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onebigowlhouseobsession · 1 year

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I'm re-writing this piece from scratch! Whoo! Thought I would post the first (new) chapter here because I need to get back to posting my writing here on my blog... something I am often too lazy to do, lol.

Summary: Feelings are ships in bottles, waiting for when the cork is one day loosened.

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Cassie has been thinking a lot about the ocean, recently.

She thinks about ships in bottles, vessels down-sized and encapsulated entirely in glass. She considers what it might be like to be that ship, placed in a container that is much too small and from which there is no escape. They are built piece by tiny piece, within this microcosm, this bottle, with meticulous care. It is a labor of love, building a ship within a bottle, and it cannot be undone. Not unless you are ready to destroy what you have so carefully crafted, and yourself, in the process.

Cassie thinks that she is much like the bottle. In this elaborate metaphor she is the bottle and her feelings are the ship. Her thoughts are the rigging, her happiness the sails, contentment the planks and rivets. The unspoken, the unfathomed, are the wild plants that grow unchecked in every corner untended, taking over with time.

The ship will never reach the water, but it hardly matters because the bottle will shatter long before it has the chance.

Cassie thinks a lot about possibilities. What ifs and what may come. She thinks, frequently, on the right words and phrases to communicate precisely what she means. She thinks about ships in bottles, and about how terrifying it is to be the ship no matter how much you adore the hand that creates.

She isn't thinking any of that right now.

It's difficult to breathe. Her chest aches.

She thinks she might be dying. She must be. She's never experienced it before, death, but this has to be what it's like. Her lungs refuse to intake any air, and her insides feel as though they're being turned inside out. She's coughing, hacking, heaving, as if she has a terminal illness...

No, that must be it. She's simply sick. Perhaps she's picked up a bug, or has caught a particularly bad case of the flu. The Gulch does get especially cold in the winter, with piles of snow that slowly accumulate on the ground through the entirety of the season and ice that coats the branches of the ancient evergreens in the forest, and all those freezing temperatures greatly increased the likelihood of getting sick.

It isn't at all uncommon for a common cold or something similar to pass amongst the seven of them over the course of several days, and Cassie had seen Bob coughing like this just a couple days ago. So, perhaps it was, simply, a cold.

Hopefully with some well-planned rest and a few bowls of soup, she'd be able to recover from it quickly. She was far too busy to have the time to be sick, after all.

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

Compton was terribly worried. It was becoming rather late into the morning and still he had not seen Cassie. He supposed it was possible she'd simply chosen to sleep in later than usual, but it was odd for him to be awake before her all the same. Usually she'd greet him in the kitchen and they'd drink tea, discussing their plans for the coming day.

She must be very tired then, Compton thought. He let the front door creak open, then shut again as he entered the house. He tried very hard to be thoughtful, taking the care to step softly and slowly as he made his way around the kitchen. He put the kettle out to heat on the stove, fussing over it quietly, but he paused immediately as soon as he heard coughing from further in the house. He made a mental note to bring a cup of tea to Cassie as soon as he was done brewing the pot (hot tea was an excellent way to soothe an irritated throat, after all) but the continued sound of coughing was enough to concern him.

Instead of going back to minding the tea Compton shuffled quickly through the hallway, making his way toward the bedroom at the back of the house.

The door eased open, and Compton stepped into the room. He could see Cassie seated on the side of the bed, honey-comb patterned quilt pulled around her shoulders and head in her hands as she tried to catch her breath.

“Cassie, are you alright?” He asked gently.

“Oh, Compton! Sorry, I didn’t notice you came in.” Cassie smiled at him, or at least tried to. As things stood it looked more like a grimace, and she winced after a moment, hand moving to hover over her chest. Her voice was scratchy and hoarse, and she sounded like she was in a great deal of pain that she was working valiantly to mask.

She glanced over at the clock on her bedside, squinting her eyes as she stared at it blearily. “Uh, what time is it?”

Compton didn’t need to look, but his gaze followed that same direction anyway. The red numbers glowed brightly in the half dark since the curtains were, shockingly, all drawn closed. She never left the curtains closed. “It’s nearly noon.”

Cassie’s eyes widened and her eyebrows shot upward. “Oh no, I am so sorry. We had that meeting today, right?” She scrambled to her feet immediately, rushing over to her closet to procure her sandals, the ones she could slip on quickly and fasten properly as she walked. Compton watched as she darted to and fro, looking for a pencil here or a notebook there. She stuffed whatever she thought she needed in a cloth shoulderbag Compton had seen her use many, many times before, and she was on her way towards the door before Compton could even properly process what was going on. Compton wasn’t shocked per se, seeing as her specialty was multi-tasking and therefore also efficiency, but her sudden vibrancy was a far cry from what he’d seen even moments before. He stared a bit.

Cassie tapped him on the shoulder as she passed, still fastening one sandal strap while she stepped into the hall. “C’mon, Compton. Let’s go before I make us any later.”

Compton fell into step beside his best friend. He handed her the cup of tea before they reached the kitchen, and she smiled appreciatively before taking it by the handle. She sipped at it as they walked through the house. Compton noticed the disorder of the bookshelves once more when they passed through the main interior, but he didn’t mention it. Cassie was still talking, after all, and the last thing Compton ever wanted to be was inconsiderate.

“We’ll never hear the end of it from Otto if we aren’t on time. Or, I won’t, at least. He’s seemed to have taken a liking to you, so I’m sure you’ll be fine. But if I’m even five minutes off I’ll likely have to deal with him calling me Tardy Cassie or the like for a whole week, or until he tires of it at any rate. But, naturally, if Otto and Bob both show up high as a kite we aren’t supposed to mention it.” She laughed at that, which quickly devolved into a full blown coughing fit that made her stop in her tracks.

Compton felt a great deal of concern bubbling up within him, and he turned his full attention toward her. “Are you sick?” He asked, watching for the signs of a conclusion he’s suspected since he first saw her today.

There was a short but stark moment where she considered lying to him. He could see it in her face, the quiet conflict that rested there.

She wanted to offer him reassurance regardless of whether it was true or not, because she didn’t want him to worry about her. She never wanted any of the others to worry about her, but especially not Compton. They’ve talked about it before, though, her wanting to protect him in this way– and he’d been quite clear it never helped. He was worried already, so there was no point in trying to avoid that now, and empty reassurances tended to have the opposite effect for him, anyway. He’ll just worry more, wondering what she wasn’t telling him. Catastrophizing, imagining all of the worst possibilities.

They both understood and accepted that complete honesty was best.

Cassie huffed out a quiet breath, then nodded. “Possibly, yes.” The grass leading to Cassie’s home soon transitioned into large grit gravel, a mix of smooth pebbles and rough rocks that were a tad uncomfortable underfoot. It kept the ground from becoming terribly muddy when it rained, however, making it a fair trade. The sun was bright and shining, their shadows short and stubby as they continued cutting through the Gulch toward the Heptadome. They could see the glass by now, shining and glittering in the light.

Cassie spoke quieter, just in case anyone was around to listen. “But there really is nothing for you to be concerned about. I’ve been sick before, and I’m sure I’ll be sick again… life is a long time, after all.” When that does little to relieve the worry Compton was feeling, Cassie added, “I will be perfectly fine.”

“Maybe we should go back? If you aren’t feeling well it might be best for you to stay home.”

“Don’t be silly, Boolie."

"I could stay with you? I don't think missing one meeting will be much of an issue…"

"I'm not missing this over a silly cough."

"I don't mean to be pushy, but I think you need rest."

"Boolie, I need rest about as much as I need–"

“Hey you two! We were worried you might have gotten lost on the way!” Helmut waved cheerfully as soon as he caught sight of them, which was still quite a distance from the Heptadome proper. He jogged over to them, grinning in that way he does, bright as strobe lights, and threw his arms around their shoulders as he walked with them. “We sure woulda missed you guys. Glad you could make it!”

"We wouldn't miss it for the world," Cassie replied, maybe a tad exaggerative, but Helmut's grin grew at the statement, and it was worth it in the end.

"Heck yeah! Otto was super excited this morning. Something about bottles. Haven't been able to get the details out of him just yet, but everyone is really hyped."

"And here I was, just about to ask what the shenanigans of the day might be."

Helmut chuckled, but before he could properly respond all three of them got a face full of smoke that was currently wafting out from the front of the Heptadome. They couldn't actually see inside because the entire doorway was filled with… an unidentified gas leaking out, swirling in the air, colored a light purple that became blue that became green, so on and so forth, before dissipating into the open air of the surrounding Gulch. Helmut and Compton cough a bit on the fumes, the former of the two waving a hand in front of his face to try to clear some of it. Cassie, who's eyes have begun to water, barely managed not to choke on the tainted air.

"Is this… smoke…?" Compton's eyes widened. "Is someone burning something?"

Helmut shook his head. "Nah. This stuff has been coming out of whatever Otto's working on for a while now. It wasn't this bad before though."

Cassie started to cough again, body wracking coughs that made her chest hurt.

"Yo, Cass, are you good?"

"I'm fine." She was tearing up, now. The ache that had settled in her chest, ripping and tearing and rending, felt something like sadness in its most visceral form. She wanted to curl into a tiny ball and cry and she had no idea why.

"Cassie–"

"Can someone clear this up, please?"

"Hey, Otto! What's going on in there?" Helmut called inside. "Are you making poison with your chemistry set?" He joked.

There was a call shot back after a moment, preceded by a scoff. "No, not today! This test is perfectly harmless to the human body. Mostly. As far as I can tell. Why are you asking?"

"Whatever you're making in there is messing with Cassie real bad."

Cassie hissed softly, wiping at her eyes with the heel of her palm. She placed a hand at the crook of Helmut's elbow to get his attention. "Don't tell him that," She practically pleaded.

"Why not? It's true, right?"

"You truly do not understand how obnoxious he can get."

"Did you tell her that that's just the price we scientists must pay? If she's not up for pushing things forward, then why even try?"

"No, I didn't!" Helmut shouted back.

"Alright! Tell her that, then."

A new voice chimed in. "Come now. Don't you think you're being a little unreasonable?"

"We've been over this countless times," Otto replied. "No one has to participate who doesn't want to."

"Well I think you should be a little more lenient." It took Cassie a minute to notice it was Lucy speaking, but as soon as she did she could easily picture the teasing smile she was likely wearing now.

"Ford, back me up here!"

"Don't pull me into this. I'm going to go get the fan."

It took a few minutes, maybe five, for Ford to find a fan but soon after the space began to clear. The fumes clogging the space mainly dissipated with help from the fan, and once it was mostly gone they could see Otto standing in the middle of the Heptadome in front of a long table, covered in a series of beakers, bottles and tubes connecting them all. A few rounded bottles, filled to the brim with liquid, were lined up in a row on the table, and Otto held one filled with a blue liquid in his hand. Each one of them had their own trail of colored vapor, rising slowly from their openings.

Ford was still minding the fan, turning it further toward the door. He walked over to the table and stood next to Otto once he was done.

Bob was nowhere to be found, but that had become a common and repeating occurrence recently. If asked, Bob's excuse was almost always invariably working with his plants, but it started to fall a bit flat after a while. Cassie had been meaning to ask him what was really going on, but had her own concerns at the moment.

"Now that that whole debacle's been handled can we finally get to the reason we're all here?" Otto held up the bottle in his hand with a wide grin. "Who wants to test my newest creation first?"

No one raised their hand. After a few beats of silence Helmut raised his.

"I wanted to ask a question. Was it safe to sit in here with all that… stuff in the air? Because I think we've already been in here two hours."

Ford nodded in agreement.

Otto just laughed. "That is the question, isn't it? Anyway–"

"Hey, Cassie!" She turned, startled by the call though it was relatively quiet. Lucy was smiling at her, patting the cushion next to her. "You should sit next to me!"

"Oh, really? Are you sure?"

"Of course I am. C'mon." She patted the cushion a couple more times for good measure, then turned back to Otto. She was obviously expecting Cassie to sit.

Cassie sat down next to Lucy, tucking her legs under her, hands in her lap. The ache in her chest had settled down into something of an itch, small and easily ignored, so she decided to do just that; ignore it. With that in mind, she turned her full attention back to Otto, who was still in the midst of explaining.

“--What if I told you it was possible to emulate the essence of any known emotion through the use of psitanium and a slurry of synthetic compounds?”

“Any emotion?”

“Within reason, but, yes, that is what I’m saying.”

Helmut hummed in thought. “What about uh… homesickness?”

“No, that’s too specific. Tamp that down more to general hopelessness and that’s closer to the ballpark.” Otto picked up a different bottle, this one a pale green that glowed like it was toxic. “Want to guess what this one is?”

“Radiation poisoning,” Helmut suggested with a laugh. “Yeah, that one is one hundred percent Radiation Poisoning.”

“I see someone's taken Bob’s position as resident heckler.”

“Somebody’s gotta keep you in check,” Ford said.

“Instead of being researchers you should all become comedians.” Otto rolled his eyes. “Alright, everybody take a bottle. Let’s see how well this stuff works.”

Lucy leaned toward Cassie, whispering to her. “I believe things are about to get interesting.”

She was very close, for a moment, close enough to make Cassie inexplicably nervous– close enough that she could count her lashes, if she so chose, and she could see the golden flecks in her green eyes. Cassie tried to swallow back that odd sensation that was twining its way through her chest once more, something like itching moss tugging at her heartstrings. She reminded herself to do some research on viruses or illnesses that cause… heartburn, perhaps… once this was all over.

Before she could think of a proper reply, a bottle was being shoved into her hands. A lavender purple liquid swirled inside, gleaming just barely even in the bright light streaming through the Heptadome’s glass.

The others held identical bottles, each of a different shade. Lucy was entirely transfixed by the pink liquid in hers, watching it swirl and swirl around like a storm in a bottle as she held it up to the light.

The blue bottle remained on the table, near to Otto but still untouched thus far.

Ford picked up a pencil, scribbling something into the margins of the notebook he was holding.

"I think that makes us ready to get started." Otto announced. "Right, Cruller?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

Compton stared at his bottle with an apprehensive look. After a while longer of just staring at it, he raised his hand.

"Yeah, Compton?" Otto asked.

"Um. Is this… safe?"

"Of course it is. Probably."

The silence stretched on.

"Yeah, I'm with Compton on this one," Helmut pointed at the bottle in his own hand, the same noxious green one from earlier, and made a face. "I'm not taking this unless you do it, too."

"I'm observing–" Otto began to protest, but Ford cut him off.

"I'm the one making the observations. You're just standing around watching." He picked up the blue bottle with a smirk and shoved it into Otto's hands. "C'mon, you made it, you can test it. Bottoms up."

Otto sighed, but acquiesced. "Fine. Luckily for you all I'm taking one for the team. This one is by far the worst."

"You're our hero, Toto," Lucy teased, and all the others, besides Otto at least, laughed.

"So, are we all just going to stare at each other and not drink this or what?" Helmut looked around at all the faces around him. None of them looked all that excited about their individual bottles. Compton was still watching his like it was a feral animal that might bite him.

Cassie tried not to look at hers all that deeply.

Distilled emotions. The concept was… worrisome.

"Okay, that's enough stalling." Ford held up a hand, holding up five fingers. "I'm going to count down to five and everyone is going to drink theirs at the same time."

Ford lowered a finger for each second. Five. Four. Three. Two. At the end of the five seconds, they each took a sip. The difference in time could only have been a few seconds, but as it turned out a lot could happen in that time.

At first, nothing happened at all. Lucy drank hers first, and she mentioned that it tasted sweet, like plums, and wasn't that just lovely. Helmut was second, and he had nothing to say about the flavor, but his mouth puckered up and that was saying more than enough. Compton only took a sip of his, quick and hesitant, and then flinched as if he had burnt his tongue.

Otto didn't react at all, initially, downing a fourth of the bottle and then pondering about potency after the fact.

Cassie drank hers, but all she could note beyond a slight citrusy taste was the way the pit in her stomach grew wider.

Nothing really happened at first, but it didn't take it long to come into full effect.

Everyone stared when Compton, mild-mannered Compton, started to shout in rage.

Cassie didn't think she'd ever seen Otto cry, either, but he suddenly broke out into tears, abruptly, without warning. He was wailing loudly, and Cassie was startled by the sound. A sweeping dread fell over her, like a wave, and she cringed away, shuddering.

"--Why are you being so inconsiderate! You can't treat people like that! I won't be treated like that!"

Bang! There was a crash, and someone was shouting even louder. Cassie yelped and cowered, and it took her a long, long while to realize it was Compton's voice that was making all the noise. And it was just noise to her, a terrifying, frightening noise. She had no idea how or why, but somehow that noise was going to hurt her.

"Take a chill pill already dude. Geez." Helmut scoffed, rolling his eyes up to the ceiling.

"I'm trying. I'm trying my best. I keep working harder but will I ever be good enough? What if I'm never able to prove that I'm worth something?" Otto sobbed between words. "Has anything I've done amounted to anything?"

"--Lab rats?! Is that all we are to you?!--"

Ford held his hands up, eyes wide. "Hey, I'm just the guy with the clipboard!"

"Am I a failure?" Otto blubbered.

"That's so gross." Helmut said, sticking his tongue out with a disgusted face. "Are you crying, man?"

Cassie was afraid. Scared that Helmut would judge her and Otto would never stop crying and that guy with the clipboard was surely out to get her. She was terrified of not meeting expectations and being hated and being discarded, and that guy, Ford, was staring at her and sneering and jotting down words and she feared what he might be writing. Dread settled in the back of her mind and along her spine and sunk deep into her flesh, and she couldn't hear because she was so afraid.

Compton ranted and raved, storming out with steps that felt like miniature earthquakes, and Cassie found she was afraid of his anger, too. Otto's vulnerability was too intense and too acute– frightening in its own right. Helmut's judgment was piercing, sharp and almost painful.

Ford was still writing with the scratch of graphite on paper and she dreaded finding out what it said.

She curled into a ball, forehead against her knees and arms around her shins, anything to block out everything else. Still her thoughts ran rampant, coming up with dozens of horrifying scenarios with which to torment her.

She had no idea how much time had passed, but she felt a tap on her shoulder. Cassie scrambled away as fast as she could, chest heaving as she stared at the would have been, possible assailant.

Lucy looked back at her, head tilted to the side. There was a small, lopsided smile tugging at her mouth, and her expression was… soft. Incredibly affectionate.

Cassie gaped at her.

"Are you okay? You look really frightened," Her voice was soothing and gentle.

Cassie swallowed hard, still trembling. A thought came, a fear she'd shoved as far down as she could, unbidden and entirely unwanted; She'll never feel the same way.

She will never care for you. Not in the way you want.

"I– I–" She couldn't get a word out. Her teeth were clattering. “I… don’t know. Everything is so…” She didn’t know how to describe the feeling, but it was like her entire world was caving in and she was caught in the center of it, terrified of being crushed. “I’m scared,” She whispered, finally, her voice tiny.

A look of determination crossed Lucy’s face, and she didn’t hesitate even for a second before pulling Cassie fully into her arms. She put her chin on Cassie’s shoulder and reached her hand up to cradle the back of her head, supporting her, hugging her tight. “It’s okay, honey. You’re going to be okay, I promise. I know things can be frightening sometimes, especially when you don’t always know what’s going to happen, but I’m here for you right now.”

Something in Cassie’s chest absolutely ached to the point of hurting, tearing, bursting. Another thought came, clear within the haze of fear, unexpected and yet all too easy to predict; Tell her you love her.

“Whatever it is that’s scaring you, I promise I won’t let it hurt you. I would never let anything hurt you. I'm here for you.”

It took Cassie a while to process that fully. Once she did she was left speechless. Cassie didn’t say anything, instead just hiding her face against Lucy’s shoulder, holding on to her even tighter (falling just that little bit more in love.) Lucy brushed a hand over her hair, looking down at her with an expression Cassie was far too overwhelmed to even attempt to notice or identify.

Ford noticed, however. He jotted down a note on the page, closed the book with the pencil wedged inside as a bookmark, and went back to observing.

It took ten more minutes for the effects to wear off, at which point the remaining five of them sat in dead, utter silence. Cassie finally felt like she could breath, for a moment, at least, because then she noticed Lucy was still holding her. She didn't know how to broach the subject without it giving the wrong impression, so she said nothing.

Tell her.

She said nothing. Breathing felt like thorns in her lungs, aching, tearing but she attributed it to the after effects of the distilled emotion compounded by illness and didn't give it another thought.

Otto cleared his throat, took hold of the table leg next to him and pulled himself to his feet. He was eerily quiet.

Helmut glanced around the room then hummed to himself, making a pop sound with his mouth. "Wowza. That was something, huh?" His grin was sheepish, but soon grew wide and amused. "Is it Friday, because that sure was Freaky!"

Lucy was the first one to laugh, bright and unrestrained, absolutely tickled by Helmut's apparent wit. The others joined after a minute or so, and the tense atmosphere was shattered like glass in the heat.

Ford tapped his pencil against his cheek. "So, I think we can all agree that would have been better one at a time."

"Yup," Helmut agreed. "We didn’t dodge that bullet."

"Now we know for next time."

"Hey, where's Compton?"

"He left…" Ford said. "You were kind of giving him a look and I think it ticked him off? He'll probably be back soon, though. The effects should have worn off for him too by now."

"Ah man… I hope I didn't say anything too mean to him." Helmut was already getting to his feet. "I'm going to go find him. Which direction did he go?"

Ford pointed to the side entrance that opened out onto a path that eventually led to the Psychoisolation Chamber.

"Got it." Helmut started jogging in that direction.

"Hey, check up on Flower Boy while you're at it," Otto called after him, voice still a little strained. He certainly sounded as though he'd been crying. "I haven't seen him for two days straight."

Helmut saluted with a nod, but then he stopped with his hand on the top of the doorframe, a grin on his face. "Yeah… Otto, are you sure he isn't avoiding you?"

"Of course not. I'm a f-cking delight. Now get going." Otto shooed him. Helmut grinned yet again, laughing, and made his way out of the Heptadome.

Lucy looked down at Cassie. She still spoke softly, quietly, but it now seemed to be more about not scaring her off as opposed to anything else. “Are you feeling better now?”

"I think so. Thank you for helping me calm down." Cassie noticed that Lucy was holding her hand. She must have taken it while Cassie was spiraling into her chasm of downright debilitating terror.

It all felt rather silly, now. The sun was shining. It was a warm, mid-winter afternoon.

The world was not ending. It wasn't.

"Anytime," Lucy said with a smile. "I'm here whenever you need me."

It was a silly desire, but some part of Cassie hoped she’d never let go. Of course, Cassie glanced at Ford and then away from him just as quickly, face hot with something akin to shame, and she knew she’d have to. But for this moment she chose to bask in what was practically like the all-encompassing warmth of the sun, even if just for a few, short, selfish fractions of time.

And she admitted to herself, right here and now, that Lucy had her heart. She always would.

She did not admit to the way her heart ached at the thought.

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

Later that evening, long after the effects had worn off, Ford went to speak to Otto.

As soon as Otto saw him he offered yet another sheepish grin, crossed his arms over his chest, and heaved a great big sigh. “Yeah, yeah, not my best moment I know.”

“I’m not here to talk about that,” Ford said, taking a seat on the edge of Otto’s workbench.

“Really? I was sure you would want to tease me at least a bit.” He shrugged, and he picked his screwdriver back up, continuing to tinker with the handheld device in his hands. “Okay, shoot. What is it you do want to know? And before you say you don’t I can tell when you’ve got something on your mind.”

“What was in that bottle I gave Lucy? I know what all the others were already, but I’m not sure about that one.”

Otto didn’t give much of a response. “That was the mild stuff, just like I told you. Why does it matter?”

“Can't you just answer the question?”

“Don’t get your mustache in a twist, alright. It’s uh… you know, the pink one.”

“That tells me nothing.”

“You don’t think of emotions as colors? Is this not obvious? Sadness is blue, anger is red, revulsion or disgust is green, so on and so forth.” Otto paused, waiting to see if this concept was going to click with Ford. When it didn’t, Otto just sighed. “Really Ford? This is so much easier to talk about with Helmut.”

Otto put down his screwdriver and the device, before spinning around in his chair so he could look directly at Ford. “The bottle you gave Lucy was Love, which was one of the one’s I debated making at all for the record, because, honestly, what are the real world, practical applications for something like that?”

“Right, but depression on demand is going to be super useful.”

“Shut up, Cruller.” Otto shot back instantly. “I’m not the one who had someone making lovey-dovey eyes at me for an hour and still couldn’t figure out what the emotion behind them was supposed to be.”

Ford punched Otto in the arm with a laugh. “Oh really? How would you know? You spent the whole time bawling your eyes out!”

“Suuuure. But you were completely lucid. So what’s your excuse, hotshot?”

Ford balled up a piece of paper and chucked it at Otto, hitting him square in his forehead. Otto threw it back but missed by a long shot.

“Who’s the hotshot now? Oh, yeah, not you.”

Otto snatched the notebook from Ford. “You’re hilarious. Whatever." He flipped it open to the latest page. "At least tell me you took good notes?”

“What do you think I am? Unprofessional?”

Otto raised an eyebrow and said nothing.

Ford glowered at him, but then he nodded. “Yeah, I made sure to document everything. I know how this works.”

“Great." Otto flipped a few pages, skimming Ford's messy, sprawling handwriting, before closing the notebook and tossing it back to Ford. "We should go over the data tomorrow and then start compiling conclusions."

"Sure." Ford opened the notebook again, re-reading his last observation.

Most of what he'd seen was entirely, or at least mostly, expected. Compton's anger and Helmut's disgust were par for the course. It was odd seeing Otto so dejected but it was, again, something they'd planned for.

What he hadn't expected was the way Lucy looked at Cassie. He recognized it for what it was, now.

Love.

The only real question was why she was trying to hide it in the first place.

Why hadn't she told him?

He'd have to ask her when he got the chance.

#psychonauts 2 #psychonauts #my writing #psychonauts fanfiction #cassielucy #cassie o'pia #lucrecia mux #hanahaki au lucassie baby!#oboho writes

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total-volo-takes · 10 months

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i think I finally figured out what noco is. it's that one emo guy from that fanfic. he looks funny, i like him.

anyway

"The temple lies in ruins now... Columns cracked and broken... Like pillars now turned into spears, stabbing into the heavens..."

"Well, I detect a distinct lack of Giratina."

"Hmm? Is something bothering you?"

"Ah, I do beg your pardon. I suppose I must seem to be behaving strangely!"

"I daresay you deserve to know what I'm really after by now."

"Ever since I became convinced that Arceus really does exist, there has been one question that consumed my thoughts... How can I meet such a being myself?"

"It was in an attempt to answer this question that I originally sought out Giratina and had it tear open that rift in space and time... After all, Giratina wished to stand against Arceus. But that didn't do the trick..."

"So then I had you gather the fragments of the all-encompassing deity, just as the murals of the ruins directed."

"Eighteen plates said to be the fragments of the all-encompassing deity... You hold in your hands seventeen of them. So, you must be wondering: Where is the last one?"

"Why, it's right here!"

"Now hand over the plates you gathered! I will be the one to bring them all together!"

"My desire to meet Arceus cannot be contained any longer! I need to know what it is! I MUST know what it is!"

"If I can meet Arceus myself, then I may also be able to subjugate its power... And using that, I will attempt to create a new, better world!"

"Of course, if I create a brand-new world, then the Hisui region that we currently exist in will be undone and returned to nothing. You, everyone you know, and all the Pokémon living here will vanish in an instant, as if you'd never been."

"If you want to keep this world from disappearing, then face me in battle! Not that you have a choice. Even if you don't wish to battle me, I'm not above using force to take those plates from you."

"Why? Why you?! Why do you have the blessing of Arceus?!"

"Why? How?!"

"I've devoted myself to Arceus beyond any other! I worshiped it as the creator of our entire world! I bent all of my passion and interest to its study! All the time I've spent poring over the legends... Everything that I've done—!"

"You outsider! It's almost as if you were spat out of the space-time rift just to get in my way!"

"No...no, this isn't finished yet!"

"Can't you feel it? The chill creeping through your veins—the eldritch presence icing your heart?"

"Giratina! Strike them down!"

"Turning tail and running? From this puny HUMAN? Pathetic! I was the one to feed you the power you needed so that you could take on Arceus! I was the one who gave you the chance to claw open that space-time rift, driving the deity of space and time mad so that you could drag the creator out from hiding!"

"How? How could this happen?! Almighty Arceus, if you have any heart within you, then tell me..."

"The blood of the ancient Sinnoh people flows in my veins, does it not?! What is it, then, that you find so lacking in me?!"

"Do you mean to tell me that this world doesn't need to be remade?"

"I can't live with such questions... I can't bear not satisfying this ache to know!"

"Answer me, then, anonymous. Do you have some dream that propels you, as I've had?"

I do!: "So you do... Doubtless that dream of yours would never leave room for the dreams of one like me..."

I don't know.: "You don't even know... Then perhaps the day will come when you will suffer and agonize as I do now..."

"I am the great wielder of Pokémon. And you... You battle alongside your Pokémon. In the end, I was alone... But not you. You will fight together with your Pokémon to seize whatever dreams you have."

"Here. Take it... Take the plate that started me on this path—the plate I once received from Giratina."

"My journey is over. My story ended when I lost to you."

"I suppose now you've gathered all of the plates said to exist in this land of Hisui."

"So that's...that's it... The Azure Flute. Heh. It comes to you."

"So Arceus wishes to meet you... Of all people, you had to be the one... Is that why you were brought to this world?"

"Gah! I've no desire to watch from the sidelines as Arceus comes to you! And I absolutely cannot accept a world in which you would ever manage to defeat Arceus..."

"Someday, I'll solve every riddle in the legends of Hisui's Pokémon. And on that day, I'll stand before Arceus at last—No, I will CONQUER it! No matter how many years, how many decades, how many centuries it takes me!"

#long post

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tooxldtorememxer · 1 year

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@acromanlion wrote: [ UNBUTTON ] : due to heat or stress or other reasons, sender unbuttons the top of their shirt to reveal their neckline.

It was hot. And Atlas regrets his choice of formal wear. His hair is pinned up in a messy bun. Revealing a tantalizing neck to his mate, as well as unbuttoning his shirt. Showing a peak of his collarbones, and the tempting curve of his back as he bends to rummage through a drawer.

"I cannot wait for the sun to go down."

Atlas panted. He gives a triumphant little purr when he finally finds his desk fan. And the groan he lets out after turning it on is absolutely obscene.

Was he teasing his mate? Maybe. Clothes felt stuffy and he had the urge to shift. Being naked seemed like an even better idea with this godforsaken weather. If only his Jaime wasn't so busy. They could be naked together. But instead Atlas resigns himself to leaning on his desk to let the fan blow on whatever exposed skin he has. He's so glad he chose a skirt, his legs at least weren't being tortured by these damn work clothes.

As it turned out, Jaime was much more accumulated to the high spikes and lowes of temperature than his mate. Though it was clear he was uncomfortable, even his own top buttons undone and his sleeves rolled up, he wasn’t dying from the heat. A glass of ice and cool water helped too, when the ice wasn’t all melted, of course.

Jaime glanced at Atlas as he moved around and rolled his eyes to himself, he pretended not to notice but there was a small twitch at the corner of his lips on the opposite side. “It will be nice, yes,” he agreed, a bit flippant and perhaps nonchalant but it was, of course, all an act. If he let himself be distracted by the minx he would never get anything done and he’d already let himself be distracted enough times to be behind on the work. Father, and most likely Cersei, would have his head if he didn’t preform.

But this game was far too fun to play. And who could be angry with him when his mate looked like that? “But something’s telling me you’re not planning on watching the sunset tonight?” his eyebrow quirked a bit as he turned his head slightly to be able to let his eyes roam over him in a heated but knowing fashion. “What should I do with you?” he chuckled and looked at him fondly.

#acromanlion #jaime | character #of myths and legends | verse #( hewwo :3 )

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flower-seller · 2 years

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I gave it some thought and went "You know what? Its your house, share the vague prose"

The only context I am providing is that this is post-post-postgame and that there was a 10 year gap where Euph and Volo went their separate ways 😔

[Semi-long post warning?]

The first year, she is a mess.

Angry, hurt and undeniably, unbearably lonely.

The void where she'd given up part of her soul to make room for part of his is ragged, bleeding all over everything she does. She sees red in everything.

The color of violence, of blood, torn flesh, passion, love.

The second year is worse than the first.

Aftermath given time to settle like infection to a wound that was still too raw to heal, adrenaline fading after a battle.

She wanders, aimless as a cloud caught on the sharp edge of a breeze.

It poisons her from the inside out, that bitterness.

The third year is passed through as a baneful ghost, something she'd been accused of being time and time again.

She moves without thought, drifting from place to place in search of something that doesn't have a name. The closest she could define it would be 'purpose'.

Hers had been left strewn between the battlefields of Ransei and the mountains and fields in Hisui, no, Sinnoh now.

The fourth year is like picking at the scab.

She still thinks about him, about all of them, daily. That is something she figures will never go away, there was too much undone, unsaid.

She comes across a trainer with a young cyndaquil and suddenly she can't see through the mist hazing her vision.

The fifth year passes with a feeling of cool resolve.

Not cold, cool. Nowhere near as icy as it had been when they'd first torn themselves apart.

It is hoarfrost swept away from the surface of deep ice, leaving it clearer but just as frigid.

She tries to take a lover, just a simple one night stand, but cannot bring herself to do more than steal a few kisses before excusing herself.

She isn't ready. The feel is off. The taste is off.

The sixth year sees her settled into that cool resolve, polishing it to a mirror shine in her spare time.

She doesn't entirely like what she sees when she looks into it.

Between so many memories returned of a world where war and conflict turned the economy as a way of life, she can't help but feel like nothing more than a blood drenched killer at times. It ran in her veins, that violence, that hate, that conflict.

Her fingers itch sometimes, missing the firm hilt of a blade that she left long behind even longer ago.

The seventh year sees her travels less aimless, drawn toward learning what she can about this world she has been torn into by no choice of her own.

He at least instilled that in her, that curiosity in how things came to be and formed, the various tales that scattered off from those events.

She never had lost the surveyor's habit of writing things down.

The eighth year passes in a quiet, solemn whisper.

She is occupied, almost obsessively so, but it keeps her mind focused.

It feels good to have some sort of purpose again, she's published a short book on Ransein legends under a pseudonym and carefully, painfully picks at a second regarding Hisuian ones.

So much has changed in the world around her, but when she closes her eyes where there is grass and a soft breeze, she can pretend she is standing in the Obsidian Fieldlands again.

The ninth year feels steadier, solid under feet that had been so shaky for so long.

Confidence had been hard won years upon years ago, that had never flagged. Her spirit is what had been damaged. The baneful ghost fashioned itself some bones to give itself frame, she felt stronger than she had in… a while.

The tenth year, she sees a fool breaking a promise on live television.

A fool returned to the place that they'd agreed to leave alone to heal from what he– they'd done to it.

The tenth year, she finds him again.

#oog the thought was stuck in my head and wouldn't leave till I did this #But ohoho it gives me such heartache at parts #FlowerSeller writing #Salem Flowerseller #Pokemon Legends Arceus #Flowerseller: Euphorbia #Flowerseller: Volo #Volo

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icanthocusfocus · 17 days

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Chapter 8 of my Goncharov Fanfic. I promise to lock in on it soon.

A Summer’s Fruits

When Katya returns home, her shoulders are baked dry with sun. Bright red, they ache when she laughs. For this reason they were greatly sore after her time with Sofia. Now, outside the dingy hovel provided by her marriage, she cant help but feel tired. She leans against the door before allowing it to swing open.

“Well hello my love!”

This is how she knows her husband was not the one to notice her presence. She imagines, to him, she is like a dull buzz in his ears. Though, after so many years, perhaps he’d be unnerved without her there. Instead the man before her is the same Joe who brought her to this damned house in the first place. Though really that was only the fault of Goncharov. An ice pick hangs from his belt. It looks almost bronze in the yellow lights, and Katya can smell the iron of it.

“It is good to see you, Joe. I appreciated your housewarming gift.”

”Did you really?”

She slips the corner of the tin into the open. “More than you could know.”

”I don’t imagine you will thank me another way?”

”Well I don’t imagine my husband would appreciate me kissing other men.”

Despite her words, the Italian kisses both her cheeks and holds her head in his hands. She does not feel overly inclined to escape his grasp. It is not, she thinks, romantic. It is difficult to tell with men. Like most, he probably had interest in her body. “Bah, I doubt that. He does it all the time.” He leads her not so gently to sit at the kitchen table. “We are playing cards soon, not you and I we, rather, the boys and I. Your husband sent me to warn you.”

”I’m sure he did.”

Joe rolls his eyes, his great big eyes. Katya realized now how sad they must look when he cries. She is glad then, that it is something men do not do, as Joe would certainly grip every heart with his tears. “Valery Michailov is attending, the sad sack. Ever since his sister died he’s been a bore.”

“How terrible!”

”I agree completely! He really ought to have moved on by now!”

She thinks of her own family, however long it’s been since she saw them, and cannot help but to feel unsettled. She lifts her wrist, dainty as it is, and points at him. “That’s not appropriate Joseph. What would you do if your sibling died?”

She tenses when he grabs her wrist. Quickly and surely, like it’s a practiced motion. He’s done it a dozen times. A hundred. It hurts, really it hurts. She can feel each separate part of her arm bending back, stretching past her compressed skin. Her arm is melting under his grip. His eyes are even larger now, watching her come undone. “I suppose,” He starts, dropping her wrist, “I’d probably be institutionalized.”

’God willing’ Katya thinks. She cradles her arms against her pelvis slightly. Not enough to exit the conversation. That she will not allow. “Would it be deserved?” ‘Was it?’

”Definitely!” He laughs, bobbing his shoulders and head. He feels bigger than he did before. Less stringy and more lithe. He picks up her wrist, feather soft, and holds her by the elbow so she won’t pull away. “Oh darling, what happened here? You’re beginning to bruise!” He presses a kiss against it. “I do hope that husband of yours is taking care of you.”

She laughs with him.

It is afternoon when Goncharov finally leaves Andrey, having been forced into playing cards. He’d said that he didn’t want to leave the house, hoping to be free of the men’s company. Instead the company follows him home. Ice Pick Joe is already there when he’s home, and it’s unclear how he broke it. More likely than not he had a key made before Goncharov ever moved in.

When he opens the fridge habitually, there are a few groceries that hadn’t been there that morning. He wonders who had bought them. “Who is coming over?” He asks Joe.

He shrugs in response, tracing his left palm with the tip of his right index finger. “How should I know? I can’t remember anything, you ought to know that by now.”

”Mhm. It all pours out that gaping hole in your head.” Goncharov cannot help but look at the white scar just below Joe’s hairline. He wonders how deep it runs. Whether only his skin was split, or if that mark ran so far it cleaved the man’s brain in two.

“Not everything.” His gaze is sharp.

”No-” He fingers that old scar behind his ear- “not everything.”

Poker is a dull affair. Goncharov has never cared for the game, with its kings and queens abundant. He fingers the edge of the king of spades in his hands, looking away from his matching queen. All of them looked so unhappy in their perfect pairing. Miserable frowns on their faces. Where, he wonders, is the old king looking? He was a joker in one hand, a mistake by whoever dealt. Valery plucks it out of his hands, clearly disgusted. “Did Joseph deal these?”

”I did,” Andrey admits,

The game continues.

When the clock in the hallway chimes, Andrey jumps in his seat. “We must be going,” Mario begins to put on his coat, “there is church in the morning. We have already stayed too long.”

Goncharov does not bother telling them that the clock is wrong. That he has been counting the seconds incessantly, that he checks his watch exactly every five minutes, despite knowing what it will tell him. The chimes are random. Andrey begins to dress as well. “Yes, it is far too late.”

“If you’d not like to go home, you may always stay the night.”

“Could I really?” Joe chimes

Goncharov grabs the man’s coat and puts it into his hands. ”You most certainly could not.”

”I’ll walk you home, Joseph. I’ve been meaning to speak with you.”

“Sure, Val.”

Then it is only Andrey and his stranger in the dim lit room. So dark that one could barely catch the curves of light that shaped plush lips. So dark Goncharov could blend in with the dark of the room and forget which of them was talking. It was impossible to tell.“I wish you’d play for me.”

“It’s far too late for that. Come to bed.”

Prev Next

#goncharov #ao3 #goncharov 1973 #fanfiction #writing #this is posted on ao3 #cross posted on ao3 #katya goncharov

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strywoven · 1 year

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@crookedredtie has requested a story : "Hey, don't look at me like that. I deserve a break now and then, too, you know..." His brow's furrowed as he takes another bite into his Topsicle, his other hand acting as a makeshift fan to cool his flushed cheeks. The summer heat's clearly been an influence on his decision making. He's quite obviously enjoying his cold treat, too, and is quick to make it known that he isn't willing to share. "If you want one so bad, get it yourself. Surely you can handle that, can't you...?"

𝑼𝒏𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒅.

Summer is not their favorite ; never has been. It’s the bleak , brooding sobriety of w i n t e r where Kaen thrives most ( everything rightly absolved for one grand measure of the year , reduced to ice & cold & frozen peace ) . One could very well argue the heat is what stokes their ire , FEEDING their deep-seated frustrations ; like a certain s e e t h i n g something , a lurking distemper , just under the skin , polluting their character , EAGER for the opportunity to immolate a too-fragile host. But did such a fire not need k i n d l i n g ? Did it not need a reason to burn to begin with ? Secrets like those , of course , are always kept close ( hidden cleverly behind a pleasant veil & kindly air ) ; Kaen can play pretend all they like , but some things … NEVER CHANGE ( & history could verily repeat itself if we are not careful enough ) .

Thus , packed away are their cozy overgrown shawls and sweaters and come out are the l i g h t e r and b r i g h t e r wears ( much to their chagrin , though their manager practically insisted they incorporate proper color into their wardrobe for the warmer seasons , at the very least ) . Uncomfortable enough is the fact they cannot simply walk through Inaba without being recognized , now they’re risking being NOTICED & SEEN ! A terrible thing , that. Being in the spotlight was one thing , having people’s gaze fixed to you off-camera – expectant , prying , hungry – was an entirely different occasion ( & one they did not much favor ) . They were indeed warned that venturing into stardom would feel much like selling their soul , they simply didn’t figure it to be quite so o b v i o u s . So there they stand , top buttons of their shirt casually undone , the collar splayed / flayed delicately to the sides for a PLEASANT ENOUGH VIEW .

❝ Look at you like w h a t ? ❞ Like THIS , apparently , with finger and thumb tugging down the pair of sunglasses so they may fix Adachi with a pointedly disapproving look over the rim of the tinted lenses. Red brows raise at his words , Kaen scoffs softly , pushing the sunglasses back into place over their eyes. ❝ Who said y'didn't deserve a break ? I jus' find it funny I’M more personally concerned ‘bout your job than you seem t’be. ❞ Arms cross , head turns away. Truthfully , it’s really none of their business w h a t he does with his time ( however , if he’s going to continue to insert himself into their life , it seems only fair they feel inclined to do the same ! ) , even when he elects to spend it unwisely. ❝ Didn't y'say you had things to take care of t'day ? … Yet , here y’are , I guess. ❞ Words can barely be considered chastising , but they are prodding him a bit , if only to tease.

A shrug is given. ❝ Well , hey , do what y’want ! I can’t stop you. ❞ Not that they’d think to t r y . Turning , Kaen is already making an exit , leaving him to his own devices , though not before tossing another remark over their shoulder , giving him ONE LAST THING to consider , ❝ Oh , by the way , I'm plannin' on takin' y'out for drinks later , alright ? M'treat. So get your work done or e l s e ! ❞ Oh , if only he could see the SELF-SATISIFIED smirk on their lips.

#❧ ⸺ how can ( queue ) say there is no story here ? ❞#❧ ⸺ ch. kaen | answered ❞#crookedredtie #kaen internally: this looks like a guy i beat up once... i could do it again #kaen externally: *flirts with him instead*#I DUNNO BABY GIRL MAKE IT MAKE SENSE #i'm losing it #and by that i mean i find this hilarious #your move ... kcnsdkkd

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 years

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Vow of Silence

Sweet Treats AU Masterlist

Farewell to Muffin and Darling.

Please let me know what you think <3

🧁🧁🧁

You shiver in the long cloak, the white fur flapping with the impossibly cold gales of Jotunheim. The sky is grey and grim, the cliffs of ice and shale adding to the gloomy affair. Thor stands beside you, unaffected by the gusts as you cling to his arm and chatter, desperate for an ounce of warmth.

Darling wears a veil of green and a matching gown, shaking in her much thinner cloak of gold as she faces Loki at the edge of the drop. His blade is bloodied as a body lays on the ground, freshly slain and steaming. He bends to drag his fingertips through the blood before approaching his bride. She gags and sobs as he smears her face with a line of red and says a vow in some unknown tongue.

Loki catches Darling as her eyes roll back and she faints. He saves her from falling down beside the body in the snow. You grit your teeth as you tuck your chin down into your collar.

"Her mother," Thor utters grimly, "but a sacrifice is needed."

"What– her mother?" You gasp and find yourself dizzy, your fingers trapped in your thick mittens.

"To be wed in the Asgardian way," Thor nods and his large hand covers your small mitten, "you require a sacrifice, a token of one's devotion, and consummation."

"Sacrifice…" you repeat, "but you said we are married."

He nods and gives a sonorous growl. You tug on his arm as Loki tries to rouse his unconscious bride. You blink, the weight of your eyelids heavy.

"Who… what…"

"Pet," Thor cradles your face as he turns to you, "I didn't want to hurt you, not like he did you. You did care far too much for him."

"Thor," you whine in disbelief, "no–"

"It had to be done. To save you."

"My father…" you wisp and shove him, barely causing him to flinch, "you killed him–"

"He wouldn't have let you come with me. All he ever did was lie to you."

"Like you. You lied to me!"

"It cannot be undone," Thor says evenly, "you are my wife, one day a queen. I had to do it, because I love you."

"No!" You stumble back and fall into the snow, "no, it can't be."

"He told you you were sick. You never were. He lied to you so he could get some extra coin. He silenced you, so you could not say the truth," Thor nears and pulls you up to your feet, "I helped you find your voice. "

"You took my father."

"He never wanted you. He only ever used you, why can't you see that?"

You shake your head and wrestle with him, "you're no better. You're no–"

You swallow as the tears stream down. You see Darling, she's awake, barely as she hangs from Loki's arms. She's trapped, like you.

Your throat knots and no noise rises. You stop, letting your arms go limp as Thor clings to your wrists. The strength drains from you.

Trapped again. Just the little girl locked in the basement. Still the same as you always were.

"Pet?" Thor's rumble flows through as your visions narrows in, "pet, speak to me."

Your legs collapse and you fall against him. He holds you up as you stare into the white void of the sky. He might keep you but he will never have another word from you.

#dark thor #dark!thor #thor #thor x reader #drabble #dark drabble #dark!drabble #sweet treats #au #avengers #mcu #marvel #loki

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jonathankatwhatever · 1 year

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In the MM Storyline, the first intimacy is sleeping together so he can learn how she experiences the process of becoming her each day, with the idea this will illuminate how he experiences that for himself. I just experienced that. I fixed on the idea of deferred gratification. It came to me while I was cutting up moldy bread for the birds which I put out just before realizing I forgot to cut out the moldy parts so I had to stop to soak it all down, which was my solution to the oops. Analytic to an End because no matter whether that decision is correct or not, or whether I could have done better (like by hand gathering every bit), that is the finite End which means this happened and cannot be undone, meaning that has counted, has wound, has been Registered.

So, let’s take a 7 or a 13. First, 4*13 hasn’t been explored at all. In CM terms, is that a connection to D12 so a Thing is the IC of L13 + D12, which is 2SBE2. So 13 is 2SBE2 + 1, and that means 4*13 is 4 Attachments to a 2SBE2. That is visual as a pyramid above L13, since the grid makes IC explicitly now - as per yesterday, to be honest - so LayerView now maps exactly to the labels ++ et al. And that End of 52 at that Bip connects then over some Thing which is identified by its 2SBE2 to describe the Thing made of both of these images, of the pyramid plus the 2SBE2. Again, this means a Thing is formed of 2Things. I can’t think of them as subThings because that imposes a hierarchy and generally a sense of direction. I mean that you can treat a Thing as bigger, as combining 2 sets, or as smaller, as combining parts of sets into a smaller set, like into a finite set. The one is created on top of, so it’s bigger, and the other is created below, so it is smaller, and they’re the same Thing. That’s inherent to I//I, that existence has to invert. I’m thinking about existence at this level, not at the physical, though that’s important. Let me start a new paragraph.

Existence has to invert is true because physical existence is an inversion of 1Space into 0Space so we fit as the 1 in the 0-1-0 of the enclosing 1Space. That sentence explains a lot about people. I’m startled by the depth of what I’m experiencing. It’s too much to put into words. I see weight, how behaviors fill gaps, how renormalization connects through the generation of the finite. That last grabs attention.

Analytic to the Ends, which means known, which translates to measurable. We finally got the full connection to renormalization as a grid squares effect, as a result of the way existence actually works. Feynman would love this. Hey, Dick, here’s the why. Sorry it took so long.

Measurable. A beat, a count, Lebesgue measure is of course a formulation of the concept of edges. Wow. That was deep and really came out of nowhere. I mean I typed measurable, tried to look it up, got lost on Facebook for a minute, thought about how it feels weird to log on and not know what people have been posting and that this impacts how I feel about the app, that there’s an element of discouragement because liking now means showing you didn’t know, then finally looking up Lebesgue measure, and this hitting me right away. This then is a second fundamental proof of the fundamental theorem of I//I over gs, that we define edges using Lebesgue measures and thus calculate within the 0Space exactly as we generate.

I need a break. Need some food.

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autisticlancemcclain · 2 years

Text

part one

part two

———

Hunk wakes up groggy and confused. Why is he awake? He doesn’t usually wake up in the middle of the night. That’s more Lance’s thing.

Wait.

Lance.

He shoots straight up, heart pounding, turning desperate and bleary eyes to the oven’s clock. He finds, to his horror, that it is currently three in the morning, meaning three hours past midnight, meaning he fucking missed the chance to wish Lance his first happy birthday of the day.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck,” he curses, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and rushes the finish icing the damn cupcake he apparently fell asleep trying to decorate. It’s not like Lance will be mad at him, or anything. But the two of them have had the midnight birthday wishes tradition going on for years, and Hunk is upset to have been the one to break that streak. And on such an important birthday, no less!

He finally finishes icing the cupcake, sticking a candle in it and shoving a lighter in his pocket. He slides the cupcake onto Lance's favourite plate (it’s the only plate in the set with a tiny chip on the side, and as with most broken or disliked things, Lance loves it for the simple reason that no one else does), and pauses, taking a deep breath. He’s already late. It’s done, it cannot be undone. Continuing to fret about it will only make him frazzled and upset, and he doesn’t want to be frazzled and upset. He wants to celebrate his best friend’s birthday. Once he feels calm enough, he heads over to Lance’s room, peeking his head in.

No Lance.

That’s not unusual. Lance is the worst sleeper Hunk knows, and likes to wander around. There’s a list of other places he tends to frequent, and Hunk checks the list off one by one – observation deck, pool, Keith’s room (not that Lance would ever admit to spending a ridiculous amount of time hanging out with Keith, but Hunk knows better), Pidge’s workshop, the long-range training deck, the sewing room – but Lance isn’t in any one of them. At this point, Hunk is starting to freak himself out again, so he decides to stop and approach the situation a little more rationally.

Lance could be anywhere, really. He likes to explore. Hunk could spend another fifteen minutes searching for him, or he could just borrow Pidge’s B.L.I.P. reader and find him immediately. Hunk doubles back towards Pidge’s workshop, quickly locating the device and booting it up.

Ah, Lance is on the bridge. And he’s with Coran, apparently. Hunk quickly makes his way over, finding Lance and Coran deep in conversation about the differences in Altean and Terran precipitation.

Nerds.

He clears his throat to make his presence known, and is a little pleased to see how quickly Lance lights up as soon as he sees Hunk. He knows Lance loves him, obviously, but nothing boosts your confidence like someone’s first reaction to your presence being overwhelming joy.

God, Hunk loves his best friend.

“Hunk!” Lance greets, waving him over. “Come sit with us!”

“Happy birthday, Lance!” Hunk says as he walks over. He holds the cupcake in front of him, which makes Lance clap his hands and then hold them out expectantly. He hands Lance the plate, and Lance wastes no time squeezing his eyes shut and making a wish before blowing out the candle.

“What’d you wish for?” Hunk asks, like he does every year.

Lance makes a face at him, like he does every year. “It’s like you want my wish to not come true.”

Coran looks intrigued. “Humans have the power to negate wishes simply by hearing them?”

“No, no, that’s just a superstition,” Hunk assures.

“No it’s not!” Lance argues. “The only time my birthday wish didn’t come true was the time I told you I wished for a pet black widow in grade three!”

Hunk just shakes his head in fond exasperation, deciding not to mention the fact in no universe would Mrs. McClain ever allow tiny, clumsy, excitable baby Lance to have a deadly venomous spider as a pet.

“Anyways,” Lance continues, changing the subject. “Guess what I’ve done for my birthday so far!”

Hunk raises an eyebrow. “In the three hours since midnight, you’ve managed to do something specific?”

“You’d be surprised,” Coran comments, chuckling.

Honestly, Hunk has known Lance long enough that he doubts it.

“I got a visit from my future self telling me a list of places I shouldn’t ever visit so I visited them and they were so fun!”

Hunk blinks. Huh. That is surprising. He stands corrected.

“And I got a bunch of cool shells and I met a dragon and she gave me a really cool face scar –” Hunk does a double take, noticing that yes, Lance does have a new scar running from just above his left eyebrow to just below his cheekbone, what the fuck – “and also this huge diamond and I got this tongue piercing and I got to watch a real live supernova! Isn’t that the coolest thing in the world!”

Hunk barely understood the last couple part’s of Lance’s sentence, as Lance had his tongue stuck out to show off his piercing, but he gets the gist.

You know what? This isn’t even the craziest thing Lance has gotten into. It really isn’t. That title remains for the time trained a raccoon to attack on sight and almost got Hunk’s childhood bully scratched to death. (They were 9 at the time.)

“Alright,” Hunk says tiredly, because being friends with Lance is really just Like That sometimes. “I’m assuming you’re trying to hit every location on the list?”

“Of course!” Lance says cheerfully, and honestly? Hunk won’t lie. It sounds kind of fun. Besides, if Lance’s future self hasn’t popped back up to stop them, then it’s probably okay.

“Prepare yourself for the next wormhole jump, lads,” Coran says, and off they go.

When the wormhole aftermath clears, they find themselves right in front of what looks to be a very busy Earth, if Earth was pink and orange.

“The coordinates for this location are some of the more specific ones, like the third one, so it’s probably a specific place on the planet,” Lance explains, “so we’ll have to take Blue.”

The three of them make their merry way towards the Blue Lion’s hangar, and Lance pilots them down to the planet’s surface with no issues (and only one random and nausea-inducing barrel roll, but Hunk allows it because it is Lance’s birthday and he’s allowed to do dumbass things on his birthday. That’s, like, the rule).

Lance leads them through an incredibly busy city, through crowded roads and twisted alleyways, until he stops right in front of what seems to be a tattoo parlour.

“Sick!” Lance cheers. “More impulse body modification! Awesome!”

Hunk and Coran share an amused look.

“Do you even want a tattoo?” Hunk asks.

“Yes, obviously. I want, like, 200, but I’ll settle for maybe six.”

“You’ll be here all day, child,” Coran reminds him.

“Ugh, I forgot about stupid time,” Lance pouts, making Hunk huff and nudge him in the side.

“How about we get that matching tattoo we’ve been wanting to get for a while?” he suggests.

Lance brightens immediately. “Yes yes yes! The goggles?”

They had the idea when they were about fifteen. They’ve been friends all their lives, a team in every possible way, but there had been something especially exciting about being on an actual team together, for the first time at the Garrison – the engineer and the pilot. They’d wanted a way to commemorate that, and both wanted a symbol that was common between them but different enough to be individual, as well. They’d come up with the idea of aviator goggles and welding goggles – same concept, entirely different functions, entirely intertwined. As dorky as it was, Hunk found it charming.

“The goggles,” he agrees.

They make their way into the tattoo parlour, luckily pretty empty at this hour, Lance explaining the concept to Coran as Hunk sorts out payment with the receptionist. Twenty minutes later, they’re both sat on giant, leather chairs that remind Hunk of the dentist’s office.

“Where are these tattoos going to be, gentlemen?” the artist asks.

Hunk and Lance turn to look at each other.

“Any ideas?” Hunk asks.

“What if he got them on our legs? Like, side of the calf, right above our ankles?”

“Hugely specific,” Hunk notes. “Why that place particularly?”

“Our first team was the engineer and the pilot. Our new team, our most important team, is the Legs of Voltron. I think it’d be a cool reminder,” Lance explains.

Hunk grins at him, and then nods at the artist. “That sounds perfect.”

The artist – who almost looks like a humanoid octopus slash iguana, and works on them both simultaneously which is so cool – gets right to work.

Lance and Hunk inhale sharply at the exact same time, because holy shit, that hurts more than they expected. Like, they’re Paladins of Voltron, sure, but yeesh. It turns out that a very sharp needle stabbing in and out at 3000 times per minute and dragging through their skin actually does hurt a whole lot, Jesus Lord Above.

Lance reaches out a hand, and Hunk does not hesitate to grab and squeeze it. They keep their hands clutched the whole time the artist works, which honestly doesn’t take long because the tattoos aren’t that big.

On their way back to the castle, after the artist flashes some sort of light on their fresh tattoos which heals them immediately (space is so cool, man), Coran sends Hunk a photo to his holopad, one he took while the artist was working.

It’s a picture of Lance and Hunk, hands held together tightly, grinning at each other as their matching tattoos are nearly finished. It’s abundantly clear how excited they are, how much they care about each other. Hunk makes it his lockscreen immediately, thanking Coran profusely.

It may be Lance’s birthday, but that photo is honestly one of the best gifts Hunk has ever received.

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karahalloway · 2 years

Text

(Un)Common Attraction: When the Lights Go Down Comic

The amazingly talented @blueberryarts18 has done it yet again! 🤗 She created a truly magical-looking comic that captures another important moment from (Un)Common Attraction - when Drake decides to own up to how he feels about Harper!

This... this might just be the proverbial icing on an already decadent cake. The other comics she made for me have been incredible, but this just has something special - maybe it’s the dawn sky... maybe it’s the way she captured Harper and Drake’s interactions... maybe it’s the topic being covered... Whatever it is, it is absolute perfection, and I honestly cannot stop staring at it! 😭

Extract of accompanying scene below the cut.

Extract from Chapter 36: When the Lights Go Down

The first tendrils of dawn find me perched on top a stone balustrade, dangling my bare feet over the edge as I gaze out over the Beaumont's rolling vineyards from one the House's balconies, extracting the pins from my hair.

Listening to the opening notes of the dawn chorus, a wry smile forms on my lips as I think back to the craziest night of my life.

[...]

As the sky lightens from inky blue to red and then to gold, I take a deep inhale of the crisp morning air, marvelling at the beauty of the Beaumonts' estate as the majestic sunrise paints the rolling hills into colour once more.

As Drake would say, it was one helluva view...

Given that this could very well be one of my last nights in Cordonia, I had been determined to make the most of it, especially since the Bash had been nothing like the stiff, formal balls and the fancy high-brow gatherings that had dominated the social season to date.

Letting my breath out, I take one last look at the beautiful vista spread out in front of me before grabbing my heels from where I had placed them beside me.

Lifting my legs up onto the stone, I feel warm hands wrap around my waist.

"Easy there, Gale. Don't want to go tumbling off now."

Glancing up, I see Drake looking down at me with that impenetrable gaze of his as he helps spin me around to face him.

"What are you doing here?" I query, gazing up at his ruggedly handsome face as it becomes illuminated by the golden light of the early morning sun. "I thought you had called it quits hours ago."

"And miss the view?" he asks, brushing a stray lock of hair from my face, his eyes boring into mine.

"Haven't you seen it dozens of times before?" I breathe, running my hands up his chest as I inhale his heady scent.

At some point during the night, he had ditched his suit jacket and tie and had reverted to his preferred array of rolled-up sleeves and top two buttons left undone on his shirt. If anything, he looked even better like this than he had at the start of the night.

"I never get tired of it," he murmurs, cupping my face in his hands.

Dipping his head, his mouth finds mine in a heart-stopping kiss. As he pulls me closer to him, my lips part in a soft sigh as my body arches into his.

Whereas our previous kisses had been full of pent-up desire and much too brief, this one was truly awe inspiring in its langorous tenderness. Time slows to a crawl and I feel myself melt as he explores every inch of my mouth with a delicate slowness the likes of which I had never experienced before.

"D-Drake..." I moan in protest when he pulls slowly away.

"Yes, Gale?"

Opening my eyes with some difficulty, I see him looking down at me with a self-satisfied quirk to his lips.

"Wh-where did that come from?" I ask breathlessly, my lips on fire in the wake of his kiss. "I thought you said—"

"I've decided to tell Chris."

My jaw drops into my lap. "Really?"

He nods. "I'm going to arrange some time to talk to him after the Coronation."

"Oh, my God...! I don't believe it!" I gasp, throwing my hands over my mouth. "What made you decide to tell him?"

He flashes me a rueful smirk as he takes my hand in his. "I've been trying to convince myself to do the honourable thing and let you go back to the States, so Chris won't feel like I've screwed him over. But when I saw you sitting here with your hair down and your shoes next to you, I realised that as much as I wanted to avoid the potential press scandal and the definite fallout with my best friend, what I wanted even more was to walk up here and kiss you like I wanted to from the start. Because I'm tired of being careful all the time, of having to hide how I feel. Plus, you're the only girl I've ever met who's ever given me the time of day when I've been stood next Chris... and I'd be a monumental dumbass to let someone like that go."

"Damn straight, cowboy," I grin as I reach up to pull him in for another kiss.

Permatags (let me know if you want to be added):

@twinkleallnight @lovingchoices14 @kingliam2019 @petiteboheme @aussiegurl1234 @queen-arabella-of-cordonia @tessa-liam @alyshak92 @secretaryunpaid @princessleac1 @walkerdrakewalker @angelasscribbles @drakewalkerisreal @nestledonthaveone @tinkie1973 @twinkle-320 @lunaseasblog @indiana-jr @knaussal @differenttyphoonwerewolf @texaskitten30 @pinklipsandmasonjars @sillydg @spookycolorpeanut @peonierose @mrsnazariowrites @shellybee85 @3pawandme @honey358luv @atha68 @deepestphantomstranger @xpandass420x @choicesficwriterscreations @ficloverevie @alexabeta @veebug8 @kingliamandmia @fangirling12566

(Less Than) Noble Intentions only (let me know if you want to be added!)

@thetruthisthatiloveyou @anakjaybon-blog

#uncommon attraction #harper gale #drake walker #drake x mc #the royal romance #trr fanfiction

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katsukikitten · 4 years

Text

Time spent with Todoroki.

Warnings: This is a Pro Hero aged up AU, think late twenties. Adult themes such as sex are to follow. Please enjoy

Shoto was by far your favorite sugar daddy. He showered you in lavish gifts and gave you the pipe often. He checked your bank account and made sure it never fell below a certain amount and paraded you around town like the Princess you were. But most importantly he was stoic. Doing nothing more than wiping you up with a warm rag once the two of you were finished, never clinging to you with desperate hands like many other sugar daddies had. Hoping their money would make you giddy and buy your love. Maybe it would have, had you not already run out of love for people. Your heart broken one too many times by a long term relationship causing you to vow that money was your only love.

People were just too disappointing.

Your contracts with Shoto were medium in length, anywhere between three to five months mostly because he likes to keep his "options open." Which filled you with pure lust for him, knowing you could get away with your kinks without worrying over some man falling for you.

Still, it was difficult for the Pro hero not to fall for you, at first he had no interest in love. Having sworn it off mostly for fear of failure thanks to his dysfunctional family. It was the main reason he started looking into sugar baby websites, he saw your profile picture and your bolded No strings attached. He liked the idea of that, loved it really and yet, he became tangled in you after the renewal of your second contract. He tried to suppress the warm feeling in his chest, he found it difficult more times than not.

Especially now, with you on your knees with his guicci jacket spread out on the tile of the bathroom floor as your lipstick clad lips wrap around his cock. Your cheeks hollowed and your eyes looking up at him with enchanting lust. He fists your hair shoving you further on his cock. Your eyes water as you gag softly and Todoroki is just thankful your makeup is waterproof.

The sight and the sounds make him groan while your manicured nails dig into his bare thigh. You rub your thighs for friction, moaning around his cock, it's enough to send Shoto over the edge. Hot ropes of cum hit the back of your throat as his grip on your styled hair tightens.

"Fuck Princess…." He moans bucking into your mouth, sharp eyes look down at you. Seeing a powerful man come undone for you is enough to keep you content for now.

"Sir will take care of you after the gala okay?" His cheeks are still a little red as he runs his hand over your hair. Lifting you off the floor before fixing himself. He gives you a light spin, making sure nothing scuffed your gorgeous designer dress before he exits the stall. Pushing back his long hair while you retouch your lipstick with a knowing smirk.

The two of you waltz back to the party, sans his jacket, abandoning the designer garment without a second thought. The price of it was barely a drop in his bucket. It could have been half of his bucket for all he cared, his mind always swimming with thoughts of you. He places his hand on the small of your back as he guides you back to the table, dinner half forgotten once your hand wandered towards his crotch for a tease.

"F...find the bar okay?' Izuku asks as you take your seat, your sly hand going for your wine. Uraraka blushes when you give her a wink.

"Just fine." Shoto says sipping his whisky.

"So who's won awards so far?" You ask with gleaming eyes, Izuku smiles.

"Kaachan for most villains caught. Kirishima for the safest feeling hero, myself for rescue ratio." He holds up his small little trophy, "And you, Shouto, for most mysterious."

"What about the rankings? Did we miss that?"

"No they are about to announce it!" Uraraka exclaims, eyes glittering with excitement and wine. Her chestnut eyes slide over to her emerald eye date, hoping for the best for him.

The announcer steps to the stage, his sapphire blue suit catching everyone's eye as he takes the center.

"Ladies and gentlemen, it has been a night filled with congratulations and cheer but now is the moment you've been waiting for, tonight we will reveal the top three heroes. Voted in by a strenuous board appointed by the fans, we finally present the BIG THREE!"

Some tables erupt in cheers while the host takes his dramatic pause, when the sound dies down the host brandishes the golden envelope.

As he announces your hand wanders again, playing with your favorite toy, Shouto's face gives way nothing as the host drags out the awards. Explaining how long the winner's speeches should be. Soon Shouto cannot ignore your hands creeping on his clothed cock that throbs beneath your fingers. He knows he can't wait through what's bound to be a half an hour. He rises excusing himself dragging you with him before you're being cornered against a wall in some random closet.

"So impatient, princess." He bites out, kissing your throat, sliding down to your exposed collar bone while his hand ventures between your thighs. Calloused pads circling your puffy clit as you let out a loud moan that's swallowed by the cheering of the gala room. Impatient himself he undoes his pants, stroking himself with his free hand while you cum on his fingers.

After the coil in your stomach snaps for a third time he's satisfied, kissing you as he aligns the tip of his dick to your quivering entrance.

"Fuck, Shouto. Fuck me please, sir!" You beg, making his head spin, alcohol mingling in the small dark space.

"Be patient kitten. Sir will fuck you right baby." He grunts, sheathing himself into your soaking core. You cry out, clawing at his back through his shirt. The smell of biting cold hair mingling with the hearty smoke of a bonfire engulfs you as you press your face into his chest. He lifts both of your legs, strong hands grabbing onto thick thighs as he fucks into you with a deadly pace. Slapping skin and lewd wet sounds echo back to the two of you, encouraging his pistoning hips.

"Listen to those sounds Princess, your pussy sounds so pretty." He bites at your ear as you endlessly moan and whimper into his chest. Cunt clenching as he drives over your spongy spot, the head of his cock going deeper with each thrust. Soon it all becomes too much, your vision spots panting as you cry out in ecstasy, body ridged and arching to meet him.

"Cumming on my cock already?" He coos, fucking you through your next orgasim as your legs shake around him. Toes pointed in your red bottoms as you attempt to hold onto him for dear life.

"S..sir! You cry out, "I'm gonna...nnngghhh."

He ruts into you, pressing you further into the wall as he frees up one hand to play with your throbbing clit. Rubbing harsh circles as he loses focus on his precise thrusts that turn sloppy. His eyes too focused on you as you cum, milking his cock. Your eyes flutter, desperately attempting to hold eye contact as one hand palms your breast and the other scratches at the skin at the nape of his neck. Your tongue lulls out just a bit as your mouth makes a sinful O shape, a few tears of over stimulation fall down your cheeks as he continues to fuck into your wet cunt. The sight makes him explode into you, warm spurts of cum causing you to whimper and clench in delight as he ruts until he is done. He sets his sweaty forehead against yours, panting as words claw up his throat.

"I love..." He whispers, catching himself just in time, "Your tight cunt."

He kisses you, hoping you don't think anything more of it.

After a few minutes, and Shouto's cock softens, he withdraws. Wiping you up with a wipe from your purse as the two of you check the other for fluids. A drunken cat smile plastered on your lips as you reapply your lipstick, wiping away the stains on his dark grey shirt and collar.

The two of you step into the hall just in time as the doors start to open. Quickly and calmly you grab for your pack of cigarettes, your normal alabi, placing the stick in your mouth. Shouto, much like a gentleman, lights it as you inhale to keep the tip a burning ember. Gently blowing the smoke over his clothes, careful to avoid his face as you waft the burning stick around yourself as if it were an incense. Knowing good and well the smell of smoke always hides the salty smell of sex. Quickly you extinguish it on an ice cube that Todoroki provides, you toss the cube in the closet and the half of a smoke into your burkin slamming it shut just as a small group of sidekicks approach.

"Shouto! Wow! I can't believe it was a three way tie this year! Congrats to you, Deku and Dynamight!" They drunkenly cheer, "It's crazy how that happened."

"You're so secretive, your manager accepted the award on your behalf even though you were here tonight!"

A stream of people dot on your date as you cling to his muscular arm while you harbor a secret of your own. Cum dribbles between your thighs as you think of his sweaty head against yours. It feels good to be a Pro hero sugar baby.

"You staying the night again?" Shouto asks as he presses a cold water bottle to your palm, your body covered in a sheen of post sex sweat from a week's worth of fun. You give him a small smile as you sit up, tits bouncing as you readjust entirely. You can feel his icy hot gaze as it rakes over your body, feeling the goose flesh prick along your skin as it does with the threat of an oncoming summer storm.

"I wanna discuss the renewal of our contract. Plus we have a final date per the expiring one." He says as he rises, heading towards the luxurious ensuite to start a shower for you both.

"Hmmm guess I could. How much longer do we have left?" You never really paid attention to this things, always being satisfied with whatever Shouto gave you.

"Two weeks." He returns back from the bathroom, grabbing his wallet from his bedside table. Pulling out his onyx black card, he places it in your hand. His eyes holding yours, you give a devilish grin.

"Sir has a lot of paperwork for the agency to do today. Buy a dress I want to fuck you in and anything else you want to match okay baby girl?" He leans down to give your forehead a kiss while you giggle. Unable to hide the giddy that bubbles beneath your skin, you wrap your arms around him.

"Thank you sir!" You exclaim, pepper his cheeks with kisses as you pull back, "Do I get to pick the date again?"

"Mmhmm." He encourages, running his hand up your bare bare as you squeal with delight. You rush to the bathroom before he slowly follows behind. While under the hot stream the two of you make out for far too long, tongues fighting as the two of you exchange laughs before you add a playful statement that stays with the two toned hair man as he sits in his boring home office.

"I'm going to get a dress so classy and sinful you'll fuck me on the spot!"

His eyes wander to the photo on his desk, the one of your first date. The one you insisted the two of you take after a month of late booty calls since he paid for the "girlfriend" package. The two of you are bundled in warm coats, you cling to his firey side as you laugh and he just barely smirks.

Looking back he thinks this is when he started to fall for you. You had never been ice skating before and insisted on going while the two of you were in NYC for important PR interviews for the cold and mysterious hero. Because that's what people did in the movies while in NYC, put on their skates at the Rockefeller rink to glide along the ice beneath the sparkling lights of the giant Christmas tree. It was busy, he opted for no skates, as he did better without but he helped you lace yours. Being ginger for the first time in his life as he helped you onto the ice, after demanding a moment of independence you had fallen straight onto your ass. Giving Shouto second hand embarrassment but instead of yelling, crying out or giving up, you laughed. Genuinely laughed as you reached for his steady hand, captivating the whole rink for a moment. It felt like magic had washed over the ice, as snow slowly danced into your hair and the colorful lights danced across your eyes. Just like that the spell was broken with a flash of light. A stranger approached to give you a small tip on how to skate and the polaroid he had taken. You thanked them with a smile placing the photo into your coat pocket leaning into Shoto to share a secret.

"Now we have our first 'date' immortalized!" You had giggled, gliding across the ice as if you were ethereal, hands outstretched for Shoto to join you.

He wonders how you're doing at the shops. He occasionally gets a text or two from you. Sexy pictures of you in the changing room as you obviously buy lingerie as well.

He fists his cock enough times he gets no work done and by the time he convinces himself enough is enough you come home.

Wearing that damned devilish smirk.

And so another week passes in the four walls of his bedroom. Your bank account as stuffed as your pussy as you bounce on his heating and cooling cock.

"Fuck, baby fuck." Is all Todoroki can say as you chase your own high. His blunt nails clawing at your thighs as your tits bounce. Your mouth opens into that gorgeous O as you seek out that delicious friction on your clit. The coil in your stomach snaps as your humping becomes erratic and sloppy but still enough for your tight cunt to spasm wonderfully over Todoroki. So nice is the sight, sound and smell of you that Todoroki pumps his hips up into you twice before he paints your velvety walls, his eyes focused on you.

"Fuck." He presses his sweaty head into the silk of his pillow case. Two toned hair clinging to his forehead. You lean over and kiss his cheek.

"Thanks for the ride Pro hero." You wink before you dismount. Stretching towards the sky once your feet hit the warmed hardwoods, you begin to make your way towards the bathroom. Phone in hand.

"I wanted to talk about extending your contract." Todoroki says, staring after you, "At dinner tonight."

"It expired tonight right?" You say, looking over your shoulder while your phone lights up with an alert, "No need for dinner."

"What do you mean?" He calls to you as you start the shower.

"I mean, I think we should let the contract expire. Keep things fresh you know? Keep our options open?"

He jumps to his feet and begs the urgency to die in his step. Calmly with somber steps making his way to the ensuite. He finds you already in the shower, water washes away the smell of sweat. The smell of him as your phone glares up at him. He taps the screen and your recent notifications wave at him as he stares down.

Reading one of them in horror.

Todoroki isn't sure why he feels this way as he looks at your phone on his vanity. As if the world fell from beneath his feet. His throat burns as he stares at the illuminated glass, spiraling as steam clouds his vision that begins to blur. He knew what he signed up for, he wanted this.

This detached, heart hidden exchange in hopes of choking down the loneliness

But he never expected that when this ended it would feel as if his heart had been ripped out, stepped on and crushed beneath the heel of one of your red bottomed shoes.

"Come on aren't you joining me for our last shower iced cutie?"

"Uh yes I'm coming." He steps into the shower as the push alert on your phone burns into his brain.

"Kirishima Eijirou has put in an offer."

#todoroki x reader #todoroki sugar daddy #bnha au #aged up au

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