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kiruamon · 19 days

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News reporter AU

Okay, so... what if Sun and Moon, but as weather-/newscasters? And Y/N as their cameraman?

Description of the AU follows after the sketches.

Sun and Moon working as newscasters and weather announcers for the TV station Fazebear Entertainment. And Y/N is a cameraman.

Sun and Moon have separate bodies in this AU.

Sun mainly announces mainly positive news that happened in the world. Or just things like: The date for celebrity A and singer B's wedding is now set. The big garden show is taking place in city Y. A new world record has been set for the fastest run through the obstacles of the world's largest bouncy castle. A huge shower of shooting stars can be seen in the sky of region H at night.

Sun also loves to throw in little puns when he makes the weather announcements. Sun generally has a cheerful and lively personality and gesticulates a lot when speaking.

Moon, on the other hand, looks like he's done with the world and his work the whole time he's on camera. The way he talks during his announcements is usually a mixture of grumpy and annoyed. As if he would rather be anywhere else than here in front of the camera. He also moves as little as necessary and usually just seems exhausted. In contrast to Sun, Moon addresses more serious topics. Changes in the law, election results, etc. However, just like Sun, he also makes weather announcements. When making announcements about extreme weather conditions, he sometimes makes a few side-swipes about how there were a few less idiots in the world when the curious gawkers running to the harbor despite the extreme winds would get swept away by a wave.

As a cameraman, Y/N is always trying to film Sun and Moon in the best possible way. That's why you like to adjust the angle of the camera a little when filming and make sure that the focus is always on point. You're a big fan of their work, even though they've barely acknowledged your existence and you haven't tried anything to change that.

Although Sun and Moon usually only work in the studio, one day the management comes up with the idea of sending the two of them together with you to a zoo in a distant city for a report so that you can take footage of the tiger cubs that were born there a few weeks ago. Sun is supposed to take over the moderation and Moon is to come along as a backup. You, on the other hand, take on the role of driver and are given the necessary equipment in the form of a portable camera and a moderator microphone for Sun. It seems to be the chance to perhaps have a conversation with Sun and Moon for the first time. However, at the start you are far too nervous to try and talk to them properly and everything that leaves your mouth feels a little stiff and awkward. Sun and Moon keep to themselves at the beginning of the trip and don't try to include you in their private conversations either, which makes you feel a bit like a third wheel and somehow out of place. The longest exchanges between the three of you are about the details and schedules of the trip and the upcoming shoot. But then Sun starts to engage you more in casual conversations and ask you about all sorts of things, such as your favorite color, what movies you like or what music you listen to, etc. Soon you find yourself not only talking to Sun more and more often, but also to Moon.

At the zoo, you proceed as discussed and Sun takes over the moderation in front of the tigers' outdoor enclosure. Since you still have time after your shoot, Sun suggests that you all could use the time to see the rest of the zoo together. Moon even helps you carry the equipment voluntarily and despite your protests that he doesn't need to help you. Meanwhile, Sun scurries ahead like an excited child and you let yourself be carried away by his enthusiasm. Although Moon usually looks so grumpy, even he seems to be quite amused by your and Sun's cheerfulness. At the petting zoo, you also notice how long Moon looks at the sheep, so you buy some of the food from the dispenser there and ask Moon if he'd like to feed them with you. Moon hesitates a little, but then agrees. As soon as the two of you enter the enclosure, the otherwise grumpy newscaster is completely smitten by the woolly animals and you learn from him that sheep are his favorite animals.

Before leaving the zoo, you stop by the souvenir store, where you notice a sheep plush toy with white wool and a black snout. You end up buying this together with a tiger plush toy because Sun was barely able to get away from the enclosure with the two little tigers after the filming. You plan to give the two plush toys to Sun and Moon later.

What you don't know is that the two of them had the same idea and also bought you a little something from the zoo store.

At the car, you give them their presents and Sun is thrilled and beaming all over his face because of your great gift! Moon's reaction may seem more restrained next to Sun's, but the way how affectionately and carefully he holds the sheep plush toy combined with the little smile on his face says more than enough.

The two of them exchange a sly glance with each other and then present you with their gifts as well. Sun also gives you a plush toy of your favorite zoo animal, while Moon gives you a cute pin of a tiger, which you attach to your cap.

The trip back is much more enjoyable this time and there is a pleasant atmosphere between you all. However, when you finally arrive back and say goodbye to each other, you have a sinking feeling that everything might be back to normal tomorrow between you and the two newscasters when you return to work at the TV station. So you don't get your hopes up too much when you start work again the next day. And in fact, everything seems to be as it was before your time together. At least until the lunch break comes, which you actually would spend alone as usual. But before you can leave the studio, Sun and Moon come up to you and invite you to the café opposite the station. You can hardly believe your luck that they still want to hang out with you, even though they no longer have to! Sun and Moon, on the other hand, were so charmed by you during your trip together that they really want to get to know you better.

What else could have happened in this AU?

I could imagine that there might have been an overnight stay included on the journey to your destination. But because there was a mistake with the booking (the management booked a room in a completely different motel that wasn't on the way) you had to sleep in the car. Well, more you than Sun or Moon. So you slept in the back seat while Sun secretly snatched your camera to film you sleeping and making comments like in a documentary while whispering his words to not wake you up, while Moon tried to scold Sun not to play around with the camera equipment. You only found the recording after the end of your trip together. It was an embarrassing but also somewhat amusing moment for you.

I could also imagine a scenario that takes place later and Y/N has to move out of his apartment at short notice for certain reasons without already having a new place to stay. When Sun and Moon find out about this, they immediately offer to let you stay with them temporarily as their apartment has plenty of space and they have an unused guest room anyway. At first you don't want to accept the offer so as not to be a burden, but in the end they convince you until you agree. From then on, you live with them and basically become their new roommate. Of course, you are still looking for a new apartment alongside your work and your new everyday life with them. When the day comes that you have found something and tell them about it, Sun and Moon have already grown so fond of you that they ask you if you would like to stay with them permanently.

Random facts about the time after the zoo visit

After Sun has fallen for you, he has started to wink at you sometimes when he says goodbye to the viewers, which you didn't really understand the first few times and thought this was his new thing. It takes a while and a not so subtle remark from Moon telling Sun to stop flirting with you in front of the camera for you to finally understand. Both your faces flushed pretty badly and there was a lot of stuttering going on.

Sun and Moon are both in a much better mood when you're behind the camera than when it's someone else from the staff. Sometimes Moon even throws you a small, friendly smile during his annoucements.

Both Sun and Moon are popular with viewers. But since Sun's little habit of winking at the camera or the little smiles that sometimes escape Moon, their popularity has risen even more.

Will there be more to come on this AU?

No, probably not :') It's more of a silly little idea that I just wanted to share.

Also said pin looking like this:

Yeah, so that's probably all what you guys get from me for this au.:')

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onboardsorasora · 4 months

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Maxiel Masterlist 2

So it seems like I've hit the link limit on my maxiel masterpost. So I guess this is the start of Maxiel Masterpost 2 lmao

My Dewis and OT3 stories are on Masterlist 2

My Ao3: Quesorasora

Here are ALLLL my current Maxiel stories :) Part 2!

Tumblr Fic

Dentist Drabble

Grey Pube Drabble - which is now on AO3 as well- Old Man Balls

Alpha!Dan Drabble

Soul Meets Body also on AO3

Something Something Drabble

Neighbor AU Tag

Max Time Travel Drabble

Girl!Dan Part 3

Boy Band Drabble

Hockey AU Drabble

Fireman Daniel AU Drabble

Young Max DM-ing Daniel

Hanahaki Idea Drabble

Newscaster AU Drabble

5+1 Fic Ideas Tag

Monaco Fix It Drabble

Daniel Next Win Drabble

Tennis AU Cont.

Summary:

“Is there anyone who has any reason why these two should not be married?” The officiant asked the hushed crowd. Everyone glanced around with identical smiles, but no one moved– as expected.

What was not expected was the doors to the church to open and a very pregnant woman walking up the aisle quickly.

maxiel; miscommunication, misunderstanding, angst, getting back together

summary:

Max felt like the words were bouncing around the hollow walls of his brain as everything shut down. 'You like it?'

Not an excuse about performance wear, nothing about heart rate monitors or even jokes about whether his good looks could pull it off. No. Daniel had asked if he liked it.

Of course he liked it, he loved it and he didn’t even know what it looked like.

Written for the @thattropeyouhate fest :))) Trope: Animal Transformation/Shifter

summary:

Daniel brought an arm to his face, hoping to see the familiar rose of his tattoo. He was distraught to see a fur covered paw instead. Well shit. He hadn’t shifted in years, not since he signed for Red Bull. And it had been going fine, too. He hadn’t shifted this entire time and he’d honestly forgotten how to.

So this was a tad inconvenient.

Follow Your Nose

summary:

The scarring of a mating bite was a point of pride for omegas. Because a True Mating Bond looked like a birthmark, a tattoo that proclaimed them as bonded to their soulmate. A True Mating can only happen with compatible pairs, and bonds that weren't True scarred silvery like old wounds. It wasn't uncommon to see an omega with a scarred bond or two.

Max was a great alpha, a great friend. Daniel was a poor omega with a neck full of scars like a diary of failed relationships

welcome to whiskers

summary: In the small village just outside the city, there is a popular cafe on main street. There really wasn’t anything that special about it– the coffee was soso, the tea was pretty ok. The staff were close and it felt like a family. Oh and there were cats. ; Max works at a cat cafe. Daniel is his manager and in love with him.

Sponsor Max

Summary:

Everything in Formula 1 came with a price tag and sponsors dropped unserious amounts of money in their sport for the prestige of it all. In all of his years, Peter had never once seen a blank cheque. Until now.

The memo section simply said for Daniel.

Tags: Power Imbalance, Extremely Dubious Consent. Gratuitous Smut, Topping from the Bottom, Max is Toxic and Possessive, Daniel Doesn't Have A Choice, Sexual Coercion, Explicit Sexual Content

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sourlydoesthings · 1 year

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Subtract "x" from both sides

From a new au I'm making where Tim Drake decides to listen to Batman (for once) (real) (totally not consequential)

#affectionately dubbed the #Tim actually listens!au #in which Tim DIYs it up #and Batman is still not happy about it #newscaster voice: more at 10 #tim drake #batman #dc comics #dc #TAL!au #because there will be more

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bedlamsbard · 2 years

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For anyone who missed it earlier, I posted some concept writing today! This is for the “HYDRA took over SHIELD before Steve came out of the ice” AU (which gets tagged as the “WS Steve AU concept” even though it’s not really a Winter Soldier AU) and we’ll see if it ever develops more. I’ve got one other scene vaguely in mind for it, but it’s definitely on my list of “concepts that COULD develop into full stories, but I’ve got enough WIPs as it is.” (Usually something stays as concept writing if it doesn’t have enough keystone scenes or doesn’t have keystones that are far apart enough in the narrative, and this one doesn’t right now.)

About 550 words written today -- was hoping to finish this chapter in draft today, but Sunday Zoom and general other stuff meant that that didn’t happen. Sundays, you know.

Snippet from The Horizon Line chapter 7.

Steve put a hand to his forehead, fighting back nausea and disorientation. He had gotten the shit kicked out of him more than a few times since he had gotten the serum eight or seventy-five years ago, but every time he woke up after he felt like he was five foot four and ninety pounds and had just gotten beat up in one back alley or another.

“War! With the forces of darkness pressing in from the east, from the west, America heeds the call to fight for freedom.”

He went still at the sound, though he could tell immediately that it wasn’t a living person’s voice. It might have been years since he had heard news announcers with that particular cadence, but it would have been unmistakable even if he hadn’t recognized the broadcast immediately; no one today had any real style. Flickers of light and movement passed across his closed eyelids before Steve pressed his hand over them.

“And at the front of the fight, shoulder to shoulder with our battling boys, is Captain America!”

The surface beneath him was hard and unyielding and he could tell from the pressure against his shoulder blades and hipbones that he wasn’t in his tactical gear. When he let his hand trail down from his eyes across his face he felt clean-shaven skin beneath his fingers, a quick flash of pain from a shaving cut on his jaw, one he knew he hadn’t given himself, since he had been growing out his beard for a while now.

#daily fic snippet #roleswap endgame au concept #that's the newscast from the avengers deleted scene of steve being unbearably sad

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talesfromtopographikoceans · 2 years

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whys stu looking like a bisexual college girl rn

#environmental science major headass #im watching the interview about the new album from that aus newscaster

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scuderiahoney · 28 days

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Every Second

charles leclerc x reader

masterlist

summary: the world is ending. you’re right where you belong. 2.6k words

warnings: major character death (apocalypse au, everyone dies), charles & reader have a daughter, talks of death/afterlife/end of the world, it’s mostly sad not gonna lie

a/n: had this idea a LONG time ago, finally finished it today. loosely based on the music video for Older by 5SOS. see also: Till Forever Falls Apart by Ashe & FINNEAS and I Know The End by Phoebe Bridgers. you get the vibes.

The world is on fire.

For once, you mean that literally. You’ve been saying it for years, in reference to politics and pollution and the general temperature of the planet. But now, the world is literally on fire.

Charles is pacing laps around the whole apartment. He’s unable to sit still, even now. The tv is on, the volume low, photos flashing by on the screens. There’s a countdown, ticking along at the bottom of the newscast, telling you exactly how many minutes you have left before the whole thing falls apart. You’re not sure how they seem to know. You won’t take the time to find out.

The next time Charles walks by you, you reach out and grab the sleeve of his sweatshirt. He stops in his tracks, and your fingers brush against his skin. He doesn’t look at you, hasn’t for hours. He stared at the ceiling, now. He’s angry, you can tell. It’s eating him up inside.

“Amour,” you say, calmly, quietly. “You will wear a path in the carpet.”

The irony of what you’ve just said doesn’t hit you until he lets out a bitter laugh. You realize, then, that by tomorrow there will be no carpet. There will be nobody to see the path he’s worn. Everything around you will cease to exist.

It’s funny, the end of the world. It doesn’t feel like you thought it would, though you’re not sure you spent much time devoted to the thought. You had worries, sure, but they always seemed so distant.

“We should wake her,” he says, voice thick with emotion. “I want… every second.”

“Okay,” you agree. “Okay, I’ll get her.”

“No. Not- I’ll go with you,” he says, twisting his hand to grab yours, then repeating, “I want every second.”

You stand up from the couch. He keeps your hands linked as he follows you to your daughter’s room. She’s asleep in the crib, barely one year old, head full of dark curls and a smile that bears his dimples. She looks peaceful. For a moment, you hate to disturb her. It’s the last time you’ll pull her from her crib. You understand, now, why he wanted to come with.

Charles walks over, reaches in with one arm, and scoops her up. It’s only then that his eyes meet yours, as he cradles her to his chest. The two of them make such a perfect picture. You’ve seen it before, after races when he’s tired and sweaty but always wanting to hold her, when he gets back from long trips and she clings to him for hours, when he gets her up in the morning and brings her to your room to wake you up.

He swallows tightly as she shifts in his arm, pressing her tiny round cheek to his neck. You tug on his hand, lead him back out to the living room. He squeezes so hard you think your fingers might fall off.

It won’t be long now before your daughter is fully awake. She’s already beginning to wiggle slightly, her eyelids fluttering. You don’t dare to try and let go of Charles, but you head for the kitchen and start warming up a bottle for her.

It’s what you’d do any day. It’s odd, because the apocalypse is breathing down your neck but your baby still needs to be fed. Other things, you’ve chosen to neglect- the trash will stay in the overflowing can in the kitchen. The mail will go unopened, bills unpaid. There’s a layer of dust on the fireplace mantle that will stay there until the mantle itself ceases to exist. You warm up your daughter’s bottle, though, and try to listen to the sound of the microwave instead of the sound of your husband’s crying.

She’s awake, now, and tugging at your hair with tiny fingers. Charles untangles your hands and wraps his arm around your waist instead, uses it to pull you into his chest. His grip is so tight it would almost be claustrophobic on any other day. Today, if you could melt yourself into one person with him, you would.

The microwave beeps, and you both jump. You grab the bottle, turn to your husband, your daughter. She’s yawning, her head on his chest, her hand still caught in your hair. She doesn’t know. She won’t ever know. There are so many things she won’t get to learn. You’ve dreamt of this your whole life- of love, a family, people to call your own and a home to spend your life in with them. In the end, your time has been so short lived. There are only so many minutes left. The clock on the TV counts down, and your chest aches with every second. You will lose them today.

Charles seems to sense your train of thought. He leads you back to the couch in the living room. He half sits, half lays with your daughter, legs up on the sofa, and holds his other arm out for you. She’s beginning to fuss, because she’s hungry- the most simple of human predicaments. When you sit down, he pulls you into his chest, to face him, your back to the tv. Even on the last day, he will try to shelter you. He curls his arms around you and your daughter while you hold the bottle to her mouth.

“My girls,” he says, voice barely a whisper. “My beautiful girls.”

You’d thought, when you had gotten pregnant, that Charles would want it to be a boy. A mini him, someone to teach karting and racing and follow in his footsteps. But before you even found out, he’d been insistent it was a girl, that she was going to be just like you, that he was going to be wrapped around her finger, same as he was around yours. And when she was born, his dark hair and your eyes and the tiniest fingers you’d ever seen, Charles had bawled his eyes out, holding her in his arms, pressing sweet kisses to your forehead.

He’d been so excited, told you all of his plans. There’d been days on the boat with her, days in the water, days at races with giant headphones to protect her ears. Her father had doted on her and loved her, had talked about her every chance he got. She was going to grow up with all the love the world could possibly have to offer and then some, surrounded by it, bathed in it.

It’s not fair. You’ve had years to live, you’ve gotten to be your own person, but she’ll never get that chance. You suddenly feel short of breath, chest tight, heart racing. Charles feels it and wraps his arm tighter around you. You stare at your daughter’s face, her tiny eyelashes, the little slope of her nose. She deserves so much more time. You rub your finger over her cheek as she drinks the bottle.

“S’not fair,” you mutter, blinking back tears.

“I know,” he says, murmuring the words against your forehead. “It’s not.”

There’s so much more you could say, but the words won’t come. How do you put that into words? The terrifying, all consuming fear of what is coming. There’s no stopping it now. Maybe it’s not worth dwelling on.

“You know,” you say with a sniffle. “She’ll never have to be afraid.”

Charles nods. “Nobody will ever hurt her.”

You reach out and hold her hand, her tiny fingers in yours. Her skin is so soft, unmarred by the world. She will never face heartbreak. She will never lose anyone. She will never have to worry. She’ll also never make her first friend, or have her first love, or her first job or first car, or… the nevers pile up and weigh heavy on your chest. The whole weight of the world is on you.

You press your cheek to Charles’ chest and let the tears flow. It’s silly to hide it. He holds onto you tightly.

There can’t be much time left, now. You can feel the seconds slipping away like grains of sand through your fingers. You have this uncontrollable urge to kneel on the ground and try to scoop them all up. The bits and pieces of your life together with him. You want to hold it all close to your chest, try and shelter it from the impact.

“The wine,” Charles says. “The wedding wine.”

You’d saved a bottle. It was meant to be opened on your tenth anniversary. It’s in the cupboard in the kitchen, a white bow around the neck, a label with a photo of the two of you custom printed by a friend. You’ve been married for three years now. At the time, ten years had felt so far away. Now it slips through the gaps in the cupped hands of your heart.

Charles passes your daughter into your arms and stands up. You cradle her to your chest and press your lips to the top of her head. You whisper to her, remind her how much she’s loved, how much you care for her. Charles returns with the bottle and two glasses, and the corkscrew you’d been gifted as a wedding present. You try not to dwell on it, try not to think about his brothers giving it to you, engraved with your new last name and with a note to accompany it- When you argue, or feel sad, or happy, or anytime, stop and share a bottle of wine together.

You take their advice- of all the times to take it, now feels like your best bet, though you’ve lived by little things like that your whole relationship. When Charles was gone for extended time periods for races, he always returned with a special bottle of wine, always made sure to set aside his first day back just for you, and eventually, for your daughter too. It was one of the things that bothered him most, he’d told you- he never felt like he had enough time. Stretched too thin between all the things and people he loved, everything that’s important to him. He pours you a glass of wine and hands it to you, and you wait while he pours his own. You clink the glasses together and take a sip. It tastes the same as it did on your wedding night, and fresh tears fill your eyes. All your family and friends, there to celebrate the two of you, and now it all comes to an end.

There are picture frames on the wall behind the couch. You stare at them, the tears in your eyes blurring the photographs, but you know what you’d find there. The wedding photo, when he’d kissed you for the first time as your husband. There’s the photo of the two of you on his first day at Ferrari, smiling bright and wide and happy and not having any idea how important you’d become to each other. There are family photos- just the three of you, and ones with your extended families, too. There are landscapes from your vacations together, pictures of you with friends out at parties, your whole lives, hanging up on the wall. All the photos will be destroyed, soon, along with the rest of the world.

Your daughter is dozing off against your chest. You turn to try and take a peek at the countdown on the screen, but before you can, Charles grabs your head and holds, firmly. It can’t be long now. Sometime this morning, just after sunrise, you think they said on the news last night. There’s sun filtering in through the curtains. Your breath gets caught in your chest. The dawn of a new day, of the very last day.

“Hey, hey,” he murmurs, lips against your forehead. “Don’t panic.”

“The world is ending, Charles,” you choke out, voice frantic. “We- we’re going to-“

“I know,” he mumbles. He knits his fingers with yours, right on top of your daughter’s back. “I know. Stay with me. Feel me? Feel her breathing? Just stay right here, my love. You are safe here.”

You’re not, you’re the least safe here that you’ve ever been, but you know what he’s trying to say. You feel the soft rise and fall of her back beneath your hand, feel the way he squeezes your fingers. Stay here. Stay with me. You take a deep breath against his neck, wondering if you can breathe in enough of him that he’ll be a part of you forever. Forever. What does forever even mean, now?

“It’s not enough,” you mutter. “It wasn’t enough time. We deserved more time.”

He nods, and when he speaks, his voice sounds raw. “It wasn’t. We did. But it never would have been enough, my love.”

“If you had more time,” you start, and you hear him choke on a sob. “What would you do with it?”

He’s quiet for a moment. There’s a million different options, a million different answers, a million things still left to do. You wonder if he’s thinking of the same thing as you, though.

“I would spend it right here,” he says, and you fall to pieces. “Right here, with you in my arms, and our daughter with us, and I would tell you how you are the love of my life and- and how I will find you, in the next life, and we will spend forever together. Over and over and it will never be enough,” he sniffles, his tears falling against your forehead.

“Give me a million more years, and I would like to spend them all with you,” you tell him, voice thick with your tears. “Every second.”

There’s a loud noise from somewhere outside. Your heart should be racing, but it isn’t. Charles wraps you up closer, pulling you around your daughter, trying to cradle both of you in his arms. This is it. If there’s anywhere you’d want to spend your last moments, this is the place.

“I will see you soon, my love,” he says into your skin.

Neither of you are religious, and you haven’t talked about your thoughts on the afterlife in any serious sense, but in that moment, you believe it, and you know he does too.

“Nothing could ever keep me away. We said forever,” he adds.

“I love you, Charlie,” you say, leaning up to kiss him. “Forever and ever.”

As the world falls apart around you, you bury your face in his neck and let it happen. There’s nothing you can do, now, except spend every second with him, with your daughter. All the seconds you have left.

…..

The Ferrari factory is bright and shiny, full of people who stare in awe. They have a new driver today, a new prodigy who’s meant to bring victory back to Maranello. You’re feeling a bit overwhelmed by all of it, by the people staring, by the buzzing underneath your skin. It’s too much, but you can’t back out now. You’re being lead through the crowd, and you hope you don’t look as terrified as you feel.

“Oh, and this,” your new team principal says, “is Charles. Your race engineer. You’ll be working very closely together.”

Charles turns around, eyes already sparkling. He grins, a dimple divoting his cheek. He’s cute. He gives you a warm feeling in your chest, like something familiar. When he shakes your hand, you swear you feel a spark. You’ve never met him, you’re almost sure, but it feels like you know him, or maybe, like you used to. It’s the strangest feeling, but it’s a comfort in this sea of strangers.

“Welcome to Ferrari,” he says, and it’s the millionth time you’ve heard it today but you could cry, still. For some reason, it means more coming from him. “You’re going to love every single second.”

Taglist: @4-mula1 @celestialams @struggling-with-delia @lovekt @i-wish-this-was-me @forzalando @iloveyou3000morgan @callsign-scully @arian-directioner @racingheartsposts @sakuramxchii @mynamejeff5 @c-losur3 @casperlikej

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phoenixyfriend · 1 year

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I’m always a little Meh on people making Cody the same age (or older) than Obi-Wan in AUs that don’t take place in the gffa. Because. Listen.

Hot fresh grad Cody with some impressive job as like... a newscaster or a male model or some military thing... dating a bedraggled rumpled wet cat of a middle-aged Bug Scientist, and thinking this easily-distracted disaster is the hottest shit ever, while his brothers look on in absolute confusion and mild horror.

Obi-Wan can clean up nice and be this refined professor type with perfectly coiffed hair and perfectly groomed beard and perfectly pressed sweatervest combo and a perfectly cultured accent... but then he sees a rare Parasitic Worm in the bushes by the koi pond, and suddenly he’s covered in mud and bleeding and holding up this specimen with demands for a mason jar so he can get it back to a lab and see if they can get this into that one breeding program over in the university three states over.

And 22yo ‘could have literally anyone he wants’ Cody is like 😍

#I'm like... mostly okay with ‘close in age Obi-Wan is less than five years older than Cody’ but I balk at AUs where Cody is older #That's a slap in the face it is #codywan #commander cody #Obi Wan Kenobi #star wars #the clone wars #modern au #phoenix talks #will I ever shut up about this particular tract? No #Take the tropes you see in ob*kin fic and apply it to codywan and your life will become infinitely funnier

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jiminiesfavouritecolourisblue · 2 months

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Severance - BTS OT7 CEO au Chapter 16

So did anybody guess what was on the news? I thought it was rather obvious (it’s getting harder and harder to find gifs I haven’t used)

Prev / Next

“Care to explain this Y/n,” Junmyeon says, reaching for the remote and pressing play.

You feel your world freeze, the newscasters lips moving but the thumping in your ears drowns her out. Footage after footage of your dates, the three maknaes and you at the airport, date stamped proving you played hooky, there was nothing you could say to disprove the videos, not when in every single one they steal a kiss.

Your mouth opens but nothing comes out, not even a breath goes in, you’re stuck. You don’t see anything but the screen where the secret you so desperately wanted to keep was aired out for the world to witness. You don’t see Jongin desperately texting Jimin under the desk, what you do see is the channel cut to a newscaster introducing the last woman you ever expected to see, the shock filling your lungs with air so fast it makes you dizzy. Your eyes sting with tears as she starts talking, was this karma? Was this the universe telling you you made the wrong choice, that you should never have fallen for them, that you were too greedy for their love. Was this the price, the consequences?

“I think she’s hyperventilating,” the voice sounds muffled, your ears feel like they're full of burning cotton but at least someone has the sense to turn the screen off. Baekhyun fills your vision instead, hands on your shoulders with worried eyes on your form.

“Cars coming to pick her up, back entrance,” you recognise it's Jongin that’s speaking but the word’s go over your head.

Someone hands you a tissue but you don’t register the gesture until you hear a sigh. Chanyeol gently wipes your tears away, the stern look on his face softening when you look up at him. The sound of the phone ringing sounds so distant, like it was at the end of the tunnel. Jongin answers it before handing it to Junmyeon.

“Namjoon,” he greets through the line, the sound of his tone cutting through the fog you were drowning in. Joonie, you wanted nothing more than to be buried in his arms away from all this, but he wasn’t here. Whatever he was saying though the line made your current boss stare at you with an accusation that didn’t budge.

“We need to get her out without any more commotion,” he says to the others stiffly after he cuts the call.

“I’ll sort out the employees,” Kyungsoo states walking out.

The silence that follows is palpable, the lead CEO breaks it with a sigh, and you know it’s due to the aftermath he would have to deal with because of your decisions. He moves to walk past you, but you grab his sleeve before he can. You try not to flinch under his stare, your hands trembling where they hold him.

“I’m so sorry,” you say as sincerely as you can through a hoarse whisper. He acknowledges your words with a nod before he leaves. You’re quickly ushered to the corridor by the others, the sight of them shielding you like your own personal bodyguards would make you chuckle on any other day, but you were still shaking like a leaf.

All that work, all those years of making something of yourself, all the sacrifices and it came to this. Your life exposed to the world in a way that would cause it ruin. Your future at e.xo was done, no other company would ever employ you, you could never go back to work for bangtan. Everything was gone.

—

“Yeah we’re in the car, we got her out safe,” Seokjin says through the phone while Yoongi drives, his eyes glancing at you with worry.

A question Namjoon asks on the phone had Jin tensing, looking at you hesitantly. Is she okay?

“She’s not saying anything, she’s just shaking,” he sighs, he wanted to say more, how you were staring at the floor despondently, how when Jin tried to hold your hand to comfort you, you tensed and turned away.

The fear in their hearts that you regretted everything you had with them made Jin pull away, all he could do was be grateful they got to you before the media did, and in the tinted vehicle you were at least safe.

“It’s safe to go back to the mansion,” Jin tells Yoongi when he hangs up the call.

The drive is silent, they didn’t know what to say, everytime they tried the words died before they could form. Security was back in full force at their estate, running out any media outlet that tried to sneak close, their lawyers were having a field day. Not to mention the commotion at the office as they walked out, the whispers conjugated together so loud, not even Namjoon’s glare could silence them.

The gates open to the estate, and Yoongi can hear his heartbeat thumping faster and faster in his ears, it felt like they were coming to an impasse and there was no going back. The car slows to a stop, and as he kills the engine all they can do is stare at you.

Move. You had to move.

You could hear a faint commotion outside, the three maknaes running towards the car but a stern look from Yoongi stopped them in their tracks. Worry, anticipation, anxiety, no one knew exactly what concoction of emotions paralysed them, what made them hesitate to reach out to you.

“Kitten,” Yoongi starts softly, “you need to talk to us.”

That made you move, the door opening without a word in return. Your legs work against you, feeling like lead on twigs, a second away from collapsing. You couldn’t speak right now, your whole body felt empty and yet the weight of thoughts in your head made you need to bury it. You wanted your bed, you wanted to hide, and you wanted to be alone.

Yoongi shares a look with Jin, the hurt flashing between both of them at your rejection but they try not to take it to heart. You never wanted your relationship with them made public, not yet at least, you weren’t ready for the backlash, but now the choice was taken from you in the most heinous way.

“Noona,” Jungkook calls for you gently, a sadness in his eyes at the way you were walking with your head hanging low. Jimin holds him back, understanding better than anyone how you were feeling. He used to do the same, when something went wrong, when he made a mistake, he cut himself off from everyone, it would be a mistake to approach you until you were ready, until the voices in your head either broke you or quietened down.

The steps to the front door took so much energy from you, you didn’t think you had any left. You could feel them walking behind you at a distance, and yet it didn’t feel far enough or close enough. Something inside of you was tearing its way out and you didn’t know if you wanted to be embraced through it or to suffer it alone the way you had before so many times.

“Y/n,” Namjoon didn’t get the memo, he tries to embrace you but feels you stiffen against him, letting go immediately to look at your face with worry. “Baby girl, we'll fix this, okay? We-”

You push him away and he looks at you in shock, you didn’t want to hear it right now, you were barely holding yourself together. Voices were pounding inside of your head, the same repeated phrases over and over about how all your work was ruined, it was all for nothing, all your dreams, all your efforts. You couldn’t handle anything right now, you just needed your bed and to cry yourself to sleep alone.

“Y/n talk to me,” Namjoon says sternly, brows knitted at the way you didn’t even look at him.

He blocks your path when you try to walk past him, why didn’t he understand what you needed right now? You hear him sigh, as if his patience with you was wearing thin.

“Baby girl, you always do this,” he says, holding onto your shoulders to ground you, to keep you from leaving him. “You shut yourself down, you punish yourself, you push us away and then you break.”

“You can’t do that anymore sunshine,” Hoseok says standing beside you. “We’re in a relationship, we’re in this together, your pain is our pain Y/n.”

They watch you shake your head, bowing your head down so low as they hear the telltale sniffle that turns into a violent sob. Namjoon is quick to catch you in his arms, hushing your softly, stroking your hair until you calmed. All the while guilt ate him up, this was his fault, he could see it in all of their eyes as they watched you fall apart.

—

The house was solemn and quiet, you had retreated upstairs to your room, Jimin staying beside you while you slept.

“We underestimated that bitch,” Yoongi breaks the silence with what they were all thinking. They’re all scattered around the living room, Jungkook sitting deep in thought on the headrest of the sofa, Yoongi on the seat beside him. Namjoon sat opposite them with Hoseok on the armrest, Jin pacing the room slowly while Taehyung sat on the floor with his face in his hands. The black face of the TV on the wall stared at them, taunting them with what it held inside. The face broadcasted alongside yours and theirs was one that they barely remembered, but she had the audacity to be interviewed by any news outlet desperate enough for a story. They didn’t want to turn on the TV and see her face.

“She signed an NDA,” Namjoon says, a headache forming, “we didn’t think she was going to be a problem.”

“That’s where arrogance gets us,” Jin scoffs.

“Flower worked so hard for so long,” Taehyung says quietly, mourning for you. They all knew it better than anyone.

“We’ll fix this,” Namjoon states, he wouldn’t rest until they did.

“Namjoon be real for a second,” Hoseok sighs, “we might not be able to fix it.”

“No company is going to take her without an agenda,” Jungkook pipes in stoically.

“Or without thinking she’s a corporate spy,” Jin agrees.

“We can’t control everyone and everything,” Hoseok finishes, patting the lead CEO on the shoulder sympathetically.

“And we definitely can’t ignore a problem away,” Yoongi scoffs, staring daggers into Namjoon.

“Let’s not start this now,” Jin warns, feeling Namjoon’s guilt from a mile away.

“What does he mean?” Jungkook asks, feeling confused.

“Namjoon’s been burning threats concerning us,” Yoongi continues accusatively.

“We never opened those letters,” Namjoon argues back, “we don’t know what they contained.”

“Well we know now,” Yoongi says mockingly. He hated when you were upset, the feeling made his own claws unsheath, ready to tear into anyone who was held responsible.

“We don’t know the two things are connected,” Hoseok tries to defend their lead.

“Don’t be stupid Hobi,” Yoongi seethes, “Kitten’s whole career has gone down the drain because of us, what the fuck is she going to do if she finds out?”

“You best hope she doesn’t,” Taehyung snapped, his earlier melancholy now fueled by fear.

“We can’t keep this from her,” Hoseok shakes his head, disregarding the point.

“She’ll hate us,” Jungkook states, terrified it would manifest before his eyes soon.

“She’ll be angry at us,” Jin corrects him, “but we have to tell her.”

“Not now, it’s too soon,” Namjoon says quickly, his own fear warping his judgement.

“You should’ve opened one fucking letter,” Yoongi can’t let it go, all of this could’ve been avoided if it wasn’t for Namjoon’s stupid stubbornness.

“What good is bringing that up now going to do?” Hoseok sighs again.

“We don’t know if it’s connected!” Namjoon yells exasperated. “What we do know is Shin Suran leaked the photos and the story, and she is going to fucking pay.”

—

“So you’re saying the CEOs fired you because you threatened to expose their relationship to HR?” Solar, the newscaster asks her aghast.

“Honestly, I didn’t want to expose their… relationship,” she can’t hide the disgust in her voice at the word, “but I was concerned for Y/n’s wellbeing, I thought maybe they were holding her job over her head until I found out she was only entertaining them to climb the corporate ladder.”

Both anchors were shocked, the information sending them reeling.

“I mean what self respecting young woman would sell herself like that? Y/n was never a team player, or very good at her job but somehow she was always favoured by the CEO’s. It should have been obvious really.”

“Wow, that’s a lot of information to unpack Suran,” Solar says. “Aren’t you scared of the repercussions, these are the world’s business leads you’re going up against.”

“I only want to convey the truth,” Suran lies through her teeth. “It isn’t fair that the women who have worked hard and devoted themselves to Bangtan corporations are not appreciated or given the opportunities they deserve.”

“But Miss L/n left bangtan corporations,” the other anchor Hwasa finally speaks after having watched the little snake for so long. Something didn’t sit right with her and this woman’s sickly sweet attitude, it stank of deceit and she wasn’t blind to it.

“I have it on good information that she was sent to spy on the competition,” Suran’s eyes narrow, not liking her tone of voice.

“That’s a wild allegation,” Hwasa replies, every bit the professional. “I hope you have the evidence to back it up.”

—

“Bangtan corporations are under serious investigation after allegations of corporate espionage came from their former employee…”

She smiles at the screen plating in front of her, the chaos unravelling in so many wonderful ways. The Sun was shining despite the winter air, how many interviews could she fit into one day? Many it seemed, and while the day was over there was always tomorrow to cause more havoc to your life. Now she would sit and bask in the TV light, watching all of her fire ignite.

She had only gotten cosy when the doorbell rang to her little flat, groaning as she went to the door to answer it.

“Shin Suran?”

The three piece suit should give away something serious was in the brown paper envelope in his hands but she couldn’t bring herself to show any respect to the figure. She sneered and rolled her eyes, this man might’ve looked intimidating but she was currently on a high from ruining your life, nothing was going to bring her power trip down.

“Wi HaJoon,” he continues in the absence of a greeting, handing her the envelope. “You’ve been served.”

“What?” That elicits a reaction out of her, for some reason she didn’t even contemplate there would be consequences for her actions, deluded into thinking she was untouchable.

“You’re being sued for stalking, defamation and breaking the nondisclosure agreement you signed.”

That wasn’t part of her plan, her jaw drops to the ground and she realises maybe she played her cards all wrong. In the violent web of wanting to destroy your life she didn’t realise all her defences were gone. Maybe he was right after all.

—

When you wake up, the sun begins to set and Jimin’s warmth engulfs you. The feeling is comforting but fleeting, unfortunately real life problems don’t fade just because you’re in his arms. You wanted to bury yourself in his hold, have him take everything away until you were ready to deal with it. Jungkook’s favourite grey sweatshirt swallows you whole, his smell calming your senses, you try to focus on it when your mind tries to swim through the thoughts that wanted you to drown.

The door creaks open, two figures cautiously peaking in whispering to themselves. When Tae notices you’re awake he takes a seat beside you, caressing your cheek in his palm gently, his thumb soothing your skin. His eyes are downtrodden.

Jungkook kneels on the floor next to you, taking your hand in his and covering it with hard kisses, resting his cheek where they intertwined.

You try to get up but Jimin beside you grumbles in discontent, shuffling closer mumbling something under his breath without opening his eyes. A chaste kiss to your shoulder where the fabric hangs off your skin, lets you know he’s awake but refusing to let you go. The gesture brings a small but genuine smile to your face, one that turns into confusion as the commotion downstairs gets louder.

The younger two give each other knowing glances, one you don’t miss.

“What’s going on?” You ask, voice still hoarse from crying.

The hesitation in both of them fills you with dread. Did something else happen?

“They’re just trying to sort things out bunny,” Jungkook tries to reassure you, “it’s nothing to worry about.”

Despite Taehyung not wanting you to find out, something sickened him at the idea of keeping secrets from you. He knew how the truth always found its way out, and he knew if you didn’t hear it from them, it would have worse repercussions.

“Tae?” you could see a storm in his eyes, a battle between the loyalty to the others and his love for you.

“The hyungs…” he hesitates, Jimin now fully awake and sitting up at his deep uncertain tone.

Jungkook looks at him imploring him not to say it yet, it was going to be too much to deal with so soon after this morning. You grab Jimin’s arm, pulling yourself up closer to Taehyung who now avoided your gaze.

“Guys what’s going on?”

“I’ve been here with you,” Jimin mumbles half asleep, his hair a soft mess on his head.

“Kookie?” you turn to the youngest who bites his lips nervously, doe eyes begging you not to ask him.

“You’re worrying me,” your nerves were shot, the trauma from this morning making you beyond paranoid. What could be worse than this morning, what weren’t they telling you.

“Jimin, Jungkook and I didn’t know,” Taehyung starts slowly, not wanting to put his hyung’s under the bus but he wasn’t going to let them shoulder the blame when they were innocent. Plus when this was over he had a feeling you would ostracise the older four for a while, he couldn’t handle being a part of that.

“Didn’t know what?” you ask tentatively, urging him to continue.

“I still don’t know,” Jimin grumbles, getting annoyed with the suspense.

“Namjoon Hyung has been getting letters,” Jungkook says when Taehyung pauses for too long. He sighs, cursing the hyung’s for keeping this from you when he knew the betrayal would crush you.

“What letters?”

Something ticks in Jimin’s brain, his sleep filled eyes going wide with realisation. The other day in the office, when the hyung’s went solemn, it was to do with that?

“We think…” Taehyung tries not to stumble over his words, “they were threats, about you or us, but we don’t know because…”

Threats? You’re sent reeling, did Namjoon know this was coming? And he did nothing to warn you, or confide in you?

“Because what?” you breathe, your voice heavy, eyes watering as your thoughts ran away from you. Jimin places an arm around your shoulders, trying to soothe you.

“He burned the letters before he opened them,” Jungkook finishes, feeling a deep rooted shame for his favourite hyung, and for selling him out.

“Angel…”

Jimin calls after you as you throw the covers off of you, storming downstairs to confront the men hiding things from you.

“Sunshine-”

“You’ve been getting threats and you didn’t tell me?”

They startle at your accusation, as right as it was, the four of them confounded until the younger three stumble in behind you. All four hyungs glance at them disgruntled and disappointed, this was not the way to handle things, the thought was hypocritical but justified in their minds.

“You didn’t tell me?” Your teary eyes pierce Yoongi with so much sadness, of all of them you never expected him to keep it from you, and for some reason it stung the worst.

“Kitten,” he tries reaching out to you, a vulnerable edge to his voice. He would let you scratch and claw at him until you were satisfied, anything to keep you from looking at him like that again.

“Babygirl it’s my fault,” Namjoon sighs, taking the edge of his hyung and shouldering all the blame. “I told them not to.”

You turn back to him with anger in your eyes.

“Namjoon you’re the lead at work but that doesn’t make you the lead in this relationship,” you snap. “You had no right to keep this from me!”

“I know,” he says, his voice small.

“How long have you been getting these letters?” You ask and he hangs his head in shame.

“Months…” he replies, “since you left the company.”

You stare at him appalled and it wounds him.

“You have the gall to tell me how to behave in this relationship Kim Namjoon,” Your voice is strained through the onslaught of angry tears. “And you keep this from me?”

“I didn’t know what the letters said,” he says as an excuse, and he knows it’s a feeble one.

You shake your head in disbelief.

“I thought you of all people would get it Joonie,” the way your voice breaks cuts through him with shame. “You built everything from the ground up, I admired you long before I loved you. So how the hell could you play with my future like this?”

“Baby girl that was never my intention,” he begs you to understand him now, that he didn’t behave nonchalant with a potential threat, he thought he was doing what was best.

“It doesn’t matter what your intention was! There was a clear right and wrong, and you know it.”

He bows his head again, you were right, he disrespected you when he didn’t discuss the letters with you, you should’ve made the decision together as to what to do with them. But in his heart he thought he was protecting you, protecting your peace and happiness, but all of that was a bubble set to burst.

“We don’t know that it’s connected beautiful,” Jin steps in between you, speaking as softly as he can knowing you were full of rage and sorrow, but he watched Namjoon take the blow and needed to shield him a little.

“We don’t know that it’s not,” you argued back. “We have no way of knowing, because instead of talking to me about something unpleasant, you guys decided to bury it.”

“Sunshine, I get that you’re upset-” Hoseok tries but the look of incredulous shock shuts him up.

“Upset?” you repeat, the strain in your voice carrying tears. “Everything I worked for, all my dreams, are gone.”

It was a struggle to get out every word, having to take a breath between each one, but you were determined to.

“No company is going to employ me, even if they do I’ll be subjugated to whispers and isolation and we know how that worked out last time.”

You sniffle, wiping your nose and tears with your sleeve. You wanted to appear strong but you were breaking down, didn’t they understand what they had done? Didn’t they care? Or were they so comfortable in their gold seats so far above you they forgot about their struggles on the way there?

“I didn’t join your company to seduce you, I wanted to work hard and make something of myself, maybe start my own company one day, but all of that is gone.”

“Kitten,” Yoongi dares himself to try again, to console you even if you pushed him away. He walks over to you, remembering all the times you seeked him out for comfort. It used to confound the others, how Mr Stoic Stone was the one that you reached for, and even though it was unusual for him to step into those shoes, with you it came so naturally. He wanted to be the one you searched for when you needed soothing, he never wanted to lose that connection he built with you, ever. He knew it was a privilege, one he never took for granted.

He hates the way you look at him now, it breaks his heart, those watering eyes showing how truly hurt you were while you tried to control the trembling of your bottom lip, tried to look strong in front of him.

“Whatever you think is gone, we can rebuild,” he takes your face in his hands, kissing the top of your head softly before looking into your eyes. “I am so sorry for not telling you, but I promise you whatever dreams you had will come true. It's just going to suck for a while and that’s our fault.”

“We know better than anyone how hard you work sunshine,” Hoseok smiles at you sadly, regretting not telling you.

“If you want a company babygirl, we’ll get you a company,” Namjoon’s own voice thick with remorse. “Whatever you want.”

“There’s enough space in the office for another desk,” Jimin tries to lighten the mood with a teasing lilt to his voice, but he’s not joking at all. “No one would dare to whisper about our angel CEO.”

You shake your head, removing Yoongi’s hold on you. They didn’t get it. You’ve worked for everything you had, it was how you had always been. You didn’t want to be handed a title you didn’t earn, or have your powerful boyfriends buy positions for you.

“Why would that be such a bad idea, beautiful?” Jin asks softly. “You’re more than capable.”

“I don’t need anyone thinking I slept my way to the top,” you scoff.

“Who cares what other people think, Kitten?” Yoongi sighs. “No one can deny you deserve a CEO position.”

You shake your head again, breathes of humourless laughter escaping your lips. They really didn’t get it. It was so easy to say that when you were untouchable to people’s words.

“You guys made the decision by yourselves to keep this from me,” you state, not looking at them but to the ground. “My career has nothing to do with you, whatever happens next is my choice.”

“Kitten-”

“You don’t have the right Yoongi,” you try to keep the anger out of your voice. “None of you do right now. I need to figure this out alone.”

“Are you breaking up with us?” Jungkook asks in a panic, not moving from the doorway, he would block your exit, he would fall to his knees and beg you to stay.

“No,” you reassure him with a syllable. “I love you, I always will, I’m just angry right now.”

“And you have every right to be,” Namjoon agrees solemnly.

“I just have one last thing on my mind,” you frown, an obvious question was left unanswered.

You face Namjoon, knowing he would hold the answer.

“You destroyed the letters before opening them,” it’s not a question but it sounds like one.

He nods, wondering where you were going with this.

“So how did you know they were threats?”

He hesitates, trying to build up the courage to tell you how he knew exactly who they were from.

“The return address,” Jin answers for him. “It was from the penitentiary.”

The realisation hits you, and for some reason it makes the whole situation so much worse. The accusation in your eyes returns as you gaze at Namjoon. He knew exactly what he was dealing with when he got rid of those letters, and looking at you now he knew he would have to beg for your forgiveness.

—

Bonus scene flashback:

Dear Kim Namjoon,

You haven’t responded to the last 6 letters I have sent, so either you’re not taking me seriously, or you haven’t read a single one. Both choices are not in anyone’s best interest, I don’t think you realise the situation you’ve put me in, I have nothing to lose.

The deadline is approaching for you to transfer the funds and secure my release. I am not spending years in jail because of your jealousy. Enclosed are copies of the images I will release to the media, I bet you’re wondering how I was able to get these when you locked me away.

It seems I’m not the only one you thought you could cross and toss away. For your sake, I hope you make the right choice.

I look forward to hearing from you,

Alexander Pettyfer

“They haven’t responded to a single one of your stupid letters, what makes you think they will now?” Suran scoffs at the news that he sent another.

“Just be patient,” he replies, the usually clean cut male looking rugged and rough. “We need something out of this other than just ruining their lives.”

“Look, the images I got are proof enough about what that whore is doing, I say we release them.”

“Not yet!” The rise in his voice gets the guards attention, and he takes a deep breath to calm down. Stupid woman didn’t know when to listen, it was unfortunate that he had to use her, although he should count his blessings the day she came and visited for the first time with an idea to take the CEOs down.

357 notes · View notes

idoodlestuffsometimes · 1 year

Text

Brother's Keeper AU Story Post 12 (Part 2)

AU MASTER POST

BEGINNING | PREVIOUS | NEXT

[Image ID under the cut]

[IMAGE ID: Three pages of a black and white comic.

PAGE ONE

PANEL 1: Perry Porter continues his news report. "Further investigation," he says, "reveals that this human has been the subject of sightings in Bonesborough for a few weeks now, and is the cause of a recent disturbance at Hexside School. For further comment, here is my own son, Augustus." PANEL 2: Perry interviews Gus, who is grinning with excitement. "Augustus, is it true you've encountered this human before?" "Yeah!" exclaims Gus, "She snuck into the school and now she's my friend! Her name is Luz!" PANEL 3: "Now that they're together, I can see…" says Belos. "It's them." With a point of his finger, he conjures hologram-like illusions of Luz and Lillith, who stand in the throne room facing them, with their names above their heads. "I don't understand," says Caleb. PANEL 4: The illusions have transformed into Luz and Lilith in their disguises from "Elsewhere and Elsewhen." The names over their heads have changed to "Luzura" and "Aunt Dirtrude." "I had to consult memory magic to be sure," Belos says, "but I was correct." Caleb reads the names out loud: "Luzura and--" PANEL 5: He points, laughing. "Wait, is that the witch who broke your nose?" "They're the two who helped me find the Collector," Belos grumbles. "I did always have questions about them. Clearly there was time magic involved."

PAGE TWO

PANEL 1: A profile view of Caleb, quietly sad. "I see," he says. "And this human attacked a witch in a duel." PANEL 2: But then he turns and brings a hand to his chin in thought. "But… the boy called her his friend?" "Either a cunning ploy, or she is… struggling to find her way," responds Belos. "Either way, she isn't ready to face a witch." PANEL 3: A view of footage from the news report, projected by the crystal ball. In a moment from the episode "Convention," Eda exposes the power glyph used on Amity while Luz looks on in surprise. Belos continues to speak off screen. "If it wasn't for the Owl Lady's intervention, she would have sorely lost." "The Owl Lady protected her?" Caleb asks. "Yes, it appears my suspicions were correct." PANEL 4: "The portal door has reappeared, in the hands of another one of your blasted Clawthornes." A close-up of Belos against a totally black background, his face shadowed. One hateful eye gleams from behind his mask. PANEL 5: A close-up of Caleb staring up at him, also shadowed against black. His face is lined, his single pupil a pinprick. His expression is schooled neutral. "And just as before," Belos continues off screen, "the witch has taken advantage to claim a human soul." PANEL 6: "No wonder the child came to me for help. If not for Lilith, perhaps I could have aided her back then." He stands in front of the projection, watching the newscast, his back to Caleb. "I should order her collected and brought here. Shield her from further corruption. If only the Owl Lady wasn't guarding her." PANEL 7: A close up of Caleb jolting forward, fearful. "NO!" he bursts out.

PAGE THREE

PANEL 1: A close-up of Belos glowering dangerously over his shoulder, lit by the broadcast from behind. "No?" PANEL 2: Caleb sweats. "I mean. Philip, don't you think it'll look suspicious to show too much interest in a human?" PANEL 3: Caleb takes Belos hand, clutching him imploringly. "Not to mention the possibilities of meddling in the time-line. It's too risky." Belos isn't looking at him anymore. He looks ahead at the illusion of Luz, whose back is to us in the foreground. His expression is unreadable. PANEL 4: A high angle shot of Belos and Caleb watching Luz's illusion. Caleb still clings to Belos. Luz's illusion is alone now, staring at them blankly as she stands at the far end of the throne room. "Yes," Belos agrees, "I fear it's too early to intervene. It seems the Lord is testing her." PANEL 5: "For now," he continues off screen, "she will have to face the temptations of this realm on her own." A close-up of Caleb, letting out a breath of relief. PANEL 6: Caleb's eyes snap open. Belos' hand has come up to brush his cheek. PANEL 7: Belos pulls Caleb into a hug. Caleb's face over Belos' shoulder is drawn in supressed, silent horror, cast in deep shadows, as Belos murmurs to him reassuringly. "Don't worry, Caleb. The Owl Lady will be taken care of. And then the portal to the human realm will be in safe hands." PANEL 8: Belos and Caleb in profile against a black background, casting long shadows on the ground. Belos hunches over Caleb, one arm around his back and the other hand on the back of his head, pressing him close. Caleb dangles limply, face towards the ceiling, pulled halfway out of his wheelchair. Belos murmurs into Caleb's hair. "I won't let history repeat."

#The Owl House #TOH #Caleb Wittebane #Philip Wittebane #Emperor Belos #luz noceda #eda clawthorne #lilith clawthorne #gus porter #perry porter #Brother's Keeper AU #doodle art #ah yes just totally normal brothers. nothing to see here! I'm sure Caleb and Luz and the Clawthornes will be just fine #with this and the last one there was so much dialogue i finally gave in and started using type instead of hand-lettering #still some kinks to work out but i think i'll stick with it. some def improvements not having to draw out guidelines anymore :)#also!!! my handwriting is now a font. for the sake of transitioning to type without it looking suddenly super different. Very fun :D

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bluesbox · 15 days

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Smg4 AU

Guys I made doodles for an AU! It’s called Newscast / Radio AU ! And it’s basically an AU where instead of a YouTube channel Smg4 runs a radio station with 3 as his co host, they do silly things and go on adventures for the sake of a good news/informational videos and even though it ends up being a show horrible at reporting news it’s still a funny thing to tune into nonetheless!

Which also means that instead of smg3 trying to take his channel he would be trying to take over being host for the news station and for perfectionist arc it would be 4 wanting to make a news broadcast that actually delivers that news (forcing the world around him to shift to create big or small problems suitable for a broadcast)

THIS IS BASED OFF THE ONE EPISODE THAT THEY DID NEWS AND I FELL IN LOVE WITH THE IDEA GUYS PLEASE LIKE THIS!

And yes they are in there wotfi 2023 outfits fight meeee

#smg4 fanart #smg4 smg3 #smg4 #smg34fanart #smg3 x smg4 #smg4 au #smg4newscastau

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orderforbrian · 2 years

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silly one-off spiderman au me and leo talked about after watching all the sam raimi movies. entirely hilarious for jon to hate spiders while a web slinging superhero is cruising around London - honestly did it just to draw the spiderman kiss LMAO can you blame me

more details under the cut after the ID

[Start ID: Two images and two comics of a Spiderman Martin AU for the Magnus Archives. Martin is a mixed Polish/Korean man with short, wavy hair, wears glasses, and has a beauty mark under his lip. Jon is a Persian man with short, curly hair, wears glasses, and wears a business suit unless specified.

First image: A series of three drawings. The first drawing is of Spiderman Martin, he is posing with one arm above his head, presumably holding a web, and the other stretched out next to him, both his feet are crossed over each other. He is wearing a superhero suit that hides his identity, and none of his actual body is visible. The suit is has a web pattern except for where he has black elbow length gloves and calf length boots. His fingers are marked by sharp claws. There is a solid pattern around both sides of his waist that somewhat resembles a black widow hourglass. There is a simplified angular spider symbol stamped on his chest. His mask has large eyes with sharp edges as well as a set of eyes where his eyebrows would be, and two sets of eyes underneath his center ones. There are four black spider legs coming off of his back. In the top right corner, Martin is wearing a teddy lined jacket with a dress shirt underneath. He is holding a camera with the lanyard around his neck and has a beard. He appears flustered and is blushing. A simplified version of Jon that is just glasses with pupils says, "You look different...". Martin says, "I - I do?". Jon squints and asks, "Did you grow a beard overnight?". In the bottom right corner, Spiderman Martin has Jon cradled in one arm and is using his other arm to presumably swing a web. Jon is kicking his legs wildly and clutching onto Martin's head for dear life, his suit jacket and tie flying back from the movement. He is screaming and a couple tears are coming off his screwed shut eyes. He yells, "Oh good lord, put me down!!" in all caps. Martin says, "Hey, you're pulling my hair!" with the suit's eyes expressing a grimace.

Second image: A five panel comic. In the first panel, Spiderman Martin is dropping off Jon onto the top of a building, saying "Careful!". Jon takes a couple steps to balance himself. The next panel is a close up of Jon's face and he yells, "Wait!" In the next panel, Spiderman Martin looks back with a question mark next to his head. In between both panels is a web being shot out with the words "fwip" next to it. In the next panel, Jon's hand grabs at Martin's mask and Martin appears shocked and uncomfortable. In the final panel, Martin yells, "Woah! Hey!" and grabs Jon's hand. He uses one of the spider legs to fix his mask back onto his face and says, "Buy a guy dinner before trying to unmask him!" Jon looks up at him with wide eyes.

Third image: A five panel comic. In the first panel, Jon has slicked back hair and is looking angrily at a camera, saying, "You're trying to make it seem like I'm in love with Spiderman!". In the next panel, he is angrily pointing at the camera, a bit closer, and shouting, "Don't you dare put that in!!" with a flustered expression. In the next panel, Helen Richardson is reporting on the story at a news desk. She has shoulder length coiled hair in a side part and is wearing a newscaster suit with lipstick on and squiggle earrings. She says, "Jonathan Sims of the Magnus Tribune had only this to say-". In the next panel, Jon is in the same position he was in the first panel except he only says, "I'm in love with Spiderman!". In the final panel, Jon and Tim are watching a television in the corner of the panel. Tim is taller than Jon and has short hair locks, wears glasses and is wearing a sweater with a dress shirt underneath. Jon has his glasses tucked into his shirt collar and is dragging both hands down his eyelids, looking at the tv with a harrowed expression saying, "Tim, kill me...". Tim is looking at the tv with a grimace, responding with, "Yeesh, boss." In the left corner, a simplified drawing of Martin peeks over at them with a shock line, words next to him stating "Spidey sense tingling."

Fourth image: Spiderman Martin is upside down with half of his mask pulled up to just above his nose. Parts of his hair are sticking out by his neck. Jon has longer hair to his shoulders that appears to be wet. He is standing up and meeting his face to Martin's. He has both his eyes closed and is kissing Martin who is kissing him back. Both of Jon's hands are cradling the sides of Martin's head. The image is cast in a purple monochrome color.

End ID.]

the idea is that jon is a (nosy) investigative reporter for the Magnus Tribune who gets himself into way more trouble than he should because he's dedicated to the #truth. martin works as a photographer for the newspaper, sometimes collaborating with jon to nab evidence for a new article or scoop. at one such investigation, jon interviews a biotech company and martin ends up getting bitten by a mysterious spider - then boom, wakes up the next day and he doesn't need his glasses to see, he can climb walls, shoot webbing from his wrists, increased strength, reflexes, flexibility, the whole works. it's like he got five shots of testosterone right into the bloodstream. he starts solving small crimes as friendly neighborhood spiderman while keeping his secret identity, which props to him because he's the 'office clutz'. anyway shit starts going down with the biotech company (and possible connections to his boss Elias?? who wants to be immortal??), jon gets himself involved, and soon the guy who hates spiders is teaming up with spiderman to solve the mystery, all while harboring a crush on the cute photographer at work.

also just superhero martin is hot :)

#tma #the magnus archives #tma au #tma spiderman au #spiderman martin #jmart #jonmartin #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #order up! art tag

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thetomorrowshow · 5 months

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response

empires superpowers au masterlist (not up to date)

this takes place about 10 months after the end of ‘poisoned rats’.

cw: past abuse, flashbacks, heavy dissociation, blood & injury

It’s on the news before it’s anywhere else, which is to say, everyone knows before Jimmy.

Lizzie texts him to ask him if he needs anything, and while it’s an odd message to receive out of the blue, Jimmy doesn’t mind it at all. Lizzie checks in occasionally, particularly after big life events, and it’s just nice to hear from her.

Then Joel texts the same thing, and Jimmy starts to feel that something’s wrong.

He only finds out by chance, though—he turns on the TV and it happens to be on the news, and just before he switches away, he sees the scrolling headline.

MAJOR DISAPPEARS AFTER FIGHT WITH THE ORACLE.

His stomach drops.

The clip starts playing moments later, some newscaster narrating it like a sports game, not like his partner’s life is on the line.

“So here we can see the Oracle grab Major—it’s barely contact, but anything goes with that villain—and then, while Major’s disoriented, he slams him into the ground.”

Jimmy watches, mouth slightly open, as Scott indeed is shoved into the asphalt with enough force to knock a few teeth out. He winces, old injuries twinging in sympathy. It doesn’t stop there, though—as Scott is grabbing at the Oracle’s legs, doing anything to pull himself back up, he goes suddenly limp, and the Oracle lands a terrible hit to Scott’s nose, sending blood spurting everywhere.

The Oracle grasps Scott by the hair, then, Scott’s arms flailing out, and slams his head into the road. Jimmy gasps, reaches out as if he can grab Scott through the screen. This is bad. Scott hasn’t had such a bad fight since Xornoth. The Oracle must be getting more powerful, or gotten more training recently or something, because last Jimmy knew he was a local menace, not actually a danger.

Jimmy almost can’t watch. His hands are up at his mouth, and he can’t tear his eyes from the screen as Scott stops trying to fight back and just tries to crawl away. He almost makes it—the Oracle grabs him by the cape, pulls him back as his fingers scrabble for purchase.

The Oracle drags him up, has him in a chokehold—it’s the perfect position to just kill him, he’s already too weak to do much and the Oracle could easily slip a knife from the folds of his clothing and slash Scott’s throat, but he doesn’t. He just holds him as Scott struggles, whacking at his grip with steadily clumsier arms. Scott stops moving after a moment, and Jimmy’s moving forward, toward the TV, he has to help—

Scott’s only gathering strength though, and moments later he manages to buck backward and throw the Oracle’s arms from around his neck. With a spray of ice on the road, Scott collapses and penguin slides down the hill and past the news van, throwing up a curved wall of ice to make a sharp turn to the right. He disappears from view entirely, and when the camera turns back to the Oracle, he’s gone.

It’s barely a minute-long clip, but it leaves Jimmy breathless in the worst way possible. He needs to find Scott, he needs to help him—he’s opening the front door before he even puts his mask on, only in socks and his gym clothes, he’s got to find him—

His phone buzzes, and without even thinking he answers, everything in him tensing at the thought that it could be Scott, it has to be Scott—

“Jimmy, where are you right now?”

Lizzie. His heart utterly sinks. “I’m—do you know where he is? I’m going out to find him—”

“Are you at home?”

“Yeah, yes, but I’m leaving—”

“Do not leave,” she tells him sternly. For the first time, Jimmy registers feedback from her end—as if she’s outside on a windy day, or standing on the pier. “Stay at home.”

“I have to find him,” says Jimmy, and he needs to grab his key—where is his key, it’s usually right on the hook by the door—

“Joel and I are sweeping the city, all right? You need to stay home.”

“I’m not scared,” Jimmy retorts. “I can fight, I will fight, I’ll kill the Oracle if I have to—”

“Jimmy.”

He stops, reluctantly, at her tone.

“You need to stay home right now, because if Scott is his usual stubborn self and doesn’t check himself into a hospital, he’s going to come to you,” she explains. “Now I need you to listen to me, all right?”

He sighs. He’s still burning with a need to get out there, find Scott, but she’s right. Unfortunately. He slams the front door shut, sighs even louder. “Yeah, fine. What is it.”

“Get towels you don’t care about,” she instructs. “I know you have a pack of rubber gloves somewhere, so get those and your first aid kit. Disinfect wherever you’re going to help him—I’d think the dining room table, but it’s your choice. Got all that?”

Jimmy’s already halfway to the closet for the first aid kit, grabbing some bleach-stained hand towels from the bathroom on the way. “Yeah. What else?”

“We’re most worried about a concussion here, so he might be confused—especially after fighting the Oracle. Help him know he’s safe and cared for. Maybe get something he’s familiar with to have near, to ground him?”

“Treat it like a flashback, got it.” Jimmy sets the first aid kit down on the table, runs back to their bedroom. He and Scott had gone on a Build-A-Bear date recently, and Scott had gotten the Frozen’s Elsa bear. That should do for grounding, hopefully.

He brings the bear (and after a thought, his own, a brown bear with roller skates) back to the dining room, then cracks open the rubbing alcohol from the first aid kit and starts rubbing down the table and one of the chairs.

“Take care of him, all right?” Lizzie says, sounding almost far away. “I’ve got to go, but I’ll call you with more updates. Text me if he shows up.”

Before he can even say goodbye, she hangs up.

Great. He just has to deal with this situation alone, then. Scott’s never been that badly injured since Jimmy’s been dating him—sure, there was the broken arm incident, but Scott had still won that fight. He’s never been so badly injured that he had to flee.

What if he doesn’t remember how to get home? It’s not like he’s lived here his whole life, it’s entirely possible that he gets lost on the way back. Jimmy needs to go looking for him, has to be out there to help—

From the office comes the sound of a window sliding open.

Jimmy drops the rag he’d been using to wipe down the table and sprints for the office.

Sure enough, Scott is there, one leg in the window, and looking absolutely awful.

He looks worse than he had on TV. The collar of his costume is drenched in blood, most of which seems to be stemming from his nose but there’s blood in his bright blue hair and dripping from his mouth and all over—

Blood, there’s so much blood and Jimmy’s not sure if its his own or his opponent’s but as he stares at it he feels nothing, nothing but hope that his master will reward him for being so good—

Scott grunts and Jimmy’s back in the present, but his feelings of detachment remain. He crosses the office to the window and wraps an arm under Scott’s armpit to pull him the rest of the way in (Scott cries out, but Jimmy ignores it), then puts his other arm at his knees and fully lifts his boyfriend up.

Scott’s almost too heavy to carry—sure, Jimmy’s been working out, but the deadweight of a muscular, six foot human isn’t anything that he’s used to. So he gathers all of his strength and hurries down the hallway before his arms can give out, carrying Scott to the dining room and settling him in the chair he’s prepared before cracking open the first aid kit.

Jimmy strips off his mask first, grimacing at the bruises already beginning to ring his eyes. Luckily, Jimmy’s set quite a few broken noses in his time, and he mutters a warning before jerking it back into place. Scott lets out another cry, muffled by Jimmy shoving a wad of cotton under his nose.

He holds it there for a few moments while he categorizes the other wounds. The head wound is probably most important—or rather, most dangerous. There’s scrapes and bruises in various places all over his body, visible through the tears in his costume. Red stains his lips, so Jimmy pries his mouth open—yep, missing tooth and bitten tongue. He knows Scott’s already got an implanted molar, but this is one of his front teeth, leaving a gaping hole in his mouth. That’s going to need some cosmetic surgery.

It’s not really a huge concern at the moment, though, so Jimmy moves on, rolling down the neck of Scott’s costume.

Sure enough, bruises are already blossoming around his throat. That’s not something Jimmy can take care of himself—he needs an x-ray to make sure nothing’s broken, probably. In fact, it would be better just to take Scott to the hospital right now.

One last thing to check—across the room, on the hook where he usually leaves it, is his key, a pocket flashlight attached to the key ring. Jimmy retrieves it, shines it in Scott’s eyes.

His pupils don’t dilate smoothly, and the left eye is slower than the right. That’s never good.

“Are you feeling disoriented?”

Scott blinks. “. . . yeah,” he rasps. Jimmy hands him his glass of water, gives him a napkin when he chokes on it.

“We’re going to the hospital,” he announces, clicking off the flashlight. “Put your mask back on, I’ll carry you to the car.”

Scott complies, hands moving slowly and shakily. “I—Jimmy?” he asks, voice small.

“Yeah?”

Scott sniffles. “I don’t feel well.” “That’s why we’re going to the hospital,” Jimmy tells him, voice utterly lacking emotion. He doesn’t feel much of anything, right now. “Do you want to bring anything?”

Scott looks around, blinking slowly. He points to the Elsa bear on the table. Jimmy nods, glances around for a moment before finding a reusable plastic grocery bag and stuffing the bear in it.

“You’ll have to leave it in the car, but that’s fine. Let’s go.”

Scott is, for the most part, complacent as Jimmy picks him up, wrapping his arm around Jimmy’s neck. Jimmy carries him out of the house and into the backseat of the car as quickly as possible, then ducks back inside to look for Scott’s thin work wallet, eventually finding it just outside the office window. He grabs it—it identifies Scott as Major, has his SuperInsurance card, and other necessary cards—then heads back out to the car, swinging into the driver’s seat and snapping a mask over his face. He tosses the bag with the bear in the backseat with Scott, then pulls out of the driveway.

The hands on the steering wheel don’t look like his, and it takes until Jimmy clicks on the turn signal at a stoplight to realize that he’s dissociated. In fact, he thinks he’s been out of it since he helped Scott inside. Come to think of it, he doesn’t remember doing anything to comfort Scott, calm instincts taking over to keep him from panicking.

A glance in his rearview mirror shows that Scott barely looks conscious. “Don’t fall asleep,” Jimmy snaps, and Scott jolts up, gasping, one hand clutching at his other arm. His other arm that looks mysteriously swollen, held carefully close to Scott’s body.

How had he focused so hard on the head wound that he hadn’t even noticed an injured arm? It’s clearly hurting Scott, and he had done nothing—

“Stay awake, okay? Talk to me. What are you feeling?”

“My arm hurts,” Scott manages. “I think—Jimmy, I think it’s broken again. I don’t—where are we going?”

“The hospital. Just hang tight, we’ll be there soon.”

They won’t be there soon. They’re still at least twenty minutes away. Scott had actually been closer to the hospital before he’d headed home, so he could’ve saved them both some time and gone straight there.

The hands that are definitely his but don’t look it tighten on the wheel. None of that matters right now. Right now he just needs to get Scott to somewhere for treatment.

It’s a tense drive, but Jimmy manages to stay levelheaded. He knows he’s speeding, so every cop car he passes he sends a burst of power out toward, hoping whatever accident it causes won’t be very dangerous.

He sees the signs for the hospital and cuts across three lanes of traffic to get into it. Once there, he pulls into a parking spot and looks up.

At the hospital.

The dissociation hits full-force.

It’s not the hospital, not the one where he was taken right after, but it’s still a hospital. It’s still tied to needles and blood and long hours on an exam table and distress and pain, and just looking at it makes his head all woozy.

His head presses against something hard. His hands go slack. He’s not sure where he is. He’s not sure what’s real.

It’s easier to believe that he’s asleep, easier to accept that none of this is real. He doesn’t even know what he doesn’t want to be real.

He’s not sure how long he floats there, feeling nothing but anxiety about how he’s feeling nothing. He doesn’t even register that there’s any sort of outside stimulation until he hears words, tinny and staticky.

“Jimmy? Hey, Jim, what’s happening? Talk to me.”

“I don’t know,” he thinks he says. “What’s happening?”

A sigh. “Scott says you just sort of zoned out. Do you know why?”

He’s not sure how to answer, so he doesn’t.

“Do you know where you are?”

“No,” he admits, because he doesn’t. He has no clue where he is or how he got here, and now that he’s realized that, the anxiety develops into panic.

“Look around, Jim. Tell me five things you can see.”

Five things—that’s a grounding exercise. Jimmy knows that’s a grounding exercise. He glances around. “There’s a steering wheel. Radio. A seat. I’m in the car.” It hits him like a train, the understanding that he was driving, and he can’t remember that he was driving, and he can’t remember why he was driving, but he’s in the car behind the steering wheel. “Um, asphalt. Parking lines.”

“Cool, four things you can touch?”

The hands in front of him don’t exactly look like his own. One of them lays itself on the steering wheel, and he’s not sure if it’s by his own instruction or not.

He’s sitting in the car, though, so he can assume some certain things. “The seat. The armrest. Um.”

“That’s good. Anything else?”

The voice sounds rushed. Jimmy cringes. He can’t really feel much, other than the awareness that a thing is touching him. Another sigh.

“Right, hand the phone back to Scott, okay? Scott, where are you?”

Is he holding something? He’s holding a phone, and that’s where the voice is coming from. Jimmy stares at it, not quite sure what he can do with it. “Hand it back to Scott,” he echoes.

“Jim’s really out of it, Scott, so can you just look out the window and tell us which hospital it is? Then Lizzie and I’ll be over.”

“It’s . . . United. You guys are coming here?”

“Yeah, well, it sounds like you two are being a bit dysfunctional right now. I’ll escort you and Lizzie’ll stay with Jimmy, and that way all bases are covered. Sound good?”

“I guess?”

It’s warm, Jimmy thinks. Like he’s lying next to a heater. At least it’s feeling something. He feels so detached, so out of his body, that he’s not sure of anything anymore.

He doesn’t hear any more speaking, and he’s not sure if that’s good or not. He just sort of . . . exists, less-than-present but not nonexistent.

At least, until there’s someone grabbing his arm.

He’s not exactly snapped back into his body, but he can see it now—someone heaving him out of the car, someone with pink hair, wrapping an arm around him and walking him to the other side of the car. It feels like he’s observing from above, knowing that it’s his body being moved but feeling no real attachment to it.

It all becomes foggy again as he’s set down in the passenger seat, but he manages to register something clicking and then the car moving. He doesn’t know how long the car moves, but at some point, there’s someone talking to him.

“Scott’s all right, you’re all right, everything is fine. Jimmy, are you with me?”

He tries to nod. He’s not sure if he does it properly.

“No, you’re not. Can you hold this?”

Something’s put in his hand. He doesn’t know what it is.

“Smell that, all right?”

He lifts it up to his nose. It smells sharp, citrus-y.

“What’s that smell like?”

“Oranges,” he answers dutifully.

“Keep your hand up, keep smelling it. Can you describe it?”

He sniffs it again. “Nice,” he eventually says. “Clean. Oranges, and lemons.”

“What does an orange taste like?”

He puts the thing in his mouth.

“No—! No, Jimmy, don’t eat that! That’s—that’s an air freshener, it’s not an orange! Please take it out of your mouth!”

It’s bitter, he thinks, as he obeys. Not like how oranges usually taste. Oranges usually taste sweet, a bit sour, and have all those stringy bits that you have to get off otherwise eating the segments aren’t worth it. It’s one of his favorite tastes, though; the fridge always has orange juice in it and there’s usually oranges on the table. Not just because they taste good, but because they’re decent tools for grounding. The peel has a strong smell and texture, and when you’re done peeling you can taste it.

This isn’t an orange. But it feels suspiciously like a grounding exercise. Why would he be doing grounding?

He blinks, looks up at Lizzie. She’s here. He doesn’t remember her getting here. “Am I dissociating?” he asks.

She laughs a little. “Yeah, I think you might be. Can you smell the air freshener again?”

It’s wet with his own saliva in his hand, but he raises it to his nose anyway. “I’m smelling the air freshener.”

“Good job. Don’t eat it.”

“Don’t eat the air freshener.”

“Smell it.”

“Yes.”

“It smells like orange.”

“Mhm.”

Jimmy closes his eyes and breathes in deep. It smells like orange, but not quite. More bitter than an actual orange. Like the way it tasted bitter. “Did I put an air freshener in my mouth?”

Lizzie laughs again. “You very much did. Are you back?”

“No,” he tells her, then goes back to smelling. He can smell something else on his hands, something just as familiar as an orange. Something clean, yet bad. Something that hurts.

“Jimmy, you’re crying. Can you keep smelling the air freshener? Lift your hand back up. What’s it smell like?”

He smells it. “Orange.”

“That’s right. Do you like it?”

“Do I like it.”

“Yes. Do you like it?”

Jimmy likes oranges, so it only makes sense for him to like this scent, right? But in the same way it tastes bad, he’s not sure that the smell of it can hold a candle to real oranges.

“I don’t know,” he says slowly.

“All right. What do you know?”

He sniffs the air freshener. “It smells like oranges. I’m holding it. It tastes bad. You’re here.”

“I’m here,” agrees Lizzie. “Do you want me to hold your hand?”

Jimmy frowns. “Holding the air freshener.”

“You have two hands.”

Oh. Right. He extends his other hand, Lizzie taking it in hers. Her hands are cool, but not nearly as cool as Scott’s. Her nails are pointy, brushing against his skin. The skin. Of the hand. It doesn’t look like his.

“I’m dissociating real bad, I think,” he murmurs. Lizzie’s hand grips his tighter.

“That’s all right. I’m here until you feel better.”

It’s a long time until Jimmy feels more like himself. When he fully becomes aware again, he’s sitting on his couch next to Lizzie, sharing some leftover pasta between them. He blinks at it, vaguely remembering the process it had taken to get him to eat it at all.

“I’m back, I think,” he says, blinking a couple of times. He licks his lips, tastes the pasta sauce there.

“Oh, thank goodness,” Lizzie sighs in relief. “I was just going to try getting you to nap next, I was completely out of ideas.”

Jimmy laughs a little, thoughts still somewhat out of order from all the fog settled around his brain. “Norman usually helps. Did you get him?”

“Check your feet.”

He looks down. Sure enough, Norman is curled up on his feet, purring loudly.

Jimmy doesn’t remember much from the past—however long it’s been. He has bits and pieces of the drive home from the hospital, but he has no idea when Lizzie turned up or what happened to Scott.

Scott.

He jolts up, almost knocking his plate of pasta to the floor. “Scott,” he gasps out, “is he—did—”

“Scott’s fine,” Lizzie says placatingly, gesturing for him to relax. “Joel just texted me a few minutes ago. He got some stitches and they just finished his scans, they’re waiting on the results. They got him on some pretty good pain meds, I heard, so he’s doing fine.”

Reluctantly, Jimmy sits back, wringing his hands. Sure, Lizzie can tell him that Scott’s fine. But he hasn’t seen that, he doesn’t know for sure, all he knows is that he barely did anything to treat Scott’s wounds and then couldn’t even walk him into the hospital.

His head hurts.

“We can call him, maybe?” suggests Lizzie. Jimmy nods after a moment. That might help.

He sits in silence as she fiddles with her phone, doing who knows what. Every second that passes is another second that Jimmy doesn’t know how Scott’s doing.

Then Lizzie’s phone rings.

She answers, grimaces at the screen, then hands it over to Jimmy.

It’s a video call, and Scott’s there. His nose is properly bandaged, now, and Jimmy can see through the eyeholes in his mask that his eyes are puffy and bloodshot. There’s a large bandage along his jawline, and his split lip is actively bleeding. The ring of bruises around his throat is stark against the hospital gown.

He looks absolutely beautiful.

“Jimmy!” Scott cries, delighted, then sheepishly ducks his head when Joel shushes him offscreen. “Joel—sorry, the King says I can’t say your name.”

Jimmy chuckles, nerves quieting as he gazes at Scott. “That’s fine, Major. How are you feeling?”

“Not great,” Scott admits. He shrugs. “My head hurts, but they put some good drugs in my arm and I can’t really feel it so that’s good!” He tips the screen to show an IV. Jimmy shudders and looks away.

When he looks back, Scott’s turned it back to his face, concern written all over it. “Are you okay? You were . . . uh, what’s the word. . . .”

“Dissociating,” Jimmy finishes.

“Yeah. That. Lizzie said it got really bad, but when we got to United, you just sorta . . . blanked out.”

Jimmy bites back a retort. He doesn’t actually want to be mean to Scott, especially not when he’s floating on pain drugs. He’s just exhausted and foggy from the dissociation. “I’m good, just worried about you. And maybe don’t say real names, yeah?”

“Oh. Right. Joel, how much longer?”

A sigh from offscreen. “Probably half an hour, maybe more. Done talking to your man?”

“J—the King wants his phone back,” Scott whispers. “Are you really okay? Do you need a nap?”

Jimmy can’t help but laugh. “I’ll go rest if you rest, yeah? Love you, keep annoying the Mad King.”

“I love you so much,” Scott says seriously. “I wanna kiss you right now, but I don’t wish you were here because that would be bad for you. So I can wait until we go home.”

Suddenly choked up, Jimmy manages a wave, which Scott sets the phone down to return. Then Jimmy passes it back to Lizzie, who exchanges a few words with Joel before hanging up.

Jimmy doesn’t go to bed. He curls up on the couch and turns on some episode of a 90s sitcom to watch in silence.

“You didn’t fail him,” Lizzie says during a commercial. “You did good.”

Jimmy sighs. “Lizzie, I was dissociating before I even helped him into the house. I didn’t call you, I didn’t actually do anything to help him, and I couldn’t even go into the hospital with him. I freaked out and couldn’t help when he needed me.”

“You fought a trauma response to assess your boyfriend’s injuries and were able to drive him to the hospital,” Lizzie counters. “You set his broken nose and kept your head, despite having triggers all around you. Not to mention, driving him to the hospital was probably the best choice you could’ve made—I don’t have a car, and Joel was halfway across the city. There was no way we could get him to help. You did everything you could.”

Jimmy doesn’t argue. He’s too tired. He just turns his attention back to the TV as the commercial break ends.

When Joel helps Scott in the house several hours later, Lizzie’s made pancakes for them all, and Jimmy’s set out plates and spreads. Scott eats a single pancake, eyelids heavy, before limping off for bed. Jimmy follows him, rearranges the pillows so that Scott’s newly-casted arm can be elevated.

“You’re gonna be here a while, mister,” Jimmy tells him, handing him an ice pack. “Doctor’s orders. A week of bed rest, all for you.”

“At least I can give you kisses,” Scott slurs, smiling the best he can with a split lip and swollen mouth. Jimmy giggles, stripping off his shirt and climbing into bed next to him.

“I think even kisses are gonna hurt, baby. It’s okay, though. You’ll be okay.”

Scott nods sleepily, eyes already closed. “Yeah. We both will be.”

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thesylleblossom · 6 months

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Echoes: Eijiro Kirishima x Reader

Summary: Sure, you may have dreamt of being a world famous hero duo with your childhood best friend Eijiro Kirishima, but those dreams are long gone. Now, you're settled into your life as a lowly office worker - not exactly glamourous, but not dangerous, either. At least, it wasn't, until a villain attack brings Kirishima back into your life. It's not enough to have to deal with decades long suppressed emotions, but the villains don't seem to want to leave you alone...

Tags/Warnings: Aged up, pro-hero AU, fem AFAB reader, neglectful parents, eventual smut (minors and ageless blogs please DNI).

Read on AO3

You could hear the explosions in the distance, but they were nothing compared to the roar of excitement that bloomed throughout the tiny cafe. Within moments of the first detonation, your routine coffee and pastry-of-the-day were the only things grounding you amongst the commotion. The trio of teenage girls you saw every morning were running to the coffee bar, demanding the barista put on the news - though if it was out of fear of being involved in the attack or the excitement of potential heroes, you weren’t entirely sure. Several other regulars nodded in agreement, and you briefly wondered whether you were better served staying in one place or risking the run back to your apartment. You clutched the warm white mug in front of you and inhaled. You stayed where you were - surely that would mean less of a chance of seeing him.

The girls squealed, grabbing your attention, and your stomach sunk. Though they drowned out any chance of hearing what the newscaster had to say, he looked entirely too cheerful in front of video footage of the battle between the villain and three heroes. Dynamight shot through the air like a bullet, his own explosions causing a smoke screen that hid the villain from view, but Chargebolt and Red Riot were visible supporting him from the ground. Debris fell from a nearby building, and the entire cafe watched in horror as it nearly took out Chargebolt, but Red Riot was there in an instant, hardening his body to act as a shield for his ally. What should have been boulders splintered against Red Riot’s quirk and shattered into pebbles, falling harmlessly around the two of them.

Pride swelled in your chest though you fought to squash it back down. He had become such a worthy and loved hero since you’d last seen him, and you had become… well, nothing of note, if you were being honest with yourself.. You had both held lofty dreams of becoming a famous heroic duo in your youth, and while he was actually making it happen - with Dynamight instead of you - you were slowly boring yourself to death in accounts payable for an overseas oil company who couldn’t even be bothered to give you recognition for a task you’d completed, let alone help with your goals for fame and fortune.

Another explosion boomed outside, closer this time.

Shit, no, go the other way, you silently pleaded. Still they came closer, and fear spiked in your gut.

If you were going to leave, you needed to do it now.

As you stood to make a break for it, the glass windows around you shattered, screams sounding from the girls behind you. A man stood outside, a smirk on his face the only thing visible under the cliche black ski mask as he stared intently at you, and you realized in horror that you were the closest person to him in the cafe.

“Hello, beautiful,” he sneered as he stepped through the window panes toward you. Glass crunched under your feet as you realized you had instinctively taken a step backwards, and you braced yourself to run, feet spinning beneath you, but he was too quick. His hand gripped your forearm in a crushing hold, pulling you backwards, and you fell onto your bottom hard on the ground. Pain seared through your other hand as glass shards cut through the skin. “Gotcha,” he sneered, his breath hot on the back of your neck. Goosebumps broke out across your skin, and you struggled to break free from his hold.

“Let her go,” a deep voice said from behind you, and you felt your body spinning before what was happening registered in your brain. Within moments, you were face to face with your past.

“Y/N,” Eijiro said quietly. He stared wide-eyed at you, and for a moment you forgot the predicament you were in. Your mouth gaped open, wanting to say something but unable to find the words.

“Oh, goodie. You know her? Glad I picked the right hostage.” You could hear the smile in the man’s voice behind you, and the villain pulled you backwards into his body, securing his arm around your throat. “Walk away, hero, or she gets it.”

You felt a blade slide lightly across your skin, though you hadn’t noticed any weapon with him. His quirk, you assumed.

Eijiro seemed to snap back from his shock, and raised his arms as if in surrender.

“Not very manly to take a hostage,” he goaded the villain, “Are you not strong enough to fight me on your own without some collateral?”

The blade against your throat pressed in slightly. Not enough to cut, but just enough to know Eijiro had hit a nerve.

“I’m not stupid. I’m not letting her go.”

The villain took a step backwards, dragging you with him. Eijiro moved one foot forward, and as if on instinct the villain moved the blade from you and aimed it towards the hero.

Eijiro lunged forward, one arm braced and ready to pin the villain’s blade-covered arm to the ground and away from you. With his other hand, he pulled you away from the man and shoved you behind himself, before throwing the man to the floor and pinning him there with a knee in the back.

Footsteps sounded behind you, and you feared that the villain may have had backup, but instead Chargebolt’s grinning face pulled up in front of you.

“Are you hurt at all?” He asked you, and your breath left your body as he aimed that megawatt smile in your direction.

You shook your head. “No, no, I’m okay.”

“Good. Stay back, an ambulance is on the way to take a look at you just to be on the safe side.”

While Chargebolt had had you momentarily distracted, Eijiro had managed to completely subdue the villain, and now held his hands firmly behind his back. For a moment it looked like he was holding the man up by his arms with one hand, but surely he wasn’t that strong, right? His quirk was hardening, not super strength… and he surely couldn’t be that strong on his own, could he?

You didn’t even realize you were staring until he glanced over at you and smiled. You had thought Chargebolt was handsome, but the moment Eijiro showed you that sharp grin you’d loved so many years ago, your heart soared… before it plummeted to the pits of your stomach. Your chest constricted, a painful squeeze that brought tears to your eyes.

Eijiro’s smile fell quickly, which seemed to tip off Chargebolt. One moment you’d been staring at your old friend, the next the blond was in your face, examining you for injuries.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?’ He asked, but you couldn’t muster up the words to explain.

“What did he do?” He asked gently.

Eijiro looked between you and the villain still struggling in his grip.

“Charge, take him, I’ve got this,” he said, and Chargebolt looked between the two of you, confused, for a moment, before nodding and trading you for the villain.. You watched just long enough to see Chargebolt lead the villain towards the front door before Eijiro was in your face, his brows knit together as he studied you.

You shook your head. “Nothing,” you managed to say.

Unsatisfied, he brushed a stray hair out of your face and tucked it behind your ear, then seemed to realize what he had done after the fact. A blush crept across his cheeks, and he quickly pulled his hand away from you, instead rubbing at the back of his neck awkwardly.

“I - uh,” he started, looking everywhere except your eyes.

You shook your head. There was no reason he needed to continue this conversation, he did his job and could now move on. Both of you could move on.

“Thank you,” you said, mustering the coldest tone you could manage. An attempt to end this incredibly awkward encounter so you could go back to your life without Kirishima Eijiro.

“No problem,” he grinned. The blush on his cheeks seemed to redden. “Would you uh, want to get a coffee sometime?” He asked sheepishly. “For old time’s sake.”

You shook your head. “It’s just really bad timing, work and everything.” You were a terrible liar, and you both knew it. His eyes shot downward, his brows scrunched as the hurt flashed across his face, and your own heart jolted in sympathy. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no, I understand,” he smiled, though it failed to reach his eyes. “Maybe next time.”

“Yeah, next time.”

You stared awkwardly at each other for a moment, before he allowed himself to be pulled away by the gaggle of teenagers from before, who were all too excited to see the big strong heroes in person. You noticed Chargebolt had been similarly swarmed by your fellow civilians, though the few stragglers who had been around him had left in favour of running towards Dynamight who was marching angrily towards the scene.

“Back off,” he shouted, brushing past the few people who had managed to reach him, and instead stomped towards Eijiro, who greeted him entirely too warmly for someone with the kind of scowl the blond was sporting.

You didn't have to pretend to ignore them for long, as you turned around to see two paramedics rushing towards you. They examined you and asked the same questions over and over again, and by the time you had assured them that you were unharmed - physically, at least - the heroes were already gone.

You tossed and turned in bed that night, stealing moments of unrestful sleep where you dreamt of being stuck inside of a burning building. You couldn't remember how it ended, even after waking up the third time that night from the nightmare, but a flash of bright red tugged at the corners of your memory.

You didn't have to guess to know who had come to your rescue.

By five AM, you'd given up on sleep entirely and instead got up to get ready for the day. The benefits of working for an overseas company meant you didn’t actually have to go into an office, and because of the time difference, it didn’t really matter when you did your work. At least, most of the time - meetings were generally held at two AM your time, and unfortunately management had decided that a town hall meeting was required at least once a week, which meant your sleep schedule was completely messed up, and it didn’t help that while most of the in office staff handled the phone calls, you occasionally did have to wake up at ungodly hours for a call to follow up on a cheque.

You turned on your laptop and checked your work calendar - town hall was tonight, which meant this was going to be an extra long day. You groaned as you pulled on a hoodie that was draped across the back of your chair and started your daily tasks. Maybe if you finished them early you could sneak in a nap before you inhaled caffeine like your livelihood depended on it, because it kind of did.

An instant message chat box flashed in the corner of your screen, alerting you to a new message from Helaina, your boss and best work friend, if only because she was one of the few people in the company you actually spoke to.

From Helaina:

Well hello to our very own international woman of mystery, her message said, complete with a winking emoji.

From Y/N:

Woman of mystery?

In lieu of a written response, she sent you a link to a news article. Splashed across the front page was a picture of you and Eijiro, his hand on your cheek. Big block letters at the top read out Japanese Heartthrob Hero Red Riot Spotted with a Mystery Woman. Your heart sunk - you were only pictured in profile, but enough of your face was visible to clearly tell it was you. You skimmed the article quickly, words like “caress” and “tenderness” sticking out like sore thumbs and causing your blood pressure to skyrocket.

From Y/N:

Not enough news back home, they’ve got to dig up stories from Japan for clickbait?

From Helaina:

Emphasis on Heartthrob. He’s gorgeous, and we like to look. And it looks like you have some explaining to do.

She was never going to believe you.

From Y/N:

There was a villain attack. He rescued me. He was just checking me out for injuries, you know, like a hero is supposed to do. Nothing newsworthy, I promise.

Three little dots appeared and disappeared a few times before her reply came through. You knew her well enough to know she didn’t believe you, and was just trying to decide if she would call you out on your lie or not.

From Helaina:

Ooh I bet he was checking you out.

From Y/N: I would block you if I could.

From Helaina:But you can’t. If you ever need to be rescued again, I want details.

With that, she left you alone, though the sinking feeling in your gut told you this would not be the end. Not by a long shot.

Your fears were quickly confirmed. By the end of your workday, you'd received texts from almost everyone you knew, and some you didn't. Someone had seen the photograph on a news site and commented that they thought it was you - and gods help you, when you found out who Keroberos13 was, there would be hell to pay. You had seventeen unread messages from newspapers and TV stations asking for interviews, and you were thankful you had already set your social media to private, because the number of message requests were insane, you could only imagine if more than just a "send message" button was visible.

You were painfully aware however that you happen to be looking off to the side in your profile picture, turning your face in the exact same angle as the image of you with Eijiro. It was painfully obvious it was you, it would be next to impossible to deny it now.

You dropped your head into your hands, and rubbed aggressively at your forehead, trying to will the budding headache away. You had long since given up your dreams of fame and fortune, and instead settled into your quiet life. While you may have basked in the attention a few years ago, you were dreading even leaving your house now.

Your phone buzzed on the table in front of you, another unknown number on the screen. You briefly considered dropping your phone in the toilet. You watched it ring, the people pleasing part of you not wanting to let them know you were ignoring the call by sending it prematurely to voicemail. The voicemail that you already knew was full of what you imagined were more messages asking for an interview from Red Riot's newest rumoured love interest. You scoffed to yourself at the idea. Why couldn't it have been Chargebolt or Dynamight who had rescued you? Chargebolt was such a ladies man that no one would have batted an eye at another supposed paramour, and Dynamight was such a private recluse with an attitude that scared any loose tongues away. But Eijiro... everyone loved him. Everyone loved to talk about him. He wasn't the most famous of the heroes - though he wasn't far off, sitting pretty at number 6 in the hero charts, and he was easily known as the sweetest of the top ten. He had had his fair share of rumoured romances, but he'd always brushed them off. You however, were not used to the attention.

A muscle ticked in your eyelid. This was not what you had had in mind when you and Eijiro made your plans to be a famous duo as kids. You didn't even want the fame and fortune anymore. You just wanted to live your life in peace and quiet, even if you weren't entirely happy with how it was playing out lately.

You wished you had more supports to lean on. After your parents left, Eijiro and his moms became your family, at least they had until you'd had to leave. Your aunt who had taken over custody of you lived in North America, and you'd had to leave everything you knew behind to start over there. You hated your parents for leaving. You hated your aunt for taking you away. You hated -

You were getting away from yourself again. You unfurled your fists and stretched the tension out of your fingers, shaking the energy out of your limbs. The only part of your past that mattered right now was the part that brought you into this predicament: your old friendship with Eijiro. If you hadn't known him as kids, he never would have had that reaction to you, and you could be living your daily life as you usually did. Equally miserable, but for different reasons. Instead, you were stuck in a rumour mill with your face plastered all over the world apparently. You wouldn’t have had any idea of how to get out of this situation on a good day, but when it had happened so quickly? You felt like your whole world was spinning.

Your phone buzzed again - the same number was calling. You let it go to voicemail again, but the same number dialed back immediately after. You grabbed your phone, anxiety and irritation coiling in your belly.

“What?” you asked when you answered, your tone a bit more harsh than you’d intended.

“It’s me,” Eijiro’s voice came through, “I’m sorry, I figured you might be screening your calls but your voicemail is full.”

“Yeah, I know,” you admitted. You could feel your cheeks heating at your embarrassment - you wouldn’t have barked your pathetic excuse for a greeting at him when you’d answered if you knew it was him.

“Sorry,” you said sheepishly.

“No need. Look, at the cafe, someone saw us together and they’ve already figured out who you are, I’m sorry. They think you’re my -” He stopped himself short, as if he didn’t quite know how to say what people thought you were to him.

“I know,” you said, saving him from having to say it out loud. “I’ve had a few people asking already.”

“Eijiro, it’s fine. You were saving me, that’s all. Making sure I was okay. You were just doing your job, regardless of who I am.”

You could hear papers shuffling on his end, and he cleared his throat. “Look, I’m really sorry. I was just excited to see you again, I wasn’t thinking about the effect it would have.”

“Yeah but -”

“No buts. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

He huffed out a laugh, and you couldn’t help but smile. “I know, but it’s my fault you’re being bombarded enough that you need to screen your calls.”

You couldn’t argue with that, so you stayed silent.

“My agency has a publicist, she can put out a statement, but she wants to get your okay with any information we release. Can you come down to the agency this afternoon, and we’ll figure out what to say?”

“I uh, I thought of that too. Rin says we’ll include that in the statement too, if we have to. She says we can tell people it was related to follow up from the attack. That we needed some information from you or something like that.”

Anxiety bubbled inside of you. “What if someone sees me there?” You ask before you even realize you’ve spoken.

You had a sneaking suspicion there would be no getting out of this. Better to get it over with, you thought. The sooner they released a statement that cleared you of any ties to the hero, the better.

“Yeah, I can be there.”

“Great, I’ll text you the address.”

“Thanks. And Eijiro, just out of curiosity, how did you get my number?”

#kirishima x reader #bnha x reader #thesyllewrites #kirishima eijiro x reader

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oheck-trainwreck · 2 months

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I can’t sleep so I’m thinking about my catastrophe crew au again.

I think the main cast would looks something like this:

Badboyhalo: initially an average channel 11 camera man who was assigned to the news helicopter, who becomes the helicopters reporter after tragedy and/or upper management befalls several of the replacements. He is kind of the head of the crew, in that he often comes up with the insane solutions to the problems they face (a reference to his big-finding skills on the Qsmp), but he always assists the others when they need it (after some teasing and being mischievous). He has a son, Dapper.

Tubbo: the helicopter pilot, and the youngest of the crew. He’s very smart and insightful, giving the crew advice and inspiration, and sometimes straight up solutions based on his observations. He’s very good with technology and mechanics, but since he’s too busy flying the helicopter, he doesn’t use those skills too much. Despite being fairly young, he has an adopted daughter, Sunny, who he takes care of when he’s not at work.

Bagi: the copilot. She takes over flying when tubbo is incapacitated or doing tech-y stuff elsewhere. She does copilot things (I don’t know how helicopters work) but she also has incredible deductive skills and logical reasoning. She’s very good at connecting the dots, and ends up finding out how the disasters that the crew faces are all related. (At the beginning of the show, she does not yet have Empanada).

Aypierre: the crew’s technician and mechanic. He stays on the helicopter to fox anything that breaks, and bring out odd little inventions to help with whatever bizarre situations the crew finds themselves in. He co-parents his daughter pomme with a number of other French people (they live in the same apartment complex as Bad and Dapper, which leads to Pomme seeing Bad as a father as well)

Tina: I don’t know what her job title would be, but she manages the broadcast of the sound and video from the helicopter to the newstation. She controls whose voices are broadcast on the air, which she occasionally uses to mess with people (I don’t know a whole lot about Tina, but I’ll probably come up with more details for her later)

Recurring side characters:

Cucurucho: a higher up (but not the highest up) at channel 11 news. He is the boss of all members of the crew, and is/was responsible for putting the crew together. He is mostly impartial and mainly focused on efficiency, but there are situations where they base decisions on their own desires.

Skeppy: the other reporter for the catastrophe crew, who stays within the channel 11 building. (Tbh also don’t know a lot about him. He’s probably beefing with cucurucho tho)

Relationships:

Bagina: the only relationship that will be canonized within the show. They are gay disasters around each other for a bit, flirt, date, and end up getting married and going on honeymoon right before thing get VERY BAD. Let’s go lesbians.

Cucuhalo: cucurucho has a crush on bad. Bad is dense as rocks. Cucurucho sometimes abuses his power for the sake of this one sided crush, like when he had skeppy relocated (to be further away from bad). Maybe they also live in the same apartment complex, next door neighbors or something.

Skephalo: you know how they are (probably). As the two reporters/anchors, they often have a bit of banter as the newscast switches from one to the other. They work very well together, but can’t work nearby to each other due to the jealousy of cucurucho.

Cucurucho and skeppy work in much closer proximity than either does with bad, so they have little passive aggressive interactions sometimes. Bad is also oblivious to this, and thinks that everyone should just get along.

#that’s all for now.#maybe next I tell you the general plot #qsmp #qsmp catastrophe crew #qsmp badboyhalo #qsmp tubbo #qsmp bagi #qsmp aypierre #qsmp tina #qsmp cucurucho #qsmp skeppy #qsmp au #qsmp cucuhalo #qsmp bagina #Qsmp skephalo #writing this at 3am and it shows :/

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angelinaheartshapedbox · 1 month

Text

morbid attraction

Ethan Landry x reader

AU where Stu Macher has an illegitimate child. During Scream 6.

summary: Y/n is a freshman at Blackmore University. They're currently pursuing a bachelor's degree in forensic science to become an autopsy technician. To further their research, and to make money, they pick up shifts as a mortuary assistant. Y/n must come to terms with the trauma of gruesome murders of their hometown, copes with the memories of their ex girlfriend Amber Freeman, and with the fact that their father was a homicidal maniac. Running doesn't get them far from their past as it chases after them into New York City. But maybe there's light at the end of the tunnel. And maybe, just maybe, the light is Ethan Landry.

!!WARNINGS!! graphic descriptions of gore and violence, PTSD, and dealing with trauma. Major content warnings will be placed before each chapter.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Voicemail (5)

I Don't Want To Die

Wordcount: 2k

Content warnings: violence, death, blood, more blood, depictions of gore. ethan did not have econ.

Quinn’s newest man of the evening had arrived, so she went to her room. Sam was upset that she’d invited someone who was basically a stranger to our apartment.

Sam brought out a few blankets and pillows for our friends. I was in the kitchen with Chad, Tara, and Mindy. We were all working to cook dinner.

“Sam, we do not have to stay here,” Mindy told her.

“Welp, too bad. I insist. Safety in numbers” Sam replied.

“This’ll be so fun. A little slumber party with the Alive Five!” Chad exclaimed.

“‘Alive Five’?” Sam asked.

“Yeah.”

Tara stared at him, “Did you just give us a nickname?”

Chad smiled, “I sure did. I mean we’ve been through a lot together and it’s a pretty cool nickname.”

“So true, Chad” I nod.

“That’s debatable,” Sam says.

“Extremely debatable,” Tara adds.

“You can’t just give yourself a nickname, dingus,” Mindy tells her brother.

Chad gives her a shit eating grin, “Of course I can, dingus, because I just did. Alive Five up top!”

“No.”

“Down low!”

Tara shakes her head, “Get that away from me.”

Chad turns to me and Sam with his hand, “Please, for the love of God.”

“Don’t do it,” Mindy laughs.

I obviously give him a high five, laughing evilly as my friends groan. I interlock my fingers with Chad’s and squeeze before letting go.

“You know, I would actually like a little more respect and support from my fellow members of the Alive Five.”

Anika interrupts us, “Guys, what the hell?” She turns up the TV as we file into the living room.

The newscaster starts talking about Sam being the lead suspect in the current murders. He discusses the rumors online about me and Sam being responsible for the killings last year. He said we were trying to “revive our fathers’ legacy” or some bullshit. The video of Sam yelling at that girl on the street the other night played.

Sam turned off the TV aggressively. She walked over to the dining table and sat by herself. Tara and I followed. We sat in silence until Tara spoke.

“I know you’re not a fan of the way that I’ve been handling things, and that I’ve been giving you a really hard time. But I can say that none of us can relate to what you are experiencing. And I’m really, really sorry you have to do that alone.”

Sam stifles tears, “It’s not your fault. And I know I shouldn’t care what people think,” she pauses, “It just sucks being this hated.”

“Hey, hey,” Chad says as he walks into the room with Mindy, “Just a reminder, not a single person in this room hates you.”

“Yeah, Sammy” I agree.

“Okay? We have all been through some fucked-up stuff, and we are coping with it differently. But you know we moved here together for one very specific reason.” Chad reminds Sam, “We’re a team.”

Mindy chimes in, “We are the Alive Fucking Five.”

“Thank you very much!”

“Ah, I hate myself.”

Chad and Mindy high five.

“Say it” I tell Tara.

“No, I’m not gonna say it,” she refuses, “I mean, yes, we are a team but-”

We’re all trying to get Tara to say it and we’re laughing.

Sam interrupts, “I’ve been sleeping with Cute Boy from across the hall.”

It’s quiet.

“Boom!”

We all erupt.

“I knew it, I knew it!”

“You called it.”

“Knew it from the day you had that hickey.”

After we calm down from Sam’s lover, Chad looks at me.

I gave him a suspicious look, “What?”

“Do you have any love affairs to confess?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

“No?”

“Nothing with our tall, dorky friend?”

“Who may or may not be Ghostface” Mindy mumbles.

I look at the confused, “Ethan?”

“Yes, Ethan!” Chad bangs the table.

“No, I am not sleeping with Ethan!” my voice ups in pitch.

Chad gives me a look, “Hm.”

I argued with him about it. He claimed we’re too cuddly, so I rebudled that I’m cuddly in general. Sam backs me up by mentioning me in her bed last night. Mindy says I was flirting with him at the frat party because we were dancing. I said that I just wanted my friend to have fun. They let it go.

“I feel like we should high five or something,” Tara says.

“The Alive Five high five, please?”

“Don’t call it that.”

We all high five in the middle and interlace our fingers. For a minute I feel safe, I feel okay. It feels like a real family where I belong. Sam’s phone rings and it’s Cute Boy. We make fun of her for a moment and she declines his call. Quinn is heard moaning in the other room.

“Oh, my God, Quinn and her gentleman caller are back at it again” Tara jokes.

We all laugh as the moans and thuds get louder. All of our phones go off. We’ve been airdropped a picture of Quinn being attacked by Ghostface.

“Help! Stop!”

We all jump up from the table and sprint towards Quinn’s room. Chad grabs Tara’s arm and pulls her away before she gets to the door. We all stop and stare. It’s silent.

“Run.”

The door swings open and the killer throws Quinn’s body. Everyone is screaming.

“You guys come on!” Tara screams, running out with Chad. I watched Lucifer run out with them.

The killer slices Mindy’s arm. Anika starts fighting him from the floor. He grabs her by the throat. I watch her as she struggles to breathe.

“Hey, fuckhead!” I scream, kicking him in the side.

I trip over myself and hit the floor. I kick and scurry backwards as the killer crawls towards me. He grips my ankle and pulls me towards him. I kick my legs and shove his face away. He stabs me in my right thigh. I scream in pain and kick him in the face. The force makes him pull the knife out of me and step backwards.

Anika tries to latch onto him again. He grabs her by the throat and pins her to the wall. The knife is plunged into her stomach, he drags and twists it upwards. She cries and shrieks. Sam comes running in with the wooden knife holder and smacks him over the head.

We run into Tara’s room and lock the door. I grab a belt from the floor and a pen. Mindy grips her gaping wound. We remember that the bathroom connects through the rooms. Mindy rushes to close the bathroom door.

“Oh, fuck! That guy’s dead!”

The killer comes running at the door. Sam and Mindy force it shut and deadbolt it. I take the belt and pen and tighten them above my bleeding wound. I’m bleeding a lot. There’s a major artery that I’m worried has been severed. All the while, Mindy and Sam are blockading the door. Anika is practically bleeding out in front of me. We’re all screaming and crying and bleeding.

Cute Boy from across the hall calls out to Sam from the window. She rushes over. He pushes a ladder in between the two windows.

“You three go first. Mindy!” Sam yells.

“What? No. Someone needs to hold the door. I’ll send Y/n and Anika next. Go!” Mindy replies.

The killer bangs on the door. I can tell he’s throwing his whole body weight against the door.

Sam crosses the makeshift bridge as Danny sends words of encouragement.

“We’re losing a lot of blood!” I shout at Sam as I limp to the window.

Anika groans, “Say something more positive!”

Sam makes it across and I pull myself with my upper body across the ladder as fast as I can. I wince and whine, crying harder as my wound drags. I finally made it across. Anika forces Mindy to go next. She gives her one last kiss before crawling across to us.

Anika gets onto the ladder, “Oh, God! I can’t do it!” She slowly crawls.

The killer comes up to the window.

“Anika, you have to move now!”

I scream, “Come on, we got you!”

The killer grabs onto the ladder and shakes it vigorously, Anika shrieks and cries. She keeps trying to crawl as Mindy screams.

“Baby, I don’t want to die!” Anika yelps out. She takes Sam’s hand.

The killer completely knocks Anika off the ladder. She falls. We watch as her head crashes into the dumpster below, then hits the hard concrete. Her skull bleeds onto the pavement. I passed out.

When I come to, I’m in an ambulance. My leg is being stitched up. The EMT sees that I’m awake. The sun is starting to rise.

“Hey, that tourniquet was a good idea” The medic tells me, “You might’ve saved your life.”

I gulped and nodded. I see my friends in the ambulance across from me. They see me too. The medics, police officers, and crime scene investigators litter the place. I overhear multiple indistinct conversations.

I see Ethan duck under the crime scene tape. Chad sees him too.

“Chad?”

Chad rushes over to him. He grabs him by his collar, “Where were you?!”

Ethan is confused, “What? When?”

“Last night!”

I yell, “Chad, stop!”

“I had Econ. You know this!”

“Bullshit, man! You disappear, and my sister almost gets killed!”

“Chad!” I yelp, leaving the ambulance. The medic yells after me. I half-run over to the boys, my stitches tearing. “Chad, it wasn’t him!”

Chad looks at me, “How do you know that, Y/n? ‘Cause he’s your little boy toy? He couldn’t hurt you?”

I grip my thigh and wince, “Oh, fuck. No! Because I kicked that fucker in the fucking face! Ethan doesn’t even have a bruise! And whoever it was definitely has a broken nose.”

Chad lets Ethan go, he walks away.

I moan, using both my hands to squeeze my thigh. I start to cry and crumble to the floor.

Ethan grabs me, “Oh, fuck. Th-that’s a lot of blood. Oh, my God. Y/n!”

He helps me back over to the ambulance where they have to re-stitch me. I sob and hiss in pain. Ethan sits next to me. I grab his hand and squeeze it with all of my strength.

“Fuck!” I scream. I clench my teeth, my breath ragged. I sound like a kicked puppy. The adrenaline has worn off and now I’m just in agony.

“You’re gonna be okay,” Ethan whispered.

I couldn’t speak in anything but jumbled sobs. The medic was done stitching me, but I was still weeping. Ethan softly shushes me, pulling himself closer. I gulp and breathe heavily.

I looked into his eyes, “Ethan, it was so scary.” I wrap my arms around myself and fall forward onto him. His arms place themselves around me and I cry into his chest. “Oh, my God, they’re dead!”

“You’re okay,” he says softly, “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

“I don’t want to die.”

Ethan pulls back slightly, “Hey, look at me.” His hand meets my cheek, his thumb wipes tears. “You’re not going to die.” His tone is suddenly serious.

I shake my head, “You don’t know that.” I look at the ground and let more tears fall.

“I said look at me,” Ethan adjusts my face to look at him.

I tremble in his fingers. His eyes meet mine. He looks at me with the harshest expression I’ve ever seen on him. He puts his other hand on my face and says:

“Anyone who tries to kill you is dying first.”

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masterlist

a/n: tehe i like this one

#scream #scream vi #scream 6 #ghostface #ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x you #ethan landry x y/n #ethan landry fanfiction

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ghosts-and-entropy · 10 months

Text

Things Don't Stay Forever

DC x DP prompt. Or story? Story, I think, cause I plan to add more chapters. Idk, I'm building this world as we go along. It's my side project to keep writing. But you can take it and roll with it too :D.

But for a prompt: Lex Luthor created a virus to "combat and destroy other viruses and diseases in the human body." This is in quotes because he placed it under this description himself. In truth, the virus is supposed to destroy metahuman abilities. (This actually happened in the comics) But the virus didn't work as he wanted it. Something happens, still working on this part, where the virus is leaked into the air and causes a global pandemic.

That's right people, this is an Apocalypse AU!

It is eventually going to be Dead on Main or JasonxDanny cause I love that ship. But it's going to be very slow going.

Anyway, enjoy the first chapter!

Chapter 1: And that’s when I realize that, in the end, we’d all wish for the same thing. Just a little more time.

Danny remembered when it started.

The minuscule, barely noticeable at the time, change in the world that jumpstarted the end.

A news report on the WGN9 station at ten at night.

He remembers it was January. He had been out hours before, keeping an eye on Amity and her dead, and her living. It had been snowing that night. Cold and windy, the cool air had felt good on his skin and in his core. He had flown for two long hours around Amity relishing in the dark and quiet before making his way home.

He remembers sitting on the living room couch, dozing and alone after a long day of schoolwork, ghostly activities, and dealing with the imminent problem of his future.

He remembers closing his eyes, his arms resting against his stomach, rising with his breaths. He hardly listened to the words of the newscaster talking. Her words had been so distant and muted, his thoughts the complete opposite, almost blaring and intrusive.

He remembers wondering, through the anxiety-ridden whispers in his head, where his mom and dad were. If they were in the house or if they were out again, hunting. It was late. It was snowing. But they always stood up late through any type of weather. Catching ghosts at night was easier than during the day. He made sure before heading home the ghosts kept their heads down for the night in case his parents were out.

He hadn’t seen them when he was flying though. They had probably been in the basement then.

He remembers the throw blanket under his head, resting on the back of the couch. How it still smelled like Jazz’s perfume even when she hadn’t been home for months, away at college. His eyes had stung and watered under his eyelids and he fought to keep the tears where they were.

He remembers it was cold in the house. It was always hard to tell if it was because his dad ran hot so the temperature had been lowered, the ghost portal opened in the basement, all the ambient ectoplasm in the house, or if it was him, or maybe all four options.

But what he remembers the most about that night was the moon. Bright and full, shining in through the living room window, helping to illuminate the space and him alongside the TV screen. Offering a kind of silent comfort he never took for granted.

He remembers that the most because it was the first thing he saw after snapping open his bleary eyes when he heard it. The thing that set off a warning in his head. The name of the man who would later help realize the end. His gaze quickly shifted to the screen to see the newscaster, Tiffany Snow, begin her news report.

“Billionaire and CEO of LexCorp, Lex Luthor, has recently announced a scientific breakthrough his company has been working on for years. Sources say Luthor has hired some of the greatest scientific minds in the 21st century onto this project that will, quote, “change the world.”

A project that would change the world. One they have spent years working on.

And suddenly, everything went silent.

A recorded scene of Lex Luthor shaking hands with delegates from multiple countries played out on screen. Luthor looked pleased. Behind him, a line of scientists in lab coats stood, looking blank or grim. The delegates standing next to Luthor grinned and clasped hands with one another, and flashes of camera light flooded the conference room they stood in.

Danny remembers slowly sitting up, his eyes, red-rimmed and tired, staring at Lex Luthor, right into his eyes. His face was instantly frozen on the screen staring right back with dark eyes. His hands still clasped in another’s, a small smirk rested on his face but he didn’t move. Time had simply stopped.

Still. So very still. Danny hardly moved or breathed. Just stared into the billionaire’s eyes like he could foresee the future and all its mistakes. Silence had reigned around him. Only the frantic whispers of a warning rushed into his head like static. He couldn’t understand them, there was too much, too many voices talking at once. Building and building louder and louder until—

And then it was over.

Tiffany Snow was gone. Lex Luthor and all his scientists behind him were gone too. A commercial for life insurance played on, the narrator’s voice booming after long seconds of utter silence and static. Danny remembered flinching and rubbing his eyes, taking deep breaths because what the hell had that been?

What was that?

He’d never felt anything like that before. It felt like…an omen. A premonition? He’s never had premonitions before. So what…?

He remembers thinking maybe he had been tired. Danny had been running himself ragged for days, for months. Maybe it was time for him to go to bed. Finally, rest after a long couple of months.

It had to just be sleep deprivation, that was all. It didn’t feel that way.

He remembers turning off the TV. He stood up, draping the blanket that had been resting on the couch over his head and shoulders, wrapped and held in one hand like a childish comfort in front of his nose. Remembers walking up the stairs to his bedroom in the dark, the only light in the whole house coming from the moon.

He remembers lying down and staring at his glow-in-the-dark star-covered ceiling. Small and colorful blob ghosts darted up and down through them. They were quiet and playful with one another. He counted them like sheep, over and over.

He fell asleep later that night, hours later because he couldn’t get what had happened out of his head. Remembers the sinking feeling following him the next day and the next. Watching out for the news every night after for more reports on Lex Luthor or LexCorp or this thing that was going to change the world. He had asked Tucker to put an alert on his Blackberry for those two keywords for any articles that popped up online.

Because something was wrong or was going to be wrong. That eerie feeling on the back of his neck down to his queasy stomach had left him sick and paranoid for months after. It was the reason he had been so overprotective of his family, his friends, and his hometown both as Fenton and Phantom for months.

That deep knowledge of Death being near. The End of all things. Not the afterlife. Not all the ghosts, spirits, shades, and other indefinite things that walked the Earth but actual Death. As if the shadow of it eclipsed the planet and the sun couldn’t shine through.

He remembers being seventeen and not worried, not concerned, but absolutely terrified and sure that something was coming.

And then it was July. A day after his eighteenth birthday. One month after his high school graduation. One month before college, although, that was never in the plan to begin with if he was being honest.

But it was July. One day in and the world was dying. Just like he felt it would.

Because Danny remembered when it started.

But long before the outbreak ever occurred. When there were just small hints of something to come—nothing damning, nothing for sure—Lex Luthor was working on something groundbreaking. But no news of it ever hit the media after that first initial report. The one that made him anxious.

Although, now that he has some time to reflect on it, he realizes maybe he hadn’t been the only one either. There may have been others who caught those signs too.

He ponders this as he watches clips of Wonder Woman, usually tall and confident, grim face and small, as she helped care for the dying in India. The Flash sped toward hospitals all across Europe carrying supplies of medicine and food.

Superman, powerful and usually bigger than life, hovering over a burning village in Vietnam, his face dazed and shocked at the destruction below him. Like it was his first time seeing such a thing.

And then there was Batman’s Knights. Small snippets of gloved and cape-covered Bats ran and jumped through Lady Gotham’s large skyscrapers and high-rises, carrying items that shaky cameras couldn’t capture.

Gotham had been in quarantine days before the outbreak. Metropolis too. Countries were warned three days in advance. Every country around the world began to plan and lock down before the first wave could hit. They weren’t given enough time.

Israel built fences and walls around itself. So did China and Egypt. Canada had cut off their roads and airspace, as did many countries after them, including the U.S. Europe closed down its borders. Mexico refused to let anyone into the country. Africa’s CDC convened to plan their next steps for lockdown amongst all African nations.

Chicago shut down both their airports. Jazz hadn’t been able to get a flight back to Illinois. Then all the airports started shutting down, quicker and quicker, one by one, before she could even look for a ticket out of California.

And the other cities, the other countries—not all of them closed down in time. Not all of them had superheroes living in their cities to help them. The superheroes that were on Earth were stretched thin around the globe helping out.

Not all of them had the means to control the masses through a global pandemic.

Amity Park, on the other hand, was quick to close down their roads weeks before Gotham and Metropolis did. Phantom made sure of that.

And the fact Vlad didn’t argue with him spoke volumes about the information he was hoarding too.

Yeah, there had been others who knew.

Did they even try to stop it?

Was there anything he could have done?

Clockwork comes to mind and Danny has to suddenly stop himself from running down the basement stairs toward the portal below just to ask him if he knew. He hasn’t spoken to him in weeks. Not since their last conversation when he confided in Clockwork about his fears.

His hands clench and Danny lets out a soft growl. Of course, he knows. He always knows.

Ancients, he’s always known.

But he hadn’t said anything. Not when Danny asked. Not when Danny told him something was wrong. He hadn’t uttered a word. And he had looked fine. His usual self, nothing seemed out of place. So why hadn’t he said anything to Danny?

Well, he couldn’t, could he? The future has to continue, no matter what happens. That’s what Clockwork once told him.

But it can be changed. It’s been changed before. Danny’s seen it. Danny’s done it. So why—

—And if Clockwork sees this, has seen it—how could he not—then it means this is something that was always meant to be. Always growing in the back of this planet’s history.

Impending and dooming. But things can change. He knows that. He does because he’s helped change things in the past before and maybe he shouldn’t have. He’s privileged to have done that but Clockwork must know something else. He just needs to ask. He needs to—

The landline phone rings suddenly and Danny rushes quickly to pick it up before the first ring even finishes. He knows who it is.

“Jazz? Jazz, hello? You there?”

Static fills his ears for a second before he hears her ask, “Danny?”

Relief floods his system. He sighs gratefully. “Jazz. Hey, I can hear you. Can you hear me?”

“You’re kind of breaking up but I can hear you.” Static fills the line again before she says, “Are you okay? Is everyone okay?”

She sounds worried and tired. He rushes to reassure her.

“Yeah, yeah. Everything’s fine here. We’re all okay. Are you okay? Where are you now?”

A rustle of paper. “Nebraska, near the border of Colorado, I think. I’m in Big Springs. I just got out of Wyoming.”

Nebraska. She’s in Nebraska. It’s been two days. She’s just reached Nebraska and it’s been two days. It shouldn’t be taking this long. She’s still too—. Danny rubs the side of his face with his hand and holds back the panic.

“Okay. That’s good.” He lies, “You’re good, you’re okay. You just got to get through Nebraska and you’ll be golden.”

She lets out a small humorless chuckle. “Not just Nebraska, Danny. Iowa and a quarter of Illinois too.”

“Hey, that’s gonna be so easy! Okay, you’re back in the Midwest. You’re already halfway there, you know?”

“Yeah.”

He turns around to face the living room from the kitchen. The TV behind him, muted, shows more scenes of destruction and human desperation he doesn’t want to look at right now while talking to his sister.

“How are you? Really?”

Static for another moment, mere seconds before he hears her again. “I’m…scared and—and worried. This car trip home was not how I expected it to go.” She chuckles.

“No, yeah I know.” He turns to take a brief glimpse back at the TV before looking down again. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay! Really, I’m fine. I should have—I should have planned this better.”

Danny shakes his head. “You didn’t know this was going to happen. You had plans in motion. You—you have goals. How were you supposed to-to—”

“No, yeah, I know. I—” Jazz sighs, exhausted. “I know.” She’s silent and Danny’s heart drops. A rustling sound fills the phone and she says optimistically, “I made it through the worst of it and I’m almost home.”

“How—” Danny clears his throat. “How has the trip been so far?”

Trip. Can he even call it that? It’s more like an escape. She’s running away. She’s trying to get home before—before—

He can hear a puff of air hit the receiver. “It’s been…eventful. There’s a lot happening around the States. I’ve done my best to avoid it all but...”

“Like what?” he asks, curious, worried, panicked.

“I…there’s something I have to tell you. But I don’t want you to worry.”

Too late. Because that statement was ominous. “Tell me. Please. I want to know. I need to make sure you’re okay. Jazz—”

“I’m okay! I think, yeah, it’s, there’s been—”

“Jazz.”

She’s quiet again. Ancients, he hates when she’s quiet.

“Jazz, what’s going on?”

“It’s-it’s bad, Danny. It’s really bad. Everywhere. I’ve had to—” She sniffles. God, is she—? “I’ve had to do a lot to get out and I’m almost home, okay? I’m almost home and then it’s all going to be okay. But you gotta trust me that I’m going to be home soon, okay? Just know that.”

She’s frantic and panicked. He knows she pulled her phone away from her face because her sniffling is distant but he can still hear her. He needs to keep hearing her.

“Jazz? Jazz, hey, talk to me. Don’t stop talking.”

“Okay, no, it’s okay. I’m fine. I’m sorry.” She sobs.

She’s been through a lot. She’s stressed as hell. Who wouldn’t be in her situation? She’s had to do things to get out.

What did she do? What’s happening in the other states?

Without thinking, Danny grabs the remote and flips quickly through the channels but all everyone is showing are either clips of the Justice League or damn commercial ads for fucking prescription drugs and why the hell is that important right now? Right now when his sister is afraid and alone during a fucking pandemic?

He throws the remote down on the table and makes a decision.

“Jazz? Jazz, it’s okay. Listen. I’m gonna come and get you.” Danny rushes through the kitchen, rips open cabinet doors and drawers, and rustles through them searching. He knows it’s around here somewhere.

“What? What, no! Danny—”

“I’ve been so fucking stupid! Why didn’t I think about this before? I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I left you like this. But I can get to you. I can. I know how.” He holds the phone between his shoulder and ear. The coil phone cord wraps around his torso as he rips open a junk drawer and immediately locates the map he was looking for.

“Here it is! Okay, you said you were where? Big Springs?”

“Yeah, but—”

“I can meet you there. It usually takes, what? Eleven hours to get to Nebraska from here? Twelve? I can fly. I can be there in sev—no! Three. I can be there in three hours. Just hold on for me, okay?”

“Danny, no, stop. This is absurd.”

Danny freezes and thinks for a moment. She’s right. This whole thing is stupid. He can get to her much quicker.

“Yeah, you’re right. I’m so dumb!” He smacks his forehead. “I can take the Infi-Map.”

“Wh…what?”

“The Infi-Map. I can borrow it from Frostbite and use it to find a portal closer to you. How much ambient ectoplasm is in that area? You know what? Doesn’t matter. I’ll just ask the map to bring me to you.”

“Danny—”

“I can take the Speeder. We’re gonna have to leave your car but at this point, what does it matter?”

“Danny. Wait, stop for a second!”

Danny stops and waits for her to speak again.

“What?”

“Danny…that can be extremely dangerous. I’m not risking your life to come and get me.”

Danny holds down his scoff and rubs his eyes. “What the hell are you talking about?”

She lets out a large sigh, her breath creating a distorted noise on his end. “I’ve been around people. A lot of people. Not on purpose and not because I wanted to be. I just—it’s been a long trip so far. I’ve had to get out of the car. I’ve… had to help some people.”

Danny slumps down in the kitchen chair closes to him and stares at the TV screen. Dragonson is in North Korea. He’s in talks with the leader to help protect his people. Apparently, it’s not going well.

“Of course you did.”

“Well, I do learn from the best.”

“That’s not even remotely funny.”

She laughs anyway. It’s not funny, it’s—this whole situation is awful and it’s not funny but she’s laughing on the other line anyway.

“I’m coming to get you. I don’t care what y—”

“I may be infected.”

His breathing stops. He blinks at the TV and watches Cyborg pull up multiple maps of different countries. Areas of Europe and Asia are pulsing red and growing bigger.

“Are you—” he chokes, “Are you showing symptoms?”

“No. Nothing. But I was around people who may have been sick. I—” She takes a breath in. “I wasn’t sure if coming home was safe. I may infect other people. I may bring this to Amity.” Her voice wobbles on the last word. “And you worked so hard to keep our town safe. I don’t want to jeopardize that.”

“I don’t care about—”

“But I’m still coming home. I have a plan. I can wear a suit, one of mom’s old jumpsuits with the-the helmet. She has a hazmat suit still, right? I don’t have to enter Amity. I can stay outside the border. Wait it out to see if I’m inf-”

“No. You’re coming home. End of discussion.” Danny stands up and tosses the map, useless, onto the table and walks towards the wall cradle, ready to hang up.

“Danny, no. I’m not risking anyone’s health because I was being stupid.”

“You had a mask on right? You said you were able to get a hold of one before you left.”

“Yes, of course, I had one on.”

“And how many hours has it been?”

“It’s been five since exposure.” She’s been counting down. She’s been preparing herself.

“CDC says it takes less than twenty minutes for symptoms to show.”

“I could be asymptomatic. There have been reports of people suddenly dying without any symp—”

“YOU’RE NOT DYING!” Danny shouts. His grip on the phone is tight, almost crushing. He can see his eyes glowing in the metal reflection of the fridge.

She doesn’t say anything. She stays silent and listens to him taking deep breaths to calm himself. She isn’t dying. She isn’t going anywhere. This isn’t her time. He knows that. He knows it isn’t her time. He would feel it, right? He would feel her fading.

Would she stay here, on this plain? Would she accept her afterlife in The Zone? Would she leave him?

He’s not ready to face that yet.

“You’re not dying. Okay? I would know. I know I would know.”

“I…” she hesitates.

“You wore your mask. It’s been more than twenty minutes. You’re sure?”

“Yes, yes I’m sure.” She replies calmly.

“Then you’re fine. I’m coming soon. Give me twenty minutes.”

“Danny! Listen to me! I could infect you! I could be dangerous to everyone back home. Just because I wore a mask doesn’t mean I didn’t inhale it somehow.”

“Did you wash your hands?”

“Wh—yes! Right after and I used hand sanitizer.” Of course, she would. She was always prepared for anything. Why would she falter now?

“Great!” Danny shrugs. “Be there in twenty.”

“Danny—!”

“I love you, Jazz. I’ll see you soon.”

“DANNY!”

Danny hangs up the phone and rushes down to the basement of his house. He ignores the insistent ringing coming from the kitchen phone and races to pack supplies in a backpack he stored away in an unused locker his parents never checked.

They’re out in town, helping Vlad set up tents and other necessities for the denizens during the lockdown. They won’t miss him, not for twenty minutes. Maybe less if he speeds quickly to Frostbite.

He’s going to get Jazz. He’s going to bring her home.

#dc x dp #dc x dp fanfiction #dc x dp prompt #danny phantom #dp #fanfic #fanfiction #Things Don't Stay Forever #dcxdp

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