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hummingbird-games · 6 months

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Postmortem: #CrushedVN Edition

Okie doke y'all! It's been some time so I guess we're good to dissect this project!

(I almost didn't bother with writing this up, but at the end of the day I do the dev diaries and the random--game development related--posts for me to look back on and prove I'm learning. Getting better. Not regressing. So. Might as well move forward!)

Background/Inspiration

It's like if you took my late 2022 brain and threw it into a blender!! Most of these are self-explanatory (Boys Love media I adore with emphasis on early to late teen experiences.) Let me draw your attention to The Edge Of Seventeen: not sure how many times I've rewatched, but it makes me tear up every single time. Main character Nadine is awkward AF, still hasn't come to terms with the death of her father years prior, isn't on the best terms with her mom or her older brother, and even ends up on rocky terms with her best friend too!! Anyway, that feeling of being young, and a little angry and a little sad and not feeling quite right on the inside but eventually reaching a place where things fiiiiiinally start to work out...it's just a sliver of what I wanted to capture and infuse into Crushed.

Listen y'all, I just pulled and pulled and pulled from real life experiences. I was inspired by authors Julian Winters, Leah Johnson, and Jay Coles' works (all Young Adult authors LOL! Fitting since I seem to be creating things for the teens at this juncture in my life). This all provided the base for Corey and his inner world. Also, I've been wanting to create a bookworm character...no time like the present right???

As for deciding to specifically create a boys' love visual novel of all things?? First, y'all must understand that I fought the original idea and anything related to it. This was coming off the heels of me suddenly seeing (another) wave of players throwing fits about indie games forcing you to play as a femme character. First off, no one is forcing you to do anything. Secondly, we are still at a point in video games where the majority of characters you play as are male. Forgive some of us for wanting a little variety 😑Thirdly, for those looking for games where there's even more inclusivity (choosing pronouns, playing as nonbinary/trans, and etc) I really wish that players would seek out those games that ARE being made and support them so the developers don't lose steam and drop their projects. It's so disheartening to make something that's meant to be consumed and BOOM, silence.

Anyway, all of that to say that as a developer herself who's tired of watching girls' media be regulated as Less Than, made fun of, and just overall disrespected, I wasn't interested in making any games that didn't center a female character. But back to my main point!!!

I had Heartstopper, the webtoon, infecting my brain. I was so not immune to falling in love with Nick and Charlie like everybody else. But then I was hit for the 34573847th time that I was engaging with white queer media. And I knew that if Nick and Charlie were Black Brits, they wouldn't be getting half the attention they are now. Even less if the boys were girls and we had a sapphic relationship on our hands. (But that sapphic story from Hummingbird Games is still brewing, and Corey and Jacob's story was ready first.)

Also....the biphobia is real. It's insidious. I could write a whole book about how the straights and the gays need to get their shit together. I could then write a sequel about how the Black community can be some of the worst offenders when it comes to our Bi Fam and say some of the most ignorant and devastating things. But I had limited time on my hands and decided to write a short VN instead. Once I let Corey just be, exist as the person he is, everything fell into place.

Things That Went Right...

I took a very niche, very Specific To Me, very nestled in the space between my heart and my brain and wrote a script just so I could be a part of a game jam specifically highlighting and supporting the work of Black game developers.

And I submitted the bitch on time.

I'm always down for anxiety rep!!! As a fellow anxiety haver, I say the more visibility the better!!! At the same time, it's not a one size fits all, and there were some things I dealt with that I'd never seen depicted and I figured I might as well be true to my experiences. Maybe someone would take solace in Corey the way I've taken solace in other characters for reflecting my lived experiences.

I tried new things I was scared of or didn't have time for with HSD or didn't feel confident enough to sit and learn previously: partial voice acting (and holding auditions to incorporate more), a text message system (which wasn't my own but part of learning to code for me means being able to take what others have done and replicate and/or use it myself), and implementing music and sound effects with intention. I've done it with film, but games are a close cousin in a lot of ways. A LOT of ways. I should remember that.

I still didn't do too well in the marketing department but for this game, it didn't feel like a failure. I also didn't really try. Oops. I've got to do better. I went into Crushed knowing it wouldn't have half the audience HSD does, and yet the feedback I've received for Crushed has made me want to break down into tears of relief.

I launched the game around 10 something at night my time and proceeded to be sick with anxiety for about 3 days. For three whole days I legit felt like I was going to die. And then I wanted to laugh because didn't I just make a game to express a version of the human condition?

Things That Were Different...

HSD showed off my skills when it comes to intensive planning and sticking mostly to that plan. Crushed was a jam entry that became more extensive over time and found me flying off the seat of my pants.

I also had less (aha, zero???) budget this time around. Because again. Jam entry. It wasn't supposed to be a Big Affair. But now that it's over and out to you guys, I'm not mad. You could say that it all worked out.

If I Could Go Back, I Would...

For one, I would have smacked the voice in my head that said "let's add more voice acting now". I love the feature, but there's no reason why I couldn't have done auditions after release. I was impatient and restless waiting for art assets, and my idleness led me to take on more things just to not feel useless. I Have Learned My Lesson, thanks.

I Had The Pleasure of Learning...

There will always be an obstacle in the way of game development. (And sometimes your body will be your own worst enemy, yuck.)

I don't know who my audience is (yet) for HBG but I'm always a part of it. And that's not a bad thing. If I hadn't felt so strongly about Crushed or even HSD, neither project would have happened because I would have given up a long time ago.

To the Future...

Empasis on future, but the world of Crushed isn't exhausted. It lives in the bigger universe of HSD:JY but took on a life of its own. So it's no surprise that Corey and his friends became even more precious to me. Not that I know when I'll be able to work on it, but right after finishing and publishing the demo, I outlined a rough draft for a kinetic novel sequel told through Jacob's POV. In my head, Corey's story was always half of a whole, and busting out Jacob's outline so quickly confirmed that.

(What I didn't anticipate was how loved Oke and Keegan would be, or that there would be a want for their story outside of myself??? Between us and this postmortem, I hope to sort out their deal and get the satisfaction of seeing another type of love story/dynamic I can't get enough of and share it!)

Closing Thoughts

The comments I've gotten concerning Crushed and noting the appreciation for its slice-of-life/grounded-ness is reassuring! Maybe I'll branch out to other genres, but realism will be something I always come back to. Also, making Crushed wasn't too traumatic soooooo that means I'm still making games LOL! Can't get rid of me yet!

- Gemini 💛

(some links of other posts where I went on tangents concerning the creation of Crushed; these can also be found by searching the tag "crushed vn"!)

Music Inspo and Crushed

Memes Tag Game

Game Dev Commentary: Bonus Content

#game development #crushed vn #postmortem

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cody-the-kirby-used-psi · 5 months

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A Silly Idea

Spawned from reading too many of Star_going_supernova's Godzilla stories.

So I've got this kinda stupid idea in my head.

It started with me remembering the old Godzilla cartoon from 1998( henceforth being referred to as the only thing of worth coming from the 1998 movie) and I thought that it would be cool if they did something like that nowadays with the Legendary versions.

It was at that point my brain threw the Legendary Godzilla in a blender with some 90's era ‘we'll-make-a-cartoon-outta-anything’ juice mixed with a bit of Star_Going_Supernova influence spice, hit puree, and spilled this slurrie everywhere.

Which I will now regurgitate to any one willing to read this.

So Cody's Idea Corner now presents:

Envoys of the King:

A Godzilla Pilot.

So it starts with a view of an aircraft carrier. We see the Monarch symbol emblazoned upon it. Monarch employees bustle around on it, giving an 18 year old sitting on a crate a large berth, or rather the large bear-sized lump of familiar scales behind him a large berth.

The teen looks tired, like ‘put through the ringer and now I'm just done tired’. He has short black hair and brown eyes. He's of Japanese descent and wearing a long brown coat.

In walks Maddie Russell. She walks straight up to him.

“Hi,” she says.

“Sup,” he responded.

“I'm Maddie.”

“Martin.”

“So Martin,” she starts. “Why's everybody avoiding you?”

“Think they're more avoiding the big grumpy lizard than me.”

He points back to the lump of scales. Maddie stares at it.

As if sensing her stare it raises its head, its face is familiar to Maddie.

“Who's that?” She asks. “Kindda looks like Godzilla, if he were smaller.”

Martin sighs.

“That's because it is Godzilla.”

Maddie double takes.

“...what?”

“It’s… it's a long story.”

Behind him Godzilla huffs. Martin rolls his eyes.

“Which the lizard wants me to tell apparently.”

“Wait, you can understand him?”

“That's…”

“Also a long story?”

“Eh, more of the same story.”

“Okay this I gotta hear.”

“Pull up a crate,” Martin says, waving over to some other boxes. “Don't got much else going on right now.”

Maddie pulls over a box and sits down. Expectantly waiting for Martin to begin.

He sighs.

“Okay, where to start…”

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

So about a year ago my grandpa passed. In his will, he left me four things.

The first was a bunch of money. Said to use it to travel the world. Find myself.

The second was this bag that had eight, uh, guess I'll call em crests.

Third was this crystal sword.

Fourth was a journal. The journal was full of writing in different languages. What I could read was just confusing and made no sense. At the back of the journal was a message from grandpa; ‘you'll know what to do when it's time.’

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

Maddie: That's it?

Yep.

Maddie: Well, that's… vague…

You're telling me. Anyway, with nothing else to go on, I did the other thing he told me to do, I went traveling. Till I ended up here.

I'd heard Monarch was doing some sort of dig outside of town. Cordoned it off and everything. Normally, it wouldn't have mattered to me but, I don't know, I felt… drawn to the place. Like I'd just be doing my thing and suddenly I'm staring off in the direction of the dig.

Maddie: So what did you do?

What I imagine any self-respecting teenager with no adult supervision and an inexplicable draw to an off limits sight would do.

Maddie:... you broke in?

I broke in, yeah. And… I got caught. That. Is when the crazy stuff happened.

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

Martin sits in what appears to be an interrogation room. He sits in the chair, slouched back and staring at the ceiling.

‘You're an idiot, Martin!’ He scolds himself.

Before he can berate himself further, the door opens, letting in a woman with blonde pixie cut hair. She wore a lab coat and held a tablet in her hand.

“Martin Yami?” She asked as she sat down in front of him. “Or do you prefer Yami Martin.”

“I was raised in the states,” he grumbled. “Martin's fine.”

“Very well.” She smiled softly. “My name is Leana Marpole. I work as a Doctor of archeology for Monarch.”

Martin raised a brow.

“Archeology? Thought Monarch was full of Kaiju researchers?”

Before she could answer, he shook his head.

“Nevermind, doesn't matter. Look Miss Marpole-”

“Call me Leana.”

“Fine. Miss Leana, if you guys are gonna pull a ‘Men In Black’ on me, could we just get it over with?” He sighed. “It was a mistake to go in there. I'm not even sure why I did it.”

She chuckled.

“I don't know what rumors you've heard about Monarch's technology, but we're not advanced enough to rewrite memories.” She smirked. “Or perhaps you were referring to the methods of the original comics?”

Martin blinked.

“I… was actually… how do you know that?”

She laughed.

“A fond part of my childhood,” she said brightly. “Regardless, I can assure you that we plan on doing no such thing.”

“Hmm.”

His eyes narrowed in thought.

“Wait, those comics are like thirty years old. You read them as a kid? So you're like-”

“Although, I could convince the General to adopt some of those methods, if you would like to continue down that train of thought?” she interjected with a clearly false cheer.

“Uhhhhh… noted…” He coughed. “Uhm, a-anyway, if you're not planning to do… that… then why am I here instead of with the police for standard B'n'E?”

“To answer one of your earlier questions,” she began as she tapped away on the tablet. “Titans have existed long before humanity. There are even records of temples of worship to some of them, and I will be the first to tell you, zoologists, do not make good archeologists.”

“Okay, fair,” he said with a nod. “So Monarch needs archeologists to study these supposed kaiju temples. Still doesn't explain why I'm here.”

“Kaiju…” she mumbled. “Most of the world refers to them as titans.

“Its… just what my grandpa always called them,” he said softly. “It stuck.”

“Ah, yes, your paternal grandfather. Your file mentioned he passed a year ago?” She asked, her eyes glinting with sympathy. “It must have been hard, losing your only family.”

“Uh, y-yeah,” he glanced away.

Even a year later, it still hurt.

‘For it to still hurt, means that there is still love there.’

His grandpa's words echoed through his head.

He took a deep breath.

“Can we- can we get back to the part about why I'm here?”

Leana nodded.

“You are still here, Martin, because I would like to ask you about some items you had in your possession when you were detained.”

Martin sighed and leaned back.

“Well, sorry to tell ya, but it's a dead end. They were just in a box my grandpa left me in his will,” he said. “You all probably know more about them than I do.”

“If you would just humor me for a minute, Martin.”

“Fine, but all I got is puns,” he mumbled under his breath.

She snorted before setting the tablet in front of him.

“Do you recognize this symbol?” She asked.

Martin studied the image. It looked like it had been carved into a stone wall. It also did look familiar.

“Actually… yeah… it looks like one of the symbols in the book.”

“Yes,” Leana agreed. “It's pretty much an exact match. You said your grandfather gave you the book?”

“Yeah but I know he didn't write it.”

“No, the brush strokes and marking are indicative of multiple writers,” she explained. “We dated the book as best we could and while it is only a few hundred years old-”

“A ‘few hundred’ she says.”

“Some of the language used in it is much older.”

“Yeah, but it's probably all written in code,” Martin said with a shrug. “There's kanji in there. I can read kanji but it just seems like gibberish.”

“Yes, we noticed that,” she said, taking back the tablet. “Moving on, what do you know about the sword?”

Martin leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling.

“Well there's not really anything special about the tsuka or saya,” he supplied. “But the blade and tsuba are made of some weird materials.”

“Referring to them in the traditional way,” she hummed. “Are you a swordsman, Martin?”

He shook his head.

“Just did some kendo when I was younger,” he said. “They nail those terms into your head before they even let you look at a boken.”

“And do you still practice?”

“I still know the basics, practice ‘em once in a while.” He sighed. “Grandpa said it may come in handy one day.”

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

“So your grandpa made you take kendo as a kid,” Maddie interrupted. “Encourages you to at least practice the basics, dies, and then leaves you a sword and a note saying ‘travel the world’ and ‘You'll know what to do when its time.’?”

Martin nodded.

“Yep. Really suspicious in hindsight.”

“Okay, cool,” she said. “Not just me.”

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

“Anyway,” Martin continued. “The whole blade is some kinda crystal and the tsuba looks like its the same kinda stuff as the crest.”

Leana nodded.

“Correct,” she confirmed. She showed him the tablet once again. “The materials used in the blade, the ‘tsuba’-”

“You can just call it the guard if you want,” Martin said. “Wouldn't be insulting me or anything. Not like it's a common term.”

Leana smiled and continued.

“And the crests are all incredibly dense, but thanks to another artifact Monarch has access to we have been able to identify the substance used to make the blade.”

“And what's that?”

Leana grinned and showed him the tablet. On it was a picture of the katana next to another picture that looked like a crude axe.

“The axe you see has the same makeup as your sword and the axe is made from the dorsal plates of ‘Titanus Gojira’,” she said, steppling her hands. “Or, his more common name-”

“Godzilla!?” Martin cried. “The thing is made out of one of his back spines!?”

“It would appear so,” she stated. “And with the crest's unique feature of absorbing radiation-”

“Should I be worried about that?”

She shook her head.

“While they do absorb ambient radiation, their output of radiation is no worse than that of a banana.”

“So avoid eating 20,000 of them, got it,” Martin joked.

Leana chuckled.

“Yes, but as I was saying, based on that fact, its likely they are made from Godzilla tissue as well, likely his scales, if I had to guess.”

Martin rubbed his forehead.

“Why the heck did you have these, Grandpa?” He asked softly.

“And that's the million dollar question, Martin,” Leana said with a sigh. “The cultural significance of these items alone is incalculable, not to mention what they would be worth to collectors.” She looked him in the eyes. “It's clear he knew to some extent the meaning behind these objects. So why did he leave them with his grandson, and why did said grandson try to sneak onto a Monarch research site?”

Before Martin could even think of how to respond, an alarm went off.

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

After that, some stuff happens, I got my things back, small monsters show up, chaos and destruction, Godzilla stands in the bay, and me and Ms. Leana end up at the top of an altar Monarch dug up.

“... I feel like you're skipping a bunch of stuff.”

It was mostly just a lot of running and screaming every curse word I know.

“Ah, yeah, been there. Welcome to the club.”

Are there t-shirts?

“I'm getting some made. What size do you want?”

Put me down for an extra large. Anyway, so me and Ms. Leana are on top of this altar, right?

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

As the two crested the stairs, Martin could admit that the altar had a pretty good view of the bay. There wasn't a lot at the top. Just a single stone wall to his right with writing on it and a large stone ring in front of him.

“Don't cross that line, Martin,” Leana warned, pointing to a line on the floor. “Everything past that line, I'm told, is radioactive. To a point, it would be lethal to stand in it too long.” She turned to the wall. “I haven't been up here yet.” She gasped. “Martin, look, these symbols match certain pages of your book.”

She sighed.

“Oh, if only we could read them.”

Martin stared at the strange symbols. His hand went to one of the crests now hanging from his neck.

A brow raised.

“Wait,” he mumbled. “I can… I can read this!”

“What?”

The letters glowed, rearranging themselves into a form he could understand.

“Martin,” Leana said with another gasp. “The crest is glowing! It must be somehow tied to the ruins!”

“Its letting me understand the words.”

“Well, what do they say?” she asked giddily.

“To you who now faces the trial of the envoy,” he read slowly. “Show your strength and courage to the King. Let his starfire cleanse you of indecision…”

“Fascinating,” she breathed. “If I had to guess, it must relate to some kind of ritual, most likely towards Godzilla, given the interaction with the crest and the use of the word king.”

“A ritual involving the King of monsters,” Martin mumbled.

He glanced back towards the arch.

“The use of starfire though,” she pondered. “Perhaps, a primitive understanding of his atomic breath?”

“Maybe,” he agreed, walking back over to the line. “Everything past that line is radioactive.”

“Perhaps these supposed ‘envoys’ were meant to stand in that area as a test of courage.”

Somehow, Martin didn't feel that was right. An arch with a direct line to the bay, plus a radioactive area, plus the phrase ‘let his starfire cleanse you of indecision.”, yeah, Martin was starting to get a clearer picture of this ritual.

It seemed Leana was as well, as she suddenly went tense.

“We should go,” she said firmly, almost nervously.

Suddenly there was a loud noise, a sound from the bay. Martin glanced out. Godzilla was looking at the top of the altar.

‘No,’ Martin's brain supplied. ‘He's looking at you.’

Somehow, it felt like the great lizard was locking eyes with him. Martin felt rooted to the spot.

Godzilla let out a roar. His dorsal fins began to glow.

Martin gripped his head.

‘Best grit your teeth, welp!’

A demand. Somehow entering directly into his mind, from the king himself.

“Martin!” Leana called over the roar.

She stood behind him.

“Run, Ms. Leana!”

“Its too late!” she cried. “We'll never make it before he fires!”

As if to prove her point, Godzilla fired directly at the arch.

A single thought entered Martin's head as he threw the sword's sheath aside and raised said sword high above his head.

‘I am about to do something very very stupid.’

The beam approached and Martin swung.

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

“Hold up! Wait!” Maddie interrupted. You are telling me that Big G fired his ATOMIC BREATH, a beam as wide as a skyscraper at you, and your reaction is to try to CUT THROUGH the beam like a shonen anime protagonist?!”

Look, no matter how you slice it, I pretty much thought I was gonna die anyway. If I'm gonna go out, I might as well try something cool.

“...fair enough. continue.”

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

It burned. It burned his arms with the strain. It burned from the heat. It burned his very soul.

Or at least it felt like it.

The strange sword split the beam, diverting it around them.

‘WHY IS THIS WORKING!?’ he mentally screamed.

He held on through the onslaught. He doubted he could have let go even if he wanted to. It felt like his hands were melted to the hilt.

In a seconds that felt like years, the beam finally stopped.

Martin dropped to his knees, panting hard. The now glowing blade was still in his hands. Up his arms were glowing marks, similar to litchenburg figures. The glow from the marks soon receded down towards his hands, like the blade was drawing it out of his skin.

Leana dropped beside him.

“Martin!” she cried. “Are you okay?”

“WHY DID I DO THAT!?” he screamed in a rather manic manner. “AND WHY DID THAT WORK!?”

Another sound brought his eyes to the kaiju out in the bay.

Did… did Godzilla just nod at him.

Apparently Leanna saw it too as she let out an audible gulp.

“C-congrats, Martin,” she stuttered

“I think you passed the test. You're an envoy to the King.”

“What does that even mean?” he growled.

Leanna helped him stand up. His hands were no longer numb, so he removed one hand from the sword and flexed his fingers.

Leanna grabbed said hand and looked it over.

“The burning looks minimal,” she mumbled as she looked him over. “Rather fascinating given the circumstances.”

Leanna pulled a first aid kit out of her bag and tended to his burned palms.

“We're lucky to be alive,” Martin grumbled. “Overgrown lizard nearly fried us.”

“Careful, Martin,” she teased. “That overgrown lizard is your new king.”

“Well, I didn't vote for him.”

Leanna chuckled. She finished wrapping his hands and put an arm around his shoulder.

“All done,” she stated. “Now let's go before the King decides to test you again.”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Really don't want to do that twice today… or ever.”

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

“After that?” Maddie asked.

Martin looked up at the sky.

“Uh, well,” he began. “After that, we went back into the tunnels, met the monster again, this guy shows up out of nowhere, now somehow small, helps hold down the strange spider creature and I stab it.” He taps his chin. “Think that covers it.”

Maddie stares.

“...oh, is that all,” she says sarcastically.

“Its… kinda all one adrenaline infused blur for me.” He shrugged. “Sorry to disappoint.”

She shakes her head.

“It's fine,” she says with a chuckle. “An envoy to Godzilla.” There's a small amount of awe in her voice. “That sounds so cool.”

“It's really not,” Martin grumbled. “He's cranky, grumpy, won't stop calling me ‘welp’-”

Godzilla growled from his spot.

“What? Why?”

“What did he say?” Maddie asked.

Martin turned to her and looked at her critically.

“He… wants me to give you one of the crests…” ----------------------------

Ctk: From this point, Maddie would get a crest and not need to do a trial because, in Godzilla's ‘words’, ‘the pup already proved her strength when she roared at the Usurper when she was nothing but a hatchling.’.

From there it would be revealed that Godzilla is smaller due to a pact he made with humans long ago, but he can return to normal size briefly if his ‘priestess’ (the titan language doesn't have a direct translation for Maddie's role, so priestess it is.) recites a phrase from Martin's book. (Meaning that big g has a transformation sequence that will be used every episode, usually after Martin spouts a pun related to the monster of the day.)

Godzilla goes on to explain that something is coming, he can feel it, and he needs to gather new envoys, because, as loath as he is to admit it, it will take more than himself to stop it.

Cue action-packed adventures of Martin, Maddie, Leanna, and Godzilla traveling the world, fighting monsters big and small and finding the supposed envoys.

… that's what I got.

This has been a stupid idea from Cody.

So long.

#legendary godzilla #Madison Russel #Star_going_supernova Inspired #90's/ early 2000 cartoon inspired #au idea #fanfic ideas

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joheunsaram · 3 years

Text

To Make A Power Couple - 02 (knj)

Chapter 2 - Pizza and Life Chats

THIS IS A REPOST SINCE I LOST ACCESS TO MY OLD ACCOUNT. PLEASE FOLLOW THIS BLOG FOR UPDATES ON THIS SERIES.

previous | masterlist | next

Summary- Namjoon and Y/N go on their first date, and Namjoon is whipped.

word count- 5k

pairing- idol!namjoon x ceo!reader

rating- pg13 for now

genre- series, fluff, eventual smut, strangers2lovers

warnings- mentions of hangovers and panic attacks, tooth-rottingly fluffy

a.n- okay here’s the second part! I wrote this up fairly quickly (don’t expect this to be the norm!). This part I wanted to kind of address the stress of overworking as a young adult (GUILTY 🙋🏻‍♀️) so sorry if it gets a little serious at parts. I also wanted to switch it up so it’s from Namjoon’s perspective. I hope you enjoy it. SOFT JOON BEING A BIG OLD SOFTY.

Feedback much appreciated! 💕

taglist - @beach-bitch-bitch-beach, @sassyuniversitytacopeanut

Namjoon woke up startled as his phone alarm rang. He was groggy and his splitting headache made him nauseous. “I’m never going to drink again”, he mumbled. He groaned as he got off the couch he had crashed on the night before, trying not to trip over Taehyung who seemed to be dozing happily on the floor as he made his way to his room. He hadn’t stayed at the dorms in a while, preferring the quiet solitary of his own apartment nowadays, and with his hangover in full swing he felt like he was walking through a stranger’s house.

Last month was hell. He had procrastinated on his songs and none of the vocal guides were even halfway done before the due date. Every time he tried to finish a song a new one would pop up in his head and he would start on that, leading to a hard drive full of files labelled “finish soon” and “draft”, and a notebook full of scratched out scribbles. It was like his brain had decided to abandon him, deciding it had had enough of his perpetual melancholy. He had felt drained and burnt out, a husk with no creative juices left. Luckily, Yoongi and a few of the producers had taken pity on his stressed out state and lent a hand so he had been able to finish the bare minimum three days ago - before the label pressured him further. He was never more grateful for a small break.

In all honesty, he needed a way to jumpstart his brain, and get out of the routine of home, practice, meetings, studio, home. Sometimes, he almost wished he didn’t have the success he had so he could go out and let loose a little - a club, a party, anything. But the last time he went somewhere like that he got swarmed and the police had to be involved. He couldn’t risk that, not after the trouble Big Hit went to threaten media outlets a year and a half ago, when he was caught with what they called a hickey, but was actually a stress rash.

As he brushed his teeth today, however, he smiled at the mirror. Last month may have been terrible, but last night was one of the best he’d had in the past year.

When he had heard Bang PD’s team talk about how they were attending the charity gala as he met them for notes on his songs, he was intrigued. He had read about this non-profit in the paper before. They seemed to be helping bridge the gap between people through communication and that spoke to him. So much so that he had scrolled through their website multiple times, reading testimonials and almost memorizing the mission statement. They wanted to help kids learn English for free so they could communicate globally. He really liked the idea. It was hard for him to learn the language as a kid and he knew that the only reason he became as fluent as he is from the tutors his parents paid for and his obsession with American television and music. Although he didn’t need the tutoring anymore, he did enjoy talking to the in-house tutor at the company, John, from time to time and improving his skills. The fact that this company wanted to add a John to every school in Korea starting from the rural areas, made Namjoon want to meet the man behind the movement. Little did he know, he’d be meeting the girl who’d shift his idea of the ideal.

He had never been more glad to have convinced his company to let him and the boys attend an event. He had initially suggested it as a way to break the mundane before their comeback practices started and network while supporting a cause he liked. Two days ago, he wouldn’t have guessed it would have been an actual fun night leading to him nursing a headache.

He spent the next hour reliving last night as he showered and caught up on the news. He also read the messages he sent last night over a hundred times and had butterflies each time. Wasn’t he too old for butterflies? He wanted to message you again but every time he tried, he ended up overthinking it. Everything sounded forced or cheesy, and it was worse than any writer’s block. He threw his phone on the bed in frustration watching it bounce and land on the floor, before he grabbed it and pocketed it. Hopping around to get rid of his nerves, he decided to take a break from rereading the thread he already had memorized and check in with everyone. If his hangover was this bad he couldn’t imagine theirs.

Making his way back to the living room he found Taehyung now sitting on the floor, sleep still very evident on his features as he yawned and groaned. On the couch next to him sat Yoongi, holding an iced americano and staring into space. The rest were missing but he could hear a blender annoyingly whizzing in the kitchen.

“How’re you guys feeling this morning?” He asked as he sat across from Yoongi.

“This is why I don’t drink. Why did no one stop me?” Taehyung whined as he rose from the floor to leave, massaging his head.

“We tried. You were very excited to try all the disgustingly sweet drinks the hot bartender was making for you.” Yoongi replied with a sigh. “How was your date, Namjoon? You glad I forced you to go to the bar to talk to her?” he snickered, sipping his coffee before exhaling loudly in contentment.

“Honestly, I owe you big time. She was… amazing. I don’t think I’ve talked to someone that comfortably in a while” Namjoon sighed wistfully.

“I’ll add cupid to my resume,” he deadpanned. “Is she tolerating you for another date?”

“Yeah. We’re getting dinner on Tuesday, but I want to message her now. Argh!” He ran his hands over his face in frustration. “What do I even say? ‘Hi I’m the guy who was too scared to kiss you all night so you had to do it for him, what’s your favourite colour?’” Namjoon was annoyed at himself. It’s bad enough that he was having writer’s block in his music, did he have to have it for something as simple as texting too? This was ridiculous!

“Or you could just ask her how’s her hangover today. Jeez! Do I have to draft each of your messages? Stop being a dumbass and text the person you like.” Yoongi scoffed, clearly over Namjoon’s sudden and uncharacteristic insecurities.

Namjoon gave a resigned sigh as he reached for his phone and wrote out exactly what Yoongi suggested. Hey, he was his hyung for a reason - he had a full 6 months of life experience on him.

Namjoon: Hey! Hope your hangover is not too bad today.

As soon as the message was sent, he started getting nervous. Tapping his foot incessantly while he stared at his phone, willing it to buzz, annoying Yoongi enough to leave him alone on the couch in the process.

Y/N: Hi to you too! I actually don’t get hangovers so I’m doing great lol. What about you?

Namjoon: What do you mean you don’t get hangovers?

Y/N: I don’t know. Can’t get dehydrated if you’re always dehydrated!

Namjoon: That… makes no sense. Do I need to start reminding you to drink water?

Y/N: Only if you’re better than this app on my phone…

Namjoon: I can guarantee you I’m better than any app on this planet.

Y/N: Wow. Big claims! We’ll have to put it to the test I suppose.

Y/N: You never told me how you’re feeling. Oh and how’s Taehyung? Is he okay?

Namjoon: He’s doing fine. Made a pact to never drink again and if i’m being honest, I’m going to join him. I am shocked that your head is not exploding as well.

The messages continued easily after that, filled with updates of each other’s activities, playful flirting and even photos of dinner. By the time Monday rolled around, you had been messaging each other constantly, with no end to the conversation in sight and the only long pauses being when you were both asleep or working. It seemed like you would never run out things to talk about. Namjoon hadn’t messaged someone this frequently since he got out of his last relationship. It felt nice to relay his mundane day to day events to someone and he found himself excited to hear about your mundane, like how you decided to mix two different types of bad coffee blends to make a shockingly worse one. He was surprised again at how fast he felt comfortable around you. It was even starting to scare him a little - he only knew you for three days and it felt like he had known you forever! What was this weird spell you had on him?

The conversation Monday, however, was fairly sparse, and Namjoon was eager to set up plans for the next day, so that night he decided to call you.

After the first three rings, he was overthinking his decision. Maybe it was too soon to call? Maybe you didn’t like talking on the phone? What if it went to voicemail? Would he have to leave a message? What would he say? His inner monologue was quickly halted at the sound of your voice.

“Hello, this is Y/N” you sounded distant, almost too formal. He felt nervous.

“Hi… uh… this is Namjoon. Is this a bad time?”

“Oh Namjoon! Sorry I didn’t check who called when I picked up!” Relief washed over him at the change of your tone. “Sorry one sec can you hold on.” he heard you say as your voice got mumbled. He waited while he heard you talk to someone about proposals and deadlines. Were you still at work? He checked his watch - it was 10 pm. He didn’t know whether to be impressed by your work ethic or worried that you were overworking.

“Hi sorry about that! How are you?” He relaxed at your airy tone and smiled.

“I’m good. Are you still at work?”

“Yeah it’s only like 7 so it’s no big deal. I usually leave around 8” Were you serious?

“Y/N… It’s 10:04…” He was shocked at how nonchalant you sounded, and suddenly he had his answer - he was worried, not impressed. He had known you for three days and already you were setting his caretaker alarm off. He wanted to scold you for being careless and overworking, like he’s used to doing for the boys, but he knew it was too soon. He doesn’t even know why he’s feeling that way all of a sudden and tried to suppress his protective instincts.

“No it’s not! It’s…” He could hear your voice going further away as he imagined you moving the phone in front of you to check the time. “Oh shit you’re right. What the hell? Okay sorry I’m gonna put you on hold again.” Before he could say anything he heard your voice again, distant again but loud. “Oh my god. Guys, it’s 10pm. Go home! Why did nobody tell me? No it doesn’t matter we can do that tomorrow. Please go home. Pack up now! You too Siwon, don’t worry I’ll go home after I get off the phone. See you!” He smiled at the sternness of your tone - it reminded him of a teacher dismissing class.

“Sorry about that. I didn’t realize I overworked my team. Had to send the troops home” you laughed and Namjoon felt his heart flutter.

“I don’t wanna keep you from going home. I can call you back once you get there,” he offered. He felt bad that you were staying in an empty office on his account.

“Oh don’t worry about it. It was a lie to get Siwon off my back. I’m probably gonna be here till like 1 or something. I still have to get this done” you said matter-of-factly, like it was the most normal thing in the world. He knew that tone fairly well, having used it multiple times himself when he locked himself in his studio, running on nothing but coffee and energy bars.

“Okay I know we’ve only just met and we have our first date tomorrow, but do you want some company?” He asked before he could stop himself. The line was silent for a bit, and he felt self conscious, scared that he had overstepped and driven you away. Before he could check his phone to see if you had hung up you spoke.

“It’d be pretty boring for you to watch me just type away. Are you sure? It’s pretty late.” He was sure his cheeks would hurt from how wide he smiled.

“It’s not a problem at all. I was going to work tonight too.” He wasn’t. “We can just work together. I’ll bring food. Did you eat yet?” his words tumbled over each other.

“How very college of you.” He could hear you giggling on the line. “Now that I think about it - I’m starving.”

“Okay text me the address, I’ll be there soon.”

He had never been this excited to pretend to work.

He spotted you as he walked through the doors of the 13th floor, pepperoni pizza in hand. You were sitting at a long desk near the middle of the room. He was surprised as he expected you in an office, but he found you typing away at your desktop. Your hair was tied up in a bun and you were dressed in an oversized beige t-shirt, eyebrows furrowed head bopping to the hip hop track playing through the speakers. You seemed to be in your own little world. He felt like he was spying on you as he leaned against the door watching but he also liked seeing how you acted when you thought no one was watching. He was about to announce his presence when the track changed to a Childish Gambino one and you whooped and started to rap along.

You were now fully head banging and rapping the verse at the top of your lungs. He would be impressed by your fairly good amateur skills if he didn’t find the entire scene so endearing. His heart was doing somersaults as he watched you now fully engrossed in the song, typing forgotten as you got up and started to pretend you were on stage, an imaginary mic in your hand asking haters if they “eatin’ though”. You looked so adorable that he couldn’t help but squeal a little “cute!”

That’s when you saw him, eyes wide. He felt a little bad when he saw how embarrassed you looked, immediately stopping and slapping a hand to your mouth before bursting out in nervous laughter. He could write a whole album with that laugh. Oh he was so whipped, he thought to himself as he made his way to you.

“You know you’re not half bad!” He exclaimed as he set the pizza on the table, pulling a chair next to yours and settling down.

“Do you think your fake compliments will save you from the fact that you were spying on me?” you asked, crossing your hands across your chest, pretending to scowl but failing to do so.

“First, real compliment. Second, would pizza save me?” He opened the box and proudly smiled, loving the way your eyes lit up as you reached for a slice.

“Yes it will!” you exclaimed as you took your first bite, lightly moaning at the taste. “But erase that memory from your brain please.”

“Nope. Never. It was the cutest thing I’ve ever seen and I’m going to save it forever” he said as he also started on his slice. You pouted up at him, cheeks puffed and it took all the self-control he had to not kiss it off your face. He hadn’t felt this way in so long, it was like you were his first crush. Trying to control his pulse, he asked “What are you working on so late?”

“Oh I have a proposal due for a meeting tomorrow at noon and I’m only halfway through it,” you frowned wistfully at the screen as if willing it to type on its own.

“Can I help?” He asked, knowing fully well that he couldn’t. He just had an overwhelming urge to make that frown disappear.

“You being here is help enough,” you smiled sincerely as you looked at him and he felt his heart explode, a blush creeping on his cheeks as he smiled bashfully. “What are you working on?”

“I have a few songs I have to finish the lyrics for. Been procrastinating” he rubbed the back of his neck as he pulled out the notebook from his back pocket.

“Can I help?” you echoed his question to which he echoed your response grinning. He wasn’t lying though. Even though he had planned to not really work, as the night progressed he found the change from his usual writing spot inspiring. Sitting next to you, the sound of the keyboard clicking was soothing leading to words pouring out of him. He filled pages as he stole glances at you concentrating on your proposal, tongue peeking from between your lips, still bobbing to the music which was now playing from your airpods instead of the speakers. He smiled at the sight, before focusing on his notebook.

After about an hour or so of hard work, he finished three songs that he had allotted himself the whole week to do. This was the most productive hour he had all month. Antsy for a break, he looked over at you and found you staring at him, a hand under your chin. As he met your gaze you smiled.

“You’re really hot when you concentrate. Has anyone ever told you that?” you commented. He was taken aback by your remark, heart fluttering at your smirking face. Not missing his chance and spurred on by the comment, he scooted closer in one sweep till your knees touched and you were face to face.

“You’re one to talk. I couldn’t stop looking at you this past hour.” Gazing into your eyes, he was amused to see your smirk disappear as it was now your turn to be shocked. He reached out and tucked a stray hair behind your ear letting his hand linger, enjoying the way you sighed as he did. “Can I make good on my promise now?” He whispered, his face centimeters away, looking at your lips. The way you bit your lower lip made him want to take you there and then. The desk looked big enough. Hell, even if it wasn’t he could make it work.

“Promise?” you whispered as he watched your eyes flutter to his lips.

“To kiss you first…” Too impatient to wait for your answer, he brought his lips to yours, relishing how soft they felt under his own. He was thrilled at you returning the kiss, deepening it as you grabbed the collar of his shirt to bring him closer just like you did after the party. He was beginning to think this was your signature move, and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t immensely turn him on. He moved his hand cupping your face to rest on your neck and he could feel your heartbeat mimicking his. He put his other hand around your waist pulling you closer, wanting to be as close to you as he could get. He traced his tongue over your lips, his head cloudy with endorphins as you opened your mouth inviting him in. He had never tasted something so euphoric, his tongue exploring yours in a rush.

He could feel you pushing forward as he leaned back and allowed you to straddle his lap, your legs on either side of the chair. As soon as you were on his lap, he pulled you closer, both arms around on your hips, your chest flushed with his. He kissed the side of your mouth as he made his way down your jaw to your neck. You smelt like vanilla mixed with a fresh flower garden, and he was sure this smell was better than any drug in the world. He could hear your breathy moans as he sucked where your neck met your collarbone, licking to soothe it before moving further. He wanted to taste all of you. Your hands were in his hair and each tug made him groan into you, making him harder. He could kiss you like this forever. He wanted to save this moment so he could come back to it and relive it. He traced his hands up and down your sides, moving under your shirt but remaining on your waist, enjoying the feel of your soft skin.

“Namjoon… Namjoon… slow down” he heard you say breathlessly as he felt a slight push. He looked up at you, your eyes half lidded and lusty as you grabbed his face and brought it to yours. You were sending him mixed signals, but he didn’t care as long as he could keep kissing you.

“We have to slow down or I’m going to want to fuck you right here.” You whined as you both came back up for air, but you kissed him again nevertheless. Hearing you say that made him want to do anything in his power to make that happen.

“I don’t mind, baby,” he said against your lips, kissing you with urgency, biting your lower lip and pulling it gently to elicit another moan from you. To his disappointment, you seemed to have better self-control than him as you pushed him back, both of you panting as you struggled to catch your breath. He moved his hand back to your hips tracing little circles, feeling comforted by you smoothing his hair you had pulled earlier.

“There are cameras here. I’d rather not make a sex tape on our first date.” You giggled as you pointed to the black sphere in the corner of the room. He had never hated the obsession buildings had for security more, but the crudeness of your comment made him laugh. He had almost forgotten this was your first date, it felt like he had kissed you a thousand times before. You tasted like the relief of an awning in the middle of a summer downpour.

“I think we need to cool down,” you say as you climb off of his lap. “Let’s go.”

He followed you as you led him to the little kitchenette near the end of the room, unable to resist the urge to wrap his hands around your waist in a back hug. He knew he was being too clingy for a first date, but the way you giggled and put your hands over his gave him assurance.

“Lemonade, coke, or water,” you asked as you peered into the fridge.

“You.” He smirked kissing your neck, feeling bold off of the high from your makeout session.

“Joon!” you pretended to sound scandalized as you turned in his arms, smiling warmly. The nickname made his heart swell. It added a familiarity that he didn’t know he missed from you.

“You haven’t called me Joon before. I like it” he smiled as he pecked your lips.

“Hey! We are cooling down! No kissing! Now pick” you chided and Namjoon couldn’t help but wonder if you were this assertive in bed too, a million scenarios playing in his head. Okay, you were right, he needed to cool down.

“I’ll just have water, thanks,” he said as he grabbed the bottle you passed him, opening and gulping half of it. He hadn’t realized how thirsty he was for something other than you. You both made your way to the tables, sitting across from each other.

“So did you finish your proposal?” He asked trying to cool himself but failing as he noticed you running the cold water bottle against your neck, the beads of condensation dripping on your shirt. He cleared his throat as he tried to focus his attention on your eyes, a mantra of stay focused playing in his head.

“Yes! Finally! It’s perfect.” you smiled proudly and somehow he felt a wave of pride too. “What about you? Made any progress?”

“Actually yes. I kind of finished my entire week’s writing in that one hour” he was still amazed by his own progress.

“Okay, Mr Overachiever” you joked and he chuckled.

“To be honest, I didn’t think I’d be able to write anything, but I don’t know your presence is kind of soothing. It helped me focus.” Watching your smile grow wide, he continued, “I’ve been having pretty severe burnout this past month and it has just been hard to put down my thoughts, even non-lyrical ones.” He fidgeted with the water bottle as he looked at it, avoiding eye contact.

He didn’t know why he was telling you this. He recalled when he told you about his struggles as a leader during your first conversation. Somehow being around you led him to vomit out his feelings. It was… unlike him. Namjoon was usually not this honest on dates, or relationships, as much as he would hate to admit it. That’s the reason he broke off his last one. He felt bad lying to her about a busy schedule when he just wanted to be alone. She would have understood, she was kind and thoughtful, but it just felt easier to lie and not put the effort in to explain his thoughts. Even when they broke up, he lied and told her that it was because he couldn’t handle being in a relationship at the moment, when in reality things had cooled off a while ago and he felt guilty as his feelings faded.

He felt your hand reach out and grab one of his, intertwining your fingers. He felt comforted by the gesture as you rubbed your thumb across him before you spoke two words that warmed his heart. “I understand.”

“You know it’s hard to work at full speed all the time. It’s okay to not be at a hundred all the time. The valleys feed the peaks” you continued. It was a simple remark, but it sounded surprisingly poetic to him. He hadn’t felt this understood outside of the boys for a long time. It was refreshing. It was terrifying. He resisted his natural urge to run and hide.

“Are you speaking from experience?” he asked, needing to divert the attention away from his own vulnerabilities.

“Yeah. I had it pretty tough a couple of years ago. Too much pressure from myself, too many expectations. Led to too many vices and panic attacks” you shrugged as you continued and he squeezed your hand to comfort you. “It creeps up from time to time but my therapist and I have it handled” He looked at you in awe. You hadn’t given him a throwaway answer or switched the limelight back at him. You wasted no time in being as vulnerable as him, if not more. He knew at that moment that regardless of where this thing went, he wanted you to know you better.

“Thank you for being honest.” He brought your hand to his lips and kissed it gently. It was an intimate gesture but he wanted you to know how much he appreciated your words - how much he appreciated you - in that moment. You both sat in comfortable silence for a little while, playing with each other’s hands that were still intertwined, till one of you yawned loudly causing the other to giggle. With the weight of the conversation lifting, you both fell back into playful banter as you decided to pack up and call it a night.

“Do you want me to walk you to your car?” Namjoon asked, wanting to drag the night on longer despite it already being almost 2 am.

“Don’t judge me but I actually don’t know how to drive. I was just going to cab back.” he saw you giggle bashfully as you pulled your backpack over your shoulders.

“Oh, no judgment here! Me neither” he laughed. Why does everyone think it is such a big deal to not drive? It’s better for the environment! “Do you want to take one together? I don’t really want you to ride alone this late.” He rubbed the back of his neck, hoping he didn’t come off as if he was trying to dictate what you did.

“I’d really like that,” you said as you walked towards the elevators. He held your hand as you both got on, liking the way you moved closer to him at that.

In the cab you both sat closer than necessary, his arm wrapped around you as you both made plans for your scheduled date later that day, trying not to doze off. When the cab stopped all too soon at your apartment, he kissed you gently as he told you how much he enjoyed your company.

That night laying in bed, his heart felt full as he read your goodnight message. He was sure of it now. He really wanted you in his life.

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lovecolibri · 3 years

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SaL anon here and it's late but I just watched the clip from tomorrow's episode and thought it best I stop angry screaming at my laptop and scream at you about why I'm angry instead (sorry about this, feel free to ignore). To explain where I'm coming from, I'm a biophysist who has a solid foundation of quantum mechanics. Okay so first Michael's claim that Rosa is detecting "subatomic vibrational frequencies" is absurd as detecting these involves using frequencies and media of LIGHT not SOUND.

SaL anon (rant pt 2): By Michael's logic Rosa should be seeing clues, not hearing rhem. Second, Michael says things vibrate at a specific frequency. Yes, they do, but that doesn't mean it's unique. An objects vibrational frequency can easily overlap with another as sound waves form a continuous spectrum. Subatomic vibrational states don't, but again, not what Rosa is detecting because it's not light!! Finally the whole brain beta waves BS. Beta waves are electronic in nature, not subatomic.

SaL anon (pt 3 which I fit some reason kept getting rejected) Brain waves aren't subatomic and are detecting them would be better compared to detecting electrical currents. Also people have skulls which makes it more or less impossible without special equipment. Rosa should be hearing electrical outlets and they'd be much louder than any person's brain. I think that's it, sorry for the venting, but ffs show. It's like they looked up the word "waves" and threw anything cool sounding in a blender.

SaL anon here with one more bitchy observation (I really thought I was done). Resting frequency gradients. What the actual fuck are you talking about Michael? That conversation can belong to a discussion about brain waves and how the thickness of your skull effects their detection, but a conversation about finding alien glass??!! Please stop writers, your an embarrassment to Michael's genius.

SaL anon here and apologies for my likely incoherent ranting over the Rosa/Michael scene, i was exhausted, severely annoyed, and frustrated I couldn't use PowerPoint slides to explain myself. So I'll summarize by saying after last week's episode where at least the some effort was put in to explain the difference between radio waves and infrared waves, to see in one clip the writer's more or less claim light, sound, and brain waves are all the same because they have the word wave was aggravating.

Oh man, this was all SO INTERESTING! Thanks so much for giving so much insight into something most people likely don’t know much about! And yeah, it’s frustrating because making a coherent story is literally what these writers are being PAID ACTUAL HUMAN MONEY to do, and I see fic writers putting in more research and thought into things that might just be a single mention in a line in their fic! How hard is it to do a tiny bit of research into things?! I get that they are working with alien tech so we are going to have some things that don’t make sense, but that’s the cool part! Figuring out what humans are capable of and how science works, and figuring out ways to expand and improve those things to make the impossible happen! But it seems they’re too busy putting their efforts into other things, I guess 🤷‍♀️ A shame, because the alien stuff has been really fun and interesting this year and I was glad they were leaning into it! I really am excited to see Rosa working on her control and expanding her powers and working with Michael, but I’m disappointed that, just like everything this season, it isn’t so Rosa can take control over part of her life or make things better for herself, it’s in service to m*ria.

#my sweet nonnie friends #sleeping at last anon #roswell nm #season 3 spoilers #michael guerin #rosa ortecho #anti maria deluca #i didn't come here to watch the m*ria d*luca show #alex play this is why we can't have nice things #very interesting stuff though!!#i was always bad at doing science for a grade in school (likely because i'm also bad at math because me and numbers to not get on)#but i think it's fascinating and i love sitting with my chin in my hands listening to people talk about science stuff #so thank you so much for sharing!

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joheun-saram · 4 years

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To Make a Power Couple (knj) | 02

Chapter 2 - Pizza and Life Chats

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Summary- Namjoon and Y/N go on their first date, and Namjoon is whipped.

word count- 5k

pairing- idol!namjoon x ceo!reader

rating- pg13 for now

genre- series, slow burn, fluff eventual smut, strangers2lovers

warnings- mentions of hangovers and panic attacks, tooth-rottingly fluffy

Feedback much appreciated! 💕

taglist - @beach-bitch-bitch-beach, @sassyuniversitytacopeanut

Last month was hell. He had procrastinated on his songs and none of the vocal guides were even halfway done before the due date. Everytime he tried to finish a song a new one would pop up in his head and he would start on that, leading to a hard drive full of files labelled “finish soon” and “draft”, and a notebook full of scratched out scribbles. It was like his brain had decided to abandon him, deciding it had had enough of his perpetual melancholy. He had felt drained and burnt out, a husk with no creative juices left. Luckily, Yoongi and a few of the producers had taken pity on his stressed out state and lent a hand so he had been able to finish the bare minimum three days ago - before the label pressured him further. He was never more grateful for a small break.

As he brushed his teeth today, he smiled at the mirror. Last month may have been terrible, but last night was one of the best he’d had in the past year.

When he had heard Bang PD’s team talk about how they were attending the charity gala as he met them for notes on his songs, he was intrigued. He had read about this non-profit in the paper before. They seemed to be helping bridge the gap between people through communication and that spoke to him. So much so that he had scrolled through their website multiple times, reading testimonials and almost memorizing the mission statement. They wanted to help kids learn English for free so they could communicate globally. He really liked the idea. It was hard for him to learn the language as a kid and he knew that the only reason he became as fluent as he is from the tutors his parents paid for and his obsession with American television and music. Although he doesn’t need the tutoring anymore, he does enjoy talking to the in-house tutor at the company, John, from time to time and improving his skills. The fact that this company wanted to add a John to every school in Korea starting from the rural areas, made Namjoon want to meet the man behind the movement. Little did he know, he’d be meeting the girl who’d shift his idea of the ideal.

He had never been more glad to have convinced his company to let him and the boys attend an event. He had initially suggested it as a way to break the mundane before their comeback practices started and network while supporting a cause he liked. Two days ago, he wouldn’t have guessed it would be an actual fun night leading to him nursing a headache.

He spent the next hour reliving last night as he showered and caught up on the news. He also read the messages he sent last night over a hundred times and had butterflies each time. Wasn’t he too old for butterflies? He wanted to message you again but everytime he tried, he ended up overthinking it. Everything sounded forced or cheesy, and it was worse than any writer’s block. He threw his phone on the bed in frustration watching it bounce and land on the floor, before he grabbed it and pocketed it. Hopping around to get rid of his nerves, he decided to take a break from rereading the thread he already had memorized and check in with everyone. If his hangover was this bad he can’t imagine theirs.

“How’re you guys feeling this morning?” He asked as he sat across from Yoongi.

“This is why I don’t drink. Why did no one stop me?” Taehyung whined as he rose from the floor to leave, massaging his head.

“Honestly, I owe you big time. She was… amazing. I don’t think I’ve talked to someone that comfortably in a while” Namjoon sighed wistfully.

“I’ll add cupid to my resume,” he deadpanned. “Is she tolerating you for another date?”

“Or you could just ask her how’s her hangover today. Jeez. Do I have to draft each of your messages? Stop being a dumbass and text the person you like.” Yoongi scoffed, clearly over Namjoon’s sudden and uncharacteristic insecurities.

Namjoon gave a resigned sigh as he reached for his phone and wrote out exactly what Yoongi suggested. Hey, he was his hyung for a reason - he had a full 6 months of life experience on him.

Namjoon: Hey! Hope your hangover is not too bad today.

As soon as the message was sent, he started getting nervous. Tapping his foot incessantly while staring at his phone, willing it to buzz, annoying Yoongi enough to leave him alone on the couch in the process.

Y/N: Hi to you too! I actually don’t get hangovers so I’m doing great lol. What about you?

Namjoon: What do you mean you don’t get hangovers?

Y/N: I don’t know. Can’t get dehydrated if you’re always dehydrated!

Namjoon: That… makes no sense. Do I need to start reminding you to drink water?

Y/N: Only if you’re better than this app on my phone…

Namjoon: I can guarantee you I’m better than any app on this planet.

Y/N: Wow. Big claims! We’ll have to put it to the test I suppose.

Y/N: You never told me how you’re feeling. Oh and how’s Taehyung? Is he okay?

Namjoon: He’s doing fine. Made a pact to never drink again and if i’m being honest, I’m going to join him. I am shocked that your head is not exploding as well.

The conversation Monday, however, was fairly sparse, and Namjoon was eager to set up plans for the next day, so that night he decided to call you.

“Hello, this is Y/N” you sounded distant, almost too formal. He felt nervous.

“Hi… uh... this is Namjoon. Is this a bad time?”

“Hi sorry about that! How are you?” He relaxed at your airy tone and smiled.

“I’m good. Are you still at work?”

“Yeah it’s only like 7 so it’s no big deal. I usually leave around 8” Were you serious?

“Sorry about that. I didn’t realize I overworked my team. Had to send the troops home” you laughed and Namjoon felt his heart flutter.

“I don’t wanna keep you from going home. I can call you back once you get there” he offered. He felt bad that you were staying in an empty office on his account.

“It’d be pretty boring for you to watch me just type away. Are you sure? It’s pretty late.” He was sure his cheeks would hurt from how wide he smiled.

“It’s not a problem at all. I was going to work tonight too.” He wasn’t. “We can just work together. I’ll bring food. Did you eat yet?” his words tumbled over each other.

“How very college of you.” He could hear you giggling on the line. “Now that I think about it - I’m starving.”

“Okay text me the address, I’ll be there soon.”

He had never been this excited to pretend to work.

____________________________

“You know you’re not half bad!” He exclaimed as he set the pizza on the table, pulling a chair next to yours and settling down.

“Do you think your fake compliments will save you from the fact that you were spying on me?” you asked, crossing your hands across your chest, pretending to scowl but failing to.

“First, real compliment. Second, would pizza save me?” He opened the box and proudly smiled, loving the way your eyes lit up as you reached for a slice.

“Yes it will!” you exclaimed as you took your first bite, lightly moaning at the taste. “But erase that memory from your brain please.”

“Oh I have a proposal due for a meeting tomorrow at noon and I’m only halfway through it.” you frowned wistfully at the screen as if willing it to type on its own.

“Can I help?” He asked, knowing fully well that he couldn’t. He just had an overwhelming urge to make that frown disappear.

“You being here is help enough,” you smiled sincerely as you looked at him and he felt his heart explode, a blush creeping on his cheeks as he smiled bashfully. “What are you working on?”

“I have a few songs I have to finish the lyrics for. Been procrastinating” he rubbed the back of his neck as he pulled out the notebook from his back pocket.

“Promise?” you whispered as he watched your eyes flutter to his lips.

“To kiss you first...” Too impatient to wait for your answer, he brought his lips to yours, relishing how soft they felt under his own. He was thrilled at you returning the kiss, deepening it as you grabbed the collar of his shirt to bring him closer just like you did after the party. He was beginning to think this was your signature move, and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t immensely turn him on. He moved his hand cupping your face to rest on your neck and he could feel your heartbeat mimicking his. He put his other hand around your waist pulling you closer, wanting to be as close to you as he could get. He traced his tongue over your lips, his head cloudy with endorphins as you opened your mouth inviting him in. He had never tasted something so euphoric, his tongue exploring yours in a rush.

“Namjoon… Namjoon... slow down” he heard you say breathlessly as he felt a slight push. He looked up at you, your eyes half lidded and lusty as you grabbed his face and brought it to yours. You were sending him mixed signals, but he didn’t care as long as he could keep kissing you.

“I think we need to cool down,” you say as you climb off of his lap. “Let’s go.”

“Lemonade, coke, or water,” you asked as you peered into the fridge.

“You.” He smirked kissing your neck, feeling bold off of the high from your makeout session.

“Joon!” you pretended to sound scandalized as you turned in his arms, smiling warmly. The nickname made his heart swell. It added a familiarity that he didn’t know he missed from you.

“You haven’t called me Joon before. I like it” he smiled as he pecked your lips.

“Yes! Finally! It’s perfect.” you smiled proudly and somehow he felt a wave of pride too. “What about you? Made any progress?”

“Actually yes. I kind of finished my entire week’s writing in that one hour” he was still amazed by his own progress.

“Okay, Mr Overachiever” you joked and he chuckled.

“Are you speaking from experience?” he asked, needing to divert the attention away from his own vulnerabilities.

“Do you want me to walk you to your car?” Namjoon asked, wanting to drag the night on longer despite it already being almost 2 am.

“Don’t judge me but I actually don’t know how to drive. I was just going to cab back.” he saw you giggle bashfully as you pulled your backpack over your shoulders.

“I’d really like that,” you said as you walked towards the elevators. He held your hand as you both got on, liking the way you moved closer to him at that.

That night laying in bed, his heart felt full as he read your goodnight message. He was sure of it now. He really wanted you in his life.

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make-it-mavis · 4 years

Text

Homesick (Entry #24)

(cw: 18+ SEXUAL CONTENT, drug use) ------------

01/10/88 9:46 PM

Hey.

Looking back on all this, I noticed something.

Ever since you’d left, I had been stuck in perpetual fight-or-flight mode. My first instinct was, as always, to fight. I fought to find you, to disprove the lies everyone had been spinning about you and about me, and emerge a winner over this false reality I was supposed to submit to. All my strength, my resolve, my conviction, was tied to the idea that you were still alive. After Tapper’s, I just couldn’t lie to myself anymore.

You were gone. My brush powers were gone. Whatever shred of acceptance I’d garnered in the arcade over the years was gone. What was there to fight for anymore?

Flight was the only option left.

The morning after that night, I knew it was time to be on my own again. I didn’t need company anymore. I’d stopped being afraid of murderous sprites sneaking in. I’d like to say the reason for that was I’d stopped being an idiot and really clued in that I can’t be deleted in my own game. I’d like to say that. I think the cold truth of it was that my newfound guilt dwarfed any reason I had to be afraid.

I packed up my things. I said goodbye to Wreck-it, thanked him for my stay (which threw him off again), and brought my things back to my den. Coming back to it should have felt right in some way, but it didn’t. It’s true that my den has never fully felt like home, but it’s at least been a place to be surrounded by things that belong to me. I looked at all my junk strewn everywhere, my well-guarded stolen treasures accrued over the years, and wondered why the hell I kept any of it. It almost made me angry, in a way. A small part of me wanted to just burn it all.

I spent the whole day in that junk heap, antsy as hell, just trying to keep occupied until closing. Once I’d decided to try GC, it was all I could think about. I just ran the actions through my head over and over -- the arcade would close, I would venture out alone, track down one of the few dealers willing to do business with me, buy a block of GC, come back to my pile of junk, and take it.

That’s exactly what happened.

Now, I know what you’d say right about now, and yes, it was a risky move, taking GC in my own game, especially for someone with a code deficiency. For all I knew, one hit of the stuff could have thrown my code in a blender and splattered it all over the trees. No one knew I was doing this, either, so no one would know if I corrupted, not until Fix-it inevitably found my mangled sprite. I was fully aware of the risks, but somehow, I didn’t care. There was danger, but it felt so far away. Like it just wouldn’t happen to me. Why not? I don’t know. That’s just how it felt. Risks were inconsequential.

All that mattered to me was escaping life.

And GC? Oh, GC. It was my escape.

Buffs I’d been taking up to that point had been child’s play. They took whatever warmth or pleasure that existed inside me and tried to stretch it as far as it would go. They lit a fire under my moxie and gave me a fighting edge against everything thrown my way. They blurred reality. They weakened it. But they never made it go away.

GC does. Game Changers live up to their name. They grasp you tight and yank you out of reality so hard, you almost forget it was ever there at all. I guess you could call it dreaming while awake, only ten times more vivid, twenty times more intense, thirty times more satisfying.

But, like dreams, experiences with it seem to be hard to remember and even harder to describe. I took four hits of GC over the course of about a week, and the further along we go, the more I remember of the visions, and the less I remember of the reality in between. It’s gonna be a challenge to write. If you were able to read this, you would complain about it being hard to follow and full of gaps. Well, it’s no clearer for me than it is for you, so suck it up.

Okay. That first night, that first hit.

I punched open the block, took the buff inside, and immediately thought I was corrupting.

My skin went cold with sweat, my heart punched my ribs, my brain clenched and my stomach twisted. I fell back. I felt what I would describe as each individual digit of my binary being turned backwards all at once. It was unreal.

Then, just like that, it was gone.

And the release of that pain was… let’s say I felt it in places that had otherwise been dormant for a long time.

It made me inconsolably horny, is what I’m saying. Painfully so.

At first, that appeared to be it. No hallucinations, no mental roadtrips, just extremely urgent arousal. I was a little underwhelmed, but I took what I could get. The last thing on my mind since you’d left had been sex, or anything related to it, which I trust needs no explanation. So, whatever, I figured. I’m a big girl with two hands and a brush, I can take care of myself.

Only, I couldn’t.

When I went to grab my belt, I couldn’t move either of my arms. They were glued to the ground, along with my back. While I was sitting there wondering why nothing was happening, the trees had started profusely bleeding a sticky red sap that smelled amazing, but held me down tight. My entire den began to flood with it, and the leaves above reddened and swelled into tender fist-sized cherries that sloughed into the syrup below. The bare trees stretched tall, curved over my den, and locked branches like dozens of twisting fingers weaving together. Within a minute, the trees closed all gaps, trapping me in complete darkness with a slowly growing bath of cherry pie filling.

I wasn’t scared. Not even a little. I was pissed. I was absolutely dying for any kind of contact, any relief, but of course, I had to be denied by something so unforgivingly weird as a spontaneous pie flood. As I squirmed around, trying to find some kind of pressure, I felt the goop around me start to heat up. Slowly, the entire chamber became like a sauna. Thicker sap melted into runny syrup that dripped on me from the ceiling. I could feel steam on my face mixing with beading sweat. It was around that point that I started panting. Around that point, the game changed.

In the burning, viscous syrup around me, giant cherries dragged slowly down my body like wandering hands. Some even split open, exposing positively obscene warm, soft, wet flesh that I could feel sliding directly across my skin, as if my clothes weren’t even there. I leaned into the shapes and groped around where I could in the sugary slime, and let my fingers sink deep into the velvety smooth bits of cherry heat, which somehow made me shudder right down to my bones. But it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t helping. It was just working me up even more. Every touch and smell and sound of my own desperate, frustrated breathing shot rippling euphoric waves through my very code. I’d never been so needy for touch in all my life, and the closest I could get to it was a bath of cherries.

After an agonizingly long time, the syrup had reached dangerous levels. It would have been over my head if I wasn’t already propped up on… what I can only assume entered the dream as a pillow. For a moment, the thought crossed my mind that I might actually drown there, but that’s when I heard rumbling. The entire structure around me began to shake. There was a great, rocky crack, and the roof above me split open like an egg, revealing a night sky unlike any other.

It was a kaleidoscope. The sky curved with rows of millions of tiny LED lights with colors that travelled seamlessly with one another like a scrolling electric sign. Bright and brilliant as it was, its light just barely illuminated my surroundings, like rainbow moonlight. That glimpse alone would have left me awestruck, but there was so much more.

In an instant, the cherry room crumbled and fell away. The ground around me cracked and broke off to leave me suspended on a floating patch of earth, and the bath of syrup drained thickly over the edges. I could see it all, now -- I was in a ball. I was floating directly in the center of a ball made up of nothing but the kaleidoscope lights. Gravity sort of sank in my stomach for a second, just at the sheer vastness of it, but that’s why it was freakin’ spectacular. It made me want to fly so badly, but in this dream, I still knew I couldn’t.

The next thing I saw were mirrors around me. Big, uneven shards of mirror floated in a still circle, spread maybe twenty feet out from my little chunk of land. In them, I could see myself stuck there, lying prone as my clothes dissolved into sugary slime, slowly melting off to expose my skin. I looked into my own eyes, and even in the dream, they shone a binary blue. There was a fire in them that matched the one inside me. They said to me, “What are you doing? Fight, dumbass.”

They were right. Of course they were. I may have been stuck, but how could I lie back and accept that? Have I ever been known to be passive?

So, I squeezed my eyes shut and struggled. I pushed, pulled, and thrashed against my glued-down arms and back, but it was not coming easily. In fact, it seemed like all I managed to do was make it worse. When I tried to push up off the ground with my feet, they stuck firmly to the spot. Seconds later, when I gave up and let my hips drop back down and my legs fold back into place, my calves stuck to my thighs. Even my eyes wouldn’t open. I was so frustrated I could have screamed, but just as I took a breath to do so, I was muffled.

There was a distinctly familiar, piping-hot, cherry-flavored mouth smothering mine. I made some muffled protests for my pride’s sake, but, of course, I returned the gesture. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been kissed, and it felt like a cold drink of water I didn’t know I needed. I couldn’t open my eyes to see who it was, nor could I feel any actual code at all, but I didn’t have to. He had burning-hot skin. He smelled like smoke clinging to old leather. His kiss felt like he was quite literally breathing binary right into me, pouring strength into the holes in my code until they spilled over. There’s no one else he could have been. And, at the time, I didn’t question it. Everything seemed right.

The kiss broke, and I remember the air suddenly feeling so cold on my skin. But there was heat radiating from the body looming over mine, and his touch seemed to throw fire in me. For a second, his mouth lingered at my neck and his hands squeezed my shoulders, but before long, he made his way slowly down my body. Fingers traced lightly at every rise, palms pushed deeply under every slope, all slipping in the sugary glaze that his mouth lapped up and savored in a contented, indulgent sort of way. Needless to say, I was positively aching by this point. It was teetering on the edge of painful. I remember shaking, trying and failing to suppress whimpers, and, for a minute, giving up completely on my attempts to get free. I was right where I wanted to be. Honestly, being blind and immobilized and helpless to refuse? In this context, it was hot as hell.

Makes me wish we’d dabbled in that concept a bit more while you were still around.

There came a point where things were just short of where I needed them to be. At my innermost thigh, his mouth licked and nipped lazily, as if he were settling in for a long stay. His hands just squeezed at the meat of my hips, running his thumbs over the bone. The nerve of it all.

I struggled harder than ever, and with my partner having licked off so much of the sugary glue, my feet broke free, then my legs, then my arms, one right after the other. My back peeled harshly off the ground as I threw myself upright, and I opened my eyes to stare down a glowing blue gaze looking at me from between my knees.

I froze. Where I expected to see you, there was nothing but a you-shaped figure, seemingly made of nothing but shadow. Save for his eyes, he was just an empty black shape. A void, I guess. The edges of his body were a little hard to focus on, and seemed to warp the air around him the tiniest bit, like heat off the hood of a car.

He was supposed to be you. But he… wasn’t. Not exactly. This is really hard to put into words, but I think he was just… all that was left in the you-shaped hole in my life. Take your scarf, for example. It’s a piss poor substitute for actually having you here, but it’s all I have now, so I take it. The tiny bit of you that’s still in my life? The part that I’d like to believe I still carry around with me? That’s what he was.

He was the last of your physical presence in my life.

I think that’s why I didn’t question it when I felt him kissing me. I knew who he was, and I knew I could trust him, but he wasn’t really you. He had been with me the whole time. I felt like he had been with me for a really long time.

But, still, when I saw him… something in me changed. Even though there were so many things I wanted to say, I could not find my voice. There was something about the air he gave off, about the way he looked at me, and I looked at him. Like we both knew exactly why we had come together, and there was no need for words anymore. My heart just pounded heavily and my blood began to simmer, and somehow, I knew he could sense that.

So, rather than scold him for teasing, I reached out a shaky hand and pushed my fingers through his hair. His bright eyes closed at the touch, and he leaned into my hand a bit as it curved down to hold his jaw. We lingered for just a moment. I’m not sure if we were savoring the anticipation, or what, but… I got the weird feeling that we were having a conversation. Exactly what it was about, I couldn’t say. But I know that by the time we were done, I was about ready to abandon all thought, all reason, and surrender fully to feeling.

He knew. He agreed. His eyes opened, and I remember the way their blue distinctly strayed from binary to low burning flames.

His hands curled around my thighs, and he finally ducked his head down between them and went in for the kill.

Devs, I don’t think I could come close to explaining how it felt, finally feeling something, some kind of spectacular contact, after holding that ache for what felt like forever. I fell onto my back, closed my eyes against the twisting colors in the sky, and let it all out in a sigh deeper than my lungs could hold. My memory seemed to recreate exactly what you would do, right down to every movement, but -- not to discredit you -- this was just otherworldly. The heat was intense, the syrup was slick, and my head whirled over itself. It was, in a word, sublime.

As amazing as it felt, and as perfectly as it was working me up, I really just wanted more. The motion really was a relief at first; it sated the initial ache. But the longer he drew it out, the more a deeper ache set in, one stronger than I’ve ever felt in my life. Maybe it seems like I’m being dramatic, or that I’m exaggerating, but I’m not. Not in the slightest. Before I knew what I was doing, I was mentally lamenting over how he didn’t show up sooner. I thought about how I’d been losing my mind, that I’d been in near agony over want of relief, and hoped that he would hear it. By the way he moved, I’d say that he did.

It seemed like he was being tormented by an ache of his own. He had been digging a sharp grip into my hips and yanking me hard against his mouth any time my squirming slipped me away from him, now and then pushing his hands up over my ribs to rake his nails back down. He wanted it real bad. And before too long, his patience ran out. The shadow demon raised his head and crawled over my body, radiating heat. I stared into those burning blue eyes that were really beginning to come alive with lust, and I was deeply distracted by how cold and naked I felt without the warm blanket of his tongue. Again, it wasn’t that I’d never felt that before. It’s just that I’d never been so desperately, painfully sensitive. I couldn’t stand to not be touched for a second longer.

So, when I locked my arms under his shoulders, looked into his eyes and pointedly thought about just how he had no idea how badly I needed it, I saw those eyes narrow with an obvious smirk. I got the clear impression that he did know.

Then finally, finally, he clutched painfully onto one of my hips and slipped inside me, giving me what we both so badly needed. When I tried to cry out, the kaleidoscope lights flared twice as bright, like they were standing in for my voice in its absence.

I could feel and hear the shadow shudder breathlessly, the same way you did. I could hear in it every bit of the same maddening desire that I felt myself. It was so hot, I could barely stand it.

I don’t know if the very real pleasure messed with my head or what, but things really took a turn for the strange at this point.

I tried talking. I know I did. I just couldn’t hear a word of it -- I could only see the swirling lights waxing and waning with my volume. I don’t even know what I was trying to say. Whatever it was, it felt like I needed to say it. Every word literally made me feel lighter and cleaner, like emptying out the extra junk in your bag you’d been carrying for ages. I think he liked it, too. As he moved quicker and deeper, he seemed to be encouraging me. He grabbed my hand and pinned it by my head, and he squeezed hard in response to whatever the hell I was saying.

As it got harder to catch enough breath to “speak”, I looked to the mirrors, expecting to see me and the shadow tangled up together. I didn’t see a reflection at all anymore. The mirrors had started slowly rotating around us, and each of them may as well have been windows into places I recognized. A lot of them were from your game: Behind the bleachers, your garage, the showers. Others were all over the arcade. My den, Tapper’s supply closet, among the trees in Jungle Hunt, backstage at Qix, behind the Burger Time dumpsters, inside one of the Paperboy houses, an alley in Rampage, an empty Niceland apartment, the penthouse bar, Gene’s freakin’ walk-in closet -- and then the images in the mirrors began to move, and sound began to bubble out, as if playing recorded videos. When I heard them, I realized what all these places had in common.

Breathing hard, gasping, muttering, dripping with lust, was my own voice. Doing the very same, was yours.

The kaleidoscope ball echoed with the sounds of us going at it, from over a dozen encounters at once. Through the mirrors that were gradually spinning faster, I saw footage of it all, too. I saw us. Well, what should have been us. In each of them, the shadow figure took your place. But it was close enough for me, in the heat of the moment. It sent my head spinning. The chorus of whimpering and moaning drowned out almost every coherent thought I had. I could have sworn I was reliving all of those memories at once, right down to each sensation, on top of the fiery drum already beating inside me.

I tried to tell him that. I knew he’d eat it right up. But whether I had a voice again or not, it was drowned out completely. I could hear nothing from him either, no labored breathing, even though I could feel his chest heaving. In his eyes, I could see his composure breaking. He was still squinting in a smirk, but his smile was wavering. It was too hot to handle. His eyes fell heavy-lidded, and he dropped to bite and suck at my neck. As I held him there, I got a heaping eyeful of the kaleidoscope sky twisting above us.

In an instant, I was mesmerized. Nearly hypnotized. The colors were so astoundingly bright, it should have strained my eyes to look at, but it didn’t. In fact, it felt refreshing, even healthy to drink in -- something I say near literally, because I felt the sea of color pour into me and fill me up. I could feel color inside me, far beyond what I feel using my brush. It danced and twisted on a million different axes, starting between my thighs and rolling outward in waves, bouncing off the edges of my body like ripples, even right through my fingers and toes. By some magic or trick of code, I became the kaleidoscope. Above, below, all around, the brilliant, dazzling light, was just an extension of my body.

I swear to the Devs, I became color itself.

A creature made of color, and a creature devoid of all light, rutting like filthy beasts. Oddly poetic, now that I think about it.

As I yanked his head up to kiss him, tasting myself on his tongue, the lights around us once again flared. They flashed, flickered unevenly, and only grew brighter by the second. Combined with the noisy memories growing louder and louder, the spectrum in my body, and my shadow friend’s growing aggression, my senses were mercilessly assaulted. The overload kept building, the lights turned blinding, and I was pushed right to that heart-pounding, white-hot edge…

And freakin’ sat there. Perched firmly.

At that moment, all the lights fell dark with a great hum, like a switch was flipped. The recordings cut out completely, and only then was I aware of how much noise we were making. We may not have had voices, but panting alone can get pretty damn loud. My throat was getting dry and hoarse by that point. He let out short, quivering huffs and worked against me so desperately, I was sure that he was right at the edge, too. We were stuck together, stranded just inches from the finish line.

Just then, a single cluster of lights flickered to life, casting a ghostly white light over a single mirror shard, probably the smallest of them all. I had to squint to see it, and almost couldn’t focus with how much my body shook, but once I saw it, I knew what it was immediately.

Another memory. This time, in your trailer, sitting fixed like a camera beside your bed.

This time, it was really you.

It was us. Just us, fumbling, pausing, sort of laughing. Enthusiastic, stupid, inexperienced, thrilled, enraptured by how exciting it was to finally get it right. I encouraged you, assured you I could handle it this time, urged you to give me more, let you know just how good it felt. You were so genuinely vocal, the way I was crazy for. You rasped out your approval, bits of praise, and all the things you wanted to do to me. We blew each other’s minds.

It was our first time.

I couldn’t believe I was seeing it again. I wished it had picked a bigger, louder mirror to show up on -- I loosened my grip on my shadowy partner, trying to keep as still as I could, so as to hear and see it better. The memory was pristine, with hardly a blur or gap, distorted only by the fact that it was a third-person view, when I did, in fact, experience it through my own eyes. Still, watching it sort of felt like hearing an old song you haven’t heard in forever, and finding you still remember all the lyrics. It was a good feeling. It was a good memory.

I wished it wasn’t just a memory. I don’t know if I was drawn to it purely from the fact that I could see you when I thought I never would again, or... other things that probably don’t really need to be named. Regardless of why, I wanted nothing more than to crawl right through that mirror and do it all again.

But it dissipated. It returned to being just a plain mirror. And when it did, the entirety of them began to spin around us again, rapidly picking up speed.

I felt a jolt as every light in the sphere flashed at once. My body was still in tune with them, it seemed. They flashed again in a binary blue so bright, it was almost white. Again and again they flashed, until they turned into the most intense strobe lights ever, whipping pulse after pulse of static through my code. I couldn’t contain myself. It was unreal.

I sent endless, wild, completely silent praise pouring from my mouth and raked my nails mercilessly over the shadow’s back. He quivered against the pain, but only slipped an arm under my lower back to crush me up against him. I didn’t know which way was up. I didn’t know what to do with myself anymore. I was just overcome with the need to be closer to him. He was already pressing down so hard on my body, but it just wasn’t enough. I wanted our very pixels to fuse. I wanted to feel him in every digit of my code. Everywhere.

And then, well…

I heard something strange beneath us -- rapid creaking of old mattress springs. Against my skin, I felt sheets damp with sweat. Behind my head, the very distinct sound of your bed knocking against the wall. And, through my choppy split-second frames of vision, I could see the void above me filling with life. The swelteringly hot creature, with its harsh, labored breathing, rocking against me with ravenous need, suddenly looked at me through one cracked-open, yellow eye.

You looked at me. I looked at you.

And you audibly rasped my name.

That did it.

That tackled me straight over the maddening edge I’d been teetering on -- but hell if I was going down alone. I kissed you hard, locked you in, and took you with me. We fell from a fatal height for longer than seemed possible, and the resounding SMASH when we hit the ground, well…

You know? Words couldn’t do the feeling justice.

The lights were still in-tune with my body, so they might give you some idea.

Every color in the kaleidoscope jumped to life again, whirling in a dizzying, neon blur, flickering, flashing, flaring brighter than a burning star until they all merged into blinding, humming, all-encompassing white, and then -- POW! Clusters of bulbs exploded into rainbows of sparks that flowed like sudsy champagne, again, and again, and again, popping like firecrackers. The spectacle went on for so long, you’d have thought it was a freakin’ festival, until finally, the bursts were fewer and far between. The empty sockets sparked here and there, and the remaining bulbs buzzed tiredly. It just looked like a normal starry sky, at the end.

And my partner just looked like a void again.

We both heaved like we’d just run a marathon. The shadow pulled back to look at me, a satisfied look in his eyes. I breathed a faint, voiceless laugh and smiled at him. I tried to say something, but I was interrupted by something falling on my face.

A huge dollop of syrup had splattered onto my face out of nowhere. The shadow’s body shook with silent, delighted cackles. As I tapped my fingers against the stickiness running from my mouth down my jaw, I could see leaves start to form out of the darkness above me. Very slowly, as if trying to sneak up on me, the forest settled back into place, and most of the mirrors broke, save for one, which sat right back where my real mirror is supposed to be. I was back in my den again. I was too high to decide how I felt about that.

I was observing the syrup still dripping from the leaves like water a few hours after rain, but I was rudely interrupted by the shadow straight up licking the sugar from my mouth. In a very deliberately non-sexy way.

Just then, my voice returned.

I yelped and spat and swatted him away with both my arms and legs. “Get off me! What game do you think this is, you mangy mutt? Duck Hunt?”

He leaned back from my swings, miming a smug laugh, before roughing my hair and standing up. To my surprise, he turned to push back a sheet and leave.

“Hey, hey, wait,” I said, sitting up. “Where are you going in such a hurry?”

He paused, glanced over his shoulder, and made a zipper motion over where his mouth should have been, his eyes still touched by a sly smirk. He flicked a two-finger salute, and, just like that, threw the curtain aside to disappear behind it.

“Hey!” I stood with some difficulty and crossed to the curtain. “Don’t walk away when I’m talkin’ to you!”

When I pulled it back to look, he was already gone, dissolved into the darkness of the forest. I had hoped he would hang out longer. It seemed like we were having a good time.

But I knew he’d be back. He can’t leave. Not this one.

I spat in frustration into the grass and tasted the syrup on my lips, still. I wiped it off with my right hand, startled to find I was no longer completely naked -- I was wearing a glove. When I looked at it, I saw the syrup stained across my palm, red in stark contrast to white.

The sight struck a weird chord in me. Something about it seemed familiar, almost. But hell if I could remember.

From there, I very slowly came down from my high. My legs had turned to complete jelly and shook like crazy. My clothes gradually reappeared on my body, except for, not surprisingly, my pants and my left glove. The handle of my brush also looked pretty wet and well-loved. So, there was really no question as to what my body had been doing the whole time. And I’ll admit that I resumed immediately.

Hey, I had to ride anything that felt good for as long as I could. I had color pulsing through my veins, and I was going to enjoy it, Devs be damned.

You know, maybe I wouldn’t be half-bad at erotic literature. It was kinda fun trying to describe all that. It was nice to think about it again, too. To remember how much fun it was, and all that. I just kind of wish it could do anything for me now. I know it’s hot, it’s super hot, but, like… only my brain knows that. It has to send those thoughts down south for me to get anything out of it, and, nowadays, those thoughts don’t even get as far as my heart before deciding it’s not worth it and turning back.

I just don’t have it in me anymore.

That’s what she said.

#fanfiction #fanfic #wreck it ralph #make it mavis #turbo #original character #homesick

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joe-mazzello-archive · 4 years

Text

Get It While It’s Hot

A Joe Mazzello x Reader fic

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: None! Meet-cute fluffiness :)

A/N: Merry Ficmas! This is my secret santa gift for @mazzelo for @dtfrogertaylor‘s Thank God It’s Christmas event! Sorry it’s a little late, I got wrapped up in family stuff! I hope you enjoy!!!!! Happy holidays!!!!!!

You were absolutely exhausted. Every muscle ached and you were pretty sure your feet had gone numb. At this point your body was running on fumes. Luckily, you were only an hour away from freedom. One more hour left of the most grueling shift you had ever worked in the history of your time at the coffee shop. What on earth had made you think that working a double was a good idea? And who knew so many people would be out and about this late on Christmas Eve? But the customers kept coming and coming. You sighed. It was very “New York” of these people to need caffeine after 9pm. City that never sleeps, right?

You pulled at the handles on the espresso machine, making three different drinks at once. You took a peek at the cash register just in time to see a long line of at least ten customers waiting. You groaned and exchanged a knowing look with one of your coworkers, Lee, who was manning the blender for iced drinks.

“At least we aren’t on register tonight,” he commented, nodding towards your other coworker, who was clearly overwhelmed by the crowd. “I think Bella is going to pass out as soon as that door locks at ten.”

“That makes two of us,” you replied, pouring milk into a latte. You both shared a chuckle before you popped a lid on the cup and called out the name scribbled on the side.

You finished up the other two drinks and handed them off to the waiting customers before grabbing two more new cups from the large lineup on the counter. A small hot chocolate and another small hot chocolate. Easy enough. You made your way over to the hot chocolate machine and tapped at the buttons. As you waited for the machine to start up, you took a moment to catch your breath. You glanced at your watch. 9:08pm. You groaned again.

Time was draaaaaagging by and all you could think about was crawling into bed and sleeping for hours and hours. Luckily the shop was closed on Christmas Day, so you could take the entire day to rest and relax. You didn’t have any family in the city and most of your friends were out of town visiting their families, so you planned on having the most low key Christmas you could possibly have.

You were pulled out of your thoughts by the hot chocolate machine loudly beeping at you, indicating it was ready to go. You filled both cups with hot chocolate and put a lid on them before glancing at the name on both cups.

“Joe?” you called out over the crowd. A figure towards the back of the shop rose from his table and made his way over to you. You immediately recognized him, he had been there almost all day, typing away at his computer, occasionally ordering a drink and a baked good. You had handed him all of his orders today, appreciating the genuine smile he’d always give you that contrasted the annoyed or indifferent looks of most of the other customers you dealt with today.

You were slightly curious as to why he ordered two small cups instead of just getting a medium, but didn’t dwell too much on it. He arrived at the counter with a soft smile on his face.

“Here you are,” you said as you held out the cups for him.

“Um, actually the other one is for you,” he responded as he took one of the cups from you. Your brow furrowed in confusion.

“Wait...what?” you stammered, causing the man to chuckle.

“Yeah, I noticed you’ve been working here all day, so I figured you could use a pick me up,” he explained with a shrug. “I had no idea what kind of coffee you’d like, and you can’t go wrong with hot chocolate.” You felt your cheeks turn a shade of pink.

“You bought me hot chocolate?” you asked, completely aware that that was exactly what he had done, but still trying to wrap your head around it. The man chuckled again, a slight blush creeping across his face. His smile was contagious and you noticed the way his entire face scrunched up as he laughed.

“Yeah, you deserve it. Working all day on Christmas Eve,” he replied, the smile never leaving his face.

You could feel your heart pounding out of your chest. Not only did a complete stranger buy you hot chocolate, but a cute stranger at that. No one had ever done anything like this for you before.

“Th-thank you,” you stammered in response, glancing down at the name on the cup once again. “Joe. Thank you, Joe.” He beamed back at you.

“You’re very welcome--” he returned, his eyes dropping to your chest and squinting. He said your name aloud as you realized he was looking at your name tag. You gave him another smile and nod as he headed back to his table in the corner. You heard your name again, this time from behind you and it snapped you back to reality, realizing Lee was calling you.

“Girl, we still have forty-five minutes to go and a line almost out the door. You can flirt with customers another day!”

You threw yourself back into your work, pumping out coffee orders as fast as possible. Every once in awhile you would sneak a sip of your hot chocolate and glance over at Joe typing away in the corner. You wondered what he had been working on all day. You thought about why someone as charming and cute as him would spend an entire day cooped up in a random coffee shop on Christmas Eve. Surely he had people to spend the holidays with, right? You wanted to learn more about him. But above everything else, you just wanted to talk to him again. You didn’t care what about.

Finally, the clock struck ten and Bella switched the sign on the front door to “closed.” A few stragglers decorated the shop, including Joe, who seemed unfazed that the shop was closing. You said goodnight to the last few customers as they headed out the door, and then it was just you, your coworkers, and Joe.

You felt bad telling him to leave; he seemed so focused on whatever he was doing, almost as if he was in his own little world. You figured you could bring him a little something as both an apology for making him leave and a thank you for the hot chocolate earlier. You threw a few bucks into the register and grabbed the last piece of banana bread from the case.

You hesitantly made your way over to his corner, taking in the scene around him. Four now-empty cups sat in a row along the table next to his computer. His laptop bag was draped open at his feet, books and papers poking out of the opening. He ran a hand through his auburn hair as he furrowed his brow at the screen in front of him.

“Um, Joe?” you said timidly. He blinked up at you with a blank stare for a moment before smiling back at you.

“Is this the part where you kick me out?” he asked. You giggled at his joke, feeling your resolve slipping.

“Actually, you can stick around while we do the closing duties,” you replied without thinking. He really shouldn’t, since it was against your store policy. But you didn’t want to interrupt his work. Plus you really just liked looking at him. “I also brought you some banana bread. Figured you’d be hungry.”

“Thank you. I have been so in the zone, I keep forgetting to eat,” he said with a chuckle. You placed the plate next to him and headed back behind the counter to start your closing tasks. Grabbing a rag and disinfectant, you worked your way around the shop, wiping down all of the tables. As you got closer to Joe, you found yourself peeking at him. He had a determined look on his face as he typed away. Every once in awhile, his tongue poked out to swipe at his bottom lip. You realized you were staring and went back to focusing on what you were doing.

“That table must have been pretty dirty,” Joe suddenly said, pulling you out of your stupor.

“Hmm?” was your smooth reply, glancing up at the man two tables away from you.

“You’ve been wiping that same table for a solid two minutes,” he pointed out, a slight smirk on his face. You felt your cheeks blush.

“I guess I just zoned out there for a moment,” you explained. “It’s been a long day.”

“At least it’s almost over,” he countered. “And I’ll be out of your hair in a moment.” You shook your head.

“You’re totally fine. If you don’t mind me asking, what are you working on?” you asked. He dipped his head, as if he was suddenly shy.

“A screenplay. I’ve had a bad case of writer’s block the past two weeks until today,” he explained. “Since I came here this morning, the words have been just flowing out of me. I was a little afraid to leave in case my writer’s block came back.”

“Well, I guess the shop is your lucky charm,” you joked, finally moving to wipe down another table.

“Or it’s you,” Joe answered. You froze and looked up at him, and you were sure your cheeks were bright red now. His smile made your knees weak, and you thanked god you were leaning on the table you were cleaning or you’d surely have fallen over.

Say something. Say anything, you thought to yourself. But your brain and mouth seemed to forget how to communicate with each other. So you stood there, mouth open as you tried to find words to say.

“I’ve gotta go...wipe down the espresso machine,” you finally said before grabbing your cleaning supplies and escaping to safety behind the counter. You hid behind the tall machine, preventing Joe from seeing you in your flustered state.

You could feel the throbbing of your heartbeat through your entire body as you tried to catch your breath. Suddenly, Lee appeared next to you, causing you to jump and throw a heart over your pounding chest.

“Who’s thaaaat?” he asked in a sing-song voice, and you thanked the shop’s cliche music playlist for being loud enough to prevent Joe from hearing him.

“His name is Joe,” you replied simply. Lee nudged you.

“You should ask him to walk you to your subway stop,” he offered. “Bella and I can finish up here.”

“Lee, I barely know him,” you insisted, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

“Well, go change that,” he countered, playfully shoving you. “Go on!” You rolled your eyes and sighed. You popped into the back office to grab your coat, scarf, and purse. On your way back out, you passed Bella who gave you a quick wink before disappearing into the office to do the closing paperwork.

You took in a deep breath before making your way back over to Joe’s table. He had already packed up his laptop and was pulling his coat on.

“Hey,” you breathed out, getting his attention. He immediately smiled at your presence, causing you to smile in return.

“Hey.”

“I’m actually off already. Do you think you could walk me to my subway stop?”

Suddenly Joe’s movements picked up as he seemed to rush to grab his scarf and laptop bag.

“I would be honored.”

You led Joe out into the cold air of the wintery New York City. The shops surrounding you had their windows decorated with colorful lights, suddenly reminding you that it was Christmas Eve. As the two of you walked, you recalled your thoughts from earlier. Surely he had someone he should be spending the holiday with, right?

“So any fun plans for the holiday?” he suddenly asked, almost as if he could read your mind. You chuckled.

“Nah, I’m keeping it pretty low-key this year. Family is too far, and friends are out of town.”

Joe suddenly stopped walking. You turned to find out what was wrong and you were met with a concerned look.

“You’re spending Christmas alone?” he asked, the concern even evident in his voice. You simply shrugged.

“Yeah. It’s not a big deal,” you replied coolly. Joe shook his head.

“No way. I won’t allow it.”

“...What?”

“You’re stuck with me and my family. I’m declaring it right now,” he said, very matter-of-factly. This time you shook your head.

“Joe--”

“Nope, don’t even bother to argue with me,” he interrupted. “My decision is final.”

You didn’t know what to do. Part of you wanted to argue even more with him. But part of you wanted to spend the holiday with this handsome stranger rather than alone in your apartment more than anything.

“You don’t even know me,” you argued anyway, but your voice told him everything he needed to hear. You had already given in. Joe stepped closer to you.

“What better way to get to know someone than spending Christmas with them?” he countered. You sighed, admitting defeat.

“Okay.”

Joe beamed back at you, and you began to walk again. A comfortable silence fell between the two of you. After you passed the first block, Joe’s gloved hand found yours. You turned away briefly to hide your blush.

You arrived at the entrance to the subway way too soon for your liking.

“Well this is me,” you said, finally breaking the silence.

“Well, then I guess I will see you tomorrow,” he replied, pulling out his phone. “I can pick you up at your place, just text me the address.” He tapped at his phone’s screen and held it out for you to enter your number. You added your number and sent yourself a quick text so you would have his number too. “Have a good night, my lucky charm.”

He leaned in close and gave you a soft peck on the cheek causing you to blush for what seemed like the twentieth time that night.

“Goodnight, Joe.”

You made your way down the stairs, turning back briefly to see Joe gently wave back at you.

Maybe working a double shift hadn’t been such a bad idea after all.

#joe mazzello x reader #joe mazzello x you #joe mazzello imagine #joe mazzello #tgic #tgic event #joe mazzello fic #joemazzmatazz

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quietlydiabolic · 4 years

Text

“Attack of the Killer Robotos” - BassRock short oneshot fanfic

By: Jixie Fandom: Mega Man Classic @bassrockweek: May 15 - Zombie Rating: G Words: 1770

There was always a sort of order amidst the chaos. For all the trouble and destruction Dr. Wily caused, he also had some sort of compulsion to do things a certain way, using certain patterns. Set zones. Defined attacks. Eight Robot Masters. The winding path through Skull Fortress.

Order amid chaos.

Which is what made this so weird.

It was… unpredictable. Haphazard. Disorderly. Mega Man knew Wily's patterns and habits like the back of his hand, but he never truly appreciated just how predictable the mad scientist was until now, when everything was— well— the best way to describe it was 'on fire'. Mostly on account of all the fires.

They had been waiting to hear from Wily, either bragging about his latest plot, or begging and simpering about how he'd lost control over it, but so far it had been radio silence. Mega Man did his best to stop the robots running amok and rescue civilians and put out fires, both literally and figuratively.

The last thing he needed was Bass showing up to brawl. He never knew if Bass was going to be on their side or in Wily's corner— it was 50/50— and their relationship was pretty nebulous, so Mega Man wasn't sure where he stood with Bass at any given time.

Lucky for him, Bass wordlessly went after the berserker robots instead of hassling Mega Man.

They fought separately for a while, until Bass shot down a Potton delivery drone that was in Mega Man's blindspot. He used that as an opening. "Thanks! Let me guess… Dr. Wily's latest scheme got out of hand?"

"Yeah."

"Another virus?"

Roboenza had caused advanced robots to go wild, while less complex ones simply ceased functioning. This time, everything had come to life, from smart blenders to self-driving vehicles (traditional and flying) to robotic vacuum cleaners.

"Nah." Bass hesitated, because it would help if Mega Man actually knew what was going on. But at the same time, Wily was still convinced he could regain control of the situation, in which case it was better if he left his rival in the dark.

He was still on the fence when Mega Man's face scrunched up in amusement, clapping a hand over his mouth, trying not to laugh and failing miserably. "Oh my goodness, is that… is that a commode?"

Blinking in surprise, Bass glanced over his shoulder, then slowly turned around. Shambling down the road was, in fact, a computerized auto-toilet.

"Oh for cryin' out loud!" Built for consumer use, a single shot was all that was needed to dispatch it, but Bass unleashed a series of rapid fire shots until the hapless appliance was reduced to scrap. "Does EVERYTHING need to be a robot? Sheesh!"

***

Everything being a robot was the problem, really. They fought their way through hordes of air conditioners units, portable terminals, coffee makers, automated tellers, electric bikes, water efficient washing machines…

…and robo-pets, unfortunately. Bass was not-so-secretly enjoying the mayhem, but even he seemed ashamed of having to put down the robotic beasts.

He decided not to fill Mega Man in on the details. It wasn't a virus. It was a remote-control satellite, only somehow Wily had bungled the command codes. Instead of making the world's machinery his loyal subjects, it had turned them into mindless attacking zombies.

But hours dragged on and it was obvious Wily hadn't got a handle on the situation. Even more worryingly, he hadn't heard from him since leaving the fortress.

While they fought to restore order, Dr. Light scrambled to figure out what was going on and how to fix it, Roll and Auto offered support, and Proto Man…

Proto Man showed up, having been off doing his own secretive machinations, tossed energy tanks to the other two, and while they refueled, took a moment to appraise the situation. "Why don't you take this fight to Dr. Wily?"

"I don't think Dr. Wily's in control," Mega Man replied, glancing at Bass. "I'm not sure stopping him will stop this," he gestured at the scene of destruction that lay before them.

"Couldn't hurt to try." The tone in Proto Man's voice suggested he knew more than he was letting on.

Chewing at his lip, Mega Man shot Bass another look. "What do you think?"

If nothing else, they could probably force Wily to shut off the satellite signal. On the one hand: mayhem. Bass didn't exactly want to stop. On the other hand: the whole thing was pretty ridiculous, there was no end in sight, and it was weird that Wily hadn't been in touch.

"Fine."

With that Bass teleported, and Mega Man facepalmed. "Darn it, you know I can't just beam directly into Dr. Wily's fort!"

"Hey, listen." Proto Man threw an arm across his back. "I'm sure Bass never mentioned anything, but this whole disaster ruined our plans."

"What? What plans?" He didn't like the sound of this. Particularly the ‘our’ part of it.

"We were going to catch a movie—"

"A movie? ‘We’? As in… the two of you? A movie?" Mega Man made no attempt to hide his disappointment. "Like a— like a date?"

His brother laughed. "No. Like a ‘trying to teach that idiot normal life skills'. It was going to be a group outing."

"Wh— a group— what group?" He was both relieved and increasingly confused. He'd never met any of Blues' friends. Had Bass? Did they have mutual acquaintances?

"Rock," Proto Man said firmly, turning so that they were face-to-face, planting both hands on Mega Man's shoulders. "Rock." He sounded tired. "Invite. Him. To. The. Movies."

There was an unbelievably awkward pause, and Mega Man gulped loudly.

"O-oh. Right."

***

Mega Man was surprised to find Bass loitering outside the fort. Something was wrong— Bass couldn't teleport inside either.

So they fought their way in the old fashioned way. The badniks inside were just as erratic and violent as the household appliances had been. Not knowing the cause of all this, Mega Man started joking around, making wild, increasingly preposterous guesses for what hare-brained plot Wily had this time.

"Is he trying to scare the public by turning their dishwashers and street sweepers against them, terrorizing them into surrendering and begging for mercy?"

"No."

"Let's see… he wanted to ruin Dr. Light's day because he won the Aperture Scientific Achievement award last week, and because he's a super-villain Dr. Wily didn't even qualify."

"No."

"This is an elaborate cover while he builds a third King, even though the last time—"

"Don't mention that name around me."

"Ummm… he's trying to collapse the economy, to start up a corporate conglomerate monopoly for all consumer gadgets?"

Bass groaned. "Please stop talking."

"He just woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning."

"No."

One of the weirdest things about all this was the complete and utter lack of Robot Masters. They got through the maze pretty quickly and found the massive arena where, under normal circumstances, Wily would attack with a massive war machine.

It was startlingly empty.

"Where is he?"

Mega Man did a double take. "You don't know?"

Gesturing for him to follow, Bass made his way deeper into the fortress. If Wily wasn't around, what was the point of trying to keep his plans secret? He guided Mega Man to one of the main control rooms, explaining the whole satellite hacking scheme along the way. Calling up Roll, Mega Man used the nearest terminal to create a network link that would allow Dr. Light to download everything he needed directly from Wily's computers.

They waited in silence, Mega Man not willing to leave until Dr. Light was good to go, and Bass unwilling to leave his rival unattended in the fortress.

"Sooooo," Mega Man said, trying to sound casual. "Did you catch the latest Revengers movie?"

"Nope." He then mumbled something about how he was supposed to, and scuffed his foot on the floor in frustration.

Weaving his fingers together, Mega Man offered a small, hopeful grin. "I haven't had a chance to see it yet, either. M-maybe after things are wrapped up here, we could go check it out…?"

It earned a derisive snort, but then Bass shrugged. "Sure, whatever. I don't care."

"Cool." Trying to hide the feeling of glee, he clapped his hands behind his head. "I wonder how they're going to resolve the whole Eternity Jewels story. It's been so hard avoiding spoilers!"

They were in the midst of debating if Atoman's screen adaption was better than the comic version when Roll called in with the all-clear.

"I'm going to go back and help Proto Man handle the zombie-bots until Dr. Light can shut off the satellite." Mega Man hesitated. "Did you want to…?"

"Nah, I gotta find out where Wily got to."

They went their separate ways, but in the middle of a surprisingly intense battle with a commercial impingement oven— able to launch projectiles from its conveyor belt with incredible speed— Mega Man received a text with a set of coordinates.

Catching his look, Proto Man nodded in understanding. "Go, I have this."

They led him to the grounds outside of Skull Fortress, where a desperate, shrieking Dr. Wily clung halfway up a tree, feet scrambling against the trunk, surrounded by three small robotic lawn mower units.

Bass stood in the distance, arms crossed, wicked grin on his face. "Hey," he said as Mega Man approached. "You don't think Dr. Light could shut down the signal to everyone except these guys, could he?"

"Maybe…"

Dr. Wily switched tactics from berating and cursing Bass to pleading with Mega Man.

"We really should help him."

Tilting his head, Bass tapped his chin and pretended to be lost in thought. "I dunno, I think he could use another half an hour up there."

Mega Man laughed. He should help Dr. Wily and take him to jail, he really should.

"…I think I'm going to let you two work this out," he said finally. "Uh, Leitersburg Cinema, 7:30?"

Glancing at him out of the corner of his eyes, Bass shrugged. "Assuming the projectors didn't go nuts, too."

"Oh, shoot!" Mega Man hid his face in his hands. "You're probably right."

But with all the attacks Wily had done over the years, most businesses had contingencies and bounced back pretty quickly. "Think they'll be up and running again by next Thursday?"

"I guess?"

"Fine. It's a date."

He knew that Bass didn't mean a date, rather that they had an agreed appointment…

…but he couldn't help wearing a stupid, goofy grin for the rest of the day.

-- -A/N: Special thanks to @s-uranet for suggestions and brainstorming.

#bassrockweek2020 #mega man fanfic #bassrock #mega man #bass/forte #blueberry #cobra chicken #my fanfic

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redwoodwrites · 4 years

Text

Bad Dreams

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13339278

A/N: This story takes place after Dipper and Mabel have returned home. They've started their own paranormal investigation club, the Haunt Hunters, and are doing pretty well...except for the occasional nightmare... A touch of angst, a hint of Billdip, and a whole lotta Mabel. Enjoy the fluff!

Dipper woke up sweating. His shoulders were shaking and those little stabby fork scars on his arms were burning. He sat up. His scalp felt like it was trying to crawl off his head.

Well. Obviously not going back to sleep tonight.

He swung his legs over the bed. Ew, so much sweat. If he showered now, he'd wake everybody up, but at least he could at least change his clothes. Maybe wipe off his face.

He got up slowly so his bed wouldn't creak. Mabel was flopped over the top bunk bed and one foot hung over the rail, covered in a bright pink heart-patterned sock that literally glowed in the dark. He avoided it carefully, grabbed a semi-clean change of clothes off the floor, and felt his way out of the room to the bathroom.

He reached the bathroom and shut the door, so the light wouldn't bother anyone. He flicked it on, wincing at the sudden glare. He had to stand with his eyes squeezed shut until they adjusted. He cracked them open, a little at a time. When his eyes stopped throbbing, he shucked off his clothes and threw them on the hamper. He put on the clean ones and then stepped to the sink to wash his face. He turned on the hot water faucet at full blast, to make it heat up faster, and glanced at himself in the mirror.

His reflection grinned horribly, and its eyes burned yellow with slitted pupils.

“HIYA, SMART GUY!”

Mabel startled so badly she nearly fell out of bed. She gripped the rail, her heart pounding, her ears ringing from the scream.

“D-Dipper?”

Dipper didn't answer.

Oh, boy. She quickly swung over the rail and dropped to the floor. Her brother was sitting up, grabbing at the blankets, doing that funny breathing thing he did when he was trying not to panic. His hair stuck out in all directions, hiding his face, but his mouth was open as he gasped for breath.

Before Mabel could move or speak, their parents ran into the room. “What happened?” their mother asked, panting. “Who screamed?”

“I just woke up,” Mabel said truthfully, stalling for time. Sometimes Dipper was too freaked to talk, which freaked out their parents, which freaked out Mabel, which freaked out Dipper. It was not a good cycle.

“Are you kid alright?” their father asked. “Mabel, what on earth are you doing out of bed? Tell me you didn't sleep walk! If you fell off the top bunk –”

“No, no, I promise, I was awake when I fell. Kidding!” she said with a laugh. “I didn't fall. Seriously, I'm okay.”

Their mother stepped closer, peering behind Mabel, who was blocking the view to Dipper's bed. “Dipper? Are you alright?”

“I'm okay.” She heard Dipper scoot back so his mom could see his face. Mabel glanced at him. He looked pale and pasty and haggard, but he was an internet addict so that was a typical look for him. At least he wasn't breathing funny anymore. “I just had a nightmare," he said. "Sorry I woke you.”

“Some nightmare,” said their father. “You want a glass of water?”

“No, no, I'm fine.”

Their mother insisted on tucking them both back in and fussed over Dipper's blankets until she'd practically cocooned him.

“Aw, look at him!” Mabel squealed. “He's gonna metamorphose into a beautiful nerd!”

“Well, he's got the 'nerd' part down,” their father grumbled, and he grinned and ruffled their hair.

Finally their parents were gone. Mabel waited a little while before she poked her head down over the railing.

“So,” she said, and he knew what she meant.

“I'm really okay,” Dipper said, keeping his eyes closed. “Honest.”

“I hate when that happens,” Mabel said conversationally. “Like, you know you're okay but your brain insists on making horror movies in your sleep. You can't even eat popcorn to make it a worthwhile experience!”

“I didn't know nightmares could be a – you have nightmares?”

“Oh sure! Mostly about Waddles getting turned into Bacon Bits, or accidentally pressing the red button so Grunkle Ford never comes back, or that Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford get killed at sea and we never hear from them again and we spend the rest of our lives searching forever and never find them until we die.”

“I feel like that got progressively worse.”

Mabel shrugged, which, since she was hanging upside down, meant moving her shoulders up towards the ceiling and then back again, like an opposite-shrug. “You wanna know what I do when I get a nightmare?”

He cracked open one eye. “Eat ice cream?”

“Nope!”

“Eat ice cream with popcorn?”

“Nope!”

“Throw literally everything in the fridge into the blender and make the worst possible version of Mabel Juice ever?”

“No, but now I definitely want to try that tomorrow. No, what I do is think of a real thing that really happened, something just as good as the nightmare was bad, and I focus on that.”

“What do you do for a Grunkles-Lost-Forever dream?”

She paused. Dipper's nightmare must've been really bad. What would cheer up a nerd?

“I think, if I were you...I'd remember that one time you found an alien saucer with Grunkle Ford. You did say it was, and I quote, 'the best day of your life.'”

“Ah, yes, the day I accidentally pushed you into accidentally starting Weirdmaggedon.”

“Work with me here, Dip-Dop. Before that you know you were having a great time. Actually...” She pulled herself back up and climbed down the ladder. All that hanging upside down was starting to give her a Grenda-sized headrush. She scooted onto Dipper's bed and sat cross-legged at the foot of it. “You never did tell me what happened. You wanna tell me now?”

He picked his head up and looked at her for a minute. “I really am okay,” he said.

“If you don't tell me, I will tickle you,” she said, raising a finger threateningly and touching his big toe through the blankets.

“Mabel, I'm tired. I just want to –”

“SO BE IT!”

He squealed with laughter as she grabbed his feet and started tickling with all her Mabel powers. He was so tightly wrapped up he couldn't even fight back. And when it looked like he was about to get his arms free, she body-slammed him and started tickling his neck.

“Mabel, Mabel, stop!” he gasped, laughing so hard tears rolled down his cheeks. “Seriously! I'm gonna pee!”

She sat up, grinning from ear to ear. “Alright, Count Dorkulus, story time! Stor-y time! Stor-y time!”

“You are the worst,” he said, but he was still laughing as he sat up. He told the story, starting with how Ford blew up his face every morning to get rid of five o' clock shadow all the way through staring down a big alien security droid with a rail gun the size of a Maserati.

“Wow, Dipper, that sounds amazing,” Mabel said admiringly. “You're like a hero from a science fiction movie!”

“Yeah, well...” He grinned and rubbed the back of his neck. “It was really cool, that's for sure. I wish we could have more adventures like that, but I guess not every place is as weird as Gravity Falls.”

“I dunno, bro, with you here I think we give the Falls some decent competition.”

He threw a pillow at her.

“And we did just fight off a buttload of gremlins at school,” Mabel said. “Who knows what other wild stuff the Haunt Hunters will face? I bet we'll get world-famous and have to travel to all the weirdest, most haunted places in the world!”

“Yeah! Like that forest in the Rockies with all the Bigfoot sightings! Or that one house in Colorado with the baby hands on the window!”

“Oooh! I bet the Hand Witch would love it there!”

They talked and planned until it started getting light outside. Luckily it was the weekend, so they knew they'd get to sleep in. Mabel was too tired to climb back to her own bed. She crawled up next to Dipper and stole the top blanket. The fell asleep facing each other, their foreheads just touching, their faces gilded with the soft gold of the rising sun.

A/N: So I know the whole “bad dreams” idea has been done to death, but the idea WOULD NOT leave me alone until I put it down on paper. Digitally, anyway. MENTAL SYSTEM PURGED! Also, for more Dipper and Mabel after the Falls, please check out my work “Haunt Hunters,” where the twins have started the Haunt Hunters club and investigate paranormal events.

#gravity falls #dipper pines #mabel pines #bad dreams #nightmares #angst #comfort #after the falls #bipper

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ravynnwritestrash · 5 years

Text

I Know You

This is part two for I Know Who You Are so if you haven’t read that I recommend you start there first.

I Know Who You Are(p.1)

Summary- This is just Civil War, my guys.

Warnings- angst, fluff, swearing, angst again cuz that’s basically all this is.

A/N: I know this took a while to get out but I just wasn’t in the right headspace to write all of this sweet sweet angst. I’ve decided to make this four parts. Part one- CAWS (you knew that), Part two- CACW (You also knew that), Part three- Infinity War, and part four- End Game (which I’m sure you guessed already). I will have a tag list for this so if you want to be tagged let me know. We also have a tag list for people who want to be tagged in all of our fics so let us know if you want on that.

Lagos-

“Standard beat cops. Small station. Quiet street. It’s a good target.” Wanda’s voice was calm and quiet through my earpiece. I sat not far from her, just close enough where I could see her.

“There’s an ATM on the south corner, which means?” Steve asked

“Cameras.”

“Both cross streets are one-way.”

“So compromised escape route.”

“Means our guy doesn’t care about being seen. He isn’t afraid to make a mess on the way out. You see that Range Rover halfway up the block?”

“The red one? It’s cute.” I let out a small laugh at her remark careful not to draw any attention to myself.

“It’s also bulletproof,” Nat spoke up.

“Meaning private security.” I finished for her.

“Which means more guns,” Nat added with a little extra sass than she had before. “Which means more headaches for somebody. Probably us.”

“When is it not our headache?” I sarcastically added picking at the napkin in front of me.

“Eyes on target, folks.” Steve interrupted keeping us on track. “This is the best lead we’ve had on Rumlow in six months. I don’t want to lose him.” Sam laughed at him through the comms.

“If he sees us coming, that won’t be a problem. He kinda hates us” he added.

“Sam, you see that garbage truck? Tag it.”

“That trucks loaded for max weight and the drivers armed.” my heart rate quickened as I got ready for the fight ahead of us.

“It’s a battering ram,” Nat said.

“Go now!” Steve slipped into his captain voice instantly and the rest of the conversation slipped from my mind as I stood and casually made my way around the corner from the cafe. Hopping on to my motorcycle and waiting for Nat to make her way around the corner as well. When I heard her coming I started up the bike.

“You going my way,” she asked into the comms as she passed me. I let out a small laugh before driving off after her.

“Only if you can keep up,” I joked as I pulled passed her, both of us racing in the direction of the gunfire. I leapt from my bike shortly after Nat throwing punches at the first guard I saw, trying to make my way towards Rumlow.

“I got him!” Nat yelled to me and I focused on keeping the rest of the guards off of her while she fought Rumlow. The vehicle behind me exploded distracting me long enough to get knocked down by one of the guards. My vision went black as my head bounced off the pavement and for a second I was falling from the helicarrier again. Falling from Bucky. Bucky. My vision flooded with white as I opened my eyes just in time to roll away from the kick one of the guards was about to hit me with. I quickly jumped up and slammed his head into the vehicle effectively knocking him out. Jumping on our bikes me and Natasha raced in the direction that Sam was flying.

“I got four their splitting up!” Sam said into the comms.

“I got the two on the left. (Y/N), keep civilians out of harm,” Nat said.

“ On it.” I started ushering people away from the scene. It became increasingly more difficult as the gunfire started. People were scattered everywhere and I moved to keep them away from the individual fights. I spotted Steve and ran over to where he was fighting Rumlow.

“Whos your buyer?” I heard him ask.

“You know he knew you?” Rumlow asked before glancing over at me and back at Steve. “ Your pal, your buddy, your Bucky.” he spit out. I wanted to punch him for saying his name.

“What did you say?” Steve asked dragging Rumlow closer to him.

“He remembered you. I was there. He got all weepy about it. Till they put his brain back in a blender. He wanted you to know something. He said to me.”My heart was racing in my chest and I felt like I was going to throw up. I wanted to go to Steve but I couldn’t force myself to move. I wanted to shut Rumlow up but I needed to hear what he had to say. I needed to. “‘Please tell Rogers. When you gotta go you gotta go.’…and you’re coming with me.” he glanced back at me with a wicked look in his eyes. “ You and your girlfriend. ” before either of us could make a move he pushed the trigger and begun to explode. It felt like time slowed down and my heart stopped until Rumlow let out a scream. I realized Wanda was containing the explosion. Relief flooded through me and Wanda threw him into the air. I wanted to cry in relief. Steve was okay. Thank god Steve was okay. My relief was cut short as Rumlow exploded my gaze lifting up to where he was. Horror flooding through me as the explosion envelops part of the building.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

“Nat, I can’t sign them,” I said after Steve had left.

“Maybe it’s the right thing to do.” We were both staring out into the city from the window in the compound. “Maybe it’s something we all have to do. To stay together. You know that’s all Tony wants right.” I glanced back at Tony who had returned to his chair and then around the room before sighing.

“You heard the way Ross talked about us. We’re not going to be working for the U.N. We are going to be their weapons. I know why Tony wants this. I really do. I just… I just can’t back this one.” she let out a sigh as she took in my words.

“So, you’re retired then?”

“I mean. I am one hundred years old. I think it’s about time.” I joked with her masking the sadness in my voice.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

The news was filled with reports of the Winter Soldiers attack on the U.N. I quickly pulled up my hood and made my way towards the building, keeping an eye out for Sam or Steve. If they were going to do something stupid, which they definitely were, then I was coming with them. I spotted Sam sitting in a crowded cafe and made my way towards him.

“Sam,” I greeted finding him sitting at the counter and I sat next to him.

“Oh no! I am not getting involved in whatever fight is going to happen between you and Steve.”

“Sam! Look, I need to be there. I need to come with. I can’t just sit around being.. Retired.” he let out a small laugh at my words. “Besides, you two idiots couldn’t last a day without me.” Sam faked offense before bumping shoulders with me. I was thankful for Sam. He was loyal to Steve and I had grown to trust him with my life. More than that I had grown to trust him with Steves. Not that I would ever tell Sam this but I was glad he was our friend.

“Fine. Fine, you have my vote.” I shook my head at him and stole his coffee.

“Thanks, Sam.”

“Don’t make me take that vote back.”

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

“I can’t believe I’m letting you do this” Steve said to me as we snuck into Bucky’s apartment building.

“I can’t believe you think you could stop me.”

“Just watch the stairs, please.”

“You got it.” I gave him a soft nod enough so he knows that I’m okay. Enough so he knows that I have his back and I trust him with whatever he is about to do.

Everything was quiet as I stood in the corner of the stairs, hoping that anyone who might see me would think that I was waiting for someone.

“They’ve set the perimeter” Sams voice came through the comms. My heart started to pound as they started to make their way up the stairs.

“Fuck it.” I grumbled and silently dashed up the stairs to where I knew Steve was. To where Bucky was. I opened the door as quietly as possible and shut it behind me. My eyes focusing on Bucky before I tore them away. ”Steve,” I spoke causing both men to turn to me.

“I told you to wait,” he growled.

“Yeah, well you didn’t say for how long and it was either here or draw a lot of attention.” my eyes flicked back to Bucky before I spoke again. “We’re out of time. We have to go.” the words had barely left my mouth when we were under attack. Quickly the three of us began taking down German police. Someone started to shoot and Bucky pulled me behind him using his arm to shield us from the bullets, only for Steve to step in front of him a moment later guarding the three of us with his shield. I followed bucky out the door helping him taking down anyone who was trying to stop us. Bucky made a jump for the window barely making it to the opposite rooftop only to be taken down by a man in a black suit. “Steve, opposite roof.” was all the warning I gave before taking a running jump for it. My chest slammed into the edge of the wall and I pulled myself up the rest of the way thanking the gods for kevlar. I ran to where Bucky and the stranger were fighting and quickly tackled the man away from him, only for him to throw me off and make a b-line back towards him. Bucky made a run for it making his way down the building the man not far behind him as I got up and followed shortly behind this time with Steve directly behind me. We made our way to an underpass my sole focus on keeping Bucky alive.

“(y/n), stay on Bucky. I have an idea.”

“On it, Cap” I didn’t need to be told twice I pushed myself a little more to slightly close the gap between us and ran where ever he did. Just when we had made our way out of the underpass Bucky pushed a man from his motorcycle spinning it in the air and climbing on. Damn. I shook my head of the image and spoke “He’s on a motorcycle heading your way. Mind giving me a lift?” I asked no one in particular.

“On my way” Sam spoke. I didn’t have to wait long before Falcon scooped me up carrying me towards the fight. “Where too, sweetheart.” he joked.

“Call me sweetheart again and I’m breaking your wings.” I sassed back. Just when we were caught up the roof caved above us causing sam to involuntarily drop me and I rolled across the pavement. I quickly got up and ran to where Steve was only to quickly be surrounded by cops… and Rhodey.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

I stood next to Steve watching Bucky getting his evaluation. Anxiety filling my chest. Tony walked past me with a question in his eyes he already knew the answer to and I shook my head. I let the conversation Steve was having flow to the background as I focused on the screen. Suddenly everything went black. I quickly turned to Steve the small amount of fear in his eyes telling me everything I needed to know. He grabbed my arm and took off running keeping me close behind him. After a while, he let go and I followed behind Sam. the first thing I noticed is the cage, for lack of a better word, that they were keeping bucky in was empty. Steve ran into the room.

Sam had barely entered the room when Bucky took a swing at him. At first, I thought it was a mistake. It had to be right?. Once the fight drug on I knew it was no longer Bucky. Sam was thrown against the cage and Steve focused his attention on Bucky. I quickly made my way to where Sam had landed to make sure he was alright. When I moved to check his pulse and he let out a grown.

“I’m starting to hate that guy.” I didn’t have time to focus on what he was saying my eyes snapped up to Steve and Bucky in time to see Steve thrown down an elevator shaft. I followed Sam through the sea of people being evacuated cursing when we found the abandoned sweater of the doctor who had been in charge of evaluating Bucky.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

“Hey guys, your boys up,” Sam spoke breaking the silence. Steve and I quickly made our way to where Bucky was.

“Steve?” Bucky spoke and I had to fight to keep my feet where they were.

“Which Bucky am I talking to?”

“Your mom’s name was Sarah. You used to were newspapers in your shoes “ he let out a soft laugh and I couldnt help the smile that grew on my face as I looked to Steve.

“That’s not in a museum is it, Stevie?” Steve rolled his eyes at me jokingly

“I told you not to call me Stevie.” He joked back causing Sam and me to let out small laughs. Steve didn’t let the moment last too long before he was asking questions. Questions about the doctor and what he wanted. I allowed myself to slide down the wall so I was sitting on the floor as Bucky told his story. I listened, of course, but for most of it, I was trying not to slip back down my own memory lane.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Bucky and I sat in the back of an old bug with Sam in the front.

“Can you move your seat up?” Bucky spoke.

“No.” I rolled my eyes at sams tone and place my feet on the back of the seat ‘accidentally” kicking him.

“Whoops” I joked as I looked out the side window.

“I’m not doing it.”

“I just said whoops.” I could practically hear Sam rolling his eyes and he was true to his word he didn’t move his seat up but I was able to get a small smile from Bucky so I counted it as a win. Moving my feet back down to the floor I leaned forward, “Is he actually going to get our stuff or is he just going to flirt?” I joked. Sam let out a soft laugh before responding.

“Give the man a break. He needs a little love.” Sam joked back.

“All I’m saying is while we are all wanted it might not be the time.”

“Or it’s the best time.” the car fell silent for a moment. Until Steve and Sharon began to kiss. Causing Me and Sam to laugh. “Told you so. Best. time.” I rolled my eyes going back to my seat. With a small laugh. I risked a glance over to Bucky smiled giving him a light shrug trying to hold back the heat rising to my cheeks when he smiled back. I looked away in time to see Steve pulling away from Sharon. Once he glanced towards I could tell by the look on his face we were all giving him the same look.

“So, I have a question,” Sam said turning slightly to face me while grinning.

“I’m not kissing you.” I sassed.

“That wasn’t it.”

“Bucky’s not going to kiss you either.”

“No. Does kissing Captain America-”

“Oh god” I groaned trying to hold back a laugh.

“Count as service to our country.”

“Please stop talking.” I laughed.

“Because I mean she served him… some tongue” he added through laughter and I let my head hit the window of the car as I groaned at his joke.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

I was running behind Sam and Bucky. I just had to get bucky out safe. Bucky out safe and then protect Steve… from our friends.

“What the hell is that?” Buckys voice broke me from my concentration.

“Everybodys gotta have a gimmick.” the man in the red and blue suit quickly threw Sam to the side before moving to Bucky. I stopped dead in my tracks when he easily stopped one of Bucky hits.

“Wow, cool you have a metal arm?” before I could process the voice sam flew back around taking the kid with him.

“I’m sorry. Stark brought a child?” I asked partially into my comms and partially to no one.

“Apparently he’s called Spiderman,” Steve answered.

I leaned over the rails look at the two men currently webbed to the ground trying to hold back my laughter.

“Don’t even start. Just get me out.” Sam barked at me. I ran down the stairs cutting Bucky free and then moving over to Sam.

“For the record, I didn’t say anything.”

“Well, you didn’t help much either.” I rolled my eyes and flipped him off before we started in the direction fo the Quinjet. We wall stood in a line looking across at our friends. I looked over to Steve as Sam spoke.

“What are we doing cap?”

“We fight”

After throwing a few punches with Nat I made my way over to Bucky and Steve in time to see Antman turning huge. The three of us mad our way to the qinjet barely making passed falling rubble. Once inside we were stopped in our tracks by Nat.

“You’re not going to stop” she spoke

“You know I can’t”

“I’m going to regret this.” Instantly I put up my guards for a fight only for her to hit T’challa. Quickly the three of us ran to the quinjet leaving Nat behind to fight off T’challa.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

I thought my heart was going to pound out of my chest as we watched the video. The video of Tony’s parents getting killed by the Winter Soldier. A tear fell down my cheek. I couldnt imagine what Tony was going through right now. I placed myself between tony and bucky hoping it wouldn’t come to this. It all happened so fast after Tony hit Steve. I placed a kick behind his knee and he took me down with him.

“You’re going to fight for him? For a monster?” Tony asked holding me to the ground. “I saw you like family. “ his voice was broken as he spoke his mask coming down over his face. “I loved you like you were my own child.” He spoke through his mask. I kicked against his chest pushing him off of me and he instantly turned to Bucky and they began to fight. No matter what we said to him Tony couldn’t see past his grief. Not that I could blame him. I wished he could but I saw all of the reasons why he couldn’t. Reliving the pain of your parents passing had to be a new kind of suffering. Learning that everything you thought you knew about their death was a lie. Learning that a man you considered a friend knew all along an never said a word. I knew why Tony had to fight. I just hoped when the dust settled that he would see why we had to as well. The building began to crumble around us as we fought. Each punch to Tony broke my heart, he was like a father to me, but I couldnt let him kill Bucky not when I was so close to getting him back.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

On the way to Wakanda Bucky and I caught up, in a I’ll talk to you later kinda way. With stories, half finished and half-truths that the other caught but doesn’t say anything. I knew what was going to happen when we got to Wakanda. I understood why he needed to do it so I held back my tears and replaced them with cheese jokes I knew would get a smile. A smile I wanted to memorize. Once there Steve left us on the jet for a moment alone.

“This is what’s best,” he spoke after a moment of silence.

“I know, Buck.” I kept my gaze focused on my hands. Slowly I watched his feet come into view as if he was unsure of what he was going to do one he reached me. His hand found its way under my shin and he lifted my gaze so that our eyes would meet. I wanted to apologize. Apologize for the sadness I knew he saw there. I watched him fight for the right words to say for a moment before speaking.

“This won’t be the last time you’re seeing me, doll.” I wasn’t sure if he used the old nickname for my benefit or because it felt right but I was thankful that he did it. I gave him a soft smile and felt my cheeks flush slightly under his gaze.

“We’ve met under less likely circumstances already.” I joked. He just nodded in response. He leaned in and placed a soft fleeting kiss on my lips before turning and leaving in the direction that Steve went. As I watched him walk away I gently placed my fingers on my lips as if trying to convince myself that it truly happened and let myself cry.

tag list-

@avengemepercy

#buck #bucky x reader #bucky barns #bucky barns x reader #bucky barnes xyou #steve rogers #avengers #winter solider #angst

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spunky-89 · 6 years

Text

Fetching the Fox...

A/N: So sorry it took me so long to publish the second part. I didn’t realize I didn’t publish it. Oh well, here it is anyways.

[Part 1]

Word Count: 1,227

Warnings: None, some minor cursing maybe

When you awoke you were not expecting to still be on the couch with an ever-moving ten year old still resting on your lap. You didn’t mind though. He was a sweetheart once you broke past his many barriers. You’d made it your goal since meeting him to ensure you gave him the best childhood you could.

Damian and Dick were conversing quietly, yet Dami made no move as to get up from his position. When you started moving Damian went still, trying not to jostle too much while talking to Dick and wake you.

“You both are much louder than you think you are.” You say as you start opening your eyes.

“Sorry (Y/N).” Both boys echoed.

“Mhmm, whattime is it?” You mumbled, still not fully awake.

“Just past nine,” Damian replied. You sat up and yawned as you looked around the trashed living room.

“I guess we best get cleaning.” You sigh shaking your head.

“I am sorry for the trouble I have caused (Y/N).” Damian apologized.

Both you and Dick looked shocked at the youngest Wayne. He never apologized and when he did it was a simple ‘sorry’.

“It-it’s fine Dami. This isn’t the first time this has happened.” You assured him.

“Yeah, that damn tyrant of a cat you once fostered was literally the devil.” Dick agreed.

“Lucy was a sweetheart.” You argued.

“Not the word I would use to describe her.” He grumbled.

“Well, that is beside the point. I am going to shower, you can make breakfast while I do so, then we can conquer this mess.” You said getting up off the couch and heading to your bedroom to take a shower.

When you got out you smiled when you smelt the ever so recognizable smell of Bacon. You quickly threw on some lazy clothes consisting of gym shorts and a tank top. You mosied into the kitchen to see the two boys working on making breakfast. Dick was at the waffle maker and Damian was flipping the Bacon. It was sweet to see them be so domestic with how difficult their lives were. You also knew how much this kind of thing meant to Dick. He always wanted to give so much to his family, and now being able to have them come over and be away from everything was a nice change.

“Smells good boys.” You said smiling, ruffling Damian’s hair and kissing Dick on the cheek as you passed.

“Fetch has been fed but I figure we’ll keep him in his room until there’s a little less stuff on the floor for him to eat.” Dick said.

“Sounds good to me.” You said as you grabbed the juices and fruit from the fridge to make yourself a smoothie. It was Saturday and that was smoothie day for you. Though it was a little cramped in your tiny kitchen you made it work with the three of you.

“You want a smoothie Dami?” You asked as you cut the fruits and started putting them in the blender.

“What kind?” he asked skeptically.

“It’s called a sunset smoothie, or is it sunrise? I don’t know… it’s pineapple, strawberry, mango, and oranges.” You explained. You got one once at Tropical Smoothie when your mom was in the hospital and fell in love with it, even though you didn’t like most of the fruit in it.

“I would like to try that.” He decided.

“Oki doki.” You smiled as you grabbed some extra fruit to make a second smoothie.

Ten minutes later you were all sat at your kitchenette table to have breakfast. It was filled with Damian telling you stories about his school week and how he was doing in training. Everyone was laughing and having a good time. It was the most you’d seen Damian smile in the three months since you’d met him.

“Alright, if you two want to get started on the various rooms with small messes I’ll clean up the breakfast mess then we can conquer the living room together.” You stated. “Yes ma’am.” Dick said smiling as he gave you a quick kiss before getting to work, it would have been longer had Damian not been making gagging noises in the background.

It took you most of the day but your house was back to working order and the irreparable things had been disposed of. Damian enjoyed some more time playing with Fetch before your coworker came to take him to the vet for a few more procedures. By the time everything was done with it was almost dinner so you suggested a double sleepover as long as Damian promised to do his homework first thing tomorrow morning. He smiled and readily agreed.

You smiled from your spot in the kitchen as the boys bickered over what movie to put in. In the meantime, you were taking the homemade pizzas out of the oven. It was something of a family tradition to make pizza for Saturday night movie nights.

“If you boys don’t stop arguing I’ll choose and you can both hush up and deal with what I choose.” You threatened.

“Well what do you suggest (Y/N/N)?” Dick asked.

“What are the options?” You fired back. “I was thinking of action movies he hasn’t seen yet but each one I suggest he says will be stupid.” Dick sighs.

“Because they will be.” Damian firmly states.

“Bourne movies.” I say plainly. “Oh my gosh yes! How did I not think of those.” Dick sighed shaking his head.

“That’s why I’m the brains of this paring darling.” You tease blowing him a kiss when he gives you a glare.

“What are these movies about?” Damian asked skeptically.

“There are four movies, well five if you count the off shute one but no one really does. The last one is the worst in my humble opinion but they’re good I promise.” You assure the young boy.

“If you think so.” Damian agrees as Dick fishes out the movies from your seemingly endless action movie supply. Dick quickly pops in the first one while you dish out a few slices on a few plates and plop in the middle of the two boys.

Damian fell asleep cuddled into you three-quarters of the way through the second movie and you sigh, sinking further into Dick’s embrace as you run your fingers through Damian’s hair.

“I never got to ask you how the mission went.” You murmured. “It’s fine, you were a bit preoccupied.” Dick chuckled, “It went okay. It was successful so that’s all that really matters.” he answered.

“Well, I guess that’s good.” You say as the credits roll and Dick stealthily moved Damian to the guest bedroom.

You cleaned up the plates and turned off the TV and headed into your bedroom, curling up on the bed while you waited for Dick to come in after checking over the locks and such. He came in only a few minutes later and crawled in next to you. You cuddled into him and smiled with a sigh.

“How are you? I could tell yesterday was pretty rough.”

“Today was a better day and that’s what matters.” You said smiling at your loving boyfriend. He gave you his brilliant white smile and pecked your forehead before he leaned to shut off the light and you two fell into a peaceful rest.

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson one shot #dick grayson #oneshot #Damian Wayne #damian wayne x reader #nightwing x reader #nightwing #robin

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anyways-wonderwall · 3 years

Text

Album of the week #1

Dream Chapter: Eternity

(2020)

By Tomorrow x Together

Overall rating: 6/10

TL;DR: this album is meh but has the greatest song ever recorded, “Fairy of Shampoo”.

So the first album (well, mini album) of the week is kpop because I recently got back into listening to it and wanted to choose a random album I’d never listened to before. I asked my friend who is deep in kpop hell for a recommendation and this is what she threw at me, which honestly was a great pick on her part.

So for the album of the week, I’m gonna just go over each song one by one, then a full summary. But first, I’ll go over my general thoughts because I’m sure you don’t want to read hundreds of words.

General Thoughts:

Honestly pretty good. This is the first 4th gen Kpop album I’ve ever listened to and was kind of worried it would suck. I’ve been listening to kpop since 2015 off and on, and the last break I took was because all the new music that was coming out just sounded like American pop to me. That doesn’t mean it just got bad, it just became something I didn’t want to listen to.

Maybe I was just listening to the wrong groups because this album didn’t feel like that for me. I don’t think any of the songs were super unique, but each was different from the other, making an album that didn’t blur together. The fact that I won’t mix them up after only knowing them a week shows that this has a pretty nice variety.

That being said, the album wasn’t super unique. All of the songs were good, but something I could see any other kpop group doing. Maybe I don’t know TXT enough, I don’t know. Oh and one more point that is more directed at the entire kpop industry: why is falsetto the only way to sing? You guys are employing some of the greatest singers on earth and you’re really only letting them sing soprano. If that would change I would listen to only kpop til the day I die.

Song Breakdown:

1. Drama

THIS is how you start an album. It hooks you in right away with strong chords and sets a tone for the whole album that quickly changes and keeps you guessing. It’s kind of obvious how much I love the art of putting together an album, given that I’m only reviewing those, but this group does it well. Definitely one of my favorite album openings.

That aside the song isn’t my favorite, but it’s pretty dang good. It gives me a summer road trip to the beach vibes, and I really want to blare this on my car stereo with my friends. The chorus annoys me just enough that I’m on the fence about putting it on any of my playlists though. I think this is one of those songs that if I listen to it over and over I’d probably love it, but as of right now I just like it and will vibe to it on occasion.

Also, doing a Japanese comeback with a Haikyuu themed video? Very bold. They definitely knew what they were doing

2. Can’t You See Me?

Okay this is definitely a song that doesn’t match up remotely with the music video, something Bighit just loves doing. I’m not even going to remotely think about the greater storyline with these because I’ve already wasted enough of my life on kpop.

But onto the song, I don’t like this one much at all. It’s definitely not unlistenable and I get while people like it, I just really don’t. I know it’s hard to believe, but I actually don’t like much pop music at all, and this would fall into the not-good category.

It’s just a bit too computerized, and when you mix that kind of background music with auto tune I instantly lose interest. Plus there’s no real instruments in this one :/.

3. Fairy of Shampoo

Hey so do you ever want to take a song, put it in a blender, then inject it into your veins and become it? That’s what this song is for me. It’s not even an ear-worm at this point, it has become part of my brain and plays during any time I’m not talking. It’s hands down my favorite out of the album and one of my favorite kpop songs ever. I could gush about this song for 50 years but I’ll keep is short.

So apparently this song is a cover of a pretty famous disco kinda song from the 90s. I expected to like the original more but TXT’s version sounds better than any other one I’ve heard. The driving baseline makes me move to the song every time and every part of the song is ethereal, down to the fantastic choreography.

God and the chord progression?? It itches a scratch in my brain I didn’t know I had. When it shifts down to the G and the trumpet comes in I’m gone. Seriously you are doing yourself a disservice not listening to this song, it’s a solid 50/10.

4. Maze in the Mirror

So you know how I was saying that while each song was unique the album wasn’t? This song is what I mean. It’s very safe in everything that it does, to the point it is forgettable. I can only remember what it sounds like just after listening to it, and it falls very much into the forgettable middle part of an album.

While I don’t like it as it is I think this song would sound incredible unplugged and live. I think if it’s just them and an acoustic guitar, no editing on the voices, I would love this song. The overdubbing smooths over any character this song would have, and leaves it pretty meh.

5. PUMA

So when my friend recommended this album to me she said “don’t bother listening to Puma, it’s not good” and she’s right. Some people must like it because the music video 27M views, heck even the fact that there is a music video shows they thought it would be popular.

The song seems to meander without any purpose, and it borders on annoying for me. It’s just basic kpop to me with nothing fun added, and I was pretty bored listening to it. I thought Yeonjun’s rap would save this for me but it totally didn’t, it just made me sigh even more.

I don’t throw the word hate around often with songs, and I don’t think this really deserves it. It’s just unlistenable for me to the point I really dislike it. (But hey if you like this song more power to you, wish I could be you).

6. Eternally

Hey, another music video that makes no sense! It’s honestly in the short film category with how long it is, and I have to give them credit for making something super aesthetically pleasing that makes zero sense. But onto the song.

Drama was the perfect way to start this album and this was the perfect way to end it. Just as ethereal as the rest, with the coolest shift I’ve ever heard. The two parts of the song sound so so different from each other but somehow seamlessly shift from one part to another. The beginning sounded like any other BTS song to me but the shift made this song incredible. This is my second favorite on the album, only because Fairy of Shampoo is untouchable.

Final Verdict:

So the final verdict for the album of the week is whether I buy it and put it on my phone. Usually, I buy physical albums, since I’m super bad with technology and am paranoid I’ll lose my iTunes, but kpop makes that tricky. An album comes with so many bells and whistles that it costs an insane amount. This mini-album only has six songs but costs like $20, yikes.

On iTunes it only costs $6 though, so will I buy it? I’m still on the fence, but leaning towards yes. I think I might just buy the three songs I like because the other ones would just be skipped anyway.

#album of the week #album 1 #txt #tomorrow x together #album review #music review #music recommendation

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hazbinextgeneration · 3 years

Text

After the Battle

A hospital.

Well it wouldn't have been the first time he had woken up in one and certainly wouldn't have been the last he was sure of it. The pain in his body made flashes of pained white flash across his face as if to match the white walls of the hospitals walls and ceiling, and everything else. White everywhere. And it smelt like too much cleaning supplies and lemon. That didn't compare to the sounds. The sounds of hospital staff running around his room, and the heart monitor keeping track of his heart rate to his left were the sounds filling his sore head for the longest time after he woke up. It took him quite a while to fully wake and let his scrambled brain figure out where he was, but he eventually did. Probablly from whatever strong painkillers the doctors had him on. Speaking of doctors, one came in and checked him over sometime later but he didn't remember it much as it was a blur of her saying hello and checking him over quickly before leaving to help the over flowing hospital after deducing he was completely fine besides his healing wounds. Which left him in the state he was now. Calmly laying back against the bed, body sore, and eyes closed meditating away the hours to try and distract himself from the pain in his body since the painkillers wore off somewhat. His middle was completely banaged and most of the pain came from there. He couldn't remember much of the long battle, but he guessed something happened there before or after he blacked out. But from what he was told, he was far better off than some of his comrades which didn't help his worries but he couldn't do anything now but wa-

"MISS!! MISS STOP!! YOU CAN'T GO IN THERE!! NO ONE WITHOUT A LISCENSE OR CLEARANCE IS ALLOWED BACK HERE!!," came a woman's voice most likely a nurse. Which made him open his eyes in confusion to the door slowly. He still had a pounding headache. "SECURITY!! SOMEONE CALL SECURITY!! MA'AM COME BACK PLEASE!! YOU'RE NOT ALLOWED BACK HERE!! YOU'LL GET IN BIG TROUBLE!!"

"FUCK OFF!!," came a louder lady's voice.

Well he immediately tilted his head up at that voice. .....Whelp! This made sense now. His head winced in new pain as someone kicked the door open and made it hit the opposite wall with a slam and loud noise rattling the room. Whoever it was rushed over to him, grabbed him by his arm in a gently but firm grip, and a woman's concerned red eyed teared face is what met him-

"HOW COULD YOU LET YOURSELF GET HURT YOU DUMMY!?,'' she yelled at him and he winced again.

"N-Nice to see you again, Chikara." He spoke out calmly and reached a hand up to rub his sore head. "P-Please not so loud. My head is killing me."

"Sir!" A nurse panting in the doorway stopped and looked over the two. "Im so sorry. We tried stopping her but she literally tossed our security out of her rampage."

He waved a hand to her. "It's alright. I know her. She's allowed to be here with me."

The nurse still didn't look convinced- "I didn't even know you left until I saw you get tossed around like a ragdoll on TV!!," she shouted, "Do you know how much I wanted to come down there and knock some sense around in your guys' heads!?"

He calmly nodded head still throbbing. He learnt early on it was just easier to let Chikara to let all her anger out in a rant and let her talk for her to let her emotions out. Even at the expense of his own head. "Yes. I understand you must've been very scared along with lots of others. It wasn't the first time I was in a big battle and I assure you it won't be my last."

"OHHOHO!! It sure as HELL will be once I get done with you." Her eyes widened seeing his middle. "WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED?!"

"Oh." He glanced at his own body for a moment. "I had to go into surgery for something and I believe I broke a few ribs, but the doctors assure me I'll be fine within a few months."

"Fine!? FINE!?" She threw her arms at him. "You look like you went through a blender!! You got tossed around more like a salad!! And I-......I THOUGHT YOU MIGHT'VE DIED!!"

He blinked at her for a moment. "I-"

"NO!! SHUT UP!! I KNOW 'IT'S A HERO'S DUTY'!! DOESN'T MEAN ITS NOT LESS SCARY FOR US!! You.....You...." She flinched. Something soft cupping her cheek and it took her a moment to realize he was sorely, and shakily cupping her cheek with his hand. A calm smile on his face.

"I know. And Im s-so sorry."

Her body froze for a long moment standing there, before tears gathered in her eyes and her own hands raced up to grab onto his to hold it there with a choke. The first few near tears racing down her face as her stronger grip steadied his shaking grip as she pushed her cheek into the palm.

"Jerks!! Assholes! *hic* The lot of them all! Should rot in fucking Tartarus!"

"Shh. I know. I know. Im so sorry."

She shook her head. "N-No. Don't apologize. Not your fault this happened."

"And it's not your fault I didn't tell you. I'm sorry." He sat there in silence letting her get all her emotions out of the system with her holding onto him crying and hiccuping into the soft palm of his hand. "....I love you."

"I l-love you two..ya dummy."

Request for @palettepainter

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trianglegoddess · 7 years

Text

Files

Bucky made Steve feral, Tony realized. The thought had come to him when he had been tweaking his glove, maybe adding some new upgrades to it, he hadn't decided. His whole suit was busted to hell because of those two geezers, and while he resented then for it, he was just to tired to actually be angry. What was Bucky's connection to Steve? Childhood friends and brothers in arms? But there's gotta be something more. Maybe Steve and Bucky were in the closet. Who knew. Tony sighed and threw his screwdriver down. He couldn't even focus on the one thing he was actually able to focus on ninety percent of the time. Bucky was a murderer, why was Steve standing up for him so fiercely? And why hadn't he told Tony any if this? Yeah, Steve said he was just protecting himself, bit that couldn't have been the only reason, right? "Friday," he said, "pull up everything SHIELD had on Bucky Barnes." It was in his face in seconds. Files upon files upon files. He sifted through them, humming some old Black Sabbath song to himself. Before the war he was an outstanding guy, loved by all the ladies. During the war, he was a part of the Howling Commandos before going MIA. That's when the name Winter Soldier popped up. Tony narrowed his eyes. Whatever happened to him, this was it. He opened it up, and the very first thing he saw was a picture of Bucky. It was an old black and white thing, and Bucky was looking pale. His eyes were squeezed shut and his hair was short, and his jaw was clenched. His left arm was missing, just above the elbow. There were gloved hands holding him down. He read. "Subject: James Barnes is to be fitted with new prosthesis arm. Will undergo experimental memory wipe." He flicked the picture over, this time finding a video. It was grainy, but it was better than nothing. It showed Barnes being strapped down in a chair. He had a new arm. It wasn't anything kike the one he had now. This one was more clunky, and had a sort of claw thing fir a hand. Barnes was looking defiant. "You can stick my brain in a blender all you want but I ain't givin’ in," Barnes spat. His jaw was right and his eyes hard, but also full of fear. This wasn't the first time they had done this to him, Tony guessed. His eyes narrowed as Barnes was forcibly restrained with the halo coming down. There was a spark of electricity and Barnes flinched. As it turned on, Tony was to distracted but the screams to tell Friday to fast forward or turn it down. Host grip on the chair was right and for a moment Tony thought Barnes was gonna break it. It didn't happen though. Instead, after a few minutes, Barnes stopped screaming and slumped back, unconscious and drooling a little bit. Tony's stomach started doing flips. The video turned black, and then restarted again, only this time is was aimed at a tired looking James Barnes who was waking up in the chair. He looked around, confused. "Where am I?" He asked. His voice sounded like metal kn a blender, and it grated in Tony's nerves. "What is your name?" Someone asked. He was a small man with a sort of accent. When he faced the camera, tony immediately recognized him as Zola, an old war criminal supposedly turned good. "It’s... Its Bucky. But..." "Vere are you from?" Zola asked, not giving Bucky the chance to continue with that thought. "I’m from... I’m..." he trailed off, looking worried as hell. Tony saw the feeling of helplessness plastered across Bucky’s face. "I don't know." He finally said. Zola hummed. "Who vas your best friend?" "Steve Rogers." The answer was almost immediate. Zola frowned and sighed. "Again," he said. Then the video went dark again. Tony skimmed ahead some.

The next was another picture of Barnes. This time he was naked, his hair was a bit longer, and he was being hosed down by several people with large, forceful jets of water that made Tony briefly think of the sixties, during the civil rights movement.

He flicked on, stopping at a picture of Barnes in cryo. It was hard, seeing him frozen in time like he was, in an ugly metal looking chamber with only a tiny window for him to look through. He could see metal fingertips near the corner of the window, as if he had been frozen mid-reach.

Tony felt sick. He didn’t feel guilty for blowing the guy’s arm off, all considered, but he could understand now. Why he had done what he did. Because it was all him, but he wasn’t in control. He hasn’t been in control since before he fell in 1944. He literally had it ripped from his grasp, had it dangled in front of him. They had taunted him in so many ways. It made Tony’s heart hurt.

The next thing was a file on the red book. The same one Zemo used at the CIA base in Berlin.

There were the words, and why they had been chosen. Four of them were his birth year, 1917, and homecoming was him coming ‘home’ to Hydra-probably a jab at the Azzano incident. Freight car was what led him to Hydra, and so on and so forth. But there was another one in there. It wasn’t one to initiate the Winter Soldier part of Barnes. It had a different purpose, and even had a video attachment to it.

Sputnik.

In case of emergency, say this to the Asset. He will immediately undergo a bout of unconsciousness and provide time for recalibration if necessary.

Tony opened up the video.

It was Barnes, with his long hair and haunted eyes. He was walking back into some Hydra base or another with about ten handlers behind him. His hands were in large, heavy cuffs, and his rifle had been taken. He glared at the camera, and Tony saw a spark of defiance in them.

“What happened?” Someone new said. Tony knew that voice though, had heard it somewhere, But where?

A couple of the handlers shoved Barnes forward, at someone’s feet. The camera didn’t show his face, but Tony would recognize that gaudy suit anywhere. This must have been sort of recent, as it had a young Alexander Pierce gripping Barnes’ hair tightly, enough to make the poor guy wince.

“Mission report,” he stated.

Barnes stayed silent. Instead, he glared at Pierce, and Tony was sure that if looks could kill then Pierce would have been dead the second Barnes had walked into the room.

“Mission report,” Pierce demanded. This time, though, Barnes actually reacted. He grabbed the sleeves of Pierce’s jacket and threw him to the side. Everybody was immediately on him, both scientists and handlers, all aiming guns at him. He didn't seem to mind though. No, instead he grabbed the nearest scientist, which just so happened to be the one holding the camera, and used him as a human shield as a barrage of bullets left their respective guns.

“Hold your fire!” Pierce yelled, and then everything was quiet again. Pierce stood up, brushing off some invisible dirt as he looked at Barnes, whose metal hand was wrapped around another scientist’s throat, choking him to death. He glared at Pierce as he walked forward.

“Who the fuck are-”

“-Sputnik,” Pierce’s voice a cold sort of calm. It sent a chill down Tony’s spine. He watched, almost like it was in slow motion, as Barnes dropped to the ground, unconscious. His grip on his prey loosened, and the scientist that was still alive crawled away, eyes full of fear.

Pierce snapped his fingers, and four of the handlers were on top of Bucky, picking him up and carrying him to the chair before strapping him in.

Recallibration, Tony thought bitterly. This is sick.

He swiped to the next one, unable to watch him undergo another wiping.

He had seen a lot of shit in these files, but the one he stumbled on now took the fucking cake.

It was dated roughly two years back, right before the Helicarriers went down.

He was sitting on the edge of that cursed chair, shirtless and looking in pain. He was looking off into space, and Pierce was talking to him. He was much older now, and was saying something about how he needed Barnes to change the world again. But Barnes wasn’t listening. Instead, he looked Pierce in the eyes, desperate for answers.

“But I knew him,” he whispered, voice hoarse. It was obvious who he was talking about.

The slap that rang out stayed with Tony for long, several moments. It stayed with him when Pierce said, “Prep him.” It rang out when he saw Bucky take the mouth guard, his eyes full of defiance now. It rang out when he let himself be strapped down again, and lowered. The halo came back over his head one last time, and then the video ended.

He sighed, scrubbing his face. He did it again, and rolled over to his desk, pulling out some blueprints.

Yeah, he had fucked up. They all had. And yeah, Bucky had killed his parents. He would never forgive him for that. But maybe he could shift some of the blame for the people who were really responsible.

So he started drawing.

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

The next time Tony saw Steve, he was rocking a beard and a dark tactical suit. He was without his shield, but on his left was Bucky, who had his hair in a sort of weird bun thing and was sporting a new, black vibranium arm he got from T’Challa, no doubt.

He refused to look Tony in the eyes.

“Hey, Capsicle,” Tony greeted. “Robocop. How was Wakanda?”

“Fine.” Steve was tense, obviously ready to fight if Tony decided that, but Tony didn't take it personally. When they parted ways he had done a lot of damage to both of them before Steve went feral.

Tony stuck out his hand. A lame peace offering, he knew, but it was a start. Steve looked down at it, then back at him. Something in his eyes changed. They softened, and Tony thought he could see a twitch of his lips when Steve finally took his hand. The handshake turned into a sort of hug, because even though they screwed each other over, it was still hard having said goodbye. When they let go, he turned to Bucky.

“Hey, Barnes,” he said. Bucky looked up, meeting his eyes for a brief second. They were more clear, but still full of caution. There was something there that reminded Tony of fear, but he knew it wasn't that. There just wasn't a right word for it. “I, uh...” he started lamely. “I read about you. And I don’t forgive you for what you did to my parents, but I know it wasn’t completely your fault either. So...” he stuck out his hand to Barnes. He had wide eyes, looking Tony up and down as if trying to see if Tony was lying to him. Eventually, after a few moments, he decided that Tony bearing his heart like this was the real thing, and he gripped Tony’s hand with his flesh one.

“Call me Bucky,” he said. Tony;s lips twitched up into a smile. It wasn’t anything big, but this...This was a start of something that could potentially be great. Like having the family back together and having new members to boot. He clapped Bucky on the shoulder and nodded, smiling at the former soldier.

“You got it, Goldilocks.”

#avengers #bucky barnes #winter soldier #captain america #steve rogers #iron man #tony stark #cicl war #captain america civil war #infinity wars #marvel #drabble #writing #crying #pain #angst #someone hold me

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deepseawritings · 7 years

Text

Trapped (part 2/2)

EDIT: Part 1 is here

Fucking Dutier and his holier-than-thou attitude. Good riddance to him and his chronic sourness, and to the endless accusations that were driving Lukash mad.

He continued messing with the damaged computer, illuminated only by the glare of the screen. He hummed as he worked. Despite the appearances, it wasn't a happy or contented hum. He was doing it for the same reason he started talking before: noise helped mask the buzzing in his head. It was really annoying, like having a mosquito following you all the time. So he hummed and talked to himself, hoping it soon would go away.

"Dancing on the ashes of the world, I behold the stars... c'mon you piece of shit... Heavy gale is blowing to my face... dammit!"

Maybe it was time to accept his hacking skills weren't up to the task. Or that the hard drive was corrupt beyond salvation.

Accepting defeat, he turned the computer off. The screen's light faded out of existence and the room was left in almost total darkness. There was one of the ever present emergency lights out on the corridor, but only a weak glow arrived inside the abandoned lab room. Blind in the shadows, Lukash stubbed his toe against the table's leg. Shit!

"Damn battery consuming anomaly," Lukash grunted while blindly rummaging his backpack, thinking on what he could use as a source of light. "Ah, right!"

The lighter, of course. Its flame was a poor substitute for the torchlight, but it was better than nothing. A loud noise followed by muffled shots came from somewhere far away. Looked like Voronin found a welcome party. Awesome, that meant less mutants Lukash would have to deal with.

He went to the dimly lit entrance of the room and into another corridor, which was blocked by an erratic electro. Thank goodness this could be bypassed simply throwing a bolt.

But his headache was killing him, the buzz getting louder and louder, like static in his mind, and he botched the timing between throwing the bolt and crossing. To avoid getting shocked he threw himself against the wall. To his luck, he fell against a door that burst opened under the sudden impact. The lighter’s flame was snuffed and his shoulder would develop a bruise the size of a mountain, but he was fine. Lukash re-lit the small flame of the lighter and decided to explore the place.

Getting lost in the small maze of interconnecting rooms was surprisingly easy, especially because all those rooms looked basically the same. But in the end he made it back to the corridor. The electro was behind him now, for which he was grateful. And further ahead the long corridor he glimpsed a hunched figure standing still in the semi darkness.

"Voronin?"

Had the Dutier lost his mind, stopping in the middle of the corridor in the dark like that? His eyes hurt from straining his vision in these conditions, and he saw everything blurry and greyed. His headache worsened considerably too. And the more he approached Voronin the more he felt something wasn't right.

The figure finally turned around, slowly. It most definitely wasn't Voronin. It wasn't even human anymore. A deformed face flashed in front of him, despite the fact neither of them had moved an inch. Reality spun wildly like a rollercoaster and Lukash nearly fell to his knees overwhelmed. Thinking was difficult, and reaching the GP-37 slung on his back proved to be a titanic effort since he barely knew what was up or down anymore. But he screwed his shut and focused on getting the weapon in his hands.

He succeeded, all the while the mutant's hideous mug flashed behind his closed eyes. Hoping he was gripping the rifle correctly -and not about to shoot himself- he opened fire. The accuracy left something to be desired, but at least he hit the mutant. The Controller either didn't realise it had been shot or didn't care, since it kept doing its weird mental voodoo.

Lukash wasted the whole clip on the Controller and when the ammo ran out, instead of reloading, he just took out his pistol and finished the job. He knew when the Controller died because he stopped feeling like someone put his brain on a blender. The pain stopped but his ears were still ringing and his vision was blurred. Oh God, this was way worse than the evilest of hangovers, everything kept spinning. Lukash sat on the floor while the world around him righted itself.

Slowly but surely he was getting better. Except for his vision, which had gone from blurry to unbearably bright. Fuck, it was like staring at a light bulb.

"Can you hear me?"

So he was actually staring at a light bulb. Sort of. "Get that damn thing out of my face!"

The torchlight's beam was redirected away from his eyes and Voronin even offered him a hand to get up. It was suspiciously nice of him.

"Oh, did you miss me? That's why you came back?" He swatted the hand away and got up on his own after picking up his rifle.

Voronin's answer was a sound of disgust mixed with annoyance. And yet he refrained from starting another of their vicious arguments.

"While you played with the computer I found more Burers. Killed one but the other smashed a barrel against me and escaped." Coming from Voronin that was as good as admitting he felt guilty, maybe even worried, by having left him behind to fend for himself.

But Lukash wanted an apology, damn it, so he pushed him further. "And you stumbled into me by coincidence, I'm sure."

The Dutier clenched his jaw and made a face like he swallowed a lemon. And then he surprised Lukash.

"Abandoning you in the dark was a bit extreme, I suppose I shouldn’t have lost my patience like that. I just couldn't think straight in that moment."

"I think this once it's understandable," Lukash kicked the Controller, making sure it was dead for good. "Man I hate Controllers and their ability to mess with people’s minds."

Voronin's answer was a stiff nod and an awkward silence fell upon them, neither sure of what to do after their little show of civility. Of course, Lukash broke it first, and with a rather unfortunate joke.

"Now we just have to agree about who ambushed who and we're as good as friends."

Talk about putting your feet on your mouth. Voronin gave him a hard look, clearly conveying the idea he thought him an idiot, and walked away, although at a slow enough pace that gave Lukash ample opportunity to catch up with him.

They walked in silence for a while, the torchlight's beam weakly illuminating the way. Lukash wondered if Voronin had an idea of where were they going, or if he simply went down the corridor because it was the easiest path.

"I think I may have an inkling about whose fault the ambush was," the Dutier said out of the blue when they reached a fork in their path. To the left there was a dead Burer slumped in the middle of the way. Vorornin went to the right. "And if I'm right I'll skin the son of a bitch alive"

"Ha, so he was one of yours!" Being proven right was amazing, more so when the admission came from the dour Duty General.

"He hasn't been one of mine for quite some time now," Voronin replied bitterly.

A deserter then. Probably someone with a grudge against his ex-faction, Lukash guessed.

They arrived to another big room full of old junk. Another lab presumably, like the one where they had their spat before going separate ways. A dark heap lay on the middle of the room.

They approached cautiously, until they were close enough to see it was a dead Burer. Must be the one that escaped from Voronin. Maybe he wounded it before it got away? Except, Lukash noticed with alarm, this one had the throat ripped open. Bullets didn't do that.

There was a single warning growl and fear doused him like an iced bucket of water. Then he saw a pair of malevolent yellow eyes too close to his face and pain bloomed on his chest. The bloodsucker clawed him from clavicle to hip and Lukash stumbled back. Voronin shot the mutant as soon as it became visible, drawing its attention away from Lukash. The bloodsucker turned around and jumped at the Dutier, attaching its tentacled maw on his neck with frightening efficiency. Lukash watched in sick fascination as the bullet wounds on its back slowly healed as the mutant drank blood, the flesh knitting back together in a scarred lump.

His rifle did nothing when he tried to shoot the mutant off of Voronin. Shit, he hadn't reloaded it since his encounter with the Controller! Mentally kicking himself for such a rookie mistake, he ditched the GP-37 in favour of the pistol, which he hoped still had some bullets in the clip. Unnatural regeneration ability or not, surviving a point blank range headshot was really difficult. Just to be sure, Lukash shot again. The creature went flaccid like a ragdoll and its mouth tentacles released its hold over Voronin's throat. The Dutier wasted no time in pushing the body away from him.

Even in the half-light of the room Lukash could see the wound on Voronin's throat with more detail he ever wanted. They needed to stop the bleeding right now. He started to frantically search in his bag. Fuck, and double fuck! Where were the bandages?! Or the Vinca, or... His hand closed around a soft bundle and he sighed in relief. Lukash shoved almost the entire roll of bandages in the wound and pressed hard, while still searching for the Vinca pills with his other hand. He would also need more bandages.

"Press here." He dragged Voronin's hand over the improvised patch and pressed it down hard until the Dutier winced in pain.

Lukash grabbed the fallen torchlight, because his blind search wasn't going that well, and for the first time saw the blood stain over his chest. At least he didn't feel much pain now, although that could be an effect of the adrenalin surge. He popped a Vinca pill and hoped it would be enough; he had a far more urgent wound to deal with.

He felt like something had tried to chew a piece of his neck off. His hand was still pressing down what felt like a mountain of bandages, and God it hurt. Being bitten by a bloodsucker usually was at the bottom of the list of survivable mutant attacks, usually because the bastards gorged themselves on their victims without restraint, and for the first time Voronin was really fucking glad for Lukash's presence. He tried to get up and the effort sent his head spinning, so he quickly sat down again.

"Ugh, water." Voronin wasn't sure if he said that aloud or not. But he must have, since Lukash materialised at his side with a canteen.

"How are you feeling?"

He grunted and drank more water. Was it really necessary to ask such stupid question? Lukash kept talking, seemingly unable to keep quiet for long.

"I think we managed to stop the bleeding, but if I were you I’d keep pressing down a little longer." Lukash tried to appear unconcerned, but he failed miserably.

Returning the canteen, Voronin looked at him and frowned at the dark stain covering his chest. "What happened to you?"

"Oh, just a scratch from our bloodsucking friend," Lukash waved his hand in a clearly dismissive gesture.

"If that's just a scratch then my neck wound is just a love bite," Voronin couldn’t keep the disapproval out of his voice. His wound was probably massive too, and he looked tired and drawn. Not like Voronin himself didn’t look any better, though, sitting on the floor and slumped against the wall to keep upright.

Ignoring his own injury, Lukash sat next to him and dragged his bag closer. He took a medkit out of the backpack and told Voronin he was going to take out the bloodied gauze and fix a proper dressing for the wound. Thankfully there was no more bleeding when he removed the ball of bandages.

"Seems like the bloodsucker didn't nick anything important when it gave you this hickey," even so, Lukash grimaced when the wound was uncovered. The resulting scar would be huge. "You're one lucky bastard."

The process of applying the butterfly stitches was unpleasant, the edges of the bite wound were pretty sensitive to being pinched together like that. Voronin schooled his face in a blank mask. The sooner Lukash was done with this the better.

The final dressing covering his neck was a bit shoddy and had a bit too much gauze, but Voronin didn't mind. After all, it's not like he would have done it better. He slowly got up. "Good. Now strip."

He didn't expect Lukash's startled laugh, though perhaps his choice of words hadn't been the most appropriate. "What? Isn't that a bit forward from your part?"

After mentally counting to ten, and fixing him with an unamused stare, he answered. "You know what I mean. Have you taken care of your own wound?"

"I took a Vinca pill? It didn't look as bad as your neck, you know?"

Okay, point taken. And yet that was no excuse. As they soon discovered, the dried blood made the clothing stick to the wound and water was necessary to peel it off without making the 'scratch' bleed again. He'd also been lucky, Voronin noticed. The slash went from his clavicle to mid chest, where it curled around his ribs and went down almost to the hip. With a little more force and with only a slightly different trajectory the bloodsucker could have easily gutted him.

"Hmm, I don't think you'll need stitches," was Voronin's verdict.

"Dude, you probably do. Proper stitches I mean, not the flimsy paper ones I used," Lukash admitted a touch worriedly. "But I'm afraid I'd make a butchery out of it."

"Yes, no offense but I don't think I'd let you try."

"Fair enough." Lukash seemed in an awful good mood. "Look at us, being nice to each other. Someone could even think we're friends!"

"I wouldn't take it that far." He slumped back again, searching the support of the wall. Damn, he tired so easily now. But they couldn’t afford to sit on their asses for long.

At Voronin's insistence, they soon retook the exploration of this place, but at a slower pace than usual. The rest of the rooms were pretty uninteresting: another lab, an empty room, a dormitory without a single mattress in the bunks. It was on this last one they found a dusty protective suit with an unknown badge sewn on it. It looked old and worn, but Lukash seized the opportunity to change his slashed suit for this one. Meanwhile he searched the rest of the lockers.

"How does it look?" The Freedomer asked, waving at his new ensemble. "Do I pass for an ecologist?"

"More like a merc. I don't think I've ever seen an ecologist in a blue suit." The suit had a greyish faded hue actually, but it could be guessed which colour it had originally been. "C'mon there's nothing else here."

Such affirmation could be broadly applied, as they soon learnt. The corridor led them to another infinite loop, like the one they found right after arriving. And the only other unexplored room turned out to be empty except for a badly rusted ladder going up to a hatch. With much regret, Voronin had to admit he didn't feel up to the task of climbing up the ladder; this slow crawl through the rooms had been taxing enough. And Lukash readily agreed when he proposed to rest for a bit before investigating where did the ladder lead.

Finding no suitable place but the floor, Voronin sat down and sighed heavily as he turned off the torchlight. No need to waste their only battery when the room was lit by faint glow coming from the corridor. Although that made searching what he wanted a tad more difficult.

"Anything you want in exchange for one of those?" Lukash looked at the painkillers in his hand with hopeful eyes. His ‘simple scratch’ must hurt worse than he admitted.

He traded it for a can of energy drink. Perhaps not the best trade, but he was going to need a little pick me up to keep the pace, he felt drained and sluggish. They took their painkillers and enjoyed a bit of rest while he drank the energy drink, and then got moving.

The ladder wobbled under their weight and creaked ominously, but it endured. The nasty surprise came when they reached the end of the ladder. No matter how much force it was applied, the hatch’s door wouldn't budge. Both of them tried opening it, all to no avail.

Ten minutes later they had to face the truth: they were back like they started, with no way out of the bunker. A desperate need to have a glimmer of hope ensued, and they started to list all the places explored, in the hopes of noticing something they could have overlooked. Lukash carried a notebook and a pencil in his backpack, so they started drawing a map of the whole place cobbled from their memories.

About an hour later they had a very nice map and no idea of what to do next.

"Maybe we should sleep, take on this tomorrow with a fresh perspective." It was sound advice and Voronin had no choice but to agree.

So, deciding this room was as good as any other place, Voronin took out the sleeping bag and went to sleep in sullen silence. Neither of them thought about setting up a watch. According to their map they had explored every place that was accessible, and killed every mutant in their way.

Quiet sobs woke him in the dead of the night. Well, Lukash supposed it was night, but he had no idea what time it truly was.

Voronin was snoring loudly, so he wasn't the one making those sobs. Not like crying seemed to be his style. Was he imagining things? The crying got louder and Lukash was pretty sure it wasn't a hallucination. Then it hit him like a revelation: it must be the damn poltergeist! As far as he knew they hadn't been able to kill it yet, the sneaky bastard just floated away and they forgot about it. Well, this ended now.

He grabbed his pistol, made sure it was loaded, and set off in search of the damn mutant. Following the sound of crying he arrived to the dormitory room where he found his new suit. A thin figure stood hunched in the shadows behind one of the bunks. Whatever it was, it seemed to have its back towards him. Nevertheless, remembering the encounter with the Controller, he preferred to be cautious. Aiming to its head with the pistol, he used his other hand to throw a bolt at it. Nothing. Slowly, he got closer to see what it was. Could poltergeist adopt a form that wasn't a floating ball of energy?

The mysterious figure turned out to be a skeleton dressed in a ragged lab coat. And it was hovering a few inches above the floor. The floating skeleton suddenly lurched forward and Lukash shot it by pure instinct. The bones fell on him, gracelessly scattering upon the impact. And a second later the emergency light shattered in a thousand pieces, leaving Lukash in total darkness.

Why did these kind of things happen to him, and where the fuck was his lighter? He patted all his pockets in search of it, praying he hadn't stuffed it into the backpack. Just as he found it and grabbed it, something cold breathed down his neck, leaving a trail of goose bumps in its wake.

A deep seated surge of paranoia welled up in him and Lukash turned around quick like lightning, the flame of the lighter trembling at the sudden movement. He saw the glowing bastard between the bunks and shot it. The poltergeist retaliated by pushing one of the bunks against him. The impact made him stagger, the metallic frame hitting him right on the wound crossing his chest. The pain momentarily stole his breath away.

Nonetheless, he shot at the mutant again as soon as he was able to do so, then another shot rang in the air. The poltergeist died with what looked like a small implosion of energy, revealing its true appearance. Ugh, he preferred their energy ball form.

"You know, it's the second time I find you hunting mutants in the dark." Voronin pointed the torchlight at him, looking between irritated and slightly amused.

Lukash got closer to him and smirked teasingly. "And both times you came to my rescue, even if I had the situation under control. If I didn't know better I'd say –"

"Yes, yes, thank God you know better," Voronin hurriedly cut him with a put upon grunt.

Since they were both up and about, they decided to retrace their steps from yesterday, in the hopes they missed something, anything. The map they had made was flawless, though. Everything was reflected on the piece of paper, nothing had escaped their notice. And they were still irremediably trapped down here. Eventually they reached the room with the collapsed floor, the time warping anomaly sitting right under it. Had it deflated a bit or did he blow it out of proportion in his memory?

"The smart thing would be to not get into it again," Lukash said, scuffing his boot on the floor and sending a rain of tiny pebbles down into the anomaly.

"I never liked the idea of getting inside it," Voronin looked with distaste at the purplish bubble.

Last time they lost three days and all their energy in there. And yet Lukash both stood at the edge of the hole, looking down with fascination as the pebbles he pushed down seemed to float once they went inside the anomaly. It would take quite some time until they reached the floor.

"Any other ideas?" Voronin didn't sound very hopeful.

Equally desperate to avoid or stall going down there, Lukas wracked his brain for a single idea. There was nothing left unexplored on this floor; what could they try that they hadn't before? The hatch wouldn't budge; it probably was controlled remotely...

"Would you flip your shit if I, what word did you use, play with the computer?" The word again hung in the air between them, unsaid but tangible.

With one last look down to the time anomaly, Voronin turned to him. "I guess it can't hurt to try."

Waiting while Lukash worked on the computer was boring. First he patrolled around the room and investigated every corner of it, just to do something. Then Lukash complained he couldn't concentrate with him wandering about, so Voronin picked up one of the rickety stools from the floor and sat on it.

Watching the Freedomer work was interesting, at least for a short while. He was so focused on it, clearly showing his frustration every time he found a setback. It was almost endearing. Ultimately it didn’t offer that much entertainment, though. Mostly because everything in the screen looked like gibberish to him.

Voronin took out his PDA. According to its clock, and not counting the three days apparently spent crossing the time anomaly, they'd been here for about forty-eight hours. Sometimes it seemed like a lifetime. The communications channel was still dead and he even doubted his last message was properly sent. Voronin decided to confirm his theory by sending another message, a simple S.O.S this time. It worked like the last time, with an error telling him the messaging system was out of line even if the message was sent. He hoped Lukash was having better luck with the computer.

"I can't make this fucking piece of junk work!" Lukash violently pushed the keyboard away. "I'm out of ideas."

They both knew this had been a desperate attempt that would most probably fail. And yet neither of them liked the idea to go with their other plan. However, they were out of options.

"We have no other choice, do we?" Lukash sighed, swivelling lightly from side to side on the stool he was perched on.

Indeed they didn't. So they went back to the office with the collapsed floor, bypassing the electro in the middle of the corridor like they did before.

The time anomaly hadn't miraculously disappeared, but it certainly looked smaller than the last time. Curious how it expanded and contracted. However, while other person might marvel at it and wonder what induced those changes, Voronin only cared that it meant they would spend less time inside it. Perhaps then it would sap less energy out of them, he felt tired enough right now, he’d keel over if he spent too much time in the anomaly.

"Okay, here we go. On the count of three: one, two..." Lukash jumped down before arriving to three.

During the seconds it took Voronin to jump down as well the Freedomer seemed to float mid-air, suspended in time. The illusion was quickly shattered when he went inside the anomaly too.

Despite the energy draining effect, since it was smaller in diameter than the last time and they needn’t climb anywhere now, it didn't take them more than a minute to get out. This translated into actually losing about three hours, according to their PDAs.

Retracing their steps was even easier in this floor, just checking the map to make sure it was accurate. And just as before there was nothing they had missed. Eventually they found themselves going to the upper floor and facing once more the big metal door separating them from their escape.

Neither said anything, but a cloud of gloom had settled over them. They were going to die down here. Sooner or later it would happen, unless they found a way out. Shit, when Voronin thought about leaving a legacy like General Tachenko's he never included mysteriously disappearing into the package.

He stood there, contemplating their bleak future in silence. For once Lukash didn’t start to fill the silence like he usually did. And when he eventually stormed off, because he got sick of staring at a slab of metal, something exploded on the other side of the door.

Startled by the detonation Lukash took a step or two backwards. The door was slightly bent out of its normal shape, what the fuck just happened? Voronin came back in time to see the door slowly swinging open.

Both Lukash and Voronin grabbed their weapons and pointed them towards the opening. The metal door was pushed to the side and revealed a single stalker, who looked completely floored to see them.

"Woah," the man raised his hands in a placating gesture when confronted with both of them aiming their rifles at him. "There's no need to shoot!"

"Who are you and what are you doing here?" Voronin barked at the stalker with his command voice.

"I... I'm just a loner! I heard the road to Pripyat had been cleared recently and came to investigate."

That was enough explanation for Lukash, but not for his Dutier companion, who was a highly suspicious bastard.

"This isn't exactly the road to Pripyat, isn’t it?" Voronin squinted at the man with distrust.

"Just a small detour!" The man squeaked. "I've never been so close to the infamous Brain Scorcher before, which I'm very glad was turned off, by the way. I saw the outer door, with the number pad, and I thought I could find something of value inside."

Lukash lowered his weapon and nudged Voronin to lower his Val too. The stalker flashed him a nervous smile and lowered his hands as well.

"You said the outer door had a number pad, did you blow that one apart too?" He was honestly curious to know.

"Yes, with a modified grenade." Well, well, well, this guy was certainly interesting. And he had some great ideas. Perhaps they could have tried to force their way out sooner like that, had they had any explosives.

"There's nothing down there except anomalies," Voronin cautioned him.

The stalker nodded eagerly took out a detector from his belt. "That's fine, I'm an artifact hunter."

Voronin looked pityingly at him and went towards the exit. Lukash shared his eagerness to get the hell out from here and followed him. However, he turned around to face the stalker one last time. "Friendly advice: stay away from the purple anomaly!"

Leaving the flabbergasted loner behind, he stepped outside and went down the ladder. Being able to see the sky again was amazing. And best of all, he recognised where he was! This was the Red Forest, more precisely it was the road that went to the Brain Scorcher. And for once it wasn't crawling with Monolith soldiers.

"We're out!" Voronin answered to his enthusiasm with a noncommittal hum. That wouldn't do.

He grabbed the Dutier by the shoulders, watching him intently to see if he was capable of expressing some positive emotion. And, before he could think what he was doing, he planted a kiss on the surprised General. It lasted a few seconds until Voronin pushed him away and crushed him against the same ladder they had descended from.

Realising what he'd just done, Lukash kept his mouth shut instead of blurting "I like it when you take control like that" like he'd been about to do. Even if it would have been mostly a joke he had the feeling Voronin wouldn't appreciate it.

"What the Hell Lukash." Voronin’s voice was startlingly rough. Lukash had no answer to his question, so instead he just held his gaze until Voronin released him.

"The Barrier is in this direction," he said, walking ahead to get away from Voronin's judging eyes.

It had felt nice but unremarkable. No reason to keep thinking about it, or to imagine how it would have been if the Dutier kissed back. Yeah.

The zombies coming from between the trees were a welcomed distraction, and that’s something he never imagined he would say. Killing them helped clean the atmosphere of any lingering awkwardness. Nonetheless, it was depressing to see so many zombified stalkers wearing Freedom's suits. Such was life in the Zone, and such was the price paid to keep control of the Barrier. At least they were outnumbered by zombified stalkers from Monolith, serves those bastards right.

The zombies kept dropping by all the time; a lone one now, then a pair or three of them together, then a lone straggler. Cleanse and repeat. In the end they opted to run and leave them behind before wasting all their ammo.

And soon they reached the control point that marked the entrance the end of Red Forest. The Barrier was just a road’s bend away.

A group of stalkers rushed from behind the abandoned cars near the booth at the control point. They all were from Freedom, and they weren’t very friendly, aiming their weapons at them.

"Stop and identify yourselves!"

Well, Voronin was almost impressed they hadn't shot him on the spot just for the uniform he wore.

"Max, don't you recognise me you idiot?" Lukash laughed in disbelief.

"All I see from here is a Dutier and a merc trying to cross into our territory!" The Freedomer, Max, replied. One of his comrades said something they didn't catch but had Max quickly checking his PDA. "Lukash?! Where the Hell have you been? And what are you doing with that Duty pig?"

"Stop pointing that rifle at my head for fuck's sake!"

"Sure, but what do we do with him?" No need to be a genius to know who the Freedomer was referring to.

"We grant him passage and let him go. Just this once." Lukash's idea wasn't very well received by his faction.

The Freedomers complained loudly about it and one even blamed him for Lukash's disappearance. Not a completely unexpected reaction, if he was honest. If the situation was reversed his men would probably do the same. Although Lukash didn't seem amused by their defiance.

"I said we let him go and that's final."

Truth be told, Voronin was surprised by Lukash's firm defence of him. Perhaps it should be expected after all they went through. In that hypothetical reversed situation, Voronin wouldn't let his men kill him on the spot either. It would feel wrong.

Deciding to cut this tense encounter short, Voronin voiced his agreement to Lukash’s terms. “I go my way and you go yours. Just this once, yes?"

It was just for a moment, but he saw a flash of disappointment on Lukash’s face. What had he expected? He couldn't go to Freedom's base for a last shot of vodka and a goodbye, they weren’t old friends, they were the leaders of enemy factions.

"Yeah. It's been... interesting." Lukash offered him his outstretched hand.

"It's been a nightmare, you mean." Voronin accepted the handshake.

"Only most of it." Lukash smirked and finally let go of his hand.

He waited while Lukash wrangled with the rest of the Freedomers until he managed to impose his will. In the meantime, he sent a message to his men to let them know he was alive and well. This way they would be expecting his arrival, and if he knew Petrenko well enough, he would dispatch a squad immediately. They would meet halfway if everything went well. And if for some reason Lukash’s men decided to not play fair and followed him, it was good to know reinforcements were on their way.

Once the last of the disgruntled Freedomers disappeared down the road then he went on his way. During his lonely trek back to Rostok he reflected on everything that happened. It was too much for only fifty hours, more or less. It seemed like he spent a lifetime trapped in that hellish bunker. And things didn't exactly go back to normal once they got out. And of course it had been the Freedomer’s fault. When Lukash kissed him his brain had short-circuited. He couldn’t even begin to fathom his intention for doing so, so Voronin decided to erase the incident from his memory. It never happened.

However, for something that according to him never happened, he spent quite some time thinking about it. More precisely, he spent the rest of the way to Rostok thinking about how Lukash's lips had felt against his own. Utter foolishness, even if it happened -which it didn’t, thank you very much- it was something best forgotten.

It would be much better to think about how he would enjoy finding Skull and killing him. He usually preferred to avoid making a public spectacle out of executions, but for him he would make an exception.

Author's note: I may be slow to write and edit, but I said the second part would be up in a few hours or tomorrow, so here it is.

#S.T.A.L.K.E.R.#fanfic #Lukash #Voronin

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