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famwhy · 11 months

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Bereavement (2)

noun

/bɪˈriːv.mənt/ The state one is in when losing someone important to them

Spiderman: Across the Spiderverse

42! Miles X F!Reader, 1610! Miles X F!Reader

Synopsis: Miles is missing, and all you can think about is getting him back. Upon finally finding him, however, you're taken aback by the copy that stands beside him—the same copy that was staring at you with wide, shaking eyes full of... disbelief?

Note: I can't—for the life of me—believe how many notes the first part got after just a few days of being out, you guys are actually insane. Thank you all so much. And thank you too, Kingpin, for giving me the idea in the first place lmao. (Do me a huge solid and lemme know if any of my Spanish needs some work, I studied it for 3 years but it's been over a year since it's been put to practice so I'm a little rusty)

Miles would never drop you, not in a million years—you knew that.

Something had stopped him, forced him to let go as he froze in time; in an assortment of colours he couldn't control—that was how you found yourself where you were now—free-falling to your death for what was perhaps the second time in your life.

"Y/N!"

It was a lot scarier the first time—you had to admit—when you fell from the glass room right beside the huge collider more than a year ago. At the time, Miles had insisted you stay away from his spider business for your own safety, but you—being you—followed him down anyway.

That was your first mistake.

Your second—however—came in the form of letting Kingpin know you were there after allowing quite the ridiculous sneeze out of your mouth. And once he saw you, it wasn't hard for him to pick you up and throw you through the shattered glass in his rage and dismay of his failed plan.

Miles had his back completely turned to you when it happened, and yet—somehow—he was the first to whip his head around and notice your quickly descending form.

"Y/N!"

You had come so close to the ground—seconds away from touching it—when that familiar warmth wrapped its way around your waist, carrying you through the wind to prop you onto your own little cloud of safety.

Ever since then, Miles refused to leave your side. He took you out on every mission he went to—pretty much every news station had you pinned down as 'Spiderman's girl' and he never bothered to correct them.

So even as Gwen went off to another dimension, Miles grabbed you before following after. Even as he was invited to the headquarters of this 'spider society', he refused to go without them also granting you permission inside too.

When you asked him why he went to such lengths for you, he simply replied, "I almost lost you once while being in the same dimension as you, if you think I'm going to let it even come close to happening again, you've got another thing coming."

So no, you didn't find the second time you were falling to your death all that scary. Not when you knew Miles would save you—

"I've got you, cariño."

—you just didn't exactly know that it would be the other one that did.

His arms were wound tightly around the underside of your knees and upper back—carrying you so intimately, looking at you with so much love in his eyes, you found yourself growing slightly flustered.

...okay, very flustered.

"Oh, Cariño," as he spoke, he didn't lose the breath in his tone—the gentle air of disbelief he took on since your arrival, "you're here. I can't believe it—you're here. Te extrañé mucho." ("I missed you so much.")

You were speechless, gaping up at him like a clueless fish—what else could you do? You were being held in the arms of a copy of your best friend after he basically just confessed to you because the 'you' in this universe was apparently dead.

Though, luckily for you, there was no need to say a word for he continued speaking with those soft, fond eyes, "I missed your smile and your laugh. I missed how you always used to tug me around whenever something caught your eye... and how you would go on and on about whatever show was your new obsession of the month. You were always so... pretty when you spoke passionately.

"Speak for me, cariño," he continued, "let me hear that pretty voice of yours again."

"I—" you were stuttering—why were you stuttering?—"I, uh..."

Pull yourself together, Y/N.

"Miles—"

"Ah, I just realised how much I missed the way you say my name."

"—guh!" How the hell was he spitting such smooth lines? "Miles! Just listen for a minute, okay?!"

"Of course, mamí."

"I— I'm not who you think I am. I mean, I am Y/N but I'm not your Y/N. And you're not my Miles."

As the words came tumbling out your mouth, the boy's—this earth's Miles'—lips tugged down, gaze hardening and grip around you ever-so-slowly growing tighter.

"Don't be silly, mamí, of course I'm your Miles. I always have been and always will be."

Your brows furrowed and your eyes trailed to the view behind him, moving rapidly as you tried to locate your best friend. Though, soon, your view of the sky was cut off by the male with braids once more.

"What are you doing?" A growl. "Stop looking for him, look at me. I'm right here. He dropped you."

"He glitched! This isn't his world so of course he would, it wasn't his fault!"

You were quick to defend him—he was your best friend so of course you were. There was no way you were having anyone accuse him of anything negative, even himself.

"Cariño, you almost died. Again. He can't take care of you." Miles narrowed his eyes, as if just the thought pissed him off; as if he had the right to be pissed off.

"Oh what?" You scoffed. "And you can? I'm my own person, I don't need to be taken care of."

Stubbornly, you found yourself pulling away from him—or well, attempting to at least, he didn't seem to want to let you though, judging by the way his claws slowly began to dig into you a little.

His eyes were narrowed and his lips were tugged down, gaze seeming to pierce through you—as though he was trying to use you as a vessel to glare at the person he was really mad at.

Though, soon, the expression was gone, replaced by sullen eyes and an almost-far-away look—glossed over in a cloudy haze full of what you could only assume to be the grand despair that was grief; grief over a loss so great, it would pain someone to even admit it ever happened.

"Cariño, please. I don't want to argue with you, I just got you back. Please."

The look on his face, the crack in his voice—it was all too much, you almost couldn't stomach it, and soon, your arms loosened up as you lost the will to pull away.

"Miles," you whispered, "I... I'm really sorry—"

"Don't be, you're here with me now, aren't you? We can make up for all that lost time."

"I can't." Your vision blurred as you shook your head from side-to-side. "I'm sorry, I can't."

For a moment, all was silent. No words were exchanged, leaving only the strong wind to howl in your ears; to warn you of your grave mistake and whisper taunts into your ears. Then—

"It's because of him, isn't it?"

You almost couldn't muster words. "Huh?"

"The other me—it's because of him that you won't stay with me, isn't it?"

The look in his eyes was something of a dark nature, swirling with malice; with hate so inextricibly deep, you almost couldn't believe your own eyes—because... because there was just no way, right? There was no way your Miles (or any other Miles for that matter) could exhibit such a lethal level of loathing towards anyone...

"If I get rid of him, it won't be so much of a problem anymore... sí?"

...or was there?

@justmare, @majestichugs, @milktealvrr, @ladyfairenvale, @sakura-onesan, @haunted-pass, @phoenixgurl030, @stupendousnightmaretrash, @ultimate-geek14, @liaaa-1, @sluslutts, @angrypomeranianwifey, @thatbeanieboss, @kkate8008, @lilslmao, @honeydewpie, @elenasstxarr, @sloverr, @quartzangel0, @crystalsinwater, @astrosdelululand, @sflame15-blog, @nightshxdex, @dottoresgarden, @crowshiny, @teamowolverine, @bangtannie7, @k0la22, @kissmxcheek, @myloveforreading, @jared-oranges, @shisuishoe, @veryfancydoilies, @sunshinesetsstuff, @lovefks, @omg-the-nutella-queen, @hazzapotter, @levanneisdumb, @angie2274, @blueberrystigma

#miles morales #spiderman: across the spiderverse #spiderman atsv #across the spiderverse #female reader #miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles #earth 42 miles x reader #prowler miles #earth 42 #earth 42 miles morales #miles morales prowler #spiderverse

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painless-innit-colourful · 2 years

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oooo ok:

🙂, 👼, 🧨, 💏, and also the question about staged finale, the emoji wasn't showing up for me.

Thanks for the ask!

🙂 - Should Dream get a redemption arc?

NO! :) I want to see that motherf'cker absolutely go to town on the big bad evil front. I'm talking the return of the S2 dominance and control, perhaps flavoured with some of the string-pulling puppet master of S1 - hiding in the walls, hiding in the walls. I really liked the Sam Prison streams because it brought that back: the lying, the manipulation, the brutality. I want that b'stard to stand at the top of the world and laugh, and then I want him to have his throne pulled out from under him, and I want to watch him fall and die surrounded by the people he once called friends. So yeah, I don't want a c!Dream redemption arc. I want him to be worse, and then I want him to be killed by Sapnap or Tubbo or Tommy. I don't think there's a satisfying ending to the DSMP where Dream is redeemed.

👼 - Should Friend/Shroud/Michael/Fran be off limits for greifing?

My answer here is going to be pretty similar to someone else's I've seen, but it is as follows: Friend no, Shroud, Michael and Fran yes. Friend has died so many times now it basically doesn't matter: Ghostbur's in limbo, so the main emotional crux is gone, and besides, Friend has infinite canon lives :') Shroud doesn't really matter lore-wise, nor do we know if cc!Tommy is attached to him (he seems to be, but he's perpetually semi-in-character on the DSMP), but we inniters here on tumblr have become so attached I will personally go to war for that spider. Michael, to quote Technoblade, is a BABY. Killing him would be so depressing. I liked the kidnapping plot because we got to see Tubbo go off but thank goodness he's home safe. And finally, Fran deserves pensioner's protection. She's been around so long, the server's oldest pet deserves to retire from this bs and chill.

🧨 - Who is most at fault for November 16th?

Okay, here we go. A lot of people share blame for the undue... everything that happened on Nov 16th. Wilbur, Schlatt, Philza, Bad and Antfrost, Eret (from previous events); I could go on about all of them for a while. But if I had to narrow it down, it would absolutely be Dream and Technoblade. I firmly believe the point of no return was crossed when Techno fired at Tubbo. In that moment, the peace shattered. Wilbur heard it from the button room, and I bet in his mind it was the last piece of confirmation he needed to be convinced the old, peaceful, wonderful L'Manberg was dead and buried. In fact, it was in the moments before Techno shot that Dream dropped in that there in fact was a traitor! Maybe, just maybe, someone would've worked out where Wilbur was if Techno hadn't started monologing...

But on the level above Techno, supreme sh't himself, Dream. He egged Techno into attacking on Nov 16th while Tubbo was making his speech. He pushed Wilbur down his dark path from the shadows and provided him with the TNT. He supported Schlatt after obtaining the revive book, let him die in the camarvan, then laughed when L'Manberg exploded. He orchestrated everyone's downfalls. Right before he died, Wilbur said "Manberg didn't win, Pogtopia didn't win. I won." Really, I think the winner in this war was Dream.

💏 - Is TNTduo /r?

YES. OH MY GOD. Okay, romantic? Maybe not (as the aromantic in the room, I'm contractually obligated to say that), but! They absolutely did it during Manberg/Pogtopia. Sorry Wilbur Soot. I refuse to believe there was not an affair, in which two stressed out, tired idiots with too much sexual tension ran into each other in the wrong place at the right time and decided, "f'ck it." Enhances the Las Nevadas viewing experience immensely. That's just how it is when you both know something about each other no one else in the room does.

🥸 - Did Staged Finale negatively impact Punz/Tommy's character arc?

Okay, you should have not have enabled me to talk about the Staged Finale thing, because I have had this rant simmering since November. I don't think it really negatively affects Tommy's arc - Punz and him didn't interact much during S3. However! My second biggest issue with it is that it means Punz's character doesn't really make any sense in hindsight. And my biggest issue with it is that it really messes with the theme of the season being attachment.

Firstly, Punz. Before Staged Finale, I quite liked Punz. A mercenary whom Dream was far too trusting of, originally keeping tabs on the L'Manbergians (who remembers the S P Y tweet from the eve of Doomsday?) who either receives a bigger payout from Tommy, or takes pity on the kid, and leads the greater population of the SMP to Dream's evil lair just in time to save them. I personally like the latter interpretation: it later lined up even better when, after Punz was told Tommy was killed in the prison, he said "But I saved him..." despite being very under the Egg's influence. And his Egg involvement was cool!

And then Staged Finale happened, and he was just... on Dream's side the whole time? What, he got monumentally distracted by the Egg? Dream didn't seem to trust him to get him out in the first place, considering how he left the blueprints specifically in a place Techno would recognise. And the bit that really annoys me is that Tommy death line. There's no need for that line. Punz is in with the Eggpire, and Puffy's already p'ssed at them. He doesn't need to prove anything to anyone. Why say it if you genuinely didn't care about the kid? And then, when Dream gets out, they're all buddy buddy again. It doesn't line up to me.

(I am not going to talk at length about how little sense Staged Finale makes overall because I need to eat at some point tonight, but just know I think it makes no sense. Why the hell would you intentionally get yourself trapped in a maximum security prison. Why would you want the whole server to see you about to kill someone they generally like. None of it makes a lick of sense and I like to ignore it at every opportunity.)

And finally, my theme rant. Themes in media and literature mean a lot to me. The theme of S2 is Attachment, and it's the easiest one to determine. The whole season is laced with it: the pursuit of the discs, the compasses representing Tommy and Tubbo's attachment to the other, the Butcher Army threatening Carl, New L'Manberg and Ghostbur and Friend and Doomsday, and the goddam hall of attachments in the finale. Dream even tells Tommy he's important because he brought countries and caring for items and pets and attachment to the server. Attachment is the key.

Tommy's interactions with this theme are always that it's worth it, even when it hurts. He has to keep pursuing the discs. He fights for L'Manberg because it's what he has left of Wilbur. Even after Dream's 'I cut all my attachments and it made me stronger' speech, he responds simply "How do you not hurt?", unable to imagine an existence where he doesn't care deeply. And in the end, attachment saves him. When Punz tells people what he told them, they go because they care about these two kids enough to come to their aid.

And Dream? He cuts all his attachments off, refusing to care about items, cutting off Sapnap and George as early as the start of S2 so they can never be used against him. And then Sapnap comes to put himself between Dream and the Clingy Duo when it matters. Because he cut all his attachments (except to Tommy), he has no one left to defend him, and so is thrown in the prison to rot for a year and be tortured until Techno breaks him out to repay the favour. Staged Finale throws a massive spanner in that because it undermines the simple message of the S2 finale: attachment saved Tommy and Tubbo, and cutting his brought down Dream. If Dream has Punz, his status as the lone wolf who thought he could control the server by being above it all is undercut by the fact it's all a ploy. This is the part that annoys me most about it, because the theme and resolution previously worked so well.

At the end of the day, I mostly choose to forget Staged Finale happened, and I will probably continue to ignore it unless they make something cool out of this weird twist. And it's not hard to please me with this kind of stuff, so we'll see. I may be a convert yet.

#hey if one person tells me to put my staged finale rant in a separate post and finish it i will because goddammit it's one of the only thin #things on this server i actively dislike as an event #doomsday? love it (painful but i love it.) the prison break? hell yeah. tubbo killing aimsey? i can justify it. i like it.#staged finale just annoys me on such a fundamental level- i need to stop it's nearly 8 o'clock and i haven't eaten. the hyperfocus is real #dream smp #crim speaks #dreamwastaken #ghostbur #tommyinnit #technoblade #wilbur soot #quackity #tntduo #punz #thanks for the ask sorry for talking forever about it

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localundertaleaddict · 2 months

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holy cow this actually looks good

This is the first OC (and last human) in my Bloodtale AU. All the rest will be monsters (and some will be the ones from the original game, yes they're getting a redesign too, despite not having too much of a role compared to the original. Unless they're dead.) This lil individual has a ton of lore and is heavily connected to Chara and Frisk. I mean, she's literally Chara's mom.

Anyways uh basically she was the first human to fall into the Underground. Since no anti-human laws were in place, she was able to live there peacefully...for a while. LONG PARAGRAPHS OF LORE TIME!

She was adopted by a different monster family than the Dreemurrs, yet knew them very well. Eventually she and Asriel started dating after a few years, which many monsters didn't like but put up with it, as it's the prince they're talking about.

Eventually, they had a child. A half human half monster hybrid. An elf. It's been years since one was seen and the knowledge of them was forgotten. They didn't know their child had magic until...

Once the child reached the age of nine, they learned of their magic. They refused to show anyone, acting as if they were a regular human. One day, while they were practicing, their grandmother walked into the room. The child knew nobody could know of their ability, so they killed her. Since she was a boss monster, her soul lingered long enough for the child to take it. The child suddenly felt a sort of high. Was it the joy of killing or the soul? Perhaps it was both. The child left told their mother that their grandmother turned to dust right in front of them. But the mom saw. She saw the red knife go straight through her mother in law. She tried convincing Asriel, but he could not believe it.

Within the next month, the child secretly did more and more evil things, killing monsters in private. Or so they thought. Their mother saw each and every time but Asriel still did not believe her. Their LOVE rose. Then, they decided they wanted to be the ruler.

Asriel and their mother were cleaning their room when they struck. They first attacked Asriel. He had more defenses. Their mother tried her best to save him, as he tried to defend her and himself, but it was no use. However, Undyne, Captain of the Royal Guard, needed the new king for clearance for getting new resources for training, and walked in on the him dusting. She tried protecting the then-queen, but it wasn't much use so she called for backup. The rest of the Royal Guard came very fast and saved the queen, but the child escaped.

The queen was very damaged, mentally and physically. She knew it was coming but she was not prepared enough.

Some monsters believed she did it, so she took a few things: her bow, all her arrows, her crown, his crown, and both of their robes, and fled to the Ruins, where she would be safe. The spiders were on her side and so were the Froggits and ghosts, so she knew she'd be safe.

However, she did not immediately realize, but she had her husband's soul. When he died, she was closer, and absorbed it. She now had his magic. His essence within her. She then made a decision, one that he helped influence. She would protect all those who came here, but would also kill those who hurt. One kill would led to another and then the Underground would be wiped out, and she could not let that happen to the people that accepted her, nor the people her husband wanted to protect.

She still worries that her child would come back...but now she's ready. She'll protect her and her people.

LORE PARAGRAPH END

Anyways yep. She's the queen of the Underground. And she has PTSD from her own child (this is a joke she doesn't have PTSD, just some anxiety issues and depression. Lots of depression).

Oh yeah never mentioned her name whoops. Well, her name is Tilui, pronounced Til-ooo. And yep. She's technically queen of the Underground.

Questions I assume someone is asking:

"Who took over when Asriel died and she fled?" Asgore is still alive, though he's much weaker so an unnamed monster (idk who yet) accompanies him to protect him. Asriel died weeks before he would've.

"Do many monsters know of her existence?" Nope. Undyne is the only one, as she gave her the idea to flee and told everyone else she passed of her injuries.

"Does Chara know she's alive and that she has Asriel's soul?" Nope, not at all.

"What happens to her since she has a boss monster soul and a human soul?" She gains the magic the soul possesses, the immortality-ish, and the DT of the soul.

"Since Chara is alive, shouldn't she be slowly dying?" They aren't close enough for that tie to work, and since Chara is way older than the 30 needed for the parent to die, so even if they did come back Tilui won't die from it.

Anyways Tilui is cis female and bi with a preference for men =) she's also a very skilled archer

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foggyjune · 6 months

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TDP rewatch (s1 eps 7-9)

Callum using art to process his emotions <3

"If I fail I don't know what dad will do to me" :( :(

Calling Rayla a "vile bloodthirsty elven assassin" isn't unfair since she's supposed to be an actual Moonshadow elven assassin.

"If you don't eat, you'll die." "I am already dead." Viren 😒

Poor Gren

Could you have at least offered the man some Xadian fruit after you had him witness horrors beyond his understanding

Ava and Ellis <3

Love me a good haunted trail

"I can just draw" and dance (however silly), and strategize, baby you never needed magic to be extraordinary

We may be surrounded by magic but I refuse to believe you can understand animals!

"KaTALLEST"

Rayla you may need to elaborate more on "it was barely alive, it crumbled before my eyes" before we carry on

"That's not how spiders talk"

His "famous" jerkface dance implies that this has happened perhaps numerous times before (or that his moves are that phenomenal, which - they are. Did he.. choreograph this dance himself?)

Primal stones are kind of easy to break actually

"Lick his eyes open!" Bait: ????🤢

I think it would've been interesting if Rayla lost her hand anyway.

#tdp #tdp rewatch #do think it would've been cooler if callum never 'mastered' any primal magic without a primal stone but oh well

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enihk-writes · 6 months

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[thunder bots in a clear sky]

[01] - an error in our messaging system has been detected. please remain patient on standby as management fixes this unexpected issue. we seek your understanding and appreciate your continued usage of our services.

⇠ prev ║ index ║ next ⇢

content warning: the reader is revealed to be a child soldier. the superior is an icky guy

[PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION! I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR ANY TRIGGERS CAUSED BEYOND THIS LINE]

YEAR 3XX7, 48TH DAY OF WINTER

this recording has been approved by the federation of mindful nourishment. it is to be used by approved personnel for the stated reasons of: educational and occupational purposes. should it be found that you are in possession of an unauthorised copy of this recording, you are to answer to the intergalactic alliance party's piracy elimination department. failure to do so will result in confiscation and damages to your financial properties.

a drone and feminine robotic voice of the speaker bounced off the walls of the room. the low, blueish light of the television screen flickering was the only illumination the room received, especially with all the windows and openings blacked out with flattened cardboard boxes and thick curtains. this author sincerely hopes that you will never have to step into this room, it's not the best place to be on a weekend. don't even come here because you're curious either. it's...

ugh.

it was hard to even describe the smell inside this room, let alone the goo and gunk and grime that pooled all over the floor. flies and maggots were eating out of the garbage bags thrown to a side of the room, there might be a dead rat buried under that tower of trash — which explains all of the ants and cockroaches scurrying around that area. there were books tied and stacked together on top of unopened boxes collecting dust and abandoned cobwebs. it really says a lot when even spiders refuse to live in this environment. the books weren't in that great of a condition either, with tattered edges and lizard droppings all over, was it a good thing that these were all publications of the unscrupulous kind? perhaps. at least the owner doesn't come home often, if the federation of mindful nourishment ever caught wind of this, let's say he won't be having a good time in questioning.

the following events depicted in this recording are deemed to be authentic. further information about this case can be found on the public archives of the intergalactic alliance party's justice department under the case file numbers Y32XX-SUM27-TO-Y3XX7-WIN48- [REDACTED] -XXXDPT.H#F4T5

THIS COURT HEARING IS FOR:

DEFENDANT

ALIAS: LEI - 雷

REAL NAME : [REDACTED]

FORMER CAPTAIN FOR THE INTERGALATIC ALLIANCE PARTY'S (I.G.A.P) SECURITY DEPARTMENT DIVISION FOUR. DEFECTED TEN YEARS AFTER THE SECOND MAGELLANIC CLOUDS WAR OF 30XX. REASONS UNKNOWN.

CURRENTLY AN OFFICER GONE ROGUE. NO RECOGNISED AFFILIATIONS TO ANY KNOWN REBELLION, TERRORISTS OR OPPOSITION MILITA GROUP. HAS PAST DEALINGS WITH THE ST.SKR GUILD, DETAILS UNKNOWN.

there was a loud booming voice that resounded throughout the courtroom shaped like the stands of an ancient colosseum, silencing the chatter. he reads off from the papers he was holding up, as the recording camera shakily zooms into the central person of this court hearing.

her hair was a mess, edges choppily cut off with no thought, perhaps to shame who they believed to be a vain and promiscuous woman. clearly, her captors hadn't done their due diligence to research about her. because if anything, she was looking as though she really enjoyed her chic new look. and amongst the loud boos and curses thrown at her way, she held her head high. a shameless gesture, some might say, and it looked that way if you were looking at her through the lens of this recording camera.

people have asked those who had been at the court hearing that day to describe to them the aura of the infamous and elusive criminal. most just shook their heads in a trance, there was never a straight answer. some would think of her as a beauty unbefitting of her heinous reputation. some thought that she wasn't all that. everyone did agree that she was someone you couldn't take your eyes off, a performer, an entertainer. she was someone who revelled in the limelight.

ON THE FIRST ACCUSATION TOWARDS THE DEFENDANT,

IN THE YEAR 3X77, YOU BROKE INTO THE LABS OF THE BRAUN'S SCHOOL OF SCIENCE TO WRECK HAVOC ON THEIR OVER MILLINEA-LONG HUMAN CONSCIOUS RESEARCH. CAUSING THEM AND THE GALACTIC SOCIETIES AS A WHOLE TO LOSE VALUABLE KNOWLEDGE THAT COULD PROPEL THE STATE OF HUMANITY FORWARD.

PRISONER [REDACTED] HOW DO YOU PLEAD?

the woman stares up ahead blankly. she chuckles, leaning back with her eyes closed, pondering or perhaps trying to recall the supposed incident. from the flickering grainy footage displayed on the dim screen, one could see the schemes forming in her eyes. though she dropped that, and instead replied, rather nonchalantly.

sure. i did it.

gasps were heard from the spectators. if you were living in this time, the burning of the labs belonging to the braun's school of science could be on par with what our world would know of as the burning of alexandria. you can probably piece together that this was a rather serious offence...

no wonder the I.G.A.P's justice department wanted this woman caught. if this was her headliner crime, one can only speculate what the others would be.

IN THE YEAR 3X81, YOU SHUT DOWN THE FIREWALLS OF THE I.G.A.P SERVERS CAUSING A MASSIVE DATA BREACH WHICH NOT ONLY CAUSED SIGNIFICANT FINANCIAL LOSS FOR THE PARTY BUT ALSO CAUSED HIGHLY SENSITIVE INFORMATION TO BE LEAKED TO UNAUTHORISED PERSONNEL, REVIVING THE DARK MARKET STRIP AND CAUSING THE NEAR COLLASPE OF THE FEDERATION OF MINDFUL NOURISHMENT — ALL TO ACCUIRE THE FULL VOLUMES OF SOME OUT-OF-PUBLICATION B-RATE NOVEL?

PRISONER [REDACTED] HOW DO YOU PLEAD?

a pause.

alright, but you have to admit that you would do it too if you were me. god, i swear i almost went crazy when i couldn't find the full series anywhere!

the attendees of the courtroom looked at each other nervously. was this the humour of a criminal? as expected, normal hardworking folk like them could never hope to understand the absurdity of wanting something you can't have when everything you've ever needed in life can be provided in a snap of a finger. they thought she was just greedy and a good-for-nothing that flew too close to the sun, and was now throwing a temper tantrum all because she can't have what she wants.

she never hoped they would understand her actions. nobody had to understand her reasons, so long as she didn't lose sight of her goal. this trial meant nothing in her grand scheme of things.

the loud booming voice kept reading off the list until he reached the last offence recorded. he looks over to see the woman sitting slumped back on the chair, looking bored of the trial. he looks over the words on the paper again.

he wonders quietly how she would react.

he clears his throat.

ON THE LAST ACCUSATION TOWARDS THE DEFENDANT,

DURING THE SECOND MAGELLANIC CLOUDS WAR OF 30XX, YOUR FELLOW CAPTAINS OF DIVISIONS THREE, FIVE, SEVEN AND NINE DIED FROM A COWARDLY, INTERNAL ATTACK PLOTTED AND CARRIED OUT BY YOU. THEIR BODIES RECOVERED IN WORSE SHAPE THEN THEY HAD LEFT BASE IN, ALL WHILE YOU HAD FEIGNED IGNORANCE TO THIS INCIDENT, EVEN GOING SO FAR AS TO PLEDGE YOUR LOYALTY TO THE I.G.A.P AND PROMISING TO FIND THE PERPETRATOR AND THEN FALSELY ACCUSING YOUR SUPERIOR OF THE MISDEED IN AN ATTEMPT TO COVER UP YOUR TRACKS.

PRISONER [REDACTED] HOW DO YOU PLEAD?

there was a low crackle that revved up in frequency before—

BOOM!

the sheer pressure of the crash caused the recording camera to shake violently, everyone flinched at the loud noise. a few brave ones peered to look at what was happening below. when the dust settled, everyone could see that the stand the announcer with the loud resounding voice was standing behind had been blown to smithereens, the wood all broken and splintered. the only indication of what might have happened was the smoking pile of ash at the point of impact.

everyone on the court shuddered.

they've forgotten, amongst all the ridiculous seemingly harmless nature of the crimes, that she was once the shining star of the I.G.A.P's security department. the prodigy who could wield the untameable element of lighting like it was nothing at the young age of fifteen, going on to achieve feats in battle no one ever could at her age, becoming the captain of her own special unit. in the short span of ten years, she reached her peak in the department.

and then, the war happened.

it was probably then that she began to fall from grace. the icarus that flew too close to the sun, the stray thunderbolt that you see before a hurricane, warning you of the disaster to come. she fell and she fell, deeper and deeper into the seedy underbelly of the illicit cosmic societies. she joined hands with former enemies and her current foes were those whom she rubbed shoulders with once upon a time.

right now, she stood in court, dirty and unkempt. a far cry from her glory days. how pitiful. the session should end now before she loses control and harms the innocent civilians.

prisoner [redacted] how do you plead?

the look of pure, liquid hatred dripping from her gaze at the new somewhat unfamiliar voice made everyone hold onto their beating heart rising in their throats. that voice. oh, that sickening voice. she would know that god-awful ear-grating, stomach-turning, nauseating voice anywhere in the universe, through the fabric of time in any life she was put into.

her eyes meet those of the superior she had so-called falsely accused all those years ago. he sits perched on his little throne up in the stands, ever so poised and elegant. his posture was impeccable even after all this time. how frustrating.

the superior only smiles, eyes crinkling up gently at her childish display. oh, she was as adorable as he remembered. he finds it sad that he couldn't tame this feral kitten he had picked up years ago. no matter though. there was always another chance in the near future. for now, he had to punish the wrong-doer.

the images flashing on the television screen stills. a sigh was heard as the metal legs of a stool scrapped on the floor, the figure residing in the corner of the room watching the video silently so far stood up stretching. with a few good slaps on the television hood, the record stirs and the camera soon pans over to show the image of the girl's superior.

a clean-looking fellow.

the figure scoffs, still not used to seeing his own face in the reflection of the screen. she's always hated that he looked flawless. and if that was one way to get her attention, he sure as hell was going to take that chance with both hands.

oh, his poor little girl, if only he had a higher standing in the I.G.A.P, he would have cleared all her charges and brought her back to the security department as captain of division four. he would have silenced any noise of her former defection, her supposed betrayal against her former allies. oh, they wouldn't understand your burning passion for justice. he did, he always did.

so he'll stay behind and work hard for her. as she goes off for her execution, he will stay behind and work hard so that when she finally comes back to him as the fresh face recruit with no memory of her sins, he would be ready to welcome her back with open arms.

he chuckles at his dreams, taking a sip out of the can he was swirling in his hands. the carbonated drink was sour, bland, flat and warm all at once. but he didn't care. his eyes were trained on one thing.

the television screen.

and it plays the recording of her court hearing.

again,

and again,

and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again,

and again,

until the screen finally blacked out from short-circuiting.

#enihkwrites #thunder bolts in a clear sky #tbcs #return of the blossoming blade x reader #return of the mount hua sect x reader #chung myung x reader

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feralphoenix · 3 years

Text

a thing that i really love about hollow knight is that part of its incredibly strict Show Don’t Tell policy means it works a lot in juxtapositions. comparisons and parallels.

like, rather than Telling us what makes for a good and responsible ruler, we get to know about various different heads of state in the various nations of the crater, and we can observe how they handled international relations, public policy, etc and the consequences/effects of their choices, and draw conclusions by ourselves.

there are lots of different parent-child relationships, and sibling relationships, so that we have many examples to compare ghost and their family to.

there are also a number of higher beings around and you can compare them to each other to understand their different approaches to godhood, how they handled being the center of a culture & the responsibilities that entails (radi, unn, tpk) or the ways they sidestepped those roles (white lady, grimm). in addition to forming our opinions of these characters this also contextualizes what ghost does when they attain godhood in the godseeker endings & after the delicate flower variant, in godseeker mode.

like you can use these points of reference for a lot of different analysis topics!!! but one of the things that always Gets Me In My Emotions is the direct juxtaposition between herrah, radiance, and tpk and how differently these three characters handle the cost of fighting Existential Crisis.

the pale king’s policy is officially No Cost Too Great, but just like the hunter says in hollow’s bestiary entry, for tpk “cost” was a thing for other people to pay, and he was not willing to risk any sort of harm to his own person. his plan to deal with the infection involved sacrificing the dreamers & the hollow knight, and his plan to create a hollow knight involved birthing hundreds of thousands of children who were designed to be expendable - they were there so he could experiment on them, select a candidate, cull the failures, and then sacrifice said candidate.

the worst tpk might have experienced through all this is emotional turmoil, and it’s left ambiguous in-game whether he was actually conflicted about the child sacrifice/felt attachment to hollow or whether his personal low point throughout all this was being butthurt about his wife walking out rather than birth a second batch of vessels for the slaughter. (he must’ve been pretty darn butthurt to have lied to the kingdom that the white lady was dead.)

as soon as his plan failed and he had no other recourse, tpk fled rather than expose himself to any potential harm. he was willing to - perhaps desperate enough to - expend any number of chess pieces if it would save hallownest, but his own life and safety was NEVER on the table.

just like tpk, radiance is trying to protect herself and her people. just like tpk and herrah, she too is willing to go to any lengths necessary to get the settlers to fucking step off, give her children back, and leave her alone.

for her this entails being willing to bend her own principles - i’ve talked about this in depth before so you can find all that in my essay tag if you’re interested, but in-game evidence points to radiance having been a pacifist like the rest of her tribe pre-hallownest. and the infection is a curse that’s only sometimes fatal, but it causes extreme amounts of harm and fear and chaos to inflicted parties. and this level of harm is something she’s willing to do just to threaten/pressure tpk into backing down.

her method also causes a large amount of collateral damage (including lateral harm to other indigenous bugs!), suggesting that she either doesn’t have the emotional wherewithal to worry about who might get hurt, or just plain doesn’t care. if you squint, it’s possible to make the argument that radiance might have warned unn before her counterattack against hallownest, but even then forewarning was the only mitigation she was able and willing to provide. if this is what it takes to protect herself and her tribe, then so be it.

so, compared to tpk, who chose to actively sacrifice the lives of individuals to protect the institution of hallownest, and radiance, who doesn’t care about splash damage to bystanders as long as she can save her tribe... what i find extraordinary about herrah is that when she determined that sacrifice was necessary to protect deepnest, she took all that sacrifice upon herself.

most obviously herrah accepts the role of dreamer in hopes of ending the plague, sacrificing her life. in order to keep tpk from taking advantage of that to conquer deepnest, she also negotiates that he has to provide her with an heir, thus ensuring deepnest’s sovereignty... but this means she has to have sex with the very creature who has been trying to commit genocide against the spiders for generations. she has to let her lifelong worst enemy who she’s been fighting alone since the death of her husband impregnate her. this decision had to have come with some form of emotional distress for her, and yet herrah shoulders it and soldiers through it.

and then even through this, it’s implied in the white lady and midwife’s dialogue (+ posed in the dev notes/style guide) that tpk snatched up hornet when she was a child to raise her in the white palace. it’s unclear whether he did this to keep hornet as a hostage to make sure herrah couldn’t renege on their treaty now she’d got what she wanted out of the bargain, to ensure his offspring would be raised in the culture he created rather than in deepnest, which he clearly believed to be barbaric and uncivilized, or both.

yet instead of calling bullshit and flouncing on the deal or trying to steal hornet back, thereby exposing deepnest to the threat of both the infection And aggression from hallownest once more, herrah stuck with it. midwife says that herrah paid dearly for her involvement with this plan, but herrah valued deepnest’s survival over her own individual life, and saw it through to the end no matter how tpk’s plan caused her to suffer or hurt her dignity.

there’s an incredible amount of nobility and integrity herrah shows here. she refuses to let any harm come to her country, and insists that any and all sacrifice required of her as a leader be her sole responsibility. her courage, her political intelligence, and her strength of character as a leader are all nothing short of awe-inspiring.

at the same time, there is still a downside to herrah’s spirit of self-sacrifice. as anyone who’s ever watched steven universe can tell you, self-sacrifice is actually kind of a shitty solution to one’s problems because self-destruction hurts the people who love you.

we get glimpses of hornet’s intense emotional torment over her mother’s fate and her understanding that it’s necessary to let ghost murder herrah to change the status quo; similarly we can understand the crushing amount of personal responsibility hornet feels towards the whole crater comes from knowing the cost of her own birth, and having front row seats to her parents’ political power struggle.

we hear from herrah herself that everything she does is done for hornet, so hornet’s pain is probably the last thing herrah would have wanted, but ironically what hornet goes through in hollow knight is a direct consequence of herrah choosing to martyr herself.

anyway all of this speaks SO much for herrah and radi and tpk’s individual priorities and problem-solving strategies and also their blind spots... plus, there’s a lot about herrah’s character that goes underappreciated and this is one of those unsung aspects. fandom... fandom blease be SAD about SPIDER MAMA with me

#hollow knight #herrah the beast #the radiance #the pale king #hollow knight meta #essay #this got longer than i meant it to be i just have a lot of FEELINGS about HERRAH HOLLOWKNIGHT #also about radi hollowknight too but everyone knows that already lol

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fireinmoonshot · 3 years

Text

SPIDER | BUCKY BARNES x READER | PART FOUR

CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR THE FALCON AND THE WINTER SOLDIER.

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE Summary: Bucky doesn’t know what to make of you when he meets you. You’re friends with Sharon, and you seem pretty easy to read on the surface. But the more time he spends with you, the more he seems to uncover, and the more he becomes tangled in the web you unwittingly weave. Pairing: female!Reader x Bucky Barnes Fandom: Marvel / The Falcon and the Winter Soldier Word Count: 2,769 Warnings: SPOILERS FOR THE FALCON AND THE WINTER SOLDIER. A/N: Thank you all for the lovely response yet again! I really appreciate it. We're getting into Episode 4 now, so if you've not seen it yet make sure you don't read this chapter or you'll spoil yourself! Please let me know your thoughts, though. I really liked how this chapter turned out and I tried to make it so it didn't read like I was just writing the episode out word for word so I hope it's okay!

Zemo’s apartment was, at least, comfortable. As soon as you’d arrived Sam had settled in and gotten himself a drink and Zemo had excused himself to shower. You’d gone for a wander around the place, trying to get your bearings. It’d been a while since you’d been out of Madripoor and it felt a little like the ground had just been ripped up from underneath your feet. It was undoubtedly going to take some getting used to. Then, with what Bucky had said in the street. You were overthinking and you knew it, but he’d been right. You hated that he’d been right.

A change of clothes and freshening up in one of the bathrooms the place had done at least some of the job in helping you feel settled in, and by the time you re-enter the living room Bucky’s back, the Dora Milaje is after Zemo and the news that Karli bombed a GRC supply depot has broken.

You settle on one of the seats beside Sam with a glass of water and a heavy heart. Zemo is talking about how he personally believes Karli is a supremacist, but you can’t get your mind off of how three people had died and eleven more had been injured at the GRC supply depot bombing. You have a feeling that more people are going to end up dead if you don’t act soon, and fast.

“She will not stop,” Zemo says. “She will escalate until you kill her.”

You zone back into the conversation, taking a long sip of your drink.

“Or she kills you.”

“How unbelievably morbid of you,” you mutter.

Bucky glances at you and Sam even huffs out what you think could be a laugh.

“Maybe you’re wrong, Zemo. The serum never corrupted Steve,” Bucky says.

“Touché. But there has never been another Steve Rogers, has there?”

You can’t disagree with him. These people – Karli, her super soldiers. You know that they’re not trying to be Steve Rogers. They’re anything but. But you also know that John Walker, where-ever he is, whoever he is, isn’t qualified for the job either.

Bucky sighs and makes to walk away from the three of you and head toward the couch, looking for a well deserved seat. “Well, maybe we should give him to the Wakandans right now.”

“And you’ll give up your tour guide?” Zemo replies, staring into a cabinet and not even bothering to give Bucky a glance.

“Yes.” Bucky doesn’t hesitate.

Sam rolls his eyes, clearly irritated by the both of them. He says something, you vaguely hear something about his ‘TT’, though you don’t listen to the words. Instead, you stare into your drink, swirling the water around in the cup.

It’s not the first time you wonder if you’ve made a mistake my coming along with Sam, Bucky and Zemo. It’s not like Sharon gave you a choice, but you know that you could have insisted that you not come along. But now you’re wondering even more as you sit in Zemo’s living room, listening to the three men concoct a plan without even needing to consult you. Three men – a criminal, one that doesn’t trust you and one that you just don’t understand at all. You feel out of place among them.

You push yourself up and out of your chair, leaving your water behind on the table, and head towards the hallway that’ll lead you to the room Zemo told you that you could use. Bucky watches as you go, wondering if he should call out and ask you where you’re going, though he hesitates for too long and by that time, you’re out of sight. Sam watches him with furrowed eyebrows.

“What was that?”

“What was what?” Bucky looks at him.

“You, staring at her like that. Are you in cahoots or something? I saw you talking on the street. Hell, you stopped to talk to her. What’s that about?”

Bucky scoffs. “In cahoots? Are you being serious right now?”

“Deadly.”

“Yeah, you know what else is deadly?”

“What?”

“Karli if we don’t hurry up and get some information on Donya Madani.” Bucky stands up and heads towards the bathroom. “As soon as I’m done, we’re heading out.”

Sam shakes his head and mutters “Who made you boss?” under his breath.

Bucky hears him. “I did!”

***

You’re not quite sure what you expect to find, but it’s certainly more than you’re leaving with. Bucky is standing and staring at Zemo and a group of children when you and Sam rejoin him. You’d gone upstairs with him, having decided on the journey there to at least try with him, and if he still refused to trust you, you’d give up. Or perhaps you wouldn’t. You hadn’t quite decided yet.

Bucky looks at you as you stand beside him, hands tucked firmly into the pockets of your jacket to shield them from the cool breeze. You hadn’t said much to him since he’d joined you at Zemo’s apartment after your talk on the street, and honestly he didn’t expect you to. He didn’t even really know what to say to you, so he’d figured he’d not even bother breaching the topic. If you wanted to talk about it, you would.

You stare ahead at Zemo, eyes narrowed. He’d been a little anxious about you going upstairs with Sam alone, even though he knew deep down that Sam wasn’t going to do anything, especially to Sharon’s friend.

“Someone needs to teach those children not to talk to strangers,” you mutter.

Sam snorts.

“No, seriously. If I was their age and someone that looked and acted like Zemo came up and started talking to me like that, I’d probably want to punch him and run.” You pause and then spot the Turkish delight. “On second thoughts…” You make to walk towards him, suddenly feeling rather protective over the children unknowingly speaking to a criminal like Zemo.

Before you can even make it two steps, a hand closes around your wrist and pulls you to a stop. You look back, irritated, to find Bucky shaking his head at you.

“Don’t. He’s not going to hurt them. They’re giving him information.”

“They’re children and he’s a criminal.”

“Yeah,” Bucky says, tugging you back to his side and letting go of your wrist once you’re there. “And I’ll punch him in the face if I have to.”

Sam chuckles. “Don’t tempt him, or me, for that matter.”

“Now you’ve just made me want to watch him get punched in the face.”

Bucky and Sam share a look.

“I will if you will,” Sam shrugs.

Zemo finishes speaking to the children and walks back towards the three of you. “Cute kids,” he says, smiling a smile that makes your skin crawl. He walks straight past you.

“Yeah, I hate that man,” you mutter.

***

The journey back to Zemo’s apartment is quiet and uncomfortable. You feel worried for the children and are contemplating various different ways you could physically injure and maim Zemo. Whatever Sam and Bucky are thinking, you don’t know or particularly care.

What you do know is that you didn’t find what you came for

You close the door of the apartment behind you.

“Well, I got nothing,” Bucky says, heading straight to the couch. “No one’s talking about Donya.”

“Yeah, it’s because Karli is the only one fighting for them,” Sam replies, settling down on the couch opposite Bucky. “And she’s not wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

You find a spot on the couch by Bucky and kick off your shoes so you can put your feet up. All of the travelling around was certainly taking its toll and honestly, you were beyond exhausted. If you had the time to sleep for more than a few broken hours, you’d take it. You rest your head on your arm, laying your head down on the top of the couch, and look between Sam and Bucky.

Sam sighs and elaborates. “For five years, people have been welcomed into countries that have kept them out using barbwire. There were houses and jobs. Folks were happy to have people around to help them rebuild. It wasn’t just one community coming together, it was the entire world coming together. And then, boom. Just like that, it goes right back to the way it used to be. To them, at least Karli’s doing something.”

“You really think her ends justify her means?” Bucky says. “Then, she’s no different than him,” he motions to Zemo, “or anybody else we’ve fought.”

“She’s different. She’s not motivated by the same things.”

You find the courage to speak. “Just because she’s not motivated by the same things as Zemo or the people you’ve fought, it doesn’t mean she’s not unlike them,” you sit up a little straighter as they look at you. “I haven’t fought people like you have, but I’ve fought. I’ve seen what regular people can do with a following. Karli is different, but she’s the same, too. She’s making change, but at what cost?”

Bucky looks at you, eyes narrowed. “I like you,” he says. “You get me.”

Sam rolls his eyes and looks like he’s about to reply when Zemo comes over holding a tray with tea and several tea cups. It almost makes you laugh, the sight of him with the smallest, daintiest pieces of China, but you hold it back, knowing that all eyes in the room would fall on you if you did laugh.

“That little girl. What’d she tell you?” Bucky’s amusement over you is long gone.

Zemo looks at the three of you for several moments before finally giving up the information he’d been holding hostage. “The funeral is this afternoon.”

Beside you, Bucky huffs in annoyance. “You know the Dora’s coming for you at any minute? In fact, they’re probably lurking outside right now. Keep talking.”

“Leaving you to turn on me once we get to Karli. Hmm. I prefer to keep my leverage.”

You watch as Bucky stands up from the couch and walks towards him. Something tells you that he’s not just standing up to talk, but before you can so much as think of anything else, Bucky grabs a tea cup and throws it against the wall behind Zemo. It shatters with a surprisingly loud crack.

“You wanna see what someone can do with leverage?”

Both you and Sam are on your feet in seconds, stepping in-between them. You press a hand against Bucky’s shoulder and try to move him away from Zemo, but it does nothing. He doesn’t move and instead keeps shooting daggers at Zemo over your shoulder.

“Take it easy. Don’t engage him. He’s just gonna extort you and do that stupid head tilt thing,” Sam says, warning Bucky off. “Let me make a call.” He leaves the room, but not before tapping on Bucky’s other shoulder in an attempt to snap him out of it.

Zemo gets on your nerves by asking “You want some cherry blossom tea?”

“No, you go ahead.” Bucky is seething.

You push on his shoulder again and finally he steps back.

“What, you think we can afford to start fighting amongst each other now?” You ask, directing Bucky out of the living room and down the hall, figuring it’s probably for the best if he and Zemo aren’t in the same room right now. Zemo can enjoy his cherry blossom tea all on his own.

Bucky lets out a long, shaky breath. “Told you I wanted to punch him.”

“When I said I wanted to see it, I didn’t mean today.”

You tug him out of the hall and into your room, closing the door behind you. It’s the first time the two of you have been alone since the street where he’d called you out for contradicting yourself all the time. Strangely, he’s the person out of the three of them that you’re the most comfortable around, yet you also know he’s definitely the one that’s the most rash in his decision making. Hence the broken cup.

Bucky sits down on the edge of the bed and runs his hands over his hair.

“I know that helping him get out was for the best considering everything with Karli and the Flag Smashers, but I’m really regretting my decision right about now,” he admits, eyes focused firmly on the floor.

You walk over and settle down beside him on the bed.

“He has his uses, but just because he’s useful doesn’t mean he’s any less of an ass.”

He laughs briefly and the sound makes you smile.

“We all have regrets, okay?” You continue. “I have plenty of them, you have them, Sam has them, I bet even Zemo has some. Buried deep down. I try not to focus on mine. Maybe you should try the same with the Zemo thing.”

Bucky lifts his head and looks at you. “Yeah, it’s that easy, is it?”

For some reason, you want him to trust you even more now. Having felt disconnected from them all day, but also having felt the thrill when one of them laughs at your joke, or even Bucky just telling you that he likes you… the part of you that wants trust wins out, so you decide to tell Bucky one of your regrets.

“I regret leaving Madripoor and Sharon,” you admit. “She’s the only home I’ve known for the longest time. Madripoor – however messed up it is there – felt like some kind of home because of her. It’s the first time we’ve been apart since the blip, I suppose. Part of me wishes I was still there with her. But the other part of me focuses on the fact that she thinks I’m of more use here, with you guys. So I’m trying to be of use to you guys. I’m trying not to shut myself off. I’m pushing down my regret in favour of trying to be helpful.”

“And how’s that going?”

“Well, I haven’t contradicted myself yet, have I?”

Bucky smiles properly for the first time since you’ve met him.

“And listen, if it makes you feel any better, you entirely have my permission to punch Zemo before we finish all of this. I don’t know Sam well, but I have a feeling he’d be on board, too.”

He chuckles and leans back until he’s laying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

“I meant what I said in there before,” he points in the direction of the living room. “That I like you. That you get me. I don’t know how, but you do.” He looks up at you, sitting up and watching him. “You’re making it annoyingly easy for me to trust you right now, you know that? I feel like I shouldn’t trust you because of the contradictions you make about yourself. But now you’re sitting here, being open and honest with me. Making sure I don’t punch people. And now I feel like I could trust you.”

You’re smiling. “Maybe that was all part of my grand plan.”

Bucky furrows his eyebrows. “Don’t do that.”

“I’m joking. It was a joke,” you huff out a laugh. “Learn to take a joke, James.”

He pushes himself up, sitting straight again. “James?”

“That’s your name, is it not? Or do you not like being called James?”

“No, it’s… it’s fine.” He blinks. Lets your words settle with him for a moment. “Bucky, James. I don’t care what you call me. Unless it’s offensive.”

“Well, you’re safe there,” you laugh. “I’m not mad at you, by the way. About what you said earlier. You were right. I do contradict myself, and I do it to protect myself.”

Bucky frowns. “You don’t have to protect yourself from me.”

“Then I’ll try not to,” you say honestly. “Now, have you cooled off enough to go back and see who Sam was calling, or do you wanna stay here for a few more minutes?”

Bucky thinks over your question for a few moments, thinking ever so briefly about staying here with you for a little bit longer simply because he thinks he likes being around you, before nodding. “I think I’m good.”

You nod and stand up, intending to head to the door, but Bucky reaches out a hand to stop you. He means to grab your wrist, but unintentionally ends up grabbing your hand. You whirl, eyes a little wider than you realise, and look at him.

He doesn’t let go.

“Thank you,” he says. “For getting me out of there. For calming me down.”

You smile. “Anytime, Bucky.”

***

Tag List: (to be added, just reply to this post or message me!) @rexorangecouny @mischiefmanaged71 @rebelspykim @johnmurphys-sass @americaswritings @toribentleyva @purplewcrld @zozebo @ren-ni @felicityofbakerstreet @stealapizzamyheart @okayline @lilacs-lavender @andievgs @mvpluv @themaddies-obx @shawnartmendes @my-little-writer @vvipgot7be

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #marvel #marvel x reader #tfatws #tfatws x reader #spider

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a-driftamongopenstars · 3 years

Note

I recently saw a fic of yours of Crow crying in front of the guardian. What if it was the guardian this time crying in front of crow? Could you provide a small drabble of it if you have time? Thank you ❤

hey anon! thank you for this prompt, this has gotten so emotional! I hope you like it :)

also on ao3

Thoughts race through their mind at a speed faster than light. Every horrible outcome that could possibly happen poisons their chest with clenching ache.

They helped free Crow from the Spider's grasp, and it doesn't feel real yet.

The Guardian never did expect such boldness to come out of their own mouth. To demand a prize into their posession, to set it, him, free the very next second. With an ulterior motive of heart, perhaps, but no matter.

Yet they have never been known for holding back.

And now Crow is free. He stands beside them on the outskirts of the City, its rising towers looming over them. Crow's face, filled with genuine awe, is turned towards the City, the new home he is to inhabit. How many times has he left it in tears and pain, broken and hurt after countless Lightbearers refused to accept him as his own for the sins of another?

Perhaps, it is the surreality of them walking towards the City together is what finally breaks it for the Guardian. They don't quite realise when it happens, their eyes sting, painful akin to sand grains, and they rub their eyes.

"Guardian.. hey," Crow turns, noticing their discomfort, and even more so - their streaming tears.

They wonder if in these months they had given Crow an impression of an unbreakable stoic figure. It is what the City needs them to be. It is what everyone sees. Tears do not dry fast on trophy marble.

But for a dead thing, they feel awfully alive.

Crow's palms gently rest on each of the Guardian's cheeks. Thumbs, peeking from the finger-cut gloves, caress their skin, smudging the tears away. A terribly gentle gesture they are simply not used to. Crow could cut on the sharp edges of the walls they have built around themselves.

"It's okay," he whispers, meeting their tearful gaze with a softened glow of his own eyes. "You did well. I'm thankful."

Short sentences, reassuring crutches. The Guardian carefully runs their hands over Crow's wrists, caress his arms. Old patchy fabric of his sleeves gather under their touch.

It isn't easy. But they believe him.

They move their head, pressing Crow's hand between their cheek and shoulder. They close their eyes, if only for a moment to let every wall crumble.

It's okay.

#destiny 2 #destiny fanfiction #guardian x crow #the guardian #young wolf #the young wolf #yw x crow #young wolf x crow #the crow #fanfiction #driftcreates

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emperor-palpaminty · 3 years

Note

Hi! I was hoping your requests were open because I saw your prompt list! Could I request #2 and #7 with crosshair or tech xfem ? Maybe they just got back from a mission that almost went very wrong and they realize how close they really were to losing each other? Maybe a little angsty and fluffy? Thank you!!

Ooh, lads, it's time for me to Simp severely for Tech, we finna get tech-y sexy. Also George Lucas said there's no underwear in space but I refuse to believe that there aren't sports bras so that's cannon here, don't fight me. Children go away, goodbye

2- A small, fleeting kiss - which is immediately followed by a passionate, hungry kiss.

7- French kisses where they trace every tooth with their tongues as though trying to memorize them.

Once the dust had settled, Tech tallied the dead around him. A battle this size, this outnumbered, at least fouty-five percent of their men had been killed or severely wounded, and no one escaped with zero scrapes. Even the jedi.

She stood, tall, stance confident, but dusty face betrayed by the rivulets of tears on her cheeks. She stared over the open ground, a certian reverance about her, arm still patched up from the multiple wounds she acquired from that Spider Droid. She said nothing as he approached, bucket on and visor lifted, and he lowered his data pad to his belt. "General?"

She said nothing. Her hair had become chaotic in the battle, whisps of it trailing behind her like ghosts in the wind. "Let's... go home." Her voice rasped.

Tech watched her, nodding softly. "To Corasaunt?"

She shook her head, arms crossing. "No," She mumbled. "Anywhere else. I can't..." she inhaled, then confirmed the decision, shaking her head again. "I can't go back yet."

Tech watched her. Slowly, he nodded, offering a simple "Yes, general," Before easing and walking away, towards his small band of brothers.

"Well?" Hunter shifted, brows raised. "How is she?"

"Needs some time alone, I believe." Tech frowned under his helmet, and his chest still ached from the impact of earlier. "I can't say I blame her- this day has been a rough one."

"I had fun."

"Of course you did, Wrecker," Crosshair flicked out his toothpick, the stick bouncing off Wrecker's bruised forehead before he stalked away, towards the ship.

As Wrecker pursued, Tech removed his helmet. "She wants to bide time away from Corascaunt for a little bit." He subconsciously moved a hand to the cracks in his chest plate, fingers feeling every ridge, every split in the plastoid. Her yell for him, as she raced to him and tackled him, essentially saving his life, echoed in his head- she had screamed his name, though hundreds of other men with his same (at least eighty percent the same) DNA were around him.

"She took a hard hit." Hunter's eyes flicked down to the would-have-been fatal wound, and his words were heavy, weighted, though spoken word had no physical mass. "Not just the arm."

___

The Havoc landed on the closest, most peaceful planet the men had managed to find. The air was cleaner, a little lighter here, and Tech found it easier to breathe.

The moment they landed the Jedi walked out, stopping on the naked earth of the planet, and she stood- eyes closed, palms open, existing.

Tech watched, her stance, her lack of movement. Jedi did meditate, and from what he read on it, it didn't have to be in one particular position- perhaps standing, at submission to the forces around her, was her way of meditation.

He exited and stood by her, eyes moving quietly over her. At peace, soft, tender- that was when he loved the Jedi most. The air around her was thick with struggle, as if she was climbing through it, trying to find footing. Re-center.

Tech's fingers brushed hers as he reached out, softly taking a hold of her hand. "General," He said, softly, pulling her back into reality. She snapped to the present, blinking rapidly, and her fingers softened towards his. "Would you like to be alone?"

She shook her head, and Tech felt her pinkie finger winding around his. "No, Tech." She decided, aloud, and her voice cracked.

"May I stay?"

Her finger squeezed his. "I'd like that. Very much."

___

It wasn't until they returned to Corascaunt that Tech learned what had been off about the general- his hypothesis was quite selfish, but then again... if he was right, he would be the happiest man in the universe.

His fingers rapped softly on her door, her apartment at the Temple. He nodded politely at a reg walking by, offering a polite smile. The reg didn't acknowledge him.

The door slid open and the Jedi stood before him, bare foot, loose shirt and pants adorning her- it almost made her vulnerable to him. "Tech," She greeted. "Would you like to come in?"

Tech nodded softly, walking in, the door shutting behind them. "Thank you, general. I hope I didn't interrupt-"

"You never interrupt." She waved her hand, and a pillow rolled up sluggishly to the low table. "Please. Come take a seat." She lowered herself opposite of the table, sharp eyes observing him.

Tech followed her instructions. He rested his helmet on the table and sat on the cushion, crossing his legs. "I wasn't planning on staying long, I simply wanted to check in on you. You've simply been... different. Towards us- towards me." Her brows arched in... sadness? Shock? "Forgive me," He apologized, leaning forward. "I seem selfish."

"This was used to be different, Tech." She shook her head, standing and moving around the table, sitting by him. She sat back on her knees, hands resting on her thighs. "I used to go on solo missions, and I never had to worry about men dying, or people I cared about," She stopped and inhaled, glancing at the window. "I mean, people i care about getting hurt. Or dying."

His hypothesis had a leg to stand on. "You care for your men."

Her eyes stayed on the window, and he watched her lips draw in, whitening at the pressure she put on them. "I do," She managed. "Especially-"

She cut herself off mid-sentence. "No," She shook her head and stood, rubbing her eyes. "I can't, it isn't fair to you-"

Tech rose and hurried to her, taking her wrists and tugging her hands from her eyes. "Maybe I don't want it to be fair. Fairness would be no emotion, no attachment existing in the war, but darling- how is that fair to you?"

She stared up at him, blinking again, lip quivering as she scanned his face. Her lips parted, as if trying to conjure words- the Force came easy to her, but words did not.

Tech leaned down, hands gently still holding her wrists, and pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was fleeting, fast, but warm- and he pulled away quicker than he had made contact.

Her cheeks flushed, and her eyes, wide with shock, skimmed his face, and her hands slipped down into his. She leaned in, halting hesitantly, but her eyes flickered to his mouth and Tech knew what she wanted- needed. Tech leaned down, again, releasing her hands and gathering his Jedi in his arms.

Her mouth was warm, moist and soft against his. Tech felt her sigh and he tugged her closer, tentatively trying the pressure, the sensation, and she responded to every one. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, enclosing him tenderly. Tech felt her tongue press lightly, hesitantly to his lip. Swallowing a gasp of shock he allowed her in, clasping her tighter.

She tasted every part of his mouth, memorizing it, mapping it. He felt her hum as his tongue brushed hers, teasingly, and he melted as his hands dripped down her sides, feeling and tracing the body under her loose clothes. She was a power house, a warrior- she was muscular and soft under his touch, and he wanted more.

She broke away, chest heaving and she moved her face in the crook of his neck. "Tech," She whispered, shaking her head softly. "I want you to make me feel."

He raised his brows, stroking her hair quietly, loosening the tangles. "Feel what?"

"Loved." The word resonated on his jaw and she covered it with her lips, stamping the plea on his skin. "Wanted."

His hands grasped her- he wanted to make her feel wanted, make her feel loved. "I... I don't know what you mean." He pulled away, thumbs circling on her waist, tugging at the fabric.

She moved her hands from him and reached down, taking the hem of her shirt, and tugged it off. "You do. I know you do."

He couldn't help it- Tech's eyes outlined her body. The compression binding on her chest all the female jedi wore, the paled scratches and scars on her torso and arms, her collarbone, outlining as her breathing quickened. His hands settled back on her hips, and his breath shallowed as he leaned in, kissing her again.

She tugged him in, her pull like the force as she tugged him in by the collar of his body glove. Tech slowly worked off his armor, peeling off each piece, trying to not be rushed. She ran her hand over his body with each portion of exposed glove, soft moans and sighs pressing into his mouth and against his tongue like a language he had yet to understand.

She pulled back, face warm, running a hand over his chest and resting her fingers on his heart. She sucked in a breath as his hand covered hers, and he caught her eyes. They were warm. Ready. Hazed with lust, an expression he didn't know he knew until he saw it. "You're sure?"

Her head bobbed softly in a nod, and Tech caught her up in his arms, sweeping her up against him, kissing his general, tongue exploring her lips as he lowered her gently on her modest bed. "Absolutely sure," She mumbled, skimming a hand up his shirt. "I want you to do... this."

"Sex?"

Her face went warmer and she laughed, laying back, tugging him with her. "Always so direct. I like that."

Tech chuckled and sat up, tugging his shirt swiftly off his head in a swift motion. He looked down at her, identifying the hunger in her eyes and how she licked her lips. "Spread your legs for me, darling." Tech leaned down, hovering his lips over hers, lips brushing hers as he spoke. "Let me show you how wanted you are."

#tech x reader #tech #bad batch #bad batch reader insert #clone force 99 reader insert #bad batch tech x reader #bad batch tech x you #minty writes #18+

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happysadyoyo · 2 years

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I've been waiting to send this on anon because I don't want hate in my inbox for it. I'm an ex mutual of Morg's. I unfollowed when he became a raging 'holier than thou' figure who refuses to take any form of criticism. I really worry about his followers, honestly. They're very sensitive and caring, and they don't deserve to be manipulated.

I've seen this happen before on social media and it will happen again. I do genuinely hope Morg gets better, and I don't think there's anything inherently abusive about being in pain (whether physical, mental, or both) and expressing that pain - because I *know* that's his first line of defense. But when you start to harm other people, you can't use your health as an excuse. He needs to take a step back and evaluate how he interacts with others and the impact it's having on his mental health.

I worry for him. I worry for the people who are following him. You're one of the only people I've seen speak openly about this situation and I wanted to thank you for it.

fortunately, it seems morg has passed on his blog information to a friend for the time being, and that mutual has let everyone know that he's alive and is going to be focusing on his psychiatric care for now.

I am hoping that this was the wake up call he needs to figure out his mental health a bit, but that's really up to morg, not me.

I do want to make it clear and I'm using your ask to emphasize this: what morg was doing to spider, others, and to his own followers is both manipulative and actually gaslighting. He lied constantly about what people were saying about him publicly (I am not touching his unpublished anons cause we know for a fact he had some awful creeps). Lying about what people were saying when it was easily provable otherwise.

He also purposefully went into the DM's and ask boxes of people who were calling out his behaviors and thought processes (not necessarily him directly, but definitely inspired by him) to blame them for his suicidal behavior. Only to then go back around and say that "lol no one can make me suicidal I'm in constant physical pain and that makes me suicidal."

And of course the vitriol he spewed at people who genuinely cared about his well being but questioned the actions he was taking and whether they were helping or hurting him (and others) further...

Gaslighting it manipulating someone's mental state to question their own sanity. So what he's doing is a textbook, no exaggeration, attempt at gaslighting. And since he has a lot of vulnerable followers who won't fact check him out of concern for his well being, he could control the narrative on his own blog without the people who like him knowing that he was lying to them.

I think the most obvious example, aside from the whole "hey guys you won/haha people don't make me suicidal" posts, is when he was alerted to my post about how he was, unintentionally or not, manipulating people using his own pain.

Because I used the word "apparent" when discussing his suicide attempt, the rest of what I said doesn't matter I guess? Or perhaps he didn't read the post at all and stopped at the beginning. I don't think it matters since he threw bile at people at his own inbox. but I want to highlight a few things I say there to show that I did not want him to hurt himself and don't believe he was being manipulative on purpose:

When I was pulling this shit, I wasn’t actively meaning to be manipulative.

I thought morg was doing this manipulative gesture while genuinely in the throes of his pain and feeling like his physical disability was being dismissed as lesser than it actually is.

I don’t know about anyone else, but I want you to log off and build a support system that’s not an echo chamber and can actually help you.

I don’t approve of suicide baiting. If I’ve not made it clear elsewhere, I’m very against any violent action against other people, even if they want me dead. So I hope it’s clear I would not wish anyone who agrees with my blog and statements to do such a thing.

Anyway, after he apparently found my post, he hyperfocused on the "apparent suicide attempt" (apparent being one of those funny words that can mean opposite things, and in this case him taking the worst possible meaning being pretty standard with depression and paranoia) and ignored all the rest since he pretty clear draws a line between my post and his last suicide attempt.

I know he's not the only one who read it with the second meaning of apparent either because of this:

Just as a reminder, this is what apparent means:

You can see I probably should've used the word obvious or something similar, but I didn't. Because it was apparent to me he'd tried to hurt himself again over the words of other people and he was trying to obfuscate the whole thing but whatever. What's done is done.

It's still a textbook example of gaslighting. If I hadn't been fully aware that every single post I made about the situation hadn't couched my concerns in "I want him at the end of the day to get help I understand he's in pain but this isn't okay" I probably would've felt more at fault for his last attempt than I did.

It's why I had to turn anon off for a few days. I couldn't stand the crowing.

But morg is getting help now. I'm not sure about the people wishing him a "speedy" recovery. I hope they mean physically because when you're mentally steeped in that pain and toxicity that you don't even realize how your actions are hurting people well. It can take a long time to undo the damage you've inflicted on yourself, let alone understand how you've hurt others.

Wow I went off topic sorry for the long post. It's been weighing heavily on my mind.

#long post

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spinachgarden · 3 years

Text

Fleur de Louve Month Day 4: Soulmates AU

Prompt: Stargazing - 886 words

They’re not soulmates.

Sarah’s soulmate is dead, her mark a faded white line on her wrist, a fleur de lis to go with the small boat on her husband’s arm. They’d had a good life together - two kids, a house, everything she ever dreamed of, but cancer is cancer and it’s just how the world works, sometimes.

She misses George, always. Sometimes she catches herself tracing her soulmark with gentle fingers, smiling down at it and hoping George is somewhere better, healthy and happy and not miserable with chemotherapy.

They’re not soulmates.

James - she refuses to call a grown man Bucky - shows up in Delacroix and says hi, Sarah and smiles at her, and she can’t help smiling back. He’s charming, charismatic, handsome, and she thinks that perhaps he might be what she’s looking for…

But he’s not her soulmate.

If he has a mark, she’s never seen it. When he steps out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist, steam billowing out behind him, she catches herself scanning his chest, looking for the telltale bright colours of a soulmark. Instead she finds only smooth skin, still damp, rivulets of water streaming down his chest and onto his abs, and she wants.

He gives her a soft smile, says excuse me, and steps back into the guest bedroom to change. Her eyes follow him until the door closes, and she wonders what the fuck she is doing.

Because he’s not her soulmate.

When she was a little girl, her mama sat her down and explained the fleur de lis on her arm, told her that most people hide their marks until they find the one. Soulmates are a precious thing, a cherished thing. George was the love of her life, her second half, but he’s gone now. Is she allowed to love again?

If he’s not her soulmate?

It happens slowly. James comes to Delacroix more often, stops using Sam as an excuse to be around her. He plays with AJ and Cass and helps them with their homework and makes dinner in her kitchen - his cooking skills are not a product of his time, thank god - and gives her a goddamn break, and she thinks that it might work.

Even if he’s not her soulmate.

They kiss the first time in her kitchen, soft and chaste and almost an afterthought. It feels natural, so natural that the enormity of the moment doesn’t hit her until after.

James’ eyes widen and he goes very still. “I’m sorry,” he blurts. “God, I-”

“Don’t be,” she says, and kisses him again.

Even though he’s not her soulmate.

Things happen a lot faster after that. James starts taking up more space in her life, fitting in with her and AJ and Cass as if he’s always been there. They kiss often, unabashedly, publicly, and she feels wanted. He tells her he loves her for the first time at the docks, and she says it back without thinking, because she does love him, maybe she always has, and loving James is the most natural thing in the world.

Even though he’s not her soulmate.

They make love for the first time when AJ and Cass are with George’s parents for a weekend, the house silent around them, and he touches her reverently, carefully, runs pale hands down her dark skin and kisses her deeply like there’s nothing else he’d rather be doing. He kisses the stretch marks on her stomach, down to the matching ones on her thighs, spends a hell of a lot of time between them doing ungentlemanly things, and by the end she’s gasping for breath and clutching her hands in his hair and he’s got a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

He tells her he loves her, over and over and over again as they rock together, gentle and passionate, slow, so goddamn good that she’s seeing stars.

After, she sees his mark for the first time. Faded white on his left hip bone, a small spider. She traces it with her fingers and he doesn’t stop her.

“Does it bother you?” she asks. “That we’re not soulmates.”

James smiles softly at her and kisses her hair. “Not at all,” he says, and she believes it with her whole heart.

They’re not soulmates.

They lay under the stars that night, wrapped in blankets, pointing out constellations to each other. He knows some she doesn’t, she knows some he doesn’t. It’s fun, carefree, the cool breeze off the water making it easy to slip under his arm, to curl into the warmth of him. He’s strong and sure and steady, lets her lean on him without ever making her feel less for it, and she thinks that maybe, this is exactly what she needs right now.

He traces the fleur de lis on her wrist with gentle fingers and she lets him. The touch is light, soothing, and she draws comfort from the calluses on his fingertips scratching against her delicate skin.

“I’ll always love him,” she says.

“I know,” Bucky says. “And I’ll always love her. But I can love you, too. It’s not a limited resource.”

She thinks that’s kind of beautiful.

Even if they’re not soulmates.

@fleurdelouvemonth

@fleurdelouve

#sarahbucky #fleur de louve month #fleur de louve #Sarah Wilson #bucky barnes #bucky x Sarah #bucky/sarah #soulmates au #spinachgarden Fleur de Louve month

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findingjoynweirdstuff · 3 years

Text

Dream SMP Recap (January 26/2021) - Kids With Nukes and Talking Eggs

The Crimson’s influence continues to spread and corrupt the SMP, with the seeds planted earlier sprouting into new tendrils.

In fact, the Crimson has spread so far that now chat can finally hear the Egg’s whispers for themselves, as Badboyhalo and Quackity have an important discussion, and Karl attempts to prevent the worst...

Also, Snowchester’s nuclear weapons test was a success! Everything went exactly according to plan and definitely nothing else. Yep.

---

- Ponk starts sneaking out of the Egg Room, but Bad comes on and he runs back to avoid suspicion.

- Bad calls him and asks how he’s doing. Ponk says he’s doing fine. Bad asks if he can get Ponk anything. He says Ponk will stay down there until he learns to love the Egg.

Ponk: “I’m a bad bitch, you can’t kill me.”

- Bad says he’ll stay down for an extra day because of that.

- Ponk asks Bad for an iced mocha with cream and a pain au chocolat. Bad refuses at first, but after Ponk threatens to pee all over the Egg, Bad rushes off to get Ponk his iced mocha with cream and pain au chocolat. Ponk asks if it’s vegan.

- Bad drops Ponk his iced mocha with cream and pain au chocolat.

- Bad locks Ponk back up and says he’ll be staying down there for a day now. Ponk says he’ll continue to vibe.

- Ponk sneaks out once Bad is gone. He meets up with Awesam on the surface. Sam is still talking like he’s exhausted and drained, and says he wants to head home.

- Sam goes to be with Fran again, holding his rose with a wall blocking them off.

- Ponk shows Sam that he’s got Dream’s shield. Sam says that he probably shouldn’t carry it around, as people might get the wrong idea...Ponk says it’s cool because it makes his “head fuzzy.”

- Ponk says goodbye and leaves Sam.

- Both keycards for the nukes have gotten lost. There is no way this can end badly. Jack comes online and they begin to prepare. The plan is to launch one and decommission the others.

- Jack wonders how to get Tommy to the test site. Perhaps if some of the materials for the hotel can be obtained easiest near the site? He speaks with Awesam about adding spruce wood to the materials list. Awesam says he’ll let Sam Nook know.

- Tommy comes online and speaks with Sam Nook, who tells him to get some spruce wood. Niki comes over to fetch him. Niki leads Tommy closer to the test site.

- Jack desperately attempts to stall the launch.

- The nuke is launched! Jack and Tubbo rush over.

- Tommy manages to delay walking over to the test site purely by talking nonstop, and the nuke misses him. He instead goes to examine the crater with the others. Tubbo is concerned about Tommy’s lack of hazmat suit.

- Jack and Niki are furious that it didn’t work.

- They go back to Snowchester to celebrate. Tommy coughs up a bit of blood. Foolish comes over to deal some stress relievers.

- Sam Nook then tells Tommy to gather red dye.

- Tommy and Jack start fighting and Sam Nook comes to kill him.

- Ranboo speaks with Tubbo. Apparently the Crimson showed Tubbo images of dead families that made him cry. They wonder if they should do something about the Blood Vines.

- Ranboo writes in his book. His pickaxes have been mysteriously losing durability.

- Ranboo later speaks with Niki. He asks why she burned down L’mantree. Niki explains that she’d lost hope in L’manburg and didn’t believe it should exist anymore.

- Tommy mugs Foolish. Foolish says he’ll remember this.

- Tommy still doesn’t have enough red dye. Sam Nook is worried that Awesam won’t be pleased with him leaving the build site today. If Awesam found out, that wouldn’t be good...

- Foolish visits Ponk, who is still trapped in the obsidian Egg cage.

- Antfrost logs on and Foolish starts running up the stairs. He sneaks behind a corner and Antfrost walks by. He doesn’t seem to see Foolish.

- The Blood Vines have made their way to Foolish’s desert...

- Bad comes online with plans to introduce Callahan to the Egg. He meets up with Quackity and asks him if he’s noticed the Vines growing everywhere.

- Bad checks the Crater. Quackity sees the Crater Vines for the first time and is horrified.

- Bad asks Quackity -- he’s a chaotic individual -- what if he could join something greater than himself? Callahan as well? He asks if Quackity would either wish to be brainwashed, or voluntarily join the Eggpire. Quackity could be in charge of everything.

- Quackity says to keep talking...Bad says he would make a great leader. The Egg could be the means to the end of becoming the leader over everything.

- Ever since the whole L’manburg, fight with Dream happened, Quackity’s been wandering, taking some time off. Thinking about things. But he doesn’t like the idea of the Vines covering the entire SMP.

- Bad explains that once the Vines have covered everything, Quackity can come in as the ultimate hero, conquering the Egg and becoming the ruler of the entire Dream SMP.

Quackity asks...what’s the catch? Why wouldn’t Bad do this himself?

Bad says all he wants is to see Quackity succeed.

Bad: “You...could become the ruler of all of this.”

Quackity asks for Bad to show him a little more.

Bad: “The Egg can grant you your heart’s desires.”

Quackity: “So why do you still not have Skeppy?”

- Bad shows him around. Quackity wants to see exactly what Bad has up his sleeve, what’s really going on here. Karl follows them around in hiding.

- Bad, Quackity and Callahan jump down into the spider spawner to head to the Egg Room without Prime Suits on.

- Callahan dies on the Egg’s magma and disappears in the presence of the Egg.

- Quackity stands on the Egg and says it’s...wonderful. He feels great. A strange sensation.

The Crimson speaks.

- Karl types in chat, trying to get Quackity to leave the Egg.

- Quackity freaks out and says he needs to get out. He starts running, shouting in fear. He faces Bad in the hallway, telling him to stay back.

Bad: “Power! Power. Power...you want power, Quackity.”

...

Quackity: “Badboyhalo, there is something so very wrong with you...”

- Karl jumps into the hallway and hits Bad away.

- Quackity tells Bad to never do this to him again. Bad says everyone has to make a choice. He tried the easy way already, but Quackity’s chosen the difficult path...

- Bad comes to the Egg, frustrated. He’s trying to be nice, trying to give everybody a chance...and they’re not taking it.

The Crimson whispers to him.

- Bad thinks that maybe, letting so many Vines grow has turned people against the Crimson instead of getting them to love it.

- Bad lets Ponk out. He’s vibing. Bad gives him a pain au chocolat.

- Bad asks the Egg. What are they to do?

The Crimson whispers.

Bad says he had hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

Nothing matters but the Egg...and Skeppy.

- Bad leaves the Egg. They have to check the status of Sam, deal with Tommy, and see if they can still get Quackity on their side. He can come around to them! Antfrost and Bad need to meet with Technoblade as well.

- Quackity whispers to Bad that he would like to talk. As he comes up, he spots Ranboo wandering around.

The Crimson whispers, but Bad says he “can’t deal with this one at the moment.”

Bad picks up the grass block that Ranboo left and places it in his Ender Chest...

- Bad addresses chat: have they spent enough time with the Egg that they can hear the Egg too?

- Bad meets with Quackity at Eret’s castle. As Quackity jumps a fence, he places down some purple concrete. Bad picks it up and places it in his Ender Chest as well.

- They make it into the wilderness and Quackity tries to snap Bad out of it.

Quackity: “You’re one of the only people on the server who I have a little bit of hope in! ...What the hell is going on?”

“That’s not you! That’s not you, Bad!”

Bad: “The Egg offered me exactly what I wanted!”

Quackity: “What’d the Egg give you?”

Bad: “The Egg gave it to me -- or told me that it could get it for me.”

Bad says that Skeppy got infected by the Egg, and he realized that there was no way that he could get him back to normal, so he knew he had one job: if he got infected by the Egg too, then everything would be fine.

What else could Bad have done except done what the Egg told him? All of Bad’s attempted cures just ended up messing Skeppy up more and more. He couldn’t get Skeppy back to normal on his own. The Egg said if Skeppy was red, everything would be okay.

Bad: “Everybody has something that they want. Something -- when you lose something that you’re really close to, and you’re worried that you’ve lost it for good, sometimes you’re willing to make the tough sacrifices in order to get that thing back.”

Quackity: “And what are these ‘sacrifices?’ Your other friends?”

Quackity is offended that Bad would think the only thing he wants is power. Is that all Bad sees him as? Power-hungry?

Quackity: “Bad, I wanna help you.”

The Egg has an objective, one objective. It wants something, but can’t get it on its own. It needs people to get it. That’s why the Egg needs people, at least right now.

- Bad and Quackity argue.

- Quackity says Bad is a liability. He shouts at Bad to just listen. Quackity suggests that if they find the source of power for this Egg...maybe they can use this to the ultimate well-being of everyone. Because if the Egg can control others, then...maybe they can control other people for good?

- The only person the Egg can’t control is Tommy, so he has to die.

- It’s not a specific person that the Egg can’t control, but a specific type of person.

- Bad wonders...what if he could control the Egg?

Maybe he could free Skeppy himself.

- But how could they control the Egg? Quackity says he’s thought of a different type of control. Their conversation has given him some thoughts. He says Bad can deal with his Egg stuff alone, but he’s too far gone.

- Quackity says it’s not just about gathering people. There’s power in other measures too.

Quackity: “Do you remember that room Dream had where he had everyone’s personal belongings and he essentially had full control of just about everyone, because he had control of their personal belongings?”

- Bad says Quackity’s getting in the way of what he’s trying to accomplish. Quackity says they may be trying to accomplish the same things...

Quackity: “We have the same objectives with different measures.”

- It’s time they part ways. Before they split, though, Quackity leads Bad up a hill and has him look out across the wilderness.

Quackity: “Look at all this. Remember this for a long time...all of this empty land, all of these things...that people think don’t matter, Bad? They do matter, they do matter. Picture this in your head...just never forget it, okay?”

- They leave.

Quackity: “Goodbye, Bad...good luck in whatever you’re gonna do...

And I’ll make sure to get in your way.”

- Bad returns to the SMP, thinking to himself. If the Egg can give him his friend back, then that’s good...right?

- Punz’s eyes have turned red. He’s become favorable to the Vines growing on his tower, saying he likes the feeling of chaos it brings to him.

---

The Crimson spoke with five distinct messages throughout the stream, reversed:

“I will give you your heart’s desire...I will give you what you want.”

“Kill the boy ...Tommy must die.”

“This world is mine...it belongs to me.”

“Feed me...I require nourishment.”

“I know all...I see all...I...AM...ALL...”

---

#dream smp #dream smp recaps #long posts

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yejiroh · 3 years

Text

Runaway Bride

Yandere! Chrollo x Fem! Reader

Part 3

Authors note: Hello everyone! Thank you for being here for the (most likely) final part of the Runaway Bride story!

Tag list: @yanderes-are-the-best @ejeeart @misskuudere-chan @fatherrrora

***

It was a race against time. As the news reported false information, Chrollo and his subordinates continued to search for the Nen user they needed. Meanwhile, Y/n continued to change her appearance, running farther and farther away.

A rough hand slammed against the table, a chewed bullet resting beside it.

Gripping his hair, Uvo screamed in frustration as they had lost another person. It was amazing how many people had such a good sense of smell, yet died the second they smelled Y/n’s belongings.

“How many does that make?”

“I think that was the 19th person. “

“You’re kidding.”

“Uvo, there’s literally bodies behind your chair. “

Kortopi walked in, messy hair hiding his face like usual. He did not say anything, but a curt nod to the two made them stand up and follow him out of the hotel room.

Feitan stood in the hallway, knife in hand.

“Anything new?”

Shalnark shook his head ‘no’ with a sigh.

“The boss isn’t going to like this…”

Scratching his chin, Uvo pondered aloud “Why doesn’t he just take their Nen and use that? Doesn’t he take Nen abilities that he likes?”

“Doesn’t work like that, and Uvo, how come you’re the one coming up with all the ideas?”

‘I’m not sure. All I did was drink a case of beer this morning.”

“What are we gonna tell the boss? It’s already been some time- oh god, what if Y/n, you know- committed-”

“She wouldn’t do that unless it would be fun. It’s not fun when you’re scared.”

“Maybe she’s not scared? Huh, what about then, Uvo?”

“Would you two please shut u-”

“WAIT WAIT WAIT!”

“Hm?”

“Call the boss now, I just figured it out! Ooh, Y/n is smart!”

“No shit Shalnark.”

“Just call Chrollo.”

***

Dark eyes stared back at each other, the only thing separating the pur reflection was the spider web cracks of the glass mirror. Phone ringing, a gloved hand went to pick it it up, pressing the speaker icon.

“Any new-”

“BOSS! IT’S INTOXICATION! EVERYONE’S DYING BECAUSE OF INTOXICATION-”

“Explain Shalnark.”

A deep breath was heard in the other side of the phone, and the younger man began to speak rapidly.

“Okay, so basically, everyone- besides us, or people who have generally been close to Y/n for a while, are either passing out or dropping dead like flies right? It’s her! A part of her Nen- I think. Some sort of precaution since she was always on the move, ya know?”

“How does that help us find her?”

“Well, we just need someone who can sniff her out without any damage- so back to our original idea, we just need to smell her out! We had the wrong scent cause we were tracking her by her stuff, not her!”

Chrollo looked at himself, mouth slightly open. Of course! How had he not seen it before? Hadn’t Y/n mentioned something like that before? Smacking his head, he began to laugh, a wicked smile plastered on his face.

“Oh god, thank you Shalnark, I can do this on my own now- let everyone know to return to the hotel, and clean up the mess. My runaway bride is coming back.”

“Understood.”

Hanging up, the man hurried out of the bathroom, grabbing a black bag, laughing maniacally.

Now all Chrollo had to do was get ready.

***

Sweat dripped down the side of her nose, hitting the countertop. It was to be expected that running from Chrollo of all people would be difficult. Y/n shook her head, refusing to think of why it was a bad idea to run. The bastard had too much control over her already. A hand in her hair, Y/n looked up, having forgotten that she had cut quite a bit off earlier. Eyes on her hair, Y/n inhaled deeply, calming herself as she tried to stop the tears before they could come.

Gray eyes shone like jewels, boring into her own, soft strands of ebony hair framed his face beautifully as he looked down on Y/n, arms around her, a smile on his face.

“You’re so beautiful love, smile for me?”

“Chrollo, I’m nothing special- we both know that.”

“Ah, but you are; to me, you always look like you’ve just fallen from the heavens, just for me!”

A playful chuckle from Chrollo as he blushed. It was a cold night, and the secret visits he would make just for Y/n were treasured. Holding her closer, he moved a stray strand of hair from her face, pecking Y/n’s nose. Ticklish as it was, she let out a giggle.

“Will you stay? At least until I fall asleep?”

“Anything for you love.”

“WHAT THE HELL! JUST LEAVE ME ALONE ASSHOLE!”

Y/n hit the table, grabbing her keys. If she was going to dream about the man, it wasn't going to be now.

***

Various parts of red roses lay scattered on the floor thorns, petals, leaves, and if you looked very closely, pollen. Various gifts lined the walls, all wrapped up nicely. Soon, guests would be filling the seats, and Chrollo would once again stand at the altar, and once again he would expect Y/n too walk out those doors oh so bashfully. But this time he would take her hands into his own, tell her how utterly beautiful she looked, and skip the vows- the faster, the better.

Why was he even going through with marriage if he already had Y/n tightly wrapped around his finger, under lock and key? It’s not like they pay taxes, and he never wanted to marry- and Y/n didn’t care for it.

‘Because it’s poetic you fool.’

This whole ordeal, just to add another story to his vast collection? Chrollo let out a laugh; to think that he had wasted precious months for the sake of poetry amused him.

Sliding off one of the silver bands off his ring finger, he set it on the pedestal, messing up his silky black hair.

“Why waste time slicking your hair back if you have such pretty locks?” Y/n looked up, eyes wide as her hands raked through his just washed hair.

“Gets in my face too much. And it gives me a cool vibe when I slick it back.”

Y/n stopped, bursting into laughter as she uncoiled the hair dryer’s wire. Plugging it in, she sat on the couch, grabbing a comb.

“Let me dry it properly- you're gonna get sick!”

“If you insist- there’s no need to though.”

“Sure there is! Now come on, sit here.”

Between her legs, Chrollo hummed in content as the hair dryer blew hot air all around and the comb’s teeth raked through all the little knots.

“I seriously can’t believe you're this pretty, Chrollo. I feel like seeing you like this is illegal!”

“Well, thank you.”

Chrollo leaned back, head hitting the couch cushion. Grabbing Y/n’s thighs, he lifted her legs onto his shoulders, basking in the soft warmth.

Heaving a sigh, Chrollo adjusted his tie, and headed out to retrieve his bride.

***

The T.V. blared as the flashy icon of the station appeared, the host and hostess of the night smiling proudly as they set their papers down on the prop desk.

“It’s 10 o’clock, do you know where your children are?”

“Hello everyone, I’m Raiyah Ourani,”

“And I’m Bobby McOkazawoo.”

“It has now been 4 months since the disappearance of Y/n L/n. In that time authorities have been conducting investigation after investigation, but no new news has yet to be released. However, the Grungingham Ball House assures the people of Yorknew that their organization is completely safe, and for any future customers to not be shy as they have updated the security, granting the safety they desire as well as the fun time they want.”

“Coming up: Are DonaldMc’s really everywhere within 5 miles? Now, a word from our sponsors.”

“NEW! Scrubbing bubbles foam tastic-super mega ultra is THE cleaning solution to all of your dirty needs! Skin safe to use as a lubricant, and a natural cleanser! You can use it on windows, counters, and so much more!”

Y/n turned the T.V. off, rubbing her temples. Looking at the clock on the wall, it was now 0:45 p.m. Who knew so much time would pass by just from a commercial? About to grab her phone, Y/n suddenly froze; her phone was on, a text notification on the screen.

‘Where are you, darling?’

A hand on her mouth, she quickly grabbed her jacket. There was no time, she'd have to leave everything behind now or never. It’d be too risky to go out the door- there could well be innocents or perhaps Chrollo himself.

“Please tell me he sent Uvo…”

After the first escape, she couldn’t possibly go out the window; they’d expect that. The door, or the window?

She looked around the room: too big to go into the vents, too risky to go out the window or door. So how do you escape?

Another ping from the phone, but Y/n didn’t dare look at it. Paranoid, she steadied her breathing; can’t have them sniff her out too easily.

But…

If Chrollo wasn’t at the door, then she could use her Nen...everyone would either die or pass out, but it would be a better fate then having to deal with Chrollo’s or any of the spider’s blood lust.

A deep breath, she released her ability, and opened the door, running as fast as she could, not bothering to see who would have been near the door. She could hear laughter, crunches, dancing feet- all innocents, but there had to be someone, anyone. There was no way Chrollo wouldn’t have sent someone.

‘It’s like last time…’

Pulling her hoodie over her face, she scanned the crowd before turning around. About to scream, she covered her mouth, looking up at the man who she had bumped into.

Chrollo smiled kindly.

“Nice hair. Where have you been?”

"Chrollo, please n-"

With a flick of his wrist, he had knocked his former fiance unconscious, putting her on his back as if she had just fallen asleep- not like the locals would know. It wouldn’t matter anyways.

He had gotten his runaway bride back, and this time, he would have his wedding and poem complete.

#yandere chrollo #meena #x reader #yandere #yandere hxh #hxh x reader #fem reader #hxh chrollo #chrollo x reader #chrollo #hxh #fanfiction

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onecanonlife · 3 years

Text

careful son (you got dreamer's plans)

Wilbur gasps back to life with mud between his fingers and rain in his eyes.

Wilbur was dead. Now, he is not. He can't say that he's particularly happy about it.

Unfortunately, the server is still as tumultuous as ever, even with Dream locked away, so it seems that his involvement in things isn't a matter of if, but when.

(Alternatively: the prodigal son returns, and a broken family finally begins to heal. If, that is, the egg doesn't get them all killed first.)

Chapter Word Count: 7,295

Chapter Warnings: swearing, injury, blood, aftermath of (temporary) character death, mild disassociation, slight s.uicidal ideation, references to past abuse

Chapter Summary: The emotional fallout is intense, but they don’t have time to stop and deal with it. Wilbur doesn’t particularly like where they decide to hole up, but beggars can’t be choosers.

(masterlist w/ ao3 links)

(first chapter) (previous chapter) (next chapter)

Chapter Twelve: nowhere to run

The sun is too bright in his eyes. Too bright, and wrong, somehow, that it should be shining like this. Should still be shining, after the loss they’ve just suffered, after watching his brother crumple to dust in front of him. But the sun hardly cares for things like that, so they all stumble out of the hole in the ground that serves as the entrance to the spider spawner and beyond, and the daylight surrounds them, unforgiving.

“Where do we go, what do we do,” Tubbo is chanting, and Ranboo is muttering under his breath, a continuous litany of, “I can’t believe he’s gone, I can’t believe that happened—” His own lips feel glued shut, his throat devoid of sound. His skin buzzes.

(the two images interpose: Techno hanging from the vine, head at an unnatural angle, Techno wavering on his feet, blood pouring from his throat, and there is a flash of light and there is ash all at once, as if the first caused the second, as if instead of healing him, shoving his soul back into a body clinging to life, the totem burned him up from the inside out, and unlike the phoenix there was no rebirth)

“We can’t stay here,” Puffy says. Her eyes are wide, and her hands are shaking, but her voice has the same determined cant to it as it always does. “We need somewhere to hole up.”

“And where is that supposed to be?” Sapnap demands. His breathing is unsteady. “Where the fuck are we supposed to go after that? Where isn’t the thing gonna be able to reach? With, with Dream being, being, what even was that? Why was he—how was he—?” He breaks off, sparks crackling at his fingertips, and his face is a mask of distress, of questions

(was he always like that and did I not see or did something happen to him did something make him like that is that my friend or is there something inside of him something behind his eyes that is not him at all and if that is the case how did I not notice how did I not notice how did I not save him)

that Wilbur feels he recognizes. Or would, if he let himself. If he let himself care.

His eyes drift over to Phil. Phil, who stands silently, blood dripping from his wings, a thousand old injuries reopened by thrashing thorns. Who stands with Tommy in his arms, Tommy, who is curled up as tightly as he can reasonably manage, his face tucked into Phil’s shirt. Trembling. Quiet.

(he will die and I will kill him, the Egg says, and I have already begun, and you cannot protect him, you do not have the strength, except by what I can grant you)

“Church Prime,” Puffy says. “It’s the only place that might be safe.”

“Who’s to say it would be?” Sapnap snaps. “You saw it in there! The vines have never moved like that before, and Prime knows what else it can do now. And maybe the Egg wouldn’t be able to get in, but who’s to say that would stop—” He cuts off again, face contorting.

His leg is beginning to hurt, now. All of him is, actually, now that his adrenaline is wearing thin, now that the horror is sinking in, but it’s concentrated in his leg in particular, and he looks down to see that his left pant leg is all but shredded, blood dripping down in steady streams and splattering on the grass by his feet. The vines got him worse than he thought, then, and he bites his lip against the sting.

He’s had worse, though. He’s had so much worse. This is practically nothing, and Puffy and Sapnap are still arguing, and Tubbo and Ranboo are huddled together, eyeing the vines around them with deep suspicion, unmoving as they are just yet, and Phil is silent, and he’s going to stay silent, because Wilbur recognizes all too well the strain in his eyes, the way he’s holding onto Tommy with a death grip.

(he’s watched two of his sons die, now, and Techno will be back, will still have two lives left, but that does not heal the hurt, does not assuage the pain of seeing your brother, your son, your family die in front of your eyes before you can lift a finger to stop it, and Phil’s eyes shine with a grief almost beyond what Wilbur can understand. except he understands all too well, in the end)

He’s had worse, and someone needs to step up.

(the old mantle settles across his shoulders, and if he closes his eyes it’s like nothing’s changed at all, and the sun sets on the city he is determined to give everything for, still standing, walls still strong)

“Boxed in like a fish,” he croaks, and Puffy and Sapnap turn to him as one. “That’s what we’ll be, if we go to Church Prime. Whether it protects us in the moment of not won’t matter once we run out of supplies. We need somewhere better situated. Somewhere we can defend, that might withstand a siege, if it comes to it.”

Puffy makes a frustrated gesture. “I’m open to suggestions,” she says. “The prison, maybe, if we have to? We could probably keep people out as easily as—ah, shit, Sam.” She pulls her communicator out and taps out a quick message, and then frowns. “It’s telling me it can’t go through. Why isn’t it going through? Sam had all three lives, he should be—”

“Admins can read private messages,” Phil murmurs. “Wouldn’t surprise me if Dream could fuck with the whole system, whatever the fuck he is.”

Wilbur reads between the lines. Techno, for the moment, is unreachable. He processes the information and moves on, refusing to let it get to him, refusing to let himself be overpowered by

(Techno’s unreachable Techno’s unreachable Techno’s respawned and he’s on his own and they can’t talk to him can’t get to him quickly and what if something went wrong what if something happened)

emotions.

“Sam will make his way to us,” he says. “I’m vetoing the prison. Like hell are we staying in there. Other thoughts?”

“What gives you vetoing power?” Sapnap asks.

“Somebody needs to make a decision,” he says, and it is with strength he doesn’t feel, confidence he is only pretending at, a force of command that comes from some unknown place, since he feels as though he is miles away from himself, “and I don’t see you coming up with anything. Either help or stop complaining.”

Sapnap’s face reddens, and he opens his mouth, to argue, no doubt, but then Ranboo breaks in with, “Foolish, maybe?” and hunches his shoulders when attention turns to him. “Sorry, it’s just, I’m pretty sure Foolish isn’t, um, a big fan of the Egg or anything, so maybe he could help?”

Wilbur has no idea who the fuck Foolish is.

“Nah, he’s too far out,” Tubbo says. “It’ll take ages to get to his place. And we need somewhere close, but not too close, so we still have a good place to fight back from, right, Wilbur? If we leave now, the Egg’ll just take over the whole SMP with nothing to stop it.”

“My thoughts exactly, Tubbo,” he says, and again, it is just like the old days, and they are standing atop the L’Manberg walls, and Tubbo has just said something particularly clever, and warmth and pride curl in him before he remembers where they are, what they’re doing. They need to decide, and soon. They’re just hanging around near the entrance, and sooner or later, someone’s going to come after them, whether they let them go at first or not. “Is there anyone else who has a good position, location-wise and resource-wise?”

“Wait,” Puffy says. “Eret’s castle.”

“Eret’s castle doesn’t have doors,” Sapnap says.

“No, but I stopped by earlier to see if they wanted to join us,” Puffy says. “They weren’t there, but the grounds were completely free of vines. And sure, there aren’t any doors, but between all of us, I’m sure we could make some. Eret’s got plenty of supplies, last I checked.”

Eret. The name evokes a wealth of associations, most of them unpleasant. His first instinct is to reject this idea like the last, to avoid placing their lives in the hands of one who has already betrayed him, who led them all into a death trap, who almost ended their revolution in one fell swoop. But Puffy has a point. Eret’s castle ticks all the right boxes: it’s defendable, well-supplied, and if there are no vines to clear, all the better. They’ll have to build doors, but between the lot of them, that’s easily manageable.

(a wealth of associations and many unpleasant but there is Eret offering them supplies offering their fragile rebellion help and they tried so dearly to redeem themself and he could not have seen that then wrapped in his own shadows as he was but perhaps he can see it now perhaps he can better appreciate it, give a little more benefit of the doubt, and if he is given a second chance after everything after committing the worst crime of all then who is he to deny them absolution?)

(another memory, more blurry: he is scared but stalwart as they go through the motions, and he does not want to die, is terrified of that endless void, but he knows that the server needs a leader and his living self must be that leader, and Eret is here, and Eret agrees, and Eret acts out their part, and Eret is trying so hard, and he cannot see their eyes behind their glasses but he imagines that if he could, he would see a fool’s hope in them)

“Eret, then,” he says. “We go to Eret.”

And no one disagrees. It’s strange. They have no reason to listen to him, really. They have far more reasons not to listen to him, more reasons to think that following his lead will end in disaster than otherwise. But Puffy nods, and Sapnap backs down, and Tubbo and Ranboo both look to him for direction like it’s the war and he’s in charge of child soldiers once again. Phil looks to him, too, but his expression is inscrutable, and only a slight tightness around his eyes shows that he’s in any pain at all.

So they go to Eret. Staggering through the grass, tripping over vines that still don’t move, thank Prime, and then along the Prime Path, and his leg hurts worse with every step, pain jolting up into his hip, it seems, and it’s not long before he’s walking with a limp. But they’re all hurt in some way, so he hides it as best he can. He can deal with it when they’re safely behind stone walls.

And then, Tommy says, “Put me down, I can walk.”

Wilbur glances over. Tommy’s face is still buried in Phil’s shirt.

“You sure, mate?” Phil asks softly.

“Yes, I’m fucking sure,” Tommy snaps, louder now, turning his face outward, pushing against Phil’s chest. His cheeks are flushed, his breaths coming short and fast, and he’s trying to pass it off as anger, and maybe part of it is. But Wilbur knows him better than to think that that’s all. Knows him better than to think that he would have let Phil carry him in the first place if he was alright.

“Okay, then,” Phil says, and swings Tommy down. Tommy wavers for a step, but slaps away Phil’s hand when he extends it, muttering a sharp, “Fuck off.”

And then they keep going. Tommy doesn’t say anything else. Wilbur keeps glancing at him, but he’s refusing to meet anyone’s gaze, even Tubbo’s. And—that’s another thing that’s going to have to wait. He wants nothing more than to stop now and make sure that Tommy’s going to be okay, but they don’t have time, and the general in him will not call for a halt until the retreat is over, until he is sure the enemy is not biting at their heels.

(retreating from Dream once again, and it is familiar and not, the same and not, and history runs in a circle, echoes and rhymes)

Eret’s courtyard is indeed free of vines, just as Puffy promised. Wilbur half-expects them to be nowhere in sight, based on what Puffy said, but they are standing right there, next to a skeletal horse they’re frantically saddling, and they’re checking their communicator every now and again, with the jerky motions of someone who doesn’t particularly want to but can’t make themself stop.

Then, suddenly, they look up at the sky. Wilbur follows their gaze to the flock of crows wheeling overhead, a dark mass of beating wings, each bird barely distinguishable from the others. All of them completely, eerily silent.

Eret stands there a moment. Just staring. Wilbur can’t tell what the look on their face is, but their shoulders are tense. And then, they look back down, and realize that the lot of them are there, stumbling in under the gate, and they visibly startle.

“Hey, Eret,” Puffy says, before they can get a word in. “Can we crash? And build some gates?”

“What,” Eret says. “What is—Puffy, what is going on? How did Dream manage to kill Sam and Technoblade? Is he—” They run a hand through their hair, and then start striding forward, their cape flaring out behind them. They haven’t said anything about him yet, haven’t reacted to his presence. “He’s out, isn’t he? I was going to come and see, but he’s out?”

“He’s out,” Puffy agrees. “We were kind of hoping you’d help us out on this one.”

“Of course,” they say quickly. “Of course, anything you—anything you need.” They’re rattled, clearly, more than Wilbur has ever seen them, perhaps. “I just—how did this happen? I thought the prison was secure, I thought—are you all okay?”

“Aside from the obvious?” Puffy says. “Yeah, we’re great. You haven’t been around much lately, I don’t know how much you know about the Egg and all of that, but that’s an issue too, along with Dream. And some other stuff that I’ve got no idea about, that we really just kind of need to all sit down and talk about.”

“The Egg? I’ve—I’ve heard of it, I think. I’ve been elsewhere for a while.” Their lips twist into a smile that isn’t quite a smile. “Doing a bit of soul-searching, you might say. Found more questions than answers, unfortunately. Alright. I can get you all whatever you need, you can absolutely stay here if that’s what you’d like, but what was that about gates?”

Right. This is taking too long.

Wilbur still feels a bit outside of his body as he steps forward, but that’s alright. He’s limping, but the pain is distant, and he can let his brain work on autopilot, let his mouth move on its own without regarding the consequences, without thinking too much about

(this is Eret and you know them and they betrayed you and you hurt them and now you’re back and here is a test here is a true test it shouldn’t matter how they react to you you shouldn’t care for their opinion but you do you know you do though you pretend you don’t pretend they’re nothing but a traitor to you but you are a traitor to yourself and you know that between the two of you you are the worse and here you both are and you only need one more and everyone will be back together again like the old days like the old days those good old days)

what happens next.

“Right, then,” he says, straightening his spine and stepping up to be visible just behind Puffy, to the side and a few feet back. Eret’s head whips toward him. “To summarize: the Egg is bad, Dream is also bad, they’re now working together, also with Bad, Techno is gone, we’re all in rough shape, a mind-controlling potentially demonic entity is likely to try to take over the server, and also, I’m here, despite my best efforts. Does that paint enough of a picture for you, or should I elaborate further?”

Eret stares at him. He stares back, doesn’t let himself fidget. He’s putting the general on display, and it has never felt more like a disguise, like yet another mask,

(and didn’t he tell Tommy he wasn’t going to do this anymore?)

but a familiar one, one that’s almost comfortable. He can force himself into the general’s shoes and worry about tactics and battles and numbers and strategy, and tuck the rest of himself away for when there’s time for it. Can think of this as just another alliance to be made, a debriefing to be held rather than

(Eret traitor friend ally enemy the place in your heart is curdled and sour and you do not know if you are capable of starting anew)

and his losses are statistics and cold facts rather than

(Techno’s eyes golden and glittering and then they go dim and pale red pale and staring the light in your brother’s eyes gone out and it is not the first time you have watched a brother die in front of you but Technoblade never dies is never supposed to die never to go to dust never and you cannot make sense of it cannot make sense of the world turned on its head)

“Wilbur?” Eret asks, after a very long moment, and he doesn’t understand why their voice breaks in the way that it does. “You’re—it’s you? Not Ghostbur?”

He spreads his arms, lifting an eyebrow.

“Do I look like Ghostbur to you?” he asks.

“No,” Eret answers right away. “No, that you do not. Um, has this been a thing, or…?” They trail off, and Wilbur can’t figure out exactly what their feelings are, but it’s too late to back down, even if he wanted to.

“For a bit,” he says. “Not for too long. Can we move on? We’ve got bigger issues to deal with at the moment.”

He means multiple things, with that. He means, there’s bigger things to worry about than why I’m here. He means, there’s bigger things to worry about than our history, and as so long as we’re on the same side for the moment, it can’t matter right now. He doesn’t know if Eret catches all of that, but whether they do or not, they nod, seeming to steady themself.

“Of course,” they say. “I—for the record, it is good to see you, Wilbur.” There is genuine relief in their voice, a tone that says they’re actually glad he’s here, more than glad, even, and he really doesn’t have time to unpack that at the moment. They need a plan, and fast, and they need some goddamn gates. And medical attention, probably. The cut on Puffy’s head looks nasty, and Phil’s wings are still dripping blood, and it’s difficult for Wilbur to look at them for too long,

(grief rises up guilt rises up crushing choking your father is grounded and it is your fault)

but it concerns him, how little Phil appears to care for their current state. So there’s that to handle, and it’s almost too much, almost. Almost too much for someone who has spent the majority of the time since he’s been brought back to life cringing away from meeting people, all the confidence he once displayed gone, shrinking, left in the void or in Pogtopia or on the podium from which he announced his own defeat, perhaps. But even still, he remembers how to be the general. He can hide in the general, present the general on the outside, be useful even while he thinks he might be on the verge of collapse, internally. He has been a general, and so he shall be again.

What comes first, then?

He pulls out his comm, scrolling through the messages. There are quite a few in the general chat from just after Sam’s death message, people from all over the server demanding to know what’s going on. His eyes drift over Techno’s, then, and he winces, but keeps reading. There are even more messages after that, capitalization usage increasing dramatically, and his eyes trace over familiar names, a pang in his heart. Niki. Fundy. Quackity. Several from Eret as well. Some from names he doesn’t recognize, like this Foolish person, and someone named Hannah.

But then, they all cut off. There have been none in the past half hour. Since they escaped from the Egg.

Out of curiosity, he taps out a few words: dream and egg have teamed, regrouping at eret’s. Upon hitting send, the screen goes fuzzy, giving him an error message he’s never seen before. So comms truly are down, then, and it’s probably just as well; Dream likely knows where they are, but if he doesn’t, there’s no reason to give him the information.

(and do these old allies old friends deserve to learn of your return from cold words on a screen do you not have the courage to face them yourself face your son your son you have not seen your son)

(the last time he spoke to Fundy, he disowned him. he doesn’t know if he still has a son)

(if he does not, he has no one to blame for himself, and perhaps that is why he is too cowardly to check)

“Right, then,” he says, looking back up. “Gates are the first priority. They might not do much against whatever the fuck that thing is, but it’s better than nothing. Eret, I assume you’d know the best way to go about it?”

Eret’s lips quirk into a slight smile, one that is, perhaps, slightly sardonic.

“It is my castle,” they agree. “The more hands I have, the quicker it will go, but I can get it done.”

“Anyone who’s not bleeding profusely, help them with that, then,” he says. “Anyone who is bleeding profusely—I assume you’ve got pots somewhere, Eret?” Eret nods, gesturing toward the inside. “Anyone who is bleeding profusely gets a pot. Once we’ve got that all covered, we’ll reconvene, come up with a plan for where to go from here. Everyone got that?”

He gets a few nods, and no one dissents, so he’ll take that as a yes. His gaze travels to the kids then, standing clumped together, and Tommy’s eyes are still shadowed, and Tubbo is shifting his weight between his feet, and Ranboo looks lost, awkward, and he wishes he didn’t have to ask anything more of them. But that’s not how wars work, and this has certainly turned into a war.

(child soldiers once again, and how history echoes)

“Tubbo, Ranboo, I want you on the gates as well,” he says, and tries to soften his tone at least a little bit, even if that’s all he can do. “And then afterward—Tubbo, I need you to go through with all of us exactly what you know about—what did you call them? Dreamons?”

Tubbo looks slightly miserable, but he nods. “Right,” he says. “I can try to ward the gates if you want. With, um, anti-demon stuff. I don’t know if it’ll work. I guess last time we didn’t manage to do much of anything at all.”

“Anti-what,” Eret says, but Wilbur shakes his head.

“We don’t have time for that. Tubbo will explain later. We—”

“The fuck am I supposed to do, then?” Tommy breaks in, crossing his arms. “You haven’t given me a job.” He glares, but it is so very obvious that it’s all a front, all a show, and Tommy’s expression dares him to challenge him, but Wilbur thinks that if he does, he just might break something in him. Tommy has always been so much more fragile than he presents himself as, so much more fragile than he likes to believe he is.

(despite it all, despite it all, he is only sixteen, only a child, a child grown old before his time but a child nonetheless, and now a child who watched his brother die for him, an estranged brother perhaps but still a brother, and Tommy has always cared so much and so deeply, no matter how much he pretends otherwise)

He hasn’t given Tommy a job, and he doesn’t really intend to, because Tommy, of all people, needs to sit the fuck down and rest for a moment. They all deserve a break, but in this moment, Tommy is the one who needs it most, and also the one least likely to accept as much.

If the general gives the order, Tommy will follow it, he knows that much,

(because he made his brother into a soldier he made his brother into a soldier and soldiers follow orders)

even if he’ll be angry at him for it, but Tommy angry with him is a sacrifice he’s willing to make. And perhaps directing his anger at him will help. Perhaps it would be better for Tommy to be angry with someone within reach rather than someone out of it.

(because Tommy is hurting, and the cause of that hurt is not here, and so perhaps if Wilbur offers himself he’ll feel better, will feel more in control, because Tommy needs control, because his abuser is out, is wandering free, and his abuser has killed their brother and told him that it is his fault)

But then, Phil breaks his silence.

“I’d like him to stick with me,” he says, with a smile that is obviously strained. “I’m not going to be able to reach everything myself.” He makes a vague gesture toward his wings, still dripping blood, and there is so much of it already drying on his feathers, sticky, tacky, almost blending in with the darkness of the feathers

(but stark against the grey-white of exposed bone)

“Why the actual shit—” Tommy starts.

“Good idea, Phil,” he cuts him off. “Tommy, help him with the wings, would you?”

“Why do I have to—”

“You too, Wil,” Phil says, and his mood sours immediately. “You think I don’t see that leg? C’mon, Eret, show us to the pots.”

When faced with that, he has no choice but to agree, really.

(he wouldn’t have ignored it. he wouldn’t have. He knows better than to leave a wound untreated in wartime. Even if something whispers at him that he deserves the pain, even if the bite of it brings him closer to reality. But his better sense knows: pain is not the penance that is asked of him, not a recompense that will do anyone any good)

**********

They meet again half an hour later in Eret’s throne room. Half an hour later, and his leg is bandaged and tender and no longer an open wound, and Tommy is frowning and refusing to meet anyone’s eyes, and the state of Phil’s wings is still bothersome, because he didn’t let either of them touch them beyond what was necessary,

(and he recollects countless nights spent running his fingers through soft, silken feathers as his father told him how to preen them, told him that it was a sign of trust, an activity that only family, only flock is allowed, and now Phil will no longer let them near him, will no longer even take care of them himself and it makes him sick to his stomach to think of what has been lost)

but they are no longer bleeding, and that has to be what matters.

The throne room is not the best location for this, he thinks. It feels awkward. But it’s a room big enough to fit everyone, which is the point, big enough to fit Puffy, presence looming and forehead now bandaged, to fit Sapnap, fidgety as he is, like a caged, snarling animal, all restless energy. Big enough for Tubbo, for Tommy, for Ranboo, for Phil, for Eret and for himself, and big enough that there is an obvious gap at Phil’s right side where someone else should be standing.

Eret eyes her throne, glances at everyone else in the room, and then seats herself at its base. It’s a pithy gesture, meaningless, but Wilbur has more important things to do than to call her out on it, even though the existence of the throne itself grates against him.

“Let’s call this meeting to order, then,” he says, and Eret frowns. Perhaps she doesn’t like that he’s calling the shots in her own

(ill-gotten, dearly kept)

castle, but tough. He’s brought out the general for all of their sakes, so the general is what they’re all going to get.

(it’s a mask again and masks crack but he can keep it up for long enough he can he can they need a leader so he will lead he will lead them)

(you were so good at compartmentalizing, once, go good at shoving it all away in boxes in dark shadowy corners never to be opened to gather dust and cobwebs and faded recollections but the boxes cracked and the demon’s escaped and Pandora was too weak to stop them and it all ended in a bang and he cannot tell if hope remains but that isn’t the point because the box is opened and once opened it is not so easily closed and you are putting on a show a lie and lies come back around again they always do and you should know better than to pretend at strength you do not have you will lead them to ruin again ruin and gunpowder smoke and what gives you the right)

“Yeah, alright,” Puffy says. “Can we start by talking about—whatever that was? What were you talking about, dreamons? What’s a dreamon?”

“That sounds like a made up word,” Tommy mutters.

“I wish it were made up,” Tubbo says, and he winces when all eyes turn to him. But a moment later, he straightens, setting his shoulders squarely, holding his head up high. “I’ll tell you all what I know. Even if that turns out to be not as much as I thought.” He pauses, clearly struggling for words.

“Start from the beginning,” he suggests, and Tubbo nods at him gratefully.

“Okay, right, the beginning,” he says. “In the very beginning, me and Fundy were messing around, and we found some old books. We went through them for a laugh, and we learned about these things called dreamons.”

“Wait, that’s what they’re actually called?” Tommy interjects. “Like, properly?”

Tubbo shrugs. “It’s what the books said,” he says. “We weren’t about to argue over names. Even if it did seem like a weird coincidence. But yeah, that’s what they’re called.” His voice falls into an odd cadence here, recitative, like he’s telling a story, and Wilbur crosses his arms, gripping at his elbows. “They come from the darkness of the void, lurking around the edges of a server’s code. Once they get in, their only goal is to cause chaos and destruction. They corrupt everything they touch, and they can possess people and turn them into their puppets. They have unknowable powers, because they’re a sickness, a rot, like an infection in the code of the server itself. It’s really, really difficult to get rid of them, but it can be done if you have the right tools. Or—” He blinks, stuttering a bit, his voice landing more naturally. “We thought so, anyway.”

“What does this have to do with Dream?” Sapnap asks, stopping his pacing, looking to Tubbo with an expression in his eyes that hurts to look at, a bit, wobbly and desperate and pinched, like he already knows the answer but hopes that he’s wrong, hopes as much as he is able, even though he knows it will be fruitless.

Wilbur has put the pieces together. As best he can, anyway. And Sapnap’s not a stupid man. He can see where this is leading.

“Dream got possessed.” Tubbo sighs, gaze drifting toward the floor. “It was a whole thing. Honestly, we were surprised nobody else noticed. But we—we performed an exorcism. And it was really scary, to be honest. But it worked. We could see it leave, all oozy and black and gross, and Dream was better afterward! He was! So we thought we got it out.”

“But it tricked you?” he asks.

“I don’t understand how it could have,” Tubbo replies. “It’s not—it’s not like the kind of possession that you see in a TV show, where the demon can pretend to be the person or something like that. It’s obvious. It’s too—it’s too wrong to blend in, if that makes sense. It made his voice go all funny and deep, and the way it moved—” He shudders, and then continues, miserably, “The way it moved, there’s no way you could mistake something like that for a human. That’s why we were so sure it worked. Because afterward, he seemed back to normal.”

Something about this doesn’t make sense.

“Tubbo,” he says, wheels spinning in his mind, “when was this?”

Tubbo blinks. “Manberg days,” he says. “Um, that’s why we never told you about it, I suppose.”

He barely bats an eye at the reference. It doesn’t make sense. Because he has sensed that wrongness, as Tubbo puts it, has been sensing it from the moment he set foot in that prison cell for the first time. On some level, he knew that something was deeply wrong, even if a demonic presence was the last thing he would have guessed. But if the whole thing happened during—during that time, and the signs of possession were as obvious as Tubbo says, he would have noticed, wouldn’t he? He had plenty of interactions with Dream during that time.

(unless his own shadows stretched long, stretched far enough to cover Dream’s, to cover the thing piloting him)

But no—his shadows were of his own making, not supernatural. If anything, his mindset should have made him more receptive to suspicious wrongness, not less. So what—

(Dream smiles, and you know what it’s like, to have something whispering in your head, he says, once you let something in, there’s no going back)

“Maybe the first bit was a fakeout,” Phil suggests, arms folded, head tilted. He’s perplexed, which is worrying; it’s rare to come across a being that Phil knows nothing about. “It made itself obvious to lure you in so it could slip under the radar. Faked leaving to put your guard down, maybe.”

It’s plausible. But somehow

(and Dream stands atop the Egg and he says, he says, I tried to fight at first, but it turns out it was right all along, and he says it he says it like it’s separate from him like there is not something else something other speaking from his mouth after all and he tried to fight it he tried to fight it and what does that mean)

“They’re the same,” he breathes, and doesn’t know what he means, not quite yet, “they’re the same, and the Egg controls people, and he was talking about fighting something, about giving in—”

He runs a hand through his hair. Shakes his head.

“Wil?” Phil asks.

“Oi, Wilbur,” Tommy says, almost at the same time. But he needs to—he needs to focus as the pieces click into place, faster than he can process, and he has a conclusion but not the words yet—

He holds up a hand.

“Tubbo,” he says, “you said it can corrupt things. What did you mean by that?”

“I dunno, really,” he says. “It talked about it in the books some, but it was all weird metaphorical language. Couldn’t really makes sense of it. We were more focused on the bits that told us how to get rid of them.”

(he says, you know what the void is like, and Tubbo says that they come from the void, and)

That’s alright. He’s not sure he needs a hard answer to that, because he thinks that if one were to describe the feeling of the corruption, it would be

(it is dark and it is peaceful and there is static at the edges eating away at what makes him himself eating at his soul at his sense of self and it is what he wants, to be nothing, and he does not imagine what it would feel like if it were not what he desired, if he tried to resist it, resist the void all-consuming, all-devouring, resist the void that takes all things into itself and is never satiated)

something familiar.

“Alright,” he says, and steeples his fingers together. “Let me paint a picture for you. Someone gets possessed. You exorcise the thing. But these things can corrupt, you say. So maybe you get rid of the thing itself. Maybe Dream’s pretty much back to normal. But maybe it leaves little bits of itself behind. Maybe he’s not possessed, but maybe that doesn’t matter so much anymore. Maybe it changed him regardless. Maybe it’s still changing him, even though it’s no longer there. Maybe a corruption took root, and there wasn’t any going back from it.” He tilts his head, closes his eyes. “Suppose that the Egg is the same type of thing. Something that forced its way through the cracks of the server, something that’s been smart about it, biding its time. The things that Dream was saying reminded me a lot of what the Egg was doing, you know? Manipulating people, making them into things they aren’t, or into their worst selves.”

He strings the words together as he goes. He’s not sure he’s getting his point across. He used to be so much better at this.

“Wait, so you’re saying you think he isn’t possessed?” Sapnap asks.

“I’m saying we don’t really know,” he answers. “Not unless we get it from him. But Tubbo’s the expert here, and if he says Dream’s not acting like he’s possessed, I believe him. But even if he’s not possessed outright, that doesn’t mean there’s no—influence, perhaps.” He keeps his eyes shut; the darkness on the back of his eyelids is a natural one, but he can almost pretend that it isn’t. That it is darker, deeper.

(void)

“He was right that I know what it’s like,” he says. “I’ve felt the Egg in my head. And I was in the void for—a long time. It felt like forever. I know what it feels like, and there’s some of it in him, I think. Him and the Egg both. They’re the same kind of wrong, the same kind of unbelonging. I’ve never been possessed by a demon before, but if it’s made up of void stuff, that’s the sort of thing that stays with you. Whispering.”

He opens his eyes. Everyone is staring at him, varying expressions of horror on their faces.

He goes back over his words. In retrospect, he can see how they probably came off sounding.

“Wil,” Phil says softly.

“I’m fine,” he says, not at all convincingly, he’s sure.

(once he starts thinking of the void of the peace and of the rest it’s hard to stop even though his desires are now tinged with red and he knows better than to listen but he cannot help himself)

“This is all speculation, anyway,” he continues. “Might not matter at all, in the end, what the particulars are. We just need a way to stop them. Can dreamons be killed, Tubbo?”

Tubbo takes a moment before replying. “I don’t think so,” he says. “Fundy might remember better. But I think the only thing in what we read was the exorcism.”

“Which doesn’t help us much if Dream’s not actually possessed,” Puffy says. “Unless it might work on the Egg? If the Egg’s a—a dreamon too?”

“Worth a shot if we can get to it again,” he says, “but I don’t like risking so much on a maybe.”

“The less we mess with forces beyond our understanding, the better,” Eret says suddenly. She frowns, pushing her sunglasses further up her face. “As I said earlier, I’ve been away a good bit recently, so I haven’t been tracking the Egg’s progress as much as perhaps I should have. But I did notice an increase in activity—well. It was shortly after we tried to resurrect you, Wilbur.” She inclines her head toward him. “I fear that in our efforts, we might have interfered with something we shouldn’t have interfered with. Weakened a barrier of some kind, between our existence and—something else.”

She speaks with a strange kind of gravity. But her words make an unfortunate kind of sense.

He doesn’t look at Phil.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Tommy states. “What the fuck does that even mean?”

“I’m with Tommy on this one. What are you talking about?” Sapnap adds.

“We’re getting off track,” he says, snapping his fingers. “We’re going about this wrong. We don’t have enough information, and we don’t have enough power. Those are our problems. How do we solve them?”

“The obvious would be to get the word out,” Puffy says. “Comms are down, but we can go by word of mouth if we have to. Kinda risky, with the amount of vines on this server, but the nether portal’s right across the way. No vines in the nether, I think.”

“I have lots of old books myself,” Phil chimes in, eyes skyward. “Might be something in there to help that I’ve read and forgotten about. And I’ve got another source of info I’ve barely begun to go through. Old shit I found. It might be worth a shot.” He looks back down. “We need to go get Techno anyway.” He says the last in a tone that brooks no argument, and Wilbur doesn’t try, even if it’s perhaps not the most tactically sound option.

(he wants Techno back too, wants to lay eyes on him, hold his wrist in his hand and count his heartbeats, each one a reassurance, because he knows what it is for a brother to die and come back but that has never made it easier)

“It’s better than nothing,” he says. “Alright, I’ve got a plan, then. Some of us go to the tundra, get Technoblade, and go through whatever books Phil has. Some stay here and fortify the defenses as best we can using what Tubbo can remember that he thinks might work, and a couple of us go around through the nether and tell as many people as possible what’s going on. Gather allies, resources anything else we might need.”

It’s not much of a plan. But based on just how outclassed they are, just how little they know, just how much exhaustion shows in their faces, it might be the best plan they’re going to get for now. To throw themselves back into a battle so soon would be folly.

It never sits well with him to bank so much on a hope, though, a mere possibility that things will go their way.

(but certainties were ripped out from under him the moment Dream killed the unkillable, the moment he saw his brother crumple to ash before his eyes)

“Great,” Puffy says, grimacing. “What could possibly go wrong with that?”

The silence that greets that statement serves perfectly well as a response.

He closes his eyes again. The darkness is no comfort.

#mcyt #dsmp #dream smp #dsmp fic #wilbur soot #tommyinnit #philza #tubbo #eret #ranboo #captain puffy #sapnap #alivebur #/rp #cat writes fic #long post #c!wilbur angst tag

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i-am-vpelno · 3 years

Text

What Really Happened During the Arasaka Nuke Assault (Theory) :

!Spoilers for Cyberpunk 2077, Red and 2020!

We all know the story, a vengeful Johnny Silverhand gathered a team of the best mercs he knew and led a charge on the Arasaka HQ in Night City. He planted a nuke and before he could escape, was defeated and captured by Adam Smasher before being ‘killed’ by Soulkiller. Now he’s an engram and his body lays in a cement grave in the middle of nowhere...or is it? We’re told time and time again what an unreliable narrator Johnny is and it’s weird that Blackhand would just be replaced like that. I’d like to brain storm some theories on what really happened that night and why there are so many different canonical takes on this event (other than the game not being finished.)

A few key things from Cyberpunk lore:

In Cyberpunk 2020, the actual leader of the Arasaka nuke assault is Morgan Blackhand

In Cyberpunk 2077, very few people know that Johnny was involved in the attack

It’s Morgan Blackhand that goes missing after facing Smasher in 2020

A nuke is already planted by Arasaka before the assault

A preserved body was hidden with the arasaka planted nuke before it was shipped out

A Silverhand fan named Angel is now in possession of the body and the nuke

First, what really happened according to Cyberpunk 2020 and Mike Pondsmith. Mike says that its Thompson, the media that helped Johnny when Alt was kidnapped, that set up the entire operation and that Militech provided the bomb and Morgan Blackhand to lead. Morgan Blackhand, a famous solo, took a contract under Militech to take down Arasaka in the fourth corporate wars. He led three teams: Omega (his own), Beta (Your player character from the tabletop game) and Alpha (Johnny and crew.) There’s this US military guy called Eddington who is giving Morgan and Thompson all this information and resources. His plan is to use team Alpha as a distraction while stealing Arasaka intel and destroying the tower. Spider Murphy ‘finds out’ Alt is being held in Mikoshi and informs Johnny. Johnny is killed by Adam Smasher before the nuke goes off. Meanwhile, “someone” sets off the nuke prematurely and Morgan faces off with Smasher, never to be heard from again.

Mike says Johnny’s memories are scrambled due to radiation and so he misattributes some events. The question is, which events are misattributed? This is where it gets complicated. Due to the fact that, Johnny’s survival was changed completely from the original story and the fact that now we know his memory is faulty, there’s a lot we just can’t answer ourselves and will have to wait for Mike or CD Projekt Red to fill in the blanks. For now, the obvious replacement of Blackhand and why he’s missing from the memory entirely. During the flashbacks, it may be a stylistic choice but after a major scene plays out, the screen will cut to black and the memory will jump forward in time. It looks like after Alt’s death Johnny jumps straight into the assault, however according to his wiki, Johnny spent some undocumented years with Santiago and the Aldecaldos between then and the assault. We also don’t get to see Thompson’s involvement, the deal with Militech, or how they even got the nuke. Instead we get the bombastic power trip and Johnny’s badass fiery end. Now, that is a lot of important context missing in exchange for a Hollywood ending and I don’t think it’s just Johnny’s own mind embellishing the memory! Everyone who wasn’t involved and isn’t someone who knows for a fact that Johnny was involved, says something that insinuates doubt that he was actually there. That concert and riot the game shows, it happened in 2013 ten years earlier! There’s also a scene of news helicopters coming to the scene while Johnny is being taken into an ambulance, wouldn’t that show confirmed proof that Johnny was at the scene? Finally, what about his gun, car and Rogue being taken in by Smasher, something isn’t adding up.

It’s too Hollywood to be real and too much is missing for just embellishment of a dying mind. I think Arasaka had a plan for Johnny, there was a purpose for changing his memories the way they did but letting him know they did it. We know that the Relic we get is only a prototype, so it’s easy to assume Arasaka was probably just messing with the memories because they wanted to test everything they were able to do. The prototype Relic allows Johnny’s engram to take over a body with no relation to him, killing the original host in the process. Saburo Arasaka’s Relic must be put into someone with similar genes but we can assume it functions the same way. We can assume Saburo’s version of the Relic is superiorly made compared to Johnny’s, then why change it from killing a stranger to killing a relative? What sort of consequences does Saburo avoid? I don’t think I can answer this since we don’t get to watch Saburo acclimatize to his new body or if Yorinobu fights back, also if Johnny develops his own issues living in V’s body. I can note some things and develop some theories here though. The Relic’s true purpose was to collect people’s engrams in order to harvest data and secrets, though it also worked to make a “back up” of a person in case they died. In Johnny’s case, he couldn’t control V unless they took a medication or until he waited until his engram had control of their body. We could see V’s body sustained damage from the seizures caused by the Relic and V, we can assume Johnny as well, could not be brought back to life again after the first use of the Relic. We can assume Saburo’s relic protected Yorinobu’s body and allowed him immediate direct control of the new body. What’s also interesting is that the only ending that allows Saburo to not just come back but take over his son’s body, is the Devil Ending where Johnny’s engram is shredded. I think they deleted Johnny’s engram but took the data from V’s experience with it to make Saburo’s new Relic. Johnny’s memories being flawed was also a prominent issue, so if they weren’t tampered with Arasaka must have seen that as a flaw to be corrected for Saburo.

Let’s talk about that second nuke. As mentioned, despite this group going to bomb the tower, Arasaka was planning to blow themselves up anyway. Eddington’s plan was to put a ‘pocket nuke’ in an elevator, send it to the basement and detonate it at the foundation of the tower without any other buildings suffering casualties. A strange coincidence that the nuke didn’t reach the basement nuke, which obviously would have caused even greater damage. It’s not likely but perhaps there was already a body stored within that “someone” wanted to protect or that “someone” knew the second nuke was there and wanted to avoid that level of damage. Despite what really happened, Arasaka was accused of suicide bombing their tower as a last ditch effort against the US and they were banished from almost every country. Thus ended the 4th corporate war and began the Time of the Red. In 2045 Trace Santiago, son of the leader of the Aldecados Santiago, was following a lead to get his hands on the full recording of Black Dog for Samantha Stevens. I’m just now reading her wiki and WOW this is crazy! She straight up recovered and preserved some of Johnny’s possessions gun, car and DEAD BODY included. She sends Trace and crew with the package to Angel who gives them the song, one of the crew keeps the gun and she’s the last known person to allegedly be in possession of Johnny’s body. Who knows if she still has it however as this would be 32 years from the game. So despite the nuke 99.9% for sure containing Johnny’s body, it’s not certain why or how Samantha got her hands on it or if this opens up a possibility for Johnny to come back. At least we might be able to give him a proper burial.

Let’s revisit Adam Smasher’s involvement. Smasher was tasked with recovering Johnny’s body and possessions, according to the wiki, from 2023-2045. He found Samantha Steven’s garage full of Johnny’s stuff and might’ve killed or found Trace Santiago’s associate who was holding onto Johnny’s gun. It’s unclear if he found and recovered Johnny’s body or if it’s still with Angel. It’s also unclear what kind of work Rogue did with him or any explanation for their team up (though it would be hilarious if she was involved in Mike’s ‘Michiko’s 18th Birthday’ storyline, the timeline fits!) What is strange, either way you look at it, it’s super dark and strange that Rogue would work with him after what he did to Johnny. What is likely to have happened, since Rogue did know Trace Santiago’s team, was that Smasher had to approach Rogue for help tracking them down or somewhere down the line Angel being in possession of Johnny’s body needed to be tracked down and Rogue volunteered her help. I just refuse to believe a woman like Rogue would push papers or merc for her enemies. Probably the most important factor is Morgan Blackhand and that his rivalry with Smasher was swapped. Smasher had an obsession with fighting Morgan one on one but they rarely or even never fought before the assault. Again it’s hard to say, but we never get to see Smasher than incensed over anyone so maybe Morgan is dead or Smasher is still looking for him offscreen.

So why would Arasaka want to hide Morgan Blackhand’s involvement? The top solo, leader of this incursion and the most ambiguous figure in all of Cyberpunk. He could’ve just died, been turned into an engram ,or even lived to a hundred. I really don’t know, but speculating has been fun! Let me know your theories and ideas too, let’s figure this out!

#cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk 2020 #cyberpunk red #cd projekt red #johnny silverhand

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