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kathyprior4200 · 3 years

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Welcome to Wacky Wally Wackford’s World!

Greetings, I say, greetings demons of all ages! The name’s Wally Wackford, an oh so suave man of business! You may not know me, but surely you’ve seen me…pretty much everywhere. Yes, I’ve never been the type to stay in one place for long. Life can be pretty wild at times. But that’s what makes it oh so fun!

So what’s my story, you say, you say? Well look no further, ‘cause I have a tale to tell.

I’ve been doing freelance work off and on, laboring at one job, moving onto the next. The jobs vary a lot, but I’m a Wally of many trades. (Yes, I’ve been fired many times as well, figuratively and literally…it is Hell after all.) Early on, I found out that living in poverty is never a lot of fun. I quickly learned how to scam other people…and boy did I enjoy it! It was the only way I could inch toward the top, get some power of my own. I’d make a few deals here and there and then when clients got desperate, I’d say something like, “Oh I’m so sorry but there’s an extra fee you have to pay. Forgot to mention that.” Then I’d point to that small scribbled section on the contract I added in moments ago.

“I’m starving, sir!” they’d say. Or, “I left my money at home,” or my favorite: “Shove it up your trickster rear!”

Sometimes they did pay me extra. Other times they didn’t…and those were the ones who soon forgot about everything forever. (chuckles).

Anyway, moving on.

Sometimes when my days got long and hard, I’d go to saloons for a nice bottled drink. The emerald colored Greed Mead is my favorite. Twirling my thin black mustache, I’d wink at some pretty imp gals nearby and say, “Hey there. You’ve been in Hell for a long time. Is that why you’re so hot?”

Most of the time, I’d get a swift punch to the face in response. The glares on their pretty faces, “Take that remark to the Sloth Ring, lazy bootleg fucker.”

So many aggressive people these days. I could tip my black hat to many imps and they’d either fall to my charms or roll their eyes. I was fine with that. There’s not much else to do in Hell then to live your life and amuse yourself with watching others struggle. In fact, pretty much every sin is encouraged, so why not keep going?

After stalking around looking for more people to scam, I came across Loo-Loo Land in the Ring of Greed. I’ve always loved that place, its vibrant atmosphere emitting joyful fun and chaotic flair. I walked on over and asked the vendor, “I say, you have any jobs here?”

“I’ve heard of you, Wacky Wally,” he said at the ticket stand. “You may be a good pick-pocket, but your skills are nothing compared to Mammon. In fact, this whole place is a fucking rip-off of Lucifer’s Lu-Lu Land!”

“All the more reason to love this place!” I exclaimed.

“Robo Fizz is putting on another show at 7pm tomorrow,” said the beefy imp vendor. “Made in Mammon’s factory and modeled after the famous imp Fizzarolli.” He then spoke in a low whisper, “It includes some behind the scenes moments for the VIPs…you know, with tentacles and ‘special features.’”

“Oh that sounds delicious!” I said with a slow grin. “It’d be great to see how his…mechanics work someday…”

The imp vendor rolled his eyes and flinched at my lighthearted comment. Always know what to say to get that grimace reaction.

“Anyway,” said the vendor, “We’re running low on staff, so you can go sell those torches over there.”

The imp pointed to a pink cart with Mammon’s jester face on it. I shrugged and got to work.

I happily rolled my cart around, selling torches wherever I went. I could honestly stare into those mesmerizing green flames all day.

“Torches here!” I drawled in my Foghorn Leghorn southern accent. “66% off when you buy four! Parties, decoration, destruction and more!”

One time on my break, I got to talk to Robo Fizz about money, shows, sex and chaos. We even cracked some jokes together. The robot seemed a little nervous in my presence but then again, he was very unpredictable on a daily basis.

“A duck, a frog, a demon and a skunk go into a bar. The bartender told them that the drinks were one dollar each. How did they pay for them? Answer: The duck had a bill, the frog had a greenback, the demon had a soul…but the skunk only had a scent!”

“Hahahaha!” Robo Fizz laughed, sparks flying near him. “Your jokes are much better than Blitzo’s corny puns!”

“Why thank you,” I replied. “But nothing beats your organ-playing animatronics in your ‘Wonderful World of Evil’ puppet show you did last month.”

Robo Fizz grinned at the compliment. “You do anything else besides selling torches?”

“I scam, I kill, I do a little bit of both. Oh and I’m also a great inventor!”

“How marvelous!” Robo Fizz grinned. “Perhaps if you have enough mayhem in you, you could perform with me at the next Fizzarolli N Friends show!”

“I say, I’d love that! I’m sure your show will be top notch, copyright be dammed…won’t it?”

Robo Fizz smiled widely, hiding a strain. “You bet it will!”

It was during one interesting day when I pushed my cart by a large tent where several Robo Fizz posters were posted. I held up a troch with a hand and called:

“Torches, I say! I say! Get your inconvenient torches here!”

Then before I knew it, the robot and a random imp crashed right into the cart.

“Ow, I say OW!” I cried as the green flames quickly spread around. After getting the flames off me, I ran for the hills out of the burning park. I sat, dejected shortly afterward. So much for that job. Along with figuring out what to do next, I also happened to watch the imp fight off Robo Fizz…and the robot falling into the dragon’s mouth.

How unfortunate.

After helping Robo Fizz from the dragon’s insides, (killing said dragon, pulling out said robot, cleaning and making quick repairs), I inched closer to him and said, “You made some new friends, I say.”

Robo Fizz stood tense with just long wires for his body, a metal skeleton of his previous appearance. “Yes…an old time co-worker of mine. A clown of an imp named Blitzo. He and his sisters were once part of a circus act called “The Amazing Imp Siblings. A bit dowdy if you ask me. ”

Robo Fizz looked around. “Hahahaha! That was some chaotic fun. But now the park is ruined!”

“I say, if I were you,” I told him, “I’d do all I could to get this park repaired and back on track. Costs a whole lotta money. The last thing you need is to have your boss disappointed in you.”

A brief look of fear came on his face. “Oh yes, yes, good idea, Wally.”

“And your friend…whether you upstage him or what, you’d best be sure Blitzo stays out of trouble. I lost my job and almost my life because of that fight!” My yellow eyes shined in a show of sadness.

“I-I will not let master Mammon down…not that I have a choice.”

“Let Asmodeus know what’s up as well.”

Robo Fizz nodded, spun away and laughed. “Time to find that rodeo clown imp!”

0 0 0

Later on after leaving Greed, I got a brilliant idea. It was after I saw some old fashioned 1800s snake man in Pride plow down buildings with a metal bulldozer vehicle. That was it! I could start my own business!

I walked over to 666 News station. “Oh Katie,” I said in my sweetest voice.

“What is it, scum?” she asked, sitting at a mirror and doing her hair. “Can’t you see I’m preparing for a back to back broadcast right now?”

“I was considering doing my very own commercial about me exploiting…erm, employing other demons for my new factory.”

Katie barked out a laugh. “Good luck with that, filthy old man! Now get out of my studio.”

“Very well,” I said. As quiet as a hell mouse, I snatched a camera with an eye at the center and made my way out the door. The rest of the materials I needed came from a nearby junkyard. (Thankfully I avoided the wrath of some hungry kangaroo parasitic queen demon). I was running out of money fast; with no job around the corner, I figured I’d start my own!

Even I don’t really know where I got my inventing skills from. Many say it was my natural trait. Others say I learned from other experts in the trade. After all, one of the quickset ways to a man’s wallet is through the latest technology.

But I, Wally Wackford would not settle for your standard modern devices. No. I preferred to make things…well, wacky.

In no time at all, I had built myself my own mini studio where I could film my commercial! Now, what to call my company? Hmm…

The Onceler One In a Lifetime Opportunity? No, not enough Ws.

Wowing Whimsical Wonderous Wonders? Nah, too many Ws.

Ah…of course! What is a company if you don’t have your name on it?

0 0 0

“Uh huh, keep going, keep going, keep going!” Blitzo insisted at the I.M.P. office.

Moxxie switched the channel again. This time, an imp appeared wearing a large black top hat, a white shirt and pants, gray vest, black bow tie and black boots. He held a cane in his hands and he also had a thin curly mustache. A mischievous grin of sharp teeth appeared on his face.

“I say, I say!” the imp exclaimed, briefly pointing his cane at the camera. “Are you looking to get work making crazy contraptions and goofy gadgets?” “Crazy Contraptions” and “Goofy Gadgets” appeared in bold spiked icons to the imp’s left and right. The imp twirled his cane.

“Well call me at Wacky Wally Wackford’s Wacky Idea ‘Factory!’”

He pulled down another screen. The title appeared in bold red, gray and white letters surrounded by pinkish circles reminiscent of classic cartoons. “Factory” appeared in quotations. Wally Wackford appeared again.

“Where you make the things and I make the money!”

Wally Wackford then got up closer to the camera with a pleading look. “Please, I’m very desperate!”

“Bingo!” Blitzo called, shooting and exploding the TV again.

0 0 0

It was actually really easy to find where Blitzo was and the new sinner inventors. The killing company of imps had me very curious. If they could start a business, why shouldn’t I? And being in the company of amazing inventors…

I could almost see the soul dollar bills floating into my hands.

I snuck up to the building, merged into the floor, eavesdropped on their fascinating conversation…

0 0 0

Crash!

A metal plank crashed into the room from above as Moxxie scurried out of the way. Loopty Goopty strolled down the plank. “Blitz!”

“Loofa!” Blitzo called, saying his name wrong. “We can explain everything. I was…”

Crash!

Millie pulled Moxxie out of the way before another metal plank landed in the spot where he would’ve been. From on the floor, Blitzo’s butt was very much in view. Blitzo glanced down at him and remarked, “Oh chill out Moxxie, if you kiss my ass any harder you’ll go right inside me.”

Moxxie turned beet red in the face and scooted further back. Millie helped him up again.

“Thanks for saving me again,” Moxxie said. “I would’ve foamed at the mouth and maybe died again.”

“Why would you think I would ever ignore you?”

Moxxie shrugged.

Just then, the demonic form of a man rolled down the plank. His body was black and spherical, with a mint green head wearing a black bowler hat on top. He had a large bushy light gray mustache and pince-nez goggles with dark red spirals on the lens like Loopty. His grinning teeth resembled piano keys.

“Lyle Lipton?!” Millie, Moxxie, and Blitzo asked in unison.

“I don’t understand,” said Millie. “We thought you went to Heaven.”

Lyle Lipton chuckled. “Heaven?” He rolled toward Loopty Goopty. “You don’t make millions in technological advances in robotics by not experimenting on the poor!” He laughed.

Loopy Goopty grinned as he unleashed his weapons in front of Lyle Lipton. “Finally! We meet again at last! Now that you’re dead, you have no money to keep from me!”

“Well, I’m a better inventor than you!” Lyle scoffed. “And I’ll make the most money here first!”

“Nonsense you no good son of a bitch!”

“Tie yourself in a knot, loony Loopty!”

“Roll in your grave, fat shit inventor!”

“Two robotic inventors?!” called a nearby voice. A steampunk blimp hovered in the air and a well-dressed snake demon appeared from a hole in his ship.

“Who is that guy?” Lyle Lipton asked.

“I’m the one and only Sir Pentious!” he declared. Several Egg Bois were steering his ship. The eye on his dark top hat peered at the other sinners in curiosity. “With my dominating machines, I aim to take over all of Pentagram City!” Then he muttered, “The repairs were a fucking nightmare to endure.” He glanced at the leftover cracks and holes on the metal sides of his ship.

“Oooh!” Loopty exclaimed in admiration. “I’ve only seen such inventions in old time history books. How long have you been here?”

“Since eighteen eighty eight!”

“Love the loopy numbers!” Loopty grinned, making three small eights with his contraptions. “I’m Loopty Goopty! Lyle is my could’ve been partner in crime but actually rival!”

“When you’re rich as me, who needs a dead partner!” Lyle exclaimed.

“You’re dead too, you know!”

“Where did you cowardly sinners get here?” Sir Pentious asked.

“Well we just got here,” Lyle called. “Experimenting on the poor made us millionaires! Just…be careful when messing with anti-aging machines. Made us both old.”

“A machine that changes one’s age?” Sir Pentious pondered. “That could prove to be ussseful in the future,” he hissed.

“Oh, you should join us, snake man!” Loopy suggested. “Or me, rather.”

Sir Pentious briefly glared. “Hmm. While I’m perfectly capable of spreading my constrictive terror on my own…I suppose having some…lackey sidekicks would suffice.”

“Don’t call us lackeys!” Lyle sneered. “And I’m not working with him!”

“Maybe if we briefly collaborate as a team…”

Lyle grumbled in annoyance.

After a moment, Sir Pentious sighed. “Okay, you may join me, but…”

He spread out his hood, revealing pink eyes. “Don’t even think about crossssing me.” He pulled his hood back. “Now go gather your contraptions and help me manage those scrambled fucking eggs!”

A bunch of eggs in top hats and suits rolled out and jumped on the two inventors, who were stunned.

Loopty then laughed evilly. “Inventors to inventors it is!”

Just then, I popped out of the ground in the room.

“Did someone say, I say inventors?! Name’s Wally Wackford, and I am lookin’ for creative new people to exploit! I mean employ.” I twirled my mustache with an evil grin.

At last, a chance to expand my business of the mass production of robotic Fizzarollis! All of Hell will go crazy when they get a chance to buy all the sex robots, the merchandise, everything...and all to profit ME!

“Everyone, stop fucking up my walls!” Blitzo yelled. “Moxxie’s gonna have to fix all this shit! Satan’s balls! First we deal with Heaven’s table-scraps, now this?”

I smiled. “Well I guess you can say, you say, you have a holey operation here, Blitzo!”

I slapped my knee and laughed at my own joke.

“Get out,” Blitzo muttered.

Soon I doubled down on the floor laughing. “Oh! I said, ‘o’!”

Blitzo yelled, “No, I’m serious, get the fuck out!”

Everyone in the room looked at Blitzo in shock and surprise.

0 0 0

And then, that one other time where I helped host the Harvest Moon Festival Pain Games!

Wally Wackford a.k.a. me…stood on the wooden stage, holding a gray microphone decorated with an eye in the center and small horns on the top. I wore my usual white shirt, vest, white pants and dark boots. I twirled my black cane and tipped my black top hat.

I spoke dramatically through the microphone.

“Welcome, I say welcome all to Wrath Ring’s annual Harvest Moon Festival! To kick things up, we have the great prince Stolas-a here to user in this here Pain Games!”

Stolas took the microphone from me and chuckled in slight embarrassment.

“How kind, Wackford.”

Stolas then addressed the audience. “Greetings tiny Wrath Ring imps. I hereby welcome you all to another year of celebrating the spoils of your labor that continue to feed the citizens of Hell!”

A crowd of imps glared at him and several boos were heard. Many of these Wrath imps were impoverished farmers who lived on scraps, meat or good crops if they were lucky. The food they worked so hard to produce was consumed by royalty and those in the other Rings. But the reward for their work was being underfed, underpaid and underappreciated instead. The unbalanced cycle had lasted for generations.

I, too, stared at Stolas with a glare in my eyes. That rich royal thinks he can parade around, doing whatever he wants. Well unfortunately for him, I have plans of my own. Once he sees what I’m capable of…

He will know who really rules the roost.

Stolas obliviously continued. “I’m happy to kick off the start of these games that will challenge the toughest imps to show their skill and dominance.” He did a little wave with his fingers. “Good luck to you all!” He noticed Blitzo in the crowd beside Moxxie and Striker and spoke lower. “Especially that sexy little one there! Yoo-hoo, Blitzy!”

“Oh fuck me,” Blitzo scowled.

A gun went off and the games began.

The first event was the race. Moxxie was instantly trampled by the other racers.

The second event was the high jump. Striker climbed over the high wooden ramp structure with ease and raced after Blitzo who jumped past him. Moxxie struggled to keep his balanced as he reached the top. He slipped down, trying to use his claws to hold on. He fell with a splash in a small puddle…and was promptly chewed on by a monstrous black and white shark with several red eyes.

The third event was an event with rope. Striker grinned as he held a tied up Blitzo. Blitzo’s arms, legs and horns were all tied up. Moxxie gulped as a stronger grinning imp tied him up with ease.

The fourth event was tug of war. The crowd cheered as the two teams pulled hard. Striker, Blitzo and Moxxie were on a team. Moxxie stumbled and fell into nearby water, where the shark attacked him again.

The fifth event was mud wrestling. Blitzo and Striker grinned as they wrestled each other, Striker getting the upper hand as he held Blitzo down, arms locked. Moxxie was instantly crushed in a football hurdle by a group of imps. As they got off of him, Moxxie sat up. And the shark leaped out of the water and over the fence.

“Mother fucker!” Moxxie screamed as the shark crushed him. (Moxxie somehow survived all this.)

I hopped back on stage.

“I say, I say for the first year ever, we have a tie, for the winner of the Harvest Moon Pain Games!”

Stolas took the microphone from me again.

“The winners are…Striker, and my darling Blitzy!” Stolas did a one-legged pose as the crowd cheered.

“Just say my name right!” Blitzo complained. He muttered “Fucking dick,” as he and Striker walked onto the stage.

0 0 0

After the event, I noticed that I.M.P. and Stolas had left. After sharing an undiscernible look with Striker, we parted ways.

I soon returned to a special place in Greed, tired but determined. I walked alone down dark hallways, torches burning green flames on either side. I wagged my pointed red tail.

I pushed open the double doors and came across a marvelous sight.

Gold. Heaps of it, just shining brightly all around the vast spacious chamber. Gold pillars held up the cavern-like ceiling, a chandelier made of bones and diamonds hung from above. There were chests of necklaces, precious gems, goblets and weapons of every shape and size. Hanging on a far wall, concealed in shadow were angelic weapons…at least half a dozen.

I stared around in amazement. Even Lucifer would be surprised if he could see this place.

I raced around and tossed the gold coins into the air. In a craze, I rolled around in a nearby pile of green dollar souls. With a grin, I stood up and stared with pride at the grinning face of the jester printed on there.

A face confident in his ability to deceive others, pursue wealth and bask in endless entertainment.

The grinning face was all too familiar…

…because it was my face.

Wally Wackford leaned his head back, mouth open in a high pitched shriek as dark magic flickered around him. The imp form fell and morphed into shadow. In the imp’s place, a large black beast with thick fur, razor sharp claws and red eyes decorating the body. The figure stood up on two powerful furry legs and sat comfortably in a giant golden throne that occupied the center of the chamber. Angular jester clothing of red, gold and purple stripes adorned the wolf body. And finally, a large spiked black crown sat atop the dark loopy jester hat with bells at the ends. A white and gold jester face showed sharp white teeth and glowing yellow eyes. Dark clawed hands juggled fresh demon skulls into the air and popped them into his large mouth. He crunched loudly before swallowing every bit.

My imp disguise was perfect. Literally no one else save for Robo Fizz and a few elites knew who was underneath. And even then, my magic was so powerful it could easily confuse anyone around me.

Being an imp has its advantages; you can travel anywhere and gather information along the way. You can track imps from a killing company and find out where they’ll likely travel to next. You can affiliate yourself with your own robotic creations, some slave imps and succubi…and then in your own form, work with a fellow Deadly Sin on the next stage.

A wolf in sheep’s clothing.

Funny, really. Wally Wackford could easily be a separate being, born into poverty, learning to scam others at an early age and go up from there. I, however, didn’t need to learn anything…deceiving others and attracting material wealth was a natural talent. As was shapeshifting.

Lucifer might not be happy with me coping his idea of a theme park…but business is business…and in Hell, anything goes.

That incompetent prince Stolas would be dead soon enough. No more Goetia showoffs to get in the way of my rule and reputation. At least the prince’s wife was rightfully concerned with maintaining tradition that has existed for centuries. Aside from my dear friend Lucifer, I was, and should be, the most powerful being in Hell. I’ll keep exploiting those I choose because money is money.

Those I.M.P. assassins have no idea who they were dealing with.

I let out a crazed evil laugh, intermingled with a wolf’s howl. With a single touch of my hand, my nearby scepter turned into gold. I admired its shiny flawless sheen. Asmodeus, Leviathan, Lucifer, Satan, Belphegor, Beelzebub and myself…the Seven Deadly Sins…circus-loving rulers of the Overlords and in charge of maintaining chaotic order in our respective Rings.

I, Mammon, had much to do.

#wally wackford #helluvaboss #helluva boss theory #mammon

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thecassadilla · 4 years

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A Scarf to Keep Him Warm

Pairing: New Dream/Rapunzel x Eugene

Word Count: 1,754/AO3

Summary: Rapunzel decides to take matters into her own hands when she notices that Eugene doesn’t have any wintertime accessories.

Author’s Note: Hi again! I still hate fall, but I wrote another New Dream fic so yay! I was able to write about a skill that Rapunzel and I both share in this one - knitting! Although this is a modern!AU, Rapunzel is a skilled knitter just like she is in the movie. Writing this fic made me want to knit something even though I’ve devoted all of my time to writing these days lol. Anyway, enjoy!!!

In the years since she’d met him, Rapunzel learned a lot about the man known as Eugene Fitzherbert. From his meticulous hair styling and grooming routine, to the way he took his coffee, and everything in-between.

But the one thing that she couldn’t quite understand was his lack of preparedness for the colder seasons. A chill formed in the air, and while Rapunzel had added a hat, gloves, and a scarf to her outdoor ensemble, Eugene hadn’t added anything. He simply wore a black leather jacket, his hands buried deep in the pockets when they were outside for a prolonged period of time.

The first winter they spent together, Rapunzel kept making the foolish assumption that he’d eventually add those missing pieces to his wardrobe. But soon, the air grew warm, and there was no longer a need for such accessories, and the assumption changed. Her new assumption was that he had a high tolerance for cold weather. Nonetheless, their pea coats and leather jackets were traded in for shorts and tank tops.

But the seasons are cyclical, and autumn eventually returned. On one particularly brisk October morning, Rapunzel and Eugene sat at his kitchen table, discussing the rapid change of weather.

“Just yesterday it was sixty-five degrees!” he griped, setting two steaming mugs of coffee onto the table. “Today? It’s forty degrees! Should I break out the shovel just in case there’s an unexpected blizzard tomorrow?”

“Stranger things have happened,” Rapunzel shrugged, cradling the mug between her hands and relishing in its warmth.

“I’m getting really tired of the seasons,” he moaned. “I want to move somewhere where the seasons never change. Somewhere tropical and sunny. I hate cold weather.”

“I see,” she remarked, furrowing her eyebrows together and placing her mug back on the table. She leaned back in her chair, pondering what he had just said, before proceeding with her query. “How come you never wear anything that keeps you warm?”

“What do you mean?”

“You don’t exactly wear clothing that keeps you warm during winter,” she explained. “I feel like if you wore a scarf or gloves, then the cold would be more tolerable.”

He sat still for a moment before answering, his face softening. “I never really had those things when I was growing up. So I guess I never really thought about buying them as an adult?”

“Eugene,” she cooed, reaching out and taking his hands in her own. “That’s awful. No wonder why you can’t stand the changing seasons - you suffer every time you go outside because you’re cold.”

“It’s really not a big deal, Sunshine,” he promised, averting his eyes. He was trying to downplay the situation. “I’m used to it. I’ll survive this winter, just like I survived the past twenty-three winters: with a bit of complaining, and my trusty old leather jacket.”

Rapunzel was not satisfied with his response. Why would he want to continue to suffer when the solution was so simple? So, she decided it was time to take matters into her own hands. If he didn’t want to buy a scarf, she would make him one. It would be more expensive and labor-intensive than simply buying him a scarf, but it would be worth it.

Knitting was one of the many talents that she acquired, but never put to use. It wasn’t a particularly difficult hobby, and she was grateful that she’d finally be able to put her skills to work. The following day, she spent hours on the Internet, researching patterns and types of yarn before taking a trip to the craft store. She wandered for what felt like hours, picking up the supplies that she knew she needed - particularly, size eleven needles - and the supplies that she wanted. After consulting with the sales associate, and taking trips to a few other craft stores, she finally found the yarn she was looking for; skeins of dark grey cashmere. It would match his leather jacket, and it would be softer against his skin than wool. Finally satisfied, she returned home to her apartment and set off to work.

The pattern she chose was fairly simple, and nothing to fuss about; a simple two-by-two rib stitch pattern. She followed the pattern closely, casting on thirty-nine immaculate loops. Knit two, purl two, repeat. Row after row, she sat for hours under the soft glow of the floor lamp in her tiny, cozy living room. It was easy to keep going; her hands growing accustomed to the back and forth motion of the needles, and the constant pulling of the yarn. When she finally put the needles down and glanced at her cell phone, she realized exactly how much time had passed. Fifteen text messages from Eugene that had gone ignored. Instead of answering them she decided it would be easier to call him. He answered after a few rings.

“Hey, Sunshine,” he crooned, his voice low and gravelly.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

“It’s alright,” he insisted, and he suddenly sounded much more awake than he did the minute before. “I dozed off on the couch. I’m glad you called, we didn’t get to talk much today.”

“Sorry about that,” she grimaced. “I was a little preoccupied.”

“No need to be sorry. You were busy.”

“I still should’ve checked in.”

“I’m just happy to hear your voice.” She could practically hear him smiling through the phone and she found herself blushing. “Will I see you tomorrow?”

“No,” she sighed, glancing down at the project in her lap. “I have plans after work. Tuesday for sure, though.”

“Okay,” he said, softly. “I think I’m gonna head off to bed now.”

“Same here. My eyes are starting to burn.”

“Goodnight, Sunshine. I love you.”

“I love you too,” she smiled. “Sleep well, Eugene.”

Though, instead of making it to her bedroom, she settled back into the chair and slept there, too tired to move.

When she got back from work the next day, she settled into the same routine. Knitting and purling under the glow of her lamp until she finally felt satisfied with the length of the scarf. She began to bind off, making sure that the edges were even and perfect. When she finished the very last stitch, she rolled her shoulders back, releasing the tension that had built up while she was working on her project. She stood up, dropped the needles onto the chair and brought the scarf over to the mirror. She draped it over her own shoulders and around her neck, trying to picture what it would look like on Eugene.

She eventually took it off, and gently folded it so it would easily fit into her oversized purse, as the best way to catch him off guard was to not put his gift in a gift bag. And for the rest of the evening, she twiddled her thumbs and hoped that the clock would move faster so she could finally give the scarf to him.

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Rapunzel was buzzing with excitement by the time she finally made it to Eugene’s apartment, and she knew that she wouldn’t be able to hide the scarf from him for long once she actually saw him. She knocked a few times before he answered.

He was already smiling when he opened the door. “Hey, Rapunzel.”

“Hi,” she said, walking into the tiny hallway. They shared a quick, but sweet ‘hello’ kiss before she shimmied out of her jacket and hung it on the coat rack. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

They had barely made it any further into his apartment before she nearly exploded with eagerness. “So, I have something for you,” she said, rocking back on her heels and clutching her purse in her hands. “Something I made.”

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she nodded. “You have to close your eyes, though.”

“Okay,” he agreed, squeezing them shut.

“No peeking,” she warned.

He shook his head. “No peeking.”

Content with his promise, she reached into the bag and unraveled the scarf. Taking it in her hands, she dropped the purse on his coffee table and stepped closer to Eugene, balancing on her toes before loosely draping it around his neck. Her cold fingers gently brushed across his cheek as she created a single loop, adjusting it so each end of the scarf was even and flat against his chest. Smiling, she took a step back, satisfied with her work.

“Okay, you can open your eyes.”

He did as he was told, and his eyes immediately darted down to the unfamiliar object that had been placed around his neck. A small smile appeared on his face and he gingerly took one end of the scarf in his hands, admiring the soft texture and the perfect stitches.

“You made this? For me?” he asked, almost in disbelief.

She nodded, her own lips creeping upwards. “That’s why I couldn’t see you yesterday. I wanted to finish it.”

“I don’t know what to say, Rapunzel,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He couldn’t seem to peel his eyes away from her craftsmanship. “This is the most generous gift anyone has ever given me. Thank you.”

Before she could respond, he was pulling her into a hug, squeezing her as tightly as he could, and burying his face into her neck. “I didn’t want you to be cold this winter,” she explained.

“I didn’t even know that you knew how to knit,” he remarked, his voice muffled.

“I never mentioned it. It’s been a long time since I knit anything.”

He finally pulled away enough to look at her face. “I still don’t know what to say. I’m in shock.”

“I’m just glad that you like it.”

“How could I not like it? It’s so beautiful and thoughtful.”

“I could make you gloves, too. And a hat, if you want. The only thing that I can’t make you is a sweater because of the sweater curse.”

He looked puzzled. “The sweater curse?”

“It’s an old superstition. If you knit your significant other a sweater before you’re married, then the relationship will end.”

“Don’t do that,” he laughed, waving his hands. “No curses here, please.”

“No curses,” she promised.

“Thank you again, Rapunzel. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

“You shouldn’t have to suffer through the cold weather, and I wanted to make sure that you wouldn’t,” she smiled. “I’m just happy that you’re happy.”

Without any hesitation, he took her back in his arms, both of them as safe and warm as could be.

#new dream #rapunzel x eugene #rapunzel #eugene fitzherbert #tangled #rapunzel's tangled adventure #tangled the series #tangled fanfiction #tangled fic #my writing

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empressxmachina · 4 years

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Sideline - “iv.”

“Uh, h-hi, Jake.”

Just by looking at each other, they both knew the same opinion was going through their heads:

‘This was fucking weird.’

Despite that, neither of them lost sense of their humanities, and Madi didn’t appear physically hurt as a cherry on top. They solely changed sizes comparatively and nothing else, as far as they could tell. But for the smaller half of the pair to get even tinier at such a large scale was ridiculous, more than either of them ever imagined. Nevertheless, they tried to keep it together for both of their sakes.

Jake slowly continued to unravel Madi from her textile prison, eventually smoothly transferring her from fabric to flesh and feeling her skin and scarily little weight on his palm. The visual of his long fingers towering above and able to curl over her was also quite nauseating. But chundering by a friend, especially one as close to him as her (in every sense), would not be a good look.

For this to happen to someone as sweet as her and it being possible at all just made him sick and confused.

“Holy shit, Madi,” he breathed, blowing her hair back with his voice. For once in his life, he was glad to have chosen water over a soda earlier. Even if it wasn’t the same kind – the one Madi had wasn’t a favorite of his from the get-go – spreading anything across her that would drill this in her more than it already had would’ve shot his already high guilt and pity further into the sky. “How in the fuck—?”

“Ugh, do I really need to explain this again!?” Madi exploded, now second-guessing her assumptions of Jake’s intelligence. Perhaps he was more the jock stereotype than she thought with the flinching and look of astonishment by which he reacted to her, both of which shaking her as well. “What part of ‘A fucking soda did this to me’ did you not understand? If you didn’t get that, then why in fuck did you pull that shit? Did you really just want to get it off me? Did you think you’d get me off by getting it off me? Did you make me wet to get YOU off!?”

“Jesus Christ, Madeline. Chill,” Jake shushed her in a fruity voice, putting his snake-like finger up to his mouth before bringing it close to hers – his fingertip eclipsing her entire head. “I know the fucking soda did this to you; I want to know why. What kind of chemical makes people shrink and shit?” Madi couldn’t help cringing, curling into herself, having overreacted for no reason. However, her cowering soon became a cover for the blushes that Jake then caused to appear. “As for the, uh, ‘getting off,’ you’d have to be some kind of freak to get off to a doll or, I guess, being a doll, in your case. Though I’ve got to say, you are pretty adorable, Mads.”

“Please, no,” she pleaded, slumping her shoulders with her face still in hiding, knowing that her smallness was now a large part of her, despite how much she wanted it to be otherwise. “I know I probably don’t look so human, but I’d still like to be treated like one, ass wipe.”

“‘Look’ is just the tip of the iceberg. I’m not the biochemist here, but I think I know enough science to know that you shouldn’t even be functioning fully: talking, hearing, seeing, and all of that good shit.” Jake brought his Madi-holding hand closer to himself as he extended his syllables and examined her in astonishment. “What. The. Fuck?”

Meanwhile, Madi instinctively scooted further and further into the flesh wall Jake’s fingers made behind her, even though she couldn’t go anywhere else without falling to her demise and knew it, too. The thought of being overtaken by his battering ram nose or brushed by his enviable eyelashes without him even trying was just too much for the little lass.

“Yeah, uh, could you, like, not with that? ” she attempted, nearly meeting the stubble surrounding Jake’s lips and chin before he looked down at her, noticed her apprehension, and backed off, bringing her to a somewhat distant, somewhat calming eye level. “Thank you. Being comparatively short to most people in normal life was hard enough, even though I was supposedly average on charts. The last thing I need now is a close-up, okay?”

“Right. Sorry,” Jake apologized, even noting to talk more sotto voce.

Just because she wasn’t flinching at his volume for whatever reason, that didn’t mean that he wasn’t still loud. Sure, the packed stadiums and arenas for games and competitions with their high volumes probably set a standard for her, but Jake knew that this could’ve been another type of noise, and then one could add all the nonsense the body does on its own to make it even louder and more detailed. He wondered how much she could hear and see now.

“It just makes no sense how you’re like this,” he reinforced. “You’re fucking minuscule.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Madi scoffed back, also lowering her own voice but still audible to the relative giant’s ears. “I think that’s been stated enough.” Her tough outer shell hid how hard the truth just kept hitting her. Seeing nearly all her curled-up frame in her reflection in Jake’s eyes was almost vomit-inducing, especially when he rolled them in response to her sass.

“Yeah, but do you really know how tiny you are? Do you know what could happen to you like this or what could’ve happened? Hell, I don’t even know how that fucking phone of yours called me,” he said, lightly nudging it out of Madi’s grasp onto his palm next to her, somehow also muting it in the process. “I can barely see the thing. I could barely see you by that can. But I did, so everything’s pretty much going in your favor so far, huh?”

“How about no? I’m still like this, and it’s not like I didn’t already have enough stress going on in my life.”

“Well, I’m sure there’s a way to fix this, probably one as quick and obtainable as whatever in that drink caused this. We need to get you out of here, first.”

“And, exactly how did you plan on doing that?” Madi pondered aloud, noticing how Jake had nothing with him, aside from his clothes.

“Oh, uh, er—” Jake struggled to come up with an answer as Madi’s scenario hadn’t been a possibility that he had or would’ve considered. Since these were the cards he was dealt, he wasn’t sure what to do with them. “Shit, what are we going to do?”

“‘We?’ Why are you asking me? Jake, you know I can’t do anything! Look at me!”

“Don’t blame me for that! This is a two-way street, and you could’ve fucking warned me about this!”

“Are you saying that you would’ve believed that a fucking soda fucking shrunk me to…” Madi paused to estimate her new size. Through all the time she had had to adjust to it, figuring a number for it never came to mind. However, remembering how much of a mountain Jake was to most people, she soon realized that basing her little length on his large one was futile. “…whatever size I am now? You barely believed that I was here full-sized when you walked in! What the fuck would you have done differently!?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe brought a fucking bag or some shit?” Jake countered. “You didn’t need to open the fucking soda, Madi!”

“Are you blaming me for this!?” Madi shrieked, not wanting more negativity placed on herself. She ran her hands through her hair before setting them on her face and continuing, muffled, “What did I do to deserve this!?”

“This wouldn’t have happened, otherwise, would it!?” Jake barked back before immediately regretting what he said – it made evident by his elongated face and Madi’s trembling. “No, I-I didn’t mean that. Well, I kind of did but not to hurt you. This… This is just crazy, alright? I don’t even get why a recalled drink was even still available to you so late in the game, literally.” He then attempted to console her, curling his free hand directly behind her back as an assuring gesture, mostly because he was sure anything else would damage her. “I know you did nothing wrong. This probably could’ve happened to anyone, and don’t you worry. This will pass, and, just like you wanted, I’ve got you.”

Although she was unsure of whether or not that was meant to be an apology, Madi pulled her hands away at his sweet remarks, and for the first time since they had first met, she saw Jake with not only beauty but also novel capability. He hadn’t been so profound with her since their one class together way back when. Any overshadowing thoughts she had about him being a typical jock went right out the window, and she had never felt more blessed to have a friend.

However, she wasn’t as appreciative of his following comments, and the smile that shined on her face soon vanished.

“But, really, how do you want to do this?” Jake inquired. “I ask because I, uh…” He paused with a groan, not sure how to explain himself without making their scenario any more dramatic than it already was. “…I have one idea, but I think any of yours would probably be better.”

Madi, having watched him remove the hand behind her and slide it down from his nose to his chin, sensed that his something, whatever it was, might be bothering him but couldn’t tell why or be sure. Yet, knowing that the time without being noticed by nasty Nash outsiders was running out, she just went with it.

“Okay?” she accepted cautiously. “Well, I really don’t want people to know about this, so the safer and more hidden I am, the better.”

Jake attempted to hide his discomfort with her answer. His idea had technically aligned with her wants, but he had this feeling that she was not going to like it one bit.

“Alright,” he could only sheepishly respond. “Well, um, you’re the science major, so you, er, go on and figure out what’s best for you, whatever you want to do.”

“Sure.” Her reply was positive, and now she was just as positive that Jake had not only a bother but a problem. Another big problem within her oversized insanity; how wonderful. But rather than letting it boil over, she let it simmer in her subconscious, followed his suggestion, and began thinking of places to hide with him.

It took an uncomfortably short period to realize hiding with him more so meant hiding on him. Madi managed to keep a cringe inside and prayed Jake’s notion had nothing to do with that via some trap card out of his ass. Still, despite her ingenuity, she couldn’t think of one, and, like with all those math proofs from last year, she could only work with what she was given. In any other circumstance, having Jackson Averill at her will would be a dream, but the fairy-like femme floated in a nightmare… or purgatory… whichever was worse.

No possible, present view gave Madi a full vision of what or, more validly, who to plan from. He was so much to take in at once, so she asked to better see it all.

“Um,” she beckoned, “can I check out the vehicle provided for me?”

Initially, Jake didn’t catch her drift, but it didn’t take him long to click and nearly blush at her wording. It wouldn’t be the first time she called him a ride, and while this was something else, her maintained humor was a relief.

He gave her in return a prying smirk as if to ask ‘How?’, and all Madi had to do back was a couple of motions for him to become a model. She fluttered her hands his way to get him to back up, stopping when he reached the end of their row of benches. A lowering motion then directed him to set her down on said end bench. Words couldn’t describe her gratitude in knowing that if her voice or any tiny sounds she made went inaudible to his ears or any normal-sized ones were too much for her, then they would still be able to communicate somewhat.

If he stayed alert for her. God forbid him from getting distracted.

As she shook that fear out of existence, and once she and her things were gently set onto the hard surface, Jake gave her a bit more space and took a few more steps backward so that she could see him all at once. With her new perspective, really trying to not depress herself over her lack of creaking and noticeable shadow on contact, her primal instincts kicked in, unable to handle the visage of an Adonis in front of her.

Like his facial features, the years of football and weight training had done wonders for his physique. While Madi had already seen sides of him that only a few were blessed enough to observe, seeing their outlines and envisioning them bare and visible at this scale gave her chills.

Madi gestured for Jake to spin around to check if he genuinely had no pockets. Upon one rotation, especially with his phone snapped to his pelvis under his waistband, she sadly confirmed her hypothesis with a sigh – a bitter contrast to the gasp she gave to the sight of his global glutes. He truly lived up to his tight end position in and out of sports, and Madi would need a thesaurus made for a postdoc to describe his front side. The things his body had done to hers were incomparable to present possibilities, and she didn’t know how to feel.

Little did she know that Jake was pondering the same thing.

When the giant jock came back around from his turn, rather than seeing an inquisitive Madeline, he found a disgruntled one instead, and the smug look on his face fell off. Jake could only figure that her suspicions had finally meshed with his, and thus he slowly crept up and knelt on one knee before her to not frighten her even more.

“Have you come up with anything?” he asked timidly, resting his forearms on his level thigh.

“Only if your teammates aren’t as rowdy on a bus ride as they are on the field,” Madi remarked, looking up at him in bittersweet wonder, knowing fully well that if someone shook him around while she was on his person, then she’d be in deep shit. “What chance do I have of getting back to Kingston alive if I went under your hat or by your collar or something?”

“Uh, well, if we had lost tonight, I’d guess 75% or so?” Jake calculated, rubbing his chin in thought. “No one would probably want to talk about it, and they’d keep to themselves unless Coach decided to bag on everyone, which would only get them even more in their feelings.”

But they didn’t lose. If Madi hadn’t been following the score while caring for Cari, the Knights’ sore losers’ chaos she ran through that erupted afterward was enough of a tell on its own, and the look on Jake’s face made her brace for the celebratory yikes that was likely the Royals on their side.

“But the bus was lit as all fuck when I left it,” Jake continued, “and I can already envision Coach or Big Q tousling my hair or Chad going in for a chest bump once I get back. Hell, he gave me three on the field after my scoring play alone, so, uh, I’d rather not risk it.”

“Well, fuck!” Madi cursed herself, kicking her bag off her ledge in anger. Luckily, Jake was watching her every move intently and moved quickly enough to catch it. Otherwise, they both would’ve most likely forgotten it there for some soul to find, trash, or worse. He was even kind enough to carefully put her fallen clothes and phone in it for her, feeling less like storing doll accessories and more like spice sprinkling than his liking. Madi, meanwhile, was fuming too much to notice. “You might as well give me your idea, then,” she succumbed. “We don’t have much time for much else.”

“You know this could’ve been a lot easier on both of us if you had just let me bring backup,” Jake reminded her, setting her bag back down next to her and hoping to God that she’d just let him call someone for help.

“Don’t try to diverge from this by bringing up something you had control over – still have control over,” she countered, crossing her arms and cocking her head to the side. As sweet as his situational submission of silence was, she couldn’t physically stop him from doing anything if she tried. Not that she could before, but she definitely couldn’t now. “I saw you fumbling with yourself about something, and if it’s about this, then it can’t be much worse than what I’m already going through, right? Just lay it on me, dude.”

Jake sighed at her relentlessness, recognizing that she still had so much force, so much determination, even with such diminutive dimensions. She had moxie, and he liked that. He liked it so much that he was willing to put her wishes over his own and keep her new look a secret, for now, despite how dumb doing so actually was.

“Can you just promise me to not say anything until I explain it fully?” Jake hoped with a defensive slump and scrunching face. “It’ll make sense with the backstory… probably.”

If one could even call it that, his preface wasn’t much, and the time to ponder it was slim to none. But Madi hadn’t yet a reason to not trust his judgment – the calamity with the cleaners was questionable but not totally repulsive – thus, she shrugged, expressing her tolerance.

Like her with him previously, Jake knew that he wasn’t going to get better out of her, and so he began. “Okay. I have an idea, and, frankly, it’s some divine intervention or some bullshit how this shit with you had to happen on the one day I decided to be a stylish bastard.”

#g/t #my writing #sideline #sw #giant male #sports and smut; what it do?#happy new year!

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taintjisung · 5 years

Text

[15:12] minchan

kinks: punishing, porn, handjob, ruined orgasm

words: 2107

top: chan

chan never seemed to be home lately; every waking moment he was at the studio or running back and forth between meetings and errands, never stopping for his personal life and spending the downtime taking care of himself (as last time the others found out he wasn’t, it didn’t end well). all that minho understood and respected (as he should), but it wasn’t sitting right with him. he never got any attention anymore, as without chan, hyunjin was the center of everyone. of course, that’ll make anyone’s bratty side come out.

now, chan had the night off, and the boys were enjoying it by playing an aggressive, competitive game of mario kart. the four youngest were playing using the wii hooked on the tele, the two eldest on a computer, and the remaining three on their cellphones. as chan let himself get sucked into the game, minho slammed the gas button, racing ahead as his team won, and overdoing his excitement, he let out a thrilled cheer before grabbing jisung’s face and planting a celebratory kiss on his cheek, knowing chan was watching. he let this one go, but as they went on, minho kept getting touchier with the others, until he was straight up lying in hyunjin’s lap, phone in the air so he could watch the boy’s expression as they played. purposely he drove his character off a cliff while watching him, with a small and clearly flirty, “oops. you distracted me.”

“i didn’t do anything,” hyunjin insisted. “you calling me a cheat?”

“you’re too pretty...” he complained back like a little kid. “how am i supposed to look at my screen when you’re looking like that.”

“it’s my secret weapon,” hyunjin whispered with a laugh, winking as he sped past minho, hitting the finish line with a whoop.

“is it?” minho put his phone down on his lap to touch hyunjin’s chest, and that’s when chan had enough. woojin jumped as he slammed the laptop shut, grabbing minho by the wrist and yanking him off of hyunjin.

“i think it’s time to head home, don’t you?” he forced a saccharine smile, and minho got a rush out of seeing him angry. partially it was from the fear, partially excitement, what he was going to do to him to show him who he belonged to.

the younger boys had to hold back laughs as they watched the goofy, slutty grin grow on minho’s face, already knowing what he was getting next.

“damn, he’s having a big dinner,” jisung remarked, and changbin slapped him upside the head as the two left, the elder slamming the door behind them.

“get in the car,” chan growled, pushing minho forward as he got into the driver’s seat, wasting no time to start the engine and peel out of the driveway and down the street.

minho couldn’t wipe the grin off his face, thinking about all the things chan could do to him. take out all his frustrations on him, fuck him until he can’t walk in the morning, leave marks in his body... ugh, it was a thought. he was already getting hard just wondering, and chan could see that.

chan didn’t bother saying anything. as much as he wanted to threaten him, he didn’t have to. minho would learn his lesson.

as they pulled up back in their driveway, chan said a quick, broken character, “remember the safe word,” before coming back, slamming the car door and ordering minho, “bedroom. now.”

minho only had to use the safe word once, mostly because chan could usually tell the difference between whether he was enjoying it or not. but that one time was during a different punishment, chan tried to overstimulate him, and it wasn’t the thing for him, so this time, chan had something better in mind.

as minho ran off to obey his command, chan headed to the hall closet for what he was going to need; a blindfold, rope, and a foldable metal chair; he considered grabbing a bottle of lube, but decided against it, closing the door.

as he walked through the doorframe of his bedroom, he saw minho already undressed, posed on the bed with an expecting, seductive look about his face.

“what are you gonna do to me, hm?” minho chuckled, watching the elder’s every move with hungry eyes.

chan kicked open the chair in front of his bureau, snapping and pointing at it as minho shook his hair from his face, slowly making his way to it.

fuck, it was freezing. chan did that on purpose.

the elder got on his knees and started to tie minho’s arms to the back of the chair, then his ankles to each leg, thighs apart. lastly, he secured his hips down to the seat, before tossing the blindfold aside, not yet ready to use it. instead, he just covered minho’s eyes briefly with his hand as he used his other to open his laptop, typing into the searchbar what he wanted to show the younger.

perfect. he knew what kind of porn he liked, and found the perfect video, blowing it up fullscreen and shutting the lights before leaving, locking the door behind him.

•°•°•

he checked on minho every five minutes, seeing how obedient he was to be watching what chan told him to, not closing his eyes or looking away. the first time he checked, minho was gently biting his lip, hooded eyes watching the screen. the second time, the boy was humming softly from pleasure, gently trying to push against the ropes to buck his hips up. the third time, though... shit. that was a sight. minho was full on moaning, whimpering, crying for chan to fix his problem he’d created; he was now harder than chan had ever seen anyone, precum spilling out from his slit as he pulled on the ropes, trying to squeeze his thighs together but unable to. the space between them only turned him on more.

satisfied with the sight, chan decided that was enough porn, but he needed the real thing still. he shut the laptop and spun minho’s chair around, making him watch as he painstakingly slowly removed his shirt, almost giving the boy a strip tease by how exactly he moved his body. in no time he was fully undressed, minho watching as he touched himself, exaggerating his moans as he slowed his movements.

minho’s chest was rising and falling rather aggressively, wild eyes glued to chan’s length. how much longer he could handle just watching before he lost it was a soon-to-be-solved mystery.

“oh, minho,” chan moaned as he leant against the bed, slowly fucking his hand. “i was touching myself just wondering what you looked like craving me. shit, i’m gonna cum,” he lied to rile him up.

“no, no, not yet,” minho whined, trying to pull away from the ropes to touch him. god, he felt like he was going to just explode.

“aw, do you want me to touch you, too?” chan cooed. “i don’t think you deserve it.”

“i do, i do, i’m sorry,” minho panted, almost crying as his dick straight up throbbed, twitching and moving on its own. his skin was turning red from the blood flow, cheeks flushed rosy as sweat started to bead down the side of his face. the sight of him like that, begging for chan to please touch him, it was so instigating. chan could have cum just watching him like that. instead he gave in, letting go of himself as he walked to the bed, taking the blindfold into his hands and wrapping it securely around minho’s eyes.

“aw, you look so pretty like this,” chan pouted mockingly, grinning as his palm’s graze to minho’s thigh sent a shock through his body, him trying to lean into the touch as chan moved his hand further up. his left hand joined on minho’s right thigh, both at work to massage the skin gently and god, it felt so good.

minho hummed in pleasure as chan’s strong hands moved up his sides, touching his hips, chest, thighs, taking in everything and enjoying every last bit of minho’s beautiful tanned skin.

then, what minho least expected; chan moved forward, sitting in his lap to press their chests together, lips attached to his neck as he gasped in both surprise and pleasure. he ever so gently rocked his hips forward, pushing minho’s dick against his stomach. receiving touch he’d been craving all night, minho let out a moan, his overly sensitive member throbbing against his skin. fuck, it felt like he was going to cum right then and there, with just one touch.

slowly, chan gave into his whimpering requests, wrapping his hand around his base and slowly, gently, pulling and pushing on his length, earning loud moans from him. god, minho was moaning right in his ear, the things it was doing to him...

from how turned on he was, minho was so sensitive, nails digging into his bound palms as he moaned his name, hips rutting up into his hand. and chan let him, leaning his body against his as his tongue trailed up the boy’s neck. this didn’t seem like much of a punishment at all as chan sped up slightly, but not much so, keeping his pace calm and slow.

minho was enjoying it far too much to remember he was supposed to be pretending he wasn’t, but remembered one thing.

“ugh, chan,” he moaned, pulling on the ropes around his wrists, trying to close his thighs together. “fuck, i’m gonna cum, let me cum,” he whined.

“hm..” chan moaned, closing his hand tighter and slowing down. “i’ll let you cum,” he smirked. “just tell me when.”

minho furiously nodded, shaking as he tried to move his hips more, aching for the more contact that chan gave, pressing their chests together.

“fuck, i’m cumming—“

chan quickly backed off of minho, touch completely gone as the boy cried, a moan that almost turned into a scream as hot cum began to spill out of his head, and fuck. he had no idea a ruined orgasm would feel so fucking good.

“chan, hyung, please, fuck,” he babbled, begging to carry out the orgasm that wracked his shaking body, so intense and overwhelming that he threw his head back as he cried.

“aw, you want me to touch you?” chan cooed, cupping the side of minho’s face. he leant into the touch harshly, still whimpering loudly.

“okay,” chan smirked, and grabbing minho’s length, gave it one harsh yank that pulled the rest of his release out of him, his muscles all contracting at once as he cried out.

“maybe that’ll teach you not to make me jealous, hm?”

“i won’t, i won’t,” minho whined, absolutely squirming in his seat.

“won’t what?”

“won’t make you jealous anymore,” he panted. “gonna follow rules.”

“aw, so smart, such a good boy,” chan patronised. “maybe i should untie you, huh?”

minho whimpered in agreement, “hurts,” and chan laughed saccharinely, watching how he was too tired to struggle anymore, how desperate he was for him but now just feeling fucked out though he barely did anything to him.

he shrugged, kneeling behind the chair to get to work. the ropes came off easily though left rug burns in the boy’s wrists. chan kissed away the pain, soft touch lingering on the sensitive red skin.

as chan finished pulling away the rest of the rope, minho sighed and relaxed against the back of the chair, too tired to do much of anything yet.

“i love you,” chan cooed, placing a kiss on the boy’s nose, and he just hummed, closing his eyes as chan picked him up into his arms and lowered him onto the bed.

chan took the initiative to clean up while minho rested, laughing to himself minho’s childish behaviour. yeah, he was gonna take some time off just for them.

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timeagainreviews · 5 years

Text

Zero Room for Error

Over his seven-year reign as the Doctor, Tom Baker had his ups and his downs. While seen as the definitive Doctor by many, towards the end, even Baker himself was tiring of the role. On top of that, the writing had begun to border along the outlandish. In "The Power of Kroll," the Doctor saves himself and others by emitting a high pitched scream that shatters glass. In another story, he saves the very metallic K9 from a furnace with his bare hands. However, it would seem that such heroics go back even as far as "The Android Invasion," where the Doctor jumps from the top of a building, unscathed. Ironic then, that a drop from a radio telescope not that much higher, should spell his death. Perhaps this was just the first of many course corrections the new showrunners hoped to achieve- bringing the Doctor back down to earth, so to speak.

With the introduction of Peter Davison as the Fifth Doctor, "Castrovalva," seems the most interested in lending some vulnerability to the character. There's a sort of pensive quality to a character having freshly fallen to his death. It spells out a very "look before you leap," plan of action moving forward. Sure, being the action hero is badass, but in the words of Dennis Reynolds- "You know what's badass? Being alive." But how much of Castorvalva is being economical, and how much of it is just plain stingy?

After a very weird regeneration scene involving "the Watcher," Tegan, Nyssa, and Adric rush the Doctor toward the safety of the TARDIS, all the while being chased by security guards leftover from "Logopolis." It's a fairly pointless scene that could have just picked up inside the TARDIS, but it's a chance to see Anthony Ainley's pillar of a TARDIS show a little menace, shocking the guards and Adric. Nyssa's remark about hating his face marks the first and last time she will ever mention the Master wearing her dead father's face- a plot point which I feel went woefully unexplored. At this time, there's not a lot of sense as to how or why the Master fits into the story, other than "He was in the last one."

Inside the TARDIS, the Doctor's regeneration is acting up, requiring him to need the use of the "Zero Room," a previously unmentioned area deep within the TARDIS. Along with misnaming his companions, he's also reliving past incarnations, allowing us to see Davison's impressions of both the First and Second Doctors, which admittedly aren't too bad. (His First Doctor is better than David Bradley's! Yeah I said it!) When I first watched this episode, I was horrified to find the Doctor unravelling the iconic scarf of his predecessor. But upon today's viewing, I saw it as a rather gutsy move on the writer, Christopher Bidmead's behalf. Leaving the thread behind as a trail of bread crumbs back to the console room is exactly something the Doctor would do.

After putting the TARDIS into motion, Adric follows the Doctor into the depths of the TARDIS. Meanwhile, Nyssa and Tegan desperately try any information on the TARDIS computer that might help the Doctor. Their conversation waxes philosophical about recursion and the word "if," which leads Tegan to wonder if the TARDIS index file could be reached by typing "I.F." into the console, which it does. This gives them the information they need to find the Zero Room and help the Doctor.

While the Doctor is searching, he finds the pieces of what will become his new costume, with a few red herrings peppered in. While he takes to the cricketer uniform, he leaves the recorder and big green wellies behind. The cricket bat needing a bit of linseed oil shows us that there appears to be an entire room of the TARDIS dedicated to the sport of cricket. One is led to wonder if there are other rooms dedicated to other sports and whether they're all British pastimes. While the concept of an Anglophile alien with a cricket room is rather absurd, it's the making stuff of Doctor Who.

After the disappointing portrayal of the TARDIS that was "The Invasion of Time," it was nice to see a more sci-fi interior. While it was clearly the same corridor elements rebuilt, and rearranged, it was still better than an old hospital with ugly whitewashed brick walls. These corridors at least felt like they belonged in a space ship. Even the Zero Room does a nice job of developing the TARDIS a little bit. That being said, it also undoes a bit of its own hard work, the second it gets introduced.

The Doctor explains to Tegan and Nyssa that the room is completely unaffected by outside influences. Even the gravity is equalised. Being inside this room has already improved the Doctor's cognitive faculties, as evidenced by his ability to get his companion's names right. He begins to levitate where he will suspend himself until his regeneration is complete. But this is interrupted by outside forces, when the Master appears on a screen, with Adric tied up like his leather slave in some sort of web. It's like the razor wire scene from the "Suspiria" remake with none of the real danger. How the Master is able to penetrate the Zero Room, or how he kidnapped Adric is anyone's guess. Is Adric even there? It’s not made clear.

The Master sends the TARDIS on a collision course with the formation of a galaxy. You may remember this danger from another TARDIS heavy story- "The Edge of Destruction." Only instead of trying to stab one another with scissors, the TARDIS fills up with hydrogen and threatens to explode. The Doctor jettisons various rooms from the TARDIS, enabling him to convert the matter into energy, allowing them to thrust away from the event, and into safety. The only problem is, this also jettisons the Zero Room in the process. This bit has always confused me, as the TARDIS seems almost nigh-infinite inside. Rooms seem less like physical spaces, and more like files on a computer. Couldn't they just make another Zero Room?

Nyssa and the Doctor set about building a to-go Zero Room out of its doors, encasing the Doctor in it like a coffin made out of TARDIS wall. There in goes our hero, where he will sleep much of the story away. Back to the Master and Adric, still tied up and writhing in a way that will leave those of us not on a watchlist feeling uncomfortable. Bless Matthew Waterhouse, he's acting his little ass off, and he's still awful. The Master then tortures Adric until he agrees to help him. This betrayal under duress is never explored further, it's just a bit of light betrayal that will become common for Adric.

After reading on the TARDIS computer of a place called Castrovalva, Nyssa and Tegan decide to take the Doctor there to regenerate in peace. Upon arriving, the deep forest is unkind to the high heel wearing duo as they wheel the Zero Coffin around on a wheelchair. Nyssa's poor choice of footwear lands her waist-deep in some peaty water, which leads to an admittedly rather adorable reaction shot on Sarah Sutton's behalf. I was struck with the utter cheapness that was this scene. I tried to imagine Clara Oswald pushing a silly white box around on a wheelchair, and it just didn't scan. The companions of old really don't get enough appreciation. They were asked to sell some pretty stupid stuff.

While looking for Castrovalva (which is evidently the city, not the planet), our heroes are being stalked by men dressed as a cross between a Weber grill and a muppet. After some pointless padding in the form of running about, they are captured and subjected to a surprising level of hospitality. After removing their hunting gear, we see that the Castrovalvans are an intelligent people, whose only real shortcoming as a society is their choice of headgear. They allow Tegan and Nyssa the comforts of home, while the Doctor sleeps. That evening they roast a pig over the fire, which made me laugh a little. Something about seeing earth animals on alien planets always feels a little odd to me. Sure, there are humans, but that makes more sense than say a mouse in Jabba's palace, or PIGS IN SPAAAAACE.

A lot of the action at this point has come to a dead standstill. The Doctor is sleeping most of the adventure away, which is, to me at least, the worst way to do a regeneration episode. Pertwee was asleep for Spearhead, Davison sleeps through Castrovalva, Tennant sleeps while a Christmas tree wrecks Jackie Tyler's living room... Even Capaldi and Jodie sleep through their regenerations. This does lend the story a sense of urgency, but usually, it's more boring than anything. I much prefer a Matt Smith style "I'm still cooking," manic start, than the Peter Davison sleepy time show.

Once Davison is up, he does a decent enough job filling in the shoes of the Doctor. Though upon my first viewing of the story, I did not think so at all. Going from Tom Baker to Peter Davison was like going from the toy store to the bank. The Fourth Doctor is my favourite Doctor, so it just wasn't very exciting for me. And like I said, I can see now why they may have wanted to tone the Doctor down a bit. Davison is your father's Doctor. His performance is more subtle. Only now am I even coming around to a point where I appreciate what he does, which is what brought me to this story in the first place. I've been revisiting him with a renewed interest.

The episode ends after the Doctor discovers the city is in a state of recursion. Like an Escher drawing, the physical layout of the castle loops in and out of itself, trapping its inhabitants, except for when they need to go hunting. (I guess?) The Master, of course, has been there all along in old man double-hat drag. The Doctor tricks the Master into thinking he's still in the Zero Coffin by filling it with books on the history of Castrovalva. While the Master shoots a box, the Doctor is rallying the citizens of Castrovalva and breaking them of the spell of recursion, allowing them to see with eyes unclouded.

After revealing a tapestry is actually the web that holds Adric, using his mathematical mind to maintain the lie that is Castrovalva, their leader Shardovan destroys the web with a chandelier, causing the city to begin to collapse. The Doctor, his friends, and Adric flee to safety. The Master is not so lucky, as the people tear at him like an angry mob. He becomes trapped inside the city as it fades into nothingness. Upon returning to the TARDIS, the Doctor finds Tegan's landing job askew but assures her that she didn't actually fly the TARDIS, much to her disappointment. I too was a little disappointed. It would have been nice to see the flight attendant become a pilot. It did, however, lead to what I consider one of my favourite Doctor Who memes.

As a "Doctor's first story," goes, I've seen worse. "The Twin Dilemma," will always hold the "What were they thinking?" title. But on its own, I'm not sure I would say it's a wholly successful story. Lots of the plot points are glossed over, and/or made no sense. But there are a lot of things I like about the serial. It's a rare occurrence where the companions were each given a little something to do, despite the crowded TARDIS. I even found Adric tolerable in this one. The world of Castrovalva was uniquely designed and could have stood up to even further exploration. Although I would suggest watching the special edition, as it does the Escher bit far more justice. I also appreciate any episode that incorporates more of the TARDIS into the story. It seems most writers treat our old girl as simply a means of conveyance, which is unfortunate. I wish they would have allowed Davison to maintain a bit of the zaniness from these few episodes, as they promised a Doctor that was a little more cheeky than the one we got. But by the end of it all, he's got his friends, he's got his TARDIS, and he's got his celery. It's hard not to want to watch the next episode.

#Doctor Who #Fifth Doctor #peter davison #nyssa #tegan jovanka #adric #sarah sutton #janet fielding #matthew waterhouse #castrovalva #tardis #recursion #if #the master #anthony ainley #Time and Time Again

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1000roughdrafts · 6 years

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When Reality Starts to Falter - Part 3

Summary: You get a call from your ex, Jared, to work a few scene on the set of Supernatural as a hunter who takes a liking to Dean. The producers love the chemistry between you and Jensen, so they decide to give you a full time gig. Feelings for Jared come back in a flush, but over time as your character falls for Dean, you find yourself falling for Jensen.

Pairings: Ex!Jared X actress!Reader, Dean Winchester X hunter!reader (and single!Jensen X actress!reader in the future)

Warnings: supernatural type violence, angst, injured!reader,

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: Posting a little late, sorry friends. Enjoy!!

Part Two Master List

Little beads of sweat drop down the sides of your face as you watch the screen of your phone light up. The vibrating persists and the shaking sends you over the edge. Determination awakens inside of you. A venomous reprisal flows through your heated veins.

With its last plea for an answer, the call from your ex-fiance goes to voicemail. You strangle the phone in your hand. The vein in your wrist swells. You lob the the device across the dashboard with a hulking clash against the windshield and an unintended grunt comes out of you.

Your face dives into your hands. The tears you’d withheld plummet down your cheeks and puddle up in your palms. Any attempt at a noiseless mourning is a failed one, but now that it’s started there’s no backing out until this twisting in your stomach ceases.

Slouching in your seat, you stay that way for the most of your lunch. Using a napkin to wipe the tears away, your stomach sloshes in desperation for a meal. Forgoing food, your hands shake and body quivers as you reach for the handle. Reminding yourself that you are stronger than this, you stride with head held high back to the crew.

“Oh, dear,” your makeup artist, Polly, shouts when she spots you. “Come here, hun. Let’s fix that pretty face of yours,” she jogs over to you and sets a hand on your shoulder, kindly guiding you over to her station.

Without any questions, she begins to work away in fixing the patchy foundation and smeared mascara. You don’t know why or what causes you to blurt out, “sorry about the makeup.” She removes her hand from your face as not to mess up her work while you speak, “I took too big of a bite,” you force out a laugh. “I choked on pizza and a stranger had to come pat on my back and give me water to dislodge it.”

She hums something of a reply, and nods slightly. You curse yourself for not thinking of something better, and sit in embarrassing silence as she makes her finishing touches. Giving her a smile of appreciation, you jog back over to the crew.

“There she is!” Jensen gleams, holding out open arms. “The star of the show!”

You can’t help but to blush a his comment, even though you know it’s a humble remark from him. He and Jared are the real stars of the show, not someone who’s only been on set a few days. Still, you give him a phony smile and thank him, being sure to add that it wouldn’t have made it this far without him.

“So you watch it?” he says, tugging the corners of his lips down to keep the smile from rising any taller.

“Of course I watch the show, Jensen,” you laugh. “It’s the best thing on television since Code Red,” you wink. You’d somehow begun a battle of one-upping with your favorite co-star after his compliment.

He tilts his head back just slightly, his face holding semblance to a smirk of satisfaction, “yeah, but did you ever watch Dawson’s Creek? That was the peak of my career,” he winks with slightly parted lips.

Your eyes fall shut as you belt out an undeniably, genuine laugh. Your mouth and eyes open wide at the realization that this is the first time you’d felt that rumble of excitement in your stomach since you met Jared.

That’s when the second realization hits. Jared. You peer behind Jensen’s right side. Already on set, Jared scampers off to occupy himself with something other than glaring at you from a distance. You don’t know how long you’d be able to put up with that, though Jensen and his generosity make it easier.

“I’m sorry, Jensen, but that show was an abomination to the eyes and ears of every poor soul to have seen it,” you laugh again. His eyes crinkle somewhat into a smile as his head drops against his chest, “I gotta say though,” you add. He looks up at you, through his lashes and holds a smile, “CJ definitely carried my interest though all the chaos.”

He smiles before twisting around to face the director as he calls for everyone on set. You follow behind him and stand off to the side, next to a stiff and frowning Jared. The prop crew set the scene for Dean, Bobby and Jody’s rescue mission.

“You okay?” You ask for the seventh time. The only difference is that this one was the only one to make it off your lips.

He acts as if he hadn’t heard you. He doesn’t look at you, and keeps his hands folded in front of him in an at attention, military-akin way. Sighing the response away, you close your eyes in anticipation for the directors-

“Action!”

Your eyes unlatch. You drop to a crouch with Sam, looking around you and over your shoulders as you make your way around a scantily lit alleyway. The narrow street borders a large, abandoned building.

Sam picks up his pace, pushing himself in front of you to peer around the corner of the building. You lean against the chilly wall. You hold on tightly to the knife drenched in lamb’s blood and take a few short breaths. Sam moves his head in a slight shake, signalling for you to take the lead.

You progress along the building’s edge in a crouch, looking in all directions before stopping at a metal door. Shaking the handle, you give Sam a side eyeing glance to find another entrance. As he looks along the walls of the building, you wonder if you hadn’t tried hard enough and rattle the door again.

Sam grips onto your arm and whirls you around to face him, a finger held to his lips as his face scrunches into a tight frown. “Be quiet,” he harshly criticizes.

Oh, no. That wasn’t in the script. That was improvised. You scan the lot behind him, letting your eyes coast away from the anger cluttering on his face and onto the crew - trying to avoid the shining lights and camera. Why are we still rolling? you think.

You decide to go with it. Perhaps the director saw something in this that you haven’t yet.

He flips around, sending a whiff of his motel conditioner and cologne into your chest. You press on, following tightly at his heels as he runs to scale the side of a building. Propping himself up on the fire escape, he reaches his hand down for you to grab onto. You’re supposed to take it - to let him pull you up, but you only stare at the lines on his palm. Sam’s eyes clench, he must think you can’t reach him as he tightens his face and pushes his arm down a little further.

Unlike the script requires, you swat it away and grip onto the concrete bricks. He holds his breath as you pull yourself up and force him out of your way to step onto the small platform. With arms stretched above him, he opens a window that’s at chest height. He sets his palms on the sill of the window and bounces to land his chest on the opening. As he shuffles in, you push his legs for support. After he plops onto the floor, he spins around to put his torso out of the window and reaches out for your hand. Again, despite the script, you swat it away.

The two of you stealthily step along the creaking floor in search of your missing friends. Rounding a corner, you hear a feeble groan to the tune of Dean’s voice. Your body propels in the direction of his pleas. You fold your lips under your teeth to keep yourself from calling out for him, reminding yourself that it would do more harm than good to be anything other than quiet.

When Sam catches up to you, you are standing with your mouth agape and arms dangling at your sides. Dean, Jody and Bobby are all strung up by their wrists with chains, heads hanging against their chests. Tears stroll down your cheeks from red rimmed eyes.

Shit, that’s not in the script either.

“You have your knife?” you say in a breathless whisper to Sam without removing your eyes from Dean. Through peripheral you see him lift it just barely and nod a confirmation. “Stay close,” you mutter before sprinting down the stairs, heading directly for Dean.

Your hands fly onto his face, pulling it up to square it to yours. He lets out another grunt. You tenderly release your grip on his face, running your thumbs against his cheeks as you do. Your eyes slight in excessive rage, and your body is shaking as a response. You gently pucker your lips to his cheek and kiss it softly, “we’re gonna get you out of here, Dean.”

“You’re here for the day dreams, right?” A halcyon murmur rings out from behind you. Flipping around, you grip onto the knife and move your eyes around in search for Sam.

“Let my friends go,” you growl, head tilting down as the anger floods out of you.

The colorful masterpiece of a tattooed beauty flips her midnight hair off the side as she chuckles. Gradually approaching from behind her are two men that take a stance on either side of her. You take a step back, accidentally bumping into Dean. You roll with it, making it look like an act of protection. You raise your head to look level at them, cocking it to the side sightly as you regain your grip on the knife.

The woman and two men take murderously slow steps at you. Your rage turns to courage. Baring your teeth, you belt out an exploding war-cry and run towards them, blade in front of you. The woman, out of instinct, holds out her hands in front of her. You slash through them in one swift motion and then jab the knife into her chest.

As she drops to the ground, you job back a few steps, watching the men rapidly approaching. “Sammy! Where are you?”

Right on cue, Sam sprints onto the scene and takes one of the men by surprise, tackling him to the ground. Taking the opportunity, you lunge at the other. He grips onto your wrist before you can stab him and with a macabre smirk twists your arm back. You cry out in agony as the man laughs and you hear the commotion of Sam rolling around and throwing punches at the other.

In an attempt to escape the pain in your arm, you fall onto the prickly concrete. The Djinn drops on top of you and uses one hand to hold down your squirming arms, wrapping the other around your face.

Slowly losing grip on existence, your eyeballs roll back and you weakly tap on the actors arm as if to tap out of a UFC fight. He doesn’t seem to notice. Your chest moves up and down hastily as if to accommodate for the increasing rate of your heartbeat. You try to get out a bargain for a ‘cut-scene’, to recuperate and try again, but only gasps come out of your mouth.

“That’s right, sweetheart. Fall into your happy pla-” he grunts the ending of the word as his hand is ripped from your face. You don’t - can’t - move a muscle, attempting to get yourself in a state of tranquil to be able to finish the scene.

Almost there. Almost there. Almost. There. You repeat the two words in your mind as you listen to the grunting and clinking of Sam’s knife, fighting against the last Djinn. With one final, elongated roar you know the battle is over. Wiggling your toes and fingers, you hope to ride this attack out without being noticed in order to get on your feet in time to help Sam.

Your body springs forward, with one intense and final gasp for air as your eyes open. With a sigh of relief, you see the puddle of blood is draped over the Djinn instead of Sam. He sits on the floor, legs curled up to him and his head bows in his lap while he catches his breath.

“Well done, Moose,” a trenchant voice echoes throughout the room. “Thanks for calling me, Bell.” With a snap of his fingers, the three enslaved hunters collapse from the chains and moan as they hit the harsh ground.

“Cut!” The director calls out. You finally feel like you can breathe again, like you’re grounded. You peel yourself from the floor with the help of Jensen. His hands holding onto your forearms, you look around the set to notice that Jared has already left.The bloodied hands you’d chopped off are just styrofoam molds covered in a ketchup mixture. The chains holding Dena’s arms above his head just plastic props. There’s an entire wall missing from the warehouse you just fought for your life in.

Er, Bell fought for her life in.

You shake your head, looking up at Jensen and his mouth moves in front of you - a ringing coming from his lips. Shaking your head more fiercly, you let it hang for a moment. Jensen throws his hand onto your back and the other under your arm, catching you as you collapse into him. That’s when you begin to hear the murmuring of other cast members and Jensen’s call of distress, “medic! I need a medic over here!”

He turns his face down to you, brushing the hair from your face and shifting you up in his arms. “Hey, Y/N. Take a deep breath for me.” Placing the back of his hand onto your sweaty forehead, he winces. “Jesus, you’re burning up!”

Four different people rush to your side and rip you from Jensen’s warm touch. The last thing you remember is being carried into a room and set onto a bed.

Part Four

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whatscallion · 6 years

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Summary: Tony makes the evening news and catch a glimpse at the general anxiety that entails being in love with him.

Pairing: Pepper Potts x Tony Stark

A/N: This is my submission to @blackberrywidow‘s celebration! I have another one to do, but enjoy!

It was, to no one’s surprise, just like any other day. An unusual and almost eerie silence had overtaken the Stark Tower. There was the din, of course, where the worker bees did their normally scheduled things in order for the company to succeed, with hushed voices and subtle typing. Everything was state of the art - miles ahead of the competition and bustling all the same. So smoothly were operations running that it held one undeniable thing in place: this feeling of subtle dread sitting heavily in the pit of Pepper’s stomach.

There were never days that went as quietly as this, be it a fire in R&D or an alien invasion just outside the windows. Something was lurking in the shadows, waiting to pounce on her and test both fortitude and patience alike, and she could count on this as much as she could count on the sun to rise every morning.

Peace gave her anxiety, she’d come to realize, and while it may’ve been a natural thing given those she finds herself in the company of more often than not, there was still one person to blame for this particular disposition.

And he just burst through her office doors, smiling like the world wasn’t on the brink of imploding in on itself.

“Guess who made the evening news!”

That alone was enough to make that inkling of dread in her stomach explode into a full-fledged nuclear bomb, searing away frivolous emotions to adopt something closer to “Clean Up Crew” of the collateral damage he had surely imparted on the world, and most notably, her.

“Tony, please. Today was such a good day,” she started, hating the fact that this was not the first time she’d responded to his “good news” with pleading. The slight pucker in her brow was all she’d let him see, though, refusing to unveil this building anxiety that was prickling over her scalp like a wildfire.

Tony Stark, on the other hand, was unphased by her pleading, often choosing to ignore it for the sake of shock value. Their tandem would allow Pepper to assume almost everything in any given situation, and still be remarkably accurate with said assumptions. It was a gift and a curse knowing Tony that well.

“And it’s going to continue to be a good day,” he chirped through a smile almost too wide for his face, plopping down in front of her pristine desk. There was a subtle glance to the only framed picture there, the only memento of something personal - a picture of the two of them, both ridiculously attractive ( in his opinion ) and happy.

It was a contrast to how she was scowling at him right now.

“Tony-”

“Before you say anything, just know that I love you and I did this with good intentions.”

Pepper wondered if he knew about the adage that the road to Hell was paved with good intentions. She was sure he did, but chose to ignore it. In fact, he chose to ignore most conventional things, the more she thought about it.

“How bad is it?” Dread furthered its veiling of her tone, sparking a stress headache behind her eyes. Most, if not all, her headaches were named after him.

“It’s not bad at all. I don’t think the press can even do a bad spin on this.” Tony’s confidence was showing through, but her lack of faith in him wasn’t fought. He knew he’d earned that doubt through countless years of giving her ample reason to have it. It’d be a shame if he broke the record now. “I promise. It’s a good thing. Just trust me on this.”

“Remember the last time you told me to trust you?”

“Hey, it wasn’t my fault that Dum-E couldn’t handle that responsibility-”

“He almost broke my arm, Tony.”

“Would it help if I told you that Dum-E wasn’t involved in this?”

“No,” she answered almost too fast. “Tony, how many times do I have to tell you? I’m the CEO of the company you dropped in my lap-”

“-you’re welcome.”

“-I am not the person who cleans up your messes anymore.”

There was a moment of quiet thinking before brown eyes met baby blues.

“But you do it so well?”

That earned Tony a harsh glare and a sigh from the strawberry-avoiding love of his life, and he refrained from telling her how cute she looked when she glared at him.

“Is anyone hurt?”

“No, the opposite. Hey, this isn’t twenty questions.” He was trying to swerve away from the topic, even if it meant picking an argument he was sure to lose despite his way with words.

“What did you do?” It was the one thing she didn’t want to ask, but there was an undeniable need to ask it.

The two seconds it took Tony to do anything in response felt like two years, almost invoking an urge to cry into the glasstop of her desk, but there would be no waterworks. Pepper Potts was a fierce woman who had spent years wrangling Tony during his more rambunctious day, and this particular brand of Tony was far easier to deal with, even if there were personal elements involved now.

Love. Their future. Their shared preference of getting takeout from one restaurant. Their shared appreciation for Happy Hogan. The idea of a Stark spawn on the horizon.

“I donated money-”

“How much?”

“A good amount.”

“To who?”

“The hospitals that took the hits during the Chitauri attack. The Sokovian government. And a few orphanages. And more animal shelters than I care to admit.”

The air was still between them as she simply studied him. Tony wasn’t one to lie to her, often claiming that she could see right through him and that it was a necessary skill in order to love him. Pepper would like to think that in the end, it was worth it.

She loved this stupid, generous, vain, thoughtful little man.

“Okay,” was all she could offer him, and in return, both his brows popped up.

“Okay? That’s it? That’s all I get?” He looked downright pouty with the reception he got of his goodwill towards mankind.

“After I eat a handful of Tums and get home tonight, I’ll reward you properly. And besides, you didn’t do those things for me.” A slow smile started to stretch on her lips, her heart warm with the fact that Tony could do so much for people and ask for so little in return, wanting only her validation these days.

“Should we buy stock in Tums?”

“We already own 68% of the company.”

“You know I love you, right?” They were both standing now, Pepper moving around the desk in a crisp gray dress that held angled seams that just exuded the professionalism she routinely wielded like a weapon. Before him she stood, both hands taking his.

“Of course you do. You’d be lost without me. I love you too, Mister Stark.”

“Wanna say that again tonight after dinner?”

“No,” Pepper replied, letting go of his hand to eat another Tums.

#pepperony #bbwidow's500wc #pepper pots #tony stark #ironman #mine #babyhenbitch #kaitsfam

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xlaitswrites · 6 years

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That Which Sleeps...

There is the soft sound of music, a guitar being strummed and a gentle male voice singing along in an unintelligible language, that rings out above the soft crunch of snow being stepped on. It’s a calm, gentle song, serene but somber. The heart and soul of it’s singer is apparent, just by the tone of his song. Hands, enrobed in white, fingerless gloves, dance along the strings, coaxing out their voices.

The felinoid creature continues his song as he travels the snow-blanketed world he has discovered, the soft white of his surroundings lending it’s beauty to his craft. He is only stopped by a large, steep incline which blocks his path.

“Typical.” He growls, his twin, white-tipped black tails lashing about behind him in annoyance. “I get into a whimsical mew-d, and the planet decides to ruin it.” With a movement, the black tabby swings his guitar around to his back, his other hand raised to the air. With a snap, a small ball of light appears above his hand, swelling into the shape of his matter manipulator, which solidifies, then drops into his awaiting paw.

He takes aim and blasts away the snow before him, only to find more snow. His ears flick in annoyance, pulling the trigger harder as he walks forward, blasting more of a hole through layer and layer of snow. Sighing, he shakes his head. “I’d bet my tails this was from an avalanche.”

Because of the time this embankment was taking, the Kineptic began to whistle. It took him a moment to find the pitch and tune, but he picked up where his guitar left off, letting his notes stick into the snow. The sound was muffled, but it was there.

Measuring his distance, he closes his eyes, letting his music take him. In his mind, he focused on his own little world, a mental space created for him to find his muse and relax. His own little mindscape, his personal Wonderland where he was Alice. Here, he designed and crafted, tested his theories and writes his music.

He took his time to walk through the warm forests of his homeworld, enjoying the feeling of the sun on his tuxedo fur, the breeze rushing through his billowy, revealing clothes. With a snap, he materializes his guitar before him, spinning about and catching it before it falls too far. Claws for picks, he starts to play, in time with his whistling.

His concentration is suddenly broken as he trips. With a yeowl, the mostly-black feline falls flat on his face, matter manipulator clattering against stone and sliding noisily into the small cave. “Nyne hells, what…” As he sits up, he rubs his nose, looking about.

The cave is dark, but the snow-reflected light from outside allowed his eyes to see deeper than any other. There aren’t any signs of usual cave formations, and the surfaces were all smooth. It was as if the cave was carved out by a matter manipulator.

“Nyao… where did my Manipulator get to…”

It takes him a moment, but his eyes lock onto the gentle glow of the manipulator’s emitters. The glow was, to his eyes, enough to illuminate a shape further down in the cave. A large, rounded yet square dome, which seemed to have another odd lump next to it.

“What the…” He whispers breathlessly, ears now perked and on guard. If it was a creature, it would have heard his outcry and surely have come to investigate, but the lack of movement or response proved it was inanimate. The Kineptic dusts himself off as he gets up, then raises his hand in front of him.

A sharp snap echoes through the cave, and a small fireball is launched from his fingers, which shoots down the cave. It stops several feet away, hanging and hovering in the air, bright enough to illuminate the back end of the cave.

It was a tent and a firepit.

Wits about him, he cautiously approaches, retrieving his trusted tool from the ground as he passes over it. A quick snap de-materializes it, turning it into a ball of light which just fades into nothingness. The flap is sealed shut, the zipper and canvas all covered in thick sheets of ice. The campfire is long dead, with no warm ash or charcoal.

“Nya… whoever left this behind must have left years ago.” He mutters to himself, stepping away from the tent. He raises his other hand, giving a sharp snap as he swings it down and across the air, as if to slice the air. The projectile fired is fast, faster than any eye could register. A chunk of ice explodes off of it’s sheet, but a good bit remains.

Snap.

Once the tent’s door was cleared, he stepped a little closer. With careful claw and baited breath, the feline-man pulled the zipper, opening the tent just enough to peer inside without crouching too low.

Inside lay a sleeping bag, which was iced over but empty. Moving his vision upward, a simple oil-burning lantern hung from the crossbars of the tent, it’s lifegiving warmth long snuffed out. When his gaze returned lower, he stumbled backward, falling on his ass with a gentle cry of surprise.

There was someone still in there!

Frantically he rose, mindful of the icy floor as he rushed forward to open up the tent.

Encased in a thick layer of ice, was a humanoid body. Lighting the lamp lit up the tent better, revealing a Glitch in plain clothing. It’s optics were off, it’s face illumination dark. One of its legs was broken at the hip, laying on the floor, but still attached via a few pieces of colorful, brittle cable. The hand on that side was mangled and dented, a finger broken off, yet still attached, the back of the hand bent in and cracked. Clutched tightly against its chest was a matter manipulator, similar to the one the Kineptic carried.

Its emitters were damaged badly, the crystals cracked and broken, but surprisingly, still had a very faint glow to them. The bottom of it’s metal casing was badly dented and cracked, it’s paint chipped away and showing some signs of rusting. No doubt the thing wouldn’t work without repair.

“How long have you been here, friend?” The feline alien mutters. Making sure everything was there, the Kineptic male wraps his tails around the Glitch-sicle and starts dragging him out of the cave. “Don’t worry… I’ll get you free. I hope I’m not too late…”

Aboard the Kineptic ship, the feline moves about the planet, looking for any signs of a ship in orbit. Behind him, in the teleporter room of the ship, the broken glitch sits on the warmest thing in the ship, the teleporter pad.

“You know, I don’t think it was a good idea to bring a corpse aboard.” The S.A.I.L. remarks.

“This is the third time you’ve said that, S.A.I.L.. I heard you the first time.”

“Gatha, please listen for once…”

“I will turn you off and navigate on my own.” Comes the growl from the cockpit. “Just alert me when the Glitch is thawed, or if another ship comes within scanner range.” There’s a soft beep of compliance, and the computer screen goes dark.

Searching the orbit of this planet for a derelict vessel, time drags on for hours, into what feels like days. Staring into the black void before him, the feline enters various coordinates to check, letting the ship do most of the navigating on its own.

Gatha stretches and yawns, tongue curled and teeth on prominent display, as cats normally do. He throws a leg over the armrest of his chair, shifting his position to squish his back into the corner of the chair. Outstretching an arm to the command console, he types in a few sets of coordinates, then rests back, relaxing as he watches the stars whiz by, his large, emerald-dotted orbs flitting lazily about as he watches out the windshield.

It isn’t long before S.A.I.L. interrupts the Kineptics’ lazy moment. “Gatha, your passenger has thawed.”

There’s a heavy thump as the feline is scared from his chair onto the floor. “Damn it, S.A.I.L.! I hate it when you do that!” Dusting himself off as he gets up, Gatha looks at the door. “Thank you, though.”

Ignoring whatever the ships AI has to say, the felinoid walks through his ship, stopping at the door to the teleporter room. He gives a feeble attempt at slicking his ears back, only to have them pop back up, and then he takes one more step forward to trigger the motion activated door. It springs open with the sound of hissing pistons, one half of the door sliding to the left, the other swinging upward into the ceiling. There’s an amused smirk on Gatha’s face, still impressed at his own engineering.

There, propped up against the wall and seated on the slightly warm teleporter pad, sits the thawed Glitch remains. Gatha uses his Manipulator to dry it up, then hauls it into the main section of the ship, and onto an awaiting table.

It takes him some time, but Gatha manages to pull the whole machine together, repairing and replenishing what needs to be repaired. Unknown, ancient technology mixed and meshed with Kineptic esoteric ingenuity, a blending of new and old pull together this old Glitch.

“I wonder if he still works…”

There is a sudden, startled beep from within the ship. As his energy replenished to his auto-on threshold, Kernel returns to operation. His optics look around the alien room, scanning everything. Last his memory could recall, he was freezing to death in an artificial cave, after being caved in and unable to return to his ship. His eyes land on his hand, which was mangled and dented from attempting to unfreeze his leg. The gunmetal of his arm was now a stark contrast to the new, bronze-colored parts of the new parts on his hand. Running his fingers over the new metal, he is unable to determine it’s makeup, despite it being a near-perfect replica of the parts that were damaged.

His system diagnostics bring his vision past his hand, to his leg. It had clearly been removed, as it was the same bronze coloration from the hip-joint down.

“Confusion: Where am I?”

#My writing #my_work #starbound

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harryimaginedstories · 7 years

Text

Needing Comfort

Hi! Hope you enjoy this spontaneous little one shot.

Plot: Harry and Y/N have been fighting for days. On day four, Y/N starts to cry.

Picture isn’t mine.

Nothing was working out the way it should. This morning I spilled coffee all over my new shirt which permanently ruined its white collar, my keys were nowhere to be found and once they did reappear I was already running late for my classes and additional to all of that, Harry and I had been fighting for the past three days. It wasn't uncommon for us to disagree on some subjects, just like any other couple sometimes would, but we hardly ever fought. In the two years we'd been dating I could recall Harry raising his voice at me a total 6 times and each time he'd apologized for it instantly. He'd never thrown or kicked a chair, had never allowed either of us to go to bed angry and instead had been focused on finding a solution with me. This had changed. And coming home after a busy day was anything but a happy reunion.

Now that he was on his break Harry was usually home when I arrived in the evening, since he could easily schedule his meetings to be in the after noon. Normally I was happy to have him to come home to but now that with us fighting... Instead of music, the smell of food or his open arms, I was greeted by Harry ignoring me from the moment I set foot into our apartment to when we fell asleep, he of course rather on the couch than in bed with me. And if he didn't ignore me than he made a mean remark on everything I did until he provoked me to react, which then in turn was his cue to resume his yelling. Maybe I was being dramatic, given that it was only three days so far, but I missed Harry terrible. The one he was only a week ago. With every word he yelled into my direction he broke my heart a little more and with every venomous look he gave me my stomach turned. Today, I couldn't handle it. Of course I was feeling down because of our argument pretty much every hour of each day but so far my daily routine would at least helped taking my mind off it. However my day hadn't become better and instead turned into a complete mess. I returned home with a pounding head, an aching body and exhausted nerves. The last thing I could bear tonight was my boyfriend's cruel attitude of ignoring me until I gave him some excuse to restart the argument.

I opened the door to the apartment with a trembling breath leaving my chest. My shaking fingers released the bag I was holding, then pushed off my thin jacket and then slipped out of my shoes, all the while with tightly closed eyes as I willed myself not to cry.

Silence. Nothing.

I'd long stopped expecting a kiss or a hug, but I didn't even get a hello now. Any other day when I was upset Harry was there to comfort me from the moment we were reunited. He'd do anything to make me feel better, sometimes pamper me like I was his baby he needed to look after. I'd always feel better afterwards and with my boyfriend's warm shoulder to lean on it was easy to forget. Harry had always been my number one cure for a bad day.

Today, however, he didn't even say hi.

I saw him sitting on the couch when I quietly walked past the living room. His fingers were busy typing away on his computer resting on the coffee table and when he heard me pass him he made a point not to look up. Great. My heart fell and my eyes watered, but instead of saying something like I knew he expected me to, I turned around and left for the bedroom. Don't give in, my mind whispered, don't give him a reason to freak out on you again. Not now. My feet made a dragging sound when I excited the living room and my body flinched when Harry cleared his throat behind me.

"Oh, I had a great day, sweetheart. Thank you for asking," he spoke mockingly, but I ignored him and the sting in my chest.

Sweetheart. A nickname he normally used to affirm his feelings for me, not to taunt and humiliate me. It felt like a slap across the cheek and so my feet hurried to get distance between us. Once I entered our bedroom I wasted no time and began to undress. My skin was covered in goosebumps when I stood in front of the wardrobe and I quickly changed into an old shirt and some pijama bottoms, both mine as I couldn't bear to wear his clothes tonight, before crawling into the cold bed. I pulled the covers up to my head and wrapped both arms around my frame.

Finally, I allowed myself to break down. Sobs made my shoulders shake and I had to press my fingers against my puffy lips to quieten my cries, not wanting Harry to hear me. He didn't need to know that I was feeling vulnerable, by the state of his mood he would probably use that to his advantage and taunt me further. I cried until my eyes stung and the fingers I still held to my lips felt ice cold against my flushed cheeks.

I couldn't do this anymore. I was done.

My boyfriend probably hated me. He might even break up with me in the near future. It wouldn't even come as a surprise. And after today, all my exhausted body needed was a break, but the upcoming exams required me to study, so technically I shouldn't allow myself to lay down now either. I couldn't afford taking time to myself, especially since I also had a job I needed to show up to.

I shook my hurting head and turned to bury my face further into my pillow, wetting the fabric with the salty liquid leaving my eyes. I whimpered when pain shot through me. I stumbled earlier today and fell down an entire flight of stairs which had not only been embarrassing, but also bruised my hips, one of my elbows and scraped my knees so they bled through my jeans and had been burning painfully ever since.

I was hurting physically and emotionally. And if you're lacking the comfort in your home, it's really hard to cope.

The door opened without me hearing and so I didn't notice his presence until the bed dipped and I had two other arms wrapping around me additional to my own. Instantly, my body tensed and although feeling his warm chest pressed to my back felt good, I didn't want his touch. Or at least I couldn't admit that I did. Harry's soft curls tickled the exposed skin of my neck when he rubbed his nose against it and I could hear him taking in a deep breath.

"What are you doing?" I whimpered mid-sob. My shaking fingers balled into fists and I refused to turn and look at him.

Harry tightened his hold. "You're sad. Wanna make it better."

I've been sad because of you for three days and now that you're actually not the main reason for my tears, you choose to care? But I didn't say anything. I couldn't bear to hear him yell again. There was simply no energy left in me. So I just lay there, crying and in pain. But at least his presence meant that my body was slowly warming up as well.

"I'm sorry," Harry continued softly.

His lips pressed a soft kiss to the back of my neck and his hands found mine, opening my fists gently before intertwining our fingers and squeezing them.

"I have been incredibly unforgiving with you and awful, too. I knew I kept on hurting you and didn't stop... I'm sorry. So sorry, baby."

He left another kiss on my skin before cuddling himself closer against me, his forehead pressing to my shoulder. I released a deep breath and allowed myself to relax a little, leaning slightly into him. My heart hammered in my chest and I was relieved to have him back. But my crying only increased. I wasn't a fan of holding grudges but the fact that I didn't even try to argue back or defend my point one last time, proved once more how done with everything I was. And I couldn't stand it. When I didn't cease to cry, Harry whimpered quietly and pushed one of his legs in between mine.

"What can I do, Y/N?" he breathed.

I shook my head, my voice no where to be found. Harry sighed and leaned up to press his mouth to my flushed cheek. He hummed and breathed against my skin, but nothing worked. I wouldn't calm down.

"I didn't even realize how much too far I took it," Harry whimpered into my ear, his soft lips trailing kisses along my jaw, "M'sorry, my love. Please... no more tears. I can't bear it when you cry. Especially when it's because of me."

My hands searched for his, hesitantly at first but my grasp was bold once I found his fingers.

"S'not just you," I whispered, the sobs stopping just long enough for me to form the words.

Harry stayed silent at my words and began to draw small circles against my palm. Finally my tears slowly stopped falling and I dared turning around so I could press my flushed face against his neck. My lungs felt full when I breathed in his familiar scent and Harry sighed, relieved to have me show him some affection.

"Fighting with you," I began quietly, voice thick, "is tough, Harry. I hate it when we don't talk. I can't take it."

My voice broke and I braced myself for more tears, yet no came.

"Oh, baby," Harry breathed and I shuddered when his lips pressed to my skin in an effort to mend my heart, "I hate it, too."

I hummed and squeezed his hand. "M'not just crying because of you."

He squeezed me, motioning for me to continue. "I was late," I murmured, "I forgot my wallet so I had no money for lunch. One of my teachers just announced a huge exam and I don't understand the subject at all. I fell down an entire flight of stairs which wasn't just super embarrassing but also very painful and if that wasn't enough I feel like my head is going to explode. And my shift tomorrow is going to be longer than usual cause we're short on staff."

I shook my head and sniffled noisily. I tiredly reached up to wrap both arms around Harry's neck, finally allowing myself the much needed contact with his skin. Harry reacted by pulling me flush against his body, our intertwined legs bringing the both of us even closer together.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, his words quickly followed by a kiss to my cheek, "Should've been there for you to call. M'sorry I made you feel like you couldn't."

He hummed lowly and I just shrugged before my lips found his collarbones to kiss. His hands squeezed me once more, then he pulled back slowly. He easily slipped out of the hold I tried to tighten on him and climbed off the bed, a hand held out for me to take.

"What are you doing?" I asked confused, a frown on my forehead, "I really don't feel like getting up, Harry."

"I know," he assured quietly, "And you won't have to for long. Just wanna take care of you for a moment, then we can go to bed."

....

I was sitting on the closed toilet seat as I watched Harry move around the bathroom in search for our first aid kit. He looked funny, I noticed. His hair was ruffled and messy and his appearance strangely resembled the comic figure Waldo. A white/red stripped shirt adorned his torso, a pair of blue sweat pants his legs. I couldn't help but smile and once he noticed, Harry did too. We hadn't acknowledged each other in this way in days... it felt good to be back. Once victorious, he knelt down before me and took my hands.

"Hold on to my shoulders to steady yourself," he instructed, setting them down just by his neck, then his own fingers found the top of my pijama bottoms

"What-"

"Need to get these off you so I can take look at those knees."

"I think I can undress myself, Harry," I murmured and rolled my eyes, but my heart warmed at his caring actions and I happily allowed him to pull the material off my legs with a quick yank, before I could even so much as get up.

Harry hissed at the sight of my bloody knees and his pink lips instantly pouted. My hands continued to hold on to his board shoulders when he began to clean out the wounds with a disinfected piece of cotton and I was cautious not to hiss too much, afraid Harry's guilt would only increase. Not that any of this was his fault, of course. But he'd said it himself. If we hadn't fought, I would have called him. It was quite the sight though, I thought, Harry Styles on his knees before me, his face bearing an expression of pure concentration as he tended to my injury like a private nurse. A very handsome one, I might ad. And an incredibly gentle and tender one, too. Almost afraid.

"I won't fall apart," I whispered.

My fingers found the back of his neck and I gently massaged his scalp, earning a low moan from him.

Harry shrugged. "Won't let you."

A band-aid was carefully applied, than he pressed a kiss to it. I leaned down to kiss his cheek and murmured a quiet thank you against his skin. I was happy. The pounding in my head had slightly lessened, thanks to the painkillers Harry had made me take and with his kind gestures and tender touches he was doing a great job at mending my previous heart break. I watched him get back to his feet and complied quickly when he gestured for me to get up.

"Stay home tomorrow," Harry suggested, his hands finding mine, "I can call the studio and arrange a day off. We could make up for the lost time."

His green eyes stared into my own and as always I wanted nothing else but comply to whatever he asked. A day at home with Harry sounded perfect. But I couldn't.

"I can't, Harry. Told you I have to work tomorrow."

My fingers looked small compared to his and I giggled when the pout on his face increased. He pulled at my hands.

"You don't have to, though," he argued, "I feel like you keep on putting more and more onto your plate. No wonder you broke down, love."

I was about to open my mouth but he quickly continued.

"I know I added to your stress, too. M'not trying to belittle my fault in this. But you know I can easily afford paying both of our bills. Paying both of our food, rent, everything. You wouldn't be the burden you think. I'd be happy to help support you."

"I can't," I protested, "No way I'd let you do that. I can't be depending on your money."

Harry rolled his eyes. "You wouldn't be forever. Only for now. Until the stress at school is over. After, you could pay me back if that will get you to agree."

I wanted to argue, wanted to decline, but Harry shook his head the moment I tried to find my voice.

"You're the most precious person to me, Y/N. I won't let you wreck yourself any longer."

His hand reached up and cradled my face, making me look at him for a moment before he leaned in and captured my lips with his. Nothing was decided yet and I surely would fight him on the subject, but for tonight I decided I would let myself to just enjoy that I had my loving and caring boyfriend back.

Hope you enjoyed it! This was completely spontaneously and written in one go, so I apologize for any mistakes. Rest of what I wrote can be found here: All my writing:

http://harryimaginedstories.tumblr.com/post/156817411518/all-my-writing

Masterlist:

http://harryimaginedstories.tumblr.com/post/144920695218/masterlist

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illyriantremors · 8 years

Text

Beneath the Stars Chapter 1: An ACOMAF AU Fic

This is the *NaNo* fic I’ve been working on for a few months now. Yay! I will post each chapter here individually on Tumblr over the coming weeks, but the entirety of it is already up on AO3 if you wish to binge it.

This fic is very close to my heart. As I have sort of intimated at times on this blog, my head space has gotten a little tumultuous in recent years as I’ve been working through some things, and so I used Feyre as a sounding board for a lot of those emotions. I have not lived the family or romantic life she has lived in this fic, but the thoughts she expresses internally and otherwise are very much my own throughout. So while my Feyre is going to seem rather different in many ways from book Feyre (and I apologize for all the California culture in advance), I hope this helps explain why.

Major THANK YOU to @kitashiwrites for reading this entire fic over, continually encouraging me to finish it, and for telling me it wasn’t total garbage. You are the absolute best!!!

Summary: After her family falls apart on a night Feyre Archeron would rather forget, she flees to the biggest start-of-summer party around at Lucien’s where the comfort of her boyfriend Tamlin awaits. But as the party drags on, Feyre begins to realize that the cracks in her life run much deeper than she realized. When she meets a rather mysterious new friend at the party with witty remarks and what seems like genuine sympathy, senior year suddenly promises to bring a whole new set of challenges and emotions that she wasn’t prepared for.

Rating: E [Chapter 1 is NSFW, but most of the fic won’t be.]

AO3 Linkage

Beneath the Stars

My throat itched as I climbed the long length of Lucien’s driveway. I had to swallow over and over again to keep myself from coughing all while trying to breathe out my mouth since my nose was still drying up with snot. Hell if I knew when the screams would die out. I could still hear them ringing in my ear even now.

Each one drove me further up the driveway and damn if Lucien didn’t have such a monstrosity of a house, if you could call it that. Home was a funny way to describe where Lucien lived when it took up several acres worth of space, contained fifteen or more bedrooms, and covered every spare inch of space in solid white marble.

It was a wonder I wasn’t more used to it by now - the richness of it all. Everyone in my life ran in this type of circle. Even my own family lived in luxury, though nothing quite what Lucien’s family was packing and who knew how much longer it would last, now that mom had - ah.

Later. I could think about that later. Right now, I was on a mission with one single purpose - to see him.

The lie laughed openly at me as I reached the top of the small hill leading up the entryway. No matter how hard I tried, I was likely never to forget the exchange of words between my parents for a long time coming. But if I could just get close enough to him, close enough to touch him, maybe I could forget even if only for a moment.

That was all I needed when I was with my boyfriend. Just a touch or a shared look and the world would disappear, dragging all of my family’s shit right along with it. There were times I wished it would take me too, but then… what was the point?

Sometimes, I didn’t much care to answer that question.

A flash of hair a tad too bright to be my own…

The crash of the door slamming on its hinges as her perfume swept by me…

The screech of tires on pavement as she spun out…

“Ah,” I growled to myself, waving my hand through the air as if I could physically assault my memory and take it away.

Where was Tamlin?

Even a mile down the driveway, I had heard the music pulsing. Getting to the door only amplified the sound tenfold and I rather liked it. It was a beat you could dance or destroy to, whatever suited your mood. The air was hot out - hot even for early summer in southern California. It only added to the crawling of the rhythm over my skin that pushed me inside the manor, away from the couples exploring each other behind trees and bushes around Lucien’s immense front lawn.

How the hell he and his brothers got away with these garbage parties was beyond me. But I was grateful all the same that they did for the time it got me away from home and in my boyfriend’s pants.

The front door was wide open and I stumbled inside to a madhouse. People were everywhere and despite going to school with all of them over the past three years, I only recognized a handful of faces. The eternal downside of California’s public education system - and it had many - was the thousands of students school districts insisted on shoving into one school with the audacity to call it balanced.

My senior graduating class was expected to top off at just over 1,100 students and that was just one year of students, nevermind the other three.

No one looked at me unfriendly as I walked in. It didn’t matter that we were strangers barely able to recognize one another from a smattering of shared classes we didn’t converse in.

This was a party. The party. The one that said summer was officially underway and that the nights were already too unbearably hot for everyone not to be drunk and still fully dressed.

And blast it all if Lucien’s house wasn’t perfect for just such an occasion I cursed silently as I made my way through the maze of hallways and bonus rooms and living rooms trying to isolate one individual among many. Like looking for a needle in a haystack.

A needle my shaking hands were ready to bend and break if I didn’t find Tamlin soon to take the edge off.

Just breathe, Feyre. Breathe. You’ll find it. It will work. This will work.

My fingers rose to my lips where my teeth were ready to chew on the tender skin around the nail beds I hadn’t already bitten to bits when I saw the distinct flash of red bobbing towards me through the crowd. And then I heard his biting voice.

“That’s what I’m going to do if he so much as steps one foot out of - Feyre!”

Surprise interrupted the red-headed bravado as Lucien came to a full stop in front of me. My hand fell back to my side at ease, a light lick of saliva barely coating my forefinger before I could get to it properly.

“Lucien, thank the stars,” I said, feeling the first glimpses of relief settle into my veins. “Where’s Tamlin?”

“Tamlin?” Lucien snapped the name in two at me, almost indignant I would ask. It made my nose curl up around my eyes.

“Yes, Tamlin,” I said, with obvious irritation. “Do you have any idea?”

Lucien seemed to cool out of whatever had caught him by the long hairs of his auburn head, his voice going even while he nonchalantly handed off his drink to the pretty blond he’d been chatting with. He touched the long jagged scar that ran through one of his eyes unawares, the one that permanently marred his vision.

“I didn’t think you were coming tonight, Feyre.”

I crossed my arms feeling defensive because it was true. I hadn’t planned on coming tonight.

Exams had been exhausting and sleep sounded like a great way to cap off the last day of school - not a party. And then mom and dad exploded in the living room and I knew I had to get out and that was before mom had given me her own parting farewell.

Lucien didn’t need to know that though. It was none of his business.

So I swept past him heading for the stairs and said as smoothly as I could muster, not at all bothered by him, “I know your house is the size of a whale, Lucien, but I’d like to find Tamlin now, so if you’re not going to help-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Lucien cut in quickly, but it was the way he grabbed my arm sharply that made me feel like there was more to the gesture than a simple fear he’d offended me ignoring my pleas. “I know where he is. I’ll get him for you. Just wait here, okay? There’s beer in the kitchen.”

Beer.

My stomach turned at the thought of all that golden ale running down my throat. It was too much like dad for my own liking even if I knew how to keep myself in check with it.

“You know I can’t stand that nasty stuff. I’ll just come with you.”

“No,” Lucien insisted and he actually physically turned my body towards the kitchen. “Just stay here and do something. Try a beer, a water, a CapriSun for all I care. You look like hell, Feyre.”

He was gone before I could swivel back a disgruntled retort, but ah, what did it matter? I was used to it by now with Lucien, our back-and-forth way of biting at each other to say, Hey, you’re actually kind of alright. If that’s what it was. Like me or not like me - I could never really tell with him.

The kitchen, however, I did not make for content to stay away from dad’s poisons of choice for as long as I could. Though I would never have admitted it aloud to another soul - even Tamlin - part of me was desperate to crack open a bottle and chug it all down in one bitterly delicious gulp, see if it wouldn’t taste as soothing and wonderful as my body felt whenever Tamlin touched me, ran his hands over my skin in ways that sent little shocks of electricity zinging all over until I lit up brighter than a Christmas tree.

That had to be it, right? I eyed the kitchen door wondering. Why else would dad drink so much if it didn’t make him feel that amazing all the damn time? What would make him choose the bottles over other more important things if it didn’t -

“Feyre!”

I turned at the sound of my name and found Tamlin coming down Lucien’s stairs from the second floor; They were almost as long as the driveway. He looked impeccable as he always did, his blonde hair combed back smoothly though I could see it was still fresh with an unbelievable amount of gel. I stifled a secret smile at how secretly vain he could be.

He stopped a few feet away looking wary and the gap left between us struck me. I didn’t want a gap. I didn’t want separation. I wanted him in that soft red vest and faded denim jeans pressing against me until there was so little space, nothing could get between us. The fact that it wasn’t already happening, agitated by the fact that Tamlin himself had stopped short, did little to quiet the anxiety I’d been fighting for the greater part of the evening. My fingers twitched once at my side as I ground my teeth in response.

But then - he smiled and I felt instantly silly for thinking anything could ever have been wrong. “I didn’t think you were coming tonight. What happened?”

I rolled her eyes, not ready for that just yet. “It’s such a long story,” I said and snatched his hand. Tired of waiting, we made for the stairs from which Tamlin had just descended. I cast a not so apologetic look over my shoulder at Lucien. “Sorry, Lukey, but I don’t think you’re going to want to hear me recite the whole thing to him.”

“Ugh, Feyre, could we not?” But Lucien was looking at Tamlin when he answered and there was something of a hard concern in his eyes that I ignored for other instincts.

I found the bedroom quickly enough. It wasn’t like we hadn’t used it before. I just didn’t normally throw the door open quite so hard as I did tonight and for once, it caught Tamlin’s attention.

“Feyre,” he said like a question, but already I was pressing my lips against his. He tasted sweet, a cool breeze in early spring before all the miserable heat of summer had come to snatch it away from us. “Fey-ruh,” he mumbled against me. “What’s going on?” But there was no denying the distraction mounting by the second in his pants.

“Later,” I pulled away just far enough to say before grabbing him by the collar of his vest. “Just kiss me first. I need you to kiss me.”

The pleading tone that was dripping with more beggary than I cared to admit was enough. Tamlin pulled me against him and utterly engulfed me in his arms. A chill broke out on my skin as the clothes came off, but it was quickly replaced by the fervent heat between us as Tam took me on the bed and entered me in such a blaze of movement, I wondered if he’d been hard for me before I’d even dragged him up the stairs.

Everything in the world started to slow as Tamlin worked against me. My parents. My sisters. School. All the little aches and pains were replaced by his skin, his lips, his body. I moved furiously against him, wanting as much of him as I could get my hands on. It was the only thing keeping the nagging aches at bay every time they tried to claw their way back in. Even while we were connected and moving together, I had moments where my mind drifted back to the fight, the car pulling out of the driveway, and my dad opening the liquor cabinet up and I hated myself for it. So I concentrated on how he felt because thinking about me was too much of a mess to even begin to deal with and Tamlin’s body numbed the pain.

Numbed it, I thought, but didn’t take it entirely away.

We were silent for a while after Tamlin had pulled out of me. I nestled into his shoulder and stared up at the ceiling while he ran his fingers up and down my arm.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d changed your mind about coming?” He didn’t ask what had changed my mind, I noticed, only why I hadn’t told him. After how quickly I’d shut him up to have sex when he’d asked the first time, I could hardly blame him.

And maybe I was a tiny bit relieved. I could deal with my bizarre family drama later. For now, it was nice just to share a bed with a warm body in it.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “It just sort of happened, but who cares? I’m here now anyway.”

I looked up at him and leaned in to kiss him. Tamlin sighed into it. “Right you are,” he said. “I just wish you had told me first.”

This time, he leaned in to kiss me, but the high of the moment was already starting to fade and there was something off with him that wasn’t quite sitting right with me. “Are you okay?” I asked, breaking off the kiss.

“Never better, why?”

I shook my head after a moment, content to brush it off. I was probably just making up things again. “No reason. Want to go back to the party? I don’t even know what I dragged you away from.”

“It was nothing important.”

“Well, I’m going back.” I gathered up my clothes and started dressing, but Tamlin didn’t move from the bed as his eyes dragged over me in a lazy fog. “You coming?”

He wiggled his eyebrows at me teasingly. “I already did, Feyre.”

“You’re gross,” I said not unfriendly, throwing his shirt at him and making to leave the room, but not until I’d had one more kiss and a whispered goodbye because without Tamlin joining me downstairs, the party no longer seemed so appetizing. I’d gotten what I’d come for.

Ahem, come.

Okay, I could be pretty gross too when I wanted to be.

Lucien was nowhere in sight when I made it back downstairs, but I had the distinct feeling someone somewhere in the crowd was watching me, noticing my sudden presence. The music was loud and pumped the start of a dull headache behind my eyes that reminded me tonight was not exactly my best night.

I didn’t mean to end up in the kitchen. But somehow, that’s where my feet carried me. I turned the sink on and ran some water over the first clean hand towel I could find and gently rubbed it against my skin. It felt cool and refreshing, but I still felt sick.

A few years ago, my sisters might have been at a party just like this. We could have gone together if there hadn’t been such an age gap between us. I wondered what they would have done tonight when the yelling started. Would Elain have popped her headphones in to pretend it wasn’t happening? Would Nesta have joined in the fray, always content to share her strong opinions?

Would either of them have bolted from the house the second mom left?

A dense thud sounded on my left. Some jock I didn’t know had set down a huge ice chest full of fresh beer bottles and ice before cracking one open for himself and strutting back outside with a whoop at his friends.

Drinking. Beer. Right. I could do that if I wanted to. I didn’t have to be like my dad just to try one.

I grabbed a bottle and realized I didn’t have anything to open it with. So I pressed it underneath the countertop the way people did in TV shows and movies and pulled to no success.

“Heh, thank you for finding that for me,” a low male voice said coming up behind me and snagging the bottle from my hand. “I’ve been looking for a Sam Adams for a while now.”

I spun around and came face to face with a tall, slender guy with dark inky hair and a wicked teasing smirk fixed on me. His eyes were so blue, they were nearly violet. I had the sense that I’d seen him before, undoubtedly at school, but I couldn’t pinpoint how I might know him. He was something kind of handsome, I thought.

And he had my drink.

“Excuse you,” I said snatching back my bottle. “That one was mine. Go get your own,” and I pointed at the ice chest. “It shouldn’t be hard.”

“No harder than watching you pretend to know what you’re doing with that.” He took the bottle back and fished a ring of keys from his pocket. The clip had a bottle opener on the end, but he didn’t use it. He seemed to be taunting me rather.

I glared at him. “Well are you gonna help me or not?”

With a smug look I was starting to get sick of, he cracked the bottle open and handed it to me. “Of course. Why do you think I came over here? I’m all for helping ladies in distress.”

“I am not a lady in distress and you’re a stupid prick.”

“A prick with a name - Rhysand.”

“Pri-ick.”

Rhysand. That name was familiar. I searched my mental catalogue of classes and couldn’t find him in a single one, which meant I had to know him from some kind of extracurricular, but other than art, I didn’t participate in those if I could help it.

Rhysand worked into another smile, probably thinking I was getting caught up in his bold attempt at flirting. But this smile was a little more charming than when he’d first walked up and suddenly I knew where I’d known him from.

“You’re the senior class president,” I said and was pleased when his smile faltered a tad.

“What of it?”

I shrugged carelessly. “Just didn’t imagine Mr. High and Mighty himself would grace us with his presence at a party like this. That’s all.”

“Well I would hate to deprive the masses of this beautiful face. Your reaction alone was worth the night.”

Against my better judgment, I flushed with heat. I hadn’t been that easy to read, had I? I’d only thought he was rather handsome, nothing over the top even if the more I looked at him the more I found I liked. Especially in those clothes. He wasn’t dressed like the rest of us who wore ripped jeans and school sweaters. No, Rhysand wore a dress shirt in dark purple and pressed khaki pants. Even his shoes were dressy and he’d definitely polished them up before coming.

Rhysand suddenly chuckled. I hadn’t replied to him and I gathered from his laugh that the silence was beginning to stretch on. He was toying with me, nothing more. Egging me on to see how much I’d overthink things and indeed, he’d been right.

“Are you going to drink that?” he asked, pointing at the still untouched bottle in my hand.

“You’re doing it again - that thing where you’re a massive prick for no reason.”

“Call me whatever you like. So long as you still look at me like you just did.”

I scowled and almost lifted the bottle to my lips on instinct just to fill the space so I didn’t have to answer him, but stopped short as the scent filled my nostrils. It was heavy and nauseating. “That’s kind of creepy, actually. Do you know that? Has anyone ever told you that you’re really creepy?”

He scowled, but this time he didn’t come back at me with another flirtation. Good.

“And what exactly has got you so fired up this fine evening, hmm?”

A million answers came swimming to mind, each one less savory than the one before it. My sisters. My parents. The fight. Mom leaving. Heck, even Tamlin hadn’t been quite as fulfilling a distraction as I’d hoped for. Suddenly, I didn’t feel so much like standing here arguing or flirting or whatever the hell this was supposed to be even if the boy leaning against the counter next to me was kind of cute.

As if he could sense my unease, Rhys took the bottle out of my hand and set it down. He placed his hand tentatively on my shoulder and though it was such a soft touch and far less a connection than what I’d had with Tamlin a few minutes ago, it somehow felt much more comforting. “Are you okay?”

Rhysand stared at me with those eyes that up close I could tell really were a deep kind of violet. They pierced me and I couldn’t stand it anymore: the beer, Tamlin, the party, Rhysand. What was I doing here?

“I’m fine,” I said shrugging him off and storming from the room. I made it outside and fumbled in my purse for my keys before taking off down the driveway. But a moment later, Rhysand had caught up to me.

“Hey!” he shouted and then again until I finally stopped so he could catch up. “I’m sorry for being intrusive. You just looked, well, I just wanted to make sure you’re alright.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets when he was done and I thought he sounded sincere.

“Just go away, okay? I’m fine. I’m going home.” I turned away, but Rhysand pestered on.

“Can you drive?”

“Yes, I can drive!” I’d stopped to shout it at him. “I may not be able to open a beer bottle as eloquently as the gods among us mere mortals,” and I waved dramatically in his direction, earning a small snort, “but I’m pretty sure I can operate a vehicle just fine. It’s how I got here in the first place.”

Rhysand nodded, giving me a contemplative look. “Pull out your phone.”

“What?”

“Please?”

“I didn’t think you were capable of begging,” I said, but I did begin searching for my phone.

“Oh I’ve been told I’m very good at begging for it, among other things.” By the time I realized the comment wasn’t quite so much a harassment at me as it was at himself, Rhysand was already laughing it off and I thought the sound was oddly pleasant. He looked nice when he laughed like that, rich and full and less intense. “Unlock it and add this number to your contacts.”

I did as he said and added the number he rattled off. I had no doubt it was his own.

“I suppose you want me to text you when I get home so that you know I’m safe? If you think you’re getting my number out of this, that’s absurd on a number of levels because I have a boyfriend and I’m certainly not giving you-”

“I don’t want your number,” he said, taking his hands out of his pockets finally and holding them up like he could slow me down. “I just want you to have a way out if you get stuck on the way home.”

“What?” My stomach dropped. Rhysand stepped closer to me, took my phone, and locked it shut before dropping it back into my purse for me. His eyes again met me with that piercing stare, the one that said he was really looking into me as opposed to at me. Like I wasn’t just an object to walk around, but someone to talk to and understand.

“I know you have a boyfriend. I saw you go up the stairs with him. But you were a little… shall we say intense in the kitchen? And I don’t know if that beer was intended to be your first or your twentieth.”

“I’m not drunk.”

“Maybe not on beer, but…”

There it was again. That odd sensation that he was reading me.

“Just go home and if anything happens on the way home, you can call me and I’ll help you, okay? And if not, you can delete my number while you lay on your bed thinking about the gorgeous, mysterious gentlemen who entranced you with his wit and charm at the party.”

“Oi,” I said, stepping back from him in a quick jerk and bustling down the driveway. “You’re a stupid prick, you know that!”

“A stupid prick who’s telephone number currently resides in your phone!”

I turned around so I could see him, but kept walking backwards down the drive. “You don’t even know my name!”

“Don’t need to.”

He gave me one last smile and then I was out of view, too far away to keep my eyes on him.

Feyre. My name is Feyre.

I drove home going over and over our conversation. Every little word had felt like a game, but I couldn’t tell which one we were playing exactly. Rhysand had circled between flirtation and seriousness the way water danced on a stream - it was rocky at times, but effortless for him regardless.

And his eyes. I couldn’t stop thinking about his eyes. The way he’d looked at me like he’d known the kind of night I was having even though he didn’t know me from Adam.

It wasn’t until I’d laid down on my bed and taken my phone out to stare at it a little bit that I realized I hadn’t thought about the night I’d been having since talking to Rhysand. Even when I came home and mercifully found the lights off and only a few sips stolen from the bottle of whiskey on the kitchen counter, I didn’t think about my dad or the fight with mom. Dad was always more of a morose, depressed drinker anyway. No reason to fear a destroyed house.

I unlocked my phone and scrolled to his number, intending to text him before I thought better of it. Nah, that was probably what the stupid prick wanted. Just my number. I was just some chick he thought was mildly cute that he could work into sleeping with, so he bantered and smirked his way into my phone hoping I’d give him something to bite.

I know you have a boyfriend. I saw you go up the stairs with him.

I clicked my phone off annoyed at the audacity of his comment and then remembered I had meant to delete his number from my phone. I stifled a yawn. It was late. I could delete the number in the morning. Funny how something as simple as unlocking a phone could make you feel so lazy in the middle of the night, but there I was.

When I finally fell asleep, I tried to imagine the bright green flecked with gold of Tamlin’s eyes as we’d slept together in Lucien’s guest room.

But it was a struggle to remember the moment and in the end, everything kept turning up violet.

Feyre. My name is Feyre.

AN: I live in Southern California where this fic takes place. When I started my freshmen year of high school, there really were just over four thousand students enrolled and the senior graduating class was about Feyre’s size - 1.1K. So that’s why her school is huge. It’s what I had to deal with and it made for a good excuse why she and Rhys wouldn’t already know each other. Easy to get lost with 3,999 other kids running around.

Comments welcome!

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frecklesandthenerd · 6 years

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An Unlikely Geological Hotspot

On Thursday night, I got pretty sick. Sick enough that when we left Old Faithful on Friday morning after walking around for a couple of hours, I was very grateful to my body for not feeling the need to throw up at the geyser.

I wasn’t really able to sleep in, so we got an early start to Old Faithful as planned. Old Faithful goes off approximately every hour and a half, so we had a loose idea of when would be a good time to arrive, but tried not to get too excited about a specific plan.

We got to the geyser about half an hour before it was maybe supposed to erupt (plus or minus 16 minutes, according to the prediction calculator), so we had a seat and waited. It’s hard to see the geyser erupt without being surrounded by people because they slowly trickle in during the hour and a half proceeding the eruption, so even though it was shortly after 8:00 am, we were certainly nowhere near alone. By the time we left a couple of hours later, though, the number of people hanging out about the geyser had increased dramatically.

Old Faithful (Photo/Jason Rafal)

I’m going to be honest here - unusual geothermal activity is pretty cool, but it doesn’t make me insanely excited. Old Faithful wasn’t the craziest thing I’ve ever seen, but it is pretty awesome to see nature explode in any way, whether arbitrarily or (approximately) on a schedule.

After we saw Old Faithful do its thing, we (slowly, and with several breaks to sit down) walked a couple of miles through the area to see the other geysers and hydrothermal elements. Honestly, this part is a bit fuzzy in my memory, so I can’t teach you much about all this stuff. But it was cool, and here are some pictures.

A view of the hillside and the Old Faithful Inn, which is the first example of parkitecture and the largest log structure in the world (Photo/Jason Rafal) A yellow-bellied marmot (Photo/Jason Rafal) Some sort of crazy hot water thing (Photo/Jason Rafal)

We next drove to the Grand Prismatic Spring, where Jason’s parking luck paid off and we got a spot in the very busy parking lot. Despite my general state of discomfort, the Spring was amazing. It’s a rainbow of deep, rich colors, starting with blue in the middle and ending at orange on the sides. The colors are from the water temperature, which supports the growth of different types and colors of microbes. Possibly my favorite part was the steam off of the Spring, which was all of the colors that showed in the water. It’s really beautiful, in a crazy, abstract sort of way.

People taking pictures of the Grand Prismatic Spring (Photo/Jason Rafal) The multi-colored steam was my favorite part (Photo/Jason Rafal) The Spring is great for abstract photography - notice the reflection of the trees along the lower edge of the orange part (Photo/Jason Rafal)

After the Spring we got some food (Jason) and probiotics (me) at Canyon Village. Yellowstone is kind of odd in that there are a few groups of stores, gas stations, and hotels in the middle of the park. It’s weird having a random cafeteria filled with tourists in the middle of a national park, five miles away from a field of wildlife that has zero humans in it. It’s an interesting dichotomy, but also nice to know that one can always get away from the crowds there.

Our next stop was Hayden Valley, where we joined the other visitors in the great American pastime of taking many pictures of bison. I am constantly bemoaning the lack of this continent’s megafauna (thanks, Quaternary extinction event), and bison are great. They are huge, they are fluffy, they have curious bovine eyes, and they are just entertaining to watch.

A bison wallowing (rolling in the dirt) (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Our campsite was next to Yellowstone lake, which is massive and lovely, though I missed the sight of the Tetons on the other side. We stopped on our way in to take some pictures of the very chill young male elk that were hanging out in the shade.

Relaxing elk (Photo/Jason Rafal) Grazing elk (Photo/Jason Rafal) A ladybug in the grass (Photo/Jason Rafal)

On Saturday I felt somewhat better, and we headed to Artist’s Point early to see the lower falls. On the way, after stopping to take some more pictures of bison

I love their eyes (Photo/Jason Rafal) Bison and steam (Photo/Jason Rafal) Yellowstone in all of its otherworldliness (Photo/Jason Rafal) Bison butts (Photo/Jason Rafal) Bison calves play fighting (Photo/Jason Rafal) A young bison soaks up the early morning sun (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Uncle Tom’s trail was closed, which was frustrating but also a relief, because I’m not sure how I would have done with that many stairs. Artist’s Point, though, is a short walk to a lovely view of the lower falls, and the sun kept peeking out from behind the clouds to bathe the water and mist in a warm light. From Artist’s Point we went to see the lower falls and the brink of the upper falls. Aside from the waterfall being super dramatic, the canyon is a beautiful yellow and orange.

Upper Yellowstone Falls (Photo/Jason Rafal) Another shot of the Falls showing the colorful canyon (Photo/Jason Rafal) An adorable and very twitchy squirrel (Photo/Jason Rafal)

After we saw the falls from several angles, we left to head for the Norris Geyser Basin area. On the drive, we saw a crowd of people peering at something over a cliff, so I demanded we stop to investigate. It was a baby black bear and its mother, who was being incredibly tolerant of the people standing far closer than the suggested 100 meters as they oohed and aahed. Jason had a pretty long telephoto lens, so we were able to get a couple of pictures while staying a little further back. After a couple of minutes the bears headed off, and we continued to see more geyers. Mama bear (Photo/Jason Rafal) Baby bear (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Norris Geyser Basin looks like the scene of the apocalypse. There are forests on all sides, but the ground in the area is very light, devoid of trees, and usually looks very dry and salty (except when there are geysers and pools). Mammoth Hot Springs is known for its beautiful, multicolored terraces, over which the hot water flows and steams. It’s weird, and remarkable, and mesmerizing.

The basin (Photo/Jason Rafal) Steam escaping from a hillside (Photo/Jason Rafal) Canary Spring (Photo/Jason Rafal) Palette Spring and Terrace (Photo/Jason Rafal)

After eating lunch in Mammoth along with everyone else who was in the northern tip of the park, we headed out east to Lamar Valley. On our way, we saw another mother and baby bear by the side of the road. There were rangers keeping people from stopping because the bears were so close, so we kept driving. Once we got into the valley we stopped and got out of the car to look at the herds of bison.

There were just so many bison (Photo/Jason Rafal)

After we officially left Yellowstone, we drove over Dead Indian Pass, which is so poorly named I am hardly willing to say it. But the view from the top of the pass is absolutely incredible, so I wanted to share that. It has a tragic story involving a tribe fleeing to a new valley, and a dying man who was left behind.

The incredible view from the top of the pass (Photo/Jason Rafal)

We spent our last night in a beautiful guest house in Wyoming, where we watched the sun set and the stars come out. It was a lovely end to the trip, and there was an adorable dog who came to say hi in the morning as well.

Sunset over the hay fields (Photo/Jason Rafal) Stars in the evening sky (Photo/Jason Rafal) Our dog friend (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Yellowstone has a lot of really cool places to see, but I think the most impressive thing about the park is that approximately three million people each year come here to watch...nature. Even with all that has changed in the past 100 years, a beautiful, weird park in the middle of nowhere Wyoming is still one of our nation’s top internationally visited treasures. It gives me a tiny bit of faith in humanity.

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