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helpinghanikan · 11 months

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Domestic Bliss

Konig x reader, John (Soap) MacTavish x Simon (Ghost) Riley

Sum:

Sometimes operators take a quick break during a mission. So, why not spend that break at your house? You and Konig get to be a happy couple, so why not Johnny and Simon?

This isn’t the first time a campaign has failed. It happens, but that doesn’t make it any less annoying. Especially when you can’t go home immediately after.

“We can’t get them every time,” Laswell said when Ghost, Konig, and Soap returned to base. “But we have his tail and he’s on the run. I’m going to need you all to stay close until we got him in our sights again.”

“How long are we thinking?” Soap asks, more out of curiosity than a want to go home.

For Ghost and Soap home was wherever the other was. So long as they kept it out of paperwork and didn’t outright maul each other during a mission neither Price nor Laswell cared about their relationship. It wasn’t the first-time love was found on the battlefield, a ring on Laswell’s finger was proof of that.

Konig, on the other hand, had somewhere to be.

“I can’t say. It’s going to be at least a few days. I’ll see about getting some barracks set up for you two. Showers should be open up already.” She said, conversation over with the turning of her back.

Ghost didn’t think much about Konig hanging back in Laswell’s office. A quick swat to his backside told him that no one was around and that Soap would see him later. Another action that he didn’t think much about. The only thing that matters now is the showers and clean underwear. Maybe a bed softer than the ground but that might be asking for too much.

There was nothing really special about the target they were after. Just another cartel “boss” that was destined to be arrested by authorities or killed by the actual boss. It was only through a sudden wave of brutality that the 141 was brought in. Followed a trail through several countries until they barely nipped at the target’s heels. At least they torched the makeshift compound he left behind.

Under lukewarm water Ghost let himself become bare. It’s easier to wash off someone else’s blood when not wearing a mask. It’s now that he can remove the image of the Ghost. He can be Simon, even if it’s while hiding under a subpar shower.

“Simon, you in?” Johnny’s voice calls through the bathroom.

Simon makes a hmm noise loud enough to be heard. He didn’t need to invite Johnny in, zippers were already being pulled down and clothing was getting removed rather quickly.

“There he is,” Johnny says, moving the curtain and stepping into the cubicle.

It took time and patients before Simon was comfortable with Johnny stepping in so casually. Even longer before Johnny could just press against Simon’s back without him tensing up. Now look at them; practically spooning in the shower.

“Nothing more romantic than a military bath,” Johnny says, having to practically stand on his toes to get some water over his head.

“Doubt the motel’s going to be any better,” Simon replied, eyes still closed.

“Not to worry about that, Babe. Königs’ got us covered.” Johnny places an open mouth kiss on the back of Simon’s neck. But that didn’t stop Simon from practically wheeling around.

“What do you mean?” Simon asked, black from his leftover face paint running down his cheeks like poorly applied makeup.

“König and the misses have a house not too far from here. He figured we’d prefer his guestroom over whatever motel Price considers ‘suitable’.” Soap says with air quotes over the word suitable. It’s only then that Johnny seems to remember Simon was a part of this. “Sorry, I should have gotten your input first. How’d feel about stopping by?”

Simon turns back towards the water as if it’s no big deal.

“Plans are already made, it seems. Let’s see how the giant lives.” Simon says, rubbing away the last of his face paint.

It’s almost funny how different Simon and Johnny were in their civilian lives. Simon had long ago given up on the idea of being a civilian. He was the Ghost, a lieutenant, and a badass when on the field. When off the field he was a lone wolf, the quiet guy in the superstore, and the big man you cross the street to avoid walking past.

Johnny, on the other hand, could make a friend in an empty room. The favorite uncle to his nieces and nephews. He’s that nice man who can grab things from the shelf at the store. Few social events are complete until John McTavish makes an appearance. It should be no surprise that Johnny became König’s friend, it was more of a surprise that it took so long to be invited for dinner.

You have to strain to hear the Jeep pulling into your driveway. There was no need to take a peek out of the window. Your shared home was a good ten-minute drive from the highway. Through trees and past farms no one pulls into your driveway on accident.

Your name is called out when the front door opens. Followed shortly by the thumping of shoes and soft talking of your guests.

“Nice place, König. Pretty far out from anything, though.” Comments an Irish accent.

“Not everyone wants to live ass to ass with their neighbors. It’s a pretty good location.” Adds in a British accent.

It wasn’t like König to invite “co-workers” home for the weekend. With Kortac you only got to meet Horangi, and that was probably so you’d have someone to call if something happened. This was likely a similar scenario.

“Darling,” König says when you round the corner to the front room.

He must have changed before leaving the base. It wasn’t like König could go about civilian life while wearing a sniper’s hood. Instead, he wears a mask or balaclava when he feels it’s necessary. This is almost exclusively when he heads into the city or has to stop by more populated areas. In his line of work being recognized could result in something awful. The likely hood of being recognized countries away from enemies is rare but not impossible.

You don’t care or worry about the guests still standing in the doorway. Not when your man is coming towards you with a smile that lights up his eyes. König removes his mask in a simple motion as he walks towards you. Leaning down for a kiss that you plant on him gently, but still insist on putting your arms around his neck.

König’s always been a mountain of ice when he gets home. König liked his AC and it was usually blasting throughout the car and house wherever he was. Supposedly it helps keep him awake when driving or doing paperwork. More likely than not he just wanted an excuse to drag you in for a cuddle.

You’re too focused on your own man to hear the small conversation happening at the door.

“Why don’t you kiss me like that?” The Irish man asked.

“Shut up.” Whispered the Brit, although no malicious could be heard in his voice.

The is never as long as you want it to be. But, it has to end, and you are refocused on your still-waiting guests.

“I’m so sorry, it’s nice to meet you.” You say to the two men, reaching out a hand towards them and giving your name.

“Likewise, Ma’am.” The Irish man says, taking your hand. “I’m John McTavish, and this is Simon. We work with König at the 141, he’s a good man.”

“You don’t have to tell me that.” You say, nodding towards Simon who reciprocates. “I take it you’re both operators, too. Königs’ told me a few things. It’s nice to meet the people watching his back.”

You instruct both John and Simon to make themselves at home. Directing towards the living room and bar that’s hardly used for company. “It’s stocked, so help yourselves.” You said, following your man when he disappeared into the kitchen.

“Is everyone you hang out with so damn tall?” You can’t help but ask.

“No, it’s just luck. I seem to attract them.” König says, putting his head through his apron’s top.

“You don’t have to cook,” You say, but have already walked around him to tie up the back. “I was just going to order in.”

Ordering in and grabbing food as you’re going to whenever König was away. He did most of the cooking in your household. Recipes passed down from his mother and father kept you fed through most of the year. This isn’t to say you couldn’t handle yourself but, who would choose cooking over someone doing that for you? “It’s a tradition, don’t take this from me,” König explains. “Does spaghetti sound good? I don’t have time to do anything too complicated.”

“Do your thing, babe. Whatever it is I’m looking forward to it.” You reply, swatting his backside while heading out from the kitchen.

König was not the kind of guy you can cook alongside. More than once you’ve asked if there was anything you could do to help. And, more than once, König was hypercritical of your culinary skills. Mainly micromanaging how to cut vegetables.

That was the closest you’ve ever come to stabbing him.

Back in the living room John and Simon sat side by side on the couch. Simon leaning against the couch’s arm. His own arm rested over the back and, if he wanted, he could easily wrap it around John’s shoulders. John sat with a casual hand on Simon’s thigh. Both of the men holding glasses of dark liquid.

“So, what’re we drinking?” You ask, already at the bar.

“Bourbon,” Simon said raising his glass in an almost toast.

“Scotch for me. But I won’t judge you too harshly if you go with the whiskey.” John explains.

You went with neither. Picking your own preferred brand from the bottom of the bar. Far enough down that König wouldn’t accidentally clean out your alcohol.

“How long have you and König been married?” John asks.

“It’s barely been a year, but we’ve lived together before. I had to make sure the relationship would survive your line of work.” You explained.

Of course, it was quite a bit more complicated than that. You didn’t mention how it took months before König came clean about his job. That you didn’t believe him at first. And you certainly didn’t talk about how König was more scared of a relationship than anyone with a gun could ever make him.

The truth was it hurt every time your husband had to leave. It didn’t matter whether you had a day’s notice or a month’s notice. You held him close on those mornings and tried your hardest to convince him to stay. Of course he couldn’t but at least you had tried.

It wasn’t as if you were always available, either. Your own work, relationships, and life made this entire marriage feel a bit like an afterthought. More than once you’ve come home to König asleep on the couch. His feet hanging off the end and one of your pets sleeping on his chest.

“How long have you two been together?” You ask with a casual drink.

Johnny and Simon have a few seconds of interaction in the time it takes you to drink. Johnny squeezing Simon’s thigh and getting no reaction made the answer to your question.

“Not too long, either. But being too open about it makes work more than a little complicated. Anyway, you know about our work, what do you do? I can’t see you as a ‘oh, when will my husband come home,’ type of gal.” Johnny asks, leaning forward to emphasize who was expected to talk next.

It’s not often you find a real people person working in the military-industrial complex. Johnny was a rare case, even in the 141. True, he didn’t have the humor like Gaz or the unquestionable charm like Price. Even Simon had the tall, dark, and handsome vibe to him. All that was nothing compared to Johnny’s ability to simply be nice and know when to change the subject.

König was as skilled in the kitchen as in the field. Simple spices and meats added to store-bought sauce has an amazing effect on spaghetti. Even more so when the popping of a bottle rings through the house and you have to comment; “He has this special brand his mother got us. It’s so special that he keeps it on the highest shelf when I need to stand on the counter to reach it. Marriage isn’t always perfect, you know?”

Simon could understand that sentiment. Truth was he and Johnny were barely past the two-year anniversary of their relationship. But fighting alongside your partner in life-or-death situations can make that time feel so much faster. In Simon’s mind they were already an old married couple, only difference being his ass was still firm.

Dinner is served family style at the table. König setting out plates and bread as you came in to help him. Grabbing napkins and utensils without being asked or really thinking about it.

“Why don’t you cook for me?” Simon whispered to Johnny while they walked into the dinning room.

“For the same reason you don’t kiss me.” Johnny retorted, happy that Simon seemed to have relaxed somewhat.

It wasn’t as if Simon was some feral dog Johnny decided to adopt one day. Simon was a grown man who understood at least basic social expectations, but time and trauma had made him somewhat rusty. It made him quiet when around anyone but friends or colleges. What answers you were going to get out of him were short and sharp, wanting to reach the point as quickly as possible.

Anyone could sense this want of solitude coming off of Simon. It’s why most of the conversation took place between Johnny and yourself. König sometimes adding in but letting you handle a majority of the conversation. Content to simply eat the spaghetti and listen to the people around him.

“-So he’s holding my shirt and walking me backwards real slow. He’s not that much bigger than me but the size matters with that sort of thing.” Johnny tells his story with enthusiasm. Holding onto the front of his shirt for emphasis. “But, before we get too close to the edge, the cunt gets taken out by none other than the Ghost.”

It’s hard to see Simon’s face from where you sit at the table. The vase of flowers König had got you not too long ago blocked a clear view of Simon. The veteran operator likely sat there specifically to block your view.

You could imagine that he was smiling though. Johnny reaches his arm over Simon’s shoulders and gives him a squeeze. Had they been in private it’s not hard to imagine that the squeeze might also include a kiss.

“Sounds like you’re a pretty good sniper, Simon.” You say, speaking directly to Simon for the first time that night. “Unfortunately, I know for a fact that my König here is the better shot. Sniping or otherwise.”

“Oh no, Darling. Please don’t involve me in this.” König says with his hands up as if to surrender.

“We’ll test each other later, don’t you worry about that,” Simon says, his fort spinning over his plate.

It’s downright domestic how Johnny volunteered to help you with the dishes. König made a move to help instead but was practically glared back to his seat. If you let him he’d do everything around the house. Guilt from his work has that effect on him.

“How is Simon doing?” You asked Johnny, hoping that the wall and running sink were enough to hide your voice.

“He’s Simon, there’s no need to worry about him. Trust me, if he had a problem with you, he’d let you know.” Johnny replies. “How are you doing? I know that we pretty much barged into your house without warning.”

“König called me before you showed up, so not completely unannounced. It really is nice to see who has my husband’s back. It makes being without him a lot easier, I might even be able to relax next time.” You explain.

“You worry about him too much?” Johnny asks, glancing out the door towards your partners.

“I wouldn’t say too much, just a healthy amount. It’s not enough to stop me from doing things, but don’t tell König. All he’ll hear is that I’m worried and we don’t need that.” You say, being sure to stay close to the running sink while saying this.

“He won’t hear anything from me,” Johnny promises.

Johnny, Simon, and König resided in a world that you simply couldn’t understand. At most, you could get a few peaks in through the complaints or stories they choose to tell. Unlike you, they didn’t make too much of a habit of thinking about the future. For König he only felt safe thinking about the present and how he can best get back to you. Simon never saw himself with a real future, at no point in his life did he have a goal besides survival.

Johnny was different as he actually thought about the future. At first, it was just to be the best soldier in the field and as high ranked as he could get. Then Johnny met Simon and his goals turned into a heart-shaped plan. One that involved buying a house and maybe a dog that Simon would approve of. Knowing Simon it would be a German Shepard or two.

Johnny’s life plan shifted ever so slightly throughout the night. It glowed pink as he watched you and König share a drink. He looks out to Simon, smoking his cigarette on the back porch, and can see the one and only future he wants. One where Simon is safe and on Johnny’s lap as much as possible.

“I need to call my mother before it gets too late.” König practically declared around the nine pm mark. He leans over the chair and says; “I promise not to be too long.” He then looks up to Simon and Johnny. “The spare room is down the hall. I doubt sharing will be a problem for you.”

“I’ll show you,” You say while standing.

The guest room was the last thing decorated in the house. After taking your time to decorate the house most of your creativity went into the other rooms. Leaving the guest room looking almost bare. A King-sized bed with blue sheets and curtains to match. Two side tables and an armoire were the only things that could be considered decorations.

Johnny interrupts before you can apologize for the drab decorations.

“It could have stuffed ponies and this room would be better than some motel,” Johnny said.

“Or a motel,” Added Simon already opening his overnight bag.

“Glad to hear it, but I’ll see if I can find some stuffed ponies for you. Have a good night, gentlemen.” You say, making an almost show of closing the door behind you.

Simon was past the point in his life where sex seemed more important than it was. Able to pull out his pajamas, brush his teeth, and let Soap do the same before making a move.

“Hold on, hold on,” Johnny moaned after his face was grabbed.

Simon restrained himself enough for Johnny to lock the door. Turning back to Simon and this time leaning into the kiss that demanded so much more.

Simon still had some of his tricks from his barracks bunny days. Knowing that men like Johnny loved to plow their partners but only with said partner’s enthusiastic consent. Moaning out his wants and begging for more was never Simon’s forte. He was the ordering type, a real power bottom, that gave orders as easy as he would in the field.

“Lay down,” He ordered, walking Johnny back until gravity takes control.

Shirtless, straddling Johnny’s waist, Simon held Johnny’s jaw with a grip. His strength was only matched by the hold Johnny had on Simon’s ass.

“Mmm, just like that.” Simon moans, leaning forward so they are chest-to-chest. “Perfect. Bloody perfect right now.”

Johnny smiled when he hears this. Simon was one of, if not the, most selfless man you could ever meet. Even with the prickly exterior, Simon would be the first one running into the firefight. Ready with a plan and the voice to give orders and save the entire mission. If anyone deserved a perfect moment, it was Simon. He deserved more than just a moment; he deserved a lifetime.

“You-you ever think of making it permeant?” Johnny asks, hands sliding from Simon’s ass to his back.

Simon stills a bit but doesn’t pull away just yet. “What are you thinking about?”

“Retirement would look good on you, Babe. Pension alone would keep us both in steak and bourbon for years. There’s no need for both of us to stay, you know? Betcha Price would agree with me.” John says, digging gently into Simon’s back.

Simon sits all the way up. “That better be the alcohol talking.”

Johnny knew this was going to be a delicate topic to bring up. Johnny didn’t know Simon before the 141. He had only heard the stories from Simon or from the rest of the task force. At best the stories were violent, at worst they were simply sad.

That didn’t stop Johnny from wanting though. Johnny, like Simon, wasn’t about to back down just because the conversation got awkward.

“You never think about it?.” Johnny presses forward.

It’s obvious that Simon has never thought about it. He blinks down at Johnny as if trying to understand what he had just said.

“No, I haven’t,” Simon says, moving off of Johnny to sit facing away.

There was more Simon wanted to say. He wanted to be angry about the suggestion. He wanted to yell and demand to know why Johnny would suggest the idea. Did Johnny honestly expect Simon to become some kind of Stepford wife? It was a stupid thought and a stupid suggestion.

At the same time, Simon didn’t want to think about it. If he weren’t in the field as Ghost then he’d have to be in the civilian world as Simon. A part of himself that hasn’t been allowed to grow for years.

Finally, Simon was just a bit grateful. Johnny would be the only one to make this suggestion. He’d also be the only one that Simon would ever retire for. But a partner in arms and a husband at home were two very different things.

“I have,” Johnny almost whispers, reaching a hand out to gently run his knuckles over Simon’s back. “but I don’t want to lose you for a fantasy. I won’t bring it up. Not until you want, at least.”

Simon didn’t verbally respond. Only laying back down on the bed, still facing away from the one man he wants more than anything.

“Can we cuddle, at least?” Johnny asks after a few minutes of silence between them.

Again, Simon says nothing, Instead he gestures for Johnny to come closer. Which he gratefully does.

There’s a game you and König like to play sometimes. It’s where you pretend that König’s cock isn’t the only thing on your mind. Where you smile at his compliments and don’t lead him into the bedroom right away. König plays the same game by pretending he didn’t want you bent over. He stills himself against your hand on his backside. Pretends that he doesn’t see how your mouth touches the rim of your glass. Neither of you outright says; “I want to fuck”, it would ruin the magic of the tease.

The sexual tension builds until it breaks. This night you were the one to crack first.

König never spent more than an hour speaking to his parents. Enough time for you to make it back upstairs. Having that moment of panic where you try to decide whether sexy or comfy would fit the mood tonight.

In the end, it doesn’t matter what you wear, or if you choose to wear anything. König will look at you, just like he does every time, with large eyes and an almost surprised look on his face. It doesn’t matter how many times you wait for him. It’s always the same adoration.

“Hello,” König says, stepping up to the side of the bed. Close enough to cup your face but not enough to actually make contact.

“So beautiful…” He murmurs while holding your face. His head tilts while he looks as if you were some painting in a museum.

He doesn’t move when you reach up to his face. Gently sliding your thumbs under his mask and sliding it up. As often as possible you were the one to remove his mask when he gets home. It’s an intimate moment you get to keep special. Showing that he was home, and you were right in front of him.

Part of the reason he kept the mask/helmet combo was to keep his hair in one place. Light brown hair down to his shoulders didn’t make him the shaggiest in the world. It was certainly longer than most military personnel. The same being said for his facial hair; not quite a beard but it would get there soon enough.

He leans against your hand. Blinking slowly before leaning in for a kiss.

His weight presses into your body. Being pushed back until you were flat across the bed. König’s weight presses you in the bed.

“I missed you,” You whispered into his mouth, grinding your hips upwards.

“I missed you more,” König countered, his open mouth pressing into your throat.

He’s a firm mountain of a man that was all yours to do whatever you wanted. Whether it be to verbally ask him to turn you around or simply move your hips and hands in such a way that he rolls over. You really don’t need to do much to get what you wanted from him. He was always ready to please you in whatever way was needed.

He swears in German when he penetrates. His hips moved slowly but with enough purpose that there was no stopping the jolt throughout. He quickly starts moving to match that first thrust. Moving your body back and forth with each thrust he makes. Slowly, so slowly, quickening his pace.

It’s always a bit surprising that König, or any military operator, could be so soft in bed. He holds you close, kisses you sweetly, and never wants to let go.

It doesn’t matter that Johnny wasn’t on a mission. He liked his workout routine. So, just after 6 am, Johnny stirs awake against a body made of warmth and muscle.

Simon doesn’t give any indication of being awake. Not even when Johnny steps out of bed.

Seeing Simon’s thick body lying there peacefully was a nice view. Johnny was too much of a gentleman to interrupt his partner’s sleep. He pulls the top sheet up and over his sleeping partner, making sure that nothing indecent was exposed before getting dressed.

König had a similar routine in the mornings.

He tended to wake up earlier than necessary. Your wall of warmth slowly moves back from your body. Out of instinct, you grab his forearm before he can get all the way up.

“It’s just for a jog.” König whispers, a soft kiss on your mouth. “Go back to sleep.”

“Okay,” You whisper although not nearly awake enough to know what was going on.

You don’t hear him getting dressed. Or feel the dip in the bed as he leans over. Nor do you notice when he puts another kiss on your cheek. What you do finally notice is the moving around your kitchen.

It’s still early in the morning, just a bit after seven. So you’ll be forgiven for being confused about the random blonde man in your kitchen.

“Morning,” Simon from the kitchen counter.

He’s wearing a black mask, no different from the kind you’d wear during the pandemic. It makes his dark blonde hair visible. It’s short, no surprise, but just long enough that he might be thinking about a haircut in the near future.

You also get a better look at some of his face. You can see that he has a scar running from his forehead to his neck. A few other little scars here and there that hint at battles long past. Dark blonde hair creates a shadow over the parts of his neck that you can see. If you didn’t know any better he could have been just any guy you’d pass on the street.

“Good morning, You guys sleep well? Sorry, I couldn’t find those stuffed animals for you.” You say, going for the fridge like you would any morning.

“We made do,” Simon says, not willing to go any further.

You silently accepted that. Too focused on making breakfast more complicated than a bowl of cereal to try and force a conversation. Simon moved away from the counter to the island stool, his phone out and in his hand.

It was awkward, to say the least, but nothing could be gained by trying to force a conversation. You could probably get away with offering him some eggs, but even that might be too far. On the one hand, you didn’t want to be rude to your houseguest. On the other hand, Simon didn’t give off the friendly vibes that Johnny did so easily.

Neither of you was willing to try and keep a conversation going. Because of this only the clinking and clanking of your cooking makes noise.

Until the kitchen window explodes.

It’s a mess of glass and panic that fills the entire room. It doesn’t matter what training you did or didn’t have. When someone shoots through a window most people start moving, whether it’s to duck down and hide or if it’s run from the room. At that moment, you were in the latter category. Leaving the oven on, leaving Simon, and escaping the kitchen before the intruder knew you were even there.

If Simon was anything like König then there was no point in trying to help. Uniformed men were like that; protectors who would be insulted if their families or loved ones tried to help in a dangerous situation. Was it a stupid mentality? Absolutely, but that didn’t change the fact that it is what it is.

From the other side of the wall, you can hear the struggle. No words were spoken but grunts and anger followed by hitting and crashing. The smart thing to do would be to leave the house. Simon was a trained and seasoned operator. There’s no reason he shouldn’t be able to handle one intruder by himself.

Simon shouts out in anger, and that keeps you from leaving as you should.

Braving to peek your head around the corner and take a look. You don’t know the intruder that stands over Simon. Dressed in dark jeans and a jacket he could have been any guy off the street. The only difference was the gun in his hand and the blood on the floor around him.

“Way too easy to find your dumbasses.” The man said, hatred in his voice. “It’s like you want everyone to die, I swear. Glare at me all you want, it ain’t gonna stop anything.”

Simon doesn’t say anything back, he simply glares. Even keeping his mouth shut when the man squats down in front of him. Only saying anything when the man grabs Simon’s mast, ripping it off his face non-too-gently.

“FUCKER!” Simon yells when his face is revealed.

It feels wrong but you dare a glance at Simon’s face. Allowing yourself to look for only a second. Long enough to see where his scars meet across a strong nose. You don’t look for long enough to see the details.

“When you die I want you to die knowing your family is next. Your mum, dad, kids, fucking wife…All of them are gonna be dead.” The intruder continues with his monologue. Pointing his gun toward Simon’s temple and pressing in.

It’s impossible to say what pushed you forward into the kitchen. It certainly wasn’t your own sense of self-preservation, that had left the room a hot minute ago. Maybe you could blame it on your own need to be a hero. What better way to show off your courage than to save someone from a gunman?

If only you had the skills to match your bravery. All you really did was run forward fast and slam hard. Pushing the intruder into Simon with all your weight.

Simon met your courage with some of his own. An arm around the intruder’s neck, dragging him close and refusing to let go.

Hand to hand Simon is comparable only to a mountain lion. He’s baring teeth and moving limbs trying to get and destroy anything close by. The intruder’s throat is bared and red from Simon biting down on the closest bit of skin he could reach.

With Simon grappling with the intruder you were left with little room to work. The only thing you could grab was the intruder’s gun holding hand. Just like running into this fight, you didn’t really have a plan. Only the inescapable need to do something.

In an instant, everything becomes too much. The intruder is yelling too loudly. The floor is too hard on your knees. You can smell the blood and feel the spit splattering over yourself and the kitchen. Someone is running around and banging through your living room. Simon starts shouting and you can’t understand him.

It’s no surprise that you didn’t hear the gun go off.

Without a life to control the hand, you were now in possession of the intruder’s gun. Although your ears are ringing, and the floor is still too hard, you can’t help but notice that the gun is cold. It wasn’t the one that fired and took away the threat.

That bullet came from Johnny’s gun.

There was no way you could have heard Johnny or König come back. They didn’t know what was going on either. Only that their designated partners were in trouble.

“Got you, I got you.” Is whispered over your head, and the gun is gently pulled from your hand.

König, big and strong, he’s pulling you close. Practically dragging you onto his lap, tucking your head into his shoulder.

“He’s dead?” You ask, although it comes out more as a statement.

König looks over to Johnny and Simon. They were in a similar position as you two were. Johnny is holding his man closely. It almost seems that Simon is trying to hide by pressing his face into Johnny’s neck, slowly being rocked by the same man who holds him so safely.

“He’s dead,” König whispers into your hair.

You don’t need to say anything else. Later Laswell would make sure everything gets cleaned up. Get you some accommodations and let König have a week off from missions. For now, though. You’re stuck with a body in your kitchen. A reminder tot eh world what could happen is someone tried anything.

#call of duty reader insert #reader insert #fluff #angst #call of duty #not beta read #konig x reader #konig fluff #soap/ghost #cod mwii simon riley #john soap mactavish #Reader is a BA #domestic fluff #Simon deserves to retire #I don't speak German so I'm not going to even try #I can't do accents

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andydrysdalerogers · 2 months

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Cross- Checked ~ Chapter Eleven

Andy Barber x OFC Leighton "Leia" Andrews

Summary:

Andy Barber is having the best year of his life. His game is on point. It’s gets to play with his best friend and his fiancé just... dumped him?!.

Reeling from a sudden change in status, Andy decides it’s time to just focus on hockey. Until his best friend's sister comes out with news that rock the entire organizations world.,

Andy has always carried a torch for the untouchable Leighton but in her hour of need, is now the time to shoot and score or risk getting cross - checked again?

Warnings: Cheating (but not by the MCs); slow burn; friends to lovers eventually; SMUT!; pregnancy; jealousy; handsome goalies, evil exes...

A/N: The tag list is open!

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS. Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

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Previous: Chapter Ten ~ He Had It Coming ~ Andy

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter Eleven ~ What A Wonderful World ~ Leia/Andy

Leia

Week 20

A week after what I am calling the most embarrassing day of my life, I woke up for the first time not in tears. As I laid in my bed, I thought about how my life had changed again. I thought it was starting to change, that it was getting better. Jeremy changed that. He broke that trust that I was finally getting back from Bret. I sighed as I rubbed my ever growing belly. “It's just you and me, kid, and well Andy I guess.” But I stopped and looked at my belly. “Andy,” I whispered, and it happened again. “Andy!” I yelled.

A door swinging open and rushed footsteps before my door burst open to see Andy in my door way, breathing heavily. “Princess, are you ok?”

I smiled brightly. “I’m great!”

Andy scowls at me, coming to sit down next to me. “Leighton, you can’t just yell my name like that...” he stops as I grab his hand and place it on the side of my belly. “Leia...”

“Shh... Andy,” I said. And the push on my belly and into Andy’s palm made him raise his brows.

“Is that...”

“Hi baby, its Mama and Papa Andy.” I stroked my belly, but baby gives another kick for us.

“That’s amazing, Leia.” Andy looks up at me and it’s the first time I realize how close together we are. His face was in his trademark smile as he tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. God, his lips are right there, looking soft and plumb. I bet his beard is soft. I feel myself getting closer to him but then my phone rings. Andy falls back a little as I reach for my phone.

“Hello?”

“Hello, this is Dr. Sheppard’s office confirming your appointment and ultrasound for a week from today.”

“Oh right, yes, thank you.”

“Don’t forget to drink plenty of water. See you next week.” She hung up and I looked at Andy.

“Doctor’s appointment,” I whispered. I can feel my face burning and I look down, but Andy lifts my chin. I look into his beautiful ocean blue eyes, and he kisses my cheek.

“Right, it's on my phone. Right after practice.” He smiles ruefully. “Umm, how about I make some breakfast and then we can go shopping?” He cups my cheek.

I smile, enjoying the warmth of his hand. “Sounds good.”

After breakfast, I go to pull my coat on and button but the jacket won’t close. “C’mon,” I whine as I pulled and tug to close it.

“Princess, I think that jacket is a lost cause,” Andy says as he walks down the stairs.

“No, this is my warmest coat. Its freezing today.” I want to stamp my foot down like a petulant five year old but manage to hold it in.

Andy chuckles. “Here,” he hands me his own brown peacoat. I look at him and he smiles, taking the jacket and helping me into it. “We’ll get you a new one today.”

“I look like a child wearing her big brothers clothes for dress up,” I pout.

“You look beautiful as always, Princess. C’mon.” He took me by the hand and out the door we go. As he started to drive, Andy asked, “so the appointment is on Christmas Eve?”

“Yeah, it was the only time they had. I thought it would be something to look forward to since...” I fiddled with the buttons. I didn’t want to admit that I was avoiding Christmas with my mom. Luke was going to Miranda’s family and mom had a new boyfriend. These were the days I missed my dad the most.

I think Andy could tell I was avoiding talking about Christmas. “I was thinking, maybe we should get a last minute tree for the house. I mean, we weren’t talking for most of the month, and we didn’t talk about decorating but since my folks are away for the holidays and Luke’s gone, maybe we make the most just the two of us.”

My eyes began to water. “You want to spend Christmas with me?”

“Of course I do. Leia, I would never abandon you like that. Even if you were mad at me, I would still be here just so you knew you weren’t alone.” He took my hand and squeezed it three times. Like that song I loved so much.

“Andy,” my lips wobble hard. Even when he was mad at me, he still cared for me. He turned to look at me.

“Oh fuck, hang on”. He pulled over really quick as my tears spilled over. He got out and opened my door. “Leia,” he wrapped his arms around me. “What’s wrong, love?”

“You’re being so sweet to me when I was such a bitch and choosing that asshole over you. I don’t deserve you,” I wail as I lean into him. “I’m so sorry Andy, I didn’t mean it.”

“Oh honey, its ok. We fixed it and we’re ok.” He kept running his finger through my hair to sooth me and rocked me a little. “You are my Princess. I forgave you the moment you walked back into our house.”

We sat there for a moment while I calmed down. As my breathing evened out, Andy pulled back a little. “Ready to see the shops?” I nodded and Andy kissed my forehead and then walked back to the driver's side and took off again.

“What did you want to shop for?” I asked as I fiddled with the end of my braid.

“Well, since this is baby’s first Christmas, I thought we could start setting up your registry. At least for basic stuff. The guys have been asking what they can get you. Jonesy and Ullmark are all for getting baby skates.” Andy chuckled. “And Smith and Fitzy were wanting Baby to have each one of our jerseys.”

“That is a lot of jerseys.” I giggled. “But I don’t know what the baby is yet.”

“I know Princess, but we can at least pick out the big stuff like a stroller and car seat. Some tiny Bruins shirts for them to wear.”

I could see the gleam in his eye. “I am not painting the room black and yellow, Andrew.”

“C’mon, just like a large Bruins logo on one wall.” He couldn’t even keep a straight face as he said it. I giggle at his stupid idea. I shook my head as he pulled into the store parking lot. “Fine, tell me what would be the dream.”

“The dream would be baby animals. In soft pastel colors; it would be good for either a boy or a girl. And the room would have white furniture and a rocking chair so I can sing them to sleep. And a little cloud lamp so it would glow softly in the middle of the night.” I smiled as I looked out the window. “It would be perfect, me and you taking turns to care for the little cub.” I looked back at Andy who had a look I didn’t understand. “What?”

He shook his head and smiled. “It sounds perfect Princess.”

We got out and got set up with a registry list and picked out the stuff I knew I needed. I even let Andy pick out the tiniest pair of skates I have ever seen to go with the Bruins onesie that read “future all-star.”

It had been the best day I’ve had in weeks.

Andy

Week 21

We were waiting for Dr. Sheppard to come in after the nurse had taken some of Leia’s blood. “I’ve been thinking about names”, Leia states as she plays with the string of her hoodie. Well, my hoodie. She had started to wear my hoodies because they are, and I quote ‘the softest on her skin and she didn’t want to be uncomfortable.’ I’ve lost five hoodies to her in three days.

“Yeah, what are you thinking?”

“Well, I was thinking of some gender neutral names, you know, since I don’t know what I’m having.”

“Ok.” I looked at her curiously. “You’re not gonna name the kid ‘Square’ or ‘Hashtag’ are you? Ouch!” I rubbed my arm as she backhanded me. “I was joking, Princess.”

“Be nice to your baby, Andy.” She rubbed her belly, and I covered her hand. I felt a faint kick. “See, they are not happy with you.” She looked up at me adoringly and I had to stop myself. We had that moment a week ago when we felt the baby move... and did she just refer to the baby to being mine??

“So, I was thinking of a few name,” Leia kept talking. I don’t even think she realized what she had said to me. “The neutral names I have are: Avery, James. Bailey, Cameron, Frankie. Luke offered Luke Jr. I snorted at that one. For a girl I did have Nora.”

I mull over the names for a minute. I keep matching the names to Barber. I know that this kid will be born an Andrews but fuck if I didn’t want them to take my name. “Maybe you will have to wait until the kid comes out.”

“I hope not. I want to call our baby something other than cub. They have to have a name Andy.”

She did it again. Our baby. I should stop her from doing that. I go to open my mouth when Dr. Sheppard walks in. “Morning Leia and Andy. Thanks for coming in on the holiday.”

“It’s no problem,” Leia responded with a big smile. “We got to feel them kick this week.”

“Good. That’s excellent news. Well,” she types into the computer. “Everything is looking good except for the elevated blood pressure. Stressed lately?”

Leia chews her lips, so I step in. “I’m being a pain in the ass Doc. Had a stretch of games that were brutal. But she already put me in my place.”

Dr. Sheppard smiles. “I get it. But I want to avoid any complications. Rest as much as you can Leia and Andy, stop being a jackass.”

Leia giggles as I smirk. “No promises Doc. We hockey players are temperamental.” I chuckled. “But seriously, I understand. I’ll do better. Anything else we should be worried about?”

“Not necessarily worried, just taking notes. I’ll give you a guide to the do’s and don’ts to help with the blood pressure. And I’m sure you read, Leia, that your libido will increase.” What the fuck! “It's perfectly normal and safe for the baby to engage in sexual intercourse. It could also help with keeping you calm. Just watch the weight on top of you.” She turns back to the computer as I look at Leia. She is twelve shades of pink and I know it's something she hadn’t wanted to share with me earlier. I try to keep calm at the idea of “helping” Leia. My own blood pressure was about to spike

“Ok, so who is ready to see baby?” Dr. Sheppard smiles, not understanding what she just did to us.

“We are,” Leia says.

“Alrighty, shirt up, pants lowered. I warmed up the gel so it should be comfortable.” Leia gets ready and she squirts some gel on Leia’s belly. Leia grabs my hand and looks up at me. I can see she is nervous; she wants the baby to be healthy after the drama with Swayman. I kiss the top of her head as we wait for the doctor to give us information. “Ok, there is baby.” She turns the screen and I’m in awe.

“Wow,” I whispered. The fuzzy black and white screen makes everything look like a void except in the center there is clearly a head, body, arms and legs. “Princess, there is Baby.”

A tear springs in her eyes as Dr. Sheppard flips the sound on and baby’s heartbeat echos in the room. It's an amazing sound I wish I could bottle and listen to every night. Leia’s eyes never move from the screen. “Are we wanting to know the sex?”

“Princess?” I look at Leia.

“Yes, please.” She looks up at me with a smile and then back on the screen. Dr. Sheppard moves the wand as she takes measurements. “Well baby is healthy, and she is growing right on schedule.”

“She? It's a girl?” Leia squeaks.

“Congratulations Mom and Dad. You are having a baby girl.”

This sensation, this tingling that I feel in my heart is something that I never thought I would have. My little girl. I can feel the tear slide down my face and Leia reached up to thumb it away. “That’s my girl,” I whisper. Leia nods as she pulls me down to hug me.

It Christmas Eve night and we’re finishing an awesome meal of salmon, rice and veggies that Leia made. She wanted to add steak for me but with the elevated blood pressure, the doctor had recommended we stick to chicken and fish. I told her it was fine, I have to stay on a food meal plan for hockey and her diet fits right in with mine.

“Princess, that was delicious.” I wipe my mouth and set the napkin down.

“Thanks. I have some cake for dessert but I can’t eat it right now. So full.” She pats the belly with her daughter floating inside. My daughter.

Ever since we came home from the doctor’s office, I haven’t let go of the idea of Leia’s baby being mine. She called her mine in the office and damn if that doesn’t feel good. “We can wait and I’ll make some tea for you and we can have it in between movies.” I moved to pick up the plates. She began to object when I stopped her. “Nope, you cooked, I clean. That’s the deal. Now, go relax in the living room and I’ll be out in a few.”

After washing up, I went and found Leia on the couch with a blanket over her legs. She was reading something on her phone, eyes swimming with tears. “Princess?”

She looked up and wiped at her eyes. “Sorry.”

“What is it?” I sat next to her.

“It’s nothing.” She could see that I wouldn’t take that answer. “Media post about Jeremy and how he is playing the field. There was a comment that he knocked me up and left me and I just...”

“Hey, don’t let it get to you. The people that matter know the truth and that’s that.” I took her hand. “Don’t pay attention to that. Just concentrate on the baby.”

She looks at me and smiles. “Thanks Andy.”

“Movie?” I hold up the remote so I can get it started. We watch all of her favorites, The Holiday, Love Actually. I’m about to put on Miracle on 34th Street when I hear firecrackers. I look at my watch and its midnight. "Merrcy Christmas Princess.”

“Merry Christmas Andy.” Leia smiles. “I got you something.”

“I got your something too.” I bend over grab the present from under the tree. “Here,” I hand her my gift and I keep the one from her.

“You first,” she said. I carefully unwrapped the gift. “Holy shit... this is a signed Gretzy sweater.” I look up at Leia. “Princess... how?”

“The last home game against Edmonton, I had to take some shots of the celebretes that were there and I just couldn’t pass up the chance.”

“This is awesome Princess. Thank you.” I gave her a hug and sat next to her. “Open it,” I urged her.

She opens it and its a jewely box. When she pinches it open she gasps. It a necklace with a tiny crown on it. Each point had a diamond on it. “Andy...”

“Let me put it on.” I took it from the box and went to put it on her. “I picked it because you’re my princess and you should always have your crown.” I fixed her hair, and she turned back to me. She is so beautiful. I finally get it when they say that a pregnant woman glows because Leia is glowing for me now. She’s always been beautiful but in this moment she is perfect. I can’t let another moment go by without telling her.

But what happened next was not what I thought would happen.

I stared into her beautiful eyes, closed the distance between us and kissed her.

Taglist:

@patzammit

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@slutforchrisjamalevans

@firephotogrl74

@tinkerbelle67

@before-we-get-started

@bunnyforhim

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@whiskeytangofoxtrot555

@peaceinourtime82

@saucy-sassy-sparkly

@kmc1989

@kandis-mom

@lokislady82

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the-chosen-fanfiction · 1 year

Text

Jesus | Eyes On Me | Platonic

Dialogue prompt: “The only thing that matters is who you are in Me.”

Requested: Yes

You have always felt like an outcast amongst Jesus’ followers. Jesus reassures you that it does not matter what others think of you, and that perfection is the last thing He requires.

Note: I’m not on the spectrum myself but tried my very best to display it respectfully. If there is anything you think I should change, please let me know!

Laughter reaches you across camp, but you remain in your tent, hunched over your bowl of beads. The necklace you’ve started stringing ever since daybreak is long past its required length and could be looped over five, six, seven times, but you don’t feel like stopping. The familiar wooden texture is comforting to you, and even though you do not see the colours anymore in the low light of the few torches around camp, which causes everything to be a blur of grey and black at this point, you have settled upon a pattern in shape – one big bead, then three small ones, a medium sized one, three small ones again, and another big one.

You continue like that for a while, the bowl becoming more and more empty as you work in silence. Every so often, talking and laughter streams from the fire towards your place, but you do not pay it any mind.

Joining them would make you feel uncomfortable. They already seem to have a great time without you, so you reckon they weren’t missing you to begin with. You’ve learnt to have peace with it. You maintain your distance, not seeing yourself in any position within that group.

Everyone has a close friend they hang out with often. The brothers of Thunder have one another, Simon and Andrew, Nathanael and Thaddeus. Even Matthew has managed to grow close to Philip, despite his social anxiety.

And you? Where does that leave you?

You know that you’re different from them. You’ve always heard it from the children in your village. You’ve always heard it from your parents, from your father, who had you help out in his shop from a young age. And when he passed away and your mother couldn’t keep it up and running, eventually forced to shut it down, you fell into a dark pit, feeling utterly lost within society and within life.

Somewhere in the distance, Andrew barks a laugh as Simon Zee shouts something, earning a cheer from Philip in turn. You jolt at the unexpected sound. With a heavy sigh, you halt in your actions.

Will you ever belong?

A knock on the frame of your tent nearly makes you jump out of your skin. “(Y/n)?” a familiar voice sounds close to the opening flap. It contains no pressure nor hurry, yet Jesus’ voice is always so disarming and warm that you can’t do anything else but respond.

“Yeah?”

“May I come in?”

You are silent for a second. “Yes.” you then say, even though you were more than content in your loneliness this evening. If there was anyone to come and keep you company, you are glad that it is Him.

He moves aside the flap and light streams inside from the fire and the lantern that He is holding in front of His face, a kind smile on his features. “I was already wondering where you were.” He muses, stepping in and closing the tent again to give the two of you some privacy. “Are you alright?”

You shrug and twirl the necklace you’ve been working on around your fingers, fiddling with it so that you don’t need to look Him in the eye. Jesus patiently sits next to you, placing down the lantern before clearing His throat.

“So, I missed you during dinner and now you’re sitting here whilst the rest is at the fire. Is there anything you’d like to talk about?”

With a small shake of your head, you sigh. “I… I’m not much of a talker.”

“Oh, I know. But sometimes it is necessary to get to the root of things.”

Brow furrowing, you tilt your head slightly to the side so that you can see Jesus from the corner of your eye. “What do You mean by that?”

Jesus hums and takes a moment to formulate a reply. “Something is weighing heavy on your heart. Do not be afraid to share that burden with Me.”

Nothing ever stays hidden from Jesus, you are fully aware of that, and you do not like lying, especially to Him, so you swallow thickly and open your mouth to speak, better to reveal it now than to delay the inevitable.

“I don’t think the others miss me.” The words sounds alarmingly cool.

“Hm. What makes you think that way?”

“Because I’m… Different.”

“Different how?”

Turning your head, you finally dare to look at Jesus, who is giving you an expectant look.

“I think You know that,” you say with a tone that remains respectful. “That I’m different.”

Suddenly, tears sting behind your eyes. You have never cried about this. You never cry in the first place. But Jesus is smiling so understandingly that it almost lures said reaction from you. You avert your gaze, rubbing your neck. A few tears slip out regardless of your battle against them.

“Different how?” Jesus repeats. It is not that He hasn’t heard you, or that He hasn’t understood you. He wants another response than the one you had just given Him.

You think over your answer for a moment. “My mind works in another way,” you state, “They don’t understand me and I don’t understand them. It’s like… We’re speaking different languages. As if we’re not from the same country. I-It’s nothing new, even my mum has just… Given up on me? She doesn’t say it outright, but I know that… That I’m just… I feel like a burden.”

Silently crying, you find Jesus’ gaze.

“And how does that make you feel?” His question stings, for you’re not fond of talking about such emotions. With a dry sob, you take up the necklace you had draped into the bowl and start playing with it again, wrapping and unwrapping it around your fingers, the thin fishing line you had found amongst the supplies digging into your skin.

“It makes me feel sad,” you say through the blur of your tears, “I-I don’t like to talk about it. Can we talk about something else?” You rapidly blink to force back your tears.

Jesus is quiet and stares at you for a minute or so, making you squirm on your spot under his scrutiny. You sniffle.

“I think it is good that you empty your heart to Me. You’re being very brave, (Y/n). I’m going to put my hand on your shoulder, okay?” He queries. You nod, but flinch anyways, although you relax after a moment. “How much do you think this matters in the Kingdom of God?”

Puzzled, you frown, your cheeks feeling raw. “What do You mean, Rabbi?”

“Let me tell you something. Everyone has different talents, different things they are good at. For example… What is Philip good at?”

You bite the inside of your cheek and rub your runny nose on your sleeve. “Hm… He’s good at reciting Scripture. He’s very well-read, very knowledgeable.”

“Right. How about Nathanael?”

You shrug but can’t fight the watery smile. “He’s always brutally honest. It does get him in trouble from time to time, though.” Jesus chuckles at that.

“Right. And Simon?”

“He’s a good leader.” you reply.

Jesus smiles. “And you ?”

Silence. Fresh tears well up in your eyes.

“Do you trust Me, (Y/n)?” Jesus asks.

“Of course I do, Rabbi,” you immediately tell Him without an ounce of doubt in your being. Your voice quivers. “More than anyone.”

He gives a friendly nod. “I know, my Daughter. You know very well who you are in Me. So, I will ask you again. What are you good at?”

“I…” you squint, shoulders slumping. “I… Don’t know.”

“Do you want to know what I see?”

You nod meekly, rubbing your raw cheeks with the back of your hand. Jesus cups your face carefully and inhales. “I see someone who focuses on the differences compared to the others in the group, but that is not what determines who you are. I know you struggle to find a true connection to the others in the group. Trust me when I say that these people will become your friends, but you should first see your own worth. The Kingdom of God requires many different people. If they were all the same, how uninspiring would that be? It would be but a shell of what love could be. No, the Father can use anyone, no matter the circumstances.”

His words make you emotional, so your voice wavers when you ask for clarification: “But what does that have to do with me ?”

There is never reprimand behind His eyes yet you shrink. He thumbs away your tears.

“You’re someone who is unswervingly loyal to Me.” Jesus says, “Your faith is so strong that it will withstand any storm. You are also very honest. That is very admirable about you. ”

Your cheeks turn red and you look at your lap, where your hands are still wrapped up in the necklace.

“What matters is not who you are as an individual, (Y/n),” Jesus says. The words sound odd and you’re about to ask what He means with that, when you realise there is another part to that sentence: “ The only thing that matters is who you are in Me. You find your identity in Me, as do the others. That is what connects you, what brings you together. Try to hold onto that when you go out there to speak to them. You may not understand it yet, but a firm foundation built on Me will bring people together, no matter their differences.”

“I still don’t completely understand,” you say in all fairness.

“That’s okay,” Jesus replies. “The Spirit will eventually guide you there. You will understand with time. You always belong if you trust in Me - you belong to the Kingdom of Heaven. Even if you don’t always feel like it, I will never forsake you. Do not forget that.”

You smile at Him, a bit more at ease. Your fingers relax and the necklace slips back into the bowl of beads.

“Thank you, Rabbi,” you state. “That was very kind of You to say.”

Jesus laughs and opens His arms. “May I give you a hug?”

You accept Jesus’ embrace without hesitation, burying your face into the crook of His neck, whilst He smiles softly. You weep, shoulders shaking, and He holds you through it as you let your pent up sorrow go. It makes place for hope, patience and trust, for it relieves your heart. Jesus doesn’t pressure you and holds you for as long as He needs to, not letting go.

You are the first one to pull away and wipe your face dry, sniffling a few times. “I feel so much better already. I really needed that.”

When Jesus smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkle up slightly.

“Now, on that note, shall we both head to the fire? I believe that Mary has kept some fruits apart for you and Thomas wanted to show you a trick he has learnt.”

Your eyes widen. “They’ve asked about me? I-I mean, okay.”

Jesus stands and takes the lantern before holding out His hand to you so that He can help you up. You follow Him out of the tent, towards the fire, where warmth and careful company welcome you.

#jesus #reader insert #the chosen #the chosen x reader #x reader #fanfiction #chosen x reader #chosen fanfiction #platonic #jesus x reader

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plainemmanem · 2 years

Note

okay so now i’m definitely mentally planning steve’s next bday party 🙇‍♀️ let’s imagine shall we: for steve’s 21st birthday, he thinks that you guys will maybe do like a bar crawl or just a basic party at home, but no no no. you learn that he’s never had an actual birthday party, more or less just gatherings of people he didn’t really like, especially when he was younger. like he never had a little kid party. so you put together 21 little themed parties for him. it could be whatever, like a dinosaur theme, a superman theme, a sleepover party (he never was allowed to have friends sleepover as a kid), and then maybe like movie themed through the years, like top gun one year, or a sweet sixteen party. and everyone pitches in, and between all the kids and adults and teens he gets 21 gifts. nothing crazy, and mostly handmade, which would mean so much more to him than something generic and store bought. and they have pizza and an ice cream cake (which he was never allowed to have because his parents didn’t like it) and everyone gets together and celebrates him and he is so loved in and my god i want to just give him a squeeze and a little kiss and love him ugh my bf

wow ok so you want me to curl up in a ball and die then god this is precious

he mentions it so offhandedly you’re so shocked, he’s like “oh, yeah, well, i never really had a ‘party’ when i was a kid, so.” and ur like ?wdym? how could you not have a party? and he’s like “well, every birthday my mom would just sort of call a bunch of kids she thought i was friends with, you know like carol and tommy and whoever, and she would buy some shitty cake from the grocery store and that was pretty much it…” he doesn’t even look up from the tv like he DOES NOT see the problem. and you’re like “well, what about gifts and stuff?” and he’s like “i mean, there really weren’t any? i don’t know, i guess they just thought i didn’t really need anything?” and you’re like “it’s not about needing things, it’s about getting you things you want, things you enjoy?” and he just kind of shrugs, not really understanding the concept 🥺🥺 so you decide right then and there you’re gonna do something for him, a true surprise party with people he actually likes and actual gifts and a real cake and decorations and everything.

you’re trying to be slick all week, having the kids and robin randomly ask him questions like “steve, chocolate or vanilla?” and stuff about his favorite foods and things he’s been wanting to buy so you can put together a meal and presents😭😭

you distract him all day — he’s definitely suspecting there’s gonna be a party but he plays along lmao — and you finally take him home and it’s late, but there’s lights on out back and you play dumb like “hmmm? who could be out there at this hour???” and he’s like “hmmm??? idk???” and when you go out back everyone jumps out and screams surprise and he’s just laughing and shaking his head he is so GAH

i see it like kid themed 💀 with red, blue, yellow, and green balloons and paper decorations and there’s tiki torches and all kinds of his favorite snacks and foods and an ACTUAL cake with “happy 21st birthday, steve!” on the front🫶 but there’s also alcohol and a funny “Birthday Boy” crown that you cross out and write “King Steve” instead and a silly throne at the head of the table that you have to FORCE him to sit in, he’s all shy and embarrassed because he’s never had a party before but you know he secretly loves it:’) there’s some lawn games out and a ton of pictures everywhere, him as a baby that you had to find in his moms old scrapbooks and all his school pictures — dustin cannot stop laughing at the progression of his hair through the years — and silly photos of him and the kids and robin.

he makes you sit on his lap the whole time and he can’t keep his hands off you. you get up to walk over and grab a drink and he’s trailing after you, wanting to be close to you :))

the whole night is spent sharing funny memories and embarrassing stories and it’s so fun and relaxed<3

and you guys give him the cake and sing happy birthday and he blows out all 21 candles and he’s smiley at how cheesy it all is and he’s literally like blushing the whole time, his head in his hands BAHAHA and you guys give him the gifts and he just feels so… loved. so happy and grateful and content it’s almost painful. and he literally loves each gift like he’s freaking out at every single one. dustin makes some sketchy device for his car radio that apparently makes the bass louder and steve legitimately lifts him off the ground in a hug. and lucas gets him a new basketball that he saved up all his money for and max gets him a new tape for his walkman and mike gets him a new record and a new pair of headphones and will gets him a couple posters he’s been wanting and el gets him a bunch of pairs of socks LMAO and for every single gift from the kids he’s like “wh-WOAH A TWELVE PACK OF SOCKS?? you know me so well” and he’s partially playing it up bc it’s steve, but you can tell he’s also being so genuine ugh<3 and they all make him a homemade card and he keeps that thing hung up on his wall he loves that shitty card so much. he tries to play it off cool, but he pulls them into a hug and your heart MELTS.. robin gets him a few new shirts that he’s been eyeing and a gift card to the place he gets his hairspray BAHAHAH you save ur gifts for later on in the night bc they’re so sickly sweet and sentimental <3 it’s like a mixtape with all your songs and a little shadow box display with little things you’ve collected over the course of your relationship. some pressed flowers from the first bouquet he ever bought you and all the movie tickets you’ve ever gotten, and all the notes he’s ever written you — even the stupid ones he leaves on you pillow in the morning like ‘went out 4 a run, C U l8r hawt stuff;)’

when you give it to him, he’s smiling so wide and he’s emotional and his eyes gloss over a little and you’re like “do you like it?” and he just grabs the back of your head and pulls you into a hug and kisses your neck and whispers into your skin “i love you so much. like, seriously, more than you’ll ever know.”

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington

213 notes · View notes

claudeng80 · 4 months

Text

Private Practice

Obiyuki do-si-do, day 1

Canon divergence: Shirayuki gets a job at the town apothecary in Wistal and never goes to work at the castle.

full story on AO3

The torch grinds against the stones, spitting pitch and sparks in her ear. “Stop running,” Mihaya snarls, his voice entwining with the hiss of the flames. “You’ll be taken good care of! Just cooperate.”

Shirayuki curls her fingers into fists, hidden behind her back. She wants so badly to change his mind, but he’s made it clear that her desires don’t matter to him. She didn’t let the prince of Tanbarun decide her fate, and she’s not about to let some stranger in Clarines do it either, whatever it takes. She’s failed to outrun him, she’s failed to out-think him, but if it’s all she has left, she will do her best to fight.

With a gasp, Mihaya lurches away from her, his torch tumbling end over end to lie abandoned at her feet. Shadows dance madly against the wall as Zen leans in, eyes sky-blue and confident. “Hey there, Shirayuki,” he says. Her heart pounds in her ears, too much for her even to answer.

Zen takes charge of everything, and as much as she appreciates it, as relieved as she is to be hiking down the mountain toward Wistal and not dragged off into the unknown, she can’t help but notice how calm he is. It’s as though this is no surprise to him, like it happens all the time-

She doubts she wants her path to run so close to the palace, if it comes with risks like this.

The smell of the apothecary’s shop brings tears to Shirayuki’s eyes. The bouquet of herbal notes fills her nose, spiced with the tang of antiseptic, and she remembers all too well the night she took down the bell from her own shop’s door, no more than a few weeks ago. Back in Tanbarun it may still be there waiting, the taint of mold overtaking the clean dry smell as nobody airs out the rooms and maintains the drawers. Tears threaten, but she won’t let them fall. It’s a chapter of her life she’s put behind her, now. She was never truly qualified, anyway.

At the far end of the counter a boy, not even into his teens, peers into a box of herbs. He wafts the smell toward his face with a practiced motion, then crushes a leaf and inspects the dust on his fingers. The white-coated man behind the counter, presumably the apothecary himself, waits breathlessly for the verdict.

The boy nods, and the man’s relief is palpable. “I’ll have your order delivered to the palace today, “ the apothecary says. “It’s a pleasure doing business with you, as always. Please send my regards to the Chief Pharmacist.”

The boy’s shoulders hunch at the apothecary’s obsequiousness. Without meeting anyone’s eyes, he chokes out a “Thank you,” and drives for the door as though he can’t stand another second indoors. Shirayuki holds the door for him, and he marches through without acknowledgment.

The bell jingles once more as the door swings shut, and Shirayuki is the only customer left in the shop. “Can I help you?” the apothecary calls out, and she hesitates. But one never gets anywhere without taking a first step forward. “I’m not here to buy anything,” she says, standing straight at the counter. “But are you looking for any new employees? I have experience gathering and preserving herbs, and some in compounding medicines.” She rubs at the heel of her hand, the callus where she held the hub of her grinding wheel suddenly itchy.

The apothecary eyes her suspiciously, his eyes flickering down to track the motion, and she tries not to wither under his gaze. “I ran a local pharmacy in Tanbarun,” she adds, pushing back against the doubt trying to seep in. “It was never as grand as this, but it was there for everyone who needed it. It made a difference.”

That’s what she misses, what she needs- if she isn’t helping people, what’s the point? She stands firm, waiting for the apothecary’s response, and reminds herself that nobody he could hire would be more qualified than she is.

“Yes, I think we might actually have a place,” he says at long last, and she takes one step forward. One step closer to where she’s meant to be.

Continue with chapter 1

#akagami no shirayukihime #obiyuki #obiyukidosido

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peanut-tyrug · 8 months

Text

DS Fanfic: Rise of the Triumphant

Even after his time on the Nightmare Throne, the shadows in Wes’ heart seem to still be lurking within his soul…

—

TRIGGER WARNING - This fic contains a split personality, possession, call backs to trauma, characters in terrible mental states, mentions of torture, and claustrophobia. If you aren’t comfortable with these things, please don’t read this.

—

Also hey @chonylolu there’s some Weswolffrid in here, if you’re alright with reading it :)

Wes jolts awake.

He quickly breathes and lifts his upper body up. He looks around.

A checkered floor. A floor pattern similar to that of a chess board. A few torches ahead of him lighting a path ahead.

Is this Maxwell’s throne room? It’s oddly desolate and messy, considering how pompous and uptight Maxwell was.

Finally. A chance to meet his tormentor. He isn’t really looking for revenge though, Wes isn’t that type of person.

He just wants to ask 'Why? Why must you be this way?'. Wes wants to try and help this man become a better person. That’s all he wants.

No more fighting for survival. No more playing with Wes like he’s a pawn. He just wants improvement. He wants to see Maxwell change for the better. He wants to help in any way he can.

Wes slowly gets up and steps forward. As he walks further away from the torches, they go out behind him, and newly appeared torches light up.

—

Wes continues to walk forward, paying no mind to any of the random items laying about the checkered floor, eyes firmly on whatever lays ahead of him.

As he moves deeper inside the throne room, he hears something.

…Music?

It sounds like ragtime music, oddly enough.

Wes believes the Nightmare King’s throne is nearby. He follows the music.

The further he goes, the louder it gets.

—

A few torches light the path ahead of him. The music sounds closer than it ever had before.

Wes then finally approaches his desired destination.

Although, it’s not as grand as he thought it would be.

Maxwell is sitting upon a dark and angular throne and is dressed in a ragged robe. Dark tendrils are tied to his wrists and ankles. His fingers long and spindly like claws. His expression reflects a depressing feeling right back to Wes.

Although Maxwell had been torturing Wes for lord knows how long, he couldn’t help but feel bad for him. His heart aches with the desire to help him.

“…I’m surprised to see you here… forgive me if I don’t get up…” Says Maxwell, his tone surprisingly saddened.

How can a man who acted so pompous and all-powerful…

…Be so powerless?

Wes stares on at the frail man as he begins to monologue.

“…You’ve been an interesting plaything. But I’ve grown tired of this game… or maybe They’ve grown tired of me…”

…They…? Whose They?

“…Heh. Took Them long enough… They’ll show you terrible, beautiful things. It’s best not to fight it… there wasn’t much here when I showed up. Just dust. And the Void… and Them… I’ve learned so much since then, I built so much… but even a king is bound to the board. You can’t change the rules of the game.”

Wes’ brows furrow and the guilt in his heart grows… How long has he been toiling with this “Them”?

…Were he and Maxwell just part of some… game?

“I don’t know what They want. They… They just watch… unless you get too close… then…”

…Then what…?

“…Well, there’s a reason I stay so dapper… what year is it out there? Time moves differently here.”

Last Wes had known… late 1906. Before Wes could answer though, Maxwell continues.

“Go on, stay awhile. Keep us company. Or put the key in the box. It’s your decision. Either way, you’re just delaying the inevitable… Reality is like that sometimes… I think I’ve said enough…”

Maxwell then stops and goes dead silent. Some of the only noise being from a gramophone playing ragtime music next to the throne.

Wes then realizes what key what Maxwell was talking about.

The Divining Rod.

He takes out the Divining Rod out of his inventory and holds onto it. He looks to the right of the throne, looking for the box Maxwell was talking about, and spots a hole, one similar to the previous holes he had placed the key in. It would fit snuggly in the keyhole.

Wes walks over to the keyhole and looms over it. He looks at the hole, and then to Maxwell.

Would he free Maxwell? Or would he let him stay on the throne?

And let him continue to play this game with whoever this “Them” was.

Wes felt awful for Maxwell. He looked so disheveled and internally dead. He looked emotionless. Wes couldn’t help but wince at Maxwell’s pain.

He can’t let this man rot away on this throne. He can’t help but let his guilt get the better of him. His soul is too kind to let a man, no matter what they’ve done, suffer endlessly.

Wes shoves the Divining Rod into the keyhole.

Nothing happens for a bit.

Until the throne begins to recede into the ground.

Maxwell is broken free from the throne’s chains. He smiles brightly. Wes smiles back.

This moment of happiness is quickly replaced with dread.

Maxwell suddenly winces and falls to his knees. He screams. He screams a blood curdling scream.

His skin then turns to dust, revealing his bones. His skeleton falls apart and also turns to dust.

Maxwell’s scream echos through the throne room.

Wes looks on with terror in his eyes and mouth agape. He wants to run away.

Before he can run however, shadow hands quickly encompass Wes and drag him into the ground. Wes reappears, now sitting Maxwell’s throne. The same tendrils over Wes’ wrists and ankles. He darts his head around in terror. All while ragtime music plays from the gramophone.

Wes tries to break his wrists free, but the tendrils don’t break, no matter how hard he pulls. After a bit, he gives up on trying to escape.

Memories of his old prison begin returning. Wes can’t help but silently weep.

…Better him than Maxwell right…?

—

Wes doesn’t know how long it’s been. He doesn’t exactly care anymore.

He tries to sleep, but the sound of ominous whispers fills his head. They keep him awake. They constantly beckon him.

Beckon him to join the shadows.

LET US IN.

Wes then remembers.

'It’s best not to fight it.'

Wes is tired. He’s not in a good mental state either. The whispers aren’t helping at all.

The whispers call to him. Tell him to hurt other people. People he doesn’t even know. Capture more people. Create more ferocious beasts. More ways to hurt people.

He doesn’t care about what Maxwell said.

He is not hurting anybody.

And he is sticking to that.

—

He’s tired. Mentally tired. The whispers are relentless.

They continue to beckon him. They’re even louder than what they were before.

Wes wants to slip away into the shadows.

But he can’t.

He won’t.

Or so he doesn’t want to.

He doesn’t want to hurt anybody. It’s the exact opposite of what he had wanted to do since being able to live life on his own.

He wanted to bring joy to others. Make their day better. Make their life better. Not torture them, or find ways to do so. Everything the shadows wanted… whatever They wanted… was entirely against what Wes was about.

Maxwell’s words rang in Wes’ ears.

'It’s best not to fight it.'

…Maybe it is best not to fight it…

No. Never.

I’m tired…

No.

…I don’t want to fight anymore...

Wes is arguing with himself. He can’t bring himself to bring harm onto others… but…

…I can’t fight forever…

…C'est la vie, right…?

He’s not thinking straight anymore.

He sinks.

Sinks deep into the shadows.

He can feel his consciousness slip away…

Shadows begin to circle around the poor mime. They encompass his limbs and body. His clothes change from normal mime attire to a tight and slick black long sleeved shirt and light brown pants held up by a belt. His shoes become pointed and gain little heels. His gloves become a light shade of brown. At his neck, a crimson red ascot appears. Over his eyes, a small pair of deep black shades appear.

Wes begins to regain consciousness.

He pauses…

…Then a large and sharp toothy grin grows on his face.

—

It’s been awhile. Awhile since Wes had committed to the shadows. He sits on the Nightmare Throne with his legs crossed. A smug and sly expression sits on his face.

He looks around. The throne room is as desolate as it was since he had first arrived there.

And saw Maxwell.

Wes recoils at the thought of that man.

Later…

He’ll help him learn a lesson or two…

Wes realizes how empty the place feels. He wonders how he can help fill the area with more flare.

Balloon animals?

A thought deep within his head speaks. Wes questions the idea.

He unconsciously reaches into his pocket and grabs a balloon. He blows it up. He begins to make a butterfly out of it.

Wes looks at the balloon.

He cant help but silently giggle.

He immediately recoils. He tries to suppress the feeling. He pops the balloon. He crosses his legs again and pouts.

He doesn’t have the ability to change how the room looks. He can’t get up either.

He sits there, still pouting.

—

Wes sits on the throne, bored out of his mind. What could he possibly do to entertain himself?

Like a lightbulb turning on in his head, he gets an idea.

He puts his hand out in front of his face, palm open. A small portal appears in his hand. A little eye to see the world below him.

The portal opens up, and Wes sees a familiar face.

A face no person could ever forget.

Maxwell.

Wes can’t help but sneer at the sight of him. Oh, how terribly sick that man was. Absolutely no remorse for what he had done to Wes, at least to him.

Revenge clouds Wes’ mind. A desire to put this man through an endless hell even worse than what Wes had gone through. Worse than whatever Wes had gone through in his entire life.

He wanted to make Maxwell’s life a living Hell.

Wes smiles maliciously and lifts his free hand up, shadow emanating from it.

No! Don’t!

A thought deep within him shouts.

Wes pauses. His smirk fades, so do the shadows coming from his hand. Who was this voice? It was soft and gentle.

…Was it his own inner voice? His own thoughts?

…The thoughts of the person he used to be…?

Wes silently scoffs. He tries to push the thoughts down.

But it seems incredibly relentless.

Don’t hurt him! Please!

After all he had done? Why? Why show mercy to someone such as Maxwell? The very man who played with you like a toy to be thrown around and broken. Like some kind of pawn.

Why?

Have a heart.

Wes pushes the thought down. His smirk returns and the shadows return to his palm. He watches Maxwell as he quickly runs from a small herd of hounds.

Internally, Wes can only cringe at the sight.

—

He doesn’t know how long it’s been, but he’s been enjoying himself.

Adding new creatures. New items. New tools. Finding ways to entertain himself while he sits alone in this desolate room. Wes sits with his legs crossed, smiling smugly.

This moment of bliss is suddenly disturbed as footsteps can be heard.

Wes’ smile fades and looks toward the source of the sound.

The silhouetted figure slowly approaches, Divining Rod in hand.

The figure is of a woman wearing a battle helm. Her bright red hair has been put up in braids. She is dressed in the attire of that of a Valkyrie.

“Art thöu the dreaded föe of my saga? The ruler öf this accursed land?” She speaks.

Wes raises a brow. 'You think I’m not?' He thinks to himself.

The Valkyrie sneers. “Why wöuld I free thee? För thöu hath wröught nöthing but dispair.”

Wes cringes at the Valkyrie’s language. Can you not speak In Shakespearean?

As Wes thinks about the Valkyrie’s way of speech… something seeps back into mind.

Wes’ previous feelings on the Valkyrie suddenly disappear and he leans forward. He smacks his hands together in a begging gesture. His expression shows great distress.

A desire to be set free.

Free me, please! I beg of you! I can’t continue to hurt people anymore.

Although the Valkyrie can’t hear Wes’ thoughts, he prays that she’ll be able to understand him.

“'Tis a trick!” The Valkyrie shouts. “Deceitful scum!”

Wes continues to plea.

The Valkyrie searches attempts to search through Wes’ eyes for any sign of genuine feeling.

But his shades blot out the light.

He quickly takes his shades off, revealing his eyes. His genuine eyes. Eyes that scream a genuine desire to be free from this prison. From this hellhole.

From Them.

The Valkyrie looks into Wes’ eyes.

She can sense the feeling in them. He can feel it.

“…Yöur söul be split, I see…” Says the Valkyrie. “…Art thöu being truthful?”

Wes firmly nods.

“…This isn’t whö yöu truly be?”

Wes nods again.

He can sense a feeling of guilt in her eyes.

…Along with a feeling of resonance…

She walks up to the keyhole and jams the Divining Rod inside it.

Wes’ shackles break.

But once they do, he can feel his consciousness slip away…

…

Wes suddenly awakens.

He quickly lifts himself up and looks around.

Trees and flowers are littered around the area. The chirping of birds can be heard.

Wes looks down at himself. He realizes he’s back in his normal mime attire.

He can’t hear any whispers either.

No other voice.

He feels relieved, yet guilty.

All of the people he hurt likely hate him now.

He hopes that woman is okay.

~~~

It’s been a long while since Wes had been surviving alone. He, along with many others, have banded together into one big camp. They had all begun bonding as a family.

On a particular day, he and a few Survivors had been sent out on a trip to the caves.

Where things quickly turned for the worst.

—

Wes, Wigfrid, and Wolfgang, each where miner’s hats, tread through an uncharted area in the caves, looking for any resources that could be of use to the Survivors.

“Tread lightly.” Says Wigfrid. “Whö knows what lay in the shadöws.”

“Is creepy here.” Says Wolfgang, quivering a bit.

“Be cöuragöus, dearest ströngman! Thöu shall prevail as löng as thöu stays vigilant!” Says Wigfrid.

Wes, who is next to Wolfgang, pats his shoulder.

Wolfgang looks over to Wes and smiles. “Thank you, clownman.”

Wes smiles and nods.

Suddenly, rumbling can be heard.

“Cease!” Says Wigfrid. The three of them stop in their tracks. Wigfrid looks up at the caves roof.

The stalactites that hang on the cave’s roof appear to be shaking, threatening to fall down.

And cause a cave in.

“'Tis a cave in!” Wigfrid shouts.

Wes runs to Wigfrid’s side a shushes her. Just as he does, a stalactite falls from the roof.

Before Wes and Wigfrid can get hit, Wolfgang pushes them out of harms way and directly onto the floor.

The three of them quickly get up. “Föllöw mine tracks! This way!” Wigfrid yells.

Wolfgang and Wes Follow behind Wigfrid, barely avoiding the falling rocks.

As the three run, Wes trips on a stone, causing him to fall forward. The other two performers reach the area’s exit, and see Wes having lagged behind.

Before anyone can do anything though—

CRASH!!

A pile of rocks falls in front of the opening.

Wes is trapped, and has been separated from the others.

He quickly gets up and runs to the pile. He bangs his fists against it, but nothing changes. He can hear Wolfgang trying to punch the wall, but to no avail.

“We will be back, clownman!” Says Wolfgang.

“Be ströng for us!” Says Wigfrid.

Wes can hear their quick footsteps rapidly becoming more faint. They’re going to get help.

All Wes can do is pray they’ll be back soon.

He leans against the pile of rocks and tries to relax while he waits for his friends to return.

Just as he starts to feel relaxed, more rumbling can be heard.

Wes looks down to see the floor cracking.

An earthquake.

Wes’s eyes widen with shock, he doesn’t know what to do. He gets up and scurries around, but with absolutely no idea on what to do.

Before he can do anything else, he feels himself falling down.

He braces himself as he falls.

—

Wes suddenly wakes up. His miner’s hat nearby him. His body hurt. He had likely fallen very hard. It’s difficult to get up. He lifts his upper body up and looks around.

More cave walls, similar to the ones in other parts of the caves. It’s fairly dark as well.

Wes slowly tries to get up. He stumbles, and his legs hurt. He tries to walk. It’s not a terrible feeling, but it’s difficult. He picks up his miner’s hat and puts it back on.

Wes quietly lurks around, not exactly sure where of where to go.

In the distance, he spots a large… purple cap mushroom?

It wasn’t exactly a peculiar thing to see. Mushroom-like trees were everywhere in the caves, but this wasn’t that. It was wider than a normal mushtree. It’s color not matching either.

Wes looks upon the peculiar site. Maybe the shroom could drop some helpful resources for the others? It would be nice of him to collect something for the camp’s benefit.

Wes stumbles up to the mushroom and takes out an axe he had brought with him.

He begins to hit the mushroom with the weapon.

After a few hits, however…

A large frog-like creature booms from the ground.

Wes is knocked back. He falls to his back and stares in terror at the creature before him.

The same purple cap mushroom is on the creature’s head, along with a few similarly colored and smaller mushrooms around it. It’s skin was forest green, that of a frog’s. But no creature with a counterpart from Earth looks normal in the Constant. The creature had three eyes and large sharp teeth that snarled at the poor mime.

Wes cowers and scoots back. The creature keeps it’s snarl as it slowly creeps up to Wes. Wes is backed up against a nearby wall. There is no plausible way he could fight in the condition he was in.

Wes continues to cower in fear. He puts his arms over his face and braces himself for the worst.

Until time seems to suddenly slow.

Wes peeks from his arms to see the creature has paused it’s movement. It’s completely still. Wes sits with his brows furrowed in confusion.

It’s silent.

Until the clacking of heels can be heard.

Wes looks to his side. He silently gasps.

A figure, one that looks oddly similar to Wes, stands above him.

The figure bears Wes’ slim shape, but everything else feels and looks completely different. He wears a red ascot and black shades over his face.

…A look Wes had once grown used to.

“…Hello… it’s been quite some time.”

A voice speaks. Wes assumes it’s his copy, although his mouth isn’t moving.

His thoughts are speaking to him. His mind.

Them.

Wes quivers a bit.

“Awww, you poor thing.” The copy says. “Don’t fret. I am only here to assist.”

'Assist? Assist in what? Making my friends lives a living nightmare?' Wes thinks to himself.

The copy silently scoffs. “I can hear your thoughts, you know.” He says. “I wish to inflict no harm onto you or your companions… I just have a proposition.”

What could he possibly want? Wes tilts his head.

“Why don’t I just seep my way back in?” He asks.

Wes’ eyes widen. He looks angry.

The copy furrows his brows. “Not like that!” He says. “I don’t want full control. I only desire to be of help to you. I can assist you whenever you need it. I have the abilities to do so.” The copy lifts up a hand. Shadows emanate from it. “All I want is to be allowed to intervene when you may need it. It would be nice to have an extra pair of fighting hands.” The copy says slyly.

“What do you say?” The copy puts out a hand.

Wes ponders what his decision would be.

Until he remembers.

Why trust this? Why trust the shadows that lay deep within Wes’ soul? After all they had wrought.

“I get you may not want to make this deal.” The copy begins. “However… you want to be of assistance to your friends, right?”

Wes’ eyes widen a bit.

“As I said, it would be optimal to have another pair of hands to help you out.” The copy says. “I swear by the Queen, I will not seek out full control and I will only be here to assist… now, do we have a deal?”

Wes thinks for a bit.

Maybe the copy did just want to assist.

And he did want to be of assistance to his friends in whatever way he could.

Why else would he swear by the Queen?

After a bit, Wes closes his eyes and turns his head. He puts out his hand.

“…We have a deal then.” He says. He shakes Wes’ hand.

The copy’s form then turns into a form of shadow. It runs up Wes’ arm and into his ears. Wes winces.

His consciousness slips away. His head slumps.

Time begins to speed up again. The creature continues to creep up toward Wes.

Wes then suddenly lifts his hand up. Shadow emanates from it. He lifts his head to reveal a large malicious smirk on his face.

From the left and right of the creature, shadow tendrils appear. The tendrils grab the creature and begin entrapping it in shadow. It’s form is reduced to a pitch black ball. It settles on the ground and forms into a rose.

The shadows coming off of Wes’ hand dissipate. His hand slumps to the ground. Wes’ head slumps again.

After a bit, Wes lifts his head back up and rubs his head. He opens his eyes and looks around. His vision is blurred. His sanity is dropping.

Wes scoots over to a nearby rock. He lays against it and begins to drift off to sleep.

…

“CLOWNMAN!!”

Wes’ eyes shoot open. He sits up. He notices he’s still in the cave, but his vision is back to normal. His head darts upward.

He sees Wolfgang and Wigfrid, along with Wickerbottom and Winona.

“Friends here to pick up!” Says Wolfgang.

“Are you alright, dear!?” Wickerbottom calls out.

Wes gives out a thumbs up. He’s fine. Mostly.

“Hang tight!” Says Winona. “We’ll get ya outta there!”

After a bit, Winona comes down on a rope. Wolfgang is hanging onto it. She rushes to Wes and picks him up. “We’re ready, big guy!” She shouts up to Wolfgang. He pulls the two of them back up. Once they reach the top, Winona carries Wes over to a wall and lays him against it. Wickerbottom walks up and inspects him.

“Are you alright, dear?” She asks again. “Is your sanity in tact?”

Wes slowly nods.

“We found him sleeping down there.” Says Winona. “Whatever sanity he lost should be back.” She then looks to Wes. “You feeling okay? Like physically.”

Wes shakes his head. His body still hurt from the fall. His legs especially.

“Oh, you poor thing…” Says Wickerbottom. She looks back to Wolfgang. “Wolfgang, hold onto Wes on our way back to camp.”

“Will gladly help clownman!” Wolfgang says proudly.

Wickerbottom looks back to Wes. “Let us return to camp and fix yourself up.”

Wolfgang walks up to the injured mime and picks him up bridal style.

Wes begins to nod off in Wolfgang’s arms…

“See? I told you I would only be of assistance.”

A voice inside Wes’ mind speaks. He wakes up. Wolfgang looks down at him. “Is alright, Wes?” He asks. Wes looks up to Wolfgang, he smiles and nods.

Wolfgang smiles. “Ah, good.” He says.

Wes smiles at Wolfgang. He eventually nods off to sleep again.

—

It’s been about a week since Wes had been stuck in that cave. He’s mostly recovered from his injuries and is feeling a lot better. His legs have mostly healed and he’s able to walk. Although it stings a bit when he walks, it’s not as bad as it was before.

Wes sits in his tent, that he, Wigfrid, and Wolfgang share, doodling in his notepad. He’s already washed his makeup off.

He’s just passing the time.

Until Wigfrid pops into his tent. He jumps at her sudden appearance, but he quickly calms down.

“Fair mime!” She says. “Döst thöu wish tö jöin the ströngman and I ön a hunt later? If thöu has götten better physically.”

Wes flips to a new page in his notepad and writes: 'I can walk fine, but it stings a bit. Especially when I run.'

“Ah, I see.” Says Wigfrid. “We can dö the hunt the next sunrise, if yöu are feeling better.”

Wes nods.

The camp quickly begins to darken. Dusk has come.

“Friends!” Wolfgang says, appearing next to Wigfrid. “We must prepare for sleepy times!”

“Ah, thöu is cörrect.” Says Wigfrid. “Wait here, fair mime. We shall return mömentarily.”

Wigfrid and Wolfgang step away from the tent and help the other Survivors clean up the camp for the day. Wes sets his notepad aside and lays down. He waits for his companions to return.

As he waits, he begins to nod off…

“I’m sorry you have to feel this way.”

Wes suddenly awakens, but he stays lying down. He’s glad that this shadow half seems to be feeling sympathy for him.

But he can’t shake the feeling that something is amiss.

He feels bad that he can’t tell his friends about this as well.

“Your friends don’t need to know about any of this. You don’t want your one chance of assistance to go up in smoke, do you?” Asks the shadow half. “We made a deal too. I am not going to break that deal either. I’m not exactly one to do that.”

The shadow half was right. Wes doesn’t want to lose this chance. And although the half wasn’t exactly like Wes… it was still him. Maybe it had gained some of Wes’ kind attributes?

Suddenly, Wigfrid and Wolfgang come back to the tent, ready to sleep for the night. Wes is a bit startled.

“Is alright, Wesley?” Wolfgang asks.

Wes nods, trying to keep himself from getting caught.

He can’t help but cringe at the fact that he lied.

“Best be öff tö sleep now. Lest we be tired för öur hunt tömörröw.” Says Wigfrid. “If Wesley is up för it.” She looks down to face Wes.

Wes nods. He scoots over a bit to let his friends get into their regular sleeping positions. Wolfgang in the center, Wigfrid on the right, Wes on the left.

The three bundle up together and slowly doze off…

“Do not fret. All is well.”

Wes winces a bit at the sudden voice, but keeps his eyes closed.

—

It’s the next morning. The sun has just begun rising. A few Survivors have already woken up. The performer trio though is still asleep in their tent.

After a bit, Wolfgang, now wimpy, wakes up first. He yawns and stretches. He slowly lifts himself up. He then looks over to his fellow performers and shakes them a bit.

“Friends!” Wolfgang whispers. “Is morning time!”

Wigfrid winces a bit as she awakens. “…Has the sun taken it’s rise?” She asks, groggy.

Wes begins waking up as well, a lot more groggy than his companions. He silently yawns and stretches. He rubs his eyes.

“Wolfgang will make friends breakfast.” Says Wolfgang. He gets out of the tent and heads toward the crock pots. As he leaves, Wes and Wigfrid sit up.

“Döst thöu think yöu are ready för öur hunt?” Wigfrid asks again.

Wes looks over to Wigfrid and nods. He believes he’ll be ready if his legs have healed.

Wigfrid nods. “We will see höw yöur legs are döing.” She says. “Cöme with me. We shall wait för the ströngman’s return.”

Wes nods. Wigfrid helps Wes out of the tent. Wes’ legs aren’t stinging anymore. They had healed overnight.

The Valkyrie and mime gaze upon the camp. Wickerbottom and Wilson have already woken up. They both sit in front of the unlit fire pit, having their breakfast.

Wilson and Wickerbottom look over to the two performers as they approach the fire pit.

“Hello, you two!” Says Wilson. “Are you feeling better, Wes?” He asks.

Wes nods as he and Wigfrid perch themselves on a log in front of the fire pit.

“That’s wonderful, dear.” Says Wickerbottom. “I am glad your condition has improved.” She smiles softly.

“Breakfast here!” Shouts Wolfgang from the other side of camp. He approaches with a few dishes of bacon and eggs in his hands.

“Wolfgang!” Wickerbottom harshly whispers, looking to Wolfgang. “Don’t shout! You’ll wake the children!”

“Oh, sorry.” Says Wolfgang. He sits next to his companions. “Breakfast!” He whispers. Wes and Wigfrid take their platters from the strongman.

“I believe Wes is ready för öur hunt!” Wigfrid says quietly.

Although someone seems to hear anyway.

“WHAT KIND OF HUNT DO YOU SPEAK OF?” Says a monotone voice to Wolfgang’s left.

Wolfgang looks to his left to see WX staring at him.

“AH!!” Wolfgang yelps. “Do not scare Wolfgang like that!” He says.

“HA. COWARD.” Says WX, still looking at Wolfgang.

“Wolfgang is no coward!” Says Wolfgang.

“Wolfgang! WX-78!” Wickerbottom harshly whispers. “Quit shouting!”

“Yeah, listen to grams, tin can.” Says another voice from nearby.

It’s Winona. She had been woken up by all the noise. “You too, big guy.” She says, looking over to Wolfgang.

Wolfgang looks over to the handywoman. “Is sorry…” He says apologetically.

WX looks over to Winona. “FOR THE SAKE OF KEEPING MY HUNTING PRIVILEGES… UGH… I AM SORRY.” They say reluctantly. They look back over to Wolfgang. “BACK TO YOU, MEATSACK, WHAT KIND OF HUNT DO YOU SPEAK OF?” They ask.

“'Tis be nöne öf yöur business, autömatön!” Wigfrid says quietly. “This hunt be för me and my cömpaniöns alöne.”

WX can feel Winona peering into the back of their head. “…FINE. KEEP YOUR SECRETS, ODD ONE.” They say. They walk off.

As the performers settle and eat, Wolfgang, now his regular size, turns over to Wes. “Is clownman ready for hunt?” He asks.

Wes turns over to Wolfgang. He smiles and nods.

“Is settled then!” Says Wolfgang quietly.

“We shall prepare for cömbat near dusk.” Says Wigfrid. “Yöu böth have been training with great splendör, but I desire tö see höw yöu fair in the night.”

Wolfgang quivers a bit. “Will be alone!?” He asks, trying to stay quiet.

“Nö, yöu shall be with me tönight.” Says Wigfrid. “I will assist, höwever, I expect thee tö still fend för oneself.”

“…Ah, okay.” Says Wolfgang, relieved.

“Önce we finish öur feast, at near dusk we hunt!” Wigfrid declares, forgetting to keep her voice down.

“Shhhh!!” Wickerbottom buds in.

“…Ah, sincerest apologies, dear Wickerbottom.” Says Wigfrid apologetically.

Wes silently giggles a bit. A part of him is excited for the hunt.

More so than usual.

He can’t exactly pinpoint why.

—

It’s near dusk. Time for the hunt Wigfrid had planned. The performer trio is ready to head out. Their fellow Survivors wish them luck.

“Come back safe!” Says Webber.

“We shall return victöriöus, spider-child.” Says Wigfrid.

“And be careful. Especially you, Wes.” Says Wickerbottom. “I don’t want to see any of you horribly bruised.”

“Will be careful, strong-brain lady— Wolfgang mean Wickerbottom.” Says Wolfgang.

“You’re alright, dear.” Says Wickerbottom. “Safe travels!”

The performers head off away from camp. As they head off, Maxwell keeps a firm eye on Wes.

“…There is an air about you, mime.” Maxwell says to himself. “I can sense it.”

—

The three performers tread with torches in their grasps. Wolfgang and Wes stay close to Wigfrid, who is leading them to where she desires to start their hunt.

“Remember what I taught thee.” Says Wigfrid.

“Wolfgang will try his best!” Says Wolfgang.

Wes nods.

“I’ll be here to assist whenever you need it, by the way.” Says a voice in Wes’ head.

Wes cringes at the voice.

Wolfgang turns back to look at Wes. “Is alright, Wesley?” He asks.

Wes quickly looks up to Wolfgang and nods.

“If say so.” Says Wolfgang.

Wes quietly sighs in relief.

“Ah, here.” Says Wigfrid. “Where we shall begin öut böut.”

The performers look forward to see a few spider dens. Wolfgang quivers.

“Ooh… not again…” Says Wolfgang, referring to the last time the performers had entered spider den territory.

“Ströngman, we talked aböut this!” Says Wigfrid. “Be brave, ströng! Unlöck yöur inner warriör! För us!”

Wolfgang takes a deep breath, gaining a bit of courage. “…Okay… Wolfgang will try. For friends!” He flexes his arms.

“Same göes för yöu, fair mime.” Says Wigfrid, now looking to Wes.

Wes nods confidently.

“Ön my accöunt, we charge.” Says Wigfrid.

The three performers gaze upon the dens ahead.

“Öne… twö…” Wigfrid counts.

The three prepare their weapons, their spears.

“…Three!!” Wigfrid declares.

The three performers charge into the den ridden terrain. The spiders quickly notice their intrusion and prepare to attack. They charge. The three quickly take on their own hoard.

Wolfgang, surprisingly, doesn’t back away. He pushes on for his friends. “For friends!! HRAGH!!” He shoves his spear into a few spiders. They die, and new ones approach. Wolfgang continues to stick them like meat on a kabob.

Wigfrid takes on her own hoard with her own dramatic flare. “TÖ VALHALLA WITH THEE!!” She takes the spiders down row by row as they come.

Wes charges through his hoard. He takes them on as they come, barely scrapping by the spider’s attempts to bite him.

Each of them scramble through the various dens, picking one out and charging through the hoard. It’s a battlefield, as Wigfrid had desired.

It takes awhile, but the hoards are eventually killed off. It goes dead silent. The performers meet up at the center of the empty dens.

“I am very impressed!” Says Wigfrid. “Yöu böth did wönderful! I am very pröud öf yöu böth.” She smiles softly.

“Wolfgang is proud of me too!” Says Wolfgang. He flexes his arms.

Wes stands confidently, proud of he and his teammates.

“We shall rest a bit. Then, önward tö öur next battle!” Says Wigfrid.

The three settle against a tree and take a small breather. After a bit, they head off again.

—

Wigfrid, once again, leads the group toward their next destination.

“Art thöu prepared?” Wigfrid asks her companions. “These böuts will becöme increasingly möre difficult as we gö.”

“Wolfgang ready for anything!” Says Wolfgang confidently, once again flexing his arms.

Wes nods confidently.

“Aha!” Says Wigfrid. “Öur next föes!”

They gaze upon a couple hounds. Wes’ confidence fades away. Whenever it comes to hounds, he’s always targeted first.

Wigfrid looks back to Wes. “We will assist, fair mime.” She says. “We will try öur hardest tö keep yöu fröm getting hurt.”

Wes feels a bit more comfortable. He nods at Wigfrid.

“Just like last time. Ön my accöunt, we charge.”

The men nod.

“Öne… twö… three!!” Wigfrid declares. The three charge forward.

The hounds notice.

They dart after Wes.

Wes quivers a bit.

Just before they approach, Wolfgang and Wigfrid step in front of the mime and begin taking on the hoard. Last minute, Wes darts off to his right to give his friends less to fight. He runs around to let enough hounds go after him and also go after his companions to give them an equal amount to fight.

It takes awhile, but the hounds are all eventually killed of. The performers group up. All of them are tired, but Wes is the most exhausted after having to run back and forth. He’s out of breath.

Wigfrid looks to Wes. “We shall take a lönger test för yöu, fair mime.” She says.

Wes nods. The three of them sit down and take a breather. Wes lies down on his back.

“Just to inform you, I’ve got a plan for this next hunt.” Says a voice in Wes’ head. Wes furrows his brows, wondering what that could mean.

“I’m going to use my powers to assist you. Immediately afterward, I’ll give you your mind back.” The voice says.

…Wes feels a bit distrustful of his shadow half…

“Trust me.” Says the shadow half. “I haven’t broken our deal this entire time, so why would I break it now? Or at all?” Asks the shadow half.

The shadow half was right. It had been ages since they had made that deal, and he had yet to break that deal. So why now would they suddenly change their mind?

…Unless he had been planning to do that…

“Wesley?” Asks Wigfrid.

Wes is shaken from his world of thought. He lifts his head up to see Wigfrid and Wolfgang looking down at him.

“Art thöu ready?” Wigfrid asks.

Wes rises and nods.

“Gööd.” Says Wigfrid. “Cöme alöng, friends! Önwards!”

The three performers head off.

Wes tries to push down his previous thought. Similar to before, a part of Wes is very excited for this next hunt. He still isn’t sure why…

—

The three performers walk ahead, torches in their hands.

“The final böut öf the night is upön us.” Says Wigfrid. Just as she says that, night begins to fall upon them. The three of them quickly take out some lanterns they had brought with them.

“Is what strong-lady Wigfrid meant by fighting in dark?” Wolfgang asks, trembling a bit.

“Yes, dearest ströngman.” Says Wigfrid. “I will cöntinue to ask för yöur best effört. Yöu have döne sö twice already. If thöu can achieve that, then I knöw yöu can dö it again.”

Wolfgang smiles a bit at Wigfrid’s compliment. “Is right! I BELIEVE IN ME!!” Says Wolfgang confidently.

“Shhh! Över yönder!” Says Wigfrid, pointing.

She points to a few isolated beefalo. They aren’t near any herd, so they didn’t have to worry about getting chased by whole ton of hairy cows. The three performers look on at the sight in front of them.

“Hairy cows?” Says Wolfgang quietly. “In dark?”

“Indeed.” Says Wigfrid. “We need nöt wörry. As löng as we have light, we are fine.”

“As soon as you charge, I will step in. Got that?” Says Wes’ shadow half.

Wes nods a tad reluctantly.

“Just like beföre.” Says Wigfrid. “Prepare yöurselves.”

The three prepare to strike the small herd.

“Öne… twö… three!!!” The three performers charge forward.

The beefalos notice the incoming attack. They charge.

Wes prepares for the shadows to seep in…

He can feel his consciousness slip away…

…A toothy grin appears on Wes’ face.

Wes stops charging and faces the herd. He holds out a hand. Shadow emanates from it.

Suddenly, shadow tendrils shoot out of the ground and encompass the beefalos. They wrap around the creatures. Their forms become smaller and smaller until the shadows poof away. From the shadows, four evil flowers appear and land on the ground.

Wigfrid and Wolfgang look back to see Wes still holding his arm up, grinning maliciously. The shadows eventually dissipate and Wes puts his arm down, but the grin stays.

“…I-is Wesley okay?” Wolfgang asks, the sound of genuine concern in his voice.

“…Where did yöu learn that…?” Wigfrid asks concerned, breaking character.

Wes waits to be let back in.

But that doesn’t happen.

Instead, Wes swipes his arm. Shadows emanate in a wave that goes toward his fellow performers. They wince a bit and fall to their knees. Their santies quickly drop.

“…He’s mine now…” Says Wes, without even moving his lips.

Wes, internally, realizes the truth.

His shadow half tricked him.

Lied directly to him.

And he didn’t even bat an eye to any of it.

Just as is shadow half wanted.

The performers lift their heads up. They can hear what Wes is saying in his head.

“…What!?” Wigfrid shouts.

“What did voice do to Wesley!?” Wolfgang asks, fury in his eyes.

Wes lifts up his head. Pitch black shades now cover his eyes. “Oh! You want to see what I can do?” He smirks.

Shadows begin to circle around Wes’ body. His mime attire changes into a slick black shirt with a crimson red ascot over his shoulders and neck. His gloves and pants become a shade of brown. At his waist, a black belt appears. At his feet, his shoes become pointed. His shoes also gain small heels.

Wes stands proudly, yet pompously. “Gaze upon the grand Triumphant!” He says.

The other performers look on in shock. What has become of this friend? They’re uncertain.

Until Wigfrid begins to remember the familiar sight.

On the Nightmare Throne.

That was Wes. Twisted by Them. Just as she had been after freeing Wes from the Throne.

She can’t help but feel terrible for her friend that she and Wolfgang held oh, so dear.

Little did she know that Wolfgang was experiencing the same guilt. He had freed Wigfrid from the Throne, just as Wigfrid freed Wes.

They both feel terrible.

But what could they possibly do to help their friend?

Suddenly, Shadow Duelists appear behind the Triumphant.

The Triumphant looks back and leaps away. He sneers. “…YOU…!”

Maxwell then appears from the shadows, lantern in hand. “I knew something was going on here.” He says.

“You keep away from me, HEATHEN!!” The Triumphant shouts.

While his back is turned, screaming can be heard.

“HRAAAAAAAGH!!” Wolfgang shouts. He prepares to throw a punch.

Before he can take the hit, the Triumphant dodges. He punches Wolfgang square in the stomach. He recoils and falls back.

A Shadow Duelist then approaches from behind. Before it can attack, the Triumphant punches it. It disappears.

“Agh! Try not to get involved, damn you!” Says Maxwell, referring to the performers. “You are going to screw me up!”

“WE KNÖW WHAT WE ARE DÖING, IMBECILE!! HRAAAAAGH!!” Shouts Wigfrid. She charges foward.

As she approaches, the Triumphant throws a hand up. A shadow hand erupts from the ground and grabs onto Wigfrid. It holds her in the air.

“LET WESLEY GÖ, YÖU ACCURSED… FÖUL… DEMÖN!!” Says Wigfrid with great power in her voice.

The Triumphant only chuckles a bit in response. He chucks her over to a nearby tree. She slams into its trunk. Her lantern continues to stay lit. The Triumphant puts his hand down.

The other Shadow Duelist attempts to attack, but, like it’s copy, is punched out of existence.

“Fools… all of you!” Says the Triumphant. He turns back and raises his hand up again, shadows emanate from it. More shadow hands come up and grab onto Maxwell and the other performers. The hands smack together to entrap them all together. The Triumphant slowly walks up to his prisoners, hand still high in the air. A large, sharp toothy grin on his face.

“I should’ve done this ages ago…” He says.

The three inside the entrapment struggle to break free, but to no avail.

Just as the Triumphant is about to clench his hand into a fist…

His free hand grabs onto his risen hand.

He had no intent to move it.

The prisoners watch from above, confused.

Suddenly, the risen hand is pulled down. So are the prisoners. The entrapment breaks apart and Maxwell and the performers are free. The shadows emanating from the once-risen hand dissipate. The clasping hand struggles to keep the other hand down. The Triumphant looks down upon the struggle.

“…Oh… I see. You want to play like that, huh?” Says the Triumphant smugly.

Suddenly, the Triumphant falls to his knees. He looks to be trembling a bit. The other three there watch as Terrorbeak-like spikes protrude from the Triumphant’s back. The sharp teeth inside his mouth become sharper. The tips of his fingers become claws. At the man’s sides, two extra pairs of arms pop out. Sleeves and gloves encompass the arms.

The Triumphant then looks up, his shades still covering his eyes. “…Then we will play like that…” He chuckles maliciously.

He then suddenly charges at his former prisoners. They all quickly dodge.

“…W-what in Hell’s name be that!?” Wigfrid asks in terror.

“…His monster form…” Says Maxwell. “… He has his own monster form…”

“Friend Wes stay that way!?” Wolfgang asks, concerned and afraid.

“…No…” Says Maxwell. “It can be dealt with.”

“Hm…” Wigfrid then gets up. She slowly walks up to her contorted friend. She then flashes the light of her lantern in his face.

The Triumphant quickly dodges and hisses. He runs off.

Wigfrid takes a glance her lantern before looking back at the other. “…The light! The light it be!” She says. “After him!”

Maxwell and Wolfgang cling to their lanterns as they follow Wigfrid in their chase.

—

The Survivors chase down the Triumphant through the nearby woods. He’s very quick on his feet, but his chasers are able to keep up. Wigfrid continues to lead while the others follow behind.

“Get back here, wretch!” Shouts Wigfrid.

“It’ll be ages until we can corner him somewhere.” Says Maxwell.

“Then we keep going!” Says Wolfgang.

Wigfrid and Wolfgang press on. So does Maxwell, although he lags behind.

—

They’ve been running for ages. The chasers are tired, but the Triumphant appears to be unfazed.

Although tired, the three press on.

“This take too long!” Says Wolfgang. “HRAAGH!!”

Wolfgang dashes forward and lunges at the Triumphant. The shadow looks back as Wolfgang smashes into him and continues to run forward.

“Agh! Let go of me!” Says the Triumphant.

“Not until give back Wesley!” Says Wolfgang.

“Oh, you want your Wesley back?” The Triumphant asks. “…Hm… how futile… it won’t matter. He’s already gone.”

“Nöt with an attitude like that, wretch!” Says Wigfrid. “Ströngman! Turn!”

Wolfgang then suddenly takes a right into a small clearing. He slams the Triumphant into a tree. He shakes a bit before falling unconscious. His head limps forward. Wolfgang continues to hold onto him.

Wigfrid walks to Wolfgang’s side. Maxwell stays away from the two.

“…He shöuld still be there.” Says Wigfrid. “He must be!”

“…One way find out?” Asks Wolfgang hopefully.

Suddenly, the Triumphant’s head rises.

He takes his off his shades.

He looks up at the other performers, a small smile on his face.

Wes has returned.

The other performers smile brightly.

Until Wes winces. He then puts his shades back. As he recollects himself, Wolfgang tightens his grip on him.

“Where is Wesley?” Asks Wigfrid, furiously.

The Triumphant regains himself and smiles. “He’s gone.” He says without moving his lips. “There’s no point. Why don’t you two join the shadows? Your friend is lonely here. I know you both have some inner demons in you, too.”

“Is not what Wesley would want.” Says Wolfgang.

“But I am Wesley now, aren’t I not? Asks the Triumphant. “I bet his light has already dissipated.” He says smugly.

“‘Tis a lie! Yöu shall never be him!” Says Wigfrid. “That man has the greatest and brightest heart öne has ever been upön. He is still there. I knöw sö.”

“Would you be saying that if you were to know about his demons?” Asks the Triumphant smugly.

The Valkyrie and strongman’s widen in his confusion.

The Triumphant chuckles cockily. “Your dear friend decided to let me in because he wanted to have a chance to be of assistance to you. He decided to take the shadow’s hand. He was lying to you this entire time. Those aren’t qualities of a pure hearted man, correct?” He asks.

The other performers look at each other. The Triumphant expects to be let go.

But he’s not.

“…Wesley…” Wigfrid begins. “…Did that actually happen?”

“I just explained it.” Says the Triumphant. “Why wouldn’t it have happened?”

“I WAS NÖT ASKING YÖU!” Wigfrid shouts. She calms down. “…But if that be the truth…”

Wigfrid takes the Triumphant by the shoulders. The shadow squirms a bit, but Wolfgang keeps him bound as much as he can.

”…You dö nöt need tö fret aböut pröving yöurself to us.” Says Wigfrid. “We wön’t care as löng as yöu try. I knöw yöu will get there eventually.”

“We no leave you either.” Says Wolfgang. “We no care about how mighty you are. We care about you as person. How is doing, where heart is… dear friend Wesley heart is enough for us.”

“Please understand this öne thing we say tö thee…” Says Wigfrid.

”…We love you, Wesley.” Wolfgang and Wigfrid say in unison.

The two performers tightly hug the Triumphant.

Surprisingly, he only stays put. Doesn’t try to escape.

He soaks in the moment.

Maxwell walks up to the shade and removes his shades while he’s distracted. He shines his lantern directly in his face. The Triumphant hisses and tries to not look at the light. Wigfrid and Wolfgang’s grip on him only tightens.

“Give up.” Says Maxwell. “You have no power here anymore.”

The Triumphant continues to squirm.

Until the Strongman and Valkyrie deliver the finishing blow.

They kiss the Triumphant’s cheeks. Wigfrid takes the left, Wolfgang takes the right.

The Triumphant stops squirming and opens his eyes.

A weak spot.

Maxwell points the lantern into the Triuphant’s eyes.

Suddenly, the four of them are blinded by a bright light.

…

Maxwell, Wigfrid and Wolfgang slowly come to. Maxwell is in front of the now unconscious Triumphant while Wigfrid and Wolfgang are still at his sides.

The three gaze upon the man.

He is back in his mime attire.

What he was wearing before is gone.

“…Wesley?” Wigfrid asks.

“…Is alright?” Wolfgang asks.

Nothing happens for a bit…

…Until the man winces.

He slowly blinks open his eyes. He looks upon the performers.

A small smile forms on his face.

Wes had returned.

Wolfgang and Wigfrid smile brightly. They immediately hug Wes tightly. Wes hugs them back. The other two performers begin kissing Wes’ cheeks. Wes’ face goes a bit red.

“Wesley is back! Is back!” Wolfgang cheers excitedly.

“A miracle this be! A miracle I say!” Wigfrid cheers.

They don’t notice, but a smile has formed on Maxwell’s face.

Wes silently giggles. He’s glad to be back.

But his happiness is quickly replaced with guilt.

He thinks about what had caused him to make that deal. How, instead of helping them, he only hurt them.

The opposite of what he wanted.

He feels tears forming in his eyes.

The other performers notice. “What is wrong?” Wolfgang asks.

Wes rummages through his pocket and takes out his trusty notepad and pencil. He writes: 'I hurt you. I hurt you, all of you. How can I be okay when I caused you both great distress?”

The performers look at each other, then back to Wes. “…We knöw yöu had nö intent tö harm us. Yöu önly wanted tö help.”

“Is shadow that wanted to hurt us.” Says Wolfgang. “You and shadow different.”

Wes thinks about the performers’ words. As he does, Wolfgang and Wigfrid hug Wes by his sides.

…Wes and the shadow really were different from each other. Wes may have been too desperate, but his friends are understanding of that. They know he meant no harm with that deal. He was only blinded by the possibility of being of assistance. He can change for the better. They know he can. His shadow only wanted harm. Just as it did when Wes is on the Throne…

Wes smiles at this revelation. He hugs his friends back.

“I apologize for ceasing this moment, but I believe it’s best we return to camp.” Says Maxwell. “We’ve been awhile. The others are likely wondering where we’ve gone.”

“Ah! They must be!” Says Wigfrid. “Föllöw me! We must make haste!”

The performer trio stands, and with lanterns in hand, they head out of the forest.

“Curious.” Says Wolfgang. He turns to Wes. “Wesley remember kiss?”

Wes looks up to Wolfgang, blushing a bit. He’s referring to the kiss that had happened with the Triumphant. Wes very much remembered. He was very happy about it though. Wes nods happily.

“Ah, Wolfgang is glad.” Says Wolfgang.

“Oh. Apologies for not bringing this up earlier but…” Maxwell begins. “…You lot call him Wesley?”

Wigfrid and Wolfgang look embarrassed. They had intended to keep it a secret, as Wes only trusted them to know his real name. Wes shakes his hands at his fellow performers, indicating that he doesn’t mind him knowing. After the night, Wes trusted Maxwell more than he previously had. Maxwell does, in fact, have a soft spot. Wes is aware of the anger his friends had faced, so Maxwell was bound to hear it anyway.

Matter of fact… can I even call the performer trio 'friends' anymore?

- END -

#don’t starve #my writing #fanfic #dst wes #dst maxwell #dst them #dst wigfrid #dst wolfgang #dst charlie #dst wickerbottom #dst winona #dst wilson #dst wx78 #dst webber #tw possession #tw claustrophobia #tw truama

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atherix · 1 year

Note

👀👀👀👀 any birdie related wips in your back pocket

mmmmm Birdie related wips huh? I think I may have shared all but like... one. But this one is, yet again... MAJOR spoilers. And this time it is MAAAAAAAJOR 👀 That being said... continue at your own risk <3

The Alley is eerie from a distance but downright terrifying up close, Jimmy can’t help but think, his pale yellow wings curling around himself as he walks down the street. Barely old enough to make the trip to the temple on his own- his first time taking the Alley Roads and he has already veered off of his path, his offerings for the gods left beside the rickety wooden stairs out of the cavern.

It’s dark, only the light of his torch and the dim sunlight filtering in through the holes in the ceiling. For a ruin, he thinks, the Alley is surprisingly intact; the wood is still rich in color with no signs of rot. If it weren’t for the stones that had fallen through the roofs, crashed into the ground- if not for the charred edges of where fire burnt away an entire section of the city, it would look like a ghost town instead of a corpse.

It’s silent, and he imagines what it must have been like back then- bustling with life, full of energy.

He imagined a city full of people just like him.

He walks through the city, foot catching on loose stones occasionally, and turns around, looking at the ruin towering over his head. It looks like home, he can’t help but note. He wonders if there’s stone under the facades, too.

“What are you doing here?”

Jimmy screams, whirling around and stumbling back. No one is supposed to be here!

When he lifts his torch, the firelight just barely glimmers off of colorful wings and purple robes. It reflects in golden-brown eyes, and Jimmy’s breath catches in his throat.

A Watcher?

The stranger is perched on a bench, balancing on its back as if the wood isn’t more than a hundred years old already, tilting its head at him. “Well?”

“I-I’m sorry!” he stammers, too startled and uncertain to even so much as bow to the god in front of him- because certainly this is the god who struck down the Alley, this must be the god who punished the wayward gods who abused their power, tricked its people into following them into a whole new prison. “I was just- curious! About this place! My, uh, my grandparents told me stories! You see, their grandparents were born here but were brought to Icaria when they were young, and I was just trying to find their old house, and-”

“Ah, so that’s where the survivors went,” the god says, perking up. “I’m glad! I always worried they died on their way out of the Alley- the magic those Watchers released was very strong, it caused quite a... disaster here. Very few people survived, you see.”

Jimmy doesn’t quite understand what the god’s talking about but he nods anyway, smiling tightly. “I didn’t mean to intrude or anything, I’m just curious-”

“Oh, stop your trembling,” the god laughs, jumping off of the bench and stretching its arms above its head. “I’m not a Watcher, you silly bird. Well- I am, but not.”

“Huh?” Jimmy tilts his head now, confused, and draws his wings tighter around himself. “Uh- but you’re... in the Alley?”

“I was born here, too,” the god- or person, Jimmy isn’t sure now- laughs, waving a hand dismissively. “My name’s Grian. Grian Xelqua.”

“Grian...?” Jimmy repeats slowly. “Uh- oh, right, I’m Jimmy!”

“Weird name,” Grian deadpans, and Jimmy squawks. “Is that just a thing out there? Names like that? How do you even say that sound- that doesn’t sound Craftian to me. Sh? Gri- dri- Timmy? Nailed it.”

“My name’s not Timmy!” Jimmy protests, frowning. “And it is Craftian, thank you very much!”

“Mm, I’m not sure about that,” Grian says, raising a brow at him. “Sounds pretty- well, to be honest I haven’t exactly been anywhere else. But I have never heard that before.”

“You live in an abandoned cave- wait, did you say you were born here?” Jimmy asks, Grian’s words catching up to him. “Wait- how in the world- it’s been abandoned for like a hundred years now!”

“Right,” Grian agrees, nodding.

“How in the world-”

Grian laughs, spreading his wings and taking off. “Well, Timmy, I think that is a mystery for you to figure out!” he calls down, and for a moment Jimmy swears he sees eyes.

He swallows. A Watcher but not, Grian had said. Something else- or something in between. "If you were born here!" he calls before Grian can fly away. "If you were born here, do you know anything about the Solidarity family?"

Grian pauses. "Solidarity..." he repeats slowly before dropping down again, landing in front of Jimmy- inches from his face. His eyes are calculating, curiosity and interest flitting across his face. "Now that you mention it, yeah, I see it. You look a lot like her."

"Who?" Jimmy asks.

"Emmy," Grian answers, wings ruffling. "Emmy Solidarity. Sweet lady- the Palace adored her embroidery. She made all our robes. She had a young son when the Alley fell."

"Emmy! Yeah, they named me after her," Jimmy says, wings puffing up in excitement. "She was my grandfather's great grandmother!"

"I see," Grian murmurs, scanning over him. "That explains a lot, actually. Do you feel drawn here?"

Jimmy blinks and opens his mouth, a denial on his tongue- but he stops, because...

Yeah. I do.

As if reading his mind, Grian grins. He holds out a hand to Jimmy. "I see. Well, Timmy, I suppose I can let you stick around. It's nice to talk to a person again."

#ask #ask game #Midnight Series #ONCE AGAIN MAJOR SPOILERS #read at own risk #<3

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trashheappro · 5 months

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The Anomaly - Ch. 6

Ch: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14

The world screamed. The chorus of New York dying echoed in his ears. The buildings glitched until their atoms fell apart. People ran from the quantum hole overtaking their city, but they had nowhere to go. Cars honked, dogs barked, cats hissed, people yelled at no one and nothing. New York was alive, clawing, begging for life. But not for long.

There was serenity at the end of the world.

Miles sat on the rim of the torch of Lady Liberty. It had the best view of the city's degradation. Normally there would have been Spiders coming to stop it, but there was no one today. His fight with his past was over two weeks ago. His mask was still broken, but he and Mr. Ohnn were working on some improvements. His nose just finished healing, a pinkish skin taking over what was once scabbing across the bridge of his nose.

Maybe Miguel O’ Hara was still recovering, but he doubted the Society came to a grinding halt without him at the helm and he hadn’t seemed that injured from the scuffle with Mr. Ohn. At least not nearly as bad as what Miles did to Gwen and Pavitr. Or maybe they just gave up, but that was the least likely reason for the lack of Spiders.

Either way this universe was done for. The quantum hole was too big to be salvageable. For a man so obsessed with protecting the multiverse’s stability, Miguel O’ Hara let this one go easily enough.

A flash and a crack sounding off in the sky signaled the arrival of the Spiders. About time.

But something felt off about their arrival at this time. They spent a whole week in this universe before making a move on destabilizing the canon and it was easier than usual too; a teenage Spider was chockfull of canon events to pick from. Then the Spiders never showed up and the world was guaranteed to die. The whole day had been calm, the sort that came before the storm.

Now there were Spiders behind him and not in front of him scrambling to close up the blackhole. They weren’t here to save this world, they were here for him.

“You’re awfully late today,” Miles said.

“Miles.” Peter B. Of course.

“This Earth is already done for, you know that, right?”

“Where’s the Spot?” Miguel’s voice rumbled through the air. So they were going to let this universe go just to stop them. Smelled desperate.

“Around.”

“Call him here, now.”

"Hey," Peter B placed a hand on Miguel’s chest. “We can reason with him." He looked at Miles. "You’re a reasonable guy, aren’t you?”

“Not really.” He flexed his wrists. “But go ahead, see if I’ll bite.”

“Come on, Miles. You don’t really like being here, do you?”

“Why not? It's a great view.”

That upset Peter B. “People are dying.”

Miles hummed in acknowledgment. “It does look cool though, right.”

“You can’t be serious.” Peter B was flabbergasted.

He shrugged. “Millions are dying for this, I’m appreciating their sacrifice.”

“Miles, you know this is wrong, right?”

“Sure, but that’s what villains do.”

“You’re not a villain!”

Miles turned to them, standing and stepping closer. “Is that really what you think?” He curled his fingers into a fist, enjoying the way Miguel’s eyes snapped to the movement. “After everything I’ve done?”

“I know there’s good in you, Miles.”

A laugh forced itself past his lips. “That’s cute. That’s very cute, right, Mr. Ohnn?”

Mr. Ohnn appeared beside him, making the two Spiders flinch. “Very. And doing this whole song and dance again, also very cute.”

“Miles, get away from him,” Peter B said, lowering himself into a fighting stance. “He’s a very bad man.”

“Mr. Ohnn’s not that bad once you get to know him.” Miles chuckled. “But he’s the worst when waiting in line at the grocery store.”

Mr. Ohnn crossed his arms defensively. “Well, if they're going to take that long to figure out the self checkout, just go to the cashier.”

“Enough!” Miguel snapped. “Kid, you have one chance to sit this out.”

"Don’t call me that!” Miles snapped back. He didn’t get to call him a kid when he was the one that killed his father. He didn’t get to call him a kid when it was his fault he had to grow up. He took a deep breath, centering his mind before it could spiral. Miguel’s time would come, he’d make sure of it. He grinned. “And besides, this looks like so much fun.”

“Miles,” Peter B pleaded.

“Mr. Ohnn, a 2 v 20 doesn’t seem very fair to me, shall we even the odds?”

Spiders revealed themselves, crawling out and around the Statue of Liberty. Reds, blues, golds, and blacks covered the aged copper green. The Spot chuckled, black portals bubbled in the palm of his hands. He threw them all around, dumping villains onto Liberty Island. All of Spiderman’s rogues gallery were here; from heavy hitters like Doctor Octopus and Venom to small time nuisances like Scorpion and Vulture. Confusion was temporary, but their hatred for Spiderman was forever and with so many Spiders to pick from, the villains dove headfirst into battle.

Miguel snarled. “You had your chance, Miles. Detain them!” The Spiders sprung into action, breaking off into groups; some engaging with the villains, many going after the Spot, and the remaining came after Miles. Miguel's eyes followed the Spot and launched himself forwards.

Miles watched him go, jumping off the statue. He wasn't going to give the man the fight he wanted. No one was going to dictate the flow of this fight, no one but him. He ducked and weaved through webs flung at him. With sharp turns and agile twists, nothing managed to land on him. They must not remember, he used to be Spiderman too.

He detached from the statue, falling into the little horde of villains on the ground floor. They didn’t attack him, instead their eyes were glued to the wave of Spiders trying to follow him. And only when the Spiders were with their reach, did they launch themselves forward.

Miguel dodged a flurry of benches flung at the Spiders going after Mr. Ohnn, but before he could continue his chase, Miles intercepted him, kicking him off target. They brought that device to try and detain Mr. Ohnn and Miles wasn’t willing to see if the third time was the charm.

“You don’t know what you’re getting into, Miles,” Miguel snarled.

“Don’t I?” Miles dodged out of the way of his hands.

“We have to stop him no matter the cost.”

Miles was the cost. “Him? You should be worried about me.”

“Don’t do this.” They circled each other. “I don't want to hurt you.”

Hurt him? Miguel O' Hara, the man who ran him down and locked him in a cell in an alternate universe and ruined his life, didn't want to hurt him. “You should have thought about that before you killed my father!” Miles yelled and launched himself forward.

Stunned and unable to move in time, Miguel’s only option was to eat the fist that landed on his cheek. It knocked his senses back into him, scrambling to dodge the follow up kick. “Miles, I–”

“Shut up!” Electricity ran down his arms. “I don’t want to hear it!” He didn’t even let Miguel open his mouth again before attacking. He threw two spikes for Miguel to dodge which got the older man off balance for when he surged forward with a third in hand.

Miguel dodged in time to make the stab a mere graze. He managed to dodge and block, keeping up with Miles’ pace even without a spidey sense, but even still, he was left with blood sealed underneath his nanosuit.

But he wasn’t fighting back.

Miles grabbed his wrist, squeezing it as hard as he could. “Did you come to dance or fight?”

Miguel grabbed Miles’ arm in return. “I don’t want to do this.”

“Aw, poor thing. Did you need some help to get you going?” Miles mocked. He ripped his arm out of Miguel’s grip and spread his arms wide, gesturing at the chaos around them. Three Spiders were trying to wrangle the Venom. Two more were controlling Rhino’s direction, stopping him from interfering with the other Spiders. Vulture flew over head with a Spider holding on for dear life. “If you don’t start throwing hands, I’m going to kill them.”

“You don’t have to do this,” Miguel tried again. “We can get you help.” He must really not want to fight Miles. Too bad.

“You don’t think I’m serious.”

Miles balanced the spike on the tip of his finger. He spun it once in the air before catching it between his fingers. He whipped around to lock onto one of the Spiders fighting Venom. From this distance, at the arc of their movement, death was certain. He sent it flying to the Spider’s head. Their spidey sense screamed. They twisted out of the way of the spike, but it left them perfectly in the way of Venom’s claws, tearing out their guts. Perfect.

Miguel roared behind him. It was the only warning Miles needed to flip over the enraged tackle. His talons flared out. Finally he was taking this seriously.

“Oh, look.” Miles activated his gauntlets, red claws materializing into existence. “We’re matching.”

They both rushed forward. Miguel’s hands were a blur, slashing and attempting to grab a hold of Miles. He was fast, brutal, but Miles was faster, slippery. But while Miles landed more blows, all his attacks seemed to bounce right off Miguel.

And even more frustratingly, Miguel still wasn’t giving it his all. A year and a half ago, he chased Miles with a frenzied desperation, grabbed Miles like he hadn't cared if bones were broken, and could use his talons to give Miles matching bleeding wounds. But here he was taking Miles' attacks because he’d rather have a couple of bruises than have Miles escape again.

Fine. If that’s how Miguel wanted to play it, Miles would make him regret it. He kickflipped off Miguel’s chest, backing out of their fight.

“Mr. Ohnn!” He called. “You can have this one. He’s no fun.”

Mr. Ohnn stumbled through a portal, a gaggle of Spiders hot on his heels. “Got my hands full!”

Electricity filled his arms, concentrating the energy into his fist. He launched himself at the mass of Spiders, landing a direct hit with his venom smash and sending the energy flying out in all directions. The remaining Spiders were thrown back as the electricity transferred between them.

“There,” Miles said. He threw a thumb at Miguel. “He’s yours.”

“Miles!”

Miles opted to ignore Miguel in favor of evening their odds. He swung himself up to the crown of Lady Liberty, eyes honing in on the Vulture trying to get the Spiderwoman off his back, literally. He’d help with that little pest. He slingshotted himself up at them, kicking Spiderwoman and sending her into freefall. Vulture dove in for the kill. She webbed the statue, intending to pull herself to safety.

Miles’ claws sliced through the webs, leaving Spiderwoman open to the Vulture’s talons tearing down her back.

One down.

Venom struggled to pin down the other Spiders flitting around him. Miles landed behind one at the same time Venom swung. The spider stepped back to avoid it, but Miles pressed a hand to the vulnerable spot between the shoulderblades. The distraction along with the halted movement, gave an easy opening for Venom to grab the Spider around the throat and squeeze.

The other Spider lurched forward to save his ally. His pathing was easy to read. Miles threw a spike into the wide expanse of his back, staggering him as it landed in his shoulder. Electricity brought him to his knees. His ribs cracked and caved under Venom’s foot.

Miles left before the villain could turn his attention to him.

Miles webbed himself onto Rhino’s back, next to the Spider using his webbing to direct the rampaging villain away from his fellow Spiders’ fights. He stabbed the Spider in the arm, loosening the control over Rhino, who barreled into one of the Spiders facing off against Doc Ock. He grabbed the back of the Spider’s suit, tearing him from the Rhino. Electricity stunned him and made him defenseless against Miles slamming him into the pavement.

“Miles!” Peter B gave away his presence. And here came the meaningless words from an insignificant man. “You have to stop! You’re hurting people!”

“Whaaat? Noo.” Sarcasm dripped down his chin.

“Mil–”

He threw a spike to shut Peter B up.

“Please! Can we just talk?”

Miles tried to take a chunk off his scalp with his claws. “You can.”

“Maybe–” He dodged a swipe. “Okay!” And another. “Time out!” That one was close. “You’re. Not. Making. This. Easy.”

Miles webbed Peter B’s chest and dragged him into a punch. “So shut up!”

Peter B backed away from Miles’ advancing form. “Come on, Miles! It’s me!” He pulled his mask off. “It’s Peter.”

“Yeah, and?” He flared his claws.

“Don’t you recognize me?” He held his hands up in a placating manner.

“Of course I do, Peter.”

The statement stunned Peter B long enough for Miles to pounce, a fist slamming into his already crooked nose. The only thing more satisfying than the crunch was the pained yelp that followed. He stared up at Miles with wide eyes filled with disbelief and pain. Was that what he looked like when they locked him up?

Miles pinned Peter B to the ground, his claws digging into the soft flesh of his shoulder and drew blood. “Peter Parker, a dime a dozen. Will the multiverse even care when you’re gone?”

A buzz sent a tingle throughout his skull. He only managed to unlatch his claws before a weight slammed into him, sending him skidding across the concrete. He kicked the offending figure away and flipped back onto his feet. Gwen, Pavitr, and Hobie stood defensively over Peter B. Of course. Gwen still had a cast around her arm and a banages across her face.

Good, maybe Miles will get to break it again. “Back for more? I didn’t beat you hard enough last time?”

“Miles,” Gwen started.

“Miles this. Miles that. Miles. Miles. Miles.” He waved dismissively. “You all say it like it’s going to change anything.”

“You’re not in your right mind, mate,” Hobie said.

“Oh you think so, huh?”

“Yeah!” Pavitr chirped. “We suspect your mind has been altered in some way.”

He stared at them in disbelief. “Alter–” He couldn’t even finish the word before laughing. Altered his mind? What a stupid theory. “That’s funny.”

Eliminate them one by one, even out the field, go for the weakest first. Miles flung a spike at Peter B who rolled out of the way. Hobie and Pavitr intercepted his next attack as Gwen helped up the older Spider. Then all four were coming at him.

Miles ducked and dodged. He may be fast, but there were too many and he refused to run from them. No more. Never again. They would learn to run from him.

Electricity gathered in his legs, infecting the area around his feet. With a venom launch, he boosted himself high in the air, taking Hobie and Pavitr with him. Suspended and at his mercy, Hobie could do nothing to stop the punch nailing his sternum. Electricity locked Pavitr’s limbs, making him unable to avoid Miles webbing his chest and tossing him at the statue of Liberty, leaving a crack in her dress.

Hobie gasped on the floor, trying to draw in the breath that left him. Peter B and Gwen covered for him as he rolled onto his side. Miles shot a web by their feet, pulling himself into their space. Between them, Miles had a bit of a challenge on his hands. He actually had the space to fight back, but with their full attention on him, it was hard to land any hits. Peter B was too experienced to fall for his feints and Gwen didn’t overextend herself like she might’ve before. They were playing this slow, almost like–

Miles caught the guitar two inches from his face. Waiting for backup was smart, but they were all on a timer. And they were still wearing kiddy gloves around him. Their mistake.

Miles tossed a grenade at the group. They all jumped back, expecting an explosion, not the mass of webbing splattering in all directions. It wouldn’t hold them for long, so he had to act fast. He grabbed his spikes, one for each. Like fish in a barrel, or flies in a web.

Gold flashed in his peripheral, whipping around him and binding his arm to his chest. Fucking– Spiders were supposed to be solidary animals.

Miles tore through the webbing, but not before Gwen’s fist made contact with his face. He struggled to avoid Peter B’s web and Hobie’s guitar, nearly stumbling over his own feet. The worst part was that he knew they were holding back. He couldn't even retaliate, too busy ducking and dodging, and even that he was failing. Too slow, too weak, too messy.

Peter B finally landed a solid hit, sending Miles sprawling in the grass. Gwen, Pavitr, and Hobie scattered around him, each dropping a small device. Three, same as the one they’ve been trying to coral Mr. Ohnn in. Shit.

Miles scrambled to get up, but it was too late. Red encased him. His fist slammed into it. Nothing. He growled. A venom strike didn’t change that outcome. He punched it again before laying his palm on it and sending a surge of electricity into it. Still nothing.

“Miguel wasn’t kidding. It’s completely nullifying his bioelectricity,” Peter B said.

“Is something wrong with him? He’s like a wild animal,” Pavitr said.

Miles screamed, dragging his claws along the wall; it amounted to nothing but sparks. Electricity filled his core. Fury flowed through his veins. Not good enough. Never good enough. He would never be good enough. HE WAS NOT ENOUGH.

Energy surged out of him, crashing against the walls of his prison, cracking against the red panes. His ears were ringing. His teeth ground together as his body tensed like a live wire. His chest was tight. It was hard to breathe. His heart pounded against his ribs. The Spiders were yelling.

Then nothing.

Miles fell to his knees. All that and the cage still stood around him. His mask dissolved to make it easier to take in lungfuls of air. His breathing was ragged. He stared up at the others that stared back with apprehension. “Gwen?” Confusion laced his voice. “Peter?”

“Miles?”

He frantically scanned the red walls for flaws. “Wha– What’s going on?”

“Miles!” Gwen jumped forward, pressing a hand to the wall.

He flinched back. “No.” His eyes flickered between her and the cage surrounding him. “Let me out!”

“Woah, Miles–” Peter B stepped up.

“Not again! Don’t do this to me again!”

“Ey, maybe we listen to ‘im, yeah?” Hobie suggested.

He started hyperventilating. “Not again.”

“Uh guys, he doesn’t look so good,” Pavitr added.

“Ok, ok!” Peter B grabbed a device off his belt. “Calm down, we’re getting you out.” He pressed a button and the walls started dissolving.

Miles straightened.

“No! Don’t!” Too late Miguel.

Before the shields could reengage, Miles’ claws caught the edges of the opening and tearing it wide. With the cage breached and the beating it took from him earlier, the next surge of electricity shattered it. He webbed the controller out of Peter B’s grip, turning it over in his hands.

Miles giggled to himself. “I can’t believe you fell for that. Hey Mr. Ohnn, catch!” He tossed the controller over his shoulder, a black portal appearing to snatch it out of the air. He picked up one of the three devices as another portal opened up underneath him, landing him next to Mr. Ohnn.

“Had your fun?” Mr. Ohnn asked.

“You could say that.”

The Spiders that were chasing Mr. Ohnn were portaled away as they dove for him. “Time to go?”

“Yeah.”

“Miles!” Gwen stepped forward. “Don’t go! Whatever he’s telling you is a lie!”

He raised a brow. “Oh really?” he asked, amused.

“He's brainwashing you!” Pavitr said.

Miles snorted. “I think there’s been a big misunderstanding.” He patted Mr. Ohnn’s shoulder to get him to step back. “I chose this. In fact, this was my idea.”

The Spiders exploded into chatter.

“Misunderstanding?!”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Miles!”

“You wouldn’t choose this!”

“That’s exactly what a victim of brainwashing would think!”

Miguel was the only one that remained quiet, assessing. Funny that. Miles half expected the man to try and maul him again. “Your idea?”

Miles opened his arms wide. The chaos of the Spiders fighting the villains surrounded them. The city picked apart atom by atom behind him. People screaming. Fires burning. The world dying. “To destroy the multiverse.” Silence. Disbelief clear on their masks.

The horror on Peter B’s naked face was vindicating. Who knew being a villain could feel so good. “No,” his voice was small, energy sapped from him.

Miguel had a furrow in his brow, a look of constipation. “You’ve killed trillions.”

Miles’ grin was as sharp as a knife. “Dozens of universes.” He met Miguel’s eyes with the familiar glee of tagging a pristine wall with his art. “It turns out you were right. It’s so easy for it to all fall apart.”

There was fury in Gwen’s eyes, vitriol burning into Mr. Ohnn. “What did you do to him?!”

“I didn’t–”

Miles raised a finger over his shoulder to silence Mr. Ohnn. “I’m trying to do my villain monologue, and you’re talking to him?” He shook his head. “The disrespect.”

Gwen pulled off her mask, her expression pleading with him to see reason. “This isn’t you, Miles!”

“You don’t know me!" he said, with a snarl on his lips and disgust in his eyes. "You never did. We knew each other for what? A week?” He laughed. Was it normal for him to get such amusement from the anguish of people he once considered friends? “I’ve been with the Spot for way longer.”

“Miles, you’re a hero.” Peter B’s brows creased with desperation. “You’re Spiderman.”

A sharp laugh forced its way past his throat. Miles shook his finger at them. “That’s funny. No. No, I’m not.” He grinned, all teeth. His eyes met Miguel’s. “What was it you said? I was never meant to be Spiderman.” He shook his head like he was recalling a fond memory. “I see now you were right.”

Miguel looked uncomfortable, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “Miles–”

“You helped me realize a lot of things about myself, Miguel.”

The mangled corpses of the Spiders surrounded them.

“You were right. I’m not Spiderman.”

The screams of the glitching villains echoed in their ears.

“I never really was.”

The city fell silent.

“I was never supposed to be a hero.”

No more screaming. No more fires. No more sirens.

“So thank you for the course correction.”

Only the distorted trill of the quantum hole.

“I’m an anomaly.”

The sky died in yellow and oranges.

“I’m The Anomaly.”

The world shattered by his hands.

“And you can address me as such.”

Miles patted Mr. Ohnn on the shoulder, indicating he was ready to leave. A black warbling portal opened up behind him.

“You step through that portal, Miles, and there’s no turning back.” Miguel’s brows were creased, he could see it through the mask.

Miles wanted to see what stupid face he was making underneath it, to see the man that rejected him, that told him he was unworthy, realize that he couldn’t win. He smiled something softer, but his eyes only held malice. “See you back home, Spiders.”

#Spiderverse #platonic!spottedflowerfang #Miles Morales & Miguel O'Hara & The Spot #Miles Morales #The Spot #Peter B Parker #Gwen Stacy #Miguel O'Hara #The Anomaly #trashtexts

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d00mbunnie · 29 days

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Choose your own adventure part 3

“I’m game. Let’s go” you say as you get up, brushing the grass off of you.

Mable hops into the air and punches the air with her adorable fist. She squeaks in delight as she sets off toward a set of bushes nearby. She dives in, seemingly searching for something. You follow her over trying to see what she’s doing. You’re partially wondering if she’s going to invite you in to a warren, a typical home for non-talking rabbits, but you hear a click to your surprise and a door pops up. You look down. It’s a door leading down like how in old video games you would see a set of stairs descending to the next level in a dungeon.

“So it’s underground?” you ask.

“we’ll This entrance is.” Mable explains, “there a multiple entrances to Safe haven 13. There’s also one for Safe Haven 5 behind the tree you were sitting against.”

“So, There’s more than one Safe Haven?” You ask now understanding why there was a number.

“Yup.” Mable replies as she descends the stairs on all for legs, “There’s a total of 72 worldwide at the moment. You know there are about 8 billion humans now, right?”

“Yeah. There’s a ton of us now.”

As you walk down the stairs, following the Black rabbit who would have completely disappeared from your view if not for her red waist coat, you notice how cool it is and the smell of the ocean. You are nowhere near a beach, but you can feel a gentle sea breeze. Perhaps Safe have is an Island or at least near a coast.

Mable takes one of the torches from the wall and uses a Zippo lighter to set it a flame. Her tiny paw has thumbs, which you know other rabbits don’t, you probably shouldn’t be surprised at this because she also walks up right and talks, but you can’t help but wonder how she came to be. Will you meet other talking animals? Then you think to yourself technically I am a talking animal and other animals have thumbs even ones that aren’t sapiens. You did have a cat with a thumbs once as a kid, sepple pawed the Vet called it. It wasn’t apposeable, but who wouldn’t want an extra toe bean. You’re thoughts wander as you follow Mable, it’s dark and peaceful until maybe stops and sets the torch on the next to another door. This one is not in the floor, but in a wall like normal. Mable turns around and says.

“Welcome to Safe Haven 13!” she points to the stone frame with the words Safe Haven 13 engraved at the top.

She takes out a large pewter key this time. It’s a very old fashion key with a stylish design at the top. She places it in and beings to turn it with a grunt. Her arms must be too small or the lock is old and maybe rusted, but she manages to open it finally.

“That door always gives me trouble. Sorry for the wait” She pulls the handle and drags the door back. The door is clearly very heavy, but she manages again. You look up to see a very old stone path seemingly running into the horizon. The path divides two tall fields of green grass.

You step out from the door amazed by the vastness of the sky. It looks like it’s midday but there’s no sun in the sky, which sort of makes sense you did go into the ground. You turn around and look at the door. It’s seemingly attacked to nothing. You walk around to the other side of it but from this angle it is completely gone. You walk back to where you were and the door is there again.

“Try not to think about it too much.” Mable tells you, “Come on I want to introduce you to some people.”

You follow close behind with out saying anything as you walk a long the path. In the distance buildings come into view. The closer you get the more of the town comes into view with two different forests on either side. The one to your left is bright and cheery. The one on the right is pretty, but the sky over it is darker, like twilight and seems a little ominous.

“what’s the name of the town.” You finally break the silence.

“Oh, We just called it the town. Doesn’t really need a name since there’s only one.” Mable tells you nonchalantly.

“Makes sense.” You say, “Are we going to me the other at the town?’

“Yes. We’re going to the café. It’s the building that’s shaped like a giant toadstool.” Mable says point it out.

You notice that each building is unique and charming, just the way anyone would expect a building in a magical pocket world to look. The buildings, although each well build and interesting in it’s architecture are completely unalike, Like they hired a 100 different architects from a 100 different societies to build each building with no care for any cohesion.

You and Mable reach the Giant toadstool building. Mable opens the door for you and you walk in. The room is cozy and dimly lit. A tall, young black man in a wizard hat and robe stands up and waves to you both. Next to him is a young Asian kid with multiple-colored streaks in their hair. They’re sitting in a chair with their knees up to their chest. At a table diagonal behind them is an old white man with thick grey clothing and very shabby clothing. He is eating what seams to be the most perfect sandwich in existence he looks so happy eating he doesn’t even look up at you when you enter. Sitting in a dark corner next to the coffee bar is a woman with red hair and glasses reading a book. She looks up quick and back to her book with out saying a word. You’re not sure if her grumpy expression is because of the book or you or if her face is just like that.

Mable ushers you to sit at the table with the first. Mable introduces you as the new potential client. The others beginning to introduce themselves

“Hi. I’m James. I’ve been coming here for over a year now.” The young black man introduces himself, “I hope you like it here as much as I do. My pronouns are he/him and I’m from Chicago originally”

“I’m Kiki. I’m from New York city. I like dancing and I’m an architectural student. My nouns are they/them” Kiki tells you flourishing her hand.

“Oh! I’m Dimitri.” Says the old man in a Russian accent, “I’m from a cave in the woods, but I was born and raised in Saint Petersburg. I came here a month ago because I’ve been questioning my whole hermit life style…oh right my pronouns are He/him.”

You wonder if you can have the exact same sandwich as Dimitri. You look over to the girl in the corner. She looks up surprised and closes her book.

“Oh, right, sorry. I’m Moira. I’m new like you. I just got here three days ago. I’m from America too. I’m a She/her.”

She seems less scary now that she’s talking to you. She must be shy you think. You turn your attention to Mable who has brought everyone drinks. It is at the time you notice that the barista is a black and white pitbull. His name tag reads duke. You take your drink which is surprisingly the exact same drink you had back in the park. You forgot all about it since Mable started talking to you.

“I thought the best way to start would be with a tour, but instead of me taking you around I thought it’d be best if one of the other clients here showed you around.” Mable explains, “they can give you the firsthand experience of what it’s like for clients. I’d probably just wind-up sounding like a brochure or something.”

“That’s a good idea.” You say as you take a sip of your drink.

“so, who would you like to show you around, then?” Mable asks

#choose your own adventure #CYOA #cyoa part 3

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claire-starsword · 9 months

Text

Shining Force 2 Pre-release Coverage

Post on the first game here

Let’s continue our deep dive on old magazines. Again most of my info here are from the Beep! Megadrive magazine, but I did manage to find some footage from old Sega videos as well.

For context again, the game released in Japan on October 1993.

June 1993

Unlike the first game, which showed very few regions during pre release, this one is eager to show a bunch of new places, probably because it can’t generate hype about a unique battle system anymore. Bowie and a parade of peculiar placeholders take a good tour around the continent.

Save for the wall decoration and possibly the colors, it’s hard to judge on print, New Granseal’s castle is pretty much the final version. Same for Arc Valley's escher-like dungeon, as the magazine puts it.

Volcanon’s shrine is also here, and the magazine claims to have seen “a huge monster” on the top of the shrine, so Volcanon is likely already there as well. They wonder if it could be a boss but I think it’s just baseless speculation since it’s clearly not a battle scene, and little story was revealed at this point.

The monument looks wack, the shop signs are huge, and doors are different, but otherwise Hassan looks very close to the final version.

Bedoe is dark, that particular torch is also not in the final version, although there are torches in the town. Would be a pain in the ass to navigate, but might be just a test of the dark effect.

HQ already has the same vibe, but lots of different details, like different tables, cups and flowers vases on them, no stone walls, etc.

But enough of that, let’s stop pretending the Placeholder Force isn’t the wackiest and most amusing thing in these screenshots. What do we have there.

Bowie seems mostly complete, which makes sense as I’ll show in a second that his design was already announced. There are still a couple differences though, his clothes are blue instead of white and his cape has a golden line. His design might have been quickly revised at some point?

There’s a bunny girl NPC. Because of course the first thing these devs hopped to make was a bunny girl NPC. I’m actually more shocked that they did not keep her. Also I’m saying NPC with some certainty because as you can see comparing with Bowie, playable characters tend to have one less pixel between the eyes. So I don’t think she’s a scrapped character or anything.

Mae is here! Because of course it makes sense to use a character from the previous game as placeholder. As opposed to, you know, drawing a whole bunny girl. Her lower body was recolored to orange/yellow for some reason though.

There’s a wyvern sprite that does make it to the final game as an enemy. Curiously that shot of New Granseal shows more wyverns flying around as well. It makes no sense to use flying placeholders for the soldiers that should be there, so I wonder if there were supposed to be birds flying in the scenario or something, it would be neat.

There’s a cute little girl NPC with twintails who sadly didn’t make it. I don’t have anything to say about this.

Finally, true nerds like me fans of this blog will have certainly recognized the warrior sprite as an unused sprite from the first game:

From the side however, it was clearly edited, the helmet losing detail, getting shorter horns, and the whole guy getting shorter as well. My theory is that this guy was on the process of becoming this:

and maybe later Jaha, as this NPC is already very similar to him, and his design was already announced as well. In fact, that’s what we’ll talk about next. Besides these screenshots, there are four characters introduced in this article.

This kid is the protagonist!?

He is the protagonist who will represent you and travel through the world of Shining Force II. It seems he lives in the castle town of Granseal, but has no adventuring experience yet. From here on the both of you will have an exciting journey together!

The princess of Granseal!?

The princess of the country of Granseal, where the protagonist lives. She seems to be the main female character for Shining Force II. Her long hair and beautiful dress are nice. How will she get involved with the protagonist? We look forward to see it.

Jaha

“We’re the side characters!?“

Wielding a huge axe, he’s a bad influence for the protagonist, and a hobbit warrior. Just like the protagonist, he’s still in training and has no adventuring experience. Really bad at studying in school.

Slade

The greatest thief in Granseal. He shares the stolen treasures with poor people. Clearly a kind of Nezumi Kozo.

As the link above says, Nezumi Kozo (rat brat) is the nickname of a japanese thief who later became a kind of Robin Hood-esque folk hero as it was assumed he helped the poor as well with his crimes, and also apparently never hurt a victim. There’s an obvious inspiration here.

Producer Hiroyuki Takakashi doesn’t reveal much of the story at this point, only that it will be a different continent than the first game, and also have more events happening one after another unlike SF. He also says that there would be battles different than the army vs. army setting of SF. There are also talks of how certain details of the system and graphics were being reworked, and already talks of being able to choose between promotions, but it’s all very vague.

Later in this month, a demonstration of the game was presented at the Tokyo Toy Show. I couldn’t confirm it as there doesn’t seem to be a recording of it anywhere, but it’s likely a lot of the footage from here on is from that.

July 1993

Article opens up with an interview with the Takahashi brothers, but there’s not much to note. They mention being in the point of writing the game’s ending, and when asked about the presence of robots and such in the previous game, mention that while the Ancients are always a part of the Shining Series since SitD, this game would lean more into the fantasy vibes.

Also, up to this point, they had been working on both SF2 and Gaiden 2 at the same time. Gaiden 3 released in early July so from here on they’re free to focus on SF2. Or maybe not, because there’s already talks of a Gaiden 3 being planned. For better and for worse, these people could not stand still a second.

(To digress a bit, it’s also peculiar because the Final Conflict strategy guide mentions the game was originally planned for the Mega Drive. The Gaiden series was a Game Gear thing, so perhaps there was a whole different game being considered at this point which got shelved to make way for Final Conflict.)

Back to the topic, we get a few more screenshots with the Placeholder Force.

Most places seen like the final version, but this house/village in front of the ancient shrine was removed.

We then get pictures of what is likely a later build with more familiar characters being worked on.

The Caravan debuts, and we also finally get the first battle scenes.

Taros is already here as the most eye-catching part for the 90′s kids. I on the other hand am loving a lot more how the platform neatly informs you it is a test only. The UI also does not show the character’s class, even though it will in the final version.

And Luke is here! Except maybe not. His name onscreen says Nick. Obviously this could be an issue of them using the rename cheat, but that doesn’t happen for any other character in these pre release footages, and would be a bizarre move. It’s possibly a placeholder name derived from Sonic Co., (like Max is likely derived from Climax Entertainment, now you know). The interesting thing is that this sprite and its palettes in the final game don’t quite match Luke nor Skreech’s design, and Luke is also the only character to not get a sprite change upon promotion, so it’s easy to believe that was some delay or complication in finalizing these guys.

We also get a look at the Grans-Parmecia Shrine map, which is very much done as well. The monsters on the top however is frustrating me to no end because they look very familiar but I can’t remember where from. Anyway, definitely didn’t make it to this game at least.

We also get our first look at Sarah and Kazin, except Kazin is so cut off on this screen it’s not worth mentioning him now, there will be plenty of time to talk about Kazin later. Sarah on the other hand is easy to see, and she’s clearly not herself yet. Her outfit is what will become hers and Karna’s vicar outfit in the final version, but she also has a hat, which only the vicar battle sprite will have in the end.

It’s okay, she’s an important character so i’m sure they will sort this out in a timely manner. Anyway! We do see someone else there who is also from the starting gang and with a complete design. Chester’s design is indeed announced at this point, though with little character info. There’s also a small synopsis of the story by now, which is basically “Slade steals a treasure in the shrine and bad stuff begins to happen”. We then get a map of Parmecia.

I don’t think I’ve posted an official map of Parmecia before, so here it is for comparison. They do look pretty much the same already. Volcanon’s shrine is weirdly not marked in the map, but is mentioned in the text. Lemon and Creed’s names are mentioned as well.

August 1993

The article of this month explicitly mentions the Tokyo Toy Show so that’s nice for reference. While I couldn’t confirm it, by comparing the footage I also think this Sega video (the Shining Force part starts at the 6 minute mark) is from the same month, so I’ll be using footage from there as well.

The demo showed an early version of the jail cutscene with Slade. While the dialogue seems to be same as the final version, Sarah does not have her portrait nor her final sprite yet, and the other characters seem to be just following Bowie in line as opposed to having their own places in the cutscene. The old man NPC also has different colors, and there seems to be someone else in the room.

If you watch further in the footage you’ll see everyone keeps following Bowie, even hilariously clipping through walls at points. I’ve joked about it before but turns out I was right, they did put some good effort into coding the followers’ movement, because they might have intended to use it more, if not through the whole game.

Lemon’s sprite was not done at the time, and the event of the Galam army’s departure was likely simplified since the final version involves not only Lemon, but the king as well, who seems to have no placeholder here.

The Caravan scene is also shown, although using the dwarf village theme, and having Jaha instead of Peter. Given that it’s just one character as opposed to the big team you would have at this point, it’s possible he’s just standing in for Peter and not actually intended to be in the scene. The next one raises further questions though.

The Kraken scene is also shown, and the whole starting team is here. Slade’s text is very much in same vein as Oddler’s in the final version, warning everyone of the Kraken’s appearance, but it’s still different text, as Oddler speaks more politely, so this version was written for Slade himself, no placeholding.

It deeply hurts my heart to consider Slade was supposed to have a bigger role and got scrapped, though I feel I know why this happened. This series really likes to take its gameplay deaths seriously for some reason, and it would probably be too costly to constantly check which characters are alive and have alternate versions of a cutscene to adjust for that. That’s why the first game mostly has just Nova talking (though characters still show up for the ending at least). The Gaiden games go around this a bit more by reviving everyone at the start of every chapter and on endings, and also using characters who just joined the force in the cutscenes as they can’t have died already.

This game made Peter and Lemon, two immortal characters who carry most of the conversations from the moment they join alongside Astral. It also seems to delay some characters joining as playable characters for this reason. For example, Kazin is not playable through the path to Hawel’s house even though he’s following you, because he has to be alive for the cutscene there. Pretty much every instance of a character following you instead of joining the force seems to be because of this.

There are a few instances that show they might have considered other approaches though. There are numerous instances at the start of the game where characters revive automatically, since there’s a lot of dialogue with them. After the first battle, before the jail scene, upon leaving Grans Island, and during the one year timeskip. Of course, they all resurrect during the time Princess Elis is asleep in the ending as well. There’s also as far as I remember a single instance where you must have a particular character alive to progress, if Elric is dead he won’t open the passage to Creed’s mansion.

Of course, they might have felt that characters would have to be constantly revived for do more scenes with that, and it would ruin their game design, and it’s not intuitive to know that you must revive a particular someone to proceed, so they might just have scrapped this kind of plot. Still sucks given that it’s kind of a self imposed limitation, plenty of games just treat defeat in battle as different to death and let the characters take part in the story as needed. But alas, back on topic.

Plenty of other battle maps are shown, albeit with different enemies and different stats. A very minor detail is that the golem sprite has red eyes. In the final version they have green eyes except for Claude.

Sorcerer spells are in, although they don’t seem to be fully implemented yet, in the footage Kazin uses them through the attack command as opposed to an actual spell. Perhaps because of that it is also single target.

Speaking of Kazin, I did say we have to talk about him, now’s the time.

His sprite seems to be much like the final one, but blue. It is possible there are small differences though, because his staff, not in the final version, seems to use at least three colors besides black and white, when all final weapons in the game use only two. This is because the game loads the character and weapon colors into a single 16 color palette, so to have more colors in one you sacrifice colors of the other. Weapons in the first game did have three colors so this might be a leftover.

Small details for big nerds though, as I said the design is pretty much complete, including details like the bag and the feathers he carries around, which are less generic than I’d expect for a placeholder. Perhaps he already had a tentative design floating around.

More than that, the map sprite seen in all these pictures did make it to the final game. As his sorcerer sprite.

It looks nothing like the sorcerer design, so it’s easy to accept it was designed for something else. Let’s compare with the final mage sprite.

Hair changed to be spiky, but everything else is basically the same, including the green staff which matches his final artwork. It’s likely he had some concept art already around, though it wasn’t officially revealed so perhaps there was some intention of changing it. But it’s noticeable that he shows up in plenty of footage while nothing is seen of Sarah, who is not finalized either. He was at least further in the development.

The color thing is also interesting. Kazin does get to be blue as sorcerer, and also as wizard... in the map, and the game’s cover, a rare case of official illustration of a promotion. In battle however his sprite is brown. That palette, though? Is the last one set for the wizard sprite, even though he should be the first wizard. And the first palette for it? That’s right, blue. In the final version it is used for Chaz, who does have the exact same clothes but is the last wizard in the game. It would not surprise me if there was a swap at some point. And of course it makes sense to not use two blue palettes for the same sprite. The question is, why design the characters with the same colors then? I would love to get an answer.

September 1993

Signs of progress, every picture is this article is from a different build, since character classes now show up in the UI.

Sarah still does not have her map sprite.

Her battle sprite and finished design do finally show up in the next pages though, so they might have just not got to it at the time, even if it feels silly to me as map sprites are simpler, perhaps exactly because of that they weren’t top priority. Either way, it just feels wild to me when compared to how Chester and Jaha and even Kazin seem to have been done.

As for the actual point of the picture, that’s Bowie casting Freeze level 4. Normally I’d chalk this up to debugging shenanigans, as the first game and Gaiden I as well give the heroes extra spells in debug mode, but, that generally also comes with jacked stats including 99 MP. Bowie here is at max unpromoted level but his stats look normal.

For further consideration here’s another screenshot of him at level 4 knowing Egress and Blaze level 1. Everyone’s stats look normal so this looks like his actual intended progression. Also while drafting this post and having it blasted to oblivion because tumblr can’t save properly apparently, I realized this explains a bit of the wackiness when it comes to magic progression in this game. Did you know that the Kraken is weak to ice? Have fun trying to exploit that weakness. In the final game, you go a big stretch of the game without access to Freeze. If you promote Kazin to wizard and don’t pick Tyrin at Creed’s, you’re basically locked out of ice spells for most of the game, until you finally find Chaz. That always struck me as very weird, and I’m realizing now it might be because they might have stuck with magical Bowie here for a good time, and didn’t rebalance things when changing it.

Sarah debuts with a proper sprite for once.

Blue Kazin however remains undeterred. You might also notice his staff is switching colors weirdly during animation. I’ve had this problem on my first hacking attempts of the game due to not setting up proper Mega Drive colors, and it’s amusing me to no end that it happened to the actual devs as well. Though I don’t know that much on how animations are done so the problem might have a different origin as well. Anyway, fun.

We also get to see Kazin’s full spell list, and while mostly the same, he has the Attack spell instead of Desoul, much like Tao was the only wizard to have it in the first game. In the final version, only Frayja learns this spell, making this the only classic Shining Force game where it is a priest spell instead of a mage one, so it doesn’t surprise me at all that Kazin was meant to have it.

It’s also worth noting that in the final game, Kazin is the only character who learns Desoul. Either the spell wasn’t in (the article mentions every other wizard and priest spell except for it), or someone else was meant to learn it, or they hadn’t even planned that far ahead.

We get our first character bios in a long time.

Protagonist - Bowie

A boy who lives in the castle town of Granseal. He used to be a mischievous boy, but nowadays is well behaved (?) and studying hard as Astral’s pupil. He’s friends with Jaha and Chester, and they play together almost every day.

The thief Slade

The self proclaimed great thief of justice. But he’s not much of a bad guy, and shares his stolen treasures with poor people. He seems to main culprit behind the story’s beginning!?

Warrior Jaha

Bowie’s friend, and a hobbit who hates studying the most out of all of Astral’s pupils. Really strong in battle.

The knight Chester

Bowie’s friend, and another pupil of Astral’s, but while he’s a gallant centaur, his one flaw is that he’s not very assertive. He often comes up as just a yes-man to Bowie. Don’t you have friends like that too? Treat him well.

Priest Sarah

An elf girl and also Astral’s pupil. She’s helpful and likes taking care of others, being kind of a big sister to Bowie and the others. Pulling out that sisterly authority at times, she might be kind of annoying?

Sometimes I wonder if Sarah went through some kind of rewrite during development since none of her official descriptions bring up her being the actual mischievous kid who plans to sneak into the castle and is not even apologetic about it, but then I remember that this series is uhhhh, ah, erm, oof, hmmmm, about women, so yeah, I don’t think that’s what’s going on here.

Sage Astral

Currently retired, he has now taken Bowie and the other kids as pupils. He’s also a notable person who knows the king personally. At the story’s beginning, he berates these troublesome kids while also giving them a chance to go on the adventure.

Sheela

A mysterious and beautiful human girl. She used to train under Astral, but left for some reason. While she doesn’t have much relation with the story, we look forward to see just how will she and Bowie meet. She’s quite sexy!!

King Granseal

King of the country of Granseal at the south of Grans Island. Bowie and the others live in its castle town. Because the queen passed away too soon, he dotes a lot on Princess Elis. Ooh.

Princess Granseal

The princess of Granseal, she’s a happy girl loved by the king and her people. We’re quite curious to know how she’ll be connected to the heroes. Maybe in the end she’ll be a party member!?

OOF

Kiwi

A new character appears!

The green turtle Kiwi is the mascot-like character this time. Of course he can take part in battles, but he’s not very strong. But he seems to hide some special talent!? What exactly is still a secret for now. He’s kind of cute, maybe.

-The previous game had Yogurt, of famous sayings (?) like “do you like my helmet” and “I don’t get it”.

After the magazine, we get more Sega footage (starts around the 4:45 mark).

The intro seems pretty much done, except for a Gizmo attacking the king instead of Geshp. And it’s easy to think “oh it’s a placeholder”, but in the final version the king is really possessed by a Gizmo and Geshp doesn’t show up until much later, so I’m not sure? It’s not a very important change at least.

Sarah finally has her final sprite and portrait, so this is a different build. This does mean I can finally go bully the final graphics of this game a bit more.

Sarah’s final priest sprite is not based on her artwork, and is instead just a recolor of the vicar spritesheet, which as I mentioned, is from the placeholder sprite we’ve seen all this time. You can even notice some leftover grey shading that doesn’t quite fit with the blue. Compare it with Blue Kazin’s robes that I’ve posted earlier, which use only the two shades of blue in the palette.

This sprite was a massive rush job, is what I’m saying. A lot of map sprites in this game feel the same, learning how to edit graphics is both a blessing and a curse because you can’t unsee these things.

This footage shows up a lot of final battle sprites not seen until now, especially promotions, like Wolf Baron Gerhalt, Hero Bowie, and so on. I find it hilarious that it also brings up Kiwi when everywhere else they were trying to be coy about Kiwi’s promotion.

The weird thing though, is that the footage ends with the sorcerer spell display from the old builds. Did they not have footage of the final sorcerer graphics? Likely. Let’s bully the final graphics some more.

No fingers! Misplaced weapon! His ass was not designed in a sane and timely fashion!

So yes it is fully possible that the sorcerer sprite was not done even as the game was already like halfway through the door.

The funniest part? In this later build footage we only get a vague glimpse of Kazin.

I’m sorry the screenshot is horrible since it goes by fast, but that’s Blue Kazin.

Of course, most characters in the scene seem to be promoted, even special promotions like Brass Gunner Elric. At the same time May and Slade remain unpromoted. So is this Blue Kazin already repurposed as the sorcerer sprite? Or is the mage sprite still not done?

We might never know the truth, but the fact is that the pre release coverage ends here, and we didn’t get a single glimpse of his final artwork. In a sense he might have been a bigger mess than Sarah.

I have more to write but tumblr has already messed up this draft four to five times and I’m tired, so I’m splitting this into two posts even though i didn’t want it just to see if the problem is post size.

#shining force #shining force 2 #shining series #sf2 bowie #sf2 jippo slade #sf2 jaha #sf2 huey chester #sf2 kazin #sf2 sarah #this was fun to research but tumblr is making me want to kill something very hard not gonna lie

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