2017 Alfa Romeo 4C Spider Owner’s Manual
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Masterpost -- Day Two
Continued from: Anomaly Something wasn’t right. Nothing had changed significantly since the last time he’d been to the headquarters. People were still chatting amicably with each other but…the atmosphere of the office was off. And nobody was noticing.
Which was alarming, considering the entirety of the workforce were psychic.
Not for the first time, Endovelicus was glad for the mask he wore. Even if someone could stand to look at his face, they would’ve seen the tension in his jaw as he tried to spot just what it was that he was sensing.
Normally he’d chalk the feeling down to his own unruly thoughts. It wouldn’t have been the first time that his own imagination had run away from him in a bad way, particularly when Endo was tired or had been hurt. Except, he was fully awake and moderately healthy. And his instincts were telling--no, shouting at him that something was amiss.
The snapping of fingers pulled his attention to the here and now. A blonde man with sunglasses tangled up in his wavy hair waved once Endo’s mask turned in his direction. “Wow you’re really not here right now, huh?” Agent October--also known by his office nickname of California--cracked an only slightly nervous grin as he (ill-advisedly) leaned back in his rolling chair.
Once upon a time, the only expression on a person’s face when they looked at him would have been fear. That was before a certain someone took him in and decided to trust him. That she hadn’t called yet despite him running off on a mission of his own choosing was only adding fuel to his already hyper aware senses. Endovelicus could sense her in her office just out of sight, and yet...there had been nothing. Except this odd feeling.
He tapped his fingers across the back of his gloved hand, making sure that the bracelet with a stylized sun was still around his wrist. “I’m as here as I ever am.” Came the deep rumble of his reply.
California rolled his eyes. “Okay and the not vague bullshit answer…?”
Endo didn’t reply for long enough that under normal circumstances, the other man would’ve filled the silence with his own inane chatter. When it didn’t happen, even after a solid minute and a half of waiting, there was nothing else for it. “Something’s weird.”
“I just said--”
Without even bothering to ask or warn him, Endo telepathically dug around in California’s head for a good metaphor. After a quick moment (and a yelp of surprise from the other man), he found one that he liked best. “It’s like headquarters is a puzzle and someone took two very similar looking pieces and put them in the wrong places.”
The agent held his head like he suddenly developed a migraine. “Fucking--did you need to do that?? My mental walls don’t need more damage.”
“Yes.” Endo felt himself grin, despite how uneasy he still felt.
“Fuck you, fuck your insane powers, and fuck your bullshit answers.” California rubbed at his temples with his eyes tightly shut. “I’ll snitch on you to June after we deal with whatever’s bothering you.”
He didn’t even need to read the man’s mind to know that the threat was an empty one. “Fine.”
Taking his sunglasses out of his hair to place on the bridge of his nose, California finally had a moment to properly sort out what the metaphor had been. “Like a puzzle but with a couple pieces flipped, huh…how come no one else can sense it, though?” He was able to look around just fine, but no one else did the same in their direction. Luck had nothing to do with it. Endovelicus was already quite infamous around the Psychic Assistance Organization. The fact that he had engaged in massive breaches of ethics and etiquette with one of the two people who he listened to meant that no one else was going through the same thing. Or so the other agents hoped.
In response to the question, Endo shrugged. “It’s too high level for them, maybe? People got drugged? Shit’s just weird, and I can’t pinpoint it.”
There was another moment of silence while both men scanned the room. “Too high for me, though?” The agent said in a much quieter tone than his usual one. “I’m not like, a master telepath but I’m not sure if--” He winced as Endo not-so-gently opened up a mental link. “O-kay, yeah, that’s…” Through the link, he could feel and hear California’s reaction as he spoke. His head was pounding with the new sensation and his emotions went from tempered skepticism to alarm instantly. “That’s not good.”
One advantage to having a telepathic link was that neither party could even try to lie to each other. This was also a disadvantage. Endo let his triumph and satisfaction take the forefront of his thoughts, if only to attempt to hide how much worry he had about what he was sensing. “No, it’s not.”
“Think we need to see how hot or cold the sensation is, or…?”
“I’ve been trying.” Frustration mixed with worried anger filled the link between them before Endovelicus cut it off just as easily as he had established it. “It’s just all over.”
Rubbing his fingers against his temples again, California hummed. “Guess we better talk to June, then.” When Endo didn’t reply after about thirty seconds, he continued, “Well okay first you’d better get yelled at by her and then we’d better talk to her.”
“She hasn’t called.” He barely breathed as he said it.
While his eyes were covered by sunglasses, the agent definitely blinked several times. “You’re gonna have to repeat that, I didn’t hear it.”
Barely increasing the volume of his voice, Endo repeated, “She. Hasn’t. Called. Since before I left.”
California lowered his glasses to look over the rims at the masked man. “You’re kidding. She’s more on the ball about keeping an eye on you than even the people above her.”
“Why the fuck would I lie about that?”
“How should I--” The words died in his throat as the door to the largest office opened. June Summers, Director of this particular branch of PAO, exited quickly and locked the door behind her. She didn’t even spare a glance around her as she headed out through the exit. “Oof, maybe you’re more in the doghouse than ever, man. Gonna have to come up with a really good gift to get back in her good graces.” California had a grin on his face, but it died when he laid eyes on Endovelicus. The masked man was frozen in place, statuesque except for the very slight rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. “What’s up now?”
The deathly white mask slowly turned to look him dead in the eye. Endo spoke slowly and with deadly seriousness. “That woman is not June Summers.”
With a gulp, California managed to ask, “Well then...who is she? And what’s she doing impersonating our director?”
Endovelicus stomped after her, his gloved hands curling into fists. “I’m about to find out.”
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content warnings - aged up losers, drinking, swearing.
2.5k word count
the first thing that y/n could take into account when she had woken up was how bad her head hurt. she grimaced at the pounding pain across her skull. it felt like the devil himself was in her brain, banging the walls of her head so harshly it rattled her skull with each hit. fuck, she’d never had a hangover that bad before. when she saw richie she was going to throttle him.
it was all his fault she was so hungover, really, because he’d been pouring the drinks all night and she just knew that he was using the strongest shit he could find. richie was always, not surprisingly, the life of the party and wanted everybody to get as drunk as he was.
the second thing that y/n noticed was that she wasn’t laying in a bed like she had planned to when bill had offered her his spare bedroom the night before. instead she was on his couch - she’d slept on it enough times to know what it felt like - and she had something digging into her waist. she’d probably laid down on a tv controller or something.
though it was only when she stretched her arms upwards and accidentally clocked somebody in the face, causing them to groan out, that she realised she hadn’t slept on a controller at all and it was somebody’s arm.
y/n opened her eyes and turned her head to look up at who was there, hoping she’d passed out with richie (they’d shared a bed so many times because they were drunk and wanted to sleep it was normal. they knew they’d never go further than being best friends so they often shared a bed, despite richie insisting that she was too gross to sleep with. bastard.) but instead she was left staring at stanley fucking uris and almost choked on her spit. his arm was tucked under her waist and she had her arms pressed against his chest from where she was laying facing him. their legs were all interlocked and y/n all of a sudden felt like eddie, holding her breath against the urge to choke as she stared up at him. stan still had his eyes closed as he rubbed his jaw where she’d accidentally smacked him, and he tried to stretch out the best he could from where he was sandwiched in between the back of the sofa and y/n.
“fuck, i’m sorry stan.” y/n apologised, and then it was his turn for his eyes to open wide to see he was cuddled up with her on the sofa.
“y/n?” his voice was groggy with sleep and in a deeper tone than usual, and a part of her pushed the thought that it was hot to the front of mind and she shocked herself as she registered it in her mind.
“morning sunshine,” she laughed a little awkwardly, their faces incredibly close with how they were positioned, though neither of them moved away from each other. “sorry i hit you in the face.”
“s’okay,” he shook his head as he blinked a few times, still trying to wake up. his curly hair was sticking up everywhere and his eyes were only half open, in a way that made him look adorable. y/n watched as he rubbed his face with his hand, his head tipped back in the process. she couldn’t help but stare, noticing how the muscles in his jaw clenched slightly and had he always had such a sharp jawline?
“y/n?” she looked back up at his eyes quickly, worried he’d caught her staring, though he still had his eyes closed. “do you remember anything about last night?” he laughed softly. she felt his hand underneath her waist moving and she arched her back enough so he could pull it out easily, and he rested it between them along with her arms instead.
“uh…” y/n trailed off, trying to recall the party. so much of it was fuzzy. “i remember bev driving me to bill’s, i remember richie pouring us all drinks and then shouting at eddie for being a lightweight when he threw up,” she snorted. “i remember ben accidentally breaking one of bill’s vases, i remember…” the words died on her tongue as her eyes widened at what exactly she remembered. fuck.
“what?” stan urged, his eyebrows furrowing slightly as he looked her dead in the eyes. “what happened?”
y/n blinked a few times as she stared back at stan, her breath caught in her throat. vivid memories of his hands on her cheeks pulling her in closer as they kissed flashing through her mind. her cheeks reddened at just the thought and instinctively she had to look down to check to see if they both still had clothes on, and sighed quietly when seeing that they were both still fully dressed and hadn’t hooked up on bill’s sofa. thank fuck.
as she thought about it more, she could remember dancing with stan as the party had started emptying out - aside from the rest of losers, who had all decided to crash at bill’s.
stan had his hand enclosed around her’s as he twirled her and she giggled over the music, falling back into stan’s chest with a loud laugh. y/n had spent most of the night with stan as richie, eddie, bill, and bev had been busy playing beer pong for most of the night and she didn’t even know where the fuck mike and ben were. they had danced and did shots and talked with each other, and she’d had a genuinely good time with him. of course they were close - all of the losers were close with each other, but she couldn’t say she’d spent a whole night just talking to stan before. the only loser she’d done that with was richie, but that was because they’d been friends long before the losers club was even a thing. so y/n and stan had spent the night talking about whatever their drunken heads decided was the best choice of conversation. whether that was talking about school, to music taste, to stan’s obsession with birds - they spoke about everything. they were having such a good time that when richie had asked y/n had wanted to step in for eddie in beer pong she denied in order to spend more time with stan; and she never denied richie on something. richie had looked a little dejected, though he had glanced between her and stan and suddenly there was a huge grin on his face. “there’s a condom in my wallet if you want it.” he cackled.
once the song that they were dancing to had ended y/n giggled and fell back onto the couch with a huge sigh, stan following suit and sitting next to her. their hands were still enclosed in each other’s though neither seemed to mind, so they kept them like that resting between their legs.
the record had stopped playing and the room was silent aside from the odd complaint from richie down the hallway (“bill turn the light off dude it’s fucking blinding me! i’m dying!”). bill had come back into the living room to turn the record player off completely, looking pretty tired himself. he’d told y/n and stan something about going to bed but neither of them paid him any attention as he left the room again.
“hey y/n,” stan grinned, his expression carefree and entertained. y/n couldn’t remember the last time he’d looked like that. “i had fun tonight.”
“me too,” she’d giggled and nodded, a smile spread across her lips just as easily as it did with his. “i love you, stanley.” she grinned, and hadn’t quite realised what she had said until stan’s expression had gone all serious, like he had all of a sudden just completely sobered up.
“what did you just say?”
y/n furrowed her eyebrows, confused. “me too?”
“no, no after that.”
“i love you?” she asked, before her jaw slacked and she realised what had just come out of her mouth. oh shit.
“you love me?”
“i love you?” they sounded like a pair of idiots going in circles. “i love you? i do- i do! i love you!” y/n gave an affirming nod, and barely had time to take another breath in before stanley’s hands were cupping her cheeks and pulled her in to kiss him.
y/n practically melted at his touch as she leaned closer, her hand came up to grip the front of his sweater in a fist as she leaned into the kiss. stan tasted like rum and smelt like mint. his lips were soft and fit perfectly with hers, and he was intoxicating. more so than the drinks that richie had been handing out all night. more so than anything else she’d experienced before. as she leaned closer stan kept pulling her closer, an urgency that she hadn’t felt around him before making it into the kiss. one of his hands made their way up into her hair and y/n got close enough to swing one leg across his thighs until stan was leaning back into the couch with her straddling him. her fingers intertwined into his curls (something she’d wanted to do for a while, she realised, his hair just looked so soft) and she heard him groan into her mouth when she had tightened her fingers on the strands slightly.
stan pulled away from the kiss for only a moment. their eyes met, both of them breathing heavily. stanley had flushed cheeks and his lips were swollen and god he looked so fucking hot. she only got to stare at him for a moment because his hand had moved down to her waist to pull her closer and his lips were at her cheek, then her jaw, then her neck and fuck she swore he was giving her a higher rush than jumping into the water at the quarry did. his fingers were digging into her hips over her dress and she could feel his chest rising and falling faster than usual. his breath tickled against her neck as he exhaled against her skin; deep and ragged. she continued gripping onto his jumper, her fingers curled into the soft material like she’d never let go again. in the hazy drunk state she was in she could still tell that she’d seriously wanted that for a while, and it wasn’t just the result of two drunk friends being in the right place at the right time.
when stan had pulled away from her for the second time they locked eyes for longer, blinking at him from where she was sat in his lap. and then she cracked a smile and she was giggling. her head leaned back and she laughed so loudly she swore that she probably woke bill up in the other room, and when she looked back at stan he was staring at her bewildered.
“what’s so funny, y/n?” he enquired, a smirk tugging at the corners of his own lips.
“it’s nothing, really,” she giggled. “s’just we kissed. i never thought that’d happen.”
“me either.” stan chuckled that time and shook his head, and the next time their lips met it was a soft kiss that was so gentle and loving that it almost sobered her up all together.
y/n couldn’t help the yawn that passed her lips once their lips had parted. it was really late and she was drunk, and if her head hit a pillow anytime soon she’d be out like a light.
stan smiled softly up at her, and expression that made her stomach flutter. “c’mon, let’s lay down.” he urged, patting the couch beside him.
“y/n?” stan nudged her arm gently and pulled her out of the memory of the night before. her mouth was open and her eyes were wide as she stared at him, and she could tell stan looked a little worried. she probably looked like she was having a fucking stroke.
“we-“ fuck, was it her or was it hot in there? “we uhm, we sort of- kinda-“
“oh, jesus, what was it?”
“we made out!”
stanley’s eyes almost bulged out of his head at the statement, and he went quiet as he blinked a few times, no doubt getting slapped in the face with the memories of the night prior just as she did before him. she watched as his cheeks steadily went pink and he hummed quietly, meeting her eyes again as he nodded slowly.
“do you regret it?”
his question caught her off guard and she almost choked on her own spit again. she hadn’t expected him to be so cool about it. stanley wasn’t one for too much physical affection, so she would have thought that the knowledge of them making out would have concerned him more.
“uhm…” did she regret it? not in the slightest, if she was being honest. she connected with all of the losers greatly, but things were always different with stan. she saw him in a different light to the others. he was the only one she’d ever thought of as seriously attractive, the only one who’d ever made her blush, the only one who she got awkward around when she was alone with him. the alchohol had given her the confidence to spill the beans on everything she’d be too shy to say sober. “no,” she decided softly, trying to gauge his reaction. “do you?”
instead of an answer, she had stan’s hand on her cheek and his lips pressed to hers again. he was gentle that time, like he was worried she was going to pull away, though when she had leaned in closer she could feel him smiling against her lips.
“no.” he whispered softly as they parted slightly.
y/n stared at him as a warm feeling bubbled inside of her belly. she met his smile with her own before she leaned in to kiss him again, her hand across his jaw as they breathed into each other. it was only when they heard a loud wolf whistle across the room that they split apart, shocked.
“you dirty dirty kids,” richie smirked as he walked into the room and y/n shot daggers at him over the back of the sofa, and threw a pillow his way which he dodged easily. “bill!” he bellowed after a moment, causing y/n to wince as the volume made her headache (that she’d completely forgotten about in the midst of stanley). “y/n and stan had sex on your couch!”
My Blink friend and I were so excited when I got the notification that Jennie posted something on Weverse, but now that we see all the drama around Blackpink, we're just sad, my friend even thinks that the hate won't stop and that breaks my heart. She loves Blackpink so much, so please let the Blinks enjoy this
Disney Girls alternate form
Goldie *does something really cute*
Scrooge, whispering: I love you
Goldie, blushing: you better..
i firmly believe that eddie is a shit! kinda person while richie is a fuck! kinda person. eddie’s go to curse is shit and richie’s is fuck.
Sly \ Ratchet
Once having feelings for another, the gentleman thief had kissed before. But this would be his first primal kiss. The lombax had pried and prodded him. Dared him especially when yanking the raccoon to meet his gaze. Once the bandit started, he couldn't stop. Shoving the smaller creature against the wall was a given, Ratchet expected that however, the criminal slipped his hands between his legs and parted them. Soon, he pulled the alien onto his lap until their hips were pressed together, clawed feet scraped to feel the ground but there was air instead. One hand kept the lombax in place by the hip while the other grabbed at the brown cap and tore it away.
It slapped against the wall loudly before dropping to the floor, completely out of the owner’s reach. Sly clutched both wrists, pinning them on the vertical surface, squeezing them harder than he should as he grounded their junctions hungrily, parting their lips once a spark jolted. He gasped against Ratchet before locking lips again and pulling the captured man’s gloves off. During their more traditional battles, the purpose behind the coon’s flirtatious stares weren’t just to get a rouse out of him but to find any flaws. However, he learned how to free the alien from his confine clothing by studying its layout.
The harness, the top, the belt even, once the seconds pass, only the pants remained. Too lost in the muffled groans and heat piling between their fur, he hadn’t notice his own attire escaping his frame. No hat, no jacket, even his own gloves went missing. The quickening friction below set his heart ablaze but it would not satisfy his pent up tension and craving. Tongue asked for entrance as one arm around the waist held the lombax closely as he pulled them away from the wall. With a handful of fabric, getting all layers protecting the privates, Sly tossed the remains near the cap.
Such a light man in his arms, it was easy to carry them over to a softer horizontal area as he parted their hips away. It was brief, only to rid him of anything else keeping their flesh from full contact. Before plunging into another kiss, the thief gazed at the bare golden fur completely unshielded. He always wanted this sight even if he couldn’t admit it to himself. With nothing separating them, he dove into another feverish kiss, an arm snared the smaller man as a hand interlocked their fingers together. Pressure down there return with sparks rising his grey fur as a grunt fell from his lips. Fangs raked over Ratchet’s lips as their legs entangled.
He noticed the bursts of euphoria but not the amount of time passing - his focus was on the kiss and him, them. The coon finally broke away with foreheads touching, panting mixing and body flushed with burning heat. Was that clear enough? Did the lombax understand what really went on in his head? He wanted to collapse there, wake up to the other beside him but knew that was too pathetic of him to think. How could the alien feel the same?