#and i had the displeasure of picking two series recently that i just either could not get into

[vahalia-cress-ffxiv]

Feeding Feelings

Vahalia being gone and coming and going on a whim was nothing new to her character, business had brought her all over and she often would be gone from several hours to even days at the drop of a hat. This time, it had been personal.

It was very personal.

Weight had been lifted off her shoulders which made the trip worth it despite her heavily disliking of the hot air and sand; the cold nights were nothing new to an Ishgardian woman – they knew the cold well.

Six months was kind in many ways though the time that had passed also brought plenty of stressors as well. She hadn’t known that she and Hakan had been separated for that long until it passed from her mouth only days prior; everything had been bleeding together. Even now she had been losing track of time during her time away. What was claimed to be a couple of days in Thavnair had lasted nearly four. Perhaps too much time had been placed in to tending to her personal affairs.

Why not get them in order while she could?

She stopped in her trek back to the Cress estate from the plaza, finding it an adequate time to pause and reflect, there was no hurry to make it back and she felt a welcome reprieve in just being alone with her thoughts for a brief stint. In her hand the ticket from earlier was folded and tucked neatly into her glove to discard later.

Several steps had brought her to the stone wall and she casually gazed down into the cold mists below. From one extreme to another – the bonechilling winds of Ishgard to the sweltering heat of Thavnair and back. And while she had felt the weight of one problem rise away, it was soon replaced with another. Reciprocity was in short supply.

The state in which she had found Hakan was something she had expected; packed away in some dark corner of a venue with cigar in hand and entertaining the company around him. At the time when Vahalia approached, she didn’t care, held absolutely no courtesy for the men who filed out soon after her arrival, a simple nod from Hakan ushered them out without question.

He had made friends it seemed.

Business partners at best.

“I could say it's anything and no one I, nor you, can dispute that. The alchemists of Radz can’t at least. Besides--"

He told her.

Shortly after arriving Vahalia had noticed something….other-worldly it felt like crawling over Hakan in the darkness. No, it had been something else entirely. At first he explained it as a poison, almost of magickal make and that it had been laced into the blade of the Captain he had recently went to blows with. The same Captain Vahalia had the displeasure of meeting – The Captain of The Mirage. The Captain who was no more and fed to the bellies of Osric’s wolves.

Her carelessness had set a series of events into motion which unknowingly, Hakan had paid for. The both were stubborn through and through though it was he who was dying and yet, Vahalia had the nerve to express how his leaving had made her feel. Dead, empty, numb, hollow.

Had she not been those things before hand anyways? Surely she was aware. 

He did not return her affections beyond that of the physical – in his own way he looked at her like she was a painting worthy of a thousand words yet he never spoke them. How very Hakan of him.

What was she expecting?

Nothing.

Truth was, she had expected the typical, explosive fight to combust between the two at the single drop of a sentence or word. No, instead she had gotten what she needed from the event – closure. But it was anything but. Not closed….never closed.

She could never truely be done with him until either of the two died.

Taking him to the grave – thats how it would be.

Pursing her lips, Vahalia turned in the direction of home and began to embark once again, this time picking up the pace if only to get back and see that Valeria had been well cared for as she expected her to have been in her absence. There was business to tend to, a welcomed reprieve to distract her wandering thoughts from replaying everything in her head.

All she needed was a small reminder of who she was and her trip to Thavnair did that. 

#Blubs #Stories

[whump-a-la-mode]

Hi! First of all, your writing is ASTOUNDING. I adore how you characterize. Secondly, I have a prompt idea:

A Villain who is falling in love with a Hero, but won’t admit it to themself. They stop being able to effectively fight Hero because they don’t want to hurt them. But Supervillain notices, so they capture Hero and use them to lure Villain in.

-Wicky

🥺🥺🥺 Thank you so very much! You just made my day. I thank you for the compliment and the prompt! I sure hope I did it justice, and I hope you enjoy!

CW//Injuries, threats, implied torture

Villain’s world spun as their skull cracked against the rough concrete of the roof. Opening their eyes, their field of vision was filled with only an array of stars.

Everything hurt.

They were convinced, in that moment, that there was not an inch of their flesh that was left unbruised, not a rib left unfractured. Breathing on its own was an ordeal, an ordeal that they endured only out of pure necessity.

Pain rippled through the stocks of jelly they had once called limbs as the villain scrambled first to hands and knees, and finally to their feet, even as unsteady as they were. They could do nothing but gasp as they faced down their opponent.

There was something in Hero’s eyes. Something that even their nemesis, their sworn, life-long foe could not quite name. It was not quite sympathy, no, but it was not quite pity, either. Something inbetween, perhaps, with only the slightest garnishing of regret.

“Come on, Villain.” It was with a pleading tone that the hero spoke, as though attempting to coax a frightened cat down from the top branches of a Redwood tree. “Just stand down! You can’t win this. We have you surrounded. No harm will come to you- No more harm.”

Yet, the villain only shook their head.

For any outsider, the matchup would have looked more like a massacre, waiting to happen. Villain themself was perhaps not the picture of musculature, but what villain was? No, they may not have been the strongest. But everyone knew what power they held in their palms, the lightning they could unleash at will. Enough to topple the building upon which they stood. Enough to topple the whole city, perhaps. The city had yet to so much as see their full potential.

But it was their potential that the villain now refused to use.

Hero, on the other hand, was... well, they weren’t much. As strong as they were, as clever, as smart, superstrength could only do one so much good. Villain could have destroyed them in passing, with the snap of a finger!

Why wasn’t the hero in the nearest emergency room? Even Villain themself wasn’t entirely sure.

“I’m not giving up, asshole!” They snarled, balling their hands to fists. It would be so easy. So very simple to send a torrent of lightning forth, to shock Hero within an inch of their life. Hell, Villain used their powers to make popcorn on the weekends!

But, they couldn’t. They couldn’t imagine Hero, the poor thing, the pitiful little fool, fallen to the ground. The very thought of using their powers against their opponent made them feel sick.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” Hero spoke, eyes wide and glimmering with that same mix of sympathy and regret.

“Too bad.”

And, with that, the rooftop once more became a battleground. Villain surged forward, met in the center by their nemesis. A blow to the side of their head sent them stumbling.

They couldn’t go on like this, they knew as their vision clouded once more with stars. Another hit and they would be unconscious, in the custody of the so-called good guys. They couldn’t do that.

They had two choices.

Three. Three choices.

The first? To take the hit. To bite the bullet, to find themself behind bars.

The second? To hurt Hero. To wipe that oh-so-innocent quiver from their lips. To destroy-

No. They had two options. That wasn’t even on the table. Villain could be beaten, or they could flee.

It was with a shivering gasp that they chose the second.

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Sidekick placed down their fork with a resounding clack. In the silent room, the sound resembled the ring of a gong.

“Are you absolutely certain you’re alright?” They asked with a quirked brow. With the day turning to evening, they had left their sidekick’s uniform behind, replaced now with a casual set of garments. After all, the restaurant at which they were eating was far from fancy. That wasn’t the type of villain that their mentor was.

“Of course I’m alright. Do I look like some kind of ailing senior citizen?” Villain muttered under their breath as they looked over in displeasure at their sidekick. For someone so young, they certainly had a mouth.

“Not now. But on the battlefield last night-”

“I’m fine. I’m up and walking, aren’t I?”

“It’s not about that.” Sidekick shook their head. “It was in the battle. You could’ve taken out Hero easy-”

“Keep your voice down, we’re in public.”

“Sorry.” They lowered their tone. “But, I’ve seen you take Hero out dozens of times. Recently, though, you’ve been all over the place. You can’t even land a single hit! I’m worried. You’ve lost your edge. Up on that rooftop, it was like you were somewhere else entirely.”

Villain had been somewhere else entirely, not that they would ever dare to admit it. They had been lost, hopelessly lost- Lost in the eyes of their damn nemesis.

“I just wasn’t on the ball. Everyone has off days.” They grumbled, turning their embarrassed gaze away.

“Everyone has off days. But you’ve been having an off month! Don’t think I haven’t noticed that it’s just them. Just Hero.”

“They’re getting better.”

“So are you.”

“Really, I’m fine.”

Sidekick reached across the table, placing their palm upon the back of their mentor’s hand, which had unconsciously been balled into a fist.

“You nearly got captured, last night. I don’t know what I’d do without you, Villain. If you’re sick, if something’s wrong, anything at all, you need to tell me.”

Villain suddenly spotted something very interesting on their shoes, and kept their gaze fixed there.

“It’s stupid.”

“Are you sick? Everyone gets sick sometimes, it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Not sick.”

“Then what?”

Villain gritted their teeth.

“Lovesick.”

Sidekick withdrew their hand in shock.

“What?”

“Look, it’s stupid! I don’t know. I shouldn’t be feeling that way about a hero, but- They’re a good person, I swear it. They want to help, and they’re kind, and I just can’t bear the thought of hurting them. What if I changed them? What if I hurt them, and that was what made them lose hope, lose faith? Then that’d be on my shoulders!”

“You’re saying...” Sidekick’s jaw was still ajar in shock. “You’re saying that you can’t fight Hero, because you’re in love with them?”

Villain looked up with a sigh.

“To put it shortly, I suppose.”

The both of them were shocked as a figure appeared next to their table. A sharply-dressed figure with a notepad.

“Are you two ready to order?”

“Yes, my apologies.” Villain cleared their throat. They and their sidekick presented their orders, which the waiter scrawled down with a series of understanding nods.

It was not until that particular waiter disappeared from the dining room that they slipped out of their disguise, and dialed a number into their phone.

“Hey, Boss? You might wanna hear about this.”

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To say Villain was in a bad mood would have been an understatement.

The injuries covering every last inch of their body, too, ached with every step they took. Bruises and beatings rippled, forcing them nearly to limp. Yet, they forced their gait to remain normal, even if it meant pain.

They couldn’t call attention to themself. Not when they were in civilian clothes like this, and not when they were on the streets. Still, they kept their head low and their sweatshirt hoodie up as they went along. No need to stick out in the crowd.

This was the only solace they ever got, after all. When some got frustrated, they would go for a drive in the night. But their vehicle was distinctive enough that that wasn’t an option for the villain.

Instead? They walked, moving along with the crowd as though they were a single fish in a school. Usually, this helped them calm down. Now, however, every step they took only made their thoughts spin more wildly.

First, it was Hero. Hero and their stupid eyes. Then it was Sidekick. It wasn’t that Sidekick had confronted them that made them so worried, it was that they’d noticed at all.

That meant that other people out there might spot their weakness. Might use it as an advantage. Who would it be, though? Hero themself? Or, even-

A gasp rippled through the crowd around them in a wave. Voices shouted and fingers pointed, all in the same direction. Villain wiggled their way out of the crowd in order to see what had caused such fuss.

A billboard. An electronic billboard.

An electronic billboard that no longer housed an advertisement for the latest cellphone or insurance scam. No. Upon the massive thing, multiple stories in height, surely, was broadcasted a video.

“Good evening, and I do apologize for interrupting. But I just had to get my friend’s attention.”

Villain’s breath caught in their throat. They would know that voice even if they had to pick it out of a crowd of thousands.

Most would have expected that two people so similar as Villain and Supervillain would get along, but the reality was just the opposite. Villain couldn’t call themself a good guy, no, but they had ethics. Morals. Real aims to work towards, rather than burning the city down and laughing among the flames.

Supervillain, on the other hand? There was a reason that they were so feared. Their goals were far grander than Villain’s.

To say that they had never been very good friends would be an understatement.

And, now? Now they were enemies. The video projected upon that billboard made that fact certain.

Supervillain themself was not visible in frame-- Perhaps that was lucky for Villain. Seeing that stupid face would have certainly goaded them into destroying the projection outright. Instead, the video displayed a room.

A concrete room, with a chair in the center. A chair that was far from empty.

It was always Hero’s eyes that they could not help but get lost in. Now, that wasn’t a factor. Not when the hero was so tightly blindfolded. Their soothing, calming voice, too, had been eliminated-- the cloth gag in their mouth was already soaked-through with spittle.

Tied to the chair, bound, gagged, and blinded, sat Hero.

“Now, I don’t want a ransom. No, no. I only want to see a dear friend of mine. And it has been oh, so hard to track them down.

So, Villain, dear?”

They shivered at the sound of their name. Their name.

“How about you come to my base, and pick up your little friend, here. Or else, I might just have to do something drastic.”

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For six hours, Villain did not move.

As soon as the broadcast had left the billboard, it had repeated itself upon every news channel that gave half a crap about the metropolis. National news, even international, with subtitles in two dozen languages telling of Supervillain’s threat.

They’d found out. Of course they’d found out.

Villain knew they  should have been furious. They should have strangled Supervillain, strangled Hero, strangled themself! After all, this was all their fault. Falling for a hero, how could they have possibly been so stupid?

Now, they stared. Hands balled to fists in their lap as yet another newscaster explained the same events, over and over again.

“Boss?” Sidekick’s voice was soft, nothing like their usual, nosy self. They sat in a chair behind their mentor, who was seated criss-cross on the floor.

There was no answer.

“Boss... What are you going to do?”

“I can’t leave them.”

“Leave who?”

“Leave Hero. You know what Supervillain is like! They’ll destroy them. Destroy the last good hero in the city.”

“You didn’t want to hurt them.”

“And I don’t want to see them hurt, either.”

“I know you don’t. But it’s all Supervillain has over you. You can just... Leave them, right? It’s not like Hero has any real power over you.”

“No.”

“No?”

“I have to.”

“You don’t!”

Villain stood.

“Yes, I do.” They spun around, stalking towards the room that held their costume. “And I need to wipe that damn smile off Supervillain’s face.”

#villain whumpee #hero whumpee #supervillain whumper #whump #whumper #whumpee #whumpblr #hero x villain #hero villain whump #hero villain prompt #whump prompt #whump writing #whump scenario

[aomineavenue]

Homesick (Miya Atsumu x f!Reader) | 002. a mother’s nightmare

Summary: Six years ago, L/N Y/N wouldn’t exactly say that she loves her life. It had always been problematic but her best friend, Miya Atsumu, since she was eight when she moved to Hyōgo, has always been there for her, and she wouldn’t change it for the world. However, things would always fall apart for her ever since, so she should have expected of such. Running away from her problems seemed like the easiest route to take at the time, so what happens when the past comes barging back into her life demanding answers? Will she be able to confront her demons?

Pairings: Miya Atsumu x f!Reader

Updates: irregular.

Genre: Angst, ANGST I LOVE ANGST, a lil bit of fluff here and there.

Warnings: Language, etc. (Will be mentioned once posted because I don’t want spoilers huehue)

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters except for the reader and my ideas. I do not claim any images used for content in this fic, everything goes out to their respective creators unless it is mentioned that it is mine.

Status: ongoing. | series masterlist

↩ the unexpected | a mother’s nightmare | no other choice  ↪

However, as the door swung open, he hadn't expected the person standing before him. His eyes widen slightly as he feels his shoulders grow tense at the abrupt appearance. "What are you doing here in Kanagawa?"

"Aw," the person before him chuckles, a soft grin playing on his lips as he steps back to pull the door wider, "I miss you too, brother."

Osamu rolls his eyes as he steps inside, "No, seriously. What are you doing here?"

"I can't believe you're here," 

You raise an eyebrow as you took a seat across from him, the soft chatter and calming music in the cafe flowed through the atmosphere, "Well, you said you wanted to catch up."

"Well, yeah..." He trails off sheepishly, "I just really hadn't expected it. Our last meeting only made it seem you were avoiding such conversation."

"You're right. I was, I kind of still am." You answer truthfully, "You have my friend to thank. Something about facing my demons one by one. It has been six years." 

He nods, a small smile on his lips as he spoke. "I suppose I should thank your friend then. Why don't we order something before anything else?"

Osamu stares sadly at the recent text you had sent to him, declining his offer to meet up once again, claiming that you were busy throughout the following week. He didn't want to doubt or push you, it didn't seem like you were pushing him away or anything either, but he still wanted to spend time with you. Only because the last time the two of you had met to catch up with each other, something was bothering him. He didn't know what, but the conversation the two of you shared in the cafe seemed as if you were being cautious with the information you shared. He couldn't blame you. It was going to take awhile before you could open up to him.

He enters the apartment complex that he was directed to by the address given to him, not bothering to scan his surroundings. He didn't know why he was here in the first place. Well, it wasn't as if he had anything better to do in the meantime anyway with his shop still under construction. He had officially made the decision to open his business up in the heart of Kanagawa just weeks ago, he wasn't going to admit it to anyone, but his encounter with you had prompted such a decision. Hence, he had been quite busy himself.

Stepping out of the elevator, he walks down the path towards his destination, stopping at a door with a golden plate with the numbers '210' engraved on it simply, nailed to its wooden structure. He brings a hand up and presses his knuckles against the wooden door before knocking on it gently at least three times to signal the owner of his arrival.

However, as the door swung open, he hadn't expected the person standing before him. His eyes widen slightly as he feels his shoulders grow tense at the abrupt appearance. "What are you doing here in Kanagawa?" 

"Aw," the person before him chuckles, a soft grin playing on his lips as he steps back to pull the door wider, "I miss you too, brother."

Osamu rolls his eyes as he steps inside, "No, seriously. What are you doing here?" 

Atsumu closes the door behind him before following his brother into the vast apartment, Bokuto coming into their line of sight who was sprawled comfortably on one of the couches in the living room, eyes focused on the show being projected from the flat screen television across the room, "We're using the Sports Complex here for our training the next couple of months, I figured it would be better for me to stay here instead of going back and forth between Hyōgo and here, plus coach's apartment is closer to the complex anyway." 

"And you didn't bother to share this information before you invited me over?" Osamu questions Bokuto directly who waves him off with a laugh as he says, "He said he wanted it to be a surprise." 

Osamu lets out a grunt of displeasure at Bokuto's response before plopping himself down next to him, his brows arched in curiosity as he looks around, "And what about the squirt and Sakusa? Will they be staying here with you guys? This place looks pretty big."

"Shoyo's coming over tomorrow," Bokuto shrugs his shoulders, picking up a piece of chip with his fingers from the bag of potato chips in his grasp, "Oomi on the other hand refuses to stay with us because of Atsumu's ‘unhygienic habits’, so he had decided to book a hotel room a few blocks from here." 

Atsumu huffs, running his fingers through his hair as he juts his lower lip into a pout, "I'm clean!" 

"Sakusa probably detest the fact you leave your dirty clothes everywhere," Osamu lets out a laugh, "So how've you been, Bo? I know you've been here the last couple of weeks."

Atsumu huffs, "I'm pretty upset you hadn't met with Bo when I told you, we would have met sooner." 

"I've been busy," Osamu shrugs before he snaps his full attention on his brother at the realization of what his twin was implying, "Wait, you've been here since then?"

"Yeah I have," Atsumu snorts, "Been staying over here with Bokuto, doing some extra training. He actually introduced me to these amazing kids! Reminds me of us, 'Samu when we were younger."

His brother tilts his head to the side, "Kids? You? That's cool, I guess. How do you guys have time to train some little kids while you have your own training?" 

Bokuto nods, "I mean it can be like extra training. I wouldn't want to disappoint them, really. Apparently, I'm the Great Uncle Bo who's the best in volleyball."

Atsumu watches his teammate plaster on a little grin and he couldn't help but let his own smile form at his friend's enthusiasm. "Well, it's only because you bribe them with food. Little Hiro is slowly warming up to me, just you wait, he'll adore me more." He teases.

Bokuto only rolls his eyes at him before glancing over to the wall clock nailed above the television, his eyes widening before scampering around the apartment to grab the things he needed, silently beating himself up for forgetting as the other two watched with amused curiosity. "I'll see you guys later!" 

The twins could only watch their friend move frantically around the room, "Why are you in such a hurry?" 

"I forgot I'm picking up the kids today for training." He huffs, a soft grumble leaving his lips after, "I'll see you guys later." 

"Oi! I should join you picking them up then! Why would Shizuma even ask you?" Atsumu protests, stalking after Bokuto, "This isn't fair. You just want to continue being the favorite uncle." 

Before Atsumu could tackle Bokuto to the ground to stop him, he slams the front door shut right in Atsumu's face. Osamu chuckles at the sight, "Who would have thought you would like kids? What's so important that you have to get those kids to like you anyway?" 

Atsumu walks back into the living room with a pout, "They told me Bo was cooler! It isn't fair, I've been so much cooler to them than he has." 

"Seriously, are my ears deceiving me or are you implying that these kids were enough to crush your pride?" Osamu teases, a small grin playing on his lips. "But really, tell me the truth. I know you. Why are you staying in Kanagawa?" He watches Atsumu shrug, keeping his gaze away from his, "Ah, let me guess? Yumi then? You're avoiding her?" 

Atsumu lets out a groan, "Lately she's been just so clingy and suffocating. It's not like we made things official or anything. I told her myself that I wasn't interested in that kind of relationship."

"I told you not to get involved with her," he chastised, "A few of my friends said she was toxic and yet what did you do?" 

Atsumu can only scoff, "Whatever, she'll go away eventually."

The two brothers continued to converse with each other as if they haven't seen the other in months when it had only been a few weeks since Osamu ventured to Kanagawa for his business scouting purposes. Eventually, Atsumu claimed it was probably time for him to head over to the Sports Complex since Bokuto was probably on the way from picking up the kids he shared to Osamu that he had grown fond of. 

Osamu watches his brother head towards the front door with his gym bag, a million thoughts swimming through his head. You. Should he come clean to Atsumu about reconnecting with you? 

He wasn't dumb, he knew how his brother had come to the conclusion of his true feelings for you ever since you decided to disappear, not that his brother would admit it to anyone, he did know his brother better, probably knew of it before his idiot brother came to realize. He knew what his brother felt since you disappeared. Anger. Regret. He knows that once you had disappeared that his brother had been beating himself up but at the same time he had learned to resent you for leaving him behind, not that Osamu would tell his brother off that if he were to be angry with anyone, it should be at himself for being so blind to your feelings for him. He didn't want to pour more salt to freshly exposed wounds at the time.

Despite you walking out on his brother had caused a drastic change in how Atsumu lived his life, he knows that somehow, deep down, Atsumu will always hold you dear to his heart, not that he would also admit to such, only spewing his distaste for you ever since you had left. He knew otherwise. Of course, a part of him wants to come clean to his brother, but a part of him also wanted to earn your trust first. He remembers how as much as the two of you shared memories created the past six years, you had avoided any formed conversation regarding his twin brother. He was torn.

"Hey 'Tsumu," Osamu calls out just as his brother was about to leave the apartment. Atsumu glances over his shoulders to look at his brother in curiosity. Osamu sighs with a shake of his head, "Ah..."

The last two weeks felt emotional, yet weird for you. The twins started their training with their new favorite Uncle Bokuto, as they so put it much to Asuma and Reiji's dismay. You, as much as the rest of your friends, including Bokuto, were just as shocked when the twins had started calling him 'the great Uncle Bo', of course, you were quick to protest to the twins that Bokuto probably didn't want them to call him such, but with a grinning Bokuto, he quickly claims he didn't mind, repeating the name the twins call him as if it were a term of endearment. You had questioned the twins what had brought on the idea of calling Bokuto their 'great Uncle Bo' and Hiro simply responded with a "because Uncles are cool and he's the coolest so far!". Needless to say, since then, a competition for the Best Uncle title between Uncles had commenced.

The past two weeks since their training had started, the twins seemed to wake up earlier than usual, it was as if they had more energy than they usually had, often barging into your room to wake you up and pestered you to make breakfast before their Uncle Shizuma, who had volunteered to join their training to watch over them, picks them up half an hour early for their training with Uncle Bo and his friend who Bokuto promises to introduce once everyone's schedules were flexible.

However, as the holiday season for Galaxy Standard was fast approaching its end, you were far too busy to accompany their training sessions or even agree to a get together with any of the boys. Luckily, you had an assistant manager to help you around. It was finally a brand new season for the boys to go on tour, and setting up everything was a handful. You barely had any time for yourself.

Before your busy schedule had taken over your life, you were able to reconnect with Osamu at least once like Asuma had suggested. It was a brief meeting, but you enjoyed yourself nevertheless. Of course, you still refused to come clean over your little secret, you just figured it wasn't the right time nor was it something that should be discussed since it was the first time reconnecting with Osamu. Somehow, it wasn't the time to do so with your busy schedule, you were exhausted enough taking care of little pranksters that you call sons, that the drama that might ensue from a bomb confession like that would probably be the cause of your downfall. Dramatic as it sounds, you couldn't afford being mentally exhausted during the hectic upcoming weeks. 

You were grateful that Osamu kept his distance respectfully, not pestering you to be in his company, no matter how eager he had seemed. The two of you texted back and forth, him wanting to set up another arrangement to meet, while you—declining, well you were busy, it wasn't as if you were avoiding him, it was the truth. 

"Uncle Shizuma is taking too long!" Atsuhiko whines from the living room, staring at the front door with a pout, his arms folded across his chest, "Uncle Bo is waiting for us!" 

You couldn't help but let out a chuckle not being used to the twins addressing Bokuto, whom they had just met recently, as their Uncle, as you placed your work tablet on the coffee table, plopping yourself down on the couch that Atsuhiro occupied reading his little storybook about dinosaurs. Your arms instantly wrap around the little boy's body, pulling him closer to you. You nuzzle your nose into the crook of his neck, receiving a giggle from his lips as he protests, trying to pry himself out of your grasp. "What? You don't like mommy's cuddles anymore? Are you a big boy now?" 

"No mommy," he shakes his head as he puts the storybook away, only to wrap his short arms around your neck to hug you closer, "I love mommy's cuddles even when I get big. Just tickles." 

The doorbell echoes throughout the room and before you could muster any form of response, Atsuhiko jumps from the couch claiming that he'll answer it. You could only protest with a yell, extracting your arms away from Atsuhiro to follow him in case it was a stranger. 

"Atsuhik—" 

"Uncle Bo! You're here!"

You halt in your footsteps as you blink a couple of times, wondering if you were hallucinating. Why was he here? How did he even know where you lived? 

"Uncle Bo!" Atsuhiro cries out, jumping out of his seat and rushing over after slinging one of the straps of his backpack on his shoulder, his other hand gripping onto his brother's own backpack to hand it over. You were confused at Bokuto's presence, however, your boys showed no sign of surprise but more on the side of excitement, practically giddy that their Uncle Bo had picked them up for training this time. 

Bokuto seemed to sense your confusion and gave you a sheepish smile, "I'm assuming Shizuma didn't inform you. Ah—anyway, he had plans today and said I should pick up the boys instead and take them to training, so he gave me your address. I'm sorry, it didn't cross my mind to contact you first. Is this okay? If not, we can cance—" 

You listen as the man rambles on, the boys waiting (Atsuhiko in particular) impatiently by the door, tugging on Bokuto's hands to grab the man's attention. You cut Bokuto's rambling with a wave of your hand, shooting him an appreciative smile, "No, Bo. It's okay. I'm sure the boys would be upset if you had to cancel training. I trust you enough," you trail off before teasing him with a grin, "You are after all, the great Uncle Bo." 

Your teasing sends warmth to the tips of his ears but he couldn't help but let his mouth widen up to a smile, "I suppose I am. I'll bring them back in one piece, promise." 

"You better!" You let out a laugh, ruffling the hair of your twin boys before bending down to press kisses on their respective foreheads, "Be good to your Uncle Bo, okay? Don't be too hard on him. Have fun!"

They nod their heads and left without another word, you watch them walk away with a smile on your face as they begin chattering with their, just as energetic, Uncle Bo. A part of you was bothered at the fact that your two boys didn't even bother to look back like they used to but, however, that quickly faded when the twins turned around once they neared the apartment complex's elevator, waving at you simultaneously, each yelling out how they will miss you and it instantly warms your heart. They were indeed growing up.

While you returned inside your apartment to continue with preparations for Galaxy Standard's upcoming tour, the trio left the apartment complex and got in Bokuto's car, the man making sure to secure the twins comfortably in the backseat. Hiko whined, practically begging Bokuto to let him sit in front like the big boy that he was, unfortunately, his pleas had fallen on deaf ears as Bokuto drove off. 

As the trio traveled, there wasn't any dull moment within the confinements of the four wheeled vehicle, not even a moment of silence with the twins rambling on about their favorite things to do and adventures they went on, while Bokuto, equally excited to share his own stories.

"Hey Uncle Bo?" Hiko calls out, stopping Bokuto from his own rambling about how he was during his own childhood years. He hums in response as he briefly glances at the rear-view mirror to acknowledge the little boy. "Do you have a girlfriend?"

Bokuto eyes widens at the question, spluttering incoherent sentences that made the twins look at him weirdly. He grips onto the steering wheel as he lets out an awkward chuckle, "Why are you asking?"

Hiro shakes his head at his brother, playfully smacking him on the head which causes Hiko to flinch and yelp out, rubbing his head with his palm to soothe the brief pain. "I just wanna know if Uncle Bo has a girlfriend!"

The man chuckles, keeping his eyes on the road as his grip on the steering wheel loosens up a bit, "Nah, no girl."

"Oh good," Hiko starts, a small mischievous smile forming on his lips, "Will you date our mommy then? She needs a boyfriend, you know."

Once again, Bokuto returns to his sputtering state while Hiro lets out a dramatic sigh, crossing his arms against his chest as he gives his twin a look. "I'm telling mommy." 

"You want me to da—date your m—mom?" Bokuto stutters, bewildered. 

Hiko ignores his brother's glares and shrugs his shoulders, "It was Uncle Rei's idea! Mommy was yelling at him the other day and after mommy pinched Uncle Rei's ear, I heard him grumble how mommy needs to ‘loosen up’ and get a boyfriend!"

Bokuto lets out a laugh in amusement, "Well, why not ask your Uncle Rei to date your mom then? Or Uncle Shizuma."

"Uncle Shizuma has a girlfriend," Hiro claims.

Hiko adds, "Uncle Rei said mommy might end up killing him."

Bokuto chuckles, "then, why me?"

Hiko looks at him weirdly, "What do you mean? You're cool!"

"Do you not want mommy as your girlfriend?" Hiro asks, folding his arms across his chest as if to judge his supposed favorite Uncle, the little boy waiting for the correct answer or else he would have to decide that he would no longer call this man his favorite uncle like he had claimed, "She's very pretty. Do you not think she's pretty?"

"I—"

Hiko interrupts Bokuto with a loud huff, "You better think mommy's pretty or else I'm telling Uncle Asuma on you!"

Bokuto lets out a sigh, feeling warmth spread in his cheeks. He didn't know why, despite them being kids, the conversation itself was embarrassing enough, he wonders if the boys would end up telling you the conversation, or worse, Asuma or Reiji, the teasing would be endless. However, not wanting to upset them both, who are looking extremely impatient and upset waiting, he answers, "Yes, yes. Your mother is really pretty."

Hiko nods happily before looking at his brother with a wide smile. Hiro, satisfied with his answer for the time being, tilts his head as he asks, "So will you date her?"

“Nice receive, Hiko!” Bokuto praises with a huge grin while Hiko throws his fists in the air at his achievement, he looks over to the side with a wide smile, “Hiro! ‘Sumsum! Did you see that?” 

Hiro nods his head in response, giving his brother a thumbs up while the man next to Hiro lets out a happy cheer, “Way to go, Hiko! You’re going to be better than your Uncle Bo in no time, even better than me, your Uncle Atsumu.” 

The little boy that stood next to the bleached blonde man, tilts his head back to look up at him with a raised eyebrow, “You’re not our uncle.” 

Bokuto lets out a laugh, Hiko on the other hand, not really understanding what was so funny, decided to mimic his actions anyway. Apparently, acting like Bokuto would make him look as cool. On the other side of the court, Atsumu juts out his lower lip into a pout at being teased, by a kid no less, “Hey, a guy can dream okay. You two will soon call me Uncle too, and you’ll understand that I’m way better than Bo here.” 

“I can’t believe you’re jealous, ‘Tsumu.” Bokuto teases with a grin, tossing the volleyball over to Hiko who receives the ball with ease due to weeks of practice. “You did it again, Hiko! I’m so happy! I can’t wait to tell your uncles and your mom the progress the two of you made.” 

“I’m not jealous,” Atsumu retorts, scrunching up his features in annoyance, “I just can’t believe these kids think you’re better than me when I’m clearly superior.” 

“But Uncle Bo is so cool!” Atsuhiko exclaims defensively, pointing at Atsumu accusingly with his index finger as if to scold the man for disrespecting his favorite Uncle Bo. He adds, “He’s going to date our mommy, you know.” 

Atsumu wiggles his eyebrows at his friend, “Oh?” 

“What? It—It’s not like that!” 

Hiko stomps his feet and drops the volleyball in his grasp, sending a glare at Bokuto. “Why not?” Bokuto just lets out a nervous laugh, receiving a huff from Hiko who then turns his attention over to Atsumu, “Well, do you have a girlfriend?” 

Before Atsumu can respond, Hiro throws his hands in the air and shakes his head at his brother. “You can’t just ask everyone if they have a girlfriend or not so they can date mommy.” 

Sensing the twins about to start arguing, Bokuto rests his hands on Atsuhiko’s shoulders to avert his attention while Atsumu did the same with Atsuhiro. “Let’s go back to practice, okay?” 

“Hey ‘Sumsum?” Hiro calls out after moving away from the man’s grip on his shoulders to grab a volleyball, “Can you teach me how to serve properly?” 

Atsumu nods, walking to the edge of the court with Hiro trailing behind him, picking up an extra volleyball along the way, “Come on then.” 

However before the two of them could walk further to their destination, Atsuhiro tugs on Atsumu’s jersey weakly, a frown etching on his features. He mumbles underneath his breath, his grip on the volleyball weakening, “’Sumsum...I don’t feel so good.” 

Before Atsumu can comprehend what was happening, he catches a glimpse of Atsuhiro collapsing onto the floor behind him. 

“Hiro!” 

#atsumu x reader #atsumu imagine #atsumu imagines #atsumu x you #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x you #hq #hq x reader #hq imagine #miya x reader #miya imagine #miya imagines #miya x you

[kabootarandishaan]

Riverbed

Summary: The reader has taken in a stray dog and always takes it to the riverbed for walks, one day they see a random purple haired boy and things ensue

One-shot/Series: Part 4

Pairing: Jonathan Joestar/ Female reader

A/N: Jonathan deserved better in my opinion so here's something not so short and sweet for a boy who’s also not so short but definitely sweet. This took way longer than I expected but I school has been very busy hopefully ya’ll enjoy

Warnings: None, I think.

You both went at a leisurely pace taking the time to simply enjoy each other's presence. Nila had taken to walking in front of the two of you sometimes stopping to observe a rock or watch an animal scurry by. You had moved from the riverbed to the small dirt road that led to your home, you thought this would be a good time to speak. "Thank you for offering to walk me home." You smiled and turned to look at him. "As I mentioned before Y/N it really is no trouble. If I may ask, how long were you at the river before I arrived?" He asked before clasping his hands behind his back. "Today I had to come around nine. My father owns the general store in town so oftentimes I must help him with business. After I came home late last night he came to the decision that I leave after supper. But today was so busy I had to leave later." You really did not have to tell Jonathan all of this, you did not plan to say anything other than the answer to his question. Yet, his presence made you feel comfortable and you wanted to tell him more.

"I apologize then." You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, not quite understanding why he had apologized. He took notice of your expression and let out a breathy chuckle before speaking. "If I had not taken up much of your time, you father would not have had to schedule your walks as such." You shook your head and smiled. "It is not entirely your fault. I had lost track of the time myself. But I do not regret it, if I am to be honest. It is not often I have time for conversations of leisure. My interactions with people are limited to those in the store and if I am shopping in the markets. I'm thankful to have met you Jonathan." You were simply speaking at this point. You weren't necessarily trying to be vulnerable but you let the conversation flow to wherever it felt fit. You were being honest anyways, you did not talk to anyone very much save for your father and Nila. Was this what it was like to have a friend? 

He looked at you grinning widely. "I'm more than glad to hear that Y/N. I feel the same way. Believe it or not I often feel lonely at times myself." You scoffed at his words, Jonathan Joestar had a problem making friends. People probably threw themselves at him just to get a greeting. "No, truly. I am popular amongst people, that much is true. But, when you have something that other people want that's all you become to them. A means to an end. Most people I have met have either tried to use me for my wealth or wanted me for my looks. With most women it is the latter I must say. You're the first person to speak to me as if I am a simple human. Thank you Y/N." His words were honest and they caught you off guard, it was his turn to be vulnerable. You did not carry sympathy for the rich, you did not envy them either. But hearing Jonathan you felt sorry for him. It couldn't have been easy growing up in the shadow of his father, being expected to live up to his name.

The pressure of perfection was a constant in his life from a young age. He was also different, from what you had known of rich young folk. His arrogant peers most likely took his kind demeanor for weakness causing him to be an outcast where he was supposed to belong. You were not sure why you did it but you lightly grazed your hand across his, hesitating to hold, you simply let it linger giving him room to decide. You saw him glance at you, curiosity in his eyes. You could feel the heat rise in your face once more before you went to speak. "Well, I am sorry that your experience with others has not been the best. I can assure you we aren't all arrogant pricks." You tried to joke only to go wide-eyed when he lightly clasped your hand. He gave out a short chuckle trying to remain casual, but you felt the sweat on his palm. It made you calmer, to know he was just as nervous, just as unsure about what to do or how to feel. But, one thing you knew for certain was that you enjoyed the feeling  of your hand locked with his.

Your conversation seemed to become open after that occurrence. You learned that Jonathan had an adopted brother, Dio. You had seen the man around the town occasionally, always seeming like he had some stick shoved up his arse. You learned that before that he was an only child and lost his mother as well. Oddly enough, it was something you two bonded over. He explained he did not ever really know his mother but he liked to think many of his traits came from her. You told him of your mother before her death. You explained the bonding you had with your father after her death and about how you found Nila. He listened intently taking in word after word, nodding or reacting in some sort of way at every pause. 

Nila had been taken aback by the appearance of a few fireflies, she jumped when she saw the flicker of one by her paw. You and Jonathan laughed. "You wouldn't expect her to be frightened by a mere lightning bug." 

You nodded to Jonathan's observation. "She's actually just a big baby, she likes to put on the guise of being big and strong but you eventually see right through it." You looked towards your dog fondly, you loved her so much. Nila really was a lucky charm for you and you would never take that for granted. You turned your attention back to Jonathan only to catch him looking directly at you. "You know staring is impolite." You teased him. "Well, good thing I was gazing." He gave you a smug look causing you to roll your eyes, trying to hide your own smile. You felt your smile drop when you saw Nila stop abruptly. You looked up only to see the makings of your home in the distance. You knew that this would have to be where you told Jonathan to turn back. You sighed, it seemed Jonathan was able to pick up on your displeasure as he simply gave your hand a squeeze. He slowly pulled causing you to turn and face him.

"It seems the lady has arrived at her humble abode. I will be taking my leave now. Thank you for this wonderful walk Y/N." He slowly raised your hand to his lips and gave it a soft peck before releasing. Your hand went limp at your side and you felt your face go red once again. He turned and slowly walked back in the direction you came from. You yelled out his name barely able to form a coherent sentence in your flustered state. "Jonathan! Will I see you again tomorrow?" You mentally scolded yourself for sounding so pathetic. It seemed Jonathan did not think so as he eagerly responded. "Yes! I will come earlier so we may speak more!" You smiled folding your hands under your chin. You spun around to see Nila staring at you, a smugness in her eyes. "Don't look at me like that." She simply stared on, her eyes never leaving your giddy form. "For God's sake let us just go before father finds another reason to reprimand us."

You had made your way inside your home, absentmindedly latching the door behind you. You turned grazing the spot on your hand where Jonathan's lips had touched. You smiled remembering the feeling and gave your head a light shake before sighing. "Well, you seem to be awfully content. May I ask what is it that has my daughter in such a good mood?" You were torn from your trancelike state at the sound of your father's voice. You looked towards him and smiled a small chuckle leaving your lips. "The weather was very lovely this evening. Nila and I even saw a few lightning bugs outside tonight. Right Nila?" Nila had made herself comfortable by the fireplace and only gave a small whimper in response to your question. Your father laughed, "I take it Nila wasn't too happy to see them. I hope you don't mind that I had my dinner already, love." Your father gave you an apologetic look. 

"Of course not! I would rather you eat if I make it home late. I would be worried sick if you hadn’t. I can fix something up for me and Nila just fine." You went over to the kitchen and began to heat up the stew your father had cooked up. Although he was not the best chef, he could manage to cook a few things here and there. He had to learn a bit after your mother had died. You two would help each other and in the beginning and would spend much time cooking together. After business increased, you two had lost that as well. You were saddened at the lack of time you got to spend with your father. Even at the store you two would be busy and did not have the opportunity to simply chat very often. You were brought out of your thoughts by your father calling your name. "Y/N, I am closing the shop early tomorrow." You had poured the stew into a bowl and made your way out of the kitchen, your brows knitted in confusion.

"Is there something going on tomorrow that I am not aware of?" The news had caught you off guard to say the least. Your father looked to you mirroring your expression. “It’s the first of the month tomorrow Y/N. You know I was quite surprised you hadn’t even reminded me this time. Good thing I remembered or the shop would have undergone a huge loss this month.” Your father let out a chuckle as he finished speaking. Your eyes widened in shock. Tomorrow was the first of the month! Every first of the month was when your father would go into the big city and restock on goods for the shop. Ever since you began helping your father around the shop you had taken up the responsibility of reminding him a week in advance, and you had done so without fail, except this time it slipped your mind. 

“I cannot believe it just slipped my mind.” You shook your head slightly disappointed in yourself for being so scatterbrained as of recent. “Well, that means you will be gone for the entire day tomorrow. When will you be returning this time?” When it came to restocking your father was very precise on what merchandise he wanted, sometimes that meant he would do whatever it took to get a specific type of item. Even if he had to wait for it, that would result in him being gone for at least a day or two. At most, he was gone for three days, you were able to handle the shop while he was gone. Most of the townspeople had become familiar with the routine, as they were regulars who had been frequenting the shop for some years now.

“Well, I had telegraphed the supplier some time ago to ensure he would not keep me waiting nearly as long for our produce this time. He had gotten back to me yesterday saying that for the particular type of fruit we need it would not come until the day after next. You know it usually takes some time to travel to and from and considering you hate when I rush back I believe four days this time. Ha! That’s the longest I’ve been gone yet. Do you think you will be able to handle the shop for that long Y/N?” You looked at your father,  a small smile etched on your face. “I will happily handle the shop for as long as you are gone. Ensuring that you keep that promise and do rest when you arrive at the city, instead of trying to rush back home the moment you receive everything we need. Your father walked up to you and engulfed you in a tight hug. “It is settled then. We will close the shop around 5 o’clock tomorrow and I will leave then. For now, let us sleep. I have a long journey tomorrow, love.

You simply nodded and made your way to your own room Nila following behind. After bathing and changing into your nightgown you took your hair out of the tight bun that you usually dawned. You watched as it cascaded down your shoulders stopping at the base of your back. Your father told you it was yet another trait of your mothers you had inherited. He said as you got older the resemblance only seemed to grow. You brought it over your shoulder pausing as you looked at the reflection of your hand. You smiled fondly remembering how Jonathan had bid you goodnight. You tried to shake the thought from your head as you made your way to your bed. But you failed miserably and finally did succumb to the thoughts of Jonathan’s lips on your hand as you fell asleep.

#jonathan joestar #jonathan joestar x reader #phantom blood #jjba #jjba part 1 #jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo's bizarre adventure phantom blood #jjba x reader #jjba fanfic #jonathan joestar fanfic #jonathan joestar fanfiction #riverbed

[guessimjoiningthespidermanfandom]

Blessing in Disguise

Peter Parker x bisexual!reader

Peter Parker x fem!reader

Peter Parker x black!reader

Peter Parker x villain!reader

Warnings: Hospitals, Explosions, depictions of pain, allusions to mania and depression, self harm/unhealthy coping mechanisms, mentions of death and the dead, gambling, potential underage drinking, theft, guns, gun violence, depictions of bullet wounds, and drunk people. 

Word Count: 3.4k

Songs: All the kids are depressed- Jeremy Zucker, Everywhere- Chloe x Halle, Middle Child- J. Cole, She Knows- J. Cole, Breezeblocks- alt-J, Pussycat Doll-Flo Milli, It’s Been So Long- The Living Tombstone, Take me to Church- Hozier, Good Kid- Kendrick Lamar, Death of a Bachelor- Panic! At the Disco, Them Changes- Thundercat, Detention- Melanie Martinez, Recess- Melanie Martinez, Something for your M.I.N.D- Superorganism 

A/N: I actually hate this chapter because I feel like the writing doesn’t flow. I feel like it’s to jampacked with things that don’t do anything to push the story forward. Anyway I hope you still read it anyways. 

Series Masterlist   Previous Part   Next Part

I did the hand sign stating I’d stand. I knew I won for sure this time because I had a perfect hand of 21. The two other people playing against groaned as I was declared the winner yet again. 

Swiping the chips for the 3rd time since I’d been at the casino. I decided to take my wins and make my way to the bar that our “target” was residing. 

I had a hunch on where Carmen was but had no actual idea. I’d just text her. In the meantime I had this grown ass man to make a move on. 

I was like 97% sure I had the right guy anyway. I looked much older than usual tonight due to Carmen being a makeup goddess and I gotta say flirting can get you a long way. 

“Hey,” I spoke, sitting on the bar stool next to the man.

He looked up at me mumbling a quick hey.

“You expecting someone?” 

“Nope,” He popped the ‘p’ “What about you?”

“Same as you,”

“Now I don’t believe someone as beautiful as you is here alone,” He moved his arm that much closer to mine. I pushed out a smile and giggled. 

“I could say the same about you,” We made eye contact for a second “But no seriously, I’m just here with a girlfriend. It was my birthday yesterday but she wasn’t free so we came out today,” I lied. 

“How old did you turn?”

“Twenty Two,” He nodded seemingly content with the answer. 

“So you’re not around here are you?”

“Either you’re a genius or I’m just very bad at blending in, no I’m from New York,” 

“Ah, I have some friends in New York, which part?” 

“Harlem actually but I recently moved to Queens,” I lied again. 

“Oh I don’t many from those cities,”

“If we're being honest I don’t know many people from Queens either my life’s been more hectic ever since I moved,”

“I hear you,” He informed me, leaning on the small backing the stools had. 

We talked for about 15 more minutes, him explaining the switch between New York to Nevada. Then Carmen walked up to me and feigned drunkenness signaling she was done with her job. I made my way back. To the man who’s name I still hadn’t learned. 

“As much fun as I was having talking to you, my friend is way too drunk to be out in public so we should probably head back to the hotel.” I sat back on the barstool turning my legs towards the man batting my eyes 

“Could I possibly use your phone to call an Uber mine is dead?” 

“Yeah of course you can…” His sentence fizzed off at the end in place of where my name would be.

“Ciara,” I filled in “And you are?” 

“Jim” He started handing me the phone.

I used his phone for an entirely different reason than I’d claimed. The project Carmen had been working on was melting the wires together to fix the flash drive that works inside of phones. It hadn’t worked in years.

It took about a minute to duplicate the phone's data. I stuck the flash drive in my bra before going to give the phone back. 

Just as I started moving a loud argument broke out, by the drunk accents I could tell it would soon get violent. Seeing as I had many experiences with an aggressive drunk. I wasn’t going to take my chances and began turning towards the main exit.

 I heard the first shot echo followed by another. Soon everyone was shooting. Including Carmen who I think just wanted an excuse to shoot at people passing it off as “protecting her friends”. 

She was closer to the exit than I was so she slid me the gun and I was able to ward off anyone shooting in our general direction. Not for long though. A bullet lightly grazed my dominant arm’s shoulder; it still dug in enough to do some sweet damage. 

Fuck

What’s up with me? I haven’t been on my A game lately. 

We were also out of bullets. Mostly because we weren’t actually expecting to have to fucking shoot at people. I ducked back down behind the bar trying not to get caught on the broken glassware. 

“I think it would be a good time to do that thing?” I asked. 

She rolled her eyes 

“You know I hate doing it,”

“Well I’m literally bleeding out,” I dramatized pointing to my shoulder. “So if you want to get out of here not in body bags, do the thing,” 

“Alright, just this one time,” She begrudgingly made her way out from behind the bar and away from me. 

I covered my ears and closed my eyes as the glass around me rained down and the bar shook. I could slightly hear the cries from beneath my hands. Once she moved back over to me 

“See that wasn’t so bad, birdy,” I scrambled up to my feet ignoring the pull in my shoulder. 

I made my rounds grabbing Jim’s phone, cash, wallets, watches, and anything else that looked expensive from pockets and the ground. 

I stood awkwardly staring at my feet as I slid from side to side with my butt planted on my skateboard. 

“Hi,” I heard squinting my eyes looking up revealing a equally nervous looking Peter

“Hey,” I nodded at him. 

The conversation wasn’t as awkward as I thought it’d be he’d apparently asked Liz to prom and he said yes. Which I was definitely super happy about because why wouldn’t I be? 

Anyway who cares about that anyway. Props to Peter for not bringing up the whole ghosting everyone thing for like a week thing. Because if he didn’t bring it up I was going to act like it never happened. 

We talked about everything and anything. From favorite candies or colors to our beliefs about life after death. I’d found out his favorite candy were skittles, favorite color: red and that he was Jewish but not necessarily religious and didn’t believe in heaven or hell but he believed in the eternity of a soul. 

I’d told him that my favorite candy was F/C, my favorite color being pink and that I didn’t know what I believed in. I believed in a higher power but not that they were inherently good because of all the suffering on earth. I’d told him if they weren’t good and had abandoned us while alive. Why would they care or have any plan for us into the afterlife? I think that part is up to us, and what we believe. I’m trying not to think about death.

Then like clockwork he had to leave before 9 which is funny because it’s like he wasn’t even trying to hide his secret identity. He’d told me he lost the internship and normally his excuse to leave was the internship. 

I just guess that means he no longer has Stark’s backup. He only had it for a while anyway he’d be fine without it again. Actually when I think about it,  from his behavior he’d exhibited as Spiderman in the short few months I’d had the displeasure of knowing him as ‘Thorn’ he’d be weak. He was unconfident, relied on his tools far too much. Couldn’t see himself without the suit. So maybe he was really just going home. So he’d be fine. 

I’d also be fine. No matter how much it didn’t look like it at the moment. I’d be fine. I was always fine. I was fine without my mom, without Rose, without my dad, without Olivia and any one else I’d ever been stupid enough to get attached to. I’d bounce back. I always did. 

It’d taken Carmen much convincing to not sit around and babysit me 24/7 because of my shoulder. She was sure that I’d do something dumb and it would get infected. 

 I was sitting on MJ’s bed getting ready for homecoming. My neck jerked again as Bri attempted to detangle and braid my hair. 

If I hadn’t spiraled into the Vulture, Kingpin and SHIELD, rabbit hole I probably would have taken better care of myself and my hair. 

“Stop moving,” She tsked.

“Stop trying to rip my head off my neck,” I hissed back. 

Bri did my nails back when we were still at her house waiting for MJ to pick us up. She actually did pretty good. I think she would do great at a cosmetology school. She's pretty much into everything: hair, nails, makeup the whole nine yards. She did all of that for me. 

The make up was very simple, but I was still able to get my signature winged eyeliner. Winged eyeliner is something very dear to me mostly because Rose was the first to put me on it and I wore it everyday since. It kinda felt disrespectful to stop at this point.

The only thing left was the dress MJ had gifted me. Her mom bought her a dress but she still refused to wear dresses so she returned it for this one, she opted for a very nice pantsuit she already had. Then Bri's outfit of course matched her boyfriend’s. 

I’ve never really liked school dances they’re always so overhyped, but I go to them all anyways, because then I get in on all the drama. It helped me build up my arsenal of knowledge about everyone. 

I was sitting at one of the round tables near the entrance with MJ, Bri, and Olivia. We had a bottle of “Gatorade” open and out for anybody who wanted to drink it. I was about to drink from it when I saw Liz enter alone. 

I made my way over to her.

“Where’s Peter? I thought he asked you?” 

“I don’t even know he just ditched me,” She let out a deep breath. 

“Aw I’m sorry,” I wrapped my good arm around her shoulder.

 “Well don’t think about that asshole, you’re way out of his league anyway,” I assured her to which she let out a weak laugh. 

“Come sit with me and my friends,” 

 A girl with knockers dancing all along her head came up to before speaking 

“Why are you crying?” 

I sniffed pulling my head from my arms. 

“I miss my mom,” 

“I miss my mom sometimes but I like my grandma too,”

“Where’s your mom?” I asked.

“I don’t know my grandma says she’s sick,” She shrugged. “Where’s your mom?”

“Well my grandma says she’s in a better place now but I know that just means dead,” 

“Yeah my dad is dead too so I know what you mean, I’m Rose. What’s your name?”

“Y/N,” 

“Y/N, that's a pretty name,” She smiled. “You wanna come sit with me and my friends Y/N?”

“Y/N!”

I jumped a bit at the voice before matching it to MJ

“What?” I asked in a harsher tone then necessary.  

“Jeez sorry,” She reeled back “Someone is asking for you named Carmen. They said it’s important,” She waved her phone around. 

My face dropped and I hoped no one caught it. 

I grabbed the phone exiting the auditorium.

“Okay what’s up?” 

“You know Liz’s dad whatever her name is but yeah, He’s gonna rob that plane that’s moving everything from the Avengers tower,” She rushed

“What!?”

Holy shit 

That must be where Peter’s went. So he figured it out too. Kid’s smarter than I give him credit for.

“I’ll send you the location on your phone,”

“Why didn’t you just call me from there?”

“Because you never answer it,”

“True,” 

“Y/N?” She whispered.

“Yeah?” 

“Be careful,” 

“Always,” I smiled. 

I rushed out of the building not thinking about how I could get caught. Near the buses there was the new Shocker lying unconscious. 

I took the webshooter I found next to him. Then made a run for it. Stopping to hot wire the nearest car, I sped to one of the locations that I knew Vulture’s team kept their weapons at. I was throwing everything in the same pile. Getting ready to destroy them. 

Then the door creaked open.

I felt the bed dip as my brother sat next to me. 

“Are you coming?”

I pulled the cover off my face 

“Why should I?”

“Because you’ll regret it if you don’t,” 

“No I won’t leave me alone,” I pulled the cover back over my head. 

“You gotta eat something,” 

“No I don’t leave me alone,” 

“Y/N…”

I knew what he was going to say and I didn’t wanna hear it. 

“She would want you to eat something,”

“Fuck you! How would you ever know what she would've wanted? No one here knew her and now one will ever get the chance to again so just leave me alone,” 

“Y/N-“

“Don’t Y/N me, get the fuck out of my room,” He sat there for a second, stunned “NOW!” 

As soon as the door closed and I flipped back over

I was shaken back into the present only to find that I was pinned under the man who’d entered the room before I zoned out. He reached for the nearest weapon. I wasn’t sure exactly what it was. Which is rare. I have a whole weapons catalog in my brain. Unfortunately for him he couldn’t grab it without giving me leeway to get from underneath them. 

Unfortunately for me I put too much pressure on my arm in the seconds I took to grip my shoulder recuperating myself. The man had fired the weapon he had at the pile of weapons that I stumbled back towards. 

The weapons then emitted purple light before exploding leaving me caught under some wood and concrete as the ringing in my ears only got louder and louder.

The fire around me crackled loudly and I bit my lip.

The smoke was only getting more plentiful.

I started coughing which only got more and more painful.

When I came to myself, I wasn’t choking anymore and the fire around me had died down. I was able to push myself from underneath the rubble holding me down. Not without lots of pain though.

The dress I was wearing was torn completely, holes big enough to see what I was wearing underneath it already. 

So I just took it off.

It wasn’t like I was completely naked I was wearing boxers. Not like I haven’t left the house in a bra and shorts before. Also who gives a fuck I just almost died. 

It was like 35° but I wasn’t cold in the slightest. I was actually kind of hot.

If my phone was accurate the plane had already made it near the edge of Queens and Staten Island. Rushing there I was seconds late as I saw the plane crash after I saw two figures fighting along it. 

There was fire everywhere but I wasn’t thinking. I was just running because I couldn’t make out Peter’s shape and if he was dead- 

I swear to fucking God if he was dead. Not again. I couldn’t handle another death.

Peter was saying something. No, pleading as the Vulture stood tall with his wings still intact. He was talking about how it was a nice try and he doesn’t know what he’s messing with.

Peter might not but I knew what this was. I also knew I wasn’t letting him get away with it. 

The wings started producing visible waves of heat. Then it hit me, what Peter was trying to say. The wings were gonna blow.  I got a head start and lunged towards the man. The element of surprise was on my side. That was until he used the wings to lift himself off the ground. 

Now I was fine with parkour and other activities, but being lifted off the ground by someone else, someone who’d never interacted with me ever, is where I draw the line. Then Peter was shooting a web at the wings. To which Vulture dropped me to go after him.

Oh hell no.

“Give it up Peter,” He continued to get closer and closer as the webs were continuously cut through. 

You know how people say they see in red when they get angry? Well the opposite of that happens to me I just see black. Remembering very little to nothing.

Last thing I remembered was fire just fire. From my fingertips, arms, head. It destroyed the wings in seconds, before they had a chance to blow up on their own. 

Peter webbed up the man before moving out of my sight. 

How the fuck do you get fire coming from your body. 

 Literally what the actual fuck. 

I couldn’t breathe. 

That’s what it was, I was dying, I was probably in some coma and this was a weird hallucination my brain pushed out in its final moments.

Okay this is it. I was dying suffocating in some coma.

Or even worse this wasn’t a coma and I was going to die with my body lit on fire literally.

“Oh my God,” I gasped trying to get air into my lungs. 

I closed my eyes and when I opened them Peter was in front of me in a torn up ripoff suit. 

“Y/N,” He moved trying to catch my eye.

“Y/N, Y/N breathe…”

I couldn’t really process his words. My mind was clouded with fear, fear and anger. 

Before I knew it I was hitting my head so I wouldn’t hit anyone or anything else. It’d been a coping mechanism I used ever since I was 3. 

Peter reached for my arms reeling back after his hands came into contact with my boiling skin. 

“Y/N you have to calm down,” He moved in front of me.

I stopped moving my hands but it was still difficult to breathe.

The monitors beeped all around me and if I closed my eyes  and concentrated hard enough. I could convince myself they were birds. 

I could tell from the patter of the knock on the door that it was Rose. 

“Come in!” I called out.

She picked up the clipboard examining it. As she did every time she visited. Luckily for everyone there was no nurse she could bombard with questions and criticism. 

“How are you feeling?” She asked. 

“Itchy, like my guts are on fire,” 

To which she replied by singing the chorus to Girl on Fire. 

“Anyway,” she brought us back after our laughter. “I got you pizza today since I’m sure you’re tired of McDonald’s,”

“I don’t mind McDonald’s actually, anything is better than hospital food. Well actually, their chicken strips aren’t that bad,” 

She placed the box down on my lap. I lifted up the lid and was hit with the smell of the many herbs. I pat by my legs signaling she could sit down. She wiggled into the spot that the bar of the bed allowed. 

“What are we watching today?” 

“Uh…” I clicked on the TV “Vampire Diaries?,”

“That show is still going?

“Yeah, I don’t think it’ll ever end,” 

Somehow the show turned into us dancing around the cramped hospital room.

We spun like the ballerinas in the broken jewelry box I got from my mom. Arms flailing around. The air conditioner made a rattling noise and a half eaten pizza on the bed. The situation was probably extremely weird or unpleasant from any other perspective, but because it was her it was perfect. 

It was like the moment in rom coms where the camera zooms into the main characters dancing as the rest of the characters are put out of focus and they stare into each other’s eyes. I closed my eyes. 

When I opened them I saw Peter’s eyes above mine. 

His hands were immediately on my face making my look straight at him. 

“Are you okay?” He breathed out. 

I sat up feeling a pounding in my head and a pull in my lungs. I was met with the fact that I was definitely not on the ground. I was actually very far from the ground on some ride on the pier. My mouth was dry so it took me a minute to get the words out and when I did it hurt my throat.

“Yeah ’m okay jus’ tired,”

“Okay, well don’t go back to sleep because I think you have a concussion,” 

“You’re acting like I died or something, how long was I out dang,” I joked I always hated when things got too serious. 

“Uh probably...30 minutes? I don’t know I don’t have a watch,” He sniffed and that's when I realized he’d be crying. 

“Were you crying? I knew you cared about me,” I smiled “It was only a matter of time before you fell in love with me, I’m irresistible” 

He laughed weakly wiping his eyes “This isn’t funny,” 

I looked up at him and started uncontrollably giggling. Soon Peter was laughing too.

The moment was interrupted by a squad of police cars pulling up. I absolutely did not want to get down but my tired muscles betrayed me. I was extremely exhausted.  I literally could not move. I just had to go wherever Peter decided to take me. I honestly think I might have a few broken ribs. Nothing I haven’t dealt with before though. We stood off to the side watching as Vulture was stuffed into the back of one of the cars. 

“So Spiderman?” I smirked.

“Uh.. no?” He said as if he’s questioning himself. 

“It’s okay, I won’t tell anyone I’ve known for a while now,” I twisted my body to face him hissing as a sharp sting shot through my body “You're not very good at hiding it,”

“Hey!” He cried out “But seriously you can’t tell anyone,”

“I already said I wouldn’t, but if it makes you feel better I’ll pinky promise you, and everyone knows you can’t break a pinky promise,”

“Alright,” He sighed.

I tried to move closer again and was stopped by the pain in my sides. 

“Okay well, the offer still stands, you’re just gonna have to come over here,”

Taglist:

@tomdiddlyumptious

#peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x reader #reader x peter parker #Peter Parker x Vigilante!Reader #peter parker x fem!reader #peter parker x poc reader #peter parker x you #peter parker imagine #peter parker x black!reader #peter parker x bi!reader #peter parker x bisexual!reader #peter parker x villian!reader #spiderman x villian #spiderman x thorn #Thorn Series #thorns prick #peter parker x thorn #mcu x reader #mcu series #mcu x y/n

[gusu-emilu]

Cantatio: Chapter Four

Ship: Lan Zhan / Wei Ying (POV Lan Zhan)

Summary: Wei Ying and Nie Huaisang cause trouble in Lan Qiren’s class. Lan Zhan isn’t amused.

Cloud Recesses Academy AU, Rated T (technically this is a series but this chapter can stand alone too) - read on AO3

< Ch. 3 | Ch. 5 > |  chapter list

Lan Wangji had expected the first day of classes to be long.

But not this long.

The expression ‘time flies when you’re having fun’ had never held much truth for the young cultivator, who believed that a better phrasing would be ‘time proceeds at a pace directly proportional to one’s concentration.’

Being trained in Daoist meditation techniques since his first sign of infantile self-awareness had granted Lan Wangji the ability to bend his perception of time with his focus. When he rose long before dawn and sat in Lotus Position to meditate, the silent depths of stillness enabled him to traverse hours in what felt like the blink of an eye, yet the insights he obtained remained undistorted by the time skip.

Unless he was disrupted by the loud crash of Wei Wuxian falling out of bed on the other side of the room.

But that was beside the point.

The more Lan Wangji focused, the faster the world moved. His studies were one of the pursuits that he paid the most careful attention to. He listened to professors with unwavering interest, picking up on the slightest inflections of their voices, and he ruminated on intriguing sentences for hours after a lesson finished. Therefore it made sense that although the school day would be long, its duration would be reasonable, for his mind would be well-occupied.

Yet Lan Qiren was still lecturing about Ancient Texts, and it was only the first class of the day!

The problem was not a lack of interest. Ancient Texts had always been a special aptitude of Lan Wangji. The problem was that he wasn’t fully focused on the lecture, and therefore it dragged on. As Lan Qiren’s stentorian voice intoned perfectly pronounced phrases of poetry, his mind kept ping-ponging between thoughts of what he would say to Wen Qing about last night, what Wei Wuxian looked like while sleeping—no, that never crossed his mind—and what could be inside the strange closet that sat smugly in his dorm room. He imagined that the closet was fully aware of the mess it had caused and was snickering at the shameful memory of Lan Wangji being thrown around a girls’ dormitory by a giant beetle.

Rule #1034: Learning comes first.

Lan Wangji needed to recenter his focus.

He picked up his brush and pressed the end of its handle into his palm. It was highly improper to mistreat a calligraphy tool like this, but Lan Wangji was getting desperate.

The pressure from the blunt wood roused him back into the moment.

Lan Qiren was pacing alongside the disciples’ desks, his mustache whiskers quivering as he spoke with a stern yet aloof tone.

“The poem I just recited was translated from an ancient predecessor to our language. Of course, translations never capture the full nuance of a passage. Therefore, now that you have heard but a cloudy reflection of this magnus opus, we will begin analyzing the poem in its original language, Trans-Himalayan,” Lan Qiren said.

The entire classroom groaned. Nie Huaisang rested his chin in his palm, looking the most bored out of everyone.

“What’s the point?” Wei Wuxian muttered. “When are we ever going to need to know Trans-Himalayan?”

“Shut up. You’ll need to know Trans-Himalayan if you want to pass the class. That should be enough,” hissed Jiang Cheng.

A few moments later, Nie Huaisang leaned over. “…Who are Tran, Sim, and Leia? They sound like the type to have a threesome.”

“…”

Every disciple in the room sucked in a collective breath of shocked amusement, their twisted smiles on the verge of bursting.

Nie Huaisang opened his silk fan and covered his own smirk in a hurry, looking at the ceiling with light eyes that concealed a calculated satisfaction beneath their innocence. A single wheeze escaped from Wei Wuxian’s mouth before he could stop it, like air escaping from a balloon.

Lan Qiren did not seem to notice. He criticized the Jin Clan disciple who was stumbling over foreign words as she recited the ancient poem for the class.

Of course, once you let go of the mouth of a balloon that’s full of air, it’s inevitable that it will fly around the room in a sputtering chaos.

“Aiya, Huaisang, that’s not how you say it,” Wei Wuxian murmured. “You’ve got the wrong people in the bed. It’s supposed to be pronounced, ‘Tran, Sim, and Lan Qiren.’”

Now at least five disciples were snickering. Nie Huaisang was silently buried in his fan, but his scrunched eyes and heaving shoulders said more than enough. Even Jiang Cheng, who was clearly counting how many hours of detention he’d get if he slammed Wei Wuxian’s face into the desk, could not prevent his lips from curling.

Ridiculous, Lan Wangji thought. He was sorry he had tuned his mind back in to the classroom.

The Jin Clan disciple was still fumbling through her recitation. All eyes were on Lan Qiren, but not for the reason the old professor would have hoped.

“Remember that really poetic line? ‘Balance to both ends of the world,’” Wei Wuxian parroted in sing-song. “Well, that’s the part where Tran and Sim each grab one side of Lan Qiren’s mustache.”

Jiang Cheng was the first to break. His high-pitched giggle—unhinged and childlike—pierced through the air like a siren. However, that surprising turn of events was quickly forgotten as the entire room erupted into feverish laughter.

The balloon had popped.

“What is the meaning of this?! Settle down! Everyone, quiet!” Lan Qiren huffed. He held his arms stiffly out to his sides with the sleeves of his robes draping in two giant hoops, as if he wanted to suck all the laughter into his sleeves to snuff it out.

Lan Wangji glared at Wei Wuxian, but the insolent clown was so overcome with giggling that he did not notice.

Apparently, Lan Qiren had followed his nephew’s line of sight to find the culprit, and soon accosted him.

“Wei Wuxian! What have you done? Confess to your actions!”

This only increased the volume of the laughter that ricocheted off the classroom ceiling into Lan Qiren’s offended ears, which seemed to spew out hot steam in protest. Lan Wangji felt a bit guilty for unintentionally ratting out Wei Wuxian to be the recipient of his uncle’s wrath.

Wei Wuxian finally reigned in his mirth and looked up at Lan Qiren with precariously composed sincerity. “I was only saying that I want to write a poem about mustache whiskers. I call it The Ballad of Catfish.”

Actually, no, Lan Wangji did not feel bad at all.

“Wei Wuxian! What is this disrespect? My classroom is no place for jokes! You should be focusing on the poem in Trans-Himalayan!”

The disciples bit their lips at the mention of the word that had started the whole fiasco, but the balloon of laughter had finally deflated.

“Wei Wuxian!”

“Yes, Shifu?”

“Do you know how to read this poem?”

“Not yet, Shifu.”

“Then why have you been chatting instead?”

“…Because I do not know how to read the poem, Shifu.”

Lan Qiren’s blood was boiling. “Wei Wuxian, since you are so illiterate, you will continue reading the poem to the class!” he barked, apparently not caring about the contradiction he just created.

“Yes, Shifu.”

Wei Wuxian blinked at his textbook.

“Where did we leave off?”

Lan Qiren sighed and shook his head with weary disapproval.

Wei Wuxian was actually able to perfectly read the last line the Jin Clan disciple had said, to Lan Qiren’s obvious displeasure. However, he was already stumped by elementary words in the next line. He must have been reciting from memory and had already reached the end of his mind’s fishing reel.

“Uh…um…” He looked up at the professor like a child asking for a piggyback ride.

“Wangji, please assist Young Master Wei.”

Lan Wangji was used to being called on to help other students. After all, it was rare that he did not know the answer.

“Swan.” Lan Wangji said the word in both languages for clarity.

Wei Wuxian nodded and continued. He was stuck again three syllables later.

“Wangji,” Lan Qiren called.

Lan Wangji looked down at the complex inky scribbles in the poetry book on his desk. He realized that he did not understand the line either.

“Lan Zhan? Some help?” Wei Wuxian said.

Lan Wangji paused, then flattened the page in front of him as he spoke.

“I do not know.”

Wei Wuxian eyes widened in disbelief. He looked at Jiang Cheng. Jiang Cheng scoffed and turned his head away, but his pupils soon snuck into the corners of his eyes to observe Lan Wangji with chilled interest.

“Well, huh, then…” Lan Qiren frowned. “I suppose this text is rather difficult. But that is no excuse for misbehavior! The line reads, ‘Horrified, the warrior realized that, like a swan crushing her eggs as she shielded them from a snake, it was his hand that plunged the knife into the Emperor’s heart.’ It is a pivotal turning point in the poem’s narrative and is frequently quoted by other authors. It is critical that you grasp every literary metaphor related to this line!”

The rest of Ancient Texts passed peacefully. Lan Wangji enjoyed the challenge of dissecting the poem in its original language. It was a tragic story about a warrior who, upon learning that he had been manipulated by the enemy in an assassination plot to kill the emperor he served, abandoned his beautiful homeland to hide in repentant shame for eternity.

Although the stories were different, it reminded Lan Wangji of his father.

He quickly shoved that thought away.

After class ended, the disciples entered the courtyard outside. Lan Wangji hung back. He had to tell his uncle about last night’s incident. Someone needed to be alerted if a portal really did exist in a Cloud Recesses dormitory, and who better to inform than the overseer of the Cloud Recesses himself, Clan Leader Lan Qiren?

However, his uncle already had a lot of tasks on his plate, especially now that he and the clan leaders had to track down wherever the monster spirit that possessed the beetle had come from. Furthermore, it would be embarrassing for Lan Wangji to convey the full details of his story, and he still did not have an adequate explanation for what had transpired. And he definitely was not secretly worried that if he exposed the truth of the closet door, he and Wei Wuxian would be relocated and would no longer be roommates. That was not a factor.

Yet the rules tugged at his feet and at his tongue.

Shoulder the weight of morality. Be strict with yourself. Be loyal and filial.

If he did not tell his uncle…perhaps his brother would be an acceptable confidante?

But first, Wen Qing. He stepped out into the sunny courtyard.

“Wei-xiong, that was hilarious! I’ve never had such a good time in a class!” Nie Huaisang said as he bounded over to his dark-robed friend.

“Ahaha, why give me all the credit, though? You’re a funny little devil as well.”

Nie Huaisang shook his hands wildly in front of him, as if this suggestion were too much for him to hold.

“No, no, no, I wasn’t trying to be funny! I really didn’t know how to say it!”

“Hahaha! That’s even funnier, then!”

Jiang Cheng elbowed Wei Wuxian in the ribs. “Neither of you are funny.” He grabbed his brother by the arm and started dragging him across the courtyard. “Move your ass. If I’m late to the daozhang’s class because of you, I’m going to punch your head in.”

“What are you fussing about, Jiang Cheng? You were laughing louder than anyone!”

“Was not!”

Lan Wangji swooped in front of their path. “Causing disruptions in class is prohibited.”

Jiang Cheng scowled. Nie Huaisang covered his face with his fan and hid the rest of his body behind Wei Wuxian, who stood smirking with his hands on his hips.

“Aiya, Lan Zhan! You better be careful! If you say those rules so much, you’ll turn into the scroll they’re written on!”

Lan Wangji furrowed his brow. “Boring.”

“Yeah, exactly! Okay, step aside, Lan Zhan, you’re going to make us late for class. Unless you want to be the reason we break another rule? Haha! Come on, let’s go,” he said as he tugged Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang away.

“Get your fat hands off me,” Jiang Cheng said with a shove.

Nie Huaisang turned his head over his shoulder and waved. “Bye, Second Young Master Lan!”

Lan Wangji eyed Nie Huaisang suspiciously as he scurried after the bickering siblings and disappeared around a temple at the far side of the courtyard. In the time Lan Wangji had spent accompanying Lan Xichen on trips to Qinghe, he had learned a few things about the small, skittish young cultivator.

Nie Huaisang was crafty. When he wanted entertainment, all he needed to do is throw a match into the firepit—nothing profound, just a provocative little comment that could provide some kindling—and then he would sit back and watch as everyone burned down the world around him. Most assumed he carried his signature fans for decoration. Lan Wangji theorized that he carried them to exercise his talent for fanning the flames of discord.

Of course, if confronted, Nie Huaisang would insist that he knew three times less about the world than anyone else.

On his own, the boy was manageable. Endearing, even.

But next to Wei Wuxian?

It was a partnership forged in Hell.

After the troublesome trio disappeared, Lan Wangji searched for Wen Qing, hoping to apologize for intruding in her room and discuss the teleportation closet with her, but she had disappeared after Ancient Texts.

He caught sight of her again right as Song Lan’s Beings & Creatures class was beginning. To his disappointment, he would have to wait until its completion to speak to her.

It was a long wait. Song Lan’s class did not pass peacefully.

* * *

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this chapter, you can be a supportive sibling like Jiang Yanli by liking, reblogging, and visiting me on AO3! New chapters posted every Monday on AO3 and Tuesday on Tumblr.

Ch. 5 > | chapter list

#mdzs fanfic #mdzs fanfiction #the untamed fanfiction #the untamed fanfic #wangxian fanfiction #wangxian fanfic #mdzs fic #wangxian #mdzs #cql #the untamed #lan wangji #wei wuxian #lan zhan #wei ying #nie huaisang #lan qiren #cantatio #emilu talks

[mando-chicken]

Tiny Spots | Clones and Their Cats

“When Commander Thorn’s Tooka, Spot, goes missing, he enlists the help of his brother, Commander Fox, to try and find his beloved pet. When they find her, however, they’re both in for quite the surprise.”

Another chapter based in the ‘Clones and Their Cats’ universe. The basis is literally just what it says on the tin - some of the clones have cats (and some other pets too) - all these fics will largely focus on the clones and their animal companions. Not all chapters/works are in chronological order, this one is set a few months before the first one.

Other works in the series:

Cat Sitter

Read on AO3

Tag List:

@cxptain-rex​ @spaghetti-666​

A knock at Fox’s door caused him to groan loudly, scrubbing at his face with a hand, before glancing at the chrono that sat on his desk, noting that he had been working at the massive piles of flimsi before him for almost two hours. His frown deepened when he also noticed that he had only managed to get part way through the first pile. “Come in,” he huffed, snatching the next document from the pile and scanning the mess of words that seemed to go on forever without actually saying anything of any real importance.

 Fox immediately narrowed his eyes when Thorn’s familiar head popped through Fox’s doorway, offering him a sheepish grin. “Uh, hey Fox, is Spot in here?” the younger clone asked, glancing around Fox’s office and at all of the usual hiding places of the Tooka in question.

 “Haven’t seen her all day,” he shook his head, returning to reading the flimsi before him, “did you try checking the storage rooms?” The sound of an affirmative, “the street out back?” Another affirmative, “and what about the Doctor? You know Spot likes to hang around at the vet clinic or at her apartment when you’re out on patrol.”

 “Dalthic says she hasn’t seen her either.” Thorn’s voice is unusually subdued, and when Fox looks up he can clearly see the way his eyebrows wrinkled. He still seemed to be glancing around the room, as if expecting the cat to suddenly poke its head out of one of the flimsi filled crates – something the animal was indeed prone to doing – because the boxes in Fox’s office were clearly superior for a Tooka to sit in compared to any other.

 Fox made a respectable effort at holding back an exhausted sigh, only allowing a brief puff of air from his nose to signal any sort of displeasure. Sure, technically it was none of his concern what happened to the cat, but Thorn absolutely adored the little creature and it was rather sweet the way he lit up the moment he spotted the ginger furball. Admittedly, Fox himself had grown somewhat fond of the Tooka, enjoying her quiet company when he was stuck in the office, even if he could live happily without the unseemly number of cat hairs that coated his blacks and found their way into his cups of caff. Not that he would ever admit such a thing aloud, that would only encourage more brothers to try and get their own hands on a pet.

 “She’ll be fine, Thorn, she knows the streets as well as any Guard,” he breathed, “I’m sure she’ll be back here in time to wake you up for feeding tomorrow morning.” Thorn had learnt very quickly that cats did not tolerate late feeding. Whenever he was out, Spot had evidently decided Fox was the lucky person who would get woken up by her ungodly screeching for food, forcing him to feed the animal, lest he have to spend the next few hours trying to sleep through the sound. So much for her being Thorn’s sole responsibility.

 Thorn only frowned at his words, shaking his head slightly, “that’s the thing, she hasn’t been to my quarters this evening, and it’s hours past feeding time. You know she’d never miss out on free food and especially not a main meal.” The trooper was shifting slightly, his fingers drumming along the side of his helmet as he clutched it in one of his hands.

 It was enough for Fox to take pause in consideration, the flimsi in his hand drooping slightly as he began to think to himself. No matter what, Spot was always present at mealtimes, often arriving a little while early to ensure no one forgot her feed.

 “And it isn’t just that either, she’s been throwing up recently, and keeps trying to hide from everyone. I thought she just wasn’t feeling well and it’d pass on its own in a few days, but now…” he trailed off with a sigh, looking down at the floor. It was typical of Thorn to think he had somehow failed his pet before they even knew if anything was actually wrong with her – a habit it seemed he had picked up from Fox himself – and he decided to quickly put an end to the line of thought.

 “Look, vod, I’m sure she’s fine. Have a little faith in her.” Fox placed down the document he had been working on, “go on and do your patrol, the boys will be waiting for you. I’ll just finish up these priority documents and then I’ll go and look around the barracks.” He was fortunate to have finished most of the priority work beforehand, only a few documents required for important meetings within the senate the following morning, and the rest could wait a while longer. It wasn’t as though Fox expected to get much further through the nasty piles of flimsiwork anyway.

 Seemingly, his reassurances were enough to take off some of the edge off Thorn’s worries, and the other commander was quick to give Fox a nod, straightening up and sliding his helmet smoothly into place. “Thanks, vod.” Thorn’s shoulders lowered slightly, as if his tension was slowly being drained away.

 Fox nodded back, beginning to shoo his fellow commander from the room with a few waves of his hand, “don’t worry about it, just make sure to keep the little beast in your quarters where you can keep an eye on her once I find her.” From the way Thorn snickered slightly and muttered a quiet ‘sure’ as he left, Fox’s gruff, annoyed tone hadn’t exactly come out as such.

 Within half an hour Fox had managed to scribble the final approval signature into place on the documents he was working through. He placed it on the pile of completed work with a relieved sigh, taking a moment to roll his wrist, frowning slightly at the way it ached with the movement. Although it wasn’t quite late, Fox knew he would have to be awake before dawn to begin some preparations for a guard detail later the following day, so he was determined to get a reasonable amount of rest beforehand.

 After taking a few moments to ensure everything was left in order, Fox exited his office and began the short journey to the main barracks attached to the lower story of the Guard building. If the Tooka wasn’t in Thorn’s quarters or office, the local alleyways or harassing the local vet for affection, then there was a solid chance she would be hiding out in the barracks.

 Luckily for Fox, the men were good at keeping their sleeping areas practically spotless – as per the regulations – so there were only so many places Spot could try to hide. But it seemed that no matter how many rooms he checked, nor how many brothers he spoke to, there were no signs he could find that would lead him to the cat’s current whereabouts. No one had seen her, not since the previous evening at the latest.

 Fox had been searching for well over an hour before Thorn eventually returned from his short patrol of the nearby area, only just taking the time to switch out with the next trooper assigned the route, before he was back to Fox’s side, questioning him on his progress. They both agreed to spend only another hour searching for Spot at the most, knowing they were both needed the following morning. Despite their efforts, however, neither of them could find the elusive feline, and Thorn was eventually the one to call the search off, albeit reluctantly.

 Defeated, but agreeing to spend some time in the morning continuing their search, Fox returned to his quarters for the night. It took him only a few minutes to mindlessly work his way out of his armour, setting it all aside in a neat pile, before he fell back onto his bed. The thin mattress did little to cushion his small drop, but he hardly cared, moving into a slightly more comfortable position on his back before grabbing his datapad from the side table.

 He silently skimmed through the ever-growing list of updates, ensuring there was nothing that urgently needed his attention. The screen of the datapd was the only feature illuminating the room, and Fox was silently musing to himself about how the Guard medics Fibula and Tibia would probably be berating him for causing potential eye strain, when he picked up the distinct sound of a Tooka’s meow.

 Practically rolling off the edge of the bed, Fox quickly dropped down to the floor, using the brightness of his pad to light up the small space beneath his bunk. It took him all of about four seconds – enough time to curse Thorn and the tube he was birthed from – before he reached out and snatched up his comm unit, calmly summoning the other commander to his quarters.

 By the time Thorn managed to reach him, Fox had switched on the lights and had settled himself on the floor. “When you adopted Spot, what exactly did the vet tell you to do?” Fox asked, glancing up at Thorn. His voice was soft and almost conversational, but his eyes glinted dangerously in a way that had the other commander shrinking slightly under the older clone’s gaze.

 “The Doc’ told me plenty of things I’d need to do…” he slowly answered, curling in on himself further when Fox made a show of taking in a deep breath, holding it for a moment, and then releasing it. He was mad. “Why do you ask, ori’vod?” Thorn was scared to ask but prayed to whatever deity was out there that he could perhaps try and suck up to the other commander and somewhat lessen his wrath, or at least what amount of it got directed towards him.

 Fox, however, saw through his futile attempt, eyes narrowing on his dangerously, “Don’t you ‘ori’vod’ me, Thorn,” he growled, “come and look what your cat’s done.”

 There was little room for argument with Fox’s tone, and cautiously, as if approaching a fierce predator, Thorn slunk his way closer, sliding down to kneel on the floor beside Fox’s bed. He glanced under it, only to gasp in both surprise and slight delight at what he saw. “Spot’s had kittens?!” he whisper-shouted, trying to be considerate of the five, tiny bundles of fur currently snuggled up close to Spot’s side. Thorn had the sense to at least attempt to look sheepish, but it was hard to maintain it with the way he kept having to fight down the urge to grin at the adorable kittens.

 “I thought you said you’d gotten her splayed months ago!” Fox couldn’t help snapping, “what the kriff are we supposed to do with kittens, di’kut?”

 Thorn gave a nervous chuckle, scratching at the back of his neck, “Uh, yeah, about that…” he merely offered an apologetic smile, though it began to look more and more like a grimace the longer Fox scowled at him. “Look, I’m sorry, but I got caught up with all the chaos we were having recently, and it just slipped my mind.”

 Fox had practically buried his face into his hand by that point. “That still doesn’t answer my question. We don’t exactly know how to deal with newborn kittens, nor what we should do with them.”

 “We can just ask Dalthic, she’s a vet, she’ll know how to look after kittens,” Thorn replied, reaching out to gently nudge one of the restless baby Tookas with one of his fingers. The fearsome clone commander looked as though he was going to burst into tears and desperately clutched his chest with a hand when the kitten made a tiny ‘mew’ sound in response.

 Fox already had his datapad out, shooting a brief message to the vet who had been kind enough to help Thorn adopt Spot in the first place. “You’re going to have to apologise to the poor woman, I’m sure she doesn’t appreciate being woken up at this hour,” he grumbled, sparing a glance at Spot and noting tiredly that it was indeed his blanket that the cat had stolen to give birth on.

 Thorn nodded, but didn’t seem to be paying much attention, too absorbed with stroking Spot’s head, informing her of just how adorable her kittens were. Spot was vibrating with happiness, purring so loudly that Fox was slightly worried the walls would start shaking if she purred any louder. “Some of the other brothers have mentioned wanting pets, maybe we could keep the—”

 “Absolutely not.” There was no way they would be keeping the kittens, much less giving them to other brothers in the Guard to keep as pets. As far as Fox was concerned, they had already broken enough regulations by deciding to keep one Tooka in the barracks, six would just be asking for trouble. “We’re not going to be keeping any of them, as soon as they’re old enough we’ll give them to the Doc’ and she can find them homes.” He absolutely meant it, no matter how put-out Thorn looked at being so quickly shot down.

 It was six weeks later, when Spot was happily sitting in one of the crates in Fox’s office, with four kittens spread out across his desk’s surface and one kitten attempting to lay on top of his datapad while he was using it, purring away happy and content, that Fox realised yes, they would indeed be keeping the kittens.

#writing #star wars #the clone wars #commander fox #commander thorn #coruscant guard #clone troopers #clones and their cats #vet among the stars #pets #tooka #loth cat #unbeta'd #we die like men #a couple of my ocs are mentioned #but that's about it

[thecleverdame]

Gods of Twilight - 4

Alpha!Werewolf!Sam x Human!Reader

Master List (posting schedule is there as well)

Summary: You marry Sam, The King of Lebanon, as part of an alliance between two lands. You soon discover that nothing is as it appears and that your husband is hiding a secret that may end your relationship before it can begin.

Warnings: smut, dub-con, canon-level violence, domestic discipline, spanking

Beta:  ilikaicalie

*Chapters 5-24 are available on Patreon. To get access to this and many other stories, subscribe for a pledge of 2.50 per month. CLICK HERE

-

“You know him?” your husband inquires as you attempt to walk side by side toward the Great Hall. His long legs are moving faster than you can walk and you have to scurry beside him to keep up.

“My father knew him. I’ve only heard the stories.” You look to Sam who’s dressed to the nines, as are you in an ornate forest green dress. You’re hosting the King of the neighboring Kingdom of Easton. “He has quite the reputation.”

While you haven’t been privy to all of the goings on, you’re aware of the issue between the lands. King Luther rules with an iron fist but he’s been less controlled with how his inhabitants treat the borderlands. His people have crossed in Lebanon several times, poaching wild game and last week, killing a farmer and his wife before pillaging their home. It’s serious enough that Sam’s hosting a formal dinner as a peace offering, in hopes of finding a solution before things escalate.

“Luther is the last person I want to waste my time on.” Sam takes your arm without looking, tucking it over his as you both pause outside the dining room. Despite how little time you spend together in private, as a king and queen it’s imperative that you present the illusion of a united front.

“Do you need me to do anything?” You inquire, thinking back to your mother hosting many parties, lubricating the social gears. She was more instrumental in political posturing than even your father.

“He likes beautiful women.” He stops to look at you, eyes sweeping across the swell of your breasts before flickering upward. “Flatter him. Be agreeable.”

“I can do that.” You smile,  taking his hand as you enter the hall.

There’s music playing, a band of musicians strumming an upbeat tune from the corner from the hall. A court jester has center stage, precariously balanced on one hand. Sam has certainly pulled out all the stops. The moment you enter the room the music fades and the entertainment comes to an abrupt halt, all eyes trained on the two of you.

King Luther doesn’t need to be pointed out to you. He’s easily discerned with his shiny cloak and jeweled fingers.

“King Samuel.” He nods his head, stepping forward.

“King Luther,” Sam responds in kind, stepping aside, pulling you forward by the hand. “My wife, Y/N.”

“I am pleased to make your acquaintance.” You bow your neck, watching his eyes hone in on your cleavage, just as Sam’s did only moments before.

He’s a short, round man with a red nose and pockmarked cheeks. Neary every finger is adorned with a ruby or emerald. He is a man who enjoys every indulgence his station affords, affirmed as his wine sloshes over the side of his chalice as he leers at you.

“I know your father.” His eyes drop down your body, appraising you as if Sam’s not even in the room. “I’ve heard of your beauty, but had no idea you were truly such an ethereal creature.”

“Thank you.” Your cheeks burn hot at the boldness of his words. It’s more his tone that bothers you, there’s a hint of impropriety and the way he’s sizing you up is as if he thinks there’s a possibility of taking you to bed.

“Shall we have a drink before dinner?” Sam intercedes, an arm slipping around your waist. He’s either sensed your displeasure or he’s displaying his dominance. Perhaps both.

“You’ll need to catch up!” Luther chuckles, patting his belly.

Sam sits at the head of the table, you at his right, directly across from King Luther.

The visiting King’s knights are lining the wall, next to the guards from your kingdom. The room is filled with men who have fought and killed, it’s an energy you’ll never grow used to.

Sam and Luther talk as the music plays and the Jester juggles a series of increasingly large objects. You try your best to remain attentive, but after your second glass of wine your mind wanders off, daydreaming about your old life and how different things could have been.

You’re jarred back to attention by a bowl of thick soup being set in front of you, a heap of meat and boiled vegetables in dark broth.

“This looks wonderful!” Luther picks up his spoon.

“Indeed.” You nod.

Luther shovels spoonful after spoonful into his mouth and Sam just stirs his own portion, looking annoyed.

“Tell me, King Luther. Did you have a good harvest?” You ask sweetly, taking another sip of wine.

“Yes, one of the best in recent history,” he says, looking rather self-satisfied. “But I have my men oversee each farmer, we do our own assessment of their crop to ensure they’re not cheating the system.”

From the years of your father’s dinner time discussion, you know the history of his land. He’s a tyrant who requires each every soul to pay an obscene monthly tax. Fifty percent of every penny made or crops harvested goes into the King’s bulging coffers.

“How fortunate.” You smile tightly, glancing at Sam who’s watching Luther like a hawk, both his forearms on the table. “And your wife, Queen Katherine, is she well?”

“She’s well as can be expected. She suffers through the changing seasons, her mood sours this time of year.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you offer. As you sit back, your bowl is whisked away and servants lay out a feast before you. There’s stuffed peacock, roasted wild boar, and pears in red wine. The royal taster comes to the table, sampling all of Sam’s food before the three of you begin to eat.

“And your children, you have two sons, don’t you? Are they well?” Your question is met with a shrug as he rips at the pig with his teeth, lacking any and all manners you would expect from a man of his standing.

“My sons are lazy,” Luther grunts, picking meat from his teeth.

Your appetite is ruined. The sight of him eating as if he’s feeding from a trough erases your hunger. Sam cuts his meat like a gentleman, seemingly unphased by the feral display.

“Luther, I’m hoping we can speak of the recent situation between our Kingdoms.” Sam wipes his mouth with a cloth, dropping it to the table.

“Situation?” Luther looks up as if it’s the first he’s heard of it. He taps his glass with a dirty fork and a serf refills his wine.

“Several times over the last month your men have encroached, crossed the border to hunt. As you know we have certain restrictions. They’ve killed several deer and three wolves.” Sam’s nose scrunches up and you swear his lips curl in a barely visible snarl. But Luther is paying him no attention.

“Your precious wolves.” He shakes his head. “How do you know it was my men?” The round man looks at Sam, resting his arms on the table. He doesn’t stop chewing, an amused look on his face.

“Are you accusing me of lying?” Sam balks, sitting up straight.

“Of course not,” he waves his hand. “But how do you know for sure? I assume you weren’t out there in the wood, spying on poachers. So how do we really know for sure.”

“I know.” Sam clears his throat. “Hunters aside, two men from your village crossed into our land and robbed and murdered a farmer and his wife. An old man who was defenseless. It was a vicious attack.”

“You know what they’re like.” Rolling his eyes, Luther sets down his glass, balling his fists. “Peasants are always fighting and killing and fucking. They’re animals.”

“I’ll ask you to watch your language in front of my wife.” Sam doesn’t skip a beat. “I expect loyalty from my people, and in return, they expect my protection and fair justice.”

“Was this man a lord? Someone of importance” Luther looks confused, glancing at you. “I was told his farm was failing.”

“That is not the point.” Sam counters, losing his patience by the second. “Two of your men murdered two of mine. We know who the culprits are, all I ask is that you turn them over to me so that I can make an example of them.”

“Now listen,” Luther smiles at Sam. “I’ll handle this my own way. I’ll make sure they’re punished.”

“I’m afraid that’s not good enough.” Sam shakes his head.

“Where is your brother?” he slurs, “Dean has always been the more reasonable one. Why don’t you send him to me and we’ll work out a compromise.”

“I am King. Not my brother,” Sam spits, his eyes shining with anger. “And we need to sort this out Luther before things become less polite.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“No, I’m stating a fact. If these crimes go unpunished there will be more.”

“We’ll talk about this in the morning. I’ve had enough of this tonight.” He sighs heavily, resting both hands over his stomach. His focus drifts to you. “Cheer up, Samuel. You’re always so serious. With a wife a beautiful as this one, I’d be grinning like a fool.”

“Perhaps I should retire for the evening.” You look to Sam for confirmation. “Leave the two of you to talk.”

“Her mother tried to marry her off to me. Did you know that?” Luther is talking to Sam but his eyes are fixed on your bosom. “She was just a skinny little thing back then if I’d known she’d grow up so...full I would have snapped her up.”

“Watch yourself.” Sam reaches over, taking the wine glass from Luther as the King looks at him aghast. “You are very flippant about things that belong to me. I will not have my people murdered in cold blood and I certainly won’t allow you to speak about my wife in such a way. She is mine, make no mistake about that.”

Your bristle at his declaration of ownership. He typically seems disinterested in anything to do with you, but this is a sharp change.

“Again, I get the feeling you’re threatening me...” Luther raises an eyebrow.

“Good. I am.” Sam stands up, reaching over to grip your arm and pull you up with him, hauling you away from the table. “The time for conversation is over.”

“Good night!” Luther chuckles, offering a single wave of his hand without looking up.

Sam has you by the elbow, pulling you down the hallway, a half dozen guards following along.

“I should have known better than to invite him here,” he mutters, dragging you down the hall. “He’s always been a pig of a man and tonight was no different. I will not be talked to as if I’m a petulant child.”

“I’m sorry it didn’t go as you hoped,” you offer, as he approaches your chambers. There’s a guard outside the door, and he opens it as your husband hauls you inside.

“You mustn’t go out alone. Ever,” he instructs, holding your arm. He’s rarely this close and it’s a reminder of what a large, giant of a man he really is as he looks down at you expectantly.

“I won’t,” you assure him.

“This situation will escalate. My men are better fighters, so Luther will look for my weak spot. And right now, that’s you.”

“Oh.” You watch him get lost in his thoughts, beautiful hazel eyes shifting to your mouth as his tongue darts over his bottom lip.

“I shouldn’t have reacted, he was fishing and I gave him what he was looking for.” He’s staring at you now, getting lost in his thoughts as his eyes trail from your mouth down your neck and to your cleavage. You’re both silent as he stares down you, his grip on your arm tightening.

“Would you…” you gulp, as his gaze shifts back your mouth. You do what’s expected and offer yourself to him “Would you like to have me?” you murmur.

He sucks in a breath, glancing up at the fading light outside the window.

His eyes narrow, pulling you closer and he leans down, running his nose under your jaw. His mouth rubs over the skin at the juncture of your neck and shoulder, sending little shivers up your spine. This is by far the most intimate interaction you’ve had. Two hands curl around your waist as he breathes deeply as if imbibing the scent of you, letting his teeth scrape along your pulse point as you gasp in response, placing open palms on his chest.

“Turn around.” He huffs, pulling back to look at you and you swear his pupils have turned his eyes black.

You comply, nearly yelping in surprise as he curls around from behind, big hands back on your hips, his mouth back at your neck, this time nipping softly at your flesh. When his hands move from their hold it’s only to unlace the back of your dress, pushing layers of clothing to the ground until you’re nude.

And just like always he shuffles forward, bending you over the bed and fucking you wordlessly until he’s had his fill. Tonight, however, he carefully places a wet kiss at the top your spine, lingering for a moment before pulling himself out and disappearing into the night.

#alpha!sam x omega!reader #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester smut

[thebiasrekkers]

Star of Fate [Vampire!VIXX]

Plot: The longer you stare into darkness, the more you realize that something could be staring back. Even more so when that darkness doesn’t want to be brought into the light and will do anything to stay that way.

Rating: NC-17 // NSFW

Genre: Series | Vampire!AU | Angst | Romance/Fluff | Smut

Pairings: OT6 VIXX x OC(s)

Warnings: Graphic Violence (bloody violence), Heavy Language, Angst, Slow Burn, Smut

Additional Warnings: Office Microaggressions | Bullying | Toxic Work Environment

Previous Chapters: Prologue

Links: FAQ || VIXX Masterlist || Admin L’s AO3 || Admin L’s WP || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

Word Count: 2,682

AO3 | WP

Tag List: If you would like to be added to this list, just drop us an ask!

AN: So…I know we said this was coming soon and I’m very sorry that this got started so late! I hope to have this out every two weeks, maybe more depending on the future. So please give this a lot of love and we hope you enjoy the ride!

Chapter 2- The Ghost Woman and the Hunter

Calling on your sins you're here in my dreams a desert place I'm not alone Do you really want to be me?

Her eyes popped open, the realistic feeling of falling completely disorienting her as she shot up from her bed. It had felt so real to her that her body jerked itself awake. Light danced its way in through the blinds, chasing away all signs of shadow. Never had she been so glad that she hadn’t purchased black out curtains than in that moment. She needed to see the sun and all of its glory to help the dream fade away into existence. Well, at least certain parts of it. There was a wistful part of her that still wished that she could be on that dance floor again with the handsome and darker skinned man. 

“Oh my….FUCK!”

Lucky yelled as she looked over to her alarm clock, realizing that it was the source of the chimes that she heard in her dream. Throwing off her covers, she scrambled to get half-way put together so that way she wouldn’t be late to her job. She even called a cab to get her there faster which was unlike her normal routine. Unless there was inclement weather, of course. 

During the ride, she kept an eye on her phone--it lighting up every few seconds as she checked the time. She made it to her desk just in time to receive the stack of papers from some of the other people there. Normally she wasn’t such a space case, even showing up early to get whatever else she missed the previous day. Lucky was a hard worker, nobody could deny that but it was that fact others exploited hence the reason why the stack seemed to get larger and larger by the week. The world of office politics seemed to be much like high school but it paid well enough for her to put up with the majority of it. 

She straightened out her hair as best as she could with it being so long and settled down to start on her work. Most of it had been reports that she had to pencil push and correct, which was easy enough for her because all the information had been just sitting there inside of her head. However, the more difficult stuff came along when the Vice-President stuck his fingers into everything. She couldn’t help but groan when she looked at some of them, saving the majority of them for last so that way she could take extra time on them. 

“Job finally getting to you, Leonora?”

Lucky didn’t realize how long she had been working on them until the voice pulled her out of the zone she had settled into. Turning around, she saw another coworker standing right behind her with a slight smile on her face. No matter how many times she tried to be friendly to some of them, they insisted on resisting any attempts at professionalism and decorum. Well, unless someone higher up was around. Not to mention the fact that they also insisted on calling her by her government name instead of the nickname that she preferred. She gave the sweetest smile she could muster and stood up, green eyes twinkling. 

“Oh, there you are Nancy! I got so caught up in fixing your mistakes that I forgot to give you this folder back! Everything in there should be up to date now and I even took the liberty of sending off the final draft for you. It was the least I could do since I was the last one that had hands on it. You’re welcome.”

She gaped at Lucky for a moment and flipped open the folder to read what she had fixed. Nancy’s ears started to go red and her thin lips flattened as she pressed them together in anger. Lucky raised an eyebrow at her reaction, knowing that she saw what had been edited by her. It had only been a few mistakes but they were some that would have made their department look bad. Plus Lucky also added her name to the document as one of the contributing factors, more so because she went through the trouble of fixing everything. 

“I hope this teaches you to quit pushing your work off on me, Nancy. Have a good day.”

Lucky turned away from her and sat back down at her cubicle, leaving the sputtering woman there to be embarrassed. Even though she had her own computer there, they all had shared files that they could all access and she lived up to her nickname that she had the time to quickly edit everything before emailing it out. It had been one of the rare times that she was able to stick it to them and it honestly made her feel a sliver of satisfaction at the situation. 

Because she was just a little bit petty. 

The sudden ringing of her phone took her away from the moment, the voice of her boss calling for her. Lucky was a bit confused as she looked at the time as she wondered why he had reached out so early. It normally was after lunch that she would meet up with him to go over various things pertaining to her new position. Lucky had been promoted to be the Personal Assistant for the Vice President. Naturally, he had more than one that would work together with him being at such a high level but most of them had quit because of various rumors of his misogyny and unrealistic ideals. Hell, she was even friends with one of them when she found out that she no longer worked there. Rumors circulated with her leaving and even more when she was appointed in her stead. 

Now, Lucky was one of the very few left so that meant that she had been picking up a lot more work than normal. Not that she went out much anyways with the amount of work she had. 

She walked the halls to his office, only to be greeted by the desk clerk. The tiny lady handed her a folder and suggested she find something appropriate to wear. Confused, Lucky looked through the folder and saw that there were some instructions as well as some papers with details on the new VIP’s that they had recently joined with. 

“What the actual hell? Does he expect me to drop everything that I’m doing to go to this event with him? After hours, no less?”

The lady just shrugged and went back to her work. Lucky could feel her indignation rising but left before causing a scene. It was one thing if it was an actual work trip that she had to attend but that had been some sort of event to flaunt and rub elbows. There wasn’t a real reason why she needed to be there so why all the preparation? She returned to her desk and went through the folder in detail. The only promise that she would receive was an extra amount in pay if she went, something that actually interested her. She grumbled as she leafed through it but decided that it was just for one night and that if it happened again, she would put a stop to it. The bright side to it had been that she could take off early to prepare for the event. That was always something she could look forward to especially that day since she moved like hell to get there on time. 

The one person that she could freely talk to in the office came up to her with a grin on her face. She had originally been offered the position but declined it because of family reasons but she was nice to talk to regardless. 

“So Lucky.. I heard from a little bird that you’re going to the VIP event tonight with Mr. Randall.” She wiggled her eyebrows and elbow at her while Lucky just scoffed. 

“Yeah, I guess. I wonder how in the hell does crap go around here so fast? It’s like the freaking flu!” 

“You don’t sound so enthusiastic about it.”

“Ashleigh, I really don’t want to go but they’re promising extra pay this time if I do. I haven’t been sleeping well lately and now I gotta go to this… grandstandin’ event. I wish someone else could go.”

Her coworker leaned thoughtfully on the cubicle wall before leaning down to whisper. It was only times like that when they would get a bit of privacy. 

“You could always quit and get some more sleep? I heard that the other assistant quit as well. I thought, at first, that you had too when you didn’t arrive when you usually do. They’re saying that the abuse from the VP is to blame.”

“Yeah well, tell the handsome man in my dreams to quit bothering me so I can go by to my normal schedule and ignore some of these chickens.” Lucky’s hand motioned like a beak as they both had a laugh over that before returning back to work. However, Ashleigh’s words stuck with her. The VP hadn’t been shy about voicing his displeasure to her about various things, even requesting that she cut her hair but she respectfully declined his request. All she stated was that it was within the guidelines of the company and left it at that. Something that didn’t win her any favors. 

And if the other girl quit too, then the sinking feeling in her gut proved to be more of an ominous feeling. Either way, she would have to go and see how it played out. 

When time came for her to leave early, Lucky instead went shopping for appropriate attire for that night’s event. Even neatly braided her hair to keep it out of her face. Simple, neat and just a tad bit sexy in the red dress. Once satisfied with her result, she waited outside for the driver to come around and pick her up. Upon seeing the expensive car, Lucky suppressed a shudder when the door was opened to reveal Mr. Randall. It wasn’t necessarily seeing her boss after hours but more of a combination of the car and him. Small vehicles caused her a bit of stress since she was involved in an accident many years ago. Since then, normally she would either take the bus or bike when the weather was nice. 

Thankfully, her boss wasn’t too interested in making small talk with her once they got on the road. The city was left behind soon and various gas stations and trees zoomed by them. She didn’t put too much thought into it until the driver turned onto a long, paved road after a set of gates. The mansion that appeared made Lucky’s eyebrows shoot up, something picking at her brain. She couldn’t quite figure it out but it was as if she had seen that place before. She had to shake those thoughts from her head as she concentrated on remembering the information that was given to her earlier that day. 

Knowledge was power and she needed it to navigate that world if she didn’t want to embarrass or otherwise offend anyone. 

Upon exiting the car and entering the elaborate place, Lucky felt all the eyes in the world stare at them. Putting on a gracious face, she walked slightly behind her boss as they were greeted by some of the others there. A few moments chatting with some of them, she soon found herself alone in the area while the others mingled. She wasn’t anyone of importance and therefore not worthy of anyone’s time, for the moment. She would let her boss do all the talking. 

Lucky gravitated towards the hors d'oeuvres while everyone talked among themselves. Plucking a few to put on a plate, she watched the room for any sign that she would be needed. Several of the clients that were in the folder she received were there and they were laughing alongside everyone else. A couple even approached her, asking questions about the company and trying to get a little information from her about how to deal with her boss. She couldn’t honestly say anything to help in that situation because she usually just listened to him bark his orders before correcting anything she needed to. 

She was left alone for another time, only appearing at her boss’ side when needed as the night went on. Soon she felt herself grow tired of all the people and the politics of said beings. Lucky had several drinks before that point and was in the process of acquiring another when a voice nearly made her jump out of her skin. 

“They’re almost like vultures, are they not?”

She looked around and up at him as he was much taller than her, even in heels. The man knew he was handsome, smiling prettily at her as he held up his own glass of red wine in a toast. Lips full and round eyes, Lucky had to appreciate his looks before replying. 

“Well, I wouldn’t say that in particular.”

He gave a wide smile, eyes almost disappearing as they snickered at the rest of them. Lucky found herself talking more and more to the man who seemed just as bored as she was with the party. The more that she looked at him, the more that he seemed familiar to her and it dawned on her that he was one of the men from the folder. He had a nice voice, a bit higher than most of the men there but he didn’t hide it one bit. 

Lucky also noticed that the attention had been drawn to them just from them standing and talking to one another. He introduced himself as Jaehwan and they talked for another 15 minutes, slipping into easy conversation to keep themselves entertained. His jokes nearly had her spilling her drink, the folder not at all correct with the man before her. He was one of three men with his business, including one brother that rotated about in their company. 

Still, even with the jokes and the amicable banter between the both of them--her boss found that he had only missed the presence of Mr. Lee before her. 

“Ah. Leonora, I didn’t realize you had monopolized Mr. Lee’s time here tonight.” Her shorter framed boss then looked to Jaehwan with an apologetic look on his face, “Otherwise I would have saved you sooner!” Mr. Randall gave a laugh, expecting Jaehwan to laugh with him but didn’t. It surprised Lucky that her new friend didn’t go along with him on that but only sighed, looking to her in apology before speaking. 

“Leonora? And you said you were Lucky…” He grinned at her, ignoring her boss. She could see Randall’s face that he was growing annoyed, a face that showed up when things didn’t go his way. 

“Oh that’s just my assistant’s nickname that she tells everyone to call her even though we should be more professional. I’m her boss, Nicolas Randall. Vice-President of Nexus Assurance.” He held out his hand to shake but Jaehwan kept grinning at Lucky. His eyes suddenly were hyper focused on her, the doe eyed look that he did have--dissolved away. Almost like he had found something he really wanted.

“Uh well, I’ve been known to be lucky--hence the nickname.” She nervously laughed, highly aware that the tension was rising. Her eyes darted between Jaehwan as he continued to ignore her boss and the latter as he was getting more upset that the scene was even happening. That strange and ominous feeling was back, churning about the contents of her stomach. Jaehwan slowly turned from the friendly and open persona that he had while it was just the two of them, to something a bit more aggravated the longer her boss was there. There was a glint in his eyes that suggested something unfriendly was fighting its way out. 

Suddenly Jaehwan blinked rapidly before excusing himself but not before taking her hand and kissing it. Bewildered, Lucky watched him weave expertly through the crowd before taking a peek at her boss. 

And he was not pleased. 

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Mystic Messenger Fanfiction | VanderwoodxOC Cerise - Tagged | Ch. 12 Seven's Bunker

***What a day to post! Saeran route is officially available for Android users and my best friend is over at my place playing it, so we can experience the glory together. I'm hoping for a good route that I can do a continuation for in my Good Ending Continued Series. I just made it through Seven's route again and am drafting the beginning of his version which I hope to start posting by March. Hope to see ya'll reading that too~ Vandy will obvs make an appearance. Oh, btw, next week you get your first Cherrywood NSFW. ;3  ~Let's Connect! FFC***

*Remember, this is a sequel to Vanderwood Backstory, and Cerise has a bio. Don’t forget to subscribe to the email list for access to R-Rated Scenes and my monthly newsletter. You can support my writing on patreon and get access to my VIP Discord Server or other goodies like early chapter releases and hidden scenes.  Tagged Chapter Directory*

After their most recent encounter with Marie, Vanderwood and Cerise had decided to take another day before heading away from the hotel, making a shopping trip to a store for Cerise to purchase some pillows that would make her more comfortable while staying at the bunker. (Hidden deleted chapter for patrons.) It was for the better that she’d be there until Vanderwood could leave the agency. She needed to be kept safe; that was his highest priority. Cerise was simply playing around with her phone during the ride, only putting it away once Vanderwood pulled into Seven’s garage. He locked the security system using the in-car controls before turning to her. “Alright, shortcake…Let’s get you inside.”

Honestly, he was feeling just a little anxious. Vanderwood had always been on Seven’s case that relationships weren’t safe for them, that they didn’t deserve it. Not that he thought Seven would complain, more like he had a feeling the redhead would somehow take revenge on him. Seven would definitely be weird and annoying, that was inevitable, and he rolled his shoulders back, already dreading the idiot’s behavior.

Cerise was just ready to stretch her legs again, eager to get out of the car. Once Marion helped her out of the car, she grabbed her cherry pillow from the back and held it with both arms as they approached who she assumed was Seven. He looked nice enough, and he was already smiling. Of course, Marion had warned her that Seven was a troll, but maybe he was exaggerating. Sometimes it seemed like Marion saw the worst in everything.

Seven was standing in the doorway to the house with a huge grin on his face as Vanderwood approached, standing close to Cerise. Something about the grin on the redhead's face made the brunet feel on edge. "Ooo, I read in her file that she was short, but she is absolutely adorable, Mary." And Seven was already pissing him off. Cerise shuffled, her nose scrunching up in displeasure. The first thing out of his mouth was commenting on her height?

Vanderwood was about to open his mouth to give the redheaded idiot a piece of his mind when Seven started to reach for Cerise's waist like he was going to pick her up. Cerise stepped back, tucking herself a little behind him as Vanderwood felt something ugly stirring in his chest. Not only was Seven about to put his hand over her still healing wound, but the redhead was also about to touch his girlfriend. Vanderwood snatched Seven's arm roughly. "Pick her up, and I will break your arm."

Seven’s eyes widened somewhat at the tight grip. Holy...Vanderwood was mad. The redhead had seen him mad plenty of times, maybe even gotten tased on one or two occasions, but this was different. He frowned and pulled his arm away from Vanderwood's grip, who let go, seemingly a little confused as well at why his reaction had been so violent so quickly. If it had been anyone else, Seven had a feeling his arm would already be broken. Well, no matter, just don’t touch the little lady, and he could still have fun. The redhead grinned just as wide as before at Cerise. “As you wish, Mary dearest. I'm Seven Oh Seven, good to meet you, Lady Vandy. I happen to enjoy your blog as of late. I might have a picture or two of my maid that you can add."

She was glad that Vanderwood had succeeded in keeping his partner from picking her up, still sensitive where her wound was and not really interested in being treated like a child. Cerise chuckled nervously as the man introduced himself. "...Lady Vandy?" Apparently, he knew about her blog...not like it was hard to find it. Cerise glanced over towards her boyfriend who seemed to be in a state of irritation. She slipped her hand into his, giving it a little squeeze. Obviously Vanderwood's anger didn't deter his partner, and somehow, that was unnerving to her. "Uhh...sure, but I don’t think I know your maid?"

Vanderwood was already bristling, clearly not wanting Seven to show off his pictures, but when the girl took his hand, he seemed to get somewhat distracted. It was actually kind of sweet seeing the big guy with his girlfriend. He'd always thought Vanderwood wouldn't be able to find anyone to grab his attention, for longer than a few hours anyway. Of course, it also stung. Seven found what he was looking for and with an exaggerated bow, held out his phone, showing Cerise the photo of Vanderwood and he dressed as maids. Seven was hanging off of Vanderwood's shoulder in the photo, who looked very unamused.

Cerise peeked at the phone with her eyes wide, although as soon as Marion saw that photo, he snatched the redhead's phone. "No. Absolutely not." She had still managed to get a good look though, and now her mind was racing. Was that...was he...? Crossdressing, really? Just what sort of relationship did those two even have? She was horribly, horribly confused. Was this another part of his past that she didn't know about? Cerise kept nervously glancing between Vanderwood and Seven even as Vanderwood handed the phone back to Seven, presumably after deleting the image. Was there more about him that she didn’t know?

Deleting the photo was probably pretty useless, since Seven likely had a million copies, but it at least felt somewhat therapeutic, even with his eyebrow twitching. Cerise’s hand slipped out of his, causing him to furrow his brows and watch her from the corner of his eyes. She seemed…shocked and lost in thought. Well, could he expect anything less when Seven had just shown her a picture like that? He’d have to deal with that later, once the redhead wasn’t around. Vanderwood slipped his hand behind Cerise's back after giving Seven a little shove, getting a laugh from the redhead even as Vanderwood guided Cerise past him, grumbling. "Lay off, will you?"

He led his girlfriend to the couch, but Seven still seemed to be hovering. That wasn’t completely unusual. Vanderwood sighed and rubbed his face. “I’ll be right back, shortcake.” Cerise made a noncommittal noise. She didn't even take out her phone when she sat on the couch as she tried to wrap her head around the situation and make sense of it.

Vanderwood broached the topic of leaving the agency, disbanding it even, but it seemed like Seven wasn’t entirely on board. It didn’t make sense to him. In all the time Vanderwood had known the redhead, Seven had always seemed like he hated what he had to do and the workload. Although, once the kid mentioned his twin brother, Vanderwood felt a tight pang in his chest. He hadn’t known. Well, he’d suspected there was someone that the redhead was protecting, but it made even more sense to him now. "Right, yeah, just give me a day to rest up then...I’ll help you find your brother and then we’ll get out of this." The redhead seemed far more on board with that. It would mean field work, potential danger, being away from Cerise, but that was what it was going to have to take.

Vanderwood rejoined Cerise on the couch as Seven shot him a peace sign and left the house, with a grin that once again had Vanderwood questioning if the redhead was up to something. Cerise was still out of it, only shifting slightly as Marion sat next to her. She hadn’t been able to hear what he and his partner had been talking about, but considering that she didn’t understand what was really going on between the two of them, she wasn’t sure if she even wanted to know.

"So, that's Seven. I took a bullet for that asshole." God, he felt awkward. Vanderwood rubbed at the back of his head. He hadn't addressed the photo yet, but with Cerise sitting here looking like she was going through the shock of her life, he was going to have to deal with it right now. "That photo...that was just us doing undercover work, and in no way do I do that normally, nor did I enjoy it in any capacity." He wasn’t sure if she just had an issue with crossdressing or if she was having weird visions of him walking around in women’s clothing, but he wanted to nip anything like that in the bud right away.

Cerise had been about to ask him about the photo, but he had beaten her to it. His explanation made her sigh in relief. Okay, so that was one less thing she had to worry about...It wouldn't have made her love him any less, she would have just had...a bit of concern. Knowing now that he wasn’t a crossdresser or secretly wanted to be a woman or something…It made the photo a lot more hilarious. He had looked really irritated in it too, like he wanted to kill somebody. "I think..." She started to laugh a little now, the hilarity of the moment really hitting her, "...That you might...pfft...look better in a skirt than I do."

He had been waiting for her reaction, watching her, but when she finally did react, he wasn’t sure how to process that either. Was she laughing at him? And then what she'd said actually started to make sense in his brain. "C'mon, Cerise. I’m too masculine for that bullshit…” His voice kind of trailed off a little before he coughed and the rest of what he was thinking made its appearance. "Besides...no one could ever be better looking than you." It was really true, no one had ever affected him in the way that she did. Her cuteness had been the first thing to strike him when he'd met her, but that had quickly transformed into the knowledge that he found her strikingly beautiful. Vanderwood rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. He needed a change of subject. Now that he wasn’t on a mission anymore and cigarettes were back on the table he also felt like he was getting a craving. "Do you uh...want to watch a movie or something?"

Cerise was still giggling, loving the way he was reacting. Maybe she would have to ask Seven if he had any backups of the photo later. She hoped he did, because she now found that she needed it. Grinning at the compliment, she gave Marion a kiss on the cheek before settling back down on the couch. "A movie sounds great. Let's watch something you like." Cerise was a little excited to see the type of thing he would watch on his own. So far, they'd only watched things together that she enjoyed.

"Um..." Something he liked to watch? Mostly all he'd ever watched was action movies and laughing at the crazy shit they did in the secret agent ones. Sometimes he'd complain about them totally flubbing something up...but if she wanted to watch something he wanted to watch..."I guess that'll be a secret agent movie then." The nerd in him had considered grabbing Niron Man, but he didn’t quite want to reveal just how much of a dweeb he was right now. He smiled sheepishly, getting up from the couch to grab a movie he'd watched several times and starting it up. Cerise just giggled at his selection as he worked on getting things ready. Did he like to watch secret agent movies ironically or something?  

Vanderwood stretched and looked at the couch as the opening previews started to play. After being cramped up in the car all day, he really needed to stretch out. Maybe Cerise wouldn't mind. His face filled with a little bit of color. "Shortcake, you think I could lay across the couch and you could uh...lay on my chest maybe?" Why was he being so awkward to ask such a simple little question? She tilted her head a bit at his request before smiling widely. "I'd love to do that." Cerise wasn't about to pass up an opportunity to snuggle up to him, no matter the reason, and laying on his chest while watching a movie sounded cozy and actually sorta romantic. She shifted out of the way to let him lay down, grabbing her cherry pillow from the cushion where she’d placed it and hugging it tight.

He stretched out onto the couch, making a soft groan of relief at getting to lay down and relax. Vanderwood was really getting into this lazy day stuff. He furrowed his brows, eyes scanning the room. It didn’t look like a pigsty…Had the redhead cleaned up on his account or for Cerise? Or was the redhead really planning something?

Once Cerise had settled down onto Vanderwood’s chest, he reached for the remote and started the movie. She could probably hear his heart skipping just a little as she'd first laid down, something he was starting to get used to when it came to her. Vanderwood stroked her hair and back gently, knowing she liked that from the time they'd spent watching TV in the hotel room. Cerise could hear the quickening of his heartbeat as she snuggled the cherry pillow trapped between them. She found the way his heart changed pace as she nuzzled him endearing as well as amusing. This man wasn't playing when he said he had feelings for her, and it made her own heart beat faster. Cerise couldn't help but to close her eyes despite the movie playing as he stroked her hair. She was a victim to the calming sound of his heartbeat. The way he was gently stroking her hair and then her back...who could blame her for having heavy eyelids?

He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head as he hit play on the main menu. This was so incredibly pleasant. His brows furrowed as a soft hissing got his attention. Vanderwood looked up, seeing the emergency sprinkler directly above him opening up. Shit fuck, and the next moment the sprinkler started pouring on them. He was pretty stuck with her on top of him, not wanting to move too fast and knock her off him to get hurt.

Cerise was just able to drift off when she was beginning to get soaked with water, causing her to shriek and jump up. Her first instinct was to protect her phone, so she shoved it in between the cushion and arm of the couch. It was already too late for the pillow she was cuddling in her arms. She looked up to see that all of the water was coming from the sprinkler above the couch and moved away from it to try and get out of range of the thing. "How do you turn this thing off!?"

Vanderwood was about to get more soaked than he already was. "Fucking...Just a second." He pushed himself up and hopped onto the couch, reaching up to the sprinkler and manually placing it into the locked position, stopping the downpour. Everything was sopping wet, from his hair, to his clothes, to his girlfriend. His jacket and gloves would need some tending to after this bullshit. Grumbling, he hopped off the couch, pulling off the items and hanging them over a nearby chair to dry. This had to be Seven. One single sprinkler turns on and it happens to be the one right above them? Vanderwood turned to check on his girlfriend. "You alright, Cerise? Besides being wet, I mean." His eyebrow twitched just a little. The redhead was going to get it. He didn't know how yet, but he'd figure it out.

Cerise nodded and looked to the now soaked couch where her phone was hidden, approaching slowly just in case the sprinkler decided to come back on. She reached for her phone, scrunching her eyes closed tight before trying to press the home button and then opening her eyes to see if it had turned on. Thankfully it still worked and wasn't damaged…but her poor pillow. Cerise squished it a little and water dripped onto the floor. She stared at it blankly for a moment before tears formed in her eyes. Once a soft, fluffy pillow got wet, it would never be the same again. She hadn't even gotten to properly cuddle it yet! It probably seemed silly to cry over a pillow but dammit! It had so much cuddling potential! Cerise kind of crouched with the wet pillow and held it to her chest, not caring because she was rather soaked herself. One last cuddle for her fallen comrade.

He watched rather helplessly as tears formed in her eyes. Holy shit, his girlfriend was crying! What was he supposed to do? He felt completely unprepared. Oh, that redhead was so dead. Vanderwood just went with his gut instinct and crouched down next to her, pulling her into his arms with gentle care and kissing the top of her head. He didn't say anything, not really one hundred percent positive on why she was crying, but he supposed that didn't really matter at the moment. What was important was that he got her to feel better, and this seemed like a normal way to do that...right?

Cerise leaned into him and sniffled a little. "The pillow you got me is ruined...you're not supposed to get them wet..." Vanderwood held her a little tighter as she sniffled. "I'm sorry, shortcake..." It seemed a rather silly thing to be crying over to him, he’d been concerned that it was something horrible. Well, maybe this was horrible in her mind. The harder Cerise squeezed the pillow, the more water dripped from it. It was like her pillow was crying too.

After a few minutes of silence, she straightened herself up and did her best to wring out the rest of the water from the pillow. She sighed and looked at it with a sad expression before turning back to Vanderwood who was starting to stand up now too. "At least I still have it so...that's a plus." Cerise shivered a little, reminding her that she was indeed still wet, and the room was a little chilly. "We should probably go get some dry clothes. "They were pretty damn soaked, and Vanderwood wasn’t about to disagree with her, definitely not when she’d just been crying. "Let me just go grab your stuff out of the car.”

He was thinking about how he would get back at Seven as he headed out to the car, grabbing her bag from the back. His eyebrow twitched as he heard something else, faint thanks to his hearing damage but... Was that barking? Oh no. Oh no, no. Vanderwood broke out in a run back to the living room.

Cerise had taken out her phone to write a status update while she waited when she heard shuffling. She looked around confused until there was barking. What looked like a tiny robotic dog had wandered into the living room and was barking at her. It was actually kinda cute, and she kinda wanted to...pet it? She had made up her mind to do so when Vanderwood came barreling back into the living room, yelling not to touch it.

"Cerise! Whatever you do don't touch that dog!" What the Hell was the redhead thinking? That stupid fire-breathing guard dog could really hurt her. Of course, Seven was probably sending it out for him, but really. What the fuck? The dog was standing in the living room, facing the doorway as Vanderwood came in, and then it's mouth opened, an orange glow visible. Oh shit. He ducked out of the way and ran to pick up Cerise, carrying her bridal style.

She had turned to shoot him a puzzled look before the dog's mouth began to glow, and then he was picking her up and running off with her. It was hard for her mind to keep up. The dog started to spew flames from its mouth as it chased him. What was even happening...? "The dog breathes fire!?" She asked him incredulously. Was this normal for this place? It wasn't long before the lights went out too, the only light coming from the glow of the robot dog's flames. Now Cerise was panicking and terrified. It was like something out of a horror movie.

Holy Lord, this wasn't good. He couldn't remember the damn command for the mutt. Had Seven been banking on him remembering? Jesus. "It's okay, just...gotta remember what ‘heel’ is in Arabic." Vanderwood was going to strangle Seven. It was dark too, and he was having to think hard to figure out where his own room was. Cerise was in danger in his own damn house. He started randomly spewing the Arabic words he could remember as the dog continued to bark away. At least it was keeping its fireballs restricted to the floor. Vanderwood got to his doorway after what felt like running in circles for ages, placing Cerise and her bag inside. "Change here, I'll take care of the mutt." He closed the door as fast as he could to keep that dog out, running back into the living room to find his Arabic dictionary in his jacket.

Cerise stumbled around in the room a bit in the dark, her heart beating wildly and trying to calm down. She was worried but was sure that Vanderwood could handle it...being an actual secret agent and all. Still...that dog was scary. What dog breathes fire anyways!? She dug around in her bag to try and find some clothes to change into. She couldn't really see, so she grabbed whatever. Matching was the least of her problems at the moment, and she just wanted to be out of her wet clothes. Cerise peeled off her clothes and replaced them with the dry ones she had randomly chosen. Just as suddenly as the lights had turned off, they turned back on. Did that mean Vanderwood had successfully defeated the scary fire breathing robot dog? She wanted to take a peek outside of the dorm but decided against it, because who knew after that what she would find?

Vanderwood had been stumbling around trying to find his jacket when the redhead finally decided to show a little mercy by turning the lights back on. He was probably laughing his ass off as he watched from the CCTV's. After grabbing his jacket and rummaging around in the pockets, he was finally able to find the dictionary. It was soaked, but somehow, he found the right page. Vanderwood gave the command and the dog stopped completely, sitting back on its haunches and shutting down.

Such a quick fix for something so disastrous. He breathed a sigh of relief and focused on trying to catch his breath. There were scorch marks all over the floor. So that was why the house had been clean, why he’d used the sprinkler on the couch. Seven had been trying to keep from starting an actual fire or damaging anything important. The brunet’s eyebrow was twitching like mad, his skin starting to crawl as he looked at the mess. Vanderwood needed to clean…but then Cerise was probably worried. As much as he couldn’t stand the mess, his OCD making him itch like mad, Vanderwood started to make his way back to his room. She was far more important than the mess.

"Everything's fine now, shortcake!" Vanderwood called out to her before he returned to his room, pausing before entering, not wanting to walk in on her changing like he had that one time. He knocked and waited for her okay before opening the door and going to her, taking her face in his hands. "Are you alright?" His brown eyes searched her gold ones as he ran his hands over her, looking for any injuries just in case, too focused on the task at hand to be flustered by it.

"I'm fine...are you?" He just nodded as he continued what he was doing. Cerise didn't really care that he was dripping some water on her as he checked her over, she was just happy that he was able to handle the danger and get back seemingly without any injuries. Having him worry over her like this was sweet...even if having his hands run over her was a little flustering. She knew his mind wasn't anywhere near that, so she didn't make a fuss over it. "You should probably get changed yourself. I'll wait outside the door." It shouldn't be a problem if the threat of the dog was taken care of. Cerise gave him a quick squeeze before she headed out the door, closing it behind her and waiting for him to change.

Vanderwood had been about to tell her that he had an attached bathroom, but she was already headed out of the door, and he was getting hit with a Hell of a realization. Only then did he realize that he'd just touched her practically everywhere. His face turned all sorts of red as he grabbed some clothes to change into, getting out of his soaked pants as well as his shoes and everything else. He could walk around the house barefoot just fine, so Vanderwood threw on just a t-shirt and some pants, praying to whatever douchebag of a God existed that Seven was done with his trolling game before joining Cerise just outside his room in the hallway.

When he finally reappeared from his room, she turned around to face him and couldn't help but to blush a little. He was wearing normal clothes...just a t-shirt and pants, but somehow, he made it look extremely attractive. She was pulled from her thoughts when he started getting close to her and her heart felt like it was beating out of her chest. Normally she wasn't this hyper aware of him or this flustered at the mere sight of him...What was going on? He was giving her a sheepish smile, trying not to think about the fact he'd just had his hands all over her.

His thoughts slipped to Seven, anger and tenseness slipping into him, worse the more he thought about it. He decided to focus on Cerise, knowing she had that amazing ability to calm him down...when she wasn't irritating him too. A small snort escaped him at the thought. She was his everything, and he was really going to give that redhead some good payback, although he wasn't positive on how yet. Vanderwood bent his head to give Cerise a kiss. Cerise melted right into him, her hands going to his chest as he pulled her closer. Was her heartbeat even wilder than normal? She didn’t have time to dwell on it.

The floor was moving out from under them, and Vanderwood broke their kiss just before it sped up even more. Fuck. How had he forgotten about the damn hallway conveyor belt? They tumbled, causing Cerise to shriek in surprise. Thankfully, she had fallen on top of him. Vanderwood grunted as he hit the floor, quick to wrap his arms around her protectively. Then the conveyor belt just stopped moving, having deposited them at the end of the hallway.

Once the dumb conveyor belt stopped moving, she attempted to check on him, because he was the one who had the pleasure of falling right onto the floor with extra weight on him. "Marion! Ohmygosh Are you okay?" Luckily, her wound hadn't been disturbed much. It ached a little, but it wasn't as bad as it could have been.

Vanderwood’s mind was turning toward revenge. Seven was so dead. He probably wouldn't be home until late that night, but that meant he wasn't going to get much sleep…Perfect. It really wasn't time to think about that right now with her on top of him, though, and now she was fussing over him. He couldn't help but blush at how she was checking on him, using his real name. It just sounded so nice coming from her. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine, shortcake." His hand found her cheek, thumb stroking gently. "I'm fine." Actually, he was surprised that he wasn't so tense that he couldn't think, surprised at just how little effort it was taking to push irritation away in favor of caring for her and enjoying her presence. It seemed like the more he had gotten used to not using sex as a stress-reliever, the easier it was to relax normally. That felt so fucking good. No pun intended.

Cerise sighed in relief and smiled as he responded to her. The guy took bullets and being cut like a champ, of course a fall wouldn't hurt him...but she still couldn't help but to worry. Cerise nuzzled into his hand before realizing that maybe she should get off of him, so he could get up. She laughed nervously and stood up, blushing something fierce again. "I uh...thanks for breaking my fall by the way..."

That blush on her face was supremely adorable, and he immediately responded without even thinking. "I'll always be there to break your fall...Just like you were when I fell for you." Cheesy. He was going to have to get used to the fact that he sounded like an utter idiot when he was hitting on her. All other women, he was charming and sultry, but no, he was just a cheesy idiot with her. Vanderwood got up from the floor, briefly rubbing the back of his head where he'd whacked it, for once not rubbing it because he felt awkward. He was so sweet, and it was just making her blush worse. She turned around, so he couldn't see her, rubbing at her cheeks...which was probably doing absolutely nothing.

He looked up at the CCTV directly above them and flipped it off. It was best to get the two of them out of any main areas of the house where Seven could enjoy watching his trolling through CCTV feeds. "Let's head to my room...It's safer in there." Cerise nodded her head in agreement, hoping that maybe magically her blush would go down, as she turned to follow him back to his room. They were both stepping carefully, so as to avoid the conveyor belt. Yeah...his room was probably safer. She didn't quite know what was going on, but she definitely didn't want any more surprises from the weird house.

Vanderwood was busy hating himself for having moved into Seven’s house, but it had become impossible not to with the way the redhead had started slacking when that ‘MC’ joined the RFA or whatever stupid charity group it was that the idiot had joined despite the security risk. Could he really judge the redhead for the security risk anymore now that he had his own? It was better not to think about it. Honestly, it all felt a little like déjà vu, as though maybe he’d been through this route of things several times before. His scar from Drawl started to ache as well as his head, so he just shook his head and opened his door, holding it open to let Cerise inside. At least they’d be safer in here.

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[stripesthesupervillain]

The Mad Hatter’s Guild to Happiness: Chapter 1

Questions from Kings (connected previous one-shot)

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Well… Here we are. My first Batman chapter series.

This follows a road trip with Scarecrow and the Mad Hatter, and while parts are meant to be funny, don’t be taken aback if it suddenly gets serious. 

Summary: On a drive to retrieve research for his toxins, Scarecrow is joined by the Mad Hatter so they can discuss their upcoming plans to stop the Dark Knight. Unfortunately, not everything will go according to plan as the two attempt to avoid Batman and to survive each other.

Dear Jonathan Crane,

We hope this letter finds you well.

Jonathan Crane sat in the swivel chair he had taken a particular liking to in the past few months. Sure, it may have been dusty and overused, the arms dirty from years of wear and poor upkeep, but he wasn’t too picky when it came to uncommon luxuries such as this. He enjoyed turning himself ever so slightly with a gentle push of his foot whenever he needed to review his notes, chewing on the end of his pen as a force of habit. It was comfortable, and to the former doctor it had definitely a welcome to see it still untouched upon his recent break out of Arkham Asylum.

However, on this day, he was still, sitting straight up despite the backing of the chair there to support his small weight. Eyes narrowed behind thinly framed reading glasses, he read over the letter in his gloved hands once again, having pondered its words for several hours now. He grimaced at the final words, the costume he wore feeling suddenly constricting, despite him designing it specifically with the ability to move freely. His infamous mask lay on his desk atop his notebook; wearing it had become too much when out of the public eye, and right now he just needed the time to breathe.

He needed to be alone.

He needed some time.

A knock on the door sounded, and from the way it so thunderously beat, he knew it could only be his guard. He gave so curt sigh, deciding he had been given enough time to think this over, and promptly stuffed the folded up paper in a spot of his notebook, removed his reading glasses, and put on his his burlap mask and brimmed hat. “Come in,” he ordered firmly, closing the notebook and folding his fingers in his lap.

The door was slowly opened, and in poked the burly man that was Rocky, the thug he had assigned to keep watch over the entrance. “Yes, Rockwell?” he hummed, watching him carefully from the eyes of his mask. “The Hat guy’s here,” Rocky informed him, looking back to whoever was behind him. “He keeps asking for a ‘Harry’ or something.”  

“It’s ‘Hare’,” Jonathan corrected, recognizing the description and coming to a stand. “Let him in. He’s of no current threat to me.” Rocky gave a quick nod and the usual “sure thing mister Scarecrow sir”, before turning back to whomever he had been speaking to and letting him into the room. As expected, Jervis Tetch was the one who was gestured in, the tops of his eyes raised in curiosity as he looked back at the thug. “A few manners that one has,” he chirped, turning his attention towards his peer. “I’ll never understand how you’re able to get them to behave in such a way.”

“Fear,” Scarecrow said simply, his voice taking the usual darker tone when talking about his preferred subject. “It’s all about fear, Hatter.” He gestured to the room off to the side, where his chemistry table was laid out. He continued to talk as he entered with the Englishman. “Not like those zombies you prefer to keep around. Fear is what grants the results I desire.” Jervis gave a small “hmph”, quickly going over to the edge of the table to watch the doctor work on his toxins. “Well then, Hare, I believe a demonstration should be in order. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but I would like to see it in action. These brutes never learn to listen to the Hatter, oh no. They joke and they jest and they jeer, but they never listen.” He looked up at Jonathan with a furrowed brow. “Though it pushes me to ponder why you have only one. And it’s the same one from my last visit, too! Quite the surprise that is.”

Crane merely hummed in slight amusement as he observed the chemicals bubble. “Hatter, we only just got out of Arkham. I’d prefer a low profile for now, so just one will suffice. Rocky’s proven a fairly loyal help so far, able to keep my research well protected until I got back, so I suppose he’s worth keeping around for now, even if he may be a few apples away from a bushel.” He lowered the temperature and mixed a few of the readied chemicals until the concoction turned a sickly orange. “So, I can assume what brought you here was…?”

“The plan we formulated together, of course,” Hatter finished for him. “We spent such a tremendous amount of time pondering that dear thing that it’s all I could think about, really. As soon as I was settled, I came here first thing.”

Crane paused in his work, letting out a small sigh as he removed his hat. “Hatter, I’m afraid I’m going to have to cancel on out plans.” The Hatter’s displeasure was immediately shown. “I know, I know, it’s a bit too late to tell you, but trust me, it’s not on any poor planning on my part. Due to a small setback, I need to be out of town for a short while, maybe a week or two, so you may just have to hold off until then.” Of course, knowing his peer, Hatter was more than capable of doing just that. Jervis definitely seemed curious, though, as Jonathan had expected, and knew there would be a few inquiries.

“Out of town? Now what in all of Wonderland could drag the March Hare from the tea party?” the smaller man questioned, his brow furrowed as the other loaded the chemical into a few of his weapons. “And all with preparation involved, I see?” The doctor saw no benefit in hiding most of the truth. “I’m unsatisfied with a few aspects of my toxins,” he replied. “As hard as I’ve worked on it, I believe Batman may be attempting to work out a cure for it. So, I’m traveling back to my home town to snag a few research notes for the formula my toxin is based off of. The creator is long since dead, so I doubt any notes will be missed. That is all there is to it, really. As subservient it may seem in comparison to our little scheme, I’d rather not have the Bat take us down so easily should he find the proper antidote.”

Jervis took his words into consideration, playing with the rim of his oversized hat some as he pursed his lips. Overall, though, he seemed to understand where he was coming from quite well. Both needed the tools of their trade to work fairly well if they were going to survive longer than an hour in an encounter with the Bat. “Well that’s a bit of a mimsy pot you have yourself trapped in,” he hummed. “As crestfallen I may be by this sudden turn of our plans, I completely understand.” Crane gave a slight nod. “Thank you. I knew you would understand.”

“And so I will come with you.”

The doctor blinked, pausing for a moment in his tracks and looking over at the rather proud Jervis. “I’m sorry, what was that?” he rasped slowly, taking his attention away from his chemicals. The Hatter let out a soft chortle, grinning in slight amusement. “I said I will be coming with you.”

“This… is more of a solo mission,” the other explained, still taken aback by the offer. “Oh poppycock,” Jervis dismissed. “That’s a long drive, don’t you know? And with our plan set back, I believe it would give us more time to smoothen out the details.” He closed his eyes, smiling to himself. “Besides, we do need to lay low, don’t we? The best choice, of course, would to be to get out of town for a few days. After all, you wouldn’t want to come back with me in Arkham once again, would you?”

He had a a point there. As much as Jonathan preferred to do this alone, Jervis wasn’t the worst of company a man could have, and they certainly did need to finish up the details of their plot against the Dark Knight. However, there were a few quirks that needed to be worked out.  

“I plan to leave in only a few short hours. What about your things?” he questioned, which Jervis retuned with a gesture to the door. “I can retrieve a few things I may need, though it’s not as though I have much of that. I keep most necessities on me.”

“Necessities being?”

“My book, my hat, a few cards, and tea.”

“Of course,” Jonathan sighed to himself, somewhat amused by the other’s response. “And you’re willing to spend an entire car ride with me?” Tetch gave a visible roll of his eyes, an uncharacteristic move for him. “Of course, of course, why would I not?”

This would either turn out to be a mistake or a small help to him. Should the former be the case, he could always ditch the small man and hit the road. Jervis would be understandably upset, but Crane knew he would eventually be forgiven despite his misdeeds.

“Fine, you may come, then,” he complied, watching the other’s expression light up quickly. He had always found it curious to see the Hatter’s moods flick to upbeat and happy in such a quick manner. What did he ever have to be so happy about all the time? It was a welcomed sight, nonetheless, even if his constant and quick changes in mood were a hazard. Jonathan had to  always remind himself that Jervis was still a very dangerous man, especially when off his prescribed medication. While they had originally moved past any grudges held toward each other, Crane never let it be forgotten that he was able to describe what losing control of his own thoughts and cognitive functions was like.

“I leave in just a few hours. Most likely around dawn,” he sighed, picking up his scythe. “But if you’re going to be traveling with me, you have to remember that we need to keep a low profile. We cannot have our plans ruined if we’re suddenly recognized.” He took off his burlap mask and heaved the staff of the scythe over his shoulder to rest there. “So, for the entire trip there and back, you will only know me as ‘Jonathan’ and I will refer to you as ‘Jervis’. Understood?”

Hatter gave a small grimace, but dutifully nodded and removed his hat. “Understood, Jonathan. However, what about in case of an emergency?” Crane paused and took a moment to look at his scythe. “This is a simple car ride from here to there, so I doubt anything too dire will happen along the way. But, just in case, I’m bringing my weapons and Scarecrow. You’re free to do the same, but don’t expect anything exciting. So no references to Wonderland in public, no Hatter while we talk to others, and for the love of all things detrimental in life, no made up words. I refuse to be caught just because you can’t realize that ‘frabjous’ isn’t a word.”  

Jervis gave the other a quick glare, another uncharacteristic action for him. “We’ve argued about this countless times, Jonathan; frabjous is a legitimate word!” Crane just rolled his eyes and put on his mask and hat again before walking out of the room. “Just go get your things before I leave you. We’ll fight about this in the car.” The neurologist huffed, but nodded and trotted out of the room and to the exit.  

Crane looked over at Rocky, who stood guard near the doorway. “I will be leaving for a week or two. No one gets in or out, understood? If I see anything missing, I’ll have you gassed. If everything’s as I left it, I’ll double your payment for a week.” Rocky gave a curt “sure thing mister Scarecrow sir”, and with that, Jonathan went to get ready, grabbing his notebook. He grabbed the loose paper tucked within the pages, reading it once over. With a small grimace, he went to pack up his chemicals.

#Scarecrow #Jonathan Crane #Mad Hatter #Jervis Tetch #MHGH

[nameless-articles]

Nioh: The Right Game for the Wrong Time; but really a discussion on how we should talk about games and what to keep in mind when engaging with video game criticism.

I played Nioh (2017) recently, which you can see on my YouTube/Twitch (shameless plug), and I had some mixed feelings along the way. I enjoyed my time with the game, even if it was a bit frustrating at times. However, any time I wanted to criticize or point out something I didn’t enjoy, it was often accompanied with a comparison to a lesser known series by a small developer named FromSoftware. While I’m sure my viewers got annoyed by this, in the moment of playing it was the easiest way to acknowledge my gripes with the game with another game, but I wonder if that is the best approach to critiquing a game. This piece is about my feelings towards Nioh, but I also want it to be a critique on how we, as game critics and players, tend to criticize games. And let’s just pretend that my last article wasn’t over a year ago, k thanks.

Nioh is a good game, but maybe I should say a little more than that while I have you here. I have never played any Koei Tecmo games, so keep that in mind as I talk to you about Nioh. While streaming, someone pointed out how it reminded them of Ninja Gaiden and how they were interested in this game based on that alone. I only mention that little anecdote to comment on how easy it is for people to think about other games when we are looking at or playing another one, and how simple it is to give the reader some background context.

Of course, people don’t just do this for games. Just about everything in our life is in a constant state of relation, positive or negative, with some other aspect of our lives. It is not enough for a game to be good, it must be good in comparison to other games that we’ve played. Likewise, this piece of chicken I’m pretending to eat must not only be good, it has to be better than the piece of undercooked Church’s fried chicken I ate in a trailer in fourth grade, and so on and so forth.

I’m not here to say that comparisons are bad to make, in fact I started this piece by acknowledging how frequently I compared Nioh to FromSoftware games. Comparisons are an easy way of conveying our pleasure/displeasure with a certain process, however the ease with which we can produce comparisons is not to be mistaken with calling it the ideal basis of criticism.

“[Asking developers] to change such fundamental elements of the mechanics is not examining the game for what it is, choosing to examine it for what it isn’t or based on an experience the game does not seem designed to give.” - Me in my Sekiro article (found here).

While I’m not the best at following my own advice, I still agree with my assertion that assessing experiences for what they aren’t can be a recipe for disaster, or at the very least dissatisfaction. When I compare Nioh to something like Dark Souls, I am drawing from a pool of knowledge that may or may not be the same as another player. For someone playing Nioh without any previous Souls experience, such comparisons are almost pointless in describing the experience of playing the game, and I envy that reality because it is not easy to divorce yourself from previous experiences when assessing a new one. It may be impossible to do so and may actually prove to be a disadvantage of one’s criticism. Let me elaborate by going on a tangent for a second.

The Tangent

I hate tutorials. After fifteen years of playing games each with their own spin on how to teach players how to play, I am over them. Especially when now more than ever games all control about the same, and the ones that don’t control like the rest are unfairly maligned for doing so. So when a game feels the need to tell me how to play, I can’t help but roll my eyes knowing I’m about to go through a process that takes minutes from my life I’ll never get back, only to figure out how this flavor of third-person right-analog-controlled-camera left-analog-controlled-movement feels in comparison to the countless other games that feel just about the same. Nioh is kind enough to grace you with not one, not two, but essentially three different versions of a tutorial in a game that took me about thirty hours to beat. You have the opening section in England, the always accessible Dojo in the mission select screen, and the very first mission all treating you like it is the first time you’ve ever played the game. Of course, none of these teach you about the more intricate mechanics and passive abilities you can get throughout the game that, in my experience, cost me more time understanding their stat bonuses than they actually ended up being useful in gameplay (a bit more on this later). 

Tutorials are difficult to manage because on one hand you want to give the player just enough to get started, but at the same time you don’t want to risk under informing your player such that the tutorial gives them what they could’ve already assumed from an ad. This is only the case for someone who plays enough games to feel they can make an assumption, and oftentimes it's important to keep in mind that every game is potentially someone’s first game. What may come across as a hindrance for someone who regularly plays games is almost necessary for someone picking up a controller for the first time. The question(s) then becomes, from which point of view should your criticism come from, how much of that criticism should be contextualized for the reader, and what is a reader to do with that information? I’ll use Nioh as an example because these questions can lead to other interesting points of discussion that extend outside the game itself.

Which point of view should your criticism come from?

When criticizing a game either in writing or in a conversation, there’s hardly a reason to play devil’s advocate (please take this advice outside of games as well). While yes, it can be interesting, maybe even fun, to tease out other points of your argument by engaging with a point of contention different than your own, to play devil’s advocate is to engage with those views as if they are your own, when that is never necessary. It is enough to acknowledge that such a point of view reasonably exists (that is, it is a view held by a large enough group of people to warrant using your precious brain power on) and then engage with the idea from there. However, anyone’s best argument is going to come from the one they truly believe, justifying it as such and engaging with dissenters keeping in mind how they perceive the situation. In short, if you have experience playing games, then it makes little sense to pretend that you don’t. And if a game conjures up a similar experience to another game, and you can point to mechanical similarities to prove why you feel this is the case, then it makes sense to do so. That said, the process of comparison shouldn’t be used to undervalue how a game is different from another. For example, it is not enough to only say that Nioh has much more number of mechanics, consumables, weapons, and armor (as far as getting an endless amount of stat variation is concerned), and as a result it is better/worse than other games like it. One could look at all the additions as a positive, proclaiming it gives the player much more freedom in tackling the enemies, while someone else could see it as a negative, proclaiming that all the excess of mechanics leads to a bunch of unnecessary thought a player has to give to mechanics that only affect how quickly an enemy’s health bar depletes. Both are valid interpretations of the game’s mechanics.

From my point of view, the immense control players have over their movement, far more than anything possible in any of FromSoftware’s offerings, means you never really have to engage with most of the mechanics except for levelling up and swapping out gear for something of higher defensive and offense stats. While it’s also true in Souls that you can stick to a boss’ right side and avoid most damage, the ease of doing so in Nioh renders most of any boss’s challenge mute. Not helped by bosses only having four to six different moves means it’s reasonable for a player in the “right” mindset to learn a boss’s entire moveset. In the end, the myriad mechanical options add extraneous complexity to a combat system that is fundamentally conquerable by doing what you would do in other similar games. 

That said, not all of the changes to conventional souls-like design goes unappreciated. The ki-pulse system makes stamina management a far more interesting affair than anything I’ve ever played. It allows an attentive player to remain aggressive for longer and makes Yokai combat encounters different from others in the game, which helps somewhat in making the combat less repetitive (though a notable lack in differing enemies/enemy reskins can wear down even the most enthusiastic players). Notice, I started this comparison by referring to this game as a souls-like, but none of what I actually said about the stamina system relies on playing other games to understand. No matter the comparison being made, the game discussion needs to center on what is being offered in the game itself, with little to no attention given to the qualities of the other game(s) being compared. A lack of enemy variety is subjective, because underneath that assertion is an understanding that I have played other games with more enemy variety, such that an indirect comparison is being made at any qualitative analysis. On what basis am I saying there aren’t enough enemy types? Surely I am making that statement based off other games that have had more enemy variety under similar constraints (game time, play space). 

A player with a different background may have no reason to consider a game in that terms at all. If the only other game I played was flower, where there is maybe only one enemy in the form of environmental hazard, something like Nioh would have way more enemies than I could ever imagine. With that kind of background, I may even praise Nioh for the amount of enemy variety and not think much of enemy reskins or reusing bosses. For the record, I don’t mind Nioh’s reusing of bosses for side missions and as a way to cap off the experience at the end. Nonetheless, the end game side missions that just put two bosses together in a pre-existing boss arena are not a high point of the game.

Neither of these perspectives are inherently better than the other. At best, we can say one point of view comes from playing similar games while another comes from a set of eyes completely new to the formula. Neither give an assessment more “true” to the nature of the game, because, if I haven’t already made it clear, a game has no nature or critical existence outside of the discussion borne from it. Neither is more accurate, because both describe someone’s experience. The next question is about how relevant that is to the reader.

How much context does valid criticism necessitate?

In short, context could mean everything or nothing, depending on who you ask. Context, in the context of this specific piece of video game analysis, does not so much refer to the context of a game’s release as it does to the gaming backgrounds of individuals reviewing or critiquing said video game. What does the reader need to know about the author to find their criticism valid?

The list of individual traits is endless and, with regards to playing video games, fundamentally useless. For an absurd example, you would not care if the critic ate rice and fish (or if they preferred saying fish and rice) a week before playing the critiqued game, because that should have little ground on their criticism. It is easy to understand the pointlessness of such points of definition, but there are others that warrant a discussion despite them being fundamentally unanswerable questions. For example, must someone play the other games in the series to reasonably critique the third entry of a franchise? Must someone beat the game in its entirety (does entirety mean getting to the end credits or something absurd like viewing every texture and audio file individually after obtaining all the trophies and secret items at max level)? Does someone need to play the game at all? Would any of the criticism I put forth about Nioh be any less true than if I had watched a YouTube video and come to the same conclusion? Should someone that agreed with me on all those points rescind their agreement until they find someone else who had actually played the game? These questions refer to vague lines in nonexistent sand, with infinitely definable answers.

So then is context meaningless? Possibly. For some it may not matter at all whether the critic has played many games, where they’ve demonstrated a cogent understanding of the medium and seek to express that ideology in their criticism. Realistically, most of us don’t think about the context to such a degree. Yet there are articles and discussions about game journalists having trouble with Cuphead’s tutorial and others needing to use cheats to beat Sekiro, and members of the community typing in rage about how this marks the uselessness of such critics. So it’s clear that it matters, at least to some individuals.

I do not use those outraged and inflammatory instances to poison the well of the “context matters” crowd. Because some of the most popular game critics are those who have a history of their likes and dislikes. If I were to give you a review of a game I did not play, most people would tune out immediately, believing that anything I might have to say would be completely nonsense because we don't deem that kind of “uninformed” criticism appropriate. Would watching hundreds of hours of Nioh make me more qualified to criticize than someone who dropped it after the first hour, despite having never played it? For some this is an easy question, but I am not here to pose easy answers. In truth, any number of arguments could be made as to why one of those two would give more informed criticism, and those arguments would be just as subjective and context-ridden as the original question.

Let’s go back to the context of Nioh, and this refers both to the context of Nioh, the game, and of my own experience with it. When I started streaming the game, someone in chat hyperbolically wrote that I would get an achievement for being the first souls player to beat the first boss. The insinuation, which they further clarified, was that souls player often complain that Nioh is too difficult, and they weren’t ready for a game that was offering them a real challenge (not like the fake challenges I had been exposed to up until then). I have countless hours in the Souls series, have played all the games from Demon's Souls to Sekiro, and I did not have much challenge with the game. Other than an optional boss (which is actually two bosses), I never died more than six times to a boss, which is not something I could say about other games in the subgenre. I was always waiting for the game to get as hard as everyone told me it was going to be, and as a result I always prepared myself and nothing ever proved to be as challenging as what I had already experienced in other games. 

Nioh came out in 2017, and that legitimately surprised me. This game came out after Bloodborne and Dark Souls 3. Had this game come out before both of those, and had I played it before playing those and Sekiro, I think I would’ve had a much different perspective on the game. I imagine I would’ve looked at Sekiro a lot less favorably knowing about Nioh, and it would’ve felt less like a unique take on the Souls formula in a Japanese setting and more of a game that was actually taking from Nioh in the way that Nioh takes from its predecessors. Nioh, for the most part, feels like an amalgamation of the souls genre, along with a few gimmicks of its own (which still harkens back to Demon’s Souls). At the same time, the focus on mechanics and Japanese setting does make it better than some of the more middling offerings within FromSoftwares offerings. I would say Nioh is a better package than Dark Souls 2 and 3, which means I am more likely to go back to it more than those two games.

I can’t help but try to imagine a world where Nioh came out before Bloodborne. It would’ve been more groundbreaking and would’ve had less to compare to, though this isn’t always to a game’s favor. As it stands, the game feels like a mechanically refined Souls game with a far more linear level and story progression. For someone that played Dark Souls for the gameplay, Nioh probably stands out as superior to those, but for someone who enjoyed the more exploratory adventure aspects will find this game lacking, as you are far more likely to encounter doors that can only open on one side, and usually never the side you’re on the first time around. 

Of course, this is just one person’s experience with the game and is by no means absolutely indicative of the experience someone else will have. Some readers will be more aligned with the context of one reviewer/critic over another, and the next question seeks to assess how all readers, regardless of experience, might incorporate this piece into their own understanding of games.

What is a reader to do with context? 

When playing a game for the first time, the experience can benefit from initially knowing as little as possible, so the player must slowly construct a frame of reference through which they’ll go on to view the rest of the experience. However, if everyone played things with little knowledge going into it, readers would be left with a wide array of reviews all amounting to the same level of first impressions, especially when people rush to be the first to say something new or interesting about a certain game. The longer a game is out, the more coverage it receives, the more difficult it gets to contribute a new mode of analysis. Thus, a well-informed reader is someone who engages with critics who have similar and different tastes than themself.

Many readers are quick to ignore thoughtful opinions based solely on its central claim. “[Insert reviewer] said this game is misogynistic, and I refuse to engage further with the matter.” Maybe I don’t need to tell you why such a point of view is detrimental to video game discourse, but in case I do: dismissing an opinion without offering your own thoughtful critique doesn’t propagate discourse; instead of ignoring legitimate criticism of a video game you enjoyed, maybe you should complicate the criticism by offering counter claims and examples. I’m not saying everyone needs to have an opinion on everything, because we all know enough people have enough opinions to keep readers engaged for centuries to come. One does not need to argue with a piece of criticism to engage with it. Reading and understanding the criticism in good faith is quality engagement on its own.

Most readers are content with critics telling them what they already believe to be true. I agree, it is very comforting to listen to the words of a journalist, someone with a small semblance of authority in your hobbies, affirming what you already know. But it is important in these moments to also cast a critical eye on those that agree with you, because sometimes it can take another person saying the same sentiments to find points of contention.

Context is important because it informs how the critic is interrogating any piece of art, and a reader mindful of that context is going to help them determine whether they’re coming from the same place. For example, if I know a critic enjoys a certain genre or has exposure to certain games, I can leverage that with my own personal experiences with that genre or those games, meaning I can keep that information in mind as I’m engaging with the criticism. In the context of Nioh, does the reader have experience with the Souls-like genre, does that experience differ from the critics (if so, in which ways does the difference in previous experience account for why a critic might like or dislike certain elements of Nioh like difficulty or other mechanics)? Keeping the differences in mind will help a reader understand why they might disagree with a critic, likewise the similarities will help a reader understand why they might agree. It is also not uncommon for differences to lead to agreement (I like this game because it was easy, I like this game because it was difficult. Both of these statements can simultaneously be true to two different players, and it doesn’t diminish either of their enjoyment or appreciation).

Keeping such context in mind as you engage with criticism and give critique will make you more aware of the intersubjectivity of play at play. This awareness helps you better understand your own biases as well as others, which benefits the overall discourse. I’m not saying you need to engage in a respectful manner, but that you must actively engage with the opinions being expressed.

Conclusion, and the Context of this piece

Most of this essay was sprung from an internal conflict over how I wanted to talk about Nioh. I mentioned that I frequently drew comparisons during my playthrough, and I do not know why. It had to do with the familiarity with going through a level, fighting a boss, rinsing and repeating. It does not take very many games to realize how derivative the entire medium is, though framing it that way suggests that other artistic mediums are immune to formulas and derivation. They are not, but it does not change the fact that having so many games play and feel so similar to each other is a perfect storm for player fatigue and burnout. From platformers, to first person shooters, to third person cover based shooters, to open world sandboxes, to battle royal games, how many of the same kind of game can people handle before they yearn for something wholly different?

Then I thought to myself, every game within a genre is someone’s first game within that genre,  just like every game is someone’s first game. Derivativeness is good because experimentation becomes codified and refined, and we get games within genres that stand out within a genre, making entire new subgenres of their own, as was the case with Demon’s Souls. Different experiences are exciting, but they tend to be unpolished, janky, and often never reach the heights their potential suggests. Which I believe sums up how I feel about Nioh without needing to say how much I enjoyed it.

Nioh would not be what it is without Souls game, any argument to the contrary has an insurmountable amount of evidence to contradict, but that does not mean you must view Nioh under these constraints to understand why it is a great game worthy of your time. Whether you’re a fan of the genre or not, you owe it to yourself to try one that could be the one to change your mind entirely, so long as you don’t expect the game to change your life, as I always seem to hope for.

#video games #criticism #critique #niohgame #nioh #long reads