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cumikering · 28 days

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Neighbour Ghost x reader 7

2.3k | angst, drinking irresponsibly If Simon could do it all again (part 1) (part 8/end)

“You don’t look good, sir.” The sergeant stood at attention, looking straight into his lieutenant’s eyes.

Simon had to commend the balls of Kevlar required to walk right up to him to point the fact out unprompted, but that was why he liked Sgt. Eric Jefferies the most. You had no time to waste when you raced with death on the regular - he would tell anyone they didn’t look good.

He knew he didn’t - it was the same bland face he had the pleasure to look at in the mirror each day. Annoyed, but not surprised by the darkening circles under his eyes, stark against his pale complexion. It didn’t help that he nicked himself in the jaw shaving that morning.

“Dining hall, sergeant,” he grunted.

“You’re barely eating, Riley,” Lt. Ramsay said, the same bloke who’d catch him sneaking back to his room. “You know you’re contributing to the food waste when you don’t ask for seconds, yeah?”

It was true, and the table chuckled, but Simon continued to shove whatever was on his plate into his mouth. It was enough to not starve.

“He never leaves his room anymore, not even on the weekends,” another lieutenant quipped, but was promptly elbowed by the officer next to him.

That, too, was true.

Simon had nowhere else to be, like how it always was before his mum came to Hereford. These days his flat was too empty and cold with the hole in his chest. He never came back after that night.

It wasn’t like he was thriving in his quarters either, but it was still a little better – at least it was untouched by you. Though his nights were dreamless at first, he kept waking, and waking until the dreams started.

It was a glitch in the universe, wasn’t it? That the memory that played in his mind to insanity was the last time he saw you, about crawling back to your door with limbs that didn’t feel like his, vision swaying with the lights, coming on and off, his heartbeat ringing in his head.

It’s not supposed to end this way… I want to try…

He sighed at another disturbed night. Tea would slow his mind. Instead, he found the box of Darjeeling you gifted him to take back to base. ‘So we can have the same tea over the phone,’ you’d said.

Was there a way to escape you, make you stop haunting? He needed an exorcism.

He put it back in his drawer. One day, it wouldn’t have to hurt anymore.

And the nightmares came back. It was once, then twice, and thrice a week of waking up in cold sweat in the dark.

Simon’s performance slipped. There was a reason sleep deprivation was a popular torture method. He requested sleeping medications - his career was the last thing he had and he wasn’t about to let it go. Any unrestful sleep interrupted by the vivid images his sickly mind conjured up was still better than no sleep at all.

Quitting you was impossible when the thoughts still followed. If pushing you away didn’t work, maybe basking in the memories would, even if it hurt more. Aching for your warmth, the scraps of it, he’d go anywhere you’d been to see your ghost. The pain was better than the void.

“You lads are volunteering at the soup kitchen this Saturday,” he announced to Sgt. Jefferies after hours.

“Saturday, sir?”

“It’s good for you. Reminds you why you’re doing all this.”

“Can’t tell me what to do,” he teased. “You’re not my L.T. on the weekends.”

Simon’s stare didn’t waver and the other bloke’s smile dropped.

“Copy, sir. I’ll tell the others.”

When the four burly SAS soldiers entered the kitchen, chatter and clanks stalled as all eyes turned to them.

“May… May I help you young lads?” one of the middle-aged ladies said.

Simon recognised her from his last visit, but he quickly realised this was a silly idea. He was out of place, knowing no one there.

He flashed half a smile. “Just wanted to give a hand. Got any lifting to do?”

The lieutenant and his sergeants hauled the food items to the kitchen, including the bread which he taught his sergeants to half and butter. They were offered to peel potatoes, but Simon decided it was wise to leave it to the pros instead.

People still avoided his gaze while his boys exchanged pleasantries with the other volunteers; Eric even got called handsome by the group of older ladies he impressed with his strength as he hefted the sack of potatoes. While the night was as pleasant, it wasn’t the same if you weren’t there to hold his hand and laugh at his jokes.

When the boys invited Simon to the pub at the end of the night, he said no. He thought he was ready, but even after weeks, coming back to his flat was just as sickening.

The silence pierced. Despite all the lights flicked on, the place made his skin crawl, the space too vast and empty. But he didn’t become a lieutenant from succumbing to his emotions.

As he lay in bed, he recalled that you too slept there once. That the mattress once dipped with the gentle weight of you, but unlike the bed that bounced back, you’d left a lasting imprint that disfigured his soul.

Simon wondered what you were up to, if you knew he was there drowning, miserable in his cold room. He couldn’t decide if he preferred your door to be closer or further: closer so he could catch a glimpse of you without meaning to, or further so he wouldn’t be so tempted to go over and get on his knees.

You said begging only reduced you to nothing, but for you, he’d beg and beg. There wasn’t much to lose when he wasn’t much to begin with. He was a stray for a reason.

He tossed and turned, and was granted a wink of sleep before the same bloody dream flashed in his mind.

I don’t care how hard it gets…

He sat up, feet thudding on the floor as he rubbed his face with a heavy sigh. It was always that one moment, like a broken record. Why couldn’t it be you on a night out, or kissing you on the kitchen counter, or simply, you smiling? It was a curse. If only the heart could follow where one’s feet went.

With no plans on coming here, his sleeping pills lay on his desk at base. He looked through the cabinets to distract himself, finding various bottles of dusty, unopened spirits he was gifted. They weren’t his cup of tea.

So he packed, to get his mind off you, from spiralling and digging a deeper grave for itself.

It was time for a change. With the accommodation he was provided, he never needed to rent, but he did anyway in case his mum ever needed the place. It was a good call he did, but with the divorce on the way, keeping it was pointless. He’d rather spend the extra money on his mum and nephew.

Yes, he came to remember- not to forget, but you wouldn’t leave, would you? In the dead of night, when he pulled the hoodie he’d forgotten about out of his wardrobe, he decided he’d had enough of his bloody flat and drove back to base.

He still had another weekend to before his next deployment, a two-month mission. He’d finish packing then.

“You’re right, sir, it feels good volunteering.” Eric grinned at his lieutenant. “We’re going again tomorrow. Also one of the ladies is introducing her daughter to Sam. See you there then?”

Never again. “Dining hall, sergeant.”

Simon was a fool for not finishing his lunch sooner and bolting, instead lingering for the announcement. With how atrocious he did on his tests, he must have been beyond high to still hope for a miracle, that despite everything, he still had a chance at a promotion.

He didn’t make to the top 3.

Amidst the wishes from the table, Lt. Ramsay’s turned to him. His grateful smile faltered.

Simon’s fists clenched. It was supposed to be him, his. But who was he to be mad. It was the fruit of his incompetence. He knew this was coming. Things were going to shit. The unforgiving truth was staring right at him mercilessly: he had nothing else.

He left for his office.

“Sir, sir!” Sgt. Jefferies called. “We’re heading to the pub tonight. Come with us.”

He gritted his teeth. Word travelled too fast.

“Let’s get out of the base for a bit,” he continued when he caught up to his long strides. “It’s the last weekend before we ship out.”

Simon eyed the display of vibrant bottles behind the bar as he listened to his sergeants’ orders, the names foreign to him. Above, the telly showed a rugby match rerun no one paid attention to.

“Jefferies, how much you reckon it takes me to get pissed?”

He chuckled. “You, sir? At least 10,” he said before taking a swig of his beer.

“Nah, 15 sounds more like it.” Richie, the designated driver for the evening piped up.

Sam downed his first two shots, hissing as he slammed the glasses on the bar. “Agreed. Do you know how much he lifts?” He nodded at Simon’s biceps, bulging under his loose black shirt.

It was a genuine question. Simon didn’t want to get pissed, he only wanted to forget. He didn’t mean to go over his limit he had no idea was at seven.

Drunk Simon was a weeping, blabbering mess. It didn’t help that he was massive, because his sergeants had trouble getting him to the car before Richie drove him to the address of his flat he barely managed to gurgle out before passing out.

“Sir, you’re paying for the bloody cleaning if you get sick in my car!”

Why did he think this was a good idea? He was never a drinker, barely even touched alcohol socially. It was the poison that turned his dad into a demon, and it too became his downfall. The only thing he thought he would always have – his resolve, let him down too. He’d lost you, his mum whom he was supposed to protect, his future, and now his dignity.

Desperation was a lethal sentiment.

And that dream came again, that he stumbled to your door. Legs wobbly, his vision in and out as the world spun in slow motion.

“Luv… Luv, it’s not supposed to end like this,” he slurred, the same line he always opened with.

A marionette, a prisoner in his own head, it was a loop he couldn’t escape. The awful show had to commence to end the same way each time.

“I’m sick of losing and I wouldn’t know what to do when you leave, after how much you’ve given. Instead, I left when you needed me. I should have been there for you, gone through all this with you, no matter how hard it got.

“If you would give me a chance, I’ll quit the SAS. I’d start all over again. I’ll butcher the carrots and apples with the bloody peeler, I’ll let the steakhouse mess up our reservation and eat a dozen soapy tacos… If you ever show up at my door with your pie again, I swear I’d kiss you, not scare you. And I’ll never let go. If it has to hurt, I want it to be you.”

The door clicked open, and like how it always went, it meant the dream was coming to an end.

“You make it worth it,” he muttered as his vision faded.

…

Simon gasped for air, this time staring up at blinding lights. He shielded his wet eyes, chuckling to himself.

“Bloody hell, I think I’m sick on the inside.”

“Only your past, but you are not your past.” Your voice echoed in the distance.

His body was too heavy to move. “Could you forgive me, for all of this?”

“Could you? You need to forgive more than you need to be forgiven.”

He laughed as another tear slipped.

Simon woke on his couch, still in his clothes from the night before. Dreaming of you always drained him, leaving him hollow and out of touch with his body.

He sat up with a groan, rubbing his face as the dizziness settled. He didn’t remember much after getting dragged to Richie’s car. Judging by the gnarly bruise on his arm, he probably fell last night, but he was glad he found his way back to his flat in one piece.

Stumbling to the shower, he hissed when his toe stubbed one of the boxes on the floor. It was a horrendous decision to drink so much, still having to pack the rest of his stuff. He leaned over the sink, staring at his bloodshot eyes.

His sergeant was right. He didn’t look good. He never did. What the fuck are you doing to yourself, Riley?

With his hair damp, he made his way to the kitchen. As he realised he’d packed all his tea stash in one of the bloody boxes, a series of knocks echoed in his flat.

He grumbled. It better be important for someone to disturb his peace, especially with the pounding of his head. He couldn’t be bothered putting a shirt on before he swung the door open.

It was you, a pie in hand like the first time he met you all those months ago.

“Hi, is Simon in?”

His heart lurched as he crushed you in a hug.

“Thought you said you were going to kiss me.”

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bestpigeon · 3 months

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Vox x male reader unfamiliar feelings..

Vox x male reader.

Warnings: swearing, kissing, aggression, strangling.

Words: 1.6k

Thought I'd do some Vox for a change

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I've been safely working at the Hazbin Hotel. Charlie's been more than kind. She let me stay for free, knowing my struggles. Though despite the face that I've got her help, Vox can still make me appear into thin air if needed. I'm still trapped. A worthless demon like me binded to a powerful overlord called Vox. I was relaxing in my hotel room. I suddenly felt myself black out for a moment. Like I was fading away.

This feeling was familiar, and I wasn't surprised one bit when I opened my eyes to see Vox. Great, what does he need now.

"Vox." I say in a stern tone. I was clearly not happy with his presence.

"Ah, where the FUCK have you been!?" He says as he lunges up in his chair in anger. His screen glitches as he shouts into my face. He's slightly taller, so I have to rotate my head to look up at him.

I hesitate to answer. I mean, if he knew I was in his enemies' hotel? He would absolutely murder me. "Away." i say simply. I didn't intent of telling him my where abouts any time soon.

His face only glitches more in anger. His fists clench as he grabs my neck and pulls me close to him. So my face is inches away from his. "Answer my FUCKING QUESTION" he says shouting once again. His screen glitches when he's angry. I choke and feel tears prickle in my eyes. He was gripping my throat with intense strength. I flinch as he lifts his other hand to my shoulder and claws at it.

"I- just at a..f-friends house!-" i say. I could barely breathe since he was gripping intently at my throat. He squints his eyes at me and stays silent for a while. He rolls his eyes before dropping me onto the floor.

I fall to the floor. I'm a thump. I groan and gasp for air while grasping my now purple neck. Vox speaks again. I feel a familiar chain appear at my neck. I look up at Vox with watery eyes.

"Don't forget who owns you, sweetheart. You dont want to fuck with me!" He says before the chain disintegrates into thin air. My head falls and I wiped the tears on my face before Vox had a chance to notice them. He'd probably make fun of me for being so pathetic. "Yes.. sir." I say in almost a whisper. I felt so pathetic under Vox. He rolls his eyes and snickers. He then walks out of the office, leaving me on the floor.

I slowly catch my breath and rise from the floor. I rub at my still bruised neck before I fo some paperwork. I have a little desk at the back of Voxs office. It's a little space where I can do paperwork. Im assuming the reason why he called me here was to do his shit work. I haven't seen him for about 2 months now. Normally, he would summon me at least once a week.

I sat down and automatically saw a pile of papers dumped onto my desk. I sigh and slump onto the wooden chair. I grab a few papers and start signing and writing some random shit on them. Vox told me to just sign everything. I mean, he doesn't really care. If he can't be fucked to go to a meeting then he would just cancel it, with no feeling of shame at all.

After what feels like hours, I've finally completed half the stacks of paper. I rub my neck again since it's sore. I continue to pick out papers and sigh away. I didn't bother reading them. Why would I? Suddenly, Vox enters his office again. I don't move at all. I don't even bother looking at him. I just lean onto my knuckle and repetitively write Voxs name over and over again. I see Voxs flat-screened head rotate and glare at me. I don't move again, and he just sits onto his chair. He straps the wires to the back of his head and does whatever shit he usually does.

I felt so tired, overwhelmed, and bored. All this dumb paperwork. I mean, I know this guy is famous and all, but still. People can't care that much about him. I mean, I don't. He's not too bad, I guess. Sometimes he's nice sometimes he's not. His mood mainly depends on Valentino. If Val pisses him off, then he would lash out of everyone. It's not entirely his fault. Valentinos a bitch and Vox gets stressed easily. I somewhat understand. But sometimes it's too much.

I rub my worn-out eyes and groan. I hold back a yawn before I lean against the back of my chair. Vox glares at me again, and I turn to make eye contact with him. The silent communication is cut off when I look away. His eyes were different than usual. Some different emotions he's never expressed for me before. Sympathy, maybe? Could be.

I sigh and lean on both my hands. I lean against the table and drift away into a deep slumber. I didn't mean to. Though the activities I did with Charlie earlier and all this paper work.

Vox turns and notices I was asleep. He holds back a smile and approaches my sleeping body. He taps my shoulder to justify that I was actually asleep. He slowly and carefully picks me up, bridal style, and relocates me. He walks towards a door in the corner of his office and walks through it. His bedroom.

He delicately puts me down and tucks me into the bed. He smiled down at me before writing on a piece of paper he found scattered on his desk. He then leaves. He quietly shuts the door and leaves.

Hours later, I awake finally. I have slept for a while. I was clearly sleep deprived. I sit up and look around the room, confused. Where the fuck was I? I quickly went to run out the room when I noticed a ink covered peice of paper. I pick it up and read it.

"Morning, or whenever you wake up. I just wanted to say sorry earlier. I didn't mean to treat you that way. I had a bad day and took it out on you. Let's talk."

From Vox

I couldn't help but smile. That was sweet. Well, the bare minimum, but for Vox, this was a big step. He never shows sympathy or any fucks for his minions. This actually meant something. My head flies up to the door as someone slowly starts opening it. I see Vox glare into the room to see if I was asleep. He enters when he sees me.

"Oh. Mornin'.. um. Are you doing okay?" He says quietly. He approaches the bed and lifts my chin before looking at my neck. I blush and glare at his pretty but flat face.

"Since when are you nice?" I say somewhat teasingly and somewhat truthful. I mean, I'm right. He's never nice.

"Yeah, yeah, shut up." He says as he rolls his eyes with sass. I chuckle slightly and smile up at him. He's been nice, well, in his own way.

"The letter, let's chat," He says. I have no time to deny before he sits on the bed beside me.

"So. Val has been a little fucking asshole. I mean, the idiot thinks he can boss me around like I'm his boy toy, and -" He stops talking for a moment. "Never mind. Um. But I've been.. pissed off lately. So I lashed out on you." He says. He seemed genuine. His normally loud dementure not present. I nod. I somewhat forgive him. My neck still hurts but he's trying. Which makes it count.

"Yeah so. Sorry for being a bitch. Asshole I don't know. I um. I guess I just find you different from the other fucks." I chuckle at that. Though he's calm whenever he talks about someone else he grits his teeth.

"You find me different? How?" I question. I generally was confused. How was I different? I assumed he meant because I'm not an overlord. I'm weaker then everyone else he knows. Anyone that's not Velvet or Valentino is under him. Though I could be wrong. Because I've never met this Vox before.

"I guess I uh.. feel different with you. The others fucking stress me out. You dont- as much." He says. Adding a snarcky comment on the end. Of course. Why wouldn't he?

"How.. surprisingly charming." I say. He rolls his eyes and looks away. He thinks of what to say before turning to look at me.

"Oh fuck you. Really. But I feel different with you. Fuck knows what that means." He says as he leans back slightly. I smirk and glare at him.

"Aww you have a little crush on me Vox?~" I say teasingly. His screen turns a lighter and brighter blue. I pull playfully at his bowtie all while having complete eye contact.

"Oh fuck you asshole- I'm trying to be nice yknow?" I smile at that and move my hands away from his bowtie. I look into hi alluring red eyes. They're actually quite beutiful.

"Yeah. I appreciate it though. Your not too bad." I say. He smiles at that. Oh that smile. He normally just smirks but that soft smile is so fucking attractive. I grab his bowtie again and peck the side of his screen. "I'll see you tomorrow, Vox." I say before getting up and leaving.

Vox was left dumbfounded. You just kissed him? Why? Why did he like it? His screen blanked out and read; 'warning, emotion overload.'

Let's just say, Vox's day got better. Way better

#hazbin hotel #romance #hazbin hotel x male reader #hazbin hotel x reader #male y/n #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel vox #vox #vox x reader

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i-cannot-spell-chaos · 11 months

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Webs and Masks

(I don't own image)

(Yandere spider verse platonic and romantic x Villain! Spider man reader!)

(Sorry it took so long! warning cursing!Sorry if it's bad!)

A comic was slapped on the table the cover showing You a spider man jumping away from a crime scene. SO let explain shall we? You had been Spider man for a year and a half. Getting bit by a radioactive spider on the ankle when rescuing a scientist who sadly passed due to radiation from an experiment called InSpid mutation where they would mutate spiders but the spiders got loose. You did die legally speaking having to claw your way out of your grave is not recommended. *You look at Uncle Ben spider man 'how the fuck'* So you decided since you were dead technically you would run the under streets of New York. You expected a hero however he never came your fate had changed. You found out through the discovery of the multi verse and time lines. The spider who was supposed to create your rival had been brought to another universe. Due to this your canon event didn't happen meaning you weren't a true spider man just a villain who is spider man?

SO to sum it up you were bit by a radioactive clone spider became villain spider man and is working on creating a way to go into different universes.

Other than that you like visiting your neighbor every Sunday for game night. This family was the Morales family your universe is the only universe you're alive in all the other universes you go missing or you're found dead by spider man. You hoped this peace will stay for as long as it can.

Until a portal opens in your lab or a spot? A man with a plain white face and a spot in the middle popped his head out looking around. Thoughts run in your head but the main one is how the hell is he doing that. The man looked at you before asking "Hey do you want to fuck up this Spider guy's introduction? He's kinda attacking my rival Miles Morales and I need someone to be in the inside" You look at him wide eyes grabbing his face. "He's attacking my buddy? I'm gonna crush that man with my thighs" You jumped through the portal getting sent to this spider verse HQ

"So it hasn't happened yet but Miles Morales will show up in two months sorry" The portal closes behind you.

You look around realizing how fucked you are in this situation. He sent you a month ahead?! You got caught in an hour after glitching and was brought to Miguel o Hara. After finding who you were and why you were there you were given a day watch to stop the glitching. Miguel was curious about you and your time line theory.

You spent hours explaining it and showing it through spider webs. The Spider can choose different webs Some Spiders don't even have webs but the things that make them all alike is what defines them. Every Spider man has choices that change in different universes that is their time line however if it changed the time line collapse on itself. Sometimes these webs are built and can change however if they are already prone to change. For example you can say anything to a person in pompeii before the volcanic explosion but that doesn't damage the time line since it was coming to an end.

Miguel loved this theory since it went with his until you went on with time loops and got stuck in a loop for an hour.

However the reason why you came creeped onto him before he knew it. You became friends with the children of the Spider verse MayDay,Hobie,Paviter, and Gwen. Spotting you multiple times from a window seeing you jump across buildings just to make sure they weren't injured when they came back. Wolf spider he figured due to your attachments to younger spider people. The other got quite attached to you being there. Since Miguel wouldn't allow you to leave for an odd reason.

The day it finally happened before you knew it. Miles Morales came to HQ after fighting the spot. He seemed to recognize you from his universe hugging you. At first you returned it until he didn't let go.

Miles had known the reason why you disapeared in his universe seeing it for him self. You were close to him like another dad before you went missing. Seeing you alive squeezed his heart his reaction was holding onto you.

You had to get help from Peter B and Gwen to get him off.

"Going to introduce yourself, kid?" you asked the boy patting his shoulder. "I'm Miles Morales Spider man in my universe" Miles smiled showing his teeth. "I'm Doctor (your name) the evil version of spider man in my universe bit of advice pretty sure Miguel has Rabies don't let him bite you and being spider is not all of the swing shift your weight when you jump to where you want to swing the jump matters." You smile showing off your fangs. Miles looked shocked at your fangs you really were different here.

Jess called the two of you over saying Miguel wanted to see us. Hobie groaned before you dragged him along happily. Walking in pocketing the final things for your watch. Miguel kept you here only with a day pass so you started making your own.

You plopped into a seat ignoring what was about to happen. Miles spoke to Miguel while you were finishing your watch. Everything was in place when suddenly Miguel threw a desk down at Miles scaring you. Quickly grabbing Miles away from it. You looked up at Miguel worried "The hell man! You can't just hit a kid!" You yelled at him "He's an anomly!" Miguel yelled at you glaring down at Miles.

Seeing you were backing down he looked at Miles "Let me explain...follow me" He led them to a room filled with holograms. "This is the spider verse in every universe there is cannon" Miguel went on with his lecture when he brought out cannon events. "These things happen in every universe this is what makes spider man" there was a pause a thing you dreaded with Miguel in the two months you had known him. Those pauses is when something bad will happen "That included when a chief is close to spider man they die every single time" Some thought ran through your head....you didn't know any police chief's Mile's dad never got through the police acedemy so he was a security guard in your universe..So are you really spider man you have spider man dna but are you truelly spider man haha butt oh speaking of butts why is miguel cheeked up on a tuesday afternoon? Where did he get all that ass?

Your thoughts were cut off when Miguel mentioned your name. "Huh" "(Your name)...Run!" Peter b yelled at you. Looking for the danger you saw an approaching Miguel and a running Miles. You booked it sliding easily through the halls knowing the place for weeks. Miles was right behind before jumping on your back. You stumbled in shock before continuing to run. "Don't listen to them (Your name) come back" Miguel called for you.

Now you don't know true fear unless you had been chased by Miguel. Mother fuckers growling behind you clawing at walls going through them. There was a crowd in front of you so you did the first thing that came to your head. "Evacuate the building Miguel o Hara from universe 2099 have is chasing after me and I was listening!" People usually only hear the first part so they move quickly. You passed through quickly holding Miles close before jumping. Looking down you saw Miguel's claw almost catching you. He desperate look for you brought actual fear in your bones. "Miles why is he after me" You asked Miles landing on a random building "Miguel was saying stuff about canon events when he said me saving my dad would cause my universe to collapse and the reason why your universe had no other spider man was because you were supposed to be in his!" Miles yelled catching his breath.

"I knew something was up with him but i got a plan for us. I think I finished the watch I might be able to bring you home I just need to scan you" You pressed a few button before scanning him showing his universe. Opening the portal you saw Miguel claw his was up the building. The portal was unstable but it was fully open you threw Miles through. You turn around to see Miguel right behind you breathing down your neck. "Miguel...hey bud" you say nervously backing away from him. "You weren't planning on leaving right?" Miguel asked you his hand grabbing your coat sleeve. "Close the portal Mi Vida I can take you home now" Miguel said leaning down to your neck. After spending some time with this man you knew something was up but this was to far. "Miguel let go.."You asked him breathing quickly anxiety almost pouring through your ears as you heart pounded in your chest. "Are you scared of me" Miguel asked taking off his mask showing you his face. "We all want you back. What about those spider kids will you really leave them? Your soft to soft for your own good Mi vida" Miguel whispered in your ear.

Instinct was the last thing that came out of your body. Kicking your legs using Miguel as a boost sending yourself through the portal behind you ripped you jacket with his claw. Miguel landed on his ass looking at you launching himself at the portal luckily it closed before he could get through.

You looked around seeing you were on a tall building's roof. In front of you was a wall spray painted memorial of two people on it. You and Miles's dad. "Well damn-" you were knocked out quickly.

You woke up on a couch blinking seeing yourself in a familiar place. Looking up you saw Miles tyed up to a bean bag talking to another...Miles? Oh were in the wrong universe!

"Miles!" You yelled out both boys looking at you. Miles 42 gasping seeing you awake going over to you quickly. "Careful Uncle (your name) we just didn't want you running off like before...it's really mean yelling at your family because they wanted to keep you safe and when you went missing and was pronounced dead we knew it was fake! I knew you wouldn't be killed that easily! You were just sleeping!"

...."Huh" was the only thing you could get out before passing out again.

(part 2 coming up next sorry!)

#male reader #yandere #yandere male #platonic yandere #platonic spider #yandere spiderverse #yandere spiderman #spider gwen

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jester089 · 7 months

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The more the merrier

I was gonna sleep but my brain wouldn't let me until I wrote about that concept I brought up in past writing. The one where it glitches and their is more then one of a character. I'm gonna say that they kind of have a hivemind too. Cause I want to. If you want where this was originally brought up look for "A well deserved a#$ kicking (Part 2)" as that's where I first though of it. As this is entirely delf indulgent it's only gonna have my favs in my fav situations. But if yall like it enough ie I get a request I can do more characters. Or just go into more detail.

TADC crew x Reader

Gangle (Receiving)

She can be a lot to handle on her own as she has a lot of very overwhelming emotions. Now their's two of her. Good luck! That means double the problems and double the masks to fix. But it's worth. At first for good reason walking in on two Gangle's was surprising. First place your mind went to is it's a adventure or something from Caine. So you took the two Gangle's to see him only for him to be surprised when seeing them. He explained how this wasn't his doing then tried in vain to get rid of one. Welp now you have two emotional girlfriends. Lucky mf. Before when their was just one Gangle she had the tendency to wrap around you during cuddles or just when she wanted to be close to you, but now their's two of them so when that happens you get half mummified until they decide they've had enough. 10/10, your so incredibly lucky you get that. I would fight/kill so many people to get what you have.

Gangle (Giving)

Gangle was relaxing in her room enjoying having a day without a ton of weirdness in it when she heard some incredibly rapid knocking and doorbell ringing. She gets up and opens the door only to come face to face with two of you! The cinnamon roll could barely handle one of you teasing her and being affectionate with her. And now their's two. She might just pass away right then and there. Well at least she doesn't have to worry about Jax anymore. You would rock his s^#$ when their was just one of you, now their's two. If he knows what's good for him he'll stop messing with you and Gangle. And when you stand on either side of her like body guards she can and will get incredibly flustered. Before when you would help out Gangle and the others with things you would be good but clearly overwhelmed. But now you get things done incredibly quickly. Gangle's mask repair time was shortened from a day or so to less then an hour. 10/10. She's overwhelmed and overstimulated, but happy.

Ragatha (Receiving)

Ragatha was an amazing S/O at the worst of times able to handle so much on her own. Now double that. Way I see this going is she has one of her with you at all times making sure you're ok while the other helps out the others. Only time you have to be alone now is if something big goes wrong and more then one Ragatha is needed to fix it properly. Ragatha's hugs before were tight, tight enough for you to need a second to recover after each one just from the sheer force and love put into each one. Now you have to deal with that doubled, whether that mean double the amount or a Ragatha on either side of you squeezing your life essence out. 10/10, while she's around you don't have to deal with anything and you get two overwhelmingly loving partners.

Ragatha (Giving)

Ragatha got back to her room after a long and tiring day. She walks in to see you laying on her bed in a jokingly seductive way. She smiles and rolls her eyes then moves towards you. Once in bed with you she feels someone gently hug her from behind and freaks the f&#$ out. She full on socked second you in the face hard enough to leave a dent and knock you out of bed. You quickly get up to help yourself and make sure you ok while Ragatha stares at you two in disbelief. She ask what's going on and you explain how you woke up with a clone and how you went to see Caine only for him to not know what to do. You apologize for scaring her you just couldn't resist. You two sit down on the bed on either side of her causing her to blush and not know who to look at while you two talk in sync. Once she is more accustomed to all this and realizes that it's you, just times two. She will really really enjoy double cuddles from you two. And will definitely enjoy the feeling of being picked up and held on you two's shoulders. 10/10, flustered but happy.

Jax (Receiving)

Get ready for a whole lot of teasing. He teased you a lot before, now their's two. Good luck! He, of course first used it as a prank. He would be relaxing in your room with you then ask you to grab something from his room. When you get there he's laying on the bed in a teasingly seductive way and greets you. You, confused go back to your room only to find him in the exact same pose on your bed too. So either he knows a really fast and secretive shortcut or he learned how to teleport. You stand in your rooms door staring at him stunned when you feel a gentle hand on your shoulder. You turn to see Jax. You have to like quintuple take and look between the two so many times before freezing. Overall it would be the more of the same. But do be warned if you show one of him more attention/affection the other can and will get jealous. 8.5/10, way to overwhelming and hard to deal with.

Jax (giving)

You just like Jax, youused it as a prank. Yours was a little more mean though cause he deserved it from all his teasing. Jax was walking around looking for you cause he had something to show you. He caught a glimpse of you walking towards the rooms and follows behind. He sees you go into your room and is about to follow before he sees you walk out of his room. You wave at him then keep walking while he's stunned. He turns around and is about to follow you to show the thing before you walk out of your room. Ok he's confused. He walks up to you and asks about it. But you play dumb to it. You keep that shtick up for a few days only stopping when he started to genuinely believe he was looking his mind. Their being two of you will make it much harder for Jax to do anything mean or teasing as if he does you can easily return it ten fold. 9/10. Having two of you is the only real way to handle one Jax.

Pomni (Receiving)

Oh gosh. She had the tendency to spiral when their was just one of her. Now their's two so she spirals and breaks down 2x more and 2x faster. You're going to have your hands full, if you want this to not end badly you better hope your a god at comforting her. Before she easily got overwhelmed by your affection and attention but is ever so slightly better at handling it now that their's two of her. I can 100% see you walking around a Pomni on each shoulder which she both loves and hates, loves cause she gets to be close to you and feel special, hate because it feels so public and she feels like she sticks out when you do that. Before she could kind of handle being alone for a while. Now, not so much. So I hope you're ready to spend an unhealthy amount of time with her just to keep her alive. 5/10, she's lovely but she's got a lot of problems. And when their's two of her those problems multiply by a lot.

Pomni (Giving)

Now this will end well. Having two incredibly supportive and loving people who know when you need attention could help just about anyone. When you first found out you did your best to ease her into it. You knocked on her door only one of you there and told her that you had something to show her. Something that could cause a panic attack. She was worried but with your encouragement and knowing that'll you be there with her helped. So she followed you to your room. You opened the door for her and gestured inside. She looked inside to see another you sitting on your bed looking awkward. Once the initial shock has worn off she'll actually really enjoy it. She likes laying on one of you as a mattress while the other gives her attention. 10/10, helps her with her problems and she's surprisingly good at handling both of your attention at once.

(I really REALLY enjoyed writing this. I don't expect others to enjoy this as much as it's definitely more in my tastes but still. I hope you enjoyed it. And the things I would do to be in that situation, sadly best I can do is write about it.)

xoxo, Jester

#tadc x reader #the amazing digital circus x reader #gangle x reader #ragatha x reader #jax x reader #pomni x reader #noob author #not beta'd #incredibly self indulgent #not well written as I wrote it for fun

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lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks · 2 months

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when I took a month off work I was lowkey worried I'd come back and find everyone had been fine without me and I wasn't needed at all (because being terrible at every previous job I've had did some ✨damage✨ to my self confidence)

but that is not what happened

I have never encountered someone so fucking happy to see me as my boss' wife was on my first day back, her face lit up like it was christmas, she was practically jumping for joy because now that I'm back she doesn't have to do the ops team's fucking timesheets anymore

I have been told by one of the ops guys that my leave of absence had caused a genuine rift in the boss' marriage because his wife hated doing my job so much they were actively fighting about it

to be clear, his wife is lovely, she doesn't usually throw a shit fit about just anything, it was just that my job is just so fucking annoying that she hated every second of it, and that was the most validating shit I have ever experienced in my LIFE

and the reason she was pissed off at my boss/her husband about it is because he's too soft on his crew and doesn't make them all report their hours for the week

which, as you can imagine, makes building their timesheets extremely fucking difficult

it basically turns the whole process into a puzzle that I have to solve using roughly three different sources of information, one of which is the boss himself who isn't always easy to get ahold of when he's on a site

this puzzle is made even more difficult by the fact that a glitch in our form system keeps messing up the dates on the timecards, so I have to cross reference the time cards from the two (2) ops team members, who actually DO fill out their forms, with the roster, but my boss often changes the roster at the last minute without telling me or noting it down, so then I have to cross reference with the reports they have to submit for certain ongoing jobs because they'll have correct dates and also a list of who was present (if they were doing one off smalltime jobs that week I'll have no physical records and will rely entirely on the boss' memory to confirm dates and staff numbers, unless I can get ahold of one of the ops team members themselves and there's only one who will reliably communicate with me but only when he's not currently on a site)

I tried to explain this process to boss' wife before I left and, looking horrified, she asked me 'is there no way to streamline this?' I replied 'this is streamlined'

as far as I'm aware, as long as I've worked there, there has only been a handful of times people were paid incorrectly, and it was because I was not given correct information by the boss, in the time I was gone, his wife told me that she had incorrectly logged several pays because of this broken ass system

so, as you could imagine, my ego is through the fucking roof right now, I am GOOD at this bullshit job, I took an impossible system and made it work, I am playing on hard mode and killing it, in a field I had zero experience in before taking this job other than a natural inclination for organising and scheduling

and to be clear, I love this job, the boss is too soft on his staff but he's a good guy, he makes us all feel valued and appreciated, he paid me above my award rate, he's absurdly accommodating, and I have an insane amount of freedom to do what I want with company files

I may be working with a bullshit system but I can take naps in the office whenever I want and tell my boss off when he's being too soft (one time his wife literally started clapping when I told him off for sending clients their reports before they'd paid for them) and I get to control when I work, and whether I work from home or the office (which is GREAT when my back flares up)

I might not get many hours (only 16 hours per week) because the company is so small and I run out of things to do because I've streamlined everything (boss literally called me TOO EFFICIENT), but he'll give me those 16 even if I spend half of it playing solitaire and watching youtube

so just, yeah, it feels so good to be confident in my work, to feel valued and appreciated and like I'm actually successful at something after being handed dud jobs for years that I wasn't cut out for, and now knowing that what I'm doing is actually genuinely hard but I've been doing it anyway without fail, makes me feel good!

so tldr; taking a month off work taught me I have phenomenal job security because if my boss ever fires me his wife might actually fucking kill him

#lula's life #I have genuinely hit a point in my life I never thought I'd reach #I'm happy with my job #I'm not in constant pain #and I am living very comfortably with a friend I love dearly #I don't make a lot of money and still rely on government benefits but that's okay because I make enough to be comfortable #life is actually good I can't believe I made it

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daydream-believin · 5 months

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a real stand up guy ba dum tss

summary: you get stood up by an internet man. douxie, your waiter and secret admirer, remedies that jackass’s mistake.

warnings: uh. swearing, alcohol, i’m too lazy to proof, the yooj. oh and doux doesn’t know how to handle this crush without getting slightly into stalker territory sorry. its a red flag but i think its cute. you may not think its cute.

a/n: tumblr was glitching while i tried to post this so idk how many paragraphs i accidentally erased. i mean i tried my best to make that number 0. but anyways if something is off let me know. the challenge for this one is that im not allowed to use italics. which you should know was very hard for me agshjfkgjdjh

taglist: @moppetwithamanbun @alovesongshewrote @blixeon @prismarts @fantasyiswaybetterthanreality @ukuleles-and-roses

okay quick psa i know it’s been years so if you want off the taglist just hmu. also if you were on the taglist and got taken off thats bc tumblr says you don’t exist anymore

uh this was a request. i’m not doing requests tho dont think that. looking back yeah that ask if from march 2022 and this doesn’t even match up to what you asked 😂 im so sorry @rose-writes-shit

you took a peek at your watch. 7:34 o’ clock. letting your head fall into the open palm of your propped up hand, you sighed.

coffee meets bagel boy was supposed to have met you at 7:00.

of fucking course. you let your plucky pink-haired coworker convince you to download a fucking dating app and make a profile, just for the only guy who had actually been interested enough in you to ask you on a real date to stand you up. makes sense.

it’s not like you’ve ever had luck with these kind of things. it’s not like you’ve ever had luck period. your kind might be the black cat of humans.

you’ve spent way too long eating the free bread at a mr. benoit’s of all places. it was the “classiest” establishment in the certain suburban hellscape of california you inhabited, albeit. you took in the scenery for the millionth time that night with a renewed sense of disgust. at least now you had a legitimate reason to hate this place.

your waiter slinked over, and you could tell he felt bad for you with the awkward shuffling gait to the pity grimace on his face.

“so, uh, perhaps more bread?”

you rolled your face towards him, arbitrarily throwing animosity his way with your dead eyes, just because he was there. but soon your compulsive desire to be the funniest pathetic wretch in the room won out.

“i’m considering burning this whole place down right now, actually,” you joked.

he grit his teeth, sucking in a breath, “could i perhaps convince you to do that on a night i’m not closing, instead? tomorrow is my least favorite coworker’s turn, for your consideration,”

“hmm,” you pretended to think, “i’ll do that then, it’s only kind,”

“thank you for your generosity,” he grinned, “now, are you still waiting for someone or?”

douxie had been watching you for over half an hour now. not creepily. he swears. he just got a little excited when he saw you come into the restaurant is all.

anddd maybe he might have badgered the host into giving you one of his tables. but again, he was just excited. he’s been looking for an excuse to talk to you for the past three months, after all. forgive him for jumping on the opportunity.

he maybe fancied you. just a wee bit. perhaps a rather large bit. or at least, the version of you he’s cooked up in his head from the way he sees you interact with people at house parties and the things he’s heard from zoe.

but he’s sure he’ll love you. as soon as he gets to know who you actually are. which, hopefully, is about to be sooner rather than later.

he did not anticipate this situation, however. whatever benevolent deity blessed him on this night decided to throw a jar of pickled herring in with the otherwise yummy pastry filled gift basket they left for him.

not long after you arrived at 6:56 pm, not that he marked the time you came in or anything he just happened to glance at the clock around that time, he watched you, how they say, deflate. your demeanor shifted from antsy to sad to downright annoyed.

you were dressed nicely. not fancy, not pretending like this wasn’t a benoit’s. but nice. orderly. like you wanted to make a good impression on whoever it was you were expecting to meet. so either a date, or mayhaps a job interview.

not that you didn’t look nice or orderly on other days. you just weren’t in your hex tech uniform shirt. or in the incredibly casual clothes you wore when he saw you around. you were just. clearly cleaned-up, is all.

whoever it was, it was obvious that they were not coming. doux applauded you for being patient enough to wait this long, but again, they obviously weren’t coming. which, if it was a date, was good for him, but bad for you. very bad for you.

and honestly who does this person think they are? letting you down like this? horrible. disgraceful. this person was a grade A jerk-off. they have to be dead from the neck up to leave you waiting here like this, publicly embarrassing you as you sat at a table set for two all alone at one of the busiest restaurants in town. shame on them.

he was glad you seemed to be in the joking mood, however. and about arson, too. oh, he’s always had a soft spot for arsonists.

he hoped you’ll forgive him for having to do his job. if it was up to him, he’d give you all the bread in the pantry just so you wouldn’t leave. but alas, he had to deal the killing blow.

“now, are you still waiting for someone, or?”

your eyes drifted downward to the empty wineglass in your hand as you swirled it sarcastically as if it were still full.

you sighed, “yeah, no, it’s clear he doesn’t plan on showing,” you looked back up at him ruefully, “i’ll order now. i shouldn’t have waited this long for an internet man, anyway, huh? could’ve made it less pathetic.”

“i don’t think there’s a way to make these things any ‘more’ or ‘less’ pathetic,” he began taking out his notepad, ready to write, “because i wouldn’t call it pathetic at all. getting stood up is a thing that’s done to you, not because of who you are, but because of who someone else chooses to be… unless you stole this guy’s car or something. then it’s your fault.”

you laughed. genuinely.

“no, no, it’s a first date. i haven’t known this guy long enough to steal his car yet. but thanks… that’s. a better outlook than mine. kinder,” you apologized, “… uh, can i have like, the cheapest bottle of white wine you’ve got back there? the whole thing this time.”

“i take it back. that definitely made it pathetic.”

while you shared a laugh, douxie mentally congratulated himself. you had just given him the information that a) you were single and b) you were into men. a good day to be a charming single man, then. he had a chance.

“so are you ordering any real food as well? or did you plan on just having wine and bread for dinner? have to say, i don’t think that’s wise, love.”

“well i suppose i gotta, since, i’ve, uh, eaten three baskets of complimentary bread,” you stumbled over your words for a second there, “and i’m sure it’d make the manager mad if it didn’t, right?”

“right you are. he’s uh,” douxie lowered his voice, “he’salreadybeenonmydickaboutyou so yeah, you gotta. plus i’m just— you should eat something, yeah.”

you awkwardly turned your attention to the menu as you did that thing where you hold it and pretend to look over the menu as you order like you forgot or something, “the duck confit sounds good for tonight, i think,”

douxie snorted.

“no, no, that wasn’t a joke,” you shook your head, smiling fondly, “i actually just like duck, i promise. no sarcasm. i do understand the irony though. i get it.”

he didn’t completely believe you, “well then, one order of duck confit, coming right up. be back shortly, love.”

doux grabbed the breadbasket on his way out.

when he glanced back to throw you a short and unnoticeable but longing stare, as he paused in the kitchen doorway, you were fidgeting with the flowers on the table. he should get that order in now.

when your waiter came back with food, he placed two plates down on the table. you looked at him like he had suddenly grown a second head as he took the other seat as well.

“what are you—“

“i called in a favor with the owner. i’m still working but, i’ve got a bit of free time now. if you don’t mind me joining you,”

you shook your head in astonishment.

“not at all,” you smiled, still absolutely flabbergasted that this man would do something like this for you, “you’re douxie, right? zoe’s mentioned you a lot.”

“oH—,” he coughed, “oh, uh, she has?“

“yeah,”

he awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, “only good things, i pray?”

“oh, sure. sure. good things,” you took a demure little sip of your glass to torture him with the pause implying the contrary.

he swallowed audibly. nervous, then. what dirt did zoe have on him. you watched as he awkwardly shoved up the sleeves of his shirt, perhaps feeling a bit warm now. it was cute.

you’d be sure to ask zoe all about him later. how could you not. this was the most interesting thing to happen all year. and it’s december.

you racked your brain for what you knew of this guy for conversation topics.

“you’re in zoe’s band, right? the lead guitarist.”

his face lit up at the mention of it, “oh, yes. you’ve seen us?”

“once or twice, i believe.”

it wasn’t really your thing, live music. you mostly hung around the back of the bar when you got dragged to shows. you liked loud, sometimes. just not often. it really depended on how your brain was feeling that day.

“well, you’ve gotta come to the next gig, then, at least. i’m sure zoe’s already invited you?” you nodded. “the venue’s holding a wee little music festival, it’s going to be nuclear,”

“ah, that’s fun,” you smiled. that sounded like hell but now that two very enthusiastic wizards have invited you, you don’t have the heart to weasel your way out of it. you’ll bring the “XTREME” ear plugs.

“but yeah, the bands great. i love that i get to play with my mates now. a team that works as well together as we do is rare, so i really appreciate them.”

“speaking of,”

doux hummed inquisitively.

“what’s going on with zoe and that new girly y’all’ve got on the drums?”

“oh,” he paused to take a sip, narrowing his eyes mischievously, “they’re boning.”

you clasped your hands together excitedly, “thank you! you’ve just won me a betting pool.”

he almost had to spit the wine back into his glass,“hhhh. how many?”

“oh, just the entirety of the hex tech arcadia staff.”

“i’m not sure she’ll be happy to hear that.”

“which is why you won’t tell her, mr. casperan,” you placed your hand over his with a cheshire cat grin.

well, he couldn’t argue with that.

dinner progressed. alas, you can’t say you lingered as long as you wanted to on conversation. you were kinda rushing things because you felt a little guilty doux was getting someone to cover for him while you had your little date. was this a date. it had to be. as mentioned, he’s going out of his way for this, and you can’t imagine he’d go through all this trouble because he wasn’t interested in you. but then again, you couldn’t believe he was interested in you either.

“do you like cryptozoology?” douxie tried his best to ask nonchalantly while he scratched the bridge of his nose to look a little less interested. he was feeling a bit energized since talking about the band. you had been paying attention to him like he’d been paying attention to you, if only in passing.

“a tad more than the average californian wizard, why?”

“well, later this weekend, i’ve got a job exterminating a goblin infestation in the next town over,”

“snelling?”

“yeah, snelling. the guy i was partnering with told me he was backing out this morning, so now i’ll be going it alone. and im sure you know how fighting goblins alone usually goes.”

“makes it easier for them to gang up on you, yes.”

“see, that’s why i’m asking if you’d be interesting in taking his place?”

“well, i’ve got the weekend off and nothing to do,” he knew that, he got the hex tech schedule from zoe every week(to know how to schedule band practice. and, if he also took a peak at your schedule, it was purely accidental. yeah.), “so, i don’t see why not.”

doux grinned, both relieved he wouldn’t be fighting goblins alone, and feeling clever that he found an excuse to spend more time with you, “perfect, i’ll text you the details? but, oh, i don’t have your number do i?”

you were about to ask why he couldn’t just tell you in person right now, but he said that soo hammy. it took .01 seconds to understand what he was doing. you snorted.

“okay, okay, here,” you held out your hand and he gladly placed his unlocked phone in your hand. you made the contact and sent yourself a text of the first emoji he had in his recents, which happened to be🫀. ah, a goth romantic. you gave him back his phone.

“perfect. thank you, love.” he tucked the phone into his chest dramatically before placing in back into his pocket.

you rolled your eyes fondly, “you know, goblin smashing isn’t exactly my idea of the perfect second date, you might have to turn up the charm.”

“oh, i’m sure i’ll make it worth your while,” he let his head fall into his palm propped up on the table, gaze going soft, “so was this a perfect first date, then?”

you laughed, “hardly. all things considered. but—“

“but?”

“but i’m glad it happened this way. i’ve had a good time, mr. casperan.”

he grinned in agreement, “me too.”

you put your hand on top of the one he left resting on the table, and he took the opportunity to take that hand and gently lay a kiss to the top of your knuckles. he lingered for a moment, eyes shut tight to take in the tenderness of the moment.

alas, he has to go back to work now.

doux pulled out your chair and helped you to your feet. you thanked him as he started stacking the dishes.

“should i—?”

“no, god no,” he chuffed, “i’m the waiter, remember? i work here.”

“oh yeah.”

that reminded you. you shuffled for your wallet, but he stopped you.

“i’m paying for dinner, love. go enjoy the rest of your evening, i’ll text you after i close.”

“you sure?” it didn’t really sit right with you, considering he probably took a pay cut by not working the whole time you were on this little “date.”

“well,” he paused, and placed the dishes back onto the table for time being, “you could leave me a tip, if you know what i mean. just a teeny thing—“

“c’mere,” you snickered as you pulled him down by the lapels to kiss him.

chaste, just a peck. but perfect and sweet all the same.

when you pulled back, you watched as douxie held his eyes closed for just a moment longer than he need to before letting that blinding all encompassing smile bloom across his face.

“well then, a very goodnight to you, y/n l/n.”

#douxie x reader #hisirdoux casperan x reader #douxie casperan x reader #my writing

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ch6douin · 11 months

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> Wᴀɴᴛ — IDV! SELF AWARE AU (4)

Victor is not my favorite but I wrote for him as if he was...ngl (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)

cw: obsessive behavior (?); mentions of feeling/being watched; romantic in someway; light angst; victor is kind of paranoic.; short chapter as always idk why i cant FUCKING WRITE MORE

When he heard you, the experience was nothing short of breathtaking.

...

In a bad way.

Victor thought he was going crazy when that happened, that was his first reaction. He looked around, and there was no one. He looked at Wick...obviously, the dog wasn't the one talking. The voice didn't go away. Instead, it only intensified as he tried to go on with his matches. And then now, some weird feeling would make him move even if he didn't want to. He no longer had control of his body, and that scared him. The stress took control of his being, and he spent nights without sleeping, the idea of someone watching him being unbearable.

So how did he grow to like you? To care for your attention? It's simple: he felt himself warming up to you as he listened to your reactions and tone of voice. Victor was always fond of people's reactions, especially reading the letters he delivered, and it was no surprise that he slowly paid attention to yours too and got less panicked, he felt like he was important to be the one listening to you, and a weird yet inviting warmth filled his body. He enjoyed being the vessel to your entertainment, the doll who would coax out shocked gasps from you as he was supposed to get terror shocked, but somehow was still standing proudly after jumping through a window. He was the man who could make you giggle with his dances. He could be everything and much more if you let him hear more of your genuine answers.

You were the reason for the late-night midnight snacks and lesser hours of sleep. But now, it was because of the countless letters he wrote to you. Letters that he was sure he would not be able to send it out, but he needed to get those fervorous feelings out of his chest some way. Lovely packages with intricate designs piled up inside his drawer, flowers that would slowly wither glued with wax, and sweet words that would never be shown to others.

But now, with letters or not, he can talk to you. He can make you recognize him, and he just maybe, in a distant future, be able to look you in the eyes.

This is not working.

You're wary. Why did Naib have to mess up their peaceful approach with his bitter words? Now Victor couldn't do anything but type in a hurry a single 'It's me!' and their titles as he watches in horror the screen glitching and unfortunately going black. His hands go up to his face, hiding an expression twisted with sadness and frustration. Why did it have to be this way? He wanted you more than anything right now, but you wouldn't answer. Maybe you won't ever answer after this horrible experience. He doesn't care like the Mercenary if you may be using all of them, his curiosity is much bigger to care about it.

He storms out of the room, almost running through the long corridors to get the prototype to work again with Luca's maintenance.

priestess next wowwww im excited to see how its gonna turn out bc i don't really know a lot about her 👹...i wrote half of this listening to chamber of reflection from steezy knicks laying down on my bed.

#identity v x reader #idv x reader #idvselfaware #self aware au #victor grantz #victor grantz x reader #idv postman #idv mercenary

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star-going-supernova · 6 months

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I just thought of a banger fic idea for you.

What if Freddy is glitching and malfunctioning and the only way to combat it is for Gregory to be with him as it’s the only thing that comforts him. It ends up with Freddy carrying a half asleep Gregory around and giving everyone a red eyed glare when they look at him for too long as his systems are slowly rebooting.

Honestly the idea of Freddy, who is arguably one of the most dangerous animatronics when angry, gently holding his small fragile child while out of it hits just right.

They’re like bonded cats basically. You can’t separate them or else.

Coming at you with tumblr generated prompt number 55! We’ve got some Outsider POV in this one!

Unspoken Things

Jamie had been a tech in Parts and Services for almost four years, and she’d earned her promotion to head technician for the band. Most days, she enjoyed her job, or at least didn’t hate it. The animatronics were fairly agreeable to work with, and it was rare for her to be faced with a problem bigger than mild exterior damage or little bug fixes. It probably wasn’t surprising that she saw Monty and Roxy more than Freddy and Chica. Dings from golf balls and dents from go karts were daily occurrences.

But even rare errors did occur, and that was why Jamie was currently running around the pizzaplex in a growing panic, looking for Freddy.

She didn’t know what had caused it, just that he had malfunctioned badly and in such a way that his aggression had been triggered. He’d already taken out two endos and three STAFF bots, and the last thing she needed was him going after a human next. The only reason he hadn’t gotten his hands on any of her techs was because Monty got between him and them, and was in his own repair bay now as a result.

Freddy’d taken off, literally breaking down a door to escape, before she could get him hooked up to her equipment. Which meant a strong, fast, angry animatronic was loose in the pizzaplex.

If I was an out-of-control animatronic, where would I go? she asked herself. She hurried to the edge of the mezzanine, half pleased, half dismayed to find the atrium empty of Freddy.

She had a small army of her techs searching as well, and the radio silence from their end meant he wasn’t in Rockstar Row or the band’s personal areas of Parts and Services. Unless he was roaming around the basement, Freddy being in a public space was becoming more likely.

Jamie blew out an aggrieved sigh. She better not lose her job over this.

It was just as she was turning to go check either the west arcade or Fazer Blast, other places that Freddy might be likely to visit while not in his right mind, that she overheard both the best and worst news.

“Yeah, Eve said Gregory brought her a birthday gift. And, like, that’s sweet enough, but he somehow tracked down her cat.”

“The one that’s been missing for two months?”

“Yeah! So anyway, there’s a cat in the daycare today.”

Look, if there was one thing Jamie’s job at the ’plex had taught her, it was when to keep her mouth shut and just accept things. Don’t ask questions about this, don’t point out that, just accept them. Gregory was only the most recent of those things. She didn’t know who he was, where he came from, or why the band had such an attachment to him. She never heard of or saw his parents, and he was in the building at all hours. He had the highest VIP pass known to man with permissions that Jamie was sure didn’t exist on any other VIP pass.

And not only was Freddy Gregory’s favorite of the animatronics, but Gregory was Freddy’s favorite child. Favorite person, probably. Which meant that if Gregory was in the building, she knew exactly where to find a Freddy who was operating without any protocols or complex thought processes.

Ambushing the two employees she’d overheard, she demanded, “Where is Gregory now?”

• • •

Jamie’s heart gave a concerning stutter when she finally found Gregory. For Freddy had found him first.

She hesitated, unsure if getting closer would set Freddy off—because for the moment, he seemed calm. And Gregory was fine, chatting away without a care in the world.

He was situated in Freddy’s arms, one braced beneath him and the other wrapped around his back. He’d be dead in seconds if Freddy squeezed.

Keeping an eye out for any hint of aggression, Jamie slowly approached the pair. Freddy, predictably, spotted her first. His irises flickered between blue and red as he watched her with an unnervingly blank stare. That the blue of his eyes had returned at all after the malfunction occurred was heartening.

Gregory paused and frowned at Freddy before twisting to see what he was looking at. He waved.

“Good afternoon, Gregory,” Jamie said, trying to remain calm.

“Hi,” he said. “You work in Parts and Services.”

“That’s right. I don’t think we’ve properly met before. My name’s Jamie, and I’m the band’s head technician.”

“Cool.”

She smiled. “Very cool, yeah.”

“Is something wrong with Freddy?” he asked before she could figure out how to broach the subject. “He hasn’t said anything, which is really weird.” He frowned again at Freddy, whose eyes had settled on red.

“Well spotted,” she said, stopping a few feet away. “Freddy experienced a malfunction earlier and ran off before we could figure out what happened.” She hesitated, not sure if she should mention that the glitch’s main side effect was severe aggression. She didn’t want to scare the boy, especially since there was nothing she could reasonably do to help him.

Then again, Freddy was holding him carefully, not an ounce of violence to be seen when not half an hour ago, he did his level best to rip apart anything that got in his way.

Taking a chance, Jamie said, “He was pretty unhappy earlier, but it looks like you’ve made him feel better.” Hoping she wasn’t literally dooming a child, she asked, “How would you feel about staying with Freddy while we fix him up?”

“Sure,” Gregory said easily. He looked up at Freddy, in a calculating sort of way, before he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Freddy’s neck.

Incredibly, some of the ramrod stiff tension in Freddy’s body loosened up. The red didn’t go away, but he stopped staring Jamie down. And when she started to lead the way back to Parts and Services via the employee-only hallways, he followed placidly.

That was how it went for the entirety of the repair. Freddy never put Gregory down, holding him in some way or another, and an honestly terrifying growl rumbled out of his voice box the one time someone made an attempt to separate them. Gregory didn’t complain—in fact, at some point, Jamie looked up and found him nodding off, head resting against Freddy’s shoulder.

There was a fascinating dichotomy of tension and ease in the air, everyone simultaneously worried for the boy caught in the animatronic’s grasp and less stressed because of his presence. Freddy paid little attention to anyone unless they stared too long or got too close to Gregory.

It was blatantly protective behavior, and Jamie had no idea where it had come from or why it was so strong that even malfunction-caused aggression didn’t supersede it.

Just another of those unspoken things.

Finally, the manual code repairs were made, and Jamie initiated a soft reboot to enact them. As the update slowly progressed, Freddy didn’t lose his grip or his intensity.

It was unnerving, in a way, nearly as much as it was sweet. Never had Freddy’s hands been anything less than gentle with Gregory, but that did not change the fact that his hands had inhuman strength. It was a bit like watching a lion curl around a house kitten and knowing that kitten could easily fit in the lion’s mouth.

Jamie smiled and shook her head. And as Freddy finally cycled into a brief shutdown, she dared reach over and lightly tousle Gregory’s hair. He shifted but didn’t wake.

“Thanks for your help today, kid,” she whispered, getting to her feet. She’d stick around just long enough to make sure Freddy was doing fine, but then she’d leave them to their rest. She figured they both deserved it.

#i answered a thing #anonymous #fnaf fic #fnaf security breach #star's stories #life and times of star

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katyawriteswhump · 2 months

Text

the power of love, part 13 (steddie, stobin, steve whump fic)

Alternate ending S4: Steve has a habit of surviving near death experiences then getting sick for no reason. And Eddie and those fatal bat bites? After an impossible feat of mouth-to-mouth resuscitation from Steve, he’s mysteriously fixed. So, Eddie’s back to being banished, this time with Steve and Robin in tow. Eddie’s healing, but Steve isn’t… and life gets even more confusing, when Eddie develops feelings for Steve, which aren’t entirely unrequited.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 14

(also on AO3 here and as part of my steve whump fic series)

Steve POV

When Steve’s finished slumping forward and retching, he’s so through with everything.

“You did good with the lightning, kid.” Hopper scrapes Steve’s hair from his face. He’s still got an arm about him, pretty much all that’s stopping Steve collapsing onto the dirt. “Let’s hope we don’t need it again, huh?”

Steve sniffs, takes the kleenex Hopper offers and dabs his lips. As his super-fast breaths finally slow, his brain kicks off:

I got superpowers! Henderson’s gonna flip! Shame about the glitches, what with the blacking out and puking my guts out. The sound of a rushing river distracts him. He’s been hearing it, on and off, for hours.

He kneels a little more upright. Hopper gives him some space, passes him some water. “How far exactly have you travelled from Hawkins since the accident at Lover’s Lake?”

The accident? Oh yeah. I died. Twice.

Steve hasn’t told anyone about his second joyride into the afterlife in the Soviet base. Somehow, being an idiot as a kid is way easier to share. A damp breeze rattles through the trees, slapping him back to the present.

“Steve?” prompts Hopper.

“I… uh, I played basketball all over the state.” Even after drinking, his voice is a croaky mess. “Swim meets, too. Been a few times to Indianapolis. I was okay.”

Hopper scratches his stubbly jaw, looking almost as bushed as Steve feels. “How okay?”

“To be honest, I was kicked off the starting squad after a couple of the more distant games. Crappy performances, and I got humiliatingly sick on the bus.” It all makes sense now. “I survived.”

“Fine. You’re a tough guy. You’re gonna have to tough your way through this journey. I can’t leave you behind.”

“Eleven survived in the woods for—”

“At that stage, she didn’t have half the US army on her back.” He pats Steve, powerful enough to rock him. “She’d gotten experience with her powers, too.”

Steve can’t fathom if he’s feeling slightly patronised or dead relieved. All he really wants is to lie somewhere quiet and sleep for a year. Instead, he must drag himself to his feet—or, in the event, he lets Hopper do the dragging. He can’t help asking, though:

“Chief, can you hear running water? Like, loud.”

And getting louder. Niagara loud, in fact.

“No. Why? Can you?”

“Oh… um, maybe not.”

Okay. It’s totally in my head. Why aren’t I panicking harder?

When they reach the Humvee, Robin and Eddie are no longer at each other’s throats. On the contrary, they’re huddled in some deep and meaningful chat. As one, they slam Steve with stricken bunny-rabbit stares, which make him want to laugh so goddamn loud.

During the torturous drive, he sleeps, and his mind drifts back to the Soviet base. He’s caught in that furious red tide, which roars through his aching head. It’s echoed by a caressing whisper: You’ll know when it’s time to go home.

“Yeah, I got it. Shut the fuck up.”

“Rude! Wasn’t saying anything.”

“Huh?” He lifts his cheek from Robin’s shoulder. Her worried, tear-stained eyes overshadow the amusement ruffling her lips. Jesus, I’m breaking my friends! “Dreaming. Sorry.”

He gingerly rolls his shoulders. The side in the sling twinges miserably, and yet… Now he knows he’s gotta ditch the whole bunch of them, the fug of sickness is clearing. He feels better. Much better, in fact.

He keeps the news tight.

If he plays poorly, they won’t expect him to sneak away, right? Though, the plan pitches him another problem—when he does escape, how can he stop Robin and Eddie coming after him? Eddie, particularly, would be in beyond deep shit if he got taken.

Inevitably, the Humvee gets stuck again. When Hopper asks Steve to take the wheel, Steve grabs up a green army notebook he’d spotted in the footwell, a stubby pencil also. He scribbles fast, between revving the engine.

“Eddie, I love you. Please don’t follow me. Steve x”

I love you.

Wtf?

When he’d blundered down that path with Nance, he’d been licking the scars two-and-a-half years’ later. With Robin, of course, things turned out different.

Then Eddie Munson happened.

To be fair, knowing Eddie as he did now, he doesn’t actually believe Eddie would vomit on the note. Maybe only cackle a while. Either way, Steve would no way in hell obey a love letter, telling him not to follow, from anybody he cared about.

Given recent form, he doesn’t think Eddie would either.

He scrunches the note into his pocket then scribbles furiously at ‘take two’:

“Eddie, DON’T FOLLOW ME. You make me sick. Steve.”

Jesus, that’s hopeless. You make me sick? He doesn’t mean that, apart from… It’s sorta true. Steve detests it, however, longs to try again. He’s out of time.

He stuffs the second note into Eddie’s pack, as Hopper opens the door. “We’re gonna have to walk from here. Think you can make it?”

“Dunno,” says Steve. For purely tactical reasons. Likewise, he doesn’t volunteer to carry many supplies.

As they trudge their way through the trees, his chances to run aren’t happening. Everybody’s way quieter than usual—edgy, like during that drive in the RV before they faced down Vecna. When he tries subtly falling behind, they all jump to help him. Even worse, they reach the liaison spot way sooner than he expects. Thankfully, for Steve, the car isn’t there.

“Where the hell are they?” Hopper gets out a compass to check they’re in the right spot.

“Because compasses are so accurate near Hawkins,” gripes Steve, his pulse thudding madly. It really is now or never, and why the hell hasn’t he got a better plan?

“We’re far enough out that the gates shouldn’t make a difference, right?” Eddie says.

How do we know? How do we know that Vecna hasn’t swallowed Hawkins whole, while we’re running away pissing ourselves yellow?

Steve bites this back. It’s not like he wants them coming with him. He sits down on the verge, presses his face to his bent knees. Soon as he dares, he gets up again.

“Where you going?” asks Robin, clambering up also.

“I need to pee,” says Steve. Eddie’s on his feet too. Steve can’t look him in the eye, and the words nearly choke him. “I don’t need a babysitter. Shoo!”

He walks back into the forest, upping his pace as soon as the trees obscure him. It’s gonna be a long trek, he’s hardly got any supplies, and he’s got a weird sense that, no, he isn’t gonna get through this time. He follows the sound of the water, because it seems obvious that he should.

And he feels more torn apart than ever.

The tug back to Hawkins is overwhelming, but the tug back toward Robin and Eddie? It’s like somebody has wound a thread around his heart, attached it to the pair of them. As he strides farther away, the thread snares tight, like that rope around his wrist did.

He’s annoyed—if not exactly surprised—to hear somebody thrashing through the forest behind him. Robin yells, “Steve! Steeeeeve!”

He finally locates a small stream, which seems to be the source of the supernaturally loud torrent. He skids down the bank, landing in about three inches of water, and crouches low.

Go by, Robin. Dammit, turn back.

She tumbles into the stream a yard off, landing on her ass with a loud splash and a louder squeak.

“Uuuuugh!” She takes the hand he offers, and they scramble to their feet together. ��Steve, what the hell are you doing?”

“What the hell are you doing?”

She flicks pond scum from her legs and grimaces spectacularly. “Stopping you being an IDIOT! And since when were you not sick? God, I was so worried! Were you faking?”

“You know I wasn’t. I got… fixed.”

“Fixed? Like, HOW?”

He urgently presses a finger to his lips. “Sssssh! Keep your voice down! Look, I don’t know exactly, and I can’t go back. Hopper will make me get in that car.”

“He can’t force you.” Her glare is louder than her voice was.

“Whatever. He and El need to go. You and Eddie need to go.”

“You heard what Hopper said. They’ll torture you for information—they could kill you.”

“Been there, done that, Robin.”

“This isn't funny.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Steve sighs hard, belatedly noticing the stream has breached his sneakers. “All I do know is that I feel more myself already, turning around.” Following the water. “Also, Hop’s right—El can’t defeat Vecna with the military gunning for her. I don’t know exactly what I can do yet, but I have to try, whatever it is. So, please, Robin. Go back. Tell the others you couldn’t find me.”

“Eddie won’t leave without—”

“Which is why I gotta move! Take care, all right?”

He wants to hug her so bad. Instead, he sloshes away.

“Ugh, slow down!”

“Seriously?” He turns about suddenly. She nearly smashes into him and takes the opportunity to get right in his face.

“I am so mad with you! You made me run after you, my butt is drenched, and now you’re making me walk along a horrible ditch, all the way back to Hawkins?”

“It’s the quickest route.” He doesn’t know how he knows, only that he does. He turns around, wades onwards. The damp never bothered me anyway…

“Then why don’t we follow the bank, Steve?”

She has a point. “Oh. Okay.” They clamber up the sides, start following the stream from above. It’s as slippery as the riverbed and overgrown with treacherously tangly weeds.

“Eeeeeew! When this is over,” says Robin, “I am never, ever venturing into the totally-not-great outdoors again.”

“You don’t have to do any of this, Robin.”

Her latest scowl is more jokey—and fond—than he figures he deserves. “Shut up, Dingus. You know I do.”

Part 14

tags: @estrellami-1 @kal-ology @finntheehumaneater (thank you, thank you, thank you!) If anybody else would like to be tagged on this fic or any of my writing, please let me know :) Reblogs, comments and likes also very much appreciated :) Thank you for reading so far :)

(also part of my steve whump fic series on AO3)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 14

#steddie fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington #steddie fic #steve x eddie #steve harrington whump #steddie #steddie fanfic #stranger things fanfic #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie munson #stobin fanfic #platonic stobin #stobin

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xxxdragonfucker69xxx · 3 months

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Hi! 10kDays has had a vice grip on my psyche for the last week or so, and I'm really excited to play the preview. However, I don't wanna make anyone else in my group GM this game just because I want to play it, so I'd like to try out the GMless mode of play, and so would they, but none of us have any experience with that style of game.

Is there any game you'd recommend we look at for a general picture of how you intend GMless play to work? I do own Ironsworn, which has a GMless mode, so if that jives with what you're intending that would be really convenient lmao.

Thanks for your time!

So there's a couple of thoughts i have here, starting with the shape of the game and the pieces of it that need different kinds and amounts of attention:

The game itself is kind of designed in three strands: courses, combat, and the Face game.

Courses are an adaptation of the Arc/quest mechanic from Jenna Moran's Glitch. I've found that they reduce the GM load hugely, for two reasons: you can roll up half an hour before game, ask "who wants to be in the spotlight, what does your quest say is happening in your life right now, and what needs to happen?", and drop something in. Connections and debts are also designed to give you improv prompts, and to a slightly lesser extent perspectives. The other benefit of Courses is that they move planning burden from "GM, night before game" to "player, whenever they want to think about their blorbo". So on a large-scale, "figure out what the campaign looks like" view, you can get away with improvising every session and just following your own character arcs. Likewise, the District moves and intentions are intended to give GMs an easy "i don't know what to do next" button, and the focuses of mask/gear/bell are intended to share around the responsibilities of worldbuilding. Ironsworn's oracles are another example of how to help outsource some of that decision-making, and it's the reason Appendix Yi is earmarked to be a million random tables. For more information on how oracles work, please google Jay Dragon's Sleepaway on your work computer (or at least read this Twitter thread from NightlingBug).

There are a couple story structures that are well suited to wuxia and this game. There's the Shaolin Soccer/shadowrunner/classic ttrpg setup where you are clearly a team, and there are enemy teams, and you are doing hijinks against them. But there's also a Jin Yong wuxia epic type thing where you have, let's say three or four PCs, and you're maybe nominally on the same side but you're clashing a lot and you're tied together by sworn and blood kinship and you keep running into each other. I think the most pared-down version of 10kdays you could run and still call it a full game is 3 players, characters living sort of far apart so they rarely run into each other, and interactions are 2 of the PCs clashing at a time while the 3rd player picks up any NPCs, throws in some District moves, etc. You could do a 2-player game but the kinds of interactions you could have would be severely limited, I think. The Face game of politicking and building support structures is kind of just... you two, face to face.

Now the problem on everyone's mind is fighting. It's attention-intensive, everyone's interested in it, and depending on your setup there can be loads of combatants that a GM would normally be expected to pilot. Again, there are a couple of scaffolds for trying to do this GMless. The sample Techniques in Appendix Jia come with combat tactics to make use of them, so any player can pick up an NPC combatant and figure out what they're going to do. Fight choreographing like this runs the pitfall of it feeling sort of bad to hurt your friends effectively, at least for some tables, but there is the incentive of hitting your friend's Bite highlight when you grab the corpo thug and bite them in the ass.

It is one of my mid-to-low priorities to create like algorithm type protocols for enemy fighters to run themselves, though that's still in the pipe dream phase. One thing I'm looking at here is Katabasis by Rathayibacter, which has a super cool system for easily lining up combatant actions, enemy or not). Maybe I'll end up with literal combat loop Turing machines or something.

There's one more option here which is to lean the other way -- to foreground the GM themselves being a player. I'm talking Ryuutama dragons, I'm talking Fellowship Overlords. Obviously I one hundred percent have not added this yet, and I'm not even set that I will, but it's definitely a tool I'm thinking of to help manage the wuxia/cyberpunk/other bullshit genre merger. If you went this way, it would look like picking a district -- secret note, each district is built to amplify a genre. Gongshan is made to focus on wuxia/the bell, Jiaotou is made to focus on cyber/the gear, Youzhou is made to focus on punk/the mask, Jingcai Xin is made to focus on court and courtroom politics, and Yuanhai is made to play Nezha Reborn. Pick a district that corresponds to the genre the GM is playing as, turn those Moves into Heroic/Humbling Moves and the landmarks/NPCs into Treasures and Connections, turn the Intentions into Skills. Now you can combine this with what I first talked about, sharing out cognitive load, and focus on playing as a district/genre. Is that meaningfully different from being a GM, who let's recall still counts as a player at the table? I'm a sicko who loves being a GM so I'm unqualified to comment, but try out any combination of these options and see how they take you.

#ten thousand days for the sword #ill just automate all of tatterpiging its fine #larian did it its fine

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tabdabble · 2 years

Photo

I empathize with the existential terror puppet Spamton G. Spampton a normal amount and for only comical reasons.

Why is his suit so big? It’s full of secretsTrash.

[Image ID: A 3-panel comic featuring Spamton G. Spamton from the video game Delatrune. All text is glitched and written with numbers, but here I will write them legibly.

Panel 1: Spamton is sitting in his cobbled-together store at his ‘desk’ (an upended cardboard box). There is a computer mouse nibbling at one of the box flaps, and a sheet of heart stickers half-used, three of which have been stuck to various places on the box. The box features text from Spamton’s store menu screen in-game, such as a list of items and prices, a description of one item, and the words “Deals so good I’ll [$!$$] myself! 116 K“. In the center of the box front is written “SPAMSHOP, Welcome! Open 25/7″ in crooked writing. Finally, there is the option to “Run Away” to leave the shop menu. Behind Spamton is a wall of bricks painted loosely to resemble a blue sky with clouds and a bright yellow sun. At the right, the wall falls away to reveal a black rotary phone sitting in a pillar of light on a stool. Upon the desk rests a large, blue egg. Spamton is sitting with his shoulders back and his hands held before him with fingers outstretched and interlaced. His suit is obviously with padded shoulders and several holes and patches. He sports a small red bowtie and his hair is in a luxurious swoosh to feathery ends. Spamton resembles a ventriloquist dummy with red cheek circles, very long teeth, and a much longer, pointier nose. He is wearing glasses with oblong frames of a bright yellow and pale red, and his pupils are large and pointing in opposite directions. His smile is huge, and his teeth are slightly parted. It is not clear if he’s paying attention to anything in particular. Around the panel are black boxes with white pixelated texts including “Kromer” in front of Spamton’s face, “Hot Singles in your area!” on the left, “Hyperlink blocked” above his head, “Where are my ****ing [Custom and Replacement Keys open 24/7!]” at the bottom right, and finally a small text box stating “Pipis.”, with an arrow pointing to the large egg.

Panel 2: Spamton fills the frame, and is hunched over with his fingers interlocked more tightly, with his index fingers together pointing upwards, resting against the front of his teeth. We can see at this distance that his wrists, hands, and fingers are jointed like a doll or mannequin. He is shadowed starkly, throwing his face into a darker shade. His glasses are perfectly circular, and lit from the inside as their lenses are filled with a glitching .gif texture. His smile is not as cheerful looking as panel 1. Around him are many instances of black pixelated texts, which are glitched and written in numbers but will be written more plainly here:

I work so [Rare, Hard-to-find treasures, only at-] but I’m still in the [Garbage? We’ll haul it away for you!] What else could I be [Doing only the best work!] If everyone doesn't buy my [Carefully crafted and completely unique] [Pipis], they must be [Trash! Trash everywhere!] I’m so [Tired of ads? Block now for only 9.99 an hour!] I [Prey vs. Predator special, only on Animal Planet] so hard. Can anyone [At Ken Garth we hear you!] me? Do I [Deserve only the best!] this? Do intentions change [Anything and everything on sale this weekend!] Am I a [Michael Jackson’s new hit single Bad] person? [Is God real? Call [hyperlink blocked] for answers!] Does [God] hate me? I am in so much [It Burns! Ow! Stop! Help Me! It Burns!] The phone is now very close to Spamton over his left shoulder, and much more detailed. Across it are several blocks of texts that are “Don’t look at the phone” without spaces and over and over and over, eventually trailing off into “H”’s and the number 5 repeated many times. Finally, at the base of the panel in much larger text, is “Can anyone [-we hear you!] me?

Panel 3: Panel 3 resembles panel one, but Spamton’s face is now glitching, apparently duplicated over the first drawing, and his pupils are much smaller as he stares somewhere in the distance. Despite his smile, he seems quite alarmed. The text on the box “Run Away” has been duplicated to cover “Welcome!” as well as the list of items. The only black-with-white-text box left is in front of Spamton’s stretched-open mouth: an “A” in brackets, stretched so that it no longer fits in the black text box.

End of ID.]

Non-gif second image under cut:

#spamton #deltarune #spamton g. spamton #my art #fanart #image id

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elvenbeard · 8 months

Text

Fortune

Cyberpunk 2077 Fanfic

Summary: Some puzzle pieces are beginning to fall into place... Maybe there is a much more tangible reason for V's recent symptoms that cannot solely be attributed to what happened at Mikoshi? But who is involved, and who isn't... and how crazy of a coincidence was necessary to even get V on their tracks? (Post-Sun-Ending, mostly canon-compliant, Chapter 10/?, 7814 words, Kerry Eurodyne/V - notes at the end) >> Previous Chapter >> Read from the Beginning

V’s eyes snapped open the moment Kerry flicked the gear shift into park. The engine was still running when he opened the passenger side door and got of the car, stumbling more than walking. In his right hand he tightly clutched his mug containing Vik’s pills, but he briefly had to lean against the car’s hood at a sudden onset of dizziness.

“V!” Kerry called after him, rushed out of the car. They were parked right by the side entrance to Vik’s clinic. Too out in the open for V’s taste really, but it was the subtlest way in.

“Easy now…” Kerry carefully reached for his shoulder.

“I’m fine,” V panted, pushing himself upright again against Kerry’s gentle but firm grip.

“Yeah, clearly…”

“Can you open the door, please,” V gestured towards the metal gate leading to the alley behind Misty’s Esoterica. Kerry hesitated, looked him up and down. His face glitched out of V’s vision occasionally, accompanied by blinding pain. V tried not to let it show, but Kerry had seen him like this before, he saw right through any semblance of a façade he tried to uphold.

V had lost count of how many times he’d visited Vik’s clinic, but never before had he been so paralyzed by dread. Breathing hurt, his throat was dry and tight. Kerry stayed close by, one hand lingering near V at all times, ready to grab him. The alleyway was cold and dark, illuminated by green and pink and blue neon ads. The wide lattice door at the bottom of the narrow staircase was shut and Kerry slipped past V to open it for them.

“V, you don’t look good at all,” Kerry said with urgency and worry.

“Uncalled for!” V tried to joke, but his voice only came out strained, sounded weird to his own ears. Kerry didn’t laugh, instead his frown grew even deeper.

Not even two hours had passed since V had crushed the pill bottle, but his headache had increased exponentially. Despite taking a double dose of Fuentes’ painkillers, in addition to some over-the-counter stuff they’d still had at home, his brain was clawing against the inside of his skull like a feral animal trapped in a too-small cage.

“Vik?” V called into the dimly lit and quiet clinic. The TV on the corner desk was running as always, but muted. A slight gust of wind entering with them rustled the plastic tarps dividing the operating area from the rest of the clinic. The operating light was off, the monitors by the examination chair dark. No other clients or patients were here, and no Viktor in sight.

“Vik, we gotta talk!” V barked, and his voice hurt in his ears, optical glitches blurring his vision and he flinched.

No response still. V’s chest grew even tighter as they stepped further inside.

“V, c’mon, sit down,” Kerry urged, “Not sure I can catch ya if you pass out…”

V only half listened, the pain droning in his ears. But then finally quick footsteps, slashing through the silence. Viktor appeared from a corner in the back where he stored spare tech and meds.

“V… Kerry?” he said with a surprise that seemed earnest, wiping his hands on a clean rag looped into his belt. He looked them up and down, eyes lingering on the mug in V’s hand and then the little ziplock bag with pill crumbs Kerry was holding.

“What’s wrong kid, ya look terrible? C’mon sit down…”

V opened his mouth to respond… but the next thing he remembered was a screamed curse, hands tearing at his jacket, and then cold, all-encompassing darkness.

“… do the trick,” Vik’s voice was a distant blur, but at the same time his words lifted a weight from V’s chest. He gasped for air and opened his eyes.

“There we go,” Vik said, hand on V’s shoulder holding him down, “Easy now, V, easy. Lay low for a couple o’ minutes.”

V had to blink a few times against the bright lights above, Vik just a looming shadow. His heart was hammering against his sternum as he laid on his back on the hard cold ground. He realized someone held his legs propped up, was gently rubbing his thigh... Kerry knelt by his side. Vik got up and ejected the freshly used needles from his med applicator into the nearby trash can, then put the injector down by the examination chair before he returned.

“What happened?” V asked, weirdly out of breath, but much to his relief his headache had decreased to a distant throbbing that he’d manage to ignore.

“Ya went out like a light, but that’s all we know so far,” Vik said calmly.

“Scared the shit out of me ‘s whatcha did,” Kerry muttered through his teeth, and only now V managed to look up at him, fully registered the terror in his eyes, how pale and tense he was. He wanted to apologize, reach out and hold his hand, but his limbs were as heavy as the concrete floor he laid on.

“One thing’s for sure… good it happened here, and not out on the street or while ya were drivin’,” Viktor then nodded, “Kerry said you weren’t taking your meds. I injected you with a similar cocktail. Won’t last forever, shouldn’t even use it regularly. Much stronger concentration all at once, you’ll probably feel like you ran into a wall for the next few hours. And sure as hell I’ll bill ya for it, the meds cost a small fortune on their own already.”

The slight anger that swung with his words, born from worry, subsided. Vik patted him on the shoulder.

“But at least it brought you back for now.”

“Thanks, Vik…” V said and closed his eyes for a couple of moments, trying to recollect his thoughts, remember why they were at the clinic in the first place.

“Anyone wanna tell me why you’re not taking your pills by the way?” Vik then wondered out loud, beating V to breaching the topic, “And why you came walkin’ in here like a pair of loan sharks?”

V let out a deep breath.

“Um…” Kerry then said sheepishly, “V discovered somethin’ weird in the pills he’s gotten from you. We just wanna make sure it’s supposed to be in there. Know what it does.”

“Somethin’ weird?”

Kerry handed over the ziplock bag and now Viktor sighed.

“V, that stuff’s - …”

“Fuckin’ expensive, I know,” V interrupted and then opened his eyes again, looking up at Vik, “Didn’t crush them on purpose. But glad now I did.”

Viktor raised his eyebrows.

“Stay there a little while longer, I’ll have a look,” he ordered, “What… am I even lookin’ for?”

“Little metal scraps,” V said.

“Impurities?”

“You tell me once you see ‘em.”

Viktor nodded and got up to walk to his desk. V’s eyes wandered back to Kerry, who clung to his legs still.

“Been a while since that happened, huh?” V said in an attempt to ease his tension.

“Coulda done without it ever happenin’ again,” Kerry muttered.

In the background, the ziplock bag was rustling, and metallic tools scratching and clinking and scraping, giving V goosebumps. He finally regained enough control over his arms to reach up to his face, his nose, but found no fresh blood upon examining his fingertips. All things considered that at least was a relief.

Viktor hummed somewhere behind them, pensive and confused.

“Whatever that is,” he then said, “’s not s’pposed to be in your pills, no.”

“Fuck,” Kerry cursed, eyes growing wider, and V struggled to sit up.

“Woah, slowly, please,” Kerry urged but helped him, holding on and giving support. V was a lot less dizzy and in pain than before, but still thankful to have someone to lean against. Vik had a point about the “ran-into-a-wall” thing.

“Who’s your supplier?” V asked.

“Gal I’ve known for 15 years, she’s reliable,” Vik said promptly. He was sitting on his swivel chair and spun around to face V and Kerry now, the pill crumbs emptied onto a tray on his desk behind him.

“Everyone’s reliable until they’re paid enough by someone who doesn’t want them to be,” V said, calm and calculating, but Viktor shook his head.

“Not her, no. I don’t think so.”

“You seem awfully sure…” V said, tone biting, and Kerry dug his fingers into his shoulder to hold him back.

“V, I’d trust this girl with my life,” Viktor said, “We’ve got a history, just how you and I do. Goin’ back even further. She’s manufacturing this and similar stuff to order and she gets her due share. She’s built his biz up from scratch over a decade, has many buyers, she wouldn’t just throw it out the window for some extra cash.”

“Her name…”

“V…” Kerry urged.

Viktor sighed.

“Ava Jordan Lowe,” he said, “Goes by AJ, or 4cid. Not like you wouldn’t figure it out on your own anyway, sooner or later…”

Indeed, V would have Nix run a background check on this cook as soon as possible.

“What’s that stuff, the metal bits?” Kerry then changed the topic.

“I can’t say for sure,” Viktor shrugged, looking back at the tray, “Could be impurities, but no idea where they’d come from. At least I’ve never seen anythin’ like it, not this… consistent.”

“Nanites?” V then just uttered his own suspicion, and the room grew even quieter.

“Also crossed my mind,” Viktor said darkly, tightly intertwining his fingers, “And that’s way above my paygrade. We could do a quick scan though, just to make sure you’re up and running as normal.”

“I’m not,” V said, “And if it turns out it’s because someone’s been feeding me malware with the pills you said would help me…”

“Vince…” Kerry urged once more, and V closed his eyes and took another deep breath. His heart just wouldn’t stop racing.

“What do you mean?” Viktor then asked after a short pause, “You’re not doing well? Symptoms worsened, new symptoms?”

“Both. Everything.”

V gave Viktor a brief rundown of the last weeks, his feeling of detachedness, numbness, apathy. Kerry added in his risky behavior, mood swings, paranoia, everything they’d talked about and attributed to either the Relic and Mikoshi, or some sort of mind control brought on by Blue-Eyes. Even though they had no evidence for the latter yet. Just yet...

“How many pills do you have left of that batch?” Viktor then asked.

“I, uh…” V instinctively reached for his pocket, then remembered his favorite mug he used to get the pills here, “Oh no…”

“All good, it didn’t break,” Kerry soothed and reached for the mug sitting on the ground behind them still. He handed it to Viktor.

“You still got the original packaging?” he asked, and V pulled the broken bottle from his jacket’s inside pocket.

“Gimme a sec,” Viktor said and walked back to his desk, spilling the pills from the mug onto a separate tray. Then he looked at the bottle under his desk lamp.

“Yeah, definitely the one I gave ya,” he said after a couple of moments, “Has all the right markings and numbers. AJ’s thorough with that. Wouldn’t be the first time she’s been accused of selling somethin’ she didn’t make. Easier to trace stuff back to her lab like this.”

“A drug cook that makes sure her stuff can be traced back to her?” V frowned, and Vik chuckled.

“Oh, she’s so much more than a cook, V,” he said, “Told ya, she means serious biz. Used to work for Biotechnica, back in the day. Well, until she stepped on the wrong manager’s toes...”

He threw him a quick glance, and V suddenly was a child again, caught shoplifting by his scolding father.

“Can you help me up?” he quietly turned to Kerry, who supported him on the way back to his feet, then guided him over to Vik’s examination chair that had seen better days as well. He sat back down while Viktor had a closer look at the still intact pills.

“I sold you 50 last time, right?” Viktor said.

“Yeah,” V nodded, “One in the morning, one at night, one during the day only if the symptoms are particularly bad.”

“Been keeping that up?”

“Yeah… more or less… Might’ve missed one here or there. But I got someone who’s been paying very close attention I don’t.”

He smiled at Kerry, who raised his eyebrows, and gave him a soft nudge. Kerry’s shoulders dropped a little finally, some of his tension easing… but at the same time he seemed to be struggling to look him in the eyes. V’s heart stung when he remembered what he’d said about someone feeding him malware a couple of minutes ago…

“With only hope and the best intentions,” he added, only loud enough for Kerry to hear, and reached over to squeeze his hand. Kerry reluctantly looked up at him now, a sliver of a smile at the corners of his mouth, but not much more.

“Hm-mh,” Viktor hummed, immersed in his work, and not paying attention to them, “That checks out. Got 12 intact left here, plus the squashed ones, so that should’ve lasted you another week before you’d’ve come back for a refill anyway…”

He picked one of the pills up with a pair of tweezers, examined it closely under the light. Then he carefully set it aside, grabbed a scalpel, and cut it apart.

“Same impurities here…” he noted with a concerned sigh, “Outwardly, the pills look like the ones I gave you. Matchin’ AJ’s description, markings, everything. Whatever this stuff is though, it’s not what I ordered. But also, I know too little about AJ’s processes to be a hundred percent sure.”

Viktor got up from his chair and walked over to V and Kerry by the examination chair.

“Let’s do that scan. Lemme see how you’re holdin’ up,” he said.

“My personal link is, well…” V lifted his cast-covered left hand, “Long story.”

Viktor chuckled.

He pulled a cord from the other side of the chair so V could jack in via the socket in his neck. V groaned at the scratching and slight pressure of the plug. He’d never liked the sensation to begin with, but ever since Jackie had put the Relic in his neck slot, that entire part of his system had become even more sensitive to everything from electricity to touch. V sat back on the examination chair, grabbing the armrest tightly with his healthy hand. Viktor joined him by the side panel.

“Just checkin’ your systems for starters, see if we got any irregularities,” Viktor narrated everything he was doing to ease V’s tension, “Biomonitor is up to date? Any strange readings there?”

“No, all in the usual parameters,” V said, “Well… apart from my liver, but you said that could be a side effect of the pills.”

“Yeah,” Viktor nodded, “Not seeing anythin’ off just yet either...”

The scan completed after around two minutes.

“Looking good, systems up and running as they should,” Viktor said, but he sounded somewhat displeased, “No irregularities that could be caused by nanites or anythin’ like it…”

V’s heart sank. He’d been so sure Vik would find something…

“But that’s with my limited means here. I know you don’t wanna get involved with even more doctors after the last few times but…”

“We’re onto it,” V said flatly, and Viktor paused for a second.

“Good, good,” he was unable to suppress the surprise in his voice, “If you wanna I can do a simple preliminary brain scan. Could be bad news either way though.”

V sighed.

“Let’s get it over with, see where we’re at.”

Viktor nodded and got up to prepare the brain scan. Kerry watched everything from a little distance, arms crossed, brow furrowed. V held out his hand, and after a moment of hesitation Kerry stepped closer again and took it. Viktor lowered the actual scanning device onto V’s head and adjusted its exact position. They’d done a scan at the hospital just after his accident, with better tech than Vik’s, but V still wanted to hear his trusted Ripper’s opinion. He’d been regularly looking at his brain and implants for the better part of a decade now, he’d be more likely to notice small differences than Fuentes or anyone else.

“Alright, keep as still as possible, you know the drill,” Viktor said, and V closed his eyes as the scan began, clutching Kerry’s hand. Despite it all, he was uncertain whether he hoped the images would show something new or not.

After around five minutes the scan was complete and Viktor freed him of the device again, helped him jack out, and V eagerly slipped out of the chair. Neither him nor Kerry nor Viktor said a word as the computer still processed the scan. Kerry retreated to his corner again, arms crossed and lost in thought. V began to pace around, up and down the clinic, still slightly wobbly on his feet. He got another glimpse at the tiny metallic splinters on the tray of pill dust. If they were nanites, what where they programmed to do? He sure as hell did not get the impression they were healing his damaged, dying nervous system. But if not, what else could they be? A chemical reaction, some sort of crystals forming that just looked like metal? Just regular impurities after all, introduced by the cook on accident?

“Alright, let’s see,” Viktor announced the completion of the scan, as usual.

“Fuck…” Kerry muttered under his breath, not quite daring to approach the screen. V walked back to Viktor and looked over his shoulder.

“Here’s the old scar tissue from the bullet,” Viktor pointed out a large, dark area on the right side of the brain, “Lemme superimpose some older pics… No big changes, but also not unexpected, since we’re currently mostly trying to keep you stable.”

V swallowed and nodded.

“Other side,” Viktor flipped the 3D scan on the screen, “Huh…”

“What is it?” V asked, uncertain what he was looking at.

“Not sure… Nothing major, at least. But here, that’s your hippocampus.”

Vik pointed to the center of the scan.

“That’s where you make your decisions, your short-term memory. And here…” he pointed to a different area, “The prefrontal cortex. Self-control, emotional regulation, risk-assessment, amongst other things.”

V shivered.

“There are some subtle changes in the structure between our last and today’s scan,” Viktor said, pointing out some particularly bright and dark areas in both regions, “Nothing major, and no way to tell where they’re coming from. Could be all attributed to the Relic still, even though it’s always been destructive rather than constructive in its workings… Or could be anything else really, from tumors to natural irregularities or mutations.”

V’s eyes were glued to the screen.

The previous scans Vik had done, usually one or two a month ever since Mikoshi, had always in some shape or form supported Alt’s prediction. V would slowly wither away and die of this. Vik’s therapy seemed to slow the decay down, but it didn’t stop, let alone reverse it, so… this was new. And yet, V did not feel better, indeed he got worse and worse – definitely as if nothing had improved despite these small but visible changes highlighted right in front of his eyes.

“This is… new connections forming, instead of old ones dying off?” V made sure he was understanding correctly.

“It could be,” Viktor relativized, “Or it could be something else. But again, I’m not a neurologist. Take all of it with a grain of salt.”

“Good that we know where to find a neurologist then…” Kerry then added from the sidelines and his and V’s eyes met.

“Yeah,” V nodded slowly, “See what she has to say to this.”

“Nix, hi,” V said on the holo, back in the car again a short while later, “Run a thorough background check on one Ava Jordan Lowe, goes by AJ or 4cid. 4-c-i-d. Formerly Biotechnica, now high-profile drug cook. Has connections to a variety of Rippers all across NC… Yeah, everything you can find could be helpful.”

He paused for a moment.

“Also… Isabella Fuentes. She’s a doctor at the big med center in Little China. Neurology – … I’m dead serious. Yes, send it over later. Not sure yet if I’ll manage to swing by the next few days.”

He hung up and then noticed Kerry’s intense stare.

“What?”

“The doctor? Really?” Kerry asked, his voice amused rather than concerned.

“Wanna know who she is before I tell her what I got stuck in my head,” V said sternly, “And explain to her why her help offer is kind, but also the situation not nearly as simple as she thinks.”

“That’s fair, I guess…” Kerry nodded and leaned back in his seat, right hand loosely resting on the gear shift.

They sat in silence for a couple of moments, the noises from Little China’s backstreets only somewhat reaching them inside Kerry’s car. Once more V had been torn about using the Aerondight to get here, instead of one of his other cars. But while the Aerondight stood out, especially in this part of town, it at least offered a degree of security and privacy none of his own cars could.

V looked to the plastic bag between his feet, filled with a handful of single-use injectors Vik had given him. They were filled with the same drug cocktail that had brought him back from his attack earlier and should last him a few days, whenever his symptoms returned and became unbearable. Until then Vik could hopefully buy a fresh batch of pills. V still wasn’t so sure if he’d even want them, or if he should, just in case, cut them all open before taking them.

“What next?” Kerry asked eventually, and almost at the same time two new text messages popped up in the corner of V’s interface.

“One sec,” he said, opening the first one, “Ah… Manuel finally got his hands on my car.”

“Manuel?” Kerry asked.

“My car guy. The guy I used to work for. Pre-Arasaka.”

“Aaahhh, the Valentino garage...”

V chuckled.

“Don’t say that to his face, he might punch you.”

“Dunno… semi-legal garage in the middle of Heywood, almost exclusively locals as staff and customers, shady deals with corpos…”

“I know, I know…” V paused, “Still though, he doesn’t wanna be associated with them. Done him dirty in the past.”

“Yeah, and he never gave them any reason for it, for sure,” Kerry teased, “To Heywood, then?”

V nodded, smiling. Even though he and Manuel hadn’t parted ways completely amicably, V had reconnected with him after his exit from Arasaka. Manuel was a shady crook, but he and his people were discreet and skilled, so at least in handling his machines V trusted him fully. His V-Tech would need a lot of love and care after that accident…

Kerry sped off, and V could’ve sworn to notice the first paparazzi sneaking in, trying to snap a photo or two. It was due time they left the area. What Lee had shown them yesterday, the media frenzy around that dashcam clip of Kerry, was at the back of his mind the whole time. Sure as hell it was still affecting Kerry too. So, an update on his car was the perfect excuse to not go back home, return to their daily routines just yet. With the routines the thought spirals came back too, and neither of them needed that right now.

What they really needed was some distance from the city, at least for a couple of days. Kerry wasn’t so wrong with his idea of a belated – or early – weekend getaway. Hide at the villa and just do nothing at all… or at least nothing that had to do with their jobs. Easier said than done, especially for V, but he had made the promise to himself this morning to cherish the rare peaceful moments with Kerry more again. As long as he still could. When nothing mattered, only that they were with each other.

As they reached Watson’s outskirts, the sleek skyscrapers of Night City’s center looming ahead, V opened the second text. To his surprise, it came from Nix. Nothing extensive yet, but…

“Ah… Nix sent me AJ’s contact info,” he noted.

“That was quick…”

“If the chick’s really leaving a big paper trail people can just follow to find her, I’m not that surprised,” V said and without further pause called the cook’s holo.

It rang a couple of times… and then AJ actually answered. This was almost too easy…

AJ was a woman around Viktor’s age, a bit older maybe, short and thin, slicked back salt-and-pepper hair with a bright green streak starting at her temple. Her face was somewhat haggard and bathed in shadow as she sat on a worn-down desk chair in a relatively dark, cramped room. A couple of stripes of light falling in through half-closed shutters illuminated the scene, as well as the pale glow of a computer screen somewhere off to the right.

“Who’s this, who gave you this number?” AJ asked, paranoia loud in her otherwise hushed voice.

“I’m V. Gotta couple questions for ya, Ava Jordan Lowe.”

A heavy pause. AJ just stared.

The longer V got a chance to look at her and her abode, the more little details he noticed in the background. Lab equipment, servers. Everything seemed neatly organized and labelled, there was packaging material, bottles, books…

“That V?” AJ then asked, frozen in her chair, “The Afterlife V?”

“The one and only,” V said, “And you’re lucky we got some mutual friends, cause I sure as hell am in the mood to come kick in the door of your little lab for an in-person visit.”

“Woah, woah, woah, hold up!” AJ said, raising a hand defensively, “I got no problem with ya whatsoever, there must be a misunderstanding here!”

V would’ve expected a little more bargaining from an ex-corpo, a little more denial, a little less squirming. Usually, the “there must be a misunderstanding” bit came up way later during negotiations… and only as an intimidation tactic.

“Maybe…” V said, changing his approach, “Then maybe you can help clear it up.”

“Listen I – …” AJ stammered, “I’m a small fish in a shark tank, I know that. But I’d also like to keep it that way. I’m living a good and comfortable life in America’s shittiest city. Guys like you I want nothin’ to do with.”

“Who are your buyers?” V asked just to test the waters.

“About a dozen Ripperdocs, some black-market dealers, handful of private customers. Watson mostly, but I got connections to Westbrook and Rancho, too.”

The information spilled out of AJ like her shark tank had just burst – and that at the slightest tap. Westbrook made V perk up, but he also made a mental note to warn Viktor about how freely this woman was giving out information even if only mildly intimidated.

“Sellin’ fake designer drugs to Charter Hill’s junior managers?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” AJ shook her head, “Or well… not only. I’m a chemist, a good one. I cook up whatever my clients need, for all sorts of unique use-cases. Less, better sleep to maintain better performance, experimental treatments for cyberpsychosis, things like that. I don’t ask too many questions, and they pay me well. Listen, if you got trouble with one of them, I’d be happy to help. Don’t need them dragging Night City’s underworld bosses to my doorstep…”

V couldn’t help but chuckle at that. Kerry threw him a brief questioning glance as they left the bridge connecting Watson and Downtown behind.

“Alright, AJ, listen…” he said, “Your name was dropped to me by someone ordering meds from you. Let’s say, he wasn’t quite satisfied.”

AJ paused, seemed to think about this prospect intensely.

“What do you mean?”

“The guy relied on your good reputation, trusted you,” V said, “And you sold him some crap that almost flatlined him this morning. Mumbled something about some kinda dirt baked into your product.”

A little over-dramatic, but maybe it would work.

“Wait what? No, no that can’t be,” AJ shook her head again, demeanor slowly shifting from scared to offended, “Whoever that is, why didn’t he come to me then? My lab has a high, professional standard, it’s clean. I take great pride in my work, hell, you can trace my pills back to me!”

A thought struck V and his heart sank.

“How exactly? Putting trackers in your meds?”

“What, no!” AJ said, “No I’m… using labelling, codes, my pills are stamped, marked, some visibly, some invisibly. Every pill that leaves this lab and lands in the hands of a client, no exceptions. Been burned one too many times in the past. It’s an insurance for myself more than anything. My trademark if you will.”

V couldn’t recall having ever spoken to such a bureaucratic drug cook before.

“Alright, AJ, then help me understand,” V said, “’Cause I saw these pills, and the state my guy was in. If it wasn’t you, who sold him this crap with your name on it?”

“I, uh…” AJ stammered.

“Work with any intermediate sellers that could tamper with your stuff?”

“No, I do everything myself, from acquisition to retail. Maximum security, maximum discretion.”

V was beginning to grasp at straws.

“Could anyone be copying your formulas, any angry ex-business partners? Did someone break in and steal something recently? You ever gave out free samples of your stuff?”

Now AJ hesitated to think, and V hoped he was finally onto something useful.

“Well, no,” she said, “Not… quite. I work alone, always have. But like, back in June, July, someone contacted me out of the blue about an offer for a business partnership. They said they heard about my work, wanted to help me expand, but I got no interest in that. As I said, I’m happy with keeping a low profile and an overseeable number of clients.”

“Who exactly contacted you?” V asked, “Did they give you any names, any further deets?”

“No, was all shady as fuck. Smelled like Corp, and I’m more than done with that world. Claimed they were some sorta tech startup specializing in, uh… I don’t even remember really. The moment they couldn’t give me a name I was done with them. Fuck, do you think they’re trying to ruin my reputation now?”

V’s thoughts were racing, but he kept his expression neutral, frozen, to not give AJ any indication about just how helpful – and awful – this information was.

“Doesn’t matter what I’m thinking on this, AJ,” V said calmly, “I’m not gonna lie though, I was hoping you’d be able to give me something more substantial.”

“Argh, fuck, listen!” AJ said, “I really don’t want any trouble. I uh… fuck if I knew exactly who the client is that sent you to me, maybe that could jog my memory!”

Since the client in question was on the phone with AJ already, V decided to leave it at that. AJ either didn’t want to tell him more or couldn’t, so he’d wait for Nix’ background check before taking any further steps.

“Don’t worry about it, AJ,” he said, “I got a handful of other leads to follow, maybe you’re really not the culprit here. And if I figure out you’ve been dishonest with me… I’ll just come knocking.”

With that he hung up, lowered his phone, closed his eyes, and breathed deeply a couple of times to calm his racing heart.

“Why are you so hot when you’re scary, fuck…” Kerry then sighed, exasperatedly almost, and V looked at him and laughed.

“Wouldn’t last a minute watching you talk to clients at the Afterlife…”

“Watching you in the recording booth sure was a sight to behold too though,” V teased back, and Kerry bit his lip and threw him a quick sideways glance, squeezed his thigh… But then his expression grew darker again.

“Anything useful?” he asked, “You seem… concerned.”

“Nothing concrete, again,” V shook his head, “But… I got a feeling AJ was contacted by a certain, beyond obscure tech-startup around the same time they tried to get in touch with me.”

Kerry’s grip around the steering wheel tightened.

“Fuck…”

“Yup.”

The splendor and lights of the city center slowly faded in favor of brick and steel as Kerry drove them deeper into the heart of Heywood.

“AJ said she never dealt with them, but if they had her on their radar…” V thought out loud.

“Okay, so, but that confirms your suspicion, right?” Kerry wondered, “That metal stuff, whatever it is, could be Blue-Eyes’. How’d they get it in the pills though, if the cook’s the clean freak Vik says she is…”

“No clue,” V said, “Honestly, my guess is, someone swapped the pills. Either before they ever got to Viktor, or at Vik’s, or...”

V’s tongue was heavy, fearing he could choke on it if he said the words, the words he’d felt in his bones ever since first looking into Mr. B’s cold blue eyes at the Afterlife. Eyes that seemed to be able to stare into his soul, read his mind, know his intentions and desires before V even realized them. It felt like this first in-person encounter with him happened ages ago, not a mere week, so much did Blue-Eyes occupy his mind, follow him on every step he took… if their suspicion was correct, maybe more literally than V would’ve ever dared to imagine. His stomach turned at the thought of being watched from within his own head throughout all of this, over weeks, maybe even months…

“… or at our house,” Kerry then finished the thought burning in both their throats, voice barely loud enough to be audible over the Aerondight’s engine.

They reached their destination shortly after, but still having to digest this new information, they lingered in the car a few minutes longer.

“We better not let him wait,” V then simply decided to escape the deafening silence and unable to discuss Blue-Eyes’ again, at least right now.

Manuel’s workshop was tucked away in a Heywood back alley, the courtyard well hidden from curious eyes behind a tall, graffiti-covered wall. Kerry put on his sunglasses before he got out of the car and followed V. They walked over to a large metal gate, passing by an enormous Valentino mural. It featured their iconic golden V with roses at the center, surrounded by skulls, saints, guns, and a dozen names of fallen gang members.

“Totally not a ‘tino shop, yup,” Kerry shrugged, casually pointing at it with his thumb in passing.

“It really isn’t,” V laughed, “We’re just on their turf.”

“Mh-hm.”

Kerry put his hands in his jacket’s pockets then joined V by the entrance, stance cool and laid back. He had automatically fallen back into his public persona and demeanor, like he usually did when meeting new people from V’s world. V wondered if he’d do the same when Judy got here.

Overcome with an intense sensation of déjà vu V rang the doorbell at the intercom. Around six years ago he’d been in this exact spot with Jackie, Jackie in his place calling Manuel over to introduce them to one another.

“Hola?” a feminine, unfamiliar voice answered after a couple of seconds.

Kerry sneered, breaking character for a moment, and V nudged him with his elbow.

“It’s V. Manuel’s expecting me.”

“Oh… give me a moment, I’ll get him,” the girl responded in Spanish.

“It’s not a ‘tino shop!” V insisted at Kerry’s growing grin, and Kerry laughed.

“Keep tellin’ that to yourself, hermano,” he added, and V rolled his eyes. In the face of too much dread and uncertainty being able to joke around with each other still was an immense relief. Occasionally V missed the normalcy that had slowly faded from his life, ever since… He didn’t even remember. Probably since the day he decided to leave his easy yet boring techie-job at this workshop behind for the thrill of becoming an Arasaka agent.

Suddenly the gate started to move, creakily struggled open only far enough so they could slip into the courtyard. The entrance door to the shop swung open with more enthusiasm, and Manuel walked out to greet them, a short, stocky man, with little hair left on his head and a bold moustache. He still had the arms and probably the grip of a bear and was dressed in a worn, dirty grey coverall. A thick gold chain peeked out between dark chest hair spilling from his half-unbuttoned, yellow checkered shirt, and his tan skin glistened in the sun.

“V, good to see you, gringo,” he said, extending his hand and V shook it, “With the way your baby looks I thought you’d be gettin’ carted in here in a wheelchair.”

“Fortune favors the fools,” V shrugged, and Manuel laughed loudly.

“Your friend?” he then asked with a nod in Kerry’s direction, at the same time extending his motor-oil-covered hand. V and Kerry exchanged a quick glance and smile.

“Kerry,” Kerry introduced himself briefly, shaking Manuel’s hand without hesitation, “V doesn’t let everyone touch his cars, so you gotta be one of the best Night City has to offer.”

Manuel winked.

“V also thinks our ‘20% for family and friends’ offer is a discount, but it’s actually a markup,” he snickered.

“Oh, I’m well aware,” V defended himself, “I came up with it in the first place.”

Manuel laughed and patted him on the shoulder. V tried not to wince in pain too hard, but it did hurt.

“Ah, you’re adickhead, V, but it’s good to see you again. Come on, lemme show you your car so we can come up with a plan.”

V and Kerry followed the mechanic across the concrete courtyard to the entrance of the workshop. The reception area featured some dusty sales shelves stocked with tacky car accessories from bobblehead dolls to air fresheners, as well as a colorful arrangement of car-centric magazines. Behind the old-fashioned reception desk sat a dark-haired teenage girl wearing a high ponytail, golden loop earrings, and a blue paisley bandana. She was reading a music magazine and chewing gum, paying the visitors no mind. Manuel led them next door to the actual workshop area. The smell of oil and CHOOH2 was heavy in the air, clung to their clothes and skin the second they entered, and again V was overcome with a wave of memories. Tuning engines, adjusting control units, changing speedometers, and bypassing security mechanisms… it hadn’t been exciting or particularly challenging work, but V had been good at it.

The workshop was spacious enough to hold three cars to be worked on simultaneously. All garage doors were closed, but the area was well lit by bright neon ceiling lamps. Somewhere in the back sparks were flying where one of the mechanics was welding something on the backside of a car. Two others loudly discussing the best approach for an outstanding paintjob were obscured partially by an industrial hydraulic lift. All sorts of shelves separating the different areas of the workshop held spare parts, tires, tools, and other materials. V’s attention was immediately caught by his V-Tech though, parked in the front portion of the workshop, and his heart broke at the sight.

“Ah fuck…”

“Yeah, it’s… pretty bad,” Manuel didn’t even try to sugarcoat it.

The car was barely recognizable. V could’ve only described it as “caved in”, the hood gone, any tech installed in the front probably damaged beyond repair. The windshield and driver’s side door were missing, and the roof was scratched and dented in. The way the car sat on the ground, much lower than it was supposed to, had V assume the front axle was broken or at least severely bent from the impact.

“The good news is though, the motor is fine, and spare parts are easy to come by at the moment,” Manuel said, “But yes… It’s gonna take a while, and it’s not gonna be cheap.”

V walked over to the car wordlessly, stood next to the driver’s side, absentmindedly touching the scratch marks Trauma Team’s tools had left all around the frame when they cut him out. He still barely remembered anything of that evening.

The steering wheel sat on the seat, which had a few small bloodstains on it. The dashboard had been dismantled to assess the damages to the systems… and V couldn’t help but notice a putrid smell, like sour milk, as he peered inside. Manuel noticed the face he made.

“Oh, yeah…” he said, “The NCPD didn’t wanna release the car, as I told you. Stood in the midday sun in their compound for days before we were finally allowed to tow it. Only after your insurance threatened to sue them. Well… There was spilled coffee everywhere, and it didn’t react well to the heat. We’ll do our best to clean the interior and get rid of the smell, of course, but we might have to redo some of the upholstery. It really had time to soak in deep...”

V perked up.

“Anything else you found in there? That broke, maybe?”

Manuel’s smile turned into a grin; he knowingly raised a finger. He walked over to a shelf by the wall, pulled out an old-fashioned key, and unlocked a compartment.

“Of fucking course…” V sighed when he returned with a huge, somehow still intact jar of olives, and a vodka bottle.

“Not a good ratio for a martini, just sayin’,” Manuel joked as he tried to hand him both the bottle and the jar, but V raised his hands somewhat helplessly, noticing Kerry perk up from the corner of his eye. He’d kept himself to the background, was leaning against a shelf, casually scrolling on his phone, and patiently waiting for V and Manuel to discuss everything. But now they had his attention.

“Can give him both of those,” V said with a smile, looking at Kerry, “Was intended as a present anyway.”

“You… you really,” Kerry stammered as Manuel walked over to hand him the jar and the bottle, “I thought you were joking when you said…”

V shrugged, and Kerry stood there, so lost all of a sudden that he didn’t seem to know what to do with himself. He cleared his throat and V knew he was glad now he still wore his sunglasses.

V agreed upon a “treatment plan” for his car with Manuel, Kerry remained to the side holding on to his presents tightly as they spoke, still speechless.

Money was not the issue, V’s insurance would cover part of the costs, too, so it was more a matter of time when he’d get his V-Tech back. Once they’d reached an agreement, Manuel accompanied them both outside to the courtyard again.

“Always a pleasure doing business with you, V,” Manuel shook V’s hand, “And was nice meeting you, uh… Kenny.”

“Kerry,” V corrected him, biting back a laugh.

“Kerry, right,” Manuel nodded and briefly waved, as Kerry’s hands were still occupied, then he turned back to V, “I’ll give you a call – …”

The door to the workshop swung open once more and the girl from the reception desk poked her head out.

“Dad, you gotta come in, there’s a guy on the phone who – …” she said in Spanish, but her words slurred, and jaw slowly dropped when she recognized who was standing in front of her, by her father’s side. V chuckled, and Kerry, instantly armed with his laid-back rockstar attitude again, winked at her over the edge of his sunglasses. Manuel noticed none of this and, remaining completely oblivious, bid his farewells and quickly ushered his daughter back inside. V laughed, put his arm around Kerry’s waist, and they walked back outside.

“Let’s go, my good friend Kenny.”

“Fuck off,” Kerry chuckled.

“Can’t believe you really went out and bought the damn olives…” Kerry repeated once more as he got back behind the steering wheel, olives and vodka safely put away in the trunk. The engine was still off, and he just stared ahead, hands in his lap. V was sunken into his seat and slowly turned his head.

“And I can’t believe my vanilla latte ruined my car seats completely, while this giant glass jar stayed intact for some reason,” he shrugged with played annoyance.

Kerry took off his sunglasses and put them down into their compartment between the seats. Then, without further words, he leaned over, cupped V’s face and gently, sweetly kissed him. Then once more, and a third time. Not growing hungrier or wilder, just… Again and again, because once was not enough. He shook his head slightly and smiled, their noses briefly touching. His hands trailed down V’s neck and chest, then he slowly withdrew just far enough to look him in the eyes properly.

“I love you.”

“Love ya, too,” V smiled, heart beating in his throat.

“No, V, really, I…” Kerry struggled for words, but then he sighed and smiled sadly, “I was not in a good state of mind when I sent you those messages. You probably only wanted to go home and shower and sleep, after all that... Still went outta your way to get me my fuckin’ olives, of all things. Could’ve just moved my own ass for once. You would’ve never ended up in that accident, and – ...”

“Kerry…” V reached out now, cradling Kerry’s cheek, “Firstly, you don’t know that. I could’ve ended up in a way worse accident, or somethin’ else could’ve gone wrong. But none of it would’ve been your fault, either.”

V was suddenly struck with the strangest realization.

“Also… Had I not been in that accident… We’d really have nowhere else to go to now. Dr. Fuentes, we’d’ve never met her. I wouldn’t have this thing – “ he held up his cast – “And I wouldn’t have stomped my pills into dust.”

Kerry’s eyes grew wide, then he briefly looked away, lowered his head at the dawning realization.

“Honestly… getting you your olives was probably the best bad decision I made in the last couple of months,” V reassured him with a smile.

“This is so fucking crazy…” Kerry just breathed, leaned in to kiss him again, then pressed their foreheads together.

“Somehow always is with the two of us involved,” V nodded quietly, “Maybe I should give olives another try…”

Kerry laughed.

“I’ll mix ya the best martini you’ll ever have when we’re back home!”

“Not too strong, please. Y’know what’s gonna happen otherwise…” V frowned, and Kerry grinned as the engine sprung on.

Yes. A semblance of normalcy would do them good, however brief it was.

*****************

>> Next Chapter

*****************

Notes:

This was a long one, thank you so much for reading <3 Slightly less action, more light-hearted moments to recover from last time's angst! This was more of a "filler" chapter in the sense that I wanted to start tieing off some lose ends here and there, as the plot moves to the next arc slowly but surely: Blue-Eyes is not the answer, but instead maybe the doctor V and Kerry got into contact with by sheer stupid luck - and the power of love xD there's a reason why the working title of this fic is "love is stored in the olive jar" cause yay! the jar survived the car accident from chapter one after all! As did V and as did V and Kerry's love, despite all hardships :3

But two questions remain... who switched out the pills, if AJ and Vik are earnest, and can Dr. Fuentes really help where everyone else so far failed? And at what cost will her help come?

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