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space-mermaid-writing · 1 year

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A mission gone wrong [IronStrange]

Request by @puppi-sonnenschein : >I am also a lover of whumpy situations. If you are comfortable with writing stuff like this I would love to read about Stephen being all bad ass Sorcerer Supreme and maybe overdoing it a little? Maybe he is hiding an injury and only Tony is noticing something is amiss because all the other Avengers just think of Stephen as arrogant?<

Ko-fi | Masterlist | Word count: 1.1k | Part 2

Tags: Pre-IronStrange, bamf Stephen, Hurt Stephen, Tony is there to catch him

Author’s note: I’m slowly working my way through the requests. This one was fun to write, even though it took me two or three tries before I was satisfied with the result.

A mission gone wrong

It was a disaster.

What seemed to be a simple mission got completely out of control.

Tony dodged an energy beam, counterattacked it with a blast of his own. His suit was missing nanobots that were destroyed in the fight; parts of his shoulder and arm were exposed. He was too focused on the fight, but Friday had mentioned some scratches and a laceration on his head.

The rest of the team looked similarly battered.

These guys were enhanced, wielding some kind of force powers and wearing tech gear that came straight out of a cyberpunk movie. Friday had started analyzing their every move as soon as Tony arrived on the battlefield, but she had not yet figured out the origin of their powers. All they knew was that these guys were strong and very aggressive.

Someone jumped on his back and Tony cursed. The extra weight wasn't a problem – his suit could hold it – but his opponent tried to peel him like a canned sardine. Not cool. Especially since they were also partially successful with their metal claws. Albeit slowly. A code red appeared on Tony’s screen. “Yes, I noticed, Friday. Thanks.”

He tried to shake off his opponent, but his back repulsors were out of order.

“I could need some help,” Natasha asked via comm.

“I’m quite busy over here.”

“Give me a minute.”

Tony crashed backwards into a house wall, throwing off his unwanted passenger – and giving himself a few bruises in the process.

Friday brought Natasha’s position up on the screen. Peter was already swinging her way.

Still, there was no time to catch his breath, because the next moment he was under fire from two opponents at once. He threw his shields into the air.

That was it.

“Fri, call backup!”

“All available Avengers are on deck.”

“Then call someone else.”

Tony used his shield to get in front of his opponents and blasted him off his feet. A brief hand to hand combat ensued before he knocked them out for good.

The engineer spun around just in time and raised his arms protectively in front of him as a car was thrown at him.

Rude.

He was thrown on his back from the weight alone – with the car on his chest. The thrower jumped on top of the car and pushed against him. These people were insane.

Friday’s sensor picked up something and Tony heard a familiar brizzle. "You called the wizard?" he asked his A.I. flabbergasted.

“Wakanda was too far away for them to arrive in time.”

Great. Tony had planned to impress Strange the next time they met, but he could probably forget that now. Instead he had to be saved like a damsel in distress. Although Tony would make a great princess…

Focus!

There was still a car on top of him.

Red glowing ropes appeared like biting snakes, grabbed the enemy and pulled him off his feet with a loud yelp. Tony managed to push the car off him and scrambled to his feet. Strange was hovering nearby and had the audacity to throw a wink at him, before he jerked the red robes backwards, causing the enemy to fly high through the air. The guy disappeared falling somewhere on the next block

Stephen landed next to Tony. “You called?”

He looked way too smug, which was why Tony responded, “Friday did. Not me.”

Stephen smirked knowingly and Tony wanted to kiss that stupid smile off his face.

“We have everything under control,” Tony lied. Something exploded down the street and the engineer really hoped that the cause had been one of Clint's trick arrows.

“If this is what you being in control looks like, I don’t want to know what you losing control would be like.” The cloak of levitation took Stephen high in the air, before Tony could think of something clever in return.

This was really not his day. He needed a drink. Or a nap. Maybe both.

Tony was not a fan of magic, but he had to admit that it was efficient. Or Stephen was just very powerful. The sorcerer moved his hands in complicated patterns, throwing glowing mandalas at any visible opponent.

Tony used this to check on his teammates and went over to Cap to help him clean up from the ground. Nat appeared at their sides with a split lip and a grim face but still on her feet and fighting. It seemed the tide had turned with Strange's arrival.

Tony shot blasts after blasts, relying on Friday for aiming. He gritted his teeth, willing to fight exhaustion with sure stubbornness alone. He was tired and it slowed him down more and more. They all were. And it was the reason they didn’t notice the attack that was aimed at them from an ambush.

It hit Steve, who stumbled backwards with a grunt. The blast wasn’t deadly but it took even the super soldier out of order for a moment.

Tony raised his shields before, expecting the second attack that followed. But before it hit the trio, Strange jumped in, a spell in his hands. The blast hit the sorcerer instead, who was thrown backwards. He managed to stay on his feet and moved his fingers. The magic shifted and consumed the energy of the attack, transforming it into a blinding sphere of light, which he threw back at the attacker.

The sphere exploded on impact and for a moment bathed everything in a biting light. Tony was glad to hit a helmet, because the readings Friday gave him were off the scale.

Silence fell over the battlefield. There were no more attacks, no more enemies moving. It was over.

Peter landed next to Tony, "Wow, that was insane."

Cap also was back to his feet. He was holding the side where he had been hit, but otherwise he seemed fine.

The Avengers gathered on the sidewalk afterwards. None of them were unharmed, but those were all minor injuries. Strange approached them slowly. He had a bloody scratch on his face, which the Cloak of Levitation wiped off with a corner of its fabric.

Tony had retreated his face plate in order to talk to Peter and to make sure the boy was okay. So it was Rogers who turned to the sorcerer first.

"Thanks for your help, Doctor. You arrived just in time." He held his hand out to him, but Strange barely glanced at it.

“You don’t need me for the clean up, do you?” he asked instead.

Rogers withdrew his hand, irritated. Of course, the aftermath of the battle would be handled quicker and more efficiently with the sorcerer's powers, but they wouldn’t force him to stay. It was rare that Strange was so short worded, he was usually much more of a sarcastic asshole. That was why he and Tony clashed so often. But that was also why they were a great team. Maybe the sorcerer was annoyed that he had to come to their rescue for a non-magical threat.

“No, we’re good.”

Strange merely nodded, turned and stepped away.

After only a few steps he coughed, red splattering on his hands. As soon as he saw it, he hid his hand under his cloak. As well as the fact that he winced with every move he made. He wanted to leave but Tony had noticed the falter in his movements.

“Hey, Doc. That was pretty badass of you.” The engineer stepped to his side, still tired but with the certainty that they had eliminated the danger and saved the day.

“Sure.” The sorcerer dismissed him, not in the mood for their usual banter, that was definitely not flirting. He just wanted to go home.

That made Tony pause and he eyed him more closely. “You okay, Strange?”

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t seem fine,” Tony insisted.

“It’s nothing.”

“Bullshit!”

Normally, Stephen found Tony's directness endearing, but right now it was nothing but annoying. He closed his eyes briefly, fighting a short wave of nausea. Maybe he overdid it a bit. “I have to go,” he mumbles.

His fingers reach for the sling ring in his belt, shaking. He was so used to it, he didn't even notice that his whole body had started to shake, too. But Tony did. He also didn't notice that Tony put his hand on his shoulder and looked at him worriedly.

The world around Stephen started to spin. In order to stay on his feet, he put a hand on the next best thing: Tony. He reminded himself to breathe – inhale and exhale. His fingers dug into the sleek metal of the Iron Man suit and another pain ran through his hands. It was familiar, but made him gasp anyway and he instinctively let go, taking a step to the side.

It was the wrong decision, his knees buckled. But instead of a hard ground, strong arms caught him.

“Shit, Doc. They really did a number on you.” Tony lifted him up, while the cloak wrapped around the sorcerer’s body.

Stephen mumbled something, barely aware of his surroundings anymore.

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pico-digital-studios · 7 months

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Into, Above and Beyond! Cast: Mr. Needlemouse

Replaces: Spider-Ham Made by: @mcgamejolter

“Am I a hedgehog or a rabbit? Who knows?! I just call myself Needle the Rabbit-Hog!”

Is he a hedgehog? Or perhaps a rabbit? I mean, who really knows? What I can say about Mr. Needlemouse here is that he inhabits a cartoon world of his own, sporting cartoonish physics even outside his land.

His usual routine is a mix of enjoying chilli dogs (the loss of one he had the burden of being his canon event) and fighting the villainous Dr. Beeman (think Robotnik's classic bee outfit, but also including bee's wings on his back), each time of which emerges victorious for the plucky hedgerabbit. Oh, yeah. He also faces foes like The Killer Six, Chomper Shark, Bomb-Bastic, Loonatic Hunter, and the Ferocious Fly.

After one of his tangles with Dr. Beeman, though, a portal appeared which dragged the rabbithog into the OMT dimension, where he met OMT!Tails and the members of the Blur Gang thus far at that point. From there, this guy's the one to serve as the comic relief for when things start to get a bit rough.

As such, he serves as the fifth major member of the Blur Gang starting from One More Hero. He does express several jerk-like qualities, and is like that just for the heck of it, but still pulls through for his true companions.

He even comes to rescue EX!Alice from harm and gives Surge a good beating, though due to the limits on his toon powers, he can absolutely humiliate his opponents, but if he wasn't limited, any attacks from him to a villain would prove fatal. Due to this, an anvil to the head just went and near-harmlessly buried half of Surge's body underground.

Before it was time for him to head back to his dimension at the end of One More Hero during the final fight, Mr. Needlemouse lent OMT!Tails his signature hammer to make use of, and due to its hyperspace properties, he could always fit it in his pocket (or equivalent of). He made a grand exit by proclaiming "That's all, folks!", leaving CR!Sonic a bit confused, citing "Wait, can he legally quote that?".

Though he doesn't actively partake in More than One Universe's events, he does return for Into the Sonic-verse and Many More Heroes (the AU's version of Across the Spider-Verse), with the Blur Gang fully formed in time for this new batch of chaos.

Even then, he remains the main guy for comedy around this AU, and nothin' can change that! Prior to Many More Heroes, he also had a good laugh making an absolute fool out of Errorverse Eggman and his SSSSS Squad, being an absolutely-hilarious prick about it and causing them trouble just for the heck of it. It's to the point that the three dumbots were mainly assigned to catch Mr. NM whilst Metal and Sage paid more attention to EV!Sonic and Nitro. NM still has a good heart under all his troublemaking, of course. Don't worry.

That's also where he's technically a foil for AOSTH!Sonic, the original cartoon iteration of the blue blur; whilst they're both cartoons, AOSTH!Sonic is firmly heroic, whilst Mr. NM is a straight-up prick to a lot of people. The two initially got along marvelously due to being toons, though AOSTH!Sonic began losing his trust in the rabbit-hog when discovering his jerk act, especially when Mr. NM shrugged off the former recalling his angst and sarcastically remarking that it's a miracle he's even got a friend to be with.

And Mr. NM's reason for joining the Quill Society part-time?

"Am I a useless asset? Sure! Heroic qualities? None. But I'm loyal if you feed me, and I'll never leave you because... well, I need the food."

As one of the scene posts shows, in Many More Heroes, he made a small bet with Mini Sonic as to whether or not OMT!Tails would get back from his scuffle with Crimtake in one piece. Of course, he did, so the rabbit-hog owed the miniature hedgehog 100 rings.

Bet you're glad I didn't say he had a cannon event

If you have any questions about him, @mcgamejolter's the one to ask, since he did make the character.

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic exe #spider verse #sth #sonic #sonic au #sonic fandom #sth au #sonic oc

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youcouldmakealife · 2 years

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SOTM: Willy/Owen; Outlet

For the prompt: Even MORE “its complicated” from Willy and Owen

There’s something about Pyrrhic victories that make them feel so much worse than defeats. Maybe it’s because he’s alone in the feeling — when the Scouts lose, nobody in the locker room’s smiling. But right now? Right now they’re all laughing it up, slapping backs and shouting into each other’s faces, too caught up in their victory to see just how fucked they are in the long run.

Tate keeps his head down until he has to talk to the media, where they’re in a detente. He knows, they know, they want him to say it, and he isn’t going to. He says the safe things. One game at a time. Keeping his eye on the prize. They’re cliches, but, like all cliches, they come from a place of truth.

Once the media lets him off after failing to drag anything more committal out of him, Tate takes a short, lukewarm shower, just long enough to get the sweat off, biting back the urge to tell some of the guys in the showers that it’s for hygiene, not idle conversation. Nine times out of ten during the season, he’s the one chatting in the showers, and it’s bad enough being a buzzkill without adding hypocrisy to the mix.

Everyone’s smart enough to leave him alone, or just caught up in their own shit, oblivious. Knowing the guys, it’s probably more the second one, possibly with an extra dose of being shit-scared of ‘Playoff Willy’ but whatever.

“You know, Willy,” Shithead says, not smart or scared, and Tate’s tensing even before he says, “we won.”

“Shithead, buddy,” Money says from a safely distant spot, in a voice that Tate thinks is meant to be as much warning as invitation, and Shithead peels off before Tate can inform him that he is well aware that they won, Brandon, but at what fucking cost is that win when they’ve now lost the second half of their first fucking pair.

Everyone keeps a wide berth, thankfully. The obliviously cheerful chatter’s enough to get under his skin, and he jerks his clothes on, noticing how tight he is, and not just with tension. He considers asking Mac to work on his right hamstring, but Ferris is talking to him, and he’s favoring something right now. If he’s noticed, so have their opponents. Tate will come in before practice if it’s still bothering him.

There are a few players talking plans, but when Tate pays attention, it’s just grabbing a late dinner together, so he doesn’t interfere. It’s the young guns; if they did go straight home, they’d just end up ordering food anyway, and they’re more likely to eat according to their nutrition plans at a restaurant in front of teammates than if they’re getting shit delivered to eat without an audience. Peer pressure is good for these kinds of things.

“You good?” Money asks, and when Tate looks over at him, his face is solemn. He knows what they lost, if nobody else seems to.

“He’s one of the pieces, Money,” Tate says.

“Next man up, Playoff Willy,” Money says. “That’s all you can ask for.”

“Next man up,” Tate says, and hopes that’ll be enough, or, at the very least, that whoever they’re facing down the line will have pieces punched out of them too. A wounded opponent is desperate, and that’s dangerous, but not when you’re desperate too. Then it’s just a fair fight.

Tate goes home, heats up a prepared meal, fighting the urge to read the postgame reactions — that’s the worst possible thing he could do, so of course it’s what he wants to do most. His kitchen isn’t big enough to pace properly, but his body, on autopilot, is doing its damnedest. He won’t be able to sleep if he’s still like this. While shovelling food into his mouth he considers who would be up, and free, and not insulted by a booty call. He’s not fit for strangers right now.

But then he starts calculating the timeline, slotting in how long it’ll take someone to respond, do the back and forth, them coming over, or for him to get to their place, the earliest he can politely go to sleep, the minimum amount of sleep he needs, how quickly he can get out of there in the morning, or get them out without seeming rude —

Tate shoves his phone away, frustrated, then pulls it right back to him less than a minute later. The last thing he wants right now is to be alone with his thoughts.

A text notification from Owen pops up as he does. Under a Congrats! Tate didn’t read — postgame congratulations add up, especially during the playoffs — Owen’s followed up with Apparently not congrats?

Or maybe half congrats?

I am getting very mixed messages from Joey.

Tate snorts. It was a mixed message kind of night.

I don’t know enough about hockey to insightfully comment but I assume that is not good.

That sucks and I’m sorry.

Unless it is good mixed messages in which case ignore me.

Actually either way ignore me.

Tate huffs out quiet breath. It’s kind of nice, actually, talking to someone who genuinely isn’t in the loop. If Owen doesn’t know something it’s because it’s not something he’s familiar with, not like he’s willfully ignoring unpleasant things, or like he should know better.

How are finals? Tate asks.

Sometimes I think undergrads are getting dumber by the year but it’s probably just me getting more cynical with time.

Tate was expecting a change of subject to distract him, not Owen being extremely relatable. Replace undergrads with rookies, and — well, actually, he would venture that the rookies are all more mature than Shithead, but he’s an outlier, Tate supposes.

Or you’re getting smarter.

Oh no definitely just more cynical.

Joey says you’re the smartest dude he knows.

I’m pretty sure at this point Joey says that about anyone who hasn’t set themselves on fire before.

I legitimately worry about his and Nick’s safety.

Tate laughs out loud this time.

Yeah me too. Don’t worry I keep an eye out for them.

That is genuinely a relief, thank you.

Tate twists his fork in between his fingers, starts to write.

Hey do you want

He deletes it.

What are you doi

Deletes it.

Are you up to

Delete.

He blows out a breath, brings his shit to the sink. Tells himself not to be selfish. That mantra of his, probably not one his sports therapist would approve of, and always hardest to follow right around now. Easiest, too. Everything for the team. But when the team isn’t involved, he’s at a loss.

Tate rinses his fork, his plate, loads them in the dishwasher. Checks his phone, but Owen hasn’t responded. Tate replies with You are very welcome, not expecting a response to that. A natural end to the conversation until one of them picks it up again. And that’s fine. That’s totally fine.

What are you up to right now?

Tate tries and fails to bite back a smile. Which is fine. It’s not like anyone can see him right now.

Absolutely nothing at all, he replies, and waits for Owen to save him from himself.

#fic snippet #SOTM #tate williams #owen thomson

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introloves · 3 years

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@virgoamajiki: hhnngggg no thoughts just boxer!bokuto fucking you senseless after seeing the other boxer he was supposed to fight that night flirting w/ u just to rile him up and throw him off his game.

— soft dom! bokuto + boxer! bokuto + mentions of harassment in the beginning + overstimulation / dumbification + size kink + comfort + praise + breath play + squirting + fluffy end + bokuto calls reader ‘puppy’ + f! reader

— word count; approx 2.6k

— part of my boxerverse! bokuto: one shot no. 1

he can’t blink back the images of you during the fight. the near deafening roars of his name all fadded into nothingness as he stalked towards his opponent- bokuto was dead set on putting him down.

the prick had really managed to get under his skin at the weigh in, picking you out- pointing directly at you and asking why you didn’t hop on over, he said you’d be better taken care of.

you’d sat there, wide eyed, clearly scared and taken back by his words. you only spared him a glance. instead turning with wide eyes at your boyfriend, now scared for the other man. frantic eyes shot up to look for his own- it was clear what you wanted, you looked scared and your face held a look that said;

“bo, please don’t.”

and usually, that look would disarm him completely- but not now- not now when he can see the way your eyes watered and lips trembled at the words.

he is sorry for not looking at you right away, sorry for not giving you the comfort you need-

but he’s not sorry for lunging over to the other side, barreling straight past staff that looked minuscule compared to his towering form. microphones clashing onto the floor with clear intent.

it’s complete chaos, bokutos manager grabbing him, holding him back down onto the seat, hissing in his ear that he’ll have a chance to go at him, “in the ring.”

you sit, dazed by the clamor and rapid snapping of cameras that bathe the two of you like a shower of pure light.

but he sits back down, hand clamped over your thigh, squeezing you, using your body as a stress ball. he can’t even look at his opponent, amber eyes focused on nothing more than your trembling knee- koutarou truly thinks he might kill him.

when he finally enters the ring, it doesn’t take long for the bastard to get dropped. its almost comical how short the match ends— usually bokuto would have put a little more show into it, letting him take a couple of hits before handling it, dragging it out to fluff his ego, showing everyone that he was the king, but not now.

as soon as his opponent is down, spread out on the white canvas- he steps once towards the body— pushed away by the referee in panic with the way he looms over him a little longer than necessary. the referee looking over at his teams side, shoving him back into his corner before calling the end of the match.

he lets his body get shoved into his corner, scoffing at the way the man lays there... pathetic.

bokuto doesnt even react to the roars of the crowd- walks past his team and into the locker rooms.

it feels like it takes forever to get back to you, normally you’d be at the ringside, but for this round he didn’t want you there and you not being able to do that, especially for a fight like this has you on edge. waiting for your koutarou to come home. the tension is almost suffocating when you finally hear the door slam closed.

you know hes not mad at you, thats not who the shake of the house is directed at. bokuto has always been a gentle giant with you— an overexcited, loving, and sweet giant.

he walks straight into the room, tugging off his shirt, shorts, leaving a trail of clothes as he makes a beeline right to you. there’s a deep want, need to have you, it feels like someone’s pressing down onto his chest- a tight ball of... anger and fear swirling around there.

it softens when he see’s you though, cuddled up on the bed, eyes lidded as you smile at him, welcoming him home. when he touches you, your body still warm from an almost sleep, he feels the sharp edges of anger melt away. there was no need for him to angry or scared at the words his opponent had thrown your way- he wasn’t the one about to fuck you to sleep... but the small tingle of fear and anger didn’t leave him completely.

“baby.” you murmur, hands outstretched to bring him into your space, the big body of his instantly melting down to your form, elbows perched on either side of your head- trapping you completely in.

“saw you drop him... first round.” voice heavy with lust and want, he was so strong and powerful and all yours. legs drop down onto the bed to let him in, ready for him, waiting for him.

“yeah, had to.” bokuto responds back, whispering it against your lips before he kisses you, licking into your mouth with heavy strokes of his tongue, all but tracing his name onto the front of your teeth.

“he scared you didnt he?” he growls, hissing at the way your heat wiggles to find his cock. bokuto shifts to hold the weight of his upper body on just one arm, slipping a hand down to tug your bottoms off.

“mhm.” you whimper back, gripping onto his shoulders, body jerking with every pull.

“did you see how i took care of him, pretty thing?” kou spits, pulse quickening at the wetness that meets his knuckle, trailing the back of his hand up your cunt before slipping a finger against your folds, splitting them open to briefly glance at your exposed pussy.

“fuck- course you did, thats why you’re so wet, huh?”

you cant really say anything, because he was right- seeing him knock that man out with one punch, straight to the jaw, sent heat flooding through your veins, proof of it formed in the shape of pure slick painting the outside of your cunt, between your thighs, pooling in your bottoms. its kinda silly, he knows what he does to you, knows you love watching him in his element, eyes hardened and face laxed in total concentration and an air of cockiness to him when he steps in the ring. he knows you love it, cause you’re always drooling into your panties when he comes to you after a match.

“real wet.” he marvels once more, sinking a finger all the way down to the knuckle and all you can do in response is open your legs wider, tilting yourself up to show him how ready and receptive you were for him.

“good girl.” his voice is tight and low- something like a growl with the way you move against his one finger. its enough to snap the string of self restraint he had, pure unbridled energy bouncing off him as he departs from you- just for a second, to kiss you harshly.

its a mix of tongue, spit, and teeth- strings of your passion still hanging from between the two as he leans back to look at your form, wiggling around in need of him.

its okay, he thinks, he’ll give you what you want.

and he does, doesn’t take long for him to grab the base of his thick and heavy cock, letting it slap against your cunt a couple times before squeezing the head of him inside- nice and snug. it makes him lightheaded, he cant think of anything but you- a fever crawls up his sculpted back, a need to just sink in and fuck you silly, but he wants something from you first.

“who do you belong to puppy?” he inquires gruffly, not moving an inch, watching the way you blink up at him through tears.

“w-what?” its sudden, your sweet and kind bo almost never talked like this in bed, it makes you salivate, a heat flushing down your back.

“c’mon- tell me who you belong to.” he hisses once more, splaying one of his big, strong, veiny hands across your chest, pushing down- locking you against the bed.

he still hasn’t moved, and the fluttering of your pussy down on the head of his dick makes him grunt- muscled stomach tensing with each one. he comes back to you- a little softer in the way his words sound, carrying that sweetness you know and love.

“please, tell me you’re mine.” he whispers, moving the hand that had you pinned down up towards your neck, rough callouses rubbing against the soft and sensitive skin there.

its a juxtaposition of kind, vulnerable words mixing in with the harsher movements of his strong hand curling against your airway, frantic in the need to hear it from you.

you know what he needs, and you’re more than happy to comply, wanting nothing more than to make him feel better. your hand moves up to wrap around his wrist, pulling him in close, eyes burning with hot tears forming there at the lack of blood- but you continue, till the next words are all but hissed, high and tight.

“yours, i’m all yours koutarou, my king.”

there isn’t anything he could have done to prepare for that, he stutters, chokes on the lust heavy in his chest, he feels like there’s molten want dripping down his veins- swirling into a tight ball at the pit of his stomach.

all he can do is rear back, hips lifting off you, popping the head of him out and you nearly whine, nearly ask him whats wrong before he slams down in one hard and desperate stroke, catching the skin of your cunt harshly, but its okay- there would have been no way you’d survive in a relationship with him if you didn’t like a little pain.

when his hips make contact with your cunt, puffy lips giving him cushion- he grinds down, smashing your clit down against his pubes.

eyes shut tight, a choked sob tumbling from your lips in response, head teetering back onto the bed.

“koutarou! fuck! fuck!” words high and staccato-ed are echoed out into the room, he feeds off the broken syllables of his name tumbling from your lips.

he looks at you while he squeezes his fingers against the thrum of your quickened pulse underneath his hand- watching your eyes roll back, the whites of them on clear display as lips part, a silent scream painted onto the moments of your face-

the bed groans, creaks with each crushing thrust he gives you, drilling you down into the bed.

“keep saying my name puppy, keep saying it.” he grunts looking at you with a feverish and concentrated gaze, affected in how well you stroke his ego, chest feeling incredibly full, the prickle of his orgasm starts, but there was /no/ way he’d come before his baby.

the hand that wasn’t wrapped around your throat sweeps down your arching body until his thumb finds your twitching clit- immediately pressing down on it with enough force that his thumb turns white. it rips a scream straight from the center of your chest and your body starts seizing up.

he huffs out a laugh when he sees the way your hips cant up off the bedding- it nearly pushes him back, but he stays unwavering, following the movement of your spasming body.

“koutarou!” his name leaves your mouth in the form of a wail while he batters your cunt, you don’t even know you’re moving the way you are- hands falling to rest pitifully against your head.

“ah- that’s my girl.” bokuto beams, seeing the splash of your cum arch all the way up to hit his tummy- abs glistening with every contraction as his hips drill into you- he gives in, taking the thumb that had been squeezing your clit down onto your body and sticking it into his mouth, watching you with lidded eyes as he licks the cum off his hand, all while keeping your neck pinned down and chasing the frantic movements of your hips.

there’s no immediate reaction from you when he picks up your legs- weak with the strain you’ve put them under, and folds them up to your chest.

the only thing you do is intake a lungful of air, dazed eyes looking up at him- not knowing how he got so close to your face.

it’s the first slap of his heavy balls against your ass that makes you come back from it all-

“p-please!!” you cry, eyes wide. the force of him still pistoning into you makes your body bounce off the shaking bed, and thanks to the squirting orgasm he fucked out of you with his thick cock- building a near searing sensitivity into the walls of your cunt and clit, you cum once more. it’s the final break into a headspace that has you twitch and flail your legs, wiggling against the hold of his arms.

“yeah- good girl.” bokuto grits out, a bead of sweat drips off his face onto your own, and thankfully- it’s what he needs to cum. his eyes are frantic as he watches you- swollen lips, face turned relaxed as you squeeze down around him, looking like the image of fucked stupid.

with the a final resounding smack of his hips into you, his cock jumps, swelling, growing snug inside you before he dumps an almost obscene amount of cum into you.

small twitches of your body lets him know you feel it, his head falls down to land against your chest, keeping you folded as he grits his teeth.

it takes rapid, hard blinks of his eyes to not let tears fall down onto his face. he’s shaky as he finally sits back up, making sure to bring your thighs down gently.

“kou-“ you choke out, looking for him-

he responds by finding your limp hands, still lying up by your head- slotting thick fingers and broad hands into your own.

“‘m right here.” koutarou nearly wheezes out, still reeling from an orgasm that he can still feel.

“that felt good.” your voice is airy and sweet- pitchy and laced with love.

for the second time that night- he laughs, shaking his head while he slips his softened cock out of you.

he picks you up, scooping your trembling form into swollen muscles- keeping you nice and tight against a hard torso.

“you make me feel good.” he whispers into your hair, not caring about the trail of hot cum that leaks out of your fucked out cunt, trails of it running down his leg while he places you on his chest, laying the both of you down.

holding you tight like this, sweat mingling together, residue of cum and tears painting eachothers bodies- he knows there was nothing he should have ever been worried about.

he didn’t have to worry about protecting or loosing you- bodies intertwined, locked into one another proved that you took care of him, gentle hands tracing your name onto the skin of his chest.

“i’m all yours koutarou.” you whisper, nearly falling into the heaviness of sleep.

he once again blinks back the need to cry- he could take all the punches in the world, not even blink, but he was so weak for you.

“yeah... i’m all yours too.” his voice is tender, shaky with emotion, arms squeezing around you tight.

he really was.

#bokuto #bokuto koutarou #bokuto koutarou smut #bokuto smut #haikyuu smut #bokuto x reader smut #bokuto x reader #bokuto x y/n #bokuto x you #haikyuu x reader smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x you #one shot #au #smut

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moonlight-frittata · 3 years

Text

I Don’t Need a Mechanic

Overwatch: Dva and Brigitte (a few others make appearances)

Word count: ~5500

My take on when Dva meets Brigitte and the first month or so of them getting to know each other on base.

---

Six months Hana Song had been a part of Overwatch, and during that time she set a very strict precedent that no one, not even Winston or Athena the AI was allowed to touch her mech, Tokki. So seeing the back of someone inside the cockpit as she entered the Watchpoint Gibraltar hangar made her blood boil.

“Excuse me!! What the hell are you doing??”

The person’s body jerked, their head banging against the low roof of the cockpit ceiling they wedged their torso inside. Hana heard a short mumble of something incomprehensible and a long, thick ponytail of red hair retreated from the mech in a hurry. A very tall, buff young woman around Hana’s age emerged blushing with a sheepish grin.

“Ah! I’m so sorry, I couldn't help myself. I’ve always wondered what these Korean models looked like up close. But in hindsight I really should have asked first.”

Her accent was European, but it was hard for Hana to place with any real certainty. Could have been Scandinavian, remembering some of the players from Finland she competed against back in her pro days.

“Yeah, you should have fucking asked.”

The crimson hue on the tall, possibly Finnish trespasser’s cheeks faded and she held her ground, not scared off yet by D.va’s harsh tone.

“Right. Won’t happen again, I promise,” she said.

Dva scoffed a bit and pushed past the buff intruder to look inside the mech to inspect if anything was out of place. A moment of stuffy silence passed between the two and Hana hoped the other girl would get the message and leave.

“I’m Brigitte Lindholm by the way.”

Hana let out an audible huff as a familiar freckled face appeared looking through the glass on the other side of her heads up display.

“Oh. Yeah, Fareeha warned me a new girl was joining,” Hana replied from inside the cockpit while she busied herself checking Tokki’s systems.

“And you’re Hana Song, right?” Brigitte continued lightly, clearly unperturbed. “Or do you prefer to go by D.va?”

Hana paused at the mention of her gamer tag turned call sign.

“It’s Lieutenant Song, actually.”

Brigitte raised an eyebrow at the curt reply, her smile fading to a neutral expression. It only dipped for a moment though as she extended her hand.

It was an awkward gesture to shake hands from inside the mech, even though the front of the cockpit was partially open near the joysticks. Hana looked at Brigitte’s outstretched hand and gentle smile on the other side of the glass. Was this a joke? She pursed her lips and sized Brigitte up for a few tense seconds before reaching out. The grip was firm and Hana’s hand practically disappeared in Brigitte’s large palm.

“Lieutenant Song. It’s an honor to meet you.”

Hana sighed and rolled her eyes, a little of the bluster going out of her at the sincerity in Brigitte’s tone. Satisfied that no harm had come to the mech, she backed out of the cockpit.

“Just call me Hana. That rank doesn’t really mean anything here anyway. Lena will probably make fun of me if she hears you calling me Lieutenant.”

Brigitte walked back around Tokki to join her, a lingering hand tracing over the pink exoskeleton as she moved. “I’m surprised she doesn’t make you call her Captain.”

“Oh, she’s tried.”

Brigitte laughed.

“Sounds about right.”

D.Va chuckled for a moment, briefly disarmed by the new stranger, before she remembered how this person was rudely poking around her stuff only moments before, and snapped back into her gruff demeanor.

“Lindholm, you said? Like Torbjörn Lindholm?”

Brigitte sighed, clearly used to this connection.

“Yes. Genius engineer of Overwatch 1.0, founder of Ironclad Industries, husband to Ingrid, and father of way too many children, including yours truly.”

“So, you grew up in an Overwatch family?” Hana asked as her full attention focused on Brigitte for the first time in their conversation.

“You could say that,” Brigitte said. She picked up a silver ratchet resting on a nearby worktable, spinning the head around between her fingers and levering the handle back and forth, testing the weight distribution of the tool in her hand.

Hana could tell there was more to the story than her new teammate seemed willing to let on. She found it interesting that Brigitte, who had been all candid smiles a moment ago when she was caught somewhere she shouldn’t be and oversharing to someone she just met, was now hand waving around the subject.

Overwatch kids are pretty up their own asses about 1.0 normally. Wonder what her deal is...

This was what Hana was known for back in her pro days. Seeing a flaw in an opponent’s defense and breaking it wide open. But she needed to remember she only just met this girl, who would soon be her teammate. Maybe save that for another day.

“Well, Lindholm. As long as you stay clear of my mech, I don’t see a reason we should have problems working together. What’s your specialty?”

Brigitte perked up at the change of subject.

“Support. Both base level engineering support and in the field. I've got my bachelor’s degree in mechanical engineering, and I’ve been working on Reinhardt’s gear for over a year now. Angela - I mean, Dr. Ziegler, is training me to be certified as a field medic.”

“Tough job. Think you can handle the gore?”

A wry smile pulled at Brigitte’s lips, her head shaking back and forth in a small, bemused gesture as she placed her hands on her hips.

“You don’t pull any punches do you, Lieutenant Song?”

D.Va crossed her arms, holding eye contact with Brigitte who matched her gaze with amusement.

“The best shot caller in the world is just a loud piece of shit if her team isn’t up to the same standard. So yeah, I like to know who has my back and if she can handle herself.”

Brigitte regarded D.Va for a moment, her jaw working back and forth as if chewing on the approach she wanted to take in response.

“I’ve been patching up Reinhardt for a while now. If I’m honest though, I’m scared it’s not going to be enough one day. But that’s not what I need to focus on, and instead I’ll do the best I can to support the people here.”

The plain way Brigitte shared her apprehensions left Hana uncomfortable. She couldn’t imagine telling someone out loud she was afraid, especially on her first day. Though in truth, she herself felt scared shitless half the time while doing this work.

Brigitte’s smile was back. Did it ever leave that pretty face? It did suit her though, framed by the freckles and warm brown eyes. If this girl wasn’t built like a literal tank of 6 foot something muscle, Hana might have more apprehension about sending her out to fight Omnics and Talon.

“Well Lieutenant Song, I think I’ve taken up enough of your time with my intrusion. Fareeha and Winston will be missing me very shortly for the rest of their planned orientation schedule,” Brigitte said as she carefully placed the ratchet she previously picked up back on the workstation, breaking the spell of awkward silence.

D.Va smirked, feeling tension leave her shoulders to match Brigitte’s playful demeanor.

“Mmm, well now I understand why you were hiding down here.”

“Yes they are indeed quite enthusiastic and thorough with their material.”

She gave a wink and started to walk away, turning briefly to call over her shoulder.

“I noticed there was a small coolant leak under the left fusion cannon. Might get a bit sticky on the left hand.”

“Bye Brigitte, enjoy your 300 page orientation manual quiz.”

Brigitte waved once more and turned around, already so sure and familiar with the layout of the hangar and the base.

She’s just another Overwatch kid, and just another nosey engineer trying to get in my mech.

Hana lingered by her workstation, picking up the ratchet Brigitte had been fiddling with and thinking over their brief encounter again.

Would this girl be a liability on the battlefield? Brigitte looked strong on the exterior, but then, so did Tokki. If you took away the mecha armor, inside was just a squishy human target bullets and fire could cut through like paper the second she was exposed and vulnerable.

Hana took a deep breath.

She walked around to the left fusion cannon and did indeed see the signs that a coolant leak was backing up inside the casing. Pretty subtle to spot with minimal visible damage to the exterior.

Not bad, Lindholm.

D.Va pulled her headphones on, turning to her latest loop of pop songs to blast while she went to work removing the panels on the cannon to replace the broken coolant line. The task felt good, and helped her mind drift to thoughts other than her conversation in the hangar.

---

Hana didn’t see much of Brigitte the next few weeks. The new recruit was busy with training and learning mission protocols expected of field agents in addition to shifts with Mercy in the clinic to fulfill the certifications Brigitte was required to complete. Hana would see her sometimes at dinner, often in a spirited conversation with Reinhardt or Lena. It seemed to take Brigitte no time at all to fit in amongst the old guard, but it seemed that’s what being the favorite niece of pretty much every person here would get you.

Hana would half listen to their stories, always feeling awkward and out of place amongst their banter. Overwatch was like a family, but she was more like the stranger invited as someone’s plus one. Everyone seemed to have an ingrained familiarity with each other. A single word could trigger a whole series of anecdotes every person around had some personal insight to add on to.

Remember this!

Oh how is so and so?

Damn, that was 5 years ago already?

Even on her squad in Korea, she never had what they people here seemed to have. Dae-hyun was a close childhood friend and followed her into the MEKA squad, but the other pilots were a different story. There was always a bit of friction and distance with the rest of her teammates because of their history as pro-gamer competitors forced into an arrangement as teammates. It never really gelled beyond cordial coworker relationships. Hana’s celebrity status didn’t help either, only adding another barrier between herself and the others. The fame of D.Va closed her off in access to most people unless they were on the other side of a screen, and then they only saw a polished up version of herself.

Not exactly the best way to get close to people.

Sometimes she was curious to learn more when she heard the Overwatch stories, but she always stopped herself before saying anything. It was easier to pull out her phone and queue up a game. Easy to pull back and ignore them, and usually they left her alone to do it.

She was okay with that. She was okay with keeping Hana and D.Va separate. She was okay with only polite greetings and trite platitudes. She didn’t need to know about the times from before, or what her Overwatch teammates did on the weekends. She just needed them to listen to her in the field and leave her room to make her plays. Like every time she started a new game, she didn’t have to focus on the past, or what others thought, she just had to focus on the objective in front of her. It’s what got the job done and what kept her alive.

---

Brigitte kept her word to stay out of Hana’s mech. She set up her own work station on the other side of the hangar where she worked on Reinhardt’s gear as well as her own. Hana would sometimes see the blue flash of a shield out of the corner of her eye over the hum of diagnostic scans or smell the burn of sparks from welding.

One day curiosity got the best of her when she heard the loud, repetitive pounding of a hammer on metal and she wandered across the hangar.

“You’re doing that by hand?”

Brigitte stopped working when she heard the voice behind her, the deafening echo silenced on the metal shoulder guard she was beating against.

“On this armor I do. Reinhardt’s gear is special from the time it was made. It has to be maintained with some older techniques.”

“Why?”

Brigitte looked at her surprised for a moment then laughed, loud and warm.

“You know, I wondered the same at first. It’s a bit of the way this armor is made, modern techniques can be too harsh on it, interestingly enough. Too precise and it becomes too fragile.”

“That doesn’t sound true,” D.va said.

“Oh, questioning my methods huh? Well, maybe the truth is more I didn’t originally have the right gear out in the field, and Reinhardt didn’t have much modern tech either, so the only way to do it was by hand. But it’s nice actually to keep doing it this way, I like getting my hands dirty with it. Helps me relax.”

“See that I believe.”

“Well, I’m glad I have your approval, Lieutenant Song.”

D.Va rolled her eyes, but smiled a little.

“I told you before, you can just call me Hana. Although, I do like the respect of authority.”

“Lieutenant suits you.”

Hana smirked a little at the complement, turning to pick something up on a nearby table. She picked up one of Brigitte’s gauntlets, slipping it on her hand. Her arm sagged under the weight, the glove coming up well above her elbow.

“Is it exhausting wearing all this armor? How do you run around with it on? I can barely lift this thing.”

“There’s movement assist when the unit is turned on. But I mean, I think I can handle it.”

Brigitte smirked as she made a show of flexing her well defined arms, and Hana couldn’t help but gawk a bit before she turned back to fiddling with the glove.

“Um, yeah I uh, noticed you seem to be in good shape.”

“Oh yeah?” Brigitte was smirking, clearly enjoying the slight fluster she was causing in her new teammate. Hana put the glove back on the table and gave Brigitte a light shove on the arm.

“Oh give me a break, you know you’re buff. Do you even own a shirt with sleeves?”

“I’m very familiar with OW 2.0’s handbook, and the dress code is quite lax about on-base personal attire. But, mostly I just like hearing you complement me.”

Hana rolled her eyes. “Well, I’m glad you’re strong enough to move your ass around in this armor so you can protect my blindspots while I’m doing all the real heavy lifting.”

Brigitte laughed again. Hana couldn’t help but smile too at the warm sound. Brigitte’s whole face lit up, and her eyes crinkled around the edges. No wonder she was the favorite niece.

“Fair. I’ve seen your battle footage and some news clips when you were back in Korea. You’re so strong, I doubt you even need me.”

“Ah, another fan of D.Va. Well, who can blame you,” Hana said with a flick of her hair. She continued to walk around Brigitte’s workstation, picking up random pieces of armor. Brigitte didn’t seem to mind.

“Actually Reinhardt was the real die hard D.Va fan. We used to always have a stash of the instant noodles with your face on them in our rig. Great shelf life. I’m surprised he hasn’t asked you for an autograph yet.”

“Well he’s one to talk! Did you know, when I was a kid there was a Reinhardt special edition line of noodles? I remember I tried them once and they had such a weird flavor. It was like ketchup and curry powder or something. He had a pretty big fanbase in Korea actually.”

“Hah! I didn’t know that, but I’d believe it. There’s been so much Overwatch merchandise over the years, I’ve lost track. They were such celebrities back in the day.”

“Yeah.”

Hana knew a thing or two about having her image used for propaganda. She wondered for a moment what it was like for Brigitte, growing up amongst the same environment, but removed from the center of it. An image of her laughing in the cafeteria with the old guard flashed through her mind. She decided it must have not been too bad, and refrained from asking the question.

“Okay well, I’ll leave you to your meditative, hammer time. I need to get back to my mech anyway, I’ve got a mission tomorrow morning,” Hana said, turning to leave. Brigitte let out a long sigh, slumping into a chair.

“Oh, it must be nice to leave the base.”

Hana stopped in her tracks, curious again, hearing such an outburst from Brigitte. She turned around and poked one of Brigitte’s large muscles near her shoulder.

“Oh come on, don’t be dramatic. You’ll be done with your training block soon. Fareeha is just, really particular before she lets anyone out on a mission. It took almost two months, and me breaking every score in the simulators for her to let me out in the field.”

“I know, I know. It just sucks sometimes feeling like everyone is being overprotective of me. I can handle myself, I’m not a little kid.”

Hana couldn’t help but give a little hmphf sound, her lips pulling down at the corners.

“Yeah, I get that feeling. You can’t speed up time though, you just have to grind it out.”

Hana wasn’t normally one for listening to whining, but she thought Brigitte looked quite cute while she pouted, her arms crossed tight against her torso and her lip jutted out. It was hard not to laugh at the sight a bit, but Hana held her tongue. She really did know how it felt to want to prove yourself.

“Hey come on, there’s plenty of work you’re doing here that’s valuable. And when you’re ready, you’ll get called up and out there with the rest of us.”

Brigitte took a deep breath, seeming to blow out the negative feelings in one dramatic sigh. When she straightened up in her chair she seemed to be in better spirits, smiling at Hana again.

“You probably know better than anyone how to do that. Thanks Lieutenant, I’ll try. Let me know if my hammering gets too distracting. I can always go find something else to do.”

“It’s fine. I hardly noticed.”

“Well in that case, I’ll just be over here until dinner time.”

---

A few days later Hana almost threw her computer across the hangar.

“Why is this piece of shit so useless!”

The MEKA diagnostic program she used to keep Tokki up to date was crashing every five minutes when she tried to run a scan of the system. It had slowly been degrading the last few weeks and after the latest mission it apparently decided it had enough. She tried every trick she knew, both from working on the mech for years and everything she could think of on her personal gaming rig, but she only had rudimentary coding skills and was vastly out of her depth.

“Everything okay?”

Brigitte’s gentle voice called out from a few feet away as she had stopped her own work to come see D.Va’s meltdown.

“Everything’s fine. Except I’m going to have to go throw this piece of crap, and then myself, in the ocean.”

“Sounds like a costly solution. What’s going on?”

“It’s fine. I’m fine, I don’t need anyone’s help.”

She could feel Brigitte’s sympathetic look burning into her cheek and hated it.

“Okay no problem. I’m around though, just let me know if you want an extra set of eyes.”

Hana stared at the email she had sent to Dae-Hyun the day before that still had no response. She knew her mech’s hardware inside and out, but he was the one who really handled all the intense computer program internals. She was out of her depth here and needed him to call her so she could get this thing working again, but he wasn’t answering. Maybe he was deployed somewhere or too busy with a social life now that she was gone.

She had decided to come here for Overwatch. So maybe she should trust Overwatch.

“Brigitte, wait a minute.”

The other girl paused and turned, only having walked a few feet away from D.Va’s workstation.

“I could probably use some help here, if you’re still offering?”

Brigitte smiled, but it was more muted than her usual mega watt grin. Hana appreciated that she wasn’t making a big deal about it.

God, why is this girl so nice.

“Definitely.”

Brigitte walked around the workbench where Hana set up her computer station and listened to the general description of the problems. As Hana started clicking through screens to show the protocol she usual ran, Brigitte held up a hand to make her stop.

“I understand what you’re saying, but looking at the text, I can’t read Korean. Does it have a translation setting?” “I doubt it. This thing was only meant to be used by the Korean MEKA squad.” Hana felt her stomach drop at how quick her hopes of getting this programming running were already dashed.

“Well lucky for us, Overwatch has some very robust translation tech we can utilize.” “Really? It’s not the AI is it? I’ve been so resistant to letting her in my computer.”

��That would be one possibility, but there are some more localized options we have. I’ve had to do this once or twice on one of my papa’s projects.”

“How long will it take?” “Don’t know! Could take a while, I’m not going to lie to you, especially with your program already acting buggy. But don’t worry Lieutenant, we’ll sort you out.”

Hana groaned, already having major doubts about letting Brigitte mess with her tech. But she didn’t have a lot of options, and this was probably the least embarrassing choice on the table at the moment.

Brigitte moved back and forth between D.Va’s workstation and her own across the hangar, gathering cables and a laptop she would use to debug the system. Hana watched over Brigitte’s shoulder for a while, monitoring her work to get the translation program working on the MEKA diagnostic software.

“Where’d you learn to do this type of thing?”

“Back in college. I had to learn a certain amount of coding for my major, but I helped out Winston some in his lab on campus and he taught me a lot of tricks too.”

“Jesus, is there literally anyone on this fucking base you don’t have some personal connection with?”

Hana stepped away from the computer and dropped down into an empty chair with a huff, spinning the chair on its axis in erratic circles.

Brigitte stopped typing and watched Hana’s tantrum. “It bothers you that I’ve got a close connection to Overwatch?”

Hana did not reply, but crossed her arms and let out a frustrated sigh. Brigitte’s gaze held her for a moment but eventually shifted back to the computer screen as she seemed to weigh her thoughts on how to respond.

“Why did you leave the MEKA squad to join Overwatch?” she asked finally. “It doesn’t have the best history as an organization, you know.”

Hana stopped spinning to look at the side of Brigitte’s face, who’s eyes were still trained on the laptop screen. “Well it’s better to actually be in a fight than on the sidelines.”

Brigitte stopped what she was doing and turned to face D.va. “You’re the best pilot in the MEKA program. Why would you be sidelined?”

Hana let out a bitter laugh. “Best pilot? I was more than that. I was the face of the fucking Korean army! Which eventually meant I was too valuable to be an actual soldier.” Hana stood up walking to the end of the workbench, reaching out to touch one of her mecha’s guns. She couldn’t see Brigitte, but she could feel the other girl watching her.

“I got real banged up in a fight with the Gwishin. Like, probably should have died kind of banged up. I was out of action for months. After that, the army realized they couldn’t let the poster girl for their success stories die in an actual fight. So they moved me off the Busan base and deployed me to lead baby fights happening inland, but whose sole purpose was really just a photo op.”

Hana balled her fist in anger at her side, remembering how awful it hurt seeing images of herself on television in all those epic battle sequences, reporters singing praises of heroism, only to know the real truth that it was all a fabricated lie. She couldn’t stand it.

“So when Winston and Lena came to my apartment and asked me to join the new Overwatch, it was a no brainer. My piloting skills are too valuable to just be sidelined in a studio with a green screen.”

The MEKA squad team was fairly understanding when she told them. The same couldn’t be said for her commanding officers, but as D.Va, the amount of influence and money at her disposal proved sufficient for a smooth enough transition.

“I believed this was my shot to get back in the fight. So even if there’s some bad history there, this is a new chance for me, and I am ready to deal with any fallout.”

Text whizzed by in the background of the computer screen as the console spat out a continuous stream of logs from the program Brigitte fired off as she listened in silence.

“I never liked Overwatch. I still don’t,” Brigitte finally said.

Hana turned to face her, very confused.

“Really? But, you’re like, one of the legacy kids.”

“All that means is I know more of the gritty details and seen firsthand the way people I love were chewed up by this place.”

Hana’s brow furrowed in thought, crossing her arms as she focused on Brigitte. Hana had been so taken in by all the happy scenes in the mess hall and around the base, she hadn’t even thought about the implications and complications that must have been a part of Brigitte’s life. She was so good at always putting on a bright face, how could she have known?

Brigitte took a deep breath, looking weary as she took a moment to gather her thoughts.

“When I was a kid, it was like I was one of those audience members you talked about. I was told all the best stories about heroes and villains, and it so happened that my family were literally starring as those heroes. But when I was a little older, I started learning more about history, and the other side of things. The PETRAS act. In fighting and war crimes. Blackwatch. Angela’s medical tech weaponized against her wishes, by my own father it turns out. Winston and Tracer buried under so much red tape, I’m honestly surprised they were ever allowed to leave a military base of their own free will. And Reinhardt... He’s a lot like you, I think. Brave, loyal, too stubborn to be just the face of a movement without putting his own skin on the line. Not when there’s something bigger than himself he believes in.”

A deep sigh, and an almost painful expression crossed her face.

“So no, I don’t like Overwatch. But I also can’t sit on the sidelines while they risk their lives, knowing I can help them. They’re my family. So here I am. Family can be complicated, ya know?”

Before Hana could come up with something to say, the computer dinged behind them. Brigitte tapped on the keys, reading quickly when a smile crossed her lips.

“Look at that, perfectly legible Swedish.”

“It’s fixed?” Hana hurried over to look at the computer screen.

“Well, the translation program is running. Now I need to actually debug your diagnostics program.”

“Ughhhh, I’m never going to leave this place.”

Brigitte chuckled. “Don’t worry, we’ll get it done. Feel free to go get some dinner if you want. This will take a while.”

“No way I’m going to leave you here all alone!”

“I promise I won’t touch Tokki.”

“It’s not...it’s not that, Brigitte. I just don’t feel right strolling off to dinner while you’re stuck here fixing my shit.”

Brigitte smiled.

“Okay. I definitely don’t mind the company.”

---

Hana tried to keep up with what Brigitte was talking about as she debugged the code. And she could follow along, for a while. Eventually she was way too lost to feel useful, and didn’t want to distract Brigitte while she was fixing the issues, so she retreated to a nearby futon against a wall. It was well past midnight, and Hana’s eyes were starting to droop. Brigitte drank one of the Dva branded nano cola energy drinks a while ago and seemed to be completely in the zone.

The next thing Hana knew there was a strip of bright light in her eyes as the sun started to stream in through a window in the hangar. Hana stretched to pull out the discomfort her back protested with from not being in her bed, but it was really not that unfamiliar, considering some of the positions she’d fallen asleep at her gaming computer before. A blanket was draped across her body she didn’t remember picking up when laid down on the futon. She was all alone in the hangar and her watch told her it was just after 5am.

“Brigitte?”

No one answered.

She sat up, noticing an unopened water bottle and energy bar laid out on the ground beside her futon with a little sticky note.

“Give it a go, Lt - Brig”

Hana scooped up the rations and dropped in front of the dark screen of her laptop. When she started up the terminal screen, her diagnostic programming kicked off like it normally did. All in Korean.

The screen showed exactly where an electric circuit was tripping in the defense matrix grid of the mech, which had been glitching in the field the last few days. Hana noticed the parts and tools needed to complete the fix laid out on the workbench neatly, but when she poked her head in the mech, it remained untouched.

She smiled to herself.

“Kept her word to stay out of Tokki. These Overwatch kids are too much sometimes.”

D.Va pulled the panel off her mech and got to work.

----

At dinner that night, Hana spotted Brigitte in the mess hall with Reinhardt, Tracer and Winston. Brigitte gave her a wink when she noticed her. Hana got her meal and sat beside her, leaving her phone in her pocket for once.

“Thanks for the help with Tokki, Brigitte. Works like a charm now.”

“It was my pleasure, Lieutenant Song.” Brigitte’s smile was kind, her expression gentle and warm. Hana noticed this close up Brigitte’s eyes were lighter around the edges, and she had a few more freckles on her left cheek than the right.

“Did I just ‘ear you call ‘ana Lieutenant?” Lena cut in. “She’s ‘Lieutenant’, but I can’ get none of you to call me Captain? Double standards round ‘ere, I tell ya what.”.

“Well, Hana was a more recent officer in her respective position, while you have been discharged from the RAF for several years now.”

“Who’s side you on Win!? Those ranks don’t expire!”

Brigitte chuckled, whipping her head around to look at Tracer’s shaking her hand dramatically in the air, eyes downcast in an over acted, scandalized look. Hana also let out a small giggle.

“Your rank on the flight simulator scoreboard sure did,” Hana said, poking her tongue out with a playful smirk at Tracer. Brigitte, Reinhardt and Winston all laughed.

“She’s got you there, Lena,” Brigitte said.

“The youth of today. Ruthless.” Tracer grabbed a fist over her heart as if shot in the chest by a bullet.

“You know, back in my days of Overwatch…”

Reinhardt started in on one of his specially tailored stories for whatever situation was at hand, this case a very detailed recount of the first time he granted a field promotion in the Crusaders. Brigitte sighed, correcting inaccuracies she heard along the way, giving a wink to Hana when Brigitte’s presence in the story was pulled into the story much later on.

Lena took up the torch after that, remembering a time she accidentally flew into restricted airspace and managed to sweet talk her way out of being shot down. They all took turns sharing more elaborate one ups from their time before Overwatch. Hana even volunteered a story, sharing the time she convinced Dae-hyun to set Tokki up to stream a battle with the omnics. She broke her single day subscriber count in under one hour.

They all laughed well into the night, and for the first time Hana really started to feel like part of the team.

---

Thank you for reading! Please leave a comment if you enjoyed!

#overwatch #mekamechanic #dva #brigitte lindholm #laura writes #man I've been poking at this for ever finally time to just put it out in the world so I can think about something new ahaha #hope you like!#hana song #(also there was no 300 page onboarding manual until Pharah wrote it)

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five-rivers · 3 years

Text

@lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks came up with this op!Danny/Marvel AU!

BTW I need help naming this newest proof that I can't keep anything to a short little one-shot.

Loki was not, and never had been, a good man. For that matter, whether or not he’d ever been a good boy was debatable. His mother would argue that he had, but she would very likely be the only one. Well, except for Thor, perhaps, but that was because he was an idiot who could drown in three inches of nostalgia. Like he didn’t remember every time Loki had humiliated him. Maybe he didn’t, for all that he kept falling for the same trick over and over again.

It made Loki’s late nights studying the arts of illusion, misdirection, and lying seem redundant. Almost. Not everyone was as dense as his big brother.

No. Loki had never been a good man. He had, however, been a free man.

Free to run or hide. Free to explore the nooks and crannies of Asgard, to uncover her secrets in ways few cared to do. Free to walk hidden paths between the Nine Realms and even farther flung territories, where his people did not and had never ruled, to play games, make deals, have adventures, take risks. To be. To exist as his own creature.

He had been free. He had.

But on one of those little secret excursions, he had discovered something that had made even his flippant, slippery heart clench with fear. A ravening plague, spreading across the stars. The death of half of everything on the horizon.

Loki was not a good man. What cause did he have to care for all the sundry others in the universe? There were too many. It was too much to ask.

But Asgard—His home, even though the had long ago realized the blood in his veins originated on very different soil. That was different.

Asgard, he could help. Asgard could survive.

But it had to be strong. It had to have strong allies. None of this barely-held peace, this enemy eternally at their gates. It needed strong leadership. Not his brother’s simplistic view and longing for the glory of war.

Loki was not a good man. But he was one who could get things done.

Before he knew it, he had burned all his bridges behind him. In one case, a literal bridge that was literally broken.

And he fell.

And he fell right into the hands of the one he had feared enough to do this. Broken enough for poison to drip into the cracks. No one knew where he was, no one could know where he was, except, perhaps, Heimdal, and Loki sincerely doubted Heimdal cared. No one was coming for him. No one was looking for him. No rescue was forthcoming.

He was alone.

Asgardians were considered gods for a reason. Their bodies and minds were much more resilient than the average mortal’s. But Thanos’s people had been titans, and there was a reason for that, too.

Thanos enjoyed breaking him.

And Loki turned his lies on himself. A skilled master of games always had one gifted opponent, even alone. Hadn’t he wanted to rule? To command? To see a world, any world, prostrate at his feet? To be given the recognition and praise of which he was so worth?

To pull something, anything, out of the fire?

(If he had spent less time learning how to spin lies and more on how to see the truth, he might not have believed it. A better, wiser, man would have. But Loki was not a good man. And he was very skilled in his craft.)

So, his new master put a weapon in his hands, and he went off to conquer a world.

Danny was used to rude awakenings. He was used to those rude awakenings being full body chills and ghosts, not someone knocking on his door.

Blearily, he pulled himself out from under the blankets. Quasi-military government facility or not, the beds were comfortable. Maybe Mom or Dad had gotten themselves locked out of their room? Or Jazz—No, not Jazz, she hadn’t come with them. She was at college, not being flown places by Mom and Dad’s suspiciously generous new consulting job.

At least it wasn’t the GIW.

He stood on tiptoe (curse his perpetually short body) to peer out the peephole. His parents’ buff, one-eyed, and incredibly imposing new boss stood in front of the door, hands on his hips, slightly sweeping back his long dark coat. If Danny listened carefully, he could hear two other people near the door, and… was that an alarm? Yes. Faint, but present, was a warning klaxon.

Okay. Danny would bet his right arm that something had gone horribly wrong with whatever his parents were consulting on. Didn’t explain why the boss was in front of his door.

Unless they’d gotten the rooms mixed up, somehow?

Ugh. Danny wasn’t paid enough to deal with this.

He opened the door. “What-?”

“Phantom,” intoned eyepatch guy with great solemnity.

Danny immediately tried to close the door. The guy stuck his foot in the jamb, and, sure, Danny could have crushed it, but that would be a jerk move. He didn’t think this guy was going for a pirate look, after all.

“We need your help.”

“I’m not sure what you think I can help you with,” yelled Danny over the beating of the helicopter blades. He’d remained stubbornly in human form. “My parents are the scientists. This sounds like a science thing. Not a punching-people thing.”

“We spoke to them earlier,” said Fury, “and we have plenty of scientists working on the theories they brought up. You’re the one with practical experience.”

“Practical experience in what?”

“Interdimensional portals,” said the woman, who had yet to introduce herself.

As if this whole thing wasn’t already giving him a bad feeling. “My parents built an interdimensional portal. Again, you should be talking to them. They’re the ones you’re paying.”

“We could pay you, too,” said Fury, “but we assumed you would want to avoid letting your parents know about this, as you’re still a minor and they have control of your bank accounts.”

Danny stared flatly. “This is blackmail.”

“We aren’t threatening you,” pointed out the woman.

“Emotional blackmail,” said Danny, glaring, daring her to challenge him on whether or not he actually knew what blackmail was.

In the meantime, the helicopter landed. Danny unbuckled and hopped out, trailing slightly awkwardly behind Fury and the woman. He didn’t want to stand out, but he suspected that, being the only kid here and being in the general vicinity of Fury, who radiated authority, that was a lost cause.

“This is Agent Coulson. Coulson, this is Phantom.”

Danny’s mouth went dry(er) at how casual the introduction was. His eyes went nervously to all the other people running around the field. With all the noise, it was unlikely anyone had heard, but still…

“Can you not? Secret identity and all? Unless you’ve told everyone herealready, which, rude.”

Fury sighed. “How bad is it?” he asked Coulson.

“We’re not sure,” said Coulson. “That’s the problem. Big fan of your work, by the way,” he added as an aside to Danny. He glanced at the woman. “Agent Hill.”

“Background?” asked Fury as he led the way into the building.

“The first energy surge was four hours ago. Dr. Selvig’s equipment picked it up – He’s the head scientist on this project.”

“Dr. Selvig isn’t authorized to test,” said Fury. “We wanted to run his plans by the Fentons.”

“He wasn’t testing. He wasn’t even in the room. He called it ‘spontaneous advancement.’”

“It turned itself on?”

“What are the energy levels?” asked Fury before Hill’s question could be answered.

“Climbing,” said Coulson.

“Mr. Fenton,” said Fury, “any comments?”

“Look, I don’t even know what this thing that you built looks like or what it’s a door to.” Danny frowned as a thought occurred to him. “You’re not expecting me to fight whatever comes out of it, are you? Because, unless you’ve got a ghost portal down there, I can’t make guarantees.”

“It’s called the Tesseract,” said Coulson. “It’s supposed to be a connection to the other side of space. A source of unlimited energy. At least,” there was a note of humor in his voice despite the evacuation taking place around them, “that’s what the scientists say.”

“A door to space?” asked Danny, firmly shoving down his excitement at the prospect. “Like, a Stargate?” It was no good, he could practically feel himself sparkling. He took a firm grip of his core and reminded himself he might need to fight before the end of the day.

“Well, no,” said Coulson. “It’s this little… cube… thing.” He made a shape with his hands.

“Oh,” said Danny, mind still whirring. “You know, if it’s really a tesseract, it isn’t a cube in just three dimensions, so bigger things could come out of it than you’d think.” He’d seen some weird portals in the Ghost Zone.

“Well, right now, we’re just getting energy.” They entered a large room with an extremely sci-fi setup. It looked like they were planning to shoot some kind of laser across the room onto a platform surrounded by strange-looking panels. There were men with guns scattered around in what was probably a well thought out formation Danny couldn’t see. There was also a dude with a bow sitting up in the rafters. He frowned down at Danny as he noticed Danny noticing him.

“Dr. Selvig!”

“Director!”

“What do we know?”

Danny allowed himself to be distracted by the centerpiece of the room, a piece of machinery built around what was indeed a little cube thing. He tilted his head and approached, trying to get a better view of it around the people in lab coats and protective gear currently swarming it. He caught mention of radiation a grimaced.

It was unlikely to kill him, but, really, everyone here should probably be wearing more PPE. You never knew what was going to come out of an interdimensional portal, after all. Except trouble. Trouble was a pretty safe bet.

It was pretty. Blue. Reminded him a little of a blue raspberry ice pop. Part of him wanted to lick it. Which was stupid. He didn’t want to wind up half what-ever-lived-on-the-other-side on top of his regular ghost nonsense.

“Mr. Fenton?”

Danny jumped and turned, refocusing on the adults, who had multiplied while he’d been daydreaming. The guy with the bow had joined them.

“Mr. Fenton? Like the Doctors Fenton I spoke to earlier?” asked Selvig.

“Yeah, it’s—”

This, of course, was when everything decided to explode. Sort of.

The blue cube shot out a beam of energy that had more than a little in common with the Fenton Bazooka’s portal setting. The beam terminated on the platform, a portal rapidly forming.

Danny slid into a fighting stance, and barely even noticed as blue energy washed over the room, throwing many less-prepared people back.

Something shaped like a man stepped through the portal.

Danny did not break his stance. Still. “An alien,” he whispered, eyes wide. If they were friendly, maybe they’d answer his questions about space. If they weren’t friendly, maybe they’d answer his questions about space after Danny beat them up.

(Danny did not go ghost. Did not even think about going ghost. There were too many people here, and the space was too open.)

Fury attempted to negotiate. Danny approved. Not everything that came through an interdimensional portal was necessarily evil.

Except this guy apparently was. Go figure. He could also deflect bullets and was very good with throwing knives, which led to Danny having to pull several of the gun guys out of their own line of fire as well as the alien’s line of knife. Who would have thought an alien’s weapon of choice would be throwing knives? The energy-blasting spear was much more in line with his expectations.

The bow guy proved to be more competent than the gun guys. This didn’t really surprise Danny. Bow guy sort of had to be competent. Otherwise, no way would they let him go around with a bow. Like, seriously. A bow.

Even so, bow guy was fighting an alien and—

“You have heart,” said the alien, raising the spear.

Danny pushed bow guy out of the way, and his mind fuzzed out.

(The human part of it, anyway.)

Loki didn’t know what a child was doing here, and he didn’t particularly care. The boy would do for a hostage, at least. He had a mission he had to fulfil, or else…

Or else.

“Please don’t,” he said turning with a shadow of his usual lazy affect, vaguely insulted that the human thought he could be sneaker that him, “I still need that.”

The human went on and on, apparently burdened with the delusion that he was on the same level as Loki.

Loki was burdened with other things. A glorious purpose. Glad tidings. Freedom. What could be better than freedom?

“A world free from what?” asked the human.

“From freedom,” said Loki, and wasn’t that what he believed, now? Wasn’t that what he’d been shown? “Freedom is life’s great lie.” He would know. He was an excellent liar. “Once you accept that, in your heart—” He batted away an arrow and tsked. “Shield me, boy,” he demanded. Had Thanos misrepresented the scepter’s powers? Or was the boy merely—

A dome of green surrounded him and the boy, thrumming with magic the likes of which he had only seen once, in a tome thrice forbidden.

“Oh,” said Loki, almost purring. “You are interesting. What are you?”

“Half human, half ghost,” replied the boy, tersely.

Loki had never heard of such a creature. No matter. He’d be sure to make good use of him.

“Grab the scientist,” he said, nodding at the balding man who had been with his brother when he’d fought the Destroyer in the desert.

Loki wanted the archer. He seemed interesting. Useful.

Fenton was under thrall. Phantom knew what that felt like. A hundred feet under red water, trying not to drown, whispers everywhere. Pulling. Pushing. Prodding.

This was different, but the principle was the same.

Neither half of him could truly ‘fight’ the other. Fenton and Phantom were a single entity. Not two in lockstep. Even so.

Fenton grabbed onto Dr. Selvig, as ordered. Phantom made sure that was all they did.

“What are you doing, boy?” snapped Loki. “Follow me! Bring the scientist.”

And so, they followed.

Loki breathed. Acquiring Barton had been the right choice. The boy was powerful, but, perhaps because of his unique biology, did not have Barton’s presence of mind, and couldn’t have led him to such wonderful allies.

Allies.

These weren’t truly his allies. Nor were they subjects. They were…

Loki forced himself to breathe. He just had to follow the mission. Follow the mission, let Thanos’s army through. He’d been promised this world. He would have this world.

And then he could be… His mind stuttered over the next word, and he shook his head, trying to drive out the painful buzz of Thanos’s herald and mouthpiece trying to contact him.

He looked up at the drones bustling around, all according to his will. Except the boy, who stared at him, somehow managing to be both utterly blank and challenging at the same time.

He was alone, here.

He was alone.

But what did it matter? Bad men always wound up alone, and Loki… Loki could never be a good man.

#danny phantom #marvel cinematic universe #avengers #dannymay 2021 #dannymay 2021 day 28: alone #dannymay #danny phantom x marvel cinematic universe crossover #op!Danny/Marvel #Not much op!Danny yet tho

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heliads · 3 years

Text

Are You Happy With Him?

Y/N is a Med-Jack in the Glade, who happens to be dating Gally. Newt happens to be completely in love with her, but he may have more of a chance with her than he’d first thought.

masterlist

The night is dark, the air is cool. Sparks dance away from the fire, and the Gladers mill about watching Gally pummel whatever boy had the misfortune to step into the circle with him, all the while pretending they can’t see the looming walls of the Maze rising up around them. Thomas is seated on the ground a distance away from everyone else, back leaned up against a fallen tree trunk while he listens to Newt explain everything there is to know about the Glade and the Maze and whatever else Thomas asks him.

The sound of footsteps draws close, and seconds later another boy swings into a seat next to the two of them. Newt grins to see his friend. “Thomas, this is Minho. Think you’ve seen him around before, he’s a Runner.” Minho waves a greeting to Thomas, then glances back in the same direction as the two boys. “Newt talking you through life here in the Glade?”

Thomas nods. Minho keeps glancing around the campfire, then chuckles slightly when his eyes fall on the lone girl standing among the other Gladers. “Newt mentioned her yet?” Newt groans, but Thomas shakes his head. “No, not once. Who is she?” Minho adjusts his position so he’s facing Thomas, holding up his hands as if the runner’s about to deliver a key piece of information.

“That right there is Y/N. She’s a Med-Jack, although we all call her a Med-Jane because we’re a bunch of shanks who like to mess with our friends. The reason she’s so important is because Newt here is head over heels for her.” Newt rolls his eyes. “That’s not true, Minho, and you know that. Besides, it doesn’t matter how any one of us feel about her, because she’s seeing Gally. End of story.”

Minho groans. “Come on, Newt, there’s not a single person here who’d believe that klunk. Newt’s obsessed with her, but to be fair, we all kind of are. Anyways, the point is she’s one of the best Med-Jacks here, but you wouldn’t know it because Gally gives us a death stare whenever we talk about her for more than thirty seconds.”

Thomas looks up to see Y/N approaching the three boys. She jerks her head at them, and Newt and Minho move over so she can sit down. “I heard my name being mentioned. You telling the Greenie about how I’m the best person in the Glade by far?” Minho laughs. “We were saying that if he ever breaks an arm he should go to Clint instead.” Y/N lunges over to hit Minho on the shoulder, and the friends break into laughter.

Newt reaches behind him to grab a glass full of a frothy (and somehow dirty) amber liquid, taking a sip to Y/N’s disgust. She makes a face at him. “Honestly, I don’t know how you stand that stuff. It’s foul.” Newt grins at her. “Your own boyfriend makes it, I feel like you should at least pretend to stomach it like the rest of us.” Y/N rolls her eyes. “Not even our relationship can make me want to look at that poison.”

She sighs suddenly, eyes travelling across the campfire to where Gally’s pummeling yet another Glader into submission. “And it wouldn’t be the only habit of Gally’s that I disagree with.” Minho nods slowly. “It’s the Med-Jane impulse. Stops you every time.” Y/N gives him a look dripping with outrage, and she and the boys dissolve into laughter.

After a while, limbs get stiff and the four stand up to take a tour around the campfire. Newt points out the different groups of Gladers, and they’re doing fine until Gally ‘accidentally’ shoves a stumbling opponent into Thomas’ back, causing him to lose his balance. Thomas dusts himself off, but looks up when Gally approaches him. “What do you say, Greenie? Want to see what you’re made of?”

Thomas stares at him, uncomprehending, but Y/N makes a quiet sound of annoyance. “Come on, Gally. It’s the guy’s first day here. Give him a break.” Gally ignores her, speaking even louder to Thomas to explain the rules of the fight. Newt drifts over, gently pulling Y/N away from the ring. “Let Thomas have a go. Gally probably won’t rough him up that much.”

They step aside, hanging on the outskirts of the group. Y/N winces as Gally shoves Thomas face-first into the dirt. “It’s barbaric. Does he really have to do this?” Newt stares at the ongoing fight, at Gally clearly reveling in the chance to rough up another Glader, then looks back at Y/N. “Are you happy with him?”

Y/N turns to him, a look almost like outrage on her face. “Of course I am, why would you ask me that? Maybe he has a few habits that aren’t my favorite, but he’s still one of the best guys in the Glade.” Newt shakes his head. “I’m not talking about Gally’s necessity as a Glader. I’m talking about how he makes you feel. Are you happy with him, Y/N? Actually happy?”

Y/N opens her mouth to speak, then closes it again. “I should be able to answer that.” She’s silent for a moment or two longer. “I don’t know.” She stares back at the fight, flinching slightly when Gally’s fist crosses Thomas’ face as if she’s already mentally figuring out how much time she’ll have to spend in the Med-Jack hut trying to put the Greenie back together.

“I don’t think I am. I don’t think anybody’s asked me that in a very long time, and I haven’t thought about it in even longer.” Y/N tilts her head down, sighing quietly. Newt glances back at her, then carefully slides an arm around her. She leans her head against his shoulder.

The morning is bright, heat already pouring into the Glade. Newt is about to take his break for lunch, but he looks around and realizes he doesn’t see the one girl who should’ve been out to eat before him. He taps Zart on the shoulder. “You seen Y/N?” The Track-Hoe nods. “She had some argument with Gally, then headed out to the Deadheads for some peace and quiet. I don’t think she’s come back since.” Newt considers this. “I’m going to go get her, tell her it’s time for lunch. See you after the break’s over.”

The trees of the Deadheads sway slightly, offering some much-appreciated shade and cool despite the burning heat of the sun. Newt doesn’t have to walk far before he finds Y/N seated on a high-reaching tree branch, head leaned back against the rough bark. He climbs up after her, and they both pretend not to notice when his bad leg gives out, making him slip for just a second.

“Is there a reason you’re camped out in the middle of the forest?” Newt asks, and Y/N smiles ever so slightly. “I’m here to avoid Gally. I broke up with him and now he’s passive aggressively building things as if every hammer swing could kill.” Newt frowns. “At least he’s being passive.” Y/N laughs. “Focus on the aggressive. It’s mostly just aggressive.”

She sighs suddenly, looking up at the tree branches around her. The leaves seem to form a slight crown around her head. “I never thought I’d be the one to end things. Always thought he’d get tired of me and that would be that. I don’t feel any different than I did before. Maybe a little more free, like I can finally complain about things and not have to mince my words around him.”

Newt nods. “He’ll come around after a while. He’ll mess around and be bloody angry for a while, but then he’ll be back to our usual easily-bothered Gally.” Y/N smiles. “You do have a way with words. I feel better already.” Newt laughs at that, then jumps down from the tree, holding out his hand to help Y/N down. “You’ll feel even better when you have your lunch. Come on, I’m sure Frypan’s outdone himself, or at least he’ll pretend he has.”

The afternoon is late, and Y/N’s still working in the Med-Jack hut despite the fact that she should have left long ago. Gally finally warmed up to her again a couple of days ago, and he’s sent in a torrent of injured Builders to join the already large number of wounded Slicers that occupy the hut. She’s been busy all morning, and finally finished sending the last boy out with bandaged hands and a promise to stay out of trouble.

Y/N’s just doing the last checks to make sure her workstation is clear and ready for the next morning when she hears a soft knock on the door behind her. She turns to see Newt lingering by the door, and smiles. “You’d better not have cut yourself too. I don’t even want to have to look at a bandage ever again, or maybe just until tomorrow.”

Newt grins, padding into the room to come stand next to her. “No injuries here. We’re all good.” His focus shifts to the cabinet open above him, and Y/N’s failed attempts to reach the door to put a faded glass bottle of ointment back inside. “Here, I’ve got you.” He takes the bottle from her hand, reaching up over her head to slide it inside and shut the door. When he looks back down, he realizes that his slight movement had shifted him close to Y/N, and they stand only an inch or two apart. He stands there for just a second, then leans forward with the air of someone taking a leap of faith and kisses her.

His hands slip around her waist, and Y/N presses her palms against the small of his back. When he breaks away, her eyes are light, and happier than he’s seen in a while. “I’ve been wanting you to do that for a long time.” She says, and Newt finally allows himself a smile. “I’ve been wanting the same.”

When morning breaks, it brings with it fear and overwhelming terror. After the doors to the Maze didn’t close at nightfall, the resulting Griever attack had left the Glade weak and unprotected. Newt walks with Y/N to the opening of the Maze, and wraps a protective hand around hers as they watch Gally prepare to sacrifice Thomas and Teresa to the Grievers in the hopes of protecting the rest of the Gladers.

Teresa, already tied to a wooden pole, argues desperately that their deaths will do nothing to save the Glade. Gally grows angry and orders Thomas to be tied up as well, but Thomas fights back against his would-be captors. The second Thomas lashes out, Y/N drops Newt’s hand, and the two of them join Minho, Frypan, and a score of other supporters to turn the tide, forcing Gally back with weapons drawn.

Y/N remains silent as Thomas speaks to the rest of the Gladers, urging them to escape the Maze with him. More walk away from Gally to join Thomas and the others, but still more remain on the other side. Finally, when the last of the Gladers willing to leave stand by Thomas, Y/N steps forward. She speaks directly to Gally, her voice cracking slightly.

“Gally, please. Come with us. You won’t survive here if you stay.” Gally shakes his head just slightly. “Good luck with the Grievers.” Y/N looks at him, remembering all of the love she’d once had for him in that moment. “Don’t do this, Gally. Please.” But Gally turns and walks away, leaving Y/N standing there to watch him go. Newt stands silently beside her, and Y/N looks at him with pain before allowing him to wrap his arms comfortingly around her. “He made his choice. There’s nothing you can do.” She nods hesitantly, and they walk together into the Maze.

The journey through the Maze is fraught with peril, and Y/N watches with horror as friends she’d known for months died at the claws of the Grievers. Finally, amazingly, a small handful of Gladers make it through the Maze and into the broken rooms of WICKED. Y/N holds Newt’s hand as they walk through the rooms, broken glass crunching under their feet. They do not intend to let go.

There’s a voice from across the destruction, from one of the other rooms. The Gladers group together instinctively, Newt pulling Y/N close to his side. A figure steps out from the darkness, and Y/N’s breath catches in her throat when she recognizes the boy. “Gally?” Her voice echoes across the room and he nods ever so slightly. Newt steps in front of her protectively when he notices the gun in Gally’s hand.

Gally shakes his head quickly when he sees the boy move. “I’m not going to shoot her, Newt. That’s not why I’m here. I could never hurt her.” Y/N speaks in a calm voice. “Put down the gun, Gally. We can talk about this, about why you’re here.” Gally shakes his head again with even more fervor than before. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I have to do this.” He takes a shuddering gasp, and his eyes clear for just a second even as tears begin to pour down his cheeks.

“Are you happy with him?” Y/N nods slowly when she hears his question. “Yes. I am.” Gally forces something that looks almost like a smile, but with the overwhelming twist of his face from the tears it looks bent and broken instead of joyful. Gally redirects his attention to Thomas, who is asking him to put down the gun. Gally shakes his head, sobs still racking his body. “I belong to the Maze. We all do.”

It all seems to happen at once. Gally pulls the trigger, Minho moves in a blur of movement to throw a spear through Gally’s chest. Gally stumbles and falls to the ground. Y/N lets out this quiet scream, her breath rasping sharply against her throat. Newt covers her eyes with his hand, making sure that she can’t see the dead body of the boy she’d once loved.

It is then that Thomas sees the blood starting to spread from Chuck’s chest, then that he sees the way Chuck’s breathing falters and he starts to collapse to the ground. Thomas bends over him, frantic. “Y/N, Clint, somebody! He’s been- he’s been-” Thomas can’t finish the sentence. Y/N kneels next to him, ignoring the blood beginning to stain her hands, but at last she stands up again and shakes her head almost imperceptibly at Thomas.

Silent tears run down her cheeks as Thomas stares at her in mute incomprehension, then turns back to Chuck. Y/N buries her face in Newt’s shoulder, unable to watch as the young boy breathes his last in Thomas’ arms. When it comes time for them to leave, Thomas’ screams echo down the empty hallways. Newt takes Y/N’s hand, whispers in her ear. “There was nothing you could have done.” She looks at him sadly. “I know. And it hurts even more for it.”

The two of them head back down the halls together, hand in hand. She won’t leave him, not now. Not ever. He needs her as much as she needs him, as much as the sun needs the moon and the earth needs one more chance to heal. They do not intend to leave each other, never again. They do not know if they will have a choice about it, but it does not matter. They would follow each other to the ends of the earth to give themselves the chance to stay together.

#newt #newt imagine #newt x reader #newt imagines #maze runner #maze runner imagine #maze runner x reader #maze runner imagines #maze runner newt #maze runner newt imagines #maze runner newt x reader #maze runner newt imagine #death cure #wicked

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ordinaryschmuck · 3 years

Note

Next idea I have to suggest, Luz playing video games with Vee and Hunter in an AU, then they both tease her because of needing to get ready for a date with Amity.

Advice During Kombat

The time: Five in the evening.

The place: The Noceda household living room.

The players: Vee and Hunter.

And the competition of choice: Mortal Kombat...the video game, not the actual bloodsport.

Regardless, the game was still ready as the two teens prepared for pixelated bloodshed, with Vee picking Scorpion and Hunter choosing Sub-Zero. The classic video game feud in history.

"Scorpion, huh?" Hunter cocked an eyebrow, "Why's that? Because you want to pretend for a second that you're actually hardcore?"

"Oh, yeah? Well, why did you pick Sub-Zero? Because um...because...Luz!" Vee called to her foster sister, "Hunter picked Sub-Zero!"

"Why?" Luz called back from the top of the stairs, "Because he has a cold heart?"

"Yeah, Hunter," Vee grinned, "Is it because you have a cold heart?"

But Hunter didn't look amused.

"You do realize that if you want those kids to stop making fun of you, you're going to have to come up with your own smack talk, right?"

"...Let's just play the stupid game."

"Excuse you! This game is--"

"Wait!" Luz slid into the living room, wearing a fancy dress shirt and coat with a frilly skirt, purple leggings, and combat boots. "Before you virtually kill each other, tell me: How do I look?"

"Um..."

"You look like a five-year-old dressed up their doll in a mish-mash of crap because they haven't discovered what fashion is yet," Hunter dryly commented, "Go pick out something else."

Luz blew a raspberry before running back upstairs. Once she was gone, Vee and Hunter focussed back on the T.V. screen.

"Now, get ready to eat your words about this game being stupid!" Hunter challenged, starting the fight. The second they could, both players controlled their characters in vastly different ways. Vee was more sporadic and tried to button mash her way to victory. Whereas Hunter appeared calm as he pushed the right buttons that he knew by heart.

"When you said that you were going to teach me how to fight, this isn't what I was expecting," Vee said as she miraculously got Hunter to half-health.

"I am teaching you. The first lesson is to pay attention to what these characters are doing. If you mimic their moves, then nobody is going to mess with you."

"I doubt that I'll be able to use a kunai spear in real life. Liiiiiiiiike THIS!" Vee expertly pulled Sub-Zero over to Scorpion, ending the round with one final blow. "Yes! In your face!"

But Hunter only chuckled menacingly at Vee's celebration.

"Oh, you poor, naïve girl. I was only going easy on you. Now, the real game can--"

"How about this," Luz interrupted Hunter's threat to present herself in a black dress with a crescent moon on the center.

"Looks great," Hunter said with disinterest as he paused the game.

"No, it doesn't," Vee interjected, "Luz, you look like a hot-topic kid's dream come true."

"See, now that is a good insult."

"To be fair, Amity is sort of emo," Luz pointed out with a nervous grin. "Maybe she'd be into it?"

"Just go pick out something else," Vee told her, causing the poor girl to run back upstairs with a whine.

"Back to bloodshed," Hunter announced, pressing play. This time, he practically destroyed Vee, who barely got two hits on him during the whole fight. Once the round ended, Hunter looked back at his opponent with the smuggest grin he could muster. Vee only glared.

"You...are a jerk."

"And your insults could use some work again," Hunter teased, ready for the new round, "Watch carefully now as I show you how to really--"

"Is this ok?"

Hunter paused the game again, absolutely fuming as he looked over to Luz.

"Would you STOP interrupting my--What...On Earth...are you wearing?"

Luz stood before them dressed in...something unconventional for sure.

"The otter onesie? Really?"

"...I'm nervous, ok?!" Luz blurted out, "I haven't been on a date before! I don't know what to wear!"

"So you went with the otter onesie?" Vee asked.

"I don't own that many fancy clothes!"

"Even then, I feel like you should know that wearing that thing is quite possibly the worst option you have," Hunter responded, "Seriously, you're better off going out naked than in...that."

"You're overthinking things, Luz," Vee said in a calming tone, "Amity's had a crush on you for, like, forever."

"For reason's that nobody will ever understand."

"Ignore him and listen to me when I say that you're going to be fine. No matter what you wear or what you do, Amity wouldn't care less. Just as long as you act like yourself, and--"

But Vee's reassurance was cut short once she heard the sounds of violence again. Looking back to the screen, she realized that Hunter had un-paused the game and was currently beating up a static Scorpion.

"Oh, you cheater!" Vee shouted, grabbing her controller.

"This is another lesson," Hunter smirked, "Always pay attention."

As the two of them went at it, Luz slowly trudged upstairs. After a few minutes of action, Vee had two hits left in her health bar, with Hunter's barely having a dent in it. Without any other options left, Vee's only choice was to jump around, dodging all of Hunter's attacks.

"You're only delaying the inevitable," he mocked.

"Only because you cheated!"

"In a real fight, you shouldn't have to worry about playing fairly. Only about winning."

"How's this for fair then: SWITCH!"

"Wait, what?"

Just then, Luz, now wearing a dress shirt and dark skinny jeans, took the controller out of Vee's hands. Effortlessly, she dominated Hunter, pulling off a flawless fatality once ending the match.

"Boom," she said simply, mic-dropping the controller. Vee smiled happily at her foster-sister, but Hunter only fumed.

"That is so not fair!"

"And we so don't care," Luz told him, giving Vee a fist pump, "Ok, so, this is the last outfit I can think of. How do I look now?"

"I think you look great!" Vee gave the thumbs up.

"I'll admit, while I hate this display of bad sportsmanship--"

"You cheated first!"

"--You don't look as bad as you usually do."

Bzzt!

After taking out her phone, Luz's eyes widened at the reminder she had set on it.

"I sure hope you're right, because I gotta go!" she exclaimed, heading for the door. "Love you, Vee! Hunter, you can go die in a fire!"

"Love you too, sis!" Vee called out.

"I hope Blight girl dumps you after this!" Hunter shouted back, but his genuine grin took the wind out of the threat. With Luz out of the house, it was just Hunter and Vee, who both sat on the couch with a hanging question before them.

"So..." Vee grabbed the controller off the floor, "Rematch?"

"Only because now you can't cheat this time," Hunter snarked, grabbing his controller and picking his new character.

"Again, you cheated first!"

#the owl house #luz noceda #toh vee #toh hunter #the golden guard #luz and hunter are siblings #luz and vee are sisters #the hiatus of drabbles #lumity

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jaskiersvalley · 3 years

Note

I loved your fic about witchers being afraid of moths so much. I suffer mottophobia as well and the thought that witchers feel the same is nice. So thank you!!!

Nonnie, I'm so pleased you liked that story! Phobias of any kind can be so stressful, I hope moths don't bother you all that often. While I don't have another phobia story for you, I have something a little different that I hope you enjoy.

CW: Panic attacks

It had taken Aiden several years before he broached the idea of wintering together. He knew Lambert went to Kaer Morhen each season and didn't want to be rude by inviting himself to the Wolves' den. But he also didn't want to make Lambert have to choose between seeing his family for the season and accompanying Aiden to the Caravan. Really, he need not have feared because as soon as he brought up the topic of winter, Lambert was jumping at the chance.

"Want to go to the Caravan?"

Just like that, they spent three years wintering with Cats. Lambert fit right in, helping with life on the road without a hitch, messing around, teaching tricks and learning new ones in equal measure. He cooked, did repairs and was as accepted into the Caravan as a stranger could be. It made Aiden wonder whether he missed the pack feel of his own family of Wolves.

"This year-" he said with some hesitance late one summer, "-why don't we go north? Kaer Morhen has probably missed its youngest Wolf."

If Lambert's expression was anything to go by, he didn't agree. "Does the Caravan not want me this year?"

"What?" Aiden scoffed at the notion. "No! I thought you knew they all dote on you. I just thought you might want to spend a season with your family. You met mine..." Not that he'd ever say it out loud but Aiden wanted to meet Lambert's family too, he didn't want to be a shameful secret.

The terse "fine" sounded anything but fine. However, Lambert refused to discuss it any further and, come winter, he led them north. By the time they got to the bottom of the mountain Lambert was tense, quiet and anything he said was cutting. It wasn't the Lambert Aiden knew at all. But he reasoned that maybe Lambert was nervous about bringing a Cat home. The higher up they got, the faster Lambert's heart beat. Perhaps it was the excitement of coming home after so long, at least that was what Aiden told himself. He figured once they were done with the dangerous path up to Kaer Morhen then Lambert would relax. He was wrong.

They made it into the warmth of the halls and what followed was the most uncomfortable introduction Aiden had ever endured. Lambert stopped, arms crossed over his chest as he regarded the other three.

"This is Aiden. You break him, I break your necks." With that, Lambert stomped out, bristling and grumbling under his breath. Hastily, Aiden followed after a quick wave that the three Witchers looking suitably non-plussed by it all.

What was strange was that Lambert didn't settle. He was a fountain of bitter remarks, sarcastic quips and brash aggression. Aiden couldn't make heads or tails of it. The others didn't react, didn't seem like they even wanted to try and calm the situation. In the end Aiden couldn't stand by anymore and cornered Eskel, demanding answers.

"What do you mean?" The thing was, Eskel genuinely seemed confused. "That's just Lambert for you. You've known him for years now, surely you're used to it."

But Aiden wasn't. He hadn't seen Lambert like that before, so on edge. "No," he replied in the end. "This isn't how I know him. His heart rate's high, he's callous, spikey, lashing out. That's not the Lambert I know."

The look Eskel gave him was one of strange reproach. "The mutagens didn't fully take with him, his heart's always been faster than a normal Witcher's. As for the rest, I don't know what swamp water you drink to block it out but that's Lambert in a nutshell."

It wasn't. Aiden knew Lambert, spent years listening to his steady heartbeat, relishing when they fell in sync most nights. He'd seen the kindness and patience Lambert had out on the Path and at the Caravan. There was no mocking for getting footwork wrong, no calling the other person an idiot with a scoff. Nor had Aiden ever seen Lambert pace before, a restless tracing of a path between window and door of the bedroom. The growled "don't touch me" sounded full of threat, so much like a dog trying to prove he could really hurt an opponent in an effort to stave off an actual fight. Seeing Lambert like that hurt and Aiden didn't know what had provoked the change.

Things got worse when they were making repairs to Kaer Morhen, trying to undo all the damage the sacking had done. With the parts they inhabited secure and warm, Vesemir directed their work to the dungeons, salvaging what they could. Smoke stained books and scrolls along with bottles that contained the dregs of potions were pulled from partially collapsed rooms. Lambert was exceptionally acerbic, sniping at everyone including Aiden. It was all ignored until he snapped at Vesemir, "so what's the plan here, old man? Going to open up the torture chambers again to get your rocks off?"

"Another word from you and you'll be running the Killer twice before each meal," Vesemir growled, grabbing another thick book covered in ash and rock debris.

Throwing his hands up, Lambert stormed off, muttering about how he'd rather run the Killer night and day than suffer this idiocy. Nobody seemed to care that his breath had hitched and heartrate was rocketing higher. Well, Aiden cared. Seeing as none of the others looked interested in following Lambert, he took it upon himself.

"Best to leave him," Eskel called after him. "He'll probably destroy a few training dummies in a fit of rage and then calm. Ignoring him leads to the fewest injuries for all."

Not that Aiden cared. He followed the sour scent that Lambert had been coated in all winter, maybe even before that. True to Eskel's prediction, he was in the training yard but he wasn't decimating dummies. Instead, Lambert was staring blankly off into the distance, muscles locked into a tense hunch.

"Lamb?"

His name seemed to jerk Lambert out of whatever thoughts he'd gotten lost in. Whirling, he rounded on Aiden with a snarl. Not rising to it, Aiden held a arm open and stepped closer, inviting Lambert into a cuddle. His heart broke a little when Lambert reared away, spitting with rage. "Don't touch me!"

Truthfully, Aiden didn't have to, he could see the solid lines of muscles, coiled tight. Everything about Lambert screamed to be left alone but he couldn't, not when there was something so underlyingly wrong. If Aiden didn't know any better, he'd have said that anyone else behaving like Lambert was having a silent panic attack. Maybe Aiden didn't know any better. He'd rarely heard Lambert speak of Kaer Morhen or the others, and when it did it wasn't with fondness. Around them was destruction, every stone imbued with memories of a hard life. Aiden knew that the instructors were harsh, often punishing Lambert with a cane or deprivation as he grew up. Vesemir had been one of those men and Lambert had to face his tormentor on a daily basis. They'd been digging up the dungeon where the trials had been administered, pulling what they could on how to recreate the them. Each crumbling wall was another layer of memories of the sacking, of a life Lambert hated but had no idea how to leave behind. When the misery was the only thing he knew, the only steady thing in his life, it was easier to cling to it rather than embrace the terror of the unknow.

Keeping his distance, Aiden nodded. "It's okay." It wasn't but he had no idea what else to say. They were going to have to get through winter, it was too late to head down the mountain. But as soon as it was safe, Aiden was whisking Lambert away from it. He wasn't letting him face the traumas of his past again and again. It wasn't healthy to rip open those wounds, to come face to face with living memories each time he saw Vesemir and Kaer Morhen.

When Aiden stepped in again, Lambert didn't scuttle away. Instead, he was stiff as a board in Aiden's arms, quivering with pent up emotions. Slowly, Aiden rubbed his back, tried to urge him to relax into his hold. Ever so gradually Lambert did, letting Aiden take a fair chunk of his weight as the shaking got more pronounced. Without a word, Aiden held him, gave him the quiet and the space to finally fall apart. It made him wonder whether, in years gone by, Lambert would allow himself to break apart each night in the privacy of his room. Now, with Aiden there, had he been trying to hold it all together, no space safe enough to let his emotions out? Shuddering at the thought, Aiden held Lambert tighter. Come next year, they were going to spend winter with the Caravan again. Never again was Lambert going to have to face the haunting wraiths of his past. Not if Aiden could help it.

#lambden #lambert/aiden #lambert #aiden #the witcher #cw: panic attacks #tldr: lambert has silent panic attacks at kaer morhen

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stxleslyds · 3 years

Note

Jason doesn't show up in DC's animated series (though the does "spiritually" show up as Tim Drake in Season 2 of Batman the Animated Series).

Jason has a strong presence in the video games, though. So what is your opinion on Jason's characterization for Arkham Knight? He is a DLC for the Injustice games as well. Judy be warned that I did watch some clips of Arkham Knight and the torture was too gruesome for me.

RED HOOD IN VIDEO GAMES.

Hey there friend, thank you for the ask!

INJUSTICE 2.

I had to do some research on Red Hood’s appearances in the Injustice games because I was never really in touch with that story. Here is what I knew about it, there are two games for PC, one of them is Injustice and the other is Injustice 2, the games also have the comic books that give context/background to the lore of the game.

I used to play Injustice: Gods Among Us on mobile phone, and I had Jason as a playable character there, I also found out way too late that “Nightwing” wasn’t really Dick Grayson, it was Damian because he took on the mantle after he and the rock killed Dick in the comic (forever mad at that ridiculous death and the kinda scary art that comic had).

I looked for information about Red Hood’s backstory in wikis and all that because I refuse to read an alternate universe book written by Tom Taylor, there are things that I am just not willing to do.

All in all, I think that this Jason was in surface level, the same as his canon comic counterpart up until the time of his resurrection. Given that the world was at war and the League of Assassins wasn’t working openly, he and the others had to live in the shadows, he seems to have been trained proficiently by both Batman and the LoA so he is a very hardcore opponent. There are some bits of his story with Damian and a place called Gorilla City that I do not understand because I haven’t read the comics but I am fine without it.

The thing is that this Jason is pretty cool, he sticks to his morals and fights for what he believes is right, he doesn’t look like the kinda guy that takes sides in this war which is probably the best idea. Both Batman and Superman seem to be on the wrong side of history with they ideals.

What I did see and I loved eternally was the ending to Red Hood’s story, I will link the video here! But I will also copy and paste all that he says there because I think it’s really important and where I was able to see more of his characterization.

"That. Felt. Good. Titanium composite hollow point bullets with a C4 kicker. Fastest, most explosive ammo in the world. I made them myself. With the invasion over, Bruce and Superman started fighting again. I wasn't down with either of them. On the one hand, the Regime's right. Scumbag murderers and rapists deserve to die. But on the other hand, I'm no fan of government authority. Especially the dictatorial variety.

So, while the world's finest fight each other, I fight for the people. The weak. The innocent. Anyone who can't protect themselves. When they cry out for a saviour, I'll answer. As for the criminals that threaten them? They need to know that their actions have consequences. That the Red Hood is coming for them.”

This is excellent, I absolutely love this, this Jason knows his morals and doesn’t bow down to anyone and in the end, he is truly a hero to the people that need heroes the most.

Him saying that he believes that some criminals have to die but that he can’t really join Superman’s side because he cannot associate with it because he isn’t a fan of dictatorial ideas, I love this man.

I feel like this is a fair characterization for Jason, I believe that if something along the lines of what happens in Injustice happens in current continuity then Jason wouldn’t join any sides, he wouldn’t be neutral per se but he will fight for his own ideals. And his ideals in most universes are protecting people and I think that’s great. I love to see a world where Jason is seen as more intelligent and put together than the Batman.

Something that I find quite funny and interesting from this game is the dialogues that characters have with each other when they fight, I found this video compilation where you can see all the dialogues between Red Hood vs Robin (Damian Wayne), they are so fun and I love the animations too.

BATMAN: ARKHAM KNIGHT.

Oh, ArkhamVerse Jason, my beloved.

He is, to me, the epitome of this meme.

I have actually watched the whole game playthrough, several times, and Jason had a DLC as the Red Hood for that game (Nightwing has one too and I will talk about it later because I love this version of him). And, yes, the torture scene is very gruesome, it was incredibly sad and it made me feel bad. But I also think that they made it that way so it could support the kind of storytelling they were going for.

The reality is that this Jason suffered his whole life, and was constantly introduced to lifestyles that he never wanted to be part of. The world around this Jason wasn’t kind at all to him and there is a long list of people who did him wrong.

Although ArkhamVerse Jason didn’t die, like his comic counterpart did, he suffered the most. And his suffering really drove him to be the best version of an unhinged Jason Todd. But it’s clear, his brutality and murder intent isn’t laced with his Red Hood persona or at least not on the same level as it is with his Arkham Knight persona.

This Jason’s characterization works to perfection, but it only works that way because he was well developed within the game lore and the comics. This Jason was extremely well trained, he is probably the smartest version of Jason, his mind and his level of preparedness are unparalleled when it comes to other Jason Todd variants (a little MCU Loki talk right there).

I would go as far as to say that this Jason would be an excellent match to peak Dick Grayson from before New 52 in comics. Those two would clash so immensely, but man, it would be one hell of an intellectual and physical fight. Two Kings doing what they do best.

Anyway, for now take my word for how well characterized Jason is in the ArkhamVerse, I will make a post were I deep dive more on his character both in game and comics. There is so much to say about him, he is truly interesting and very complex.

Now, I will be a little cheeky and I will use this ask as an opportunity to talk about my man, ArkhamVerse Nightwing aka Pretty Boy.

I love him so much! In the game when you get to meet him (I will link the video here! it’s five minutes long, and worth the watch) you get to see both Nightwing’s and Dick’s personalities. Nightwing is fun and relaxed, he is a little bit cocky and doesn’t let Batman be a pain in his ass, he is truly a beast. Although he is never seen without the mask in a moment when he is alone with Bruce you can really see Dick’s personality shine through. He obviously has had issues with Bruce in the past but there is also this palpable respect coming from both of them to the other. Bruce wants to protect Dick but he acts like a jerk instead of telling him what is on his mind. Dick wants to help Bruce at all costs, he refuses to leave Gotham until they solve something that he was already working on before Bruce needed his help.

There is also this sort of goodbye scene between the two (I will link it here!) that is extremely sad because Dick doesn’t believe Bruce when he tells him that he is proud of him. Dick cuts him off just when Bruce was trying to open up and I think that scene speaks volumes about how rough their relationship was. Dick never finds out that Bruce was “dying” after being infected with the Joker’s blood/gas, so it’s very bittersweet.

There is also the Nightwing DLC, where we get to see Dick being the best of the best, he is so skilled and funny and smart. It is amazing how much this game made me love their Nightwing even though he doesn’t appear much, his dynamic with Penguin is just perfect, Dick literally makes Penguin’s life very difficult. All of the people working with Penguin kinda fear Dick a little bit, some of them are even impressed by his skills.

Oh and, when Nightwing gets captured at some point in the game, Penguin’s men are saying something along the lines of “I was sure Batman will come in” “how come?” “what’s tied up downstairs and getting the crap beat out of it?” “Oh yeah, Nightwing” and that is so true, if I were Batman, I will also risk my life for Nightwing.

I just love Nightwing, he makes me so happy! He is the best here!

Anyway, enough of me loving Nightwing uncontrollably, I will make a separate post where I only talk about ArkhamVerse Jason so, yeah, be ready for that one because I love that Jason too, he is hot.

#jason todd #red hood #arkham knight #dick grayson #nightwing #arkham games #injustice 2 #arkhamverse #asksss

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ragingbookdragon · 3 years

Text

The Theory Of Everything

Outlaws x Tamaranean!Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 3.3K Warnings: Explicit Language, Angst

Author's Note: So y'all remember how I said that one story sparked the beginning of the Outlaws x Reader? Yeah, I lied and wrote the actual beginning. Enjoy! -Thorne

It was a subtle thing, the slightest shift in her demeanor, and he would have missed it if he hadn’t the years of thorough training in order to recognize such shifts. Her default expression was typically a frown and narrowed eyes, and hardly ever did she crack a smile, even at the most downright hysterical jokes and pranks his family would pull on one another. Which was odd for a Tamaranean considering the fact that most of the ones he’d met were usually overjoyed, especially her sister.

Something had also flashed across her face in that moment he mentioned it and she offhandedly muttered about being conditioned to not show emotion, especially that of joy or kindness during her captive years—it was easily taken advantage of by those that wished to do their worst harms to people. Then, she waved it off, and talked about something she’d read on the internet, Resting-Bitch-Face, she’d called it, then actually laughed, and said it was her normal face, there was no particular negative emotion that caused it, it just was—but if it deterred people from being friendly with her, all the better.

And he’d come to realize that her frown and narrowed gaze didn’t ooze disinterest or irritation like he’d once believed. No, now that he’d noticed the shift in her eyes when she was around him and those she cared for, the softness that entered them, and the split second that her brows unfurrowed, features relaxing ever so slightly before they hardened again, covering up any semblance of relative peace. That was the moment he realized he was in love with her, and hopelessly at that too.

But she wasn’t an easy woman to understand, not by a long-shot, or to be around, and she’d even agree with both of those. Most people, like his older brother and his friends, avoided her like the plague and didn’t interact unless it was necessary, despite the fact that she’d once been a member of the Titans with Kory. Hell, most of the Justice League didn’t want to call in reinforcements if it meant she was coming too, she was that destructive when she fought—but her volatile nature held a lifetime of wrath and a raging need to burn away all remnants of abuse—either in herself or other innocents. And she only got it out when she expended her solar energy on those she deemed her enemies.

She was impertinent with people that wasted her time, and she especially hated when people made noise, hell, even when they breathed loudly it drove her up the wall. Which almost made her kill Roy the first time she’d met him because he wouldn’t stop whistling. She was also typically the reason that Jason and Roy couldn’t bring her along to bars anymore because she was more than happy to break someone’s leg over touching her or muttering explicit comments in her ear.

But what most people didn’t take the time to see was that she was caring too. She didn’t show it because she viewed it as a weakness to be taken from her by an enemy, but it slipped through sometimes. One of the easiest memories to call on of it, was the time they’d saved a group of kids from human traffickers and as they waited for the city police to show up, she made even the youngest child learn how to send a strike that would disorient even someone who was larger than they were. That spot just below your chest is called the solar plexus. Hit it as hard as you can, and your opponent will be winded. Curl your fingers in and open your hand, like so. Strike into their middle with the heel of your palm as hard as you can.

Jason wondered if it was the first time she’d smiled since she came to earth, because when she saw the kids slip into a state of absolute fun as they tried to whack each other, a broad grin stretched across her face. But it gave him a glimpse he hadn’t seen of her—that she was still a living being, capable of strong emotion, and if that smile on her face was any indicator, she was feeling pride and understanding towards the children. He loved her smile, wishing that it would’ve stayed a moment longer.

Unfortunately, being smitten didn’t seem to just apply to Jason because if someone as hard-assed and anal-retentive about feelings as he was, was feeling such a way, he knew a loose, emotionally tethered man like Roy was too, especially when the archer gazed at her with those big evergreen eyes like he was staring at the whole universe compacted into one woman. Jason wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

And if he was being completely honest, he didn’t know how to feel about either of them—he wouldn’t deny there was something more than just friendship between he and Roy, and it wasn’t that strong as steel, forged level of trust you get between watching each other’s back when you’re in the thick of danger—it was deeper than that, but they’d yet to bring it up—that or it just hadn’t come up to where they needed to talk about it. And now that there was another person he wanted…Jason wanted to acknowledge it, but he was so afraid of fucking up probably the greatest thing that happened to him since he came back, and that kept him paralyzed from acting on his feelings. And he was content to keep his mouth shut if it meant avoiding that, even if he had to watch the two people he loved the most get closer.

***

She was typically the first one to wake in the morning. Training with the Warlords of Okaara meant rising before the sun, and while she’d learned to indulge in waiting for the sun to appear in the sky before waking here on earth, old habits died hard, and more often than not, she found herself lying in bed in the early hours of the morn, simply staring at the ceiling until she heard Jason or Roy shuffling around in the kitchen. That being said, it was usually Jason who was up and not Roy, the latter being very lazy and preferring to sleep until practically noon.

Today however, she wasn’t the first to arise, coming to stare at Jason as she shuffled into the kitchen, watching as he tiptoed around the area, either consciously being quiet, or unconsciously falling back on sneaking training. His back was to her, and even if she wasn’t one privy to childish whims, she couldn’t help but creep up on him and wait in his peripheral until he finally noticed her. And when he did, it was downright hilarious.

He jerked with a sharp ‘shit’ and immediately threw out his right elbow to jab at whatever had snuck up on him and she caught it with ease, allowing a smirk to cross her lips before it fell and she murmured, “Peace, Jason. It would be unbecoming to attack a teammate.” She pressed her thumb into the flesh underside his arm and his arm tingled with heat. “Better yet a friend.”

Jason scowled and pulled his arm out her grip. “It’s unbecoming to sneak up on teammates too, (Y/N).”

She merely hummed and flowed around him to the refrigerator. The door creaked on its hinges and he momentarily reminded himself to oil it later, watching as she pulled out the water pitcher.

“You are up rather early,” (Y/N) noted. “I have noticed that you sleep an hour or so later than I.” Her glowing eyes pierced him with a clarity that he wasn’t sure he liked. “Is there something on your mind, Jason?”

He shrugged and turned away, busying himself with pulling out a skillet and a spatula. “Just woke up, is all.” Jason didn’t have to be facing her to know that those eyes were boring into his back—he could feel them.

“Ah, so your body has received the needed recovery.”

Chuckling, he replied, “Something like that.” He felt her shift behind him, then the egg carton appeared beside the spatula on the counter, and he glanced over at her, only to see a curious look in her eye.

“Has anyone ever told you that your eyes glow in the dark?”

Jason blinked—not that he remembered. He unconsciously reached up to touch just below his eye and he murmured, “No…they do?”

(Y/N) lifted a hand and he couldn’t fight the way his heart began to pound in his chest at how soft her fingertips were when they finally touched his skin. She drew her fingers up his cheek and to his eyebrow, tracing it delicately, as if he were made of porcelain and the faintest touch would shatter him into a million shards—not like he wasn’t feeling like that already.

“It is strange, Jason. They are teal in the light, but when there is darkness…they glow a vivid green.”

A memory flashed across his mind, waking up in the neon ooze of the Lazarus Pit and he couldn’t help but shut his eyes, trying to will it away. She placed her palm against his cheek and Jason sighed as the warmth bled into his skin, reminding him of those moments of falling onto a warm pillow.

“What is on your mind, Jason?” she asked, and this time she wasn’t probing to see if he’d tell her—(Y/N) wanted an answer, and a real one at that. He let out a shaky breath as he mulled over the words that played on his tongue. “I can see you are thinking about it. Tell me what is weighing on you and I will do what I can to appease it.”

“I don’t know if it’s that simple, (Y/N),” he replied and he opened his eyes to stare at her. Her expression was unreadable and the fact that he couldn’t decipher her thoughts worried him.

“Simplicity. Complexity. These are only matters of time and understanding, Jason,” she explained and thumbed his cheekbone. “You know that I can do so. Let me help you.”

It was now or never and either he told her here or he told her later when the timing was worse, and he made an even bigger mess. At least here, she could let him down easy and swear to never say a word to Roy about it.

Jason took a deep breath and prepared himself for the worst as he confessed quietly, “I…love you, (Y/N).”

The most extraordinary thing occurred in front of Jason—her jaw went slack, and her eyes went wide like she’d witnessed the most impossible thing. And that had to be the second to worst reaction he could hope for because he’d honestly rather have her flat-out rejection than stunned silence, just staring at each other. And stare they did…for a solid minute before she appeared to find her voice.

“I…was not aware you had affectations for me.” (Y/N) blinked, adding, “Is this a recent discovery?”

He shrugged. “I tried to ignore it…I didn’t want to mess up the dynamic we’ve got going but…”

Jason trailed off and she tipped her head to the side, repeating, “But?”

Meeting her gaze, he said, “But I couldn’t stop feeling for you.” Suddenly he felt like a caged animal, too close, too confined, too transparent in her glowing stare and he pulled from her touch, spinning around to place his hands on the counter so he could gather his thoughts.

“I don’t know what’s between you and Roy, but I know it’s more than sex and I’m not going to come between it.”

“Even if you want to?” she questioned, and he gripped the counter until his knuckles turned a sickly, pale shade. “Don’t you want to be the one at my side?”

“What I want doesn’t matter. I want you both to be happy.”

“At your own expense.”

Jason huffed a mirthless laugh. “I’m used to my expense being unseen and uncared for.” He lowered his head as his heart began to collapse on itself. “I love you, (Y/N) and…and I love Roy too.” Even with all he’d been through, Jason wondered if this was what it was like to have a broken heart. “But I won’t stand in the way.”

She was silent for a long time and Jason fought viciously to keep the tears at bay. He’d just revealed two of the biggest secrets he’d ever had in his entire life—discounting the whole vigilante thing—and he wasn’t sure where that was going to leave him in the morning.

A warm hand touched his knuckles and his head shot up, staring wide and teary eyed at (Y/N) who wore a heart-tugging smile. Finally, she spoke, soft and kind.

“Come with me,” she said, and Jason felt confusion course through him as his brows knitted together.

“What?”

(Y/N) pulled his grip away from the counter as if it were nothing and she tugged at his hand. “Come with me,” she repeated, this time a bit firmer and he had no control over his feet as he silently obeyed, letting her lead him down the long hallway until they stood at her door.

She opened it and pulled him inside her room, closing the door with her free hand. Jason had turned on the lights leading to the kitchen, so he had to blink a few times, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness in her room, but when they did, her room was the last place he wanted to be—mostly because Roy was curled up like a cat in her bed.

He tried to pull away, whispering, “(Y/N), please don’t—”

She shot him a look with those gleaming eyes and his mouth snapped shut, though his apprehension bubbled in his chest the closer she led him to her bed. They reached the edge and she pulled him towards her. He stepped forward, allowing her to maneuver him until his knees touched the edge and she placed her hands on his chest, shoving with enough force that if he wanted to stop himself, he had to try hard. Jason didn’t though and he fell back onto the mattress, momentarily glancing over his shoulder to make sure he didn’t wake Roy; he didn’t, and he looked back at her.

“(Y/N)?”

She pulled the shirt from her body, leaving her in her undergarments and she shoved at his shoulder.

“Lie down,” she commanded calmly, and despite everything in his bones screaming at him to get up and flee, he obeyed, albeit when his back hit the bed, he went still as a wooden beam.

“X’Hal, Jason. Relax.” She slipped into the bed beside him and pulled the covers up over the two of them as she pressed herself into Jason’s side, one leg sliding between his.

He wasn’t entirely sure what was happening at the moment, but when she reached across him and shoved Roy in the face until he woke up, something started to fall into place.

“Roy,” (Y/N) said and shoved him again, smirking slightly when the archer let out a grunt and cracked an eye open.

“What?” he muttered rather annoyed, glaring into her eyes.

She nodded at the man between them. “Jason is here.”

Roy blinked a few times. “I’m sorry?” he questioned, evidently not understanding it the first time.

(Y/N) grabbed Roy’s arm and hauled him until he collided with Jason and he wasn’t sure if it was himself or Roy who was more flustered at meeting each other’s gaze as she simply repeated, “Jason is here.”

Roy took a moment to fully understand what she was saying. “Jaybird?”

Jason pulled the most awkward smile he’d ever produced. “Roy.”

The archer looked between him and her then asked, “I thought we were going to talk to him together?”

(Y/N) shrugged. “He told me he loved us.”

Both men yelped at the same time, vastly different reactions words, but the feeling of shock was still the same. She was obviously unamused at the long, drawn-out moment and Jason remembered she hated wasting time when she gave him another look. She nodded at Roy and they stared each other down before he sighed and nodded, turning his face to Roy.

“She’s…right, Roy.” He let his fingers brush against the smooth skin of Roy’s wrist as he whispered, “I love you. I love both of you.”

He wasn’t sure what reaction was going to come out of Roy, but when the man sat up in the bed with a face-splitting grin, it was safe to say he was relieved.

Roy took Jason’s face in his hands. “You do?”

Jason nodded. “Yeah.”

The archer glanced at (Y/N) then back to him. “We were going to ask you to be with us later today, but we weren’t sure if you would respond positively or not.”

Jason blinked then turned his attention to (Y/N). “Like…for sex?”

She directed her gaze to the ceiling, and she let out the longest and most tired sigh he’d ever heard her make.

“If we wanted you to have sex with us, we would have asked a long time ago.” (Y/N) sat up slightly and lay against his chest. “No, we want you to be with us, Jason. Romantically.”

His eyes widened. “You want me to be with you two? Like a poly relationship?” Both of them nodded and he turned his head up to the ceiling, staring, unblinkingly.

“Do you think we killed his brain, (Y/N)?” Roy chuckled as he nudged her in the side and she snorted, gently rising until she was in Jason’s line of sight.

“Roy and I have not been seeing each other for a long time Jason, but even if we have not, we have noticed that something is missing, and that something is you.” (Y/N) caressed his cheek with the back of her hand and murmured, “We both share your affections. Greatly and strongly do we share them.”

She smiled and leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “We love you, Jason.”

He took a second to gaze between her and Roy, his heart stuck in his throat and when he received the heartwarming smile from Roy, he looked back at her.

“You both really want me to be with you?” he sounded so scared, so ready to have the rug pulled out from underneath him with a horrible, tasteless joke, but (Y/N) merely nodded.

“We do, Jason.” She gave him a sympathetic look. “But if you wish to leave, you may. We will not be upset at your hesitancy or refusal.”

Roy placed a hand on Jason’s clothed chest and added, “We want you, Jason, but if you’re uncomfortable with it, we understand.” He smiled and reassured, “You don’t have to do anything you don’t wanna do, Jaybird.”

They waited. Patiently. And it took Jason a few moments to remember how to breathe correctly again, but when he did, he nodded silently.

“I want to be here…with both of you,” he whispered and before he could even do a thing, the two of them had him caged between them, their heads resting on his shoulders, arms wrapped tightly around his middle.

But it wasn’t confining, it was comfortable, and it was loving. So loving that Jason’s eyes filled with tears and he shut them tight to avoid crying, but when his body began to shake, (Y/N) and Roy didn’t think twice before shifting and pressing their faces into his neck, showering him with praise and love-filled words.

And Jason fell asleep in the arms of the two people who he loved the most—and loved him as well.

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flyinglotus777 · 3 years

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Netflix’s Squid Game

SPOILER ALERT! If you are interested in watching the series, I HIGHLY suggest you do so. This article will be an overall synopsis and my review of the show. For an in-depth analysis of the symbolism of the show and ending, scroll down to the fourth to last paragraph.

The Netflix show, “Squid Game,” written and directed by Hwang Dong-hyuk is a phenomenal Korean drama centered around our victor, Seong Gi-hun, played by Lee Jung-jae. Contestants were recruited to play in a life or death competition due to their lack of luck, financial knowledge, and influx of impending debt they have accumulated throughout their lives. We first meet Gi-hun as he is down on his luck. Living with his elderly, overworked mother (which in countries outside of the United States is not strange nor uncommon) Gi-hun was a friend to gambling, but that toxic love caused him to be in debt to a gang of (what seemed to be) loan sharks. When luck finally strikes him on the race track, life simultaneously decides to take an excrement on his reality. His debt seekers catch him on his hot streak and involuntarily sign him up to be a participant in the Squid Game.

Similar to many other of the 456 participants, they all shared a common denominator of being in situations it seemed only money could fix. Upon arrival the contestants were asked to voluntarily sign wavers in order to participate in the game, while unknowingly risking their lives, for the opportunity to win 456 billion won (which would be roughly over $3.5 million in US currency). The challenges were mostly based on nostalgic childhood games, both based in the United States and South Korea.

Now I knew due to the explanation in the introduction of episode one that if any player were to lose, they would die. So during the first challenge of red light green light, when players were bulletly penalized for losing I was not surprised. After the game, the players decided to rally together and quit playing. The influence of the cash prize split the decision down the middle, leaving the old man, player 1, to be the final decision. To my surprise he actually chose to decline, freeing all of the players. During the voting, many players screamed at each other as to why they would choose to stay in the hell hole as other players responded that the outside world was not any better if not the same as the harsh environment they were already in. This reality struck many contestants as they returned back to their reality of debt, dependents, and for some bounty hunts, thus resulting in them returning to the game.

During the whole season, I was trying to find the purpose of these games. We knew why the participants felt motivated to play, but I wondered what was the purpose of having them fight for their lives in the first place. When the PlayStation faced soldiers forced the doctor (player 111) to dissect the bodies for organs to sell at the black market, at first I thought that it was what the original game maker wanted which I thought was genius. Soon to learn that it was actually a violation to a code of equality that was placed inside the arena applying to all of those who existed, soldiers and participants alike. Which struck me as odd due to the soldiers being able to tote guns and wear masks based on their own hierarchy and the participants being collectively isolated and given numbers as if it was a remake of the Stanford Prison experiment. Nonetheless many soldiers faced the same fate as the players, and my pondering would meet the solution come the finale.

Let’s discuss players. I only favored Gi-hun because he was the protagonist, but throughout the story he grew on me as his big heart prevailed through the madness. I knew Choo Sang-woo, the embezzling business man and hometown friend of Gi-hun played by Park Hae-soo, was a psychopath when I saw him in a fully filled bathtub with his suit on. Running from the police, in debt or not, that’s just as much of a red flag for serial killer tendencies as sleeping with socks on or having too thin and highly arched eyebrows. The episode that he crossed Ali, the father of one from Pakistan with the missing fingers, made me hate Sang-woo for the rest of the series. I was infuriated and frustrated with Ali for being that naïve to believe that they could escape the round as a duo, but understood his perspective since up until that point Sang-woo was a dependable, trusted ally to Ali. However after that episode I didn’t care who won, I was just ready for Sang-woo to die.

Kang Sae-byeok, the skeptical and beautiful warrior from North Korea played by Jung Ho-yeon, deserves her own paragraph. Along with her beauty, her presence and demeanor was so bad ass. She was thrifty and intelligent, as her talent being pick pocketing. I was waiting for her to just be so bad ass. As the punk disguised to be gangster, Jang Deok-su, pushed her around which seemed to be normal behavior between the two, I was ready for Sae-byeok to twist his arm, send a plunging round house kick to his nuts, and cut his snake tattoo right off of his face. Although her exterior was tough, her heart was made of malleable gold which we got to see as she opened up to her female companion during the marble challenge and sobbed from her loss afterwards. Although she was not the killer bad ass queen I had wanted her to be, I still call her a warrior because of her resiliency throughout life’s and the game’s many obstacles and her drive to provide her younger brother with a better life.

Thankfully Deok-su got what he deserved as Han Mi-nyeo poetically decided to take both of their lives during the glass challenge. “You said we would be together till the end,” she said before diving into her inevitable death with her short lived lover. Mi-nyeo was incredibly annoying as I would often pinch the inside corners of my eyes and scratch my eyebrows when she would appear. However that crazy bitch served justice, and I love her for that.

I was highly disappointed by the demise of the detective Hwang Jun-ho, played by the handsome Wi Ha-joon. I was rooting for detective Jun-ho, as I’m sure we all were, on his pursuit to find his brother. I was not surprised that his brother was Front Man, as I had suspected that his brother must’ve died or been apart of the game making due to his absence in real life and the current game. After discovering his brother was the victor of his year, to me it only made sense that he would be apart of the game enforcement. As we saw from Gi-hun, a normal life is impossible to live after experiencing something so traumatic as a series of death ridden children games. However I was saddened and surprised that detective Jun-ho was unsuccessful in closing down the whole operation. I mean the man was close to performing forced, aristocratic fellatio in the name of serving and protecting the law. I truly thought because he had gotten so far and was so close to exposing the operation that the only choice he had was to be successful. At last he was shot and killed by his own blood, the one he had been looking for; providing us with a cinematic and heart jerking ending to detective Jun-ho.

Lastly lets discuss the old man, player 001 named O Yeong-su, whom I also nicknamed Poppy during the series. Deceivingly innocent and weak, I genuinely liked Yeong-su throughout the game play. I thoroughly enjoyed his relationship with Gi-hun and saw him as a valuable player in most instances. I believe he was one of the main reasons that Gi-hun continued to lead with his heart. Gi-hun claimed that Yeong-su was the reason he returned to the games and later found out that Yeong-su was the reason there were games in the first place. The climatic episode of the marble challenge was when their relationship had been defined as “gganbu” (which is a term for trusted, close friends in Korean, as explained in the series), thus Yeong-su establishing a special place in Gi-hun’s heart. During the challenge, Yeong-su begins to have an episode of what we all assumed to be dementia as the arena they are playing in is designed like his old neighborhood and he abandons the game to take a trip down memory lane. Gi-hun screams in frustration at the old man to play with him only to end up losing in their even and odd game and resulting in deceit, tricking the old man to let him be the victor. Now if I was Gi-hun, I would’ve convinced Yeong-su to let me hold his marbles for safe keeping and let him have a fun time reminiscing on his life while he ran down the clock. Then when it was time, I would’ve turned in all 20 marbles just as Sang-woo did and went about my business. It would’ve only been right for the old man to forfeit as he was already on his death bed, or so we innocently thought. Before I get into the ending, I want to talk about the last match between Sang-woo and Gi-hun.

Finally, the last game to see who would be victorious in a highly anticipated game of Squid between Gi-hun and Sang-woo. It seemed as if it were a battle between good vs evil; Gi-hun representing a more benevolent side as he would often optimistically look to help other competitors and extend the kindness he had been shown versus Sang-woo who represented a more vindictive and ruthless side, determined to hurt anyone in order to receive his highly coveted and long awaited prize in an arena that erased any foundation of morals or ethics as soon as the light turned red. Luck was on Gi-hun’s side as he had the opportunity to play offense. With a cunning mind and a vengeance for Sae-byeok’s death, Gi-hun delivered a can of whoop ass to his opponent. As the saying goes, the good shall always prevail. Perhaps his heart was too pure as Gi-hun halted from crossing the finish line and offered Sang-woo a chance to live, thus forfeiting the prize money. Needless to say, I applauded when Sang-woo committed suicide as it was the only right thing to do in his position.

A year passed by and Gi-hun seemed worse than before. Physically his style was bummy wealthy, a look pioneered by Bill Gates, but mentally he was in shambles. How could you blame him? Gi-hun discovered that the responsible party for these horrendous events was none other than his ggangbu, old man Yeong-su. The biggest, jaw dropping plot twist of the entire series. As they were joined on Christmas Eve and Yeong-su on his death bed, they placed one final bet on an assumed to be drunken, homeless man who sat on the streets as it snowed and waited for help to arrive. Yeong-su explained how he actually wanted to help people and give his money to people who needed it, but wanted to do it in an “entertaining way.” As Gi-hun flared with outrage towards the old man for finding amusement in killing people, the old man rebutted using horse races as an example of people’s amusement. Yeong-su also said he participated in the games because it was more fun to play than to be a spectator, which I had noticed him treating the competition as if it were adult summer camp. I had just assumed since he was old, he didn’t care if he had died or not.

I think most people will think that this show was a metaphor about how money and rich people are evil. However I think it can be seen as commentary on society as a whole, not just the wealthy. Yeong-su says on his death bed that it’s a test of humanity, and asks Gi-hun if he still has faith in humanity after what he has experienced. Although money was the luring motivator to win the game, people still chose to return to the competition to escape their problems. Sure, money was apart of their problems as all of the players (excluding Yeong-su) were in debt, but that was due to choices that they had made. Whether it had been through embezzling, gambling, lack of luck, or financial ignorance, it was the people who had gotten themselves into those situations. Money doesn’t have a personal vendetta against anyone nor does it have an inherent quality of good or evil. Money is a neutral energy used to be exchanged for goods and services. It’s people who designate that energy to their humane or inhumane desires.

Leading to the next point of the wealthy and how they are seen to be evil due to having wealth. Although I do believe that there are some wealthy people who act as villains, money didn’t create the villain inside of them. Those people were going to behave maliciously whether they have money or not. The VIPs, who were spectating the finale of challenges, were tied to a bank devoted to the wealthy and gambled on the competitors who played (and most likely helped subsidize the events). We place judgement on them, but as Yeong-su said, people gamble on horse races. Although people are not animals and by my knowledge I don’t believe most or any horses die during these races, it is still the principle of watching an entity being tortured for amusement, which is not only confined to the wealthy population. When the concept of killing and tormenting living breathing beings for amusement is normalized within society, the lines begin to blur on who is okay to perform and who is not. Take the audience of this show for example, we all watched a show where hundreds of people were mercilessly killed for the desire of winning a cash prize for our own amusement, thus making “Squid Game” the number one show on Netflix at the moment. Although the show is fictional and brilliantly written, this Hunger Games concept is not new. We come in contact again and again with the idea of people who are disadvantaged given an opportunity to better their lives through inhumane means, including risking their own lives or actively sacrificing the life of another, and being spectators on the edge of our seats who can’t seem to look away. It is no different than a Roman gladiator match in a grand colosseum, which in modern day would be a MMA fight at the MGM hotel. We blame it on the rich who are ridiculed for creating these events, but at the end of the day it is the people, rich,poor, and everyone in between, who continue to still go along with it and to some extent desire it. Which makes me question, what does that say about humanity, and do I actually have faith in us? Although Gi-hun went through hell and back, he still remained pure of heart and used his wealth to enhance his life and those around him; proving that wealthy people can still be benevolent and desire righteous good. Similar to Gi-hun, the optimist in me wants to believe that there are still people in this world with good hearts, but I guess we just have to wait until the time comes to see.

Ultimately the show was phenomenal, and definitely sparked a desire inside of me to watch more Korean dramas. I don’t think the show will have a second season. Simply because I think the story line would be better cut off there, thus leaving the audience always wanting more. However if season 2 ever comes out, I’m ready for Gi-hun to take a Liam Neeson approach to ending the Squid Game and hopefully with a beard. Thank you for reading my article. I know it was incredibly lengthy. I have just finished the season after a 2 day binge watch, and have a lot of emotions and thoughts ruminating in my brain. Let me know what you think of the show and what you think of the article. Did anyone else notice the paintings of the games on the walls of the dormitory?

God bless.

#squid game #netflix #review #korean drama #kdrama #series review #web series

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ahtsumu · 4 years

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Hm. Take your favorite boys, what do you think they're insecure about?

i wrote for oikawa, atsumu, ushijima, kuroo, and tendou! sorry for the length i just love them so much lol

OIKAWA TOORU:

not being good enough. this one’s clear as day and everyone knows it but i think there’s another layer to this. i think it’s two-fold. so first of all, he’s insecure about the limits to his skill compared to the monster generation, which is his own problem. but then he’s also insecure about people surpassing him in skill. so not only is the insecurity about something internal, but it’s also affected by external factors. and then you see how his self-hatred (self-hatred may be strong but that’s what the essence of insecurity is, right?) spills over to the way he treats/views others, turning him into this bitter, calculating guy who would work himself dead just prove that he is good enough.

his volatility. listen, for someone as smart as oikawa, he definitely knows it’s not normal to be utterly consumed by the need to even be just a sliver of a bit better than his opponents. and it makes him act in questionable, erratic ways. underneath that calm, put-together facade is a tsunami of ugly emotions that oikawa is highly aware of. i think he’s afraid this side to him will hurt others and makes him a burden, hence his overdone, saccharine, charmer persona. it keeps people at a distance–– emotionally. i think he’s definitely a sweet guy on the inside and genuinely kind to people he doesn’t view as competition (and he actually really appreciates his fans), but because of how he’s scared of exposing his scary side, he overdoes the flamboyant airheadedness. by doing so, he weeds out the people he doesn’t think would stay with him through thick-and-thin anyway.

i like to think that post-timeskip oikawa has dealt with these demons and found a way to just be satisfied. maybe he just needed to expand his horizons. maybe he found a team that was already really good and he, with his setting style, made them great–– better than seijoh could ever have been. olympic gold-medal worthy. he deserves it.

MIYA ATSUMU:

firstly, i don’t think atsumu’s insecurities are as crippling as oikawa’s. if we factor in his personality based on his volleyball playing style, he’s not the type to overthink or scheme or calculate like oikawa, so i also headcanon him to be less “in his head” and more “in the moment”. this means his insecurities play a smaller role in shaping his personality and are less visible in the manga/anime.

he’s rough around the edges. his speech is coarse (the accent, the slang, the insults) and he fights with osamu in public and he definitely doesn’t shy away from provoking people he barely knows. i bet atsumu sometimes wonders if other people look down upon him because of that. like they might feel like he’s too wild. but i don’t think he dwells on this because he’s also a very confident guy and proud of where he comes from. it’s just a passing thought that sometimes puts a damper on his mood for a bit, and then he’s back to normal.

he’s unlikeable. atsumu has a strong personality–– goofball, airhead, loud, brutally honest, cocky... and he was abandoned by his middle school teammates and classmates for being “an arrogant jerk”. and judging by his behaviour in high school, his middle school years shaped him into a “so what if they hate me?” kinda guy–– meaning, he doesn’t care what random people think of him. what he does care about, though, is if these traits of his impact the way his friends view him or feel because of him. he didn’t grow up with many friends and he probably knows what loneliness feels like. i think he’d hate to feel it again, so he’s a lot more careful about his negative traits around friends. the people who matter.

vulnerability. atsumu’s been shown denying the fact that he was crying even though he was touched by kita’s kindness. that, and how he’s got this huge (and i think purposely overdone) overconfident/brash persona kind of builds a wall of strength around him. in reality, he’s a softie. atsumu’s definitely afraid of people coming into his life and then just leaving because, again, his personality’s an acquired taste and he’s been abandoned before. in his eyes, his softer side is his weaker side because he’s more susceptible to getting hurt.

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI:

letting people down. ushijima lives to be reliable. he wants to be, like his dad described, the ace that makes everyone think “if i toss to him, he’ll definitely score”. he shoulders on so much responsibility and it’s because he needs prove that he is the guy people can depend on. and a lot of it has to do with making his dad–– whom he rarely ever sees–– proud, but a lot of it also has to do with the genuine desire to be strong for others. so to be the exact opposite, to show or maybe even suggest that he isn’t as sturdy as he is (which he definitely has done before, probably with all the team’s losses), i think that’s the one thing that gets him most insecure. or i guess you could say this is his greatest fear: to no longer be reliable.

honestly, i think ushijima is one of the least bothered people in haikyuu, which is why i can only confidently headcanon one insecurity. he’s got amazing tunnel vision and he doesn’t let himself get carried away by emotion. that being said, he has emotions. he’s just able to compartmentalise and focus on what’s important: getting better. if he loses, he doesn’t wallow in self-pity–– he does 100 serves. ushijima turns his insecurities/flaws into strength.

i’d suggest maybe his family situation as a possible soft spot, but by the way he openly answered tendou’s questions it’s clear that he’s not exactly torn up over his parents’ divorce. i think he’d be insecure about getting into a relationship, though. it involves a lot of vulnerability and dedication/time, the latter of which he’s not sure he can take from volleyball. i genuinely believe he never dated in high school because he was way too focused on going to nationals for that. so that lack of experience would also make him just a little uncomfortable about dating as an adult, i think. but he’s also not the type to dwell on these things. he’d probably just go for it. he’s a straight-forward, logical, clear-minded guy.

KUROO TETSUROU:

his baggage. based on the canon information about his parents being divorced and him not seeing his sister, and then the fanon stuff about him growing up listening to them fight endlessly… there’s a lot of trauma that comes with a dysfunctional family that undoubtedly made him into the self-preserving and cunning captain he is today. he has to be able to figure people out and protect himself in order to survive, but that also means he’s a lot more guarded than most. he’s that guy who gets along with everyone but he wouldn’t call most of them his friends. kuroo likes to keep people at arm’s length to protect them and himself from getting hurt. there’s just too much trauma for another person to deal with, unless they really show him that they won’t just leave him high and dry. even after he’s let them in, i don’t think kuroo would talk much about it.

not knowing what romantic love is supposed to be like. and by love, i mean the act of loving–– not the emotion. i find that with kids who’ve grown up in dysfunctional families or are children of divorce, they’re either extremely hesitant to enter relationships or they impulsively dive into them. i think kuroo’s the former. he’s very intelligent and patient, so i can definitely see him being scared to get involved with other people for their sake. after all, he knows that what he’s experienced in reality about love is not correct–– but at the same time, that’s all he knows. he just doesn’t know what a relationship is supposed to look like. is it a lot of independence? or are you supposed to be attached at the hip? how do you get that comfortable around someone? i think this lack of knowledge makes him insecure about getting into relationships.

TENDOU SATORI:

his appearance. we also all know tendou has had the most trauma being bullied and “overcame” the bullying by embracing the demon persona (just on the court!!), but i highly doubt he’d want to be loved for that off the court. the way he treats his friends shows that he’s a very loving, soft, and playful guy. and he’s more resignedly accepted the fact that everyone’s first impression of him will always be the sadistic, scary-looking demon, but i’m sure it affects the way he interacts with people he believes to be conventionally attractive. like maybe he feels just a little undeserving/unsuitable to be around them.

going over the line. tendou is a really sensitive guy with high emotional intelligence–– partially because of how he’s been forced to learn to read people to figure out their intentions, and partially because he never wants to hurt the people he loves. for example, tendou apologised when he kept badgering ushijima about his father and realised it could be a sensitive subject. but i also feel like because he’s such a rowdy, high-energy guy, sometimes his teasing and mischief can go a little far. maybe it’s a text that reads too rudely, followed by a lag on the receiver’s side. and maybe that’s when the overthinking kicks in. like, “that was really mean, satori. that was too far. you should apologise. what if they were really hurt by that? what if they don’t like you anymore?”

being overlooked. tendou pretty much only exists in relation to ushijima and even though he loves ushijima to death i’m sure sometimes he just feels a little down about the fact that he lives in his shadow. he’s always “ushijima’s friend” or “the middle blocker on ushijima’s team” and he’s rarely recognised for his own existence. i think he’s also accepted this, as shown by when he told ushijima to tell all the future reporters that they were friends. tendou had already accepted how ushijima was destined for attention, no matter how in-your-face he himself was. what i love is how furudate kinda inverts this trope by making tendou the famous guest of a show and talking about ushijima instead. it doesn’t change how much he loves ushijima or how much he’ll continue singing his best friend’s praises, but i think some part of him will always wonder if a new person is only taking interest in him because of his connection to ushijima.

#oikawa tooru #miya atsumu #ushijima wakatoshi #kuroo tetsurou #tendou satori #haikyuu!!

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pascalpanic · 3 years

Text

He is My Home (Din Djarin x f!Reader)

Summary: Din’s going to have a nasty scar from the wound on his side, just like the ones you have, the ones you’re insecure about.

W/C: 2.3k

Warnings: light mentions of blood and injuries. mentions of birth. scars (none are explicitly from SH) are mentioned.

A/N: Fluffy Din can I get a hell yeah?? @binarydanvvers sent me this request and it’s absolutely precious so I’m really happy I got to write it. I hope y’all will love it too!!

Din Djarin’s body is defined by his scars, even if few or no other living beings have seen them.

The very first scar on Din’s body came from his birth. Vha Djarin’s baby came out happy and healthy, but an apprentice midwife with an unsteady hand nicked the child’s skin with her blade as she severed the umbilical cord. That’s where the small white line above his belly button comes from.

The other scars include various missions, combat as a young adult, some nearly mortal wounds. There’s a scar across the bridge of his nose from some mission where he was fighting for your little green son’s life. There’s a long line along his forearm from a slice due to an opponent’s blade, on the underside, where the beskar didn’t protect him.

Everything about Din is beautiful to you. Even his name is so beautiful to say- Din Djarin. It sounds like poetry in his mother tongue’s accent. You’ve married him, become his riduur. You see his face daily, the face he was so scared to show you.

Din had feared you’d find him ugly. That you’d think him unlovable, that his nose was too big and eyes too deep-set, his entire body and even his soul too scarred. It wasn’t until after your wedding, when you removed his helmet and cried in joy, that his fears were cast away. You pressed your forehead to his and cupped his face and genuinely told him that you couldn’t imagine a more beautiful man, a more handsome and wonderful Mandalorian behind that beskar.

That night was spent exploring each other’s bodies now that you had total and complete access to Din’s body. It wasn’t entirely sexual, though much of it was; you just felt his abs and his arms and his warm skin beneath yours, and he did the same to you.

Your life has been perfect for the past few months as Din’s riduur. You get to see his face every day, kiss the scar on the bridge of his beautiful nose. You have the privilege of rolling over in bed and seeing his sleeping face, his brow furrowed even in his sleep. You get to see his little green son squeal in excitement when he gets to see his daddy’s face, the way the three small green fingers of each hand grab at one stubbly cheek.

Din is equally as happy. Being with you allows him to be a human again; it allows him to be Din, not Mando. Your warm arms around him in the middle of the night stall the nightmares of the siege of his hometown and the kills he committed and the way the pile of Mando helmets looked in the corner of the covert.

Of course, practicality dictates Din still must work. As a bounty hunter’s riduur, your options are really either to be a bounty hunter too, or a stay at home buir to your little green son. As you have next to no fighting skills, you stuck with the role that introduced you to your husband in the first place: interplanetary nanny to your bug-eyed baby boy.

You enjoyed the pretend domesticity, but you also appreciated the charm of the fact that home is literally where you make it with the Razor Crest: on any planet, moon, or space station. Your home travels with you, your home is wherever the Crest is tonight.

Even before you found the Crest, Din has been your home. He’s your place and your person, ever since the first time someone threatened you and Din shot them dead where they stood and you stared for a second in utter terror they’d jerk back to life before running into his arms and burying your head in the skin between his helmet and his cape. And that’s when you realized that Din’s arms were your safe place, the one place nothing can hurt you. Not when Din is protecting you.

Tonight more than ever, you miss Din’s arms. He took a honeymoon phase of one or two bounties a month after your riduurok, to spend time with you and the child and your newly formed, legally Mandalorian family. Your aliit, your clan. All good things must come to an end, though, and Din was back into his hunting. It’s been a week without him. Your beskar ring feels cold on your finger tonight as you trace your hand over the etched mudhorn in the wedding band.

Your green baby is cuddled to your chest, snoozing happily with his mama. You press a kiss to his head, thinking about Din. The child’s father. The little creature radiates warmth and relaxation and hypnotically urges you to fall asleep alongside him. Rest, mama. And you do.

The next morning, you startle awake at the sound of beskar clanging against the metal of the ship. “Riduur?” You call out, sitting up excitedly.

“Hi,” he says weakly, and the tone sets panic into your body. You jump out of the bed to find Din kneeling next to the carbonite, a freshly sealed and still sublimating creature trapped in it.

Din clutches his side and you sink to your knees frantically. His orange gloves are covered with blood as one reaches to you. “Din,” you panic, unsure what to do for a moment. “I’m going to go get the medkit. You start undressing now, beskar off, clothes off,” you order him and get to your feet. You pull out a cot and pop it open. “Lay here and wait for me.”

You fly into a tizzy around the ship, grabbing the various things you need. Bacta, needles, bandages, the official medkit. Good. You return to his side, where he lies in his boxers and helmet. “Baby,” you coo gently and remove the helmet. “Just me, remember?”

“Yeah,” he chuckles, dazed eyes looking up at you. His dark hair is drenched in his sweat, and there’s a trickle of blood from his lip.

You fly into action. “Bacta’s going in first, love. Going to jab it in, get ready.” He softly nods and makes a whimper as you stab the needle in, pushing down the plunger and emptying the syringe into his body.

He’s numb now. You wipe the wound and grab the cauterizer. “You might feel this, Din. It’s gonna be quick, I promise.” He doesn’t even respond, eyes shut. You use it and he twitches, his face cringing in pain.

“I know, I know. Doing so good, almost- there we go,” you sigh as the wound is finished cauterizing. “You did wonderfully, my warrior. Providing for us no matter the cost,” you tell him and press a soft kiss to his forehead.

You press a large gauze patch and bandage over his wound, to ensure it stays clean. “Okay, okay baby. You can sleep now. Did so good for me, my strong man,” you mumble, cupping his face.

“You did all the work,” he mutters, a soft smile on his face. The medication wipes him out into a deep sleep.

Bacta isn’t a miracle drug. It can’t save you from certain death, can’t reverse the growth of diseases that have already infiltrated. The miracle, really, behind Bacta, is how quickly it works. It heals wounds that would take weeks in days, and days in hours.

When Din wakes later, the cauterized wound has shrunken exponentially. He’s still got lots of bruises and nicks, but he’s better. There’s a familiar hum, the soft roar of hyperspace surrounding the Crest.

He sits up with minimal pain and looks around. There’s a soft light coming from the bunk, where you and the baby sleep. The light is for the child. He’s scared of too much dark; you’d learned that especially in the days where the hull would be coated in blackness in order for you and Din to kiss and touch and love. Your face is peaceful as you sleep, and Din looks at you with all of the love in his heart.

He stands, albeit slowly, and walks to the bunk with a jerking and awkward stance. He just wants you, your softness and warmth. It’s common that he’ll sneak into bed with you after a mission or piloting the ship, or simply because you took a nap and he just needed some sweetness in his day. You instinctually nuzzle into him, attracted to his warmth. The child follows suit, nestling between the two of you. His two favorite people in all of the galaxy, his buirs.

The three of you are at peace, in your home: with each other. You roll over as you notice the warm presence and a small smile graces your slowly waking face. “Mm, riduur. You were supposed to be on the cot,” you chuckle softly and press a kiss to the tip of his nose.

“Bacta fixed me up enough.”

“You’re gonna have a nasty scar,” you chuckle softly.

“I’ve got plenty of those already. What’s one more?” He asks, nudging your face with his nose.

It’s unbearably soft and warm. “Scars seem to be our problem,” you nod in agreement.

He pulls away and looks at you, in the soft blue glow of the baby’s nightlight. “Cyare, scars aren’t a problem. They’re reminders, of everything we’ve been through and will prevail through in the future.” He kisses your collarbone softly, setting your child aside.

You frown. “Doesn’t mean I like them. They’re gross.”

Din’s frown matches yours. It’s a warm night in the Crest, leaving you sleeping in just a breastband and a pair of shorts. He can see the scars littering your abdomen, the ones you’re so insecure about. “Tell me about them.”

“Din,” you pout.

“We are one when together, we are one when parted,” he mumbles, scooting down to press a kiss to one scar. Your wedding vows, the ones you took and meant with all of your soul. “Your pain is mine, my love. Tell me about this one,” he says, a featherlight fingertip tracing the line.

You sigh, making your abdomen inflate and deflate deeply beneath him. “I was 11 cycles old when I got that one. My appendix ruptured, they had to remove it.”

He nods and kisses along the scar, big brown eyes looking up at you. “I see. And this one?” He asks.

You chuckle softly. “This is from when I was stupid enough to sleep in just a breastband and shorts, like this, and I rolled over on green bean and his claw stabbed me.”

Din recalls. He chuckles happily at the memory and presses a kiss to the scar, his fingers still tracing the last one. There’s one on your knuckles. He takes your hand and traces it, looking at you. Silently asking.

“Lothcat bite. They’re not as cute and docile as they look,” you nod as Din’s lips ghost over your fingers.

You think about the places you got those childhood scars. All at home. The newer one? From your newer home. Yes, your old home may have scarred you, most certainly physically and maybe mentally or emotionally, but they left their mark on you. Your eyes water as you look down at Din. “Your turn,” you tell him and push him down into the mattress of the bunk.

There’s been one you’ve always meant to ask him about. You straddle his hips and sit between his groin and his navel. “What is this one?” You ask of a little mark above his navel. It’s a stark white, contrasting his skin.

“My birth. A midwife nicked me while severing the umbilical cord. I’ve heard that my mother was ready to take the surgical tools herself and go after her,” he chuckles.

You smile softly. There’s a scar on his cheek and your fingertips slowly draw the outline of it. He nods. “As a teen, obviously. Before the helmets went on. Close call with a spear,” he admits, a soft smile on his face. “Those are the only fun ones. The rest are from bounties,” he admits.

You chuckle softly. “Fun ones?” You tease.

“Interesting, I suppose,” he admits, taking your fingertips from his scar to rest them on his lips, kissing them then just holding your hand. “Do you see, my love?” He asks.

You simply nod, eyes watering again. Din reaches up and wraps you in his arms, lowering you to lie chest to chest on top of him. “You are so beautiful, my love. My riduur,” he mumbles to you. You sigh contentedly and kiss the scar on the bridge of his nose.

“Easy for you to say. You’re a bounty hunter. These all suit you. Besides the fact that you’re already covered head to toe in beskar, it would just work.”

He frowns. “Cyar’ika. Neither I nor anyone else cares about your scars. They’re part of you; how could I?”

You whimper and bury your head in his neck, allowing yourself to cry. “It’s been a hard day, Din. Please let me have this.”

“I will not. I absolutely refuse to let you think like that,” he tells you and cradles your head. “You can cry all you’d like, riduur, but it won’t change the fact that I find the scars absolutely beautiful. They’re so perfectly you. They’ve made you who you are, the woman I love so dearly. How could they be ugly when they’re made of you?”

His words make you cry harder, and you sob into his bare skin. He strokes your back, allowing you to cry it out. He mumbles sweet words in your ear; just letting it happen.

When you’re finished, you lift your head with a sniffle. “I love you so much, Din. You make me feel like I have a home with you.”

He kisses your forehead softly. “This is your home, my love. Right hear, in my arms, wrapped up with me.”

taglist:

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @softly-sad @blo0dangel @luxurybeskar @binarydanvvers @sleep-tight1 @apascalrascal @randomness501 @spideysimpossiblegirl

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian #mando x reader #mando #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pascalpanic

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atlas-private · 3 years

Note

Hello, how about a scenario with Mama Arc going to visit her son in Beacon, Jaune is happy to see his mother.

Meanwhile the entire Beacon staff is in a panic, because in Ozpin's words, he doesn't want to have to deal with that monster.

(You actually just handed me a way to introduce my version of Mama Arc. For this I thank you.)

---

Pyrrha: Jaune?

Jaune: Yeah?

Pyrrha: Is that woman currently holding the Headmaster in an Armlock your mother?

Jaune: Yup, she did mention something about "Opening a can of whoop ass on the man who threw me into a forest."

Nora: Was she also the one who basically beat the snot out of the faculty members that rushed her when she got off the Bullhead?

Jaune: The very same.

Ren: Why though?

Jaune shrugged.

Jaune: Something about a Bounty on her I guess, she used to tell me about how she used to run a gang after dropping out of Beacon.

Pyrrha: Your mom was a student and has an active bounty on her?

Jaune: I guess, my dad was the one who claimed it after he got her pregnant. Dad says it was a "Enemies to Lovers" type thing. Although my mom says it was because he was better looking and actually worth a fight than her own gang lackeys were, plus he promised that if she beat him he would do anything she wanted. You know, Arc's word?

Ren: That's rather concerning.

Pyrrha: But very interesting.

Nora: What's her name anyways?

Jaune: Oh, it's Lachaira. Grandma said something about it meaning Steel in a different language.

Nora: Cool!

The group continue to watch as Jaune's mom is tackled by a faculty member she had knocked out previously.

Pyrrha: Should we help out?

They watched as the shorter woman shoved the larger man off of her and delivered several rapid punches the man face. The last one proved effective as the hook she sent made the man's head jerk violently before dropping to the ground with a thud.

Nora: It looks like she's winning.

The Headmaster was still in the floor as Lachaira made her way to him, the group thought they heard the man make a plea before she put him into an impressive arm bar.

Ren: I don't think an arm is meant to bend that way.

There a snap that echoed from Ozpin followed by a loud yell. The group winced when they heard it.

Nora: Hey Jaune?

Jaune: Yes Nora?

Nora: Is your mom single?

Jaune, Pyrrha and Ren looked at Nora in confusion and surprise. They then saw Jaune's mom pick up and dust herself off before walking towards them with a small limp, several scratches and a few bruises.

---

Lachaira Arc. Tanned skin and standing at a proud 5'5" with, in Nora's words, a body that looked like she lifted Ursa on a daily and punched boulders for fun. Her black hair was showing the faintest of silver and braided into a low ponytail. Dressed in a simple white shirt that was now dusted with dirt, tucked into a pair of black fitted pants with leather chaps over them and wearing a pair of sturdy black steel toe boots. She had finished using a small towel to wipe the dirt off her face to show the slight tomboyish looking face she had. Of course what struck out the most was the pair of blue eyes that were the same color, if not darker than Jaune's.

Lachaira: So I take it you kiddos enjoyed the show back there?

She grinned and showed off her oddly pointed set of teeth.

Nora: You bet Mama Arc, cool teeth by the way!

Ren: Pardon me for asking, but are you a faunus?

Lachaira chuckled.

Lachaira: Let me guess, was it my perfect skin or alluring curves that gave it away? But yeah, I'm a Faunus.

She narrowed her eyes.

Lachaira: That isn't going to be a problem is it?

Ren raised his hands.

Ren: Not at all, just curious was all.

Nora: What kind are you?

Lachaira raised a brow.

Lachaira: Curious one's aren't ya, well I'm a Honey Badger, besides the teeth I also have the tenacity of one, or at least that what my folks say.

Jaune walked back into he dorm room with a glass of water.

Jaune: Here you go mom, couldn't find any soda so I hope this is okay.

His mom cooed at him and stood up.

Lachaira: Aw, my poor little Knight is worried about his mama.

She grabbed him a bear hug as his team heard the various pops of his spine.

Lachaira: I'm so glad I was able to raise such a sweet boy like you.

Jaune however struggled for breath.

Jaune: Thanks mom... Love you too... Please let go?

She gave a 'oops' and let Jaune go as he greatly sucked in his breath.

Pyrrha: Ma'am if it's okay to ask, why did you beat up our Headmaster?

The Arc Mother shrugged.

Lachaira: I gave my word that I would open a can of whoop ass on the man who threw my son into a forest.

Before Pyrrha could ask she felt Lachaira's hands on her face as she stared deeply into her eyes. The Spartan began to blush slightly as he face drew closer and closer before stopping a few inches.

Lachaira: Huh, you're right kiddo, her eyes would make even Emeralds envious.

Jaune: Mom! I thought you promised you weren't gonna say anything from the letters!

Now the Spartan let out a full blown blush while his mom laughed.

Lachaira: Sorry sweetie by I had my fingers crossed. Now then.

She let go of Pyrrha's face and looked towards Ren and Nora.

Lachaira: Which one is the bubbly bomber and which is the pretty boy?

Nora and Ren only gulped as Jaune covered his face in despair and embarrassment.

---

In the Beacon Medical Ward

Several of the Faculty members now sat with casts and bandages on their bodies. Amongst them was the Headmaster himself in a full body cast now as his sipped at his coffee with a long straw.

The Deputy if Beacon did not looked amused as she read over a file on the very woman who did this

Goodwitch: Lachaira Arc, Honey Badger Faunus. Dropped out of Beacon, former leader of a gang formerly called Oso Heaven, had a bounty placed on her by the kingdom of Atlas, bounty collected by a man named Gregory Greene.

She turned the page and sighed.

Goodwitch: So it was James that had a new bounty placed on her the very day she arrived here, and by your request?

Ozpin stopped sipping and looked at Glynda.

Ozpin: When she was student she was the best of in her year, more than that she was able to single handedly take out three teams of trainees after an altercation involving her Faunus aspects. In her words she stold then, "You're a bunch of fucking pansies that deserve to get dicked down by an Ursa in heat." promptly broke a number of limbs of her opponents and causing an entire team to drop out as well due to the severity of their injuries, without any weapon besides her bare hands and teeth. She then handed in her form for leaving the school, flipped me the bird and took the last Bullhead that was leaving that day.

Glynda: But now?

Ozpin gave a breath.

Ozpin: She seems to be a mother to one our students and was simply here to visit. I was wrong to quickly assume she would cause havoc. No charges will be pressed either as it was our own fault for instigating a retaliation from her.

A man on one of the beds with bandages wrapped around his face spoke.

Steve: I said I was sorry!

Ozpin: Well sorry doesn't fix broken ribs now does it Steve!?

Glynda let out a sigh, silently thankful that she wasn't around for the initial confrontation.

---

July 31, 2021

(Sorry about the late response but Work happened. Anyways here she is Lachaira Arc! I always like the idea of Jaune's mom being some kind of Faunus, it's just skipped a generation, plus I just like a lady that can kick ass one moment but be all sweet the next.

Kinda like Quetzalcoatl from the Fate series.

Anyways, hope this was sufficient enough so have a great day and thanks for the ask!)

#rwby #jaune arc #pyrrha nikos #nora valkyrie #lie ren #glynda goodwitch #professor ozpin #Lachaira Arc #ask

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