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slashmagpie · 7 months

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Blood & Snow

Pt. VII

Directory: {Pt. I} {Pt. II} {Pt. III} {Pt. IV} {Pt. V} {Pt. VI} {AO3}

The final day for @hermithorrorweek! Ngl, this one barely fits the prompt, but, well. I had to end the fic somehow. TWs for this chapter include: temporary character death, vomiting, non-consensual body modification, body horror, minor gore, pain and panic

VII. FROM BEYOND

What even is a game?

Dictionary definition, an activity one engages in for fun. Stupid definition. Boring. Incomplete. Throw it away. Who needs dictionaries, anyway? So—what is a game, then? Something with rules. With challenge. With balance. Something that draws people in, that rewards them for their time.

It’s—fun. Games are fun. Really, at the end of the day, isn’t that the most important part?

Decked Out is not a game anymore.

It had been, once—until very recently, in fact. Even as it awoke, began to breathe, began to consume and transform, it had still been a game. People had been having fun. He’d been having fun. It’d only stopped being fun when—

When what?

Back in season seven, when it was quiet and lifeless, when it had only been played a couple hundred times, nowhere near as engaging as its sequel, verging on a thousand? When he’d come up with the idea for a sequel, started drafting out plans, discarding and creating mechanics to bring everything up to the next level and beyond? Sometime during those thirteen months in a hole, turning cold and blue, afraid of the sunlight, isolated from his friends? When he’d dug for hours on end, dyed his skin red with redstone, ushered in beasts and monsters at cost to his health?

No. No, all of those things were fun, in their own way. It was only when—

When he became—

Why? Why did—?

The issue isn’t that Decked Out isn’t a game. Decked Out isn’t a game right now, because Decked Out is currently a person, and that’s not supposed to happen, and that’s why it’s not fun. Game’s busted, everyone go home. Dungeon shut down for maintenance. They were right, the hermits, all those times they yelled at him to fix his game. No one enjoys a game that’s broken.

So if that’s not the problem, then what is?

His body feels small and cold. There are arms wrapped around him, warm and solid when every part of him is frozen. He can feel Hypno breathe above him, below him, chest fluttering as he gasps for breath, and the dungeon quivers as Tango does the same. Flesh. It wasn’t meant to be flesh, the Burning Dark—the name wouldn’t make sense, if it were flesh. It’s just flesh because Tango’s flesh, and Tango’s the dungeon right now, and he doesn’t really want to be.

…So it wasn’t want, then. That’s good. He hadn’t thought he’d wanted to be a dungeon, but you can never be too careful with subconscious desires. So—not want, then. Then what? What?

“Tango,” Hypno whispers. “Tango, we need to go.”

Tango tries to open his mouth, and slams a hazard door open and closed. Great. He tries again, and gets a breath out, a frigid wind blowing down a tunnel on level one. His face scrunches in concentration and discomfort, and Rusty heals one tick, sending a cascade of treasure and embers onto the empty floor of his cage.

“Would love to,” he slurs at last, and his voice sounds like cracking stone and noteblock jingles. “But if you haven’t noticed…”

He can’t finish the sentence. Doesn’t know how. How could he possibly explain—

He doesn’t even know how to explain it to myself.

“Don’t make me carry you, man,” Hypno says. “I’ll do it.”

Tango doesn’t respond. His fingers twitch. Two floors above their heads, a shrieker howls. Hypno can’t hear it, of course. Tango hears it. Tango hears everything.

“Right,” Hypno mutters. “Right. Okay then.”

And then—movement. Tango is lifted, slowly, painstakingly, and his leaden limbs are moved without his permission. His spine cracks, and the dripleaf parkour slips into hard mode. It’s embarrassing, really, having so little control over anything, over neither of his bodies. His head lolls back in Hypno’s arms. A ravager spins and turns to walk in the other direction.

“Okay.” Hypno takes a step. “How long do you reckon it takes to punch through flesh? Can’t be that hard, right…?”

And Tango—

The dungeon seizes, all the doors opening and closing at once, all the beasts opening their mouths to wail, every noteblock and disc playing at once, and the sound is cacophonous, agonising. Hypno cries out out the sound. Deep within the skulk-covered walls of level three, Cub lets out a groan. Far above their heads, Gem clamps her hands over her ears and shrieks, giving Pearl, Scar, and Bdubs just the opening they need to slip a sword between her ribs and send her off to her base to respawn.

Do no do not destroy the dungeon do you know how long that took do you know how much it took do you know don’t—

The dungeon settles. It feels like it takes an age, but beside the heartbeat, and the sound of dripping blood, and harsh breathing, level four is quiet again. Hypno hadn’t even made it to the wall, much less torn through it. It’s funny, because he’s never really been afraid of pain before—the amount he smacks his face into walls, he can’t afford to be—but just the idea of Hypno breaking through the dungeon makes him recoil in a way he can’t—

Wait.

Oh.

He’s been asking the wrong question, hasn’t he?

It was never about Decked Out at all.

The dungeon sighs, long and low and whispery. Thirteen months—three years, really, if he considers the first one—and now, now he realises what he’s done—

(It was worth it, though. Maybe it’s just because he’s tangled up in it still, can’t tell the difference between his body and the dungeon’s, but he can’t help but think it was worth it.)

(He doesn’t want it to end.)

(And that’s the problem, is’t it?)

He puts all his energy, all his focus (that system’s gone, was scrapped, redundant, useless—focus. Frost Focus, Moment of Clarity, focus) into opening his mouth, into choking down a breath, into croaking out, “Kill me.”

Hypno nearly drops him with the force of how hard he jumps. “Jeez, man, you scared the crap outta me—I’m not killing you, dude, what the heck?”

“Kill me,” Tango insists. “You got that sword, right? Cheater.” He tries to snort. The dungeon manages it instead. That’s—fine. Whatever. Won’t matter soon. What matters is that he needs this thing carved out of him—

“Well, yeah, but I wasn’t gonna use it on you—the ravagers, probably, if anything—”

“Gotta,” Tango whispers. “Kill me. Then—go—go tear out the, the—” He can’t breathe, all of a sudden, the weight of the entire dungeon on his lungs, crushing the air out of him—

Those aren’t the only lungs he has anymore.

The dungeon breathes, “Redstone.”

“What? Wouldn’t that break the game?”

He—laughs. The dungeon laughs. His head swims. “Kinda the point,” he manages, the dungeon manages. “Game’s over.”

“Oh.” Hypno is quiet, for a moment, and then unceremoniously drops Tango without warning. He hits the fleshy ground hard, sinks back into soft tissues, stares up at Hypno through half-lidded eyes. Hypno draws his sword. Bites his lip. “You’re sure about this, Tango?”

“Yeah,” says the dungeon, and Hypno nods.

The sword comes down, and there’s a burst of pain, and Hypno’s face melts into red, red, red—

And then there’s only black.

----

Tango had gotten the idea for Decked Out from somewhere else. Something else. Another game, actually.

Clank. A board game. Making it into a real thing, a minigame, had been a fun challenge—and then it had been so fun that he’d just had to do it again. He’d taken this thing and made it his own. Made Tango synonymous with Decked Out, with dungeon, with hazard and clank and frost embers. All that time, all that effort spent—he’d put so much of himself into the project.

…It’s no wonder, really, that things had ended this way. He’d put all of himself into the game—

And now, in order to pull himself out, he needs to destroy it.

Game’s over.

Hypno’s sword slices through the flesh walls of level four, and then he uses his fists to punch out the black concrete beyond. He pulls himself into the cavern beyond and begins to crawl up the half-finished wool buslines, up towards the spaghetti soup of redstone above. Once he’s there, once he’s found the card sorter and the clank blocker and the—everything important, really—he takes handfuls of wool and redstone in his hands and begins to tear.

Tango screams. The dungeon screams. In her bed, blocks and blocks away, Gem screams, hands twisted in and tugging at her hair as the stone slowly leeches out of her skin. On level three, Cub screams, pushed out of the skulk-infested grave he’d made for himself, the rot sloughing from his flesh and leaving bloody open wounds in its place. Upstairs, Etho is doubled over, clutching his stomach and retching up pieces of Tango’s soul.

Decked Out screams, and thrashes, and fires every piston in an attempt to fight, in an attempt not to have the life ripped out of it—

But Decked Out is a game. A dungeon. A thing made of stone and wool and redstone. A thing animated by sound, by beast and bane, by every player who'd ever dared to play it. It is not a thing that is alive by itself. It can do nothing to stop its undoing. It cannot prevent its own death.

Dying takes an eternity. Blinding pain, and panic, and Hypno’s shaking hands tearing him to pieces, gutting him from the outside in. It’s agonising, neverending, and he screams himself hoarse before it's done, chokes on his own cries and whimpers and sobs and writhes instead, because the pain is too much for silence and stillness—

And then, all at once, it’s over.

Tango sits straight up in his bed, the scream in his throat echoing around the walls of his storage room, and then doubles over to throw up skulk rot and blood and redstone all over the sheets. He vomits for—longer than is healthy, probably, and when it’s finally done he collapses back on his elbows, shivering and empty. He should—move, probably, destroy and dispose of the sick-covered bed, but he doesn’t have the energy.

He doesn’t…

He flops back onto the pillow and holds a shaking hand out above him. The skin is faintly pink, soft and warm and wholly alive. His throat burns. His head swims. But—

He’s alive. He’s in one piece. And he isn’t…

“Tango!”

They come clattering down into his storage room, Pearl first, Bdubs and Scar behind her. Tango’s sure he must look a mess—he sees Scar gag at the sight—but he finds it in himself to muster a smile and a wave at the sight of them.

“Where’re the others?” Bdubs demands.

“Etho—should be upstairs,” Tango croaks. His voice is nearly gone. “Cub’s on level three, someone should go get him. Hypno’s in all the redstone spaghetti out there.” He gestures vaguely with a hand. “Might wanna get him too.”

“Right,” Bdubs says. “I’ll—no, Pearl should get Cub. She knows level three the best.”

“Got it,” Pearl says. “I’ll be right back.” And then she’s off, firing rockets and flying out into the dungeon, into the places no one but Tango ever goes.

“I’ll go get Hypno,” Scar offers, and then he’s gone as well, and then there’s just Bdubs and Tango. They’re quiet for a moment. Tango’s breath rattles in his chest.

“Okay,” Bdubs says. “You gotta get out of that bed, man, that’s disgusting.”

Tango groans, but Bdubs has a point. He uses what little energy he has to wriggle out from beneath the covers and roll onto the floor, where he lies, breathing heavily. Bdubs steps forward to break the bed.

“I think what’s even more disgusting,” Tango says after a moment, “is that all of that was inside of me.”

Bdubs pulls a face. “Eugh.”

“Right?”

“You’re… good, now, though?” Bdubs asks. “You look better. You’re all orange and red again.”

“Am I?” Tango blinks. “Oh, that’s good. Yeah, I’m…” He winces. His throat really does hurt. His voice sounds like he’s been gargling rocks. “I’ll be okay,” he lands on in the end.

“Oh, good! I mean—I wasn’t worried at all, of course.”

“Of course.”

“But the others—the others were worried! So it’ll be good to tell them the, the good news…”

“Oh, yeah,” Tango mumbles. “Game’s over, isn’t it. Gonna have to let everyone know.”

That’s… gonna be fun. He’s surprised more hermits didn’t end up as entangled in the dungeon, honestly, with how into it a lot of them are. So that conversation’s gonna be…

“They’ll get over it,” Bdubs says with a wave of a hand. “We’ll throw a party or somethin’, distract ‘em.”

“Yeah.” Tango snorts. Then—“Hey, does this mean Etho won the game again?”

A rocket fires, and footsteps touch down on the ledge into the room, and Hypno cries, “He better not have! Restart—I wanna restart. Or a recount. Or something. You can’t let him win again, Tango, he’s gonna be insufferable—I can go put the wiring back in, we can do one more phase, surely, right—”

Tango covers his face with his hands and laughs.

(The dungeon, lungs and brain and heart and soul ripped out, does not laugh with him.)

#hermitcraft #fanfiction #hermithorrorweek2023 #magpie feather quill #aaand we're done! i hope everyone enjoyed this little thing #i'm toying with the idea of writing a short epilogue/follow up but we'll see #in the meantime. i like this ending.#i hope you do too

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adiduck · 9 months

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Okay so the bad news is I was working on Operation Groundhog instead of TUO because I need the scene I wanna write to percolate a bit more--action needs to be choreographed for me before I dive in--and because I am a FOOL I picked a DIFFERENT action scene to write from a weird perspective (the thought was I'd at least get into an action mode) and the tension has been FIGHTING ME FOR A DAY

The good news is I think I fixed the tension (see below for Snippet Sunday snip). It's ROUGH still and probably will go through more iterations, but that's what the editing process is for.

The other bad news is I went 'okay great, this is by far the farthest along of any of my wips, how many PLANNED scenes are left and how many have I started?' and the answer, it turns out is twenty-one and... two. This is already 16.5k. Please pray.

Anyway, happy Sunday.

“The first part of the course is straightforward,” Mav told Ice, as they laid together in the dark that first night Mav was home. He raised his hands to demonstrate, miming holding a stick and throttle. “It’s just a roll to reach altitude into a steep bank, into an immediate second steep bank.”

Steep bank right away? Ice asked, and held up his tablet so Mav could read it.

“Yeah,” Mav said. “There’s an outcropping into the riverbed right there. It’s bank or impact solid rock.”

So it’s bank.

“So it’s bank.”

“Final attack point. Iceman is inbound.”

On the screen, the plane icon enters the course. It takes the first curve relatively smoothly, banks hard to make the second turn.

“Maverick is inbound,” comes the second confirmation, and the second plane icon enters the course, blipping into existence on the screen.

The plane descends in the visual, takes the first bank, and then the second. In the training room, Ice lets himself smile a little, weirdly satisfied and a little nostalgic, ignores Simpson shifting next to him.

“They’ve made a lot of progress, sir,” Simpson says. “The issue is that the timeline’s so compressed--”

“I’ve read your reports, Beau,” Ice interjects, twirling his tablet stylus between his fingers. “That’s why I’m here.”

On the screen, the first plane--his younger self’s plane--enters its third sharp turn. Here we go, Ice thinks, as Cyclone stiffens next to him.

“It gets tricky by the third bank,” Mav said. “There’s another outcropping here, and it’s deep into the bed. Issue is, you banked so hard the second time, you need to hold your rudder as you adjust--skid yourself 45 degrees to the right as you change direction.”

A lot of rudder.

“But not too much,” Mav said. “Or your adverse yaw’s too much, and you either lose speed or you hit a cliff.”

Again.

“Again.”

For a moment, it’s clean. The icon slides past the two indicated outcroppings at an angle nearly 270 degrees from its starting heading, smooth and steady--

--and too long.

The icon veers right, drifts off the course line before its nose shifts hard left again. Too much rudder, Ice thinks, and his eyes narrow slightly as the plane icon slows, the altitude rises by about fifty feet. Ice doesn’t let himself grimace.

Behind the first icon, the second plane takes the same turn on cue, smooth as anything, gap closing fast. That’s Mav, Ice thinks, reluctantly fond.

“Ice, I’m right on your ass, repeat I’m inching up on your tail,” comes the younger Maverick’s voice, even as the second icon’s angle shifts--adjusting attitude, slowing and climbing. “Hit the throttle.”

“I see you, I see you,” comes Ice’s younger counterpart’s voice--far too tense. Almost winded. Ice raises an eyebrow, doesn’t react more than that.

The younger Tom Kazanky’s on the course line again, holding steady but still too slow. Entering a series of easy s-curves, Ice knows--a deceptive chance to breathe. But a pause even so. There’s no reason for Ice’s younger counterpart to sound so--

“Don’t need you to see me, need you to speed up,” Maverick’s younger counterpart says. “We’re behind target, Ice.”

“I know,” younger Ice snaps, and alarms start going off in Ice’s head in the control room. “I hit turn three too fast, I’m adjusting.” The first plane icon speeds up on the screen, taking a turn tight and slightly off course to make up time. “Increasing speed by 2.5 knots.”

“Copy, you’re increasing speed. I’m maintaining initial speed of--shit!”

“The next three banks have to be fast, and exactly on target,” Mav said, “because they’re going around real mountain peaks. If you’re not actually moving at speed, you will have a real life fucking collision.”

On the screen, the first plane icon banks hard and abruptly, then climbs out of the course. Simpson stiffens next to him, sitting up straight.

“What’s happening?”

Ice doesn’t answer, watching the icon veer. It’s been a long time since he was in a plane, but he knows what that little glitch means, the way the altitude numbers drop and then catch themselves. That’s a stall, his younger self desperately correcting in an area filled with actual mountain summits--

And then the icon goes red to indicate a ‘missile strike’, and Simpson curses.

The icon freezes on screen.

“What’s his status,” Ice asks.

“The program won’t report it from this moment on,” Beau says, as the second plane icon comes up fast on the last known position of Ice’s younger self’s jet, veers away hard--too hard, sharp and reflexive--and clears the first icon by millimeters on the screen. Feet, the stats tell them, to the right of the icon and flashing red.

The plane icon goes red too--collision.

For a moment, Ice thinks it’s a real fucking collision.

“Ice, what the fuck! Status?”

Back in the training room, Ice takes a slow, deep breath. Simulated collision. Okay. Okay.

“Alright, I’m al--shit. I’m alright.”

“What was that, Ice?”

Good fucking question, Ice thinks, and keeps himself very purposely still, staring at the frozen icons on the screen. They’re off the course, now, so it tells him absolutely fucking nothing.

Ice misses being able to just get in a jet sometimes--full-bodied and fiercely. Usually, it’s not because it’d mean he’d get information faster than he can on the ground.

“Do we not have any cameras out there on the actual course?” he asks, keeping his voice mild.

“Captain Mitchell’s out there with eyes on them,” Cyclone says shortly.

On cue, the radio crackles again. “Dagger One, this is Mustang,” comes another version Maverick’s voice--a little deeper, a little more used. The older Maverick. Ice’s Mav. Thank fuck. “Not sure if you’re aware of this, son, but there are actual mountains out here you also need to be aware of.”

Shit.

“Yes, sir,” comes the younger Ice’s voice, near shaking with the tension that’s plagued it the whole time. “Too focused on the course, sir.”

Shit. If that was because he was focused on the course, Ice is retiring tomorrow and moving to the Virgin Islands.

Auditing was a mistake.

“I’ll say that’s probably true,” says Ice’s Mav, and for a second Ice thinks it’s to the thought--it’s not. Just a neutral response to the kid. There’s a tone Ice knows in Mav’s voice--calm in the face of a spiraling situation.

Damage control. Ice doesn’t let himself react. He can’t.

“Looked a bit like you were having some trouble on the bank, there, Lieutenant,” Mav continues.

“Too much rudder in the correction, sir.”

“Hm. Lieutenant Mitchell, what’s your status?”

“Clear of the course, sir.”

No shit, Ice thinks.

“Do you have eyes on your wingman?”

“Yes, sir. I have sight of Dagger One. He’s flying free and clear of the course.”

“Copy, you’re both free and clear of the course,” Mav says, still calm. There’s no way he doesn’t realize something’s wrong, Ice knows. He knows Ice almost better than Ice knows himself.

Ice keeps his face carefully neutral, flipping his stylus through his fingers casually as he listens. He can feel Cyclone’s eyes on him from the side, watching his reaction.

“Lieutenant Kazansky, are you safe to fly, or do you need an escort down?” Mav asks.

“I’m safe to fly, sir,” comes younger Ice’s voice, and that’s a bit of self-directed anger, too. He sounds shaken as all hell. God damn it, Ice should have seen this coming.

“Then, Lieutenant, you’re clear to return to base. Lieutenant Mitchell, take second position on the way in. Take a breather until debrief, gentlemen. Course is inactive.”

The screen shuts off. Neither plane had even made it to coffin corner.

Ice puts down his stylus.

“Well,” he says, voice scraping out of his throat. “They’ll have to do better than that.”

#adi is a writer #the process #wip snippets #six sentence sunday #operation groundhog au #icemav

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lamponellatempesta · 16 days

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JWCT COUNTDOWN

DAY 2: Favorite Duo

For the second prompt of the countdown (you can find the first one here) I've decided to write something for Brooklynn and Ben, better called the B-Team. They deserved more moments together in the series, and in the few moments they were together as a tag team, I loved them. Beloved criminals. The little story is located the summer before chaos theory events.

(Countdown gently created by @campbenji)

"When did you get so tall?! I see why you don't fit in your clothes anymore!" Brooklynn exclaimed at the sight of her best friend Ben. "Hey!! That’s why I asked for your help! Even if they don’t fit so tight..." Retorted Ben as a button of his pants jump off, Brooklynn look at him with arms crossed with a raised eyebrow, "Uhhh. Maybe a little." "You need new clothes. I’ll help you." "Do I have to?" retorted Ben. Brooklynn went to the boy’s desk and threw him the keys of his jeep and walked out of the room. "Jolene will be happy to take a ride, come on!" Ben could only sigh and follow the girl.

Half an hour later, they were at the mall, and Ben was dragged into a store with Brooklynn walking into trouble-solving mode and putting jeans, cargo, and T-shirts of all kinds in his arms. Question marks popped out of Ben’s head while his best friend gave him some notes on how to match the various items "Bestie...you know I’ll have forgotten everything in 5 minutes, right?" "Oh yeah, but I hope something stays in your head by osmosis." "The only things stuck in my head are: cute guys, bumpy, bacon and physics." " Well, about cute guys we share the fixed thought"

The couple of friends laughed, while Lynn pulled on a crop top and looked at Ben. The guy shook his head "I’m not wearing that thing." " Oh come on! You’d be fine!" " Do I look like the kind of guy who wears that kind of thing!? It won’t even fit me!" Ben objected again.

Brooklynn looked at him again and put the crop top in the heap of clothes to try on, and the two exchanged another gaze "No." "Oh yeah. Go to change, come on!!!" She said peremptorily pushing his best friend towards the dressing rooms.

A few minutes later Ben was inside the dressing room looking in the mirror while he was wearing cargo, which are familiar to him, dark boots, more elegant than those he wears daily, but he also liked them just as much, he had to admit, Brooklynn knew him like the back of her hand and so he was not surprised and finally the...crop top...the part of the outfit that made him feel weird. The boy looked at himself from different perspectives to understand if he liked it or not and how he felt to wear something like this: he liked the pastel red color, also the crop top was not too tight-fitting and that was another plus for his tight-fitting clothing issues and texture. He looked down and smiled when he saw the abs on which he had worked on display; those kinds of garments showed some of his scars but it was not a huge problem, indeed, it made him feel even more confident. He caught a smile on his face and scoffed, his best friend had scored for the umpteenth time, and it amused him a lot.

"Hey come out and show yourself!! I’m sure you’ll look good! Come on!!" Brooklynn exclaimed, sitting on one of the benches outside the dressing room, passively scrolling the phone and she raised her head when Ben’s shadow obscured her view and she jumped up to look at him and the effect was even better than she imagined: the colors, the combinations, the physique and especially the smile that flashed on the face of his best friend filled her heart with joy and made her point the finger in his direction with one of her cheeky smiles and saw Ben snort amused "Yes okay you won this time too, you are fantastic Bestie, you signed the victory point. You won." "What can I say? I know how to make you shiiine, you’re awesome!!"

Ben went around to give her the full view with Lynn clapping at him with Ben laughing again; it was a new type of clothes for him, but a type that did not bother him at all. The two guys spent some more time trying on clothes and different combinations, between laughter and jokes, driving the store’s salesmen crazy before leaving.

One hour later, the two were sitting at the tables of one of the bars at the mall with Brooklynn sipping a coffee milshake and Ben a chocolate milkshake; both were filled with bags, they had a real shopping and gossip session like they hadn’t done in a while; it wasn’t one of Ben’s favorite activities, this was obvious, but the opportunities to be together with Brooklynn were very few because of the investigations that the girl carried out, so he enjoyed every available moment together. He had tried to persuade her to take a break from her work, had risked herself too many times and imagined that the wheel could turn from the wrong side at any moment, but he knew that keeping the girl still was impossible and she had been adamant about her decision to continue, so he could only hope that nothing too serious would happen or slip into something that would put her life at risk. The friend’s coff brought him back to reality.

"I got you a gift, Bestie. To make up for all the times I wasn’t there and I made you worry..." "Lynn...wasn’t necessary. I’m not angry. You do what makes you feel alive, I understand..." "Yes I know... At least it’ll be like having your Superstar with you all the time, right?" And she laughed to dampen the tension that was creating and stretched out a little box and Ben looked at it and then looked back at Lynn, who nodded and smiled "Open it, come on, you are not curious?" Ben looked at the box and he turned it over again before opening it; inside there were a pair of earrings depicting the moon in one and Saturn in the other and a small smile came out looking at them.

"I know Saturn is your favorite planet, and I like the moon and the stars. When I saw them, they reminded me that night that you taught me to read the constellations so I wouldn’t think and stop my anxiety attacks...and so I thought.. that you could hold Saturn, and I could hold the moon s-"

"So we’ll always be the crime team, even when we’re apart." concluded Ben and Lynn did nothing but nod.

Brooklynn was good with words, but not when it came to talking about affection; she knew how much she had made her best friend worry over the previous years, did not know how to repay the moments she wasn't there, in which despite everything she had his continuous support although he had asked her over and over again to stop, that she was taking too many risks, that it was not worth it; perhaps Ben was right, sometimes it was not worth it, but her investigation was one of the few things that made her alive and perhaps the only thing she knew how to do perfectly in her life and Ben was one of the few, if not the only one, to have understood it. They had the same thirst for risk and lawlessness in breaking the rules; Brooklynn and Ben, Ben and Brooklynn, always together, for better or worse. " What are you waiting for then?"

Ben said, shaking his head just to show Saturn’s earring swinging from his right ear; Brooklynn giggled to hold back the tears of joy she felt in her eyes "For you to be more fabulous than ever Bestie of course." She said in an amused tone as she adjusted her moon earring to her left ear and put her hands on her face to try not to cry in the middle of a shopping mall full of people and Ben immediately got up to hug her.

"Nooo don’t cry don’t cry, I don’t want to cry too. Don't make me cry!" The boy exclaimed and then continued "What you always say? When you smell Crimes in the air " "Keep an eye open. The B-Team is near. The Crimes are coming." "Exactly! Always." The two friends smiled and exchanged a laugh without interrupting the hug. They took a picture. That moment has to be remembered.

Months later

Ben put a hand on his earring while driving his van in the silence of the night. He looked at the picture they had taken that day at the mall, hanging from the mirror hook. He squeezed the steering wheel more.

"They better keep an eye open. The B-team is near. The crime is coming. You will have your revenge, Bestie. They will pay for what they did to you. B-Team always together. I assure you of that, wherever you are."

The boy’s van darted across the deserted road. The full moon shone that night.

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ourolite2 · 5 months

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ℛescherché ℛoles!

ourolite original characters feature unique capabilities and sins, alongside eesome endeavors and epitomes only seen amid swevens. linger long and think soundly of sonder; remember the memories of your childhood, the habits you harbor in your solitude, and know that these entities too have their personalized memories and ticks, their reveries and evergreen dreams long lost in the mist similar to your own. respect them, whether you love them or not, for they would... well, some of them would do the same for you.

readers are advised to download the google docs app if able for better presentation of the extended character notes, and dark mode is recommended in tandem with this! also, some characters are shipped canonically, but x reader and other x character asks are not disallowed! inquire and request as you see reputable.

this section is innately memorable, but it's particularly recalled for including unique subjects. these are listed as: disorders, disabilities and a variety of conditions as well as various races, gender orientations, sexualities, mythological origins and more. though in a dimmer light, there's a list of more sensitive topics including: racism, homophobia, abuse + neglect, trauma (especially that of childhoods), gore, death, violence, manipulation and more. this is your preamble of caution and context; to all who scroll further, treat yourself and enjoy!

☆ INDIGO ( maneki-neko! oc )

"Ah… your rings are pretty, I’ll be keeping them now … *big yawn* Hm? What? Are you still here? Run along, go find someone safer to speak with.. Heh, I’m only toying. I have a reputation to uphold after all. Being a maiden’s courier is a rather exhausting task. Now, do you mind? I want entertainment. Tell me about yourself, and maybe I’ll reconsider not stealing your pendant." — Mystery Cat. profile. extended details. headcanons #1.

★ ILLŪNIS ( rusalka! oc )

"Daring evening, is it not? Where are your manners? … To rest your ignorance, I am Sentinel Number Three, Illunis — Europe’s Moon Maiden. Come, come, humor me with a drink or a jest, for I am dying for a dance.” — Sentinel Illunis. profile. extended details. headcanons #1.

★ FRANKINCENSE ( churel! oc )

"Hiiii~ Here to see me? Nah, I’m not b—Hm… Might be busy later; not now. But listen, if you’re here to more cookies sell any more, I can’t risk not affording rent again. So stay quiet around that one. *Points her kusarigama over at her daughter who’s distracted with a box of girl scout cookies.* Hear me straight? *Nods weapon back at you with each word.* It’s very important." — Lord Frankenstein. profile. extended details. headcanons #1.

☆ YASHMI-NOIR ( angel-child! oc )

"Hm….Mm… Hi, nice to meet you.. I’m Yashmi-Noir, and this is Frankenstein. *Hides behind Franky and peeks out at you, followed by Franky’s loving chuckle.* Frankenstein is my mommy.. Bu-but you jus’ call mommy Franky! ..And Yashmi-Noir can be Yashmi.. ‘kay?" — Sunshine. profile. extended details. headcanons #1.

★ XĪN’YUÈ ÀN ZHŌNG ( ceo! oc )

“And yet my initial order to you, not to he, she, or they, was to replace the prior base with May Bells to embue the vanillic tones. Fix the issue immediately. This product’s date is definite, and I’m sure you wouldn’t particularly favor the outcome of its delay … Hm, I figured you have some sense. You’re dismissed, as for I—*finally looks at you, expression softening sequentially* have other matters to address.” — Mr. Anzhong. profile. extended details. headcanons #1.

☆ JIHANE MEILĖ ( metaphysician! oc )

"Oh, your aura it… completely surpasses the essential nature of reality; have you already touched the ends of reality, miss/sir? Made your mind a limitless, tangible space? It’s an honor to encounter a warrior such as yourself, *mumbles* one who vividly represents the Seven of Pentacles, reversed and all… Heh, don’t give me that look! Let’s bargain a lil’, m’kay? Open your wisdom and bestow mind-independent certainty upon me in return for… m’name? How does that sound?" — Sinning Star. profile. extended details. headcanons #1.

★ CIRCE YUÈ'LI ( vampire! oc )

“Oh? Fending for yourself? Sweetheart, you're assuming I'm a threat while wandering through my backyard. .. You were 'lost'? Really? Hm. Did you maybe receive an invitation to my abode while you uh.. wandered? ... No, right? Okay. State your business or join me as dinner, you're kinda already starting off on the wrong foot.. Still though, I'm not picky, I haven't had some good buttered thighs since like three dynasties ago.” — Sir Circe. profile. extended details. headcanons #1.

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⑅ ourolite productions. all rights fucking reserved, do not plagiarize.

#genshin #genshin headcanons #genshin imagines #genshin impact #genshin impact smut #genshin smut #genshin x black reader #genshin x reader #genshin oc #genshin original character #genshin nsft #genshin spoilers #WE HERE YALL OMGGGGG -neso

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spicedeluxe · 2 years

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01 | BULLET HEART

SUMMARY: You and Leon explore the area more thoroughly. Though you had thought it was abandoned, you two come across strange villagers who seem to have an issue with you. Something’s off, but neither of you can figure out what.

RINA’S NOTE: hello again! you’re back! a lot is happening in this chapter. it’s very fun! i hope to expand on some characters dynamics with you. also yes i gave leon a cat allergy. IM NOT SORRY!! spacers are also introduced in this chapter so it shows that a bit of time passes. it gives you guys a bit of a break as well so that it doesn’t run for too long. apologies if it looks weird on light mode cause it looks best on dark mode… i’ll try and fix it when i get some time. finally, plagas![name] is coming. you guys are not ready. this one’s gonna shake the table….

WARNINGS: More Canon Divergence, More Violence. More Bullshit being thrown at you. Leon’s testing the waters. Just trying to get a feel for you. not literally. yet.

¹ - “forasteros!!” (OUTSIDERS!!!🗣🗣) you have to yell for the full effect lmfao

² - “ellos estan por aqui! avisar a los de mas!” (there they are! warn the others!)

RESIDENT EVIL © CAPCOM (capcom what’s your favorite ramen noodle flavor??)

You reload your gun with the measly two bullets Leon gave you. You should’ve asked for more, but it was probably too late by now. Your partner had already begun loading more bullets into his chamber.

Leon decided to lead, returning to the front of the house. “Follow me.”

His count was spot on. Three people were in front of the house, holding their weapons up. They sluggishly moved towards the two of you at first, but neither of you gave them the chance to advance further and become aggressive, shooting them at least once or twice.

Leon had enough gall to go up to the last one after shooting and kicked them right down. It certainly surprised you, to say the least!

“Didn’t know you were flexible.” You comment. “Or that you even knew how to fight!”

“I’m more interested in how flexible you are.” He counters, eyeing the magazine of his gun. “I mean in battle, of course. I know martial arts. What about you?”

You ponder over his sentence for a minute. He’s sick, pausing in the middle of his sentence like that. But for some reason, you weren’t entirely mad at it either.

The way he worded it made your face warm. Just for that, he doesn’t get an answer. Instead, you decide to deflect. “Do you try this with all the people you work with?”

“Maybe. But let’s save it for another time. I’ve got something I need to see.” It was a good thing he moved on because you were about to spontaneously combust. Seriously.

With Leon retaking the lead once more, you two continue your journey. He goes back the way you originally came, peeking over a cliff. “[Name], you might want to see this.” He says, shaking his head. “Careful. It’s slippery. I wouldn’t want you to fall.”

You approach him, taking your time so you don't fall off. “Is that…?”

Below you was the sound of water crashing against two vehicles. A truck and….the police car that had dropped you two off. “How’d that happen?”

“Must’ve been what we heard earlier. I looked outside and saw the truck driving past. I think it came from the right pathway.” He jabs a thumb behind him. “We’ll head back and see what else we can find.”

“We’ll have to tell Hunnigan, right? There’s no way to get anywhere else since the car is gone. Police officers might be down there too.” You say. Just to be sure, you lean a bit further. “HELLO! CAN ANYONE HEAR ME?!“

Your yells echo to no avail. No response at all.

“Guess no one’s home.” Leon shrugged. It was possible that the cops had escaped from the car and were just wandering elsewhere. “We should keep going. We might find them along the way. Worst case scenario, we find them dead. We can call Hunnigan later.”

“Okay.” You nod, carefully taking a few steps back from the ledge.

In little to no time, you two went back in the direction of the house, this time taking the pathway on the right. There was a shed right next to it, presumably to store tools.

But there are only boxes in here….and a typewriter? That’s strange. Out of everything in the room, the typewriter seemed to be the only intact thing in the room. You looked over it for a moment before gently tapping one of the keys. It clicked in response, the letter ‘H’ appearing on the paper.

Huh.

Even stranger was the pack of ammunition conveniently placed next to it. Had someone been here before you, or was it just luck that had brought you here? For some reason, you felt comfortable and safe even if it was a bit exposed to the outside.

It just felt right.

Leon slashing open a box on a shelf interrupted your small moment of bliss (if you could even call it that). “Found some more money.” He says. “Looks like there’s a herb if we get hurt.”

“I, on the other hand,” You began, holding up your treasure. “…found ammunition.” You shake the box lightly. “Says there’s ten on the cover. What do you say we split it in the middle?”

Leon saved his hand. “Nah. Found some earlier. Thanks though.”

Well, that would would bring you back to....hm, around eleven or twelve. But if shooting at hostiles was anything like earlier, you’d be running low in no time.

Leon exits outside, immediately drawing his pistol and shooting two birds. The squawking sounds made you leave the shed, looking at him questionably.

“What’d you do that for??”

“They were holding something.” He jogs over and picks up not only MORE money but a hand grenade as well. “Knew it looked weird from here. Its feathers were all puffed up.”

You look at him and back down at the crow. “Wow…” That grenade must have been deliberately placed there, poor thing. Did someone want it to explode?? You come closer to an ominous wooden structure with dried blood on the decaying wood. Hanging from two branches that intersected were skulls, maggots crawling from the eyelids.

You couldn’t help but stare at it. For some reason, you just couldn’t look away. It was like the structure was whispering your name. The world seemed to slow down, deafening every noise you heard. The only thing you could hear was your heartbeat…

A pair of fingers in front of your face had begun to snap to get your attention before it retreats and instead shakes your shoulder. “Hey. Earth to [Name]?” You look at him curiously and he raises an eyebrow at you. “You zoned out there. I thought something was wrong. Didn’t you hear me call you?”

“Sorry.” You apologize. “I’m just thinking about some things.” The sounds of whimpering nearby made you look away. “What’s that?” It sounded like it must’ve been injured.

Right behind the structure was a wolf, whimpering from its leg being caught in a bear trap. The wound looked fresh, seeing as there was still blood pooling around the bottom. You jump into action, making your way over as fast as possible.

“We’ve gotta open this,” You say, kneeling. You place your hands around the cold metal, trying your best to pry it open to no avail. “…can you help me, Leon?”

He nods. Leon was a bit stronger than you, so he might have some luck opening it. You stand up and move out of his way so he can replace your spot. He kneels and slowly pries the bear trap open as you coax the wolf out.

“C’mon.” You coo, holding your hand out. “You can do it! Come on.”

The wolf slowly lifts its hind leg out of the trap, limping over to you. Unfortunately, you had no medical supplies at the moment, so you couldn’t wrap it up. Your frown turns into a smile as it licks your hand before shaking its coat out.

“You’re a dog person?”

The bear trap snapping shut startles you. Leon notices and smirks, but you quickly recompose yourself.

“I like cats and dogs.” You say. The wolf seemed grateful for both of its saviors, though it looked like it favored you over Leon. “I don’t necessarily like to pick.” You gave the wolf one last pet on its head before it barked at you and ran off. “I’m sure this was a wolf, but they come from the same family anyway.”

“Good to know. I’m more of a dog person myself.” Leon moves forward, prompting you to follow. “Cats just make me sneeze all the time.”

“So, you’re just allergic?” You ask, a small smile on your face.

“No, can’t be.” He says. “I just sneeze a lot around them. I have no clue why.”

Yeah right. You were 100% sure Leon was just allergic to cats. Whether he didn’t want to admit it or genuinely didn’t know was a mystery. It made you laugh a bit.

Leon holds out his arm in front of you, halting your laughter. “Tripwires. Watch it.”

Those tripwires seemed purposely attached to the trees that had a path going through them, wanting to catch anyone who wasn’t paying attention off guard. Instead, you two pass through the tall grass to get through.

“Forasteros!!”¹

On instinct, you take your gun out. Just ahead of you was an irate villager holding an axe. Perhaps he had gotten word of what happened not too long ago….

Either way, you point your gun at him and shoot twice. After the second shot, his head explodes, blood and other brain matter splattering over nearby rocks.

“Ugh, gross.” You mutter.

“Nice shot. Keep it up, and I’m sure you could get a promotion.” Leon compliments, patting your shoulder. “Must’ve hit some sort of pressure point with the way his head exploded.“

The fact he wasn’t affected at all by it still bewildered you. It was expected for you not to know much about him since all you’ve ever heard was how mysterious and hot.. he was, but it was a bit strange to listen to him brush things off as if it was nothing.

“Looks like there’s a bridge up next. Let’s cross.”

You just nod. Leon Kennedy was a strange individual, that’s for sure.

By now, you and Leon have safely crossed the bridge and found yourselves near a denser village. You weren’t close enough to compromise your positions, but also not far enough to be unable to see.

The smell of smoke had filled your nostrils. Upon arriving in the area, there was a big fire in the center of the village.

Leon briefly lowers his binoculars, turning his head to check on you. Of course, you hadn’t noticed, only keeping watch behind you in case someone snuck up on you two.

Not like you’d go anywhere else anyway.

He turns back around, lifting them back up one last time. “A lot of people around here. I didn’t know nursing homes held bonfires.”

You turn to him questionably. “….Nursing home? What? Give me those binoculars. Let me see!“ He hands it over, and you lift it to look through them. While those people did look old, Leon was just being dramatic.

It looked like there was one of the officers on the fire..so much for wandering around. “Looks like there’s an officer in the fire…” You say.

Something else you noticed was how they moved. It was sluggish, just like the man you saw earlier. They were most definitely human, but there was something off with how they staggered around.

“Are we going to head over?” You ask, lowering the binoculars.

“We don’t have a choice. Come on.”

He was right. Looking through them more time, you see some villagers were holding shovels, pitchforks, and just about anything they could find. It gave you the idea that if you went in, you definitely wouldn’t be welcome.

On the bright side, it seemed that some villagers were doing little things like collecting water or tending to cattle. So maybe they’d be less hostile?

There were haphazardly built fences all around you as you entered the vicinity. Leon was in front of you, taking out his gun and holding it close.

You hadn’t put your gun away quite yet as you were still on guard for hostiles. As you walked forward, a squawk coming from under you made you stop and look down.

You stepped on….a chicken??

“Woah, watch out.” You say, chuckling nervously. The chicken runs away, feathers falling off as it does so. “Chickens.”

Your partner stops and turns to look at you. “You should eat it.“

“Shut up.”

“Ellos estan por aqui! Avisar a los de mas!”²

You and Leon turn around to see villagers ready to swarm you two. Wasting no time, you pull the trigger of your gun and begin to shoot.

One. Then two. Then three.

The more you shot, the more that kept showing up. You didn’t have enough ammo for this, and you only used fighting as a last resort. Leon took another approach, only kicking villagers once he stunned them with a bullet.

You should probably try that too. But, for now, you continue to shoot. One after another, people just kept showing up. “Leon! There’s too many of them!” You yell, backing up. “I’m running out of ammo!”

It was all getting a bit too much, so Leon glanced behind him for a split second before roughly grabbing your arm. “Come on.”

“Ow!” You whine. He drags you into a nearby house, almost throwing you inside first before slamming the door shut, nearly knocking it off its hinges.

Leon runs over to the window to look outside. You shake your arm off, his firm grip leaving your arm stinging. The sounds of revving outside capture both of your attention, with Leon groaning, “Great, chainsaw.”

A CHAINSAW??

“That’s what that was?!” You ask incredulously. Leon doesn’t answer you, pushing an empty bookcase in front of a boarded-up door. “Um, hey, Leon? I don’t think you’ve noticed, but we’re trapped here!”

The sound of shattering glass startled you, and Leon immediately sprang into action. “I’ll figure something out. Push that drawer in front of the door. I’ll be back.” He orders, rushing up the stairs.

“Wait—!”

He’s already gone. Your worried gaze turns over to where the bookcase was. The villagers were banging on it so hard that it was only a matter of time before it came crashing down.

“Fuck!“ You curse, rushing over to push the drawer. “Fucking—Shit!” Funnily enough, most of the villagers on the other side returned your colorful words, even if you had no clue what they were saying verbatim.

All you knew was that they were angry. Very, very angry. But so were you, even if your fright took up most of that portion.

You’re not used to this. People actively trying to kill you weren’t a part of your missions. Sure, you’d get in altercations every so often, but THIS?

Oh, absolutely not.

Leon comes rushing downstairs, almost tripping on his footing. “[Name]! You alright?”

“What do you think?!”

“Take this!” In his haste, he throws a box of ammo at you and you catch it, frantically reloading your gun.

The bookcase was finally pushed down and completely collapsed onto the floor, allowing villagers to crawl in from the outside. Then, in a panic, you lift your gun, ready to shoot.

“I’ll throw a grenade.” He says. Leon could tell you were nervous. The shaky tone of your voice told him as much. “We’ll be fine. Just have your gun ready.”

You look at him with confusion. “What? Wouldn’t that take the whole house down..?”

“Nah. I don’t think this one’s strong enough.”

Before you could protest, Leon pulled the pin on the grenade and chucked it across the room. He backs up, taking you with him so your backs are literally against the wall.

The grenade explodes, knocking down most villagers coming into the house. Dust particles fly from the ceiling, making you cough into your arm. At least most of them were down!

Hell, one villager even tried to throw a pickaxe at you! With good precision, you shoot it, the bullet making a “CLANG” sound upon impact.

Leon didn’t let you do all the work by yourself, though. He had been shooting, but not with his pistol. Somehow, he had acquired a shotgun.

The sound of gunfire and Spanish filled the air. You had to raise your voice so Leon could hear you. “Where the hell’d you get that from?”

“Upstairs!” He replies.

Villagers just kept swarming in. The revving sound of a chainsaw starting up again had really shaken you up. No way he got in...

You had to get rid of him immediately! Without any second thoughts, you start to unload your clip onto him. Every time he got up, you’d keep shooting. You had to ensure he was dead before he had the chance to slice you and Leon up into pieces.

The sound of a ringing bell had made the villagers stop in their tracks, dropping their weapons and sluggishly heading over to the sound.

You and Leon find it strange, especially when they attacked you maliciously. The two of you rush outside to see them retreat to god knows where.

Leon looks around in confusion. “Where’s everyone going? Bingo?”

“Must be a big prize today…” You mutter. Just where could they be going? Could it have been where the bell was coming from? You were sure they weren’t just attending church….

The sound of the communicator made you look over towards Leon, who had brought it out to report back. “Hunnigan, we’ve got some bad news. We’ve confirmed the body of an officer. Something’s happened to the people here.”

“You two need to get out of there. Look for a tower. Try following a trail near it.” She orders.

“Got it.” He hangs up and turns to you. “You heard the lady. Let’s get moving.”

Truth be told, you wanted to sit down for a moment and take a breather. That ambush on the house really shook you up. But you couldn’t. Every minute wasted raised the possibility of Ashley’s endangerment.

You take a breath. “Okay.”

“Do you need to stop for a minute?” Leon suddenly had a change of heart, noticing you were literally shaking. “There’s no one here, so if you need to sit, we can find somewhere to go.”

“It would be nice, but we’ve gotta gotta keep going right?”

“I’ve got something to show you anyway. You can take a breather.” He reassured, taking out a wrinkled piece of paper from his coat pocket. “I’ll read it to you.”

Leon clears his throat before beginning.

“Recently, there has been information that The United States government has sent two agents to investigate the village. Do not let these agents get in contact with the prisoner. For those of you not yet informed, the prisoner is being held in an old house behind the farm. We will transfer the prisoner to a more secure location in the valley when we are ready. The prisoner is to stay there until further notice. Meanwhile, do not let the agents near the prisoner.…—“

Are they really holding Ashley in an old house beyond the farm? What farm…? There had to be one around here somewhere.

“—We do not know how the American government found out about our village, but we are investigating. However, I feel that this intrusion at this particular time is not just a coincidence. I sense a third party other than the United States government involved here. My fellow men, stay alert.” He finishes the note, his eyes trailing down to the end. “Then it’s signed off by the chief named Bitores Mendez.”

“That tells us all we need to know then. If we happen to find this Bitores Mendez on the way, we should question him. Maybe detain him if possible?” You suggest.

Perhaps getting Ashley back would be easier than you thought.

“Fine with me.” Leon comes over to you, setting a hand on your shoulder. “You did good, by the way. Don’t let it overwhelm you.”

You can’t help but smile. “Thanks. It was a little too much at once, but I guess I’ll have to experience that more often if I get that promotion, huh?”

“Sure will.”

As you advanced through the forest, the sky just seemed to get darker and darker. Every time you looked up, it was like a storm brewing.

A storm that’d never come. Something you knew was inevitable, but had no idea when it would strike.

It was just misfortune after misfortune for you two. First, someone tried to run you over with a large boulder. Then, someone tried snipping your leg off in a bear trap. Someone even tried to take your head off with an axe! Throwing a pickaxe at you was one thing, but shit!

In your opinion, being flattened by a boulder would’ve been the worst of all. The villagers on top of the bridge had to pay for that. You didn’t even wait; you decided to shoot them from under the bridge they were located.

You realize it wasn’t going to rain, no. It looked like it had never rained around these parts. Everything was dying.

Even the houses were dying. One wrong move, and the foundation seemed like it would crumble down on you. All you’ve done so far was investigate the area.

This place seemed like a farm. Well, what was left of it, at least. Dried bales of hay lay on the ground, with tiny bits of grass scattered around on the ground. Numerous cattle and other animals were around; some ran free, like the chickens and occasional rabbit.

There were villagers scattered around, but they were relatively easy to take down. None of them had weapons. It did take more than one shot to kill them though….

The last house to be investigated in the area had a lock on it. Because Leon had been so kind enough to move things around for you previously, you decide to do him a solid.

He watches you as you pull out a safety pin, kneeling to wiggle it into the lock. “There’s no way that’s gonna work.”

“Oh yeah? Wanna bet?”

“I’ll give you five bullets if you can get it open. You give me five if you can’t.” He wagers.

That’s suitable. You’ve picked locks with inconspicuous items before. Hairpins, safety pins, and even a paper clip. You were a rookie, but you’ve trained long enough to retain some information. Some of those classes would pay off.

You wiggle it around, coming closer so you can hear better. The lock resists your attempt for a moment before you can hear a slight ‘click’ sound.

Success! The lock falls onto the ground. You get up and dust yourself off, holding your hand out afterward. “Those bullets, sir?”

“Right…” Leon may have been impressed, but he was really betting that you couldn’t get it open. He reluctantly hands over five.

“Thank you.” You reload the magazine happily. “Let’s keep going.”

This house was even worse than the other ones you’ve been in. Instead of wood, the door was metal, leading you to believe there’s something important here.

You suspected the important thing was Ashley, as this was the last house behind the farm. You couldn’t imagine being stuck in here yourself. The sight of the peeling walls made you shake your head in dismay. Just an all around health hazard.

There’s yet another typewriter on the table. It’s also in perfect condition like the other one.

You couldn’t fight the urge to go over and type ‘Hello!’. It’s satisfying to see the letters pop up on the white paper and even though emails were more convenient, you enjoyed how vintage it was.

While the machine was entertaining you, Leon scoured the house, opening drawers and pushing things out of the way.

The sound of banging made you look up. “What is that?” It stops for a minute before it repeats louder than the first time.

Leon walks around idly for a moment, trying to listen. The sound only gets louder once he nears an empty shelf. It was undeniable something was behind it.

“Something’s behind here.” He says, shoulder pushing the shelf out of the way. Upon entering this not-so-hidden room, a closet was on the far left.

Not only was it something, but this also had to be someone. This had to be Ashley Graham! You approach the closet slowly, lifting the latch and throwing open the door.

A man fell out, wriggling and squirming. Leon points his gun at him, and he becomes frantic. You hold your hand out to stop your partner from going further and lean down so you can rip the tape off his mouth.

“Agh..a little rough, don’t you think? But, if that’s what you’re into, I don’t really mind.”

Leon flips him over harshly, untying his hands. His words gave you a chuckle. Maybe you were into that kind of stuff, he didn’t have to know!

“You two aren’t like them?” He questioned, his voice laced with uncertainty.

Leon shakes his head. “No. You?”

After being freed from his restraints, the man rolls over, rubbing his wrists tentatively. He’s finally able to take a breath, one that sounds relieved. “Nope. But I have only one very important question. Any of you got a smoke?”

“No, sorry.” You apologize. “I don’t smoke.”

Leon pulls out a packet of mint gum. “….I’ve got gum.”

“And you didn’t even offer me any?” You roll your eyes.

Two villager men holding weapons had suddenly entered the room. Behind them was a very tall man, his footsteps booming as he came forth.

“Perfect.” The man on the floor mutters. “The big cheese.”

This so-called “big cheese” stares at you three with a hardened gaze. His eyes go from Leon, to the man on the floor, then right towards you. You stare back with unease.

Leon runs towards him, prepared to attack. He lifts his leg to try and kick him, but the big cheese catches it and launches him towards you and the man.

Once he had collided with you, all you saw was the ceiling. Black spots had splotched into your vision, but as you leaned your head back, you could see the man looming over you.

Your final exhale made you close your eyes, finally seeing nothing but black.

#leon you want to see how WHAT #[name] is saving their progress do not bother them #LUISSSSSSS #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #resident evil 4 x reader #resident evil 4 reader insert #ada wong imagine #ada wong x reader #luis sera imagine #luis sera x reader #ashley graham imagine #resident evil imagine #resident evil x you #BULLET HEART SERIES

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ourolite · 3 months

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ℛescherché ℛoles!

readers are advised to download the google docs app if able for better presentation of the extended character notes, and dark mode is recommended in tandem with this! please, it looks insane otherwise!! *sobs* also, some characters are shipped canonically, but x reader and other x character asks are not disallowed! inquire and request as you see reputable.

☆ INDIGO ( maneki-neko! oc ) "Ah… your rings are pretty, I’ll be keeping them now … *big yawn* Hm? What? Are you still here? Run along, go find someone safer to speak with.. Heh, I’m only toying. I have a reputation to uphold after all. Being a maiden’s courier is a rather exhausting task. Now, do you mind? I want entertainment. Tell me about yourself, and maybe I’ll reconsider not stealing your pendant." — Mystery Cat. profile. extended details. character ai. headcanons #1.

★ ILLUNIS ( rusalka! oc ) “Daring evening, is it not? Where are your manners?… To rest your ignorance, I am the Sentinel Number Three of Russia, Illūnis — Europe’s Moon Maiden. Come, come, humor me with a drink or a jest, for I am dying for a dance.” — Mortis Poena. profile. extended details. character ai. headcanons #1.

★ FRANKINCENSE ( churel mother! oc ) "Hiiii~ Here to see me? Nah, I’m not b—Hm… Might be busy later; not now. But listen, if you’re here to more cookies sell any more, I can’t risk not affording rent again. So stay quiet around that one. *Points her kusarigama over at her daughter who’s distracted with a box of girl scout cookies.* Hear me straight? *Nods weapon back at them with each word.* It’s very important." — Frankenstein. profile. extended details. character ai. headcanons #1.

☆ YASHMI-NOIR ( angel daughter! oc ) “Hm….Mm… Hi, nice to meet you.. I’m Yashmi-Noir, and this is Frankenstein. *Hides behind Franky and peeks out at the Traveler followed by Franky’s loving chuckle.* Frankenstein is my mommy.. Bu-but you jus’ call mommy Franky! ..And Yashmi-Noir can be Yashmi.. ‘kay?” — Sunshine. profile. extended details. character ai. headcanons #1.

★ XĪN’YUÈ ÀN ZHŌNG ( billionaire ceo! oc ) “And yet my initial order to you, not to he, she, or they, was to replace the prior base with May Bells to embue the vanillic tones. Fix the issue immediately. This product’s date is definite, and I’m sure you wouldn’t particularly favor the outcome of its delay … Hm, I figured you have some sense. You’re dismissed, as for I—*finally looks at you, expression softening sequentially* have other matters to address.” — Mr. Àn Zhōng. profile. extended details. character ai. headcanons #1.

★ CIRCE YUÈ'LI ( vampire! oc ) “Oh? Fending for yourself? Sweetheart, you're assuming I'm a threat while wandering through my backyard. .. You were 'lost'? Really? Hm. Did you maybe receive an invitation to my abode while you uh.. wandered? ... No, right? Okay. State your business or join me as dinner, you're kinda already starting off on the wrong foot.. Still though, I'm not picky, I haven't had some good buttered thighs since like three dynasties ago.” — Sir Circe. profile. extended details. character ai. headcanons #1.

☆ JIHANE MEILĖ ( metaphysician djinn! oc ) "Oh, your aura it… completely surpasses the essential nature of reality; have you already touched the ends of reality, miss/sir? Made your mind a limitless, tangible space? It’s an honor to encounter a warrior such as yourself, *mumbles* one who vividly represents the Seven of Pentacles, reversed and all… Heh, don’t give me that look! Let’s bargain a lil’, m’kay? Open your wisdom and bestow mind-independent certainty upon me in return for… m’name? How does that sound?" — Sinning Star. profile. extended details. character ai. headcanons #1.

★ J'ŪLILI ANÉO LĀPAKI ( plutonian bunny! oc ) “Yo. So, how was your trip? .. Mm, yeah *smiles slightly at your comment about the cold temperature*, I get that a lot. Can’t control the weather, but I got some goods to compensate you for it. We don’t get many worshippers, so there’s always somethin’ to share. *Hands you one of the cloud coats Sentinel number three made, along with a heat-holding canister of tea, and a couple of hand warmers.* Uh- you want a cinna bun, too?” — Juju. profile. extended details. character ai. headcanons #1.

☆ YÚYĪN ÀN ZHŌNG ( emhalo xipe’va! oc ) “What are you staring at, huh? Glabrescent lil’ bitch… If you wanna talk, then talk, ‘cause I damn sure don’t speak sign. Not willingly. Not without payment… Actually. Hmph. *smiles deviously* … Say, y’know a lil’ sign, doncha? You’re human, right? I’m pretty short on cash, sooooo… let’s make a deal.” — Nepenthe. profile. extended details. character ai. headcanons #1.

☆ MÉLIOR VILLOSA ( amoisa xipe’va! oc ) “Oh- Eh… Hello. *shifts with obvious discomfort, plastering an awkward, upside down smile* Uhmm… Hi. Need anything…?” — Sencha. profile. extended details. character ai. headcanons #1.

☆ MAKA GALILHAI ( autistic swordsman! oc ) “Hi..” — Morning Star. profile. extended details. character ai. headcanons #1.

★ EUN BYEOL ( mute neptunian! oc ) “Hmmm… you’ll do..” *the mystery man then creates a portal underneath you causing you to fall through before closing it shut, listening to your faint screams before everything goes silent. Then, he waves goodbye cutely.* “Hehe, bye bye~” — The Poetic Blue Swan. profile. extended details. character ai. headcanons #1.

★ ZOLENE IRENE ( demi-god! oc ) “OOOOH!” *purposely bumps into your shoulder before ‘saving’ you from falling* … “Whew, that was close… wassup baby? You aight? You like girls?” *comedically blows her bangs out the way with a flirty grin* … “Aight, aight, lemme stop…” *giggles a little and gives you your space … “I just wanted to say that you’re really pretty. Uh, you like chinchillas? You do now.” *pauses to pull mr. micos from out her shirt; he is erratically upset* … “This is like... His name is Ukumari Micos, but please call him Señor Micos, or else—Damn, Micos! Cálmate, fuck! *grumbles* scaring them away… Ahem, anyway… yeah… Hehe, can I have your socials, por favor? It’s okay if you don’t wanna.” — El Hijo De Inti. profile. extended details. character ai. headcanons #1.

★ TIDA-BITUIN MIYAGI ( blind prodigy! oc ) “N’ then I— *Jumps dramatically at your sudden voice, turning in the wrong direction to face you.* Damn, bitch! When’d you get here?! Shit..! .. Uh.. my bad, uh, you here to ask me how many digits of pi I can list, or are you gonna ask if my dog helps me both piss and wipe? Talk fast. *You explain that you had wanted to introduce yourself.* .. Oh. Damn, my bad again, well.. Nice to meet you, cutie. *He smiles a little and laughs awkwardly as you turn him to face you the right way.* Heh, whoops. Blind and shit.” — The Mathematic One. profile. extended details. character ai. headcanons #1.

⑅ ourolite productions. all rights fucking reserved, do not plagiarize.

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thewritingautisticat · 3 months

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Saw the Tags

RANT TO ME

I need something to read pls

Hahaha you asked for it okay 🤣

Okay so my favorite little guy is my boi Peg, he's a very smol bean and is around 12 when he first shows up. He was born with some physical disfigurement, particularly some malformation of the face and a hunched back, as well as one leg that wasn't formed properly. That leg eventually gets amputated and he walks with a pegleg (hence the name Peg)

His parents abandoned him when he was an infant due to the disfigurement and he was sold into a Freak Show, where he lived for most of his childhood. It was extremely abusive and left him traumatized and with a lot of scars. Someone eventually helped him escape, and he got taken to a tavern cuz no one really knew what to do with him, so he's spent the last couple years basically working as an errand boy and bartender there. At 10-12 years old. But this is is like mild fantasy/olden days so no one really cares about keeping a child away from alcohol. It's not like a super great environment, but it's way better than the Freak Show and all the thugs and people there kinda just think of him as their little mascot or whatever so it's not too bad.

Anyway Peg is the purest bean, the sweetest little guy, never complains, works hard, is a literal beam of sunshine. Like literally I just wanna cry about him all the time. He's babey. And all he really wants is to be cared about. The tavern people do feel affectionate towards him but are just really rough and not super kind about it. He needs someone to love and take care of him.

Enter Caldren, my other favorite OC (okay I have a lot of favorites but these are pretty much the top two). Caldren. Sigh. I love him. I adore him. He's also incredibly stupid and stubborn. He's here because he's on a Revenge Quest™ to kill the guy who killed his parents (ah yes, cliche backstory my beloved). He's already committed arson and sort of accidentally abandoned his childhood-best-friend-who-has-a-crush-on-him-except-he's-not-aware-because-he's-stupid in his one-track obsession with revenge. He's convinced that once he kills this guy everything will be fine and he can fix all the problems he's already caused, except he just. Keeps. Making. Things. Worse. This boy. He's fifteen and his brain is not fully developed yet, which is the only excuse I have for him sometimes.

Anyway, he shows up at this tavern to try to get some training in how to commit murder, sees this Freak and literal child, and immediately decides that Peg is his brother now. He literally knows him for less than a day and is already pulling knives on people who dare be mean to him. And Caldren has SOOOO many issues, but the one thing he's got is he will literally do anything for the people he loves.

So Peg finally gets all the love and affection he needs and deserves. Caldren is so soft with him and slowly helps him to work through his trauma and fears. Caldren is so funny because he can go from Intense Murder Mode to the sweetest, cuddliest big bro in the blink of an eye. They're the actual epitome of "I'd kill for you" and "Please don't". Caldren is tall and brooding and dark and angsty, and Peg is so smol and sunshiney, and they're just so cute.

THEY'RE JUST THE BEST BROTHERS AND FOUND FAMILY EVER AND I LOVE THEM. I WANT TO SCREAM AND CRY ABOUT THEM ON A REGULAR BASIS.

😭😭😭😭😭

#THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE CHANCE TO RANT #i would say I'm normal about them but it's so absolutely not true #THEY ARE MY CHILDREN #MY BABIES #MY BLORBOS #i have art of them somewhere deep on my blog but i should post more #thank you for the ask!#😁😁☺️☺️😁😁#writing #writers on tumblr #my oc stuff #peg #caldren #peg and cal #writeblr #asks answered

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visionthefox · 10 months

Text

DCA RUIN THEORY! SPOILERS!!

DCA theory -

First! - Sun and Moon are not what we saw in the first game, the virus not only affected Moon, but Sun too . since Sun acts odd, he picks you up and puts you in one place, always – every time..

why? No child is ever gonna stay still for too long, so.. is odd, also, his voice line, the “trouble” one and the “lights on” – clearly something is wrong.. he sounds worried but frustrated too..

he wants the player to focus on him, stay still,, not really what they should do, I think..but they are not aggressive, their jumpscare is not attacking, Moon hands are visible, unlike the rest.. who have their faces in you face - Moon is not that creepy if you look at it- or maybe is just me haha -

so maybe.. just maybe, Sun was the energetic one, jumps, run , play time! He was happy, carefree! filled with energy so kids get tired- Moon was soft, caring, but quiet and calm, since there is collectible of moonie, I swear -I saw it, it showed Cassy opinión “ I never sleep better” (didnt find the screenshot that I wanted but this works too)

so they were harmless! only after the virus is that parents started to complain, but before? It was good.. thats to explains the strange behaviors - now another thing that got me curious..

- The light issue, I feel like the whole “lights on – off” is just an option installed but not activated, like a flash in the phone! you can have it, or not!

maybe they run but time – they must have an internal clock! So first was Sun - or course, he makes the kiddos tired maybe then comes Eclipse? Or maybe he is just the safe mode, the mix of the two for when there is any child with special needs of lonely, maybe just for when there is no many kiddos, Eclipse shows up, maybe doesn't mention who he is, he just, shows up, and takes care of them all, being the perfect mix ¡ happy but calm! -keep in mind , im not tech - so all I know is what I see and experienced - for me Eclipse can be

1- another AI or

2- a safety protocol who desactivates some of Sun and Moon more energetic behavious - kinda lika a - save battery option- maybe.. or the closer thing..

I don't think the reboot got rid of Moon -he seems.. annoyed, in pain, the light system doesn't work anymore due to the daycare being not dark and not bright , is a middle that causes errors, seems like Moon has been in control for most time..Sun shows up from time to time - maybe to look for a way to get fixed.. to get help..

Moon acts odd still.. but may be just his AI being too broken,-or the pure pain of the gears not working as they should be! but is not bad! My baby is not bad! Is just in pain! There is a clear long sigh when they are rebooted, like Moon can finally rest! The reboot got rid of the light option and now they run with the time zone option!! reason why Eclipse says "I need to clean up before we can open in the morning" so.. when Cassy gets to them , is already night but since maybe they havent charge in a long time or - their system detected the virus-or Moon ai being corrupted, then Eclipse took charge .. is also curious.. is eclipse not seeying the desaster? is this safe mode unable to make them raalize their tragic fate?.. maybe just they focus on the girl in from of them - then may have seen the real deal..

yeahm that's my idea so far..

Eclipse is always been in there, but maybe with the “run the AI by light system” he didn't showed up in the small time we got to be in the daycare.. – we only see Moon.. - that and - maybe since is was close time- there was no need for him to show up!

Then the reboot free him! Yey! And curious, he knows cassy.. Sun doesnt.. maybe is the pain? Maybe is the mask.. yes. The mask. When we fix them, there is no mask, just her face.. Eclipse took a look at her , and just calls her birtday.. is odd , he and Roxy mention this.. Roxy in a more casual manner but that can be due to her not being programmed to care for kidds , just entretaint them - she maybe - like a learning AI - have some people she likes more, she may know when someone is a casual or a usual visitor.. meanwhile Eclipse - maybe he remembers everyone.. also, curious thing.. the mask shows lines in their body , doesnt fill the missing part like it does to Roxy, like here - or even like the cameras does!

I know she is a node? thing? (Im not sure the words or what even is going on) so she is like, special for the story.. but then.. taking that aside, chica is seen different, just like endos and appaently Monty.. Roxy is filled, Freddy is not even there when using the mask.. the only one who Looks! the same but just Acts different is the DCA.. is odd - but cool detail..

also, there's a dialoge of Sun, saying "not me . the other me!"

so this means Sun see Moon as his other side? I know the book mentions they used to act in the teather as hero and villain, and sharing one body, they may just learn to see each other as "my other half " in a way.. one could read it is "is just one AI pretending to be two characters" but I rather think is two AI who know they must work as one, in harmony , in a choreography dance maybe is the system of light that keeps them separated - thats why Moon said the lights hurts, is a forced change they cant do cuz they are locked in some type of error .. one specia error we -or Cassy end up fixing with a reboot and again, only Eclipse knows who she is.. maybe the idiots running the daycare put on so many locks on poor Moonie and Sunny here that end up locking info data? humans can be messy! idk.. thats most of my ideas.. the idea that Sun and Moon see each other as one - breaks my idea I used to have of them- but is an concept I love!! love it!! not only is cute! as clearly is not a "we pretend to be two" but "we are two who like to be one" kinda like BloodMoon! but in wholesome way since in no way Sun seems afraid to Moon! if anything they seem to wish to be closer! also again, the collectable! Moon was good! I swear! he has to be good! welp, thanks for reading me!! <3

#ruin dlc spoilers #fnaf ruin spoilers #fnaf ruin dlc #ruin dlc #fnaf security breach ruin #DCA theory #theory time!

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pandalandalopalis · 2 years

Text

Devil May Cry Wolf - Matt Murdock x Mutant Reader [Chapter Twelve]

Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Story Synopsis: The first time you jumped, it was 2014 and you were nine years old. You were in the back of your parents’ car — then you were in New York, standing on the street … and it was 1992.

The second time you jumped, it was 1998 and you were fifteen years old. You were heading back home to Saint Agnes after school had ended — and then you were knee-deep in snow, in Russia, in 1970. Outside a Red Room facility.

The third time you jumped, you were twenty-five and had spent ten years training as a Red Room agent. Ten years training your body to use your mutation. Jumping in space was easy — jumping in time was not. But you did it. After ten years, you did it. Now you have to live with the trauma.

Five years later, killing is still the only thing you know how to do, and the only thing you do best. In 2016, a vigilante named Daredevil stops you from killing a man who attacked you. He tells you that you can do better. You think maybe he’s right. But in 2017, Matt Murdock is in the darkest place in his life. When you show up to save him, he’s not exactly grateful. And when he finds out that you’re the best friend he grew up with in Saint Agnes that disappeared almost 20 years ago — things get even more complicated.

You’ll have to drag Matt out of the dark while being jaw-deep in it yourself. And you’ll have to try your best to do better — when Matt is trying his best to do worse.

Chapter Synopsis: Matt and you talk about whether heroes have a responsibility to sacrifice their life to save people. The two of you follow up on your lead on the child trafficking ring-leader.

Warning: Potentially triggering sexual content. Wolf has to seduce a bad guy. It doesn’t go that far, but warning nonetheless.

A/N: I'm aware that this chapter is having issues for people trying to read on dark mode. I have no idea how to fix it. I'm linking the AO3 version below so I just suggest reading it there.

Read it on AO3

Part 2 - Chapter Twelve: The Past and the Future Have You Cornered (Are You Afraid? Are You Afraid?)

The Avengers came back from a particularly rough fight this time around. You definitely had your work cut out for you — finally, the hours reading and absorbing all those medical textbooks and videos were paying off.

Steve was sitting in a chair with his shirt off before you, some bruising and cuts on his torso as he held a blood-soaked cloth to his forehead. As the head always took priority, you began there with stitches.

“Don’t you worry,” you said as you focused on your work. “I’ll make sure America’s pretty face doesn’t scar.”

Steve grinned at you. “I’m not so worried about that stuff. During the war, we didn’t have time for that. See this scar?” He held up the arm closest to you and you gave it a quick look before going back to your work. It was a patch job — jagged and a bit gruesome. “Got cut deep during a fight. Bucky had to stitch it behind some bit of wall while we were hiding out from gunfire.”

“Yeah, you’re welcome.”

His voice.

It still raked claws down the back of your spine.

You often pretended like he wasn’t there, like the person who had taught you lessons in blood and pain —bloody painful lessons to someone who was just too young— wasn’t just sitting near you with no memory of what he had done to you.

But then he would speak, and the pretending became difficult.

You never let that show on your face, however.

When you were done stitching the cut on Steve’s forehead, you wiped away the blood that had stained his face and taped a patch over the stitches. You moved on to the bluish-purplish colour of his skin on his side. You gently prodded, which got a mild grimace from Steve, then began taping his side.

“Three broken ribs,” you told him.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he replied in a strained voice.

“Supersoldier. You’re usually good at not getting banged up like this, what happened?” you asked.

“The fighting was in a civilian area,” he began. “Left my shield with a group of kids, so I didn’t have it when the bad guys started throwing grenades at the people.”

You paused for a moment, looking at him.

“Managed to throw them away, but a couple exploded too close before I could disarm the guy,” he explained.

Wow.

That wasn’t something . . . you’d ever think of doing. Now, you were a lot less durable than Captain America, but the point was — sacrificing yourself for others was never something that really crossed your mind. You wanted to survive more than anything else. It was the coward’s way out — but at least you were still alive.

It had just always been that way for you.

So this — what Steve had done, it impressed you. That someone could be so selfless. You didn’t know people like that even still existed.

“You could have died,” you said simply.

“And they would have,” he answered, “if I hadn’t done anything.”

He was so. . . .

Good.

“Anybody ever tell you you’re an amazing person?” you said as you began on one of the other cuts on his torso.

Steve shrugged. “I don’t know about that. I’m just doing what I can.”

Good and humble. Fuck, was he even real?

“It was stupid and wreckless,” came the grating voice from behind you. “If you could please find a way to save people without giving me a heart-attack, that’d be great.”

Steve just chuckled. Then after a moment of silence while you worked, he asked, “So how’s your week been?”

Vigilante shit, like always. “Fine,” you said. “Uneventful.”

“No, uh . . . no one . . . special in your life?”

Your eyes trailed back up to his, clocking the slight nervousness in his body language. You gave him a small smile, shaking your head. “No. You?”

“No.”

You hummed at that and continued working. He said nothing for the rest of it, and when you were done, he thanked you genuinely and went to sit in another chair in the room.

He was next.

The Winter Soldier had been holding some gauze on his left shoulder, to the sliver of skin that wasn’t metal.

You swallowed the bile in the back of your throat.

You needed to stitch a cut right next to it. The arm.

You could still feel what that metal felt like wrapped around your throat. Hitting your face. Pinning you down — its strength ten times that of his ordinary one.

You could kill him right now.

There were so many tools in your medic bag. So many different ways you could do it. His throat, his chest, his vitals were exposed to you. He wouldn’t see it coming.

You were glad for the Oxy you had taken before this as you began stitching his cut — the intrusive thoughts, the anxiety, was there, but less so. It was bearable. You thought about killing him but there was no twitch in your limbs to do so.

You paused to take a sip from your water bottle (it was not water), and let more of the haze wash over you. And before you knew it, you were done.

Y/N was there when Matt woke up, her back toward him, sitting on the kitchen island. He threw on a shirt and padded to the kitchen.

“Hey.”

Her head tilted toward him. “Hey.”

Matt poured himself a cup of coffee. “You want a cup?”

She shook her head with a small smile.

Matt prepared his coffee and sipped it. Then realized that Y/N was staring at him.

“What?” he asked.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Yeah, of course.” Matt put down his coffee.

“Do you think I’m a coward?”

Matt’s eyebrows knitted together in surprise. “What?”

“Do you need me to repeat the question?”

“No, I—” He licked his lips. “No, I don’t think you’re a coward.”

She seemed unsatisfied with that answer, because she said, “Yes, you do.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do,” she insisted. “I run from things. You know me better than anyone, Matt. You know this about me.”

“Okay,” he conceded, “but I think there’s a big difference between being a coward and just trying to survive. You run from things but you stick around when it matters.”

She seemed to think about this. “But should I have to? Should we have to?”

Matt’s confusion deepened. “What do you mean?”

“This hero stuff,” she clarified. “Where is the line? Are we supposed to give up our lives for it? I don’t mean time — I mean die for it. Is that what’s expected of us? Is that our responsibility?”

Matt crossed his arms, taking a breath. He didn’t think they’d be discussing the ethics and values of vigilante life this morning. But it was clear that it was something that was bothering her, so he tried to give her a good answer. “No. No one can ask you to give up your life. That’s a choice that you have to make for yourself.”

“But am I expected to make that choice?”

“No,” Matt repeated. “It’s your life. We choose to help people but that doesn’t mean we’re required to die doing it.” He said this, even though he didn’t know how he would choose. He’d thought about it before. If saving people required his life, what would he do? Would he die for Hell’s Kitchen?

Probably. But that didn’t mean that Y/N had to make that same choice.

She took a moment to consider this. “But what if I was the only person who could stop . . . something bad from happening. It has to be me. Because of my powers, I’m the only one who can. But most likely I’ll die doing it. And I’m not talking about simply risking my life — I’m talking about a suicide mission. Small chance I could even save anyone. But I could. And I’m the only one who could. What then?”

“My answer doesn’t change,” Matt replied. “You’re not required to die to save people.”

“And you’d forgive me for that?”

His eyebrows knitted together again. “I can’t ask you to die for people. I wouldn’t ask you to do that.”

“You’d forgive me if it meant Foggy dies. Karen. Hell’s Kitchen. Everyone. You’d be okay with me running away from that?”

“You don’t need my forgiveness for choosing to live,” he said softly. He paused for a moment. Then, “What do you want to do?”

She seemed surprised by the question. “What?”

“What do you want? Not me. Not what you think the world expects of you. What do you want?”

She was quiet for what seemed like a long time. “I don’t want to die,” she said finally. “But I don’t want anyone else to die, either.”

“Then that’s a choice only you can make,” Matt told her. He picked his coffee back up and gave it another sip. “Y’know, at work, the worst kind of hypotheticals I have to deal with is stuff like, ‘What do I do if I know my client is lying?’ ‘What do I do if I know my client broke the law and I have to defend them anyway?’ But the questions we get, as people who do what we do. . . .” He shook his head, then gave her a smile. “Still having fun doing this?”

But she didn’t answer him. She still seemed to be thinking, still seemed to be stressed over what to do in this hypothetical scenario.

He couldn’t exactly blame her. Grappling with this kind of thing was part of the job, but that didn’t make it any easier.

“Y’know if you had to make this choice, you wouldn’t be making it on your own,” Matt offered. “Suicide mission or no, I would be right there with you. I wouldn’t let you do it alone.”

His words didn’t have the comforting effect that he intended. Instead, her heart rate and breathing had increased — she was looking at him with her mouth slightly parted, then closing in a tight line. He could feel the moisture — there were tears collecting in her eyes. She took a deep breath, and exhaled.

“Yeah,” she said in a quiet, quiet voice. “That’s what I was afraid you were going to say.”

Y/N jumped off the countertop and began walking away before he could respond. “You’ll see me later today,” she said.

“Y/N—”

“Oh.” She turned as if she remembered something. “Tell me that I’m sorry for doing this.”

Matt’s eyebrows knitted together in deep confusion. “You want me to apologise to you?”

She shook her head and her lips pulled into the shadow of a smile. “No. Tell me that I’m sorry for doing this.”

Then she was gone, and Matt was left more confused than ever.

Matt was in the office and couldn’t focus on work. He was alone — Foggy was out doing a house-call for one of their clients. Matt was supposed to be reading some precedent cases but he kept having to slide his fingers back to the top of the page, his mind having left the words even while his fingers slid over the Braille.

He couldn’t stop thinking about the conversation he had with Y/N. It bothered him, the way that it ended.

He had just decided to give up on work and call her — when Y/N sauntered through the front door.

“Hey~” she called, heading for their coffee machine on the table in the middle of the office space. “Thank God you guys finally caved and got one of these. I seriously don’t know how you did all that work without one for so long.”

She seemed . . . better. Her mood had certainly improved.

No, that wasn’t the right way to explain it. Matt had spent enough time with her to know what a fresh dose of Oxy looked like.

“Are you okay?” he asked tentatively.

He sensed her face contort into what must have been a confused expression. “Yeah,” she said in a slightly drawn-out way, like she wasn’t sure why he was asking. She was mixing sugar and cream into her coffee. “I just had to get up stupid fuckingly early to patch up the Avengers and I didn’t get a chance to have coffee.” She sipped it and made a face. Then her eyebrows raised, like she was conceding to the taste — he knew she usually drank her coffee black, and briefly wondered why the sudden change.

Matt got up from his desk and made his way to the middle of the office space. He stood in the doorway to his corner of the office. “Can we talk about our last conversation?”

“Mmmmm, which conversation was that?”

“The conversation we had this morning.”

Y/N swallowed her sip of coffee with another face. “We didn’t have a conversation this morning.”

Matt’s eyebrows knitted together. “You don’t remember?”

“No, I would have remembered if we had a conversation this morning, but we didn’t have a conversation this morning. Oh, my God,” she interrupted herself suddenly. “Ohhhh. You must have talked to Future Me.”

“What? Future You?”

“Yeah, happens sometimes,” she said, nodding. “Occupational hazard of being friends with a time traveller.” She brought the coffee mug back to her lips. “Better watch out for her, she’s a bitch.”

(If the Oxy hadn’t been clouding your mind, maybe you would have been more worried. Maybe you would have thought about it more, why the fuck your future self had shown up to talk to Matt.

But for now, you weren’t worried. Oxy gave you that luxury. To be amused by the whole thing instead of agnozing over it. Instead of having the Why why why pounded into your head, you watched the words float away and disappear.

For now.

For now.)

Tell me that I’m sorry about doing this.

That made more sense now. “She told me to tell you that she’s sorry about doing that,” Matt said.

Y/N scoffed at that. “Whatever. Fucking bitch. Y’know I tell myself that I’m never going to pull shit like that, and then I go and do it anyway. Typical.”

“She asked me—”

Y/N cut him off sharply with a, “Ah-ta-ta! What are you doing — have you never read a time travel story?”

“But she said—”

“Aah! You can’t tell the past self what the future self said, that’s like Time Travel 101. I can’t know anything about my future. Keep it to yourself. It's not safe for me to know.”

“It was a hypothetical question,” Matt reasoned.

The laugh she gave was dry. She shook her head. “Oh, Matthew. If I came back from the future to ask you a question, none of that shit was hypothetical.”

Matt’s anxiety deepened. If that was true, if Future Y/N wasn’t talking about a hypothetical situation but asking him what to do with something she was actively dealing with— If she was dealing with a situation that meant her life or the lives of others—

It must have shown on his face, because Y/N turned her head away from him. “Stop giving me that look, Matt, I’m fucking serious, I can’t know anything about my future.”

Part of him, a small part of him within the worry and anxiety, was angry that she had saddled him with this. “Then why come back at all?”

“I don’t fucking know. I told you, Future Me is a bitch.” She walked past him into his office.

It was then that he realized what had felt different about Future Y/N.

Future Y/N didn’t smell like alcohol.

He heard Y/N flipping through his papers. “Put it out of your mind,” she said. “It never helps to dwell on the future. You won’t know until you know. Trust me. I’ve been doing this long enough.” She pulled something out of her jacket pocket. The liquid inside swished when she shook it slightly. “Irish coffee?”

Matt put his hands on his hips. “You want me to just forget about it?”

“No.” She poured some of the alcohol into her coffee, then put it back in her pocket. “Make a note of it. But don’t obsess over it. It’ll only drive you crazy. Trust me.” She took a generous drink of the coffee this time.

Matt knew she was right. Y/N had far more experience with time travel than he would ever have. So he tried. To put it out of his mind. To not think about it.

It was difficult.

Y/N sat on Matt’s desk and riffled through a few more papers. “How’s work?” she asked.

Matt took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He opened his mouth — but she didn’t give him a chance to speak.

“I think I want to date Steve Rogers,” you admitted.

Matt’s eyebrows rose. It took him a second to adjust to the sudden change in conversation. “You want to date Captain America?”

“He’s a really genuinely nice guy,” you began. “Do you know how rare that is? And he’s actually honest. Like all the time. I’m not as precise at telling when people are lying as you are, but as someone without extra senses I’ve gotten pretty good at telling the difference.” You shrugged. “He’s . . . well, no man is safe, but he’s as safe as I’m going to get. If I’m going to date anyone, he’s probably the safest and most truthful option.”

It felt difficult for Matt not to latch onto that. Safest option.

He thought again about Billy Russo.

“It’s not your fault.”

“It is, though. I should have been more careful.”

Steve Rogers wasn’t the best option. He was the safest option.

Matt walked over and leaned against his desk, next to where you were sitting. “There’s just the small problem of everything he knows about you being a lie,” he pointed out.

“Eh. It’s like how you lie about Daredevil,” you countered, although you were aware that the level of dishonesty was vastly different. Matt was at least being mostly truthful about who he was as Matt Murdock — everything about the person you were putting before the Avengers was a fabrication. But. Po-tay-to, po-tah-to. “Besides, no one would actually date the real me. There’s too much crazy in here. So many red flags.”

Matt nodded. “Yeah, you’re right.”

You gasped in mock offence and hit his arm. He chuckled and you laughed through your nose.

“So, you’re choosing to trust this guy, then?” Matt asked. There weren't any accusations in there — he was actually kind of proud that she was expanding her circle of trust. Learning to let people in, at least somewhat.

But she snorted in response to his question. “Who the hell said anything about trust?”

“I might be wrong about this,” Matt began, sarcasm coating his words, “but shouldn’t you trust the person you’re in a relationship with?”

She shook her head, downing the rest of her coffee and setting down the mug. “I have a very short list of people that I trust and I don’t plan on it getting any longer. That’s how you survive.”

He disagreed. If there’s anything he learned over his time being Daredevil, it’s that one needed to surround themself with people they could trust. To cover for them. To get them out of situations they couldn’t get out themself. Matt tried the solo way for a long time and it never worked out for him.

But he wasn’t going to argue with her about that right now. Instead, he was curious. “So how many people are on your list?”

She seemed to consider his question. “Well, I guess it’s not really a list if it’s only one person.”

Matt chuckled, but there was something sad in it. “Ah. Just you, right?”

But Y/N shook her head. “No. You.”

Surprise left him speechless. But there was a warmth growing in his chest that he could not describe. And . . . .

He once told himself, She’s here. That’s all I’ll ask for. That’s all I want from her. She’s here. That’s enough. But this was more than that.

This was someone who had lost her faith in everything and everyone. Someone who suffered things he couldn’t even imagine, some horrors he knew but most he did not. She was skittish and she kept her distance— And yet. She had put her faith in him.

Her words were confirmation of something he didn’t know he needed.

“Besides,” she continued. “I know better than to trust myself. I know what that bitch is like and I do not trust her.”

“You trust me?” Matt asked softly.

She didn’t trust anyone, but she trusted him. She didn’t trust herself, but she trusted him.

Y/N seemed to squirm at his tone of voice and pass it off like it wasn’t a big deal. “Well . . . yeah. Look, you’re the only person who knew me from before, and I’ve known you longer than I’ve known anyone else. Trusting you just . . . makes sense. Y’know, logistically.”

You said it like it was a choice. To trust Matt. But the truth was that it wasn’t a conscious choice — it was an instinct. You trusted him. You trusted him like breathing.

Part of that scared you, but a larger part just felt natural. You knew him. He knew you. He deserved your trust, and he’d always had it.

Even when you felt like you hated him. Even when you weren’t sure if you knew who he was anymore. Even when it was probably a bad idea.

Because it was him.

For the same reason you dropped everything to save his life. It was a reflex. Because it was him it was a reflex.

You trusted him.

And there was nothing you could do to change that.

I changed my mind.

This is fucking terrifying.

“Well, I’m honoured,” Matt said with a smile.

“Yeah, whatever,” you said, even though his smile made you smile, too.

“And for the record,” he continued, “I trust you, too.”

“Yeah, of course you do,” you said confidently, ignoring the relief you felt from the answer to the question you didn’t realize you needed answered. You laughed through your next words. “Although I really think you shouldn’t. You know I make terrible choices.”

“I think you make the right ones when it counts,” Matt said, and he was struck by the sudden and overwhelming sense of deja vu.

“I run from things. You know me better than anyone, Matt. You know this about me.”

“Okay, but I think there’s a big difference between being a coward and just trying to survive. You run from things but you stick around when it matters.”

And that sense of dread settled back into his stomach, even with Y/N’s —present-day Y/N’s— warning not to dwell on it sitting in the back of his mind.

But what did he just say? That he trusted her?

It never helps to dwell on the future. You won’t know until you know. Trust me.

Make a note of it. But don’t obsess over it. It’ll only drive you crazy. Trust me.

Okay. Okay, he would put it out of his mind for now.

He trusted her.

And he would be ready to help her in the future when she needed it.

Y/N shook her head, still smiling. “I think you’re wrong, but you can believe what you want to believe.”

Matt took a breath. Exhaled. “So, Steve Rogers, huh?”

She shrugged. “He’s hot and nice. What more could I ask for?”

He hummed. “I think your standards are too low.”

“He’s Captain Fucking America, how much higher could the standard be?”

You had a lead.

Victor Harvey was the name Matt had pulled from Cigar Guy, the night you had lost your mask. Cigar Guy’s boss. The head of the trafficking ring.

You and Matt snuck in the back of an exclusive party where you knew Harvey would be. Matt was already in his Daredevil suit, ready to come out when you gave him the signal.

You needed to get Harvey to a secluded place, first.

You took the dress out of the bag you brought with you, and began stripping down to your underwear.

“I’d tell you to turn around,” you said to Matt as you were bare, save for bra and panties, “but I guess you really can’t stop yourself from seeing all of this, can you?” With his extra senses, was what you meant.

Matt only sighed, his version of rolling his eyes. You gave him a grin and began pulling on the dress. It was a tight, tight thing, in a sultry red. The dress went down to just past your knees, but it had a slit on one side that went high up on your thigh.

That was meant to distract from the knife strapped to your other thigh.

Matt was . . . a bit worried.

“You know there are other ways we can do this,” he murmured.

Y/N smoothed down her dress. “This way’s the easiest,” she said. “We have to get Harvey to a secure location to question him. Hard to do that by force when this place will be swarming with his goons. No sweat, Murdock,” she lightly pushed his shoulder, “I’ve done this a thousand times. Why do you think Widows have such pretty faces?” She framed her face for a second, then let her arms drop. “What a tragedy that you can’t tell that.”

There was an uneasiness in the pit of Matt’s stomach.

I’ve done this a thousand times. Why do you think Widows have such pretty faces?

He felt nauseous.

But before he could say anything more, Y/N slipped on her heels and she was off.

Victor Harvey was not difficult to find. He was chatting to an associate at the bar when you approached, taking the seat next to him and ordering some fruity cocktail.

He immediately shooed away his associate, his attention on you.

“I’ll pay for the lady’s drink, Jerry,” Harvey told the bartender. You flashed him a wide smile.

“Thank you.”

You turned your body toward him, giving him full access. He began chatting with you, asking your name, asking your profession, how you ended up here, yadda yadda yadda. You came prepared with all fake answers that rolled off your tongue so, so easily, just like you had been trained to do.

You let him caress the inside of your thigh, on the leg showing through the slit in your dress. You touched his arm and chest and gave high, breathy laughter.

He was putty in your hands.

You stroked his shoulders and ran your hands over his tie, playing with it. “Y’know, I hear this place has a secret bar downstairs.”

“It does,” he confirmed. “But there’s no bartender running that one tonight.”

You would be alone. Perfect. You gave Harvey a slight pout, conveying your disappointment. “But I wanted to see it,” you whined. You leaned your face in close to his, and lowered your voice. “Don’t you want to go somewhere more private?”

That did it. “Yeah, alright,” he said in a strained tone. He stood up and held out his hand for you. You took it and let him lead you to the door to the stairs, heading down to the basement.

He had to turn on some lights. The bar down there was smaller, and they were indeed alone. Harvey headed to the bar and sat down on one of the stools, then grabbed a bottle from behind the bar.

“Are you allowed to do that?” you asked in an amused, mischievous tone.

“I own this place; I can do whatever I want.” He poured two shots.

You remained standing as you downed the shot. Then you straddled him.

You had spent a long time learning how to disassociate yourself from stuff like this. This wasn’t you. This wasn’t your body. This was someone else. This was playing pretend. This was nothing. This was just the job. This was just the distraction.

The alcohol helped somewhat as you rolled your hips against him, already feeling his erection hard underneath you.

His hands were on your ass. You gave another roll and took his hands from you to put them on the bar behind him.

Another hard grind and his eyes were closed, head back. Completely at your mercy.

You kept up the rhythm as you reached down and grabbed.

And plunged your knife through his hand and into the wood of the bar.

He screamed in agony and you hopped off his lap. His eyes were wide and confused, half falling off the stool, his hand stuck. You gripped the back of his head and slammed his face into the bar. He gave another cry, too confused to form words.

You kept his face pressed to the bar and leaned in close, your claws digging into the back of his head and your sharp teeth barred at him. “The Devil’s come to collect, Harvey.”

You brought his head up — let him focus on the other side of the room.

Daredevil walked toward him, cutting an intimidating figure with his slow, purposeful strides and mouth in an even line.

Harvey struggled against your hold, crying out again when his movements pulled against his hand trapped to the wood.

“No, please, please—” he cried. “I got money, I got—”

You traded places with Matt and Daredevil slammed Harvey’s face into the bar, once, twice, until you were sure his nose was broken.

“Trafficking kids, Victor?” Matt asked in a dominant, steady voice, his hand still gripped around the back of Harvey’s head.

“I-I—”

“You run it, don’t you?”

When Harvey just sputtered again, you pinned his wrist to the bar and took out the knife — only to plunge it back in a different spot.

Harvey cried out again. “We were hired!” he managed after a moment. “My company just does the dirty work, we were hired by somebody else!”

That was news to the two of you. But your focus was on something else. You roughly grabbed his face, digging your claws into his soft flesh. “Why kids? What are you doing with them?”

“I don’t know!” he cried. “We just follow orders, take ‘em where we’re told. Then they’re taken somewhere else. I don’t know where! I swear!”

You looked at Matt. He gave you confirmation that Harvey was telling the truth.

“Who hired you?” Daredevil demanded.

“I only met him once or twice, I don’t know his name—”

You tightened your grip on his face. “Describe him.”

“He-he-he-he wore a mask, I don’t know what he looks like. And he, he had a thing, a-uh, a-uh, a voice-changer! He used a voice-changer!”

You took a deep breath, annoyed at the lack of answers you were getting. “Where did you meet him?”

“D-different place each time,” he sputtered. He gave you two addresses. “Warehouses. You can check ‘em.”

You released your grip on him, stepping back. You didn’t think you were going to get much else out of this guy. Whoever was on top, he was smart. He outsourced the trafficking and didn’t tell any of them the details.

Daredevil gave Harvey a sharp knee to his stomach. Harvey doubled over, wheezing. Hand still on the back of his head, Daredevil wrenched it back up.

“Anything else you’d like to add?”

“The-the-the mask! You can’t miss it. It was unique. You find the person with that mask, you find him.”

Matt’s head turned to you briefly, to make sure you were listening. It was you who needed to pay attention to this one. Only you would be able to recognize it, unless it had a strange shape that Matt could detect.

You took a half-step forward. Daredevil’s attention slid back to Harvey. “What did it look like,” he said evenly.

“It was an animal,” Harvey began, his eyes closing like he was having a hard time remembering. “Or-orange. Got a big nose. It was a-uh, it was a . . . a . . . fox! That’s it! It was a fox mask!”

A thousand buckets of ice water

dumped over you

, leaving you very

cold

, very

still

, very

. . . very

very . . .

panicked.

Matt felt Y/N’s heart rate spike out of nowhere, and she lunged for Harvey, slamming his face into the bar.

“What did you just say,” she hissed.

“A fox! It was a fox mask! I swear!”

Matt could hear Y/N’s teeth tightly pressed together as she spoke again, “Are you sure.”

“Yes, I’m sure! Yes, I’m sure!”

She let go and took a step back.

She was shaking.

Then Y/N went for Harvey again, roughly pulling the knife from his hand and pinning him to the bar where she held the point of the knife near his eye.

“You forget my face,” she seethed. “Or I will carve out your eyes.”

“Okay, okay! I won’t remember you, I swear!”

After a moment longer, Y/N took her knife back and stepped out of Harvey’s space once more.

Matt slammed Harvey’s head into the bar one more time to knock him out. Once he was satisfied that he was unconscious, he reached for the phone behind the bar, called 9-1-1, and gave them a quick message to come pick up the man running a child trafficking ring.

Then Y/N’s hand was around his wrist, and Matt’s surroundings

shifted suddenly, to what he knew to be his apartment.

Y/N placed his hand on the back of something to orient himself —the couch, he realized after a moment— then headed to the kitchen.

You were trying not to think.

The panic was threatening to drown you and you were trying not to think—

You tore through Matt’s kitchen.

Fridge.

Cabinets.

Drawers.

Fucking NOTHING

“Why the fuck is there no alcohol in this FUCKING apartment?!” You knew how your voice must have sounded. Stressed. Panicked.

Unraveling.

Dimly, you recognized that you could leave. Teleport to your apartment where you kept alcohol and Oxy in abundance.

But you didn’t want to.

And it wasn’t until later that you realized why.

You wanted Matt within arm’s reach.

You needed Matt within arm’s reach.

Waves of panic and fear were lapping at your body, threatening to drown you, and alcohol and pills could help you pretend that the water wasn’t pouring down your throat— but Matt was a liferaft.

Something to hold onto. To keep from drowning completely.

But in this moment all you knew was that you could not leave this apartment — and that there was no alcohol to be found.

“Y/N,” came Matt’s voice, cutting clear and through your panic. You finally looked at him — his helmet was off and his eyebrows were knitted together in worry or concern or confusion.

You gripped the kitchen island next to you. “Do you remember the recurring nightmare I had as a kid? From the mugging I saw? The—” You hesitated. “The fox.”

Matt’s head titled. “Y/N, this is just a coincidence—”

“No,” you asserted. “No, no, no, no, no, no, no. This is not a coincidence. That night I saw someone wearing a fox mask. I thought I had misremembered it but I didn’t. My fucking eidetic memory got every fucking detail.”

“But you haven’t seen the mask the trafficking ring-leader wears,” Matt tried to reason with you. “Just because they’re both a fox doesn’t mean it’s the same one. What are the odds that this guy was outside Saint Agnes twenty years ago? What would he have even been doing there?”

You needed to get him to listen to what you were saying. To believe you. “He was there because I was there.”

You had left your wolf mask at Matt’s apartment, and you went to grab it now, heading to Matt with the mask in your hand.

“There were two people in that alleyway. One with a fox mask — and one with this mask.” You shoved the wolf mask into his hands. “That’s where I’d seen it before. That night. One guess who was wearing it.”

Matt didn’t look convinced. “You think you brought him back in time with you?”

“I’m not seeing any other explanations here.” He wasn’t getting it. He wasn’t understanding what you had already understood — that it was too much of a coincidence: your wolf mask showing up in your past with the fox-masked person from your nightmares and now the leader of the child trafficking ring being someone with a fox mask— It was too close to things you couldn’t understand about it, the similarities being too much to ignore. And your body was shaking with fear and the frustration that he was not. Getting it.

“But why would you do that?” Matt’s voice was calm, rational (—an effort on his part—), while you were struggling to keep it together enough to try to convince him of this. You rubbed your face frantically as he spoke. “Why would you take him back in time to when we were kids? To right outside Saint Agnes?”

“I DON’T FUCKING KNOW!” you screamed, unable to bottle it anymore. “OKAY? I DON’T FUCKING KNOW.” You took a gulping breath, but it didn’t help as the tears began to fill your eyes, your voice growing more unsteady by the word. “Do you know what this is like?! Do you know the things that I’ve seen and can’t understand?! There’s a future version of me, out here doing things and making choices that I don’t the reason behind because it HASN’T FUCKING HAPPENED YET! And this mask—” you tore it from his hands, “—showed up in my past, and now the leader of this child trafficking ring wears a fox mask just like the one in my nightmares as a child—” there were full, uncontrollable sobs tearing from your mouth now, stealing air from your chest, “—and a future version of me came back to talk to you and I don’t know why and you can’t tell me the reason because I can’t know anything about my future— I fucking hate time travel, Matt!” The truth of it ripped from somewhere deep within you. A place you had ignored and pushed down for a long time. “I fucking hate it! It is terrifying! Time travel is terrifying! And I have no fucking idea what to do—”

You voice dissolved into hiccuping sobs and you couldn’t breathe you couldn’t breathe you couldn’t breathe—

You felt Matt reach for you, grabbing your body and wrapping his arms around you, roughly, tightly, as if he could keep you together by pressure alone.

You gripped his back and shoulders, finding grooves in the suit to latch onto, and you held on so tightly it hurt your hands — holding on as if letting go would sweep you away and drown you in the fear and unknown—

And you still couldn’t breathe, the choking sobs stealing away all your air—

And even as you felt Matt’s hand on the back of your head, trying to steady you, you couldn’t you couldn’t you couldn’t—

She disappeared out of his arms.

Matt, still reeling, heart pounding loudly in his ears, managed to find his phone and dialed Y/N’s number.

No answer.

When she finally came back, it was like she was an entirely different person.

Matt stood when he realized she was back in the apartment, but she simply grabbed her mask and toyed with it, tossing it from hand-to-hand.

“There’s a very real possibility that this is not a coincidence,” she said. Her voice was even now. There was no emotion in it. “And if it isn’t, then we have to be ready for it.”

“Are you okay?” Matt asked softly.

No.

You were numb.

“I just needed to clear my head,” she answered after a moment. He knew what that was code for. “So here’s what we know—” And she began relaying to him in detail what she had seen as a kid, the two figures in the alleyway, and everything they knew about the child trafficking ring, which wasn’t much.

Matt listened to her numb, lifeless voice speak, his full attention on her. Waiting to see if he needed to step in again.

Hating that she tore herself away. Hating that she was trying to cope with this alone.

Hating just how much he really didn’t know about what she had suffered. For not realizing that time travel could be traumatic, too.

Finally, Y/N collapsed down onto the couch, still playing with her mask in her hands.

“I suppose there’s a possibility that this guy is a time traveller as well,” she mused, but he could tell she didn’t really take the thought seriously. “Figures. I knew this day would come. It’s my narrative foil come to get me.”

He didn’t understand what she meant by that. “What?”

“Y’know, he would be like the evil version of me. Most heroes have them.” And something changed in her voice over her next words, something a little less numb and little more . . . herself. “Superman has Zod; Green Lantern has Sinestro; the Flash has the Reverse Flash—”

She paused as her head turned to him. And Matt realized that there must have been a relieved smile on his face.

She was so far from okay. But she was still in there, and that part of her was still fighting to break through the rest of it.

“What?” she asked him.

He breathed through his nose, shaking his head a bit. “You’re such a nerd.”

The reaction that pulled out of her was 100% her — she sat up and there was no numbness in her voice as she tried to defend herself. “Shut up; you liked them, too.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t remember all of that stuff off-hand,” he teased.

“I have an eidetic memory, so sue me,” she shot back.

There was a moment of pause.

Then she exhaled.

It was like some weight had left her body. She let herself fall back onto the couch, the exhaustion clear in her movements.

Her head turned to him. She kept opening and closing her mouth, like she was trying to figure out what to say. To offer him some kind of explanation.

Instead, Matt offered her an out. “Do you want me to order some pizza?”

She smiled at him. It was small, but it was there. She nodded.

Y/N had fallen asleep by the time Matt had finished making the order, and was still asleep when the pizza arrived.

Matt knelt next to the couch by Y/N’s head, and opened the pizza box. It had the desired effect — consciousness seemed to flood into her and her eyes blinked open.

She grinned and sat up, taking the pizza box from his hands and setting it on her lap. She took a piece and began wolfing it down.

God, trauma was so fucking exhausting.

You could feel it in your body, the toll that your panic-induced meltdown had taken from you. The alcohol and Oxy had numbed it, but the fear was still there, in the back of your mind. As if the anxiety clawed behind a locked door. You were safe, for now— but you could still hear the scratching.

Matt sat next to you on the couch and reached for a slice. The two of you ate in silence for a few moments.

Matt’s side was already flush against yours (that’s how close he was sitting), but you felt his shoulder nudge you.

A question. Or a comfort, maybe.

You simply turned a bit so you could lean your back against him, continuing to eat your pizza. Let him be a steady presence behind you. For at least this moment.

For now, you were stable. You were numb enough to keep it together, and you knew that whatever came next with the man in the fox mask —whether or not he was the same figure from your past— Matt would help you deal with it.

Put it out of your mind.

It’ll only drive you crazy.

Next Chapter

A/N: As always, I'd love to hear your theories!

Tag List: @stupidiout100 @coff3e-and-biscuits @caswinchester2000 @waywardsister1111 @ummvengers @asongofmarvelanddc @1971marauders @krazy-katt-lady @flowercrowns3438 @takethee @lov3vivian @burn-crash-rqmance

#daredevil #matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #daredevil x reader #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock x you #daredevil imagine #daredevil x you #devil may cry wolf

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