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katethewriter · 2 years

Note

Something fluffy huh? Hmmm how about reader comforting her girlfriend wanda when it seems like the whole world is against her. Feel like she’d always hold wanda tight and say “no matter what you do or become, I will always be on your side”

You Are More

Pairing: Wanda x Reader

Words: 1k~

Warnings: insecure/self-deprecating thoughts, people are mean, Wanda needs a hug, if I missed any please let me know

A/N: Thank you so much for the prompt!!! I hope you like it! Also, Reader is an enhanced. She has the ability to harness and manipulate electricity.

“How is she doing?"

You've just returned from a four-day solo mission, only to learn of the incident in Lagos. You're heart breaks for your girlfriend, who you know must be tearing herself to pieces.

Since the day she joined this team, she has done everything possible to make up for and repair the damage she took part in as a Hydra participant.

... and you know this is enough to break her.

"As well as can be expected, she's barely left her room," Steve smiles sadly, "this is as much my fault as it is hers. I should have-“

You are sure to cut him off quickly, "hey, none of that. This is no one's fault… except Rumlow’s. It was an accident." You pat the super soldier on the back comfortingly. "I'm gonna go check on her," you go straight to you and your girlfriend's shared bedroom.

When you peer through the doorway, you see her.

Wanda sits defeatedly on the bed, endlessly flipping between news stations, all of them covering the bombing. Each reporter that fills the screen has worse and worse things to say about the woman you love.

You're heart breaks more at every remark. What angers you the most is that these people don't even know Wanda, not personally, not like the team does and certainly not like you do. If they actually knew her, knew where her heart and intentions lie, they wouldn't being saying these things on international television for literally everyone and Wanda to hear.

The TV goes blank as you use your powers to turn it off. You had heard more than enough.

"Don't watch that," you speak softly, walking over to the bed and sitting beside her.

Wanda can't meet your eyes. She stares at her hands sorrowfully, "turning it off won't stop them from talking about me."

Reaching out, you move her hair away from her face and stroke her cheek delicately, "they don't know you."

"They're still right," Wanda quickly swats away a tear before it can fall, "I'm a monster."

"No, you are no-"

"I am," she shakes her head. "Think about it," she prompts, "the only reason Hydra selected me, gave me these powers was to hurt people." The sokovian motions towards the TV, ",,,and now I've done just that."

Your lip trembles at the way she is talking about herself. "Do you think I am a monster?"

For the first time since you've entered the room, Wana looks at you. She's almost too shocked to answer the question, "you're the best person I know. You could never be a monster."

"I was given my powers for the exact same reason, by the exact same people," you look deep into her eyes, hoping to reach her, "if that doesn't make me a monster, then neither are you."

Wanda smiles sadly, "but you never used your powers to hurt someone-"

"But I could," you interrupt her, "all it would take is one lapse in focus. One slip and I could electrocute an entire swimming pool or start a wild fire. What if I accidentally cut the power on an aircraft midflight; would you think I was a monster then?"

The witch furrows her brow, "no, that would have been an accident."

"and so was this," you take her hands into your own, "this was an accident. You were trying to help people, and you made a mistake." You gently wipe a tear that falls down her cheek.

"Wanda, you are more, so much more, than the worst mistake you've ever made. This does not define who or what you are. Ok?"

You wait for her to nod, but it takes a while. You can practically see her mind running around trying to rewrite her self-perception and absorb your words.

There is a small shift in her demeanor, and you know you've at least partially gotten through to her. Wanda gives you a weak smile but says nothing.

"As for your powers," you shift closer to wrap her in your arms, "I know they have done some pretty amazing things." Pressing a kiss to her shoulder, you begin to explain, "your magic saved countless lives in Sokovia. It helped you stop Ultron before he destroyed the world. When I was locked away in a Hydra cell, strapped to a table as they turned me into a battery, draining me," your voice cracks at the mention of your worst memories, "you were the one who came back for me. You saved me, and a monster would never do that."

Wanda finally begins to relax into you. Her own arms raise to hold you as close as possible. “I don’t know what’s going to happen,” she whispers shakily, “some of them want to lock me in a cage.”

You pull away a bit to look into her eyes, “you know Steve would never let them.”

Her lips tremble in fear, “what if he doesn’t have a say?”

Silence fills the air.

You struggle to find what to say. Something is coming. There’s no way around that; too many people are demanding change.

There’s no way to know if any of you will have a say.

“Come here,” you scoot back on the bed until you’re leaning against the headboard. You open your arms for Wanda to crawl into.

She buries herself into while you hold her so tight that you never want to let go.

You start to run your hand through her hair to help soothe her the best you can, “I don’t know, but you know what I do know?”

Wanda looks up to you with her beautiful doe eyes, “what?”

Cupping her cheek softly, you promise, “no matter what happens, no matter what you do or become, I will always be on your side.”

#wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximov x reader #fem!reader #enhanced!reader #Wanda needs a hug #slight angst #hurt/comfort #Wanda #Wanda maximoff #Wanda maximov #MCU #k hits 1k!

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echantedtoon · 7 months

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Shards

Shard x Nicole

Before this if you asked someone what she thought true pain was, she would have answered the many times she thought her friends would die. Or maybe the time the Iron Queen warped her into her worst self. .....But no.... THIS. This was truly raw pain. The kind that get's under your skin and makes your heart clench and your stomach feel painfully empty. That was the pain she felt now. "Are you sure you want to stay? It's no shame if you don't. We understand." She turned to the older hedgehog. His kind green eyes showed the endless patience and kindness he possessed. His white mustache crinkled up in a smile. She shook her head and stayed still. She wasn't going anywhere until it was done and over with. "......Alright. But if you feel uncomfortable, you may leave anytime." She didn't respond so he turned back to the monitor. Typing a few keys into the keyboard, he began the process. "Back tracking remaining data," the high tech screen read out. It would take a while for the super computer to go through all the memory files. After all, he did have a lot of memories. Good, warm memories. With her. And him. The time they first met. The times they spent together. The time he- She had to literally bite her tongue to keep a choke or sob from coming out. It probably wouldn't have came out anyways with how tight her throat was. "Recovery of memory files complete. Restore in progress." She flinched and slowly turned her gaze to the screen. Many pixels and numbers danced green against the otherwise black nothingness. The elderly hedgehog watched carefully and typed a few keys every now and then. "...........Uncle Chuck?" "Yes, my dear," he answered still looking at the screen. ".....Do you think.....he'll be the same?" From the corner of her eye, she glanced at the unmoving figure on the metal table. ".....That he'll be Shard?" He remained silent. ".......I can't guarantee anything just yet. I have to finish all that's needed." "........." This time she fully turned to the still figure. His metal body was shiny and looked new. No one could tell he was in a brutal fight not too long ago. When he was found, his body had been trashed and mangled and honestly looked worse than she'd ever seen. A piece of her died inside. "Restoration complete. Awaiting data transfer." She watched intently as he did a few more things on the screen before standing up and turning away from the computer. He stood up and looked directly at her. When Shard was recovered, it wasn't just his outsides that needed repairs. His inner workings had also been damaged in the fight against Metal Sonic. It wasn't looking good either. His motherboard or 'brain' as some called it, had been critically damaged from the impact his head sustained. Uncle Chuck managed to retrieve any thing that he could and fixed what was left. Luckily, by some miracle, his memory chip wasn't badly damaged. But that doesn't mean he'll be the same. After all, there as a difference between Shard and a copy with his memories. Uncle Chuck approached the table, stopping at his head before humming and reaching up a hand to gently run along one of the wires connected to his head. He nodded and looked back to her. "We're ready to begin."

Clicking a button on the panel to the left, a whirring sound emanated from the machine which all the wires were connected to. "Data transfer in progress. Please stand by." Waiting was agonizing to say the least. She didn't quite know how long they stood there not saying a word. Staring at his unmoving form with Uncle Chuck checking the monitors every little while. She didn't even know how it'll- "Data transfer complete." The sudden voice startled her and she let out a squeak of surprise. Uncle Chuck chuckled good natured and began to carefully unplug the wires from his still body. "There now." "Will it work?" "We'll have to wait and hope for the best. I've done all I could." The wires were fully removed and she slowly approached the table. Her body shaking and her nerves skyrocketing. "S-Shard?," he said barely over a whisper, "Can you hear me?" Nothing.......but silence. Cold. Dead. Silence. "S-Shard?......Come on! Wake up!" His cold metal body creaked as she shook him. Desperate for him to wake up. For him to smile. Say he was only playing dead as some bad joke. "WAKE UP!! Wake up, wake up, wake up!!" "Nicole!" Someone grabbed her shoulders and pried her from him. Turning her struggling form around to face his stern look. She froze with tears streaming don her face. He slowly turned to a look of pity........and shook his head. That was it. With a choke, she collapsed to her knees. Her form shaking and glitching in places. Her wails didn't go unanswered as two arms slowly wrapped around her, pulling her against him. ".......A-Aw! DoN't tell M-Me y-yOur goNNA l-leak oIl o-oVER t-THIS!" They froze at the distorted voice. Sniffing, she slowly raised her head in the voice's direction. Green eyes smiled at her as the figure was propped up on his arms smiling. "H-Hi. M-misS mE?" "SHARD!!" She tore from Uncle Chuck's hold and towards him. Colliding with a small metal tink sound. "HEY! DoN'T get ALL sApPy at-t MY expenCe." "How do you feel my boy?" He turned to the older hedgehog. "F-F-Fine THaNks. B-B-But-t I think my-Y voicE Chip cOULD u-use some TUNING." He nodded. "That'll be the first thing I work on." "T-ThankS, C-CHuCK." "Shard." He looked back at her. "Y-YES?" "I'm so glad you're safe.....and YOU again." "You had us all worried sick, Son." She gave him a small kiss on the forehead which made him freeze. His motor gave off a thrum and he chuckled nervously. "G-GueSS I just-t needed-d a R-Reboot."

#sonic the hedgehog #nicole the holo lynx #shard the metal sonic

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kpoptrashlord-007 · 2 years

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Hell-tel 6;; KKB

Word Count;; 1.3k

Genre;; Fluff, Humour(ish), F2Ls

Pairing;; Kibum x Reader

Summary;;

Your cross-country vacation has come to a grinding halt after an engine malfunction stranded you in the middle of literally nowhere. After spending a few nights in a -1 star motel, you and your best friend, Kibum, are going stir-crazy. All is fair in love and war, and you won’t go down without a fight, not when the most precious commodity is at stake: the frumpy bed and its hard mattress.

Warnings;;

Brief alcohol consumption (literally a sip of beer), playful banter, some flirtatious remarks, slightly suggestive content

Notes;;

Written for @kikisfuneralservice for the @superm-net fic exchange event! [DUDE I AM SO SORRY!! I didn’t realise this was due at the end of June. I thought I still had time. Totally spaced it. But I hope you enjoy it, and I’m glad you’re out here making content for SHINee, you’re a rockstar!!]

Main Masterlist

"It's Saturday night," Kibum groaned, plopping down on the couch beside you. "You're gonna spend the weekend holed up in this tiny motel room?"

"It only feels tiny because it's made for one person, not two."

He rolled his eyes. "Just because it has one bed doesn't mean it's made for one person. Ever heard of couples before?"

You didn't reply, choosing to instead kick your feet up on the coffee table. It shivered and creaked under your weight. Much like everything else inside the room it was on its last leg. In fact, most of the basic necessities were on the fritz. The refrigerator left your drinks warmer than they had been when you put them in, black spots plagued the television screen, and the showerhead pelted you with ice-cold water.

Then there was the air conditioner. Instead of a fresh breeze it pushed out stale air that clung to your clothes, leaving the stench of wet dog in its wake. No matter how much of Kibum's cologne you spritzed throughout the cramped quarters, mildew hung in the air. You'd given up by the second night.

"This might actually be hell," you whined.

"It's not that bad." Kibum's arm slinked around the back of the couch. The tips of his fingers brushed against your shoulders. "At least we're suffering together."

"Looks like someone forgot who's on the couch tonight."

His head lolled back as he groaned, hitting the couch’s stiff headrest with an audible thump. "We're in hell."

After an eternity of the couch trying to swallow you whole, you stretched your arms with a little yawn. Straightening your posture took great effort but you rose to your feet while using Kibum for balance. Tension riddled his shoulder, the muscles taut and tight. Your lips pulled down into a frown. Digging your thumb into the largest knot, you grappled with it, squeezing it between your fingers. Kibum swatted you away with an indignant huff.

“You’re worse than the springs stabbing me in the back.”

“You need a massage.”

“Not from you, not with those hands.”

He chuckled mirthlessly, shaking his head. Throwing your hands up in surrender, you mumbled out a ‘fine’. Once you were back in the big city you would schedule a spa day for the two of you… not that a single session could fix the damage this hell-tel had caused. You would need a vacation from your vacation at this rate. Somewhere free from cars and their woes, perhaps with a king-sized bed, and functioning amenities (would that be too much to ask?). At the very least it should have a working fridge, or an ice machine, or even a convenience store nearby with either a working fridge or ice machine.

Snapping your fingers as you remembered why you had gotten up in the first place, you crossed the room. It didn’t take much – once you sidled past the table, a single step brought you to the mini fridge. The cooling component inside grumbled to life, mocking you and your desires. Taking it a step further, it didn’t budge as you tried to pry the dented door open. Just typical. Gritting your teeth, you put your whole back into it. It shook and rumbled within your sweaty palms but remained sealed.

“Just open already,” you growled, kicking the machine.

“Did you unlock it?”

“It doesn’t have a lock.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Yes, I’m… sure?” Giving the metal box a once-over, a wave of confusion swept over you. Near the bottom on the left side was a glimmering latch. “Huh. That’s new.”

“They installed it yesterday.”

“Really?” you asked, snapping around to face Kibum. Incredulity morphed into irritation once you caught sight of his smirk. “Ha-ha, funny. So glad you can find a way to prank me even here. You’re so clever.”

“Thank you,” he said, unable to hide his triumphant glee. “And you’re pretty cute when you get all worked up like that.”

Warmth tinged your ears. You gave him a dismissive wave before directing your attention back to your initial task. When you unlatched the fridge with a huff, it responded with an obnoxious hum that rolled out into the room. It was bare aside from a six pack of beer and a couple bottles of water. The air inside was warmer than the room’s ambient temperature, and the two cans you grabbed weren’t much cooler. You tossed one to Kibum. Froth spilled out as you flipped the tab. It poured onto the floor, earning you a disapproving look from your temporary roommate. Even so he followed suit. Leaning forward, he cracked it open and soon after the carpet soaked up the suds.

“Now we have to leave a bigger tip for the housekeeper.”

“As if they even have one,” you said with a shudder, looking down at the old stains that littered the carpet. “Anyway, let’s toast! Here's hoping the part arrives tomorrow!"

You raised the can to clink against his. Liquid sloshed against metal as your beers bounced against one another. Bringing the drink to your lips, you took a swig. Your regret was immediate. Warm, flat beer rushed down your throat and you choked. Bitter alcohol stung your nose and burned your throat. Kibum’s eyes widened at your outburst but it was too late, the drink was already slipping past his lips. Throwing his head forward, he unceremoniously spat it back into the can.

Shadows crossed his flawless skin as he glowered at you. "Even if the car isn't fixed tomorrow, I'm out of here. I'll walk if I have to. I never want to see this town again."

Clearing your throat of the vile drink, you scratched your head. "Still want to go out?"

"And drink more of that?” He sighed, discarding the drink on the table. "Let's just go to bed. We have to be well rested so we can count chickens or whatever else they consider entertainment around here."

"The baby chicks were kind of cute though," you said as you walked to the sink, emptying the beer down the drain. Even over the strained glugging of the pipes you heard Kibum scoff. "What? They were!"

"I'm taking the bed tonight."

Dropping the can, you tripped over your feet in your haste to accost him. “Like hell you are!”

He pushed the coffee table into your direct path before you could scramble to the bedroom to stake your claim. Standing with poise and grace, he brushed away not-so-imaginary dust while looking you up and down. There was a mischievous twinkle in his eyes as he walked around the table. Now opposite you, he tutted.

“I’m not spending another night on that couch”—you opened your mouth in protest but he pressed a finger to your lips—“but since it’s your turn for the bed, I’m willing to share it with you.”

“Share?” you whined before shoving the table back against the couch. He nodded. “Fine. We can share. Since it’s the last night.”

“Good. It’s about time we slept together, anyway.”

Warmth rushed throughout your veins. You spluttered, looking anywhere but directly at him, until you heard his breathless chuckling. Another of his little jokes. The embarrassment fell from your face, replaced with an exhausted frown. Your gaze looped around from his feet to his million-dollar smile. Immaculate despite the environment, his silky hair framing gleaming eyes.

“Just where did your mind go, huh?”

“Are you going to bed or…?”

“I’m worried that I might not get any sleep,” he teased, stepping into your space. With him came the scent of mint. “Are you going to pounce me in the middle of the night?”

Giving his chest a light nudge, you rolled your eyes in an attempt to dispel the heat blossoming across your cheeks. “As if. Stop playing around.”

“Alright, alright, but”—using the side of his crooked finger, he lifted your chin, the intensity of his stare sending shivers down your spine—“I won’t complain if you change your mind.”

– ♡ – If you enjoyed this, please consider liking, commenting, reblogging, and/or following! Thank you!

#key x reader #key fluff #shinee x reader #shinee fluff #kpop x reader #kpop fluff #kibum x reader #kibum fluff #shinee fanfic #kpop fanfic #supermficexchange

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brightgnosis · 8 months

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Well ... We went out to the farm today ...

It's a lot worse than we were expecting it to be on the inside. But at the same time? Weirdly it's also a lot better than we were expecting in a lot of ways too.

Outside, the foundation slide isn't as bad as we expected it to be- though there's a lot of areas where the foundation itself has issues and needs to be fixed. And some major patches of siding needs to be replaced. But the roofing's in great condition still.

Inside, a lot of work's been done already in some areas so we don't need to do as much as we thought we would in regards to cleaning out my Brother in Law's stuff. There's still a lot left, though. So it's going to take a bit.

What we weren't expecting to have to do, though? Was completely rip out walls, tear a bunch of joists and what-not out, refloor literally half the house, etc ... But it looks like that's now on the agenda. All because of a bunch of water damage that none of us were ever informed about; the entire bathroom's also going to have to go.

This isn't anything we haven't dealt with before, though, at least; when we renovated our last house we had to do something similar with the bathroom in that house, too. So at least we already know how to remodel a bathroom. And between my Father in Law, my Husband, and I, we've each done some bit of work individually that together, collectively, we've done everything that needs to be done on the rest of the space to fix it. So it's at least work we know how to do and can do ... Theoretically.

What we don't have the skills for collectively is the kitchen- which also has to be basically gutted as well; the hot water heater's completely busted and needs a major hard water filter installed into the system because apparently the water's so hard it burns out the heating element on a routine basis (why did they not do that ages ago, then). But on top of that, the stove, sink, and fridge desperately need replacing. And the entirety of all of the cabinets need to be completely replaced as well. They're all just utterly ruined.

The big issues are definitely testing the outside paint for Lead and getting that professionally dealt with if it's positive for it (though he does remember the paint getting scraped off before the last time it was painted, so it's possible the Lead paint's already been dealt with); getting a lot of the foundation repaired (which we didn't anticipate), and then getting it back on its foundation; and we also have to fix the beam that's busted on the front porch- plus redo all of the window screening on the other porch. A lot of Windows also need to be replaced- much to my annoyance.

But, thankfully based on what my Father in Law said today from when he remembers replacing a bunch of pipes at one point? The house should have Black Iron plumbing- not Lead plumbing like I was afraid of. We're still going to have it tested just to make sure. But if that's true, that's a huge load off and one less thing we have to deal with and replace.

The Garage is also in great condition even though it's all exposed and there's no insulation or anything; it's got great bare bones that converting it should be really easy work. And surprisingly, the rest of the house is much larger than it seems like it'd be- with 3 bedrooms, even. So my Husband and I can have our individual spaces (once the Garage is converted) and we can still have a proper guest room for his Mother to come out and stay with us when she'd like to (because we know how much the Farm means to her).

The only thing that legitimately makes me uncomfortable about the house is how many doors there are into the interior ??? Like ... there are 4 different doors leading into the house- all but one of which is on the same side of the house, within 10 feet of each another ... That is far too many far too close for my comfort- and it's such an absolutely ridiculous layout for them to begin with. So I'm trying to convince my Husband to let me board over / get rid of one of them now.

Anyways ... It's definitely going to be a big project. But it feels oddly manageable now? Far more so than it did originally, at least; I no longer feel like I'm panicking, now that I know what it looks like.

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johnsamericano · 3 years

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𝔖𝔲𝔤𝔞𝔯 ℜ𝔲𝔰𝔥 𝔧.𝔧.𝔥

Hi everyone! As promised, here’s one of the two most voted fic continuations. There will be more chapters to this story though I'm not sure how many yet. Thank you for reading!

warnings: sugar daddy jae, mentions of injuries and hospitals, language.

taglist: @thoreeo @trustmahluv

Sugar rush m.list.

The machine monitoring your father’s heartbeat was the only sound filling the quiet hospital room, where your once healthy father laid unconscious, his perfect, chiseled cheeks adorned with cuts and bruises. Would they leave a mark?

The machine monitoring your father’s heartbeat was the only sound filling the hospital room, where your once healthy father laid unconscious, his perfect, chiseled cheeks adorned with cuts and bruises. Would they leave a mark?

Where did everything go wrong?

Your string of thoughts was cut off by a call from your aunt.

“Hello?” Your voice was raspy from not using it. There was no one to talk to in the quiet, hospital room but the nurses, who weren't especially keen on chatting.

“How’s your dad, sweetie?”

“They let him out of ICU, but he doesn't look good to me.” Your fingers traced the cuts in his chiseled cheeks that would soon turn into scars, ruining his perfect skin. Your eyes then diverted to his head, thoroughly covered in bandages to protect his damaged skull.

“Honey, I've got bad news...”

“They rejected the case, didn't they?”

“Not precisely.” She deeply inhaled before continuing. “It’s a tough case, almost impossible to win, nonetheless, they're willing to take it. But their fee is a little...”

“Expensive.”

“Yes.”

As expected from the best firm in town, they wouldn't take less than $8,000. Your bank account didn't have enough money to even cover half of it, and with your job at the convenience store, you'd only earn so much to cover your expenses.

“We can take the lawyer that the government provides us with, it would be free.”

“But then I'm sure we’d lose.” You groaned in frustration, using your free hand to rub your forehead. “Don’t worry, I'll find a way to get the money.”

“Why don't we just accept the compensation they're offering? It could pay for the hospital bills and you'd still have some left to pay for your tuition.”

“That would be like putting a price on my father's life. I don't want their money, I want them to make themselves responsible for what they've caused.” The sound of wheels approached the door of your father's room, signaling the nurse was outside with his meds. “It’s okay, Auntie, I'll take care of everything. You can go back home, I know my uncle isn't doing so well.”

“Are you sure, darling?” It was undeniable that she wanted to head back to her little ranch fat away from the hectic city life to take care of her sick husband, but still, her brother was laying down on a hospital bed, fighting for his life.

“Yes, I'm an adult, I'll find a way.”

“Take care of yourself, and don't hesitate to call me if you're having any difficulties. I'll be there in the blink of an eye.” She said before sending a kiss into the speaker, proceeding to hang up.

You sighed. It was never usual for you to ask for help, as you were an extremely prideful and independent person, and you doubted this time would be different.

“Don’t worry, dad. Everything will be alright.”

Three failed job interviews and one more to go. Your feet were killing you, the high heels covering them already worn out from walking to avoid taking the bus. Every penny counted, and as long as your legs worked, you weren't spending any more money than what was necessary.

You sat down in the waiting room of the company, massaging your neck to relieve some tension. College was becoming a burden. Maybe you'd take a semester off to focus on working, that is if someone wanted to hire an inexperienced student.

“Y/n, Y/l/n?”

“Here.” You darted up, gathering your belongings to enter the room on which your life almost literally depended.

You gave all the right answers, earning a polite ‘we’ll contact you’ in return. But you could see that they weren't convinced with your lack of experience, no company in their right mind would be.

As soon as you arrived at your apartment, you slid out of the uncomfortable pencil skirt, tucking yourself under the covers with your phone screen almost hitting your nose.

To take your mind off things, you decided to watch some videos. Halfway in, an ad popped up, interrupting the interior deco video you were watching.

A picture of a girl about your age hugging an older man was right in the middle of your screen. Written with fancy letters, the words ‘make your life simpler’ could be read, followed by what you guessed was the title of the app. Sugar rush.

Out of pure curiosity, your finger tapped at the small icon that led to the app store, absentmindedly clicking the download button. A few seconds later, an icon with the letters ‘SR’ was added to your home screen.

“Log in?” You murmured out loud, squinting your eyes to adjust your eyes to the bright, white homepage.

Just as you were about to click out, the phrase from the ad reappeared, stopping your finger from moving any further.

You could always delete your account if something went wrong, right? Nonetheless, you decided to use a false name, and that's how Melanie Kim’s profile was created. You left the circle of your profile picture empty for now, only filling the spaces that asked about your likes, dislikes, age, and all that stuff that people care about so much.

You knew what the app was for, but that didn't stop you from being surprised when a list of men and women of different ages greeted you. Right then, a small rectangle obstructed your sight, two buttons offering opposite things.

‘Pick the role you'd like to develop.’

Sugar daddy/mommy / Sugar baby.

Clearly, you didn’t have nor the money or the years to be the first, so you clicked the opposite button without giving it more thought.

‘Welcome. You've been registered as a sugar baby at Sugar rush. Meet thousands of men and women willing to finance you for free!’

You hummed.

‘As we're always looking to make our users’ experience better, we've developed Sugar Rush premium, a membership to meet the richest and hottest people in your surroundings. Get the premium version for only $5.95 a month. Click here to get Sugar Rush premium.’

Your finger pad was dangerously close to the blue button, almost grazing the screen of the phone. It was then when you were pulled out of your trance, blinking as if just then you'd realized what you were doing.

“I must be crazy.” You turned off your phone, not bothering to turn on an alarm for the next day. You had no interviews left. You had nowhere to go.

Waking up was getting harder with every passing day. Not being able to call your dad to go out for breakfast or even sending a simple good morning message hurt you deeply. You missed him. But seeing him laying down on a hospital bed, unable to do anything by himself, was even worse.

Ding

A notification filled the silence in your room.

‘Come back, you haven't finished setting up your account yet!’

You scoffed at your past self. What were you even thinking when you downloaded the app?

You simply turned off the phone before standing up to take a relaxing shower. As the water soaked up your tense body, your mind started wandering off back to the app. A million what-ifs filled your head, nonetheless, there was one that remained the most persistent.

‘What if this can pay for a lawyer?’

Your part-time job surely couldn't, and you had no one to assist you financially speaking. The whole idea of paying that ridiculous membership seemed more tempting as your fingers started getting wrinkly under the showerhead.

You decided to take some time to consider it, after all, you still had a week to give the lawyers an answer.

Hot soup seemed like a good option to comfort you, and thankfully, there was a store right in front of your place that claimed to sell the best soups in town.

It wasn't bad, but not nearly as good as the one your dad cooked when you were a kid. You sighed, wondering if you'd ever be able to eat it again. Just then, a woman about your age came into the shop, carrying a couple of bags where names of popular brands could be read. A pinch of jealousy made your heart stir as you glanced at yourself through the reflection in the glass at your side. You looked devastated, your skin pale and your cheekbones slightly sunken, a sign of the lack of rest and food you'd been getting.

Out of pure impulse, you pulled out your phone, clicked on the app you'd recently downloaded, and finally accepted the charges for a premium membership.

‘Welcome, new member of our wide community, click ok to get started!’

Well, no turning back now.

Right after pressing the blue letters with your thumb, you were presented with a list of potential prospects, some of them including pictures, some of them only including name and a brief description of what they were looking for. The minority included their ages, but most left the space blank.

A bunch of old men looking for a youthful, pretty woman to be by their sides, some of them even went as far as writing the weight and height their ideal partner should have. Of course, there were also some women in the look for young meat, but the number of men overpassed them.

About to exit the app in defeat, a profile caught your eye. His pale pink hair was parted, allowing his thick eyebrows to stand out. His high cheekbones made him look like a statue, the details in his face almost too perfect for a mere human. He must be the incarnation of a Greek God, you thought.

‘Jung Yoonoh. 41 years old. Owner of N & C.’

“Should I...?” You asked yourself in a voice lower than a whisper.

He has probably gotten hundreds of messages, so what would be the point of sending one yourself? Your eyes scanned the picture over and over again as the remains of your soup started getting cold.

He was probably the only acceptable man in the whole app, so why not give it a try?

You already spent five whole dollars on it, might as well make it worth the money.

‘Hi.’ Sent.

“Holy crap.” You breathed out, regretting every single action that led you to take such a stupid decision. “Ah!” You squeaked as three small dots appeared beside his profile picture, signaling he was writing a reply.

What if he rejected you right from the beginning? God, that would be so humiliating. His message stopped your train of thought.

‘Hi!’

Followed by:

‘How are you?’

Sweating like a pig, thank you for asking.

‘Fine. You?’ Read.

‘Thrilled. No one had messaged me since I created my account two weeks ago.’

‘How is that possible?’ You imprinted your thoughts on a message.

‘It’s hard to trust people nowadays. I guess people might think either my picture is photoshopped or I'm lying about my job.’

‘Their loss, ig.’ Read.

He was taking some time to answer. Had you said something inappropriate?

‘Hahaha.’

The conversation stopped there, as you didn't know how exactly to answer his message. But a few minutes later, another text from him popped up at your chat.

‘If you're okay with it, we can start talking about a possible arrangement.’

Already? You've known each other for like five minutes. But then again, arrangements were the whole purpose of the app.

‘Sure.’

‘May I ask your reasons for joining the app?’

‘I need urgent money, but my job doesn't pay nearly enough.’ You omitted the part of your agonizing father, he didn't need to know that. ‘And you?’

‘I need someone to be my partner at public spaces.’

‘Alright.’ Read.

‘Do you happen to have some free time tomorrow at lunchtime? I think it’d be better to meet first before making any decisions.’

‘Yeah, I'm free.’

‘Great, I’ll send you the address.’

You thought a day would be enough to prepare yourself, but time passed by quicker than usual, and soon enough, it was time to get ready for your meeting with Mr. Jung. He was only a few years younger than your father, and calling him by his first name wouldn't feel right.

Unsure if you should wear something formal, you threw on a beige (the color you'd agreed on wearing so it’d be easier to recognize each other) summer dress, pairing it with the gold hoops you'd inherited from your grandma to make it look more elegant.

The hardest part of your routine was makeup. Your sunken cheeks couldn't be covered, and only after a few layers of blush and highlighter, you could bring your skin back to life.

On your way to the cafe, you went through the things you'd say when you met him. It was your chance to get your father what he needed.

You stood at the entrance with wide, scared eyes, shyly scanning through the place to look for your date.

“Melanie?” A hand on your shoulder had you jolting. “I’m Jung Yoonoh, nice to meet you.”

What you saw after turning around was breathtaking. A handsome, healthy man, with the most beautiful pair of dimples.

“Nice to meet you.” You managed to blurt out without stuttering, extending your hand to make the greeting more formal. The fake name didn’t seem necessary anymore. “It’s actually y/n, I didn't want to use my real name.”

“I understand. Let’s take a seat.” He offered with a kind smile.

He left you seating at the terrace while he made your order, a latte, and a chocolate cookie. Your fingers played with your hoops anxiously, trying to regulate your breath.

“They’ll bring our food in just a sec.” He offered a warm smile. “Your dress is pretty.” Yoonoh said out of nowhere.

“Thank you.”

“I see you're not a chatty person.” You were about to object, but he started speaking again. “It's not a bad thing! I usually talk a lot, so it’s a nice way to balance things.”

You nodded, seemingly uncomfortable with the man sitting in front of you.

“So, uhm, this is my first time doing this, so I'm not really sure where to begin.” He pulled out a folded paper from the front pocket of his dressing pants. “It’s a bit creased, but I can always print another one. I brought it so you could take a look and let me know if you wanted to change anything. I don't mean to pressure you, but you said it was urgent, so...”

You read the paper under his attentive gaze, making sure not to miss a single word. Everything seemed correct, except...

“Six months?”

“Is that too much?” A small wrinkle formed between his eyebrows, a sign of deep concentration. “Okay, so let's do this instead.”

He took back the contract, pulling out a pen from the pocket in his dressing shirt to correct the original stipulations.

“Four months, and if by the end of them you don't absolutely hate me, we can extend the time. Deal?”

“Just one more thing.”

You cleared your throat, conscious that your following words might jeopardize the whole arrangement.

“Are you sure you want to make it official already?” You had to stop for a moment as the waiter left your orders on top of the wooden table. “I mean, it's not that I have a problem with it, but it's your money and maybe you'd like to give it a better thought.” You resumed.

“The fact that you're concerned about me proves I'm making the right choice. Now, tell me, how much would you like to receive as a weekly allowance?”

Would it be too reckless to ask him straight up for the $8,000?

“H-how much are you willing to give me?” You felt dirty, accepting a stranger’s money like that.

“Whatever you need.” His hand suddenly reached forward to yours, causing every ounce of blood in your body to rush to your face. “There’s no need to be embarrassed, I'm here to help you.” His voice tone dropped, acquiring an almost soothing feeling.

“I need eight thousand by Thursday, next week.” His eyes were wide open, mouth having difficulties remaining closed. “I-I know it's too much, but...”

“I can find a way to give you that money, but I'd like to know the reason why you need it. Just to make sure it's nothing illegal.”

You puffed your cheeks, trying to find an excuse good enough to justify the amount of money you were asking for.

“It isn’t illegal, is it?”

“No!” You retrieved your hand from below his, now embarrassed at the possibility of him having a bad image of you. “I need it for my father.”

“I suppose you don't want to talk about it.” He started at his palm, lips pressed in a thin life. “But when it comes to arrangements like this, we need to trust each other, alright?” You barely knew each other, yet, he demanded to know a very personal detail of your life. Not that he didn't have a good reason for wanting to know, it wasn't a particularly small amount of money.

“He had an accident at work...” You started, fearful of looking up to find pity in his eyes. “I need a lawyer to make his company legally responsible. They intend to throw it under the rug and pay a somewhat decent amount of money to make it go away. The firm I intend to hire is supposedly the best in town, probably my only chance of getting justice.”

“And why don't you just accept it? There's no guarantee that your lawyer will win the case.” You fisted the delicate fabric of your dress, eyes watering as you tried to hold back your anger.

“My father’s life is priceless, and if you think what I'm doing is a waste of money, then fine, we can both look for someone else to help us.” It sounded more aggressive than you'd first intended, but you meant every word that came out of your mouth.

Before you could even stand up, his slim fingers had already wrapped themselves around your wrist.

“I never said that.” He whispered with an almost sad tone. “Come on, sit down.”

He tugged at your arm the slightest, showing off his charming dimples once again.

“I’ll give you the money on one condition...” He raised one of his thick eyebrows. “I’ll go with you to see the lawyer.”

“Why...?”

“That’s my condition, take it or leave it.”

“Okay.”

The days before your meeting with your potential lawyer were nerve-wracking. You'd seen Yoonoh another time to sign the contract, which finally made your arrangement official.

You’d visit your father every day, always hoping he'd be sitting with his arms wide open, ready to hug you. But nothing had changed ever since he first came into that room.

“I’m here to see Mr. Kim.” The secretary's gaze lingered on Jaehyun a few seconds before he finally snapped out of it. “Y/n Y/l/n.”

“Just a second.” He opened his agenda and quickly found your appointment. With a warm smile, he guided you through the corridors of the building, all the way to the elevator. “It’s the only office on the last floor, I'll be at my desk if you need anything.”

Once again, he shot Jae an uneasy glance before the metal doors slid close.

“What was all that?” To be honest, you couldn't care less. But a small chat might calm your nerves and prevent you from throwing up all over the place.

“What do you mean?” He grinned, pressing the button to the top floor.

“You know what I mean.” You scoffed, annoyed at his evasive behavior.

“We just happen to know each other, nothing special.” Before the conversation could continue, a loud ding resonated through the metal cubicle. “Let’s go.” His hand found its place at the small of your back, pushing you towards the glass door. Through it, you could see a black-haired man reading a pile of documents, occasionally raising a photo to examine it with his gold-rimmed glasses supported at the bridge of his elegant nose.

Jaehyun extended his arm over your shoulder to knock on the door, earning an almost annoyed ‘come in’ from the man inside.

“Let’s go.” Once again invading your personal space, he reached for the doorknob with you trapped between his arms.

As soon as the door opened, the man raised his eyes from the documents he was checking.

“What are you doing here, Jung?”

“I knew something was off...” You murmured, loud enough for the man at your side to chuckle.

“I brought you a client, you should be happy.”

“Miss y/n, I suppose. Have a seat.” His demeanor completely changed while speaking directly to you. “I spoke with your aunt last week, she explained the details of the lawsuit, but I must say, it isn't an easy case.”

“I know that, but I've been told you're the best firm in town, I know I'll have more possibilities of winning if you're my lawyer.”

“Best firm in town my ass.”

“Be silent or I’ll kick you out of the building.”

That was enough for Yoonoh to zip his mouth. For a while at least.

“I suppose she also told you about our fee.” He pushed his glasses up using his thumb. “We’d also keep 25% of the lawsuit money assuming we win the case, is that okay with you?”

“Yes-”

“Okay, stop.”

“I’ll call security, Jung.”

“Look at me, y/n.” He squeezed your arms. “This clown is trying to scam you...” He pointed his finger at the lawyer without breaking eye contact. “You’d be spending loads of money for someone who isn't even confident in his abilities. It isn't worth it.”

“And I suppose you'd do better than me, then.” The black-haired man scoffed. “If that's the case, then you can both leave. I'm quite busy at the moment.” With a turn of his wrist, he signaled you to leave the room.

You were fuming, stomping out of the building with Jaehyun right behind you.

“I found a great restaurant nearby, we can go there and-”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Calm down-”

“Don’t tell me to calm down when you just fucked up my only chance to give those bastards what they deserve.” The sun was starting to set, yellow light casting shadows over his tender cheeks.

“Can you listen to me for a second?”

“Are you laughing right now?” You bit your lip, hard, trying to hold back the tsunami of tears threatening to come out of your eyes. “Asshole.”

“Ouch.” He furrowed his eyebrows mockingly. Oh, how close you were to punch that pretty face of his. “Can I explain now?”

You remained silent, staring at the ground with the smallest frown between your eyebrows.

“How do you think I know Kim Doyoung?” Before even giving you a chance to answer, he continued. “That son of a bitch has been stealing my clients for ages.”

“Your clients...?”

“He isn't even that good of a lawyer compared to me.” He scoffed with fake arrogance.

“You're a lawyer?!” You slammed your palms into your face, whining at the newly acquired information. “Why didn't you tell me from the beginning?”

“Just wanted to swing by and annoy him a bit. Don't worry, I wasn't gonna let you accept his deal.” He winked playfully.

The sun was now hidden, the sky darkening as the moon rose to take its shift.

“Though I gotta say, I'm kinda offended I wasn't even an option. I'm a pretty great lawyer, you know?”

“Sorry.”

“I’ll forgive you if you join me for dinner. What do you say?”

As you walked into the darkness of the streets, his shoulder occasionally bumping yours, you wondered if meeting him was a casualty. Maybe the world was finally smiling at you.

#nct smut #nct angst #nct fluff #nct au #nct imagines #nct ot21 #nct x reader #nct #nct 127 #nct scenarios #nct jaehyun

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unholytrinitytrio · 3 years

Text

HOW TO TAKE CARE OF YOUR OBSESSIVE LOVER

Lesson 2: Eating anything that they made

Pairings: Obsessed Shigaraki x Reader, Obsessed Hawks x Reader, Obsessed Dabi x Reader

Warnings: Reader with a Stockholm syndrome?, Spitting at food, Mentions of other bodily fluid, Spiking foods, Deliberate mention of use of drugs without consent.

TOMURA SHIGARAKI: TENKO SHIMURA

The first few days of being held captive, he resorted to drugging anything you consumed, including water.

He honestly doesn't want to resort to something so low, but seeing you struggling to escape each and everday did number to his feelings.

Anxiolytics drugs was what he prefered to sneak into your foods, just about enough to make your body pliant. But not enough to actually knock you unconscious.

Fast forward to now, drugging you would be his last resort into making you stay with him. After all who wouldn't say no to being coodled by their lover. But when push comes to shove he won't shy away with using such dirty tactics.

Sitting besides him, with hunch form eyes glued to the screen. Probably scooping up articles about heroes. You saw two sets of sandwhiches.

"Did you made these?" you asked him taking note of two sloppily made snacks.

"What about it?" he asked you before biting into his.

You hummed a bit before leaning over stealing a bite into his sandwhich.

"Hey!" he exclaimed, grumbling a bit before looking at the damaged you've done. Scoffing he shoved his already half eaten sandwhich into your direction.

"Whatever, I prefer this flavor more" Shigaraki claimed before stealing your untouched one.

He's not gonna sugar coat it per say, but he knows you're still a bit more on the edge when it comes to being handed with food prepared by others, especially those prepared by him.

Giggling a bit you licked the smudge of condiments at the corner of his mouth. Before enjoying your stolen meal.

ENTRY NO. 29: Consuming anything that he or any of his surbodinates made. (He doesn't trust them enough with your care)

Never challenge him into eating dishes prepared by him, no matter how suspicious you are. Last time you did he had the audacity to actually mix in crushed drugs that was poorly hidden, mocking you, you supposed. Passive aggressive shit. Rather, it is highly more recommended to steal anything he previously bit into within a specific time frame.

Additional note: You may or may not let your guard down that one time and had eaten a refrigerated left over he had, thinking it was already safe to eat. Wrong. You had spent the entire afternoon, too tired to actually move a limb, at the bed cuddled by his side.

HAWKS: KEIGO TAKAMI

Living with Keigo was nerve racking in a sense that you never consumed any spiked food nor drink.

However whenever you two have your daily scheduled shared meal time. You took note that he never, and I mean never, touches his own serving. He literally just stares all goggly eyes at you while you painstakingly finish yours.

After then would he clean up both of your plates, his' still untouched.

When you once asked him if your presence bothers him to the point of not wanting to eat in front of you. He'll look extremely offended, before smiling back at you claiming that he already feels full from watching you eat.

Like hell he does.

What's worse from his unusual eating pattern is that sometimes you can hear him panting by the kitchen sink muttering words of wanting to be inside you more?

One night you finished taking a bath a lot earlier than what this creep had time tabled and actually caught this nasty piece of work drooling straight both at your drinks and dinne.

When you confronted him about it he just laughed at your firm accusation, rubbing the excess drool off of his mouth, and told you that dinner was served.

Still suppressing your disgust, you still pressed on saying that you wouldn't eat nor touch anything he did as long as these particular quirk of his, was not corrected.

"You wound my heart, wifey. Just yesterday night you couldn't stop eating the dressing off the cole slaw I made. With you on my mind of course."

No wonder it smelled so sourly funky. Cue the start of gagging.

ENTRY NO. 15: Consuming anything that he or any of his surbodinates made. (He rather you depend on him more)

Up to this day, you still don't know when he started adding his own ingredients to your meals.

So please just save yourself the trouble of experiencing and seeing something remotely disgusting, and just offer to make your shared meal. Your bizzare kitchen expertise be damned.

No matter how many times you scolded him of his particular...hobby. He just wouldn't see what's wrong with wanting to be with you at all times. Well, inside you that is.

Additional note: He seemed thrilled with the idea of you dressing up and acting like a cute little wife of his, that he straight up bought a customized apron of your own sizing. Completely decorated with frills, ribbons and heart.

DABI: TOUYA TODOROKI

Hell must had freezed over before he brings you any handmade food.

Anyway, just like some fucked up Hero, he wouldn't resort as to something as low as spiking up your meals.

Nah, he prefers those sharp needles up at your arms all deep like. He finds it quite amusing how you'd be all lifeless and shit for him after the drugs kick in. Somebody tell this fucked up shit that everyone's like that if you stick an awful amount of anesthetic agents to them.

Back to the topic at hand, if he ever did make something for you, the food would taste alright despite the charred edges and burned other side.

ENTRY NO. 15: Consuming anything that he or any of his surbodinates made. (As long as nothing happens to you)

Out of all three you can reassure that his wouldn't contain any of medication nor any of his bodily fluids. Though there was one incident where he jerked inside your half eaten 6 foot sandwhich.

He's not gonna lie when he says that watching you eat that, with no care in the world, something he corrupted stirred something inside of him.

Not his measly conscience I can assure you that.

Up to this day you still questioned if that foul 6 foot sandwhich you had was what caused your stomach to be upset the same night.

He couldn't stop his maniacal howl throughout the night much to your annoyance and fear.

Additional note: Much to your surprise and advantage he couldn't doesn't have quite the taste bud for distinguishing flavors. Be that may be, you know better that trying to escape him by spiking anything you give him in a guise of a loving partner.

He didn't survived the dark streets for nothing.

Review Lesson 1

#bnha imagines #mha imagines #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki headcanons #hawks x reader #hawks headcanons #dabi x reader #dabi headcanons #bnha reader insert #mha reader insert #bnha headcanons #mha headcanons #beaniewritestrio #unholytrinitytrio

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rachetmath · 3 years

Text

Favorite (Characters)

Ruby: *barges in* RatchetMath!

Me: What is it Ruby?

Ruby: You’re showing favoritism.

Me: Okay. And?

Ruby: You need to stop. Why not draw us for once?

Me: Hm, maybe because I like Jaune more. Hell I like Penny and Neo more than you or your team.

Ruby: Why?!

Me: Because your team is horrible.

Ruby: So is team JNPR!

Me: Yeah, but only because they have to follow you. They have some individuality but we don’t explore that as much. Plus, your team would be dead without them. But you know what Ruby, I would rather draw Yang, Blake or any other character except Weiss than you right now.

Ruby: What?! But I’m-

Me: The main character that barely does main character things. Woman, Salem was in Atlas! Why was she not your top priority? Why was James your problem?

Ruby: Um well…

Me: Ruby, she knows your mother! She might know what happened to her! I get Yang was some levels your mom but shouldn’t learning what happened to your actual mom be just as important? Especially after that dark memory.

Ruby: That is true.

Me: You have silver eyes but you still don’t know how to use them. There was army of grimm around Mantle and that would have been good practice. And a better solution than Ren.

Ruby: But then I be overpowered.

Me: No. Ruby your silver eyes only work on one person. If someone sneaks up on you or doesn’t care about that light you give off then, you’re dead. Maria is proof on that.

Ruby: Um..

Me: Plus, the question that everyone in the audience could have an answer to is whether your silver eyes can even work on Salem. In all honesty, it proves the writer don’t keep track of the characters and their personalities to where they fit together in story. You know what I have been making skits, trying to be funny but… the jokes died. Look guys I-I’m sorry but… let me explain.

1. Ruby and Blake should have stayed in Mantle. Why?

1. Salem is the main villian. She knows Ruby’s mother. You know the same mother who left for a mission and didn’t come back. The same mother, who Ruby knows nothing about while everyone seems to have different perspectives of her. Or has a better clue on who she is, than Ruby herself. Plus wasn’t Salem after her too? She basically would be killing two birds with one stone by kidnapping Oscar and giving Ruby a reason to see her. That way Ruby isn’t assuming what happened to her mother. Let Salem antagonize Ruby. (Question: Can silver eyes work on Salem?)

2. Perfect training for silver eyes. Let’s face it, Ren proved to us he can mask a bunch of people without Jaune’s help. All he needed was concentration. However, Ruby is more effective because silver eyes seem to be able to destroy multiple grimm on sight. And with lives on the line that gives Ruby plenty of reason to start using them.

3. Ren calling Ruby out on her issues. Look I loved how Ren was willing to tell the truth, but him revealing Jaune cheated Beacon was… weak. Reason being it relates to Jaune’s character and Ren still follows Jaune’s orders. However, Ruby, who is supposed to be a prodigy because she came to Beacon two years ahead of her class, has not proven once that she is worthy of such praise. The only reason-The ONLY reason Ruby was enrolled into Beacon was her silver eyes. Ruby even in volume one has been nothing but liability. Initiations, she almost dies from a Stinger. Stake out, she almost got run over by a truck and it ended in failure. First mission, she gets kidnapped and almost destroyed a city block. Roman, a man with no semblance or aura continues to beat her four times in a row. And it gets worse. Ruby almost got her uncle killed. She was the first to get knocked out by Emerald. Almost dies by a robot and Godzilla. And the moment she arrived in Atlas her first move was to lie to James. She didn’t even try to stop Tyrian when she saw him. She had her gun with her too. Ren is not her sister, he might as well tell her the facts so she can do better.

4. Blake is Faunus. Mantle hates faunuses. Why not have Blake help them to prove faunuses are people too? Let Blake represent her people. I mean Velvet and Sun represent faunses more than she does her whole existence. Blake also can relate to Ren’s problem. How? Blake was a part of the White Fang, so there were expectations she had to fulfill. Especially when trying to measure up to Adam. However, she explains the longer she was in the White Fang, the more she found out how messed up and extremely bias it was. Including with Adam to the point she decided to leave. She even states she was lucky that Yang even forgave her after all the trouble she caused her. Blake challenged her bias nature, and it made her stronger for it. Blake would be basically telling Ren the more he tries to live up to someone else’s expectations, without seeing their flaws, the more he loses touch with himself and everyone around him.

5. Oscar shouldn’t have been able break out of Salem on his own: I’m sorry but… Oscar got beat up. Took a magic beam to the chest. Had to switch between him and Ozpin and mind you he had no aura to help him. He should be tired and unable to move. (In my opinion, this kid was given too much screen time. At first I was worried about him but now I’m wondering why was I worrying at all.)

2. Jaune and Yang should have gone to Atlas.

1. Penny is basically Pyrrha in the opposite light. Penny’s special because she’s a robot with a soul, a mind of her own and an attitude to prove it. She is just as human as everyone else, but no one seems to treat her as such. James only sees her as something of a weapon. Pietro treats her like child even though she’s more mature than the rest of the female cast, except Maria. And now with maiden powers, everyone is out casting Penny even more. Jaune is perfect for her because he has experience with this kind of issue. However, he would’ve had to take different route to the situation considering his failure with Pyrrha last time they had discussion on maiden powers or responsibilities (Destiny.).

2. Jaune already has been a part of maiden business since volume three. His reason to be with Penny would be make sure she doesn’t meet the same fate as Pyrrha or Amber. Not just for himself but for others around him. Especially since Cinder was in Atlas and is willing to hunt her down for the maiden powers. And James was willing to turn Penny into a soulless machine to follow his every command. (Actually, Watts is more a fault considering he hates Pietro.). James and Cinder are also opposite to Jaune in some ways. James earned his position and earned respect from his military. Jaune on the other hand cheated, and unlike James might not have everybody’s respect. Cinder treats her allies like tools. And with power she just consumes and gives nothing return. Jaune however treats his allies like family. And instead of just taking power he gives power to others around him. He’s the reason Cinder has maiden powers. So, him making it his personal mission to make sure Cinder doesn’t get more power only increases his resolve to protect Penny. (Especially since he already had to kill her in the canon finale.) In other words, James and Cinder purposed a challenge to Jaune. Can he pervert history from repeating itself? Can he really protect the maiden powers? Is he truly worthy of being a huntsman? What is he willing to risk in achieving his goal? (Also let’s be clear. Hazel beat Oscar down for the password to the relic. James shot the kid and was willing to let him fall to his death. Qrow intentionally punched the kid. I don’t care if it was for Ozpin, he still punched Oscar. Lion before even knowing Oscar was Ozpin reincarnation was already about kill him anyways. All Jaune did was push him to a wall. Yes, Jaune still would have hurt Oscar, but he didn’t. He walked away.)

3. A lot of the situations could’ve been avoided or mattered if Jaune was there. Don’t believe me? Well let me explain. Was Ruby the only option when sneaking pass Central Command? No, because they had Weiss, Nora and Penny. Weiss could have done a freezer burn like in her fight with Marrow. Or Nora could have thrown her grenades and Penny just shoots them before the hit the ground or damage anything. Both causing a smoke screen, so no one sees them. Plus, they were already caught by using Pietro credentials. Did Nora need to get knocked out for the team to escape? No. If she had Jaune with her they could’ve one caused an EMP wave being Jaune has gravity and Nora has lightning. Or two, if Nora still went through with it, Jaune would have healed her immediately. Penny lifting and keeping the arena in place. If Jaune and Weiss were with her then once Amity was in position, Weiss with Jaune’s assistances can keep it place so Penny can come back inside and the whole video could be played. Also, Pietro would know what was going on with his daughter and can properly explain how to fix her. (Better than Jaune healing her.)

4. Nora’s whole character is knowing who she is without Ren right? Then why not just have her lead the evacuation once she’s done with Atlas? Why not have her and Yang work together along with the happy huntress to evacuate Mantle? Especially if their friends disappeared to save Oscar. (And before ya’ll tell me they can’t do it….. Yang, blocked a punch from a mech, held off a Manticore, and has a semblance that literally lets her take damage and dish it back five times harder. Nora who literally crushed Weiss and Yang in a food fight. Knocked a giant horse down on its knee. And knocked Hazel away. Are you seriously saying these girls are not enough to take on a few little tigers? Come on!) If the whole point of Nora’s character development was finding out more about herself then let Nora try something without Ren. Let her call the shots. Let her take charge. Give her a character. (Hell don’t stop there. Have her interact with other characters. Like Jaune. Yang. Weiss. Or anyone other character than Ren. Let them tell her what they think about her. Let Nora be a solution to a character’s struggle. Ya’ll make it sound like Nora has no friends.)

5. All Yang needed was a break from Ruby and Blake. In all honesty Yang should have been the one to see the hounds face and kill it. Why? Well Ruby is Yang’s sister and only reminder of her nonblood related mother. And Blake is her girlfriend. And if we saw the hound’s face, we know it’s not just a silver eyed person. It’s also a faunus. This will give her a reason to protect both her loved ones because by seeing the hound she knows Salem intention with Ruby and want to keep her, and Blake from meeting the same fate of being turned into monsters. Yang should’ve been the 2nd to 4th member of team RWBY to fall. Why? One, a Yang vs Neo fight. Two, Cinder and Neo both wanted Ruby dead. So why not get rid of Ruby first? The fights would have been more thrilling and seeing the character, the show is named after, presumed to be dead would have added stakes and tension to the fight. (Also let me say this. Why is it, that the only great display of the maiden powers I’ve ever seen, was from Amber and not the maidens, as of now, Winter, Raven, and Cinder? The maiden powers are basically magic right? Why isn’t Cinder using any other element than fire?)

6. Weiss was completely useless. Look, as the saying goes, “You can choose your friends, but you can’t choose your family.” And when it came to Weiss and family, she has little to no clue of what it is nor deserves it. Weiss should have been more of an inspiration for Whitley to do right. How? By simply talking to him. What reason would she have other than Mantle? Simple, he’s her brother and she started off like him. Beacon, she was a brat. She was arrogant. And more importantly a jerk. Blake ran because of her racist attitude. Ruby literally had to impress her to prove she can be leader. Even though Weiss is not leadership martial herself. Plus, hearing May and how she and her family never resolved their issues should inspire Weiss to not repeat that mistake. And guess what, her mom, Willow, the drinker of the family, wasn’t wrong. Both her and Winter left Whitley alone. Klein wasn’t there for him either. All Whitley had was his father. So Weiss, actually acting like his sister and trying to help him allows him to feel less alone. Instead Weiss was complete Jacque through out the entire volume.

And that’s all. Look I know I should have seen this coming but I had to say it. Volume 8 could’ve been good. The problem was.

1. Characters are not placed well within the story.

2. We lost track of who said characters are.

3. The ships are in the way.

4. Being dumb for the plot. (Sometimes it’s necessary.)

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sunshineandaisies · 3 years

Text

Pikachu Problems

Words: ~1.9k

Pairing: Peter Parker x Avenger!Reader

Warnings: language, very minor sexual suggestions

Note: I am currently sick- thus, this was created. Also watched a bunch of Teen Wolf while writing this, so took inspiration from Kira’s thunder kitsune powers for the reader’s powers.

It had started off as just sniffles – an occasional sneeze here and a blown nose there – but within the course of a few days, what you had hoped was just allergies had turned into a full-blown, misery-inducing cold.

Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if it were a normal cold, but because normal wasn’t in your vocabulary, you had been placed on quarantine to stop your sneezing and coughing from taking down an entire electrical grid in the city. Instead, you were irritating Tony every ten minutes as the lights flickered within Stark Tower and F.R.I.D.A.Y. updated him on the power outages throughout the building that your sneezing and coughing was causing.

“Kid, I’m gonna need you to stop shorting the power in the lab,” he had told you over the intercom after your latest coughing fit had caused a slight blackout within that part of the building. “Do we need to get some lightning rods for you or something? Maybe pad your room in rubber? I’ll take any suggestions, kid. Anything that’ll help keep you from frying the equipment in my lab.”

If you hadn’t been absolutely miserable, his growing frustration may have been funny.

Your quarantine only made you more miserable. You hadn’t been to school in days – hell, you’d barely left your room. Your meals were brought to you, your supply of tissues restocked every other day when Bucky or Bruce would leave a plastic bag from the drug store outside of your door, and your communication with others was done solely through the intercom or with F.R.I.D.A.Y. serving as a messenger.

To make matters worse, on the third day of you quarantine a particularly powerful sneeze had shorted all the electronics in your room. F.R.I.D.A.Y. had been unable to access your room for three hours while Tony repaired the damage, your laptop had to be completely wiped in order to assess the damage, and your phone – well, your phone was fried.

That’s probably why, on the sixth day of your quarantine, a friendly neighborhood Spider-Boy showed up at Stark Tower, rambling on and on about unanswered texts and awkward voicemails – that you definitely needed to listen to once Tony sorted out your phone situation – and ‘why the hell weren’t you in school all week’.

“C’mon, Mr. Stark. Let me in to see her,” you heard Peter begging through the intercom after he had finally managed to track Tony down after trying and failing to get F.R.I.D.A.Y. to open the door to your bedroom for nearly thirty minutes. “I just wanna make sure she’s feeling okay.”

“Kid, the last thing we need is a fried spider,” was Tony’s response, making you roll your eyes.

“I won’t hurt him,” you defended, your throat sore and scratchy from days upon days of feeling like you would cough up a lung. “I just want some cuddles, and I don’t see anyone else lining up at my door to cuddle me.” You sneezed, and the lights in your room flickered. You hoped your sneezed hadn’t affected the electricity anywhere else or you’d never convince Tony to let Peter into your room. “Please, Tony,” you pleaded. “I just want to see Peter.”

“Please, Mr. Stark,” Peter joined your pleading, and you knew that with the combined efforts of the two of you, he’d crack eventually. “She won’t hurt me. I know she won’t.”

You heard the older man groan over the intercom, and after another second, the lock on your door disengaged. “Thank you, Tony!” you exclaimed at the same time as Peter happily shouted, “You’re the best, Mr. Stark.”

“Don’t make me regret this,” Tony warned, sounding just as exasperated as you imagined he was. You smiled widely despite knowing that neither Tony nor Peter could see you. Tony Stark was good at many things but being able to tell his protégé and his ward no when they both pressed hard enough was not one of those things.

Within ten minutes, Peter was at your door. He had a fuzzy blanket draped over his shoulders, a steaming bowl of soup in his hands, and his laptop tucked under one arm while a fresh box of tissues was tucked under the other. He beamed at you when you opened the door, but his smile quickly faded as he took in your appearance. “You, uh- you look like-”

“Shit?” you guessed, hating how nasally your voice sounded. You tried to laugh when you saw his cheeks tinge pink as he shrugged, but your attempt at laughing quickly turned into a coughing fit. The lights flickered again, and Peter’s eyed you skeptically.

“Is this why you haven’t been answering my texts and calls all week?” he asked, though you assumed he already knew the answer to that question. You cocked your head to the side and raised a brow at him, moving to the side to let him into your room and past you. “You killed your phone, didn’t you?”

“Can you kill something that was never alive to begin with?” you asked rhetorically. You crawled onto your bed and crossed your legs, waiting for Peter to join you. “Did I fry my phone and make it completely unusable? Yes. Did I kill it? No.”

“Sounds like you killed it,” he quipped with a teasing grin. “Here. Pepper made this for you.” He handed you the bowl of soup, and you happily took it from him, inhaling the steam that rose off the liquid and letting it warm your throat and sinuses. You sighed in relief as you felt it soothing the inflammation that made it difficult to breath and speak. The sound didn’t escape Peter’s attention, and he smiled softly at you before settling a hand on your bare knee. “Better?”

“I will be,” you reassured and returned his smile. You let him mother hen you as you ate the soup in quiet. He made sure you had enough water, made sure that you weren’t feeling feverish, made sure that a box of tissues was within your reach, made sure that you were comfortable – ‘Peter, you really don’t need to fluff my pillows again’ – and made sure that you had taken the recommended dose of cough syrup throughout the day.

Finally – finally! – he joined you on the bed after pulling the now empty bowl from your hands and setting it on the bedside table. “Someone asked for cuddles?” he questioned sheepishly – and oh so adorably – as he settled in the spot beside you.

“I believe that someone is me,” you returned. You moved closer to him, but something in the back of your mind made you stop. “Are you sure?”

His face twisted in confusion and his brow furrowed tightly. “Sure about what?”

“That I won’t hurt you.” Right on cue, you coughed, causing the lights to flicker once again. “I can’t control it, Peter. I could hurt you, and if that happens, I don’t know what I-”

Your train of thought was interrupted by a warm hand on your cheek and soft brown eyes boring into yours. “Y/N, I literally trust you with my life. Out there and in here.” His thumb trailed over your cheekbone, his touch igniting your sense. You really wished you weren’t sick. If you were healthy, you’d definitely pounce and show him your appreciation for him and his trust.

“Aren’t you worried about getting sick?”

He shrugged. “Seems like it’s nothing more than a cold, but your powers are making it, like, ten times worse for you.” His hand dropped away from your face, but his arms opened, inviting you into his embrace. “C’mere, pretty girl.”

“Pretty girl? Didn’t you say I looked like shit earlier?”

“In my defense, I never actually said that. You just assumed that that was what I was going to say.” You scooted closer to Peter and slumped into his arms, sighing at the contact after going days without. “But you’re always a pretty girl. Even if you’re sick and look like shit.”

You swatted at his shoulder and laughed, but another coughing fit soon took over. The lights flickered overhead and a mechanically buzzing in the walls could be heard for a few seconds before the room grew silent once more. Once you were sure that the need to cough had died down, you relaxed against Peter. “Can we take a nap? Please?”

“Yeah, of course.” He guided your bodies down to the mattress, settling your heads atop your pillow and pulling the blanket over your bodies. “You’ll tell me if you need anything?”

“Definitely,” you murmured against the skin of his neck, your eyes drooping shut. “Missed you.”

“Missed you, too, pretty girl,” you heard Peter respond before you finally let your exhausted body rest.

When you woke up a few hours later, your body shaking from your latest coughing fit, the New York skyline was lit up with different shades of pinks and reds and oranges as the sun sank below the horizon. Peter bolted awake beside you, a comforting hand on your back to rub soothing circles over the fabric of your t-shirt.

Again, the lights flickered, and the mechanical buzzing sound returned, even louder than before. This time, though, the lights grew brighter and brighter before your bedroom was eventually plunged into darkness.

“Peter,” you whispered, your voice hoarse. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he reassured quickly. “I’m fine, but, uh-” He held up his phone, the screen remaining completely black as he pressed the home button over and over again. “I think you killed my phone.”

You groaned and flopped back against your mattress, covering your face with your hands. “I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to-”

You were interrupted by Tony’s voice over the intercom, sounding just as irritated as you imagined he was. “Okay, Pikachu.” You rolled your eyes at the nickname. “Not sure how you managed to do it, but F.R.I.D.A.Y. can’t access anything on your floor. The locks, the lights, the elevator. All of it. Until I can figure out how to fix this, you’re not going anywhere. That means you, too, Spiderling.”

“But Aunt May said to-” The distinct click of the intercom disconnecting sounded, and Peter slumped against the mattress beside you, pressing his face into your neck. “I guess I’m stuck here.”

“You won’t hear me complaining,” you quipped.

You felt him smile against your neck while his arm wound itself around your waist. “I’m not complaining,” he defended. He pressed his lips to your neck in a soft kiss, and you sighed happily, fingers twining in his messy hair. To prove his point, he pressed kisses along the column of your neck, across your jaw and cheeks, and finally firmly against your lips. “I’m definitely okay with being stuck in my girlfriend’s bedroom. Even if she’s sick and unintentionally causing blackouts in the building.”

You smiled against his lips as he settled himself between your legs, and you whispered, “Whoever said giving you a perfectly good reason to stay the night was unintentional?”

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sanktnikolais · 3 years

Text

A Little Wicked

A/N: so here is your resident zoyalai writer again with another zoyalai fic (bc what’s new) for the @grishaversebigbang mini bang!!!! This had been a fun mini event before the actual big one, and I had the absolute honor to work with two very awesome and great artists @generalstarkov and @jjelliacee!!! I love these two sm they have awesome creations pls give them a follow and no i don’t take no for an answer HAHAHA

Check out their awesome creations in companion with this fic!

@generalstarkov [x]

@jjelliacee [x]

Word count: 2320

Summary: A commotion at one of the Lantsov’s businesses in Kribirsk happens, and it is going to be a lot of paperwork and stress for the Consigliere to work on again. But when he gets there, he doesn’t expect who the main reason of his suffering is.

To say that Zoya was utterly pissed off was an understatement. There was something about seeing the gray shade of the Brum associates's coats that ticked at her patience.

Their color looks dead, Nikolai’s unwanted and yet familiar voice echoed in her head. She wanted to strangle him even when he was not physically there. As if the Lantsov green was any better than gray. But she figured that maybe it was a bit better than the dull shade she was now seeing in front of her.

She had come—escaped—to the small pub downtown in Kribirsk to have some breather away from the fiasco that happened in Os Kervo. She’d already had enough shit from the Brums intercepting the Lantsovs’ arms shipments, and she had held back from going completely undiplomatic on them.

But now, if the Brum lackeys continued their uncivilized talks with her, perhaps she wouldn’t hold back.

“Are you sure you don’t want some company?” he asked for the third time, and the two other men with him laughed.

Zoya suppressed an exasperated sigh as she raised the glass to her lips. She eyed the young man with a narrowed glance, then turned her attention to his cuffs. The embroidery around it looked new, a double black stripes of a newly promoted Soldier from an Associate. His companions had the same rank. So that explained the unawareness of who she really was, and the common principle between the families.

They didn’t have an explicit rule that members of a Family weren’t allowed in another’s business, but all seemed to have an unspoken agreement to stay away from a rival territory unless invited. Out of respect, she figured, and they did maintain it most of the time. Maybe these morons hadn’t been briefed about it yet.

An idea suddenly came to her mind. A mad, trouble-worthy idea that she was sure Nikolai would have enabled if it wasn’t about to give him a headache later. He was her literal headache anyway, so it was only fair if she paid back in kindness. Besides, she could use a bit of stretching today.

Zoya smiled menacingly. “Come closer, and I’ll tell you,” she said in a rather sensual tone, and it earned a grin from the man in the middle. He did as he was told, leaning forward on the table and inching closer to her face. When he was finally near enough, she let out a light chuckle.

Then she swiped the bottle of whiskey from the table and struck it to the man’s head.

He recoiled with a scream of pain, and she didn’t give time for his companions to react and kicked the table to them, causing it to flip over and hit them on their faces. They toppled on the floor in a heap.

“Saints,” Zoya sighed as she stood and opened the top two buttons of her top. She was mad and exhausted and drunk. She needed a breather.

The man who had annoyed her since earlier tried to stand up, but she put her heel to his face and kept him on the floor. His two other companions looked up at her, bewildered. She gave them a pointed glance that had them frozen in their places.

“Who do you think you are, woman?” the man underneath her heel shouted. He tried to twist off from her foot, but she drove her toe further down to his cheek. Another pained groan came from him.

Zoya slowly rolled up the sleeve, showing the dragon tattoo that twisted around the expanse of her forearm.

“Oh, shit,” one of the men said. “It’s the Lantsovs.”

She smirked in return and braced an elbow to her knee, leaning closer to the man. “Allow me to introduce myself, then.”

***

The first thing Nikolai thought of when he saw the state of the building were the paperworks, and it only became worse when he finally got inside and saw more of the mess. When he received a call regarding some ruckus in one of their businesses, he thought it was a prank. Even businesses as small as this still had a lot of records that needed to be taken care of, and it was his job to handle those paperworks. He almost wanted to cry. Couldn’t the people choose any other location than this?

“Nikolai.”

He was startled out of his lamenting when he heard his name called, and he turned to see Tamar with a pitiful expression. “I know, I know,” he said, looking back at the sight in front of him.

Toppled tables and chairs along with broken bottles of expensive drinks littered the floor, and the smell of alcohol filled the pub with a bracing odor. Nikolai looked down to his feet, seeing what he could tell was what was left of a Hennessy bottle lying on the floor. There was a slight twinge in his chest. Such a sad, sad waste.

“I’ve talked to some of the witnesses,” said Tamar after a moment, her voice thoughtful. "I think it was the Brums."

"Dearest saints in the heavens, give me more patience," muttered Nikolai with a wince. Today's news about their shipment getting intercepted had been bad enough. Driving almost two hours to this saintsforsaken town just to know that the same family had caused them another trouble? Atrocious. He could already feel a headache coming at him. "Were the police involved?"

"Yeah, they've arrested four people. Three men, and apparently one woman."

Nikolai put a hand to his forehead, rubbing it gently as if doing so would keep the headache from coming. But when his temple started to pound, he figured the attempt was futile.

Then a thought struck him, and he turned to the Lantsov caporegime with a frown. "There's a woman?" He didn’t know why, but there was an uneasy feeling in his gut. "Arrested?"

"Apparently, yes. It's quite a surprise too."

"Oh, dear me."

The headache finally came to hit him full force, and Nikolai had to wince. His migraine was nasty, but he knew Zoya's anger was nastier if she knew about this ruckus later.

But speaking of that woman….

"Wait, where is Zoya again?" he asked Tamar in genuine wonder. He hadn't heard from her since she reported about the shipments this morning. "And Tolya? Why wasn't she alerted first about this mess?"

The Lantsov caporegime visibly paled, and dread washed over Nikolai. His mind started to come up with the worst scenarios, making the pounding on his temple worse than it already was.

"About that…."

"Tamar," he said, voice hard. Something was definitely not right, and Nikolai narrowed his eyes. Zoya was supposed to be the one handling this matter. Where was she when she was needed? "What is it?"

Tamar sighed, and with a quiet voice, she said, “Tolya is trying to find Zoya.”

“He’s doing what now?”

“He said that Zoya just suddenly got up and drove off after the mess in Os Kervo. He hadn’t seen her since.”

“Where is she? Had he found her?”

As if on cue, a ring tone blared, making the both of them jump. They both scramble for their own phones. It wasn't his phone, so it only meant it was Tamar's.

Tamar winced when she stared at the phone screen. "It's Tolya."

Nikolai snatched the phone from the woman's hands and answered it. "Tolya," he said.

The other line was silent for a moment, and then a slightly panicked, "I can explain."

"Don't mind that. Where is she?"

There was a short pause before the line disconnected. Nikolai frowned.

"What—"

A sharp ting sounded, signaling that a text message had just arrived. He narrowed his eyes at it.

It was an address, and it looked familiar.

Nikolai waited at the front desk of the precinct, with his fingers massaging at his temple to soothe the throbbing away. So this was why he felt a strange dread in his stomach when Tamar mentioned about a woman who got arrested.

Because it was Zoya all along.

The woman on the deks finally returned, and she turned her attention to Nikolai. "Yes?"

He straightened up and fixed his tie. "I'm here for Zoya Nazyalensky," he said, a little unsure if he was speaking coherently. "Attorney Nikolai Lan—"

"Oh, are you her lawyer and husband?"

"Yes, I—" Nikolai blinked. It took a minute for the words to sink in. What? "I'm sorry, can you repeat that?"

"Her lawyer husband, or who she says is the one to get her out," the woman said. A shadow of fear flashed across her face. "She and those three other guys caused quite a damage in a bar though."

He raised an eyebrow and turned to the direction where the woman was pointing. There were three men sitting by the bench on the side, huddled up so closely they looked like they were practically glued to each other. The bruises on their faces only proved that they were involved with the mess in the bar. Caused by Zoya. Nikolai narrowed his eyes, noticing the shade of their coats to be ash gray. He scoffed. Brums, indeed. Now he quite understood the anger his boss had.

They finally noticed Nikolai, and, if it was still possible, became paler than they already were. The three of them shrunk back further into their seats.

“They were too afraid to be in the same cell with the woman that got arrested with them and they preferred to stay here in the waiting lounge," the woman said grimly, making him turn back to her. "Scary looking woman, your wife is. Are you here to get her out on bail?"

That is a good question, Nikolai thought. Should he get her out right away? Or let her stay for a few more hours so she could reflect on her mistakes? But knowing Zoya, it's the mistakes that would need to reflect on themselves. "Yes, but can I see my, uh, " he said, "my wife first?"

“Of course. Give me a moment, sir.”

She disappeared from the desk again and made her way to the maze of desks behind her. A few minutes later, she reappeared, but with Zoya Nazyalensky trailing behind her this time. Apparently, his boss didn’t look like she was just arrested—she still walked with deadly grace, with her hand braced on her shoulder where her coat was slung, and a downturned sneer on her lips. But what caught his attention was the bottle in her other hand.

A new wave of pain hit Nikolai’s temple, and he had to sigh in exasperation. How was she able to bring alcohol to the precinct? And they didn’t even take it from her?

Zoya caught his gaze, and her expression quickly melted into a cheery one that terrified Nikolai. She never smiled like that. “Darling,” she said, her voice mocking honey-sweet, “it’s so good to see you.”

“Of course, sweetheart,” he replied with the same tone, and it only brought back her dark glare. He winced as he approached her, his hand enclosing around the exposed tattoo on her arm. “Zoya, what the hell. Isn’t it supposed to be me you’re helping to get out of trouble? Why had the tables turned?”

“Questions after questions, dear Consigliere. One at a time. But to not answer anything, I needed a drink, and the Brums pissed me off twice today. I only gave the favor back,” she muttered before she leaned back and laughed lightly, continuing the act of a ‘loving wife’ who was glad to see her husband. Then a glare appeared in her eyes as she looked over the three men on the bench. They visibly shook in fear. “Let’s just get out of here before I decide to completely make them unidentifiable.”

“That doesn’t even help—” He stopped when Zoya gave him a glare. With another sigh, he said, “Fine. But let’s keep it cool until we step out of here, alright?

She just rolled her eyes and put the bottle back to her lips. Nikolai turned back to the front desk with a smile that he was sure looked like a grimace. Then after a few minutes of handling the ordeal, with the amount of bail surely hurting their coffers, they were finally ready to walk freely from the precinct. He sighed as he shoved his wallet back to his coat, and was about to call for Zoya when he heard the sound of a glass breaking.

“If I see you three near our property again—”

Nikolai’s eyes widened when he saw Zoya pointing a half-broken whiskey bottle at the three men, and he scrambled to her side. He put a hand on her shoulder, trying to hold her back but her stance was unrelenting. “Zoya, dear, what did I say about keeping it cool?” he mumbled in her ear all the while keeping a smile to his face as he looked around the alarmed people in the precinct.

The three Brum associates only nodded in understanding as if Zoya had completed her sentence, and it seemed to sate her because she finally let Nikolai drag her out of the building. When they got out of the doors, they both dropped the act and immediately stepped away from each other as if they had just burned. Tolya and Tamar were already waiting for them by the car across the street.

“Free at last,” muttered Zoya.

“Why didn’t you text or call me right away?” Nikolai asked incredulously. “Would have gotten some medicine for the headache as precaution.”

Zoya turned to him with a frown. “You speak as if you’re not a headache yourself.” Then she let out an annoyed breath, averted her eyes, and lowly added, “I forgot your number.”

He raised an eyebrow, amusement suddenly overpowering his headache. “Zoya Nazyalensky forgetting something? So unheard of,” he said. Then a smile crept up to his lips. This woman was really something else. “And you dare to forget your husband’s number?”

Nikolai barely had the time to dodge the broken bottle flying towards him.

#gvbb21 #gvbbminibang21 #gang 9 #zoyalai #zoya nazyalensky #nikolai lantsov #my writing #vincenzo energy was very strong in me and in this one #as well as in my groupmates #and i love that sm #PLS CHECK OUT THEIR FANARTS THEY'RE JUST #GOD TIER #GIVE THEM LOVE AND A FOLLOW TOO!!!!!#i feel like i could have put more chaotic energy but can't go way over the word count LKHJASDFLKJAHFS #pls just one woman beating up men can be something personal #:>#nik is just a tired ~~husband~~ consigliere

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avengerscompound · 3 years

Text

Moving On - Chapter 3

Moving On: A Falcon & Captain Marvel Fanfic

Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing: Sam Wilson x F!Reader, Carol Danvers x F! Reader

Word Count: 2003

Rating: E

Warnings: just a little canon complaint drama this chapter

Synopsis: You thought Sam Wilson was the love of your life. You had planned to do it all with him - marriage, kids, see the world. Even when you’re life gets turned upside down, and you both end up international fugitives, he’s there by your side.

Then Thanos comes.

When Sam is one of the many turned to dust, leaving you alone and pregnant, you don’t think you’ll ever stop grieving. Yet, everyone tells you that Sam would want you to move on and live your life - that he’d want you to be happy. Gradually you open your heart up to another. Carol Danvers has lost people too. First her daughter, then her wife. As the two of you lean on each other, feelings grow and you move on together.

So what happens when Sam is returned to you?

Chapter 3: The Accords

When Sam had left on his mission to Lagos, you had been worried but not in a major way. You had thought maybe he might come home bruised up or with a cracked rib. The last thing you had expected was for a lapse in attention would allow Rumlow to detonate a block leveling amount of C-4, and that when Wanda had tried to contain it and it had taken out a floor of a building instead, she’d get the blame.

Still, while that was bad, it wasn’t something that you had thought would directly affect you. It might mean there was some argument with governments about Wanda being in the custody of the Avengers and how training should be done to prevent things like that from happening again. You were fairly sure the insurance policy the Avengers held for such things was going to be hit hard. But for you and Sam - life and love and wedding plans wouldn’t have been affected.

And then Tony Stark had shown up with General Thaddeus Ross.

Ross had dropped a bomb into the compound and run. Not a literal bomb, but one that had the potential to be just as damaging. The Sokovia accords had been dropped off - a document stating that any enhanced individual would have to register themselves with their country's government and the UN and provide them with biometrics as a way to keep tabs on them. Along with that, anyone working for facilities such as SHIELD, SWORD, or the Avengers as operatives, and any of these enhanced individuals were unable to act on matters of security without the go-ahead from their countries government or the UN.

While that didn’t change too much for you, according to the document, Sam’s wings counted as enhancements. Steve Rogers and Wanda Maximoff were also both enhanced and would need to provide DNA to the government. Wanda would be registered as a weapon of mass destruction.

It meant you and Sam had to decide what you wanted to do. You knew there was no way Sam would sign. He had already left the airforce, he wasn’t going back to working for the government again so soon. Especially not with the added condition of registering humans with them. You also knew he was unlikely to stop fighting - it just wasn’t in his nature.

Unfortunately, you didn’t have a chance to even talk about it before Sam was out the door again.

“Look,” Sam said as he got his best suit out of the closet. “This is a big deal. It kinda changes everything for us. So maybe decide what you really want to do and what you’re okay with? I mean… worst case scenario I could end up an international war criminal.”

“How likely is that though?” You asked as you watched him zip the suit into a suit bag.

“I doubt it’s very likely but you gotta consider it, babe,” he said. “I love you. I want a life with you, but I don’t want you to end up resenting me because we end up on the run from the law together or something.”

“Right,” you said with a nod. “You wouldn’t consider… I dunno… retiring?”

“Of course,” Sam said, moving on to the underwear drawer. “And if these things go through and they make me sign, that’s what I’m gonna say I’m doing. But you know me, I’m never gonna take some back seat when a big bad goes down.”

“No, I know,” you said. “Me too. You sure you don’t want me to come to this?”

Sam shook his head. “This is Steve’s thing,” he said. “I didn’t even know Peggy. I’m gonna be there for him. I’ll be back in a couple of days. You think while I’m gone.”

“You know I’m just going to do whatever you do,” you said. “Right? I mean, the whole premise sounds a little -” you paused and rocked your hand back and forth “- the whole ‘registering people for being different’ thing? And then to muzzle them and treat them as dangerous weapons. It’s fucked up. And besides. You’re my man. Where you go, I go.”

He smiled and came over and kissed your forehead. “I’m your man, huh?”

“Mm-hmm… my fine man,” you hummed.

He laughed and touched the tip of your nose with his finger. “Stop trying to distract me, woman. I’ve got a funeral to go to.”

“Alright, alright,” you said, zipping up his bag. “You’ll call me when you get there?”

He kissed your forehead again. “Of course.”

You grabbed his t-shirt before he could pull away and dragged him down into a deep kiss. He hummed softly and caressed your jaw, before pulling back and grabbing his bag. “You think on it. Okay? No rash decisions.”

You agreed you would and watched him leave, not realizing how this was the point where everything would change.

You had been watching the news in your room when the word about the attack on the UN at the Vienna International Centre. It hadn’t taken you long to realize if the number one suspect was James Barnes that Steve would be quick to take after him. Sam had been on the trail of the infamous Winter Soldier since the day you’d met him, there was no way that Steve would let anyone else bring him in.

You also knew that if Steve went, Sam would likely go too. Not because Sam was Steve’s shadow, but because they both had their moral compasses so inline that they ended up having the same thoughts at the same time.

Which would mean they were breaking international law and that unlikely scenario where they would become fugitives was a little more likely than you thought.

You needed to contact him, but you knew it was dangerous. You sent him a text. The two of you had gotten into the habit of sending large groups of emojis with little messages hidden inside. Most of the time they were for no reason. There would be a string of eggplants and peaches and then a random egg and milk carton to let the other person know you needed eggs and milk. It was a habit that was built out of the paranoia you had drilled into you as a spy. If something happened and you need to message each other covertly, seeing a string of random emojis would at a passing glance just look like the cute-coupley thing you both always did. It wouldn’t withstand any deep probing, but it would be enough to let each other know that one of you was in trouble or to go grab the burner phone and run.

You texted Sam a string of hearts in kiss emojis with an American flag, a bird, a jogging emoji, and a snowflake mixed in.

He texted back a similar string with a thumbs up in the mix.

You replied with the more sexual emojis, eggplants, peaches, the droplets, the tongue, and among them was the girl with the hand raised in the air.

Sam replied with the same only instead of the girl was a thumbs down.

Yes, they were going after James Barnes. No, he didn’t want you to come.

You didn’t hear from Sam again for two days. Two days that only seemed to make matters worse.

Steve had indeed tracked down Barnes, but so had just about everyone else. It ended with a car chase through the streets of Romania where Steve, Sam, Barnes, and weirdly the new king of Wakanda had been arrested by Rhodey of all people.

Sam called you when they had been taken back to Germany.

“I know you’re antsy, baby,” Sam said. “But you need to stay put. Right now they’ve confiscated my wings and Cap’s shield, but we think we’ll be let go. We went after Barnes. He’s captured. That’s it. Slap on the wrist, don’t do it again, type of bullshit. Worse comes to worst… well, it’s not the first time they’ve tried taking my wings off me, is it?”

“Sam!” You yelped. “This line…”

“I’m joking! I’m joking!” Sam said, holding his hands up in front of the screen. You knew he wasn’t.

“Anyway…” Sam continued. “I think Tony’s trying to talk Steve into signing the accords. I dunno if he will or not. Maybe just to keep the peace. But there’s no way I’m going to.”

“I want to be there with you,” you pouted. “I could help.”

“It’ll just make things messy,” Sam said. “Trust me. You’re better off there. It’s not like I can get in any more trouble now Barnes is captured.”

He was wrong.

The next you heard Barnes had broken out and Sam and Steve had taken after him. You received a text not long after the news broke with a series of hearts and a cellphone emoji.

You went to your closet, grabbed the burner phone, and went out for a run. You were just leaving the perimeter of the compound when the burner rang.

“Sam?” You said, pressing the phone to your ear.

“Yeah, baby,” Sam said. “It’s me. Did you hear?”

“They’re saying you’re on the run with Barnes,” you said. “Please tell me you were just recapturing him.”

Sam laughed. “That was the idea,” he said. “This shit is going deep and we need help. There’s this guy - wanted to get to Barnes to find out about some other Super Soldiers and where they’re kept. So now we might have a bunch of really psychotic super soldiers being released on the world by someone even more psychotic than they are.”

“Where are you? What do you need me to do?” You asked.

“I’m tempted to tell you to stay put,” Sam said.

“Sam, I’m not…”

“No, I know,” he said. “But think about it. You do this - you come after me and we’re fugitives. We can’t go home. All this talk of weddings and babies? It’s not happening. It’ll be you and me on the run from everywhere. Best we can hope for is one day when we’re both too old to run we settle in some country that doesn’t extradite.”

“I heard Montenegro didn’t sign,” you half-joke. “It looks pretty nice there.”

Sam laughed. “See I was thinking Cape Verde.”

You let out a breath and smiled a little. “Always thinking, you are.”

“You know it, baby,” Sam said. “Now, Clint’s coming…”

“What? But his family?” You yelped.

“I know… but like you, you can’t tell him no,” Sam said. “He’s going to grab Wanda. When you get back, go to her, but say nothing. Just a little girl’s bonding time. Okay? I’m sure Vizh will be hanging around her. He always is. Don’t leave her side even if they do make it clear that you’re third-wheeling.”

“Should I pack?” You asked.

“No,” Sam said quickly. “I’m even a little worried you grabbing the burner might be too much of a giveaway to what’s going on.”

“I did it while I changed into my jogging gear,” you said. “Nabbed it with my heart rate monitor.”

“Good. Well hopefully that covered that gorgeous ass of yours,” he said. “But aside from deciding you want to hang with Wanda you’re not doing anything strange, okay? Clint will get there and you go. Tony’s an asshole, but not that big of an asshole, I don’t think he’d burn our things, so we’re gonna have to trust that the compound will act as our storage until this is sorted out. If it ever is.”

“Okay,” you said with a sigh.

“I love you,” Sam said softly. “You take care of yourself.”

“You too, Sammy,” you said. “Don’t do anything dumber than you already have until I get there and can join in.”

Sam laughed. “You got it. I’ll see you soon.”

“Yeah. See you.”

You disconnected the call and shoved it back behind your heart rate monitor and turned to run back to the compound. You had a fight to prepare for.

// NEXT

#sam wilson #carol danvers #sam wilson x reader #carol danvers x reader #falcon #captain marvel #falcon fanfic #captain marvel fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #moving on

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sooniesspot · 3 years

Text

Fluff Drabbles

☁️ Namjoon Fluff ☁️

A/N: I just really wanted soft joonie 😣 imagine coming home to him after a horrible day 🤧

word count: 2.3k?

no warnings just super soft and sweet joonie

"bad day, sweet?"

After a long day at work, all you wanted was to get home. You promised your boss you’d stay late and finish paperwork that needed to be sent out first thing in the morning. Leaving the building after 7pm you waited on the corner at your normal bus stop, awaiting the bus. Rain heavily pouring down around you, luckily sheltered by the canopy of the bus stop. Of all days, you had forgotten your umbrella. Waiting for the bus after 10 minutes, the clock ticking. You finally saw a bus in sight and you held out your arm for it to stop. It began to pull into the layby and you misjudged the distance from you to the curb. A tidal wave of water cascaded over you, soaking your clothes through. You blinked heavily, wiping your eyes. So you could see your way onto the bus. Handing over your ticket to the bus driver; already rushing you onto the bus.

You found a seat and sat there. Clothes sopping wet and hair dripping wet. Your skin, cold to the touch from the water. Fishing for your phone in your coat pocket to check any damage as you slung your bag onto the empty seat next to you with a huff. Only a few water droplets on the screen you smudged away; creating a waterline. A flash of your phone screen shone before the screen went black; signalling the phone dying. You grumbled to yourself, wishing this day would be over. That morning you had managed to spill your bosses coffee down your white blouse and almost broke your ankle walking on freshly mopped floor as you headed past the janitor on your way out of the building. Could this day get any worse? You thought to yourself as you gazed out of the window to the busy streets outside. Night drawing in as the sun set behind the clouds.

Your stop couldn’t come soon enough as you stepped off the bus not bothering to thank the rude bus driver as you walked awkwardly along the street towards your apartment block. Rounding the corner your apartment block came to light. Crossing the street you opened the door and made your way over to the lift. ‘Out of Order’ you whined as you turned to use the stairs. Travelling up 3 flights of stairs, pulling yourself along. Eventually reaching your apartment. Fumbling for your key in your oversized bag that was now porous from the typhoon of water you received at the bus stop. You groaned in annoyance before finally finding them at the bottom.

Putting the key in the lock the door swung open to reveal your dimpled boyfriend, in an old grey hoodie and gym shorts, barefoot and mussed hair looking down at you with a smile before it faltered. Taking in your ‘drowned rat’ appearance. He beckoned you in, quickly shutting the door behind you before pulling your bag off your shoulder and peeling off your coat. He looked back down at you, his dusty blonde hair falling onto his forehead slightly as burnt umber eyes stared through you; sparkling. He looked at you in endless wonder. You never failed to take his breath away. Even when your clothes were translucent and hung off you in heavy collections of water. Even though your makeup may have run slightly across your cheeks, your hair darker than usual due to the water. He still looked at you with that same sparkle in his eye. He looked at you and instantly felt at ease. You calmed his racing heart, that raced because of you in the first place. An endless cycle he had committed to memory in every waking moment spent with you.

The way you would scurry around the apartment when you were late for work. The way you danced to your own tune stuck in your head in the kitchen when you made your first coffee of the day. Even in the early morning light, your body tangled in the sheets amongst his, glazed eyes would open and look so lovingly up at his own he felt his heart could burst. He loved you, and he hated seeing you upset.

A strong hand speared through your hair, pulling wet strands off your face.

“Bad day, sweet?” he mumbled, voice rich and deep.

You whimpered with a nod before he pulled you into an embrace. His chin resting on your head as his arms pulling you against his chest; hands rubbing against your back.

“Oh, you’re cold.” He pulled you tighter. You managed to attach your arms around his waist, thankful for the comfort he brought after a long day. His hands began wringing out your hair of excess water and that made you chuckle lightly as you heard it pool to the floor. You Inhaled his scent; old books and pine trees. A hint of burning that was new to you. Setting off a curious tone.

“Joonie?” you rasped against his chest, trying to breathe.

He hummed in reply to you, not wanting to let you go just yet as he held you to his chest, in fear you’d float away in the drizzle of the rain outside.

“Are you cooking?” you asked.

His arms immediately retracting as he hopped into the kitchen at a million miles an hour muttering curse words and the like. Taking off your heels you followed him with shaky feet watching a billow of steam from a saucepan on the stove. Namjoon turned to you with a bashful look. Melanated skin-tinged pink at his cheeks and neck.

“I made dinner.” He cringed; stroking the back of his neck with his free hand. The other hand holding a saucepan with burnt ramen in.

You chuckled as you made your way over to him slowly; kissing him lightly on the lips. “You mean you burnt dinner.” You giggled as his blush grew a deeper shade of crimson.

You took the saucepan from him beginning to hobble over to the sink and dispose of the burnt ramen when he noticed. You felt hands on your forearms as he spun you around taking the saucepan and placing it on the worktop.

“What happened with your foot?” He questioned, earning a sheepish look from you.

So you told him about your day. The coffee, paperwork, the wet floor, the bus, your phone dying and having to take the stairs on a worsening ankle. Hearing you grumble he didn’t once interrupt you or laugh, although when you told him about the puddle you could see the corner of his mouth trying to turn up into a smile. He listened and that’s all you could ever ask of him. He was so considerate you honestly didn’t know what you had done to deserve him. He gave you a final nod and caressed your wet hair again, pressing a kiss to your forehead when suddenly he had swept you off your feet, quite literally.

He carried you bridal style into the bathroom. Placing you delicately on the side as he ran you a bath. Softly humming to himself, making sure to fill it with lots of bubbles and make sure the water wasn’t too hot. He helped you out of your soaking wet clothes and told you he would sort out the mess in the kitchen while you soaked in the bath and that is what you did. He took your drenched clothes and placed then in the wash while he cooked another batch of ramen. ‘The food would be safe because you can’t distract him in here.’ He had said before you challenged him with a suggestive eyebrow, gesturing to yourself in the bath. Abruptly he turned and left, your laugh echoing down the hallway after him.

You lay your head back on the edge of the bath and welcomed the feeling of warm water on your skin, stopping your teeth from chattering intermittently from the cold you were subject to outside. Your ankle already feeling much better as it got to soak in the water, not having to bear any weight on it. You liked moments like this. Moments alone to sit and relax, eyes steadily shutting until the door opened again, Namjoon peering in, a warm towel in his hands as he placed it on the side of the tub.

“Ramen is done.” He smiled before. “Not burnt.”

Sarcastically giving him a round of applause he rolled his eyes at you with a scoff.

“Let’s wash your hair first.” He mumbled, planting a kiss onto your forehead.

So wash your hair he did. Fingers massaged your scalp as he lathered the shampoo through your hair. Making sure to not get any in your eyes, never resisting a kiss on the tip of your nose or your forehead when you’d look back up at him. A sigh of contentment sounded through the bathroom.

All washed and bundled up in a warm towel with an extra one wrapping up your hair, Namjoon insisted on carrying you back through to your shared bedroom although you said that you could manage. But he protested. Like he always did.

“My baby has hurt her foot. I’m carrying her.”

You huffed but were secretly loving being held like this by your boyfriend. He helped dry and dress you, even drying your hair with the dryer. He would hum to you as he did so and finally, he grabbed a cool pack from the freezer along with bandages and the 2 bowls of ramen and successfully bandaged your ankle up with the cool pack against the swollen area. Grabbing his bowl from the bedside table after tucking you both into bed.

“You can bandage an ankle but you burn ramen.” You giggled as he gave you a pout shovelling ramen into his mouth.

Laughter overtaking you at the notion. It was just so him.

“I love you for that.” You planted a kiss against his pouty lips and he grinned, dimples on show as you both continued to eat.

“I love you too, sweet.” He ran his fingers through your hair before giving you a kiss to your lips.

Continuing to eat in comfortable silence, gentle pitter pattering of rain outside the window that made you grimace. He noticed your discomfort and gave you a reassuring smile.

“You’re taking the day off tomorrow.” He pointed at you.

You began to chastise him until he reasoned with you.

“You can’t get the bus and walk to work with a swollen ankle, baby.”

You knew he was right so you decided not to argue. Finishing your ramen you both went to brush your teeth. He insisted on giving you a piggy back, to this you laughed. Finding your reflection in the bathroom mirror thoroughly amusing as you both brushed your teeth; you still perched on his broad and muscular back. He watched through the mirror. His frame holding your tiny one on his back. Toothbrush in your mouth as you giggled; music to his ears. Trying not to slip down his clothed back as his one arm still gripped your thigh firmly; holding you still. He had given you one of his shirts that dwarfed you, legs bare and smooth against his skin. Feeling your heartbeat against his back was all the reassurance he ever needed. Your hearts beating as one. A dimpled smile flashed your way in the mirror once teeth were clean. You ventured back into the bedroom as your breathing tickled his neck, both of you erupting into giggles as he struggled to hold onto you; knees buckling at the sensation. Finally dropping you down on the bed softly making you bounce.

Turning to tuck you in. Clambering over on his side of the bed, shifting under the covers. He smiled after reaching for his glasses, now on the edge of his nose; book in hand. Planting one more kiss on your lips and then your forehead as you shuffled down the bed more, resting your head against his chest; an arm curled around your shoulders as he began to read aloud. Soft hand caressing your hair as you were cradled around him. Hearing his heartbeat against your ear. Lulled to sleep dulcet tones. You were thankful for your boyfriend. He could always make a bad day better.

Hope you guys enjoyed! I take requests so please do ask 😊

Love Always

Mac 🧡💜

#can he wife me already pls #thank you #soft joonie hours 24/8 mate #kim namjoon fluff #joonie fluff #joonie #im so soft #bts fluff #knj #bts #bangtan

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hizashis-lil-bunbun · 3 years

Text

Like a Moth to a Flame Pt. 3

Back at it again and this chapter was fun! Next one we’ll be getting into some more juicy bits but I needed a setup for the scene. So enjoy my friendly little deviants!

Mild TW: mentions of blood, violence, attempted assault, and (very) minor character death

As always, I thank/blame @miscellaneous-bnha for the inspo

Part 1 Part 2

•••••

You feel numb walking down the darkened sidewalk towards home, shock and frustration making it difficult to put one foot in front of the other. It had been several weeks since you last saw Mirio, and there hadn’t been any reports of strange, paranormal activity in any other part of town. At least, not according to the papers. Even after the landlord had coughed up the money to replace the ruined fire escape, you’d yet to catch another glimpse of the golden mothman. Night after night you’d put out bowls of sugar water, stayed up late, even pulled a few strings of old Christmas lights out of storage to decorate your portion of the new railing. But come morning, you always found the bait untouched and it left you feeling drained and disappointed. You knew your nightly routine was starting to feel unhealthy, obsessive really, and that your performance at work had been gradually slipping as a result. But it wasn’t until today, when your boss called you in after your shift ended and handed you that soul-crushing pink slip, that you realized just how far it had fallen. And on top of all that, you’d missed the last bus home, forcing you to take a literal walk of shame back to your apartment.

“What am I gonna do?” You breathe into the crisp night air, unconsciously reaching into the pocket of your coat to fish out your phone. Without even looking at the screen, you unlock the device and open your camera roll, tapping on a folder marked “Moth” before finally looking down. There was only one picture on file, but you’d seen it so many times it was practically burned into your retinas. The image was grainy and blurred (not to mention overexposed beyond the point of recognition due to the flash), but you couldn’t give a damn about any of that. The only clear part of the image, the only part you cared about, was the pair of bright blue eyes staring back at you. For some unknown reason, the camera hadn’t distorted them, perfectly capturing their glassy, sapphire hue and wide-eyed expression of curiosity.

And you had spent countless hours poring over it.

In the beginning, you’d convinced yourself it was nothing more than a piece of evidence, proof of your sanity and a confirmation of his existence. But as the days passed, you’d come to take comfort in it, more often than not allowing your mind to wander freely back to the memory of his voice in your ear and the warm weight of his head on your shoulder. You hadn’t even posted it to any of the online forums, jealously hoarding it the same way a dragon protects its treasure.

“Mirio.” You exhale softly, thumb absentmindedly brushing over the cracked surface of your phone screen. “I wish I could fly away from my problems like you. Must be nice having wings…”

“Hey there, baby!”

A gruff, slurring voice abruptly snaps you back to reality, head whipping up to see a trio of men leaning against a rundown building across the street. Their faces are indistinguishable, partially obscured by shadows thrown from a lone street lamp shining over their heads. But you can clearly make out the brown paper bags they have clutched in their fists, the material crumpled and molded into the tell-tale shape of liquor bottles as they continue to heckle you.

“Why dontcha come over here and hang out with us?” The biggest brute calls out, beckons you closer with a crook of his finger. “We’ll show ya a good time.”

“Yeah, a real good time.” The man to his left cackles. His lewd remark earns him a few snickers from his seedy friends while a wave of revulsion courses down your spine. Catcalling wasn’t exactly foreign to you; in this part of town, it was practically expected. But their drunken words and leering eyes make you acutely aware of just how empty the streets are right now, devoid of other people or passing cars to offer protection (or witnesses) should they decide to take things too far. Still, you straighten your spine and snap your eyes forward, long-since trained to know it’s best to ignore their booze-fueled jeers and keep walking.

“Awww, don’t be like that, baby!” You hear one of them call from your right, “We just wanna have some fun!”

You keep your gaze trained on the looming silhouette of your apartment complex, soles of your shoes clicking against the cold pavement as you grip the phone in your hand even more tightly. You’re close enough to see some of the lights are still on your neighbors windows, probably cleaning up from dinner or settling in for a smoke and a drink. With the promise of safety so close at hand, you cast a quick glance over your shoulder….

And feel your blood run cold as you see the men casually strolling across the empty street to fall in line behind you. They’re whispering amongst themselves as they take a few more swigs from their bottles, their shuffling gait and longer legs quickly closing the gap between you. You pick up your own pace in turn, walking much more briskly now and earning a reproachful growl from the men behind you.

“Hey! I’m talkin’ to you!” One of them snarls, “Didn’t your mama ever teach you it’s rude to ignore people?”

You don’t respond to his jab, too afraid to speak regardless, and set off at a jog, determined to put as much distance between yourself and these morons as possible. But that action proves itself to be a grave mistake, as you hear the footsteps behind you pick up in speed. Before you can fully register what’s happening, one of the men appears over your right shoulder, laughing maniacally as he gives you a rough shove and sends you careening off course and into an adjacent alleyway. The unexpected move knocks you off balance, sending you sprawling to the ground and knocking your head into the concrete with enough force to set your teeth rattling. Even worse, you lose your grip on your phone, hearing it skitter off into the darkness as the men crowd into the alley after you.

“I think she could use a lesson in manners! Ain’t that right, boys?” Their leader asks mockingly, seconds before he grabs you by the hair and roughly hauls you back onto your feet.

“Please!” You yelp, both from fear and the pain shooting throughout your scalp, “I-I have money. You can take whatever you want!”

“Whatever we want, huh?” He says with a sneer, his face close enough you can smell the sour aroma of cheap bourbon and old cigarettes on his breath.

“Then gimme a kiss, sweetheart.”

His mouth is on yours in an instant, his free arm wrapping itself around your waist to keep you in place as he tries to force his tongue past your sealed lips and down your throat. Your screams for help are muffled by the kiss, and it’s all you can do to push against his chest and thrash wildly in his hold. His companions stand faithfully behind him, egging him on with bouts of derisive laughter intermingled with hoots to “hurry up and get on with it” so they can have their turn. After a few moments he pulls away for air, arm leaving your waist and clapping the hand that was tangled in your hair over your mouth. Meanwhile, his buddies move to either side of you to grab you by the shoulders and force down on your knees.

“Since you didn’t feel like talkin’…” He growls dangerously, free hand toying with the buckle of his belt. “Let’s see if that pretty little mouth is good for somethin’ else.”

Your eyes widen as his belt comes undone with a soft clink, tears pricking at the corners as he leers down at you. Instinct takes over as he attempts to undo his fly, and before he can move his hand you jerk your head back to partially free your mouth. Then you bite down. Hard.

“Fuck!”

He hastily wrenches his hand from your mouth before you can do any more damage while you take in a desperate lungful of fresh air. A quick glance at his hand shows you’d successfully broken the skin, leaving a perfect, crescent-shaped indent that was quickly beading up with fresh blood.

“Help! Somebody help! Rape! RA-!”

You’re abruptly silenced by a quick blow to your right cheek, delivered by one of the men still holding you down. Throbbing pain radiates out from the point of impact, making your vision white out and earning a cruel laugh from your captors.

“You little bitch!” The injured man spits at you, “Think you’re so tough, huh?”

A small click forces your eyes to open, only to be met with a glint of metal in the light of the full moon: a switchblade.

“Let’s see how tough you are when I slice up that pretty face of yours. Starting with that fuckin’ mouth.”

With a twirl of the blade, he advances towards you, relishing in your helpless state as greedy eyes roam the plane of your terrified face. You’re too scared to scream anymore, eyes squeezing shut as you brace yourself for the first cut. But instead of searing pain, there’s an odd rustling noise, followed by a colossal thump that seems to shake the very earth beneath you. The men holding your shoulders abruptly release you, backing away amidst a slew of bewildered curses. Slowly, you crack one eye open to find a new, dark figure standing in front of you, blotting out the moon itself and effectively shielding you from your would-be rapist.

“M-Mirio?” You gasp, voice wavering from disbelief and shock. The golden cryptid looks over his shoulder at you, only giving a chittering cry at the sound of your voice.

“What the fuck!?” The man behind him screeches, “The fuck is that thing?!”

Mirio’s head snaps around to face the terrified thug, wings slowly raising in a show of strength and dominance as he lets out a low, menacing growl.

“Y/N…” He snarls, taking a short step forward and shifting into a crouch. “Mine.”

“S-stay back!” The man stammers, jabbing the switchblade into the empty air in front of him like a puny saber. “I’m warning you!”

Mirio gives a low hiss in response, wings fully extended as he lowers himself to place one hand on the ground. You’re frozen on the spot, hardly daring to breathe as you sense the slightest movement could set him off. For a moment, everything is still. And then, spurred on by loyalty, liquid courage or a combination of the two, the other thugs charge Mirio from behind. Moving faster than you could comprehend, Mirio whips around with a high-pitched shriek, landing a powerful swipe to the center of one man’s chest and sending him crashing to the pavement beside you. The other one was luckier, successfully jumping onto the monster’s back and causing Mirio to rear up on his back legs once more. The attacker then attempts to wrap his arms around Mirio’s neck, perhaps hoping to cut off his air supply or at least distract him long enough for the third man to join the fray.

But Mirio was obviously stronger and smarter than he was expecting.

Clawed hands scratch at the attacker’s face and shoulders before the winged behemoth suddenly flops onto his back, bringing his full weight down on the foolhardy attacker with a sickening crunch. Rolling back onto all fours, the man is left gasping for air on the ground, possibly with a punctured lung or (at the very least) a few broken ribs. Undeterred by his pitiful cries for mercy, Mirio looses an unearthly roar before grabbing the man by the front of his sweat-soaked shirt, rising to his full height, and tossing him towards the empty street like he weighed no more than a ragdoll.

“MINE!” He bellows, “MIIIIIIINE!”

“Fuck you!” The remaining man screams in return, rushing towards the towering beast with his switchblade held aloft. “Die, you fuckin’ freak!”

Mirio shifts back into a fighting stance, his back to you as he lets out another spine-chilling howl and rushes forward to greet the oncoming attack. At the same time, the moon moves behind a cloud, throwing the alleyway into inky darkness as you shriek and cover your head with your hands. With your eyes screwed shut, all you can hear is the man’s incensed grunts and yells, overshadowed by Mirio’s own enraged roars and the scratch of his nails on the dirty concrete. After a few seconds of struggle, Mirio gives a piercing cry, followed by the wet sound of tearing flesh and a strangled, gurgling noise. The fight ends as suddenly as it started, the only sounds now coming from your own terrified whimpers and the clatter of the switchblade falling to the ground.

Peeking out from between your fingers, you find the sky has started to lighten once more, the moon reappearing from behind the clouds and washing the bizarre scene in an unsettling, ethereal hue. The scrawniest attacker is still sprawled out next to you, unconscious but mercifully alive given the force of his impact. Mirio stands facing towards you, breathing heavily as the wings on his back shiver and shake. And at his feet, eyes wide and lifeless, is the leader’s body, his face covered in deep claw marks and a puddle of blood seeping out from underneath him like an oil slick.

“You… you killed him.” You breathe, “Mirio, h-he’s dead.”

Mirio doesn’t make any move to acknowledge your words, simply sinking to his knees with a rumbling groan. He seems almost sad, remorseful even, with the way he hangs his head and curls his bloodied hands into fists atop his knees. In this new light, you also notice something on the mothman’s left forearm: a clean, shallow gash. That must have been the cause for his shrieking earlier.

Slowly you stand once more, swallowing the lump in your throat to take a few tentative steps toward the creature.

“Are you… hurt?” You ask softly, noting the way he jolts and then shrinks away from you. You’re only a few feet away now, close enough to make out the faint stripes and eye-spot pattern on his wings. You nervously crouch down, balancing on the balls of your feet but keeping a safe distance should he turn aggressive. A chilly breeze blows through the alley, pushing against your back and making the creature raise his head up slightly, sniffing the air. His gaze locks on your face, glassy eyes wide as he slowly puts his palms on the ground and gets back on all fours. He moves one clawed hand closer to you and you start for a second, taking a quick step back before catching sight of the streaks of blood dripping from his forearm once more.

“Hurt?” You say again, pointing a shaky finger at the wound. His eyes follow to where you’re pointing and he lets out a chittering mewl, lifting up his injured arm. His long, slithering tongue snakes out from his mouth and he begins to lap at the blood, wincing at the taste. You’re unsure if this is real or an act. On the one hand, it’s hard to believe a creature so obviously powerful as him would be so concerned over little more than a scratch. Then again, you feel certain Mirio is too much of a gentle soul at heart to fake the whole “kicked-puppy” routine.

“No. Don’t do that.” You chide gently, tone forcing the monster to stop licking at himself and look up at you. Moving slowly so as to not startle him, you reach into the pocket of your coat and fish around until your fingers close around a crumpled, but thankfully unused, piece of tissue. When you pull it out of your pocket, Mirio’s eyes narrow into slits and he bares his teeth to let out a small, warning hiss.

“Easy, boy.” You say soothingly, “It can’t hurt you. See?”

You extend your free hand and pat the tissue against your own palm, demonstrating it’s benign nature. Mirio’s face gradually relaxes as he watches your display, eventually crawling over the corpse on the ground to get closer to you. You’re now practically nose-to-nose with the mothman, dropping your empty hand by your side and using the tissue to gesture at the cut on his arm.

“Let me help.”

Mirio gives a short blink before shifting into a squatting position similar to your own, carefully extending his injured arm towards you. Doing your best to not cause him any pain, you carefully start to dab at the areas around the cut, mopping up the spilled blood as the monster watches you work.

“Y/N.” He says softly, his voice causing you to look up from your task. Mirio raises his other hand to touch the right-hand side of your face, sending a bolt of prickly pain shooting through your skull and making you wince. You’d been so caught up in the chaos and adrenaline-fueled high that you’d forgotten about your own injuries. No doubt you’ve got a sizable bruise forming from where that thug had punched you earlier. Mirio’s stiffens up at the your response, brow furrowing in concern as he quickly pulls his hand away.

“H-hurt?”

“A little…” You mumble in response, “But I’ll be alright.”

He stills for a moment and you offer him a small, pained smile, hoping to reassure him. And the next thing you know he’s moving, clutching you to his chest in a protective embrace and nuzzling his face into your neck. You squeak a little at the unexpected move, body going rigid in fear of being attacked. But soon his sweet scent and warmth fully envelop your senses, causing you to relax in his hold.

“Hurt.” He whimpers in your ear, “Y/N hurt. My fault.”

You can feel your heart clench at his words. He sounds so guilty. Helpless even. Like a child crying to their mother for comfort. Before you can think better of it, you wrap your arms around him in return, worming your hands underneath his wings to rest on his well-defined shoulder blades.

“Oh, Mirio no! It’s not your fault. You didn’t do anything to hurt me.”

His body begins to shake, his breathing turning into ragged gasps as he squeezes you even more tightly. One hand leaves your back to cradle your head, the sheer size of his fingers tangling in your hair making you feel like doll-like. The two of you stay locked together like this for a few minutes, holding onto each other in the moonlight as Mirio continues to tremble beneath your touch.

“Mirio. I-” You softly breathe, causing him to raise his golden head and look you in the eye. You have so many questions for him, so many things you like to say. But all that comes out is a quiet, “Thank you.”

He cocks his handsome head to one side before a smile begins to tug at the corners of his mouth, pearly teeth reappearing as he gives a short nod of understanding.

“Mirio… keep Y/N safe.”

“Yes. Yes, you did.” You say with a weak chuckle, reaching up one hand to brush an errant strand of blonde hair away from his face. “I’m safe now.”

Mirio coos as he presses his cheek into your palm, the same way he’d done outside your apartment complex all those weeks ago. His eyes close contentedly and you can’t help but smile at his blissful expression.

“Y/N. Mine.” He purrs.

You freeze at the bold statement, pulling your hand away and earning a disappointed mewl from Mirio.

“You said that before. Mirio, what do you mean–?”

“You there! Freeze!”

A familiar voice cuts off your question nanoseconds before a powerful flashlight is aimed directly at Mirio’s back. Even though you can’t see around his massive frame, you can tell it’s the same officer who caught you the last time Mirio visited you.

Only now, the cornered cryptid hadn’t had the chance to fly away.

“Hands where I can see them!” The officer demands, flashlight in one hand and a pistol in the other. Mirio makes no such move. Instead, he rises to his feet, hooking one arm under your thighs and taking you up with him.

“Wait! Mirio, don’t!” You shriek, desperately grabbing at his chest and mane as he turns to face the officer. It’s a terrifying sight for the poor man: three bodies strewn across a bloody alley, a blue-eyed beast, and a helpless civilian seemingly taken captive.

“D-drop the hostage!” He stammers out. “Do it, or I’ll shoot!”

You can tell from the way the light wavers that he’s shaking and you suspect the only reason he hasn’t fired his weapon yet is because he doesn’t want to risk hitting you. Your eyes flit wildly between his and Mirio’s face, finding his fangs are bared as he lets out a warning hiss.

“Y/N.” Mirio snarls, wings slowly unfurling behind him as he bends his knees and tightens his grip on you. “Mine!”

With that final declaration, Mirio gives his wings a powerful flap and kicks off from the ground. You scream as you take flight, tiny fingers digging into the solid muscle of Mirio’s chest and neck for safety. Between the sound of rushing wind and your own heartbeat jackhammering in your ears, you can barely make out the officer’s voice telling him to stop, followed by a rogue gunshot. And then there’s nothing. Nothing save for the wind in your hair and Mirio’s howl of victory as he carries you ever higher into the starry night sky.

“Stop!” You shriek, cold air stinging your battered face and forcing your eyes closed. “Put me down! Mirio, let go!”

Mirio doesn’t respond to your demands, either unable or unwilling to hear you as he sets off over the rooftops. After a few minutes of careful flying, he abruptly changes course, veering off westward and heading for the woods that ring the city limits.

“Keep Y/N safe.” Mirio says resolvedly, his voice rumbling through his chest and directly in your ear.

“Y/N… mine.”

•••••

Tags: @middevil465 @delightfully-anonymous

#bnha mothman au #mothrio #mothmanmirio #mha x reader #togata mirio x reader #mirio togata x reader #tw: blood #tw: violence #tw: attempted assault #mha #bnha

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dalekofchaos · 3 years

Text

The erasure of R2-D2 and C-3PO. Disney’s worst failure

R2-D2 and C-3PO make up the core of the Star Wars Saga. They are the first characters on screen; we are quite literally introduced to the universe from their perspective. They are the only characters who survive all the way through the Saga, from Episode I-VI. In Episodes I-VI, it was a deliberate choice for R2 to save the lives of the main characters at least once per episode (he fixes the ship’s shields in I, stops Padme from being boiled in II, helps Anakin and Obi Wan escape the battle droids in III, shuts down the trash compactor in IV, fixes the hyperdrive in V and gives Luke his saber in VI). C-3PO partly helps Luke along his journey by telling his exploits with the Rebels, C-3PO while annoying helped our heroes get out of tight situations and C-3PO is the only reason why the Ewoks helped the Rebels destroy the Death Star II’s generator.

It cannot be overstated how important these two characters are. In fact, a critic even argued that the Star Wars Saga was about the two droids being sent to different masters, and being the observers to all the mistakes and follies they make.

So just WHY has Disney completely ignored them? R2 no longer has his “save the day” moments; that’s literally just reserved for BB-8. When does R2 directly save anyone in the Sequels? And C-3PO, the translator, has been kicked out because Rey doesn’t need a translator because she’s already fluent in however many forms of communication the plot demands. Oh, and we don’t need R2, because Rey can fix anything she wants. If the purposes of 3PO and R2 can be replaced by an annoying Volleyball and a demigod, then why did you even bother to bring back C-3PO and R2-D2?

Even Anthony Daniels was baffled by the treatment of C-3PO "In these new movies, I have felt like a table decoration. And that is difficult because I recognize this character is worth so much more. But I understand it is a whole film, not a feature about C-3PO. That is just my personal disappointment. I get paid whether or not he does anything but it would be nice for him to have a purpose."

In TFA, C-3PO has a red arm? Why? Find out in a comic. In TLJ he does pretty much nothing and has one small moment with Luke that Mark and Anthony had to adlib because Rian Johnson couldn’t understand why these two would have one final moment. So in Rise Of Skywalker. C-3PO says “Let me take one last look, at my best friends.” Best friends? You barely knew Rey, Finn and Poe. They’ve been treating you like a nuisance all movie. Then we get a stupid “GOTCHA” gag by giving us another fucking fakeout death.

It would’ve made much more sense if we saw 3PO’s eyes imagine Han, Luke, Leia, Padme and Anakin. Oh and guess what would’ve been better? “R2, please. Let me do this. But first let me take one last look, at my best friend.” 3PO saying this to R2 would’ve made much more sense. Oh and no fake out death because that was bullshit. C-3PO gives his life to translate the Sith dagger(yes it’s as stupid as it sounds)

R2-D2 is the most screwed over character in the entire Sequel Trilogy. He spent all of TFA in low power mode either waiting for or trying to find Luke, finally does... and then he swears at him, plays one message to try and guilt him and then gives up entirely. Seriously, R2 only shows up in that one scene in the entire movie, the droid that was the most loyal little thing in the galaxy leaves the fate of his best friend and master to some random girl he knows nothing about. That's not R2. R2 would have followed Luke around and tried to save Luke instead of just sitting on the Falcon the entire time. I just find it IMPLAUSIBLE that R2-D2 would ever leave Luke. Then in TROS, R2 spends 95% of the movie being cut out. Why is R2 left out on the final adventure? R2 does not sit around, R2 goes where the action is. The treatment of R2-D2 in the sequels, ESPECIALLY AFTER KENNY BAKER’S PASSING IS INFURIATING!

Once again, let’s look at R2′s importance in the first 6 movies. George Lucas said the reason why R2 D2 has a major role in all six films is because the entire story, and therefore the canon, is actually being told BY R2-D2. He even went as far as making sure R2 saves the lives of the main cast once per film (1-Repairs the Naboo Ship and allows everyone to escape the blockade 2-Picks up Obi Wan’s distress signal AND saves Padme from lava 3-Overrides the Elevator lockdown and distracts Grevious 4-Shuts down the garbage masher 5-Fixes the hyperdrive allowing the cast to escape Vader 6-Gives Luke his lightsaber)

In the Sequels R2 never saves anyone’s life, completely breaking one of the core traditions of Star Wars. Worse, in TFA, he’s Shut down completely meaning he cannot possibly record what’s going on, hence, the entire film, and by extension the Sequel trilogy, is no longer a part of R2’s story.

Duel Of Fates actually used R2-D2. During the heat of battle, R2-D2 would have taken a fatal blast, destroying the droid's circuits and rendering it little more than an empty shell. As Chewbacca carried R2 on his back, similar to how he once carried 3PO all those years before, R2's best friend would have been inconsolable. As a droid C-3PO has very rarely shown much emotion other than worry and fear for his own life. Seeing him mourn the death of his best friend would have made this one of the toughest death scenes to take in the entire history of Star Wars. C-3PO consoles a damaged R2-D2 as a Star Destroyers crashes to the ground in the background. C-3PO consoles a damaged R2-D2 as a Star Destroyers crashes to the ground in the background.

The fact they did absolutely nothing with R2-D2 and just fakeout deathed C-3PO in the final movie is insulting. The fact that they completely erased the importance of the storytellers of Star Wars is where the Sequels truly failed. This, I think, is the most glaring and obvious evidence of Disney’s lack of understanding of Star Wars. Over the years many, many things had changed in the Saga but the one constant was R2 and 3PO. And now they’re being unceremonious kicked to the curb.

#Star Wars #R2 D2 #C 3PO #Anti Lucasfilm #Anti Sequel Trilogy #Anti JJ Abrams #Anti Rian Johnson

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dazenightmare · 3 years

Text

I’m Half Human, And Half Machine

Please read the post in the wheel spin tag called Cabinet Man to fully understand this :)

Wow I think this is the most trigger warnings I’ve ever put on anything

T.W.: Electricity, someone being electrocuted, mentions of someone getting electrocuted, death, mentions of dead bodies, dead bodies, implied dead bodies, crying, implied drinking, bullying, bruises, injuries, mentions of breaking in, breaking in, flashbacks, memory loss, mentioned memory loss, implied memory loss, crises, identity crises, shouting, arguing, arguments, blaming, let me know if I need to add more!

~~~~~~~~~

The boy blinked his eyes open, as he felt electricity surge through his veins for the first(?) time in his life. He looked down at his pixelated hands, then up and craned his neck a bit.

What did the text above him say? Un.. unbeetble? Wait wait hold on, he can get this. The boy swears it’s just the angle.

Unbeatable Madness. Why did that sound familiar?

The boy then stared straight ahead. Outside the screen, his mind provided as he looked out on a clearer environment than the pixelated one behind him.

A man stepped into his view. He was much bigger than the boy, he couldn’t help but notice. The man had red rimmed eyes above dark bags, mussed up hair, and overall seemed miserable and out of it. The boy tilted his head as the man teared up, staring at each other.

It’s okay, the boy tried to reassure. I’m here, please don’t cry.

The boy’s words never made it out though. He wasn’t programmed to talk in the title screen. The boy did his best to frown and held a hand up to the screen, a force meeting him far before the glass.

The man gave a broken chuckle before walking away, leaving the boy alone.

——

Another night the boy sat, curled tightly in a ball. It was night outside, and the lights of the machines kept glowing and going despite the arcade having closed a while ago. That meant the owner -the man- was still here. Probably pouring over his papers, numbers and bills, perhaps.

The boy wasn’t quite certain where he got that assumption from, but he fuzzily remembered the man doing it, waving him off with a tired but fond smile.

That was what his coding had assumed before the man came stumbling over to his machine, more red in the face than he usually was, hiccuping and close to tears.

Perhaps the boy was finally getting the plug. He’d been there for quite some time without a single player. His game was a waste of the electricity bill, and he hadn’t got a single quarter to make up for it. Maybe the man would replace his game with a more popular game, like the yellow circle thing or the shooty alien game. Something that would actually get the man money.

But no, the man only leaned on his machine, balling his eyes out which got worse every time the man so much as glanced at the boy.

Play the game, the boy prayed. I can’t comfort you unless you play the game. Just play until you feel better.

The boy didn’t like seeing the man upset.

As if god himself answered him, the man calmed down enough to slip a quarter in, standing ready to play the game.

“Insert name please!” The boy chimed out, smiling and pointing at the keyboard that appeared. The man chuckled quietly, typing out the name slowly.

When the man finally hit enter, the boy just smiled wider as he processed the name in his database.

“Welcome, player Pops!” The voice chimed, getting his own battle stance ready. “To Unbeatable Madness, the game that never ends!”

Pops wiped more tears out of his eyes as he widened his own stance, smiling.

“Remember to drink water after you cry!” The boy said, a reminder he made up. The game officially declared the start of Round One.

——

The boy stared out at the world, watching all the kids play the games. If he could sigh, he would. He missed Pops. It was lonely in this corner of the arcade.

He watched two small children pull each other around, looking at all the bright shiny lights and older kids playing the same games they’ve been playing since the boy’s game turned on. They both seemed amazed, and the boy let out a slight chuckle sound. Must be their first time in an arcade.

The two kept walking and looking, and the boy wondered what they were looking for. An empty game? They had passed plenty, though. Perhaps they were looking for their soulgame, like all the older kids had.

Eventually, they ended up in his corner of the arcade, staring at all the older and less liked games. When their eyes settled on his game, he swore they had frozen.

The two boys, surely younger than he was designed to look, pulled over one of the many stools to get a better look. The boy felt like jumping when the one with dark hair got ready to play after the other inserted a quarter. If he hadn’t been a PG game, he would’ve cussed from the shock.

Either way, he smiled as brightly as he could as a pixelated figure, and pointed at the keyboard.

“Insert name please!”

The two young ones whispered back and forth to each other before a name was typed in. The boy smiled all whites.

“Welcome, player Boo , to Unbeatable Madness, the game that never ends!”

His stance widened, and he wanted to laugh at the way Boo copied it with a determined look.

“Hold on to your hats, it’s about to get bumpy!”

——

Cabinet boy, or Tubbo, as his players called him, was watching the dark arcade bored. He thinks it was winter, around Christmas time. His only guess was Pops’s weak attempt at decoration. The arcade had also been closed today, and the day before, and likely tomorrow at this rate.

He missed his players. Holidays sucked, Tubbo decided. He was bored, and his players likely were as well. All the two did was go to school and play his game.

Even so, he was not expecting them to just appear out of thin air! Okay, well not out of thin air, but close enough!

Tubbo heard glass breaking in the office and frowned. He hoped nobody was robbing the place. They’d find nothing but grimy quarters that Pops had earned by dealing with these children all day.

There was shouting and thumping, and Tubbo pressed as close to the screen as he could to try and see what was happening. It soon became clear though as six people came into the room, two putting up a heck of a fight only to get dragged along.

Tubbo swore he short circuited realizing those two were his players and these kids were mocking them.

He went against all coding he ever had as he tried to yell profanities at them, punching the barrier between him and the screen.

Don’t you hurt them. Don’t you do shit.

“Aw, look,” one of the kids not holding his players said, pointing at his game. “Never seen the game do that before.”

Tubbo tried to growl and kicked the barrier. His game purred as if overheating. He punched and punched.

Give me quarter and I’ll show you “never seen”!

His players looked a mishmash of upset, in awe, and shock. Tubbo started shouting, but no sound left.

The players, his players, started screaming, close to crying as the kids started damaging his vault, thrashing. All three of them could do nothing.

Eventually, one of the kid’s pulled out a bat.

“NO! Put that down or I swear to Mr. Schlatt—“ Innit shouted. They fought more, and then Tubbo fought more as his players received a black eye and bruised cheek.

The next thing he knew, a bat was crashing through his screen.

Tubbo woke up with a gasp, curled up in a tight, dark space. He could feel wires, and something unnervingly stiff and cold, which he did his best to not touch. The box smelled, and he pressed against the metal wall.

There was muffled shouting outside. He started punching the wall, gasping when it hurt. Nothing in his existence had hurt physically before.

After a moment, the shouting picked up volume, and Tubbo pressed his ear against the wall. Until of course, his world had severely shaken quite literally as the box tipped over.

He groaned quietly, rubbing his head. He wondered if he would have to get used to pain. A panicked shout, sounding very much louder brought him out of his thoughts.

Looking over, Tubbo saw a piece of the wall seemingly gone. He quickly but carefully crawled out of the awful smelling box, and took a deep breath in as he stood on shaky legs. Gasps echoed behind him, but he paid no mind.

In front of him was another wall, but different yet familiar. Presumably, one of the walls in the arcade. But... how?

Tubbo slowly turned to his hands, and inspected hands like the kids in the arcade, albeit more dainty with scars. He flipped them over, watching small spots become pixelated before going back.

Another noise from behind him finally attracted his attention as he looked over his shoulder before slowly turning around.

The arcade. The one he’s been seeing for years now.

Oh, also six kids. That seemed pretty important.

Tubbo’s eyes were immediately on the ones he recognized, his players were staring at him with wide eyes, tears still gently flowing. They had a couple bruises, and they were slumped in the kid’s hold, as if they had given up. They looked disbelieving, but it seemed the recognition was mutual.

His eyes drifted to the other four kids, glancing over at his game, decently broken. Tubbo frowned, feeling electricity trail down his arms. He just stuck his tongue out, like he had seen Innit do so many times to Boo.

“Nobody likes a cheater.”

——

“WE INVITED A GHOST TO YOUR HOUSE!”

“YOU THINK I WASN’T AWARE TOMMATHY?!”

“OH GOD WHAT HAVE WE DONE?!”

“ALL WE DID WAS EXIST AND GAME!”

“WELL I GUESS THAT’S A SIN RANBOOB!”

Tubbo watched his players go back and forth, curled into a ball. They were watching the news, which was apparently like an arcade game but a lot more boring, as it was explained to him.

Anyways, they covered the break in on the arcade, thank god. Also, apparently he was a ghost of a kid inside his game. He honestly would’ve never guessed.

Getting slightly dizzy from watching them go back and forth, he settled his gaze back on the tv. Tubbo sat up straighter at the crying man on it.

He pushed his hand against the screen of the tv, frowning.

Why was Pops crying again? He had been so happy recently. He doesn’t deserve to feel so bad.

“Don’t cry Papa, it’ll be alright!”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah! Soon I’ll get a job, and we can pay the bills together! You’ll have all the money for juice that your heart desires!”

“Heh, thanks Tubs.”

“It’s okay,” he whispered, now that he could. “I’m here, please don’t cry.”

Tubbo got more upset, and put both hands on the screen. He bit his lip.

“It’s okay, it’s okay...”

“Tubbo?”

He looked back at the quiet kids, feeling tears well up in his eyes.

“Why’s Pops crying?”

There was confusion before one of them saw the tv and lit up in understanding. Boo moved closer and grabbed one of his hands, holding it.

“Well uh, Pops is sad that there was a child- or um, your body in the game.”

“Why?” Tubbo tilted his head, wiping his tears before they fell.

“He- he cared about you a lot before you died,” Innit said, taking his other hand with reluctance. Tubbo sat rigidly as he thought.

“... I cared about him too,” Tubbo murmured, curling up again.

——

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Tubbo whispered, glancing around as he stood on the back of the bike. It was pitch dark out, the only lights being porch ones and the ones that occasionally littered the sidewalk.

Innit started pedaling, scoffing.

“Of course, just throw on your hood, ‘kay? Last thing we need is night owls seeing a person that glitches out sometimes.”

Tubbo did as told, watching the passing houses before he spoke again.

“Won’t Boo be mad we did this?”

“Oh, no he’ll be downright furious,” Innit shuddered. “However, we’re running low on snacks, and Mr. Schlatt needs to know you’re... are you alive?”

“I like to think so,” Tubbo responded, setting his head down on top of Innit’s. “I can breathe, and feel emotions and pain. I’m just a different person now, I guess. Or maybe I’m the same as I was before, and I just can’t remember.”

“Dang. Well, Mr. Schlatt needs to meet you. Maybe he can tell you whether you’re the same or not.”

“... maybe,” Tubbo sighed, staring at the scenery. It had been a ‘fun’ time discovering he was alive before his game turned on. All this time he thought he wasn’t a person or had a personality, just some code someone had made to entertain. And now suddenly, he was human? Or human-ish?

Needless to say, it’s been a not so good time discovering who he was or if he even had a place in the world still. Tubbo didn’t know if he preferred just being a character in a game, or a person who shouldn’t exist.

“Hey, I know you’re having a crises up there. I’ve been Ranboo’s friend for years, I can spot them a mile away,” Innit joked, and Tubbo snorted. They sat in silence for a bit before Innit spoke up.

“So, what you havin’ a crises about?”

“... who I am, mostly. Who I was. Who I might become... I could’ve been sixteen by now, Innit. I could’ve been living a normal life instead of whatever this has become. I don’t even know what a normal life is supposed to look like, or if I’ll ever become older.”

“Hm, that my friend, sounds like baggage.”

“Heh, yeah.”

“... it’s nice getting to know you.”

Tubbo raised an eyebrow, glancing at the blonde hair below him.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, like, you know almost everything about me and Ranboo from one way conversations,” Innit started explaining as their surroundings slowly turned from houses to local businesses. “Years of consciousness, taking in information, watching us grow. Meanwhile you’ve only been able to say one liners that never mattered. It’s nice, hearing you say your thoughts, and seeing who you become.”

“I also like saying my thoughts. The privilege of speech is not one to be taken for granted,” Tubbo mused with a smile. There was a huff of amusement from below him as they finally reached their destination.

They got off the bike slowly, perching it against the wall. Innit peered into the glass, and they watched the games glow proudly.

“Well, seems as if he’s still in there,” Innit said before turning to him with a smile. “You ready to do this?”

Before Tubbo could even open his mouth, another bike suddenly almost crashed into them, startling them. Boo sat on the bike, panting as if he ran a marathon, which he must of done in order to catch up with them.

“Ranboo?! What are you doing here?” Tommy whisper shouted to not alert anyone. Ranboo glared as he tried to regain his breathing.

“What am I doing?! What are you doing?! We’re supposed to be asleep and not freaking any adults out!” He whisper shouted back, waving his arms drastically.

“How’d you even know we were gone?! You were dead asleep!”

“Gee Tommy, it’s not like I’ve been sleeping with one person on top of me for weeks now! Not that I mind it,” Ranboo reassured, glancing at Tubbo. “But it’s kinda easy to tell when nobody’s sleeping on me!”

“We gotta tell Mr. Schlatt, Ranboo! His son is still alive!”

“And what if he freaks out, huh?! What’ll we do if Schlatt calls the authorities?!”

Tubbo frowned as they kept going at it, glancing back inside the arcade. His gaze immediately glued on the figure that moved behind rows of games, disappearing. He hummed quietly, glancing between his players and the glass uncertainly before stepping to the door, closing his eyes as he glitched through into the arcade.

With only one more glance at the two on the other side of the glass, he started walking forward slowly, taking off his hood as he looked around. It was nice to see the arcade from a different angle.

He turned a row, immediately seeing Schlatt leaning into a machine and—

His foot was stuck, and trying to get it out only resulted in his right arm and left wrist getting tangled, a wire lightly pressing against his throat.

Tubbo decided to just wait for Papa. Papa could get him out.

Sudden pain. Oh god it hurt somebody HELP HELP ME IT HURTS! PAPA!

—Tubbo flinched backwards with yelp, hiding from the sight behind another game. He pressed his hand to his mouth, breathing shaky as he slid to the floor. The electricity that had always flowed through his veins was no longer comforting, and instead served a harsh reminder of the pain.

What had he done to deserve that?

“Hello?” A voice called out. “Anybody here?”

Tubbo held back tears. It was now or never, he told himself as he moved his hand.

“... hi.”

“Kid, the arcade closed a while ago,” Pops said, sounding like he was coming closer. “You need a ride home?”

“No... no, they’re outside.”

“That’s good. Come on, I’ll unlock the door so you can leave.”

Tubbo stood up just as Pops rounded the corner, and he froze as they stared at each other. Tubbo smiled shakily.

“Hi Pops,” he whispered, waving. Pops started crying, and Tubbo did nothing but leap forward to hug the man. The tears he held back left his eyes, soaked by a shirt as arms wrapped around him and hugged just as tight.

“Please tell me this is real,” Pops whispered into his hair as they sunk to the ground, still embracing.

“I hope so,” Tubbo sobbed. His fuzzy memories cleared in some spots, making him cry more. He only had bits and pieces of a previous life, and it only made him more sad. “P... papa?”

“Y-yeah buddy?”

“I- I don’t, I don’t remember too m-much,” he cried more. Tubbo earned it, surely.

“Sh sh, buddy it’s okay. I’ll help you remember, I promise. We’ll be okay.”

They calmed down not too long after, both running out of tears. They probably would’ve sat there until dawn if it weren’t for the shouting outside.

“Is that-?”

Tubbo nodded, separating himself from Pops as they stood back up. He held a hand much bigger than his own as he dragged Pops to the front door, where his players were still arguing. Pops unlocked the door and they pushed it open to hear the conversation.

“—HOW COULD YOU LOSE HIM?!”

“WH- ME?! I’M NOT THE ONE WHO BROUGHT HIM HERE!”

“YOU STILL LOST HIM THOUGH!”

Tubbo sighed, pulling his hood back on. Sometimes he was embarrassed these were his players.

“This is your ride?” Pops whispered to him, obviously trying not to laugh. Tubbo only nodded and pulled his hood over his face as his face burned.

“Why are you like this?” Tubbo said loudly, moving his hood to see them as he glared.

#mcyt #tubbo #tubbo_#dream smp #cabinet man au #fic

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votederpycausemufins · 3 years

Text

Welp, this fic i thought i wasn’t even going to continue is now longer at 17 chapters than War in Hermittown which was 26 chapters. And I’m not done here yet! (WiHT ended with 56,719 words. SF was at 55,597 last chapter, and this one is over 3k words, putting it to at least 58k total)

tagging time! @petrichormeraki and @helleborusangel are you guys proud of me?

Xannes and Tommy turned their weapons on Theseus. “How’d you find this place bitch?” The hels copy just rolled his eyes before gesturing over to Dream. “What, you were tracking him?”

“He’s an admin using a console. Find the console, find the admin.” Theseus replied, which confused Tommy. “Right, you wouldn’t know about that, would you.”

Tommy glanced back to Xannes. “Any clue what he’s talking about?”

“Yes. Before command blocks, datapacks, plugins and autofill commands, a lot of admins would default to consoles. These days most people tend to ignore them, but there are some benefits. Though the negatives usually make it seem like the worst option.”

“Why’s that?”

“Admins have better control over everything else. A console is more powerful and capable of much more, but it’s disconnected from the admin. It tends to be stationary in the world and needs to be hidden, and while there are ways to make them moveable, it’s usually not worth the hassle.”

Theseus smiled. “Oh look who’s not as much of an idiot as they seem. Another question then. Why are you still getting in the way? You want those scraps of metal? Take them. He’s the one I’m after.” And he pointed at Dream.

“You haven’t fucking told us why though.” Tommy crossed his arms.

“You didn’t really need to know.” Theseus said before sighing and taking off his mask. “But if that’s the only thing that’ll make you let me through, fine. Nightmare’s dead in my world. I killed him myself. Used up his three lives.”

“You guys still have the three lives system? I thought everything in hels was… y’know, worse?” Tommy asked.

“Oh it is. Exactly why I want Nightmare back.”

There was silence save for the continued sound of weapons banging off each other. “You… you want to what?”

Theseus shrugged. “The bitch never really got what was coming to him. Sure it’s the NSMP, and it’s technically named after him, but his name is based on a concept. He’s not the one in charge, he just made a place where nightmares can become reality. He just never got that chance because he’s dead. And with how hels works, he can’t come back. That is… unless I can bring Dream back with me.”

“That seems like the worst idea I’ve ever heard.” Xannes spoke up. “There’s no guarantee how that will work, especially since he was an admin. You’re setting yourself up for a disaster for both your world and this one.”

“And so what? I die? If I can’t do this right, why bother sticking around.”

“Then I might die too bitch!” Tommy yelled at his copy. “And I definitely don’t want to go out just like that.”

“Plus there are other people linked here.” Xannes spoke, pulling up commands. “Now, you’re going to want to stop, or I’m going to have to attack.”

“Oh please, what can you do?”

“My brother is known as the best admin of all time. Which meant I needed to be the best hacker.” Xannes smiled behind his mask. “And with Prof and NPG around, I haven’t gotten to try anything out in a while, so I’m going to really enjoy this.”

Tommy could almost feel the danger that was Xannes before he moved. He swung his sword once, and even though Theseus was more than ten blocks away, it was like the blade had hit him. He then pulled out a crossbow along with his sword, managing to duel wield the weapons. And then even though the second weapon kept being fired, it seemed to always be filled with ammo, not giving Theseus any rest from attacks, not to mention the fact that it was also multishot.

Tommy used that as a chance to run over to the bots. “Alright you two, I don’t care what the fuck’s been going on with you two, you need to fucking stop before you kill each other.”

“He deserves to die!” Jrum shouted, not looking away from his brother.

“Jrum, I’ve told you about the guy that kinda isolated and manipulated me? The one Big G compared to Sam?”

“Yeah, and Grum’s just as bad!” Jrum said before attempting to attack again, instead just getting pulled back by Tommy.

“No! No he isn’t! That guy Grum’s been stuck with? That green bitch right there? That’s the fucker who was messing with me! And now he’s been doing it to Grum.”

“Yeah right.” Jrum crossed his arms, and Tommy slapped the back of his head, wincing as pain coursed through his body from damaging the vines. It caused the teen to flinch back, making the bottles in his inventory clank together.

Hearing the bottles made Tommy remember what he had on him. He had no clue how well the water worked, but right now it was better than nothing. He pulled them out and smashed them on top of Jrum’s head like a water balloon, the water covering Jrum and getting into his mechanics. It caused a short circuit and it seemed to fry the vines from within, but also Jrum. As the circuitry within him sparked, it damaged the vines, causing even more damage to Jrum, until it killed him.

“NO! JRUM!” Tommy yelled, freaking out about having just killed someone in his family. Beside him, Grum just stared at the place where Jrum had been standing a minute ago, the body having dissolved into smoke.

Life Counter active. Entity Check Jrumbot. Death: canon. Life counter: 1 life remaining. Commence respawn. Respawn complete.

Teleport Requested. Assessing. Assessing. Allowing Teleport. Entity Jrumbot Teleported to Deathpoint coordinates.

Just like that, Jrumbot reappeared. He wasn’t completely covered with the vines, but he still retained the single vine around his antenna and his screen was still a red color. “Oh thank goodness, I thought you might have had a single life left.”

“Well now I do, no thanks to you!”

When Tommy had yelled, Xannes looked away from his fight. Theseus was able to finally close the distance and attack Xannes without the helsmit protecting himself, but he didn’t need to, the hacks keeping him from taking damage. “He’s using a console…”

Theseus tried attacking Xannes again. “Yeah, we covered that already. Why’s it soooo surprising now?”

“Because the console is Grum.”

That made Theseus scoff. “Wasn’t it obvious? It’s a computer that’s always near Dream. It’s essentially a console with fewer drawbacks. Even more powerful than a regular console too.”

When Theseus said that, Tommy turned his anger on Dream. “Ohhh, I can’t fucking believe you. I mean, that is an absolute child. At least with me, I was older, practically an adult, but he hasn’t even had a birthday and you decided to mess with him! As if you didn’t have a death wish already! I mean, guess that’s why you got everyone blocked. What if I just asked Grum to unblock everyone, what then?”

“And what? Just let Phil and Techno back in? What would that help with?”

“Oh please, you know their dad would be the first one in. Doesn’t that scare you?” Tommy asked with a smirk, though it fell in a few moments. “Wait do you actually not know who their dad is?”

“Just because he’s supposed to be another one of your brothers doesn’t mean anything. They’re hardly something I can’t deal with.”

“Can’t deal wi- Dream! Their dad is Grian! You know, the guy who literally has the name Dreamslayer? Like that’s part of his legal name at this point.” Tommy could tell when it got through to Dream, because he pressed back in his invisible prison just a bit and started looking for some possible way out.

He ended up snapping his fingers at Grum. “Hey, get me out of here.” And then Grum processed the information and teleported Dream a couple blocks to his left, freeing him from the barrier blocks.

“Oh shit. Xannes! He got o-” Was all Tommy was able to say before he was pressed against a wall, feet no longer touching the ground and him left struggling for air.

“You know, I could kill you right here. It would be easy. But for all I know, you come back as a ghost. So I’ve got a better idea. Just to make sure that if you do come back, it hurts even more. Grumbot?” He looked over at the robot, who immediately made its way over to Dream’s side. He handed it a netherite axe with the word ‘Nightmare’ etched into the metal.

“No, c-come on Grum. You c-can’t do th-this.” Tommy did his best to get the words out. “Pl-Please… c-can you l-let everyone in a-at least.”

“Oh come on. He’s loyal to me. Why would you think-”

“That command is protected and requires a password to access.”

For a moment, Tommy lost all hope, but in a moment of clarity, he realized that Dream didn’t know Grum would say anything. If that were the case, there wouldn’t be a password. Yeah, Tommy could be wrong, but there was still a chance. “M-Mumbo for Mayor…” He choked out, and immediately Grumbot started processing the password, then accepted it.

“Blacklist disabled.”

“Kill Tommy!” Dream yelled in anger. And then Tommy was hit by the axe. Once. Twice. And then a third and final time.

Life Counter active. Entity Check TommyInnit. Death: canon. Life counter: no lives remaining. No respawn applicable.

No.

Commencing Respawn. Respawn complete.

Teleport Requested. Assessing. Assessing. Allowing Teleport. Entity Tommy Teleported to Coordinates X-3, Y-3, Z-3. Returning inventory contents.

Tommy was holding his chest, panting to catch his breath. He was so sure he was dead. But no. Here he was, away from Dream and still with all his gear. That had probably been Xannes saving him, and healing him as well based on his current level of health.

For a moment, Tommy wanted to rush back in there, but then he remembered. The blacklist had been disabled. People could get in. He pulled out the communicator and sent a message to Grian, hoping it wouldn’t take too long. Then he put it away and tried to go back over to the bots, but his legs were shaky, and in just trying to take one step, he fell to the floor.

Even though he wasn’t close to death, he could still feel himself fading while at the same time it felt like everything was happening at once. Every sound seemed louder, what little breeze there was felt like pins and needles. And he just felt tired. As his vision went in and out, he saw Jrum rush off. Then Theseus stopped fighting and went after Dream. Then the three of them were gone. Then he was up in the air, something picking him up.

Finally, he felt the buzz of his communicator, and everything went dark.

The moment Grian got the message from Tommy, Grian made a Watcher portal straight to the SMP. The others nearby were slightly surprised that it was to let them follow along, but they weren’t arguing. Tubbo was the first to go through, Phil and Techno following behind. Grian was about to be right behind them, but was stopped by a hand. “You’re not keeping me from going Mumbo.”

“I know that. I wasn’t going to.” The redstoner spoke before taking Grian’s hand. “You’re the one always jumping into things, and that’s mostly a good thing. But this is something I don’t want to be left out of, so whether you like it or not, I’m coming with.”

“What? Did you think I was going to leave you behind? I wasn’t going to close the portal behind me. I was hoping you would come too, I was just letting you decide.”

“Good. ...So, do we want to…?” Mumbo started to say before he was yanked towards the portal as Grian ran through it, dragging him along.

When they arrived on the other side, Phil was the only one nearby, sitting down next to the portal. “Hey. Before you ask, I volunteered to wait while the other two went off in their own directions. That was only a few minutes ago. Haven’t heard anything back from them.”

Grian nodded. “I’m going to try contacting Tommy. Mumbo, those coordinates Tommy forwarded to me before? Can you check them out?”

“Definitely.” Mumbo nodded, pulling out his own communicator and checking the coordinates and which was to go to reach them.

“I’ll see if I can find anyone who could give us information.” Phil offered before immediately leaving, leaving Grian alone.

Alright, if I were one of the kids or Tommy… where would I be?” Grian asked himself, looking around before spotting something red in the distance. “Oh hello there. What’s that?” He quickly got into the air, flying over instead of trying to cross the rough terrain. “Tommy did send something about Jrum and red plants, didn’t he?” Grian bent down to try and touch the stuff, but was surprised when it seemed to move away.

A voice spoke and then Grian was left looking around, trying to spot who had spoken. “What do you mean don’t touch it? I’m trying to find my kid and the best lead I have right now are these things.” Then he was left looking around again. “Oh, if that’s the case, then why not ditch the invisibility potion and meet me face to face?” Another short bout of silence and then Grian growled slightly, clenching his fists. “Then maybe I will.” And he started following the moving plants, the vines moving to almost create a path as they parted near him.

They snaked into an underground room and then down a thin tunnel. Grian had a little trouble getting through with his wings, not wanting to shift them away in case he ended up needing them suddenly. When he finally reached the end, he was greeted by what was obviously two teams of people fighting. One group was all in purples meanwhile the other group had a mix of colors, but there were a lot of reds and whites.

When it didn’t look like anyone noticed him, Grian moved forward a bit, cleared his throat, and then shouted. “HEY!” Immediately everyone froze and looked over at him. “Excuse me, I’m sure you’re having a lovely war and all, but I’m looking for my kids. The two of them are about… these heights and are adorable little robots.”

“Are you saying you’re one of Jrum’s parents?” Someone in a black and white cloak said, and Grian nodded at them.

“Yeah. Is he here? Or do you at least know where he is?” Grian asked, before the person attempted to attack him. Immediately his wings moved to act as a quick shield. “I’m guessing that’s a yes, but you don’t want me around.” Grian pulled out his sword. “Eh, I was expecting an ambush anyway.”

But before another attack could happen, the voice from before spoke, seemingly to the cloaked person. “So what?! He abandoned his kid! If that were true he would have shown up!”

“Hey, I tried getting in. Your admin just found a way to keep me out until now. Now, are you going to listen to your friend and tell me where Jrum is, or are you going to fight?”

The incoming sword worked as the answer to Grian’s question and he blocked it with a shield before attacking back. The person tried moving behind some vines hanging from the ceiling, but Grian just sliced them to the ground, clearing the area. “Wait, how are you doing that?!” The person asked before Grian flew up to bash their head with the end of his shield and knock them to the ground.

“Nooo! What are you doing!” A voice yelled out and Grian turned around to see a familiar robot running over.

“Jrum!” Grian landed, arms open for a hug, but he just pushed past his dad to run to the person now on the ground. “Wh-what?”

“Are you okay?”

“Nggh… yeah. Wait, now where have you been?”

“I got kidnapped and Grum was there and he attacked me! But now I’m fine!”

Grian looked between his son and the person he had been attacking. He had no clue why this was happening, so he looked over as some of the other people nearby, who weren’t sure how to answer him. “Oh come on, no one had any idea?” And then the invisible person spoke. “I mean I guess? He was built before the turf war, but he didn’t really take part in it. Why? Look, I just want to get my kid and leave. My resistance days are pretty much over.”

There was quiet before Grian sighed and his wings shifted away. “Fine, I’ll play along, but you better hold up your end.” And when he opened his eyes, they weren’t their normal color, nor even just bright purple from using his watcher powers. Instead, his iris and pupils seemed to be missing, replaced by grayish-purple sclera.

“Well at the very least it was a house.” Xannes grumbled as he attempted to brush off the layer of dust on the bed sitting in the corner for him to then put Tommy on. It was tough with him having to carry the unconscious teen and only really about to use a leg as a duster, which was just spreading the dust around. “Can this be any harder?!”

A door opening behind him made the helsmit groan. “That’s wasn’t a fucking request! What the fuck do you-” He turned around and saw someone familiar and thankfully wearing a red tie. “Fine. This works. You take the kid.”

Mumbo was handed Tommy and Xannes finally was able to just pick the covers up off the bed and shake them off. It left Mumbo coughing and Xannes instantly regretting it as an alert on his screen warned him about his filters, but he put the blankets back down. The redstoner set Tommy down on the bed while Xannes worked on cleaning out the dust that was now in his helmet. “What happened to him?”

“He got killed, but respawn brought him back. It didn’t seem to be the best respawn because it hit hard. From what I can tell, he wasn’t supposed to. Is this a hardcore world?”

Mumbo shook his head. “Tommy said something about them having three lives, but they only counted if they were important.”

“So he essentially just got revived instead of normally respawning. That would explain it. You should have seen the three that got revived this season.”

“That’s right, you permakill someone if they don’t return for a season, don’t you.”

“Yeah. Of course they can still exist elsewhere, but it's a type of ban in a way.”

Mumbo nodded before finally looking away from Tommy and over to Xannes. “H-Have you seen either of the boys?”

“Yes, though they’re not doing so well. You know what a console is, right?”

“Yeah.” Mumbo nodded again. “I had to use one when I was first starting out so I didn’t break everything when working with redstone. Came in handy a few times, but I’m glad not using one anymore. Is there one being used here?”

“Yeah. The admin here decided to have fun with one since he found a way to make it mobile thanks to your redstone.”

“My red- wait!” Mumbo jumped up from kneeling on the floor next to the bed. “Are you telling me he’s using one of the boys?!”

“Yeah, Grumbot. He’s extremely out of it, but Tommy was able to get him to remove the blacklist and I’m pretty sure he’s the one who revived him, so it’s not a completely lost cause. Meanwhile the other one got infected with something like crimson nylium. I’m not sure how bad your land war went, but ours got out of hard fast.”

“We had a bit of trouble near the end, but the minigame battle near the end kept things from getting too far.”

“Well, hopefully it doesn’t end up like helscraft. Most of us ended up possessed by the different nyliums for a good portion of the war. And looks like Jrum is in the same situation.”

Alright, I’ll let the others know and hope Grian notices the message.”

“How many came along with the two of you?”

“Same group that we visited with. They came from here in the first place anyway, so they’ve got a better chance finding what we need.”

“Hello? Ranboo? Are you in here?” Tubbo asked, carefully stepping into the house. They had been planning to set up the second floor for Michael when he disappeared, so hopefully Ranboo would still be living there at least a little, unless he had taken the ziglin elsewhere.

The place was dark, all the windows closed and no torches or lanterns there to light the place up. It left Tubbo fumbling around, trying to feel his way around and wishing he had brought something for light. He tripped on something and fell to the ground, rubbing his head and hoping he hadn’t damaged anything. Then suddenly, something lit up, and Tubbo froze.

He had looked behind him to try and see if he could tell what had tripped him. He could barely make out the outline of a foot. Following up, it led up to a glowing screen with a smiley face plastered on it. Just behind that, Tubbo could also see two glowing magenta eyes from an enderman standing behind the robot.

Before Tubbo could ask any questions, a voice came from elsewhere in the dark room. “You know. As far as everyone knows, you're dead. How about we keep it that way?”

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