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thankskenpenders · 7 months

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Amy's fortune cards

The Sonic fandom has long been the kind of fandom that takes minor details very seriously, for better or worse. On the one hand, this means fans will really dig for the diamonds in the rough, latching onto fun character interactions, animations, bits of background worldbuilding, and more in pieces of Sonic media that many would write off as "the bad ones." But it also feels like every week another needlessly hostile debate over Sonic minutia erupts on Twitter, whether it's over individual lines of dialogue, fanart that makes Tails' shoes blue, or the ideal length and volume for Sonic's quills.

So it was probably inevitable that a fandom-wide debate would erupt upon seeing Amy's new gameplay style in the DLC for Sonic Frontiers, which takes the once-obscure fact that she enjoys reading tarot and shines a spotlight on it like never before.

I mean:

The thing is, while I basically always try to tune out Sonic fandom bickering... for once, I kind of sympathize with the detractors? Don't get me wrong, I like Amy's tarot stuff, and people on all sides of the discussion are being overly nasty about their opinions, as usual. (Sonic Twitter remains my personal hell.) But when I set aside the hyperbole and zoom out, I do think I understand why some fans are put off by the sudden shift in focus for the character, even if I think it's cool.

It's complicated. Let me attempt to present the cases for and against Amy's fortune cards

For years, I was always one of those fans who thought it could be fun if they played with Amy's tarot reading, or even leaned into some kind of magic with her. Part of that is my own biases showing, but there's just something that makes sense there, especially when you look at Sonic, Tails, and Amy as a trio. (I would argue that's the real "Team Sonic" these days, especially in the comics where Knuckles is more likely to be stuck on Angel Island or otherwise doing his own thing.)

You could argue that Tails is all about logic, relying on science and technology and deductive reasoning to solve problems. But Amy is all about emotion. She wears her heart on her sleeve, is extremely empathetic, and is very prone to magical thinking - both figuratively and sometimes literally. Her origin story has always been that her tarot cards told her it was her destiny to meet Sonic on Little Planet. She's claimed to be able to "sense" peoples' presences - particularly Sonic's. She's the type to believe that The Power of Love is a literal magical force. So, on some level, it makes sense to mirror Tails's science by having Sonic's other best friend believe in magic. And then Sonic is somewhere in the middle, primarily following his own gut instincts but taking advice from both of them as needed. This isn't totally accurate to how their dynamics actually function in canon stories, but I think it's a mode that could work for them.

Going off of that, it's fun to lean all the way into Amy being a magical girl, or even a witch, using her fortune telling as a foundation. Take, for example, this version of Amy from Diana Skelly's old Sonic cast redesigns from before she freelanced for Archie and IDW. This is one of MANY such redesigns for Amy.

Fast forward to the 2020s, and Amy's tarot cards are, in fact, finally getting brought up again in canon. Which is fun! I like seeing that. I like all of the individual stories involving Amy's fortune cards. This is a fun character trait for Amy, a fun nod to old lore, AND a fun storytelling device, all in one. It's really cool that the Sonic universe has its own thematically appropriate arcana, and that the cards are getting made as physical merch. And sure enough, the official card backs and borders were designed by none other than Diana Skelly, in yet another cool example of an ascendant fan leaving their mark on the series.

BUT... when you step back and look at the big picture, I get why some fans find this shift in focus jarring. At the moment, it's starting to feel like every new story about Amy involves her fortune cards to some degree.

The most recent mainline comic arc to feature Amy as the lead character, 2021's Trial by Fire arc, prominently features a sequence where she reads fortunes while camping with the girls. The Origins version of Sonic CD now bookends the game with scenes of Amy and her tarot cards. Sonic randomly mentioned it in a scene in Frontiers. And now, just this week, we got the (very cute, gorgeously illustrated) Amy's 30th Anniversary comic with a story revolving around Amy's tarot cards, followed the very next day by the Frontiers DLC in which she gets a brand new tarot-based moveset. Even her base melee attack now has her throwing tarot cards instead of swinging her hammer. Again, I like all of these individual things, but after years of it almost never coming up at all, it's VERY noticeable that Amy's tarot cards are suddenly everywhere.

To be fair, I'm looking at this from the perspective of a superfan who's actively following ALL Sonic media. Casual fans - especially kids - aren't necessarily going to be reading the comics every month, buying the thousandth rerelease of the Genesis games, or playing the ultra-hard new alternate ending DLC for a game that came out last year. Each of these stories is going to be someone's introduction to the idea that Amy can read tarot, and that's probably part of the idea behind this unified push.

But to play devil's advocate, for my fellow superfans, I understand why it feels like a very minor footnote of Amy's character is suddenly becoming the entire focus of her personality. While Amy has always been said to enjoy fortune telling, that wasn't really a character trait in and of itself, but rather an example of her being a typical girl who hopes she'll be able to find true love one day. It's less that Amy can literally predict the future and more like her using a cootie catcher or going "he loves me, he loves me not" while picking the petals off of a flower. So I get not vibing with this stuff, or feeling like it's being pushed very hard out of nowhere.

What I don't agree with are comparisons like "it's like if they made Knuckles' moveset revolve around him liking grapes." Like, I get it. Ian Flynn loves shoehorning in his little winking references for us nerds, and mentions of Amy's tarot cards were previously on the same level as other random bullet points from old Japanese manuals. But a multifaceted hobby like fortune telling that opens up so many narrative and aesthetic possibilities is obviously very different from having a favorite food. It's ALWAYS been a part of her story, not just a random fact, and there's no reason why the fortune telling can't be elevated to something more.

And, hell, even if it wasn't an established character trait, there's nothing inherently wrong with injecting new ideas into a character. One of the best Amy stories in recent years, the Free Comic Book Day special "Amy's New Hobby" written by Gale Galligan, came up with the idea that Amy's secretly been drawing little comics about her and her friends. Is this based on Lore? No. But it's cute, and helps tell the story of a younger Amy who's still coming out of her shell as both a hero and a friend.

Certain fans are also looking at Amy's Frontiers moveset and using it as evidence that once again the Vile American Contributors like Ian are CORRUPTING Sonic Team's perfect vision of Sonic with their misinterpretations. And like. Come on. Ian does not control the gameplay. He's a freelance writer. The tarot stuff is clearly something that Sonic Team likes if they made it the basis of Amy's new moveset - and, you know, if they keep approving comics and animations about Amy's fortune telling. None of this gets made without their blessing, and lord knows how much they can micromanage shit and shoot down ideas over the most minor of details.

Like, yeah, Amy's fortune telling was probably conceived less as a sign that she Knows Magic and more as a pretty mundane hobby for a lovesick young Japanese girl to have. But you're gonna sit there and tell me that using Amy's tarot cards for more than that could only be the result of a cultural misunderstanding? That nobody in Japan uses tarot card theming and aesthetics (or the general idea of magical cards) for the cool factor? Stardust Crusaders? Persona? The Astrologian class in FFXIV? Cardcaptor Sakura?? Hello??? Do you think Capcom put Gambit in Marvel vs. Capcom ironically because they thought using magic to throw cards at people was stupid? There's tons of precedent for this! It's nothing like Knuckles throwing grapes at people, be for real.

Giving Amy a very magical girl-esque moveset also just makes a lot of sense. For decades her hammer attacks have literally made sparkly heart shapes appear around her. Leaning into both that and her tarot cards in her new moveset makes a lot of sense to me.

But, admittedly... I do think it's very odd that her hammer is treated as a secondary element here, rather than having her primarily use her hammer and adding the cards for extra flair. If hitting the attack button made her swing her hammer instead of throwing cards, I'm not sure we'd even be having this discussion right now.

But the tarot-cycle and Amy riding her hammer like a witch's broom are fucking SICK and I will not concede on this point

The thing is, this whole fortune card discourse is but a small piece of a bigger problem. Amy's been a character who needed some work for ages, but there's basically nothing you can do with her without pissing SOMEONE off.

Years of stories where Amy's crush was her primary motivator and Sonic went "Ew, cooties!" have lead many casual fans to believe that being Sonic's obsessive fangirl is Amy's entire personality. At best people might call her Sonic's Minnie Mouse. This isn't just a matter of Amy having haters within the fandom - venture outside of that bubble and you'll realize that this is how MOST video game playing people seem to see her to this day. I don't feel like this is a fair assessment of the character, but this idea didn't come from nowhere. No matter how much good deeply entrenched Sonic fans may see in their old dynamic where Amy perpetually chases Sonic, this is a very real problem that Sonic Team has to contend with for their leading girl. Of course all those games where the way-past-cool protagonist thought Amy was annoyingly clingy and tried to get away from her made people think less of her.

If new stories were to go back to emphasizing Amy's crush on Sonic a little more, they'd probably be taken as confirmation that Amy's just the girl with a crush on Sonic and that this is her entire personality. Conversely, when the crush is played down, you piss off the hardcore SonAmy fans who don't seem to understand that they're Charlie Brown and Sega is Lucy holding the football. You can't win.

And so here we are. In the absence of what was once her defining trait, now reduced to an occasional blush or wink in Sonic's direction, new stories are trying to mine Amy's past for additional material to work with. Having been a thing fans wanted to see for years, right now we're getting a lot of tarot, but we're also getting reminders of her compassionate nature and her desire to go out of her way to help the little guy. This is an ongoing process. I continue to hope that her bubbly, exuberant demeanor can shine more in future stories. Now, I also hope that the tarot stuff gets balanced out a little better with other traits of hers. But I don't want it to go away. I think it's fun.

This course correcting is far from exclusive to Amy. Knuckles is getting stories that remind us that he's a competent fighter, an experienced treasure hunter, and even a self-taught archaeologist after years of him being perceived as either the dumb one or just the guy who stands in front of the Master Emerald all day. And Tails has been getting some stories reminding folks that he's a capable hero in his own right and not just Sonic's timid kid sidekick.

But no supporting character will ever compete with the sheer number of new ideas Sega has tried with Sonic himself. Like Amy, his Frontiers moveset has also given him half a dozen new superpowers that he never had before, from the Cyloop to air-slicing projectile attacks to his own take on Shadow Clone Jutsu and beyond. He's also been a hoverboarder, a swordsman, a time traveler, an Olympic athlete, a racecar driver, cursed with a Flame of Judgment, imbued with alien power, a fucking Werehog with stretchy powers, and on and on and on.

If Sonic can do all that, Amy can try out using a tarot-cycle.

Anyway TL;DR the REAL problem with Amy's current characterization... is where the FUCK is Amy's bestie, Honey the Cat???????

#tkp post

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strawberryscribblesandwrites · 10 months

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Vampires vs Bath time

Marko x reader x Paul

Summary: your two blond vampire boyfriends visit you and things get a little steamy ;)

Author's note: I might do full smut part two we shall see

A cool breeze ruffled my hair, the smell of the sea being carried by it. That was one of the few perks of living right near the boardwalk, the fresh smell of the salty ocean.

Another perk was that I was close to my boys.

Ah, my boys. How could I begin to describe my undead delinquents? Well you have David, the ring leader, charming sinister energy to him at first but once you get to know him he had a soft spot for his lost boys. Dwayne is the silent brooding type, he loves reading and riding his bike with the others. Marko and Paul, the messy mischief makers filled with a childish hyperactiveness to them.

When I first met my boys they were well they were kind of a mess, only washing in the ocean, living then with frizzy matted hair- they would occasionally use the public showers near the boardwalks, but after meeting them I was adamant that they should keep good hygiene, especially if we were to all be in a relationship. David and Dwayne followed my rule and would pop in to have a proper hot shower or bath.

Now, Paul and Marko.... would try their best to remember but they would often get caught up in their shenanigans.

My radio was playing a loud rock song that reminded me of a thrilling night in the cave. I danced around my room without a care until the sound of a shrill wolf whistle and catcalling made me jump out of my skin. Spinning around to face my open window, I saw none other than the pair of blonde vamps. Their faces and clothes smeared with thick blood.

"What the hell" I whisper shouted at them.

"Aww baby don't be like that, it was a good show" Paul said with a smirk while Marko was giggling like a mad man. "Hurry in before anyone sees you" I said, shaking my head trying to suppress a smile at their antics.

"Do not touch anything" I said sternly as they came through my window. I walked to my set of draws and got the pair some comfy clothes to chuck on while I put their blood-drenched clothes in the wash. "Let me guess you were playing with your food and got too messy?" I asked them over my shoulder. "You could say that” David said “We were starting to stink up the place" Marko mumbled, like a child being told off. "I think we could have gone a few more days before we needed a good wash" Paul said in a joking manner.

"Gross" I stated.

Putting the boy's respective comfy clothes on my bed, I turned to the pair to inspect which of them needed a more thorough approach. Looking at Paul, he didn't seem too bad. His hair was stiff, as were his clothes- covered in deep, sticky blood. But other than that he didn't seem too bad. Marko, on the other hand, had his shirt half ripped and his soaked jacket looked particularly crusty. His chaps had seen better days, not to even mention how his hair was stuck together, all matted with blood clots.

"Paul you're up first, Marko baby you need extra care. I swear if you boys continue this I'll start treating you like actual dogs and just put you in the paddling pool and hose you down" I threatened

"Woof" Marko said smirking causing Paul to explode with laughter

"Sugar, we aren't that bad" he said breathlessly between laughs. I just hummed in response, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the bathroom. "Baby, you just stay there. You can read some comics on my desk, I don't mind you getting a mess on my desk chair" I told him over my shoulder.

Turning on the taps of my bath, I added some soap and set some shampoo, conditioner and body wash on the side of the tub.

"Strip" I said pointing to the bath.

"Oooh, no need to be so snappy. If you wanted me naked you should just ask nicely" he said in a seductive tone.

"Not tonight casanova" I told him, causing him to pout.

I walked out of the bathroom giving him his privacy to get in the tub. Waiting, till I heard him shout through the door he was ready. I opened the door to collect his clothes.

"Hey baby, do you think you can wash my hair?" he asked softly. "Of course I can sweetie" I smiled.

Popping my head back into my room after I had put Paul's clothes into the washing machine, I was met with the sight of Marko, with his feet kicked up on my desk engrossed in one of my many comics. I made my way back to the bathroom, knocking on the door and waiting for a response before making my way in.

Paul lay in the bath, his wet hair pooling around his broad shoulders, his face and chest absent of the blood that was there earlier that night. "Hey Paulie" I said softly as I kneeled by the bath. He gave me a sweet smile as he sat up giving me better access to his head.

I truly loved nights like these with my boys. Sure they were killers, but they were also the boys that always treated me with love and care.

Kissing Paul's shoulder, I leaned for the shampoo, squirting some on my hand and massaging it into his scalp, causing Paul to let out a soft groan, my nails raking across his head."Have I told you how much I love you?" Paul breathlessly groaned as I started pouring water gently over his hair. “I'm always happy to hear it baby” I said, kissing his shoulder again.

I continued rinsing his hair until it was free of soap, repeating the process with the conditioner. “I could get used to this” Paul sighed, as the water sloshed round the tub as he started to stand up. ��Well, I'm glad to hear that because I would prefer it if my boyfriend didn't smell like a corpse when I see him” I chuckled, wrapping a towel around his waist before he stepped out of the bath. “Aww, don't you find the smell of rotting sexy babe” he teased, wrapping his arms around my shoulders, pulling me into his bare chest. “Hmmm. Nope. I don’t think it is” I joked into his chest.

“Come on pretty boy, Marko needs a bath and a good scrub” I said, kissing his chest, causing a deep rumble to spread through him.

“Your clothes are on the bed and the hair dryer is in my desk drawer” I said, opening the door of the bathroom for him.

I leaned down putting my hand in the now lukewarm water to pull out the plug and let it drain .

Leaning my shoulder against the doorframe of my room, I watched as Paul moved over to my desk where Marko was sat. Paul leaned over him to get to the draw, allowing Marko to quickly lean up and kiss his jaw. “You smell nice” he told him. “Thanks bud” he said with a soft smile, retrieving the hair dryer.

Moving back to the bathroom as the last of the bath water emptied out, I replugged it, filling it with hot water and more soap, waiting until the bath was full until I called on Marko.

After a few minutes, he hadn't come. I decided to see why he was taking so long, walking over to my desk and leaning down over his shoulder. “Marko baby, why aren't you coming to the bathroom?” I asked softly.

“Babe, this comic is bitchin’. Look!” he said, excitedly showing me the panels of two characters fighting. Chuckling, I kissed his temple. “That's pretty cool, but ya gotta get a wash baby”. He groaned as he put the comic down.

We both moved to the bathroom where the bath was almost full of hot water and soap. “Pass me your jacket” I told the blond vampire. He shrugged off his jacket with a sigh. Giving a quick thank you, I moved his jacket to the kitchen where I could hand wash it.

I knocked on the door of the bathroom and waited for the okay from Marko to come in.

“Hey” he said, as I entered the steamy bathroom. “Hi” I smiled.

Marko was sat up straight in the water. Unlike Paul, he hadn’t bothered to rid his face and chest of congealed and dried blood .

Kneeling by the bathtub, I soaked the washcloth in the water, bringing it up to Marko’s face and gently scrubbed his chin. “You're both such messy eaters, you know that?” I asked with a chuckle. “We can’t help it babe, we just get a lil excited is all” he stated with a smile. I chuckled slightly at his response.

Gently, I grabbed his chin and tilted his head back so that I could wipe the blood from his neck. Occasionally, I would re-wet the cloth until his neck was clear of blood. I placed a set of soft kisses on his neck, up to his jawline. Pulling away from Marko, I dipped the cloth back in the water.

“Why are you so gentle with us?” he questioned.

“What do you mean?” I asked, while tilting my head and smiling softly.

“Well, I mean, you’re so soft with us. You make sure we are clean, and I mean- well look at you. You’re cleaning a bloodthirsty creature of the night” he stated. “I mean, you wash Pauls hair, you give David massages when he gets worked up, you sit and read with Dwayne, and don’t even get me started on how soft you are with Laddie. You buy him allsorts. You treat us so well and I don’t understand why” he said bewildered

“Hmm. Well, the answer is simple” I said as I brought my soapy hand up to his cheek. “It’s because I love you all, so very dearly” I smiled sweetly.

Marko broke out into a wide smile. “Awww, babe. You love us? Ewww” He joked as he pulled me into a kiss.

Pulling away, I gave him a soft look.“Alright lover boy, I should really wash your hair now. It’s all matted” I said. Sternly grabbing the bottle of shampoo, I started to lather his hair. “It smells like you” he mumbled to himself as I continued the process of lathering and rinsing until there were no more suds in his hair.

Grabbing the conditioner, I gently raked it through his hair before grabbing a comb to get the knots out of his curly hair, being careful not to pull and hurt him. Once I was done running the conditioner through his hair, I rinsed it all out.

“Alright, I'm gonna give your jacket a wash. I’m sure you can handle the rest from here” I said. Standing from the bathroom floor, I moved to the door.

Before I stepped down the stairs I went to check on Paul, he was on my bed, towel still low on his hips as he read one of the comics Marko had earlier. He’d turned the rock music on my radio higher, seeming comfortable

I carefully made my way down the stairs with the rest of Markos clothes in my arms. I walked into the kitchen, putting his jeans and shirt in the washing machine and setting it away along with Paul's clothes. The sloshing sound of the washer filling with water engulfed the silent kitchen. Grabbing Marko’s jacket, I filled the sink with cold water and detergent then began gently scrubbing at the blood stains, carefully, so as to not ruin it. I hummed a random song I had heard from the radio earlier as I worked away to rid the jacket of all the blood soaking it.

I stiffened as a pair of cold hands made their way round my waist.

“What you doing down here all by yourself?” Paul hummed huskily in my ear as his hand made its way under my shirt.

“Ah! Paul baby, your hands are freezing” I squealed, trying to squirm away from him.

“Well, you can help me warm them up” He mumbled against my skin. Paul started to drag his lips slowly down my neck until he reached the junction where my neck met my shoulders. I hummed at the feeling of his soft lips on the crook of my neck, the sensation sending shockwaves through my body.

“I heard you and Marko in the bathroom” He whispered as he began kissing and nibbling back up my neck to my ear, causing me to let out a low huffy breath. “We love you too” he said as he pulled away, causing my hairs to stand on end.

Groaning at the loss of one of my vampire boyfriends body on mine, I turned to see his face lit up with a devilish smirk.

“Come on, Marks waiting” He informed, deciding I could finish washing markos jacket later. I dried my hands on a dish towel before following Paul up the stairs to my room.

As I entered the room I was met with the sight of Marko drying his hair with the spare towel I had given him earlier.

“Hey baby” He said joyfully with a smile. I chuckled at his joy. Paul had once again wrapped himself around me as he swayed to the rock music on the radio. He would occasionally place kisses along my neck.

Marko soon made his way over to us both. He placed one of his hands on my hips as he brought the other to my cheek to pull me into a passionate kiss.

The feeling of Marko’s lips on mine mixed with the feeling of Paul’s nibbling kisses and occasionally licking my neck made my head spin.

“Boys” I groaned at there attack as I pulled away from Marko for air, leaning my head back.

This only allowed the pair to continue their attack. Marko dove in, attaching his lips to the underside of my jaw.

Paul pulled away giggling. “Aww, look Marko, we have them melting” Paul teased, causing the other boy to pull away with a smile.

“You boys are the worst”. I groaned at the loss of their touch.

“You sure about that sugar?” Paul said as he tilted my chin to pull me into a passionate kiss. Marko trailed his cold hands from my hips up my stomach, the feeling of his cold fingertips trailing up my chest sent shivers down my spine, causing me to let out a moan into the kiss with paul.

Marko continued his path, his cold hand grabbed my chest with a dark chuckle. “Your heart is beating so fast baby. Do we really get you going that bad?” He said as he lifted my shirt and kissed my hip before he made his way up my stomach. The feeling of his soft breathing on my skin made my stomach muscles tense. It felt like the most heavenly torture.

He pulled away, making me internally groan. “You made them all whiney” Paul cooed in mock sympathy, causing Marko to giggle as he pulled my shirt off.

His nails gently dragged my hips closer to his face the cold tip of his nose hitting just above my hip made my body shiver in anticipation, Markos eye flitted up to mine then to pauls.

Paul's hand trailed up my chest his hand trailed up my chest to my his hands were soft as he moved my head slightly to the side and slowly licked up my neck before I felt the nipping feeling of his teeth dragging along the tender skin below my ear. Marko had pulled away from my hip his fingers digging under the hem of my jeans with a smirk “mmm hey paul do you think they are desperate enough” he rasped to the other vampire “nope” paul replied Marko breathily My room once filled with loud rock music was replaced by my own breathy wines and moans mixed with the raspy teasing giggles of Marko and paul they really did love teasing.

#the lost boys #the lost boys marko #the lost boys x reader #tlb 1987 #tlb x reader #tlb x you #tlb marko #marko the lost boys #marko x reader #marko x reader x paul #paul x marko #paul x reader #poly lost boys x reader #the lost boys fanfiction #slashers x reader

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reds-skull · 5 months

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Not Alive, Nor Dead

[NEXT PART]

Okay I'm trying to be brave and post this before I chicken out, first time writing a fic, and I'm not sure if this is any good.

So, since I don't have time to draw out all of the revenant au story, but I still want to share it, I'm writing it instead.

Will continue this if people are interested!

[this isn't requiered but reading the comic might help you understand this better]

[also there's a Soap pov version of this by Badolmen, it doesn't line up 100% because we didn't work together but it's very very good and you should read it regardless]

“No.”

“I wasn’t asking, Ghost.”

He shifted in his place. Can never get used to Price’s voice in his head.

“You know I work best alone. All he’s gonna do is get in the way.”

Price’s mustache twitched, as if he’s fighting a smile. Bastard is about to drop something to win the entire argument, Ghost already knows.

“He’s a revenant. Strong one too.”

Fucking figures. Still, he could argue he doesn’t need any support-

“Intel is rigged with explosives. And the Sergeant just so happens to be explosion-proof.”

…Fuck.

Ghost sighs heavily like he was presented with an unreasonable amount of shit to deal with. He watches as Price sits there, shit eating grin spitting at him. He looks back to the folder, at the details of this already annoying mission, “you said there are 2 buildings?”

Price snaps from his self boasting to confirm “one suspected barracks and the other an abandoned warehouse. Warehouse contains the majority of explosives.”

Finally finding something to work with, Ghost straightens his back to his usual self-assured posture, “the Sergeant can deal with the warehouse, I’ll clear the barracks. No need to work together.”

Price seems less happy about that. Serves him right. He sighs and drags a hand over his face, and Ghost almost feels bad for ruining his plan to get him to play with a team. Almost.

“Will it kill you to try and work with the lad?” Price asks offhandedly, while organising the folder back to the never-ending pile of documents on his desk.

“You mean again?” Ghost would wear his own shit eating grin if his face wasn’t permanently covered.

Price still seems equally pissed. Probably saw it in his literal mind’s eye. “Get out of my office Lieutenant, wheels up at 0500.” He gets up and walks around his desk to face Ghost, “don’t scare the kid off alright? I have a feeling you two could mash well together.”

Ghost tilts his head and projects the most doubt he could muster at Price. “Yes sir.”

This is going to be a bloody long day.

It’s not that Ghost hates people per se, it’s just that most of them seem hell-bent on being annoying, disruptive, or boring. Useless on the field for someone of his caliber, and even more useless off-field.

He knows he’s not exactly easy to relate to, but he couldn’t care less about trying to be. He’s here for one purpose. And it’s not “making friends” or whatever Price and Gaz has been trying to push him towards.

He wonders which category the Sergeant currently standing in front of him will fall into. By his fidgeting nature and easy smile, Ghost would put his money on “annoying”.

The Sergeant, “Soap” apparently (Ghost wonders if that callsign was given to him before or after he died a probably painful death), now directs that smile at him, seemingly undeterred by the giant man wearing a skull like a stereotypical grim reaper. He has to give it to the lad, at least he hides his discomfort well.

“You must be Ghost, eh? Let’s get ourselves a win LT” The Sergeant says with an obvious Scottish accent, fist-bumps his shoulder and walks off towards transport.

Oh, annoying is definitely winning.

Despite that, Ghost can’t feel like Soap really fits it. He’s unlike the other muppets in the category, He’s not poking him like the rookies do, trying to make him reveal his powers.

No, the Sergeant is annoying like an overly friendly dog is to someone that doesn’t want to be licked. He’s acting like they’re just two normal soldiers on their way to a normal mission, not the unnatural, unexplainable phenomena they actually are.

Ghost will have to keep watching. Certainly on field he will be able to find out his true colors.

On the helo, Ghost picks his usual spot near the ramp, where the lights don’t reach as much and most prefer not to sit, and observes Soap. His fidgety nature stayed the same, but the carefree expression he wore on ground morphed into a determined one, face stern and serious. He seemed lost in thought, eyebrows twitching here and there. He sees how his fingertips flicker, watching flames dance between them before the rapid movements put them out.

Well, at the very least Soap doesn’t fall into “boring”.

Clearing the barracks is a laughably easy job, even without using his powers. Although, it would’ve been so much faster with them… too bad he doesn’t hate the Sergeant enough to send him to Limbo.

They practically run through both buildings, untouchable storms. Ghost has to admit, Soap is clearly competent, disarming bombs and taking down hostiles at an impressive rate.

God, he hates when Price is right.

“Ground floor clear, heading to the basement” Soap relays on comms.

“Copy, clearing third floor, keep an eye out for Intel.”

“I have to say LT, you’re not quite like I expected.”

Feeling’s mutual, Ghost thinks to himself. “That so?”

“Aye, you’re not a major cunt for starters.”

That startled a small huff out of him. What the hell do the rumors say about him? He would have to ask Gaz about that, “Could still change that Sergeant.” he mock-lectures him.

A small laugh is what he gets in return, “I doubt that. I’ve worked with some bastards before, you barely make top 50.”

“Only 50? I hoped for at least 20”

“Got work cut out for you then, sir”

“That I do.”

Ghost continues clearing the floor methodically before faltering for a moment. Why was he entertaining the Sergeant like that? Since when does he joke with people?

Though, he would’ve done it more if he had someone so ready to joke back…

Useless thoughts.

Cursing Price, Soap, and all other stupid distracting things swirling in his head, Ghost takes down another hostile.

The mission is going without a hitch. Which is usually when something “hitches”.

A couple of minutes after Soap’s last words, Ghost sees a bright light flash from the warehouse, before a soundwave shakes the windows of the now barren barracks.

One of the explosives went off… “Soap, what the hell happened there?”

No answer.

Ghost knows he’s fine. Price wouldn’t brag about how “explosion-proof” he is otherwise. But he’s not answering…

“Sergeant, give me sitrep, now.”

Ghost stands still for another minute, listening to static. He checked the last room right before the explosion went off, so he just has to go to exfil and wait for the Sergeant at this point. His part of the work is done.

He should just go to exfil.

Ghost climbs down the stairs and heads for the warehouse, a foreboding plume of dark smoke billowing from its roof.

If asked why he didn’t ignore his gut feeling and use his brain like always, he wouldn’t have an answer.

Maybe he just wanted to exchange one more joke with the Sergeant before they finish the mission and never see each other again.

Arriving at the doors, he sees how the ground floor caved in, creating a ramp down to the basement. He starts making his way down, when he sees bodies littering the debris. Was Soap ambushed?

“Soap? Where the fuck are you Sergeant!” Ghost shouts. He has half a mind to be quiet, not wanting to attract enemies to their location, before realizing no one would’ve survived this. No one but-

“LT…?”

“Soap, why weren’t you answering comms- what…”

He stumbles upon Soap. Soap, who's laying on the grey concrete floor, wheezing and shaking, a metal rebar in his hands. Ghost walks closer and realizes the rebar is going through his stomach and pinning him to the floor.

The Sergeant’s eyes blearily look at the metal “I need, I n-need to get this out…”

He lifts himself half an inch and Ghost sees how the blood rushes out of the wound, how Soap pales.

Ghost rushes to his side. “Stop fucking moving”, he slides his hands under his torso, feels his gloves getting soaked in blood, “let me help you”.

Soap’s breathing becomes less harsh, and he looks up at him, “you… you don’t have to-”

He slowly lifts Soap before he can say another useless remark. The muscles under his fingertips clench and the Sergeant chokes out a scream.

“Fuck” Soap mutters between pants.

“We’re halfway there, you’re doing good.” Ghost lets him rest before continuing to lift his body up. The blood keeps rushing out of the wound, enough that he doesn’t understand how Soap is still conscious. The sergeant let go of the rebar, and is now gripping Ghost’s forearms like he’s about to fall to his death.

After a few seconds, which Ghost is sure felt like hours for Soap, he eases him off the metal and onto the ground. Soap immediately collapses, shuddering and holding his hands around the wound.

Ghost then realizes he’s not sure how the Sergeant’s powers work. Is this supposed to even happen? Is he actually dying?

Soap looks up at that moment, giving him a small smile that looks more like a grimace, “I just… give me a minute to heal, I’ll be ready to go soon.” he uncurls and drags himself to sit against a piece of wall.

Ghost frowns and slowly steps towards Soap and slides to sit next to him, “take however long you need.”

He doesn’t look, but from his peripheral, he sees Soap’s head whipping around and staring at Ghost like he told him he’s giving him a million pounds.

He seemed to find something in his expression (however much he could even see of it), and looked down at his bloodied hands, “thank ye…”

Ghost blinks down, “I hope this doesn’t lower my cunt rank.”

Soap lets out a small laugh that turns into a fit of coughs. More blood rushes out of his wounds, and Ghost internally winces.

“Ha… I think it takes ye off the list, mate.”

Ghost heaves an over-the-top sigh, “shame”.

Soap smiles at him, and Ghost notices it’s different from the one he gave him before the helo. This one is… warmer. Or at least it makes him feel so.

Soap lifts his shirt to inspect the wound, and Ghost can’t help by take a look. The wound stopped bleeding, and when Soap wipes some of it away, he can see how it’s already closing.

So he does get hurt… it just heals. Ghost still wonders how it all works, but he knows their powers work with bizarre rules, weird exceptions and what not. He can almost hear his Reaper laughing. Or whatever you would call that chilling noise it lets out when it finds something funny.

It doesn’t matter either way. Not like he’ll get to work with Soap again.

The Sergeant exhales and lets his shirt drop, “a’right, let’s fuckin’ finish this.” he slowly starts lifting himself up before Ghost wordlessly grabs his arms and helps him.

Soap mumbles a thanks, “did you find any intel?”

Ghost looks ahead. The climb out of the basement won’t be easy on his wound… “Negative. We’ll keep looking.”

Eventually they reach a door labelled “storage”, that is blocked by several tonnes of concrete and metal. Ghost internally curses.

Soap, who’s been trailing behind Ghost, reaches the door and looks around. Ghost is about to ask him if he’s got a few C4’s hidden somewhere when the Sergeant asks him, “permission to use my powers, sir?”

Ghost raises an eyebrow, “what are you planning?”

“Gonna blow it up sir” Soap says like it was obvious.

“...go ahead.” Ghost replies, half baffled Price forgot to mention the Sergeant, besides being unkillable by explosions, can also create them.

Was probably in the folder he didn’t bother reading.

He takes a step back to let Soap Have a go. The Sergeant rests his palms on the debris, inhales, and…

A loud boom makes Ghost’s ears ring. He’s momentarily blinded by the bright explosion before he regains his vision, and sees Soap stepping around the remains of the door into the small room.

Ghost shakes away his slight shock and joins him. Soap’s powers intrigue him… he wonders what else he could do.

Somehow, the intel survived the explosions. Ghost could barely care. At least they won’t have Price on their case later on.

As they walk towards the exfil point, a heavy feeling sinks within Ghost. He’s not sure what to call it, but if he had to it would be “regret”.

Regretting what, he’s not sure. Maybe he should’ve prolonged their walk.

And from a glance at his face, Soap might understand this feeling as well.

“You did well Sergeant.” He has the sudden urge to say. Maybe it will make him regret less.

Soap casts a smile at him. It doesn’t warm him in the slightest.

The chopper blades slashing through air never made him feel worse.

“I guess this is it then.” Soap says when they land.

Ghost turned to face him. That heavy feeling in him just kept getting heavier throughout the flight. Why?

“So it seems.”

Soap stares for a moment longer before sighing. Ghost wants to do something about the annoyingly heavy air of despair around them.

“Soap” the Sergeant hums, “Why did the Scotsman’s prank fail?”.

Confusion takes over his features, “what?”

Ghost inhales, “because no one let him get away scot-free.”

Soap stares at him like he brought shame to his entire bloodline. Ghost grins like he did.

“Steamin’ Jesus LT, that was horrendous.”

“Ah Sergeant, just admit my jokes are better, no need to be a sore loser.”

“My gran got better jokes than this, fuckin’ hell” Soap laughs.

“I’d like to meet her.”

“So you two could battle? I rather not see you die of embarrassment sir.”

Soap’s transport decides to arrive at this moment, chasing away the small joy they both found.

Soap looks back at it and turns to Ghost.

“It’s been great working with you sir.” if Ghost was feeling bold, he would say Soap almost looks sad, “I hope we’ll get to go another round later.”

Ghost hates the hopeful tone in his voice. Hope is uncertain, leaves everything up to chance.

Useless.

“Likewise, Sergeant.”

He stays standing there for a few minutes, staring at the truck vanishing towards the horizon. As if it will lighten the boulder in his chest.

“So, Simon, what’s your verdict?” Price finishes after debrief.

Ghost thinks about the entire endeavour. Not annoying, not disruptive, or boring.

Soap is…

“He’s something else…”

Critiques are welcome! Nobody beta'd this so I'm sure there are mistakes lol (that and this isn't my first language...)

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cuckoo-on-a-string · 2 years

Text

Younger Gods: I

Younger Gods Master List Dream x fem!reader (unnamed)

Dream is protective of his ravens after Jessamy, and he's still bad at listening. The reader finds this out the hard way.

Warnings: extremely mild gore/injury to animal, language, Dream is his own warning

A/N: Playing a little fast and loose with dream physics, but we're just here for a good time, right? I read the comics an age ago, and thought I might as well pop back into the fandom for a quick swim after falling in love all over again via Netflix. Aiming for 5 chapters, but we'll see where this takes us.

*Remember, to like is kind but to comment/repost is divine.

**If you'd like to join the taglist, please let me know in the comments!

Chapter 1: Just don't bite me

“How did you get here?”

She stared at the injured raven hopping across her garden like it might open its beak and speak. Give her some answers. It’s eye fixed on her, pinning her even as it fought gravity and pain, flapping with a wing bent the wrong way.

Glossy black feathers hid the blood it left on the long grass. If it didn’t move like something hurt, didn’t struggle to hold up its broken wing, she’d never guess it had crashed into her little world by accident. Which brought her back to the question.

It fluffed the feathers around its neck in an attempt to look bigger, croaking as it shuffled farther away. Soft thunder purred in the clouds, and the steady rain dripped from the tip of the raven’s beak. She held up her hands. Sank low on her heels, as near to the raven’s level as she could reach without falling flat on her belly. If that’s what it took to earn its trust, though, she’d get a little muddy.

For all that it was uninvited, the bird was her guest now, and if she didn’t take care of it, it could never leave. Maybe it would haunt her. Maybe she’d just feel guilty as hell.

“You’re hurt.”

The raven twitched, its head tilting three different ways, studying her expression from varied angles, like it would reveal malicious intent in the right light. He could look all he wanted, but she needed to get him out of the rain.

She started unwinding the thick, knit scar from around her neck, speaking low in an effort to keep the bird calm. “I have something that can help. It’s just a salve, but you’ll heal much faster, and I’m sure you’d like to be on your way as soon as possible. But I’m going to take you inside first, so you can get warm and dry. The rain never really stops.”

Prepared with the folded cloth, she crept forward a few steps, giving the bird time to move away. When it didn’t, she closed the distance and muttered, “Just don’t bite me, okay?”

“No promises, witch,” the raven said.

Her hands stilled an inch away from his feathers. So, he was magic. Magic and rude as fuck.

She spluttered, “I’m not a witch.”

“Yeah?” The raven looked up at the clouds and down at her cottage. “Well, this place is weird. And so are you.”

“It was the best I could do.” She carefully wrapped the scarf around him, mindful of the bad wing – and the beak. “Sorry it doesn’t live up to your standards.”

Her first guest, and all he could do was insult all her hard work. He scoffed but held still in his swaddling as she pulled up to her chest and tramped back inside.

It wasn’t her fault it rained all time. Well, technically it was, actually, but she liked it. The water looked beautiful running down the windows, and the cozy fire glowed bright enough to warm a soul when the trees rustled in the wind. With rain hushing over the roof and a whisper of distant thunder to keep her company, she never felt lonely.

Tasteless corvid.

She set him down by the fireplace while she chose a good blanket to craft a makeshift nest. Only when she’d stripped off the scarf and moved him to the softer resting place did she tug off her own drenched sweater, shivering until she found a good replacement. Her wet hair clung to her neck as she pulled a sweater three sizes too big over her head. The sleeves dangled past her fingers, and she shoved them up past her elbows in thoughtless habit.

The bird hadn’t taken his eyes off her, but he still mustered enough faith to thank her. Sort of.

“This is… nice.”

It sounded like an olive branch, so she took it as one. The one room cottage was her haven. Even if it looked small and worn, she found it warm and soft, kind in the way a home ought to be.

“I like to think so.”

She moved to the workbench under the window that looked out to the garden, where she’d been sitting when the raven dropped out of the clouds with an all too human cry. Her fingertips ghosted over herbs and pots and potions as she looked for the little vial she wanted. She only finished it a week ago. It would take three months to make another. But that was alright. No one else really needed it.

When she knelt beside the bird, vial open and ready to drip over his injuries, he clacked his beak at her.

“Not a witch, huh?”

The wing felt so fragile in her hand. She couldn’t let him distract her. “My mother was. I’m… weird.”

“You can say that again.”

“This might hurt.”

“What do you -?” He broke off in a sharp caw, instinctively jerking away as she pulled his bones straight.

“Sorry, sorry. The worst is over now, I promise.”

He had a wonderfully colorful vocabulary for a raven, and he shouted a few rainbows while she wrapped his wing in the best position to heal. The white gauze practically glowed against his onyx plumage, and he looked just a little more pitiable.

“Sorry,” she repeated.

The bird shook himself, stretching and folding his good wing three times to push away the pain.

“Son of a bitch,” he hissed. “Fucking damn. Teach me to pay attention. Kids and their fucking rocks.” He’d been staring into the fire as he recovered his equilibrium, but once he could pause his cursing, the bird looked back at his host.

“Name’s Matthew. What do I call you, weird girl who isn’t a witch?”

She shrugged. “Whatever you like.”

“I was asking for your name, lady.”

“I don’t have one I can give you.”

“That’s not helpful.” He looked around the room, probably on the hunt for something to critique, and although his beak opened, it snapped shut again when he looked back over his shoulder. He stared at her in the firelight, but not at her face. “What happened to your neck, lady?”

Her hand flew up to cover the scars, a landscape of smooth, raised, and sunken marks ringing her throat. She’d forgotten when she took off the scarf. Horror and humiliation twisted in her stomach, and she was wildly aware of being ugly and vulnerable in the same breath. Instead of answering, she rushed back to her closet, pulling out an even longer knit piece than the one she’d wrapped the bird – Matthew – in outside.

He picked up on the subtext, deflating a little and pointedly changing the subject.

“How long will this magic potion of yours take? I need to get back to the Dreaming. My boss is waiting for me.”

The scarf’s tail dropped from numb fingers, one loop short of her goal, left to trail on the ground as she wondered how the fuck her day could get any worse.

“The Dreaming?”

“Yeah. Know of many other realms with talking ravens, lady?”

“No,” she admitted, cursing herself in the privacy of her own thoughts. “It will take a couple days for you to fly again, I think.”

“That’s no good.” Matthew pecked at his bandages, and she rushed over.

“Stop that. You’ll make it worse.”

“Can’t fly with this,” he said, mouth full of gauze.

“You can’t fly without them, either,” she said gently.

Giving up with an enormous sigh, the raven wriggled down into the blanket and glowered through the window at the continuous rain. A little bolt of lighting reflected in his gleaming eye, like an idea sparking to life.

“Your weird little house is pretty close, you know,” he said. “To the Dreaming, I mean. I bet you could walk there.”

“It takes a day to walk in or out.”

“Why?”

“Because I made it that way.”

“Oh, you’re definitely weird.” He paused, like he was finally noticing the blanket nest and the empty vial glittering by the warm flames. When he spoke again, he sounded the slightest bit contrite. “Weird but nice. And I still need your help.”

“I don’t want to go to the Dreaming, Matthew.” She couldn’t bring her voice to carry more than a whisper. She was so afraid of her dreams she didn’t even sleep anymore. Not much. Walking into the fertile fields of the Dream Lord’s imagination…

“You don’t have to go in,” the raven insisted. “Just get me to the gates and I’ll be someone else’s problem. I promise.”

She couldn’t answer. She really didn’t dare. The laws of hospitality urged her to pick up the bird and carry him wherever he wanted to go, and he made it all sound so reasonable, so easy. Just a stroll and a hand over to a friendly face eager to welcome him back. It wasn’t, though. Oh, the walk was fine. She came and went from her hideaway world all the time, but her heart thrummed in terror to even think of the Dreaming. Was she really so close? Her home didn’t feel as safe as it had that morning. The security of the cozy storm left something wanting now. None of this was designed to keep other entities out. It was just… out of the way. On the other hand, if she left the bird – one of Dream’s ravens! – here to recover and his master came for him, it would never be a sanctuary ever again.

Maybe… if she was quick…

“I’ll –” Her voice broke. She cleared her throat and tried again. “I’ll try. I’ll walk you to the gates.”

“Thank you.” At least he sounded like he meant it. Lack of gratitude wouldn’t change her mind at this point, but she appreciated it. Walking twelve hours with a rude bird muttering under his breath didn’t sound like the fun kind of adventure.

None of this sounded like the fun kind of adventure.

Fun adventures involved late night diners and questionable life choices after two bottles of wine.

“My master needs me,” Matthew said, like he still needed to prove his point.

That was fine. That was great. Dream would be missing his raven soon. She was tempted to take a faster mode of travel, but she wasn’t sure what that would do to the raven, so she hurried to gather everything she’d need for the walk instead. Tall rainboots, a hooded jacket, and two shawls. She wrapped one around Matthew to keep him warm and tied the other around herself like a sling. With the bird nestled close to her natural warmth, she charged back into the rain. She didn’t even take the time to bank the fire.

Matthew, apparently, decided her rush was entirely for his benefit. “Thanks for this. I mean it.”

She paused at the edge of the garden, standing in the gap in the stone wall as she studied the horizon, looking for something to tell her where to go.

“Which way to the Dreaming?”

Matthew fidgeted and jerked his beak at a random point. “There. I can’t see it, but I can feel it, you know?”

She didn’t know or she wouldn’t have asked, but her breath was better saved for walking. Nearly running, she sped through the emerald green grass and low white flowers in the verdant moss. She didn’t look. Didn’t appreciate. Didn’t stop to touch, or pick, or smell. If she had the stamina to run the twelve hours, she would.

Pattering rain sounded louder inside her hood, and the sky broiled with clouds promising a real storm.

Maybe he could hear her heart pounding by his ear, or he finally realized she was moving awfully quickly for someone who didn’t want to go on this trip in the first place. Whatever his inspiration, Matthew dragged their conversation back from the dead to persuade her she’d made the right choice as she forded a narrow stream.

“You don’t have to be afraid of Dream,” he said. “If he’s upset, it will be with me. You’re doing me a favor.” He paused, struck by a new through that almost immediately spewed out his beak. “You’re not old enemies or something, are you?”

“No. I’ve never met him. I’d rather not meet him today.”

Matthew croaked. “Why not?”

Sometimes the truth was the simplest path to peace, and she’d like the bird to shut up for a while. “I have bad dreams. I don’t want to get any closer to them. Thanks.”

“You know, he could do something about that.”

“I don’t like favors.”

“But I’d argue he owes you one.”

“I’d argue that I don’t care.”

More croaking, this time accompanied by rustling from his safely bound wings. She remembered ravens were in the business of knowing things, watching and listening until they could deliver a secret whole and unbroken to their master. Her cagey replies must bother him on some deeper level.

“So why are you doing this? You clearly don’t want to.”

“Because you were hurt. You needed help. And I don’t want your master to come looking for you here.”

He cast incredible side-eye for a creature wrapped in home-knit outerwear strapped to a stranger’s chest.

But at least he shut-up.

It was the perfect landscape for long walks. She’d designed it that way. Gently rolling hills melted into copses of trees just too small to be forests but deep enough to lose the daylight below the tangled canopy. Any other day, she’d enjoy this trek. But now she wondered if she’d ever be able to enjoy it again, knowing which direction the Dreaming lay and how close it pressed to her border.

She slogged up the hills and slipped down the muddy sides, careful not to tumble and crush the fragile bird she carried against her chest. She slipped through the woods, ignoring the sweet smell of old loam and dried leaves. When the heavy rain came down in a curtain as the crested the last hill, she pushed through that, too.

The raven stayed awake for the entire trip. She shaved a full three hours off her usual time, and she reached the end exhausted. She should’ve packed a stimulant. Maybe an energy drink. Maybe a potion. Something. She had to get herself back home after this.

A field stretched to the cusp of oblivion, a black void at the edge of the turf her mind fought not to notice. She walked to the edge, slowing until she came to the brink, and then she had no ideas.

“I don’t see anything.”

“Well, you’re not a raven,” Matthew said. “I see where we need to go. Just trust me. There’s a path a few feet to the left.”

She shuffled obediently to the side, but she still saw nothing.

“Just take a step,” the bird insisted. “I’ll guide you through it.”

She didn’t want to. Every instinct from every element of her pedigree screamed that this was a Bad Idea. Relying on blind faith and a raven’s intuition might lead her into the Dreaming, but she bet she’d have a long fall someone with wings wouldn’t consider a problem. Some little oversight would swallow her whole, and nightmare would eat her alive, or she’d be trapped in her own night terrors.

“Why don’t I just leave you here?” She could hear the panic in her wobbling pitch, and her trembling hands banished any doubt as she reached for the knot in the sling.

“I thought you didn’t want Morpheus to come looking for me in your weird little bubble realm.”

She closed her eyes. Drew a shaky breath. No, she didn’t want that, but would it be worse than voluntarily stepping into that darkness? The raven couldn’t protect her. He wouldn’t even know what was safe for her, really. He was flying on a lot of assumptions, and she didn’t want to pay the price for his optimistic naivety.

“I don’t know what the void will do to me,” she confessed. “I’ve never actually… touched it.”

“It won’t do anything,” the raven said. “And it’s so thin you won’t even notice. The Dreaming is right there.”

Fucking hell. Her hands seized air, opening and closing like she could snatch courage out of thin air. Damn it all.

She lunged into the thing she didn’t even want to look at, and for the barest moment, she felt it. Nothing. No pulse. No breath. No thought or feeling at all. A gap stretched between past and present, like she’d been snuffed out – or never began to exist in the first place.

Then her momentum carried her through in a boggling mess of physics, and she was somewhere again.

Air punched into empty lungs, and she stumbled, nearly falling to her knees as light, sound, and her own heartbeat returned.

“Whoa! Hey! Watch out for the water!”

Matthew’s shout brought her eyes down, and she saw dark waves lapping at her feet, sucking them into the black sand as the foam tried to climb up and over her rain boots. The fact that sea foam was trying to do anything clued her into the water’s threat, and she darted away with her newly-beating heart in her throat.

“Well done. You see? Not so bad. You’re fine.”

It had been one of the worst experiences in her fucked-up life, and she might’ve told him so if she had the breath. Instead, she barely managed to mutter, “I think I hate you.”

“Nah.”

She stopped to push the last of the void from her lungs, sucking in oxygen like she’d never tasted it before, and the sensation stirred several memories she couldn’t take time to stop and fight. Not on the shores of the Dreaming. Not so close to the Lord of Nightmares. She wrestled them down, threw other thoughts and needs over them like a rug over a stain. Her horrors would have to wait until she slept again, and she planned on putting that off for a long, long time.

When she felt ready and able to move again, she asked, “Where to now?”

“The gates,” he said, like he thought she was the stupid creature alive.

She looked away from her feet and finally noticed the looming doors further down the beach. Silently, she had to agree that she was, in fact, incredibly stupid. They were hard to miss, taller than a skyscraper, carved over in faces, beasts, and scenes she didn’t recognize, gleaming like aged ivory. Beautiful and awe-inspiring in the way an angel or the Milky way inspired reverence and respect. Something a little too vast for her to grasp, but towering over her regardless.

Yeah. Time to get this over with.

As she power-walked across the cold sand, shadowed by the rocks piercing out of the waves, she unknotted the sling and pulled Matthew out of his cocoon.

“This bus has come to the end of its route,” she said. “We hope you’ve enjoyed your trip.”

The raven cackled, trying to stretch his wing in spite of the way she still cradled him. “You find a sense of humor in the void?”

“No, just a sense of relief. Seriously. Watch where you’re flying next time. I won’t have another healing salve like a gave you for several months, so if you do this again, you’re fucked.”

“Thanks for the pep talk.” He was all but straining forward in her hands, eager to get home, to complete his mission and reassure his master that all was well. “You sure you don’t want to meet my master? Or Lucienne?”

It didn’t matter she didn’t know who Lucienne was. She didn’t need to meet any more dreams – or servants of dreams. “Very.”

“So, you’re just going to ding-dong-ditch Dream of the Endless?”

“Yup.”

“Suit yourself.”

The sand made it harder to keep her pace, sliding away under her heels, sapping her strength as she hurried to drop her guest off at his front door. Waves of power rolled down from the high wall, and she felt trapped against the tide of Dream’s domain and the dark ocean lapping up the shore behind her. Everything looked grand and stark. She didn’t belong with her green boots and her rain-slicked jacket. The hood had fallen back, and a damp strand decided to stick on her cheek. With her hands full of bird, she had no way to pull it off.

Cold, wet, disheveled.

Tired.

Afraid.

She was ready for this adventure to end.

“How are you going to get back through the void?” the bird asked.

She shook her head, amazed. “You just thought to ask that? Never mind. I have a shortcut.”

“What kind of shortcut? Why did we just walk for nine hours in the rain?”

She plucked at the end of the second shawl, the one she used to keep him warm on that nine-hour trip through the storm. Such gratitude.

“Because I didn’t know what it would do to you.”

“I can survive the void, lady, you think your shortcut’s tougher than that?”

How far away was the damn gate? Would this beach never end?

“All that matters,” she panted, “is that you’re going home. I’m going home.” She turned the bird in her hands so they were eye-to-eye. “And we will never have to see each other again.”

Sounding more human than ever, the bird tutted, but whatever he wanted to say was swallowed in a sudden, sharp wind.

The austere stillness consumed itself in a rage, lifting black sand and sea spray into an impenetrable haze. One second, she could see the gate. The next, she could barely see three feet in front of her. Shielding her eyes from the sand with one arm, she instinctively tucked the bird close, bending over him protectively. The grit gave the wind claws, and it lashed her bare flesh raw.

What have you done with my raven?

The question pressured her from all sides, a crushing, physical weight ringing in her ears as it forced her to cower in on herself. She couldn’t answer. Couldn’t breathe. Matthew squawked and fluttered in her arms, flopping free with half a scarf still wrapped around him, tangled in his claws. “Sir, wait! Sir!”

The raven’s call settled the hurricane, but the overwhelming pressure remained. The lingering effect of the voice pressed against her soul like a death knell as a figure gathered itself, standing between the two travelers and the gate. The raven struggled towards the tall, dark shape, and she all but slapped herself in the face in her fight to get the dust out of her eyes, nose, and mouth.

Matthew called the newcomer sir.

She was peering up at Dream of the Endless.

He knelt to accept the bird, face dark as a nightmare. Long, pale fingers explored the broken wing. When they pulled away, a few rusty crumbs of blood clung to the pads, and eyes burning with angry stars lifted to pierce her.

He asked again, “What have you done with my raven?”

This time the voice was a voice, not a force of nature. He sounded like smoke and sand, deep and sure as the ocean at her back. That voice might scour her away like a rough patch in his perfect Dreaming, and nothing in his tone said she was welcome.

Now she felt like the raven – a little bird with a hoarse cry and hollow bones all too easy to snap.

“You hurt something of mine.” A snarl carved into his face, and even as Matthew squawked for his lord’s attention, the Dream Lord reached out.

His shadow stretched long and dark from his feet, against the light. It crept towards her, darker than the black shore, and she stumbled over her own feet as she backed away, landing hard on her hands.

“I didn’t,” she whispered. Her voice was long gone. It fled and left her to die whimpering and pathetic, the traitor. Scrambling back as the shadow approached, she shook her head. “Please, don’t.”

Cawing and flapping, Matthew shouted, “Sir, stop!”

The shadow slowed, just for an instant, and she leapt to her feet. Tears burning her eyes from fear and grit, she ran three steps back, never daring to take her eyes off the threatening Endless. She clawed into her own mind, grabbing for the half of herself she preferred to leave wandering the sky over her cottage. A rumble drew Dream’s eyes to the dark clouds gathering at the edge of the Dreaming, and she saw his eyes flick back to her just as the lightning struck.

Her summoned bolt traced down to catch her up in a flash of burning light. The crackle was almost unbearable, but desperate times called for desperate measures, and Dream’s shadow was still snaking after her.

She wasn’t there when the shadow reached the place she’d stood. The lightning blast reached through her to the ground and then back up into the clouds. It took her with it.

An echoing strike deposited her in the cottage garden.

She fell to her hands and knees as the power zapped away into the sky. Mud squished up between her fingers, and she shuddered in place, too busy shaking to move. Rain rolled down her face, cleaning the salt of sweat, tears, and sea. Her limbs felt impossibly heavy after weightless, electric travel, and she bowed to the animal urge to just freeze in place for a while. She needed to think. Maybe then she could remember how to stand.

An Endless wanted her dead. Dream, no less. She had more reason than ever to stay awake. Maybe she could find a trick to avoid sleep forever.

But his raven knew where she lived, and it wasn’t a long trip.

She needed to run.

Chapter 2

#morpheus #morpheus x reader #sandman x reader #dream x reader #dream of the endless x reader #fanfiction

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cammys-imagines24 · 10 months

Text

•Being in a Relationship with Ellie•

Ellie has such a softness in her which she reserves only for those closest to her, especially to you.

But after Joel's passing, she became more resigned and quiet. Gone were her days of childish wonder and talkative nature.

Though for you and only you, Ellie will always be the pun, space and dinosaur loving nerd.

You make her happy and when she's happy the weight of all that she's lost falls off her shoulders, if only temporarily.

You're her family now and she'll be damned if she doesn't cherish you and keep you safe.

You've become her sole reason for getting up in the morning, for surviving through each night of bad dreams.

Ellie often writes in her journal about you. How much you mean to her, lyrics to songs she's composed when just your very presence inspires her, little drawings of your profile or silhouette (which she scribbles down when you're not looking.)

Words she'll never be brave enough to say to you out loud, no matter how long you two have been in a relationship (and like hell she'll let you read her journal.)

So, Ellie relies upon actions instead to show how much you mean to her.

Her love language definitely being acts of service and physical touch.

Like whenever she's on a run or out on patrol she's always on the lookout for anything she thinks you might like.

Whether it's a comic or book you'd enjoy, or an article of clothing you've been talking about needing. Even funny trinkets or knickknacks she thinks you'll get a kick out of.

Those are going straight into her backpack and are taking precedence over even more practical, useful things she could be picking up.

Anything to make you smile or liven up your day is the most important thing to her.

Ellie will learn to play your favorite song on her guitar and will sing it whenever you need cheering up.

Since she's afraid of being alone, she has to be touching you always, in some small way or another.

Even when out in public her hand will find its way to the small of your back, or her pinkie will interlock with yours whenever you two are walking.

If you're out patrolling together, she'll want you two to share her horse, Shimmer, if only just so she can wrap her arms around your waist.

And don't even get me started on how clingy she is once you two are alone and she doesn't have to worry about the wandering eyes of the public.

If you two are having a quiet night in watching a movie, you're sitting on her lap, end of discussion.

If you dare to get up early before her, too bad. She's putting you in a vice grip, practically smothering you with her limbs and gentle kisses to make you stay.

You are the only person who grounds her and home to her is wherever you are.

Ellie often worries if she's strong enough to keep you safe and sound and alot of her nightmares include all the ways she could lose you, too.

You're the very air she breathes and your smile, your kiss, your laugh, is what keeps her heart beating.

And with just one look from her intense green eyed gaze, you can feel the warm love overflowing from her.

Come hell or high water, Ellie will do anything to keep you alive. No matter how dangerous.

Even if it leads to her getting blood on her hands, it is those very bloodied hands which will hold you so tenderly. For as long as you'll have her.

#the last of us #tlou2 #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x reader smut #ellie williams imagines #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams headcanons #ellie williams headcanon #tlou x reader #tlou headcanons #tlou imagines #tlou fanfic

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allmoshnobrain · 7 days

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Hello

So i was thinking of 16 and 3 with 80s jason

this was such a fun request to write and i'm honestly in love with jason on this. hope you enjoy reading it, love <3

from this prompt list │requests are open! send yours here

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

jason newsted x reader │ word count: 3,1k

"I'm gonna kiss you. Cool?" he asked, and you blushed, giving a shy nod. "Man, didn't the guys you've been with ever kiss you?" "Not that much," you confessed, and he let out a chuckle. "You need to pick your partners better." "Quit giving me a lecture and just do it," you retorted, and he laughed before leaning in to press his lips softly against yours.

✦ warnings and tags: NSFW!!!, jason newsted x female!reader, +18, language, mxf sex, protected sex (yay), oral sex, friends with benefits, pre-metallica jason (early 80s), reader is inexperienced but not a virgin

The soft hum of the ceiling fan filled your bedroom as it valiantly battled the stifling summer heat with a gentle breeze. You sighed, tearing your eyes away from the open magazine and glancing over at your best friend sprawled out on your rug, absorbed in your Atari video game.

You and Jason had been buddies since high school. You actually met him through your brother - they were in a band together for a bit before your brother bailed to help out your dad with the family business. But even after that, Jason just became a regular fixture around your place.

It was pretty common for the two of you to hang out in your room all day, reading comics, watching movies, or playing games together. Jason was a solid friend - he was chill, funny, and always looked out for you. It felt like he was practically part of the family by now. Your parents and your brother loved having him around, and you couldn't deny you felt the same way.

"What's with the sigh?" Jason asked, and you blinked, glancing down at him to see he'd paused his game, resting his arms on your mattress as he peered up at you, a mop of brown curls framing his face.

"What sigh?" you frowned, and he rolled his eyes.

"You just sighed. The upset kind of sigh," he explained, and you raised an eyebrow. Yeah, maybe after years of hanging out, Jason could read you like a book. It wasn't exactly news, but it still caught you off guard sometimes, how effortlessly tuned in he could be.

"It's nothing," you replied, and he raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. You blushed, shifting your gaze back to your magazine.

"Come on," he nudged your arm, and you huffed, glancing back at him. "I can tell when you're upset. What's up?"

"I'm not upset," you retorted. "Just... Ugh, fine. You remember that guy Flint?"

"That jerk Flint Jones?" Jason snorted, and you chuckled.

"Yeah, well, we went on a date yesterday."

"Damn, sweetheart," he laughed. "No wonder you're feeling some kinda way."

"Oh, shut up," you playfully nudged his head with your foot, and he snorted, grabbing your ankle and moving your foot away from his head. "He's hot, okay? But it's all surface. We went back to his van afterwards and... Well, it was terrible."

"Did he hurt you or anything? You want me to kick his ass?" he asked, suddenly serious, and you laughed.

"Unless you think he deserves a beatdown for having the smallest dick ever," you replied, and Jason snorted, blushing. "Nah, it's all good. It's just the same old story, you know? He just wanted a quick fuck, but he was all about himself. So I bounced," you paused, frowning. "...And then he had the nerve to call me today just to say I’m a bitch."

"Wait till your brother finds out about this," Jason whispered, menacingly.

"Oh, hell no, you're not telling him. I don't need my brother getting all up in my business. As far as he's concerned, I'm still as innocent as they come," you chuckled, then grimaced. "I mean, it's not that far off. I've only been with three guys, but every time it's like, why did I even bother?"

"It was that terrible, huh?" he asked, gently, propping his chin in his hand, and you nodded.

"Sorry. Too much information?" you grinned, a bit shyly, and he returned the smile.

"Not at all. You know you can tell me anything. Even about your awful sex li... Ow!" he laughed as you swiftly left your sitting position to kneel down, giving his head a playful shove before sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Shut up, Newsted. Just 'cause you're getting lucky doesn't mean you can rag on my sex life."

"Who said I'm getting lucky?" he chuckled, blushing a bit, and you rolled your eyes.

"Are you serious? I don't know what you did to her, but my friend Carol won't shut up about how amazing your night was. Like I wanted to hear all the details!" you exclaimed. Jason laughed.

“I could show you what I did to her,” he blurted out. You froze, raising your eyebrows at him. "Uh, I mean... You said you've never had a good fuck, so I thought maybe I could..." Jason trailed off, his words stumbling out awkwardly. "I just thought... Maybe if you had a decent one... Okay, forget it, I'm sorry."

"No, no, it's cool," you replied hastily. Sure, you hadn't exactly fantasized about getting down with Jason, but you couldn't deny he had his charms, muscular arms and toned body matching the most beautiful wavy hair, blue eyes and a warm smile. Plus, you were sick of your own lackluster experiences and the hassle of trying to score in this town. There was just one hitch: you didn't want things to get weird between you two. Your friendship was cool, the coolest kind there was — you could count on Jason for everything, and he could count on you as well. You didn’t want this to change. “It’s just… Won’t that make things awkward?”

“It doesn’t have to. We’re friends, right?” Jason answered, shifting to sit beside you on the bed with a soft grunt. "I mean, if you're gonna dive into this, might as well do it with someone you trust. Better than messing around with Flint Jones," he joked, and you laughed along.

"You're such a dummy," you teased, feeling your cheeks warm as he inched closer, his hand finding its way to your cheek. “What the hell are you doing, Newsted?”

"I'm gonna kiss you. Cool?" he asked, and you blushed, giving a shy nod. "Man, didn't the guys you've been with ever kiss you?"

"Not that much," you confessed, and he let out a chuckle.

"You need to pick your partners better."

"Quit giving me a lecture and just do it," you retorted, and he laughed before leaning in to press his lips softly against yours.

The kiss started gentle, a bit awkward at first, but you soon started to ease into it, feeling Jason's lips soft against yours. His scent, so familiar, surrounded you as he pulled you closer, his arm wrapping around your waist. You found yourself leaning in, one hand resting on his thigh, letting out a little sigh as he nibbled on your lower lip.

“It's sweltering in here," you muttered, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks, saying it more as an excuse to take a small breather. Jason chuckled softly.

"I got you," he grinned, pulling your shirt off. You blushed, heart racing as his eyes roamed over your body, then meeting yours. "You okay?"

"Yeah," you replied, biting your lip. "Yeah, keep going."

He grunted, nudging you to lie back as he settled on top of you. You trailed your fingers along his stomach, tugging at his shirt to get it off. Your cheeks flushed as he leaned in, planting soft kisses along your jawline, working his way up to your ear, sending delightful shivers down your spine.

“Gonna teach you what a good fuck feels like,” he murmured, his voice gravelly as he pressed himself against you, his hardness meeting that warm spot between your legs. You sucked in a sharp breath, gripping his hair. "Feels good?" he asked softly, lips trailing along your neck before returning to yours, his body pressing against yours. You nodded, meeting his gaze, cheeks heating up; Jason had never looked at you like this before, his eyes full of desire as he watched the way you opened your mouth slightly, small sighs of pleasure escaping your lips as you felt the pressure of his hard cock against you.

"Jase..." you whispered, reaching for his pants zipper, but he groaned, swiftly grabbing your wrists and holding them above your head. You let out a little whimper of protest, but he chuckled softly.

"Take it easy," he smiled. "Got a few tricks up my sleeve to show you first."

"Like what?" you breathed, and he grinned before letting go of your wrists, sliding his hands down to your back to unhook your bra. You couldn't help but sigh, feeling your cheeks heat up as he traced circles around one of your nipples with his finger, teasing it until it stiffened. He gave it a gentle pinch, and you couldn't hold back a soft moan.

"Has anyone ever touched your boobs like this?" he murmured, planting a soft kiss on one of them, and you shook your head no. He licked his fingertips to give them a little lubrication before teasing your nipple again, giving it gentle pinches and pulls. With a grunt, he took the other into his mouth, and you couldn't help but moan as he sucked on it, his tongue swirling around your nipple while he massaged the other with his hand. "Gonna make sure you know how amazing it can feel, babe."

"Oh," you gasped, fingers tangling in his hair as you instinctively moved your hips upwards, feeling a rush of pleasure and excitement. He pulled back briefly before latching onto your other nipple, teasing and squeezing the one he had just left wet and sensitive. Your eyes fluttered shut, breath coming in uneven bursts as you pulled him in closer. He continued to suck on your breast gently, leaving a little love mark as he unbuttoned your pants.

Your whole body tingled as he stripped off your pants and panties in one swift move. This was a whole different new experience for you; sure, Jason had caught glimpses of you in a bikini before, but being fully exposed like this was a first. Your cheeks flushed hot as he took in your naked form with a low hum, reaching out to grab your waist.

"You're so damn hot," he whispered, his own cheeks tinted with a flush. You sighed contently as he parted your thighs, his fingers exploring the warmth between them. A sharp moan escaped your lips as he teased your sensitive area, circling your wet entrance with his fingertips. "You're soaking wet, babe," he grunted, and you couldn't help but moan in response. He looked up at you. "You sure about this?"

"Yeah," you whispered, closing your eyes with a moan as he slid two fingers inside you, curling them gently. "Oh, Jase..."

"So damn warm and wet," he muttered, looking captivated by your reaction as he positioned himself between your legs, his warm breath against your clit. “I really wanna eat you out… Can I?”

"Yes, please," you whimpered, hips instinctively moving with his fingers as he curled them inside you once more. He chuckled, placing a gentle kiss on your inner thigh before diving down to your clit. A sharp moan escaped your lips as you felt the warmth and wetness of his tongue against your sensitive bud. "Jason..."

"Hmm?" he grinned up at you, his fingers working magic inside you. "You're squeezing around my fingers, babe... Feels good?"

"Feels amazing," you agreed, cheeks flushing. He went back to your clit, licking it in slow circles, and you couldn't help but moan, gripping his hair. A small gasp escaped you when he sucked on it, hips moving with his rhythm as you pulled him closer. He held onto your thigh, keeping you in place as he continued with increasing intensity, sending waves of pleasure through your whole body. "Jason," you gasped, eyes shutting tight as he kept his fingers moving inside you, pleasure building with every stroke. He pulled back momentarily, placing soft kisses on your inner thighs.

"It's alright, babe," he whispered, his voice low and husky. "I've got you. Just let it out..."

You whimpered, tugging at his arm until he was back on top of you. He kissed you deeply, his tongue moving with yours as he slid his fingers away, focusing on massaging your clit in slow circles. You melted in his kiss, pressing yourself against him as you felt your climax building, each wave crashing over you until you were moaning louder and louder, your whole body trembling under his touch.

"That's it, baby," Jason murmured, sliding his fingers back inside you and hitting that spot that made you cry out in ecstasy, your walls clenching around him. "Just let it all out... I've got you, honey."

"Jase, please..." you sobbed, burying your face in his neck as you attempted to push his hand away. "It's too intense, I can't..."

“It’s okay,” he whispered, planting soft kisses on your hair while easing his hand's movements. You let out a shaky sigh, still tingling from the pleasure as you came down from your high. He chuckled, brushing your hair back from your face, his body warm and sweaty against yours. "You enjoyed that?"

"Hell yeah," you replied weakly, and he laughed.

"You wanna keep going?" he asked, and you nodded.

"Just need a sec to catch my breath, please," you whispered, and he chuckled before getting up. You watched as he peeled off his pants and underwear, blushing when you caught sight of his arousal. He grabbed his wallet from your nightstand, pulling out a condom before taking hold of his cock with his free hand.

"Wanna learn how to put this on?" he asked, and you rolled your eyes.

"I'm not that clueless, Jason. I know how to do it," you replied, sitting on the bed.

"Well, you wanna lend a hand, then?" he asked, and you nodded, cheeks flushing. You took the condom from him, tearing open the package. There was a moment of hesitation before you took hold of him, running your thumb over the tip and spreading the pre-cum over his swollen head. He let out a grunt.

“Want me to suck you off first?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper as you moved your hand slowly. He let out a soft moan.

"I'd love it, but let's save it for another time," he replied, his voice husky. You blushed, the thought of a next time sending butterflies through your stomach. "Today's all about you, alright? Just wanna make you feel good."

"Well, you're killing it so far," you grinned, and he chuckled. You slid the condom on him, then leaned back on the bed, spreading your legs. Jason looked at you, stroking himself slowly with a sigh before getting back on top of you.

"There's still so much I wanna teach you," he whispered in your ear, and you let out a soft moan. "Loads of ways to make you lose it for me... You have no idea how sweet you taste."

"No one's ever talked to me like that before," you whispered, heart racing as you blushed. He grunted, planting soft kisses on your neck.

"Their loss," he replied before easing himself into you with a slow, steady movement. You let out a loud moan, clinging to him as you opened your legs wider to take him in deeper. He kissed your jaw, fully inside you now, your bodies hot and sweaty against each other. "You good?"

"I'm good," you whispered, and he let out a soft grunt before starting to move slowly. You buried your face in his neck, moaning as you felt him stretching you out, hitting all those sweet spots inside you. It was intoxicating, the mix of gentle ache and intense pleasure, far beyond anything you'd felt with anyone else. Your pussy throbbed, extra sensitive after your last orgasm, and Jason moaned your name, pulling you closer.

You curled your toes, lips seeking his out eagerly, knowing you wouldn't hold out much longer, the tension in your belly rising fast. Jason kissed you deeply, his tongue slipping into your mouth as he tangled his hand in your hair, your lips moving together in a frenzy of soft moans and gentle bites. You were completely lost in him, in the sensation of him thrusting into you, picking up speed as you gave in to the pleasure of each other's touch.

"Jase... I'm gonna cum again," you moaned, and Jason grunted, his thrusts getting harder as he used one hand to play with your clit, matching the rhythm of his thrusts with quick motions.

You let out a sharp moan, feeling his hot, ragged breath against your skin as he showered you with soft kisses, driving your hips forward to deepen the connection. It was too much; your climax finally crashed over you, tears of pleasure rolling down your cheek as you held onto him tightly, your body clenching around him. Jason groaned, his movements becoming wilder as he was carried over the edge by the intensity of your release. He buried his face in your neck, fingers gripping your hair as his body trembled, delivering a few final thrusts before collapsing on top of you with a shaky sigh.

You closed your eyes, giggling as he peppered your jaw and then your lips with kisses. He slipped out of you, and you scooted over to make room for him to sit beside you. You watched as he disposed of the condom and headed to your bathroom. He was back in no time, his naked form gleaming with sweat, face flushed as he ran his hand through his hair.

"What's got you smiling?" he asked, a small grin playing on his lips. He settled down on the bed, running his hand over your thigh.

"That was amazing, Jase," you said, and he chuckled, leaning in to give you a gentle kiss.

"You feeling weird now or are we cool?" he asked, a touch of concern in his voice. You smiled softly.

"We're good. We could be friends with benefits, right? I hear some folks actually pull that off."

"Yeah," he smiled at you, twirling a strand of your hair on his fingers. "So, does that mean we're gonna do this again sometime?"

"You were the one talking about all the lessons you had in store for me," you teased, and he chuckled softly.

"Okay. It's a deal, then," he replied, his eyes sparkling with mischief, making you giggle. "But hey, we better get dressed before your brother or your folks come back home. Pretty sure they wouldn't be too thrilled to find out how we spent our afternoon."

You burst into laughter, sitting up on the bed and rummaging for your clothes. As you watched Jason get dressed, a grin spread across your face, thinking about how rough it would be to go back to those crappy dates after experiencing how amazing it felt to be with him.

You couldn't wait to see what else he had to teach you.

#metallica #metallica imagines #metallica headcannons #jason newsted #jason newsted headcannons #jason newsted x reader #jason newsted x you #jason newsted smut #metallica x reader #metallica x you #jason newsted fanfiction #metallica fanfiction #ada writes fanfiction

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frownyalfred · 1 year

Note

Your borderline fic recaught my interest in being in the batfandom rn! I just keep seeing all those posts criticizing characterizations and lack of accuracy in fanfiction and posts in the fandom at large and it kept stressing me out, I’m here to have fun and play around. Your fics in general are awesome and you’re one of the authors my boyfriend suggested that helped pull me in originally, so it checks you’d make me want to stay around. <3 I hope this was okay to say! Keep up the awesome writing and I hope your day is going good <3

Hi anon! Thank you so much! I'm glad you're sticking around in the fandom, we're happy to have you here <3

Look, I've seen those posts too, and I can't lie -- they stress me out too. I've never claimed to write canon-accurate characters or straight from the comics plotlines. There are some authors who do that, and they're great! There's also a ton who don't, and they're also great.

Fanfiction isn't about being accurate to the canon source material. It's about writing your takes on characters, events, what-if scenarios, etc. This idea of "accuracy" only hamstrings writers, creators, and artists.

If I was being "accurate" to some DC source material, my Bruce would be very different. He would be meaner, and much more likely to hit/abuse his kids.

Do I like writing that? Hell no! And who's saying I have to?

This idea that fanon is somehow "ruining" canon and/or canon fanfiction is ridiculous to me. I keep seeing this kind of comics elitism pop up here and on TikTok, and it drives me nuts.

Fans have always, since the dawn of fanworks, taken characters and put their own spin on them. They've done things to your blorbo you hate, or that your friend hates, or your friend's friend really hates.

There was a comment by one TikTok creator on a similar post who asked people to stop telling her to "let people enjoy things" because she felt that that phrase was harmful to her involvement in and appreciation for the Batfamily/DC fandoms.

Well, I disagree. I think we should absolutely let people enjoy things, above all else.

So yeah. Write the OOC Bruce Wayne fic. Put together a Tumblr post about a chat between the Batfamily members that would probably never happen in canon. Draw Dick Grayson in short shorts with a boob window, which now that I say it, they might actually do in canon, but oh well.

Fanon/Fandom enjoyment of stuff like the Batfamily, Batman, Superbat etc is not somehow magically ruining canon. If your understanding and appreciation for canon can't handle when buttfucker69 on Tumblr woobifies Bruce for a mini a/b/o fic, then you need to challenge your understanding of fandom.

We don't gatekeep here. I certainly never will. And I will keep fighting on this point until I eventually leave this godforsaken hellsite.

You are a valid fan even if you don't read the comics. You are a valid creator even if your fic/posts are OOC. Your fanon and fandom experiences are VALID.

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thedevilsoftruth · 1 month

Text

Lesson

Paring: ( COMIC ) Mr. Knight x AFAB reader

Warning: porn with no plot, smut, Mr. Knights gloves, mdom/fsub dynamic, crying during sex, rough sex, unprotected, dirty talk, biting, use of, " baby/baby girl " ( 641 words )

Notes: tiny drabble. THIS IS COMIC MR. KNIGHT, SO THIS IS NOT STEVEN, THIS IS MARC. We need more comic MK smut, so I'm trying to make that happen. Im reading the midnight mission rn and I'm like.. so down bad for Mr. Knight rn I think I'm going crazy.

He wore white leather gloves. White leather gloves that would go onto his large hands that'd be circling around your swollen clit at the very end of his day when he needed you most. He would keep his clothes on, only sliding his pants down so he could enter you. He'd have you on his lap, your back against his his chest as his rammed into you and kept his face into the crook of your neck. He had his mask pulled halfway up to his nose so that he could kiss you when he wanted to.

This wasn't what he usually did after a long night of kicking people's ass, but he needed to blow off some steam. But you guessed he was getting bored of the same ol' same ol' because he pulled out and flipped you over on your back on the blue sofa in his office. He sat down on his knees and re-entered you, his thrusts starting out more aggressive than they were before.

" I hope you're proud of yourself. " he grunted, running his gloved hands smoothly down your thigh, lifting it and planting a tender kiss on it before biting down on your skin. You winced at the contact, legs shaking from the previous 2 rounds he had gone on you.

" You have very simple rules; don't bug me when I'm working. But you just had to come here, begging me for my attention, huh? " He said with a chuckle, grasping your breast and twirling your nipple around his thumb. Your eyes were watery and your nose was burning. Nothing left your throat but endless cries and pathetic moans. You felt weak under his control. He had you wrapped around his finger, but even though it was hell you weren't letting go.

" Looks like someone needs better training, hmm? " He chuckled darkly, pulling you closer and wrapping a hand around your neck. You let out a choked cry, and a cold tear ran down your cheek as his speed seemingly increased.

Mr. Knight enjoyed this position because he could see your face. He could see how you reacted when he touched you and could see the marks he left on you. In this instance, the torn pantyhose and wet thighs, the bite marks and the scratch marks. He brought his gloved thumb up to your lips, playing with them as they foamed out drool down the side of your face.

" Poor baby girl. can't even handle 3 rounds. You close? hmm? " He cooed, using his free hand to grasp your thigh as he felt you tightly clench around him. You could feel the muscles contract in your sex. This was your signal. Mr. Knight took the cue and slammed in as fast as he could, making you squeal and buck against him in anticipation.

" Mr.. Kni-- "

" Shut it. I don't want to hear anything from you right now. " He said angrily, putting his hand over your mouth and muffling your moans of pure pleasure. " all you need to do right now is cum for me like the good little girl you are. " He whispered, leaning down to kiss and bite on your collarbone. He sucked at the skin he bit, and you let out a tiny scream as you felt your release rising. Your pussy clenched around his cock as he fucked through your walls, signaling him you were close. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head, your body convulsing around his every touch.

" c'mon, baby. come for me one final time. " he panted, giving you his final thrusts before you lost control and began leaking around his cock. Soonly after yours, he spilled his hot spend into your warm cunt and pulled you.

" I hope you learned your fucking lesson. "

#moon knight comics #moon knight #marc spector #mr. knight #mr knight x reader #Mr knight smut #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #marvel mcu #jake lockley #steven grant #marvel smut #marvel comics #Mcu smut #comic mr knight #comic mr knight smut #marvel comics smut

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justxtalking · 2 months

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I'm so mad right now and I need to rant. I know I should get over it, but I literally can't. It's so annoying to meet hxh fans in real life.

I'm buying bit by bit the volumes of yu yu hakusho and hunter x hunter (level e is not available in my country), and reading them (again). I got volume 28 and took some photos of some panels that I liked and shared them as a collage in my story. It looked nice, I liked it and I am really happy that I finally got it. The thing is that a friend I haven't properly talked to for I don't know how long saw my story and realized that I liked hxh. We started talking, but damn, I don't regret sharing what I bought, but why are people like this? This is the second time it happens to me (third time if I include a non-fan but knows hxh): everytime someone hears that I like togashi's work, they start complaining about the popular hiatus (as if he's the only mangaka who does that). I so prefer to meet the guys who act all surprised everytime I go to buy a hxh volume in the comic book store. At least they try to make a conversation about the story and just ask me about my favorite character.

My conversation with this guy started with him just complaining about how togashi doesn't continue the story and he should leave it to someone else but he's too proud and blablabla. I tried to be sympathetic since he seems to be a fan of his work from years ago, but I did defend togashi a whole lot (he said I should stop defending him but never in my life I would do such a thing). I find it awful how some fans still put so much pressure on togashi to continue hxh when we know about his condition. And to just leave the story to someone else? It's clear that those people haven't done anything close to a story to say that.

I literally already made peace with the fact that I don't need an ending. As a fan, of course I want to know how it ends. But also as a fan, I don't want him to sell his soul to the devil only to know the ending.

And something I said to this guy was that he should make his own ending, I have mine and I will throw it away when hxh ends. It was literally a joke to lighten up the situation and it wasn't even something to focus on because in between I was saying other things. And he literally focused on that and said "don't let it be fujoshi" (used as an insult) and I'm here like: are we back into the 2000s and nobody told me?

1. What is the problem?

2. Why do you care?

3. We didn't even speak about any kind of ships, what are you trying to say?

4. Are you sure you know what type of story you're reading?

And this question is for me: How am I meeting dude bros in real life? Why are they in the WILD? AND HOW THE HELL DID I BEFRIEND ONE YEARS AGO WITHOUT ME KNOWING? I want a friend who also likes hxh and togashi's work to talk, but not like this </3

I'm so tired of these kind of people. While living my life outside of the Internet and just being in my corner of the fandom living the great life, I tend to forget that they still exist and there are people who still act like this. What annoys me the most is that literally, they don't know what type of story they're reading. They like to say they like hxh because they know it's good and it gives you some kind of "status" within the anime community because togashi is a really good mangaka and someone who influenced a lot of people within the manga community. Without him, shonen as a genre wouldn't be the same. But then, they also choose to ignore what they don't like about his work, like the queer elements. It's highly known that togashi loves to play with gender and sexuality, but that's only a fact for them when they find it convenient. If you don't like it, don't watch/read it, but it's ignorant and blatant stupid to just act as if it's not there and talk shit about other people only because it's uncomfortable to you. And I'm not even saying that everyone should analyze the story, some people just like to enjoy it and move on with their lives and some others don't know how to analize it, but one thing is that and another thing is just to close off to the possibility when it's clearly there. But of course, the others are sick, not them who are clearly homophobic and don't want to admit it. They should ask themselves why do they get so mad about the possibility of two kids being together romantically and just work on themselves. What's worst is that this guy even said to me he likes NANA and I don’t want to know what kind of interpretation he has because DAMN

To be honest, sometimes I'm a bit surprised about how well togashi seems to know the anime community, but of course he does, he's being a fan for how long now and he's being a mangaka for how long. And I so hope he keeps trolling because DAMN these people are annoying

The worst part is that these fans wouldn't even be friends with togashi or wouldn't like him as a fan because togashi really does look like the type of fan they would hate. Togashi likes BL, mpreg, obscure stories, horror (body horror even) and science fiction (both genres who allow and are known for queerness), he used to make doujinshis (even in an era that was even more bad looked upon than now), he likes to draw bishonen characters (even in a time which was more common to see buff characters in shonen), he drew gender-bender designs of kurama and hiei, he included a homoerotic art of kurama and karasu (a friend made it for him i think) in his doujinshi, he wanted to make a shonen with gay characters and crossdressing and the list goes on and on. He likes so many things that these others fans are disgusted by and it really looks like they don't know who they are admiring. The reason why ending D got so much negative attention when it came out is because it doesn't sound believable that a mangaka like togashi himself, the same person who made level e and is constantly worried of making an interesting story, would make such a bland and heteronormative ending in a story like hxh no less.

They should just shut up and go do their homework instead, they look ridiculous.

And no, I didn't answer this guy again and I don’t think I will, though I really want to troll him.

#hxh #togashi #justxtalking #rant is over #I've been trying to study korean but couldn't focus so i came here #me correcting the typos after i posted it #and by the way he doesn't like killua but loves gon #who hurt him so much

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phoniexrose02 · 8 months

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Vanilla Brown Pound

Tory Nichols x Black! Reader

Stud! Reader

Smutt~

Tory had Been Having a Pretty Rough Week, Between The Karate War and Multiple Jobs She'd Had Little Time to Spend With you. But She Looked Forward to Going back to school, You'd Both Missed EachOthers and she Constantly Texted you whenever she had the Time.

You Both Skips Class at the First given Opportunity, Splitting off to a Handicap Bathroom. She Shoved you into the Wall and the two of you Finally Locked Lips, She Moaned Happy in your Mouth before Finally pulling away.

"I Missed you~"

"I Can See that babe" You Wrapped your arms around her waist and Pulled her Close, She Played with your Short Locs and Smiled." How's your first day back?" Tory Shrugged letting out a Frustrated Sigh."Larusso's already Giving me Shit, You know her Fuckin' Mom showed up to me Job and got me Fired?"

"Fuck, Do you Need Help? I can Come up with the Cash-"

"No! no...I'm Fine, I just want you" You Smiled Pulling her in For another Kiss. She Moaned a bit as she Felt your Tongue Piercing."When's your Next Day Off? Let me take you out" She Huffed Shrugging, We Can Chill Tonight After my Shift"

"Good! I Got something I've been meaning show you" You gave her another Small Peck Before you Both Exited the Stall, You walked her back to Class Before returning to your own. After School you Returned Home to a Quiet Home. You'd Done Everything you could While Waiting for you Loving Girlfriend to get off Work.

Homework, YouTube, Hell you'd Even Read a Comic you'd Gotten from Demetri. But as it Grew late, you Looked out your window to reveal Darkness. You Huffed Before Grabbing your Phone Once again, you heard a Knock Before your Bedroom door Opened."Y/n? Your Friend is here" Your Little Brother Pecked his Head into the Room.

"Thanks Kenny"

You Walked past the Young man to the Front Door Revealing Yours Girlfriend...Still in her Work Clothes."I'm so Sorry Y/n, They Kept me Later than I thought" You Smiled Pulling her into a Hug."Its ok Hun, Id Rather Not go out on a School Night." You Pulled her inside Quietly Walkin' Her back to Her Room."Do you want some Clothes? You are Staying the Night Yes?" She Nodded Throwing herself onto your Bed, a Sigh of Relief Came from the Young woman as she Snuggled into your Pillows."Ugh I think I Missed your Bed More than You" You Chuckled Tossing her a Big Shirt from your Closet."I wouldn't Blame you, We've got Good memories in this thing~"

She Quickly Strip from her Uniform And Tossed them at the end of you Bed. You'd Changed your Tv from whatever you'd previously Been Watching, To a Shared Playlist the two of you had Made. You Smiled when you Look back to see her In nothing more than your Shirt and panties.

"Didn't you have something you wanted to show me?~" She Hopped back into your bed waiting for your Response."Uh yeah, But i don't Think your Ready" you Teased and She Almost Immediately straightened herself up."Oh Come on, you Seemed so Happy to show me. You know I can Take it!" She Said In a Defense State, She'd almost seemed offended By your Statement."Mm~ I don't know, it's pretty Big. I doubt you can Take it~" You Were Shocked when you pulled you into bed and trapped you Under her.

"Tell. me." You Groaned as she started to Grind against you, Tory Branded a Cocky Smile Watching your Dominant demeanor Slipping."Shit! My nightstand it's in my Nightstand" You Huffed out Holding her Hips still, You Watched She Leaned over you to the drawers and you Watch her Eyes Light up, and a light Tent appeared on her Cheeks.

"You Dirty Dog~" she pulled off your lap pulling out a Strap-on, a Rather Big one."You said we a Bigger one, So?" She gave a Horny smile Before getting off the Bed."I wanna See it On you~" you got up an as you went to toy on she quickly grabbed your Hand.

"Naked."

She Bit her Lip watching you Strip out of you Clothes an Once You'd Strapped the Toy to yours Waist, Her Face turned Red When You Turned around, The Toy Standing at attention."Fuck you Look Hot~" She Lifted her Hips pulling off her panties.

"Let's Give it a Test Run Shall We?~"

You Nodded Pulling her By the ankle to the Edge of your Bed, You Bring your hand to Her Cunt Where She immediately Soaked your Fingers."Fuck No Lube i Take it?" She Spread her legs Giving you more access to her Dripping Cunt. You Wrapped your Arms around her Thighs Rubbing the Dick between her soaked Folds, She Whimpered as he Teased her more nearly Missing her hole and Nudging her Clit. She Played with her Nibbles threw your Oversized shirt Letting out soft moans as you Soaked the toy in your Juices.

"Ready Mama's?~"

"I was Ready 5 minutes ago you Tease" She Huffed out Already Tired, You giggled Before Grabbing her Hips and slowly pushing into her Heated Mound. She'd Grabbed at your Shoulders Digging her Nails in as Slide Deeper Inside, She found Comfort in your Gently Kisses to her neck. Once you'd Fully Seated the Toy into her Cunt, she was Clinging to you For Dear Life as you Massaged at her Hips."You Good?" You Whisper Nibbling at her Neck and Ear, She Let out a Strained Hum Wrapping her legs around your Waist Tightly."Yea Just Full~"

You Pulled slowly Thrusted inside her, as she Clung and Scratched at your Naked Back her Moans Filled you Ears as you Fucked her at a steady Pace,Your Pierced Nipples Rubbed against her Clothed Ones."Fuck Give it to be Baby,Harder!~" She let her hands grasp a your Dreads as you Plowed Her Deep."Fuck, Fuck I'm Gonna Cum!~"

You Were Rewarded Her Release as she Squirted on you and the toy."Damn, Tory that Didn't take you Long at all~" you Pulled the Dick from her Pussy, and she twitched slowly Pulling off. You unstrapped letting out a Sigh of Relief as the Cold Air Hit your Warm and Throbbing Clit, an the Toy itself was pretty soaked from Tory."Your telling me? You look pretty Excited over there as well~"

You'd Usually Didn't Focus Much on you own Pleasure, Mostly just Pleasing Tory, knowing that you make her Feel this Good." I'm good Baby, I know your Tired-"

"BullShit Get Back Over Here" She Slowly Sat up hissing at the Throbbing between her legs."Tory you've been working your ass-"

"Here. Now." Your Cheeks Warmed an you slowly Nuzzles into her Embrace, You Laid side to side and you Jerked When Both of you Wet Pussy's Touched.You Both Laid Legs Tangled and Face to Face, Tory Held you Waist Close to yours, Grind Both of your Clits.She pulled you into a Kiss as you Arched into her an let your Hands Roam Under Her Shirt.

You Grasped and Played with her Boobs Making her Moan into your mouth an Playing with your Pierced Tongue. You Two Grinded into each other Chasing your Orgasms."God~ it's so Fuckin' Wet~" She Giggled and lifted your legs to her Waist, softly Humping at you clit More.

You Let out a Quiet Sob as you Scissored Both your Wet Pussy's an you Shivered Making Tory Smirk."Got your Legs Shaking already My Love?~" you couldn't respond as she sped up."Fuck! Fuck Tory!~" You Two Seemed to move in Sync as you Cum Mixing you Juices as Tory Follows Close Behind."See, Now we can Both Rest Easy~" she pants out and you pulled up your Covers and you Both fell to Sleep Cuddling EachOther Close.

Cobra Kai 🐍

#black reader #tory nichols #tory nichols x reader #Tory Nichols x Black! Reader #tory Nichols smut #cobra kai #Vanilla Brown Pound #Cobra Kai x Black! Reader #peyton list

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choctalksalot · 7 months

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If Jake is based on archetype of Strong Female Character then I think he should get Evil Woman arc. Let him snap and go bananas. Sburb is his stage and he is gonna became a star, and break fourth wall and if needed all the walls. I just really want Jake to go batshit. And then better but first batshit. And fight with crockertier! Jane because I think it would help them both to have a proper scream match and some stabbing or two.

admission: i have let this ask stew in my drafts for months because i had exams, and also because i needed to fully process everything in this singular paragraph because it threw a wrench in my jello sack processor

so, in short:

thank you for this ask anon holy shit i love getting asks about this stuff i am full of words about it !! that being said

I AM QUESTIONING THE CLASSIFICATION OF HIM AS STRONG FEMALE CHARACTER. I AM SO VERY QUESTIONING IT

that statement triggered a fucking. sleeper agent in my brain because i disagree so hard so so hard, oh my god i'm. okay technically it's a half disagree. sliver of agreement in there but it's for a very specific scenario that I need TIME to explain (which i now have so Buckle Up)

if you want my aabsolute shortest shorty short response to this ask it's yes, i think jake deserves to go batshit insane, i would like nothing more than to see him be a petty deranged bitch. king shit honestly!! But Not In That Way Slash Manner. okay now WORDS

so, we have the idolization/I Know What You Are he has with lara croft. we have all his big talk about being an adventurer, we have fisticuffs and guns and sparring with a bot, but, as many posts before this have pointed out in much more depth than i can attempt to surmise, jake is not that. motherfucker is a coward, avoids conflict like the plague and plays up an oblivious front to dodge responsibility (god i still can't read the jane confession scene without screaming look at that fucking LIAR)!! a defining aspect of jake's character is his continuous lack of agency throughout the comic too, which is a rabbit hole i'm not going down for the sake of my sanity and your patience [:

point is, in the words of a shitton of other people: he's a hapless bimbo archetype, or at least attempts to embody it!!!!

he wants to be a strong female character, makes an idol out of an example of them (lara), but in the end the narrative itself bends backwards to call him pathetic. point and laugh at the moron in the piss coloured underpants. something something, yet another case of lost potential

there are specific circumstances under which jake does hit as a strong female character. that's getting old i'm gonna shorten that to sfc now. big thanks to tony crazyexdirkfriend for this perspective because the one angle where i can read jake as an sfc is from an extremely meta perspective, in reference to how he's built up to be someone with a lot of importance/skill/competence, while in reality his agency is pretty much moot. it's an empty label, all his "strength" is superficial and falls away once you look any deeper than the upper epidermis. that's neat as hell!!!! i don't think that's the take you were going for, but it is an angle i enjoy and appreciate <:

that being said, even with this and any accurate read of jake really, him having an evil woman arc will have to take place in a specific set of circumstances methinks,, like mfer is probably actively performing an insanity act for Some Reason, an angry tired jake is more likely to revert to sopping wet bawling retreat anger than anything else. letting him snap and go bananas will only work if you character arc his ass enough to change a fundamental part of him!!! and a crockertier scream match is more in jane's favour for. y'know all the years of being a vent box for him. which i don't think is accessible on a count of, y'know, Literal Mind Control

i am the no.2 supporter on the Let Jake Be Batshit train (only second because i know at least four people who'd tie for first) but i don't think he'd seek out attention from beyond the 4th wall. because he can't handle the pressure of being perceived. no walls have ever needed to be broken for jake english to be a star - he's always been performing!! for the people around him, for the narrative, to be the oblivious himbo that never meant to do any wrong. the core of jake english and what drives him to extremes has always been to be liked, and to be safe. maybe those two things are the same to him. it gets suffocating, y'know? and when something gets too much, jake does what he's always done: he runs.

so yeah, no, i don't think so. do let him be a catty bitch tho!! he deserves that [:

#choc talks #homestuck #hom3stuck #homestuck meta #jake english #dear god what have i done #most of this is nigh incoherent to me but eeehhhh fuck i need to get this out #hbluh

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angels-and-glitters · 3 months

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I need to COMPLAIN.

This is gonna sound edgy nerdy not so girblogger coded but let me getto out of my silly girlie pop character for a minute i am RAGING.

For context two days ago i suddenly remembered that WEBTOON exists after trowhing it in a black hole in my mind, so i re download it and i start reading one. Apart from the endorphines i forgot a good webtoon gave me,

(whole other talk about redescovering old intrests !!!even if they look silly!!! when you feel a dry mind)

I finished it in a couple of days, and as i usually did when concluding a webtoon, a comic or any possible thing i liked, i start looking for the edits so i can imagine myself being in that universe while playing them.

(its a physical need i swear)

(No judgment let me being a cringy kid at the sound age of eighteen thanks)

(Its a guilty pleasure.)

Getting to the point. I am in DISAPPOINT.

What the fuck are these dry stupid no personality rage triggering edits.

They are MID.

Feel free to be' offended i stand where i stand

What the hell are these kids doing!?!

I had to scroll through YEARS to find the good ones.

So i started my reaserches.

First of all, i got to the sad conclusion that instagram edits are going through extinction.

Back in the days (☝🏻) when tik tok (musically for the ancient) wasn't that big of a thing for edits, you went on instagram (at least i did!!) And they were TOP TIER.

Masterpieces.

I would've hanged them on my walls if they were physical.

They were energetic, fresh, powerful, you could tell who's edits were by they're style because the editor's styles were so different one another.

They fitted the medias perfectly and don't let me start on the transitions.

They were immaculate.

Perfect to the millimeter.

These type of edits made me immerge in the media even more, i had my favourite edits saved, (a LOT), and i watched them every night before going to sleep multiple times, they were a lullaby to the mind.

But on my trip to these new (and few) Instagram edits... I was horrified.

First of all, no character whatsoever is put in these digital scums, the personal style is gone.

Probably due to these ages generations who wants to look the same be one another fit into something precise (I dont have the strength to start another fuss I'll just keep going with my silly polemic) but the transitions.

They are MID MID MID even terrible.

Actually I hate them.

There is not an ounce of effort in those disturbing sliding of images.

There isn't flow, variations,good blends. They all look like they were made by 10 year olds (wich is prob the case) and don't tell me oh it's just the age they'll learn as they grow.

No.

I want the twelve year old freaks that edited like it was they're last day on earth.

Like theyre life depended on it.

Where did they go?!?

What's wrong with this generation? why didn't they pick up the heredity theyre ancestors gave them?

Why did they throw it all away?

Why are they descending into this madness abyss?

And the music choices.

Disgusting

They never match the mood of the fiction, or worse the mood of the edit itself.

And honestly they're just boring ass songs.

Now, what I said about these Instagram edits applies also for the tik tok ones, but with some differences.

First of all, because there's much more editors on tik tok now, luckily there are some exceptions.

Some good stuff that's going on, but for me it's still not enough. From the parameter of the golden age of edits, those edits are just.. average.

The average good stuff you save and lightly watch. Its hard to find an edit that makes you obsessed. It wasn't really back than.

And most of them still lack the personal style, that again, I think its crucial for the ideal enjoyment.

I also noticed that the capability of the editors changes based on wich media the edits are of.

Like for example the editors of jujutsu kaisen (dont ask me anything i didn't see it) aren't doing a so bad job.

Maybe because the target audience is older so are the editors, idk

But it still lacks something.

That sparkle that was there before

The one that made you crave to watch it again and again

Maybe it's just me who's lacking something I had before , and nothing else changed

In conclusion, I think the editing culture ended at the start of 2022.

Idk tell me you opinion so I don't feel crazy thanks!

(Sorry in advance for the bad english i'm not a native speaker or anything)

(Edit not sorry this is a masterpiece I should be employed somewhere my English is near perfection)

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crystalninjaphoenix · 4 months

Text

The Vault

A JSE Fanfic

SepticHeroes AU: Part 26

First Part | Previous Part

This turned out so much longer than I expected. But I really like this chapter so I don't mind as much and I hope you guys don't either XD It's about 7500 words, though, so be prepared for a long haul. Jackie tries to figure out what to do with the tape the guys found in JJ's apartment, and Marvin stops by with something that might help. Meanwhile, JJ is in prison. Yaaaaay :( This Vault place is a lot weirder than he expected, but at least he's not alone in there. Have fun reading :)

===============

Jackie had never tried calling the police on the Red Line before. He’d never tried calling any number on the Red Line that wasn’t to someone else in the League. But Lorelai told him that police stations could identify a Red Line when it called in and would treat him like a Hero. Even so, he was nervous as he dialed the police’s non-emergency number. Maybe it was because of this new villain. They could clearly access normal phone lines. But surely they couldn’t access the Red Line as well.

Someone picked up on the other end. “Daindover Police,” they said. It sounded like a young man.

Jackie swallowed his nerves. “This is Windstorm,” he said, sounding much more confident than he actually was. “I need to speak to whoever’s in charge of the Puppeteer case.”

A long pause. “Uhhhh... one second sir,” the voice said. And then music started playing.

They put him on hold? What the hell? Jackie didn’t even know police stations could do that. Well, he could wait. This operator was probably trying to call over a supervisor to ask what to do. Which, if the police call center was anything like the call center Jackie used to work at, would take a while.

He tried to relax while the hold music played. He sat down at his computer and looked through the games on there, but nothing really appealed to him. He tried social media, but nothing appealed to him there, either. He opened up some of his comic books but found they just made him nervous. The battles between Heroes and villains in them were once exciting, but now he just thought about how different they were from the events happening right now in his life. The comics never talked about a Hero’s friend being revealed to be a villain, and then that friend’s sister being revealed to be a hero who the friend was just trying to save.

... You know, maybe the comics were bullshit. With all he’d learned about the League recently, he wouldn’t be surprised to hear they’d taken some liberties with the fights Heroes had.

Finally, the hold music stopped. Jackie had left the Red Line on speaker so he noticed it right away, and quickly lunged over to scoop it up again. “Hello? Windstorm?” a voice was saying.

“Ace? Is that you?” Jackie asked.

“Huh, so it is you. Yep, it’s me, kid.”

“You’re in charge of the Puppeteer case?”

“Well no, but I am on the case. The guys know that you and I have a rapport, so I’m gonna be relaying whatever you said to Detective Michaelson. He’s the lead on this.” Ace paused. “So. Last I saw you, you were really hung up on the trial thing. Is this about that?”

“Kind of,” Jackie said slowly. “I think I’ve found some evidence that the Puppeteer wasn’t... That there’s more to this whole thing than just the Puppeteer.”

“You mean... an accomplice?”

“I-if anything, it points to the Puppeteer being an accomplice. There’s someone else in charge, a, uh—a mastermind behind this. And I don’t think the Puppeteer was entirely willing.”

“Huh. That sounds like some damn good evidence.” Ace was clearly impressed. “So are you calling to make some arrangements for dropping it off, or...?”

“Uh—not yet,” Jackie said slowly. “I-I want to make a backup of it first. But I needed to let you guys know that it exists. This mastermind villain—I-I think they’re called Anti-Virus—might go after it.”

“Kid, if they’re gonna go after it, you need to get it somewhere safe as soon as possible,” Ace explained. “Nowhere safer than the police station.”

“Villains have broken in there before. And Anti-Virus isn’t limited by, uh, physical space. I think—I think they’re a technopath,” Jackie whispered that last part, glancing at his phone and computer as he did so. “A-and this could be... i-it’s risky. I need to make sure there’s backups.”

Ace was silent for a while. Then he sighed. “I’ll see what I can do with what you’ve said. But until you hand this evidence over, the police aren’t gonna act. You understand that, right?”

“That’s fine,” Jackie said. “I-I just want to establish that I have it.” Then, from down the hall, Jackie heard someone knock on the apartment door. Chase shouted something, probably telling whoever it was to wait a minute. “I have to go now,” Jackie said.

“Alright. See you around, kid. Good luck.”

“You too.” And Jackie hung up.

Just in time, too. Chase shouted down the hall, “Jackie! Marvin is here!”

Jackie was surprised for a moment before he remembered that he’d given Marvin permission to come to his apartment to reach him. That was just the day before yesterday, but it seemed so long ago. “I’m coming!” Jackie shouted, putting the Red Line on the dresser and rushing down the hallway.

It was weird seeing Marvin in his apartment. He was standing there awkwardly, shifting from side to side, one gloved hand messing with the zipper on his jacket. Chase was sitting on the sofa nearby. Frosty had clearly been the one to open and close the apartment door, as he was standing next to it and wagging his tail excitedly. Chase whistled, and Frosty trotted over to him, where he received many scratches behind the ears.

“There you are,” Marvin said, eyes locking on Jackie. “I have something for you.”

“Iiiis it in that bag?” Jackie pointed at the bag Marvin had slung over his shoulder. It was gray and made of canvas, completely featureless.

“Yep.”

“Alright, put it down on the coffee table, then.”

Marvin nodded and walked over, Jackie right behind him. He set the bag down on the coffee table and took a couple things out. A black rectangular box, a plastic bag full of cables (or maybe just one?) and a cloth laptop case that clearly had a laptop inside—one of the bigger ones. “Whoa, what’s all this?” Chase asked.

“This is everything you need to copy that tape we found at JJ’s place,” Marvin explained.

“A laptop?” Jackie said doubtfully. “Uh... I thought we were trying to keep it away from digital spaces where Anti-Virus might be able to access it.”

“You’ve just decided to latch onto that name, huh?” Marvin muttered.

“Hey, it makes sense, doesn’t it? Don’t change the subject.”

“Heh.” Marvin grinned. “Don’t worry, the laptop’s been modified. I got all this from the Dismantler and her family. She personally went in and removed the camera, the microphone, and the parts it needs to access the internet. It can play and record video, but that video can’t be accessed through wireless means. The hard drive was also wiped, so there’s no chance of anything already being on there.”

“Hmm.” Jackie raised an eyebrow. “She’s very thorough. Or did you and your paranoia ask her to do all that?”

“Both. And I’ll point out that my paranoia is very well-founded.” Marvin shook his head. “I... realized recently that... Anti-Virus might know who I am. Not the identity I have now, I mean... who I used to be.”

“You mean your rogue Hero shit?” Chase asked.

“Yeah.”

“Well fuck. That’s bad.”

Marvin laughed. “Putting it lightly, yeah. But this bitch made Jameson control me. They made Jameson do a lot. And they have Timekeeper. I’m willing to risk my identity if it means... making things right for the two of them.”

Jackie wasn’t sure what to say to that. He’d never seen Spitfire Cat act so... selfless. Maybe this is closer to who he used to be. “I didn’t know you cared so much about Timekeeper,” Jackie whispered.

“I always thought he—she seemed like a real hero,” Marvin said slowly. Then he laughed. “And she clearly doesn’t like the League, so points for her in my book.”

Jackie rolled his eyes. “Okay, yeah, sure. Anyway, how do I work all this?”

“Dismantler included instructions,” Marvin said, unzipping the laptop case and reaching inside. He pulled out a folded piece of paper, just confirming that it’s there, and then put it back. “She also told me, but I don’t remember off the top of my head. I think you basically have to connect the VHS player to the computer with this special cable and then, uh... record it. And then you can... transfer it to another tape?”

“I’ll figure it out,” Jackie said. “I’m good with video software.”

“He really is, I ask him to edit my YouTube videos all the time,” Chase confirmed. “Also, uh... who’s the Dismantler? Should I know them?”

“No, uh, you guys have never met and I didn’t really talk about her,” Jackie said. “She’s a, uh... vvvvillain?” Uncertainty made that last word longer than it usually would’ve been.

“I don’t think what she and her family does counts as villainy, just crime,” Marvin said. “Besides, she’s only involved because it’s her family, so I don’t think she should count.”

“Isn’t her uncle Pathos?” Jackie asked.

Marvin started, surprised. “Don’t just say that!”

“Oh yeah, Pathos was that big villain, wasn’t he?” Chase asked.

“Yeah, til I whooped his ass and put him in prison.” Jackie grinned. “That was probably my first big battle as a hero. I mean, it was sort of easy, actually, but he had a reputation! That put Windstorm’s name out there. And all the villains I fought after that, holy shit there was a big spree that time last year.”

Marvin rolled his eyes. “There was a spree because you took out a ‘big villain’. When an organization like Pathos’s falls, two types of people appear. Those who want to be the next big thing, and those who were too scared of the local organized crime to cause chaos until it was gone.”

“...oh.” Jackie blinked.

“You seriously didn’t realize that until now?” Marvin snorted.

“Hey shut the fuck up.” Jackie put his hands on his hips. “It’s calmed down now! I handled it.”

“You did do that,” Marvin muttered reluctantly. “Anyway. Gw—the Dismantler also wanted to remind you about the Puppeteer’s mask. Do you still have that?”

“Uh... yeah,” Jackie said slowly. “I mean, after figuring out this guy was a technopath, I wrapped up the mask in a bunch of my spare clothes so they couldn’t really use the cameras or microphones in it.”

“Nice.” Marvin grinned. “Anyway. Dismantler pointed out that the mask could also be a piece of evidence. You just need to get someone else to notice the weird stuff that she did.”

“The weird stuff that pointed to it being controlled remotely?” Jackie nodded. “Yeah... I should take it back to Dr. McLoughlin for another scan.”

Marvin’s expression darkened. “You’re going to... you’re going to take it back to the guy... who messed up the scan in the first place. Even though he should have noticed it. You... you do realize how suspicious it is that he told you the mask was normal, right?”

“It could have been an honest mistake,” Jackie pointed out.

“Or it could be something else.”

“Don’t be so judgemental, bro,” Chase said, speaking up for the first time in a while. “Aren’t people innocent until proven guilty?”

“I—” Marvin was so surprised at Chase calling him out instead of Jackie that he didn’t have a comeback.

“Look, I get it, it’s weird,” Jackie said. “I agree. But I’m not going to go around being suspicious of everyone. I’ll keep it in mind that he did the scan wrong, but until I find proof that he’s... I don’t even know what you’re accusing him of—”

“I’m saying that he’s probably in cahoots with this Anti-Virus,” Marvin interrupted. “Or maybe he even is him.”

Jackie’s eyebrows shot into the air. “Ooookay. That’s a pretty serious accusation. And it’s one that I’m gonna keep in mind, but I’m not gonna jump to conclusions, okay? I’m gonna give McLoughlin a chance to explain what went wrong. He deserves a chance to do that, at least.”

“Not if he keeps tricking you,” Marvin muttered.

“I’d rather be tricked than go around doubting everyone!” Jackie snapped.

“Yeah, clearly.”

“I’m just saying there’s a line!” Jackie shouted. “I can’t think the worst of everyone, okay? If I thought the worst of everyone, we never would’ve found the tape! Because I would’ve written JJ off as secretly evil the whole time instead of talking to him! But he’s not evil, and he doesn’t deserve to be in jail! So I’m not gonna throw someone else in there based on what could’ve been a mistake!” He stopped, breathing heavily. Marvin and Chase were staring at him, gaping. Even Frosty was staring at him.

“Wow... never seen you go off like that, Jackie,” Chase said.

“I guess this whole situation is... getting to me a little,” Jackie muttered.

“That’s... fine,” Marvin said awkwardly. “Um... understandable. Y-yeah. I’m not... I’ll do my thing, you do your thing. I’m not gonna stop you. Uh... you can keep all this.” He gestured at the stuff on the coffee table. “But this is mine.” And he grabbed the bag. “I’ll... come by if anything happens.”

“Y-yeah.” Jackie nodded. “See you around, then.”

“See you.” And with that, Marvin walked over to the door and left.

Jackie sighed. The apartment seemed strangely quiet.

“Hey, uh... Jackie?” Chase said. “I get it about the JJ thing.”

“I just... I-I hope he’s okay,” Jackie said. “He’s tougher than he looks. But they sent him to the Vault. There’s a whole bunch of dangerous villains in there. That’s where they send the biggest threats. I hope he’s okay.”

Chase nodded. “Like you said, he’s tougher than he looks. I’m sure he can hold on until we’re able to get him out.”

“Yeah... yeah.” Jackie would believe that. He had to.

===============

Jameson didn’t remember much of the journey. He knew they traveled across land for a while, and then they traveled across the sea for a bit longer, but the car and boat didn’t have any windows, and so he quickly grew bored. Even though it was uncomfortable to sit straight up with tight handcuffs on, and slightly disconcerting to have people watching him, the lack of stimulation meant he soon fell asleep.

Was he really worth all this security? He hadn’t caused any trouble while in the police station. Did he really need four different people watching his movements at all times? He thought that, but then he remembered what he’d done, and he understood their caution. A villain who controlled so many people for so long should not be given any leeway.

“Hey. Get up.” Someone shook JJ’s shoulder. He opened his eyes and looked at them. It was one of the League Safety members—people without powers, or with very minor powers, who took care of all the everyday internal threats that Heroes were too busy for. Things like protecting League facilities... or overseeing the transportation of imprisoned supervillains. The LS people wore black uniforms with yellow highlights. Said uniforms included helmets with mirrored visors, bulletproof vests, and utility belts—where their main weapon, a neutrinalin dart gun, hung. But that particular weapon wasn’t necessary. JJ had already been injected before leaving the police station.

“We’re here,” the LS person said. “Get up.”

Jameson nodded, standing up. The LS person grabbed him by the arm, guiding him out of the boat.

So. This was it. Byrthon Vault.

The Vault was situated on a man-made island in the Irish Sea. It was closer to the UK than Ireland but big enough to hold villains from both places. All supers in this part of the world knew about the Vault. They’d heard about its towers and the tall, eight-sided wall surrounding the whole compound. But it was different to see it in person. The wall was a fifty-feet tall barrier of smooth metal, and the towers within rose into the sky like pillars of black rock. Jameson felt dread just looking at it.

A concrete path led from the docks to the wall’s singular gate, sloping up a slight hill as it went. Jameson let the LS person pull him up the way. Another LS guard walked on his other side, and there were two behind him. As they approached the gate—a pair of ten-feet-tall sliding doors with red lights in the center of each—Jameson almost froze up. Actually being here was giving him doubts. The whole thing felt so final. If he walked through that gate, he knew he would never be coming out again. He’d known that the whole time, but the reality of it was hitting him all at once now.

But he didn’t really have a choice, did he?

If you ever fail and get captured, you are not to say anything about me. You are to accept the full blame and take whatever punishment the law and the League give you. Likely, you will be sent to Byrthon Vault. If you protest this at all, I will terminate her. But if you are caught, I promise you no harm will come to her, and I will work to reverse her condition.

None of his messages with the blackmailer ever stayed on his phone for longer than an hour, but that one had been sealed in his memory from the moment he read it.

They stopped at the gate. One of the LS guards waved at a camera in the corner—or, that’s what JJ assumed that red light was. A panel slid open on the wall. The LS person pressed a keycard to it, followed up by a quick series of taps on a number pad. The camera’s red light turned green, and they went inside.

The area they walked into looked surprisingly normal after the imposing exterior. There was short gray carpet on the floor and white paint on the walls, and a woman sat behind a counter—though the counter was protected by bulletproof glass. “Hi, state your business?” she said pleasantly.

“Transfer from Daindover, Britain,” the LS person holding Jameson’s arm said.

“Right, we’ve been expecting you. Enter your access code there.” She gestured to another number pad sitting on the counter. One of the LS people walked up and tapped in another sequence. The woman typed something on a keyboard, staring at a computer screen. Jameson wondered if that computer was connected to the internet.

He wondered if they knew he was here.

“Alright,” the woman said. “Jameson Jackson, alias, the Puppeteer?” JJ jumped a little when she said his name.

“Yes, that’s it,” the LS person said.

“Great. Wait here for a moment.”

About thirty seconds passed in awkward silence before a door slid open next to the counter. Two people walked out, wearing uniforms similar to the LS uniforms, though with blue highlights instead and missing the helmets. With them was an older man with a salt-and-pepper beard. Tha man looked at Jameson. “This is him?” he asked.

“Yes sir,” the LS person replied.

“Alrigh’ then. You, Jackson, follow us.”

Jameson hesitated, then walked over.

“Cooperative,” the man grunted. “Good. I’m Daly, I’m in charge here. I hope you’ll understan’ quickly that whatever power you had out there, it’s useless in here.”

Jameson nodded. He felt the urge to laugh for a brief moment before it was suppressed by heavy anxiety. Power? What power?

They walked through a short hallway to a square room with nothing but two doors and a table that had a handful of items on it. One of the blue-uniformed people—prison guards, assumedly—picked something up from the table. Another neutrinalin injection gun. “Hold out your arms,” Daly commanded. Jameson did so, and the guard rolled up his sleeve and injected him right in the crook of the elbow. Made sense. His last dose had probably worn off.

The other guard picked something else up from the table. A black wand, also similar to something you’d see in an airport. The first put the neutrinalin gun down and took a set of keys from their belt, unlocking Jameson’s handcuffs. “Stand with your arms out,” Daly said. “Don’ make any sudden moves.” Jameson wasn’t planning to. He stayed perfectly still while the guard ran the wand over him.

After that was over with, the first guard picked up a bundle of cloth from the table and shoved it at Jameson. “Get changed in there.” Daly pointed to one of the doors, the one to the left. “I’m told you can’t talk, so knock on the door when you’re done and we’ll start the decontamination process. If you take longer than five minutes... well, don’t take longer than that.”

Jameson nodded. He took the cloth and headed into the other room, a space the size of a closet. He changed quickly into this new outfit—a white shirt, a pale green jumpsuit, and flimsy slip-on shoes—then knocked on the wall.

“Decontamination starting in three... two... one.”

JJ gasped, then quickly recovered when he realized that the robotic voice saying that wasn’t the same robotic voice he’d get phone calls from. But he gasped again when holes slid open in the walls of the room he was in. Jets of mist burst out, smelling vaguely medicinal, and droplets of liquid settled on his skin and clothes. Then a loud WHRRRR started as fans appeared and dried everything. Once the fans calmed down, one of the guards opened the door. “Step out,” Daly called from the room.

From there, the group headed through the room’s other door, down a long set of hallways, until they reached the main area of the prison. The cell blocks. Two of the Vault’s towers were dedicated to them, one for male and one for female. Obviously, this was the male block. It was... bigger than expected. The space was wide open, rows of cells stacked on top of each other, with catwalks reaching the higher cells. JJ counted six floors of cells. Everything was made of metal and plastic, all of it sleek and new-looking. And it was... quiet. So quiet. Pretty much the only sounds were JJ’s and the guards’ footsteps. That... must have been because it was early. Even so, the quiet made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

They took a lift up to the fifth floor and Jameson got a closer look at the cells. The walls were mostly solid metal, with the only exception being the door, which was made of a clear, bulletproof plastic. He glanced into the cells as they passed, but they were all too dark to see inside. It must’ve been lights out. But even so, was no one awake? Or curious about what was happening?

Soon, they stopped at a cell with a number plate reading 525. One of the guards took a key card from their belt and pressed it to a panel underneath that number. The door slid open. Jameson started to step inside, but Daly said, “One moment, 3117.”

Jameson tensed. Oh. Right. The jumpsuit had the number 3117 on the back and lapel. That must be him. He turned to look at Daly, tilting his head curiously. Instinctively he raised a hand to ask What is it? but then realized Daly probably didn’t know BSL.

“Hold out your hands,” Daly said. Confused, Jameson did so—and suddenly Daly snapped something around his wrists. Jameson started and pulled his hands back. These weren’t handcuffs. There was no chain connecting them. But they were two bands of metal now wrapped around his wrists, each about an inch wide but only a centimeter thick. “Congratulations,” Daly drawled. “You get some extra precautions. Those are magnetic pow-sup bracelets. When powered, that purple ligh’ across the middle will turn on, activatin’ power suppression and snappin’ the bracelets together. So don’ try anything, okay?”

Jameson nodded slowly.

“Good. Now, go on. It’s lights on soon enough, so you won’ get much time to rest before the roll call.” Daly made a dismissive go-ahead type gesture.

And with only a moment’s hesitation, Jameson turned around and stepped into the cell.

The door slid closed behind him. It was dark, but as his eyes adjusted, he could make out the cell’s features. It wasn’t too different from the holding cell back in the police station. The walls were metal. There was a single cot to sleep on, along with a toilet and sink to use. There was a small metal shelf jutting out from the wall close to the ground. Some sort of... table? To use while you’re sitting on the floor? Or was it supposed to be a chair? Maybe both?

Well... there wasn’t much to do in here. So even though Jameson had spent the whole journey here sleeping, he lied down on the cot and tried to sleep some more.

But he couldn’t. Now that he was actually here, the despair he felt was too much. This was really it, wasn’t it? Surely the others would have found the tape in his apartment by now. Surely, if it could be useful, it would have been used by now. Right? No. No, he shouldn’t think like that. Maybe the process was just slow. Everything would work out eventually. He just had to be patient.

But it was hard to hold onto optimism like that in the face of this new reality.

===============

Over the next two days, JJ got used to his new routine. The lights came on in the morning, and then about thirty minutes later there was an announcement over the intercom for roll call. They happened floor by floor, lasting five minutes each. When your floor was called, you had to hurry over to the central meeting area of your floor—which ended up being a suspended platform for floors two through six. Jameson was glad he wasn’t afraid of heights.

After your floor’s roll call, everyone there moved to breakfast. The cafeteria was in a different tower, connected to the two cell block towers by narrow hallways. The food wasn’t much to talk about. Bland, with a weird plasticky aftertaste. Forks and knives were not allowed. After eating, there was a short period where you had to either go back to your cell or go take a shower. Then a maddeningly long period of time later, it was lunch, which was almost exactly like breakfast.

But after that, you were finally allowed to go somewhere other than your cell or the cafeteria. The afternoon was a sort of free period—though it wasn’t really free at all if guards were watching your every move—where you could go to the courtyard, do chores like laundry and cleaning, or go back to your cell. Jameson wasn’t allowed to do chores, as security on him was still too high, but he could do the other two things. After the afternoon, there was another roll call, dinner, another chance to shower, and then, an hour later, lights out.

The routine didn’t bother JJ. Honestly, even the guards didn’t bother him too much. Sure, they were constantly watching him, but he was being watched all the time before this, anyway. Just through cameras instead of in person.

No, what really bothered him were the other prisoners.

Not because they were intimidating or scary in any way. In fact... it was kind of the opposite. Byrthon Vault was home to some of the most dangerous supervillains in this part of the world. Jameson recognized a good number of them, either from hearing about them on the news or from helping her on her superhero patrols. These people were supposed to be ruthless, merciless monsters. Either lifelong criminals or people who’d done one thing so terrible that they got sent here right away.

So... why were they all so... quiet?

He’d noticed it from the start. The other prisoners barely talked. Only when answering a guard’s question or mumbling to their neighbors during meal times. And once he noticed that, he began noticing other things. They were all so pale—even paler than expected for someone trapped indoors almost all of the time. Many of them had dark circles under their eyes. And others were very thin, basically skin and bones. Some of them swayed while they stood. Some of them slumped onto the tables during meal times. All of them stared at him, but none of them talked to him.

Jameson didn’t know what the fuck was going on, but he knew he didn’t like it.

He spent the free period of the first two days in his cell, but by the third he was so confused and curious about what was going on with the other prisoners—not to mention extremely bored and tired of napping so much—that on the third day, he finally visited the courtyard.

This was a wide open space, octagonal like the walls around the Vault. A mesh net stretched over the entire top of the courtyard—presumably to deter flying villains from swooping in and rescuing prisoners. The middle of the courtyard was dedicated to various sports and exercises. Around the edges were benches and tables for people to sit at. Everything was concrete, metal, and plastic.

Jameson looked around. Like the cafeteria, the courtyard connected to both cell blocks, so some prisoners from the female block were here, too. He’d noticed that they were just as pale and lethargic as the prisoners in his block. So whatever this was, it wasn’t just affecting them.

There were some prisoners playing basketball or trying out the exercise equipment. But it was only a fraction of the people out here. Maybe a quarter of them. Or less. And even then, only a quarter of those people were really enjoying the activity. Most of them were just going through the motions. Sometimes stopping what they were doing to stand there, or even to sit down.

This was really freaking him out. His plan was to go over and ask the friendliest-looking person what the hell was going on, but he wasn’t sure they’d be able to tell him anything. Not to mention how unlikely it was that someone here would know BSL. So, overwhelmed by the strangeness of this situation, he walked over to a bench and sat down.

He was tired. He wasn’t usually this tired. Maybe something about being stuck in one place and bored all the time made him tired. Sighing, JJ tilted his head back and closed his eyes for a moment—

“Hey!”

Then he jumped and opened them again. That was the first shout he’d heard in here outside of roll call. He looked around—and saw someone approaching him. A woman with dark, wavy hair. Not a guard, as he expected. But another prisoner. She had dark circles under her eyes but was otherwise moving with more purpose than he’d seen most others move with. Slowly, he raised his hand and waved at her, unsure what to do.

The woman stopped in front of him. “You’re from Daindover, right? In Britain?”

JJ nodded.

“Did Windstorm lock you up?”

He nodded again.

The woman scowled. “That bitch. Hope someone puts him in his place one day.” She punched her palm. “So. What did you do? Did it hurt him?”

JJ hesitated. Can you understand me? he asked.

She narrowed her eyes. “What is that? Are you making fun of me?”

He hurriedly shook his head. And then he patted his throat, trying to indicate his lack of voice.

“What? What is that?!” She leaned over him, scowling.

This wasn’t working! Jameson tried to show her the scar on his neck, tracing its faint line with a finger.

“Oh, now you’re threatening me?!” The woman grabbed his wrist. “Listen, I don’t know what kind of fucking bigshot you think you are, but these mean you can’t do shit in here.” She shook his arm, indicating the cuffs on his wrists.

He shook his head hard, started to sign I’m sorry but then remembered how poorly signing had gone before and scrambled for a new idea—

“Angela.”

The woman—Angela, apparently—jerked backwards. While she’d been getting up in Jameson’s face, someone else had appeared. Another prisoner. A man this time, wearing the jacket of his jumpsuit unbuttoned and sliding off his shoulders. He had bright red hair, cut close on his right but longer on his left, and—and purple eyes. Jameson stared at them for a second, at first processing their existence and then admiring their dark shade and how it contrasted the man’s brighter hair—and then he snapped back to his senses. Who was this guy? He looked vaguely familiar. “Soren,” Angela said curtly.

“What’re you doing?” Soren asked calmly.

“This bitch was threatening me!” Angela glared at JJ.

“You mean him doing this?” Soren mimicked the motion JJ had made to indicate his scar—which, JJ is now realizing, looked like the ‘I’ll slit your throat’ gesture people made to threaten others. “I think he was trying to show you that scar of his.”

Angela looked back at JJ, staring at him closely. “Well before that he was making all sorts of hand signals! Probably being fucking rude—”

“He asked if you could understand him,” Soren interrupted.

“How do you know that?!”

“Because I know British Sign Language when I see it. I could translate for you, if you let go of his hand so he can talk.”

Angela looked at JJ... and reluctantly let go of his hand.

“Right!” Soren said cheerfully. “So what was the conversation?”

“Asked him what he was in for,” Angela mumbled, sounding almost embarrassed.

Soren looked at JJ, who quickly started signing, I ended up taking control of a couple hundred people in my city and got them to commit various crimes. Including storming several buildings belonging to a tech company.

“Jesus, this takes forever,” Angela muttered.

Soren, meanwhile, looked intrigued. “Oh. So you’re the mind controller who came in from Daindover, huh? Is Windstorm still the hero there?” JJ nodded. “Hmm. Wonder if he’s gotten any better. He had the power, but was pretty new to it when I was there.”

Angela’s eyes widened. “Wait. Wait, he’s the—the string guy? Puppets guy?”

Jameson looked down, hiding the guilt on his face, and nodded.

“Oh. Oh, holy shit. I guess I should’ve, uh, realized. Uh—” Angela stood there for a moment, then abruptly turned around and left.

Soren watched her go, then looked back at JJ. “Don’t take it personally,” he said. “Angela isn’t dealing with this well. She’s always had a temper, and now being stuck here and feeling shitty all the time has made it worse. And I think she’s not used to feeling vulnerable. After all, Angela Lewis is the invulnerable Titanium.” He chuckled a bit, then sat down next to JJ. Now that he was closer, he could see how thin and pale he was—pale to the point of being practically paper white.

How do you two know about me? Jameson asked.

“We’re both from Daindover too. Word gets around about new arrivals, and people always listen up for their city.” Soren looked at him and smiled tiredly. “Anyway. What’s your name? Not your alias, I know that. It’s okay to spell it out.”

JJ did so, introducing himself as Jameson Jackson.

“Alliteration. Fun.” Soren held out a hand for a shake. “Soren Moizone. Nice to meet you.”

...oh.

Jameson suddenly realized why he looked familiar. He’d been on the news quite a lot. And that’s not all. A memory flashed through his head, vivid and real, of a past conversation.

I don’t get it. You could easily take down Pathos, Dahlia. Why don’t you? “Because as long as people like us keep him in line, things are better.” I still don’t get it. “If you suddenly take out the head of a big organization like that, the power vacuum can be worse than they were, y’know? See it all the time in comics about Heroes’ early careers. Everyone rises up to take their place.” So you’d rather fight him every month? “It’s not really a fight most of the time, I just show up and look intimidating and he’s like ‘pack it up, you lot, we’ve gone too far.’”

Soren Moizone. The supervillain known as Pathos. The man who’d held crime in Daindover and the surrounding area in his grip—until a year ago when Jackie defeated him.

“Ah. There’s the look.” Soren’s easy smile faded a bit. “The realization. Listen, I can’t really do much in here, unfortunately. Neither can you. Or anyone, really. I think we’re all the same in the Vault. But up to you if you want to be on speaking terms.”

JJ hesitated. Then he reached out and shook Soren’s hand.

Soren laughed. “You have balls, Jameson Jackson. Though I guess that’s evident, from what you just said you did. Daindover really has a problem with mind-controlling villains.”

It’s not really mind control, JJ said. My powers, I mean. It’s... body control.

Soren tilted his head. “Hmm? What’s the difference?”

I don’t hypnotize people, JJ explained. When the strings wrap around their wrists, I can move their bodies with my thoughts. They’re still aware. And it doesn’t just work on people. Anything shaped like a human can be controlled. I used them on dolls when I was a kid. His parents had been mildly surprised the first time they walked in on him putting on a show for his twin. But not too surprised. It ran in the family, after all.

“Fascinating. You’re right, that’s not really mind control, is it?” Soren mused. “But to be fair, mine aren’t, either.”

JJ blinked. Can’t you make people think the way you want them to?

“Common misconception. I don’t influence their thoughts, just their feelings. It’s not the same thing at all, no matter how much people on the news told you it was.” Soren chuckled.

JJ raises an eyebrow. That doesn’t make it any less dangerous. Another brief snippet of a conversation flickered in his mind.

“I swear, James, I’d never felt so scared in my fucking life before. If the feeling hadn’t stopped when I paused things I would’ve been frozen. But instead everyone else was frozen, ayyy. I suppose powers like that don’t work on me when I’m out of time.”

“Well you’re one to talk, aren’t you, Puppeteer?” Soren pointed out. “I overheard some guards chatting about what happened in Daindover. They were shocked. Though it sounds like the rumors were a bit exaggerated.”

JJ tried to laugh in agreement, but he couldn’t quite manage it. Silence fell between them. Jameson turned his attention to the rest of the courtyard and tried not to think about the fact that Pathos—a lifelong villain who she often fought—was sitting next to him. Though as he looked around, it did remind him of why he was out there. Can I ask you something?

“You can ask me, can’t promise I’ll answer.”

Everyone here is so...quiet, JJ said. And... tired. I don’t know how to describe it. But that can’t be normal, can it? Or is this just what it’s like in all prisons?

“What were you expecting?” Soren asked. “Did you think there’d be a riot every day? Like a TV drama?”

I thought there’d be conversation, at least.

“No, you’re right.” Soren’s face turned very serious. “This isn’t normal. How long have you been here, Jameson? A couple days?”

Three days, JJ said.

“So you’re going to start feeling it soon, then.” Soren leaned forward, resting his arms on his legs. “Have you noticed that weird taste in all the food? It’s a sort of... artificial taste, like someone put plastic shavings in everything. That’s neutrinalin. It can be injected or consumed. All the food for the prisoners has heavy doses of it.”

JJ nodded slowly. He’d been wondering that. Nobody had pulled him aside to give him a neutrinalin injection since he arrived. And yet, he still felt his powers out of reach when he tried to find them. Not to use them, just to see if he could.

“Now, neutrinalin is all fine for the short term,” Soren continued. “But if it’s in your system for too long, say three or four days straight, you start feeling a bit sick. Like a bad cold. And until the neut is out, that feeling will just keep getting worse.”

Dread pooled in JJ’s stomach. And yet, he still had to ask, Did you say N-E-W-T?

Soren laughed. “It does sound like that, doesn’t it? No, ‘neut’ as in short for ‘neutrinalin.’ It’s slang. Sometimes people call it ‘the muffler’ too, or ‘the League’s best friend.’ Guess you’re not in those circles, huh?”

JJ shook his head.

“Anyway. The reason why all these great and powerful villains are walking around like zombies is because they feel like shit all the time. Some of them for years straight. I think Havoc Cry has been in here the longest, you don’t see her around often cause she’s too tired to leave her cell most of the time. Which—look, I’m not gonna say she doesn’t deserve it after she basically destroyed London, but... no, I’m gonna say that. She doesn’t deserve it. She deserved to stay here for the rest of her life, just like Avalanche, Dr. Rundown, Death Angel, the Mutilator—” Soren pointed out each villain as he said their name. Jameson had heard of all of them, but he wouldn’t have recognized them like this. “—and most of the others, but the drugging is a bit much.”

Jameson covered his mouth, hiding the horror on his face. All these people... Sure, criminals and villains, the worst of them, but... he couldn’t help but feel terrible about it as he saw them all in this state. Does the League know about the side effects? he asked, looking back at Soren.

“Dunno.” Soren shrugged. “You don’t hear people discussing it, not even in the underworld. Some people in here mutter that the League made it that way on purpose, but I don’t think so. I think they just never thought about it during development. And if they know what’s happening in here, they don’t think fixing it is worth it.”

Jameson shook his head slowly. This was awful. People must not know. If they knew, they’d be horrified.

Soren looked doubtful. “Would they?”

Of course! Even the Heroes would be horrified. Or at least... Jackie would.

“Maybe.”

Jameson scowled. He made to stand up—but stumbled as a wave of dizziness overcame him. He started to fall, but Soren quickly stood up and caught him before he hit the ground. Thank you, he signed shakily.

“Don’t thank me, it’s not needed.” Soren helped him stand upright again. “Let me guess. Everything started spinning?”

That must have been one of the side effects. JJ went pale as he realized that everything was just going to get worse from here on. He nodded slowly. Why are you handling this sickness better than anyone else in here? he asked.

“That’s not something I’m keen to share.” Soren smiled, a bit of mystery to his expression. “Now. If you’re standing up, I’m guessing you’re leaving?”

JJ nodded slowly.

“Try to come to the courtyard as often as you can. Sunlight and fresh air’s good for you. Makes you feel a little better. I’m here most days. Or we could try to meet during meal times—if you want to meet, that is, but I’d love to hear from you some more. Talk about how things have changed in Daindover.”

That would be nice, JJ said. He knew he had to take this chance. Talking was a lot less boring than napping, but not many people in the Vault would be able to understand him. Soren knew BSL. And even though he was a supervillain, so was everyone else in here. So was Jameson. Soren seemed nice, at least. And... he liked the way he smiled.

“Great. I can try to find you. What floor are you on?”

Floor five, Cell 525.

Soren raised an eyebrow. “They put you up high. The higher your floor is, the more dangerous they consider you. I’m on floor three, in 316. So it sounds like I’ll have to wait for you in the cafeteria.”

I don’t know if I’m flattered or not that they think I’m so dangerous, JJ said, frowning.

“I’d be flattered. But they’ll probably move you down later if you don’t cause trouble.” Soren smiled tiredly. “In any case. Later, then?”

Later. I’ll see you around?

“Certainly. Goodbye for now.”

JJ waved a goodbye as well, then turned and left the courtyard. He hadn’t spent much time there, but he needed to be alone. He needed to think about everything that just happened. About what he found out.

He was still hoping that somehow the others outside would figure out a way to get him out of here. But that hope was starting to waver. Especially knowing what was to come with the neutrinalin side effects. But... at least he wouldn’t be alone in here.

At least there was that.

#jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye fanfiction #jacksepticegos #septic egos #septic egos au #jacksepticeye au #jackieboy man #chase brody #marvin the magnificent #jameson jackson #brigid writes fanfiction #septicheroesau

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sadruru · 2 months

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"Captivity begins with one's own mind."

A story about Melissa with an old illustration (old, yep, from last year!). As it turns out, Baphomet has played a cruel trick on her. This is a very important part in her story. Later I will illustrate this moment in the comic strip. Doesn't everyone in Baphomet's lineage like to play with nerves???? HAHAHAHAHA ;D I love how it turned out anyway! Why not post it here? I just wanted to reveal a bit of her character back when I wasn't drawing comics yet. I'm a not good writer. I tried very carefully to translate (maybe). That's a lot of reading to do, hehehe. Enjoy the despair ~ ...

The heart of demon lord Baphomet's domain - the Inevitability Prison. Another room. Another torture chamber. This place is part of an eternal labyrinth, littered with suffering souls and their torturers.

The labyrinth was the property of Baphomet, and once again the commander felt the call of the Abyss. The call of destruction and murder confused the thoughts in her head. The commander could hardly contain herself, venting her anger at the servants of the Father of the Minotaurs. A weary glance fell on the cracked mirror in the corner. The commander saw her reflection and - vaguely and briefly - the master of this prison glimpsed in it

No one noticed how Melissa had fallen behind the squad. Does no one see it but her? Does no one hear it?

- How long you gonna hide from us, goat?! I've had enough of these stupid riddles! Give me back the Hand of the Inheritor, or I'll gladly find you again and gut you! - a cheeky grin touched her face. Her eyes lit up with scarlet fire.

Baphomet let such a brazen insult pass his ears. He grinned, glaring intently at his enemy.

His eyes reflected… victory?

- An empty boast, mortal. But I see our last conversation has borne results,- he pointed a finger at his forehead with a bloody, burning star, repeating what he had once said: - "Captivity begins with your own mind". There was that phrase again. From the first few seconds it had been lingering in the commander's mind. Melissa didn't understand why those words were so irritating to her.

- Are you showing off again? Threats don't scare me.

- I'm not threatening you. Rather, I'm reminding you that I've studied you, your thoughts and feelings. There's no need to get rid of you myself. I wonder what will happen first - will your mind destroy itself now or afterward, if you close the Abyss? I've met your kind before. It doesn't always take physical strength to defeat you. - every word was infused with arrogance and poison.

- What the hell are you...

- A world-abused, terrified, unhappy tiefling-child. You know what I mean? You're in my domain. Your mind is like an open book. Still remembering all your hurts? - in the shards of the mirror there are pictures of the past and faces of familiar people, - Do you remember the face of your dear mother that day? No... But that look! So cold, unfamiliar, empty... You admired her so much.

The smug grin quickly disappeared from Melissa's face.

Everything came into view as if it had happened yesterday, when her happy childhood had begun to crack.

- And your beloved father? What did he do to you? Do you remember the mad fear for your life, the pleas for mercy? Which gods did you turn to then? A poor kitten, tied up, thrown into the raging river in a dirty, cramped sack, without the slightest hope of rescue...

- Stop it!

The wounds never healed, even after many years. The pain always returned, coming in waves, and each time it was worse. It became hard to breathe. Blood boiled with rage. A drop of cold sweat rolled down her cheek.

Trying to break free of the illusion was futile.

The commander realized that this was nothing more than another trick… But her soul was still torn apart.

The demon lord's words hurt like knives.

- What about old friends? A friend who deemed you useless and betrayed you for the sake of her freedom and safety. The laughter in her eyes. The cracked skull of a dear comrade who died because of you. And you only escaped and survived because of him!

- I said enough! Stay out of my head! - Melissa's voice trembled, her legs shaking under the weight of her past. Her chest was squeezing painfully.

- Have you ever thought about what will happen when the crusade is over? Will your "faithful" companions, all those people, still need you? What about that boy, who fell in love with someone like you? Have you wondered: are they not using you because you are useful?

The demon lord's voice changed. It became almost affectionate:

- They will quickly forget your existence and get rid of you. They will look at you the same way, like the dirt beneath their feet, tiefling. That's the way it was, is, and always will be. No one will be there for you like the day you died. It was scary to die helplessly, slowly, alone, with your neck cut, wasn't it? Once again, the world condemned you to die.

- Shut your fucking mouth, asshole!!!!

A cry of pure anger echoed through the dark corridors. Her fist struck the fragile mirror with all its force, ending its existence.

And only in her ears could she still hear the laughter of the Lord of the Labyrinth.

A hellish pain brought her back to her senses: the shards were embedded in her arm. The companions found Melissa quickly enough. The leopard led them to his mistress. She was sitting on her knees. As soon as she raised her head, she could read the shock and worry on her companions' faces.

It seemed like an eternity had passed, not a couple minutes.

Something was wrong.

Something had changed in the commander - everyone understood it from the first second. Melissa looked at her companions. In the red eyes read a lot of things… Doubt? Distrust? Despair? Like a wild animal trapped in a cage, surrounded by enemies.

From that moment on, nightmares and insomnia began to plague her more and more often, almost every night. In Drezen, many people noticed the change in Melissa. The fun, cheerful girl was turning into a walking corpse, repelling any attempt to speak or care for her. Periodically she repeated the same thing quietly, barely noticeable, like a curse:

- Captivity begins with one's own mind… She's broken like the shards of a mirror.

#pathfinder: wrath of the righteous #pathfinder wotr #artists on tumblr #pathfinder wrath of the righteous #wotr commander #Melissa #oc

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wenwenbittercake · 8 months

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Chapter 4: Angel in Hell City

(Thank you for reading this fanfic. Bear in mind, all this event happened after Edward stalked Mr. Joon who went to give his daughter money. The story line is not originally written by me. It’s the storyline of the Riddler 2022 comic. I just insert Y/N in the plot for the sake of the fanfic. TW: Bribery, Drugs, Stalking, Death)

“Wait!! Whatt!! You did whattt??” Y/N’s eyes widened in shock.

“Shh shh slow down the others might-“Edward whisper-shouted her in a nervous tone.

“And you’re telling me this now! In the staff room?” She whisper-shouts at him back.

“Look I know, I break the promise but look. I found something crucial. I found some lead I could grab on to. There’s more to this Y/N.”

“I know but this isn't child plays Edward. Seriously, something's off, something big. I don't want you to get tangled up in whatever mess might be lurking.” She said in a serious tone."Y/N I know but, if what I suspect is true, there's corruption and manipulation happening right under our noses. Someone needsto shine a lighton it.” “I getthat you wantto do theright thing but this. This could bedangerous, even life-threatening.” “But this isdifferent. I can't justturn a blindeye when I know I canfind every shady businessgoing on over here. I know I can.” “I'm not asking you to turn a blind eye. I just want you to consider the dangers involved.” Y/N try to reason with him but- “I have Y/N, but I can't sit back and watch, knowing that I have what it takes to bring it out. All my life I had sit back. Sit back and be a reject. Sit back and be passed over . Now I have something in my hand. Something concrete and I can’t let it go yet. I-I just need to know. The missing piece. Why wasn’t it me? I have nothing to look forward to than this. Nothing.”

His tone starts to get a bit emotional, his word fumble all over the place and she noticed that.

So did he.

The room turns silent like the wind after a storm.

He sighs with his head down, he turns to leave.

As his hand reached for the doorknob, he felt a pair of soft small hands, firmly holding his. He doesn’t need to turn around to know the owner of the hands. Just a slight touch of hers would be enough to stop him in his tracks. He turns slowly to face her worried eyes.

“I just don’t want you to go down the rabbit hole, ok? I…I don’t want you to be gone.” Y/N voice hitches a bit at her last word. Edward can feel the worry in her voice. All he wants to do right now is kiss the crown of her head, rub her soft hands in a reassuring way and tell her he won’t be gone. Not again.

“Don’t worry, I won’t go away.” His voice softens and squeezes her hands slightly in a reassuring way. Y/N eyes look up at him, she looks like she wants to tell him something but is unsure of it. She parts her lips to say something but-

“Hey Edward! MR. Stones want to see you.” Zach burst right in the staff room.

His eyes travel to Y/N’s hand which was holding Edwards. Her face reddens in embarrassment. Her hand jolted away from Edward’s hold and left the room in a hurry. Zach eyes follows her as she leaves before turning back to Edward who is left with a dumbfounded expression.

“Seriously? She's with you?”

．<{=．．．．．<{=．．．．．<{=．．．．．<{=．．．．．

“Knock Knock.”

“Come in.” The gravel voice of Mr. Stone came out from the inside of the office.

Edward enters the room. The atmosphere shifts. Just as he closes the door behind him. He felt himself trapped, like prey caught in a trap. He felt his heart drop, but he remained calm. Just breathe.

“The files you brought to my attention the other day.” Mr. Stone said as Edward sat at the seat in front of his desk.

He knows. He definitely knows. Edward glanced at the empty paper shredder beside Mr. Stone’s desk.

Oh, he knows.

“You were right to flag it. I will talk to the owner myself and handle any further investigation. Consider it taken care of. Thank you, Edward.”

Lier

However, a sense of pride bubbled in him a bit at the thought of being thanked by Mr. Stone. He had never been noticed by a higher up like Mr. Stone in his life before.

“Your welcome sir.” He said as he unclenches his fist from the arm rest. Relaxing a bit. Just a bit.

“But that’s not why I called you here. Edward, do you have any relationship with Wayne Enterprises?”

Wayne? Of course, he had.

“No sir.”

“No conflicts of interest at all?”

You matter.

“None at all”

“Good, seems like everyone in this city does. They are being sued again. I’d like to bring you on to do a full-blown review on their accounts. Would you like that?”

．<{=．．．．．<{=．．．．．<{=．．．．．<{=．．．．

"The next station is Exl. City Park station. Doors closing.”

Edward looks out the train window out to the city. Is something good finally happening to me? Could his brain finally get put to use? Y/N’s words ring through his head as he walks out the station.

‘I don’t want you to be gone.’

Edward sighs. Could she really remember? No can’t be.

His mind battles with himself that night. Y/N is right. This is a dangerous deal he’s putting himself into. He knows better about this than anyone and yet. He needs to know. Why the pieces don't fit. It’s a riddle he couldn’t get his hand around. That's why he needs more pieces. Need more parts to see the complete picture.

He ran through local IP. Scanners. Easily hacking into different CCTV cameras around the area. Not only that, he even learnt to write his own codes, gradually being able to get all the parts he needs. Now he just needs to wait. He starts to dive deeper into the case. Drifting apart from his reality. Absorbing himself in very little free time, he has to dedicate his life into the art. No one could have thought a common accountant would be digging Renewal shady background, would they? After all he’s just a nobody. Invisible but that’s his advantage. Because he’s invisible, nobody suspected a thing when he pulled out his phone to check all the CCTV cameras he hacked. Except one person of course.

He can’t ignore it. No matter how hard he tries he can’t. He’s not even sure getting her attention is a blessing out a curse at this point. Those wide doe eyes were just too much for him to bare. He gulps and drops his head down to his work; he bites the inside of his cheek in frustration knowing how her lips would fall a bit in a sadden expression. Y/N would then leave, going back into Mr. Zach office. He knows she’s trying her best to give him space, maybe she thinks Edward had gotten mad at her after what happened between them but no. She has to understand, he is dying to reciprocate her attention. He misses how she would come to ask for coffee, or how she pats his shoulder, praising him for his brains. God, he loathes it. He feels like he is trying to pull both ropes up a cliff. If he let go of one, he’ll lose everything he worked up for, he will lose himself but if he let go of the other, he would lose you. The distance between you both will increase. He will become someone you used to know again. And he can’t let that happen.

June 5th Edward's plan comes into motion. He climbs up to the roof of a building across from Mr. Joon’s apartment. A building that gives him a clear view of the room. He set out his meticulous plan to go as perfectly as possible. To be frank, he doesn’t know what he will be seeing tonight, nor if his plan will be perfect enough to go as it planned. He could only hope. He adjusts his binoculars; his eyes focus on Mr. Joon. He seems to be packing his luggage in the dark room until.

“Flick”

The lights turned on. There sits Mr. Stone in a chair behind him.

“Going somewhere? Mr. Joon?”

Edward adjusts his air pod to listen clearly from the other pair of air pod that he put in Mr. Joon’s pocket, earlier that day to listen in on their conversation.

“Uh No, sir. Not going anywhere.” Mr. Joon lied miserably.

“Do you know why I’m here, Mr. Joon?” Mr. Stone said eerily.

“Uh, No sir. No one told me you were coming.”

“There was an employee at my company who brought to my attention of your work in the books. We weren’t expecting that. Thankfully, that’s been taken care of, and I’m keeping my eye on him, just in case.”

“I change the numbers every week, sit. Just like you show me.”

“Maybe so but it’s a good thing my employee caught it. Because do you know what I saw when I looked beyond the official books? When I looked at our product and cash flow. I saw that someone was skimming a little money off the top.”

“Not me sir! I manage the store, sir. Just like you show me. I do good job, sir.”

“This is your daughter, is it not?” Mr. Stone said as he shows Mr. Joon a photo of Mr. Joon and him in front of her apartment. Mr. Joon seems to be holding an envelope in that photo which causes Edward to raise a brow in curiosity.

“Yes…I..”

“And What’s in the envelope?”

“I give her money I earn. So she can leave Gotham someday, sir.”

“And you were planning to go with her?”

“No. I mean, yes. I…I take her there then I come back.”

“Mr. Joon, someone taking money from our store means someone taking money from me. And someone taking money from me means someone taking money from Mr. Falcone. Are you aware of what happens to people who take money from Mr. Falcone?”

“No, sir, it was not me. I swear sir. That is my money. I work hard for that money. I earn that money I give her!”

“I’m disappointed, Mr. Joon. Goodbye.” With that Mr. Stone stood up and left leading to the two-man Mr. Stone came in with to drag Mr. Joon out of the room with,

“You’re coming with us to the back of the store, pal.”

Mr. Joon cried and screamed as he was dragged away. With that, Edward jumped from his place down the emergency ladder. He ran down the emergency stairs back to a safe place where he could view the cctv camera in the back of the store. Edward’s heat races as he pulls out his laptop on to the counter of a public bathroom. Hoping he got to view it in time.

As he opened the cam, he was there in time. Seeing Mr. Joon tied up in chains by the two men. He turns up the volume a bit which he will later regret doing so.

“---Mistake! Please! I brought my daughter here so she could have a better life. But life is worse here in Gotham. I am trying to get my family out. Out of this city of hell. But that is my money I earn!”

The voice of another man emerges after Mr. Joon screams for justice.

“I had to make bail, so I took a little cash off the top. I’ll make sure your daughter is taken care of. Ya know how Mr. Falcone gets rid of his bodies don’t you?”

This leads to Mr. Joon’s cries for no and then.

Crack

Crunch

This follows with Mr. Joon’s agonizing scream only to cut off with a final-

Crack Crunk.

The image on the laptop screen shows Mr. Joon’s body twitches and seize only to stop. Then the next thing you know, Mr. Joon’s headless body dangled upside down in the room. Edward gasps and backs away from the laptop screen at the sight of it all. Blood pours down from Mr. Joon’s decapitated head. Edward can’t take it anymore. He takes off his air pod and holds his head in his hand. His eyes wide from what he just saw. His body is trembling slightly, and his fingertips numb. He takes a deep breath and exhales shakingly to ground himself. Just breathe Edward. Just breathe. His trembling finger moved the mouse to click the recording button to stop recording. He has proof which comes with a great sacrifice. He phones the screen light up with a notification. His dilated green eye shifts from the tile counter to the phone screen.

Y/N <3 : Hey I know it’s been a while but how are you doing?

Edward let out a shaky exhale. Y/N. She knows too much. The weight of the situation starts to weigh him down. He doesn’t care if he died doing this. Hell, he cares less for being killed for outing these rats but Y/N. He cares about her. The thought of her being in Mr. Joon’s place for being in the wrong place at the wrong time raised a bile up his throat. He can’t, no he won’t let it happen.

You: Can we meet up? Right now?

(Well, that was a lot. Phew, ok. Um yea I hope you all like it. I know that was a lot but yeah. I’m sorry if the description is a bit confusing in the setting. If you read the comic, you will understand. 80% of the time I don’t know where the hell they are but I’m trying my best. Thank you for the support. Oh also there is a point where the dialogs are all jumple up and it's on purpose to show the stress he and reader are feeling, how words don't make sense anymore but can still get the point of it. By the end of the dialog, most words separate showing the clarity of how Edward feels and the distance it cause between reader and him. Thank you for reading and hope you enjoy, there will be more chapter to this series so please follow to keep up to date with the post.~”

Chapter 5: Apologies unheard

#dano riddler #edward nashton #riddler x reader #riddler x y/n #riddler x you #the batman 2022 #the riddler #edward nashton x y/n #edward nashton x reader #Edward Nashton #paul riddler 2022

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