing our laugher from a nearby room.

“Y/N, you look as beautiful as ever.”

“I have two black eyes.”

“And I can honestly say that not every girl can pull it off as well as you do.”

We continued talking hours after I had already finished eating. It was weird but nice. I pondered Jaemin’s words about how I should do whatever it takes to survive. I guess it felt like isolating myself wasn’t really my best option and that maybe opening up a little bit would make this whole thing more tolerable.

I went to bed that night, annoyed by the small red camera lights that flashed every so often. The next morning, I decided to just wear the green dress again since it was the only thing I really felt comfortable in, but instead of leggings, I put jeans on underneath. It looked kind of strange, but I didn’t care.

Jaemin told me that he was going to ask Jaehyun about my clothes at some point today. Jeno, Jaemin, and I met for breakfast. Mark tagged along since he happened to be guarding my door again. He quickly discovered that we made a promise to start eating meals together, so he also came to lunch despite not being on guard duty.

“Everyone else just eats in their rooms. We never have mealtimes together. I wish we would though,” He explained.

Not just him, but Yuta started to eat with us too. When it was time for us to meet for lunch, Yuta happened to be the one guarding my door, so he when he escorted me down to the kitchen only to see that Jaemin, Jeno and Mark were waiting for me, he demanded he stay to keep an eye on me despite there being three other men there to watch me.

It was strange at first, but it was nice to freely speak with each other without worry. Yuta continued to hit on me only to get scolded by Jaemin. Mark would laugh and Yuta would punch him in the arm, all while Jeno quietly smiled as though it were the most normal thing in the world for two mafia members, two staff members hired by said mafia members, and a former hostage kidnapped, also by said mafia members, to sit around a kitchen table laughing and having a ball.

I noticed how whenever he smiled, his eyes would form crescent moon slits, that made it hard to believe that he could see anything beyond them.

Nothing about the situation was normal, but I found myself feeling almost grateful for the scene unraveling in front of me. If this was going to be my new normal for the time being, maybe it wouldn’t be that bad.

<><><><><><><>

“The Itaewon lead was a bust. They found no trace of Wayv at any of their usual hangouts. Should I instruct S. Coups to have his men start canvasing the surrounding areas?” Taeyong updated his boss as they wandered the estate.

“No need. Have them return to Neozone to await further instructions. Wayv’s aware we’re looking for them, so they know to cover their tracks.”

Jaehyun was visibly frustrated at the lack of breakthroughs in the search for Wayv. His face was noticeably thinner than it was just a few days ago.

“We’ll just have to wait until they come for the girl.”

“Jae?” Taeyong quirked.

“Yes? What is it?”

“What’s that noise?”

The two men halted their conversation to focus on the sounds of laughter coming from the kitchen.

“Should we go see what they’re doing? Taking your mind off everything for a bit might make you feel better,” Taeyong suggested.

“It’s probably just Jaemin and Jeno flirting with each other. I can’t for the life of me understand how they still insist on keeping their relationship a secret from me. I’ve never once said anything to give them the impression that I’d hold any disdain for their choices as long as they continued to fulfill their duties and besides, only an idiot would think those two were straight.”

Jaehyun noticed the disappointed look on his friend/colleague’s usually impassive face.

Jaehyun relaxed slightly, becoming conscious of how much stress the two have them had been under, discussing further plans of action while holed up in his office since the break of dawn.

“Perhaps I should go in to check with in Jeno, see if there are any issues with... well, anything there might be issues with,” He suggested, abandoning his strict facade.

Taeyong’s face lit up. His excitement was most evident in his already anime-like eyes which now looked to have doubled in size.

<><><><><>

My eyes continued to linger on the sandy brown-haired man who sat almost directly across from me. I knew that it was crazy to crush on someone who worked for the leader of NCT even if he wasn’t a member of the gang itself, but it had been a crazy past few days and who could blame me for being drawn to such a gentle yet strong and protective looking hottie?

“Y/N?” He asked.

Watching the pair of lips, I had been hungerly gawking at, suddenly mouth the syllables of my name immediately allowed me to snap out of whatever entranced state I had been in for the last several moments and enter into one filled with embarrassment. My eyes quickly retreated down to look at my half empty plate, hoping he hadn’t noticed my staring.

“Yes?”

“You have a piece of rice stuck to your face,” Jeno said matter-of-factly.

My cheeks started to burn from the awkwardness. I moved my hand to brush the food from my face only for Yuta to beat me to it.

I jolted away, withdrawing from the man’s touch. Ready to berate him for the abrupt intrusion, I turned in time to see Yuta bring the speck of rice to his lips with a mischievous grin. I scoffed, unamused by his playful antics, as he merely continued to smirk. I glared at him briefly while taking notice of his purple locks.

His hair was always a dark purple similar to that of a plum, but under the bright kitchen lights it took on an especially violaceous hue. The intensity of the color and how it was almost hypnotic in a way led me to wonder if the devil might more accurately be depicted wearing violet than he would in his usual scarlet tones.

Yuta’s sly smile grew into a Chesire grin as he saw my anger morph into mesmerism. My gaze retreated from his and my cheeks were noticeably redder than before.

“Dude, that was gross,” Mark commented, bringing my attention back to the three other men at the table.

Yuta started laughing and I glanced at Jaemin and Jeno who glanced at each other and then back at me like two schoolgirls ready to hear all the hot gossip after seeing the school’s bad boy flirting with their friend.

Great, now they think something’s going on with Mr. Hits-on-anything-with-a-pulse over here.

I did everything to stop from groaning, but it must not have been enough to hide my annoyance as for the first time, everyone at the table was laughing except for Mark who had a perplexed look on his face.

“Oh, how nice!”

We all turned in our chairs to find the source of the sudden voice.

By now, I was easily able to recognize that the voice as belonged to Taeyong so when tufts of scarlet hair entered my vision, I thought nothing of it, but then a second man with oddly colored hair followed soon after. My lungs were empty of air, yet I couldn’t find the courage to breathe.

He was dressed in the most casual outfit I had seen him in. A black shirt tucked into black jeans held up by a black belt with a silver colored buckle. A clashing gold colored watch with red and green detailing drew attention to his right wrist and consequentially, the veins that traveled up his forearms. His hair lacked any product as far as I could tell, and his bangs swept past his browbone and into his eyes. I noticed that the man’s rose gold locks were slightly translucent, probably from the bleaching process, and must not have done much to impair his ability to see past them.

Unable to turn away, I silently prayed that he would overlook my presence, but that hope revealed itself to be a pipedream as our eyes immediately made contact with each other.

“What’s going on here?” Jaehyun demanded.

“They’re all eating together! How fun!” Taeyong observed, seemingly unaware of his boss’s hostile tone.

Taeyong wandered over to the table and took a seat in the last empty seat, leaving his boss to remain standing by the door.

“You know, I always thought that we should start eating meals together, but it didn’t seem like the other members were up for it.”

Jaehyun stomped towards us, irritation written across his face. My instincts were telling me to flee, to run out of there and never look back, but instead my body braced itself, knowing that it didn’t have to courage to move even the slightest bit.

“Jeno? Don’t you two have work to do?” He questioned the sandy-haired man.

Jeno and Jaemin looked at each other then back at their boss.

“Everything is running ahead of schedule, sir. I already have the ingredients prepared for tonight’s dinner.”

Jaehyun paused, processing the response before turning to Jaemin.

“And what about you? Where are Chenle and Jisung?”

“Umm... sir? This is my scheduled lunch break. The boys are with Momo,” He responded with perturbed intonation.

Jaehyun brought his right hand to his face and pinched the upper bridge of his nose in frustration, sending a quick glance at Yuta and Mark.

“Don’t look at us, you only told us to be on standby in case we needed to have a meeting,” Yuta reminded in a disinterested tone.

Before Jaehyun could chastise Yuta for such a cheeky response, Taeyong began to speak.

“Awesome. Since nobody is going to be busy for the time being, should we pull up another chair?” He asked staring up at Jaehyun’s intimidating figure.

I started begging the universe to save me from having to sit at the same table as the man who was possibly the only person I was more afraid of than Lucas.

“Actually, there was something I was hoping I could talk with you about, boss,” Jaemin announced, getting up from his chair.

“Shall we?” He asked.

Jaehyun looked down at the five of us who remained seated at the table before returning his gaze to Jaemin. Without saying anything, he merely made his way out the kitchen door, Jaemin waving goodbye as he followed.

I took a deep breath and let it out, not intending for it to be as loud as it was. Everyone at the table looked at me with concern.

“Y/N?” Taeyong quirked.

“I’d like to go back to my room please,” I mumbled, not wanting to hear whatever Taeyong had to say.

Yuta volunteered to escort me back to my room. Not a word was exchanged between us on the way.

Once I was alone, I settled into my bed and began to softly sob into one of the pillows.

I was so scared of him that I couldn’t even move. I’m so sick and tired of being so weak and defenseless.

I continued to cry until the tears began to sting my bruised eyes.

I can’t be afraid of him anymore. I need to get stronger. No matter what it takes, I need to survive.

<><><>

“Take a seat,” Jaehyun offered, already seated back at his desk.

“Oh, this won’t take long,” Jaemin replied, choosing to remain standing.

Jaehyun quirked an eyebrow at the staff member before leaning back in his chair.

“Very well. What is it you needed to discuss with me?”

Jaemin got straight to the point, not wasting any time to ease his boss into the issue at hand.

“Y/N doesn’t feel comfortable wearing any of the clothes that were picked out for her.”

The curiosity that had occupied Jaehyun’s features dissipated, replaced with the slightest hint of aggravation.

“And so, the requests start to flood in,” Jaehyun muttered under his breath.

“I’m sorry, sir. What was that?” Jaemin asked, unsure if he was meant to hear his boss’s words.

“So, let me guess, the clothes aren’t good enough for her despite the fact that each article is probably worth more than what she’d make in a year?” Jaehyun sneered, not making any attempt to hide the disgust in his voice.

Jaemin furrowed his brows at the unexpected response.

“No, sir. That’s the opposite of what I’m saying.”

Now it was Jaehyun’s turn to furrow his brows.

“Hm?”

“Y/N doesn’t feel comfortable wearing clothes of such a high quality, especially when they were paid for by her...” Jaemin paused, hoping that his boss would understand and that he wouldn’t have to finish the less than favorable account of why exactly Y/N didn’t want to wear the clothes Jaehyun had instructed to be prepared for her.

Jaehyun glared at Jaemin, daring him to finish his sentence, not showing any hint of mercy towards the staff member.

“-captor,” The man finished, doing his best to maintain a professional demeanor while still presenting a strong front.

Jaehyun’s anger unexpectedly dispersed. He sat up in his chair, tapping the desk as he deliberated Jaemin’s words.

“I’ll send a maid out on another run for her,” He decided.

“Is that all?”

“Well, boss, that isn’t-” Jaemin began.

“Actually, why don’t you do it since you probably know more about her... tastes. I’ll have Jeno instruct Momo of your absence and let her know that she’ll have the boys for the time being.”

Jaehyun’s voice was laced with an emotion Jaemin couldn’t quite make out. Was it bitterness or perhaps just irritation?

“She doesn’t want new clothes, sir.”

Jaehyun’s dusted pink bangs, fell to the side of his forehead as his head tilted the slightest bit.

“Then why are you here taking up my time, Jaemin?”

“She wants the clothes to be removed from her closet and for someone to retrieve her own clothes from her apartment complex.”

“What?”

“Can that be done?” Jaemin pressed on.

“Hold on a minute. Why does she want her own clothes? We could have any article of clothing she wants prepared for her by the end of the day. Hell, we could create an exact replica of her closet if she wanted. Just have her tell us-”

“Excuse me for speaking so boldly and without tact, sir, but it seems as though Y/N doesn’t want any handouts you have to offer her,” Jaemin interjected.

A strange tension filled the air as Jaemin explained his understanding of the situation. Jaehyun seemed as though he were debating amongst himself as he processed this new and unanticipated information. His eyes stared past Jaemin instead of at him and all the younger man could do was wait for his boss’s reply.

Jaehyun took his office phone off its receiver and lifted it to his ear before pressing the 1 on the keypad. A moment passed before Jaehyun spoke up.

“B.I.? Yes, have S.Coups and his men stop by Y/N’s apartment in Hongdae before they return to NEOzone. I want all her things brought back with them. Someone will come by this evening to pick them up.”

After giving his instructions, Jaehyun hung up the phone and looked up at Jaemin.

“Why don’t you take the rest of the afternoon off and head to NEOzone headquarters later tonight to grab her things?” He proposed, his face and voice having returned to their usual unreadable states.

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

<><><>

After Jaemin exited through his office door, Jaehyun was left to contemplate Jaemin’s words.

Had he really misjudged Y/N this much? All this time, he assumed that if she wasn’t working with Wayv, that she’d probably cause problems for them by threatening to expose them unless she got whatever amount of money she needed to keep her mouth shut. Yet here she was, not only choosing to forgo making any requests for newer and better things but actively refusing them as well.

It was enough to baffle Jaehyun to the point of complete frustration.

What was it that she wanted? Was it possible she didn’t want anything except to go home? To be safe from Wayv’s grasp?

Jaehyun felt a strong urge to leave his office, the walls of which seemed to be closing in on him. He wondered if perhaps a walk would clear his head and allow him to organize his thoughts, but as he wandered through the halls, the weight of his actions finally hit him.

What have I done?

Images of Y/N’s first night at the estate crept into the front of his mind, but before he could really weigh the impact of his actions, he remembered seeing his sister, naked and shoved into a box that was left on their doorstep.

He shook the image from his mind and buried it along with any feelings of guilt that threatened to arise.

He couldn’t let his emotions get the best of him. After all, there was still a chance that Y/N was working with Wayv.

“Hey, boss.”

Too distracted by his thoughts, Jaehyun had unknowingly walked past the security room where Taeil had set up. Having been woken up from his thoughts, Jaehyun entered the room through the open doorway. Monitors showing live footage of Y/N’s room seemed to make up most of the room’s light with the exception of Taeil’s empty laptop screen. Taeil was holding a mug filled with either coffee or tea, Jaehyun didn’t bother to ask which.

“What’s she doing?” He inquired, taken aback by the images displayed on the monitors.

“Working out, I assume,” Taeil answered not sounding so sure himself.

“Why is she so... bad at it?”

They both watched in silence, suffering from secondhand embarrassment as footage of my first attempt at doing a push up since middle school gym played across multiple screens.

“Why is she- What is she-” Jaehyun couldn’t even figure out what to ask, giving up halfway through each unfinished inquiry.

“I don’t know but this has been going on for the last half hour. I was getting some work done since I didn’t really wanna watch her cry, but when she started doing jumping jacks all of a sudden, I couldn’t really look away,” Taeil reported, looking visibly uncomfortable.

Jaehyun tore his eyes from the screen and returned his gaze to Taeil.

“Crying?”

Taeil returned to his laptop, quickly reopening a dark colored window with past recordings of Y/N’s room. After muting the current footage, Taeil brought up footage timestamped 1:34, roughly ten minutes after Jaehyun left the kitchen with Jaemin.

Several cameras were installed to ensure there were no blind spots in the room, but the camera that produced this specific footage only provided coverage of the bed and some of the floor surrounding it. For the first few seconds, the room seemed to be empty of any life, until the sound of a door opening was projected from a nearby speaker and Y/N entered the screen’s image. She climbed onto the mattress, wrinkling the neatly made bedspread and sat there silently staring off God knows where. Jaehyun and Taeil watched as Y/N grabbed a pillow and held it tightly against her. She began to cry, occasionally reaching up to wipe away the tears that streamed down her bruised cheeks.

Taeil paused the video roughly sixty seconds after the sobbing had started and turned to his boss.

“This went on for like ten minutes, but then look at this,” He said, relaying the contents of the video.

Taeil pressed the fast forward key, stopping the video after a few seconds and then pressed the spacebar to resume.

The screen continued to show footage of Y/N crying, before she abruptly stopped altogether. She rubbed her blackened eyes visibly wincing from the contact. After several moments of just staring at nothing, she then preceded to get up from the bed and disappeared out of view. Taeil took a few seconds switching to another camera, this one showing a complete view of Y/N as she began to start doing jumping jack, like Taeil described earlier.

Taeil paused the video.

“The next twenty minutes are just of her doing various exercises. She’s alright with cardio, but anytime she attempts any strength training, it ends up looking like, well... that,” He gestured towards the monitors that showed that the current Y/N was still struggling to lift herself back into the air after falling back down.

“She is persistent, I’ll give her that,” Jaehyun observed.

“Makes you wonder how we ever thought she was a part of Wayv,” Taeil laughed.

Jaehyun’s gaze shot back to Taeil.

He was right.

If Y/N was working with Wayv, she would have at least been trained in basic hand to hand combat, right? Yet here he was, watching her get visibly more and more frustrated with herself as she failed to do what even people who aren’t particularly athletic should be able to do.

The possibility that she was faking it crossed his mind only for it to disappear without a trace when he watched Y/N fall onto her already bruised face, yelping in pain.

“I think she’s trying to get stronger,” Taeil speculated.

Stronger?

Jaehyun started to contemplate whatever possible motives Y/N could have for wanting to become stronger, when he felt a heaviness in his chest. A heaviness he hoped to ignore for just a little longer but couldn’t.

“Hmm,” He hummed.

<><><>

I woke up to the sound of knocking. A groan escaped my mouth as I turned to look at the clock. My eyes had still not adjusted to being open this early in the morning, so I struggled to make out the numbers that shined in blue light.

5:00.

Five a.m.? Really?

It was still dark in my room as the sun had yet to rise. I rolled over in my bed and pulled the covers over my head, hoping the person knocking would get the hint and fuck off.

They didn’t.

Eventually, the door opened, and I could hear footsteps approaching. Instead of feeling aggravated since my slumber was being cut short, I felt an unignorable sense of fear.

Wayv.

I moved the covers just enough to look at the vanity table. There wasn’t much on it, but I could see the outline of a lamp.

If I move fast enough, I could grab it and use it as a weap-

“Goodmorning Y/N!”

I screamed as the duvet was ripped from my body.

I stared up at the shadowy figure that stood at the foot of the bed.

“Oh, come on, I don’t look that bad in the mornings, do I?”

The lights turned on and suddenly I could see.

Jaemin continued to stare down at me in amusement as I alternated between looking at him, and Jeno who was standing by the light switch near the door.

“Guess who brought gifts!” Jaemin prompted, pulling a bag of clothes off the ground and spilling them onto the bed.

“What?”

“I brought you your clothes!” Jaemin replied as though it were the most normal thing in the world to wake someone up at five a.m. just to give them their clothes.

I looked down at the clothes on the bed and noticed a bag filled with clothes I didn’t recognize.

I opened it and took out a bright orange hoodie, the tag still attached.

“I told you I didn’t want any new clothes. Jaehyun will think-”

“Jaehyun doesn’t have to know. He gave me the afternoon off to pick up your stuff, but I noticed that you really didn’t have many clothes to begin with, so I thought I’d supplement your closet a bit. Don’t worry. These are gifts from me and Jeno, paid for with our money, not Jaehyun’s.”

“But-”

“No buts. It’s the least we could do and besides, it’s just a few hoodies. No big deal. Jeno and I wear this brand of hoodie all the time. They’re cheap, but comfier than anything you’ll find in any of the members’ closets.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Jaemin said with a smile.

“But that wasn’t why I was saying but,” I began.

“Hm?” Jaemin hummed curiously.

“I really appreciate you bringing my clothes here, and the hoodies are lovely, but why did you have to wake me up at five a.m. to give them to me?”

Jaemin chuckled and looked to Jeno.

“I’ll let him explain that and while you two are gone, I’ll get started on getting rid of the clothes in the closet and hanging these up instead.”

“While we’re gone?”

I looked to Jeno for some help understanding what the other man was trying to say. Instead, Jeno walked over to us and smiled.

“Are you ready for your first day of training?

<><><><><>

After leaving me to get dressed in my workout clothes, a simple t shirt and yoga pants, plus a royal blue hoodie that I found in the bag along with the others, Jeno guided me out into the hall way, taking the time to answer my questions along the way.

“What do you mean you’re gonna train me?”

“I’m in charge of training all the insider staff so that they can double as bodyguards if need be. Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing.”

“I didn’t mean why you were going to train me, I meant why are you going to train me?”

Jeno hesitated before answering.

“Don’t you want to get stronger so you can feel safer?” He asked.

“I mean yeah, but will it be okay?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I still have a cracked rib for starters and what if Jaehyun finds out?”

“I’ve trained people with worse injuries,” Jeno reassured.

“And you don’t need to worry about Jaehyun. He was the one who suggested it in the first place.”

“What? Why?”

I stopped in my tracks. Jeno stopped shortly after turning around to meet my gaze.

“Y/N, I know you’re probably more than a bit confused right now, but maybe don’t look a gift horse in the mouth? I mean, nothing good can come out of questioning Jaehyun’s motives. For now, just be happy that you’ll have something to focus on for the next few days.

Jeno resumed his steps and so did I. For some reason, Jeno’s words didn’t lend me any comfort.

<><><><>

“Harder! Hit it harder!” Jeno yelled from behind the punching bag.

It had been three days since Jeno started training me and somehow each day seemed to get harder and harder. My muscles were sore, and my bones felt like they would turn to dust. This was the routine, wake up at 5:00, warm up for thirty minutes, cardio for twenty, weight training also for twenty, and then the next two hours would be dedicated to basic self-defense and hand-to-hand combat. Despite my body feeling like it was one day away from falling apart completely, it looked better than it had in days. My bruises were almost completely healed, and my face had basically returned to normal. Breathing was still hard due to my slowly healing rib, but Jeno refused to let it hold me back as he constantly ordered me to hit harder, run faster, and lift heavier.

The kind and gentle Jeno I knew was long gone by the time training began, replaced by a mountain of pent up rage and aggression. It was no wonder he was able to stay so unbothered despite working such a stressful job. As soon as he entered the gym, it was like he was releasing every ounce of anger he had built up over the course of his life, and damn there was a ton of it. If that wasn’t enough to get over my crush on him, learning that he and Jaemin were dating threw the whole thing away.

I once asked Jaemin how he could stand to work out with Jeno when he was like this. His answer was surprising to say the least.

“I don’t know. I kind of like it. He just looks so sexy when he’s mad. Makes me think of all the dirty things I want him to do to me after we hit the showers.”

The rest of my days continued like normal. At mealtime, I would head to the kitchen and eat with everyone at the dining room table. We couldn’t sit at the kitchen table anymore since Taeyong, Taeil, and even Doyoung started to join us, but only because Yuta forced him to come along. The only members who didn’t join us were Johnny, Winwin and Jaehyun. I found myself wanting to ask what was going on with Winwin and Johnny since I hadn’t crossed paths with them since Jaehyun ordered them to stay glued to each other, but I couldn’t muster up the courage. I found myself missing Winwin. Even though he wasn’t the friendliest guy, there was something about him that felt comforting. For some reason I was beginning to find most of the members comforting to some extent even Doyoung’s threats seemed humorous when paired with Yuta’s sarcastic responses. I knew I should feel on guard with them, but after everything that had happened, it was nice to feel like I had friends.

Friends? Oh god. I better not be developing some weird form of Stockholme Syndrome.

“Hey! Stay focused!” Jeno commanded as he pushed the punching bag into me, knocking me down on the floor.

<><><><><>

Jaehyun chuckled softly as Y/N fell to the floor mat. He continued to watch through the two-way mirror as Jeno offered his hand to Y/N.

On the first day of their training, Jaehyun felt a strange urge to go see how things were going so he decided to take a break from his work to check in on their progress. At first, he only stayed for a few minutes, but today, he found himself losing track of time.

“She’s lovely, isn’t she?” An unexpected voice entered the room.

Jaehyun’s subtle grin abandoned his face, replaced with an irritated scowl.

“I thought I told you I was too busy for any meetings today,” He mouthed, refusing to turn towards the new presence.

“Oh, I can see that, alright,” The voice taunted.

“How did you find me here?” Jaehyun coldly huffed.

“I just rang the bell and that younger member of yours let me in. Mark, was it? After that, I made my way to your office only to find that you weren’t there. Luckily, I ran into one of your staff members, one with a particularly strange hair style I might add, and he suggested I look for you here.”

After a moment of silence passed and it was clear that Jaehyun wasn’t going to speak, the voice continued.

“I’m curious as to why you’re allowing Jeno to train her in the first place,” The voice sighed as if it were suggesting something.

Jaehyun could hear the smirk in the other man’s voice and it pissed him off to no end.

“Having her know basic defense might serve useful if Wayv decided to break their way in here or if we decided to use her for bait or something,” He explained dismissively.

“Are you sure about that? Or are you perhaps feeling guil-”

Jaehyun finally looked at his unwanted guest.

“What do you want, Suho?”

Suho’s playful smirk morphed into a frown that almost perfectly matched that of the younger man.

“We have things we need to discuss.”

<><><><><><><>

After training ended, I returned to my room to shower. Jeno decided to finish a little earlier today since he said that breaks were key to gaining progress. I don’t know how finishing thirty minutes early counts as a break in his mind especially with how long our sessions were to begin with, but I was thankful for the extra time I had to relax before heading down to lunch.

Being able to wear my own clothes was something I was grateful for. It gave me a small amount of power knowing that I didn’t owe anybody anything. It also did a lot to make me feel more comfortable in such an uncomfortable setting. I chose to wear a simple pair of black skinny jeans, a white V-neck T-shirt that hugged at my curves, and my red converse.

I had lunch with everyone being their usual happy selves before returning to my room to rest. Mark was my escort to and from lunch, so once we got back, he and I played several rounds of cards before Yuta barged in.

“Ever heard of knocking?” I playfully teased.

Yuta winked at me.

“You know what they say, you can’t hide anything from your lover.”

Mark and I looked at each other before proceeding to make all sorts of fake vomiting noises.

Yuta was unamused.

“Anyway, Mark, come on let’s go. Impromptu meeting in the billiards room,” He said suddenly in a rush.

“What about Y/N? Who’s gonna guard her?”

“Nobody.”

Yuta turned to me.

“Congrats! The boss says you’re officially too old for a babysitter, now let’s go Mark,” Yuta announced before disappearing into the hallway.

Mark promised he’d be back soon to finish the game, but hours past and there was still no sign of them.

When it was time for dinner, I decided to take advantage of my newfound freedom by making my way to the dining room unescorted. When I arrived, only Jeno and Jaemin were seated at the table. Dinner was mostly quiet. Jaemin explained that the meeting was probably still going on and that’s why we were the only three here. It made sense until Taeyong entered the dining room with a sullen look on his face.

“Y/N? Are you finished eating?”

I nodded, unsure of what else I could say or ask.

“Jaehyun wants to see you in his office.”

Scared and not knowing what to expect, I asked Taeyong what was going on, but he refused to answer. I got up and followed him. Halfway to his office, we ran into Yuta. He smiled when he saw me and opened his mouth to speak. I was expecting him to say some cheesy pick up line, but what I didn’t expect was for him to just pause before looking down at the floor, moving to the side to let us by. I looked back at him as we walked past, utterly shocked that he had actually decided not to tease me for once. It made me uneasy.

When we got to Jaehyun’s office, Taeyong knocked on the door. Instead of a voice on the other side telling us to enter, the door opened and through it walked out two members of 127 whom I had not seen in a very long time.

Johnny and Winwin.

I smiled at them silently. Winwin said nothing and only stared at me. It wasn’t comforting in any sense, but it was better than the pat me on the shoulder Johnny gave me before whispering the words, “I’m sorry.” I watched the two of them disappear down the hallway before a voice I wish I could have forgotten called for us to enter.

Taeyong led me to Jaehyun’s desk and pulled out the chair for me to sit in. Jaehyun kept his eyes glued to me, only looking away to dismiss Taeyong.

Once we were alone, Jaehyun silently stared at me as though he were carefully deciding what to say next.

“Y/N.”

I did my best to meet his gaze, careful not to let him notice my uneven breaths which grew shakier the longer he delayed the next few words that would fall past his lips.

“It has been decided that you and I will get married this month.”

What?

267 notes · View notes

chenziee · 4 years ago

Note

hello, can i request lawlu and frobin from outsider pov? thank you

Thank you, anon, for giving me an excuse to write this xD I hope you don’t mind some absolutely ridiculous, silly first dates with non-consensual meet-the-family.

This fic is the continuation to my Lawlu fic [Good friends (don’t) kiss] that I have wanted to write since publishing the original fic. It is absolutely NOT necessary to read the prequel to understand this fic :)

Enjoy~

Boyfriends (do) kiss

The innkeeper sighed as he leaned against his broom, looking around the mess that his cozy little inn had become. And the day began so innocently; quiet and slow like any other day. But now there was a charred table and burn spots on the floor, several broken chairs, with cutlery and shattered plates scattered all over. And that was him being lucky. He had been kindly informed some places hit by a similar disaster ended up with broken walls or windows—or both.

It all started a few hours ago when a couple of pirates came in. It was nothing to fret about; once in a while those sea rats would dock at this island and have a meal, then they would run off. None of them tended to stay very long or cause any trouble because of the small navy base just outside town, and even if they did start something, they were usually dealt with quickly. This was no backwater island with no police or competent security, after all.

So, when the two pirates entered, the innkeep paid them almost no mind. That is, until one of his regulars who had been eating his lunch at the counter whispered, "Hey, aren't those two…" He let his sentence fade out, only gesturing frantically in the direction of the two young men, making the innkeep frown and finally take a good look.

They were sitting at a table pretty much at the centre of the room, as if uncaring if anyone noticed them. That alone was not exactly normal in a marine town where pirates tended to keep low and hide in dark corners. The louder, seemingly younger one of them was stuffing his face with gusto, even stealing all the bread off of the other's plate while laughing and teasing his companion, who ate at a much slower pace.

The other one wasn't laughing along, having a much calmer and quieter demeanor, but there was an undeniable, if small, smile on his face. There was also a really familiar, yellow Jolly Roger contrasting against the back of his long, black coat but the innkeeper couldn't for the life of him place it. Narrowing his eyes, he wrecked his brain for where he had seen it, and for just who these people were.

And then his eyes fell on the straw hat hanging on the younger one's neck and it clicked.

Fucking Straw Hat Luffy and Trafalgar Law were casually having lunch in his goddamned inn. He really hoped they weren't going to be planning some big raids while at it or he would have to call the marines. Which he absolutely didn't want to do; there was always so much paperwork involved.

Praying to all that was holy that it wouldn't come to that, the innkeeper observed their interactions, watching for any suspicious movements. After all, two of the Worst Generation captains starting a fight with each other would be just as bad as them planing coups or navy base raids, as well as it was the last thing this old building needed.

Thankfully, it seemed like they were getting along just fine. They were both smiling, speaking quietly with each other and… holding hands? Ah no, that was just Trafalgar handing over the salt. Good. That would be awkward. The touch did seem a little bit too long for a casual contact though.

Just then, the door to the inn opened and in came a couple, a man and woman. Or a giant robot and woman? The robot had his arm placed gently around the woman’s shoulder so it looked like they were together at least.

“Oh! Robin, Franky, are you here to eat, too?” Straw Hat called loudly, waving at the newcomers enthusiastically, and only then did the innkeeper make the connection—they were two members of Straw Hat’s crew, the ‘Iron Man’ Franky and the ‘Demon Child’ Nico Robin. The innkeeper really didn’t like where this seemed to be going.

“That’s right, Luffy,” the cyborg said, equally loud, when the couple reached their captain’s table. “How’s the food here?”

“It’s great! Their bread is amazing,” Straw Hat replied and the innkeep made a mental note to relay the compliment to both his cook and the the town’s baker.

Nico Robin chuckled. “Torao-kun looks like he doesn’t agree.”

Trafalgar made a disgusted face before he looked at her and spoke up, “No, I don’t. But this bottomless pit ate all of my bread anyway and the rest is pretty good.”

“Of course I ate the bread for you, you hate it,” Straw Hat stated matter of factly before he grinned and leaned towards the other captain to give him a long kiss on the cheek, a gesture that earned him an embarrassed click of the tongue from the other pirate.

Oh. Suddenly, the innkeep remembered the newspaper article from three days ago, the one which had claimed the two were dating and which he had discarded as ridiculous and promptly forgot about. Maybe it wasn’t so ridiculous after all.

“You two are super cute,” the cyborg announced, making Straw Hat laugh and Trafalgar roll his eyes.

“Wanna join us?” Straw Hat gestured to the two other, currently empty chairs at the table. “We could make it a double date,” he suggested then, glancing to his boyfriend who only shrugged in response, apparently not caring either way.

The other two, however, shook their heads, and Nico Robin spoke up, “It’s your first proper date. You should enjoy it, just the two of you.” She smiled warmly at the two of them before she glanced up at her own huge companion and placed her small hand over his large one which was still resting against her shoulder. “We’ll get another table and we can meet for deserts later?”

“Sounds good!” Straw Hat and the cyborg agreed, both grinning, while Trafalgar only nodded silently at her suggestion.

The innkeeper couldn’t decide whether he was glad the four of them weren’t going to be a concentrated in one place, smack in the centre of the room no less, or if he was annoyed he would now have to keep an eye on two tables with high bounty pirates.

He barely managed to take notice of where the mismatched couple of the Iron Man and the Demon Child—who looked more like an elegant, beautiful lady than either a demon or a child—when someone at the counter called him over. He wondered when this young man got there; he hadn’t noticed him coming in or sitting down. Maybe because he was so preoccupied by the cursed sea dogs.

“Thank you for waiting, sir. What would you like?” the innkeeper asked the man with blond, wavy hair and what looked like a burn scar over his eye. There was a black top hat with a pair of goggles around it lying in the counter next to him.

The man smiled, putting a ten thousand beri bill on the counter. “When Trafalgar Law asks for a drink, can you add this into it?” he asked, pulling out a small bottle.

The innkeeper blinked, staring at the bottle for a moment before slowly looking up to meet the stranger’s eyes. “Are you asking me to poison a man worth 500 million beri?”

“It won’t kill him.” An unhappy, maybe even angry expression appearing on his face before he continued, voice lowering dangerously, “It will just make him regret every decision he had ever made that led to him being here.”

The innkeeper scowled, folding his arms across his chest as he regarded the man. “There will be no poisonings in my inn, lethal or not. I don’t care what your issue with him is but settle it somewhere else.”

“Damn,” the blond cursed, pocketing both the bottle and the bill. “Guess I’ll have to light his face on fire after all. Thanks anyway.”

As soon as he was done speaking, he turned around in his chair to glare at the table where his apparent nemesis was now ruffling his boyfriend’s hair while Straw Hat giggled, trying to push his hand away. When he finally succeeded, he didn’t let go; instead, he laced their fingers together and mumbled something that made Trafalgar look away in obvious embarrassment.

Suddenly, something bright caught the innkeeper’s eyes and when he looked what it was, he gasped. “Sir, you’re on fire!” he cried in alarm.

The blond startled, looking at his hand as if he only just realized it was engulfed in angry, crackling flames. “Whoops. Sorry,” he simply apologized, shanking the hand until the flame died down to nothing. After a mere second, it was as if there was no fire at all. “Glad to know Ace is angry, too.”

“Sabo! What are you doing here?” Straw Hat cried a moment later, jumping up and basically bouncing in place, and the blond cursed at being spotted.

He waved at the pirate awkwardly. “Hey, Luffy. Just—” he paused, seemingly wrecking his brain for a plausible answer— “passing by.”

That was the worst excuse the innkeep had ever heard, and that was counting all the excuses men have ever given to their angry wives who came to pick them up after a night of drinking.

But Straw Hat grinned, nodding happily as if it made perfect sense. Trafalgar Law, on the other hand, eyed the man suspiciously. “Your brother probably came to check up on you, Straw Hat-ya. Since the papers wrote about us,” he said flatly, making the blond glare at him.

Wait. ‘Sabo.’ Straw Hat’s brother. The Chief of Staff of the Revolutionary Army? That Sabo? This day was getting seriously ridiculous. What was next, a Celestial Dragon?

He barely managed to finish the thought when the entrance door burst open and in came two old men and a goat. The innkeeper couldn’t believe his eyes. They weren’t Celestial Dragons but at this point they might as well be. The goddamn Hero of the Marines Garp and former Fleet Admiral Sengoku had just walked into his inn and he felt like he might faint. Between four infamous pirates, number two of the revolutionary army, and two legendary marines, it would be a miracle if his inn was still standing by the end of the day.

“Luffy!” Garp roared, stomping forward.

Straw Hat flinched in response, immediately raising his arms in a attempt to block the fist that was coming at his head from above. “Gramps! What are you doing here?”

“Dating a pirate? You brat, you’re a hundred years early to pull something like this!” Garp growled, hitting Straw Hat once more.

“Ouch! Why does it hurt even when I use haki?” Straw Hat whined after taking a step back at the impact, his chair clattering to the floor. “And what do you care who I’m dating?” He went to punch back.

Garp side stepped him, grabbing his arm and stopping it from hitting some of the innocent customers who were scurrying to get out of the inn. “Because it’s a fist of love,” Garp said, as if that explained anything.

The innkeeper really wanted run away like his customers did but he was frozen in place, watching the scuffle happening. This was honestly the most bizzare pirate versus marine fight he had ever witnessed, possibly the most bizzare one anyone had ever witnessed. Neither was trying to beat the other, there was no attempt at capture or escape—if you didn’t count Trafalgar quickly backing away from the screaming duo in the direction of cyborg Franky and Nico Robin, who both looked entirely too entertained. At least Trafalgar’s face said he was about as happy about the turn of events as the innkeeper himself was.

A second later, in a flurry of flames, the revolutionary at the counter jumped forward, standing in between Straw Hat and Garp. “Gramps, wait. You should be beating up him,” he said sharply, pointing at Trafalgar, who was by then lounging in the chair next to Nico Robin, coffee cup he was offered by the woman in hand.

“Leave me out of this,” he called back, raising his free hand in a vaguely threatening motion, the air swirling around under his palm with in devil fruit power.

“Yes, leave him out of this!” Straw Hat snapped, throwing a punch at Sabo instead.

The bartender watched in horror as the punch went through the blond, spitting flames all around and setting a table on fire. At least the man quickly put out the flames but the damage was done and the table charred black.

Garp’s attention turned to the revolutionary then, his hand landing on his shoulder and squeezing until Sabo hissed in pain. “Hello, Mr Revolutionary. Do you care to explain?”

“Why are you so angry, we told you we didn’t want to be marines right from the start!”

“Baa!” The innkeeper’s gaze followed after the sudden sound, dropping from the scene of disaster to his knees where Fleet Admiral Sengoku’s goat was gently chewing on the wash cloth he had hanging from his belt. At least someone in here looked like they couldn’t care less about whatever it was that was happening around them. The innkeeper let go of a long, deep sigh, and stroked the goat’s head.

“Thank you,” he said to the goat earnestly, to which the animal only blinked and continued chewing.

Raising his eyes to look for the goat’s owner, he found the man slowly approaching the remaining three outlaws, dropping in the last available chair at their table—after turning it around to get a better view of the fight at the centre of the room. The three visibly tensed up at their new company, but Sengoku only looked at them blanky before raising the packet in his hand.

“Want a rice cake?”

The pirates stared at him, the cyborg moving forward a little to shield Nico Robin from the old marine.

Sengoku, however, only crossed his legs and leaned back in his chair, looking as uncaring as could be. “Relax. I’m retired. I have no obligation to keep up with any new wanted posters so I have no idea who you people are. I’m just here to enjoy the show.”

It was a transparent lie, there was no way the man didn’t know he was sitting at the table with a former Shichibukai and a woman who had been hunted by the world government for twenty-something years, and the innkeeper couldn’t help but stare at the scene before him with an open mouth. Was this seriously, seriously happening? In his inn?

When it became apparent that Sengoku wasn’t a threat to them right then, the strange couple and Trafalgar slowly relaxed and the marine smiled, gesturing with his packet again. Finally, Trafalgar reached forward, grabbing a rice cake and tentatively taking a bite.

Soon, he was followed by Nico Robin who pulled out two, handing one of them to Franky who thanked her with a quick kiss before he took it from her hand. For a moment all four of them simply munched on their rice cakes in silence, watching while Straw Hat, Sabo, and Garp bickered and wrecked the whole goddamn inn while at it.

The entire thing was so ridiculous, so completely absurd, that the innkeeper wanted to cry.

It took them almost an hour after that to finally file out of the inn, leaving behind only absolute mess and destruction. At least Sengoku had assured the innkeeper in passing that the Navy would pay for the damages while he had ordered a tea.

He really hoped the marines wouldn’t complain about it since he would be forced to bill them eight people worth of food on top of all this, as the four pirates didn’t even pay for their own food or drinks.

Pirates, he thought to himself, finally tossing his broom aside and opening a bottle of rum instead.

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wondersbeyondcompare · 4 years ago

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More Majid Stuff

I post once in a blue moon b/c I work in random bursts and get tired easily, but here are some rambles about Majid that I’ve saved in my Notes app and probably haven’t mentioned before!

There are some rumors circulating around Majid regarding his wealth

More specifically: how he got his wealth

All these rumors range from him being a secret son of a noble family to taking shady underground jobs that paid ridiculously well

His name had been searched up more than once, but the only thing that pops up is a bakery business w/ a small branch located in the Land of Hot Sands... not too far from where Majid grew up...

Majid’s a quick learner; he just lacks the motivation lol

Tends to overthink too often, tho, coming up with detailed plans to get out of doing the most mundane stuff

Funny to watch but a pain in the ass to comprehend 😔

Although Majid tries to get out of doing most stuff, there are some things he can’t let slide

He can get picky over how some tasks are done; honestly??? this might be a good tactic on getting him to work (“Hey, Majid. Can you help set up the decorations for tonight’s party?” “No.” “Aaaa, okay, guess we’ll just have Mark do it-“ “Mark? You want to leave decorating to him? Do you want the lounge looking like a highlighter projectile vomited over the walls and ceiling? Give me those streamers. I’ll do it myself-“)

Definitely a quality over quantity kind of person; his room may be a mess of different things, but, rest assured, it’s only the best of the best of stuff that stay for long like lava lamps

I want to say that Majid is picky about a lot of things in general, but he does have his exceptions; for example: food, napping locations, job opportunities, ummm (･_･;) That’s most of what I can think of right now, dang

This pickiness is kiiind of 👉👈 referencing a trait that the Cave of Wonders has; like the whole “only a diamond in the rough shall enter here“ business that was going on idk I’m trying my best

As you can see, I went ham when it came to the “Who disturbs my slumber” line the tiger head had lol 😅(sorry that had become your defining trait, m’boi)

And the mass of riches he’s accumulated over the years was another obvious reference to the inside of the cave as well; can also act as a loose metaphor of what’s stopping him from getting the help he needs; as the treasures in the cave were put there w/ the intent of distracting a person from the ultimate goal of the magic lamp, so does his own treasures serve as a temporary distraction from moving forward in his life

But if that’s too much of a stretch, then plz slap the inner English teacher in me and then myself

Majid’s good at looking through people’s facades and judging a person’s true character, but it’s not like he does much w/ this info

Unless they try confronting him or something, he just avoids/shuts down people he gets bad vibes from

Doesn’t make tactless comments; figured out that dealing with pissed off people was more work than it’s worth

Boi tends to ask a lot of questions when speaking to other people; partly b/c of trust issues; partly b/c he might be lowkey judging you (can’t use his unique magic all the time after all :/)

He’s the type of person who acts like he knows everything, but he really doesn’t; just hates getting looked down upon in general; will bluff his way through situations by being as vague as possible

He leans towards how his mother used to speak; that is: beating around the bush

He won’t lie to you, but it might take some time until he’ll give you the whole truth; and when I say it’ll take some time, IT REALLY WILL TAKE SOME TIME B/C THIS BOY IS UNBELIEVABLY STUBBORN

Is casual to whoever he speaks to, no matter the age; if he gets extremely annoyed with someone, especially if they’re older than him, he’ll use this over exaggerated polite tone that makes it real obvious he’s fed up with them

Gets ticked off whenever anyone advises him to do anything, but he’ll still take that advice to heart

Majid’s probably tired all the time b/c of all the jewelry he’s carrying around smh

Majid sounds/looks like he’s angry all the time, but that’s just his resting face 😔; I mean, he’s always a little irritated, but it’s mostly b/c he’s stuck in that state of being forced awake from a deep afternoon nap (b/c... that’s usually what happens to him)

Plus, have you met his upperclassmen? Have you seen what was going on in Scarabia during Chapter 4?????? Have you met the headmaster of this school???????? (; ω ; )

He doesn’t like people touching stuff that’s his; same thing goes for people touching stuff in general that aren’t theirs; doesn’t like thieves (he’s stolen stuff when he was younger, but he justifies that he only did so to survive; and he’s not entirely wrong)

Ironic b/c his mom was a thief 🤭

He’s also a pretty obedient student save for the whole “trying to sleep in class w/o getting caught” thing that he’s still trying to accomplish; doesn’t like it when the professors get strict with him but will grit his teeth and bear with it

Prefers magic carpets to magic broomsticks; there’s just a lot more surface area when it comes to carpets plus he’s more familiar with the former

Spends a lot of his time in the Scarabia storage room b/c it reminds him of his bedroom back home; probably became buddies w/ Kalim’s magic carpet while he was there too

But if we’re talking about the type of people Majid could tolerate befriending uummm... maybe those with good hearts?? Idk, like those who are genuinely trying to be a good person no matter what kind of obstacles they run into (referencing how the cave of wonders only let a diamond in the rough enter)

They don’t have to be all nice or sweet, but as long as Majid can tell they have kind intentions, he won’t immediately leave them

Has a “haaah... these guys are hopeless... might as well keep an eye on them so they don’t screw up any more than they already have” attitude towards these people

Other type of person Majid would unintentionally befriend are those who are also annoyed of being told what to do by upperclassmen/authority figures; ☺️🙏 vent out your frustrations together wooo

Has some squabbles with Leona when it comes to napping locations

It’s actually pretty funny to watch b/c they both don’t want to give up their spot but also they don’t want to bother getting up

Leona wins most of the time, tho

Majid may have had a lot of energy when he was younger but now he’s a g e d

I rarely mention Majid’s lava illusion magic thing, but yeah that’s a thing; he probably won’t be able to use it to its full extent until his last year of high school and maybe a little bit later; it takes up a ton of energy; I keep on imagining him using it and joking that “aaaa the floor is lava lol”, but then I remember the psychological effects this ability has on the victim and 😬 yikes scratch that

Majid has a loud clear voice when he speaks; often startles whoever’s walking by when he naps in the shadows

As a result of spending most of his time w/o a stable support system and no one static to guide his beliefs, Majid doesn’t follow any particular religion; he does have coworkers back at the curio/appraisal/pawn shop who do, tho, and while he doesn’t entirely understand it, he respects them as much as he can

I’ve said before that Majid selfishly keeps all his wealth to himself for fear of losing his self worth, but there are some exceptions (such as to anyone he passes who’s begging in the streets, a coworker who’s struggling to make ends meet, etc.)

He’s fine with giving away some money, but not in huge amounts

And if he’s giving money to anyone, it’s done in a round about way; usually w/ a dismissive excuse

If this boi had a route, depending on how the MC acts around him, the majority of it will be spent breaking down those walls and befriending him; generally going like this: shovel all trust issues into incinerator one by one —>Get him to tolerate you —> Get him to trust you —> Befriend (?) Him —> Deal w/ his other deep seated issues —-> Romance (if we’re going for that otome game kinda thing i guess???))

I can just imagine Majid temporarily visiting the Land of Hot Sands w/ MC after befriending him and finding out the truth about his parents through his boss at the curio shop; MC encourages him to travel north to pay a visit at some facility b/c it’s rumored that at least his father is still alive

(No idea what happened to Lara; probably suffered worse consequences due to making several prison breaks; had decently powerful magical abilities, so that would probably explain the whole forced amnesia thing that happened after their disappearance)

Majid is torn b/w wanting to go alone b/c this is a personal matter (And he wants MC to be safe) and being scared of losing MC if something horrible happens to him on his journey north; he knows what it’s like to be suddenly abandoned, and he doesn’t want that for anybody, especially for someone he cares about

He doesn’t want to repeat his father’s mistakes, regardless if it was accidental or not

Majid decides to go on his own; probably had some touching parting w/ MC; maybe we’ll go full otome and have a hugging CG where he swears that he will be back for MC

And MC is just like “Aight;;; cool;;; good luck;;”; something sentimental like that

Couple of days passed; we’re worried about him

He returns with a worried look on his face before breaking into a relieved smile when he sees MC; power walks to hug them even tighter than before

Majid thanks them for all they’ve done; he then spends the rest of the day and well into the night describing all he’s experienced and his visit with his dad

They go back to NRC and Majid is less bratty than before, much to the surprise of Jamil and to the delight of Kalim; actually starts to make an effort to not push people away at every opportunity (b/c he originally felt like they all had their own hidden agenda and were just using him for their own gain, y’know)

Boi becomes even more clingy towards MC; by that, I don’t mean he’s overly attached to them (he’s afraid of making the same mistake he did in the past), but rather he shows it through light casual touches here and there (a brush of the fingers when exchanging papers, patting MC’s head when they do something well, gently tugging at their sleeve when he needs their attention) and constantly checking up on them to see how they’re doing

Awkward levels in Majid increase as he constantly wonders if he’s crossing a line when it comes to him showing any kind of affection; he doesn’t want to come off as creepy and make MC hate him

Might also resist being given love and affection at first; but once he gets used to it, he absolutely m e l t s

Cuddles are 👌; might give teary eyes if MC tries to leave early during a cuddling session, but he won’t pressure them to stay; a touch starved boi

Doesn’t think much of PDA, giving or receiving; full on making out and anything further is kind of a no-go, tho; hugging is nice and so are short and sweet kisses; will glare at anybody who says anything about it

If his s/o was clingier than he is, he might get a little embarrassed; same thing goes if his s/o was really cute

Definitely the type of boyfriend to buy random gifts for his s/o b/c these things reminded him of them

Younger Majid was in full on puppy mode all the time, or at least when he was around people he liked; also a huge people pleaser too, since he was afraid of them leaving him

He was probably reckless too in order to entertain his friends

Was really polite, especially when it came to adults; always calling them Mister and Miss(us)

He was also just loud

Future Majid (if he came to terms with most of his problems) would be more mellow than his teenage self; still anti-social but he’s less angry at the world now; would go on to own the curio shop after the previous owner passed on; reverted it into both a jewelry/appraisal shop in order to honor his father plus respect the previous owner’s memory as well

Sells and repairs jewelry and appraises supposedly rare items that come through his store; still does odd jobs for the people in the neighborhood but his prices aren’t as outrageously high as he made them when he was younger

He names the new store after his mother, at the request of his father (plus I only recently heard the song “House of Gold” by Twenty One Pilots and hnnnmmg it fits well with this golden boy)

Majid is interested in most things related to jewelry, probably subconsciously influenced by his father; this includes repairing bits of jewelry; he moves delicately when it comes to these kinds of tasks

He’s a night owl; it’s much quieter at night

Has bad posture from sleeping in different weird places

His body is prone to heating up easily; the fact that he lives in the Land of Hot Sands and was also sorted into Scarabia is just unfortunate luck

Sneaks off to cooler areas on campus in his free time to chill; one of his favorite spots is the Octavinelle lounge since it’s air conditioned and dark, and he can get away with taking a nap before going over his time limit and getting kicked out

The library is nice too (´∀｀)

Would like to go to Ignihyde too, but he’s put off by the feeling of being underground (gotta have that bit of irony like Jamil being afraid of bugs 👌)

He tolerates Kalim better than Jamil; probably b/c the latter scolds him for slacking off

Actually went to Kalim for tutoring advice once before realizing part of the way that his senior had no idea what he was doing; Jamil has earned his respect when it comes to academics

Kinda jealous of the duo’s stamina; Majid’s usually heaving for air after long marches or if he’s ever chosen as a backup dancer for one of Scarabia’s many parties; he’s the ( ・∇・) least athletic of my OCs...

No, he can’t dance, but he can feign the movements well enough to not get caught

#twisted wonderland oc #twst ocs #twisted wonderland ocs #twst oc #twst oc art #art #twisted wonderland oc art #writing #my art #my post #Majid #mun taro speaks #everytime i post about my ocs i see that one twitter post flash inside my mind #the one that goes like #me to my followers: hey im sorry i havent been posting about my ocs that much but #followers: ??? wait??? you have ocs???#I LOVE SLEEPING TOO MUCH IM SORRY #anyway yeah heres my boy #its mostly just character stuff b/c ive gone over most of his background in his profile and his parents post #will i do the same for the other kids i have?? maybe if i get the energy to...#im just biased for majid #if you managed to get through everything on here congrats #you have my love and undying loyalty from now on #also i didnt really know where i was going with all of this #if it seems like im jumping from one idea to another its b/c i was

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ren1327 · 4 years ago

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Pretty Boy ch.1

“Come on, Girl.”

If you asked Ben Pincus-Masrani to describe himself, he would respond that he was thin, pale, not very extraordinary. Not even normal. Forgettable wallflower was he.

And he liked it that way.

He smiled down at his little corgi with her extra stubby tail.

Bad tail docking and a “defected ear” had made her less valuable to her owner, but more loveable to him. He remembered when his stepfather had told him about one of his business associates giving her away. Ben had cooed at her picture and the very next day, Simon had acquired her.

She was a year old now, her tail a little bump and left ear still folded halfway down. He knew it could pop up one day or stay folded over.

He’d love her as is.

She had been his constant companion since he had started University last year.

Bumpy wore little green and white booties and a matching vest for her leash, excitedly sniffing at whatever she found on the pavement of the city street they walked down. Ben smiled at her as she waved her whole back half, barking at a dandelion that broke through the sidewalk.

He thought yellow would be cute on her. It was quickly approaching autumn and he was due to buy her some more little jackets and boots.

Ben groaned as they passed an overfilled dumpster in a large open alley, the smell of spoiled milk making him gag. Bumpy led him away, as if sensing his discomfort.

He made his way to a one story building, Bumpy jumping up the steps one at a time to join him by the wood and glass door. He opened the door for her and she excitedly waddled in, sitting by the counter as an old Latino man with his grey and black hair in a ponytail came over.

“Hey, Santi.” Ben said.

“Morning, Benito.” He said with a smile. “Morning, Bumpy.”

Bumpy barked and stood, her hips waving back in forth excitedly.

Santi’s husband poked his head out, curly blond hair held back by a headband and his glasses a little smudged.

“Oh, Ben! You just missed Sammy.” He said.

“Billy Brennan-Gutierrez.” Santi scolded playfully. “Sammy said he changed his shift. Twice, remember?”

“Right!” He said. “Sorry, Honey. Must’ve been distracted by that new exhibit Alan promised to invite us to.”

Santi rolled his eyes good naturedly and smiled at Ben. “This man.”

“It’s fine. Dad was getting ready to fly over to New York for some party, so I was video chatting with him and totally forgot to text her on the bus.”

“Bus?” Billy asked, walking to the counter. “How did you like it?”

“I took the green line.” Ben said. “More…clean.”

“Ah. The public access line your father is funding?” Santi said. “It’s been an amazing help around the community. City planning is really a gift.”

“Yeah. Dad cares more about customer satisfaction. He even asked if the animals at the zoo were happy.” Ben said as Billy laughed. “And right now I know he’s gonna charm new investors.”

“I get it. It’s always go, go, go.” Santi said. “Billy and I will take care of your pretty girl. Go on to work.”

Ben kneeled and kissed his dog on her forehead. She wigged and liked his cheek.

“Bye, Bumpy. I’ll come get you later, okay?” He said and gave her leash to Santi.

He waved as he walked out and set out to a nearby bus stop with a green leaf, taking a breath as he looked at a message from his parents saying they arrived safely, his mother resting in the hotel room and his father already in a meeting.

“You got this, Dad.” He text back.

Brew-tiful Roast was the only refurbished building not owned by the college but funded independently by several of the first alumni and John Hammond himself. It was a brick and glass building with a brick and iron barred wall around it, where a garden area and several outdoor tables with wooden benches under a thick iron and heavy waterproof tarp Professor Carr of the physics department had donated almost a decade ago. Several other alumni donated money to modernize the area for student comfort and relaxation when the library and cafeteria were too much stimulation.

The inside was open with many well spaced tables, cushioned booths and a back wall lined with tinted muffled noise square privacy pods in the back. Many plants and flowers decorated tables, soft slow blinking white and blue LED lights showing where charging stations were and orb shaped hanging lamps that lit the café up.

Finally was a large refrigerated black glass top counter and display where many sandwiches, pastries, packs of baked chips and crackers, packaged fruit and several salads were displayed along with bottled lemonade, teas, sodas and waters that were always sold at a quarter. They could be taken to the counter and warmed after they were bought or warmed in one of the three communal microwaves.

“One banana avocado smoothie with fiber and whey!” Sammy called, smiling as she handed back change.

Ben’s finger and hands flew over the ingredients as he chopped, scooped and mixed the fruit before throwing it into a clean blender with ice and cold cream, and letting it run. Mixing it a final time, he poured the cold thick mixture in large cup with a star drawn on by Sammy. He put it on the counter where a young Latina woman with large glasses waited.

“No whip, just how you like.” He said with a smile.

“Thanks Benji.” She said with a wink.

Her best friend, Franklyn smiled nervously from next to her.

“What brings you to the front?” He asked as Zia sipped her smoothie with a pleased hum. “I thought you didn’t like being up here where there are so many—too many in fact, people.”

“Professor Malcom said it’d be best for me to get a few months exposed to more people.” He said and mixed caramel into Franklyn’s sugar free French vanilla ice coffee. “So I got low traffic shifts after morning classes.”

“How’s going clean treating you?” Zia asked, eyes softening on her younger classmate.

“Ah…” He looked to the side. “Got a bit of a no sleeping issue some nights, but hey. More time to think up new smoothies and teas.”

“You are aware this is Brew-Tiful Roast.” Zia asked with a smile. “As in, coffee?”

“Good thing Mr. Van Owen and Gray love it. Plus,” He smiled and put a hand to his hip in pride. “Yours truly has helped increase sells with my smoothies and tea mixes.”

“Way to go, Plant Nerd.” Zia said and slipped a five in his pocket. “For Bumpy. Get her some of those yummy carob biscuits.”

Ben handed Franklyn his cup. “Thanks. But you know I’m fine for money. With Dad and everything, honestly, this is just so I...”

Franklyn nodded. “We get it, Ben. Normalcy is…admirable.”

“Besides. I get to use my earnings to get my own place. With my own money.” He said excitedly.

Franklyn’s watch beeped. “Oh, shoot! I got to get to my Mathematical Theory class. Professor Murphy invited Ian Malcom today!”

“Get me an autograph?”

“He’s got five of the same damn book in his bag. We’ll get ya one, Benji.” Zia said with a sigh. “If you need anything—”

“I’m okay, Zia.” Ben said. “But thanks.”

She smiled as Franklyn sped out with a wave.

“Man, seems like forever since she took you under her wing.” Sammy said as the line slowed, leaving only a few people at tables typing away at laptops or talking among themselves.

“Yeah. Both Malcoms at Hammond University. Bet you he’ll crash Professor Malcom’s class.”

“He’s a Dad.” Sammy giggled as she wiped down the counter. “He kinda has an obligation to check in.”

As if on cue, her phone vibrated and she smiled at a picture of Bumpy sleeping on her back, showing it to Ben.

“Aw~” He cooed. “Send it?”

“Already done.” She giggled.

The door chimed and Sammy smiled at the newcomers before her face fell.

“Hi Darius. Kenji.” She said.

“Hey, Sammy. Got anything good today?” Darius, a paleo-researcher and Sammy’s classmate in zoological studies said.

“I got donuts.” She said. “And chicken pesto sandwiches.”

“I’ll take two of each.” Darius said as his taller Asian friend sauntered over to Ben.

“Huh, never seen you around here, Pretty Boy.” He said.

Ben looked up and froze.

Tall, tan, muscular and very, oh so very handsome.

Ben could feel his cheeks heating. “Um, what?”

Sammy’s hands came on his shoulders and pulled him a bit away from Kenji.

“Ben here usually works in the back.”

“That’s a shame. I guess you’re why this place is called Brew-tiful.” He said with a wink.

“Ben.” Sammy said. “Can you do me a favor and get more cups before the lunch rush?”

“Oh.” Ben said, snapping out of his trance. “Sure.”

As soon as Ben went through the kitchen door, Sammy slammed a hand down on the counter.

“No.” She said sternly.

“What?” Kenji asked.

“Brooklynn told me what happened with your last three girlfriends and boyfriend. All in a week!” She hissed.

“What?” Kenji asked. “There wasn’t a connection.”

“Here’s a connection. Don’t just date people cause their cute!” Sammy said.

Darius looked between the two.

“Kenji. Come on, Man. Ben looks…fragile.” He said.

“He works in a coffee shop, Darius. You gotta be pretty tough to work in food service.”

“Kenji.” Sammy said. “Not Ben.”

Before Kenji could respond, his phone rang. He looked at his phone and sighed.

“I’ll be back another time.” He said. “Looks like Dad needs to see me in person.”

“I’ll get back okay.” Darius said. “You go ahead.”

Kenji took the bag Sammy held out, slipping a $20 on the counter.

“Tell Ben I said bye.”

“No.” Sammy said with a deadpanned expression.

Kenji saw Ben look through the door of the kitchen window. He smirked and winked at him, enjoying how Ben ducked his head and reddened.

Kenji left and got into his car, sitting for a moment to watch Ben come out and shake hands with Darius.

“Damn. He really is pretty.” He said as he started the engine, big pine green eyes haunting his thoughts as he drove home.

-------

feat. from JP - Ian Malcolm, Tim Murphy and John Hammond

JP2 - Kelly Malcom, Eddie Carr and Nick Van Owen

JP3 - Billy Brennan

JW- Zia, Franklyn and Gray

Love me some side characters. Thanks for reading!

Stay Sweet~

#jw benji #ben pincus #kenji kon #jw bumpy #sammy gutierrez #darius bowman #jw brooklynn #yaz fadoula #jurassic world camp cretaceous #camp cretaceous #jw fanfic #jwcc #camp cretaceous pretty boy #camp cretaceous fanfic

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purplesurveys · 3 years ago

Text

1213

Have you ever been in weather below 0 Fahrenheit (-17 Celsius)? Nah. The coldest I’ve experienced was probably something like 10 or 11ºC, when I was in Japan. At the time I still didn’t care too much for traveling and ended up being really underdressed for the weather, so I was extremely uncomfortable the whole time we were roaming around the city. Have you ever been caught outdoors away from shelter during a thunderstorm? LOL yes, notably on the last night of my college internship. My car was parked in another building so I had to walk outdoors, when all of a sudden it fucking poured. I ran to the nearest building for shelter but I was still absolutely drenched and ended up having to call my mom (who works in the same city) to ask her to come pick me up.

What’s your favorite macaron flavor? Chocnut or milk chocolate.

How often do you have friends over to your house? Once in a blue moon. I had my ex over all the time but since then I’ve only had one friend - Angela - come over once.

Have you ever had a boss who acted unprofessionally? I mean, we’re very open with each other with regard to our frustrations at work. That could technically count as unprofessional but I’m honestly just glad we don’t have to be fake around one another and pretend like everything’s dandy.

How many times have you stayed at a hotel in the past year, and where? Just once, for my dad’s birthday. We stayed in Tagaytay for a weekend though we Airbnb’d a condo unit and not a hotel.

Have you ever done a flip on a trampoline? Nah. I could try but I’m too afraid of not being able to support myself and accidentally breaking my neck or something.

What about a flip off of a diving board? Nope.

Are you embarrassed by your school yearbook photos? No. I barely look at them and I’m sure people barely look at yearbooks too.

Who taught you to tie your shoelaces? My grandma.

Currently how many pictures are on your cellphone? 8,067. There used to be around 10,000 but I had a ‘huge’ deleting spree that brought it down to around 6,000 – but clearly I’ve brought it back up again lol.

Do you think dimples are cute? Yes, super.

Would you rather chew fruity or minty gum? It’s whatever. They all lost their taste anyway.

The last time you went to the mall, who did you go with? Just me. That’s usually the case nowadays.

What’s something you used to collect when you were younger? Pogs.

Have you watched a movie today? I haven’t watched a movie since like September.

Aside from your own, whose house did you last set foot into? Angela’s, but it was super brief as I only went in to greet her parents.

Do you love soft pretzels? Yep, that’s how I prefer my pretzels as well.

Who was the last person who cried around you? Why did they start crying? Was it unexpected? I really have no clue. I haven’t been around too many people in such a long time, much less people who’ve cried in front of me. I want to say maybe Gabie???? during one of our last meet-ups. The name feels so foreign now.

Are you more likely to like someone before you really know them, or do you feel you like them more after you know a lot about them? After.

Do you buy people cards on special occasions, or do you prefer to make your own? Giving people cards isn’t much of a tradition here. We’d much rather get you a physical gift altogether.

When was the last time you were being hypocritical? I probably do it without realizing, so I can’t say exactly when.

Where on your body was the last cramp you had? Why did you have this cramp? Fortunately I haven’t had one in a while but I usually get cramps on my neck and shoulders after a whole day at work.

What is the weirdest name you’ve ever heard? My sister went to school with this girl whose name was her surname in reverse.

Do you get embarrassed when people hear you sing/compliment you on your singing ability? If so, why is that? Yeah. I’m not confident in my singing, so I never sing around people and it would embarrass me if I was ever caught/heard.

Are you good at comforting people when they’re upset? I try to be. It works for some people.

Do you have any exercises you do everyday? Nah.

Do you own one of those singing fish? Do you think they are silly or funny? I don’t know what this is referring to.

Has anyone ever accused you of being bipolar or any other mental disorder? Do you really have any mental disorders? No one has accused me; at least not to my face. As for the second question, I’m sure I have one or two; I’ve just never gotten myself professionally checked.

Did you buy the last thing you bought with your own money? If not, whose money did you buy it with? Yabu because I was craving; paid with my own money. It actually feels pretty weird because Yabu had been mine and my ex’s thing, and I haven’t had their food since the breakup. I’m looking forward to having it again tonight and finally changing the narrative for it.

Do you like to put your feet up on the dashboards of cars? Do you parents yell at you if you do that in cars? I don’t like to do it but I’ll sometimes do it if I wanna feel relaxed. No, it wouldn’t bother them too much.

Which Beatle is your favorite, or do you love them all equally? I don’t listen to them.

Do you enjoy classic rock? If so, who are some of your favorite classic rock artists? Not really, but I have nothing against it.

Did you ever own a Tamagotchi? Yep.

Are you more of a dog or cat person? Dog.

Have you ever failed math? Just the advanced courses, like calculus, back in high school. I find math pretty fun and easy if I get the topic and know the formulas; but if I find something hard, it’s very difficult for me to keep up. There’s really no in between haha I either pass with flying colors or absolutely flop.

Skittles! What's your favorite color? Whichever’s not too sour. Idk, I never buy Skittles.

Have you ever had a dream of stabbing someone? Nope but I used to have nightmares of watching my loved ones get shot.

What would you want your last words to be if you could choose them? That I had fun.

Can you sleep with the light on? Only if I’m pissed tired. Otherwise bright lights would bother me.

What’s the most bizarre horror movie you’ve ever seen? I know my answer won’t count as it doesn’t technically fall under horror, but Eraserhead was just very bizarre and unsettling. I’ve never seen the whole film without pausing several times.

What band can’t you stand listening to? Again, this probably won’t count as they’re a boy band/group more than anything, but I cannot stand The Vamps.

Would you ever take a lie detector test for your significant other? Yeah, sure, I guess, for fun. I think those are mostly bullshit anyway so I’ll only take a test with bullshit questions as well.

What is your favorite Mystery/Crime/FBI related show? Those genres never really were my cup of tea.

Would you ever have a bird as a pet? We had two lovebirds some years ago. They were lovely, but idk if we’d do it again. No reason, just that we prefer dogs.

How's your relationship between you and your grandparents? It’s great, even with my maternal grandpa who’s already passed. But I’m well aware of the fact that they’re also a bit wary of me since I’m the most vocal and outspoken of all their grandchildren, whereas they’re intensely conservative and traditional. Still, I always feel their love, especially through food and how they always make sure to stuff me whenever I come over haha.

Ever had a forbidden love or lover? In a sense, yeah. I was in a same-sex relationship that I hid from my family for four years.

Have you ever had to speak at a funeral? I’ve never been to a funeral but I doubt I could speak at one without breaking down.

Do you know someone who’s been cremated? Yes, my grandpa was cremated.

What is your current problem? Just some deliverables at work that I would rather not think about now.

Do you like canopy beds? Eh, I don’t mind them.

What is your favorite animated movie? Toy Story.

Would you rather live in a small town or a big city? Big city. I need lots of noise, lots of activity and lights where I live. I’ve lived in suburban neighborhoods all my life and I would love a change in pace.

If you could summon any animal to come to your rescue, what animal would it be and why? Idk.

Have you ever watched The Golden Girls? I’ve watched snippets and it’s HILARIOUS. I’ve always wanted to start the series but never knew where to watch it.

Did you ever like the Ninja Turtles? Was never into it, no.

Last alcoholic drink you had? Peach soju and plum soju that got me absolutely hammered.

What are you known for? These days, probably for doing an extreme 180 and having my life be all about BTS now.

Has anyone ever threatened you? Yes.

Have you ever gone frog hunting? No? Doesn’t sound like my type of activity at all.

Do you ever suffer from dry skin? Yeah my face is a little dry, but I don’t think it’s something I ‘suffer’ from since no issues have come out of it so far. It’s just the way it is.

Do you still sleep with a stuffed animal? Not a stuffed animal but I need to hug a pillow to fall asleep.

What’s the weather like right this moment? It’s weather that says “it’s gonna get really hot in an hour or so” and I’m not enjoying that very much.

Do you bite on straws, lollipop handles, or ice cream sticks? If there’s no trash can around, I tend to.

In what type of area was your first sexual encounter? It was in a hotel.

Where is your mother’s side of the family descended from? Just somewhere in the Philippines.

What do you occupy your time with on flights? I’m honestly really happy with just staring out the window. If not that, I bring something to read or listen to music. I haven’t had a flight that lasted 6+ hours, but I imagine I would also bring my laptop for a series or movies to watch if I find myself in that situation.

Do you dog-ear pages in books? Yup.

What’s a made up word of yours? I don’t think I have any.

Do you use Q-Tips? I do.

Ever gone out with somebody you didn’t like? No. I don’t think I could bring myself to do that.

What hero or heroine do you most relate to in history, fiction, or song? I don’t really like content with a hero/ine plot.

What makes you dizzy? Amusement park rides, car rides, headaches.

Are your parents liberal or conservative? Conservative.

Do you like your teeth? Did you have braces? Not my middle teeth, but in general yeah. I did have braces but I lost my retainers at one point so my teeth just went back to their original position eventually.

Are you happy with your height? It’s fine. I’m small but it’s the average here so I don’t really complain.

#survey #surveys

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fundielicious-simblr · 4 years ago

Note

For personality, 3 and 9! For background, 2 and 3. For relationships, 2. And for fun facts, 16 and 17 :) You can pick whichever sim you like!

This is gonna be a LONG one, so grab your popcorn and get ready to scroll

ooo I think I might pick the first 6 sims from the ‘heir’ family, so I’ll do from Adalynn to Reece - let’s also assume that they’ve already mentioned reading the Bible/devotionals etc because to write it down 6 times would be hella repetitive.

Personality

[3] What are their hobbies and interests? Do they have any particular “favorites” (food, books, and so on)?

Adalynn - One of her favourite hobbies is to play the piano, but with 5 children she doesn’t get to do it as much as she’d like. She also loves spending time out in the yard cultivating her different plants and flowers, when she lived at home she and macie were in charge of their large garden, and now she mainly focuses on growing fruits and vegetables that her family can eat, she’s hoping to one day add a beehive for fresh honey but for now she’s happy with what she’s got.

Barrett - He’s interested in any kind of handiwork, while living at home it was him that maintained different items around the home that needed to be upgraded. Fishing is also a great love of his, probably his favourite, for a while he worked on a fishing boat, but when he and Kyleigh had the triplets he changed jobs to one that would pay more and was more safe.

Macie - Her absolute favourite hobbies are cooking and gardening, she cooks all of the meals for the family and enjoys experimenting with things grown in the garden. She loves taking care of babies whenever she has the chance, which with the family she’s got means there’s always a baby for her to take care of.

Zoe - Zoe’s absolute favourite hobby is to sing and make music, in-game her character autonomously sits at the piano to play music all the time so I think it fits her personality well. She also spends time writing music, so she’ll read books on music theory from time to time.

Maggie - She took her favourite hobby and turned it into a career, she’s been into photography since she was young but prefers to take more editorial pieces that let her be as creative as she wants. With encouragement from Shane (her husband) she’s gotten more into fantasy series that I imagine are popular in the sims that she never had exposure to as a child (think Divergent series, the Hunger Games trilogy, and the Twilight Saga for true teen cringe)

Reece - Like Maggie, he also took his favourite hobby/interest and turned it into a career, when he’s not working on his freelance programming jobs he’s working on an app. It’s a personal project that he enjoys doing to destress when work get’s a little too much. In my head he’s also going to dabble in robotics, so that’ll appear some time in game.

[9] What are they most afraid of?

For this one, let’s assume they’ve all said “other than going to hell” because again, that shit gets repetitive real quick. Even these are pretty repetitive since its normal for people to be scared of losing loved ones.

Adalynn - Something going wrong during pregnancy or birth, the delivery with Joshua (#5) went wrong and could have ended very badly. The issue with Adalynn is that it’s been put into her head that home births are the best thing, so while she’s afraid of something going wrong, she’ll need her husband Mason to step in and let her know that she has other options.

Barrett - Something happening to his wife Kyleigh in labour and him having to care for their (right now) 9 children. So far the various births of their children have been fine, but there’s always a chance of something happening. There’s also the fear of something happening to someone in his family like his parents and siblings.

Macie - Deep down she’s afraid she’s never going to find someone to marry, she’s in the sims equivalent of her 30s with no man in sight. There’s also the fear of something happening to her family, they are her everything so she hates to imagine something bad happening.

Zoe - Other than losing her family, it would be losing her ability to sing. It’s one of the non-familial things that brings her joy.

Maggie - Losing control of her life, growing up everything she did was dictated, and now that she has more freedom to make her own decisions she’d hate to lose it.

Reece - Reece is scared of becoming a horrible person, he saw with Stacie’s dad and (in less extreme cases) other men how easy it is for power to get to someones head and for them to hurt the ones they’re suppose to love. Men are given all the power and can run wild with reckless abandon at the expense of their family, and Reece would hate to put his family in that position.

background

[2] What’s their family like?

These 6 are all siblings, so I’ll do one large group answer and try and get all the perspectives in. Their family is a large, very conservative, fundamentalist family with links to many others who believe the same things as them. Their grandfather was a well known politician so they grew up knowing that they were related to someone great, but they never experienced the wealth that one would think comes with having famous family. In their childhoods they experienced a working class/lower middle class lifestyle due to their father not having a full time job other than being a pastor. The older girls took on the brunt of the child rearing as they aged and as a result have more of a mother/child bond with some of their younger siblings, and when a girl gets married there is a lot of tears when they move away. Their parents have your classic fundamentalist christian relationship, their father is the head of the family, under him is their mother, and lastly is them; their mother defers to their father on all decisions, but in this case she realised early on that she has domination of how the home is run and therefore has a bit of leeway to subtlety get what she wants. The children were to obey their parents immediately and without hesitation, so as they grew up, got married, and were able to make their own rules - some struggled with the new found freedom whilst others flourished. With 13 children there’s a lot of personalities and not everyone gets along 100% of the time, so there’s a lot of effort put forward for them all to get along as they’re always seeing each other.

[3] What factions or organizations are they a part of? What ranks and titles do they hold?

oo this is interesting cause this is something you’ll see more of in a series I'll be introducing in a bit, but for now I’ll explain their ‘leanings’.

Adalynn - She and her husband Mason are like their parents and remain very conservative Fundamentalists (skirts only, homeschooling their children etc), they also practice the quiverfull (QF) lifestyle and abstain from family planning as they feel God will bless them with however many he sees fit for them. Their parents (and Adalynn’s grandparents I guess) joined an organization called the ‘Centre for Learning and Life’ (CFLL) and attend many homeschool conferences arranged by the organization for those who use their materials. Due to the connections they gained as a result of her grandfather, several members of her family (including her parents) are asked to speak at events on their different areas of speciality. She and her husband actually met at a conference.

Barrett - he and his wife Kyleigh are also like their parents and remain very conservative Fundamentalists (skirts only, homeschooling their children etc), they too practice the quiverfull (QF) lifestyle and abstain from family planning as they feel God will bless them with however many he sees fit for them.Their parents joined an organization called the ‘Centre for Learning and Life’ (CFLL) and attend many homeschool conferences arranged by the organization for those who use their materials - these two also met at a conference that they attended with their families.

Macie - Macie is still unmarried and therefore lives at home. She has the same viewpoint as her parents and older siblings, and should she marry she would live the life her parents did. She attends conferences with her parents, and now is even asked to speak to encourage girls on the value of purity and modesty.

Zoe - Right now, Zoe and her husband Francisco fall into the category of fundamentalist, but not necessarily QF. They’re both against hormonal birth control, but have been looking into Natural Family Planning as after the birth of their son Javier Jr, Zoe would like to change things up and have more of a chance to plan things out. Zoe still does attend some homeschool conferences when she can, but now her priorities are different.

Maggie - Maggie and her husband Shane are conservative christians, they’re more secular than her immediate family but still conservative enough in comparison to the average sim.

Reece - Reece and Stacie are technically fundamentalists as that is the stance of the church they attend, but in their home they don’t subscribe to every single belief in an orthodox way (see personality Q9 for the reason why) They’re open to children, but with Stacie’s health issues being a factor they’re happy as long as everyone is healthy.

Relationships

What’s their friend group like? What role do they play in it?

Adalynn - Her main friend group are her sisters Macie and Zoe, as well as her sister in law Kyleigh. She doesn’t have much time for socialization but is friendly with the ladies at church and loves fellowshipping before and after a service. With her sisters, Adalynn’s role is the motherly one I guess, always there to lend a listening ear and be a shoulder to cry on. She’s the oldest and has therefore done the most emotional labour on behalf of her siblings.

Barrett - He’s close with his brothers (despite the age gap), his male cousins close in age to him, and his brothers-in-law. Sometimes a group of them will plan a fishing trip, or a hiking trip, or even just plan to go to the gym together. As the oldest boy, a lot of them look up to him for advice on different things.

Macie - Her closest friend in proximity to her right now is her mother, but she’s also got a great bond with her sister’s Adalynn and Zoe. They formed a strong bond over the course of their childhood, which continues to be strong even after her sisters got married and moved away. Macie’s role amongst her sisters was to always be the voice of reason in terms of the proper way things should be done, she’s also always willing to do something to help someone even if it is a detriment to herself.

Zoe - Zoe is close to her sisters mentioned above, and is now slowly forming a friend group of other military wives whose husbands are deployed in the same area that she is. Amongst her sisters, Zoe is the one to try her hardest to cheer someone up when they’re upset, and it always recommending them something that all cheer them up.

Maggie - Maggie has found a group of girls at her church and at her work that she gets along great with, her gregarious personality means that she’s always making people laugh and can crack joke after joke without pausing to take a breath. Maggie is also close to her sisters, but she’s closest to Macie as they were together a lot growing up, she’s close to her younger sisters as well and also takes on the role of joker in that friend group.

Reece - Reece is close to his brothers and his cousins, his easy going personality means that he can insert himself into any friend group and get along with most people. His quiet yet thoughtful nature means that people can ask him for advice and get thoughtful and helpful answers.

Fun Fact

[16] Which Deadly Sin do they most correspond to? Which Heavenly Virtue?

oo this is interesting, let me pull them up and workout who is who

Adalynn - Sin: Gluttony - She really should've stopped having children like 2 kids ago, but here she is pregnant with kids 6&7 // Virtue: Patience --> She’s honed her patience after years of caring for her siblings and now her children.

Barrett - Sin: This one was a toss up between lust (9 children with idea how many more in the future) and gluttony (having too many damn children) // Virtue: Diligence - He’s willing to put in whatever work is needed to feed his family.

Macie - Sin: Envy - She’s jealous of all her siblings finding love whilst she’s single // Virtue: Chastity - she loved the extreme modesty rules her parents set in an effort to remain pure, and as a result teaches others about said rules.

Zoe - Sin: Pride - Zoe is talented and she knows it, she’s been praised for her talent since she was a child meaning she’s well aware of her skills // Virtue: Kindness - She truly is really nice, her sim in game has some of the best relationships with other people and a great reputation.

Maggie - Sin: Envy - Maggie spent her childhood envious of other people with more freedom than her to do what she couldn't, she was so envious that she married barely out of high school to make her own rules. // Virtue: Liberality - Maggie is always giving to charity and wants to spend her own money on her own choices, with charities being one of them.

Reece - Sin: Wrath - this is purely from when he and Stacie were still getting to know each other and he had to keep himself from whooping Stacie’s dads ass for being a dunderhead. // Virtue: Diligence - like his brother, he’s willing to do anything necessary for his family.

There was also 17 - but I have literally 0 experience with tarot cards 😂

WHEW this was a lot, but like I said, I enjoy doing these - as I was writing I literally added in somethings that I felt just matched the sims personality, so I have to go update the google doc 😂

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starker-stories · 4 years ago

Text

The Dick Pic (v2)

On AO3 by @thestarkerisobvious and @starker-stories

When we first posted this story, it was helpfully pointed out that the beginning was confusing in relation to the rest of it. And it was. Thank you for that constructive criticism.

We went back to the original and reworked it. Hopefully it will be less confusing and the point of their argument more clear.

There was debate back and forth between deleting the original post or leaving both up. We finally decided on leaving both up.

Words: 9815

Tags: Misunderstandings, Dick Pics, College Student Peter Parker, Top Tony Stark, Bottom Peter Parker, Anal Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Awkward Conversations

Summary:

One picture.

Two different interpretations of the picture.

One restaurant.

Two people, trying to make themselves understood.

One balcony

Two bodies.

It was a beautiful morning. Peter had actually gotten a full night’s sleep. He was sleeping in his dorm room because Tony was away on business and wouldn’t be back for a few days.

He had awoken from a lovely dream. About Tony, of course. But about Tony when they had been together in Paris. In the dream Tony asked him what he wanted. And Tony gave him everything he asked for. In Paris, Tony told him to be bold. To ask for things that he wanted.

In the dream, as he had in Paris, he shamelessly asked Tony to go down on him. When he woke, his body was more than ready for Tony to do just that. But Tony wasn’t there. Peter was in his dorm room, alone.

He couldn’t have what he wanted that moment, of course. But… he could still ask. Tony liked it when he asked…

It was bold, probably too bold for him. Then again, Tony had encouraged him to be bold. So he boldly took his phone out and took a picture of the subject at hand.

Oh, that was shameless. He blushed, just looking at the picture. Quickly he typed:

Thinking of you.

He thought of several other things he could add to go along with the picture (‘Would you like to taste?’ or ‘Mostly about your mouth’) but in the end he chickened out of every one. In the end, he just hit send. That was enough bold for one day.

He spent the next hour grinning and blushing. He was proud, but he couldn’t tell anybody why. There was no one on campus close enough to announce: ‘Today I sent my very first dick pic’.

~~~~~

Tony looked at the picture Peter had sent with his message. ‘Thinking of you’. Yes, but what thoughts had Peter been thinking?

Well, he had told Peter that he could ask for anything. He wanted to hear every one of Peter’s sexual desires. He didn’t know why he expected that reversing their positions and Peter fucking him wouldn’t be one of them. Things weren’t as neatly defined in Peter’s generation. He’d been with enough younger men to know that.

And he’d broken up with enough of them when it became an issue.

He supposed that a few months was a good run, given his record. After the picture and message, he stopped taking Peter’s calls and any other messages. Whenever he regretted his decision to let Peter go, he simply opened his phone to that last picture.

He missed the kid so much that, a time or two, he considered whether he could tolerate getting fucked just to get Peter back. He’d tried that before, though. Tolerating it once led to twice led to three times led to asks and refusals and arguments and the inevitable breakup that should’ve happened at the start of it all.

Letting Peter’s calls go to voicemail unlistened to and leaving his messages completely unread was easier. The kid would move on and find someone willing to satisfy his needs.

But that was the problem. The kid would move on. The idea of that put such a dull ache deep inside him that he found his finger hovering over the green button whenever Peter called.

That would never do. This wasn’t something that could be talked about over the phone. It was definitely something that couldn’t be talked about anywhere that was near a bed. That led to disaster. And unfortunately, his feelings for Peter weren’t going away by simply ‘ghosting’ the boy. Tony texted Peter. Dinner? 8? Marea? It was his favorite restaurant. They’d been there together before. It might seem like it was going to be nothing more than a make-up date.

~~~~~

Peter’s last two weeks had been a strange kind of slow-motion nightmare. Sometimes everything was normal. He aced his classes. He wowed his study groups. He texted his friends and his friends texted back. Then he would try to set up a date with his boyfriend. He spoke to FRIDAY. FRIDAY would be cheerful as always, explaining why Tony couldn’t talk to him right then. Then he would text ‘I miss you’ and wait to hear some response. Finally giving up and going to bed. Wake up in the morning and start the entire miserable process over again.

He kept thinking about Paris. Their trip to Paris was memorable for so many reasons. Not just because Tony set out to spoil Peter rotten with fine wine, good food, and crowded sightseeing spots closed down just for them, but because of what they did in the hotel bedroom that night.

Tony had invited Peter into his bed, and had invited him there to do more than just fuck. But what Tony had invited him there to do, Peter wasn’t completely sure was possible. But it was possible. Peter had opened up to Tony that night. Told him things he hadn’t told anyone, had no plans to tell anyone.

He would never forget Tony’s words. ‘I brought you here because it’s the most romantic city in the world. Because it’s what I think of when I look at you. I think of how much I’m in love with you, and how much I want to make you happy.’

Peter was happy. He was lying on a bed in a hotel room in Paris, with Tony Stark sitting next to him, saying ‘I love you’. What else could any human being want? It wasn’t expensive gifts, the exclusive restaurants, or the limo rides everywhere. That was Tony’s life, and he was inviting Peter to be a part of it. Peter freely accepted that invitation.

‘I want you’, he told Tony when the man asked what he wanted.

‘And I want you’, Tony said back. Only then he asked, ‘But how do you want me?’

Peter remembered saying, ‘Forever’.

And Peter remembered Tony saying, ‘Only that long?’

So he told himself he was being ridiculous. He trusted Tony. As Spider-Man, he trusted Iron Man with his life. As Peter Parker, he trusted Tony Stark enough to tell him things he had never told anyone. He was in love. He just had to remember that he was in love with an incredibly busy man. Dating Tony meant sharing him with the rest of the world. “I’ll just be patient,” he told himself. “I’ll be the most patient boyfriend that ever lived.”

Sometimes he wondered why he was so utterly and thoroughly unlovable. Why would Tony want to date a kid like him? A kid with so little sexual experience, a kid who had admitted to an entire, itemized list of fears? He was unlovable. Tony was proof.

Tony had been his first serious boyfriend (serious boyfriend? Tony had been his only boyfriend.) Sometimes he convinced himself that he would just live like a monk, a monk who fought crime and worshiped a far-off, unavailable man. It wasn’t the strangest superhero backstory in the world.

Sometimes Peter was angry. He had admitted to things, admitted to things he never thought he would tell anybody. It seemed like a good idea at the time. And what had been his reward? To be ghosted by Tony Stark, apparently.

But Tony hadn't broken up with him, that much was certain. Peter checked his email, his phone messages, every social media account he had a million times. Checked them every morning. Sometimes got up and checked them in the dead of the night. Waiting. Waiting for the explanation that would never come.

Almost two weeks to the day, he received the message. His whole body sagged in relief. He hugged his phone to his chest tightly and did a little dance. Grinned from ear to ear. It was okay. They were going to Marea and everything was going to be okay.

~~~~~

Slowly, very slowly, Peter was getting the idea that everything was not okay.

They were seated to Tony’s usual table. Menus and orders taken, wine brought and served. During which Tony was near silent, making only the barest conversation that politeness required. Not only to the servers, but to Peter as well.

When the meal arrived, Peter realized he was going to have difficulty eating. His stomach was in knots. Something was obviously wrong.

“Pete,” Tony said casually, after he finished another bite. “What did you mean by that last picture you sent me?”

“Oh, I meant that I was going to not be late for our lab session because I whipped through my differential equations test in record time and I was actually ten minutes early? Except you weren't in the lab?”

Tony looked puzzled. “No. The last picture you sent. What were you trying to imply by that? Something you want?”

“I guess… I guess I was…” Peter dropped his eyes. “I guess I was bragging that I finished it faster than anyone in the class. The professor said it was faster than anyone he had ever seen and asked me to be his TA next year…

“I mean I wasn’t bragging… but I was. And you didn’t notice.”

“It sure looked like you were bragging. And wanting something other than an A on your exam.”

“In differential equations? We’re talking about Tuesday, right?” Peter took out his own phone and looked for the last pic he sent — which was from differential equations.

“I don’t know the date… I guess it was a Saturday or a Sunday. Maybe Sunday morning… yeah I think Sunday morning and you don’t have differential equations on a Saturday, so no, not that… Did you send me something about that too?”

“Something about… what?” Peter reached out and snatched Tony’s phone from where he set it on the corner of the table. He had prided himself on his patience this week, but his patience was coming to an end. He opened the message app, found his name, and scrolled to the end of the messages, then back to find the ones that had pictures attached. A cute squirrel in Central Park, a sunset behind Stark tower from the top of another building that he took just to text ‘I Miss You’. Finally, the finished test he’d mentioned twice. The one Tony hadn’t even acknowledged.

“There are things that haven’t come up before between us. And we haven’t exactly talked about the things that have come up between us. And that would be a pretty large thing to discuss. What exactly did you mean by sending me that picture?”

“Are we talking about the picture of the spider I sent?” Peter asked, scrolling again. “You never told me you were squicked out by spiders. I’m just a spider fan. You knew that. Everyone expected me to be an entomologist.” He shrugged, guiltily. “I just like math more.”

Finally, Tony grabbed his phone back. He scrolled through the messages until he found the one. He set his phone upside down on the table so no one else could see, then he slid it over to Peter.

Peter looked at it, started visibly, looked around to make sure no one saw it, then he grinned and ducked his head and blushed. Damn, he had felt so bold when he woke up with that in the morning. What was he thinking?

Oh yeah — he had been thinking…

“Well, you’re always telling me how pretty it is…”

“I’m into a lot of things, but there are some I’m not thrilled about.”

“I had a dream about you,” he said as quietly as he could and still be heard. “And I woke up thinking about you, and that was the result.”

“What kind of dream are we talking about? There wasn’t exactly a clear message with it.”

Peter looked confused. He started to speak then stopped. This was very hard to talk about in a restaurant. So he considered the possibilities. He grabbed his own phone and started texting quickly.

Was that really your first dick pic? I’m sorry I never thought. You were the first person to even walk AROUND with a phone in your pocket so I just didn’t think. I’m sorry. All you had to do was say you didn’t want that. Did you open it in a meeting or something?

It was ridiculous to sit there and text someone two feet away. Tony had no shame about talking about the issue in public.

“No, that’s not the first dick pic I’ve ever been sent. The angle and the way you were holding it… that is a first time without implying something by it.”

Peter put his phone down in frustration. He remembered exactly the kind of mood he had been in when he had taken that picture. Bold as brass. Fearless. Amazing. He didn't feel amazing right now. “I can’t really answer that question in a restaurant.

“But... remember when you took me to Paris? It was about Paris. Well it was sort of Paris... but yeah. That’s what it was about.” He tried not to sound hurt, but he was feeling hurt. How hard was it to say ‘don’t send me dick pics’? And why was Tony ignoring everything that came after that?

“Look, there are things I’m just not into,” Tony said firmly, irritated by the kid’s inability to comprehend. “If that’s what you're going to be needing out of this, you’re gonna have to find it elsewhere.”

Peter pulled his chair up to the table as far as he could and leaned in, whispering. “It implies you want to see it. Because you keep telling me you like to see it.”

His chest ached. It hurt to breathe. What Tony had said to him, and convinced him to say, in Paris meant so much to him. He’d never forgotten it. And he could never discuss it in a restaurant.

“Yeah, it’s beautiful. You’ve got a big, nicely shaped cock and I don’t mind seeing it. Like seeing it, actually. But that picture was… different from the dick pics I usually get.”

Tony flipped his phone face up, the picture clearly visible to anyone walking past their table. At that point, making Peter feel uncomfortable was almost part of it. The kid certainly made him uncomfortable the morning he got that. Especially after the way things had been going so well between them.

Peter tried desperately not to gape. It was instinct, not to let your opponent know when you were hurt in battle. But dammit, he was hurt. “‘Things I’m just not into’? Squirrels, sunsets and spiders? Or, more importantly, ‘the things you think about during the day, and your triumphs and proud moments’? Because once upon a time, Tony, you seemed to care about those things a great deal.”

But now words like ‘angle’ and ‘holding it’ and ‘different’ began to register. Suddenly, he found himself getting angry.

“Give me your damn phone.” He grabbed it off the table.

He scrolled through Tony’s phone wondering if someone else was sending Tony dick pics. In which case he was really going to lose his patience. But no, there it was. His cock. Huge and lovely and hard. Hard because he was remembering the incredible things Tony had done to him in Paris. Huge because he had, with his sudden surge of confidence, placed the phone directly beside it. What could he say? He had woken up feeling cocky.

He didn’t feel cocky now. He put the phone in his lap, shielding it from other eyes, and analyzed the angle.

“I haven’t exactly been answering my messages or downloading the photos attached to them lately, so forgive me if I’ve had an entirely different subject on my mind than squirrels and differential equations."

“Well, we haven't talked in two weeks, so I have no idea what’s been on your mind,” Peter hissed.

Patience. Patience patience patience. He could swallow all this hurt and pretend it wasn’t there, he was a master at that. He was good at it. (He had practice.) But right now he was looking at the picture of what he’d wanted Tony to praise (right before devouring it) and wondering if that was ever going to happen again.

“That,” Tony said when Peter had taken his phone off the table again. “That’s been on my mind. Hard to get anything else on my mind. What, exactly, did you mean by sending me that? Because, like I said, if you want to fuck my ass, you’re going to have to find somebody else’s ass to fuck.” He shrugged. “Which, I can work with, I guess. Not the first open relationship I've had to have because of differing sexual appetites.”

“It’s a right angle, Tony. 90°. It’s just… you used to say it was ‘so pretty’ and you… wanted it in your mouth. And I woke up dreaming of the things you said to me in Paris before you… before we… and I woke up. And I was thinking about you. That’s what I wrote. That’s what I meant by…

“…wait… what? Tony for god’s sake… Tony? Only you would try to have this conversation in a restaurant.”

“It’s not a problem. Guys grow up and have different tastes when they do. It’s not like I didn't have a fair number of experiences in that direction when I was younger.

“It’s just not my… not interested in that anymore. Haven’t been for a very long time. And I don't see myself particularly wanting to get fucked any time soon. Not even by you, sorry.”

“You have a fair number of experiences debating the angle of my penis over dinner in a restaurant!?” Peter laughed, overwhelmed by the surreality of the conversation. “You were right, Tony — your life was a lot different than mine.”

“Well actually, not your penis. but not the first one I’ve discussed over dinner in a restaurant. Usually as a prelude to heading to the bathroom with the other guy in said restaurant. But that’s not the point.”

“I have no idea what the fuck you are talking about!” Peter whispered angrily. Except he wasn’t exactly whispering anymore. This was the strangest conversation he had ever had in his life. He was beginning to lean into the strange.

“Oh my god. One minute I’m working up the nerve to admit that I still dream about what happened in Paris and the next minute we’re discussing why it’s wrong that I want to… I don’t even know what. This is insane.”

Tony just shook his head. He was being pretty clear, he thought. “We’re talking about whether or not you want to fuck me, that’s what we’re talking about. Because that’s just not something I’m into. But if it’s something you’re into, I’ve got no trouble with you finding it elsewhere. Well, actually I do, but I’m prepared to adjust my expectations.

“Wait…” Tony furrowed his brow. “Paris? What the fuck does this have to do with me sucking you off?”

“I’m sorry I sent you the wrong kind of dick pic and I have no idea why you think I was thinking of that, but I’m just about at the end of my rope. I’m in over my head here.”

“The only time I’ve ever gotten a picture like that was from someone who had very different ideas about my sexual tastes. It’s pretty much a ‘sit on this’ pic, don’t you think?”

There were tears behind Peter’s eyes. All of his talks to himself about ‘patience’ were drying up. He didn’t have it in him to explain what Paris had meant to him, at least not in a public place. Maybe in the dark, in Tony’s arms, maybe. But not while the man was spouting nonsense.

He took a deep breath. “No, Tony. It was a, you told me it was ‘gorgeous’ pic. It was a, you told me you ‘want to suck on it’ pic. For god’s sakes Tony, you told me once you wanted me to c… to leave a wet spot on your bed for you to find when you got home. I’m sorry about your past lovers but I’m not really responsible for them. I’m only responsible for myself.” His voice broke a little. He wasn't feeling very responsible right now.

Dammit, he had done everything right. He had been the proper amount of sexy and tried to hide all the shyness. He had tried to be bold when Tony wanted him to be bold. He had been patient. He had been positive. He was even attempting to have this incredibly personal conversation in a public place because Tony wanted to. He had done his best. But his best wasn’t good enough.

“Jesus Peter, how many different ways do I have to tell you this. I love you. I love what we do in bed together. There are directions I’m willing to expand into that and explore, but me getting fucked isn’t one of them. It’s not something I’m into. It wasn’t even something I was into back when I was young enough that that was all anyone wanted me to do. It’s just that’s the way it goes when you’re the age I was then. But eventually you get old enough to tell the other guy ‘no, I’d rather fuck you instead’. So, if you’re getting to that age, we’re going to have to talk in terms of how you can get what you want in that direction, because it isn’t going to be me.”

Tony had been keeping his voice calm and quiet the whole time, not even letting his exasperation come through in any way except his word choices. Peter was a smart kid, surely he understood the words that were being said.

Peter pressed his water glass against his face. He knew his skin was flushed and he felt overheated. He took the napkin from his lap and dipped it in the ice water and dabbed his forehead. It was probably a rude thing to do in this expensive restaurant, but what the hell? It couldn’t be worse than discussing the angle of the dick pic on Tony’s phone.

He took a deep breath and tried to say something that made sense. “Well, I guess I should say thank you for thinking that I’m old enough to be changing my tastes… I guess. If that’s really a thing you outgrow. But this is all coming out of left field for me.”

Taking another deep breath he thought back over what Tony had said. “And I love you too. I’m sorry people did things to you when you were young that you didn’t like. But if this is a ‘stage’ for me, a ‘stage’ I’m going to ‘grow out of’, I’d estimate you have another good ten to twenty years before that happens. I can’t see ever getting tired of it. But I guess you know better than I do… except…

“Except…” he said, looking back into Tony’s face. He could talk about science. Science was easy.

“Except it seems like you think we are both going to have the same experience, and the data doesn’t point that way. The data doesn’t point at all. You’re talking about societal expectations versus actual personal preference and there’s no reason to assume I’m going to ‘grow out’ of being… who I am.”

“It’s not a thing some people outgrow, but others do. There’s a certain expectation that the younger person bottoms, but then, as they start getting older, they find out that’s not really their thing. Or that they’d been putting up with it because they were expected to, even if they didn't like it much… or at all.

“Other guys don’t outgrow it. They’re just that way. Which is what I was hoping it would be with you. Because, if you wanted to, if it was a dealbreaker and you’d leave me over it… I guess… it’s not unendurable if it wasn’t often.”

Deep breaths and factual statements were helping incredibly. Tony’s voice was calm and that helped too. Speaking calmly and factually about these things means that things were actually okay — they could talk about more personal, painful things later. In private. Hopefully while naked.

“Well, I appreciate that your generation couldn’t exactly go to the library and do as much research as I did when I first identified as gay, so there's that…

"But, help me out, Tony. I sat down at dinner and suddenly you start talking about me ‘leaving you’ and I’ve got whiplash here. Literally the last thing I sent you was a picture of a squirrel.”

Tony raised his eyebrow. Peter was always a quick study and never this blindingly obtuse. Maybe it was the subject. He needed it explained more simply and perhaps repeatedly.

“Some guys are bent in one direction and others in the opposite. I’m pretty much bent only in one direction. I knew that the odds of you staying bent in yours weren’t great. Most guys fall in the more flexible position. I’m just saying that I’m not one of them. But if you are, as long as you didn’t have any sort of… emotional bond with whoever you hooked up with… I’d… adjust.

“This isn’t something even your generation goes to look up in the library, Because most of your generation is more flexible. It’s assumed that you both will, I don’t know, toss a coin for it, I suppose. I don't know how it works.

“The implications of what you sent kind of overrode my reaction to one of your daily messages of the sort I like getting from you.”

Peter opened his mouth but then closed it again. He looked at Tony’s face, and he stopped completely and took stock. He thought about the damn squirrel. He thought about how he aced the test that he wanted to brag about. And he thought about waking up with a raging hard-on and the need to brag about that too. And he thought about how much it hurt when Tony seemed to be ignoring him and what that meant. He took a deep breath, looked Tony in the eye, and spoke.

“I don’t want to ‘hook up’ Tony. With anybody. I don’t think you understand… it’s not that way for me. I don’t want to be with other people. I guess I should have told you that before. I don’t want to… even if there was someone else I actually wanted to… I don’t want to be with anyone else. I love you. I want…”

It would have been hard for Peter to do this in the dark, in Tony's arms. But dammit, this was Tony’s world. The world where you just have these conversations in the open. So he did it. For Tony. “I want to be yours. I want to belong to you.”

Of course, he barely got the words out. It was hard to talk without air. But his mouth formed around the words, which was something.

“I want the same thing. I love you, Peter. I love what we do in bed together. But, in bed, there are things I don’t love. Even if I do love the person who’s asking for them. That is what I’m saying.”

Being told what Tony wanted was almost as good as being held, so he held onto those words. And the words ‘I love you’. He took a deep breath, relieved, and tried to listen to the rest of what Tony was saying.

“All I need for us to be together is for you to understand…” He looked down at his phone, thinking about that doomed message that was supposed to be about Paris and wound up being about something else entirely. “…this is all very important to me, Tony. I guess I shouldn’t be ashamed of it, but I am, because I’m supposed to be all casual about some things and I can’t be. I don’t want to be with anyone else. And of course… I want to be in your life. I want that more than anything else.”

“I don’t like to share. Not you. Especially not you,” Tony said, admitting an inconvenient truth. The truth that led him to making this date instead of simply continuing to ‘ghost’ Peter until he went away.

“Which is also not in keeping with the way people of your generation approach things, I know. You’re not the first guy under thirty that I’ve been with. I know things have changed a lot. What’s expected of relationships. Inflexibility and possessiveness are definitely not the mode. But they’re where I’m at and it’s hard to see me changing that. I’m possessive. I don’t want to share the person I’m in love with, that I want in my life… for the rest of it.”

“I don’t want you to share… I don’t want to be shared! And I know I’m not normal for my generation or for my anything… and I tried so hard to… gosh maybe I should have told you sooner. Maybe I need to stop trying to be ‘normal’. I don’t see why I have to change. I just want to belong to you. I don’t want… I’m not interested in ‘hook ups’ and I’m tired of pretending that I… that I get it. I don’t. I can’t see being with someone and not… well you know. Blurting out everything I feel. I can’t really stop.”

“Baby, I am in love with you. And that doesn’t come without the possessive part. It’s worse with you though. Maybe because I’ve never really… felt this with anyone else. Not like this. Not like I feel with you.”

“Wait…” Peter stopped, the pieces suddenly falling together in his head. “Did you… did you just really volunteer to bottom for me?”

Tony sighed heavily.

“If that’s what it takes to keep you in my life. Like I said, it won’t have been the first time I’ve been fucked. I just never liked it. Not even when I was your age. It was just the way things were back then. Before a certain age, you were expected to bottom. And past a certain age, you were expected to change and to want to top.

“I wanted to be with guys and if that meant turning up my ass to get the rest of what I was looking for, I did it. But then I got to a point in age where I didn’t have to put up with it.”

"Tony, for gods’ sake I don’t want you to… why would I want you to turn up your ass when…” But he couldn’t really say more. Not here. He covered his face and whispered behind his hand. “When you do so many amazing things to me?”

“I can't stand the idea of losing you.”

Peter reached out for Tony's hand. “I love you.” It was like a dream come true, and while he wasn’t sure he had dreamed about it happening in a public place, well, here it was. “I love you and you’re never going to lose me.”

He wanted to say ‘I’ve never felt this way about anyone else’, but it was a silly thing to say. He had been in love with Tony Stark his whole life. He had felt this way about Tony forever.

Tony held Peter's hand, his thumb caressing the back of it. “You got together with me while you’re still so young. Before you have had time, really, to explore things you might find out you like or prefer better. I’ve had plenty of years to experience everything on the menu and you’ve just had one taste.

“I don’t want to hold you back, even though I don't want to let you go.”

“Tony, can we… leave? Please? I don’t want to talk about this here.”

“Okay, we can leave. It’s just… if it turned out that’s what you did mean by that picture… It felt safer here, than at home, to discuss these matters.”

“Wait… what? Now I’m really confused. Why would you want to discuss it here and not…” He didn’t want to say ‘in your arms’. It still felt very immature. “…at home?”

“Why here? No particular reason as to the venue, but some things are just safer talked about in a public place until they’re sorted and both people are on the same page. Where the bed is far away and not an option for where to discuss them.”

“Tony, I want you to teach me those other things on the menu. I don’t want to be with anyone else. We’re not talking about trying on different styles of shoe here. I… can’t do that with other people, that’s what I’m trying to tell you. I know I’m supposed to want to be casual with other people because of my age but I don't. And I’m trying to tell you, I don’t want to feel ashamed of that anymore. I don’t want to pretend anymore. I don’t have to. I can be a Tony-sexual and not apologize for that. You’re not ‘holding me back’ you’re loving me and I’m loving you and there’s nothing bad about that.”

“Since I’m rather Peter-sexual, you being me-sexual is a good thing. Because I already have enough issues struggling not to take someone apart who looks at you for too long. Having someone actually touch you? When you belong to me? That's unsustainable.”

Peter couldn’t help but smile. And beam. Maybe blush a little. The idea that Tony wanted to ‘take someone apart’ just for looking?

"Okay. So we’re both very much alike in the me-sexual way. And we’re both very different about where we like to talk about private things. And we’re not going to talk about me being with someone else in bed because I hate that idea. And you’re going to stop volunteering to do something you don’t like because I really hate that idea. Is that sorted out enough? Can we go home now? I kinda need to.”

They weren’t going to just walk home hand in hand, no. Peter was going to hold Tony’s hand and use his other hand to hold into Tony’s arm too. He hoped Tony wouldn’t mind.

But Tony draped his arm over Peter’s shoulders as they walked back, holding him close, making sure that no one would possibly think that he wasn’t very much taken.

“So all this was just a case of bad lighting, poor camera angle choices, and you making yourself less than clear about the meaning of that particular picture of your, yes, very lovely, dick, hmm?” Tony asked with a sly smile.

Peter reached up and grabbed the hand draping over his shoulder. As they walked he couldn’t stop smiling.

“Tony… you’re going to have to find me an online course on ‘how to take a dick pic’ because I have no idea how that looked like anything other than a yummy snack.”

“I’ll send you a few examples, if you want,” Tony said smiling, “Because I don't want you looking at anyone else’s dick pics, not even as a course of online study.”

Peter smiled. “Deal.”

“So the way things have been with us? That’s good for you? You mentioned Paris… Those are some very good memories we made there. Apparently inspiring in your dreams, huh?” he said with a little smirk. “What parts, exactly, were so inspirational? I can’t understand unless you tell me. Explicitly. In detail.”

“Please Tony, not here…” Peter groaned and looked around them. New York City. People everywhere. But then again… wasn't talking the point? So he tried to be brave again, and spoke. He spoke almost directly into Tony's ear, but he spoke.

“You made me tell you what I wanted. You made me put it into words. And it was impossible to say those things without telling you how they made me feel. How you made me feel so safe and wanted and beautiful and so… yours. And I told you that I loved you. And I could, because suddenly I wasn’t afraid anymore.

“And I told you and I couldn’t be anything but honest and that was okay. Because that’s what you wanted. And I told you about all the things I was afraid of, and you made that okay too. And when I knew it was okay to be afraid, then I wasn’t afraid anymore.

“And also you made me come three times in one night. There was that.”

~~~~~

They were making out hot and heavy in the elevator, Peter boldly pulling Tony’s shirt free from his trousers and sneaking his hands underneath. As the doors opened they stumbled out. Peter had Tony’s face in both hands, trying to kiss him and lead him into the penthouse at the same time.

“I want it to be you, Tony. Whatever it is, whatever you want to do, I want it to be you. I want you to be the first.” He’d made himself giggle, trying to kiss Tony and talk at the same time. He only had one glass of wine at dinner, but now he felt drunk.

“That’s what I want. I just thought there was another first you wanted with me, and that’s not going to be a first we can share. Unless it…” Tony sighed. It was a difficult choice. “Yes, okay. I’d rather it be me than anyone else. The thought of anyone else touching you… In any way…” Tony said fiercely.

“Oh god, say it again, tell me I’m yours, Tony. Tell me no one gets to touch me but you…”

“I don’t want anyone touching you but me. I want you entirely to myself. I’m selfish and possessive and irrational on that subject.”

Peter laughed in relief and joy. Laughing directly into Tony’s mouth seemed rude so he leaned his head back and laughed that way. He felt giddy. “Yes, please yes. Please. I want to get ‘Property Of Tony Stark’ tattooed across my back.

“Oh god no. Please no. Do you have any idea how many people did that hoping I’d be impressed and it would become true? Nope. No. No way.”

“Ah damn, then I’ll think of something else.”

“I can think of something that will make sure everyone knows you belong to me,” Tony said with a smirk. “Not telling you yet though.”

“I want you to be my first time, Tony, all my first times. I don’t know what else to have first times for, but please think of some and then be my first.”

“Oh baby, we haven’t even touched one tenth of the first times you can have. There are entire places on that beautiful body of yours that I haven’t made love to yet. Much less places we can do it in. Positions. Locations. Methods. I can be very imaginative.”

“Oh god yes locations! Locations. I’ll let you take me anywhere on the globe, anywhere, I won’t protest, I swear.” He felt too dizzy to walk. He kept his arms around Tony’s neck as they tried to move away from the elevator. It made them move slowly, but he was afraid to let go.

“Then that just makes ‘first times’ at least several hundred locations. Sixty of them owned by me. Several rented. And then there are hotels to stay at.

“All of them, Tony. Each one. We have years.”

“We happen to find ourselves in the penthouse tonight and I’m not willing to wait til the jet can fly us somewhere else. But there are many many things we’ve yet to do right here.

“Yes,” Peter said, kissing him again. “Anything.”

“Anything I want?”

“Oh… crap…” Peter pulled his head away a little and tried to clear it. He had to be honest… Being honest had been a big deal to him since Paris. And ‘anything’ was a very big word.

“Unh unh. You already agreed. No backing out now, beautiful.” Tony kissed Peter deeply.

“Okay,” he whimpered a bit against Tony’s mouth. “…but you also said I had to tell you the truth about being afraid of bedroom things so I’m trying to do both.

“All I know is, if I’ve never done it before, I want to do it with you. I need it to be you.”

“Oh you’ve done this before. It’s not a first in that way. You did say locations, though. I was listening very closely, Pete. I always listen to you.”

“Oh… oh good.” He grinned from ear to ear. Tony listening to him was all he wanted.

“Hmm. First, location. Time for other things later.” Tony took Peter’s hand and started slowly walking him away from the elevator doors, unbuttoning Peter’s shirt, dropping it on the floor, kissing him as they walked, unbuttoning his pants while he was being kissed and walked, pushing his pants and underwear down and nearly tripping the kid when they got hung up on his shoes.

Peter was too happy to think straight. He happily helped Tony get him undressed as they walked. If they were headed to the bedroom to do it on the bed, he didn’t care. Just as long as he was skin-to-skin with his lover soon.

When Peter’s shirt came off, Tony’s quickly did too. When Peter’s pants came off, Tony was a little more deft, realizing shoes were a thing and toeing his off as he stepped out of his jeans. They were naked together, Tony wrapped his arms around Peter, anything to keep him distracted from where he was walking him to. Which wasn’t the bedroom. They were still in the living room for now.

Tony slowed their walk as they passed the console table. He opened the drawer and grabbed one of the small bottles of lube he had hidden all over the penthouse. As he wrapped his arms around Peter’s waist, he kept the bottle in one hand. He started kissing Peter again, edging their progress along the large glass wall.

“Ever get fucked 96 stories in the air before?” Tony kissed him again.

“The… the window? Oh Tony…”

“Not the window, baby. I’m gonna bend you over the balcony railing, looking straight down to the ground. Where anyone over there in One Vanderbilt will be able to see you bent over, taking my cock in your ass. Watch you getting the glass messy.”

“No no no. Tony, we’re outside!”

“Um hmm. Outside where they can see how beautiful you are. You are so beautiful Peter. Stunning. You belong to me and you’re one more thing that’s beautiful and mine that they can only look at.

“But Tony… Tony… Tony…”

“But don’t worry, baby. All they’re going to see is how lucky I am to have the most handsome young man in the city all to myself.

“But Tony…”

He held Peter close and kissed along his jaw until he was whispering in his ear. “But what, baby? You know you’re beautiful. You know your mine. You know how much I want you.”

Tony gently turned Peter around, holding him by the waist, pressed up against his back, nuzzling into the nape of his neck. “The lights from all those people out there… Not one of them has anyone as beautiful as you.” Tony kept shifting the lube bottle from hand to hand as he touched Peter, so the kid never knew it was there. Ever since Peter had noticed and remarked on it, it was a game Tony liked to play against himself. How to do the ‘magically appearing lube’ trick.

“But Tony… I… I… Tony I… ” Peter took in great gulping lungfuls of air. He had no fear of heights, never had. In fact he thought Tony’s balcony was one of the most beautiful places on earth. But he was outside, and completely naked, and that was just all kinds of wrong.

But then again, Tony was naked too. Naked, and pressed up against his back and saying the most beautiful things. Peter took another deep breath.

“Okay. I can do it,” he whispered. “If you stay close.”

“Where else would I be, Peter. I won’t let you be anywhere but close to me.” Tony’s hand wandered over his body. Up along his stomach, his chest, his neck, holding him there just a second before moving down his sides to his hip. He moved Peter’s ass back against him.

Peter gasped at the feel of Tony’s hand on his hips and moaned as he felt where Tony was moving him. He needed to make himself understood before he was beyond speech.

Reaching behind him he found the back of Tony’s head and pulled it to his own, until he had Tony’s face pressed against his face. “No, I mean stay close.”

“Baby, I’m gonna be right there kissing those pretty curls on your neck. I can’t resist them. I’ve gotta taste your skin. I’ve gotta put those beautiful marks on it. The ones I don’t even share with you. The ones that show that you’re mine.

“I love that no one else has ever touched you. No one else will ever touch you.” Tony rocked up against Peter, growing hard, frotting along the crack of his ass. His hand slid down from his waist to rest on his belly, just above his cock. He held the solid warmth of it there, then moved lower.

“I should let you have all the experiences someone your age would have. But all of those are mine too.”

“Yes, yes... yes,” he chanted, loving every word that was whispered against his ear. “Yes Tony.

“Oh… but we forgot… you forgot…” Peter stopped and blushed and looked back a little. Tony had supplies hidden all over the penthouse, making sex possible in just about every room. But there were no night tables on the balcony.

Suddenly he found himself grinning. “You’ll have to go back for the lube.”

“I will?” he asked skeptically. To be the ultimate of sneaky, he’d have to not touch Peter with either hand and Peter had asked him to stay close. He wouldn’t let go.

“Not just yet. Kiss me again… oh…”

Tony opened the bottle, giving it a squeeze, and let it run down the crack of Peter’s ass. He bent over Peter’s back a little more and set the bottle on the tile. His finger stroked through the thick lube, pushing it between Peter’s cheeks, fingertip swirling around Peter’s opening.

“Oh Tony…” Peter whispered. He couldn’t say much else. He was trying to remember to breathe. Tony had touched him like this many times, but being touched this way outside? It was somehow a completely different sensation. Still, he knew Tony liked it when he said something other than “Oh Tony.” So he tried again.

“Please keep talking to me.”

Tony was surprised that Peter could say anything, even at this early state. His voice was thin and reedy, almost carried away on the night air. He bent over the boy and kissed between his shoulder blades.

His voice was a low rumble against Peter’s back. “Do you want me to tell you how hot this beautiful place on your body makes me feel? Or perhaps how very special it is that you let me touch you here. That you let me own you here.” He paused. “Or perhaps you’d like me to tell you that there is someone on the 85th floor of One Vanderbilt watching us?”

“Stop…” Peter giggled. He didn’t really believe it, but he also didn’t care. In this moment, with Tony touching him there, no one else mattered in the world.

“Baby, you are always beautiful. But up here? Up where we fly? Where it’s just us? Beautiful doesn’t touch it.”

“Yes, it’s ours,” Peter murmured, hooking his arm behind him so he could stroke Tony’s hair. “Our sky.”

“I want to always see your skin glowing with the city lights. Like it was in Paris.” Tony pressed the head of his cock lightly where his fingers had been. Not entering. Just giving Peter exactly what they both wanted, knowing what they both liked.

“Oh Tony, what are you doing to me?” Peter murmured, eyes half-closed. He could do that, he realized. Could close his eyes and just concentrate on the sensation, on the sound of Tony’s voice, on the warm, solid presence of Tony’s body. Forget, for a moment, that they were outside. Forget that they were on display.

Tony stayed bent across Peter’s back. “I’m touching you,”

He guided the tip of his cock inside. “I’m touching you.”

He wrapped his arm around Peter’s waist and held his hand low across the boy’s belly. “I’m touching you.”

He let his cock go with his other hand, wiping it quickly on his own hip. He tangled his fingers in Peter’s hair with a slight tug. “I’m touching you.”

“Yes, please yes…” Peter moaned. He leaned back into Tony’s embrace, eyes closed, and waited. Tony would tease his opening like this for quite a while, he knew. Tony knew how much he enjoyed it.

But then again tonight was different. Two weeks ago he had done what Tony had told him to do — he had dared to request something bold. It backfired terribly, but ultimately it had paid off. Ultimately, it led them both here. To a better place. He was going to remember tonight. Tonight should be different.

Turning his head slightly, until his lips were touching Tony’s face, he kissed his lover, screwed up his courage, and whispered “Fuck me.”

Tony pressed the head of his cock in very slowly, waiting to feel that little pop as Peter closed around behind it. He held still at that point. “Is this what you want? Tell me what you want. Tell me again.”

Peter took a deep, steadying breath. It wasn’t as hard to do once Tony stopped moving. That was the beauty of this game Tony played. Knowing that Tony wouldn’t move until he was able to speak made speaking so much easier. Gave him room to breathe. He did that now.

Looking up at the sky gave him courage. Knowing that it was their playground, their territory, made him braver even though he wasn’t wearing the suit.

Keeping his eyes on it, on the sky, he knew he could do it. Firmly, he reached up and took Tony’s hand away from his head. Firmly, he took both of Tony’s hands and guided them to his hips, never taking his eyes off the sky. Firmly, he spoke.

“Fuck me,” he growled. “Don’t be gentle.”

Tony kept one hand gripping Peter’s hip. The other arm he wrapped tightly around his waist, almost completely encircling it, putting his other hand next to the first on Peter’s same hip. Holding him firm, making sure that he wouldn’t accidentally push him over the railing — not a fun way to end the evening — Tony pulled back and thrust into Peter all at once, fast, hard, not at all gentle.

“You think you can handle that, baby?” Tony asked.

“More…”

Tony reached up and grabbed Peter by the top of his hair, yanking it hard, pulling his back up against his chest so tightly he could feel the cold metal circle of the arc reactor between his shoulder blades. He fucked upwards, lifting Peter onto his toes with the force of it.

Peter let out a sharp cry of surprise. Normally he bit his mouth down hard when he heard his voice. It always sounded too loud to his own ears. But being outside, he realized very suddenly, had an advantage. Instead of biting down he opened his mouth and let it hang open. Then, whatever happened, happened.

He landed Peter onto the flat of his feet when he pulled back, then lifted him up again when he entered. Tony couldn’t get very deep in this position, but Peter’s cries were very satisfying. Not gentle, not quiet, at all. But loud. Louder than Peter ever dared in the bedroom. He knew they were carried away on the wind. Off to the skies where they both felt at home.

What Tony was doing to him was a very different sensation, and for several moments he let Tony continue. It wasn’t gentle, but it wasn’t deep either. As soon as he was able, he caught his breath long enough to speak. “Stop… stop…” he gasped, reaching back and touching Tony’s hip.

Tony settled Peter down onto his feet again, pulling back, leaving only the head inside him. “What, baby? What do you want?”

“Back up… back up a step…” Peter managed. It wasn’t easy to talk without air, but Peter didn’t want to wait to catch his breath. He pushed Tony back a few steps until he was able to lean forward, putting himself more at a 90° angle. Then he looked back with (what he hoped was) a wicked grin. “Now do it.”

Tony kissed the grin off Peter’s lips and then figuring out what he wanted, returned that grin with a smirk. He slipped out from him and raised Peter up a few inches to where he was bent over the narrow pane of the short glass balcony wall until the boy was looking straight down at the ground, 96 floors below, bent at that 90° angle he was asking for.

“You’ve climbed the tower before, Spider-Man. Get sticky and hold yourself up.”

“Oh fuck Tony,” he gasped, but his hands found exactly what they needed instantly.

“Yes.”

“Hold on tight, Pete,” Tony said, guiding himself inside again, then giving a hard push to seat himself. When Spider-Man stayed stuck and didn’t move with the force of his thrust, he increased that force and slammed in.

Looking straight down from great heights was nothing new to Peter, nor was feeling Tony trust deep inside him. But those two things together? Peter was grateful they were outside. The noises he was making now were completely involuntary. He couldn’t have kept quiet if he wanted to.

Peter’s feet were dangling in the air, so Tony held still, buried all the way in, until the kid’s toes found purchase on the inside of the glass the same way his fingers had on the outside of it. Like that, Peter wasn’t going anywhere and Tony let himself go. Fucking hard and fast with deep long strokes.

He knew that Peter always needed a grounding touch, but the position didn’t allow for much of that. So he splayed his hand flat out on the small of his back without pressure but warmth.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it, baby. All the beautiful world down there.”

“Fuck, Tony…” was all Peter could manage. He didn’t think Tony could see his face, so he didn’t try to hide his smile. Never in his life had he imagined anyone could fuck him this way.

“And my beautiful world right here so far above the other.”

The sight surrounding them both and the hot, tight sensation of Peter’s ass surrounding him was bringing him close, fast. His stroke grew shallow, his groans joining Peter’s cries on their flight through the New York skies. He let go of Peter’s hip, trusting the boy to hold himself in place, and slid his hand down underneath Peter, wrapping his fingers around the boy’s cock.

Whimpering, Peter lowered himself back to his feet and stood on shaky legs. He kept Tony inside him without effort (it was a good thing, being graceful.) He was so hard he was dizzy, but he concentrated on what Tony wanted to do next.

Back down on earth (well the earth 96 floors above the ground) Tony’s hand sought out all of Peter’s most sensitive places. His thumb sliding just below the slit as his hand stroked the boy’s shaft. He bit his lip trying to hold back his own impending orgasm.

“Oh Tony, what are you doing to me?”

“You’re gonna make my glass messy, baby. Wanna see you dripping down it.”

Peter reached backward with both arms and pressed his hands on Tony’s back. Eyes open, looking up into the sky, he leaned his head back and let it happen. If anyone was listening at that height, they would have no doubt who was fucking the twink at the balcony. Peter shouted Tony’s name endlessly into the night.

Tony watched Peter come on the railing, the sight was almost enough to send him over on its own. The strain of the boy’s body tightening around him… that was always irresistible. But when he heard Peter cry out, scream out his name… Tony hadn’t come so hard in his life.

With both hands on the rail, Peter tried to catch his breath. His head was spinning. He was pretty sure he had just been way too loud, but then again, Tony had been loud too… in fact… had he ever heard Tony be that loud? He couldn’t help but peek, looking back over his shoulder in hopes to catch a glimpse of Tony’s face before he had time to compose himself.

Tony’s mouth was still hanging open (ah, but Tony had been making some loud noises too, Peter was going to remember that) and his eyes were wide, looking up at the sky, just as Peter had done. Peter found himself grinning from ear to ear. It was a very, very rare thing to catch Tony not focusing on him. For a moment, just a moment, he had caught it. An unguarded moment. He treasured it. He wondered if there was a way to find it again.

As Tony slipped out of him he turned around and brought their heads close, draping his hands lightly behind his lover’s head.

“Property of Tony Stark,” Peter murmured, kissing his face. “You’re going to write it across my chest every morning with a sharpie.”

“Nah. Gonna make you write it on my windows with your come. Peter Parker was here. Tony Stark made him messy. Gonna let you write it on my chest when you’re riding me. Make you write it on my sheets.”

“No one will be able to read that,” Peter giggled, leaning his head back and looking up at the sky again. Their sky. His and Tony’s.

He leaned over and kissed Peter. “No one except the cleaning staff,” he said with a shrug.

“But I want everyone to know.”

Tony cupped Peter’s face and brought him into a long, deep kiss. “Baby, when you’re really ready, everyone will know.”

“I’m ready,” Peter whispered.

Anyone could get his name tattooed on their ass. People he never met had it there. He’s signed more girls’ chests with Sharpie than he ever cared to remember. But only one person would ever have something made out of gold-titanium alloy with the words ‘Property of Tony Stark’ engraved inside of it.

“No, Pete, you’re not. But when you are, I’ll be here.”

#starker #Von writes stuff #thewitchway writes stuff #von's moodboards

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skvaderarts · 3 years ago

Text

Hiraeth Chapter 44: Archival

Masterlist can be found Here!

Chapter Forty-Four: Archival

Notes: Hey everyone, sorry I had to push back the last chapter on such short notice! I just honestly forgot how many days it was until my mom’s birthday and I wanted to give her all of my attention! Thanks for all the birthday wishes! She loved them!

(-~-)

The next day…

Honestly, the youngest living descendant of the Dark Knight Sparda couldn’t remember the last time that he’d seen snow outside of the Lamina mountain range. It had truly been a sight to see when they had arrived just a few hours ago at the crack of dawn, long before the majority of the townspeople had crawled out of their beds and made their way into the streets. They would be in for a rude awakening, much as poor Kyrie had been when he’d accidentally woken her up so early.

When the van had pulled up in front of the house, he had been surprised to see Kyrie standing in the doorway less than a minute later, clearly barely awake and not fully registering just how cold it was outside. The poor young woman had her robe halfway on, the cool night air kissing her exposed skin. To say that she was not thermally prepared for a light blizzard would be a bit of an understatement.

She’d nearly tripped down the stairs as she met Nero halfway, nearly leaping on him in excitement as she threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly. No one needed to ask if she had missed him during his time away or if the young songstress had been worried about him. It was clear for anyone to see that she had nothing but love in her heart for Nero.

Kyrie had greeted V warmly as well, noting that it had been some time since she’d seen him, and that she hoped that things had been well for him in the interim. The young summoner had decided against mentioning his new ailment to her, preferring to not give her something else to worry about. Literally everything and everyone else was enough already. Instead, he simply reassured her that he was more or less content, something that wasn’t a lie. Curse or otherwise, he was at peace for perhaps the first time in his entire life. He would relish that.

After wishing her well, he, Nico, and Flora boarded the van again and headed back to the mainland, stating that they needed to do something with the scroll that Magnolia’s sister had gifted V after they dropped Dante off at his office. He had been asleep the entire time in the back of the van, and considering the circumstances, they had collectively chosen not to awaken him. Nero and Kryie wished them a safe trip and told them that they would contact the rest of the group if they happened to hear from Vergil, and then they went inside, eager to spend some quality time with one another for at least a few hours. That was the most that they were going to get with three kids in the house.

But now hours later, he was headed towards the last place that he wanted to set foot in again in order to complete an errand that V had requested of him. And he would have company. Apparently, there was still some work to be done at Fortuna castle, this time on behalf of the Ludwig family. It seemed that both they and V were keen to preserve as many of the books in the private library as possible. Admirable enough on paper, but still a miserable trek through the snow either way.

Just as he approached the ruined front gate to the castle’s bridge, a familiar face emerged from the frosty fog a few yards ahead of him, seemingly unperturbed by the extreme circumstances. It was Sirrus, here at the behest of both parties involved to help him do… something. Nero wasn’t sure he really truly understood, but he was certain that the adjudicator probably did and that he could fill him in while they headed towards the library. He wasn’t even going to ask how he beat him there. He’d been at the Ludwig estate long enough to know the answer to that question.

“Well, aren’t we a sight for sore eyes? It’s good to see you again so soon, Nero.” “I hope you’ll pardon my temporary departure. I had to go speak with my superiors. They summoned me, so there was no avoiding it, I’m afraid.”

“Hey, Sirrus. So that’s where you went right before we left, hu? Makes sense, I guess. How did it go, then?” Nero had had the feeling when they’d told him he’d be working with one of them again soon that it would be the powerful redhead with the dry humor, and it turned out he had been correct. Score one for Nero.

“Oh, I’d say it did. They don’t trust me as far as they can throw me, but that just comes with the territory, I’m afraid. But we can talk about it in more detail once we’re inside. This frigid wind isn’t exactly unfamiliar, but it’s still a bit much. I’m not keen on staying exposed to the elements for any longer than I have to be.”

Nero nodded. Now that was something that they could agree on. He just hoped that the swarm of cutlass that had been here last time had taken up residence somewhere else, or at least retreated back into the depths of Agnus’s laboratory. He didn’t feel like shooting every demon in this damn castle again. He had things to do today.

(-~-)

In truth, the marking made no sense to him.

Whatever Sirrus was doing seemed completely foreign and mystical to him, probably because it involved the use of some more arcane knowledge that he hadn’t the slightest idea about. He’d never even known that something like this existed until just recently, so seeing someone actually perform it was entirely new. In truth, he’d seen evidence of its presence in action before in this very castle when one took into account the many elaborate puzzles and traps that seemed to utilize an unknown source of power, but he hadn’t really put much thought into it at the time.

But now? Well, he couldn’t help but wonder who had put them in place. Surely someone from the Order, but that didn’t mean much in regards to figuring out who actually did it. He didn’t know most of the people in the higher echelons of the ill-fated Order of the Sword. That was by design. And as for what they were capable of and where some of them had disappeared to after things had gone down the way that they had? He was none the wiser. But he wished that he knew. He had some choice words for them. And probably a few bullets.

“So… how does this work? I mean, if you can do that, then why not just go back and forth to wherever you want to go like this?” Nero watched curiously as Sirrus fiddled with some sort of book, marking out a circle with several symbols upon it on the floor. A triangle overlapped it, forming a curious visual that he couldn’t say he’d seen before. The Adjudicator glanced up at him for a moment, seemingly acknowledging that he was benign spoken to but unable to maintain eye contact.

“As much as I’d love to, that’s not how this works. Only inanimate objects can pass through a portal such as this, and it requires two people in two different locations to just to be opened in the first place and to remain stable” Sirrus shrugged nonchalantly, working on some sort of symbol that he was marking out on the floor with white chalk. Nero had no idea what it meant, but he knew that it had to be magic in some way, shape, or form. “Your father’s blade is undeniably unique. It honestly fascinates me. I’d ask him to take a look, but I worry based on his rather unique answering conventions that he might literally give me exactly what I’m asking for.”

He went quiet for a short while at the mention of Vergil. It hadn’t really occurred to him until then that he actually missed his somewhat short-tempered and unpredictable father. None of them had yet to hear anything back from Vergil, and that fact alone was cause for concern. It wasn’t so much that he was the sort to check-in and ask for permission to complete a task. Far from it. But at least they normally knew where he was headed.

“You're probably in the clear. He only stabs people he’s related to these days. Well mostly. I even saw him spare someone once who helped kidnap V. Couldn’t tell you what was going through his head at the time, but he’s okay some of the time.” Nero allowed his mind to wander for a moment, pondering his wayward father’s current location. He couldn’t imagine that he was in danger. After all, he had been through worse before, and this time he at least had Yamato. Surely he would return soon.

And yet…

“Do you think I should be worried that he’s not back yet?”

“Sighing softly, Sirrus took a moment to consider his question before shaking his head. “If he indeed went to where you think he might have, then I suspect not. Time works differently across the Trinity of Realities, and I suspect that very little time has passed wherever he is, if any at all. There are rare places where time simply doesn’t seem to pass at all.”

“No shit, really? I heard something like that but… ” He stopped. Not really sure what else to say. They nodded to one another and then returned to sorting out the book in the room. It was best that they keep their minds busy.

Adding additional food for thought, Sirrus spoke again. “And unlike my father, yours seems to possess the capacity to actually care about another living being. He seems to find it trying a considerable majority of the time, but he possesses the desire to love and be loved nonetheless. There is hope yet for him. I think you’re in a good place. I like to hope that whatever tension there is between you can be worked out in the end.”

“I hope you're right. Any chance of working it out with yours?”

A humorless look crossed his face. As he looked through the younger devil hunter instead of at him, seeing him but at the same time, not seeing him at all. It was as if his eyes and his brain were not fully communicating. He fell quiet for a moment, fidgeting slightly. “... I’m afraid not. Any hope of that outcome dissolved after what happened between him and Aluta.”

Nero knew enough to not press the issue any further, even if he was somewhat quiet. After close to a minute of silence, Sirrus glanced at him momentarily before speaking again, not keen on keeping whatever was on his mind buried there any longer.

“Generally speaking, it’s in poor taste to date someone younger than your own children. If nothing else, it causes a fair bit of tension.”

Taking a moment to register that statement, Nero continued to try and organize the books, eager to not spend the entire day in this library. As much as he knew that V would disagree with his sentiments, he had to admit that he was glad that most of the books were old and damaged in this part of the library. There were at least a dozen extra-large moving boxes filled with books, each one weighing about a hundred pounds.

Oh, how Nero hoped that his brother wouldn’t find a way to hurt himself by moving them around his house. But deep down, he knew that he would. It wasn’t so much that V was clumsy as it was that he was simply unfortunate, and if his little move had gone the way that it had, he was sure that this would go much the same. Or perhaps he would learn from his previous mistakes and opt into a much more cautious approach this time around? Who was to say? He was smart, after all, and Flora was there to assist him. He could only imagine that, given the size of V’s house, that they would be taking the majority of the books. That was probably for the best, all things considered. V would get nothing done with that many books in his house.

Nero then paused for a moment, his brow furrowing as something occurred to him that hadn’t until just then. He turned and looked over at Sirrus, registering the fact that he was quickly sorting through an entire bookshelf and stacking the books into two different boxes. Nero had been doing the same, but at a much slower rate. It turned out that it was difficult to categorize and sort books that you couldn’t fucking read. Big surprise there.

“Hold on a second… Did you just say…”

“That I am older than Aluta? Yes. Yes, I did. Because I am.” Sirrus chuckled slightly, continuing to pick up books, gently flip through them, and then place them into their requisite boxes. He seemed to find something enormously entertaining about Nero’s flabbergasted demeanor, carefully concealing his amusement so as to not come off as a smug jerk. Well, at least not more than he was sure he already did most of the time. He silently hoped that he wasn’t actually as insufferable as he assumed that he was. He just lacked social skills.

Leaning over to take a closer look at the smarmy redhead, the youngest Descendant of Sparda made no effort to conceal his deep-seated confusion at this revelation. How could that be possible? Sirrus looked the same age that he and V looked, and while Aluta didn’t look particularly old herself, he knew that she had to be at least old enough to be his mother due to the singular fact Vergil had known her as a teen when he himself had been one at the same time, albeit slightly older than her. For him to be even a year older than her implied that he aged even better than Vergil, and that didn’t seem physically possible for a normal human being.

Oh, that was right. Sirrus had stated before that he wasn’t human, hadn’t he? Back on Vie De Marli What had his words been back then? “I am not what you are” or something like that? He’d implied early into their working relationship that he wasn’t even remotely human, so that made the possibility of him being something capable of living longer and aging slower logical. But then that once again raised the question as to what he actually was. Nero couldn’t think of any other beings in their world that looked so… human. If he wasn’t technically a demon and he wasn’t at all human, then what the hell was he? What else was there?

Clearly noticing that Nero was staring him up and down like he’d grown a second head, Sirrus laughed in earnest. It wasn’t every day that he got to see someone look at him like that. Most of the people that he spent time around didn’t know enough about him to even inquire into things like his age. At most, he was occasionally asked about his accent if he allowed it to slip, but aside from that, people didn’t really give a damn about his personal life. Or him, for that matter. Adjudicators worked solo on most endeavors. They had no reason to get to know one another.

“You seem shocked to have learned this, Nero. Do I look a bit young for my age?”

Giving him a sideways look, Nero looked down at the floor for a moment before shaking his head and sighing, returning to stacking books. This had been a weird few weeks. No doubt about it. Ever since the Redgrave Incident, he’d had a very hard time understanding what was going on. So much had been thrown at him all at once, and he was still grappling with a good deal of it.

“Poor V,” He thought to himself. “I’ve got it pretty rough, but he was just minding his own business walking around, and then he just woke up in the middle of this nightmare. He had to do whatever he could just to stay alive, and then to find out that he wasn’t even totally human and then die and come back just for this stupid demon prince bastard to come after him? He doesn’t deserve any of this. Neither of us does.”

But they were going to work it out. Of that, he was sure. And this somehow would assist in that endeavor. When V had told the Ludwigs about these books, they had seemed very interested, and he genuinely hoped that they did find something interesting or useful about their opponent in these volumes. At the very least, relocating them somewhere more secure so that they were out of the hands of undesirables forever was a good place to start. All they would do is sit here and rot if anyone worth their salt in Fortuna had anything to say about it.

“Smartass,” Nero said with a genuine laugh, admittedly somewhat amused by Sirrus’s extremely sarcastic and rhetorical question. Slowly but surely he was starting to understand his dry sense of humor. Or, at least, he was starting to understand why V understood it so well. The two of them seemed to get along pretty well. Nero was glad that his slightly older sibling seemed to have made something close to a friend. He could be so unintentionally antisocial at times despite the fact that he knew deep down that V didn’t want to be and probably just wanted companionship. Poor guy.

“What can I say, you're not wrong,” Sirrus said with a soft laugh, smiling gently but with a slight tinge of something else. Was that sadness? It was difficult to say. Despite his normally straightforward demeanor, he was hard to read. “Let’s finish up here and head back to the mainland. I have something that I think might help lift you and your brother’s spirits a bit. We could all use a distraction from time to time. What do you say?”

Nero shrugged, more or less fine with that option. He could always double back with Nico once they were finished. They couldn’t really do much more until they found out where his father had disappeared to, anyway. Right now, everything hinged on his return. None of them were going to formulate a plan that he wasn’t included in. He and V knew the most about their opponent. For now, they would bide their time and try to remain reasonably calm.

“You know what? Fine by me. Let’s go. V needs to get out of the house and go do something. I think he’s starting to develop a phobia of stores or something.”

(-~-)

Wow, this one was on time for some reason. I don’t understand what happened. By the way, for those of you who read Saudade, this is the night where they go to the furniture store and Sirrus covertly buys V all that furniture. I figured that some of you might be wondering that. What’s that? None of you were? Oh. Well, anyway-

Happy Wednesday or whatever! Hope you’ve had a good week so far. I’ve been trying to branch out into freelance writing because I live in a conservative anti-vax hellhole where people protest the administration of a vaccine at all, refused to wear masks despite being one of the highest case areas in the entire country, and I refuse to work another low paying retail or fast food job and put my fragile lungs in harm's way only to still not be able to afford my rent.

I’ll keep you all posted on that in case it means I have to shift the upload schedule. It probably won’t, but I just thought I’d let you know. Let me know if any of you have any pointers or advice in regards to working in that field. Oh, and don’t worry, the books are still happening. I’m just building the ordering system. See you in the comments!

#Hiraeth #Nero #Sirrus #My Post Devil May Cry 5 AU #Devil May Cry FanFic

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