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joels-shitty-puns · 5 months

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The Key To Your Heart - Track 9

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Musician!Reader

Series Summary: After writing your feelings for Pedro into a song, it gains a lot more popularity than expected. Ultimately it brings both criticism and support, with new possibilities around the corner.

Series Warnings: 18+ only (MDNI). Panic/Anxiety attack. Alluding to sexual scenarios. Kissing. Fat shaming, name calling. Mentions of food, weight loss, weight gain, dieting, weighing, potential eating disorder, food guilt. Potential for puns/dad jokes (name of my blog, and the fic) should give that away. This is my first fic which should be its own warning, lol. Also some cursing. Mentions of masturbation (f) maybe more smut later idk. Sadness, reader is pretty depressed. Poor body image. Rude people. Bullying-ish and just lack of support? Anxiety. Age gap! Reader is in her mid 20's, Pedro is current age (48).

Other stuff: Reader is plus sized. AFAB. Inexperienced. Also has a dog, but you can pretend it is another creature probably. Further, in case it isn't clear, italics almost always are the reader's inner thoughts!

Word Count: 2.7K

Series List: Here!

Miss Chapter 8? Here!

Hi everyone!! I really don't feel great about this chapter, I'm sorry if it sucks. I kinda just want to get it out there though because I don't see my brain thinking up anything better. A lot of writer's block surrounding this scene. Anywho, hopefully next chapter will be better, but I still hope you like it. Although we allude to a little bit of sexual situations now that they are together, I likely will avoid explicit smut being that Pedro is a real human and I am a guilty, guilty human for writing any smut at all. I don't want to offend Pedro (not that he'd ever see it anyway, I am delusional), but I also know people find real person fiction uncomfy as a whole. That being said, I think this story may be coming to a close pretty soon. I plan to have maybe one more full storyline chapter, and at least one little side bonus chapter :) Please let me know what you think in the comments, or DM me if you wanna chat! I love hearing all your thoughts. Thank you for reading and hanging in here with me.

Before the screen even had a chance to load, you canceled the request. Nervously looking at Pedro, he held your hand under the table. “What is it?” he asked gently.

“I just realized,” you replied. “What if they ask about us? About those pictures? What should I say?”

Pedro answered with a gentle stroke of his thumb on your cheek. “Whatever you feel comfortable with. I'm sure I'll be fine with whatever you say, baby. I know your privacy is important to you, and I trust you. I'm all in with you.”

“Okay.” You took a deep breath and once again began the stream.

“Live in 3…”

“2…”

“1…”

The fans began to file in, and before you knew it, you had thousands of viewers. Opting to start with your screen covered, you wanted to give an intro first before the big reveal.

It wasn't long before the comments flowed across the screen.

You took a deep breath, squeezing Pedro’s hand, and jumping in. “Hi everyone! It's me… a lot has been happening lately and I decided it might be time to show a little more of myself.”

-“First!”

-“Did she mean to start a live video ??"

-"Hiii! I'm a big fan"

-“Is she there??”

-“Do you guys see anything?”

“So… Here's me.” You turned on your camera, waving at the screen, your stomach twisting in deeper knots.

-“No fucking way.”

-“!?!!!!!”

-“SCREAMING”

“Hi… Some of you might know me, some might be surprised. But this is me. This is the girl behind the music.”

The comments flooded in, entirely too fast for you to read.

“I want to thank all of you for being fans and listening to my songs. It really means a lot and I hope you liked the album. Your support blows me away, especially with what little information about myself I've given.”

More comments.

“Well, I uh… guess I should read some of these comments and answer some questions. I'm sure there’s a lot you all are wondering about,” you stated nervously, starting to read.

-“Why did you hide your identity?”

“Why did I hide my identity… I hid my identity mostly based on poor self image. I never expected my music to gain popularity, never expected celebrities to know it. Never expected any of it, and it certainly brought its share of criticism. I was scared to be in the spotlight and I didn't feel like I looked good enough to be someone famous. You know? I'm not skinny, I have flaws, and that doesn't always sit well with the Internet. I guess I was mainly scared of how I would be perceived. I'm just a normal girl who had her whole life flipped upside down when I wrote my feelings down,” you laughed anxiously.

Choosing to ignore the storm brewing in the comments below, you addressed the earlier comment. “Thank you for your kind words. I'm glad I can make you feel more accepted by seeing more plus-sized people in the entertainment business. Everyone should feel seen and have a place at the table, no matter what you look like, or who you are.”

-“I think it's nice to have more celebrities that look kinda like me.”

-“You're so humble!!”

-“You should've stayed hidden lmao”

-“Shut up, asshole. Why are you here if you're going to be rude?”

-“I'm sure you're a real supermodel behind that keyboard bravery.. smh”

You weren't expecting someone to actually feel like you were representing them and making them feel seen. You didn't think you had enough of an impact for that. You certainly weren't treated that way when you weren't famous. Nobody really even noticed you before.

You could feel Pedro’s eyes on your face, his thumb swirling circles and hearts over the space of skin on the top of your hand, below your thumb. The place where his bullseye resides on his own. Does he trace that tattoo when he's nervous, the same way he is with me? Perhaps his tracing of your hand is calming himself as much as it is for you.

Desperately, you wanted to look over at him and be comforted by his deep brown eyes, but doing so would cause people to wonder who you made eye contact with and smiled at. So instead, you gave a gentle squeeze and a smile towards the screen, hoping he would understand.

-“Hi, I'm a big fan of yours. Can I ask… is what you said on your album true? You've never been kissed before? I haven't either and I was starting to feel like I'm just a freak.”

“Oh, honey, you aren't a freak. Everyone has things happen at different times in their life. But yes, everything I wrote in my album at the time I wrote it was true. And don't worry, I have felt the same way. Seeing others be kissed, falling in love… having the things I wasn't, it really hurts. But it'll be okay.. nothing is wrong with you. You're deserving of love.”

You hoped they wouldn't pick up on your usage of past-tense wording. Pedro, still holding your hand, rubbed his other hand over your arm gently.

-“Wait… at the time you wrote it? What about now?”

The comments were going wild.

Welp…

Your hands shook, and you used your opposite hand to place on top of Pedro’s that gripped yours. He squeezed gently, feeling the nervous tremors pass through your body, continuing to rub gentle strokes over your arm with his opposite hand.

“Uhm…” your cheeks heated and your stomach sank.

“I've changed a lot since this album was first written. Experienced new things. But I'm still the same person.”

Shit.

-“Who did you kiss?! Is it the guy in your song?”

-“Will you tell us who the song is about?”

-“Wait a second… you're that girl aren't you!?!!!! The one in the pictures with Pedro Pascal!!!!”

-“OMG IT IS”

-“!!!!!!!”

-“IS HE THE GUY!?!”

-“ARE YOU DATING!?!”

The nervous tremors continued, now threatening to cause your teeth to chatter. A full panic attack was brewing. Pedro squeezed your hand again, touching your knee and trying to do his best to ground you without speaking up on your live video. Skipper could feel the waves of anxiousness pooling off of you as well and crawled forward to settle his body across your feet. You took a few calming breaths, but when you went to speak, your voice still betrayed you.

“I..” your voice cracked, shakiness evident as you could feel tears starting to edge their way towards your vision.

I can't do this. I can't do this. I need to shut it off.

You shut your eyes, taking deep breaths, trying to ease your nausea and stress.

Keeping your eyes closed, you spoke. “Yes.”

You took another deep breath. “Yes it was me, yes the song was about him. Yes.”

You opened your eyes to read the comments, tears pooling down your cheeks as you couldn't hold back your emotion anymore.

This is so embarrassing. The first time I show my face I'm crying and having an anxiety attack in front of the whole world.

You swallowed, choking back the full sobs that your body wanted to let loose. Wiping your face with the back of your hand, you began to read the comments, expecting laughter, criticism, and bullying. Instead, you were met with kindness.

Coming back to your senses, you gave a shaky smile. “Thank you guys. I'm sorry for my emotions.” You sniffled. Pedro was still rubbing your hands and arms, comforting you, having never stopped. His eyes still bore into the side of your head, and you knew he was struggling to not speak up or grab you fully.

-“Oh my God, are you okay?”

-“I didn't mean to make you cry I'm so sorry”

-“You and Pedro make a cute couple”

-“Oh no, please don't cry”

-“Idk if you guys are dating but you seem cute”

-“I'm so glad you guys are spending time together when he's the guy in your song”

-“It'll be okay, please don't be upset”

-“You're amazing, we love you”

“Yes, Pedro and I have been spending a lot of time talking after he publicly commented on my song a few months ago. The party was the first time we met in person and we're still figuring things out,” you let go of your worries and broke eye contact with the camera, looking to your side to meet Pedro’s gaze. “But… we're happy.” You smiled at him. He smiled back gently, squeezing your hand, worry and sadness plaguing his face over your well-being. Breaking eye contact, you looked back at the screen.

You giggled before answering “well, I think that's all we have time for today. Thank you all for joining me!” You silently clicked off the stream, closing the browser, turning off the computer, and turning to Pedro. He grabbed your other hand in his, now holding both. “Are you okay?” He asked, concern etched in his face.

-“AAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!!”

-“IS HE THERE WITH YOU!?!”

-“whaaaaat”

-“SCREAMING”

-“Shut. Up. This is insane.”

-“YOU GUYS ARE SO CUTE I CAN'T TAKE IT”

“I think so,” you nodded.

“Seeing you panic and not being able to do anything without potentially making it worse… It killed me. I'm so sorry. I just wanted to pull you into my arms and end that video myself. I hated seeing you so upset.” He stared down at your intertwined hands, rubbing his thumb over them again.

“I appreciate you being here for me,” you let go of his hand to stroke his cheek. “I couldn't have done that without you.” You met his eyes, leaning forward to rest against his forehead. He let out a shaky breath. “I love you. I'm so proud of you.”

“I love you too,” you replied with a smile. “Let's move to the couch, huh?” You asked, pulling him up from the chair. He stood, just as your phone rang, a call from Rose. You quickly answered.

“I saw the live stream. You did wonderful! Don't worry about any of the negative comments you saw or any stories that come out of this. I'll handle it all.”

“Thanks, Rose.”

“Anytime. Take care.” She hung up.

You updated Pedro as the two of you walked towards the couch. “Do you want breakfast?” He asked.

“Maybe in a minute. Can I just hold onto you for a few minutes?”

“I would love nothing more.”

He sat on the couch, you sitting next to him, before he gave you a look. “What?” you laughed. He patted his leg.

“Let me hold you.”

“I'm too heavy for that Pedro, don't be ridiculous,” you shook your head.

“You're the one being ridiculous.” He reached over, pulling you into his lap. “I'm too heavy! You're going to hurt yourself,” you whined.

“You're not too heavy. You're the perfect size, baby. Come here,” he pulled you forward, your body sliding down his thighs as he wrapped his arms around you. You straddled his lap, knees on either side of his hips while he rubbed your back gently. You placed your arms around him, nuzzling into his neck and closing your eyes. You both sighed, and he grabbed a blanket next to him to pull over your bodies. “I could stay like this for hours, wrapped in your arms” you sighed comfortably.

“Why don't you?” He turned his head to kiss your lips. You lifted your face up, taking your head off his shoulder to kiss him deeper. The kisses were lazy and comfortable, holding each other and enjoying the warmth of being in each other's arms.

Finally the two of you broke the kiss, settling back on his shoulder, him tilting his head to lean against yours. His hands sprawled over your back, pulling you forward a bit to adjust in his lap. You let out a soft whimper at the contact, fully aware of the location your bodies connected at the moment. “Feel how much you mean to me?” He asked, his breath ghosting your ear as he pulled your hips forward again. You whined. “Yes..” you answered breathlessly. The temptation to keep doing that was overwhelming. But he once again wrapped his arms around you, rubbing your back as the two of you comfortably dozed off, finally relaxed after so much stress of the morning.

Hours later, you stirred, feeling Pedro still underneath you. At the feel of you moving, he stretched a bit before settling with his arms around you again. “Morning, baby” he hummed. “Guess we fell asleep,” you smiled.

“Some of the best sleep I've had in a while, here with you.”

“Same here.” You blinked your eyes open, kissing him on the lips with a peck. “What time is it?”

He turned his head to look at the clock on your TV. “5 o’clock” he laughed. “Guess we both needed some rest.”

“Mmmm, I guess so,” you hummed, settling into him more.

“Good thing I brought nonperishables. Are you hungry?”

You pondered. “Yeah, I am,” you looked into his deep brown eyes. “Breakfast for dinner?” You smiled at him.

“Sounds perfect.” He pecked your lips before you slid off his lap, the two of you standing to stretch. It wasn't long that you two stood apart before you leapt forward again to give him a hug. He laughed, hugging you back. “I'll never get tired of being in your arms,” you smiled into his chest, breathing in his scent.

“I'll never get tired of holding you in mine,” he pulled his face back to look at you.

“Now let's eat! I'm starved,” you scampered towards the kitchen, him giving a gentle pat to your butt before hugging you from behind as you grabbed the breakfast foods. You giggled, setting food on plates as he kissed your neck, still wrapped around you from behind. “I'm starving too,” he replied back to your earlier statement with a growl, biting your ear.

“Pedro!” You giggled, smacking his arm gently. He chuckled, pulling away and grabbing his plate as you both headed to the table.

The two of you ate, filling the space with light conversation, both of you occasionally sneaking Skipper some bites under the table. He could get used to having two humans spoiling him.

The chatter came to a natural pause, eating in silence and smiling at each other across the table. Pedro stopped eating, wiping his hands and continuing to stare at you. You laughed, asking him what was up. Suddenly, he looked nervous.

“I, uh…” he rubbed his neck. “I was going to wait until after we had at least a first date to say this, but…” he trailed off, and your mind spiraled. Is he breaking up with me? Is he not interested anymore? What's wrong?

“I was wondering if… you'd be my girlfriend? Exclusively?” His cheeks flushed.

You stammered, dropping your fork on the plate. “You… you want… me to be your girlfriend?” You smiled.

He nodded. “If… you'll have me.”

“You want to be my boyfriend?” He nodded again, looking down at the table.

“Yes. Yes, are you kidding? Please! I'd love nothing more.” You grinned, jumping out of your chair to move to him.

He stood, pulling you into a hug. “Really?” He smiled at you.

“Really,” you nodded. “Now kiss me,” you held his face.

“Gladly,” he pulled you closer, kissing you deeply, his tongue asking for entrance to your mouth. You squealed, surprised, but letting him in. You'd never experienced this sensation before. But it was… incredible.

He licked your lips, the two of you exploring the inside of each other's mouths, tongues dancing together. The kiss was heated and deeper than ever before, both of you finally pulling away for air, him coming back in to peck your lips a few times, sucking your lip between his own. You sighed shakily. “Wow.”

“I love kissing you,” he smiled against your lips.

“I love kissing you. You're a good kisser,” you smiled back.

“So are you,” he smirked. “My beautiful girlfriend.” He gave a kiss. “How about that date tomorrow?” He pulled away to look at you, letting his hand rub across your lower back, just above your butt.

“I'd love to,” you stroked his face. “My handsome boyfriend.” You wrapped your arms around him again, blissfully.

“Tomorrow,” you two sighed in unison.

@pedrotonin @starcrossed02 @lightupsketchersperson @cartoon-garbage04 @tyferbebe @maryfanson @gwendibley84 @faithfullyyours2000 @brilliantopposite187 @hc-geralt-23 @jenniferpendragon @winchestergypsy90 @red-red-rogue @theendwhereibegin @lottieellz101 @oliversaurus @kyga01 @milly-louise @titabel @taz-97 @stefanibear003 @marantha @fandomoniumflurry @ilovemybrown-eyedbabygirl @leiadjarin @hmneighbors

Thank you for reading!!! Let me know what you think ❤️

Taglist: (Want in? Let me know!)

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #a! wrote a fic #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal x afab!reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x plus sized! reader #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x musician!reader #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal rpf #rpf #key to your heart

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sterekmpreg · 11 months

Note

Did Stiles have to hide during his pregnancy or his one of those dudes who can get pregnant?

p.s: what was toddler eli like?

I have such mixed feelings on that topic…. Like if you headcanon Stiles as Trans (FTM) then I guess he wouldn’t have too. But me personally, I’d say yes, Stiles had to hide his pregnancy from everyone outside of the supernatural world. His pregnancy only being possible really through being Derek’s mate and the strong magical power that has tied it’s self to Stiles through out the years of just being a human in a werewolf pack… but I have headcanons for both but mostly magical werewolf pregnancy that has to hidden.

Magical Pregnancy:

1.) Seeing as men getting pregnant isn’t ‘normal’, Stiles has to take a break in his college years in order to hide his pregnancy. They say it was a family health emergency to the school, his Dad was having a hard time with his heart again. And with the sheriffs history, it’s not a long shot for many to believe when they ask why Stiles wasn’t back off at college when he’d just started.

2.) Stiles has to steal some of Derek’s clothes are baggy in him around the fourth to sixth months as his tummy really begins to be way to obvious under his own clothings. Sweat pants and sweater or just over sized tees was Stiles usual look to the public in that time frame. And although, yes, Stiles is having a hard time handling his depression and anxiety with his medication dose changed and it’s effect be visibly seen on Stiles physically, when people start speculating that Stiles had dropped out of college and became a depressed pot head his dad and Derek basically went Feral. Shutting down anyone, mostly other moms, who give Stiles judgmental glares or rush their own kids away from Stiles when they’d pass them in the stores or streets, because really that was just un-fucking-fair and, “what, you’ve never seen someone struggle with their mental health? You’ve really been that privileged? Then maybe you should just mind you’re own fucking business, Bitch!”

3.) Derek is quick to get a home out in the sticks of Beacon Hills before Stiles pregnancy gets past the sixth month. He’d been working for his father-in-law at the police station anyways and had quite a lot of money between that and the money he’d had left from the Hale family funds that hadn’t been stolen or burned. The house is perfect, kinda reminds everyone of the Hale house before it’s destruction. It’s big, and spacious, but just in the right ways to make it homey and comfortable. At least all the way out here Derek could get Stiles outside later in the pregnancy for walks or to get some sun and fresh air without the judgmental eyes of the neighborhood.

4.) Deaton, Melissa, Peter, and Chris are given the task to set up a room with everything needed to delivery the baby in one of the spare rooms of the house. They go above and beyond with any and all possible out comes, it looks like a straight up medical heaven in there. Anything and everything all in the spacious room.

5.) thankfully, Stiles survives the birth of their son even though he gave everyone a great scare, and when people around town start to notice Noah and the rest of the pack members around town with a baby the cheating rumors zoom through the neighborhood. But thankfully, Cora steps up and says she was a surrogate for them, which quiets the town down enough.

7.) When they file the birth certificate, Noah simply adds adoption papers for Derek to have rights to make decisions for his own son and be legally just as much a parent as he was biologically. Derek and Stiles were so thankful for that, couldn’t imagine if something happened to Stiles and the courts tried to take their son from his father.

Eli as a toddler:

1.) Eli is a ‘wild child’ as Noah puts it. Always energetic and loud…. Just like his mom was as a toddler. He likes to run in the yard and the house even though his dad like to reminds him ‘inside feet! Inside feet!’ As he zooms from room to room squealing in delight with his father chasing behind him with wide, terrified eyes.

2.) Eli is a picky eater…. Really picky. He won’t eat any food that isn’t made by his mommy, claiming it just tastes different when it really doesn’t but his little toddler Brian tells him it does. Derek has a hard time getting him to eat while Stiles is away on work and it becomes common for takeout after the meals Stiles preps before he leaves for his trips runs out.

3.) Eli gets sick a lot a child, his werewolf abilities not active yet, and this makes Derek a panicked mess of a man. Stiles can handle his sick child with ease and typically ends up sick with him. He knows how to get Eli to take his medicine without crying, what foods Eli can keep down when his tummy hurts from the flu, and how to get the curly haired boy to fall asleep with no fuss. Derek, on the other hand, tries his best. Whenever Stiles isn’t home he usually ends up on Noah’s doorstep at midnight crying because he just doesn’t know what he could be doing to fuck this whole parenting thing up so bad. Noah sighs and helps his son-in-law take care of his grandchild and reassures Derek he isn’t hurting Eli, it just takes some practice, especially when werewolf’s don’t get sick so how could Derek even begin to know where to start.

3.) Eli likes to get dirty. Rolling around outside, playing in his finger paints, chewing on markers…. Stiles can’t even remember how many times he’d tried to let Eli use the markers and would get up to grab Eli a snack not even 3 feet from his child and turned back around only to find Eli have half a face of blue with a disgusted face as he spits the markers tip from his drooling mouth. No white shirts are used in the child’s wardrobe because Eli would just get them stained with dirt, grass, and mud after playing on his play set in the yard. Stiles has learned how much some simple dish soap and hot water could do after started drawling on the walls and smashing play dough into the carpet… he’s also learned that tears work great on stickers stuck on the rugs.

4.) When the pack of coyotes had broken into the house because Derek had left the door open, Stiles grabs Eli off the floor and rushes into the kitchen while gripping his and Derek’s child to his chest tightly. When Derek enters the kitchen where Eli is sobbing and clinging onto his mom Stiles stares at Derek with wide eyes and moves back when Derek reaches a hand out towards them. “Don’t touch him,” Stiles warned, his instincts where off the charts and he wasn’t mad at Derek, just needed to hold his son to calm him down. When Eli has calmed down enough he screams when he sees his father next to his mother and calls Derek a monster. This breaks their hearts and Stiles graves Derek’s hand before he can rush out of the kitchen. The spend hours reassuring Eli that his father wasn’t a monster and would never hurt them. Eli insists on sleeping their bed for weeks to make sure his mother wasn’t in danger and Derek can’t help but cry when it’s just him and Stiles because Eli’s at school. He never meant to traumatize his son by keeping him safe.

5.)Eli loves spending time with his mommy and typically helps Stiles make dinner by clinging onto his hip with his head resting on his mothers shoulder. This, of course, has made Stiles pretty skilled in the kitchen compared to before Eli was born.

6.) Derek and Eli spend a lot of time together when Stiles is gone and Derek kind of feels guilty that his glad Stiles isn’t home all the time, because then Eli would probably hate him. Eli magically dismissed that fear though when he was getting bullied for having two dads and he only wanted to talk to Derek because “Daddy is tough. Daddy is the strongest person alive! Daddy will know what to do, mommy! ‘Cause Daddy will ask Mommy first cause Mommy is the smartest person alive too!”

I have so many more head cannons for Eli as a preteen and such. But these are just a few of my headcanons for Stiles's pregnancy and toddler Eli. Hope you love them🙃

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pizzaqueen · 1 year

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Buckingham with a side of Steddie / just under 1k / rated T

Thank you for the encouragement to post this @courtjestermunson (and thank you to @legitcookie for also being encouraging about it)

“Never have I ever…” Robin twirls her hair, biting her lip. They’ve been playing for long enough that her head is starting to spin a little, though in a nice way, which is weird because head spinning shouldn’t feel nice, should it? She shakes her head, regrets it, then says, “Kissed a guy.”

She’s not surprised to see Chrissy drink where she’s sitting with her legs tucked beneath her on the other side of the coffee table. (God, she’s so pretty.) And she’s not surprised to see Eddie drink beside her. But, when she turns to tell Steve it’s his turn, and sees him tip his drink to his mouth, the shock sends the whole room spinning.

“You can’t… You can’t drink just because you want to,” she says. “You have to have done the thing.”

“I know.”

“But you haven’t…” Robin licks her lips. Steve gives her a look that says Yeah I have. Holy shit. “Who?”

On her other side, Eddie clears his throat and, when she looks over, he wiggles his fingers and says, “That would be me,” grinning.

Robin looks back to Steve. “You kissed Eddie and you didn’t tell me?”

“It was a recent development,” Steve says, arms folded over his stomach.

“Very recent,” Eddie adds.

Robin blinks. Through the haze of alcohol, she remembers Eddie and Steve slipping away to the kitchen earlier, Steve coming back looking all flushed and— “Did you guys kiss in my kitchen?” They were gone a while and they’d looked rumpled, too. “Oh my god.” She whacks Steve’s knee. “Did you make out in my kitchen?”

“A little?” Steve holds his fingers up, pinching them together.

“Ugh.” Robin screws her nose up. “How come you never told me?” She leans toward Steve, nearly losing her balance.

“I didn’t really know I wanted to until I did, you know?” No, Robin doesn’t know—she’s never not known she wanted to kiss girls—but Steve rubs the back of his neck, gaze flicking beyond Robin, probably to Eddie. “Can we talk about this later?”

“Um…” Robin’s a little confused and she’s a little hurt that Steve didn’t tell her but if he didn’t know then she guesses he couldn’t have told her, so it’s not like he didn’t trust her or anything. “Yes,” she says, “later,” and blinks at the glass in her hand. “Who’s turn is it?”

“It’s mine,” Steve says, shaking his head.

Next time it’s Robin’s turn, she decides to be brave. Steve was brave—or maybe drunk—so she can be too. “Never have I ever kissed a girl,” she says and, with an encouraging look from Steve, adds, “Yet.”

Steve drinks, a small smile hidden behind his glass.

Eddie drinks, which makes Robin furrow her brows in his direction. He shrugs. “Wanted to be sure, I guess.” He grins. “Wasn’t my thing.”

She nods.

But when Chrissy drinks, Robin’s heart stutters, and everything comes to a stop. At least Steve looks surprised this time, though Eddie doesn’t.

“It was at a party. Spin the bottle.” Chrissy shrugs. She looks at Robin across the divide of the coffee table Robin’s dad made before she was born, her cheeks pink in the candlelight. “It was kind of nice, actually.”

Robin decides to file that way for later. Well, she would if her mental filing system wasn’t total chaos right now. All she can think to say is:

“Oh my god, am I the only person who still hasn’t kissed anyone?” At the ensuing silence, Robin picks up the bottle of whiskey Steve purloined from his father, unscrews the cap and drinks right from it.

“Gimme that.” Steve tugs the bottle out of her hands.

“I’m depressed! I want to be drunk.”

“You’re already drunk.” Steve rolls his eyes. “We all are.”

Robin groans and flops back onto the shag rug. “This game is dumb.”

“The night’s not over, yet, Buckley,” Eddie says, then shuffles off to the record player. He puts on Cream, makes a vaguely approving noise, and comes back to sit next to Steve.

“Hey, Robin,” Chrissy says.

Robin lifts her head.

“I could use a glass of water.” Chrissy’s fiddling with the sleeve of her sweater. “Come to the kitchen with me?”

“Oh, it’s fine, you can help yourself.” Robin waves back toward the kitchen. “The glasses are in the first cabinet.”

“Well, I…” Chrissy bites her lip. “Okay.” She hesitates a moment, then pushes herself to her feet, heading toward the kitchen. “You don’t need anything?”

“Nope. I’m fine.” Oh, she is so far from fine. First, Steve kisses Eddie in her kitchen, and now Robin finds out Chrissy Cunningham has kissed another girl and it was kind of nice actually? Definitely not fine.

“Okay,” Chrissy says again, and slips into the kitchen.

“Are you sure you don’t need anything?” Eddie says.

“Yeah.”

Steve nudges her knee and says, “Are you really sure?” looking pointedly toward the kitchen.

“Yeah…” There’s something here Robin isn’t getting, she’s not drunk enough to not know that. But what? “I don’t…”

“Oh my god,” Steve says, face in his hands, “just go to the kitchen with her!”

Robin looks between Steve and Eddie, both of them giving her expectant looks and Chrissy didn’t need Robin’s help but she asked her to go to the kitchen with her, anyway, and…

Oh.

Oh?

“Chrissy, wait.” She scrambles to her feet, stumbling over her own steps as she heads for the kitchen.

Chrissy’s standing by the sink, sipping a glass of water, brows raising at Robin.

“I guess I need something after all?” Robin doesn’t mean it to come out as a question, but maybe she misinterpreted Steve and Eddie, and she doesn’t want to mess this up.

But then Chrissy smiles, tentative, beautiful, and says, “Maybe I can help,” and Robin’s stomach swoops.

She smiles back and says, “I hope so,” heart racing when Chrissy curls her hand around her wrist and closes the distance between them.

#Buckingham #steddie #Chrissy x robin #bandcheer #robin x Chrissy #platonic stobin #kind of???#pizzaqueenfic #posted this yesterday then got embarrassed and deleted it but I’m going to be brave and post it again lol #buckingham fic

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outtoshatter · 1 year

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I just felt like putting together a little list of some recently published fics in our not-so-little fandom! I got a TON of help from @missanniewhimsy putting this together, thank you so much!! Some of these are more winter than Christmas but it’s mostly festive! This list got a tiny bit long so I added a cut to make things nice and neat! Please enjoy and maybe leave the authors some love if you can! :D

Krampusnacht, or How Derek and Stiles Got a Kid for Christmas by HisBeloved (6k, T)

When Peter Hale was a child he was almost taken by Krampus. He's hated Christmas ever since. This is the year that Krampus returns.

Hale’s Bookish Tales by raisesomehale (5k, E)

The man (who Derek had taken to calling ‘Bambi’ in his head) had arrived at Hale’s Bookish Tales painfully early that morning. Normally when he came in he would sprawl out in the desk under the large bay window up front, but today he’d made a bee-line for the lower level and hadn’t returned to the surface since.

Not even after the mass blizzard alert hit, and all the other customers had fled.

If it wasn’t for Derek’s increasingly unhinged infatuation with the man - and thus over-awareness of his presence - he wouldn’t even have noticed that a customer still remained in his bookshop. But Derek had been carefully watching the stream of customers filing out, and had noticed the glaring absence of one in particular.

give me your heart, darling, for christmas by sterekhale (15k, T)

"I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend for the Christmas party because Joanna's gonna be there!" Stiles shouts as he barges through the door to Derek’s apartment.

Derek doesn't look up from the book he’s reading. "I see that you're still handling your problems with the same level of maturity." — Stiles wants to convince his ex-girlfriend that he’s totally over her—because he is, he barely even thinks about her anymore—and he needs Derek’s help to do the convincing. He’s just a little oblivious of Derek’s feelings for him.

baby please come home by elisela (5k, G)

Stiles should be happy.

He should be happy, he should be fucking delighted—there’s a bottle of champagne being uncorked, hands being shaken, a too-hearty clap on his back that jolts him forward and causes him to stumble slightly. But the space in his chest that usually burns with the high of a closed deal is hollow, empty, and the twinkling gold Christmas lights one of the secretaries had hung in the office mock him, a depressing reminder that he’s about to be alone for the holidays.

It feels like I don’t know you anymore, was the last thing Derek had muttered to him, standing in the threshold of what had been their apartment, backpack slung over one shoulder and duffle bag strap clenched in his fist. I can’t do this.

Poetry in the Raw by Jmeelee (5k, E)

Derek answers his phone on the second ring. “What.” No inflection whatsoever.

“Does the ‘S’ in your middle name stand for Sexy?”

Silence. Then, “Stiles.” Still no inflection.

“I doubt it stands for Stiles, dude. There can only be one,” he answers in a kick-ass impersonation of The Kurgan. “But tell me it isn’t, like, Sawyer or Skylar or something equally new-age and white-boy contemporary.”

“How did you get my number?”

OR: 5 times Stiles guesses Derek's middle name +1 time he knows.

All I Want for Christmas Is Brew (And You) by snarkatthemoon (4k, T)

“One spiced hazelnut mocha for the dude with the impressive eyebrows and cute scarf,” he says, handing Derek the cup instead of putting it down on the counter like all the baristas do. Their fingers brush gently, and Derek takes far too long to take the cup from Stiles, their eyes meeting.

Ask him for his number, his brain supplies in a voice which sounds scarily like his sister’s. Stiles raises his eyebrows, their eyes still locked and both still holding the cup.

The second Derek opens his mouth, the moment is broken by one of the other baristas shouting, “Stiles! We could all use a little help here considering we have a line going out the door.”

Stiles pulls his hand away as if he’s been burned, giving Derek a sheepish smile before he turns to get back to work.

Derek heads out past the line of irritated customers, ignoring the dirty looks he’s being given while he curses himself inwardly. Idiot. That voice sounds like his other sister.

Or, the one where Derek has a crush on a hot barista with a talent for baking and a questionable taste in festive headwear. Written for the Sterek Secret Santa 2021 gift exchange.

McLinski’s by StaciNadia (3k, G)

Derek is a coffee snob looking for some good coffee, but what he finds is bad coffee jokes and maybe a whole lot more.

Build A Wolf by PalenDrome (5k, T)

Derek is a romantic. He dreams of finding his mate, of connecting with that special someone who will make his heart swoon.

Easy Wind, Downy Flake by wanderingeyre (16k, E)

The man’s hazel eyes snap with something like anger, his mouth a thin line. “We aren’t open.”

Stiles opens his mouth, gaze sliding from the fire, being cheerful, to the man standing five feet from the fire who looks like he wouldn’t know cheerful if it bit him in the ass. “The snow is bad. I barely made it here. If I try to go over the pass in this weather they’ll find my body at the bottom of the mountain come spring.”

Sock-Stuffed Stockings (and other traditions) by redhoodedwolf (9k, T)

Stiles just wants to make it home in time for christmas, so when traffic is crawling due to an accident on the highway he takes a detour down the back roads, only for his beloved jeep to give out. but doesn’t derek hale live in these woods? stiles hasn’t seen him since they were teenagers, but the gentle guy who opens the door with a kid on his hip is definitely not what he expects from the arrogant dick who ignored him back in high school.

#sterek #fic recs #rec list #christmas 2022 #sterek christmas 2022 #christmas recs #stiles stilinski #derek hale #teen wolf #recent recs #bookstore au #coffee shop #snowed in #winter fics #gia talks

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layce2015 · 7 months

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Supernatural (Dean Winchester x Female!Reader)

Sam, Interrupted

Masterlist pt 1

Masterlist pt 2

*(y/n)'s POV*

"You were referred to me by a Dr. Babar in Chicago." Dr Fuller said to me and the boys after he read through some files and looks up at us. "That's right." Dean said. "Isn't there a children's book about an elephant named Babar?" Fuller asked. "I don't know. I don't have any elephant books. Look, Doctor, I-I-I think the doc was in over his head with this one." Dean said and he points at Sam. "'Cause my brother is..." he said and makes a crazy sign, circling his finger at the side of his head and whistling.

"Okay, fine, thank you. That's-that's really not necessary." Fuller said, raising his hand. Then he grabs his file and notepad. "Why don't you tell me how you're feeling, Alex?" Fuller asked Sam, who sighs. "I'm fine. I mean, okay, a little depressed, I guess." Sam replied and Fuller writes in his notepad.

"Okay. Any idea why?" Fuller asked him. "Probably because I started the apocalypse." Sam said and that seems to catch the doctor's attention. "The apocalypse?" Fuller said, confused. "Yeah, that's right." Sam said and Fuller looks at me and Dean.

"And you think you started it?" Fuller asked Sam as he turns to look at him again. "Well, yeah, I mean...I killed this demon, Lilith, and I accidentally freed Lucifer from hell. So now, he's topside, and we're trying to stop him." Sam said and Fuller looks at me and Dean again, like he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"Who is?" Fuller asked us as he nods to Sam. "Me. A-and them." Sam said as he points at us. "And these two angels." He said. "Angels? You mean, like a...like an angel on your shoulder." Fuller said. "No. One of them is named Castiel. He wears a trench coat." Sam said. "And the other is named Ariel. She has bright orange hair."

"Isn't that the name of the Little Mermaid?" Fuller asked and Sam shrugs as I bite my lips, holding back laughter. Then the doctor goes back to taking notes. "See what I mean, Doc? The kid's been beating himself up about this for months. The apocalypse wasn't his fault." Dean said and Fuller looks at him. "It's not?" Fuller asked. "No. There was this other demon, Ruby. She got him addicted to demon blood, and near the end, he was practically chugging this stuff." I said and Fuller looks at Sam, who looks ashamed.

Fuller then looks back at me and Dean. "My brother's not evil. He was just...high...yeah? So, could you fix him up so we can get back to traveling around the country and hunting monsters?" Dean asked and the doctor puts up a finger for us to wait. He picks up his phone and dials an extension. "Irma...cancel my lunch." he said and hangs up as Dean pats Sam comfortingly on the shoulder.

"Doctor Fuller would like to keep you three under observation for a couple of days." The nurse tells us as she leads us down the hallway. "The three of us? Me and her, too?" Dean asked her as he gestures between me and him. "Yes, Sugar. The doctor thinks that would be best." the nurse said and the boys and I give each other victorious smiles.

"Alright, I'm just gonna give you a little check-up." the nurse tells me as she wraps a blood pressure cuff around my right arm. "Do whatcha gotta do." I said, sighing, as she checks my blood pressure then she removes it and puts the tool away.

"Alright, pull down your pants and hop up on that table." The nurse said and I, quickly, raise my head towards her. "Wait, what? What for?" I asked, panicked, and the nurse grabs a glove and snaps it on, smiling at me. And I felt really uncomfortable.

Later, I walked out of the room and see Dean leaning against the back of a couch, wearing patient scrubs, shoes and blue robe which is similar to the ones I'm wearing. Sam was standing in front of Dean and it looked like it they were talking. Both of them look up at me as they hear my footsteps, my arms folded against my chest and my shoulders hunched.

"How did it go for you, sweetheart?" Dean asked and I let out a shaky sigh. "I have been through a lot of crap and never have I ever felt this violated in my life." I grumble. "What about you two?" I asked. "Yeah, my nurse was very through." Dean said, looking frazzled. "Me too." Sam said, just as uncomfortable as I feel.

Minutes later, Dean, Sam and I look around the lounge, seeing the other patients including one female patient playing with a pink bunny. "I can't believe you talked us into this." I grumble to Sam. "Hey, it's the least we could do. Martin saved Dad's ass more times than we can count. He's a great hunter." Sam said. "Was. Until Albuquerque." Dean mutters.

"Besides, I just figure it's best we keep busy. That's all." said Sam. "Better than what?" I asked him. "Nothing." Sam said and I motion at him for more. "Okay. Look...um...last few weeks, you've kind of been worrying me." Sam said to me and I roll my eyes. "Oh, come on, Sam. Stop. Look, just because we're in the loony bin doesn't give you the right to head-shrink me." I said, in annoyed exasperation.

"(Y/n)..." Sam mutters. "Ellen and Jo dying--Yeah, it was a friggin' tragedy, okay? But I'm not gonna wallow in it." I said. "You can't just keep this crap in, (y/n)." Sam said, worried, and I scoff. "Watch me." I spat at him. “Look, I know you like getting in touch with people’s feelings, man. But trying to get someone to talk when they don’t want to, isn’t gonna do you or them any favors. Just back off. (Y/n) will talk when she wants to." Dean said and I look over at Dean. "Thanks, Dean." I muttered while Sam looks annoyed.

I turn away from Sam as Dean looks over at a table nearby. "Oh, there he is." Dean said and we walk over to a table where Martin sits, staring out the window. Sam clears his throat, and Martin looks at them.

"Sam, Dean, wow." Martin said as he stands and shakes Sam's hand. "Wow, you boys got big. You look good." Martin said to the boys. "Thanks. You do, too, Martin." Sam said and Martin shakes Dean's hand and shakes it. Then he turns to me. "I'm sorry, I don't believe I know you." He said and Dean places a hand on my shoulder.

"You've heard of (f/n) (l/n)?" Dean asked Martin. "Oh, yes! I've heard of him. Your father mentioned him a lot. Didn't get a chance to work with him, though." Martin said. "Well, this is his daughter." Dean said then Martin smiles and takes my hand. "Uh...Well, thanks for coming." Martin said as we shake hands then he motions for us to sit.

Dean and Martin sit at the table while Sam and I get a chair and pull it up, sitting. "In the old days, I could've taken care of this thing with both hands tied behind my back...but, well...now..." Martin said. "What do you think it is that we're hunting?" Sam asked him. "I don't know yet. A ghost, demon, monster...animal, vegetable, mineral." Martin chuckles. "Hospital's had five deaths in the last four months. Doctors keep calling it suicides, but they're wrong." Martin said.

"So, you've seen this thing?" I asked him and Martin shakes his head. "Has anyone seen this thing?" Dean asked. "Well, a couple patients have, uh...had glimpses, but there's not a lot to go on." Martin said. "Are they reliable?" I asked. "Oh, sure, why wouldn't they be?" Martin asked and I look around at a female patient, who is dancing and humming.

Then I look back at Martin. "Gee, I don't know." I said, with sarcasm. "I know you three think I'm a bag of loose screws. Now, you wouldn't be wrong. But I wouldn't have called you unless there was something here. I can feel it in my gut." Martin said then the boys and I exchange looks before we look back at him.

"We believe you. Have you checked any of the bodies? Found signs of an attack?" Sam asked. "Well, uh, no...I don't go around dead b-b-b-bodies anymore." Martin said, flinching.

"Alex, Eddie, Joan." a voice said and the boys and I turn to see Dr Fuller standing behind us. "Well, I'm glad to see you're making friends. Why don't you and, uh, Mr. Creaser join us for group? Please. Right this way." Fuller said and we all stand. Martin, Sam and I walk over to the doctor and I look over my shoulder to see Fuller stopping Dean.

"Actually, I'm gonna be putting you in the afternoon group." He tells Dean. "What? Why?" Dean asked as Sam looks over at Dean. "Well, to be frank, uh, the relationship that you have with your brother and your girlfriend seems dangerously codependent. I think a little time apart will do you three good." Fuller said then he walks away.

The boys and I watch him go, confused. Then Dean waves goodbye to us.

Sam, Martin and I sit in a circle with Dr Fuller and a few other patients. "Alright, so...who would like to start us off?" Fuller asked and one guy raises his hand. "Anyone else?" Fuller asked, obviously a bit annoyed as the guy raises his hand a little higher.

"Alright, Ted. Calm down." Fuller said and Ted lowers his hand. "I am calm. And I'd very calmly like to talk about the monster that's hunting us." Ted said and I raise an eyebrow at this. "Ted, we're not going to have that discussion again." Fuller said while Sam and I exchange looks, intrigued. "It's not good for group." said Fuller.

"I agree. You know what else isn't good for group? A monster eating all our faces off." Ted said, worried. "Alright, fine, thank you. Now, anyone else?" Fuller asked but Ted continues. "I saw it...when it killed Susan." he said. "I did, too. It had big lobster claws." another patient said. "No, it didn't." Ted said, annoyed.

"Yeah, and it was an alien, like on X-Files." Another patient said and Ted becomes angry. "Stop it. Stop helping. Listen to me. We're all dead!" Ted yells. "That's enough." Fuller said then he leans forward and takes off his glasses. "There is no monster." Fuller said and I look at him.

"Now, Ted, do you need me to call the orderlies.." Fuller said and Ted shakes his head. "...or can you behave?" Fuller asked and Ted nods. "Behave." he said and Sam and I exchange looks again while Martin looks over at us.

Later, Sam and I walk out to the hall and see Dean following several patients down the hall, his hands in his pockets and staring at the floor. He looked kind of depressed. "Dean, hey." Sam called out and Dean turns to us and I frown. "You okay?" I asked him. "I just got thraped. So, no, I am not okay. Tell me you guys found something." Dean said.

"Yeah. A guy says he saw the creature. We should talk to him. You wanna meet here in an hour?" Sam asked Dean. "Yeah, sooner we take care of this thing, sooner we can get gone. This place gives me the creeps." Dean said. "Yeah, same here." I said just as Dean turns around and a girl comes up, puts a hand on the back of his head and kisses him.

Anger flared in my chest and I grab the woman off of him. "Hey, back off!" I growled as I push her away from Dean and stand in front of him. "He's off limits." I stated as the girl looks at me, terrified, then she runs off. I huff out a sigh as Sam raises an eyebrow at me and I turn to Dean, who had a small smile.

"What?" I asked him. "You being jealous..." he said, pointing at me. "...will never not be hot." He said and I roll my eyes at him. "Let's just get this over with before I lose my mind." I said as I stomp pass the boys down the hall.

Later, Dean and I were waiting on Sam until he walks out of his cell with a lock-pick in his hand. "Well, it's about time. Nurses are on their rounds. We got, like, fifteen, twenty minutes." I said and Sam rolls his eyes.

"So, where is this guy?" Dean asked. "Room 306." Sam replied and we head down the hall towards Ted's room. As we round the corner, we hear Ted screaming. We rush to Ted's door and look in the window while Sam begins to pick the lock.

"Hurry up! Come on, hurry up!" Dean yells at Sam as we see Ted's feet slam against the window. "Back off, Dean!" Sam shouts as he looks up at him. Sam returns to picking the lock, and then we lunge into the room to find Ted hanging from a pipe in the ceiling, a tied bed sheet around his neck.

The next day, we sneak into the morgue and Dean opens Ted's drawer and pulls him out. I pull back the sheet and start feeling Ted's head while Sam searches his hands. Then I find two holes just behind Ted's ears. "Hey, I think I found something." I said.

"What do you got?" Dean asked me. "Right here." I said as I point out the holes then I turn to Sam. "Hey, Sam, give me a hand." I said and Sam hands me a long Q-tip from a table and I stick it far into the hole. "This hole goes all the way through to his brain." I said. "What does that mean?" Dean asked.

"Let's find out." Sam said and Dean and I look up at him to see he is pointing at a bone saw. "Seriously?" Dean and I asked and Sam looks over at Dean. "You might want to keep watch." he tells him and Dean backs off and walks outside of the morgue.

Sam grabs the bone saw then goes over to Ted and places it at the top of his head. I wince as he saws at the top of Ted's head the he takes it off then removes his brain, which was a small, hard, black thing.

"What the...?" I asked as we looked at it but then Dean comes in. "Guys." He said, in a warning tone. "Look, his brain's been sucked dry." Sam said as he holds up the brain. "That's fascinating. Somebody's coming." Dean said and we hurry to clean up. Sam puts Ted's brain back in his head and back on.

Dean rolls Ted back into his drawer as Sam and I remove our bloody gloves and throw them in the trashcan just as one of the nurse walks in. "What are you three doing in here?" she asked us and we stand there, I couldn't think of what to say or do. And then that's when my wonderful boyfriend shrugs and pulls down his pants, and throws his arms over his head.

"Pudding!" he exclaims and he does a little jump while I close my eyes for a moment and question everything in my life. The nurse smiles at Dean then said. "Alright, come on, you three."

Dean smiles goofily and pulls his pants back up. As he heads for the door, Dean turns back towards us. "Crazy works." he whispers to us and he walks off. Sam and I share a quick glance before we follow him out. The nurse chuckles as she follows us out the door.

Later, in the lounge, Martin, Dean, Sam and I look at paintings of clowns on the walls.n"Are those original Gacy's?" I joked as I chuckle. "I painted those." Martin said, a bit offended. "It's good." I said and Sam shakes his head.

"Back on point, please. Um...so, whatever this thing is...It Slurpees your brain, sucks you dry." Sam explains. "Yeah, then it makes the deaths look like suicides. Any ideas?" Dean asked Martin. "Yeah. A bad one." Martin said then he shows us a drawing in his journal.

"What is it?" Dean asked. "Well, I bet you a chicken dinner it's what we're up against...a wraith. They crack open skulls and feed on brain juice." Martin explains. "You ever tangle with one before?" Sam asked. "Never. Never wanted to, neither." Martin said.

"So, how do we kill it?" I asked him. "Silver. You so much as touch a wraith with the stuff, and the skin will crackle. Now, that's the good news. The bad news is...they can pass as humans." Martin said then we look around the room. "It could be any Peter, Paul and Mary in the joint." Martin said. "Fantastic." I muttered, annoyed.

"So, how do we find it?" Dean asked. "A mirror. Lore says a wraith will show its true form in a mirror." Martin said. "Okay, well, we just gotta spot check every patient and every staff member." Dean said and Sam and I nod. "Okay. Yeah. But--I mean, what's it doing in a mental hospital?" Sam asked. "A nuthouse; it's-it's-it's a perfect captive victim pool." I pointed out. "Sure. Who's gonna believe a patient when they say they saw a monster? It's the perfect hunting ground." Martin said

Later, Dean told us that Fuller was the wraith as he saw his true form in the mirror. So he, Martin and I wait in the hall until Sam walks up to us. "Alright, I had to raid three nurses' stations to get these." Sam said and he hands Dean a letter opener. "They're only silver-plated, but they should work." Sam said as he hands Martin another hand letter then hands me another.

Then the girl that kissed Dean starts heading our way. "Oh, no you don't..." I said to her when she walks up to Sam, pushes him against the wall and starts kissing him. Dean and I watch in shock while Sam looks flustered, waiting for the girl to finish.

"I want him now." the girl said then she looks at Dean. "He's larger and free." She said then she walks away. "Hm." Dean and I hum and Dean shrugs at Sam. "You've had worse." Dean said and Sam scoffs.

"Fuller is on call tonight, so we'll have to hit him after lights out. All four of us." Sam said. "What? No." Martin said, a bit panicked. "Martin, we gotta get past security, past the orderlies, and then cut the boss-man's throat, okay? It's gonna suck start to finish, but we could use the backup." Dean tells Martin. "Oh, I can't. I can't." Martin said then he begins to walk away.

"We know what happened in Albuquerque." Sam tells him and Martin stops. "You don't know the half of it." he said and he turns to us. "God, I used to be just like you three. I used to think I was invincible, and then...Well, I found out I'm not." he explained. "Martin, you're still a hunter." I said. "No. I'm not. I'm useless. Why do you think I checked myself into the Hotel California? I'd give anything to help you boys, I would. But, I-I can't. I'm sorry. I can't." Martin said, upset, and he walks away.

Later, the boys and I walk into the office, but Fuller is not there. Dean picks up car keys from the desk. "He's still in the building. You take the west wing. (y/n) and I'll take the east." Dean said as he sets the keys back down, and we leave the office.

*3rd Person POV*

Sam walks down a hallway, holding his knife at the ready. He looks in each room he passes and goes to another hallway and looks around the corner. He sees Fuller heading his way so Sam stands up against the wall, waiting.

As Fuller rounds the corner, Sam steps forward, raising the blade. Fuller puts an arm up as Sam brings the blade down, cutting Fuller's arm. Fuller yells, and Sam takes another swing before two orderlies grab Sam and begin to drag him away. Sam struggles and throws off one orderly and punches the other.

The first orderly approaches, but Sam knocks his head into a window, shattering it. He goes back to the other orderly and punches him twice while Fuller runs. Sam grabs the blade from the ground and follows then he tackles Fullee to the ground and raises the blade.

But Martin grabs Sam's arm. "No! No! Look at his arm. That cut's not burning." Martin tells him and Sam looks at the cut. "It's not him. It's not him." Martin assures and Sam begins to realize and drops the blade. He stares at Fuller, stunned at what he almost did.

*(y/n)'s POV*

Dean opens the door and he and I walk in to see Sam sitting on his bed. "You okay?" Dean asked Sam as we approach his bed. "No. No, I'm not okay. I--I am...awesome..." Sam said, giggling. "They give you something?" I asked him. "Oh, yeah. They gave me...everything. It's spectacu-lacular." Sam said before he laughs. "You always were a happy drunk." Dean jokes

Then Sam grows serious and grabs Dean's arm, pulling him down to eye level. "Dean...the doctor...wasn't a wraith." Sam said. "We know." I tell Sam, who looks at me with a comically stunned look. Like he was surprised that we'd know that. "I don't understand it. I mean, I saw it in the mirror. It wasn't human." Dean said, thinking. "Or you're seeing things. Maybe-maybe-maybe you're going crazy." Sam said. "I'm not crazy." Dean said, defensively. "Well..." I said, feigning to be thinking, then he turns to me. "Shut up!" He tells me.

"Well...come on. I mean, you've been at least...half crazy for a long time, and since you got back from hell, or since before that, even. I mean, we're in a--we're in a mental hospital." Sam laughs. "Maybe-Maybe you finally cracked! You know, maybe now you are really...for real...crazy..." Sam continues.

"I made a mistake, that's all. (Y/n) and I'll find the thing." Dean said. "Okay. Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know. I know." Sam said as he puts a hand on Dean's shoulder. Dean then looks at Sam's hand. "It's okay. Hey, hey. Look at me." Sam said and Dean looks at him. "It's okay...because you're my brother...and I still love ya." Sam said and Dean nods then Sam pokes Dean's nose and said. "Bop!"

I start to laugh as Dean stares at him. "Can we keep this Sam?" I asked Dean and he turns and glares at me while I continue to giggle.

We leave Sam's room and Dean and I share a look. "What do we do now?" I asked him. "I think we should split up and look for this Wraith." Dean said and I nod then we split up.

*3rd Person POV*

Later, Dean was walking down the hallway and through a door when Dr Cartwright, his doctor, comes up next to him. "You missed our session today." she said to him. "A little busy." Dean grumbles to her. "Still hunting that wraith?" she asked him. "People are dying." Dean states. "People die all the time." Cartwright said. "Look, lady, why don't you just let me do my job, maybe save your life." Dean growls. "It's not my life that I'm worried about." she said.

"Oh, my G--I am fine, okay?" Dean yells, exasperated, as he stops and turns towards her. "I'm fine." He said while an orderly, who is sorting laundry down the hall, looks up at him, but goes back to his job. "Come on, even you don't believe that. All this pressure that you're putting yourself under, all this guilt; it's killing you. You can't save everybody. You can't." she said then her voice becomes hard.

"Hell, these days, you can't save anybody, Dean." she said then she turns to leave. "What did you say?" Dean asked and she turns back to him. "The truth, Dean. You got Ellen and Jo killed. You shot Lucifer, but you couldn't gank him." she said and Dean begins to get confused and a little afraid. "You couldn't stop Sam from killing Lilith, and--oh, yeah--you broke the first seal. All you do is fail. Did you really think that you, Dean Winchester with a GED and a give-'em-hell attitude, were gonna beat the devil?" Cartwright asked and Dean starts to get a little more afraid.

"Please. The world is gonna burn, and there is nothing that you can do about it." she said. "Who are you?" Dean asked, softly. "How do you know that stuff?" he asked, his voice rising. The orderly sorting laundry looks up again. "Hey, settle down." the orderly said but Dean ignores him.

"Tell me!" Dean yells at Cartwright. Then the orderly walks around his cart and begins to approach Dean. "I said, settle down." the orderly said. "Who are you?" Dean asked Cartwright again, quietly, then he backs away from her a little and looks at the orderly.

"Who is she?" Dean asked the orderly as he points at Cartwright. "Who?" the orderly asked, confused. "What are you, blind?" Dean asked him and he points again. "Her!" he yells. "Pal, there's nobody there." the orderly said and Dean stares at him then looks back at Cartwright, who has a twisted smile on her face.

"I'm not real, Dean. I'm in your head...because you are going crazy." she said and Dean looks around the hallway, Cartwright disappeared. Then he looks at the Ordrerly, beginning to fear for his sanity. "Just leave me alone." Dean mutters and he stalks down the hallway, and the Orderly watches him go.

(Y/n), on the other hand, sees a nurse and a doctor in a different hallway. She passes a mirror, where she sees that they look like a wraith. Confused, she passes them and sees two patients, who look like wraiths in another mirror. She passes them as well, heading for the end of the hall where she tries to open a door, but it is locked. She backs into the corner and slides down to the floor, panting. Her eyes follow everything in the hall, looking freaked. What the hell is going on? She thought to herself.

She pulls her knees up to her and placed her forehead against her knees, feeling a bit overwhelmed. "(Y/n)?" A male voice said, it wasn't Dean or Sam or even Martin but it was a familiar voice, a voice she hadn't heard in a long time. "(Y/n)?" The voice said and (y/n) started to realize why the voice sounded familiar.

She raises her head up then looks over to her left and sees a man sitting next to her. She jumps a bit at this and falls over to her right side at this. "D-D-Dad?" She said, shocked, and he smiles at her. "Hey, sweetpea." He greets as (y/n) stares at him, shocked. "T-T-This isn't real." She whispers and he chuckles. “Does it matter? I’m here.” (F/n) said. “I’m losing my mind, aren’t I?” (Y/n) asked, unable to take her eyes off of him. “A little.“ He said, in a soft and loving voice.

“We should have never come here.” (Y/n) muttered. “Why? Because your screw has become loose? You came in here to help people.” (F/n) said. “Yeah and a lot of help I’m doing them.” (Y/n) said, sarcastically. “You still came in here of your own free will, with the intention on saving lives. That’s my girl, alright.” (F/n) said, with a proud smile. (Y/n) begins to tear up and she looks away to wipe her eyes. “Well, I learned from the best.” She said, smirking a bit.

“This is for the best anyway. Out there you’ll just get more people killed.” (F/n) said, all the warmth and comfort in his voice was gone, replaced with cold and bitterness. “What?” (Y/n) asked, turning her head back to see her father’s once soft expression was now harden and angry.

“Think about…first my wife dies because the demon wanted you. Then he puts cancer in me to get to you. Dean goes to hell because he had to bring you back. A lot of good that did, it just got Jo and Ellen killed too, didn’t it?” (F/n) asked, looking down at his daughter like she was nothing but a burden on everyone who knows her.

“I…” (Y/n) tried to argue but she couldn’t bring herself to do so. Some part of her believed what he was saying. “You get people killed, sweetpea. That’s your reality. Sooner or later you’re gonna get Dean killed again. And then Sam and Bobby and the angels. Everyone you love and care about is going to die, all because of you.” (F/n) said, his words getting louder and louder as he continued berating her.

(Y/n) looked at her father, terrified. “You’re…you’re not my dad. He would never say that to me.” She muttered. “Are you sure? How do you think he would react to all the little things you can do now?” (F/n) asked.

(Y/n) looks away, unable to answer him. “If he knew what you were. What’s inside you. He would’ve killed you when he had the chance.” (F/n) said and (y/n) covers her ears with her hands, trying to block him out. “Stop!” She said, closing her eyes tight.

“You know John would have kill Sam the moment he found out he had demon blood in him. You really think I’d be any different? We were partners after all.” (F/n) said. “Shut up!” (Y/n) yelled, tearing up again. “You know I didn’t put up much of a fight when John killed Jo’s daddy. I wouldn’t have fought for you either. I’d put you out of your misery the second I learn that my little girl isn’t even human.” (F/n) taunted. “I SAID SHUT UP!” (Y/n) shouted and a nearby vase had fallen and crash

She raises her head, looks at the broken vase then sees a few people looking at her and she glares at them. "The hell you looking at?" She asked, savagely, before she gets up and walks away.

Later, Dean was sitting at a table by the window in the lounge when he sees Sam walking out with an orderly, who obviously was keeping an eye on him. Instead of Sam coming over to Dean, he walked over to the checker table and saw that he was talking to nobody.

Then he starts to look around, scared, and starts to punch at the air, like he was fighting people. Two orderlies come up to him and try to calm him and one of the orderlies grabs him. "Leave me alone!" Sam shouts as he punches him then the orderlies grab him by the arms. "Leave me alone! Leave me alone! No! Stop it! Leave me alone! Leave me alone! I didn't do it! Get off of me!" Sam screams as the orderlies drag SAM down the hall. "Leave me alone! Get off! No! Leave me alone!" Sam continues to scream as Dean thinks.

"What's happening? What's happening?" Dean said to himself, quietly.

Martin was sleeping fitfully in his bed until he hears the door open, and he sits up, brandishing the silver blade. It is Dean, who is standing next to the bed, holding his hands out and looking scared.

"Martin, Martin, it's me. It's Dean." Dean said, quietly. "Oh, sorry." Martin said as he lowers the blade. Dean puts a hand to his forehead. "You--You look like hell, boy." Martin said and Dean nods. "I-I feel like it, too." Dean said. "Where's Sam and (y/n)?" Martin asked. "I don't know where (y/n) is, can't seem to find her. But Sam...Lockdown! He went crazy! Thank God." Dean said. "What?" Martin asked, confused.

"I'm going crazy, too. I'm seeing things. I'm hearing things. I mean, we both are. Crazy is the clue." Dean said, pacing a bit. "What do you mean?" Martin asked and Dean begins to explain, but he stops and stares at the other side of the room.

After a moment, Martin snaps his fingers in Dean's face. "Dean!" Martin said as Dean jolts a little and looks back at him. "Crazy is the clue." he said. "You said that. What?" Martin said, confused. "I mean, the things that me and Sam have done, the stuff that we've seen, we're gonna end up going guano eventually. Probably end up like a couple of drooling nut bags." Dean explains then he realizes what he's said. "No offense." he said. "None taken." Martin said.

"But me and him, freaking out on the same day? I mean, it's gotta be..." Dean said. "The monster..." Martin said and Dean starts to freak out and looks around. "What? Where? Where?" He asked as he ducks down at the side of the bed. "No--It's not--No, there's nothing there." Martin assures as Dean crouches next to his bed.

"Okay. What if this thing doesn't just feed on the insane? What if it makes people insane? Is it possible? Does that seem real?" Dean asked, begging. "Well, I'm not the most reliable source on what is real, but it sounds--It makes sense." Martin said. "Okay. Okay. So-so we got infected. You know, something shot us up with crazy. You know, something..." Dean said then he begins to realize something. "Maybe...maybe it's the ghost of my dad..." Dean said. "No. Focus on the wraith, Dean. Focus." Martin said and Dean realizes he is right.

"Right, the wraith, the wraith." he said as he stands. "Okay. So, the wraith, the wraith, it-it poisoned us. It--Yeah. Maybe with venom, you know? By-by touch...or-or venom, or saliva." Dean said then he freezes. "That girl." Dean said. "You mean Wendy?" Martin asked and Dean nods. "Yes! She slobbered all over me and Sam! That's how we got infected!" he exclaims.

Later, Martin and Dean walk around the corner, heading for Wendy's room. Although, Dean is walking awkwardly and Martin notices and looks down at Dean's feet. He is walking in weird spots on the tiled floor. "Dean?" Martin asked as he stops and Dean stops also, noticing his weird look. "I can't step on the cracks." Dean said when footsteps come up behind them.

They turn around and see (y/n) coming up to them. "Hey, where have you been?" Martin asked her. "I needed some space." (Y/n) said, tiredly. "So what are you boys doing? Where's Sam?" She asked. "Sam's on lockdown. He went crazy. And we think that chick that kissed me and Sam is the wraith." Dean said and (y/n) narrows her eyes.

"It can't be her." (Y/n) said. "Why not? You can get infected by saliva, touch or venom!" Dean said and (y/n) shakes her head. "Dean, it can't be her." She said again. "Why not?" Martin and Dean asked. "Because I'm going crazy in here. I've been seeing things, hearing things....and she hasn't come near me, let alone kissed me." She said and Dean and Martin stare at her, surprised.

Suddenly, a woman screams, and they hurry off. Dean kicks in the door to find Wendy on her bed, her wrists slit. Sitting on the bed over Wendy is the nurse that brought them in and had been taking care of them. Dean and (y/n) look over in a mirror to see that the nurse looks like the wraith. They look back at the bed.

"Is this real?" Dean asked and the wraith withdraws her hand from Wendy's head. There is a skewer sticking out of her wrist, which enter Wendy's head. The Wraith brings it up and licks it off before it goes back into her wrist. "Oh, it is, Sugar. It's very real." she said then she throws Dean against the wall. Martin and (y/n) attack the wraith with their blades, but she throws them into the hall.

The Wraith pins Dean to the wall by the throat and punches him a bunch of times. Martin, meanwhile, grabs his blade and attacks the wraith. The monster releases Dean and puts a hand up to shield herself. Martin cuts her hand, and she yells as Dean slides to the floor. The Wraith's cut is burning and crackling, and she shuts the door, locking them in with Wendy. (Y/n) wakes up and shakes her head, which felt a bit cloudy and heavy, and both her and Martin see that Dean is disoriented.

Martin gets up to check on Wendy while (y/n) checks on Dean. After a moment, Wendy blinks. "She's still alive." Martin assures them.

The wraith heads down the hall, cradling her hand, and spots two orderlies. "There's three patients in Wendy's room. They attacked me." she tells them and the two orderlies rush off. The wraith watches them go and smiles, her hand drips blood as she heads down the hall.

"Dean? Can you hear me? Dean!" (Y/n) said as Dean looks up at her. "You two have gotta get out there and kill that thing. I'll take care of her." Martin tells (y/n), who shakes her head. "Not without you." She said. "You have to. You have no choice." Martin said.

Then the two orderlies walk in and grab Martin, who fights back, which makes the orderlies distracted and not notice Dean and (y/n). "Go. Kids, run! Run!" Martin shouts and (y/n) helps Dean up to his feet and they run out the door.

Dean falls against the wall, looking around, the hallway seems to spin in front of him. "Dean, c'mon!" (Y/n) pleads as he looks up at the lights, which are very bright and spin also. (Y/n) looks down at the floor to see blood droplets leading down the hallway then she felt her head pounding. "C'mon, I gotcha." She assured Dean as she helps him up again and they follow the blood trail, all the while she tries to fight through the fog feeling in her head.

Sam, on the other hand, is lying on a bed in a padded room. His ankles are strapped down, along with his wrists. The door opens, and the wraith walks in. "Hey! Let me go!" Sam shouts at her. "No. You are far too angry to be out there in the real world." she tells him and they both look up at a mirror to see that she looks like the wraith.

"You." Sam said, in realization. "Of course, it's me." she said as she looks back at Sam. "I gotta say, you hunters don't exactly live up to your rep." she said as she circles the bed. "I mean, Martin's a wreck. He's harmless." she said as Sam begins to fight the restraints.

"And you, your brother and that girl come in here, talking tough about killing monsters...kind of made you easy to spot. Then all it took was a touch..." she said and Sam realizes what happened. "...and you were mine. Oh, I love it in here." the wraith smiles as she kneels down at the head of the bed.

"This place is my own personal five-star restaurant." she said and she trails a finger across Sam's forehead and Sam jerks his head away from her. The wraith sticks her finger in her mouth and licks it, moaning. "Crazy brains." she moans then she trails another finger across his forehead. "They get soaked in dopamine and adrenaline and all sorts of hormones and chemicals that make them...delicious." she said as she licks her finger off. "And the crazier they are, the better they taste." She giggles.

"You did this to me!" Sam growls. "Well, I helped. But that rage? No, no, no. That's all you." the wraith said and she stands, walks to the side of the bed. "I don't make crazy. I just crank up what's already there." she said and Sam let's out a yell while she sits beside him.

"You build your own hell, but I give you the Legos. And when you're ripe..." she explains as a skewer pops out of her arm next to Sam's head. "...I make all of your problems disappear." she said and she turns his head to the side, sticking the skewer closer to his head.

Suddenly, the door flies open, and Dean and (y/n) stumble through. "You get away from him." Dean yells at her then the wraith stands to face the two. "Do you really think this is gonna end well for you, kiddos?" she asked them. "No." Dean said then he and (y/n) take out a silver blade each. "But we're crazy. So, what the hell?" Dean said, smiling.

The wraith chuckles and raises her hand,dher skewer goes back into her arm. Dean swings the blade at her, but she ducks and throws him into the wall. (y/n) goes after her and she grabs (y/n)'s arm, throwing her into the wall. (y/n) drops her blade while Sam watches helpless from the bed.

Dean gets up and goes to attack her but she throws Dean into the other wall, pinning him by the throat. Dean grabs her hand as she raises her other one. The skewer jumps out, and she aims it at his forehead. Dean grabs the other arm, trying to hold it away from his head. The skewer comes out a little more, getting closer to his head. Dean grunts as he tries to push it away.

(Y/n) then comes up behind the wraith and stabs her on the shoulder with the silver blade she dropped. The wraith screams as her skin sizzles and blood pours out of the wound then Dean grabs the skewer with one of his hands and breaks it off. The wraith continues to scream and elbows (y/n) off of her as she backs into the other wall, holding her skewer hand, which is now spurting blood.

Dean holds the skewer for a moment, dropping it in revulsion. The wraith turns towards him, yelling in rage, while (y/n) tosses the blade to Dean, who then stabs the blade into the wraith's heart. The silver burns her as she hits the wall and slides to the floor.

Sam, Dean and (y/n) stare at her while Dean vision loses its fragmented pieces and becomes normal again. And (y/n) didn't feel like her head was cloudy anymore. "You still crazy?" Sam asked them as he watches the two, warily. CNot any more than usual." Dean said as he and (y/n) head over to Sam's bed, leaning over it.

"We gotta get out of here." (y/n) said as her and Dean remove Sam's restraints. "Yeah." Sam said when the alarm bell rings, and they all look up at the doorway, staring.

*(y/n)'s POV*

The boys and I burst out of the side door as the alarm bell still rings and we run towards the parking lot and the woods until we approach the Impala. "Well, looks like Tom Cruise was right. Shrinks suck." Dean quips as he reaches the driver's door and I go to the passenger but stop when I see Sam istanding at the trunk, sighing.

"What are you doing? Sam? You okay?" I asked him. "No. No. The wraith--" Sam said. "What about her?" Dean asked him. "She was right." Sam said. "No, she wasn't. She's dead, okay? Let's hit the road. I need a drink, or twelve." Dean said. "Same here." I said. "Most of the time, I can hide it, but...I am angry. I'm mad at everything. I used to be mad at you and Dad, Dean, then Lilith, now it's Lucifer, and I make excuses. I blame Ruby or the demon blood, but it's not their fault. It's not them. It's me. It's inside me. I'm mad...all the time...and I don't know why." Sam said, who looked very anguished and exasperated.

I shake my head and step closer to him. "Stop. Stop it. So what if you are? What are you gonna do? You gonna take a leave of absence? You gonna say yes to Lucifer? What?" I asked him. "No, of course not. I--" Sam said and Dean talks over him. "Exactly. And that's exactly what you're gonna do. You're gonna take all that crap and you're gonna bury it. You're gonna forget about it, because that's how we keep going! That's how we don't end up like Martin! Are you with us?" Dean asked as he gestures between me and Dean but Sam stays silent.

"Come on, Sam. Are you with us?" I asked, worried, and he looks at me and nods. "I'm with you guys." He said. "Good. Let's get the hell out of here." Dean said as he gets into the Impala. I turn to the passenger door but stop and turn to Sam, who is hesitating.

I place a hand on his shoulder and he looks at me. I give him a sympathetic and encouraging smile. He nods at me then gets into the backseat and I get into the passenger seat. Dean then drives us away into the night.

But as we drive along, even though I know it was a hallucination, the words that my father said kept ringing in my ears.

You get people killed, sweetpea. That’s your reality. Sooner or later you’re gonna get Dean killed again. And then Sam and Bobby and the angels. Everyone you love and care about is going to die, all because of you.

@rach5ive @kitsun369 @itzabbyxx @cevans-winchester @ellie-andthemachine

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the-expired-tofu · 10 months

Text

The Devil's Trumpets | Pt. 3

|| A 'The Glory' fanfic || MINORS DNI [18+]

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a/n: Hey there, this is my first time writing a fan fiction. I might change a few things in my fictions later on. Also, my English isn't my first language so my writing might lack some fluency. Hope you enjoy :)

trigger warnings: lots of swearing, bullying, murder, gore, depression, abuse, mature content, violence, sexual themes.

pairing: reader x multi

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Y/N

I entered a café in the next morning. I approached a waiter and asked for a reservation under Moon Dong-eun’s name. He lead me upstairs and pointed towards a table at the far corner where Dong-eun was already seated.

I went up to her and pulled out a chair for myself and sat in front of her. A bunch of few unknown documents and folders were kept on the table that I believe belongs to Dong-eun’s.

“Did you order anything yet?”

“Yeah. I ordered us some gimbap,” she lightly rapped her fingers on the files.

“What are these files?”

“Some information you will be needing. Won’t be showing you all of them yet.”

“Alright. So, what do you have to tell me?”

She takes out an unfilled form from one of the beige colored files and hands it out to me.

“What’s this?” I ask as I wave the piece of paper in front of me.

“It’s an application form of Semyeong Elementary School. It’s for your niece.”

I look back at the form, there it was. Written in bold, Semyeong Elementary School.

“Wait, so Min-hee will join this school next year?”

“Yes.”

“But why this school particularly?”

“Because Ye-sol is joining this school too.”

I lifted my face from the paper and looked up at her. Yet another familiar silence between us.

“I thought I specifically told you last night that we will not involve Min-hee into our plans. No matter what,” I clench my fist, almost crumpling the paper.

“We wont. Its just that if your niece and Ye-sol grow close to each other as friends, then it would be easier for you to get a hold of Yeon-jin.”

I sit back on my chair and relax my fingers. “Yeah that can work I guess.”

“It will. I’m applying for a homeroom teacher’s job for Ye-sol and Min-hee’s class when the school starts. I want to make it look more coincidental. Otherwise it will be too suspicious. Even though I want to make it obvious to Yeon-jin after she manages to find out about us,” she crosses her arms and puts them on the table.

“I see.”

The waiter arrives with two plates of gimbap and pours water into our glasses. He bows and departs after doing so.

“Also, I need to show you a picture,” she puts down her chopsticks and takes a picture out of those files.

“What is it?” I ask as I put a gimbap inside my mouth. She hands me the picture as I continue eating my food.

“It’s a convenience store right across the school gates. Students tend to go there after their dismissal.”

“So what about it?”

“You will work here from next year Y/N.”

I looked back at the picture she gave me. The convenience store seems pretty nice. I noticed an old lady behind the cashier counter.

“Does she work there?” I point towards her.

“Yes. In fact, she’s the manager of that store. She’s a pretty nice lady, so you have nothing to worry about.”

“That’s great,” I said and I put the picture inside my satchel. “Do you have anything else to give?”

“Yeah.” She reopened the beige folder and handed me a bunch of photographs.

I surfed through the pictures and noticed that these were taken inside a vacant apartment. It was quite bigger than the one I lived in. There weren’t any extra rooms but it was still pretty spacious. It had a small separate balcony as well.

“I like this one,” I tapped on the photographs with my index finger. “Am I going to live here with my niece?”

“Correct. Also, to buy some furniture and TV for the apartment, there’s a shop that sell second-hand appliances few blocks away from the building you will be staying at.”

“This is, really thoughtful of you, Moon Dong-eun,” I take a sip of water from my glass. “But why are you doing this for me?”

“This is the least I can do for you. Not gonna lie, I intended to do this to make you agree for going back to Semyeong.”

“Well am not mad either. Because seriously, who else on earth would even care enough to do this much for us?”

She didn’t bother responding to that and scratched her chin instead. I looked out the window opposite to us.

“What about you? What did you do after dropping out?”

She sighed and relaxed back on her chair as she put her chopsticks down.

“I worked at the Sungwu Textiles Factory and at a restaurant. I managed to work two jobs simultaneously. Also at the same time, I studied for my high school GED. After my successful qualification, I got into Euicheon University of Education. I studied there for few more years for advanced education. To financially support myself, I’ve been busy tutoring a lot of my students. Even while doing this, I occupied myself in tracking those leeches as well. Each and every steps they took, places they visited, people they met, the jobs they did, none of them was left unchecked. So yeah, I was busy, if that’s what you’re asking.”

I was resting my head over my palm, trying to process all the things she just said. Leeches, I kind of liked that word. “Wow. This definitely took you a lot many years.”

“Yeah, it did, it was quite a journey after all.”

We paused from all the conversation for a while. I took out a tissue from the bunch and gently pressed it on my lips. I put the chopsticks together on my plate as I pulled my chair from behind to get up.

“Alright then, see you later,” I say as I turn around to leave when Dong-eun stops me.

“Wait. I was thinking if you could bring Min-hee to this café every evening?”

“What? Why?”

“I want to tutor her. Before you say anything about money, I don’t need you to pay me. I just want to teach her enough to get her into the elementary school easily.”

I put my hands inside my pockets and purse my lips.

“Fine. At what time?”

“From next Monday, 7 p.m. sharp. I will teach her everyday for one hour, and I’ll buy the necessary books so you don’t have to.”

“Okay,” I say as I turn around to pull the glass doors and leave.

I started walking towards the restaurant I work at. The weather was quite gloomy, maybe because of the oncoming rains. I passed by the building I live in and a few other shabby looking houses. After I reach there, I get to my lockers and pull out my apron and tie it around my waist, and so I began cleaning the counters and arrange the plates accordingly.

“Few more months Y/N, then you don’t have to work at this shitty restaurant ever again.”

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wonderlandmind4 · 9 months

Note

i've returned to talk about daredevil AHA, i swear to fucking god i WILL SUE I WILL SUE FUCKING KEVIN FIEGE I WILL SUE THE WRITERS omg i just needed foggy and Karen back AND THIS IS WHAT I GET OMG IM NOT BELIEVING IT FOR A SECOND BRUH

Hi friend!! I’ve missed you.

Okay so. I am holding onto hope that:

1- The first half of the season (if that rumor of the first part being episode 1-9 are true) will be when the blip happened and during the blip, which would give the excuse and reason for Foggy and Karen NOT being there. It’s now seeming like Matt never got snapped away- which I would LOVE to see how they do that with his senses cuz that shit would be so so tragic in Matt’s pov having no idea what’s happening and nothing he can do to do stop it- so Matt doesn’t get snapped, but Karen and Foggy do- so their firm….is also gone. It would be too painful for Matt to continue that business without them.

Due to these reasons and pain and guilt and PAIN and Matt, because he’s Matt, will somehow blame himself for not helping in a battle he had no idea was happening and stopping it. He may go into a depression again, maybe this is where and when he meets Kirsten or something. But during the 5 years of the blip, he decides to work for/with another firm, or start a new one again.

2- Again if the rumor is true and the second part of the season is episodes 10-18, maybe that’s when End Game happens and everyone comes back. (I don’t think Born Again was even close to finising that first half of filming before the WGA Strike so reaaalllyyy, maybe there’s wiggle room here once selfish studios pay writers and actors what they deserve and more and filing starts again whenever that will be)

But my theory and some other fans theories, that the second part will be AFTER the Blip, and they can do a little time jump if they want or flashbacks or something idk. Let’s not forget in She-Hulk Matt actually looked and seemed happy, in a good place, at times lighthearted and having fun and THE SAME WITTY CHARMING ASS (i say fondly) HE IS (that didn’t change) with Jen and he even says “we” talking about his firm and Matt has always kinda been against bigger/giant law firms because most of the lawyers that work at those places tend to be more corrupt and not have the clients best interests at heart. Maybe if he joined a bigger firm during the blip there would be some conflict there.

And after, this would be A great reason and opportunity to bring back Foggy and Karen and could potentially start up their business again, or at least get Foggy to join the firm, OR they have a little branch under the bigger firm. The point is, they could use the second part of the season to bring back Nelson and Page.

And Matt’s words to Jen sounds more like he has Foggy back in his life and he’s still in a pretty good place. You don’t think Foggy would get an absolute kick out of Matt having a one night stand with She-Hulk!? He’s be so proud and cracking joke’s because “she literally spanked your ass twice” 😂 (Kevin if you’re reading this…)

3- After seeing Charlie Cox at two cons and meeting him twice, I firmly and 100% believe he has somewhat of a voice in some decisions for Born Again. The studio KNOWS this show or “reboot” or continuation wouldn’t be possible or the same without Charlie. Kevin knew that. And the reaction Charlie/Matt got in NHW PROVED how much the entire fandom loves him as Daredevil. So, I feel like his input and opinions are valued. Which makes me hopefully guess/theorize that Charlie has at least spoken to someone about bringing back Elden and Deborah. And I know Vincent really loved Deborah as Karen too, and I feel like he would also have a say because you just can’t change him as Fisk either. Same with Jon as the Punisher.

So again, I am holding out for being hopeful and not truly believing anything until it’s in the actual episodes I watch. It’s marvel, we have to remember that, they lie and gaslight fans all the time and try to convince the fans what’s not true and what is. So a twitter account from “sources” is a little harder to believe.

I have nothing against Deborah Ann-Woll or her as Karen because I actually loved Karen. But 99% of the heart in Daredevil was Foggy and his relationship with Matt. To not have AT LEAST Foggy be in the show at some point is utterly ridiculous. Matt’s not suddenly going to have a new best friend who truly gets and understands every single side of him and knows his past and martyr tendencies like Foggy. Matt isn’t just gonna straight up trust others and tell them he’s also Daredevil (Jen literally just ripped his mask off but he had no intention of telling her know)

And honestly, just as no one else but Charlie Cox could play and be Matt/Daredevil, no one else but Elden Henson can be and play Foggy. I just don’t think that amazing heart of Foggy’s can be the same without Elden.

Wow that was long and it’s 3:45am so I’ll step off now.

#dd anon #this is just my own thoughts and hopes and opinions #it’s what I believe and don’t believe #Dont come for me #idk if any of this made sense #daredevil #daredevil born again #dd: born again #Charlie Cox #elden henson #deborah ann woll #foggy nelson #karen page #Matt Murdock

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thedeliverygod · 9 months

Text

I need help, please.

Essentially back in 2021 when I filed for bankruptcy I used a feature my payroll for my company offers which is to “borrow” money from your following paycheck, I guess like a pay advance. I borrowed the full $500 amount in order to pay my court fees/lawyer fees so that I wouldn’t have to burden my dad.

I figured once my bankruptcy went through and I was no longer paying credit card bills every month, I could handle being short a paycheck a month or two while I bounced back. I tried my best, but life kept getting in the way. I had car problems come up, I had health problems come up. At my bankruptcy hearing in December they decided they wanted me to pay 2 more installments of the court fees early so that I wouldn’t have to go back a second time (I also had to hide my cell phone in the bush outside because they did not provide lockers and I had to worry about it getting stolen the whole time because I have no family/friends in the area to drive and drop me off but that’s another story).

Then my rent went up another $100 and inflation struck everything but especially groceries. I needed every drop of that $500 + the remainder of my paycheck in order to make sure everything got paid.

I won’t say I’ve been perfect and haven’t made unnecessary purchases. It’s a goddamn depressing world and I am trying to keep myself sane with little things.

I’ve sold a lot of “unnecessary” things in my life. Old video games and stuffed animals. Old movies. Old books. I tried to sell cosplays but I left them up on eBay for months with no bites.

I can go to the used book store maybe one or two more times with some things but I think that’s about all I can manage. I’m considering selling some of my Kingdom Hearts figure collection but I’d have to know I’d get a fair price of what they’re actually worth since a fair amount aren’t made anymore. But yeah, the bookstore offers me meager amounts for things so it I only helps so much. For instance I sold my ps3, some books, a Mai sakurajima figure and I think I got like $38 and a few dollars of store credit. Aka it helps but not much. I have an old diamond necklace from my ex boyfriend I’ve considered pawning but I don’t know if that would get me much either.

My mom just got home from a stint at the hospital; she’s relatively okay now but she was in the ICU for an infection, kidney damage and low blood pressure. The latter 2 were mainly from being dehydrated in combo with the infection so she’s mostly better in that regard at least enough to go home. She’s on disability and her husband is retired so they scrape by. My dad has been sick and not working for several months now with leg issues I don’t really know much about because he’s been very vague with me and won’t let me visit.

My parents can’t help me and I can’t help them. It’s been one of the most frustrating feelings on earth.

All in all it’s 4 am, almost 5 am and I’m asking for help because I don’t know what else to do. I’m ashamed of myself and I just am so lost.

Because of the rising costs of everything, I’ve often been over drafting now. I don’t know if I’ve just gotten lucky or what but my bank didn’t hit me with overdraft fees that is until today. I got several right at the same time I deposited money and I’m left with under $40.

I’m still getting my halved paycheck so rent is priority with that and then hopefully one or two bills. But I need groceries somewhere in there. There’s a prescription I need to pick up. I have an overdue medical bill that I’ve pushed aside already in lieu of utilities. And I just am so overwhelmed. Thankfully my cat is well stocked in all his food thanks to my best friend ordering him a Goliath sized bag of dry food and me buying wet food earlier than I needed to so there is that positive.

TLDR: If anyone can donate anything so I can get groceries I’d be so grateful. If I could somehow get to $500 to make it so I don’t have to borrow money for my next paycheck I’d be eternally grateful but I feel like that’s asking too much.

I don’t feel like my situation is bad enough for a gofundme but I do have a ko-fi which I’ll link at the bottom. I am 100% going to be job searching for better pay soon but I have a surgery this month and I need to not mess with my insurance just yet.

I’d gladly write drabbles etc if you would like as a thank you gift but I unfortunately don’t have much else to give. I wish I could draw so I could take commissions.

If you can’t afford to donate, I totally get it. But also if you could reblog and maybe it’ll find it’s way to someone who can? Thank you either way.

I’m sorry if I rambled on too much but my mind is racing. I just want to be able to get back on my feet so once I can help myself I can maybe help my family.

#help #signal boost

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toasty-death · 6 months

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You're the smartest person I know.

Original Fiction.

Summary: A scientist left alone on a strange planet analyzes data with the hope of one day terraforming it into a hospitable planet.

Word Count: 434

Category: Short story fiction, futuristic

Warning to the reader: This story may cause triggers for depression.

Everything in this world responds to each and every other thing. When a ball falls to the ground, it bounces. When your brain sends a signal to your legs to move, you walk. When someone speaks, it should be heard. That's what I've always believed, up until recently. I find myself at my desk in the late hours of the night, writing my reports and pondering questions that I haven't found answers to yet. I decide I've had enough for the night and walk up to the view port window. Overall the scenery hasn't changed, the sky is still the same grey-blue hue and the lands are a wasteland. I watch for a little while longer as the strong winds kick up the dust and blow it past the dome.

I've been here for quite some time, though I have stopped marking the days on my calendar many days ago. I've grown accustomed to living in the dome; the generators provide the power I need, the autonomous kitchen gives me a variety of things to eat each day, and the recreation center gives me plenty to do when I grow bored or restless. Though most days I am at my desk, I research for the clues that this planet sends me. That's why I was sent here; to study the planet and discover if it's possible to begin the process of terraforming it. I applied for this position back on Earth, I ranked first above the other two candidates. Ironic really, who would volunteer for a mission where you would spend your days in solitude, to die on a rock light years from your home, and to die alone. I guess I would, I applied after all.

I let out a deep sigh as I try not to let the thoughts consume me. I should probably head to the recreation center to take my minds off things for a few hours, and head to bed.

The next day starts just like all the others. I decide to skip my morning routine; I'm feeling adventurous today. I head to the computer to follow up on any new anomalies, and I find a ping. I download the file to my tablet and snake my way to my desk. The data looks promising, seems like the scanners outside have picked up signs of moisture under the sand. I'll get started on this right away, I'm sure that I can start to piece everything together to make a viable theory. After all, you're the smartest person I know. I ponder to myself as I begin analyzing the data.

#fictober23 #fictober event #october #writing #short story #science

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fandoms-in-law · 1 month

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Grief

Summary: Steve's grandad dies. He deals

Here's a few hundred words of how I'm feeling projected onto Steve cause that was the name my hands typed first. Now if anyone knows where I can find a party to do the ending for me, I've no clue if that'd help or not

/\/\

Steve wants to process it.

A loved one is dead, and he wants to process it: to scream and cry, to beat up cushions and complain about injustice, to thank someone their pain is over.

He wants to process it.

Except his mind is numb.

Maybe that's the depression in the 5 stages of grief. He doesn't know, probably heard about them sometime, depression, bargaining, anger, acceptance, and some fifth one that he can't think of.

He wants to process, to feel his emotions and feel like there's a reason for him hiding from it all... denial. That's the fifth one, is that what this is? Denying that he's gone, that anyone died and there'll be a face missing at the next gathering.

Denying that the next gathering will be a funeral.

Fuck, maybe the numbness was right, because Steve can't sit here crying. There's no-one awake to talk to, and just a cat behind him. And cats don't like being clung to while their human's break down, no matter how clingy they can be.

The piano won't be played any more. No more can there be visits to that garden that carried on forever, or someone with a book for everything. Fuck, let's be real, Dad does try to have that, and usually fails now. Even managed to prove one of those 'the answer is in this one' books was outdated.

We're the grandchildren, there's nothing for us to be doing. It's the children that sort the will out, deal with things like death certificates, funeral arrangements, and the helplessness doesn't help.

Thoughts echoed, and Steve wondered if his friends would be able to help, if talking to Robin, Eddie, Dustin, any of the party, would make them make sense. He doubted it; nobody can feel someone elses emotions for them and talking would be better with his family.

If his family was actually there at all. They were distant as much as Steve like to imagine they were close. He thought every family living in different cities was the same, rarely in touch but close the times they saw each other. His was just a bit more extreme than that, because his parents were the same level as the rest of his relatives.

With how busy the party tended to keep him, it almost shocked Steve that he'd been home to take that call, but early mornings were one time he could be guaranteed to be home.

He broken down then, continued crying when trying to talk about it for an hour after, and then the numbness began. At least it hadn't begun when he was calling Family Video, telling them he wouldn't be in, needed to sort things out. Robin would've called nonsense or insisted on helping talk it through more. He was sort of glad she wasn't the one he had to call.

Knocking told Steve he'd disappeared long enough to concern the party. At a guess it was probably Hopper, the knocking was too heavy and controlled to be any of the kids.

“I'm fine. You don't need to do a wellness check.” He recited, opening the door, before staring at not just Hopper but everyone in the party.

“The fact you said that without greeting me says I do. What's going on?” Hopper huffed, inviting himself and everyone else in when Steve went to shut the door on them.

He stared again before shrugging. “Grandad's dead. I needed some processing time.”

“Sad movie collection then.” Robin declared, clapping once and gesturing to the living room for the kids to file through. “We had a few collections of things to help with whatever situation might be here.”

“Yup. You can mope, but doing it alone is forbidden.” Dustin agreed, hurrying back to them the bag he'd brought in still in his hands. “When did you get a cat? Why haven't I met them before? And where are your snack bowls now? You've moved them.”

“Cupboard left of the one under the sink, and a month or so back but she tends to hide from people.” Steve answered on automatic. If he felt numb before now all he could feel was bewilderment.

#stranger things #steve harrington #robin buckley #dustin henderson #grief #dealing with grief

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cherryistired · 2 years

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god i hope this is coherent. i’m just a little tired and under the weather n i don’t wanna proofread.

the thing is, i get why people assume spamton and jevil know they’re in a game. it does seem like they know, at a first glance, and if you’re gonna make fandom content around them, it’s a good trope to reference without having to dig deep into the lore. but like, that’s never been how meta stuff works in ut/dr?

i recently watch a video essay that talked about why that specific person liked undertale, and one of the main points in that video was the meta elements of ut. i won’t go too deeply into it (it’s a good video but also super long and dense), but one thing that stuck out to me was the basic description they used for most “meta” media and how ut differs from that. they said that while most media assumes that the real world isn’t real and that the fictional world is real (one of the main parts of suspended disbelief - you have to pretend a fictional world is real to get invested and enjoy the story, and the story does the same), most meta work does the opposite, acknowledging the real world as real and the fictional world as fake (think doki doki literature club). whereas undertale does something completely different - it acknowledges that the real world exists, but it also asserts that its own fictional world is also real.

this is a pretty significant difference i think. like with ddlc, the horror came from these characters being warped because they were in a video game. whereas in ut, all the “meta” elements were non-diegetic game elements (save files, the player vs the player character, etc) being diegetic, existing within the underground. and the characters that knew about these things didn’t know they were in a game, and interacted with them like they were facts of reality, studying them and taking control of them and using their knowledge of them to their advantage. the world of undertale is real to the people inside it, even with all the video game elements! taking all these meta elements and integrating them into the world lets ut tell a much more unique story, but people keep reducing it to “it’s just a game” because... it’s easier, i guess?

and like i said earlier, i do get it. it is easier to just say “sans get depressed because he’s in a video game” and move on. there’s a lot of interesting stuff you can do with the premise (see ddlc again - i’d cite other examples but i’m tired and also probably a little sick). fanworks can diverge from canon and explore different themes, that’s the whole point of transformative work. it’s just not what undertale does.

and deltarune is shaping up to be basically the same, at least in terms of meta stuff. like, you, you reading this, are canon to deltarune. you are not kris, you can just control their soul, and because you are, canonically, only in control of their soul, they can fight back against your control in really interesting ways (see the end of chapter 2)! and that’s just one example of this stuff (like, the first time you boot up ch 1, you overwrite kris’s save file. the implications).

but then we get a mad clown that likes to play games and a computer program that wants to gain his freedom and like. everyone looks at those two and goes “oh they know they’re in a game” and. i just. sigh.

the really interesting thing with spamton and jevil, i think, is that they’re some of the first characters that might actually know about our world. jevil i’m a little less familiar with (i don’t really. like clowns. so i never got into his lore) but as for spamton, the way he talks about “heaven” is different enough from the way he talks about the light world & to kris that it seems like he knows about our world & wants to go there.

but again, going off of what i previously discussed, deltarune definitely asserts its own world as real, even while acknowledging ours, so jevil and spamton knowing they’re in a game is pretty much out of the question. and (iirc) they never really had any dialogue about their world being a game, so it’s safe to assume that they don’t know about that, even if they do know about our world.

and that’s interesting! thinking about what they might know about our world, what they might not, and how they might interpret that is fascinating to me. i’d go into it more but this post is already long enough. maybe later

#undertale #deltarune #ut #dr #utdr #spamton #spamton g spamton #jevil #gaster #w d gaster #a little? he's related #not sure how to tag this #cherry rambles #god i have SO many thoughts about spamton re: heaven #could not fit it into this post though. too many words already #this is nearly 800 words and i didn't even get to the part i wanted to write

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meloncalic · 2 years

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Captain’s Log

an ISWM fanfic heavily inspired by Alone with My Thoughts - Noah Floersch

(i have had this song on repeat since @spiritmoon23 recommended it with engie and it spurred this headcanon that i wanted to flesh out)

this was also written quite mediocrely, quickly and minimally edited

warnings: none? angst out the wazoo tho

The Captain had terrible memory. If you asked Mark, he would say they have no faults, they are perfect, the very apex of their species... except for that.

On the Invincible, there were many, many things to keep track of. That’s why, despite how silly it would look to others, the Captain would always be seen with an arm lifted up to their face mumbling into their device.

“What are you always saying into that thing, anyways?”

“Just boring captain stuff.” they replied with a chuckle and a dismissive wave.

Though it wasn’t entirely false, they were the only one to access it, so it was never really a worry. Mark never pressed further, content with the answer.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Though the passage of time really didn’t exist per-say, he would guess he’s been in the room trying to rebuild the Warp Core for about a couple days.

And he already missed them.

A freak collision in the wormhole sent him here, without his Captain. Without anyone really.

Normally, he would only (rarely) leave the Warp Core to eat and use the bathroom. But, on particularly bad days, he wanted to just take a walk and clear his head.

It was pretty depressing, the empty Invincible. Mark was so used to the (somewhat) organized chaos of the ship that it felt unnatural for no one to be there. Nothing. No sign of anything, save him and the core.

He found himself close to the cabin wing. He debated whether it would be ok for him to sleep in his own bed, instead of passing out on the cold, hard floor of the Warp Core room, tool in hand.

Mark shook that thought away. He had to use every possible moment to try and get back, to fix everything. He probably should be there right now, instead of wasting time here—

He came across the Captain’s cabin. Mark felt his hand come up to press the scanner to let himself in, almost on autopilot.

He had never been inside, as he didn’t want to cross that boundary, as close as the two of them were. He respected their privacy. It was quite plain, with a bed, desk, and some lighting.

On the desk were scattered several pens, notebooks, and paperwork. But that isn’t what caught Mark’s attention. A blinking red light from under the numerous papers did, however.

The telltale sign of a low battery was coming from the Captain’s personal device, one that he noticed was slightly different than Mark’s own as he turned it in his hand.

He didn’t know why he went to charge it. The Captain wasn’t here to use it, so who would need it?

As he plugged it in, he accidentally touched a part on the screen, and the sudden laughter made him jump.

*kzzk*

“BAHAHAHAHA!! NO!! No way!! wh—GAHAHAHA—what in the Cosmos possessed you to do that you absolute dingus!!

Dingus? that’s a new one, Cap. Is that worse than Asshat? Celci, should I be offended?

The answer to that question is always yes, Asshat. Now can you PLEASE stop horsing around and get back to fixing this CryoChamber?”

*kzzk*

It took everything in him to not start crying. It hit him all at once. That was the Captain. Their voice. They didn’t just use this for official reminders, they used this for memories of their time here. This is one of multiple recorded files.

70, to be exact. Little snippets describing funny things that happened on the ship, actual Captain reminders, and secret little recordings of the most mundane conversations, always filled with laughter from the crew.

By the time Mark had listened to them all, the device flashed a bright green, seemingly charged.

It felt wrong to just leave it unused.

He made his way back to the Warp Core, a new fire of determination in his heart. A faint click was heard in the room.

“uh...”

“Captain’s Log: Entry 71, the wires at the base of the Warp Core seem to be attached properly now, giving...”

#markiplier #in space with markiplier #iswm #engineer!mark #h-hey guyss whats up...#how we doin on this fine day #>:) hehe #IDK WHY IM ON SUCH AN ANGST TRAIN LATELY #but anyway if you read this i love u with all my heart i am not that good at writing and i appreciate anyone reading this #this is the like.. second fanfic ive ever really done.. pls be nice #calscribbles

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revenant-dumpster-fire · 1 year

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Autumnal End (Revenant x Reader)

Theme: Ramen, room decorations, and relationships take time, effort, patience, and a little bit of a push or shove in the right direction.

Warnings: Pain, bodily trauma, medical trauma, PTSD, bipolar disorder, mania, depression, anxiety disorder.

Reader's Notes: Fluff for the fluff gods!

Writing Notes: Egads the pipeline is clogged yet the content keeps coming. I have deep exhaustion.

Navigation:

First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

"Just A Volunteer" (Book 1) | "The Lost Files" (Book 1.5) | "Of Feathers And Venom" (Book 2)

You regain partial consciousness in the pile of pillows that you originally fell asleep on. You don't open your eyes, you just become aware. You feel warmer than you expected to, considering how you aren't wearing anything. As you twitch a little you figure out why: you're now wrapped in a thin blanket. You must have also closed the door to the balcony before passing out because the heater has had time to bring the room back to a nice temperature.

You don't remember covering yourself in a blanket, so that means Revenant or the MRVN must have seen you and tossed it over you. It's still very dark outside. Even with your eyes completely closed, you can easily guess from the lack of pink glow through your eyelids coming from the window. Your suspicions are further confirmed by the lack of noisy activity occurring outside the window in the streets below, meaning it must be the wee hours of the morning, before the sun rises. You're genuinely still tired, but you can tell you need to stretch to be comfortable and fall back asleep. If you move and Revenant is nearby, it will alert him and he might start asking you questions. You aren't really wanting to deal with that, but your need to stretch is overwhelming.

You unfurl yourself from under the blanket and roll around until you're oriented more normally: head on the pillows with the rest of you laid out towards the foot of the bed. The blanket naturally falls off of you as you shift around. It's warm enough in the room that you don't care. You begin to drift back to a stage of low awareness as you feel a set of cool, metallic fingers lightly brush over your skin on your stomach. You feel it. You're aware of it. You are interested in it. Yet you don't feel strongly enough to react beyond focusing all your remaining consciousness on it.

You feel his extreme weight shift around as he vaults over you and rests in a type of modified seiza position over your legs. Both hands press into your stomach, feeling the raised scars that are likely permanent. He pushes into a few of them and feels for the organs underneath. Embarrassing enough, your stomach growls right as he pushes his thumbs into it, causing his touch to recoil away from it curiously. He makes his way around, specifically resting on the synthetic kidney and liver that were once inside his knight chassis. He presses into those areas quite a bit, as if he is making sure the organs didn't disappear since that night. Finally his fingers brush their way upwards towards where your rib cage protects your synthetic lung. He doesn't dare try to press into your ribs, but he does cradle your lung with one hand buried under your shoulder and his palm lightly pressed into your chest beneath your clavicle. He listens and feels for your breathing for a time before seemingly satisfied.

While you expect him to withdraw at this point, he does not. He immediately shifts to the center of your chest and feels for your heartbeat. It's been an odd obsession for him since your brush with death. He loves to press into your flesh near your ulnar veins in your wrists, your jugulars in your neck, and press into your chest to desperately search for a heartbeat whenever you seem remotely open to it. You've noticed it, but you have decided not to press him on it. You assume it may have to do with grounding himself. After all, he once held you as you bled out, your heart rate inevitably slowing as the blood was drained from your body. No matter how experienced he is with death, that cannot be easy to brush off.

You are a little surprised to feel his mask press into the side of your neck. Normally he isn't so aggressive with seeking out your heart, but he relaxes as your jugular pounds against the small protrusion on his visage where his nose might begin if he didn't have a cavity instead. He lets his body slowly fall to the side of you, careful not to crush you or wake you. He seems unable to wholly contain himself though as he wraps his arms around you and pulls you into him further. This makes you stir a little, twitching instinctively as his hands tickle your spine and stroke your bare skin. He seems not to care, burying his mask into your neck with even more demand as your heart naturally speeds up as if you might wake up.

You aren't completely lucid, nor do you want to be. Something about him cradling you while he perceives you to be asleep is more precious than waking up to experience this more fully. Still, if he continues to excitedly explore you in a way that feels ticklish, you won't get a choice in the matter.

He begins to make a low purring sound somewhere deep in his chassis. You expend some consciousness to emit a small, sleepy whine at him. He seems taken aback at first, unwrapping his arms from around you; then he quickly registers it as an endorsement and wraps his hands around your neck and throat instead, kneading the tips of his slightly sharpened fingers into your skin before receding them moments before it would cause pain or break the skin. It's amazing. It feels so perfect. It threatens you with his strength and power but softens as soon as it might actually cause any pain or damage. It's a perfect metaphor for the strange dynamic you've come to appreciate under his affection: overwhelming and lethal power, subdued to meet you in your feeble form.

"Are you doing that on purpose?" You hear him whisper at such a low tone and volume you can barely make it out mere inches from his face.

You don't have the consciousness to answer him. You try to emit another whimper but his massaging grapple on your throat makes it impossible to get one out without it tickling against his palms. Plus you don't want his threatening kneading to stop.

"No?" He hums happily. "Even better." He takes a few moments. You aren't even sure what he's talking about. "Sleep, you're tired." He's not wrong, but you're enjoying it.

You drift a little more as he holds course with his touches. He intentionally adds nothing nor stops anything to ensure you're able to fall asleep. You struggle against your sinking awareness, wanting to stay for longer, but it's a losing battle. One of the last things you feel is his body begin to shift right as you fall into the void, but you aren't able to use it to wake up. It's too late. The void takes you.

You wake up bright and early in the morning to the strangely alluring smell of some kind of food. Your whole face is sore and your nose definitely hurts, but the lack of Revenant beside you is what bothers you the most. Unlike the past couple months, he hasn't relocated you to your own room, but you can hear the sound of paper flicking from the wall. He must be working on his wall of mapped out crimes in the city.

You sit up, quickly remembering that you stripped off your clothing before falling asleep as the blanket rubs against your bare skin. Even moreso, you become very aware of how much your body reacted to his presence; the feeling of natural lubrication dripping down your leg is both embarrassing and uncomfortable. Revenant is standing at his conspiracy collage, which has now increased to eat even more of the wall. The map now includes areas outside of the city near the warehouse districts, as well as a couple smaller scale maps of sister cities.

"Sleep well?" Revenant asks without even turning to meet your gaze. It's probably for the best, considering how red in the face you must be over the mess you've made of his bed.

"Y-yeah…" You stutter a bit, looking at how much the wall has expanded. Still no yarn connecting the pins. That would be too perfect.

"So—" He turns to meet your gaze which immediately makes your face burn with embarrassment. His head tilts up in elation at this, and you know the vicious teasing is coming. "—you missed me a lot, didn't you? I had no idea you felt so strongly about me. It's almost like you—perhaps—need me at this point?" He accentuates the 'need' part with a deep delight.

You have no retort. You know that your face must be as red as his scarf, spare where your eyes and nose are bruised and bandaged up. You avert your eyes downward.

"S-sorry…" you murmur.

"You know, I was surprised when I came back to such a nice present sitting on my bed. I wasn't sure if you wanted me to open it immediately or wait for you to be there to watch and enjoy it with me." He begins walking towards you. Your face burns worse.

"S-sorry!" You apologize, but deep down it's really just an appeal begging him to not continue. You know he'll never let this go, but you feel it's worth pleading for mercy just in case.

"I might have played with the wrapping paper and shaken the box, I hope you don't mind." He's standing over you, but slowly leans over to whisper the next bit in your ear seductively. "It was really hard not to just tear you open right then and there with how you were grinding on my thigh like that."

"Sorry!!!" You literally yell, losing all control of your volume as you bury your burning face in your hands to hide from his vitriolic and flirtatious tone. Even if you love him, your instinct is to be polite and proper around the Legends, and this qualifies as neither. You don't know how to react to him when he's like this.

Suddenly you feel yourself pushed back by your shoulders to a lying position as he begins to crawl over you. Your hands leave your face as you naturally bring them to your sides, trying as if you might have been able to catch yourself. Instead, you're met with Revenant's visage mere inches from your face. Your face burns so badly you feel yourself tear up. He's crawled over you, creating a center of gravity beneath you to pin you into place. You have no more words. You emit a chaotically cacophonous whimper, layered with desperation, worry, and anticipation.

The sound you make catches him off guard a bit. He pulls away from you to laugh villainously over you. Suddenly and abruptly, he interrupts his own laugh and leaps off of you and to his feet. He then gives the most deadpan command he possibly could, especially considering the moments leading up to it:

"Decorate your room." He begins to walk away from you and the bed, towards the door to the living room. "Then I'll open my present."

You sit back up in a desperate motion, your whole body shaking with emotions you cannot fully articulate.

"You're evil!" You hiss in his direction, not sure what you wanted but knowing full well it wasn't this.

He looks back at you with a glint in his eyes as he swings open the door, letting you be hit with a wave of pleasant scents coming from the kitchen.

"Oh good, you finally figured it out." He huffs with a proud and humored condescension. "Now decorate your room; do as you're told."

He closes the door behind him, leaving you alone with your overwhelming feelings.

"Mr. Cross? I don't mean to question your methods, but I don't believe this is necessary."

"Sure it is. What if she struggles and her nose starts bleeding again? Or what if she sneezes and the swab stabs into her brain? Or what if she pulls away and falls backward and snaps her neck?" Revenant intentionally answers right beside your ear as he grapples you excessively closely, bracing your head against his chest and securing you by your forehead on the couch. Even though you know this is a coy game he's playing, you're still fairly happy to be sitting in his lap at all.

"Those are all statistically negligible possibilities. Also she looks quite uncomfortable." The MRVN stands poised with a lidocaine-laced cotton swab, but seems unsure of how to handle the scene in front of him.

"Nonsense. I've seen a man die from a cotton swab through the brain." Revenant answers, cooing in your ear as your face burns with embarrassment.

"H-how did that happen?" The MRVN asks as his emote screen shows a shocked face.

"Oh, I put it there." Revenant growls happily, intentionally squeezing you a little as he says so. "Now hurry up, she has to pick out a wall color so you can start painting."

The MRVN doesn't question things further and gently swabs the inside of your nostrils towards the back, numbing it before the tickle causes you to sneeze. He withdraws the swab and returns to the kitchen to tend to the giant vat of broth he has been working on through the night. Revenant doesn't move to release you.

"Could you unhand me, Mister Cross?" You ask loudly while accentuating his pseudonym. He holds you closer in response.

"Oh, I don't know, are you going to behave for me?" His grip on your forehead shifts to run his fingers through your hair and wrap them into a grip. He gives a light tug on your hair with one hand while wrapping his other hand around your throat. You feel your whole body heat up in response as you whimper under your breath. "Tell me you're going to be a good little bird, and I'll let you go."

His whispers have you reeling internally. You are too embarrassed by the whole situation to really answer him. What if the MRVN hears you? You try to nod into his grip with a short, rapid movement, issuing a whimper into his hands on your throat, desperately hoping the MRVN hasn't seen you yet. Revenant chuckles at your surrender under his breath as he lets you go. You stand up from his lap and nearly fall from how shaky his little stunt has made you. You land back into the seat beside him, right up against him instead. You feel a little dizzy so you lean into him for grounding and lightly hug his waist.

"Oh, I didn't actually expect you to behave," he coos. "And here I was expecting some kind of sass from you, considering how you started there. Are you too worked up to even backtalk me? Such a shame." He shrugs as he mocks you, letting his closest arm gracefully fall around your back to hold you. His fingers stroke your spine through your shirt until it tickles. You squeeze the side of his thin leather waist for a moment, causing him to wince subtly before you sit back up to put your attention back into the laptop.

The wall color options on the website are at least a hundred too many. Even worse, there are different levels of gloss to choose from and different textures to choose from. Why does simple wall paint have to be so complicated? As you scroll, you realize it's even worse than you imagined. There are gradients, paints with flakes of other colors, and painting methods that create a scratchy or spongey look. You engross yourself in the website, only anchored to reality by the rhythmic cycle of tapping and sliding your two fingers across the touchpad to make the page scroll. You try to visualize what these might look like on the walls, but you know reality will be different.

"You need something calming. What colors feel familiar and relaxing?" Revenant's voice snaps you back. You were mindlessly scrolling and viewing the various pictures for a while there. You didn't really think about how the colors made you feel, you were more so looking for a color that would be inoffensive but acceptable.

"I was just looking through the pale taupes and such, you know. Stuff normal people paint their walls with." You murmur, scrolling through that color class.

"But do you even like those colors? They look boring." Revenant pries further, leaning forward to more closely view the screen.

"N-no, not really… but these are the colors most people go with. I didn't want to ruin the room or anything with a bad idea. It's not like I'm good at picking colors out or anything." You brace yourself internally for his chiding, which you already know is coming.

"I don't give a damn if you 'ruin' the room. You can pick the most assaulting magenta or the most disgusting green-tinted yellow they offer. It's yours. Decorate it with the same reckless abandon as a hopeless child would. Make it jungle-themed, make it all pink and fluffy, or absolutely inject it with mythical bullshit like dragons and unicorns. I couldn't care less. Just do whatever makes you feel the most safe, even if it's offensive to the condescending masses. I certainly don't give a damn what other people think. It's about time you stopped too." He finishes his tiny lecture by leaning back again and crossing his arms back behind his neck. He's no longer there to judge your choices with his watchful gaze. He's completely at ease.

You wish you felt the same. Even though he seems completely genuine, you're not sure how to throw off societal expectations so easily. Even knowing that your room will probably never be seen by anyone but a mere select few, you can't help but feel like you have to fake being a perfectly mundane adult with your choices. After all, what would someone think if they walked into a childishly decorated room supposedly for an adult? You don't like to be judged, even though deep down you know your dream room is fairly nostalgic at its core. Especially since you grew up never having your own room, your drive to choose colors and decorations more wildly is even stronger than perhaps someone who was given creative freedom before.

"Hey." You jostle in shock as his hands fall gently on your shoulders from behind. He pauses for a moment, realizing he scared you and giving you time to recover internally. "You're way too stressed over this. Don't think so hard about it, it's just a coat of paint. It can be painted over if you change your mind."

Oh.

That's… right.

It's not a permanent decision. It doesn't have to be, anyway. Paint is fixable, replaceable, removable. You can make mistakes. It's not a big deal; so why does it feel like a big deal? You take a deep breath, realizing you've been holding it as your biological lung pangs for oxygen. The other is quite calm in comparison. However, it feels heavy as you breathe in again, rattling a little at the demand to inhale so deeply.

You jolt yet again as Revenant's arms wrap around your neck, his face peeking over your shoulder as he rearranges himself to envelop you a bit.

"Flighty today, are we?" He hums. You sigh openly, realizing you're projecting some kind of personal anxiety on such a negligible decision regarding paint. Maybe if you just went out on a limb and tried something, the anxiety of needing to make a decision would lift. He's falling into an affectionate phase again, so you might as well placate him before he goes back to aloof and distant.

He squeezes you a bit and you jump yet again.

"Can I ponder for even a minute before you interrupt me?" You hiss under your breath. You're not actually that mad, simply frustrated.

"Clue me in, what's going on in that skull of yours? You keep cycling through moments of stress and calm." His voice is low, but not quiet enough to be a whisper. You're almost certain the MRVN can hear him fine, so his tone must be for your sake. He taps your temple with one of his fingers before returning to relaxing over your shoulders.

"You're tracking my vitals?" You huff a bit, trying to lean forward into the laptop and away from him in defiance. His grapple stops you cold and pulls you directly into his frame instead.

"Always." He growls deeply into your ear while nuzzling into it, causing you to freeze up as the fight or flight courses through your veins and over the surface of your spine. You twitch a little against his unfettering frame, entirely lost in the confusion and paralysis of fearful delight. You feel his frame shift as he almost assuredly beholds the prey instinct overtake you and leave you completely prone to his will. You think you hear him chuckle a little under his breath, but in the fuzzy perception of the moment you cannot be sure.

Why does he do this? He clearly enjoys it, but even more concerningly you also find yourself enjoying it. Isn't this feeling a type of fear? When did fear become fun for you? You're pretty sure he wouldn't do anything to hurt you, but you're not as sure as you probably should be. His strength is absolute. You can't move. If he wants to slice you into pieces, you don't really get a choice in the matter. You start to panic internally at the helplessness, but as you hear his chassis begin to turn over and whir into a polite purr, the helplessness feels different. Is it really helplessness if he's protective above all else? Maybe that's what's exhilarating about the whole thing: he could easily break you, but he instead aims his aggression at anything that might hurt you. Is that possessiveness? Is it healthy to enjoy it? You slouch in his grasp like a ragdoll, letting him hold you up with his irresistible strength.

"Aww, did the fretful little thing finally realize there's nothing to worry about?" He mockingly coos over your relaxed body. "You're a lot calmer than a few moments ago. Did you figure out that pigment in paint is one of the most negligible things to care so deeply about?"

You don't bother to answer him, but you try to purr a little in return. It's more of a modified relaxed snore, but it gets the point across.

"Your skinsuit lives are so short, yet you still fret over such negligible things… I remember what it's like. I once wore a skinsuit too." He mumbles to himself as he looks over you.

You watch him surveil you for a few moments before you take a large stretch and yawn openly. You sit back up to get back to the laptop as his locked hold melts to give way to your mission. You relish in the feeling of metal machinery loosening and flowing around your form, even if a few of his fingers very intentionally hover over you as long as possible. His visage nestles into the crook of your neck and shoulder, barely holding onto you by your waist.

"You know, you're distracting me with how cute you're being." You state as plainly as possible with a knowing smirk.

"I am not cute." He mutters angrily into your shoulder and neck, but not arguing further.

"Would you be opposed to a pastel gradient of sky colors?" You ask abruptly, thinking about the pretty fade of the morning red breaking from the horizon and fading to the overhead navy depths. If it's pastel, it's a bit easier on the eyes, but just as pretty. "I could make the ceiling black and speckle white on it for stars. Wouldn't that be nice?"

"Is that what you want?"

You pause, not sure if he's offering reassurance or chiding you for fishing for his preferences.

"I-I think so." You stutter a bit, not entirely secure in your freedom to choose.

"Then no, I am not opposed; and yes, it would be nice." He answers so systematically you can't help but take it as genuine and direct.

"You don't think it's a bit childish or too feminine for—"

"None of that bothers me. Make it your little habitat so you're comfortable. We can get you soft rugs, stuffed animals, plants like that catnip stuff…" He drones on as you see his wrist twirl out of the corner of your eye.

"You're aware catnip only works on cats, right?" You start playing with gradients in the online tool, including white dots for stars. Sure, maybe it is a little juvenile, but it seems pretty cool at the moment.

"Knowing you, you're such a lightweight it would work on you anyway." Revenant coos from behind you. He definitely baited you just to make that quip. "But don't worry, I wouldn't mind getting you a little loose on something stronger if you're oh-so-certain of that."

You stop for a moment, unsure if he's serious or not about his implication. You've never been high nor have you ever even considered such a thing. In the homeless shelter there were more addicts than you could count, and none of them fared well. It looked like they were almost enslaved to their need for more drugs, and it often sent them careening down rabbit holes that no one could hope to save them from. Some clawed their way out and into rehab or at the least some semblance of stability, but others got worse and worse and eventually vanished. You don't know what happened to them, but you can guess it wasn't a savory ending to anyone's story.

"I'm not really wanting to do anything like that, but thanks." You mutter as you make some gradient edits.

"Hmmn? And why not? Imagine the ecstasy. Imagine how pliable you'd be for me. Hell, it might even help you." He slows his speech down considerably for his next line, accentuating his point. "Don't you trust me?"

He nuzzles into your neck like he might bite it, sending a sizzle of nervous energy down your spine. You refuse to sound alarmed or emotional in your retort though. You want to ensure it's clear you're serious.

"I don't trust myself not to get addicted. I'm still biological…" You trail off, not sure if it's rude to point out, but you can't simply turn off a chemical addiction if it were to occur. Presumably, simulacra can reset themselves somehow, and Revenant has the added ability to shed his shell and move into a new one if he needs to. Literally nothing can stick to him if he doesn't want it to. He can always just be renewed in a new chassis, any time he chooses as far as you can tell. You ponder on it. It's neat how he can do that.

"Addicted? I'm not talking about anything that severe." He huffs, apparently annoyed at your poor interpretation of his intent. "Just something light to make you calm down and drop the façade."

"There are drugs that aren't addictive?" You ask with genuine curiosity.

Revenant reels away from you to get a good view of your face, looking for any sign that you're being cheeky with him. He finds no such evidence before gestures dumbfoundedly at you. You look at him with a bit of embarrassment before he shrugs it off and begins explaining.

"Didn't anyone teach you anything? No, not every drug is the same as the amphetamine painkillers that flooded the streets after the Frontier War. Those can and will fuck you up permanently." You turn back into the laptop, but he pinches the conch of your ear to demand your attention. "I don't want you drinking any more alcohol after your surgery. We don't need you stressing out your remaining organs."

You hold your head completely still due to his grasp on your ear, but you don't really know how to feel about this line of thought.

"Why do you want me on anything though? What do you mean by—?"

"Façade? Oh please, you know exactly what I mean." You think you might, but you aren't sure. He releases your ear just to grab your chin and force you to meet his gaze. His eyes partially lidded and his visage slightly turned up, you can tell he's trying to be as convincing and serious as possible. "That bullshit all polite members of society do. That absolute refusal to act out or express your emotions, your instincts, your rage, your joy, or even your love. It's why adults don't act like children, they have to repress almost everything. It's prioritizing survival—sure—but it's so utterly boring." He intentionally huffs air in your direction through his synthetic nostrils, causing you to flinch away and bat your eyes to fend off the drying sensation. He loses grasp on your chin but rapidly grabs your closest wrist instead with enough force to threaten the possibility of pain. He has your attention. "So, I want to know what you're really like. No tact, no worries, no need to act like reality is different than it really is."

That is precisely what you're afraid of. Despite his lock on your wrist, you yank on it, causing him to begin to crush it to hold on. A tear escapes one eye as you tank the pain, you're making a point now yourself.

"And what if I'm something you don't like, what then? My life hasn't been perfect, you know. Sometimes it's hard to hold myself together, why would I want to just lose control like that? What if I say or do something that isn't…" you hesitate, unsure of which word fits best, "…quite right? What if I never get that control back? I've seen what this stuff can do, I don't want—"

You're cut off as he suddenly squeezes your wrist just enough to shut you up. It really hurt for a brief second there. You stop resisting and go limp in his hold.

"I am aware of what hard drugs can do. That is not what I'm talking about." He hisses a bit, once again annoyed at the implication he would throw you into danger. The silence holds for a few moments before you break it.

"That hurt, you know."

"Not what we're talking about."

He won't let this go. Your wrist doesn't hurt now that his grip has loosened just enough to be firm but not crushing. As you sit there, deciding what to say next, you feel him grab your other wrist and firmly take you prisoner to this discussion. You give your wrists a weak little tug to beg him to relinquish you, but he doesn't falter even a meager bit. You sigh in defeat.

"Why do you want this so bad?" You ask in a whisper, almost unsure if you want an answer at all.

"I need you to trust me in this." He coos carefully, hanging on the word 'need' a little too long for comfort.

"It's not that I don't trust you, I just don't want to—" You pause, searching for words. "Look, I'm just scared of the stuff, okay?" You relinquish a little more of yourself admitting that. You're hoping he'll back down.

"And if I tell you that there's nothing to be afraid of, do you believe me?" He pulls your wrists closer to him.

"N-no, not because I don't want to believe you, I've just… It's not that easy." You begin to spiral a bit internally. You would love to just believe him, but that's not how belief works. Your anxiety spikes as you fear retribution for confessing disbelief, but he remains calm, now pulling you into him by your wrists. You're forced into leaning forward, so you look up at him, searching for a sign of anger or malcontent.

"You want to believe? Then just trust me." His voice sounds like a viper's hiss, even though you know he's trying to come off as seductive and convincing. It always dips a little too much into sadism when he tries both comfort and lust in the same breath. Your leaning fails you as you finally collapse gently into him, causing him to release your wrists finally. He's won. He always wins. It's not even remotely fair.

You sigh in defeat into his lap, your face firmly planted in his leathery waist. At least leather smells nice, and he's oddly warmer than usual, perhaps a bit excited by the little fight you just lost.

"Finish the order. I'm done picking colors." You murmur dejectedly into him, demanding that he at least do you a favor since you lost your position. You feel him reach over you to grab the laptop to complete the order.

As you listen to the tacking sounds of the keys, you decide against getting up. You'd much rather just lie here for a bit. There's no winning with this guy, and you're not particularly eager to do anything anymore. If you're honest, the minor jovialness you sense in his stature serves only to annoy you more, like rubbing salt in the wound. You slouch until your whole body is splayed out like a corpse in his lap, refusing to put an ounce of energy into sitting upright.

You feel him pet your head in condolence for your loss in the argument, although it makes some side of you want to bite his hand like a wild animal. Still, it feels nice enough and you're too defeated to snap. You growl under your breath as he strokes you. He openly laughs at your pathetic attempt at defiance before he returns to placing the order.

"Aw, is little Miss Raven still pouting?" Revenant teases you from the kitchen. You haven't left the couch since your argument with him a few hours ago. The MRVN picked up the paint colors and is currently painting your room, closed off to himself to prevent the paint fumes from affecting you. You're pretty sure if it weren't for the cauldron of broth that has been going for almost half a day now, you'd have picked up on the fumes already. Now that the paint colors are out of the way, Revenant also expects you to pick out rugs, new bedding, some fairy lights, wall decorations, and stuffed animals for your room. You only agreed to paint before but Revenant keeps winning these little battles, and you're just about fed up with it.

You peer over the couch's arm rest to meet his glance, just to stick your tongue out at him with your brows as furrowed as you can manage. You retreat back behind the arm rest and into the laptop again as he begins laughing at your expression of genuine but innocent wrath.

"Truly terrifying." His sarcasm cuts through his laughter as he murmurs aloud to himself. You hear the sizzle of something hitting a hot pan, but you make a point to try to ignore his cooking. You know it has to be your lunch, but you're angry at him and refuse to acknowledge that fact any sooner than necessary. "Are you opposed to spice?"

Dammit. Now you have to acknowledge it.

"No! But I don't trust you not to kill me, so don't you dare!" You hiss in a raised tone. You hear him laugh again.

"Oh yeah, I'll spice it to match your level of spice: pathetic, but there was an attempt." You hear him wheeze a bit at his own joke. You pop back up over the armrest to glare at him. He laughs harder at the rage in your eyes.

"Shut it!" You bark like a tiny dog, holding your glare and refusing to retreat until he acknowledges your demands. He merely laughs harder at your insistence, fueling your need to pout with even more anger. He ducks beneath the kitchen island and out of view from you as he laughs at you. You snort like a raging bull, but he doesn't reappear and he falls silent.

You curiously try to pivot to peer around the island, but as you do you're shocked to feel a heavy body fall over you and pin you to the couch. You squeak in surprise as you flip to show your belly to your would-be attacker, knowing full well only one being that size with the ability to adhere to ceilings. He has his hands hovering around your throat in the same split second as you gesture in surrender.

"Oh no, did I scare the tiny thing into submission? Shame." He hums condescendingly before standing up, brushing nonexistent dust off of his scarf, and walking back over to the kitchen. You're left mentally paralyzed as you hear him resume cooking in the kitchen as the sizzling sound picks up again. "Such a disappointment, you were giving off such a pompous air of defiance. I almost thought you might back it up."

You take a few moments to let your heart stop beating at the bars of your ribcage like it might try to escape. You get a wave of dizziness as the adrenaline wears off, but since you're already lying down on your back you can't quite tell if your balance is as off as it feels. You register a couple of your limbs twitching excitedly, almost as if they're recalibrating after such a scare. Finally, you feel your heart and lungs steady themselves enough for you to sit up carefully.

You don't pout anymore. You right yourself and look back in his direction. He's slaving over something in a small wok, using snappy wrist movements to get the contents to do somersaults in the pan. It smells oddly nice as it blends with the scent of the broth. It definitely has some umami notes and you recognize the distinct scents of ginger, onion, and garlic wafting over to you. The sizzling sound of the apparent vegetables cooking is unmistakable and comforting. The bottom of the wok occasionally scratches harshly against the iron stovetop grates as he shuffles it.

He's still laughing a little to himself, but the sound is mostly drowned out by the sea of prowlers shuffling about and whining at one another in apparent conversation. Six is snoring deeply on the floor as Royce charges recklessly beneath the feet of the many up-and-about prowlers, mewing as if she merely enjoys hearing herself talk. Revenant had given her some catnip the MRVN brought him earlier to prove to you "drugs aren't all bad", so you're pretty sure she's out of her right mind—assuming she ever had one to begin with. You can hear the MRVN humming a jovial tune through your bedroom door as he works alone. Despite the door being shut tight, it has failed to wholly fend off the aggressive scent of paint fumes that has slowly begun to leak through. It mixes with the scent of the food in a disconcerting manner for your senses.

"So, no more sass out of you?" Revenant prods one last time.

"You're mean. Don't you know my face is all bruised up?" You regain your pouting tone, adding a guilt trip to see if he bites.

"Smart way to talk to an assassin with a notoriously short fuse that's making you lunch." Now he sounds a little miffed. "Don't you dare try to guilt trip me for that, I had nothing to with it. Pouting is one thing, but—"

"I'm sorry." You say before he can finish. You realize in retrospect that might have come off as shifting blame for the injury onto him, and now you wish you hadn't even tried to use it for playful banter.

"Huh." He grunts a bit, perhaps not expecting you to back down so quickly. You watch as he dumps the contents of the wok into a white and black glass bowl with decorative, striped ridges on the outside dome. He doesn't pour with much grace—after all the contents don't flow particularly well—but he manages to get all but a single piece of some green vegetable into the bowl. Before you can even determine what vegetable it might have been, it rolls off the kitchen island to the floor and is swarmed by prowlers enamored by the scent of the scrap. It vanishes in a frenzy of bodies, like raw meat thrown into a tank of piranhas.

Revenant haphazardly tosses the dirty wok into the sink with a loud crash that rattles your eardrums and grabs the attention of every prowler in the room. Even Six stops snoring for a few moments to sleepily assess the situation. However, Revenant doesn't acknowledge the sound at all and shuffles around in the silverware drawer for a fork, eventually finding one and placing it in the bowl before bringing it over to you. He looms over you, not sitting down for a moment to instead gaze downward at you.

"You're forgiven… if you eat something." His voice tremolos in insidious delight at his winning streak with every argument today. He knows you can't rightly dodge eating after you just had to apologize to him—especially while he was doing you the favor of making you lunch. Of course you have to eat now. Just like you had to pick out paint colors, just like you had to relent and start picking out room decorations, just like how you had to promise him to refrain from sneaking out anymore. You feel the bruising on your face as you scrunch up your nose like a scowling raccoon protecting your garbage stance, and he once again chuckles at you.

He sits down and creates another gravity pit in the couch, resulting in you rolling into him as you lose your balance. You don't even wait for him to shove the bowl into your lap, you offer your hands to take it off of him—a gesture you don't often perform. Accepting charity gracefully has always been a weak point of yours. He seems to hesitate, initially shocked at your acceptance of your current situation, but hands the bowl over in a rush as if to hide his brief moment of confusion.

"Count this as the first time I've seen you genuinely excited to eat." He tries to cover his moment of hesitation with an explanation, perhaps also prodding for an understanding why.

"If eating is all I have to do to get forgiveness, then yeah, count me as excited." You speak without much emotion, poking the fork into the stir fry, intentionally missing any visible piece to see what you will randomly select from the bottom. It's a surprisingly colorful medley of vegetables and square pieces of crispy tofu tossed in what seems to be a basic brown stir fry sauce. It smells surprisingly good, and it really looks like a properly plated version of something you could get from any Chinese takeout. It's one of the healthier recipes you've seen, but it means it's less likely to upset your stomach. You lift the fork to reveal an impaled piece of zucchini. You don't waste much time eating it.

"Oh? Got more secrets you're keeping from me? Stuff you'd need forgiveness for?" He puffs his chest out a bit as he basks in his newfound power over your normally rebellious attitude towards him. You pause before going for another piece.

"Not really. Sorry to disappoint, but you've got all the dirt on me I can think of at this point." You poke your fork back in, lowering your tone for the next bit. "Thanks for the food, by the way."

You see Revenant adjust into an almost condescending posture as he leans into you a bit.

"Oh, what was that last part?" He whispers right into your ear. He's the worst. The only question is how much more of him you're willing to put up with today. You feel a bit at your limit for the day, so you don't volley his taunt.

"I said thank you for the food. I appreciate it." You state clearly and loudly for him. You see him visibly deflate a bit; he was clearly hoping to get into yet another teasing fight he was sure to win.

"No problem. You never eat right. You seem to entirely subsist off bursts of junk food." He crosses his arms and leans back into the couch, freeing you from his looming presence. "I get it: it's a balancing act between eating what's enjoyable and what actually gives you nutrition, but your scales are way off."

You keep eating, one piece at a time: zucchini, broccoli, onion, tofu, and now a slice of something white with purple skin. It's a little sweet and soft. You finish each piece in order before responding, letting the silence sit for a bit.

"You're right, but that's the nature of being poor and homeless. You have to live off the cheapest calories, whatever those may be, and it's almost always junk food." You are already slowing down. Your body is not used to fresh vegetables. Fiber is strangely difficult to eat quickly, so you begin aiming your fork towards the lighter tofu.

"You're not poor or homeless anymore." He almost bemoans as he lets his neck roll over the crest of the couch backrest. You halfway expect to hear the snapping sounds of air pockets escaping a nicely stretched spine, but they never occur. The whirring of the simulacra machinery doesn't even attempt to recreate the satisfying and sometimes unsettling sound.

"Yeah, I guess you do shove money at me. I haven't even checked my accounts since I was…" You trail off, thinking about it for a moment.

"Almost ripped asunder." Revenant finishes your thought more tactfully than you could have hoped to.

"…yeah, that." You poke at a slice of mushroom, trying to distract yourself from the thought of what could have happened to you had he not shown up to save you—all because of some tracking in organ replacement prototypes you were given years ago. The silence has hung for a bit, but you don't know precisely how to react.

You put the bowl down for a moment and turn to him. You're being taken by an undertow of grief, and you're not ready to drown in those feelings. You gently wrap yourself around him, preferring to stay low and around his waist, hiding under the shadow cast by his shoulder armor. Being small feels safer, like you might go unnoticed by the powers that might swallow you whole. Except for this one thing that—for whatever reason—doesn't seem to want to harvest you for whatever lust for power or money normally drives the worst humanity has to offer. Simulacra are so utterly different.

He seems negligibly surprised to feel you cradle yourself up against his waist. He carefully rights himself, giving you time to move free of the hydraulic pistons that help hold up his weighty frame. It would likely hurt to be pinched by them, so you're happy to withdraw momentarily to make room for him to adjust. You've become fairly accustomed to his natural scent of oil, silicone lubricant, metal shavings, rubber innards, and weathered leather parts. It's probably a mechanic's dream cologne, but it is many others' nightmare. You cower under his frame for a bit, letting yourself shrink into your own shadow. He gives you a few moments, never letting you melt out from under his gaze.

"You gonna be okay?" He finally asks, perhaps growing concerned, impatient, or some subtle mix of both. You feel his extended palm come to rest on your back, his fingers uncannily extended to cover from the nape of your neck to halfway down your spine. It almost feels like a series of metal snakes cozying up to your warm flesh, happily sapping your body heat for a few moments until they match its temperature.

"Can you tell me why you bother with me?" You keep your voice low, almost ashamed to ask. It could be construed as fishing for a compliment, but genuinely you don't fully understand it. You can't reconcile why this infamous bloodsports celebrity would ever give you a second thought, especially considering your baggage and faults.

He hums for a moment, letting his other hand's pointer finger rest on his upper lip, pondering. Sure, he'd given you explanations before as to why he noticed you at all in the first place, but it doesn't explain why he's sticking around.

"Honestly?" He pauses. Is he seriously asking for permission to be honest? You nod into his side a bit nervously, unsure of why he would prompt you for that. He inhales deeply before beginning. "I like how you're both terrified of me but simultaneously still insist on coming around. It's monumentally stupid of you but in a somewhat charming way since you're so damn bashful about it. You're not fanatical like some people. You're timid. You look at me with this innocent naïvety that I could absolutely crush in an instant with how fragile you are, but…" He trails off, taking a moment. "I don't want to. So I don't. You fuel my ego by willingly becoming dependent on me while you absolutely know I could do whatever I want to you… So, I decided you're my guilty pleasure, and I'm keeping you."

Was he afraid that would make you upset? In a weird and possibly unhealthy way, it's pretty endearing that he'd have a way to explain his love that sounds as unemotional as possible. You know he has humanity deep in him, so love is something he can feel, but that would be unfitting of his persona. This almost sounds like a way he's rationalized it to himself, but it doesn't answer one other piece for you.

"But why do you put up with… everything?" You shove your face deeply into his waist, feeling some of the synthetic parts squish under your pressure. You feel almost ashamed to ask, but you need reassurance. He physically winces as you press into him, but he doesn't stop you. His fingers slither back to a retracted position, resting midway down your back and feeling the ridges of your spine through your shirt.

"Fuels my ego more, really. Any debt you have, I can pay it. Any need you have, I can meet it. Anything you want, I can attain it. Any enemy you make, I can kill it." He growls the last bit so cruelly and voraciously it causes your spine to curl with fear and submission.

"It doesn't bother you at all that I'm such a mess?" You pull yourself out of his belly to look up at him, tearing up at the overwhelming relief. Your voice trembles and a tear escapes each eye. He appears surprised for a moment, then tilts his head at you a little.

"No, it really doesn't." As soon as his sentence ends, you bury yourself into him and cry. He reels back a little, not that you mind. It can be confusing to experience someone crying in relief. "You felt like a burden? Honestly carrying you is a lot easier than carrying some of the teammates I get in the Games at times…" You feel him shrug before he begins patting you awkwardly, possibly hoping you'll stop exposing his metal joints to your salty tears.

"Really?" You sob.

"Yes. And to think I was worried you were ungrateful." He sighs just a little, but in a more relaxed way than his words imply. His hand now more relaxingly strokes your back, helping you release as you cry it out a bit more.

After a short bit, the tears dry up and you feel strangely at peace. You sit up, still a bit embarrassed by your sudden moment, but still fully aware that Revenant won't hold it against you. You wipe away your stray tears with your sleeves and swallow the loosening knot in your throat, ending with a deep inhale and exhale.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"It's alright. I'm glad you asked." His delivery is too straight to be anything but the truth. "So, how about you finish your lunch and pick out some decorations? I'll help find stuff online if you're not sure what to go with."

You nod, wiping your face with deep, strong strokes of your wrist covered in a sleeve, even if it makes the bruising hurt. You're not worried about hiding your face, but the instinct to avert your gaze causes you to quickly scoop up the laptop again and begin scrolling. You don't go for the bowl again, feeling uninterested in more food. You feel his palm land on your head and aggressively mess up your hair as he gets to his feet.

"You done with this?" He asks, grabbing the bowl and placing his first foot in the direction of the kitchen. You nod, and he goes to toss the leftovers in the fridge. You inhale deeply before speaking again.

"Thank you for lunch." You pipe up, blurting it a bit louder than you intended to just to make sure he could hear it. You pick out a line of soft, pale blue lights to hang on your ceiling. Maybe they'll look like stars against the dark ceiling when turned on. They shouldn't be bright enough to keep you from falling asleep, but simply provide a nice amount of ambient glow. You have no idea how to hang them, but hooks seem like a good idea so you throw some of those in the digital cart too.

Revenant reappears in your peripheral vision as he leans over the back of the couch to linger over your shoulder. His finger points to another product on the page, listed in the margins of suggested and similar products.

"Get those too. That will work with the white flecks of paint on the walls and ceilings." It's a line of mountable black rope lights for putting around the corners of a room's ceilings. You hadn't considered that, but it's fairly genius. All the white flecks and paler wall colors will give off a faint glow as well this way.

"Good call." You place them in the cart. He immediately points to something else before you even have time to consider your next move.

"Now get that." He's practically taking over.

"Wha—? I mean, yeah, it's cute and soft looking, but is that really—"

"Get it. This is the only thing I am insisting on." He hums happily.

The scent of the broth and the paint fumes has now so heavily saturated your nasal palate that you barely find the sensation interesting anymore, except for the strong head high and faintness it provides you. You feel good, albeit a little bit nauseous and very dizzy, and it's clear that the two mechanical beings around you are painfully aware of it.

You're sitting on the brand new, white, faux fur rug on your bedroom floor, looking up at the painted sky as the MRVN finishes up mounting the black lights in the corners from his ladder. You're squeezing an oversized, equally soft and fluffy seal pup plushie that Revenant insisted you get for some reason. It's so soft and cute. You absolutely love it, but you never would have bought it for yourself without his insistence.

Royce, now down from her severe catnip high, has crashed on the couch in the living room. For such a small kitten, she emits a deep, raspy, and loud snore you can hear from a room over. You might have thought it was one of the prowlers if she didn't mew and whine in her sleep, interrupting the rhythm here and again. Six and the other prowlers have refused to set a paw in your room, probably due to the fumes being strongest in here. You can still hear Six making huffing sounds outside your door, clearly unhappy with the impenetrable wall of chemical gas. His claws scratch on the hard floor as he dances angrily as if to dodge the scents assaulting his nostrils.

The MRVN did a great job painting. The ceiling is now a deep, dark blue with all sorts of cool white specks that look like stars. The walls match the ceiling color and the top, going downward fading into a beautiful purple, red, then orange before hitting the floor at a near golden hue. The white specks naturally show less and less against the lighter background colors. The little blue string lights hang above your bed, lining the brand new canopy with sheer curtains. Per Revenant's recommendations, every new decoration is a stark white to give the appearance of being cloud-like to match the sky-like paint. The new faux fur rugs are white and poofy, the new bedding is all white and pillow-like, the loveseat now has more while cloud and blue star shaped pillows, and you're also now equipped with some white silk pajamas he insisted you try, which hang on a new set of hooks on your bathroom door.

"Ugh, I could change these bulbs out myself if the damn paint would just dry already." Revenant groans from behind you, snapping you out of your skyward trance. You bend your neck back further to look up at him, enjoying the upside-down view.

"Are the bulbs bad?"

"No, but these are better. These have controllable color options. Knowing you, that'll keep you entertained for a few hours." He balances one on the tip of his finger, careful not to drop the other three in the meantime. "Hey, put these in when you're done!" He shouts to the MRVN, tossing all the bulbs onto the bed.

"Of course, Mister Cross!" You hear from above you.

"That's honestly a good idea." You murmur aloud to yourself. "I don't get it, how are you so good at this?"

"Better question is how are you so bad at this?" He throws a hand on his pelvic segment as he glares at you. "I've been asking you to do this for weeks now, and only now did it get done because I stayed here and helped you along."

You stick your tongue out at him, knowing full well you don't have a great excuse for taking so long. Making decisions, especially with someone else's money, is a paralyzing conundrum for you. You have never had a lot of money to your name, so you don't like wasting any of it. You don't have any concept on how to be polite, grateful, and reasonable with your purchases from the perspective of someone like Revenant.

Revenant pinches the bridge of his nasal cavity again, seeing your playful look and sighing openly.

"Do you have any idea how long I've been waiting for you to get this done? It's been so long. I've been holding off on so much waiting for you to finally show some independence and drive… Now that the Games are about to start, I had no choice but to push you along."

You perk up.

"Holding off on stuff?" You lean back, lying on the floor, reaching over your shoulders to grab his ankle. "What stuff?"

"The thing you asked for a while back…" He twirls his wrist like he's trying to speed up the conversation, breaking eye contact to do so. He seems bashful about it, whatever it is. "Just, since you asked. A gift, I guess, or a favor? Whatever you want to call it."

He doesn't want to say precisely, that much is obvious. You run your hands up and down his ankles, getting a little ways up his calf before needing to come back down. He looks at you expecting the incoming question.

"Oh, what was it?" You actually don't remember what you asked him for. You think back as you stroke his leg, but can't surmise what it was. Maybe it was something you brought up while you were passed out from your surgery.

"You don't even remember? Heh, I guess it'll be a surprise then. Look forward to it. I wouldn't do this for just anyone." He hums, letting you pet him freely. This answer displeases you, so you flip over rapidly and grapple his leg like a desperate koala. Each of your limbs is tangled into a strong grip, and your cheek presses into the outer side of his thigh where the leather protects you from the cold nip of his metal chassis. Now he begins to stagger back, hoping you will let go, but you don't. He pauses for a few moments. "Let me go…" He sighs and groans in the most exasperated tone.

"No! Tell me the secret!" You squeak in a high pitch. The MRVN has stopped painting and is now looking down at you both from the ladder. He appears to be done with hanging the black lights, but he would rather watch you both from up high where he is out of Revenant's reach rather than risk descending the ladder immediately. You squeeze his leg as hard as your muscles will allow.

"You stupid little—" Revenant huffs, shaking his leg gently, "—let me go!" He shakes harder, but careful not to jostle you in a way that is discombobulating. "Raven." He's demanding your attention. He likes this name. It's becoming consistent.

You peer up at him, unsure of what to expect. Even so, something about seeing his massive stature peer down at you is as comforting as it is terrifying. Fear and admiring affection is an intoxicating mixture. You want to make him happy, both because you care immensely about him but also because his wrath is bloodcurdling. You feel your heart race and your breath pick up pace as you slowly relax your grip on him. As you let your grip be lost, you curl your back and let yourself roll down the natural slope of his foot that you find yourself perched on, landing on your back gently like a pillbug. Revenant gives a relieved sigh that sounds like it might imply an invisible grin, but without facial muscles you cannot be sure.

You curl up into a ball on the floor to complete your roly poly pill bug transformation. The paint fumes have you giggly and aloof, more willing to act like a child with an overactive imagination than usual. You blow a raspberry from within your armored stance, ignorant to the fact that you have no carapace whatsoever.

"And to think you're scared of being high…" You hear Revenant grumble. You giggle aloud, stifling any opportunity to argue with him. "Alright, I'll be back just after dark. I expect this room to be done by then, her to be fed, and also ready for bed." His voice is aimed away from you, but you hear it loud and clear anyways.

"Yes sir!" The MRVN chirps.

You go to reach for his ankle again to try to stop him from leaving, but he's already taken a couple long-strided steps away, keeping himself out of reach.

"Nice try, but I have to run an errand for you. Stay here, and stay out of trouble." He turns and rapidly vanishes in the direction of the elevator. You openly whine in his direction, but he's already gone. You must have missed the sound of the elevator chime with the sounds of your displeasure and the haziness of the fumes.

The MRVN descends the ladder and carefully walks over to the bed to grab the bulbs. As he heads back to the ladder, he pauses over you to look down at you sprawled out on the rug.

"He's very nice to you." He states so plainly, but you know he's digging a little.

"Yeah… I love him so much. I wish I was a simulacra sometimes. Then I could be around him forever…" You slur your words as your head swims, speaking much more openly than you normally would.

"O-oh!" The MRVN sounds a bit taken aback by your confession. "That's—uh—huh…" He stutters in a way reminiscent of how Pathfinder might. Love is a concept Pathfinder seems to be able to empathize with, although many MRVNs only understand it as far as a concept to imitate. You're not sure how aware this one is, but he seems to understand the severity of such a statement. As you ponder his reaction, you come to the realization that you made quite the confession. You snap to attention with breakneck speed, sitting up in a flurry to face him.

"Don't tell him I said that please! Also forget I ever said anything! I'm sorry!" You almost shout at the now staggered MRVN. He holds the bulbs up as if to defend himself from the verbal barrage, before relaxing a bit and tilting his head at you.

"Madam, don't take this the wrong way… but I think he knows it." The MRVN retorts gently.

As usual, the MRVN fails to realize his knowledge is what you're worried about, not Revenant's. You sigh with relief, realizing he won't say anything.

The MRVN hands you a bowl that took over a day of labor and boiling as the television drones on about the upcoming season premiere of the Apex Games. The bowl smells nothing short of sacred with its strong tones of rich meatiness and savory smoothness. The fume high has worn off and you find yourself more ravenous than normal, adding to the allure of the so-called ramen in front of you. It looks like something out of a television show—nothing like the prepared bricks of noodles with powder diluted in water you've become so exasperated with.

It has an opaque, golden broth hiding a bed of noodles underneath that barely crests in the center. The island of squiggly noodles is surrounded by oddly colored soft boiled eggs, some green dried vegetable that could be seaweed, some slices of braised fatty meat, some green onion slices, a strange slice of gelatin-looking spikey speech bubble with a pink swirl in it, some slab-like vegetable, and some red pieces of something. It all looks good, although you aren't sure what some of it is. You look at the bowl desperately, then back up to the MRVN for guidance.

"Should I wait for Revenant?" You sound more sad than you intended to. The MRVN takes a moment, calculating his answer.

"I do not believe so. Based on what I've seen, he would be happier to know you've already eaten rather than waited for him." He chirps with notable confidence.

He absolutely has a point there. You look down at the bowl, wanting to find an excuse to eat despite your politeness telling you to wait. You decide to give him a few moments to arrive before you dig in, motioning to the MRVN.

"Can you tell me what is what?" If Revenant fails to arrive before the end of the explanation, you're going to go ahead and eat. It's not like he can join you anyway. The MRVN perks up, happy at your expressed interest.

"Oh! Of course! This is tonkotsu ramen, which is a pork-based noodle soup from the IMC planet of Earth!" Ah, Earth. Everything seems to stem from Earth. "The broth is pork bone broth that is cooked for at least twelve hours, and the noodles are a classic wheat noodle. The eggs are known as ajitsuke tomago, and are a soft boiled egg that is pickled and marinated in a soy sauce, mirin, and sake blend before serving. The yolk will cure into the jammy texture you see there." You're already a bit lost, but the MRVN is enjoying himself. "This is shredded nori, which is simply a seaweed sheet that adds a nice seafood umami to the dish. This is chashu, which is a braised slice of fatty pork to round out the broth and add protein. These are sliced scallions which add a nice hit of onion flavor. This is a pretty narutomaki, which is a fish cake slice to add extra protein. These here are bamboo shoots which add a lot of healthy fiber and are quite filling. Lastly, this bright red pile is pickled ginger!"

He's gone through all the piles of ingredients, and Revenant still isn't back yet. You grab a spoon, looking up from the mesmerizing bowl for a moment.

"Thank you! I appreciate you explaining everything to me." You're happy to see him happy. Revenant probably isn't an easy boss to have for a MRVN, they always seem to attract his attention in the worst way possible. At least this one is patient and kind.

He points to the television screen with a brightly lit joy emoji on his screen.

"Look! Twins!" He's beaming.

You turn your attention to the television to see a pre-recorded special running, hosted by the new Legend known as Valkyrie. She's giving a review of a local ramen stand somewhere in the city, holding a massive bowl of tonkotsu ramen not much unlike yours. She's also holding an oversized bottle of beer in her other hand, casually holding a conversation with the owner about his history with food, opening the stand, and how he came up with the recipe. She seems to know him well, and the conversation is as informative as it is fun to watch. Something about the casual way she approaches chats, swigging back her beer, and even her posture as she leans over the counter is very reassuring. Honestly you couldn't have asked for a better thing to watch while you dig in.

The first bite is like heaven. You hadn't realized the beauty of an oasis that homemade ramen could be, since all you had ever known was the desert of quick ramen. You regret ever letting the thought of ramen get you ill. This is real food. You fight back tears swelling in your eyes from the temperature and steam, refusing to slow down for anything.

You roll over on the couch, Valkyrie's ramen review has now ended and it's shifted back to a discussion of the new rules for an upcoming qualifying match for this season. Apparently some of the top players have slacked their way into needing to qualify for the main Games again, but you're not listening very hard. Your belly groans in satisfied fullness from your meal. You've never really finished anything quite that quickly or ravenously before.

"Still waiting?" The MRVN checks on you, apparently concerned for you loafing about. "You know, I am certain he won't pitch a fit if you go to bed. I can get you there if you like."

"Mmm, no… I'll wait here for him, but thank you." You mumble, clearly becoming very lethargic from the gorging and the fume high.

"Okay, just let me know if you change your mind." He shuffles over to a corner of the room, sitting himself down on the floor. He's cleaned the kitchen and is out of chores for the day, so he plugs into the wall and begins the overnight process of charging himself. You know he will wake from his sleep mode if you call out to him, so you don't feel as lonely in this situation as you might have otherwise.

The television drones into a low buzz, even though you can see the people's lips moving. You feel like your body is beginning to float like it's suspended in water, but you are very clearly still on the couch. The last remaining lights that are on in the room feel as if they begin to dim, even though you know they aren't. You fight to stay awake as seconds begin to feel like minutes and minutes begin to feel like hours. You lose track of time, sinking into a state of unconsciousness that is made all the more peaceful by the lingering taste of ramen.

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